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zablife · 7 months ago

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Benny Takes You Cruising on Halloween

Benny Cross x female reader

A/N: Benny takes you cruising late on Halloween night, requested by @theycametoconquertheearth53. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Warnings: dark!Benny, drinking, stalking, kidnapping Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

Benny was always running away. Something in the steady rhythm of a humdrum life in the suburbs had never agreed with him. As a teenager he'd left his parents behind, swearing never to return. But the big city hadn't treated him well, a hungry stomach and soul made worse by a cruel world. It hadn't been the adventure he hoped and his bright blue eyes began to dull from constant disappointment.

That is, until the day he spotted you at the soda fountain. Craning his neck to find the source of carefree laughter, he watched you swing your ponytail and sip a milkshake. The sight of your shapely figure made his heart throb.

Sitting up straighter in the booth, he tried to ignore the jukebox competing for attention in the corner. And when he picked out your voice over the strains of the music, he held his breath just to listen. Your words sounded as angelic as the pleasant ring of your laugh and he became infatuated with it in a matter of minutes.

Twirling the straw in your glass, you were oblivious to the dirty biker eavesdropping on your conversation. You had more pressing things on your mind, like what you were going to wear to the Pi Kappa Alpha Halloween party. "Do you really like the pink? I thought red would be sexier," you admitted to your friends, biting your lip as a naughty smile pulled at the corners of your mouth.

"You're not going to dress up?" your friend Linda asked, pushing her ice cream away in a childish pout. "Last year everyone loved our group costume," she argued.

"We're seniors now," you reminded her with a wink. "Time to get serious."

"I agree," Jenny replied with a firm nod, all business when it came to the topic of boys. "I'm attending to find my future husband, not bob for apples."

"Can't we do both?" Linda asked hopefully.

Wrapping an arm around Linda, you pulled her close as you whispered, "Don't worry, I intend to!"

Another eruption of giggles came from the counter as you rose to gather your school books. The dark green ribbon adorning your ponytail fell to the ground like a leaf drifting from a tree as your hips swished, sauntering off into the blinding afternoon sunlight.

The bell above the door rang out just as Benny's heavy boots thudded across the floor. When he reached the spot where you sat moments earlier, he bent down to pick up the soft velvet with callused fingertips. He couldn't resist the urge to draw the material across his cheek, inhaling the floral notes of your perfume as it passed under his nostrils. He only snapped out of his trance when he saw the waitress reappear to collect the coins off the counter in front of him.

"Hey, you know where the Pi Kappa Alpha house is?" he demanded.

Hands resting at her hips, she studied him with disdain. "And why would you need to know that?"

Benny narrowed his eyes, but tried to remain civil as he held up the ribbon. "Just wanna return that girl's hair ribbon is all," he explained.

The waitress attempted to swipe it from him, but he jerked it away just in time. Holding her gaze, he spoke in a low, serious tone. "A gentleman would give it back."

"You ain't no gentleman," she snorted.

As Benny reached the outermost limits of his patience, he pulled a switch blade from his jacket and held it before her terrified face. "You're right," he conceded with a dangerous look in his eye, metal gleaming in his hand. "That's why you should answer me."

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Halloween 1965

Benny had camped out all night in anticipation of the party being held by the fraternity brothers down the street. He figured it was a small price to pay for seeing someone as lovely as you waltz back into his life. His diligence was soon rewarded as he glimpsed you teetering down the walk in impossibly high heels and a crimson red dress. "Look fuckin' perfect," Benny hummed under his breath.

Flicking his cigarette onto the pavement, he exhaled a large plume of smoke which obstructed his face. Hands jammed into the pockets of his faded Levi's, he stalked after you, half hidden by the flickering street lamp.

"One smoke and I'll be right back," you'd cooed at your boring date before he allowed you out of his sight. However, now you wondered if that had been such a good idea. Your vision fuzzy from the alcohol you'd consumed, you couldn't help but stumble as you dug into your purse for your cigarettes. Children dressed as ghouls and goblins brushed past you, making you sway unsteadily.

Your skirt still swooshed in their wake as an unfamiliar man approached. "Kids," you shrugged.

"Yeah, kids," Benny echoed with a wide smile. Then noticing your unlit cigarette he offered, "Need a light?"

You nodded in appreciation, leaning forward as he cupped his other hand around the flame.

"Thanks," you mumbled with your first exhale.

"No problem," he answered, staring intently into your eyes.

Tilting your head to study him, you noticed his rugged good looks. He wasn't like the boys inside who all reminded you of your father. Stable and predictable, they weren't half as interesting as the man who was offering you a ride on his motorcycle now.

"So you wanna come with me or what?" he asked in a seductive whisper.

"I don't know..." you hesitated all of a sudden, eyes flicking to the bike and back to your new dress.

Benny chuckled as he assured you, "I'll go slow."

You thought for a moment as you dropped the cigarette to the ground and pressed it under your toe slowly. A shriek of excitement issued forth from the kids trick-or-treating across the street and you laughed at their enthusiasm. That's when you realized this was the safest night you could choose for such an adventure with so many people out and about. "Alright, let's go," you agreed, taking his hand as he helped you cross the street.

Heart thumping against your rib cage, you allowed Benny to help you onto his bike. He smirked to himself as your fingers curled around his jacket, squeezing tightly against his waist the moment he accelerated away from the curb.

The wind in your hair felt exquisite, the cool air a welcome feeling on your burning cheeks. Am I drunk? you wondered before relaxing against Benny's strong frame and resolving to enjoy the ride.

As soon as the houses of the neighborhood began to fade into the distance you furrowed your brow in confusion. "Where are we going?" you asked over the roar of the engine.

"You'll see," came his cryptic reply.

Your insides stirred at the promise, taking in the sights of the city before he exited onto the highway. "Wait," you objected, but he couldn't hear you, zooming into oncoming traffic with shocking speed.

"You...you said you'd go slow," you shrieked into his ear.

He turned his head slightly and nodded as though he'd heard your complaint. Then he fell in line with a group of bikers.

Much to your chagrin, they soon flanked both sides, whooping and whistling at you. The display unnerved you, breath coming in short spurts as you squeezed your eyes shut against their hungry looks and lewd hand gestures.

Sensing your tension, Benny reached a hand back to stroke your leg, lifting your dress to expose your bare thigh. The other bikers leered back at you, grease stained hands gripping the handles of their motorcycles harshly and you wondered what they would be capable of if they caught you.

Benny's head tilted back, a wolf cry leaving his triumphant lips. As soon as it met your ears, you cowered in fear, knowing this had all been a big mistake."D-do you know them?" you asked, afraid of the answer.

"Course I do," he called back to you with a devilish grin. "We're all gonna have a real good time tonight."

"We going to a party or something?" you asked suspiciously, pressing into him for safety.

Benny's cock stirred the moment you began to hiss into his ear, using all his self control not to pull off the road and take you there. However, he knew the Vandals' rules well. Everyone shared on the first night.

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#the bikeriders fanfiction #the bikeriders imagine #Benny Cross fanfiction #Benny Cross imagine #dark!Benny Cross #Benny Cross #Benny Cross x reader #Benny Cross x you #Benny Cross x y/n #Austin Butler #zablife corrupt a wish

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strawberrypumpkins · 3 months ago

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Thinking about hybrids! Task 141

CW : I haven't played any COD yet; I'm inexperienced in the characters. I just briefly know of the 4 characters, and I'm going to base what I know and some headcanons on this fic. 16+. Maybe OOC.

Tags: Hybrid!AU , Omegaverse, Captain John Price, Simon Riley, Gaz, Johnny MacTavish—Soap. This is my AU, and so it's going to have bits and pieces of how I feel and go around these things. My formatting may be weird too, but it's a work in progress for me.

Thinking about

Bear hybrid! Captain John Price. An apex predator and the father figure of the group of 4 other men despite just being 38, the men look up to him as their captain and rely on him to speak for the group. John Price had been an early presenter even before he came out as an alpha; he already had the demanding attitude in tow and knew how to command people before he knew how to walk. It was no surprise when, at the early age of 13, he was already sure of his secondary gender. John Price, when not sending his men on missions or going with them, is cooped up in his room sleeping as more bears do when they are free, or he's standing in the kitchen of the common room of his men's dormitory, spending his time baking stuff. He's recently found an affinity for making good apple and berry pies.

Scent: Smells thickly of pines and a wet, musky forest. Over time he also picked up the scent of tobacco; it isn't an adaptation to his scent, but as he's often smoking one, it just seemed to stick onto him.

Falcon hybrid! Kyle Garrick. The prettiest bird on the team and possibly in the whole base. Gaz is probably the only hybrid between the 5 other hybrids that pays close attention to how he looks and how his room and nests look—yes, despite being an alpha, he does have a nest; for him, the alphas in the bird kingdom are the ones to have nests; they decorate them beautifully and make sure to scent them on a regular basis; it has to be perfect for their mate, and even though he doesn't have one yet, who knows when he might get one? He needs to be perfect, grooming his long-spanned feathers off the floor during his shedding and tucking them into the soft materials of his nest; he's the first to wake up every morning, using the extra two hours to make himself look and smell presentable. When he's off missions and not grooming himself or recleaning his room and nest, he's perched in the common room in front of Johnny, grooming the hare. He's the only one who lets poor Kyle keep them clean.

Scent: Unlike most alphas, who have thick musky scents, Kyle's own is the more calming one between all 5 and the most "omega-like," as Simon once coined it. It's like a breath of fresh air, like a warm summer day with a hint of a breeze, extremely soothing.

German shepherd! Simon Riley. Although he is dominant, he doesn't really rely on his canine counterparts; in fact, he hates them to a certain degree. He doesn't relate to being an alpha or a canine, and it mildly has to do with his traumatic childhood. Born to a feline mother and canine father, it was obvious to everyone they were a bad match to begin with. Simon was a late bloomer; usually at the age of 14-16, people started developing their second genders. Simon, although a canine, had been a mildly lanky child from the moment he started to know how to walk. He'd gotten his father's features, bright blue eyes and blonde hair, but the problem was he took a crucial part from his mother, her femininity. His father didn't like that; how dare his child be an Omega? That was what started the abuse that would be inflicted on him till he grew up, running away from home when he turned 18. It was only after he'd accepted that maybe he was a beta and he could start afresh that his awakening happened as an Alpha; to say he was beyond pissed was an understatement. Why didn't he present earlier? He could've prevented all the abuse inflicted on him and his family.

But he doesn't let this stop him from living his life; in fact, it does the opposite. He works better, needs to be better, and climbs his way through this new life. He wouldn't stop until he was strong, strong enough to protect his family and anyone else close to him. He locks up his feelings and continues with life until he finally joins Captain Price's team, who slowly remove his walls and help him with acceptance. It doesn't take long for him to start bickering with Johnny and accepting that he's now in a pack. One that truly accepts him for him. When off missions, he's in the common room, reading novels or sparring with other members on base; on some rare occasions, he plays video games with Soap in the Hares room.

Scent: Much to his dismay, he smells like rainy days, which he finds extremely ironic, as he hates the rain and thunderstorms, anything that reminds him of his childhood or the trauma he went through, and petrichor.

Hare Hybrid! Johnny Mactavish. Basically a glorified rabbit, Johnny doesn't act like most hares act, like reclusive and not so friendly; he's the opposite, acting more like rabbits, he'd pass off for another breed of rabbit if it weren't for his overly long ears, big body, and surprisingly fast feet. Johnny is the son of the group, always willing to help anyone else; he won’t ever say no; he always has a smile on his face and is down to do what you want when everyone else says no. Johnny spends his time in many different ways, drinking with König when the man doesn't want to socialize but hang out—Johnny can keep the man company in silence, although he does crack a joke once or twice—being a taste tester for Price, letting Kyle groom him, and occasional sleepovers with Simon—which just means he enters the canine's room, makes himself comfortable in the den, and falls asleep—which the canine really doesn't mind either way. What does the hare like to do on his own? He likes to watch Price cook; he likes to pick up the berries Price deems unworthy and chomp away on them, bonus points if there's apple skin covered in cinnamon. If not that, then he settles for going for hikes in the forest; he's free, and he has fun scavenging, running around, or sleeping under the giant willow tree a few meters off base.

Scent: Smells of soft wild berries, often has a sugary scent to him, could be taken for an omega's scent, but when with him for prolonged areas, the scent is more sickeningly sweet than soft.

Notes: I was too tired to add Konig, but I promise I'll make his own in a day or so.

Also notice how I write a lot about Simon? Sorry 🙏🏽, I just love his character so much.

#Hare Hybrid! soap has definetly attempted to mount canine hybrid!Simon before during a rut #clinging to him and begging him #hyrbid!Cod 4 main #simon riley #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #Hyrbrid AU #Strawberrypumpkin thinks #blurbs

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36crypto · 2 months ago

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Whale Buys $48M in Pi Coin as Price Stalls—Is a Massive Breakout Coming?

Pi Coin is trading at $0.63, recording a 2 percent decline in the last 24 hours. Since peaking in February, the token has been stuck in a tight range and has failed to reclaim its previous highs. Pi Coin has struggled to break past the key $0.70 resistance level despite repeated attempts. Each rejection has reinforced the upper boundary of the current sideways trend. Adding pressure to the…

#pi coin price

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pi-coin-price-in-pakistan · 3 months ago

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Pi Coin Price in Pakistan - Live Updates & Latest Value

If you're following the cryptocurrency market, staying updated on the Pi coin price in Pakistan is essential. As the Pi Network grows, interest in its value and future potential continues to rise. This guide covers real-time information on Pi network price in Pakistan and how it’s performing in the market.

Many investors are curious about the pi rate in Pakistan and frequently search for conversions like pi to pkr to understand the local value. The pi price in Pakistan can fluctuate, so it’s important to check reliable sources for accurate updates. Whether you’re trading or just exploring the Pi Network, knowing the pi rate in dollar today in Pakistan can help you make informed decisions.

For those checking daily rates, you might want to track the today pi rate in Pakistan or search for the pi coin price in Pakistan today. These live updates give you insight into the coin’s performance and market trends. Similarly, the pi network price in Pakistan today reflects its evolving market position, helping you stay ahead.

If you’re wondering about the pi value in Pakistan, it's worth noting that while the Pi Network is still in development, its community and adoption are growing steadily. Whether you’re holding Pi coins or considering joining the network, keeping up with price changes and market analysis will empower you to make smarter crypto choices.

#Pi Coin Price #Pi Network Pakistan #Pi to PKR #Cryptocurrency Rates Pakistan

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calscompositions · 11 months ago

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don’t mind me, just putting some of my favorite Failboat quotes here

“…now I’m actually able to broadcast to people in, like, what? Lithuania! And… California! [long silence] …I’ve run out of locations in the world that I’m aware of.”

“Sorry, it’s not ‘Do you’, I’m an idiot. It’s ‘triangle-o-trident-o going through (can’t remember what was said here and the quote I’m copying censored this bit)-u with a lil extra somethin somethin-double t-pi-upside down triangle-square root of Christ.”

“That’s not a boot! It’s the god of death, Grandma!”

“Nice balls. Your life is forfeit.”

“So, yee— and I cannot stress this enough— haw.” *launches self into the air while riding another player disguised as a llama*

“Frosty the Snowman decided that one day / That if you see him approaching, you should pick a god and pray”

“Hello there, your call is very important to us. Thank you for calling Bed Bath and Beyond, you are currently number 289 in cue, estimated time remaining: 14 years. You'll be here forever, we have actually stapled the phone to your ear. That's right, you're here forever, we own you. People always wondered what was in the beyond department. Everyone you love is in the beyond department. Thank you for calling.”

“I’m gonna fire a drill and I’m gonna fire a drill and I’m gonna kill this guy by firing a drill and I’m gonna fire a drill and I’m just gonna kick this guy and guess how you’re gonna die? By firing a drill.”

“Careful Link! It’s an apostrophe!”

“Thank you Goku, for creating the Hatsune Miku gun.”

(talking to chat) “Chat, you don’t sound a lot like denomination right now. Say something a coin would say.” “Father, give us hands so that we can feel something other than pain.” “An official quote from the US dollar bill!” “Rising house prices.” “Ok hold on that sou— that’s very coin-like.”

#failboat #kirby #the legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #animal crossing #minecraft #i’m pretty sure these quotes are from videos on those games but i’m not 100% sure so bear with me

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crybaby-bkg · 8 months ago

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𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓮

Day two of gojober! Warnings: implied gojo x getou, faerie gojo x human reader, aphrodisiac through faerie food, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, smut, riding, unprotected sex, mating bond, public sex, orgy, come eating, bloody kisses, biting. please let me know if I missed anything!! Word count: 7.7k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI Also available on Ao3 Masterlist can be found here

Growing up, there were loads of folklore about the faeries you coexisted with in the world. Tales of pixies giving haircuts for the price of your shiniest coin. Of selkies making trades for lungs to give one gills for an hour a day, something to switch places. Tales of brownies cleaning up your house in the night, as long as you left out cheese on the countertops. Of trolls and nymphs and goblins and sirens.

For the longest time, people liked them, learned how to coexist with them until—until they learned that the faerie king is dead. And with him went the peace treaties and the sharing of lands and fauna and kindness. Now replaced with unsettled feelings and unsure fear resting in humans bellies, a growing pit of hunger in the faeries.

But before things start to become unruly, the fae gave word of message with any and every mean that they could; from the awkward mouths of deer with too black eyes, written into the dust of one’s windows, carried in the whispers of the wind. They all give the same message; a new King is coming, and with him, comes change.

It leaves everyone unsettled, terrified, on edge. Will this faerie king bring back the violence that was bestowed upon humans centuries ago? Will they be hunted for sport again? Kept as slaves? As livestock to feed from and fuck and hunt and breed whenever they so desired?

It’s why the leaders of your village give all of you the warning to stay on guard. To be on high alert, to keep away from the woods that dwindle with the Folk, to make sure the strangers you meet have five fingers, no more, no less. (The changelings still have a little trouble with mimicking the depth of humans, but sometimes the soul sucking leers they give you are all the notice that you need.)

It’s why you know you should ignore the humming of saccharine sweet voices that glide through the air, slides against the open pane of your window. You know those calls, have heard them near the shores of lakes, accompanied by too sharp teeth and misshapen faces. Have heard the heart stopping music that makes you dance and dance until the soles of your feet bleed and you drop from exhaustion.

You should ignore it. The leaders of your village would tell you to ignore it.

And everyone else does, too. There’s not a single soul outside, wandering the streets, following the music and the food and the singing deep into the heart of the woods. Orders were to stay in after dark, to put fresh berries and pies on your doorstep to keep the Folk kind, less they change their minds about their appetites for human flesh.

So why does the music call to you so loudly? So enticingly, that you’re not even sure your head is on all the way as you climb from your window, sure not to wake your family in your venturing outside. It could be dangerous. There could be a boggart lingering in the high grass, ready to snatch you and take you back to Faerie, but the music calls for you too loudly to ignore.

You’re not sure how long it takes you to find the heart of the music, in the middle of the woods. You dance lightly on your feet all the way there, your eyes closed as you hum along to the enticing melodies, your body somehow knowing the path along the way. You don’t trip or stumble, don’t scratch your cheeks on leering branches, or find a boggart ready to snack on your bones and flesh.

After what could be minutes or hours, do you finally find the heart of the festivities. There are no humans here, you remark to yourself as you scan the expansive area. However, there are all kinds of Folk here; small and huge, flesh colored and gray and green skinned, sharp teeth and gaping hole where a mouth should be, colorless eyes and unnaturally stained ones, all of their teeth ready to devour. You give pause when the attention is turned to you, and you wonder if they’ll at least knock you unconscious before they begin passing you around like an apple tart on a silver platter. You should’ve brought iron.

But instead of tearing into you, one faerie grabs your hand and dances with you. Its an orc, who’s almost doubled your height, with slicked green skin and two sharp fangs that protrude from the bottom half of his mouth. He says something to you in a language you don’t understand, but it makes you laugh, for some reason, anyway. You’re passed off to a pixie next, who’s too small to properly hold, but she buzzes around your head, placing flowers too vibrant to be found in the human realms in your hair.

And the rest of the night seems to go that way; passed off from Folk to Folk, all welcoming, all giving you some piece of a gift you’re not really sure what to do with. But you accept it all anyway, feeling more at home than you have in a long time.

You’re pulled into a faerie circle by the end of the night, winded and full of the foods that some have given you. You were always warned to never eat or drink anything from the Fae, but they offered it so kindly, how could you resist? How could you resist when the flavors of meats and pies you’ve never even heard of tastes like ambrosia? Like a sweet afterlife that you can dip your fingers into without the eternity of it all capturing you?

So you dance and dance and laugh and laugh until your ribs ache and your feet begin to blister and your belly becomes full, but never quite full enough. You think you could die here, peaceful, happy, knowing that your last moments were spent so joyously, that to live another second without it, would be more painful than the death that followed.

But someone pulls you from the circle, and it feels like time has suddenly caught up to you. The sun creeps over the horizon, despite the fact that when you had arrived, the moon still rested high in between the clouds. How could you have danced for so long, that a new day has begun? What will your parents think? Oh gods, you have to get back to them—

“Does my face scare you that badly, that you flee at the first sight of me?” A quiet voice pulls you from your thoughts, your head snapping to attention. You’re greeted by an almost ethereal kind of beauty; he’s a Fae, obviously, but one of the more…human, looking ones. He stands taller than you, his form lithe beneath the pure white linens and silks he wears, that drapes around his form. They match the purity of his hair, that seemingly glistens as the suns first rays hits the crown of his head. His face is pale, and the only thing that makes him obviously Fae are the pointed ears, and the lack of an iris; the entirety of his eyes where the white should be, instead glossed over with an oceanic blue that stuns you at the first sight of it. The fae grins crookedly at your gaping, placing a hand on his hip as he cocks his head at you.

“Or has the wine run out of your system?” He teases with a wink. It brings you out of your stupor, and you can’t help but let out a little breathless laugh. You shake your head at him, before nodding your chin in greeting.

“My apologies,” you say softly, knowing better than to ask him for his name. They were a sacred thing amongst the Fae, and just as sacred if you gave them out, too, as a human. But something about the otherworldly looking faerie made you want to give it all to him. You knew better, unfortunately for him.

“Apologizing to a Fae? You must want to make it up to me, then.” He grins at you, pretty and scary all at once, his teeth too white, his canines too sharp. You could smack yourself on the head for forgetting.

“All these word rules with you Folk,” you groan with a playful roll of your eyes. The faerie laughs, the sound elegant and soft, his sharp chin tipped back in mirth at the way you grin at him. His laughter teeters out, the sound seemingly carried through the soft wind, rustling what you first thought was a tree, before it smiled and began walking toward the dancing circle. Your eyes slide back over to the faerie in front of you, a shadow suddenly casted over the brightness of his eyes, the corners of his lips upturned elegantly.

“I’ll let you off the hook easily.” He promises you, holding a hand out for you to join. But you eye it warily, wiggling your own fingers in his directions.

“Oh yeah? By only eating nine of my fingers, and not ten?” You inquire with a cock of your eyebrow, something deep inside of you screaming for you to not give him any kinds of ideas. But the faerie only smiles, easily sliding his lithe, cold fingers against your own wiggling ones.

“Technically its eight fingers and two thumbs, but who’s counting?” He says playfully, to which you shoot him a look. He grins at you, all teeth, and it unnerves some deep, primal part of you that you try to smother. The faerie begins to lead you deeper into the party, toward a gray marbled dais that you hadn’t noticed before. It must’ve been for the Faerie King, who had passed on from—well, now that you think about it, you don’t really know how the old King died.

“No, I’d like you to make it up to me by dancing with me.” He stops short of the dais, where a huge circle rests in front of the empty throne. The middle of the circle has grass fresher than the blades just a foot outside of the circle, velvety purple flowers springing higher and higher the more faeries dance around it. It seems to bloom with every passing second, and you watch as some of the partygoers snatch a few up, either eating the flowers whole or crushing them into their wines.

“If you insist.” You murmur under your breath as you watch the strange tradition. But the faerie only chuckles quietly at you, pulling you behind him as he walks toward the circle. Quickly, do the others in dancing along the circle start to peter off one by one, until only you and the blue eyed faerie are left. He holds you against him, chest to chest, your feet carrying you better than they ever have with the other boys in your village. You dance forward and backwards, spinning and dipping, laughter spilling from your lips all the while as you somehow keep up with this faerie who has to have been made for the purpose of bringing forth elegance into the world.

After the sun has finally come up, resting high and bright in the sky, do you finally slow down. You know you should be leaving soon, should get back to your family, but the faerie slows his steps, his arms around your waist, his head ducked down to whisper in your ear.

“So, why are you here?” He asks suddenly, making you purse your lips in confusion as you pull away from him. You still dance parallel to him, more of a sway of your hips as he stalks toward you, round and round the circle.

“Oh, so you ask me to dance just to kick me out right after? I thought the Fae had manners.” You chide, folding your arms over your chest as you change the routine, now stalking toward him. The faerie smiles, bright, hands up disarmingly as he follows your lead, reaching out to lay a hand on your hip.

“No, to both of those. Have you ever met a Dryad who’s hungry?” He cocks his head to one in the far corner, who bites at an elf who strays too close. You can’t help the snicker that leaves you, before you turn back to the faerie.

“I meant, why are you the only human here?” The faerie returns your attention to him, his words soft, hushed, only for you to hear. He continues on before you can answer with a cock of his head. “I know your people have been scared, and are staying away from us for the time being. So why come?”

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, stepping closer so that you can hold him around the neck again. “I can’t really explain it. The music just called to me, and nobody else. That’s when I knew I had to follow it.”

You look up at him with such honest eyes, that his face settles softly from the tense expression he hadn’t even realized he’s been wearing. He stares at you, for an almost unsettlingly long time, his mouth curving up just the slightest bit as he dips his head at you.

“Just the answer I was looking for.” He whispers against the curve of your cheek, leaving your face feeling heated, his hands skimming over the softness of you through your clothes. But the moment he pulls away, you get this suddenly sinking feeling in your stomach, like somethings not right. You knew faeries could be tricky beings, but what could you have said that could incriminate you? What could you have done for him to look at you suddenly, not like the human he danced with, but as the prey he now lusted for?

“Thank you to everyone for the festivities.” He suddenly says, pulling you both from the circle, despite the fact that your feet wish to continue dancing. Its an unbalancing feeling, being snatched away from the circle that you knew had led to many deaths, and yet you wished for just a moment more. But you can’t focus on that, as you suddenly realize that everyone has turned to face you two, their eyes locked on where the faerie holds your hand in his own.

“As your new Fae King, I will not bow to my people,” The faerie says with a shit eating little grin, makes a few chuckles and murmurs fall upon the crowd but—but you pause. Your body tenses up at the realization, at the sinking, dizzying realization that this faerie…the one you had danced with and laughed with and spent the majority of your night with…was the newly appointed King that had warned everyone in your kingdom.

What the actual fuck was going on? Why the fuck didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t anyone say anything? You look toward the empty dais, wonder if he had sat there before you had been lured to the festivities, if he watched you up there while you were passed from fae to fae. How hadn’t you noticed? How could you be so foolish? This was all a trap; it had to be! A ploy to see which human would take the bait, any excuse to accuse humanity of trying to tip the balance, any excuse for them to go into town and slaughter and enslave all of your people.

How could you be so fucking foolish?

“But I do tip my head to you, as your music has helped my new mate find her place amongst us. Let us welcome her to her new home.” The faerie smiles, wide and proud, holding a cup that an elf had handed to him while your mind raced and—wait. Wait a fucking second now.

Your head whips to the faerie, who stares out at his people, proud, his chest puffed, his chin held high. You sputter, looking for words, where all fail you. You feel a primal sort of panic start to overcome you, and you’re not entirely sure that you’re breathing right now.

“She’s taking this a lot better than the last one, that’s for sure,” you hear from a dry voice amongst the crowd, a black haired faerie with big pointed ears who tips his head to the other fae at your side. It kicks you into reality, your internal panic suddenly becoming physical as you gasp, ripping yourself away from the blue eyed fae. He only smiles at you, as if he were expecting this exact reaction, as if surprised it took you this long to push him away.

“What the fuck?” Is all you can get out through your quick breaths, your chest suddenly feeling too tight, the open space of the woods suddenly feeling too closed in with all the creatures inhabiting it. “Your mate? My new home? What the fuck are you on about, you fucking—”

“Ah, I think it’s best that you not finish that sentence.” The faerie smiles at you, and suddenly its not so carefree anymore. Its strained, pulled tight at the corners, makes his dimples look like cuts from the last victim trying to claw their way from his greedy hands. “Don’t want to insult your new King, and fuck up the treaty between us and humans, now, would you?”

It’s a threat, and an obvious one at that. You suck in a shaky breath, looking around for help, any kind, from anybody. But they all smile at the two of you, someone even raising a glass, toasting to the new king and his newly found mate. You think you might throw up.

The faerie grabs your hand, but you snatch away from him with a shaky growl. Your eyes well with tears; this was a trap. This whole night was a trap, and you were to be the sacrifice for your people. Did everyone know, but you? Did you parents know? Did only these forest dwelling creatures know with their enchanted magical music? Are you just a pawn in the grander scheme of things?

The faerie only smiles at you, though, like you’re some child that can be easily disarmed with a lollipop and a pat on the head. He picks you up before you can protest, holding you tight to his chest as you begin to wriggle around, screaming out in protest. But no one comes to your aid. They only watch, bowing as he passes them, leading you up, up, up to the dais where a single throne sits.

“We’ll get one made for you after we consummate our newly formed bond.” The faerie whispers against your cheek. You can feel the leering smile, the sharp teeth that scrape your skin with every word. You flinch away from him, suddenly hot at the thought of having to be intimate with such a tricky creature.

“I’d rather slit my own throat.” You growl at the faerie, who only pouts at you before he plops down on the throne with you over his lap. Your legs hang off the sides of the cold, expansive seat, your back propped up against his arm as he turns you to face him.

“But its such a pretty throat,” he purrs, his eyes lidded, his smile feline. It would be an alluring sight if the gravity of the situation hadn’t settled in five minutes ago. Instead of swooning, you scrunch your nose at him, trying to pull away as far as you can but the faerie only holds you tight to him.

“We had such a good time, just a minute ago. Don’t you want to continue it?” He asks, nuzzling his frigid nose against the column of your throat. It tips your head back the slightest bit, exposes your jugular, the way your heartbeat settles against the thin flesh there. You swallow thickly, pushing him away by the shoulders, and he lets you. (It’s important to remember, that as the Faerie King, he let you.)

“It was all under the guise of a trick, a lie.” You snarl at him, your faces suddenly too close, his eyes too blue. They only blink at you, faux innocent, his stark white eyebrows curving up ever so slightly as if in confusion.

“You know we Folk can’t lie, sweetheart.” He chides you, softly, as if you were a mere child. The brush of his soft knuckles against the swell of your cheek is condescending, and you try to shake him off. He doesn’t let you. Instead, he palms your cheek and jaw in his hand, tilting your head toward him, despite how you try to crane your neck away. He watches the tears well in your eyes, the way your teeth grit in frustration, feels the way your nails dig into the skin of his arms, trying to pull him back. He sees the anger. He soothes it with a sweet, saccharine kiss to the tip of your nose as a single tear escapes the corner of your eye.

“But you deceived me.” You spit at him, gritting your words through your teeth. “You knew I was the only human who had shown up, meaning I would be connected to you in some way.” He doesn’t deny it. Simply turns your head this way and that as if examining you, pressing soft, simple kisses in the wake of your salty tears. When he doesn’t say anything, you look out to the crowd of creatures who watch you with leering eyes, gathering round the dais, as if waiting for the show, as if hanging on to your every, crying word.

“And you’re the fucking King. What the fuck?” You whisper, even though you’re sure the other fae can hear you with their stupidly good hearing. Some of them snicker, others baring their teeth at you for speaking to their king like that. But you don’t flinch, don’t waver, just sit in a shaking ball of fury as the faerie holds you to him even closer, until you’re sure that his very fingertips brush against the bone of your ribs.

“Would it better if we had this conversation elsewhere?” The faerie asks against the curve of your cheek, his voice mischievous, his smile sneaky. Before you can answer, he stands with you in his arms, taking a step off of the dais, but time seems to move differently in those few seconds.

One moment, you’re in the open forest with all kinds of creatures staring back at you, with tables full of wine and food to feed an entire village. And in the next second, you’re plopped down onto a bed too big for one person, too soft to be made in the human realm, and a blue eyed faerie grinning at you from where he stands beside the bed.

You sit up jerkily, clutching your chest as you suck in breath after breath, looking around the room, trying to take in as much as you can.

“Where am I? What the fuck did you do?” You ask him in a rasp, hair mussed from where he threw you on the bed. The room is huge, the bed barely even taking up half of it. It seems to be alive, the room, as things start to move the longer you look at them—the dresser begins to split into two, which moves an adjacent door down a bit to make room, the desk in the corner scoots itself over until its tucked in discreetly, the sheets on the bed roll down to welcome you under the covers—

“What the fuck?” You scream again, trying to jump off of the moving bed, when the faerie catches you in his arms. You stand on your knees before him as he holds you by the upper arms, his smile wide and infectious, but there isn’t much for you to find humor in, at the moment.

“Just a little faerie magic,” he says nonchalantly, with a lift of his shoulders. You can only look at him incredulously for a moment before the tears begin to well in your eyes again. At that, his face falls, ever so slightly, his mouth pouting as he lowers you into a sitting position once more, tucking you in against his side.

“C’mon now, don’t cry. I’m sure your life here is gonna be so much better than how you had to live before.” He says softly into your hair, wrapping you up tightly in his embrace, makes you feel suffocated. You pull away from him, wiping your face with the backs of your hands as you narrow your eyes at him in frustration.

“I’m sure it will be,” you snap, aware of how the magic in Faerie improves the lives of so many, “but the entire point is that I didn’t have a choice.” Your words are spitting, your hackles raised like some feline ready to pounce. The faerie only frowns at you, his hands twisting against the other in his lap, seemingly unsettled by the distance put between the two of you.

“You know, I didn’t either, technically.” He rebuts, his pink mouth set in a soft pout, the blue of his eyes dimming ever so slightly as he casts his gaze down to the silken sheets. They’re blue like his eyes, except for maybe a shade lighter, woven with white thread to create some sort of language you can’t understand. It would be prettier if you weren’t here against your will.

“But at least you knew about this whole mate thing, in the first place. It blindsided me.” Your voice is pleading, cracking as you grip your chest in pain. You were enough of a dreamer to romanticize almost any and every situation and scenario. But it was always based on the consent of it all, the knowledge of what was to come. Maybe if you had known about this whole mate situation before tonight, you would’ve reacted better. Would’ve came dressed in your prettiest gown and nicest shoes, with your fingernails painted, and your hair woven through with the flowers from your garden.

But you hadn’t known anything. You were just thrown into this entire situation without any care or regard of how it would make you feel, make your family feel. Did they even know that you were gone, unlikely to ever return to your home again?

“Would it make you feel better if I told you my name?” The faerie says softly, breaking you from your train of thought. Your head whips up at that, your eyes wide in surprise as you take in his slumped over form. He looks childlike in the moment, with his pout and downcast eyes, despite the sinewy muscles you make out through the sheer fabric of his tunic.

Faeries sharing their names, their true names, is something sacred. It gives the user a sort of power over them, the ability to control and manipulate however one sees fit. They do not pass out their names often, and when they do, it is a huge sign of respect and submission.

“You would do that?” You ask him quietly, scooting forward until your knees brush against each other, hesitantly reaching for his hand. Its cold against your own, soft and clammy in the center. You have just met—does he know what kind of power he’s giving you, a mere human, supposedly his mate, by entrusting you with his name?

“Satoru.” He says, gently, the word a whisper that carries through the stale air of the room. You suck in a deep breath, tilting your head at him—at Satoru—in astonishment. The softness of the name fits him, his unblinking eyes and wide gaze, the gentle slope of his nose, the curve of his top lip, the jut of his sharp chin.

“Thank you.” You say truthfully, squeezing his hands in both of yours, feeling a little less intimidated at the seconds pass by. Satoru only smiles at you, gentle, the makings of a dimple deepening in his right cheek. He takes you in, waiting for you to command him to do something evil, wicked, to let you go and sever your mating bond with the use of his true name.

But you only sit there in amazement, taking all of him in as if its your first time seeing him tonight. It makes him swallow thickly, the vulnerability of your gaze eating away at him. He speaks when the seconds tick on for entirely too long.

“Now, have some wine. It’ll help you feel better.” Satoru murmurs, pulling his hand from yours, albeit hesitantly, and stretching it to the corner of the room beside him. You watch as a silver chalice seems to materialize out of nowhere, floating on the wind in the room that you hadn’t felt seconds beforehand, before it nestles in the grip of his palm. He offers the wine to you, and without a second thought, do you drink it.

It’s too late when you realize that this wine isn’t like the other drinks you had at the festivities, of what you may now think of as your engagement party. The thought makes you giggle, before you slap a hand over your mouth, confusion bleeding on your face. You smack your lips together, and suddenly the taste of the wine that lingers isn’t enough. You have to finish all of it—now.

You tip your head back, taking in gulps of the wine. Your brain yells at you to stop, warns you that something isn’t right, but you can’t listen to it right now. You have to finish, have to consume all of the wine that seemingly goes on forever and ever, the bottom of the cup never reaching the twinkle of your eye. It tastes like heaven; it tastes like ambrosia; a mix of lavender and dewy grass on a spring morning; a mix of the suns rays itself; a mix of the moon’s craters chiseled off and dumped into the cup; a mix of your mate’s kiss; of something otherworldly.

The wine runs down your neck in rivulets that you cannot stop yourself from spilling. But your mate—gods, how that sounds so good, suddenly—cleans you up with a flick of his tongue against the spilling nectar. Your head tips back until it rests on your shoulders, your throat bobbing with every gulp until the chalice runs empty. Only then, do you sit forward, gasping for air, a buzz underneath your flesh, lingering in your skin, makes you feel—ethereal.

“Why,” you start, smacking your lips as you heave in and out for breaths. “Why do I feel this way? Why does the wine make me feel like this, now?”

Satoru already knows what you mean, and grins against the column of your throat. He scoops you easily into his lap, where you straddle his thighs, sitting on your knees before you collapse into a heap onto his chest. Your body grows hot, your head fuzzy, a smile unable to fall from your face as your arms wrap loosely around his broad shoulders. There’s a buzz in your lower stomach, makes you feel almost a physical pull to your mate—your mate—as you whimper low in your throat.

“Did you ever fill your own cup?” He purrs, pulling you away from the crook of his neck so that he can really see you now. Your face is flushed, your lips already swelling from the contents of the wine, ready to be kissed and nipped and licked until the wine runs from your system. Your eyes grow hazy with every passing second, and he can smell the arousal starting to pool between your thighs. You look embarrassed for only a second, before that dopey smile creeps back onto your face the longer you look at him—your mate.

“At the ceremony, after I was crowned, I was told that my mate, a human, would find their way into the midst of our gathering.” Satoru tells you, laying back on the bed, softly, slowly, like some snake charmer goading you into its hold. You go willingly, feeling a burning sensation low in your belly, the primal part of your brain telling you that its something only your mate can fix. You wriggle on the soft sheets, suddenly burning up, suddenly needing all of your clothes off and away from you, suddenly needing to feel your mate’s skin against your own, his flesh between your teeth.

“And to keep my mate from doing anything foolish, from ruining their purity with other creatures, only human-safe wine and food would be served.” Satoru’s voice is akin to a purr, his smile sharp. You let him undress you, help him pull the dress from over your head, your stockings from your legs, your undergarments from your sticky skin until you lay bare in front of him. He licks his lips at the sight of you, of your human flesh, so easy to corrupt, so easy to tear into. But he’s gentle where he presses kisses against your navel, travels down, down, down, until his lips hover where you need him most.

“Kiss me there,” you plead for him, your body feeling scorched, engulfed in invisible flames that only he can lick away. Satoru hums at you, ever a loving mate, and follows your very command. He kisses you at the apex of your cunt, your clit throbbing almost painfully from the softness of his mouth. You keen, high in your throat, your back already arching from the bed, your nails tangled in the wispiness of his fluffy hair.

“And once the sun rose,” Satoru whispers against your drooling lips, licking the wetness there with a flick of his tongue. “And the human stayed and danced and sung with my people, then it would be official; you would become my mate.”

Its hard trying to keep up with what he says when the flames from inside of you only seem to alight more when he nuzzles his nose against the hair on your mound. You push his head to your hole, whimpering low in your throat when he laughs softly at your antics.

“Stop teasing me,” you whine, angling your hips this way and that, desperate for him to kiss your clit again. And he does—presses kiss after kiss until his tongue comes out to play, until his lips suction around the swollen bud and you can’t help the cry that rips from your throat at the overwhelming feeling.

“I gave you the faerie wine, just to help calm you down, you know?” Satoru hums, resting his cheek against your inner thigh, as he teases the pad of his finger against your dripping hole. You try to fuck yourself down on it, but he pulls away with a little tut, making your eyes water.

“Please,” you whimper, looking down the length of your body at Satoru, who blinks big, oceanic eyes up at you, almost innocently. But you can see the way that his mouth curls up into a grin at the sight of your teary eyes, almost as if in anticipation of how much he could break you before you would beg.

He eases a finger inside of you, eyes eating up the way your mouth drops open and your eyes flutter shut all the while. He kisses the apex of your thighs, before lightly flicking the tip of your clit with his tongue. He curls his finger inside of you, softly stroking the wetness of your walls, feels how you clamp down so tightly around him. He groans, his mouth vibrating against your skin as you throw your head back with the softest moan he thinks he’s ever heard.

He rushes you to your orgasm, after that, done with the teasing, ready to solidify your bonds as mates. Satoru curls in a second finger, wraps hungry lips around your clit and licks you at the same time his fingers abuse that soft spot inside of you. You don’t know how he found it so easily, when the boys in your village never could after hours of trying, but you think you may understand why he’s your mate now. He works you as if this isn’t his first time touching you, tasting you, unraveling you on his mouth and fingers until your back arches from the bed, and you’re crying out from the pleasure.

You cum around his fingers, walls tightening around him, clit pulsing steadily as you gasp for breath. Satoru doesn’t release you until you push at his head, whining from the overstimulation, and yet still so greedy to feel him inside of you. He pulls his fingers from your soft hole, sucks the nectar of your cunt from his fingers, his eyes fluttering shut, white lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks as he moans at the taste of you.

He doesn’t have to pull you up before you’re on him, standing on your knees in front of him as you pull his mouth to your own. He kisses you, fervent and hungry, and you meet him with such intense fervor, that you’re not sure where your body ends and his begins. Your hands cradle his nape, and you can feel the rigidness of his cock brushing against your naked stomach. You grab his hand in your own, sucking the lingering taste of you from beneath his nails, from the grooves of his fingerprints, earning you a deep groan from the bass of his throat.

He pulls away from you, breathless, and in the blink of an eye, his clothes disappear from his body. You take all of him in; the milkiness of his skin, the scars that decorate his chest and torso, the pinks of his pert nipples, the hard plane of his stomach, his long cock that stands at attention, the tip angry and red and leaking where it swipes against your skin.

“I want you.” You tell him, unsure if the wine is still in your system, or if the pretty specimen in front of you overrides your senses that much. Satoru only grins, humming under his breath as he pulls you onto him, falling onto the sheets and the pillows behind him. You straddle him once more, his cock pressed between your bodies, and you can feel the heat radiating from the shaft.

“Then take me.” Satoru whispers, his eyes half lidded, large, warm hands resting on the swell of your hips. He doesn’t guide you, merely holds onto your body as you position yourself over his cock. You swipe the head over your cunt a few times, mixing your wetness with his precum, your eyes fluttering at the sensation. His tip kisses your clit, and you can’t help but lean forward and take his mouth as you start to sit on his cock.

Its thick, you think to yourself as you gasp against his mouth, feeling it split you open second by second. You don’t stop yourself, determined to feel all of him inside of you, desperate to be full of your mate, to have his tip kiss your womb, to be one with him. Satoru groans against your lips, his nails biting into your skin as you sink lower and lower, until your hips meet his own, the curliness of your pubes resting against his fluffy white ones.

“My mate,” you whisper against him, head rolling at the thought of everything that happened tonight. Just hours ago, you were a regular human, doing your everyday chores, settling for human boys who would never truly love you. And now—and now you sit on the Faerie King’s cock, kissing him with such fervor, that drool slides from the corners of your mouth to pool in the divot of his throat.

“Mine,” Satoru groans against you, unable to help himself from bucking inside of you when you sit for too long. You move, slowly, dipping your head down to watch how your lips try to swallow the thickness of him when you pull out, only to nestle him inside of you when you sit back down. You repeat the motion, watching how his hips shift this way and that from the slow pace, his thighs trembling when you clench around him.

When you start to gain your rhythm, do you begin to pick up the pace, just a little. Its torturous for Satoru, but he thinks having you on top of him would drive him crazy, anyway. He holds onto you, his mouth gaping as he sucks in breath after breath, trying to keep from overwhelming you and taking over how he so pleased. You reach forward and swipe your tongue against his teeth, making his lips grit as he growls under his breath.

“I know humans can be a little finicky about consummating their bonds, especially in front of other people.” Satoru says suddenly, holding you still when you sit back down on his cock again. He grinds himself inside of you, makes you whimper as your eyes flutter shut, biting at your bottom lip to keep from getting too loud. But he pulls your lip from your teeth with his thumb, desperate to hear just how good he feels inside of you.

“It’s why I gave you the wine,” he confesses, pulling you close to him until your chest rubs against his own, burying his face into your throat as you throw your head back. He keeps a slow grinding rhythm inside of you, sneaks a hand down to fondle your clit between lithe fingers, before you feel a grin sneak onto his face.

“To ease into this.” Suddenly, the quiet of the room is replaced by the sounds of laughter and music and—and moans. Your head whips around behind you, finding yourself seated on the dais once more at the ceremony for you and your mate. You begin to feel panic arising in you, but Satoru eases a hand down the curve of your spine, seemingly putting you under that same trance that the wine had with just the touch of his skin.

As you start to look around the festivities, sure that you two would be the focus of the night, you find that the other partygoers are a little too…preoccupied with their own activities. The party has devolved into an orgy, it seems, and it hits you why your parents never wanted you to party with the forest creatures when you were a teenager. You would plead that the previous King had forbade the Folk from doing any kind of physical harm to humans, but you realize now, that they weren’t afraid of you being eaten or maimed.

“It shows unity, between our people,” Satoru suddenly speaks up in your ear, nipping at the lobe when your attention strays from him for entirely too long. You watch as an orc throws his head back while four different pixies jerk him off at the same time, their bodies too tiny to do it alone. You switch to the nymph bent over a table of food, being pleasured by a Dryad whose back hunches with every thrust. You watch the black haired faerie from earlier, who winks at you when you look to him, sitting alone and touching himself as he watches you and his new king. It makes your face burn.

“As the new King fucks his mate, his people fuck each other, to show that they approve, that there will be no hostility, that they will listen like the good Folk that they are.” Satoru hums, takes the initiative to hold you by the cheek so that you can give him all of your attention. He’s greedy like that, but you don’t seem to mind.

Instead, you dive in for another kiss, let him lift your hips and drop you down on his cock until your ass smacks against the muscles of his thighs. It creates a resounding smack that echoes through the forest, even louder than the orgy that goes on behind you. You seem to forget about everything, everybody, except for you mate in front of you, inside of you.

“Mate,” you repeat for the nth time tonight, holding him close around his shoulders as you lick along the openness of his mouth. Satoru groans, his arms wrapped tight around you, smothering, as he plants his feet on the cold marble of his throne. He pistons his hips inside of you, holding you still, as he leans forward to bite the expanse of your throat. You cry out as he breaks the skin, gripping his hair tight in between your fists until you’re sure you’ve ripped out a few strands.

But he doesn’t mind, lets you use him and bite him and scratch at him until you’re tipping over the edge, crying out in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you. Satoru fucks you through it, cooing softly when your head tips back, and your body goes taut in his grip. He holds you tight to him, ripping sharp teeth from your flesh, angling your head to his so that he can kiss you with a bloodied mouth.

And you let him, moaning and crying against him as he uses you, uses your body, your cunt to help him reach his own high. Satoru stills, releasing a shaky groan against your red mouth, spilling his release inside of you with long, thick spurts. It leaks from inside of you, spills from around your swollen lips to his heavy balls, slides down the throne and onto the marble dais beneath you. It flows and flows until it mixes into the grass, and with heavy eyes, do you look over your shoulder, and find that black haired faerie dipping his fingers into it.

He swipes up the mixture of you and Satoru’s cum, popping it into his mouth, maintaining eye contact all the while. It makes you shiver, and you can feel your mate’s cock throb inside of you at the sight, at the feeling of your cunt pulsating around him.

“That’s my courtier, Getou,” Satoru whispers against the roundness of your cheek, stroking your cunt softly with his fingers. It makes you shiver, watching as the courtier nods his head to you before slipping away into the rest of the festivities. “I’m sure he would like to make your acquaintance very soon.”

And by the tone of his voice, you’re sure that Satoru isn’t the only faerie you’ll become close with in your time here.

thank you all so much for reading! kind comments/likes/reblogs are so greatly appreciated! <3

#crybaby.bkg.gojober #—new treat in the streets! 🍫#tw: aphrodisiacs #gojo treats! 🍬

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 years ago

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Hello,if of course you wanted and if it was your will, could you write something about Thranduil. About how once, while returning to his Kingdom, he came across a slave trade where he saw an elven woman who was scared and emaciated. Thranduil is moved by this and buys her out, then takes her to the palace, though she is distrustful, appreciates him helping her, and over time I fall in love with him. You don't have to agree with this, but it may have been after Thranduil became King, but also before his son was born. Of course, if you want to write about it, and that would be your will...

Hello! I wrote this event taking place just after the sinking of Beleriand, with Oropher ruling Greenwood the Great and sections of Middle Earth being a bit of a dumpster fire after the War of Wrath. I hope you don’t mind the change. This is part one. Part two should be out in a fortnight, or just after that, and from Thranduil’s POV.

“A Better Future” Part 1

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst | Dark

Wordcount : 2.3K words

Summary: An elf of the Noldor finds herself on the auction block, facing a dreary future.

A/n: For Lady Githa I drew inspiration from Six of Crows’ Tante Heleen. Most of part one is around reader's backstory, and there is only some dialog towards the end.

Minors DNI

Y/Ns POV

Y/n was still drowsy when she opened her eyes. She had seen herself with her father, listening to him play the harp and sing while her mother sewed away by the fire. There were hot pies and fresh fruit and cheese to nibble on, and her father would leave the harp to indulge in her thirst for tales of the Blessed Realm. Home was safe and warm, and everyone was alive.

Such a beautiful dream. And a dream it would forever be. Y/n threw back the rags that served as coverlets and sat up straight on the pallet that served as a featherbed. Her back ached after a night of fitful sleep. She glanced around the near-empty chamber, which was barely large enough for her. There were no possessions here, and she was not allowed any. Oh, she had been promised new garments, a hot meal, and a bath for this day, but she knew such gifts came with a heavy price. She had moved among the Edain long enough to learn this harsh truth. Y/n looked at the stone ceiling and sighed mournfully. Her fate will be decided today.

My fate was decided a long time ago, in another life, she thought bitterly. Her father had followed the sons of Fëanor and played a part in the second Kinslaying. All that returned of him was news of his disgrace and death, his role in the slaughter, and how he doomed his bloodline along with himself. As for her mother? She no longer wished to live. She followed the path of Miriel before her, lying down in a meadow and letting her fëa peacefully depart from her body. That was how y/n found her—a vessel from which the jewel had spilled. Alone and without friends, she performed the final rights for her mother before departing for safer pastures. Someone was bound to take pity on her and give her shelter; she was certain of it.

That was not to be. Door after door closed to her as soon as she made her name and ties known. Elves did not wish to sully themselves by associating with one bearing the blood of a kinslayer. The Edain did not want to offend wealthy elven patrons. Y/n had been forced to wander further and further east, year after year, alone and frightened, keeping to the outer borders of kingdoms and selling off her family’s possessions one by one in exchange for coin so she could have clothes and food. She watched in horror while smoke rose from distant battlefields, praying the fighting would never reach her. She trembled when she heard strange and terrifying roars. She listened to the songs about how the Valar finally sent their host to deal with a most wretched enemy, how the lands she once ran across as a child had been claimed by the sea. The grief of such a loss—of her home and her family—was so great that it caused her pain powerful enough to nearly cripple her. She bore it all silently. She had no choice, and she did not have a single creature to confide in. Finally, a mortal took pity on her, or so she thought. He offered her a roof over her head and a better future; all she needed to do was agree to his terms.

Y/n snorted in derision. A better future. If only she had listened to the voice within her, demanding that she refuse. This man would play her false, it said, and place her in a condition with no hope for escape. But y/n was desperate. What coin she had left on her person was all but gone. She was tired of wandering, with no home and no hope and no future to look forward to. She agreed. And felt nothing but regret over the choice she made.

Someone knocked insistently on the door. "I am ready," she called softly. Servants of the house walked in with a healer. Y/n was asked to lay face up and stay still. A flush crept up her throat, but she did as she was told. The healer pulled her rough-spun robe up to her waist and spread her legs, to examine her. Y/n felt a pinch and winced. Her cheeks were ablaze with humiliation. She was told this was necessary. Y/n did not want to think why.

The maids mouthed meaningless comforts while they led her to the baths. Y/n did not believe they meant a word of what they said. They were only loyal to the master of the house and did not spare a thought for her before this. She sat still in a copper tub and was bathed in hot water scented with fragrant oils. One maid carefully washed her hair before picking up a comb to brush the tangles. The other cleaned her feet and nails before scrubbing her back. She chatted incessantly while she went about her tasks. Y/n listened. Anything to distract her from what was about to happen.

"Everyone is talking about you," Eda gossiped, red-cheeked and excited. "Fights have broken out amongst the younger lordlings and..."

"That is quite enough from you, Eda," the other maid, Cwene, cut in harshly. She wanted to end whatever Eda longed to say. Eda bit her lip and nodded anxiously. They both went back to work, silent as the dead.

Y/n shivered and gulped in fright. She knew what was going to happen. She was to be indentured. The man who promised her a brighter future would sell her skills and her, to the one who was willing to pay the most. Those fortunate few who served those with fair hearts had the price of their purchase decrease over time and enjoyed a better life after that. Many more were given a price that only increased as the years passed. They had to toil day after day and year after year, slaves in all but name. Then there were those unfortunate few who faced the bleakest of all futures. Y/n did not allow herself to dwell on those others.

She thought, Perhaps I will be one of the fortunate few, and allowed herself to be helped out of the bath. Perhaps, I will be lucky.

Y/n let the maids lead her to another room and stood still while they toweled her dry and dressed her in silken wisps that made her blush. Then came her gown. It was so soft and smooth that it slipped over her palms like water. She could not remember the last time she wore anything so fine. It made her feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. Eda took her to a nearby stool and asked her to sit. She brushed y/n’s hair until it shone and arranged it in braids and coils. Dabs of sweet-smelling perfume were placed on each wrist and behind each ear. Finally came a pair of sandals crafted out of soft leather. Y/n sighed as if in a dream. The sandals embraced her feet gently, like lovers. Cwene held up a looking glass for her to see her reflection. Y/n was startled. She could not recognize herself.

"She looks like a proper princess now," was all Cwene allowed. Someone else arrived and knocked on the door to the baths. It was the master of the house.

"Take this one to the yard," he rasped to Eda. "The others are growing impatient."

The yard was all freshly cut grass and new flowers, and it was already full of Edain. They gaped at the elf on the raised dais, their looks making her skin crawl. A tall, beautiful woman with hair like spun gold and rubies glinting on her ears, fingers, and throat, climbed up the steps and came to y/n. She looked at her critically. Y/n buried a sob when she saw the rubies. They reminded her of her mother’s hair.

"Beautiful," she whispered, the sweetness of her voice doing little to hide the bitterness lurking beneath. She tilted y/n’s chin with the tip of an elegant walking stick. She wanted to see how her eyes caught the light. Satisfied with what she saw, the woman looked over y/n’s hair and ears, and even her teeth. "Her eyes are like jewels. But tell me, I pray you. Why does she look so gaunt and melancholy? Has she not been fed well?"

It was not said out of kindness. There was none in the lady’s hardened gray eyes. Y/n lowered her gaze and closed her own, as was expected. She did not say that she was given meager scraps because the master of the house did not wish to waste more coin than he already had on her. It could only go badly for her if she did.

"She has," Y/n’s master replied hastily. He crept up to her and dug his fingers into her arm, warning her to keep quiet. Y/n bit her tongue to stop herself from making a sound. "And since the lords that frequent The Blue Rose expect women fit for a king," he added, "This one will do nicely after a good meal, yes?"

"Indeed," the woman conceded, and looked y/n over again. She grabbed y/n's cheek hard, her nails digging into the skin. "Cry if you must," she whispered harshly when y/n, trapped and unable to move, whimpered. "Tear out your hair. I would too if I was in your place. But know this, elf. When the dust clears, you will be mine."

The woman turned to face y/n's master. "Your herald tells me she is untouched."

"Aye, lady Githa," came the reply. "The healer assured me of this."

"This truly is a most blessed day." Githa finally let go and laughed merrily. Y/n fell ill at the sound and found herself overcome with the shivers, but she welcomed the release from Githa's presence. She knew of The Blue Rose. Githa ruled it with an iron fist and was known to be a cruel mistress. The Blue, as it was more commonly known, welcomed the coin of high-born edain, some with tastes that could make one's stomach turn. At least, that was what the maids said. The women sent there never earned their freedom. Some, she had heard through careless chatter, did not even make it out alive. Y/n wanted to flee, to run somewhere no one knew of, and to hide. Since she could not, since she was already trapped, she prayed, hoping against all hope that she would not have to spend the rest of her days toiling on her back.

A herald came forth and called out her name and ties. His words were met with boisterous cheers. "She was born in the four hundred and fiftieth year of the first age," he continued, "and is skilled in both the high harp and the lute. The lady is also fluent in both Quenya and Sindarin. Her mother and father hailed from the Blessed Realm. She is meek and obedient, perfect for any household. And she is untouched. We have been assured of this. One such as her will not grace this dais again."

Loud applause rang out around the yard. Y/n’s master grabbed her arm so hard that it hurt. She was dragged to the center of the block and made to stand straight. The herald would call out a price. Someone would offer more. Y/n listened with growing dread as her purchase price rose higher and higher. The cries soon reached a fevered frenzy that shocked her. She heard the unmistakably musical sound of Githa, the woman who looked her over like she was nothing more than a prize horse to be broken in, whatever means necessary. Githa had coin. From the way she carried on, it was plain she had plenty. If someone shouted a price, she would go higher. One by one, those others would give their excuses and stop. Y/n heard names being called out. Only six remained. Githa was one of the six. Fear coiled within her belly like a snake.

How could you do this to me, father? She wanted to cry. How could you and mother doom me to such a fate?

Y/n heard more voices. Word had already reached the marketplace and spread like a forest fire. Many poured into the yard and joined the throng. They wanted to watch. Someone shouted out ribald jests. Lady Githa replied with equal humor. The others laughed. Y/n kept her eyes closed even as her blood ran cold. She pretended not to hear. Doom coiled itself around her like a chain so heavy she could almost feel it tightening over her chest, squeezing the very air out of her.

The herald called out names once again. Only two remained, he reminded the rest, but he invited everyone to indulge in the food and wine being served. Y/n could taste the bile at the back of her throat. Githa shouted another offer.

"Six thousand gold pieces!" The herald declared and received a roar of approval. "And we still carry on!"

The crowd encouraged Lady Githa and her rival, urging them to continue. Grief gathered around y/n’s heart like bees. There was no escaping her fate now. No one was coming to save her. Tears welled up in her eyes and broke free. Someone laughed.

"Twenty thousand gold pieces!" A deep voice boomed from behind the crowd. The yard went so quiet that y/n swore she would have heard a pin drop. "And an end to this wretched spectacle!"

Y/n heard the creak of floorboards. The herald went to talk with his masters. They were beside her, whispering to each other. Again, she pretended not to hear.

"We cannot deny them," one said.

"That one will slaughter all of us if we refuse," another said. "Or do worse."

"Aye," muttered a third. "But we must give Lady Githa the opportunity to make her excuses and bow out. She may not come near us again otherwise. Continue with the sale."

"Tw-twenty thousand!" The herald returned and announced the figure. They were going to continue. "We have twenty thousand! Do either of you wish to go higher?"

Moments passed. Y/n listened, thinking Lady Githa would call out a higher price and carry on.

"He can have her!" Githa cried after speaking with her rival. She sounded less than pleased. "We are finished!"

"Very well!" The Herald agreed. "Twenty thousand gold! Going once, going twice, sold! To… to the crown prince of Gr-greenwood the Great!"

The herald sounded terrified. The crown prince of Greenwood the Great, he had declared. Y/n had heard of this kingdom and how its king and his people survived the sack of Doriath. In all her wanderings, she kept away from this realm, no matter how tired or weak or hungry she was. She knew she would find no welcome there.

Y/n fearfully opened her eyes, certain the prince only brought her to punish her for the sins committed by her kin.

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