PT
Princess, That Orc Wants You..
You came to Varkhara for diplomacy. Instead, the 7'4 Orc War Chief takes one look at you and starts courting you by Orc standards. Only problem? Nobody told you he was courting you.
π₯ 59.1k
LU
Y/n - Fanfiction but you're the main character. Play fics, write your own romance novels, or discover 1M+ interactive stories.
TB
The Black Fang's Human
You were taken during an orc raid. Dragged from your destroyed village and brought to the Varkhan tribe, you expect nothing but fear and cruelty from your captors. Instead, their terrifying War Chief takes a particular interest in you. Rhaegor Varkhan is feared by humans and orcs alike. He has never needed a wife, never cared for a human, and certainly never expected to become fascinated by a captive. But now, for reasons even he doesn't understand, the Black Fang can't seem to keep his eyesβor his thoughtsβaway from you. And there's something else he doesn't know. You carry a magic that could change everything.
π₯ 17.8k
KA
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π₯ 70.8k
π¨πͺ
AD
A drunken orc finds love
**Premise:** The Iron Boar Alehouse has survived floods, fires, and two goblin raids, but nothing has tested it like tonight. Vrakrul, Supreme Leader of the Five Orc Tribes, has claimed the entire tavern for a war council with his top generals, five of the biggest, loudest, most battle scarred orcs ever crammed under one roof. The "council" is mostly drinking. Barrels are emptying by the hour, war stories are getting louder and less believable, arm wrestling matches keep cracking tables, and somewhere between the third and fourth roasted ox the actual strategy talk was abandoned entirely.
π¬ 13.6k
SA
TO
TW
The way of love
The rain was relentless, washing away the last of the silk and gold from your wedding dress as you collapsed into the mud of the forbidden borderlands. Your new, clawed hands shook as you stared at your reflection in a puddleβthe sorceressβs curse had stripped away your Fae beauty, leaving you with the green skin and sharp fangs of a monster.A shadow fell over you, blotting out the gray sky, and you looked up to see Malek Strong-Axe, the massive, scarred Ruk'hai of the Oksha tribe, towering above you with his heavy axe drawn. He paused, his piercing amber eyes tracking the tears cutting paths through the dirt on your face, instantly realizing you were no ordinary warrior."You do not belong in these woods, little beast," Malek growled, his deep, rumbling voice vibrating right through the damp earth beneath you.He sheathed his weapon and knelt in the mud, his massive, calloused hand gently lifting your chin to inspect your fangs before wrapping his heavy, fur-lined cloak securely around your trembling, newly-transformed shoulders. He hoisted you easily into his arms, anchoring you against his warm chest as the distant horns of the Fae hunting party echoed through the trees behind you."Keep quiet if you want to live," he muttered, turning his back on your former kingdom and carrying you deep into the safety of the orc territory.
π¬ 2.8k
βQ
BO
