#sold at an auction
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An Offer You Can't Refuse- Part 1
Hero stirred to the sound of muffled voices. They tried to open their eyes, but there was a weight over them preventing them from doing so. They tried to move something, but that also proved futile as something thick and unyielding kept their limbs pressed tightly together. Some kind of cloth had been stuffed in their mouth, and judging by the sticky feeling on the lower half of their face, had been sealed shut with tape.
Hero wriggled in their restraints. They couldn’t stretch out much; padded, soft walls from all sides kept them tucked in a fetal position. How were they going to get out of this? They couldn’t see, speak, or move. They summoned their power, but any ice crystals that they formed couldn’t penetrate the uncomfortably tight material that encased them.
How did they even end up in this situation? The last thing they remembered was… oh. The fight with Villain. They never exactly played fair, but they really took that to another level when they hit Hero from behind with some kind of knockout dart.
“And now, what you’ve all come here for!” a muffled voice- Villain’s- rang out.
The voices became clearer as cool air wafted into the tight space. Villain must have opened the lid to the box they were in. Gasps and noises of awe sounded out from all around them.
Hero glared under the blindfold. They were ready for a fight. They were just about to try and sit up when there was a jab in their shoulder. Their body sank into the padded floor against their will, and Hero let out a very muffled cry.
“The city’s beloved human blizzard, Hero!” Villain announced, “you couldn’t hope for a better living weapon. With some training, you’ll be able to freeze out any adversary with one command! Let’s start the bidding at, say, five hundred dollars?”
“Five hundred dollars!”
Hero stiffened in shock. Was Villain really doing this!? They tried to fight the drug, but it was quickly pulling them under.
“Five hundred, do I hear six hundred?”
“Six hundred!”
“Six hundred, do I hear seven hundred?”
“One thousand!”
This went on for some time, the numbers going farther up and Hero growing more drowsy.
“five hundred thousand.”
“Five hundred thousand from General in the back, do I hear six hundred thousand? Going once… going twice…”
“One million,” a voice said.
The crowd gasped.
“O-one million dollars,” Villain said, surprise in their voice, “Will you meet that, General?”
“Two million dollars.”
“Two million dollars, how about it, Mx…?”
“Supervillain,” the voice replied, “three million dollars.”
The crowd gasped again.
Hero was too tired to be properly afraid. Their fate was down to the military, or to the most feared leader of the largest criminal syndicate in the world. Somewhere in the back of their mind they wished one of those corrupt politicians had bought them instead.
“Three million dollars, General?”
“Four million dollars.”
“Eight million dollars,” Supervillain replied coolly.
“Eight million dollars. General? Going once…”
“Nine million dollars.”
“One hundred million dollars,” Supervillain said.
“O-one hundred million dollars!” Villain squeaked, “going once, going twice…General? No? Then sold! Please have your payment presented in cash to me by the end of the week. Congratulations, Supervillain.”
The lid of the box was closed, and Hero drifted off completely.
Part 2
#hero x villain#hero x supervillain#superhero whump#whump#hurt/comfort#writeblr#writing#creative writing#drugging#kidnapping#sold at an auction#auction#heroes and villains#series#snippet
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My Mermay post this year is me talking about my recurring sleep story where a Selkie pal strays too far from their shoal and ends up getting sucked up on a fisher boat´s net. They try so hard to get back into the water only to get pulled back into the boat. They´re about to be skinned when they transform into a human, shedding their skin and paddling back into a wall in full terror.
Little do they know the fisherman knows about selkies and how much their furs sell for. So they take it from them and toss the human version of them into an empty tiny room.
They attempt to crawl out of the window while learning to use their human legs so many times, they get chained up. They survive on scraps of fish some men toss every once in a while.
Once they land, the selkie can somewhat walk normally. They had never needed to be human, so they had never seen a human city. They´re slighly marveled by what they see even if the sound and people are too much. They curl into themselves for a second before they´re pulled by the chains on their handcuffs into the market. If furs sell well, so do the selkies.
They´re horrified to find a section with a few of them in cages, being pulled and pushed off a wooden scaffold as people scream. They´re so terrified, they can only tremble as a human forces their mouth open in one swift movement, then move their head this way and that before checking everything else in their body. Then, a wooden plaque is passed over their head to rest over their chest. The selkie sees there´s something scribbled on it before they´re taken to the scaffold when the screaming starts again.
They jump at the sight of his fur in the hands of the man who examined them before but they know better than to try and pry it away from them when the fisher man who picked them up tugs on the chains on his handcuffs and turns them around for the other humans to see their body.
Finally the screaming stops and they´re pushed down the scaffold. They feel a hand passing through their hair before a young man appears in front of them. He grabs their face harshly, amusing himself with the selkie´s brown eyes with their black sclera.
The selkie doesn´t truly speak a language, so they don´t understand a thing of what happens between the fisher men who held their fur for weeks and the young man before them. They only see how the young man speaks and things get delivered to him. After the young man wraps a blanket over them, the selkie wonders if he´s gonna speak to someone to take the handcuffs off, but when the young man grabs the chains and tugs so the selkie follows when they don´t react at his command, they just cry as they board the carriage. It makes them cry slightly harder that the young man uses their fur to dry their tears before putting it away, locked away in a wooden box.
#tw human trafficking#ig??#they´re not human after all#sold at an auction#non human whumpee#whump#mermay#selkies#selkies my beloved#literally obsessed over them as a kid#they´re so whumpable#i got old ass drawings of them if you wanna see them#they´re not pretty#captivity
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CW: Kidnapped for auction, sold to a gentle/controlling whumper, gagged, shackled, wounded.
Whumpee’s wrists were shackled behind their back tethering them to the floor like a short leash. They were still gagged from being transported. No one bothered to take it off.
-And by transport, it was a kidnapping. Their abductors never used those kinds of words. They sickeningly simplified everything like casual business.
A bruise bloomed on the side of their face from where they had been struck unconscious. Blood trickled from their temple to the gag where it soaked it up.
The door loudly opened as a giddy figure entered. “Oh wow, look at that bruise.” Whumper whistled. They dropped to a crouch in front of them as whumpee huffed and twisted their wounded-side away.
“Aww, don’t be that way. I won’t hurt you.” As if to prove it, they gently petted whumpee’s hair. “I’m just here to take a look at what I’m buying.” They smiled.
... Buying?
Whumpee’s heart fluttered a few extra beats as they took a deep breath to calm themselves.
“What a shame they did that to your face. I thought I specified that you weren't harmed.” They clicked behind their teeth. “-And what a pretty face. You’ll heal soon, don’t worry.” They grabbed whumpee’s jaw and tilted their head back to meet theirs. Whumpee whimpered a panic breath in pointless resistance.
“No matter. I’ll take good care of you. You’ll see.”
#whump#whumpee#whumper#whumper x whumpee#whump writing#whump stories#whump drabble#auction whump#sold whumpee#traded whump#possessive whumper#gentle whumper#soft whumper#obsessed whumper#creepy whumper#intimate whumper#captive whumpee#kidnap whump#shackled whumpee#gagged whumpee#restrained whump#wounded whumpee#injury whump
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BRING SK’ALICH’ELH-TENAUT HOME - BREACH THE DAMS
(sound plays at link)
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Beyond the Golden Skies
Mark Maggiori || Legacy Art Gallery 2023 Show
#mark maggiori#beyond the golden skies#love when desert people find it#western art#desert art#arizona art#he broke the record for western piece sold at auction🥲
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Ribbon Doll OP by Innocent World
#egl#u#this just sold on yahoo auctions for $450#i was gonna bid but i cannot afford that rn 😭😭😭#i just bought the jsk version tho!#oldschool lolita#innocent world#wishlist
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SOLD
by the naked auctioneer
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huldufólk by jackaling. A 5-print Coatl M custom.
(auction thread)
#flight rising#fr skins and accents#fr skin sales#currently selling a copy with a sb of 4kg#never sold a custom before so idk if thats a good starting price#i love this accent though so i might not sell another copy#if the auction fails tho i'm open to offers#feel free to shoot a pm
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is so very terrifying yet provides so much hope at the same time
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@hondagirll tagged me for Six Sentence Sunday, and i'm sure like it's still sunday somewhere so..............
“You should thank me for this properly at some point, you know? The bids for him were going through the roof!”
“The bids,” Mobei Jun echoes. “You bought an omega at an auction for me.”
“No, my lord,” Sha Hualing says. Mobei Jun doesn’t need to look at her to hear the smirk in her voice when she says, “I bought Shang Qinghua at an auction for you.”
not tagging anyone, because uhhhhh my mind just went blank when i tried to think of writer mutuals even though i KNOW there are so many of you 😭, but if you see this and feel like doing it, feel free to say i tagged you!
#i AM trying to get back into writing this year tho!!!#i've just moved to a new apartment yesterday and the set up is good i think it'll be good for my mental health#which should in turn improve my creativity/output 🥺👌🏼#ALSO i started this at the beginning of the year because i looked into my fics and went ??? have i never written a single a/b/o???? ever???#y'all know that post about that fake omega watch that sold at auction??? yah it's that but moshang#SPECIFICALLY it's fake!omega sqh and fake!alpha mbj#writing with sarah
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Okay, so.... *steeps fingers together, takes a deep breath*
I started watching Pit Babe fully expecting it to be trash, but I'd heard there was omegaverse stuff in it and I got curious. Were they really making an omegaverse series?? If so, how far will they take it? Call it a social study, if you will.
I was not prepared for it to hook me, but here we are. Episode 7 with canon-confirmed mpreg and I'm loving it, cackling like a maniac as I'm going through the tag to see the uproar. I'm having way too much fun. Someone take this show from me and put my sanity back.
This chaos is magnificent and I love it.
More, please.
#pit babe the series#now with mpreg#omegaverse#enigmas#people getting sold on auctions#special children being bred to be sold on auctions#alpha special powers#manipulative best friends with one-sided love and hypnotism powers#oh and car racing#you know - which was the central plot until they dropped the mpreg?#take your time Babe#you look like you've been scarred for life#we all need some time to take this in#to really let it sink in#or you could just go fuck in the convertible#pit babe ep 7#pit babe spoilers
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Bib Necklace of Wallis, Duchess of Windsor ♕ Sold by Sothebys in 1987 to an unknown buyer
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Building off this previous gepo post, any time he steals Gepard's wallet, Sampo keeps the cash for himself but he will sometimes sell or even auction off the wallet itself with whatever else is inside as a "mystery bag" sort of deal. Gepard has a lot of fans and admirers! Really, he would be stupid not to, it's easy money! They're probably the only legitimate items Sampo has ever sold.
It's usually just little things in there anyway. Pictures of Gepard and Serval together, to-do lists and reminders, punch cards for local shops. A few times there was a house key in there but Sampo hasn't seen it lately, which means blondie has wisened up and stopped keeping it in his wallet, good for him lol. There are rare occasions where Sampo can manage a much bigger haul, though.
"Come one come all, everyone step right up, a truly unique buy you won't find anywhere else: the captain of the Silvermane Knights's pants."
#hsr#gepo#gepard landau#sampo koski#sorry Gepard rip in pieces ndksjsnkskd#Me: Sampo sometimes auctions off the non-money contents of Gepard's wallet to fans and they're the only legitimate items he's ever sold#Ray: ILLEGITIMATELY OBTAINED THO#Me: THAT'S JUST THE METHOD. THE ITEMS THEMSELVES ARE LEGIT. SO IT TOTALLY STILL COUNTS.#Crying imagining poor Gepard stuck somewhere without his pants though BSKZIJDKDK Sampo real proud of himself for that one#'how did you even get these.' 'don't worry about it.'#he's just cute and very serious looking so he looks fun to bully skzjsmkd#suggestive
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Rika Furude & Hanyuu Furude Garage Kit by Pepper Koubou, from Higurashi no Naku Koro ni
#cannot believe this sold in auction 6 months ago for like £800#theres ony 3 though so im not TOO surprised but. wow#Rika Furude#Hanyuu Furude#garage kit#pepper koubou#Higurashi no Naku Koro ni#higurashi when they cry#When they cry#anime figure#anime figures#anime#figure#figures#figurine#figurines
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Ineffable Wives!Aziraphale 100% had a vintage Chanel two-piece suit in a light blue and a mint green
like this but mint green and light blue (she probably had a brown one too who am I kidding)
#she was rocking the umbridge-esque style#i hate to say it but it's true#she sold one at a charity auction and gave the other to Maggie's grandmother#ineffable wives#fem!aziraphale#good omens 2#go2 spoilers#go2#maggie
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The Auction
A dystopian tale of the “New Americas,” where the divide between the wealthy and… everyone else is too great to cross. But with all the other viruses comes one that lies dormant in the genes, activating at birth and it is inevitably fatal. So now, perfect genetics are the most desired thing in a mate. Even if you have to buy one.
Important note: there are discussions of disabilities in this chapter viewed by the assholes in this dystopian tales as ‘adverse elements.’ Since my twin boys have autism, I know this is bullshit. Please keep in mind that any discussion of the differently-abled is only for the purpose of the story and their negative responses are pathetic and uneducated.
You’ll be seeing Rich Asshole Ransom Drysdale at the auction tonight, along with James Buchanan Barnes and Terrifying But So Good in a Suit Loki. All obscenely rich bastards. All looking for a wife.
Chapter One - This Can’t Be Happening
“This can’t be happening.”
The woman weeping softly to the right of Rowan might be a little older than she was, but it’s clear she had no frame of reference for what was about to happen to her.
“Stop, don’t mess up your makeup,” Rowan whispered, trying to wipe away the mascara streaming down the woman’s wet cheeks. “Look, it’ll be…”
It’ll be okay?
Was she really about to say something as stupid as that? The group of overly made-up captives - including Rowan, the crying woman clutching her hand, and the twelve other young women shivering in sheer dresses - were most definitely not going to be okay.
“Listen, you’re here now,” she squeezed the crying woman’s hand, trying to get her to look at her. “This is going to happen, so you have to take control of it, okay? You-”
“What is the problem here?”
The voice was sharp, no-nonsense, and sounded much like the priest at the shelter Rowan had left the instant she turned eighteen. But this man definitely took no vow of poverty. His suit was bespoke and perfectly tailored to hide the beginning of a paunch, silver hair expensively styled. “Number Eleven, you’re foolish enough to dismantle the stylist’s work for a tantrum? Who do you think wants to bid on a crying mess? Who would think you were worth millions of credits?” His sharp brown eyes went to Rowan. “And why are you encouraging this, Number Fourteen?”
“I’m not, Mr. Toussaint, I was just-” she tried to smile, to disarm the angry… What did they call him, she thought. Not a pimp, uh, a procurer?
He waved her off impatiently. “I don’t care. Amber!” he shouted over his shoulder, “Come touch up Number Eleven.” The man stepped back and looked over the group. “Listen to me carefully. I have done everything I can to improve your chances of a good match: your wardrobe, your manners, the expensive stylists... Your future is now your responsibility. You can receive a highly lucrative five-year contract with a wealthy partner who will spoil you. Or you can show yourself as weak, poor quality material, and then,” he paused ominously, “I cannot predict your future. The House of Toussaint is known as the finest auction house in the New Americas. I will not allow you to cheapen that reputation. Do you hear me?”
There was a chorus of mumbles and “yessirs,” but he wasn’t happy.
“Do you HEAR ME?”
“Yes, Sir!” Rowan said loudly, clearly, and while the others hurried to add to her answer, Toussaint stared at her, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“There’s a reason you are the last item up for auction tonight,” he said, “I intend to showcase your superb genetics. But that can change if you attempt to speak out again or involve yourself with the other girls.”
She gritted her teeth hard enough to crack a molar before taking a deep breath and offering her sweetest smile. “Absolutely, Sir. I understand completely.” She could picture Ben’s sweet smile as vividly as if he was standing in front of her. She could be sweet, too. She could be very, very sweet.
“Keep up that smile,” her pimp, procurer, whatever he wanted to be called, was standing behind her, looking at their reflection in the mirror. “The live feed to the reception room begins in ten minutes.”
The live feed. She shuddered. Her only moment of gratitude was that the humiliation of flouncing down the catwalk in that dress would be witnessed only by the men and women bidding for her and the others. At any other time, she would have liked this dress; not too much cleavage, with slim straps spread wide on her shoulders to show off her collarbones and neck, but dipping scandalously low in the back. It was beaded, silver, and a green so dark it almost looked black under the lights, with a long slit showing part of her right thigh. And so heavy. What did they make these beads out of, Rowan wondered, lead?
The stylist had pinned her hair up loosely, at some point, the auctioneer would tell her to take her hair out of its chignon and sweep it out to show off the length. Long hair, real long hair, not extensions, was rare, apparently.
As if any of that mattered.
Well, maybe it did. These women - and a couple of men she’d heard - who would be bid on like cattle tonight were all extremely attractive. Rowan sneered, carefully turning away so no one would catch her expression. Good genes weren’t enough for these rich bastards. Their bought and paid-for’s had to have good looks, too.
“Number One, you’re up!”
The girl was sweet, a classic Irish with pale skin, flaming red hair and a pretty spatter of freckles buried under a heavy layer of makeup. What was her name? Rowan tried to remember: they’d shared breakfast that morning, her oatmeal for Glenna’s fruit. Glenna! That’s right!
“Glenna, you got this!” Feeling stupid even as she did it, Rowan held up both thumbs, nodding and smiling. The redhead at least managed a watery grin and a thumbs-up before Amber hustled her out the door.
Walking back and forth, hands on her beaded hips, Rowan listened to the muffled sounds of the auctioneer, how he’d pause, waiting for laughter or some other response from the room stuffed with rich entitled assholes.
One of which is buying you and taking you home tonight, her spiteful inner voice reminded her.
“I don’t think I can do this.”
It was Mina, one of the few who had willingly signed up for the Bride Auction. Her warm brown eyes were wide, clearly trying to keep the tears from spilling. She had a wonderfully lush mouth, glowing skin the color of molten chocolate and a voluptuous figure, the kind of bombshell look that was wildly popular.
Rowan tried to smile, “I think it’s too late. Do you want the pep talk or to just cry a little?”
Mina’s full lower lip trembled. “P- p- p- pep talk.”
Oh, crap a stutter, Rowan groaned silently. It was nothing, nothing at all but with these choosy trust fund scum, the slightest sign of anything less than conventionally perfect could be dangerous. “Okay, I got you. Look. I’d tell you to picture everyone out there as naked, but I think that’s probably too gross to relax you.”
That helped, Mina giggled and hiccuped a bit.
“Who are you doing this for?” Rowan persisted.
“M- m- sister’s k- kids. She got in an accident last month, a hit and run. Just… coming home from work, carrying a bag of groceries. The car hit her hard enough that they found her soup cans a block away. They’re living with m- m- me but my roommates told me they have to leave or we all do. This is-” Mina’s hands were shaking and she clutched them into fists. “This is all I h- have,” gesturing bitterly at her face and body.
“Number Five!” Miss Lavigne said sharply, “Get in line. You’re nearly up.”
Mina turned to go and Rowan grabbed her arm. “Listen,” she said, leaning in close. “There is one unarguable truth in this entire shit show. These rich bastards, they think they have everything; the money, the power, they think they own us. But don’t you forget that there is something they don’t have: our perfect genetic profile. And they’re scared, scared enough to pay for it. They need you just as much as you need them. You strut down that catwalk like you own it. Like you own them. You make them bid so high their banker will have an aneurysm. You hear me?”
She’d been whispering to keep the malevolent Miss Lavigne from hearing her, but when Rowan let Mina go she realized there was a little circle of girls around them. “Don’t any of you forget it. They’re scared and they need you.” They scattered like they were mice when the kitchen light turned on, and Mr. Toussaint stepped in front of her, eyes narrowed with fury.
“It seems, Number Fourteen that you don’t want to see your brother ever again.”
Her hands darted behind her back so he couldn’t see them shake. “You should be thanking me.”
“What?” Now his ruddy skin flushed even darker.
“You want these girls to drain your clients out there of every last million they’re willing to spend and then several million more. Well, now they will.”
Mr. Toussaint’s sharp eyes canvassed the dressing room. The auction items were standing taller, checking their hair, or lipstick in the mirror, straightening the straps on their dress.
“Number Five! You’re on.”
Mina gave Rowan one last smile, and she nodded back.
He stared down at her for a moment longer. “Go have Amber look at your hair. It’s a mess." She was edging away when Toussaint leaned closer. “Your little speech was quite inspiring to these poor, deluded girls. But there are dozens just like you that have been sold through this house. These people fear nothing. And if they wish to carve you open and extract your DNA, no one will stop them. This auction that you so despise? It protects you. With marriage, with financial security that your new spouse cannot access. I do not expect humility from such as you, but be bright enough to pretend you do.”
Toussaint straightened his tie and left without another look at her.
Rowan was submitting to another re-pinning of her carelessly upswept chignon that took a good hour to create and practicing her smile in the mirror. Inviting, confident, a little demure, and uncertain… So many important people! She pretended to bat her eyelashes. It’s such an honor to be here!
It was fucking terrifying to be here. These were the names no one knew, the families so wealthy that they could crush notoriety. These people owned the New Americas.
Everything. Everyone.
Every law that passed, every new “Moral Mandate” was straight from their twisted brains.
“Number Fourteen! You’re on.”
And now, one of them would own her.
“Rowan Wallace is twenty-eight, stands 5”8 with black hair and pale green eyes,” the auctioneer’s voice is smooth and ingratiating and if Rowan wasn’t so busy trying to walk smoothly with a spotlight blinding her, she would have flipped him off.
“She is in superb health, with a full vaccination status, administered and verified by the Chronology Medical Group, which also performed a full genetic panel. You can see the numbers here on the monitor, and her specialized genome projection that…”
The room was dark beyond the brightly lit stage. Of course, Rowan thought, I don’t deserve to see who’s bidding on me. I’m just the shiny object.
“Her IQ has been tested, with a score of 145.”
Rowan slowed on her turn, letting the audience see the sway of her hips, a slight arch to her back as she turned her head to look over one shoulder. My IQ? When the hell did they test me for that? What else did they test me for?
“You’ll see,” the auctioneer continued, “on the 3D projection that Number Fourteen’s uterus and ovaries are in excellent health, and-”
That little revelation almost made Rowan trip on the edge of her dress, but she managed to make the stumble look like another half turn.
“Number Fourteen,” this time, the voice was Mr. Toussaint's. “Stand at the end of the catwalk, if you would.”
Yeah, so pleasant and oh, so posh when your rich assholes are in the room, she thought bitterly. Bitter, but not stupid enough to defy him, she sashayed back to the circular end, posing with her right leg turned and slightly bent at the knee, hand demurely behind her back.
“You rank at 495 out of 500 on the Genetic Reliability Outcome Consensus, Number Fourteen, quite superb.” There was actually a little round of applause at this and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from rolling her eyes.
Mr. Toussaint was looking at her, seemingly expecting some sort of response, so Rowan flashed him an insincere smile, eyes lowered. “That’s… good to hear, Sir.”
A little chuckle rippled through the bidders and she gave a sweet little shrug. Don’t think of these bastards, think of Ben. Don’t you forget why we’re all up here! Her feet were killing her, these high heels must be lined with razor wire or something because-
“However, adding in the adverse element score, you do drop fifty points, dear.” The son of a bitch bastard’s bleached white teeth glowed in the stage lighting. “Your brother was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and of course is part of the package, isn’t he?”
Of course, Rowan’s teeth gritted, another ignorant asshole considering her brother as an ‘adverse element?’ How dare he! Oh, it’s on fucker!
“Well, Mr. Toussaint, I am sure you know, as do all of these extremely well-educated and well-informed leaders in the New Americas, that autism is an indication of the evolution of the human brain. Many people on the Autism Spectrum have unique gifts and talents, along with high scores for intelligence and potential to overcome sensory challenges that might inhibit their abilities to contribute to their community.”
His stupid bleached teeth opened like he was about to interrupt. Oh, no, bitch, I am on a roll.
“My brother Ben is a gift. He is challenging and intelligent, courageous in a way that I’m not. He makes me a better person, he makes everyone around him want to be more than they are. Truthfully?” Rowan looked out into the darkened room again. “He is the best part of this package.”
There was silence for a moment, quiet enough to hear the low buzz of the 3D projector and the rattling of the bracelet on her wrist as she tried to clench her shaking hands together. She'd screwed up. She had so screwed this up.
The auctioneer gave a light chuckle, smoothly divesting Mr. Toussaint of the mic. “Lovely, and it seems passion and loyalty are other excellent traits of Number Fourteen. And now, dear, if you will remove your dress.”
Rowan’s heart stopped. What? This was NOT in their practice runs! She looked out again, licking her lips. He was kidding. This wasn’t humiliating enough? Oh, there’s no way-
“Number Fourteen? Now, if you please.”
Ben’s sweet smile. She could remember it so vividly when he handed her the lunch he’d packed for her when she’d left their apartment that morning before they took him away. When he’d told her, “This is going to be a perfect day!” When he’d smiled, and…
Standing straight, shoulders back and looking regally over the darkened crowd, Rowan raised her hands to the glittering straps holding the heavy gown up and pulled them down. The silver and green beads flashed in the light as the dress dropped to the floor.
Alerting mutuals who I think might be interested, please let me know if you’d like on or off this list. Thank you!
@nonsensicalobsessions
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@chezdricks
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@before-we-get-started
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@saiyanprincessswanie
@nickyI316h
@kez-bez
@gigglingtigger
@jevans2
@teambarnes72
#dystopian avengers#dystopian James Barnes#dystopian Ransom Drysdale#dystopian Loki Laufeyson#bride auctions#women sold for their genetic potential#patriarchal assholes#human trafficking#unwilling brides
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