#forced parenthood tw
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In the Shadow of Speculation Part 3
Part 1, Part 2, Ao3
The chapter TW
blood tw
broken bones tw
description of a flashback
abled verbiage tw
self hatred tw (mild)
forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way.)
Ellie peeked at her older brother from behind her physics textbook.
Danny was surrounded by notes, a treatise on ancient magic’s uses in modern medicine spread out in front of him. He’d been studying it longer than she had, and showed no signs of stopping.
Frostbite had not only been delighted to teach Danny medicine, but he’d taken it so seriously that apparently, her older brother had involuntarily signed up for basically ghost college.
Ellie felt a thrill at being able to share the experience with him.
She knew it had bugged him, to miss out on going to college at the same time as his friends.
But!
She was now going to college at the same time as Danny! So it was up to her and whoever she chose to share the college experience with him!
She’d drag Danny to all the keggers! She just…had to find them first. The one’s without drugs, or the ending with a shoot-out thing.
“Ellie,” Danny interrupted her thoughts, and she realized she’d been staring directly into his eyes for a bit, “How about we take a break? I found a recipe for those cranberry-almond bread crisps things you like from Costco.”
Ellie felt her jaw drop.
There was a recipe for that?
Before she could pull herself together enough to answer, Danny was already laughing and standing up.
“It’s the first batch I’ve ever made, but you seem to like them enough to tell me if I did it wrong.”
Ellie quite literally tripped over her own feet following him to the kitchen, only to stare reverently at the tupperware he presented to her.
Then she dug in, of course, because her job was to taste test and she took that job very seriously.
The score was: perfect.
They weren’t exactly the same, but they were homemade, which made them better automatically.
Ellie sat on the counter and enjoyed her snack as Danny puttered around the kitchen, making actual lunch.
His big brother instincts hit hard when they hit, and it looked like Ellie was going to have some leftovers going home with her. Danny tended to…overcompensate.
Which was stupid, because his ages didn’t change him being her bro.
“…You know you’re my brother no matter what, right?” Ellie asked between mouthfuls of baked goods, “Like, I don’t care what age you are or what form you’re in; you’re my brother.”
Danny slowed down.
Then he started for the flour.
Ah, fuck. He was going to bake away his feelings again.
“Danny wait, please, I only have so much room in my pantry and fridge-“
~~~~~~
Alfred paused in front of the hallway mirror.
Mask firmly in place? Check. Amulet against scrying? Check. Special jacket meant to act as a talisman against offensive magic? Check.
He was as ready as he would ever be to enter the same room as the Justice League Dark.
The butler pushed the trolley into the elevator and began his descent.
He had to admit to himself, he was…curious. Normally, Master Bruce did not allow the Justice League Dark into the Cave.
It wasn’t his place, he knew that, but something quite serious must have happened for them to be allowed so close to Master Bruce’s home.
In fact, his employer hadn’t even had time to specify if it was the entire Justice League Dark or just a few people from it. Master Bruce had just dropped everything-quite literally-and made for the Cave.
The elevator made a soft chime as it reached it’s destination, and the door opened.
Alfred pushed out the trolley, completely silent.
It was meant for the cave; cushioned wheels, rubber padding to absorb the little bumps.
Which meant that Constantine had absolutely no idea Alfred was standing behind him, waiting for him to stop talking so he could offer refreshments.
“Bats, you don’t bloody understand; our entire dimension was nearly wiped out!”
“I would love to understand. You won’t explain. A text message saying the world was about to end was not explaining, it was fear-mongering. This entire conversation could have been an email.”
Constantine threw his hands up.
“Phantom was holdin’ the Infinite Realms back! An entire dimension, Batman! It’s denizens are built for combat, and if Phantom decides to turn from small-time villain theft to Actual World Ending events, that’s it! End game! Is that email material for you?”
Master Bruce grunted.
“Five years ago, mate, five bleedin’ years ago your government nearly buggered all of us. So yeah, alright, allow me to explain; how did this slip by you? You? The great Detective?”
“We were unaware-“
“Mate I cannot begin to explain how little that matters to spirits and demons strong enough to be gods.”
“Constantine, we are taking measures to ensure this does not happen again.”
“We need to do more than that, Bats; I’m sayin’ we need to…to do something to get their trust! Get on Phantom’s good side, turn ‘em to the side of good, whatever it-“
“Phantom is on the Justice League Roster, Constantine. He’s on the list of potential allies in emergencies, and we have already established a good relationship with him. He’s not actually a villain, he’s a trainer for young heroes. You would know this if you kept up with that list.”
The ‘like you’re supposed to’ went unsaid.
Constantine opened his mouth. Closed it. Pulled out his phone and frantically pulled something up.
Dropped the phone.
Stood there staring at his own hand as he processed what he realized everyone had known but him.
Alfred took advantage of his distraction to place a cup of tea into the man’s hand.
“Perhaps you should sit down, sir,” the Butler suggested.
Constantine drank the entire cup of tea in one go and sat on the floor.
~~~~~~
Dan crossed his arms and stood his ground, careful to keep his face blank as he stared at Danny.
“You know you can’t do this in human form,” Dan sighed, “So the costume needs to be for the ghost one.”
“I think I can do great in human form-“
“It’s not healthy to keep your other state of being locked away, Runt. Plus, it’ll make it a hell of a lot harder to pinpoint who you are.”
“…I don’t want to.”
Dan felt steam hiss out of his nostrils, and tried to reign in his temper.
Ellie stepped in while he calmed down.
“C’mon, Danny! Please? Please, please, please? It’s super cute c’mon!”
Danny’s face turned red as he tried to deny that, covering his face as he sank down on the couch.
Dan carefully did not mention that Ellie was…kinda right. Dan was possibly biased due to fucked up ghost instinct, though.
“Danny,” Dan said quietly, “Robin was thirteen when I squared off against him, and he was really the only threat out of all those kid heroes. It’s fine; no one will bat an eye.”
This was important. The little Twerp would get more to feed his obsession if he was in ghost form while he did it, and it would give him time to actually be in his other form.
Both things he’d been trying to avoid.
But Dan was, as usual, willing to be the Bad Guy for Little Him.
Danny’s face grew redder.
The kid sighed.
A flash of light filled the room.
And a twelve year old looking ghost kid in a hospital shift sat in his place. The prosthetic, meant for an adult man, flopped to the side, unable to stay on the leg far too small for it.
Ellie made a soft, cooing trill and started patting at his hair.
Dan bravely held his own chirp in.
Danny, for his part, glared at his hands.
“Alright kid, let’s get you suited up,” Dan said after composing himself, instinct screaming at him to coddle the Twerp.
He wouldn’t do that, naturally.
It wasn’t like Danny was actually his kid, and neither of them would know how to recover from a lapse like that.
He turned away from the pouting kid on the cough and went into said kids bedroom instead, finding the prosthetic for his ghost form hidden in the back of his closet.
Dan frowned.
Hidden away like it was, that shit was indicating Little him hadn’t even tried to transform since he’d gotten to Gotham.
That…was so unhealthy. It was probably going to set back his recovery if he kept it up.
He’d have to ask Red Hood to keep tabs on how often the new Medic-hero went out, so he’d be able to chart how often he was transforming.
He knew the kid had issues with…well, all of it. His time as a core had reversed his age, and he’d only stopped regressing a year after Dan had left him with Frostbite. As far as Danny knew, he’d fallen unconscious a sixteen year old and woken up as a ten year old.
His mortal body had continued to age, chained by the constraints of the Timeline. So when he did transform, he was going from one form to a drastically different one.
Dan knew that the changes were probably extremely uncomfortable.
Dan also knew that he’d pushed far enough that night, convincing Tiny to transform against his will.
So he opted to say nothing about it to Danny, instead focusing on attaching the tiny prosthetic to the tiny leg.
“Decided to go apocalyptic style,” Dan hummed, testing the edges to ensure it was aligned properly, “Modified gas mask, only on the lower face, goggles optional, basic kevlar, medical satchel from the Far Frozen, all black, no identifiers.”
“Yeah, about that; are you sure you don’t wanna put like, a red cross or something?” Ellie cut in, her patting stopping as she leaned over their tiniest sibling.
Danny shook his head, a pout that Dan pretended not to notice on his face.
“No; identifiers work both ways, villains would be more likely to target me.”
“Smart; keep them off your back long enough to move people out of the way. And what’s the plan if you get dragged into a fight?” Dan asked mildly, leaning back and looking up into a face that was far too young.
“End it.” Danny’s face was far too young to look that serious and dead-eyed, and Dan’s core lurched at letting a weak and injured ghostling free to enter into fights already.
“Not in a way that’ll hurt you, though,” Ellie sang as she danced towards the kitchen to raid Danny’s fridge.
The serious look faded, and Dan’s core eased a little.
“Don’t worry, I’ll dip as soon as I can.”
Dan nodded and stood up, reaching down to help the kid up.
“Well, get the fuck out of your own house then. Time to get to work.”
Danny gave him a shit-eating grin and tugged the gas mask into place, already fading from view.
~~~~~~
Danny floated down the streets of Crime Alley, not even bothering to hide himself with invisibility.
He’d already performed triage on bystanders in a gang fight, set a muggers broken leg and ensured he knew the physical therapy he’d need to prevent it from becoming a chronic issue, and had gone over pretty much every homeless kid checking for lice or sickness, and treating it as he saw signs of either.
He was loathe to admit it, but Dan had been right. Doing acts of ‘protection’ while in ghost form fed his core far more than doing it in human form.
It was just.
He just.
His hands were too small.
His voice was too high.
He was too vulnerable.
The shadows were too big, too dark, and he hated it when they turned off the lights, he could never see what they’d done to him this time-
“Hey, new supes-you’s a medic, right?”
Danny blinked, and he was standing on a sidewalk in Crime Alley while a concerned Prostitute stared down at him.
He shook himself.
“Yea, do you need treatment?” Danny winced a bit as his voice cracked, and he clutched at his bag a little tighter.
Her eyes bored into his own as she searched for something, before her expression got softer.
“Me’n some of th’ girls were boutta turn in, but Joanne had some rough Johns t’night. Need some bones set and some stitches. You game?”
Danny tilted his head, assessing her.
She was not lying.
He allowed his body to deny gravity and floated up, nodding.
The woman led him to one of the better hotels in Crime Alley, and Danny caught a glimpse of a rather large man shouting at some other men.
From the pieces of conversation he could gather, that man was Joanne’s pimp, and he was ultra-pissed that she’d been hurt.
The woman in front of him gave a short whistle, and when the man’s head turned towards her she held a finger to her lips.
Her other hand made some sort of subtle gesture, but it wasn’t ASL and Danny had no idea what it could have meant.
It must have meant some variation of ‘calm down’, though, as the man stopped yelling, and even went so far as to keep a respectful distance from Danny as he was tugged past older man.
The yelling didn’t start up again until the door to the hotel closed behind him.
Then Danny was taken to Joanne, and…she could probably do with a hospital instead of some kid hero.
Multiple lacerations, visibly broken arm and fingers-it wasn’t pretty. But Danny had seen worse.
His right hand made an involuntary fist before he stretched out his fingers.
“She ain’t comf’table with hospitals,” Danny’s guide explained quietly, “If we don’ treat her here, she’ll jus’ treat it herself at home, an’ we all know that won’t end well.”
Danny let out a small breath through his nose and stepped forward.
“Hello, I’m just a medic, but what are you okay with me treating tonight?”
~~~~~~
There was a new hero in the Alley.
Well, sort of.
The kid was clearly a Meta of some sort, but he was only focused on medical treatment.
Jason was also pretty sure he wasn’t a Super.
He’d know that glowing white hair anywhere, and the kids blue-ish complexion and pointy ears?
Nah, this was clearly Phantom’s kid.
Shortstack was older than he’d thought he would be, but Jason wasn’t an ectobiology expert; he had no idea how Infinite Realms Beings worked.
But this one wasn’t Phantom, that much he was sure of.
He felt the temperature drop, just enough to be unnatural.
“Your kids doin’ good work.”
Phantom hummed in agreement, slowly filtering into the visible spectrum beside Jason.
“Why Gotham, though?”
Phantom tensed.
Jason waited.
He was patient like that.
“The kid’s…sick. He can’t fight like I can, not yet.”
Jason couldn’t help but feel relief at that admission, if he was being honest with himself.
“But he’s a protection spirit. He has to protect, or he’ll do the ghost equivalent of starve.”
“Okay, alright; so have him help people and protect them as something that wouldn’t draw too much negative attention.” Jason nodded, starting to see the full picture.
“Yeah, and Gotham’s got uh…good ghost juice. For ghosts. You wouldn’t really get it, it’s a ghost thing.”
Jason turned to face the intimidating War Machine of an anti-hero, only to find the man wearing a perfectly serious expression.
He’d really just let that abomination of words tumble out of his mouth with a completely straight face.
“Fine, I get what you’re really here for. We’ll watch out for him.”
“Bats might have an issue.”
“Fuck Batman, a medic is a good idea.”
“No, I was saying if he had an issue that you should point him to me.”
Jason let out a wordless hum, watching the tiny head of glowing white hair bobbing on the streets below them.
“You think you could win against the Bat?”
“In my previous world I not only won against him, but I murdered his friends and family. Yes, I can win against the Bat.” Phantom drawled, truth in every word he said.
Truth, and regret.
“Damn, threat received loud and clear. I’ll tell Batman where he can take his complaints, then.”
They tailed the kid for a bit, and Jason watched as Heather broke the kid out of a flashback on her way to Leslie's.
Heather, smart woman she was, recognized what was happening and did what Heather was prone to do; take immediate steps to help someone in need.
She distracted the kid.
Flashed the sign for ‘inside voices’ at Cody to make him shut up, and got the kid off the streets and away from those who would have taken advantage of Phantom’s protege’s lapse in concentration.
Phantom was a tense livewire next to him, energy shimmering at his fingertips.
“He started out in Crime Alley, Phantom, and we watch out for our own. He’ll be safer here than he would in Bristol.”
Phantom forced himself to nod, and with a deep, shaking breath the energy dissipated.
“…I guess I’ll just have to leave him to it, then.”
Jason watched the man turn away and leave stiffly, and found himself wishing Bruce had enough trust to do the same for his own children.
Then he shoved the thought from his mind and turned his attention back to the hotel; he had a toddler ghost to babysit.
#dpxdc#dcxdp#dp x dc#dc x dp#phanfic#in the shadow of speculation#finally wrote the next part#lmfao i did not realize how much time had passed fml#allusions to past torture#blood tw#broken bones tw#forced parenthood tw#description of a flashback#abled verbiage tw#self hatred tw#long post
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— a family friend
tw : death, attempted of an elopement.
Yandere!noble friend x friend!reader/you
Yandere! Noble friend who is your best friend and always had her eyes on you but bitterly watches when you get betrothed to a Count that held a small footing in the higher elite class.
Yandere! Noble friend who is heavily yearning for your appearance during noble parties, just to see you since she hardly saw you after your marriage.
Yandere! Noble friend who notices the sudden behavioral change in you and the tiredness etched in your eyes. She questions it but you brush it off.
“Are you truly alright, dear?” she asked.
“Swimmingly well,” you responded. “Why do you ask?”
“You look tired,” she responded.
“Just…It’s difficult.” You smiled at her. “I heard about the courting of a noble for you. I never expected for you to get courted that quickly.”
She looked away, a champagne flute glimmered in the yellowed light of the candles from the chandelier. A smile remained on her lips, slipping on the champagne and looking back to you who wasn’t there anymore rather seemingly pulled back into the arms of your spouse and lost in the crowd of aristocrats.
Yandere! Noble friend who somehow loses contact with you and desperately tries to write to you but the letters always get sent back and she’s utterly distraught as her spouse notices her behavior and tries to comfort her but can’t since she only wants you and nobody else.
Yandere! Noble friend who is trapped in a loveless marriage with a sole heir but the color is seemingly brought back into her life when she sees you again, time hadn’t been kind to you but you still held a respectable title and still looked ever so lovely from afar; swooning again.
Yandere! Noble friend who heard about your niece’s arrival to your house and her betrothal to the prince but days later, the prince’s farewell ceremony to go to the unfortunate frontlines. She watches your tearful eyes, saying that your spouse will return despite her hoping that they don’t.
Her eyes scanned the study floor filled with crumpled pages of failures. Polished shoes clicked on the floor, it was a servant holding a letter on a silver platter.
“A letter—“ they said.
It was you, disheveled and hands trembling, the fresh fallen snow clung to your cloak. Had something happened to you? She got up from sitting in her cushioned chair which you paced, nails cut and bloodied.
“We—I need your help,” you said. “My friend, please help me. I’m in need of your services.”
Her warm hands grabbed your cold, bloodied hands and looked at you with concern.
“What happened?” She asked.
“She’s let down the family!” you cried, “She has broken her betrothal to the prince and tried to elope!”
“Who has she tried to elope with?” she questioned. “Doesn’t this girl understand what would happen if the prince agrees to breaking the betrothal as well?”
“Adrian Wells.” You pulled away from her. “I…I will lose everything. Please I beg of you to find him and speak to him, your brother in law about this or…or I will never speak to you again.”
Yandere! Noble friend who flips the world on its head to find him because she can’t risk losing you again which she does end up finding him. After a little roughhousing, she manages to get him out of the country to somewhere safe.
Yandere! Noble friend who comforts you despite hearing the arrival of the soldiers coming home but how deeply she wishes to replace your spouse and wants to hold you in her arms. She smiles internally when you come to her arms, sobbing about the demise of your spouse; it was a pure gift to her.
Yandere! Noble friend who continues to comfort you and spends more time with you than her actual family. She holds you and lets you cry in her arms while she reassures you that she’ll always be there for you.
She looked down at the fresh pile of dirt that held her spouse who recently died from an illness. Dressed in black, the veil covered her face and she wiped away the tears from her face with a handkerchief. She held your trembling gloved hand, her thumb rubbed your knuckles and she looked at you.
“Come, my dear,” she whispered. “We must return back home and our child is awaiting our return.”
She entered the carriage and helped you in closing the carriage window, she pulled back her black veil.
“Shouldn’t your son be present during this?” You asked. “It wasn’t right to come here without him.”
“Our son dear,” she added, “it would be meaningless because he’s too young to remember them. You would be a perfect fit to parent him with me.”
“I…I,” you stammered. “Please don’t make me, Evangeline. I can’t—“
“I know you can,” she said. “Let me into your heart, my dear. You have done it so many times with them, why am I so different?”
Yandere! Noble friend who after a few days and she has you move in with her since she knows how lonely it is since the servants hardly ever appear.
Yandere! Noble friend who starts being more of a prevalent parent with you by her side. She begrudgingly wears her mourning clothes to events and smiles when you wear yours as she has on occasions custom ordered matching mourning clothes for you and her.
Yandere! Noble friend who occasionally forgets that you did love your spouse to a degree since she wants to be the only person in your heart.
Her hands rested on your shoulders, both of you were in your nightwear. You had taken refuge by sitting on the new vanity chair that she had brought you days prior, your forehead rested on the wood. She stood behind you, hair tucked back into a loose braid with a light familiar smile on her lips.
“You have been like this for a while, my dear,” she said. “Tell me what’s wrong? I can help you get better.”
“I don’t think that I can do this, Evangeline,” you said. “I…please.”
“I saw you eyeing a specific spot yesterday,” she said. “Would you like that we have a walk tomorrow and we could bring our son too?”
You looked up at her from the vanity mirror, her eyes stared down at your scalp then to the mirror; still smiling.
“I..I would like that,” you said.
“Excellent,” she replied, “now come on, let’s go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be wonderful.”
#yandere x reader#yandere oc x reader#yandere prompt#yandere x you#tw yandere#yandere idea#yandere imagines#yandere fanfiction#yandere fic#yandere female x reader#tw death#tw forced parenthood#yandere oc x you#yandere evangeline x reader
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I've noticed an attitude that some parents have where their perceived right to own their children outweighs their duty as a parent. It seems like so much emphasis is placed on the parents ability to own raise a child that it completely clouds any other responsibility for that child. I see it all the time around my culture, where parenthood isn't a question of "if," but "when," because it is seen as ubiquitous to being an adult, and I wonder how many people start believing that because they were expected to be a parent even when they did not want parenthood, they should be rewarded for it.
These are just shots of thoughts, but I've found that this idea that parenthood is your right when you own a child can contribute to an environment of abuse, neglect, or mistreatment of the child/ren in one's care.
And, absolutely, the opportunity of even being a parent has been leveraged in cruel ways, and I think that's an important consideration because it is completely heinous. In my country alone, forced sterilization has been a political strategy for eugenics and to complete a political narrative about the worth of people's right to even live. When thinking about everything above, it reminded me of other ways that parenthood both reinforces violence, perpetuates violence, and threatens violence. This problem goes much deeper than I think many are ready for, and I wanted to acknowledge this due to how pervasive this "political strategy" was/is in many places. I don't think I myself am equipped to truly do this specific topic justice, but I felt it pertinent to this conversation, and something I don't always see even passively acknowledged.
#politics#youth liberation#forced sterilization tw#abuse#abuse tw#abuse mention tw#the first two paragraphs i wrote and then remembered exactly how deep this goes and i think multiple things are true at once#the pressure to be a parent has had drastically horroble results but also... parenthood has been forcibly revoked from people...#...in my country specifically the disabled/indigenous/Black communities and i am SURE i'm missing people. this is a small example...#...their right to autonomy and even the /chance/ to care for life was stolen away from them#parenthood becomes a tool and strategy not for parental sake but for violence
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Helping Hand
In which Aelium Lycaon works at your local planned parenthood and helps you with you T shot
Uhm, I just wanted to explore the way Aelium uses his voodoos, because we already know how Persep and Thanat do it!
tw: Needles!
Google Docs, if you like dark backgrounds
--
“May I?” He asks, eyes sparking that brilliant purple typically associated with subjugglators and their ruthless cullings.
Though, nothing about Dr. Lycaon really suggested anything synonymous with ruthless. The pink heart clad scrubs coupled with the warm gaze he regards the world with bring some other, softer words to the forefront of your mind.
Dr. Lycaon waits, watching with a softened expression as the struggle of deliberation no doubt etches its way across your features. He must understand that normal people don’t typically go around offering themselves to the whim of chuckle voodoos, as he makes no effort to rush or otherwise influence your decision.
“Can we go over it again?” You finally respond, in a sheepish and quiet voice. “I’ve never been mind controlled before.”
“Yes, of course!” His eyes return to normal and he is still nothing but smiles. “Are you needing clarification on the injection itself or my proposed assistance?”
“Just. Uhm, just the demonstration.”
“No problem.” The doctor says as he grabs the tray that held training skins on it, one of which you gored pretty terribly shortly before he offered the demonstration. “After today, you’ll mostly be on your own administering these subcutaneous injections. I’d really like to be sure that you leave here confident that you can do so.”
Though he is explaining this for the third time it remains as practiced and patient as the first. He really does live up to all of the rave reviews from his references, and none of the stereotypes of a purple blood. Truthfully, the man is unlike any troll you’ve ever met.
When he finishes speaking, he sets a fresh piece of fake flesh in front of you. The sight of the unmoving grey mound reignites the nerves in your hands, a spike of anxiety sends them shooting to your fingertips. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for self administered anything.
“My powers will allow me to assume control of your body.” He carefully avoids the word voodoos. Chuckle voodoos has negative connotations and does not make a compliant patient. “Cognition is unaffected, so you will remain of sound mind the entire time.”
Dr. Lycaon pauses to gauge your reaction, satisfied that you are actually retaining the information this time, he continues.
“I believe that provided with guided practice, you will find yourself much more comfortable with doing your shots. First on the synthetic, as many times as you would like. Then, if you find that you are alright with it, we can do your first injection together.”
You nod along slowly as he speaks, his voice low and, as far as you can tell, lacking in judgment.
“And we can stop whenever I say so?”
“If at any point you find yourself overwhelmed, just say the word.”
Once again he extends a hand, and this time you shake it.
“Do I have your consent? May I do this for you?”
“You have my consent.” Is this what it feels like to make a deal with the devil?
As soon as the words leave your mouth, his voodoos ignite with a spark. In the same instant most of the nerves in your hands start to fizzle away, his quiet presence even melts away some of the tension in your shoulders. Slowly, your hand unwraps from around his and you watch as you wave at him with a half salute.
“Hey there!” The purple blood, eyes aglow, waves back with a smile that forces him to squint and shows off two neat rows of sharp teeth. He must work terribly hard to be as non threatening as he is. “How’s this feeling for you?”
“Uh..” You start, glancing between his smile and your seemingly autonomous hand. “Good? Not bad, I think. It feels.. Natural?”
“Fantastic!” The smile on his face softens again, but does not go anywhere. “I’ll just need your hands and arms, alright? Everything else will be all you.”
His enthusiasm is infectious, and you feel yourself begin to smile while he extends and stretches both hands in front of your face. You did not know what you were expecting to feel when he suggested it the first time, but it feels as far removed from mind control as powers like this can get.
His control starts and ends with your hands, just as promised. A twitch of your left leg confirms as much.
“Ready?”
You nod, maybe a little too enthusiastically, and he gives you a thumbs up with his own hand.
“It is a little different from the real thing, but with injections like this you’ll want to insert the needle at an angle into about 3 centimeters of your pinched skin. So that it gets into the fat before the muscle.”
Very carefully, you take the synthetic flesh into your hands, the movement is fluid and practiced. Your hands glide over the smooth, flat surface of it as the doctor begins to speak again. Surprisingly, despite his full control, there was no dullness. No absence of feeling. You set it back down onto the table after the exploration and grab hold of the previously prepared syringe. That much you were able to do properly without his assistance.
“Thumb stays off the plunger.” He explains as he brings your thumb to rest just to the side of it. “To prevent accidentally pushing down before it’s ready.”
Your hand grabs the flesh again, and your free hand angles the needle toward it.
“90 degrees, 45 if there is not a lot of fat to work with.”
In another fluid movement, the needle pierces into the flesh. It slides in like butter.
“Try not to hesitate when inserting, it makes it more difficult.”
You push down on the plunger.
“Easy, right?”
“Uhm.. Yeah, actually!”
“Fantastic!” His joy is palpable. “Another practice round?”
“Yes! But after, I’d like to try on the real thing.”
Dr. Lycaon looks surprised at first, but once again it is replaced by his kind and gentle smile. As shocking as it is, something about the man's presence assuages the fears that tore the original piece of flesh you practiced on to piece.
“Sounds like a plan.” He says, humored, as you begin prepping the syringe for the next shot.
#aelium#coko writes sometimes#long post#it's not my best but i had to cut it off here 'cause i was tired of looking at it
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Vent post.
Tw - "you'll want kids when you're older" harassment, chronic illness, daddy issues, parental neglect
Idk why people keep trying to convince me I'll want kids. I don't. I'll never want kids. It's not that I hate them, it's not that I'm bad with kids. Ffs I wanna go into pediatric medicine. I like kids, they're funny and interesting. But here's the thing, I ALREADY FUCKING RAISED ONE! I don't wanna raise another kid. I raised my brother starting when I was 5. My mom worked, my dad was a pos. I fucking split custody of my brother with my grandma before I could reach the God damn stove. I don't want to raise another kid. I love my brother, I really, really do. I'd burn the fucking world down for that kid but I had parenthood forced on me before I started middle school. So no. I won't "change my mind". If you wanted grandkids, dad, maybe you shouldn't have forced me to parent my brother when I should have been playing with my friends.
Additional vent, and please understand that I don't judge medically ill/disabled people for having kids. I think that's a lovely thing, this is just my perspective and personal choice.
I'm medically ill. Quite severely. I have chronic pain, I can't do the things I want because of my medical issues, basically I struggle in my day to day life on a level that most people can't understand. My life became a living hell of medication and doctors visits when I was 12. And it's not just me, my family medical history lights up like a fucking Christmas tree with everything under the god-damn sun. Why would I want to push that on a kid? Because the likelihood of any bio kid of mine being healthy is slim to fucking none. I couldn't do that to a person. Choose to make them go through the living hell that I went through. I couldn't do it. If I had a kid and they got sick, I'd never fucking forgive myself. Because what if they end up with a condition like mine? Or fuck, what if they end up with something worse? What if I have a kid and I've condemned them to a life of chronic pain? I just. That'd keep me up at night. I couldn't do it.
Anyway, thanks for reading I guess. I'm just really pissed rn. People keep telling me that I'll change my mind about bio kids and it makes me wanna fucking stab someone.
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Full Name: Reginald Rodney Falvey.
Nicknames: Reggie, Reg, Redgefund, The Nald, Dundee, Reggie Smalls, R-E-double-G-I-E.
Pronouns and Gender: He/Him, Cis Male.
Birthday: August 10th, 1988.
Birth place: Cardiff, Wales.
Time in Providence: Consistently from 2000-2006, on and off beyond that. Currently he's been in town for 3 months as of Feb 2024.
Sexuality: Bisexual.
Housing: Bighorn Hills.
Occupation: Late Night Radio Host for 96.8 The Peak.
Family: Rodney Falvey (Father), Erika Falvey (Mother), Elijah Falvey (Older brother), Nikolas Falvey (Older brother), Cynthia Falvey (Younger sister), Rhiannon Falvey (Niece).
tw violence, injury
BIO:
Third born of the Falvey brood, it was almost like Reginald Falvey was sent to test everything his parents had thought they knew about parenthood. As soon as he could walk, he could run headfirst (literally, on several occasions) into danger. As soon as he could talk, he could spin a yarn. He had a big imagination and an even bigger penchant for exaggerating when he knew he would be rewarded with attention for it.
Where his parents and his older brother were musically gifted, Reggie was just loud. He liked to make a racket and to cause one, and he never stuck to a hobby for longer than a month. Drums lasted three weeks, football lasted two, karate made it three and a half weeks.
His parents always found his everchanging whims charming, though his teacher’s rarely agreed. Reggie embodied the word average as a student, never excelling but not failing outright either. From reception right up to Year 8, he carved out a place for himself as the class clown, gaining frequent reprimands and trips to isolation from his teachers. The move from Cardiff to Providence Peak hadn’t helped much in that department, he was exactly the same from middle school and all through high school.
When the time came to start seriously considering college and what kind of life he wanted for himself after it, Reggie opted to take a gap year. That was how he found himself as a holiday rep in Ibiza from ages 18 to 22, with one year stretched into four in what felt like the blink of an eye, he knew that his promise to his mother that he would get a degree was just like half the things he said -- empty air. He decided to travel instead, working odd jobs and making his way through central Europe on a series of trains.
By 26, he was trekking through Asia and supporting himself in much the same way. By 28, he was Australia bound. He spent a year and a half down under, living with his then best friend Street Smith, a California native he had met while doing necessary farm work to keep his visa. It was in a bar in Sydney in December 2018 where Reggie’s smart mouth finally caught up with him and a disagreement over a pool table turned violent. After hurling some insults at the Aussie who he had exchanged words with, he ended up getting jumped in the alley beside the bar while trying to stumble his way to an Uber, which resulted in a scar on his right cheek from being bottled and lingering issues with headaches stemming from a concussion he got during the incident.
That was the first and only Christmas back at Providence Peak with his family Reggie ever missed.
Rattled in the aftermath, Reggie was forced to take stock of his life so far and whether he had really made anything of it. Living in the moment had always been where he was most comfortable, but the carelessness he usually exhibited was frayed by a genuine fear experienced during the attack that he might not see the next one.
Deciding to move back stateside, he and Street split rent on a shared room in Cali where they spent time mulling what to do next. Over the years, both had amassed a decent following on their respective Instagrams from their travels, and the combination of the two of them sent both their engagements skyrocketing.
After creating a successful dual TikTok account in 2020, they decided to listen to their audience’s demands and began to work on a podcast together. FaceTime Your Mom was an instant hit, the name serving a play on the fact both of them had been terrible at keeping up with their families when they had been solo travelers. Clipped versions of the YouTube recording of their podcast went viral from time to time, and everything seemed to be on the up for the pair.
That was until their bust up in 2023, when Reggie walked out mid-recording of an episode of FYM and never came back. Street had wanted to recount what happened in Sydney as a storytime on an episode for months by then and each time Reggie refused and when he was blindsided with a mention of it mid-episode about an entirely different topic, he ended the podcast and the friendship then and there.
Faced with uncertainty that was entirely his own doing, Reggie decided his best course of action was to go home. He showed up in Providence Peak for Thanksgiving 2023 and hasn’t left since. He briefly crashed at his parents before finding his own digs in Bighorn Hills, and he’s recently started a new gig as the late night host for 96.8 The Peak.
PERSONALITY.
+ goofy, adventurous, spontaneous.
- indecisive, scattered, unreliable.
FUN ADJACENT FACTS.
FaceTime Your Mom's vibe pre it ending was very The Basement Yard vibes aka two dumb bitches just telling each other exactlyyyyy except into a podcast mic JSHGFSGHJ
every episode ended with "and don't forget, FaceTime your mom"
the intro of it was a snippet of a deliberately shoddy and slightly more upbeat cover of Facetime with my Mom (Tonight) by Bo Burnham recorded by Reggie and Street. They promised a full cover for the 200th episode but the podcast didn't get that far
Was officially diagnosed with ADHD at 31, though anyone who knew him well could have told him that just by being around him.
The Nald was Reggie's short lived rap name. He uploaded to soundcloud for three months at 17 and he's haunted by his digital footprint ever since.
Put on a pair of crocs for the first time and never looked back. Got the name Dundee from how often he wears them.
Absolutely loves a fun croc jibbitz
Is the absolute worst when it comes to keeping in contact. Loses his phone often, will reach out on strange numbers when he gets a replacement one.
Terrible texter.
Excess energy to the max, gets very restless if he has to be still for too long.
Has a bunch of tattoos from his travels.
A chancer through and through, has worked a bunch of jobs he's completely unqualified for because he can talk the talk and it gets him everywhere.
Lies about the origin of his facial scar because he doesn't like to talk about what happened to him. It ranges from plausible (took a spill in someone's kitchen on a drunken night and hit the counter edge) to absurd (got side-swapped by a bear, you should see the bear).
Number 1 purchaser of counterfeit amethyst merch from etsy and aliexpress. amethiest shirt? owns it. eli falvey shirt in this vein? works it.
If you've ever found a janky looking fake amethyst shirt in a thrift store, reggie was the source.
Has found a way to survive on 5 hours sleep a night, far from ideal but since his attack he finds it difficult to drift off unless he's exhausted or baked.
His party trick is perfectly pronouncing llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllanty (longest town name in wales). it's where his welsh fluency starts and ends.
truly believes wales will win a world cup in his lifetime (delulu)
his favorite song is Want That Old Thing Back by The Notorious B.I.G
had a mohawk for 2 weeks in 2022
CURRENT CONNECTIONS.
younger brother of @elifalvey
long term dl hook-up of @estherclements, on bad terms most of the time
brother-in-not-law / part time rival / part time co-conspirator of @draslihanxfahri-bailey
former hook-up / fake wife when he needs to get out of an entanglement / friend of @emelinecormier
schmokey tokey pal of @ayselkarademir
roommate / close friend of @fletcher-braley
chaos goblins in cahoots w/ @jeanieprabhakar
SPECIFIC WANTED CONNECTIONS.
friends / ride or dies
a past serious relationship??? would need heavy plotting bc reg rarely does anything seriously but SJHGFSGHJ could be hella angsty and fun to explore and flesh out
frenemies/friends who only fuck with each other when they’re drunk and/or partying but on a normal day its like nah fuck you KJSHGH
connects he knows through his brother elijah
former co-workers / former bosses (he's for sure worked some random jobs during prior stints of being in providence peak for longer than a week in between his travels)
folks from his travels!!!!! can be any sort of vibe, would love to plot out in full and can shift his specific location around to work hehe
people he’s gotten into fights with (he can be annoying as hell and never knows when to shut up and walk away)
ppl he gets high with (has some sleep issues following his attack and weed helps him to shut off)
mentor type vibe.
ppl who call into the radio show, feel free to request songs and/or terrorise him nightly HSGFDSFGHJ
hookups, fwb, usual jazz.
GENERIC WANTED CONNECTIONS.
connections wise he’s pretty much an open book right now, but some baseline ideas that can be springboarded off are:
friendly.
a best friend / ride or dies / close friends / childhood friends / pseudo-siblings / friends / drunk friends / new friends / former roommate / people he met on his travels / people from cali he was close to before he moved back home.
romantic
flirtationship / friends with benefits / one time hook ups / tinder matches / unrequited crush (can be either way) / exes from high school / exes from his twenties / exes on good terms.
antagonistic.
enemies / former (best) friends / exes on bad terms / frenemies / rivals / negative influence / people he grates on because he's a lot.
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If I Bleed, You'll Be The Last To Know
Summary: It was only ever supposed to be a quick kidnapping. Eris Vanserra is an expert at those.
When he sees her tied up in his bed, though...well. Eris redefines what kidnapping means to him.
Set two years before He's Going To Burn This House To The Ground
Read More: AO3
24k words
TW: Extremely dubious consent. Dead dove, do not eat, etc etc. Forced orgasm, anal sex, marriage, dog-parenthood, murder, the usual.
Eris exhaled a breath softly, running his gloved finger over an immaculate dresser. Tick tock, he thought with irritation. Eris hated to wait, especially when he’d spent so long planning something perfect. He was almost tempted to leave, to try another day when he heard the sound of the elevator doors ding to the apartment he stood in.
“Ugh!” came a feminine voice, punctuated by the sound of keys slammed against the counter. She was home. Eris smiled, his heart fluttering in his chest. Fuck, he’d been waiting for her all day. He could picture her, long legs kicking off expensive, high heeled shoes in the foyer before she padded to the kitchen.
Right on cue, the thunking of heavy shoes greeted him. Eris stayed where he was—waiting. The sound of the fridge opening was just like her. She’d pick around for something, forgetting she hadn't gone to the store again. She snapped it shut with another heavy sigh.
The sound of her nails clicking on her phone as she rifled through mail only heightened Eris’s excitement. Any moment and she’d come join him, would step into the same room where he’d been waiting. He wanted to see her.
Arina Novak was magnificent. Even Eris, a prince of the city, could admit that. She wasn’t like him. Vanserra wealth came from centuries of capitalism while hers came from some app her father developed twenty years earlier. Novak was practically a household name now—everyone had one of their smart devices. Everyone but his daughter, of course. Arina had an Alexa, not that she used it for anything but music. A waste, in his opinion.
The bedroom door pushed open and there she was. Beautiful, with her thick, buttery blonde hair. She’d left it in its natural state, the waves tumbling around her golden face. Piercing green eyes swept through the room, her hand still holding her phone. She flopped onto her large bed, wrinkling the perfect sage cover. Her black dress rode up over toned, slim thighs until Eris could practically see what was beneath.
“I’m canceling my date tonight,” she said to the ceiling, tossing her phone to one of the massive pillows. “I’m tired of these fucking men.”
Eris didn’t respond to that, though he hardly counted himself among those fucking men. They could always talk about it later. Eris was struck, besides, when she sat up and began unzipping her dress, revealing miles of bronzed skin. For a moment he forgot to speak entirely. She could have modeled. Why didn’t she? Why did she spend her days drinking and shopping and hanging out with the most vapid group of friends he’d ever witnessed?
Why was she planning a date at one am? Eris watched her pad across the room towards the bathroom, hands reaching behind her to unhook her bra. “Don’t do that,” he murmured, catching her by surprise as he stepped from the closet. Arina spun, eyes wide, just in time for Eris to press his rag against her face.
Mossy green eyes went wide. They reminded him of the forest house his father had built when he was a boy and the woods he’d once loved running through. Eris would take her there, he decided once she stopped fighting him. Arina gave in easily, opening her mouth to scream into the rag. No one heard her, not in her isolated little apartment. Not when the fabric and the leather muffled her voice.
Limp, Eris set her onto her bed and took his time picking out a nice, white dress that would look good on camera. He packed up a few things she might need—toiletries, make-up, underwear. He came across a particularly fascinating vibrator tucked up beneath her socks and tossed that in there, too, though he wasn’t sure what he meant to do with it.
Kidnapping the daughters and wives of the elite when their patriarchs refused to tithe to the Vanserra’s was the easiest way to make a couple million dollars. Daughters were easier than wives and Arina was easier than most. No boyfriend, no friends who checked in, no roommate. Her routine varied day to day but Eris could always count on her returning and returning alone.
Zipping her up in a dress nice enough for church, Eris always draped his jacket over her torso, slung the expensive purse over his shoulder, and hefted her body into his arms. She weighed nothing to him even as dead weight, her head lolled against his chest. Eyes closed as if she were asleep. If anyone looked at them—and he very much doubted they would—Eris merely looked like he carried his very drunk girlfriend to bed.
In a way, they weren’t wrong.
No one paid him any mind in the service elevator. Camera’s disabled for a glitchy moment allowed him to slip out the back and deposit the Novak heiress into his drunk before driving away. It took all of a minute, if that. The jump would be noticeable if Novak called the cops, of course…but only an idiot would risk his daughter's life like that.
Zipping through the emptied streets, Eris dialed the brother he liked the best.
“It’s one in the morning, Eris,” Lucien complained, groggy from sleep or alcohol. Eris couldn’t tell.
“I’m leaving the city for the weekend. Got Novak’s daughter.”
Lucien paused. “How much?”
“I asked him for two originally…so lets say ten, for my time and trouble,” Eris replied, earning a chuckle from Lucien. “I’m taking her to the Forest House. Keep your brothers from fucking up too much. I don’t want to have to come back to another fucking gang war.”
“Yeah, alright,” Lucien grumbled. “Putting off the inevitable with Nolan.”
“I’ll worry about him later. Right now, focus on a little easy cash and a weekend without me breathing down your neck.”
Lucien was silent for a moment. “Let me know if you need anything.”Eris ended the call thinking the only thing he’d need Lucien for was a pair of broken knees or a little arson.
Hardly the methods necessary for one little hostage.
ARINA:
Arina woke to a pounding headache. “Oh, God,” she groaned, aware of a scratchy heat against her wrists. Opening her eyes, Arina realized two things right off the bat—both wrists were bound over her head and a camera was pointing directly at her.
“Oh good,” came a smooth, masculine voice. Arina twisted, noting she was wearing the dress she’d bought for the ten year anniversary of her mothers death. She hadn’t put it on, had meant to, had planned a whole day where she finally went to that gravestone and said goodbye.
He’d cut off the tags. She didn’t look at him as she marveled at that. It had taken an actual kidnapping to get her to wear that stupid fucking dress. Arina swore if she survived whatever happened next, she’d drive out to her mothers grave and say what she ought to have a decade before.
He crouched at the end of the bed, this man she didn’t know. Her first stupid thought was how handsome he was. Fair skinned and chiseled in a classic sort of way, he looked like he wouldn’t be out of place in a fairytale with the slope of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his jaw. Full lips and amber eyes cut nicely with his auburn hair pushed off his face as if he’d caught the perfect wind.
He wore an expensive suit. She could spot that a mile away. Nice cologne, a fancy hair cut, designer watch. The man oozed wealth without being flashy about it. He had style. It was hard to find that, she thought.
“Why am I here?” Arina asked, willing herself to remain calm. No mask, no attempt to conceal his identity. She didn’t know who he was, though she’d seen enough crime shows to know he’d probably kill her when this was all over.
“You and I are going to make a little movie.”
Her blood ran cold. He ran a finger over her cheek, tilting her chin towards the camera at the end of the bed. “You’re going to put on your saddest expression and beg daddy to rescue you and then I’m going to tell him I’ll kill you if he doesn’t.”
Arina’s breath caught in her throat. “You’re holding me for ransom?”
“Not your first rodeo?” he guessed, rising to his feet. Tall. Muscular. Deadly. How did she convince this man to let her go? Arina would have to be careful.
“Are you asking if I get kidnapped often?” she scoffed, catching the way his lips quirked upwards.
“I only want to live up to your expectations,” he all but teased, fiddling with his camera. He tilted it a little, moving to the side to look at her before he looked back at his screen.
“This is my first,” she told him breathlessly. “Is it yours?”
He chuckled darkly. “Hardly. Let me tell you how this usually goes. You cry and scream and beg, I send your daddy the video, he pays the money and then I let you go.”
She swallowed. “And…and if he doesn’t send the money?”
The man frowned. “No man wants his daughter tied up with the likes of me. He’ll send the money.”
Arina didn’t bother to correct him. Everyone assumed her father paid for her life, that it was his money that enabled her to bounce around aimlessly. They didn’t know it was an inheritance from her mothers parents, safely tucked away until Arina turned eighteen. It was more money than she could have spent in a lifetime though Lord knew she was trying.
Her father had never given her a cent and he never would.
“Likes of you? Who are you?” she murmured instead.
“Eris Vanserra,” he replied easily. As if it didn’t matter. The name clanged through her because Arina recognized, vaguely, the Vanserra name. It was everywhere. Prince of the city, Eris had all but inherited his fathers throne. A lawyer awash in cash, who had his fingers in every little pot. The fucking baseball stadium was named after his family. Arina almost laughed.
“Mafia?”
“Smart,” Eris praised and Arina, filled with dread, ignored the little kernel of pleasure that settled in her gut. No one had ever said that about her and Eris Vanserra, with his expensive education, had thrown it out like it was nothing. “Are you going to cry for me?”
“No.”
He clicked his teeth. “I could make you cry,” he murmured, reaching behind his back. Arina watched with too much fascination at the gun held in his broad hand. That certainly scared her, made worse by the easy smile on his face. Eris prowled toward the side of the bed, sitting on the edge while Arina tried to scoot away.
It was to no avail. Eris reached for her, dragging her towards him. “Maybe I wasn’t clear about our weekend together, sweetheart. You’re going to cry and beg and plead. If I have to torment it out of you, well…” a cruel smile graced his elegant features. “I’ll bet you break easier than a lot of others. I can make a grown man cry in an hour.”
He traced the barrel of the gun over her lips.
“Dig deep, deep down for a little fear before I start getting the wrong idea about what’s happening between us.”
“Nothing is happening between us,” she informed him in her haughtiest voice. Men hated when she talked to them like that, like they were beneath her. Maybe it was wrong to tempt the man holding a gun against her face, but she wanted him to know she thought he was nothing.
Eris chuckled. “I’ll bet that gets all your little boyfriends so hot and bothered,” he murmured, setting the gun in his lap. “I’ll bet they run off, tails between their legs before they take themselves in their hands and wonder what it would be like to please you.”
His hand ran down her torso, still clad in that white dress. He wasn’t touching anything and yet the suggestion of where that hand was going made her press her lips together. Arina clamped her legs tightly and Eris, still amused, hopped to the edge of the mattress with ease before wrenching them open.
“You’re tied up in my bed, sunshine. I can do whatever I like with you. And I’m starting to think, given those fuck me eyes you keep raking up and down my body, that you might like if I put my mouth against your pussy.”
Tears rose against her throat unbidden, her body trembling beneath the bruising touch of his fingers. Eris was watching her carefully the way a child might stare at a bug trapped in a glass. He was trying to scare her and part of her wanted to call his bluff, to see if he was truly so terrible he’d force himself on her.
The other didn’t dare. Not when the casual confidence with which he moved suggested he would do every filthy thing he said he would. Arina swallowed.
“Are you going to cry?” Eris all but taunted. He didn’t understand how much she hated her father. He could have come to her a day before and asked her for help and Arina would have agreed.
She knew, even as a tear slipped down her cheek, that her father wasn’t going to do anything more but discard the video and hope Eris Vanserra finished what her father had begun years before.
She squeezed her eyes shut, drawing up the memories of a violent, miserable childhood. Of her mother, trying so hard to shield her only daughter and failing when she died. Arina’s body shook, not with fear, but fury. What was Eris Vanserra but a pale imitation of the man who’d loved to pull off his belt when he came home from work, if only to watch his wife and daughter scattered across that little house?
“There it is,” Eris murmured, releasing his grip on her thighs. “What a pretty girl. Will you look at the camera, Arina?”
She opened her eyes and Eris frowned at whatever it was he saw looking back at him.
“Ready?” he murmured, counting to three above the camera with his fingers.
Arina began to scream.
ERIS:
Eris wasn’t used to waiting. Knee bouncing, he stared at the burner phone with his demands. Twelve hours. That’s how long Arina had been tied up in his bed. She’d done a good job of looking angry, certainly. She hadn’t pleaded so much as she’d writhed and screamed and cried, which Eris decided was good enough. If she couldn’t fake the doe eyes, what did Eris care? So long as she looked scared.
Eris frowned. He knew the number was right, knew Novak had to have seen it by now. It was typically enough to spurn men into action. His brothers had a reputation for cruelty, an appetite for blood and of the seven of them, Eris was the worst. No one wanted to see their sister, their wife, their daughter tied up and left to his mercy.
Eris had no mercy. Only an unrelenting desire to consume.
Maybe Novak needed a little motivation. Maybe seeing what Eris was willing to do would end whatever hesitation he had, would make ten million seem a small price if it meant his daughter wasn’t violated any worse than what Eris had planned.
He climbed back up the steps, jogging quickly, phone slipped into his pocket. He’d turned up the volume just in case, pausing only in a hall closet for rope. Arina was waiting when he pushed open the door with his shoe, eyes devoid of tears. No begging—not yet, anyway. He didn’t like the way she looked at him.
“Are you letting me go?” she whispered, her tone very much implying she knew he wouldn’t be.
“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Eris asked instead, tossing the rope to the bed beside her. He walked back to his camera, fiddling with the angle. She had a face for film he thought almost ruefully. A body, too, though not the sort of film he’d originally been thinking of. Arina was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever had in his bed, willing or otherwise. Eris didn’t let himself dwell too much on that fact or he’d lose his careful control.
“Yes,” she murmured, bringing him back to reality. Eris went to her, unknotting the ropes holding her to the wooden headboard with efficient fingers. Arina immediately smashed the palm of her hand against his face when she was free.
He exhaled. No one had ever done that before. Blinking with surprise as he stumbled back, Eris noted blood trickling from the force of the blow. It took him a moment to realize she’d scrambled for the door, was running to the hall. He whirled, catching her easily against the floral runner beneath her bare feet and dragging her too roughly to the ground.
“Fucking mistake, sunshine,” he snarled, gripping her by the throat.
“He didn’t respond, did he?” she gasped, slapping at his face again. “He’s not going to respond—”
“Shut. Up.” Eris ordered, getting a hold of her flailing body and hauling her up against his shoulder. Her foot nearly caught him in the jaw before Eris had enough. “If you touch me like that
again, I’ll put a bullet in your knee. Do you understand me?”
She went limp against him and fuck Eris wondered why that disappointed him. He walked her back inside, ignoring his rumpled ivory blanket that had once been tucked so neatly into the mattress. Eris dumped her in the adjoining bathroom, letting her body hit the dark tile roughly. She gasped.
“Go to the bathroom,” he ordered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now I have to fucking watch.”
“I’ll bet you get off on it,” she hissed, pushing herself up to her feet. Eris didn’t smile.
“Thinking about my cock?”
“I doubt there’s much to think about,” she shot back, the witty little thing. Eris averted his eyes when she lowered herself to use the bathroom, a smile on his face. Kidnapping was so rarely fun—everyone cried and pleaded and begged. She merely seemed inconvenienced and some small part of him was disappointed that in a few moments, she’d beg him to let her go, too.
“You’ll find out,” he all but crooned when she was finished. He let her wash her hands and splash a little water on her face before shoving her back towards the bed.
“Take that off,” he demanded, facing her down. The top of her head rose to his chin and yet the way she stared, she might have been eye level. Fear flashed over her features
“No.”
Eris sighed, bunching the neckline of her dress in his hands. He’d merely rip it off her, then. Arina’s eyes went wide, hands flying to his wrists. “Wait, no, stop, I’ll take it off!” she cried. Eris immediately released, strangely fascinated by the feel of her fingers on his skin. She should have been too afraid to touch him. He was used to wincing, to trembling fear.
“Don’t want to ruin your expensive dress?” he taunted, more angry at himself than he was with her. She didn’t answer him, arm reaching around to tug at the zipper. Eris knew what lay beneath, given he’d put her in the outfit to start. He’d meant to evoke a feeling of innocence, of purity that he might wreck if her father didn’t move quickly. Now the fabric was pooled at her feet, revealing her perfect, golden body clad only in that lacy black thong and matching bra.
For her date, he reminded himself. Why did it bother him to see her all packaged up for another man's cock? He had no intention of going anywhere near her. This was just for cash–Eris wanted to go back home.
“Take the rest of it off,” he murmured, ignoring the way he was thickening in his pants. She wasn’t aware, at any rate. Arina’s hands trembled, unclasping the bra in the front. Those big, green eyes never left his face and though he could all but smell her fear, she didn’t cry. It was starting to unnerve him. Everyone cried. The only people who could stare him down were the ones too used to torture and Eris didn’t know if he liked the implication that the woman in front of him had faced far worse than him.
There was nothing worse than him. He’d ensured that when he’d killed his father.
“Get in the bed,” he ordered once she was naked, trying so hard not to look at the pretty tits within grasping distance. She turned, a mistake given how much Eris liked a nice, round ass. Hers was out of every wild, desperate daydream he’d ever had. Emptied of all other thoughts, Eris stared at the sway of her hips and the soft bounce of her cheeks. Fuck, he wanted to bury himself between them.
She laid on the bed, swallowing hard. Prepared. He wasn’t going to touch her. This would be enough, he told himself as he began methodically retying the rope. “How much did you ask him for?” Arina murmured, watching as he hovered over her, binding her wrists back to the headboard.
“Ten million,” Eris replied, eyes sliding not to her face but her perky tits. Arina laughed mirthlessly, making them jiggle. His cock was paying too much attention, aching against his pants to be freed. Eris swallowed hard. He’d never reacted like this before and it made him want to punish her for it.
“Good luck,” she told him, her whole body going stiff when he reached for her thigh to tie her like a frog. Legs spread, ankles bound, there would be no escaping what was coming next.
“Not enough?” he questioned absently, trying and failing not to stare at her bared cunt. It seemed wrong that one woman could be so effortlessly flawless, that every inch of her could be so utterly appealing. Pussy was pussy, he told himself and yet when had he ever seen one half as gorgeous as hers? Waxed and pink and radiating the sort of heat that when he went to secure her ankles, he could feel it against his skin. He bet she was tight, bet she was wet.
“Too much,” Arina interrupted his thoughts again. That surprised Eris. His eyes flicked to her face, wondering if she was trying to protect her father.
“Money trouble?” Eris had poked through his financials. Ten million was nothing to a man like Novak.
Arina only shrugged, sending a wave of discomfort through him. “I wouldn’t know.”
“I was in your apartment. Seems you know very well,” Eris sneered as he tied her other leg. It would have been so easy to fuck her like this, his cock all but begged. She might even like it if he worked her up, if he put his face between her legs and licked and sucked until she made a mess of him. He couldn’t help running his hand over her bare thigh, thumb rubbing the seam between her leg and pussy. She wiggled, trying to escape his touch.
“Calm down,” he grumbled when she didn’t respond. “I’m not going to fuck you.”
“What are you doing?” she panted once she was totally secure, tugging against the ropes that held her hands. Eris turned towards his sleek dresser and the bag he’d brought from her place. He knew she recognized it. It was almost funny, the way her eyes snagged on that white vibrating wand and the little remote in his hand.
“This is a warning to daddy,” he told her, pinning her still when she writhed desperately. “If he wants to ignore me, next time it’ll be me touching his pretty princess.”
“Eris,” she panted. “Eris, you don’t understand—”
“I don’t care,” he interrupted, his cock jumping when his thumb brushed over her clit to nestle the vibrating head between her lips. Eris tied it carefully to her leg, trying so hard not to touch her again. His control was shredding, his grip on himself tenuous. He needed to get away from her, to breathe a little fresh air, stare at his computer screen, and remind himself there was no shortage of beautiful women in the world.
“Please don’t do this,” she pleaded once he had her vibrator secured to her leg. Tears were pooling in her eyes as she tracked him, spilling when she saw him go back to that camera. “Don’t let him see me like this, Eris—”
He almost apologized. “Beg really pretty for me, Arina,” he murmured, turning the vibrator on with the remote in his hand. She began crying in earnest then, writhing to try and escape what was pinned to her body. Eris didn’t move, ignoring the way she twisted against her bonds. He was too fascinated by the way her cunt gaped and suck at nothing, desperate for friction.
“Eris, stop this–”
“Beg, Arina,” he ordered breathlessly. She was going to come. He had to see, just once, had to just know what she looked like. Her skin was flushed, nipples pebbled and pointed at the ceiling.
Arina’s hands bunched to fists as she tugged overhead and twisted her hips, desperate to escape.
“Please,” she panted, looking right at him. Her eyes were so fucking dark and sexy. “Please, Eris—”
Her whole body arched and Eris nearly came in his pants at the sight. She screamed furiously, shaking her head back and forth. Her cunt glistened with slick proof of release. He wanted to touch, wanted to taste.
Eris turned on his heel, snapping the door shut so he could breath freely. Head against the wood, he waited for her to plead with her father. It was live—he could see the whole thing just as soon as he opened his phone.
“Eris!” Arina screamed, causing his cock to throb in his pants. “Eris come back!”
No one had ever begged him. He groaned, pushing off the wall to leave.
He’d come back later.
ARINA:
She hated him. Even when he disabled that vibrator from somewhere in the house, Arina’s whole body ached. Coated in a sheen of sweat, her thighs sticky, her pussy chafed raw, Arina hated her father. She hated knowing he likely enjoyed knowing that Eris was hurting her, that Eris would solve his problem for him. Arina was so wrung out she didn’t even notice Eris had come back until she felt the back of his hand against her face.
“Drink,” he ordered, holding her neck so she didn’t choke. Arina did as she was told, gulping down the coldest water she’d ever had in her life. She was too grateful to Eris in that moment though she knew she shouldn’t be. Arina didn’t have the ability to hate him and her father. Beyond that, she believed him when he’d said he would have let her go untouched had her father responded.
“Will you untie me?” she pleaded, tugging on the ropes. Eyes open, she saw that curiosity back on his face.
“Why?”
She’d forgotten she’d punched him. That felt like a lifetime ago. She was far too exhausted to do anything but look up at him. He’d shed himself of his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt down his neck, and rolled the sleeves of his crisp shirt to his elbows. He looked so normal, like a man she might find in the finance district.
She didn’t flinch when he walked between her legs, running a finger over her still slick thighs. She did watch him lift his hand to his mouth and taste which filled her with a different kind of fear.
“He didn’t say anything, did he?”
Fury flashed across Eris’s well-controlled features. “No.”
He began untying the vibrator from her legs without preamble, ignoring her spread open body, at least for the moment. It was all so humiliating, to be tied this way, to know her father had witnessed the whole thing. Arina swallowed thickly as Eris asked, “Tell me right now if he’s planning a rescue.”
She shook her head back and forth, unable to look at Eris. “He’s not going to give you any money, either.”
Eris sat between her thighs, staring at her aching pussy with an unreadable expression. “Why not?”
“Ten million is a lot of money,” she whispered, not bothering to add that it was too much money to spend on a daughter you’d never liked.
“I’d pay it,” he said, surprising her. “If it were my daughter.” He reached for the tie around her ankle. “I’ll be in this bed with you tonight. If you try anything, there are worse ways to be bound. More painful things I can spend the day doing to you while your father watches. Do you understand me, Arina?”
She still remembered the gun. She nodded thickly. Eris stared for a beat and then began the silent work of unbinding her. She could only watch his long, nimble fingers work. How had he learned this? How many people had he kidnapped before? There was an art to it all, she supposed, though she didn’t dare ask him how else he could tie her. She didn’t want to put ideas in his head. Instad, Arina waited until her wrists were undone, rubbing them softly as she sat up, to ask, “What happens when he doesn’t send you the money?”
Eris was close enough she could have touched his face. “They always send the money.”
She cleared her throat, trying to pretend that didn’t terrify her. “What will you do when he doesn’t?”
Eris reached over for a lock of her hair. Too quick, she realized he had a knife in his hand. She reared back, tumbling to the floor, forehead colliding with the corner of the side table, likely leaving a bruise. Eris towered over her, confusion and irritation etched against his face. Crouching, he showed her the lock of hair he’d cut.
“Maybe I’ll send him your hand,” he murmured, head cocked as he watched. “I’m not a babysitter, you know.”
Trembling, Arina whispered, “Let me pay it.”
He stilled, clutching that piece of blonde hair in his palm. “Excuse me?”
“Let me pay it,” she pleaded. It would wipe out the majority of the money her grandparents had left her, tucked away in trusts that had been yielding interest since the day she’d been born.
Reminding herself that she’d never wanted it, Arina forced herself to scoot a little closer. “I’ll send it to you tonight if you have my phone.”
Eris scowled. “You don’t understand the point of the ransom, sunshine. Your father needs to learn how to bend his knee in deference.”
“Let me do it instead,” she murmured, holding his gaze but Eris shook his head, his upper lip curling in disgust.
“I don’t want your fucking money, Arina.”
“Why not?” she all but screamed when he stood. Arina, too, was quick on her feet, reaching for the lamp on the bedside table and hurtling it at him. Eris just very narrowly missed, eyes wide when it shattered against the wall.
“You’re going to regret that,” he whispered.
“I hate you!” she screamed, slipping past him for the hall just like before. Eris lunged but Arina was fast, had spent her whole life dancing. This time he didn’t catch her until they hit the stairs.
Her fingers plunged into his hair, ripping violently, and when she went tumbling down, he came right with her. He grunted, elbow catching her in the stomach while Arina reached between his legs and twisted with a ruthless sort of violence.
“Fuck!” he yelled while she scrambled to her feet, his immaculate hair falling into his furious eyes. He was going to kill her. She could see it on his face. Truly there was nowhere to go even as she scrambled down the second landing and into the hall that would take her outside. She passed a dark kitchen and a strangely normal looking living room before Eris caught her, slamming her face into the front door so hard her teeth rattled.
“Go ahead,” he panted against the back of her neck. “Open it.”
He had both wrists in one hand pinned behind her, twisting so rough she cried out even as she tried to push him off. “Open the door, Arina. I’ll let you leave.”
“You won’t,” she screamed furiously, struggling against his punishing hold. “You’re a liar.”
“I would let you go to watch you walk back to the city naked,” he breathed, pushing closer. “How far do you think you’d get, with this body? How far before someone realizes what a fuckable mouth you have? Ten feet? Half a mile? I’ll bet even the animals could smell that wet cunt.”
“Stop it,” she whispered, cheek pressed to the wood. “Let me go.”
“If you’d gotten into my bed and gone to sleep like my good little girl, I might have,” Eris told her, grinding his pelvis against her bare ass. He was erect. She could feel the hardness of his cock against her, sliding beneath her butt cheek. Long, she thought with no small amount of horror. “Now that I know you want to touch my dick, though…I think I’ll put you on a little leash and keep you at my feet.”
“Eris!”
“Oh, you haven’t earned the right to call me Eris,” he replied, his other hand wrapping around her neck. Squeezing softly, he continued, “You know what I think?”
“I don’t give a fuck about what you think,” Arina replied.
“I think you weren’t properly punished by your own father–”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she breathed.
“And until he shows up, you can call me sir,” he replied, his amusement evident in his voice.
“You’re disgusting,” she told him, ignoring the way he was rubbing himself against her.
“You’re disgusting, sir,” Eris replied, fingers pressed into her windpipe. “Say it, or you’re going to be punished.”
Arina would take her chances. She’d survived the vibrator, after all. She’d survived a lifetime of her actual father. Whatever Eris was thinking was likely not half as terrible and so Arina, defiant and angry, said, “I’d rather choke, Eris.”
Eris removed his hand from her neck to fist it in her hair. Turning her to face him, she found not hatred looking at her, but open lust. “Pathetic,” she whispered. The taunt was well worth it, even when he slammed her to her knees.
“You want to choke? Open your fucking mouth,” he replied, holding her in place while his free hand went to his pants and the belt looped around his waist. She reared back when he yanked it off, terrified for a moment he was going to strike her with it. Eris merely let it drop, misunderstanding why she’d begun to struggle. There was nowhere to go, not when the door behind her and his muscular body was pinning her in place. Not when his hand was pulling so roughly against her scalp she could practically taste blood.
He freed the thing that had been rubbing against her and for a moment, Arina had nothing to say at all. It seemed strangely wrong for a man who had a face like Eris’s to also have a cock like that. Had they met under normal circumstances, had he pulled the long, thick length of him out, she might have fallen to her knees anyway.
He rubbed the bruising head against her lips. “Open your fucking mouth, Arina.”
She didn’t dare say a word, trying so hard to twist her face out of his grasp. Eris shoved her back, knocking her against the door. She gasped from the pain, tears snapping to the corners of her eyes just in time for Eris to thrust his hips forward, slamming his cock into her throat. He only made it halfway before he had to stop while she gagged loudly, hands flying to his thighs still clad in his pants. She beat her fists against him for all the good it did.
“No teeth,” he groaned when she closed her mouth to bite. “Just like that. Good girl.”
And fuck if her whole body didn’t warm at the praise. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t breathe when he pushed in again, holding himself in her throat so her nose was pressed against his abdomen. He didn’t seem to register her hands shoving at him, didn’t care how loudly she gasped and gagged. Each new thrust was rougher, deeper, the sounds of her body trying to reject the length of him punctuated by his own panting groans.
“You have a pretty mouth,” he praised. “A wet mouth.”
She opened her eyes, flicking them upwards. He was watching, his pupils so blown out they were practically colorless.
“Who knew you took cock so well?” he murmured, using the hand holding her hair to bob her over him. Her knees ached against the wood, her jaw sore from the stretch required to accommodate him. All Arina could focus on was sucking in a quick breath every time he pulled back.
“I could do this all night,” he told her, eyes holding her gaze. “Are you going to do what I ask? Or am I going to use your mouth like my own personal toy until it's time to go to work?”
She whined. She’d say anything to get him to finish. No blow job, consensual or otherwise, should last this long. Saliva was dripping from her mouth and down her neck, her eyes burning with tears she couldn’t stop. Eris withdrew until it was only the tip of his heavy, swollen cock resting on her tongue. He held himself in his hand, smearing precum over lips.
“Are you going to do what I tell you to?” he whispered, his body practically shaking with need. Arina winced. “Yes.”
“Yes…” he prompted. She couldn’t look at him.
“Yes, sir.”
He stroked himself once, and then again, splattering hot ropes of come all over her face without warning. He caught her directly in the face for the first spurt before pointing lower, covering her neck and then her breasts. He seemed an impossible amount for one man and Arina was grateful he hadn't made her swallow it.
“Good girl,” he whispered, hauling her to her feet. Her legs wobbled as if she’d been stabbed by a million pins. Eris used one hand to hold her arm, the other to shove himself back in his pants. “Now. Lets clean you up. You’re disgusting.”
She could only stare, open mouthed.
She knew he understood what she hadn’t said out loud, if his cruel amusement was any indication.
Fuck you, Eris.
ERIS:
Eris scrubbed a hand over his face, propped against the headboard as the sun began to rise. He had his laptop resting on his thigh, already logged in to get some actual work done. Beside him, Arina was curled on her side, her thick hair half hiding her beautiful face. Eris couldn’t resist pushing it from her cheek, if only to look at her still swollen pink lips. He’d lost control of himself last night though he didn’t have it in him to regret it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so hard.
He wanted more. Eris was both furious and relieved when he found no response from her father. What kind of man let the likes of Eris Vanserra put his blood soaked hands all over his perfect daughter? Eris was well aware Arina deserved a lot better than being throat fucked in the foyer of his fathers former home. Had she been his, he would have made the entire city suffer.
He glanced at his phone. Lucien, grumpy from being woken so early, had texted back.
He just got to work. Want me to cut the breaks?
Eris stroked his finger over Arina’s soft cheek again. She was still out, exhausted from being subjected to his whims. He planned to be a little softer today, had caught the way she looked at him every time he praised her. Some sick, stupid part of him wondered if he couldn’t condition her to seek his approval simply by telling her she’d made him happy.
Yes.
Fuck Novak for deciding to wait him out. Eris knew when Novak arrived, he’d find a package on his desk courtesy of Tanwen. A dress stolen from her closet, soaked in blood and torn apart. If that didn’t scare him, Eris didn’t think anything would.
He wasn’t used to holding a hostage for so long. Eris sent a request to Conall for food, both for himself and for Arina, who hadn’t eaten since he’d brought her here. He’d need to let her bathe, would have to figure out what to do with her while he waited on her father. She didn’t wake when he left to collect it or when he brought up juice and a tray of food, unsure what she liked to eat. She slept through a heated call between Eris and a client, blissfully unaware of the veiled threats he made as he paced through the room.
The only thing that woke Arina was Eris turning the vibrator back on. Leaning against the dresser, wand in hand, he flipped the on switch and watched how she jerked upwards. Blonde hair spilled against her breasts, those wide, green eyes filled with alarm.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he murmured. “I was starting to think you were dead.”
“Put that away,” she whispered, legs clamped firm. Eris frowned.
“After last night, I think I owe you.”
She shook her head. “No…no, Eris–”
“What did I say about my name?” he snapped. It was a practical concern. Every time his name spilled from her lips, Eris had to fight his cocks urge to fuck her perfect ass. Defiance flashed over her features.
“I’m not calling you sir.”
“Then you better not call me anything at all,” Eris retorted, turning the vibrator off. “Eat something. I need to go into the city today and I don’t want to be thinking about you.”
She looked up at him, hands on her thighs. “Am I coming with you?”
Eris frowned. He’d intended to lock her in the bathroom. “Do you want to come with me?”
“I don’t want to be here alone,” she replied, as if that were the same.
“You’d risk sitting beneath my desk all day just to avoid being here all alone?” Eris questioned. Her fingers curled around her neck, eyes glassy and he knew she was thinking about how he used her the night before. He wanted to again.
“I might decide to use you as a cockwarmer. Have you thought of that?”
No. She winced. Instead, Arina crept closer, tits hanging between her arms. “Has he responded?”
Eris couldn’t hide his hatred. “No.”
“He’s not going to,” she told him. “He’s going to let you kill me.”
Eris decided to breeze right past that little declaration in favor of getting something he wanted. “A trade, sunshine?”
Her wariness was warranted. “I’ll take you into the city with me,” where he absolutely intended to use her mouth again, not that she needed to know that, “If you arch that ass of yours in the air and don’t move it until I tell you to.”
He was still holding the vibrator in his hand and from the way she stared, Eris would have thought he held a gun. She was weighing her options and God he hoped she did it. He had a bottle of lube in the drawer just behind him. He meant to fuck her stupid, take her to his office, and fuck her stupid again. If Novak wasn’t going to get his daughter, why shouldn’t Eris get to keep her, at least for now?
“Will you let me go?” she asked. Testing.
“No.” Eris hadn’t gotten what he wanted, after all. It wasn’t about money, not that Arina understood. It was power. The power to bend the city to his will, to remind even men like Novak what would happen if they crossed him. Novak would find out soon enough if he wasn’t panicking about his daughter. Absently, Eris pulled his phone from his pants. Only work. No Novak.
“So I do this and you just take me with you?” she questioned, lips pulling in a frown.
He shrugged, deciding he’d scare her a little into accepting. “Better than being chained up all day in the basement, right?”
Her face paled. Something about being alone bothered her. Eris could untangle that later. For now, all he needed was the barest hint of her compliance. He didn’t want to fight her again, didn’t want to waste the time it would take to spread her out and prop her up. The fun was watching her try, even if she failed. Arina’s eyes darted to the camera.
“Are you going to film it?”
“Do you want me to?” he replied casually, though this was between them. He wanted Novak to think his daughter was miserable with him, and though Eris fully intended to use her like a doll, he didn’t think there would be a terrible amount of suffering when she took his cock. After all, Arina only cried when he left her or she realized her father might see her break down. Everything else was met with a taunt, a teasing smile. A I’m better than you sort of look that made his balls heavy.
“No.”
“Alright. No camera then. Are you going to bend over for me like a good little girl, or do you just want to watch me leak cum in my pants all day?”
Her eyes slid to the bulge. She took a gulping breath. “I hate you for this.”
“I don’t care if you like me,” Eris replied, swallowing his own groan when she turned over. He went to her, ignoring her upturned ass, to grab her bruised, chafed wraps. “Hold the mattress.”
Arms spread, Eris watched her grip either edge as best she could. Centered right in the middle, her fingers just grasped the edge, bunching the black bed sheets beneath.
She had her thighs clamped together. Eris spread them wide, letting his hand slip between. She wasn’t wet like he’d hoped but that heat from before was enough to make him want. To remind him of the vibrator behind him and how he could pull gleaming slick from her cunt whether she wanted it or not.
“If you move, I’ll punish you,” Eris murmured, undoing his pants quietly. This was, in all truth, a waste of his time. He should have dumped her in the bathroom behind him, locked the door, and left for the day. Should have let her give him the money before calling the whole thing quits. “If you try and push me off you, I’ll punish you. If you do anything I don’t like, I’ll punish you. Do you understand?”
“How will I know if you don’t like something?” she asked, looking over her shoulder and fuck, Eris’s cock jumped in his hand, precum beading the tip. She was so effortlessly sexy, a woman he might have designed in a lab if that sort of thing had ever been possible. Eris couldn’t help himself, kneading her soft flesh in his hands. Eris marveled at how his palm spanned her entire cheek.
Perfect fit.
He’d thought the same thing the night before when he’d been fucking her throat.
Eris didn’t warn her, slapping her skin hard enough he could see the print etched in flesh. “That’s how you’ll know,” he told her, watching the way her whole body jumped.
Using the last vestiges of his willpower, Eris went back for the vibrator and the lube. Arina was still watching over her shoulder, blonde hair splayed against her back. “You’re not going to take off your shirt?”
Eris opened his mouth to taunt her, not daring to say the real reason, when his own eyes snagged over something dragging against her lower back. A long, vicious cut made white with time, scarred over otherwise perfect flesh. She’d been on her back for the last three days. How would he have known? She didn’t realize he’d seen it and he wondered what she’d do if she saw he had a matching set against his own? Eris tossed his items to the mattress and began unbuttoning his shirt, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to stop. She couldn’t see his back but Eris knew, just like he knew how he’d gotten them.
Was Novak not coming because he didn’t care if his daughter lived or died?
Eris shoved that thought to the side. He’d deal with it later, when it mattered. Right now, Arina had her perfect ass in the air, was clutching his bed, and as far as he could tell, had some curiosity about his body. Running a hand down his toned torso, he asked, “Like what you see?”
“Just get this over with,” she gritted, burying her face in the sheets.
“You always know the right things to say,” Eris murmured, reaching for the vibrator and turning it to the highest setting. Her body went rigid and all was right in the world again.
“Did I traumatize you yesterday?” he crooned, running the vibrating head over the curve of her ass. “How many times did you come before you begged me to stop?”
“Once,” Arina was quick to reply. Eris was glad she couldn’t see how rueful he felt. He’d walked right into that one. Spreading apart her pretty ass cheeks, Eris pressed the vibrator against the puckered whole his cock was about to invade. He was so fucking aroused he could barely see straight and when her hand jerked, reaching back to swat at him, Eris got to spank her hard.
“Do you want to come to work with me or not?” he growled. “Put your fucking hand back.”
She whimpered and yet still did what she was told, arm trembling as she gripped. “Good girl,” he praised, noting the way her hips seemed to arch involuntarily. Fuck, had anyone ever said one nice word to this woman? Still running the vibrator over her ass, Eris decided to test his hypothesis.
“Has anyone ever told you how lovely you are?”
She went stiff again. Yes.
He moved the vibrator lower, letting it tease the opening of her pussy. Arina was so tightly held he thought she might shatter, her hips practically shaking with fear. She didn’t like being told she was pretty, Eris supposed that was fair. It was obvious—the first time he’d really seen her, he’d thought she ought to model. Surely he wasn’t the only one.
Coating his cock in lube, erection twitching, Eris wondered what was wrong with him? He’d been fucking womn since he was a teenager and had never cared if they liked him, let alone if they felt special. This was worse—Arina was his captive and at some point, he wanted to let her go. Would let her go.
Eris pressed the vibrator against her clit and pushed the blunt head of his cock into her ass. Arina gasped, hand reaching out only to reach for the bed again. “Smart girl,” he growled, fingers digging into her flesh. Arina moaned, a wrenched sound he thought he’d all but dragged out of her. There it was, the thing no one thought about her that she desperately wanted to be praised for. She could be his smart girl. His best girl.
“I changed my mind,” she panted when he pushed another inch into her. “Stop, Eris, I’ll stay–”
“You’ll take it,” he gritted out, already so fucking aroused he thought he might die. She was so fucking tight and hot and with the lube she felt perfect. The sight of her ass eating him up inch by inch was waking something primal in him.
He could feel the vibrations from the vibrator dully through the skin of her clenched ass. Eris pushed further, earning a soft scream muffled by the blanket. Having breached his way in, no amount of tightening could keep him out. God himself couldn’t have stopped Eris and when Arina wiggled her hips to try and shove him back, Eris decided it was best to just get the whole thing over with at once.
He slammed himself the rest of the way in, groaning while she screamed. A fluttering, pulsating feeling told Eris that, despite her desperate pain, Arina had come. “You like that?” he panted, pressing the vibrator harder to her clit.
“Stop,” she moaned, earning spank after spank after spank for the way she moved. “It hurts.”
“Relax,” he demanded, kneading her hot, reddened flesh. “Stop fighting me.”
She exhaled a breathy sob when he withdrew, pushing back in. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he praised, swallowing hard. He could already feel release building and he’d barely even begun. “Are you going to come again?”
“I don’t want to,” she cried, face still hidden in the sheets. Eris began to pump slowly, grabbing the lube beside him without moving the vibrator an inch from her pussy. He coated the skin of his cock in it, pulling himself nearly all the way from her body. The next slide felt less tense, was smoother, easier.
“That’s it,” he praised. “My smart girl. Open yourself up. Enjoy it.”
And fuck if she didn’t, at least a little. He thought some small part of her wanted to obey, to give in and let him take over. Her hips rocked from the force with which he’d begun thrusting, chasing the absurd, delicious high that was her body. If her ass felt this good, had him this undone, what the fuck was it going to be like buried in her pretty, wet pussy? When he didn’t need to lubricate himself because proof of her want was sticky and hot against the aching skin of his cock?
Arina tightened almost painfully around him again, holding him for a moment, sucking so deep he couldn’t contain the guttural groan that slipped from his chest. Her legs shook as she came again, pinned by his hands and hips so she couldn’t move.
“Eris,” she panted and fuck he was going to come. “Eris please, stop—”
“Come again,” he demanded. He was greedy. He wanted to see her exhausted and sweaty like before, wanted her to pass out in the car from all the orgasms he gave.
Her scream could have shook the very foundation of the house. Eris chased after it, pumping viciously into her. “Again,” he ordered, pressing the vibrator so hard against her, nestling the want between her perfect lips that she barely got a chance to breathe before she was convulsing around him. He’d lost count. Was it three or was it four?
“Eris,” she sobbed and he didn’t even care she was using his name. He wanted to hear her say it. “Eris, please–”
She came again and he nearly did, too. He had to clench his ass to keep from unloading. Just a little longer. He needed her to take a little more. Arina was trembling, just barely holding the edge of the bed.
“Eris!” she screamed, her hands flying out. It was too much. He dropped the vibrator to catch her wrists, using them like a lever as he thrust himself into her, burying himself to the hilt like a mindless, rutting animal.
“Fuck!” he groaned, digging his fingers so sharply into her ass he was sure he’d left bruised. Release washed over him little a bomb had gone off, dragging him off some unknown precipice Stars burst through the blackness that stole over his vision while Eris poured more come than he even knew he had into her body. It was last night all over again and the endless spurting of fluid.
Arina collapsed to the mattress entirely, trembling violently, arms thrown over her head.
Eris withdrew regretfully, watching his come slide from her ass towards her pussy. Some small, sick part of him hoped something stuck.
“C’mon,” he grumbled, slapping her ass softly. “Take a shower so we can go.”
She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. “You weren’t lying?”
He would have been smarter if he had. Eris only shook his head. “Not lying. But you can’t walk into my office smelling like a cumwhore. Go wash yourself and we’ll go.”
Hatred streaked over her features, quick as lightning and then it was gone. He let her go to the bathroom by herself.
He didn’t want to think about what he’d do if he followed.
Eris was already too worried about what he was willing to risk to keep her.
ARINA:
Arina had expected to work out of a dungeon or a basement or some dirty warehouse down by the harbor. Not downtown in a seventy story building where he held the sixty-ninth floor. Eris had grinned when he pressed that button, every inch the demon who’d just fucked her in the ass despite his crisp suit and his perfect hair. He’d done that on purpose, then.
Elevator doors opened to a rich mahogany desk with the words Vanserra and Associates emblazoned on a plaque. A pretty, dark haired woman smiled at him like he was the nicest guy in the world. “I canceled your meetings,” she told him. “So you could show the intern around.”
“Wonderful,” Eris praised, his voice rich like honey. “This is Arina. Get her a name badge and a cubicle, will you?”
“Are you serious?” she hissed.
“You don’t think you could work for me?” Eris questioned, one brow raised. And fuck, she hadn’t meant for him to interpret her words that way…but looking around the sea of offices and cubicles and the women with their sleek hairdos and professional pumps…and she found she did think that.
“I don’t know anything about law,” Arina mumbled.
“Neither do a lot of people here,” he replied with a cheeky wink before he pulled open the door to his office.
“But you do?”
“Oh, sunshine, the law is my passion,” he said sarcastically, gesturing for her to sit anywhere she liked. His office was big, and filled with shelves of hardback books. There were old tomes on law and the theory of law but others were just really nice first editions of books she liked. Eris plopped into the black high-backed leather chair and immediately began fishing his computer out of his bag.
“You like to read?” he asked without looking at her. Framed by a window made of glass, Eris could have been the actual prince of the city. He certainly looked it, in that moment. Haughty, arrogant, and terribly spoiled, all coupled with his effortless good looks painted a rather appealing picture…not that she wanted to admit it.
“What, the spoiled socialite can’t read?” she sneered, feeling stupid all over again. Eris’s head snapped in her direction.
“When did I say that?” he demanded. “Do you like to read?”
“Yes,” she replied defensively, pulling his first edition of Robinson Crusoe from the shelf. It must have cost him a small fortune and she bet that was part of why he’d displayed it here. Eris turned back to his computer, leaving her to sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk.
“Me too,” he murmured, fingers flying over the keys.
Arina had seen his back earlier that morning, after he’d finished fucking her like an animal. Vision blurred with her tears, she thought she’d imagined the faint scars running the length of his back. She had some just like them, the product of a belt against brand new flesh. She’d been too angry, too hurt to ask him what happened and now she was too emotionally raw.
Arina wanted to make a deal with Eris. Book in her lap, Arina opened her mouth to offer but Eris spun his laptop around for her, showing her a menu of food.
“My assistant wants to know if you want lunch. Pick something light,” he added. She waited for him to make some terrible comment about her weight or her body like everyone else did but Eris, she’d forgotten, was horrible in different ways. “I don’t want you to vomit in my lap when I fuck your throat beneath the desk.”
“I hate you,” she said, meeting his delighted gaze.
“You don’t,” he replied with satisfaction. “Soup, do you think?”
“Since you’re so bossy, I’ll let you decide,” she grumbled, tucking her legs beneath her white dress. It was the only one she had in her possession. Eris’s eyes darkened as he watched, a momentary reprieve
“Eris?”
“Mm?” he asked, eyes back on his computer.
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
She had his full attention again. Lips curled into a cold, cruel smile. “Worried?”
She scoffed. “No.” Though her pounding heart told a different story. He was dangerous and she kept forgetting that because Arina could only handle one terrible man at a time. As long as her father drew breath, Arina would never truly see Eris for what he really was.
Eris reclined back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his chest. “Tell me what you’re thinking, sunshine.”
Sunshine. Why did he call her that?
“You want my fathers compliance, right?”
Eris watched her with hungry eyes.
“I could help. I would have helped, if you came to me in the beginning. I still could.”
Eris inclined his head for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line. “You want to help me rob your father?”
“No,” Arina shook her head. “I think we’re beyond that. He watched…he saw…” he saw that vibrator tied to her leg and did nothing. “I want to humiliate him, I want you take everything he has, and then I want you to kill him.”
Eris leaned forward, his interest evident on his features. “You want me to take all his money? Not you?”
Arina wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want any of it. Take it all, I don’t care.” She would have rather had nothing at all than to live off her fathers ill-gotten gains. Eris was watching her like he knew something she didn’t, had pieced some little thing together that Arina was missing.
“Okay. I’ll think about it,” he replied, turning back to his computer. “Enjoy your book. Lunch is in an hour…” He was warning her about his cock, somehow still hard after what he’d done to her still aching ass.
She should have hated him.
She didn’t.
ERIS:
“Do you remember Father Roberts?” Eris asked Lucien. He was just outside the bathroom where he’d gone to splash water over his face after shoving Arina violently beneath his desk and forcing his cock into her throat. The more she struggled, the harder he came. He was figuring that out about himself. He wanted her with a near single-minded determination, which made his next question easy. “Get me his parish.”
“I’m not your fucking assistant.”
“Just do it. Did Novak get in his car?”
“Fender bender,” Lucien said gloomily. “Should have rigged it to go up in flame.”
“Forget fucking with his car, Lucien,” Eris snapped, irritated by his brothers love of arson. “I have a different plan to fuck Novak over.”
“It sounds stupid,” Lucien grumbled. “If you need a goddamn priest.”
“Just get me the parish. I’m tired of being locked up in this shitty house.”
“Okay, alright,” Lucien agreed before disconnecting the call. Eris turned back to his office. He needed to get out of here. Back inside, Arina was in her chair holding a five thousand dollar book between reverent hands. Her mouth was swollen pink, her cheeks bright red from where he’d slapped her.
“I can’t take you anywhere,” he complained, well aware it was obvious what had happened between them. Well, mostly obvious, at any rate. Arina had been too gagged to scream and from the burning hatred in her eyes when she turned to look at him, Eris thought she would have liked to have embarrassed him that way. She’d fight him on the way out. Time to lay one of his cards face up on the table.
“I’ve considered your offer. You want to help me?” he pressed, watching her carefully. Her hatred of him warred with her hatred of his father and Eris was too pleased when the hatred for Novak won out.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Wonderful. I have some ideas. Walk out of this office without screaming, and I’ll share them with you back at the house.”
“Can I take the book with me?”
She was so softly pathetic in that moment. It made his heart squeeze tightly in his aching chest. Was that all she wanted? A book? Eris nodded curtly, not wanting to give whatever the fuck he was feeling away. Not when he knew she’d be back to hating him by the end of the night. It wouldn’t matter, then.
Arina was compliant, clutching that book to her chest all the way through the building and into his car. Eris, who was starting to suspect he was deeply, deeply stupid, put his hand on her knee as he drove back out to that secluded house. Tomorrow he’d take her to his penthouse, assuming she agreed to his scheme.
Eris had cleared out his calendar for tomorrow under the assumption that Arina needed to make everything difficult. Not at that moment, though. Unaware of what he intended, Arina sat at the table and ate a meal with him, eyeing him suspiciously the entire time but mostly normal—at least for them.
“Are you going to tell me this plan of yours?” she asked when Eris marched her back up to the bedroom. He was beginning to suspect she was ruining him for all other women.
“Take off your dress.”
Arina huffed with exasperation. “I don’t want your dick again,” she complained.
“What makes you think I’d care if you didn’t?” Eris taunted. “Take off your fucking dress or I’ll destroy it. I want you tied up when I tell you this. I won’t have you hitting my face again.”
Arina ripped the dress off angrily, leaving the bra and panties on beneath. Eris raised a brow but when she stood defiant, it was with too much pleasure that he pulled them down for her. It gave him an excuse to run his finger against her hot cunt.
“Wet,” he murmured with surprise, pushing his finger into the opening. Arina shoved him back like he knew she would, still pissed about the blow job. She hit him in the face despite his best intentions, the ringing slap arousing him more than it enraged him. Arina was going to ruin him for all other women.
“You’re so fucking mean,” Eris praised, pushing her to the bed and straddling her chest with his hips while she writhed beneath him. “I’m starting to love it.”
“You’re disgusting!” Arina screamed while he bound her wrists over her head. She kicked him in the throat when he went to move her legs, solidifying Eris’s plan. There would only be one answer, then. One outcome. He opened her back up, spreading her thighs with the rope and tying her ankles to her knees so she looked like a frog again. Arina fought him viciously, well aware of what was coming for her.
“If you had just done what you were told,” Eris crooned once he was done. “I wouldn’t have to resort to such desperate measures.”
He pushed two fingers back into her cunt just because he could, curling them upwards while she panted, those green eyes darkening. Whether it was hate or lust, Eris couldn’t say. He used his thumb to rub a little circle over her glistening clit. “You know what I realized? I haven’t had the pleasure of making you come.”
“And you never will,” she gritted out as he pumped lazily, noting the way she coated his skin.
“Oh, how wrong you are,” Eris murmured with delight, lowering his head for a taste. He swore it would be a quick thing and yet the minute his tongue replaced his fingers Eris was fucking wrecked. He gripped her thighs to keep her from twisting away.
“Eris–”
“Yes,” he groaned, grinding his raging erection into the mattress beneath him. He put his plan on pause so he could feast on her. He was lying to himself, tongue dragging up over her quivering, swollen clit, when he said this was merely a preamble to the torment for later, that he wanted her nice and lubricated for the vibrator.
But Eris just wanted to lick her. She’d had his cock in her mouth twice, now. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to return the favor? Arina was musky and sweet, like some sort of desert he’d only ever concocted in his imagination now made real.
“Eris, stop it,” she pleaded breathlessly. “Talk to me.”
“Come, first,” he demanded. She exhaled softly when his fingers invaded her body again, clenching so tight his entire life flashed before his eyes. His plan was suddenly spectacular, the smartest thing he’d ever conceived. He was dying to tell her just as soon as she made a fucking mess of his face. Arina was drenched, was practically dripping all over his fingers and face. She bucked her hips when he sucked that pretty pink clit between his lips, using the flat of his tongue to rub the unhooded center.
“Eris!” she cried, tugging at her bindings. She was pulsating, her cunt mind meldingly hot. He needed her, wanted to slam his cock into her cunt and fuck her until he felt those spasms not around his two fingers but around the base of his shaft. Arina’s hips flew off the bed and no matter how she said she didn’t want him, she ground her pussy into his face, chasing the high of her orgasm.
Eris pulled back, making a big, theatrical show of wiping off his face and licking his fingers clean. Arina watched through half-lidded eyes, her perky tits bouncing with each ragged breath she took. “No one’s ever eaten your pussy like that, have they?” Eris asked, far too pleased with himself.
“Fuck you, Eris.”
“You will,” he agreed pleasantly, walking to the dresser and the vibrator laying on top of it. “Tomorrow.
Her eyes went huge when she heard that tell-tale buzzing. “Eris,” she whispered, her words a plea. “Don’t, please–”
“I won’t,” he promised, turning it off. “If you promise to do everything I say.”
“I will,” she lied. He knew she couldn’t. Eris already had her leg already roped up—all he had to do was slide the handle of the wand through and she’d be back at his mercy. He sat beside her, running a finger over her breast to touch the pink, peaked nipple.
“Do you still want to see your father punished?” he asked absently, ignoring the way his cock pleaded for him to release it. He pinched the dusky bud between two fingers gently, eliciting a soft gasp.
“Yes.”
“And once I’ve drained his accounts and thoroughly humiliated him…you’re asking me to kill him? Just so I understand, sunshine. I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” she admitted, eyes fluttering shut beneath his careful touches. “I want to help.”
“Vicious,” he praised. “My smart, vicious wife.”
Her eyes flew open. “What did you say?”
“A priest will be here in the morning,” Eris murmured, still tugging at her breast, the vibrator lying just between them. “All you have to do is say I do, and sign one little document–”
“Eris, that’s crazy,” she breathed. “I’m not going to marry you.”
He knew she’d argue and yet some small part of him was disappointed anyway. “You will. I’m not letting you go.”
“You want to be married forever?” she gaped. “I just assumed this would be pretend—”
“What part of how I just ate your pussy felt like pretending to you?” he snapped. “Vanserra’s don’t get divorced.”
“Just forget it,” Arina writhed. “Forget I asked—”
He turned on the vibrator. “I can’t forget it. You’ll be my wife one way or the other, Arina. Make it easy and I’ll put my face between your legs again.”
“Go to hell, Eris.”
He smiled. “You’re coming with me.”
That first furious scream when he had the vibrator secured to her leg was practically music to his ears.
ARINA:
It wasn’t like before. Eris was too content to watch, to use his little remote so Arina was given a reprieve. He’d wrap his arms around her body and press kisses against her neck and shoulders. Marry me, he’d murmur softly, his mouth ghosting over her jaw. My sweet, smart, vicious girl. Marry me.
And she’d say no and all at once his comforting touches would vanish and the buzzing would begin again. She couldn’t think her way through it, pleasure edged with pain until Arina was desperate. Eris turned it off in the middle of the night, his own exhaustion getting the better of him. She watched him unbutton his shirt, staring between her legs with a mixture of amusement and desire.
“What happened to your back?” she gasped, her heart pounding in her throat.
“What happened to yours?” he shot back without his usual malice. She knew it was rhetorical but everything was just a game to Eris. Marriage, kidnapping, killing. What did he care? How could he ask her to be his wife for the rest of his life if he didn’t seem particularly fascinated if she even lived or died?
“A belt,” Arina told him, watching how still he went. “Buckle against skin, of course. It started with my mother.”
Eris flinched and she wondered if it had started with his mother, too. He had been like her, a little boy hiding while his mother put her body in front of his own? How long before she couldn’t? How long before Eris tired of teasing her sexually and took off his own belt?
“She died when I was fourteen. That dress,” Arina nodded to the discarded white dress she’d bought, “Was for the anniversary of her death.”
“When?” he asked, looking at her with unreadable amber eyes.
“Three months ago,” she admitted, shame washing over her. It was the first time since he’d put her in front of that camera that Arina had felt humiliated or shamed. Even when he’d shoved his cock in her mouth, all she’d felt was anger. It was uncomfortable. “I didn’t go.”
“Why?”
Arina shrugged. “I…” I think it was a waste for her to die for me. “I guess I’m a coward.”
“What happened, after she died?”
Arina couldn’t look at him. “The same as always. Only, it was just me.”
“Is that why he’s not coming?” Eris asked her softly, running a hand over her thigh. “He’s hoping I’ll kill you?”
Tears sprang behind her eyes. “Yes.”
“Marry me, Arina,” he said, his voice harsher than before. “We both know you’re going to say yes before morning. End this and spend the night plotting with me.”
“What about what I want?”
“I am what you want,” Eris replied darkly. “What you need.”
“And you–”
“I’ve been waiting my whole fucking life for you,” Eris snarled, prowling forward until he was at the edge of the bed. He kneeled, this cruel, terrible prince. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you. Vanserra’s don’t get divorced.”
“It’s been four days, Eris,” she whispered.
“Say yes,” Eris urged, brushing his fingers over her cheek. “I know you don’t want to sleep in here alone—”
“You’re going to leave me?” she whispered, wondering why that was what was threatening to break her. Eris wiped the tear from her nose.
“I’m not sleeping next to anyone but my wife tonight,” Eris growled. “If you tell me no, you can sleep alone.”
“Eris,” she whispered.
“Swallow your pride. Admit you want me, too. Marry me, Arina.”
He wouldn’t ask again. Not until the morning, not after he’d wrung her out entirely, had broken her into nothing. And fuck, she knew she was weak. Knew that if she signed that document, Eris would never let her go. Whatever life was like with him would be it. Cruel or kind, Arina had no other option. It wasn’t a choice.
“Yes,” she agreed. He breathed a heavy, warm sigh against her face, pressing his mouth to her lips for the first time since he’d met her. It was so sweet, so at odds with the man she’d come to know so well.
Eris rose, unknotting her legs first and then her wrists. When she stood, stretching her limbs, he caught her against his half naked body and kissed her again, just as softly as before. She knew in some deep recess of her brain that Eris was manipulating her. When she did what he wanted she got his affection, his gentle hands, his praise. And when she displeased him, Eris tied her up until she was a shaking, miserable mess. Arina wanted to fight him just as much as she wanted to make him happy.
“It was a belt for me, too,” Eris told her, thumbs rubbing her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You escaped?”
His palm slid against her bare spine. “I killed him.”
She looked up at him, wondering if this would be the moment that truly scared her. Eris, too, seemed to be wondering if she’d shrink back. If she’d see him for what he really was. It was too late for that. Arina saw him clearly in that dim lamp light, half naked and clutching her like a lifeline.
“I’ve never held a gun before.”
Eris smiled. “Let’s rectify that.”
Morning came too soon. Wrapped against Eris, his arms tight around her, Arina wasn’t sleep-deprived and aching like she had been the night before. The full weight of her decisions were crashing down on her. Marriage. It made sense, she supposed. If her father died, someone had to inherit his empire. Arina didn’t want it, and yet was likely entitled to at least some of it. Her new husband could siphon it off, could enrich himself or even take on his empire entirely.
And Arina could leave. Vanserra’s might not divorce but she could. Eris couldn’t keep her from filing those papers in two months, from taking the vestiges of her former life and fleeing. She could start over, could put this whole thing behind her. Arina genuinely did not believe Eris would fight her on it, not when he found millions and millions of dollars untouched in his accounts.
She didn’t want anything from him and, more importantly, he couldn’t give her anything. Her trust was outside her purview and Arina had no intention of ever telling him about it. She’d take it and run. His reach was long but he wasn’t God. To get what she wanted, Arina could play along.
Eris shifted behind her, tightening his grip instinctually, as if even in sleep he recognized his hold was tenuous at best. She doubted he’d ever loved anything in his life and was mistaking infatuation for it. In some small, strange way, Arina almost pitied him. Almost. Because men like Eris couldn’t really love–they could only possess. Her mother had been beautiful, too, and look what it got her.
The same thing Arina would get if she made the mistake of thinking Eris truly wanted her for anything other than an ornament.
He brushed the hair off her neck, shifting his hips again. Was he ever not erect? She went still behind him, prepared to complain, to beg him not to touch her. She was still raw from the night before. Still embarrassed by how hard she’d come from his fucking tongue and how some sick part of her wanted him to do it again.
“I have a gift for you,” he whispered.
“Will I like it?” she couldn’t help but ask. Eris chuckled.
“It’s not my cock, sunshine. It’s a gift for my new wife and I am certain you will like it.”
New wife. Spoken with such cheerful confidence.
“And…and will we live here?”
Eris chuckled, kissing her cheek before he pushed himself up off the bed. “Fuck no. We’ll go back to my place in the city. I’m sure you want to pack up.”
She didn’t. She loved her apartment, lonely as it was. It had been a sanctuary from violence, from a different sort of fear. Maybe she’d been alone but no one could hurt her, could harm her. What would Eris’s apartment bring?
“I’m sorry for how rushed this is.” Eris’s voice drew her back to reality as he tossed one of his shirts to her. “In six months, we’ll go to the cathedral and do it right. Everyone will think…”
Everyone would assume he’d gotten her pregnant. Arina ignored the way his eyes immediately went glassy, nostrils flared as his fingers stilled on the button of his shirt. “Regardless. It’ll be in the paper tomorrow morning. Your father, at least, will know the truth.”
“He’s not going to send a gift,” Arina told Eris dryly, slipping his shirt over her body. It smelled warm and spicy, the same as him. She knew he caught the way she buried her nose in the collar under the guise of pulling out her hair. Eris smothered a smile.
“I don’t want one of his fucking smart devices. I want to piss him off. It’s getting a nice, shiny write up in all the papers, this merger of families. Tell me, sweetheart. If you were a legitimate business man, how would you feel if your only daughter’s marriage connected you to the fucking mafia? Because it would make me really fucking nervous.”
“Really? You’d be nervous if your daughter married mafia?”
“I said if I was a legitimate businessman. I’m not, although no daughter of mine is going to marry some low-life mafia scum bag.”
“Like you?”
Eris grinned, sliding his belt through his pants. “Exactly.”
Arina huffed a sigh just in time for the doorbell to ring. Eris’s smile fell away. “Are you going to embarrass me in front of the priest?”
“I’m wearing your shirt and no underwear,” Arina replied dryly. “I would think you’re already embarrassed.”
“I’m aroused,” Eris clipped, glancing once at his phone with a frown. “Lets go, Arina. I don’t want–”
She ignored him to snatch that cursed vibrator off the dresser and smash it against the floor. Eris’s lips curled into a smile again, watching as she picked it up and hurled it against the wall. Plastic and wiring shattered, satisfying something angry in her chest.
“I could always just buy–”
She whirled, slapping him hard across the mouth. His eyes went wide—murderous and deadly. “If you ever tie that thing to me again, I will be a widow and I will drive everything you ever loved straight into the ground.”
“I’m going to fuck you in my bed tonight,” Eris growled, his fair skin blooming hot pink.
“I’m sure you think so,” Arina replied, turning her back to the predator behind her to flounce out. She knew better and Eris, a man who wasn’t used to being disobeyed—a man used to being feared—slammed her against the wall, his hand curling around her throat.
“Don’t ever fucking hit me again. Do you understand me?” he growled, his lips inches from her own. “I don’t care if you curse and scream my name and destroy everything I own—don’t ever touch me like that.”
“And you?” Arina asked, thinking of how Eris had been hauling her around without consideration as to if she liked it or not. “Are you still allowed to hit me?”
“Never,” he breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Never.”
“Lets go get married, then,” Arina replied, terrified of the moment unfolding between them. She saw herself looking through those amber eyes, of the unloved child who had done whatever they had to in order to survive. Brutality left a mark and no matter how Eris tried to hide it, she knew that look of fear all too well.
He rubbed a thumb over her cheek, lips parted as if he, too, felt the shifting between them. It was accidental, these two unloved kids who became deeply difficult adults. And as Eris pushed off the wall and yanked open the door, leading her towards the priest who would look the other way while Arina begrudgingly said yes, she wondered if fate hadn’t meddled, at least a little.
She wondered why she wasn’t more afraid.
ERIS:
“Do you consent to the marriage?”
“No.”
Eris replayed the exchange in his head furiously the entire drive back to the city. Arina, pen in hand, stared that priest down and dared him to help her. Of course Father Robers, the ancient, corrupt old fool had merely looked to Eris. Jaw set, he nodded at Arina and she’d signed her fucking name.
And that was that. She was too pleased with her little show of power, body angled away from him in the seat so he couldn’t dig his fingers into her thigh like he wanted to. Everything felt like shit and the one thing he’d wanted to hear her say—yes, I want this marriage—had been ripped away, a reminder that she was only here because she needed something from him and not because she wanted anything.
It burned him more than he was willing to admit. No one just wanted him. They wanted the mobster, the millionaire, the monster. Eris was afraid that she’d never want him. That her father would die and she’d take off somewhere he couldn’t hunt her down, would escape and he’d have to spend the rest of his life trying to find her.
It was humiliating to beautiful, immaculate Arina to have to walk through the lobby of his building in just his shirt. Eris watched how she shrank, too aware she lacked even a pair of shoes when her feet hit the sidewalk steps leading up. She tugged at the hem of his shirt, already hanging mid-thigh against her toned, golden skin. Eris watched the way everyone turned to look at her. Arina was too stunning for her own good, even when she wore nothing but a buttoned up shirt and too many men had immediately taken notice. His penthouse had a bustling lobby given it housed more than just apartments but professional offices and other work spaces where people filed in and out of the gleaming elevators.
Arina might have felt shame, feet bare against the immaculate, dark floor, but Eris felt jealous. Stupid for forgetting what he had. He was too quick to shrug off his jacket, to drape it over her body. Half ownership, half apology. She looked up at him with those wide, green eyes and all at once, Eris felt like a bastard.
Like his father, who always loved any chance to knock his mother down a peg or two. Clearing his throat as he pushed the button to the elevator, Eris murmured, “I should have gotten you something to wear.”
She only nodded, stepping closer when some young professional stepped beside them, the sort who didn’t belong in the private elevator with them, eyes sliding over her bare legs. Eris was all too happy to let her hide behind him now, leveling a cold, cruel stare at the man. The interloper moved away, no longer willing to take his chances.
“You’ll need a keycard for the elevator,” Eris told her once they were zipping upwards. She’d need a lot of things and Eris was uncomfortable by how willing he was to just give her access to his entire kingdom.
Arina opened her mouth to say something likely rude and utterly sassy.The sort of thing that would find her bent over his knee or sitting between his legs, mouth open. Eris never got to hear it. A loud, furious barkbarkbark! Reminded him that Tanwen had been watching Apollo all weekend while he’d been away. Apollo was a massive black and brown doberman he’d purchased as a puppy, initially for security though now Eris had to concede that though Apollo would likely rip out someone's throat if he ordered them to, Apollo’s main directive was cuddling.
“Oh God—” Arina squealed moments before the eighty pound dog sent her flying to the floor. He’d forgotten to warn her. Apollo hated almost everyone but Eris, had bitten all of his brothers at least once and had chased nearly every woman he’d ever tried to bring home out, to the point that Eris now fucked in hotels exclusively. He lunged, terrified for one flickering moment that he’d have to take Arina to the hospital…to find the dog licking her face.
“You left him here?” Arina accused, sitting up to scratch the silken ears of his beast. Eris gaped. Where was Apollo’s fire now? Considering that Arina was likely coated in his scent, and Apollo loved him, if nothing else, Eris relaxed.
“You feel bad for fighting me so hard now, don’t you? Apollo had to sleep all alone.”
Arina, sitting on the elevator, legs spread wide enough he could all but see her pussy, looked at the massive dog with delight.
“Apollo?” she asked in the most absurd, high-pitched baby voice he’d ever heard. “Is that your name? Apollo? Puppy of sun and light? Of music and poetry? The bestest boy–”
“Okay, alright,” Eris grumbled, stepping out of the elevator. “Where is this energy for your new husband?”
“Apollo never forced me to marry him with a vibrator. Did he? Because he’s the goodest boy? Isn’t he? My best little baby? A sweet puppy with the goodest face?”
Apollo whined, trotting just behind as Arina clambered to her feet and joined Eris in his apartment. For a moment, Arina was silent as she drank in the massive, three story space that he called home. Eris knew what she saw—immaculate wood floors and dark walls painted in shades of maroon and hunter green. A black and white rug on the floor tucked beneath rich, heavy furniture. Eris knew he gave off very minimalist vibes, that he seemed like a modern man with a gadget for everything. In truth, Eris had always wanted to live in some forest bound castle—not the prison his father had built, but something more akin to a library.
Shelves upon shelves of books lined the wall closest to the hall, drawing her interest. Most women went to the glass that overlooked the city and took a selfie. Arina went to his collection of rare first editions, running her fingers over the delicate spines with that same awed reverence. It hadn’t been a mistake to marry her. The thought came to him unbidden, hit him so hard it might have knocked him over had he not been holding the back of the couch.
“I can have your things packed up,” he said, aware his affection was making him sound soft. Arina didn’t notice as she pulled Ovid gently from one of the shelves, a 17th century reprint with gold leaf pages. “Or you can go later and get what you want.”
“Okay,” she breathed. Eris didn’t think she’d heard him at all. Only Apollo managed to snag her attention, butting his head against her bare shins demanding tribute in the form of face rubs.
Eris cleared his throat.
“C’mon. Let me show you the rest of the apartment.”
Arina nodded, gently putting the book back. She knew what it was worth, not perhaps monetarily but the value of the knowledge within. And Eris, who had looked her up, knew Arina had a masters degree in Art History though she wasn’t doing anything with it.
Not yet, he reminded himself.
Eris showed her the first floor, letting her poke around the kitchen and his office which connected to his little library. He’d always thought it was pathetic, too small to be anything worthwhile but to Arina, it was clearly everything. He could picture himself at his desk, the french door connecting the two rooms thrown open so he could occasionally peer in at his wife, tucked in one of those squashy leather chairs reading whatever struck her fancy.
And he wanted it so bad it made his chest ache. Normalcy. Someone who saw beneath the ice and loved what was beneath. If that was even possible. No one had ever loved Eris, not really. Not even his mother, who had been forced to marry and have children, who had only escaped when Beron died. She spoke to Lucien occasionally, her baby, but every call and email and text from Eris went unanswered.
Up winding wood steps took Arina and Eris to the third floor, skipping the second—which was more bedrooms, a lounge, and the bar his brothers often drank and played pool in, for their sprawling, massive bedroom. Another glass wall overlooked the city. Eris liked it best when it rained, enveloping him entirely in layers upon layers of gray clouds. Arina paused, sinking her bare feet into the cream rug stretching the length of the room. Apollo, the disaster, hopped up on the bed, wiggling his tail so hard his whole butt shook. He let her walk through the expansive bathroom and more open windows where she could bathe and stare down at her empire, if she liked.
Arina found the walk-in closet with delight and Eris was pleased something besides his collection of books made her happy. “C’mon. One last thing.”
A door at the far end of the bedroom opened to six steps that took them up once again. “You have the roof?” she breathed, looking at his private, gleaming pool.
“What good is being king if you can’t have a little fun?” Eris asked her. Arina smiled, pacing the length, bare feet smacking against the tile. There were chairs to lay out and a barbeque if he ever felt so inclined, with tables and a firepit and a built-in bar Eris didn’t think he’d ever used. He’d had such plans when he’d bought the place, renovating specifically with thoughts of forever in mind. Of a wife, of friends and children and all the things he still didn’t have.
Stupid. Eris was so, so stupid. But he came to her, sweeping her thick, blonde hair off her shoulder. “Do you like it?”
She went stiff, remembering she wasn’t supposed to. Eris steeled himself for her rejection, swallowed it as he put on his mask of indifference.
Arina turned, eyes wide and sweet.
“I love it.”
Fuck.
ARINA:
She didn’t trust him. Eris had let her bathe and when she’d come out, half her things were tucked in immaculate boxes. He’d asked her to pick out something classy, she assumed because he meant to parade her about and make a general mockery of this new marriage. Still, she’d been so excited to shave and put on something that belonged to her that Arina had done what he told her to.
Eris’s eyes had practically splattered at his feet when he saw the black sheath dress draped over her body. Good. He’d gotten too used to seeing her naked and crying. Let him see her in a bra, a good pair of heels, and a fair amount of make-up. All of Arina's life, people had been begging her to model. She assumed her looks had motivated Eris, at least in part to marriage though it was a bad reason to stake your life on. He was in another suit, phone in hand.
“Do I get my phone back?” she asked him.
“Are you going to tattle on me?” he replied. She scoffed. Who would ever believe her at this point? It was such an outlandish story, so unbelievable that if her pussy hadn’t still ached, she might have thought she made it up, too.
Back in the lobby, Arina was met with the same amount of covert leering, only this time she very much looked like Eris’s something instead of his whore. Girlfriend, wife, person he might get his knuckles bruised and bloodied for, if Eris was the kind of man who did any amount of fighting. He was hot, dressed in his immaculately fitting suit. Perfect hair, sculpted body, classic good looks…Arina had to admit that as far as men she’d gone out with went, Eris was the best looking of the bunch.
Of course, none of those men had ever tied a vibrator to her leg and demanded she marry them, either. She supposed it was a give and take.
Arina was so busy staring at Eris while pretending she wasn’t staring to notice where he was taking them. Only when his car pulled into the fire lane in front of the art museum did Arina have an inkling. A date? She bit her bottom lip, ignoring the red lipstick that was likely staining her teeth, while Eris jogged around and pulled open her door.
“Quick,” he muttered. “I don’t want a ticket.”
“Quick?”
“Yeah. I’ll come back for you in an hour,” he told her, guiding her up the sweeping sandstone steps towards the faux Greek pillars that led indoors. “Maybe an hour and a half if traffic is shitty.”
“You’re leaving me here?” she asked, hating how sad she felt. Eris pulled open the glass door smoothly, his mask of professionalism sliding over his features.
“Mr. Vanserra,” a woman’s voice drew Arina from her hurt. Crossing the marble checkered tile, an older woman in a pencil suit and brown hair graying at the temple made her way through the throngs of visitors meandering towards the ticket counter. He grinned, catching her by the arms to press two airy kisses to her cheeks.
“Elizabeth,” he said with a smile. “Call me Eris, please.”
But Elizabeth was looking at Arina with interest. “Is this her?”
“My wife,” Eris agreed with such obvious pleasure it made Arina all but jump. “She has a Masters in Art History though for the life of me, I can’t remember what her thesis was. She’ll tell you while reminding us both what a dreadful husband I am.”
Arina was staring at him like she’d never seen him before. How did he know that? She’d never told him and he’d never asked. “I leave her in your capable hands.”
Arina turned to Eris only to find his mouth pressed against her own. “Good luck, sunshine,” he murmured, hand sliding over the small over her back. And then he was gone. Arina watched him go, stunned he knew anything about her that didn’t revolve around what lay between her legs.
Bewildered, Arina turned to Elizabeth, who offered Arina her arm. “You know Eris?”
She didn’t know what else to say. Elizabeth smiled.
“He’s one of our more generous patrons. When he emailed yesterday and asked me to meet with you, well…” she looked Arina up and down for a moment. “I’ve been trying to fill this position for a while. Tell me about your thesis and the work you’ve done.”
Oh, God. Eris had called in a favor to help her get a job?
She’d just assumed he meant to keep her tied up in his bedroom. Arina had felt relieved when she saw how big his apartment was. It was still a prison but a spacious prison and one with a pool and netflix. This, though…this meant Eris wanted her to have a life outside him. Something to do.
The time flew. Arina talked about her passion for art and history and the way she thought it tied humanity's past to the present. She and Elizabeth gushed over sharing the same alma mater and Elizabeth had taken Arina down into the collection and they’d talked about how to create an experience that drew people in, to bring in visitors that typically felt shut out of the museum.
And when they came back to that massive atrium, Eris was waiting just beside the door, a knowing smile on his face. Her heart fluttered at the sight, an entirely new emotion given their particularly difficult history.
“All yours,” Elizabeth said with a smile. Eris slid something into Arina’s hand when she came to him under the guise of wrapping an arm around her waist. “Eris, you’ll forward her e-mail so we can stay in touch?”
He’d given her a phone. Her phone. “I can give it to you right now, if you want. My phone number, too,” Arina added, flipping on the screen to see Apollo’s snoot staring back at her. Her eyes flicked to Eris and the wicked amusement burning in his eyes. She was sure he’d gone through everything, the fucking snoop.
“I’d love that.”
Arina left practically vibrating, ignoring how good it felt to have Eris just beside her. “It went well, I guess?”
“How did you know?” she asked, nearly breaking her neck to look up at him.
“You think I didn’t google my own fucking wife?” Eris joked. “I like Elizabeth a lot. She’s passionate and smart and has an eye for things other people miss. And when I saw you pick out that book in my office, you reminded me of her. All I did was merely ask a favor. You did everything else.”
“And you’d really let me work?”
“Are you offering to sit beneath my desk every day?” he teased, pulling open the car door for her. It was midafternoon and Arina had gone from a vibrator between her legs and married against her will to a job in the nicest museum in the city in the span of hours. She started to scoff, turning her head to survey the street.
And paused. A man, standing at the bus stop a few feet away, watched her with a familiar looking phone in hand. A Novak phone. He lifted it, capturing the moment between her and Eris. Her father was trailing them, she realized. Arina kept her smile on her face, reaching for Eris’s neck to pull him down for a kiss.
“We’re being followed,” she murmured, her nose brushing his own. It was an intimate moment between lovers. Hardly a captive desperate to escape. What did he make of her and Eris, she wondered. What would he think of the picture?
Eris grinned. “I love when they make it easy. Get in the car, sunshine. I’ve got one more thing for you.”
“No more—” he snapped the door shut in her face before she could finish, the dismissive asshole.
He joined her in the driverseat, looking across her through the tinted window. “That fuck?” he asked. “You know him?”
“No,” she replied. “But only people who work for dad use his terrible phones.”
Eris chuckled. “Fair. Let's go home and take Apollo for a walk. See if we’re really being followed or this was just a fluke.”
“You think I’m being paranoid?” It hurt her feelings right up to the moment Eris pressed his mouth against her own.
“I think you’re the perfect mob wife,” Eris told her, amber eyes dark again. That familiar desire was threading through him, weaving its way around her, too. “My smart girl.”
“Stop doing that,” she complained, pressing her knees together.
“No. You like it,” he retorted.
“I…why do you call me sunshine?” Arina asked, thinking to the old nickname he’d never properly explained.
“You radiate it,” he replied. “You’re pure sunlight.”
“Like Apollo?” she questioned. Eris frowned, eyes focused on the traffic in front of him.
“I suppose.”
“Are you looking for sunlight, Eris?”
She shivered when he looked over at her.
“Maybe I am.”
ERIS:
Eris spent the evening poking through Arina’s fathers business and everyone that was close to him. Arina spent the evening hanging clothes in his closet. It was all so domestic that for a moment, Eris could envision a different past for them. One where he’d taken her on a date and fucked her properly, no ropes required.
He had no regrets. He could be sentimental when he wanted to be but his start with Arina was exactly as it should be.
“Come here,” he murmured when night fell. His eyes ached from staring at a screen. Part of him felt as if he’d run a marathon, felt as if he must have been married to her for years and not mere hours. Arina poked her head from the closet, eyes narrowed.
“Is this the part where I thank my benevolent master with a sloppy kiss?”
Eris was going to spank her. Spank her until her ass was so sore she couldn’t sit tomorrow and then fuck her pussy raw. She saw it on his face, saw the way his body shifted as he rose from the chair beside the windows.
“Eris,” she murmured, one hand outstretched. He only shook his head.
“Is that gratitude?” he murmured, lunging when she tried to dart for the bedroom door. He caught her by the waist, hauling her flailing body over his shoulder just long enough to avoid getting kicked in the jaw—this time, at least—while disorienting her. Eris crawled up her toned body, dressed in absurdly short shorts and a little bitty crop-top.
“I’m not going to say thank you,” Arina complained, writhing against his knees pinning her wrists to the bed.
“Hard to say anything when you’re choking on my fucking cock,” he crooned, pulling his belt from the loops. He ignored the way her eyes tracked the movement, waiting to see if he’d go back on his promise. He had no intention of hitting her with anything but his open palm and would have stopped if he ever truly thought some depraved part of her didn’t like it. He’d felt how wet her pussy was when he’d done it the first time.
Freeing himself, Eris rubbed his half hard erection against her pretty, angry face. “Will it always be such a fight between us?” Eris asked, thinking of the handcuffs in his bedside table. It was wholly an accident they remained there—Eris had dumped restraints atop that piece of furniture ages ago and when he didn’t want the maid to think he was a mobster, he’d merely swept them into the drawer so she could think he was a pervert.
The truth, it seemed, was smack dab in the middle.
Arina writhed, bucking her hips and fuck he wanted to see her hands cuffed to the headboard, wanted her helpless while he took her from behind. His cock practically bruised with arousal, pooling a little bead of precum he promptly smeared all over her lips.
“Answer me, sunshine. Do you plan to fight me until we die?”
“You like the fight,” Arina breathed, her breath warming him. Eris smiled, cupping her cheek.
“Just once, I would like to see you admit you want me.”
“You should consider a different wife, then,” Arina replied. Eris chuckled, lifting one thigh off her to drape it across her torso, cock wedged between her bouncy tits while he reached for those handcuffs. Arina realized only a moment too late, reaching up a hand to shove just so he could slide it into the cuff and clip it to the little metal bar that held the mattress and the wood. The position forced her to arch her back just a little. Eris sighed with pleasure, securing the other.
“You are too fucking pretty,” he told her, sliding off her body to undress himself. “And I’m starting to worry I want you too much.”
“Sounds pathetic,” Arina panted, her head pressed to the dark wood. She tried to pull her hands up but unlike rope, the metal restraints were far less forgiving.
It was torture, letting the fabric of his clothes drag across his needy, sensitive skin. To feel the slide of her eyes against him even as pouty, full lips lied.
Naked, Eris went to her shorts. Arina tried to kick but it was half-hearted, even of her. He couldn’t help his chuckle, shimmying the white fabric off her bronzed skin to reveal the pretty red thong just beneath.
“For me?” he whispered, unable to look at anything but the lace tucked between her bare pussy lips. “And here I was, thinking you didn’t care.”
“It’s just underwear,” Arina complained, as if Eris didn’t plan to coat them in his come. He slid his hands up over her stomach, pushing the fabric of her shirt to her neck.
“It’s a gift,” he murmured with appreciation. “Just like you. All wrapped up for me…and I’ll bet, if I touch, that pussy is drenched.”
She didn’t say a word, instead clamping her knees as best she could, Eris was firmly wedged in the cradle of her thighs. He didn’t warn her, didn’t prepare her at all, as he set out to prove he was right about her want. Cock hovering above her entrance, the lacy fabric pushed to the side, Eris lowered his mouth to one of her breasts to capture one dusky nipple between his teeth and slammed his cock from root to tip into her body.
Arina bowed off the bed with a scream, pulling so hard at her restraints the bedframe groaned. He’d only meant to stay inside her for one stroke, had always intended to pull back out and spank her ass for her smart mouth.
“Fuck,” Eris panted when the silky soft walls of her cunt wrapped around. “Fuck, sunshine. You’re so goddamn tight.”
A tear slipped down her cheek when he pushed again. Arina used the pillow beneath her head to wipe it away, swallowing hard.
“That hurt,” she whispered and Eris swore he wanted to care. Eris nipped at her breast, pushing again and again until he was dragging more of the slick desire from her body. She whimpered when he tugged too hard with his teeth, yanking again at her restraints.
Eris hovered over her face, forcing his desperate body to slow the fuck down. He was too wild, more animal than man as he thrust into his brand new wife but fuck, no pussy had ever felt so good, so hot and wet. Eris smoothed her hair off her face, pressing his lips to her temple. He was too afraid she wouldn’t kiss him back, was back to hating him.
“Tell me the name of every man who has ever fucked you,” he ordered, pumping furiously. Her hips arched, the walls of her cunt fluttering. God, he marveled. Was she going to come?
Arina whimpered. “Why?”
“So I can kill him,” Eris replied, keeping his cock exactly where it was, dragging the blunt end over the softest part of her skin. Arina was panting, her eyes rolling upwards. “I don’t want anyone to know what this pussy feels like. You’re mine. Look at me when you come Arina.”
Her eyes snapped to his face, blazing and dark, the prettiest shade of green he’d ever seen. “You’re mine,” he said again, searching her expression for her agreement. There was no defiance, only that open, bald desire he was so attracted to.
“Say it!”
Arina’s body bowed off the bed again, a sobbing cry wrenched from her throat. Eris inclined his head to the ceiling when she clenched punishingly tight, the feel of her heart pounding against his aching cock. She was practically dripping and when Eris pulled back to look, he could see her orgasm coated white against his swollen skin.
“Yours,” Arina managed, choking out the word when Eris gripped her hips, angling her off the bed so he could drive hard and deeper, fuck her the way he suspected she wanted. Rough and messy, his strokes were bruising to him, too. Each harsh push elicited a gasp, his cock as vicious as he felt.
“No one fucks you right, do they?” he panted, unable to tear his eyes off her sweaty face, her bouncing breasts. Lips parted so she could gulp down air he was punching from her lungs, Arina whined.
“Tell me or I might stop,” he murmured, purposefully slowing his hips when all he really wanted to do was pour himself into her. He could feel soft lace brush against his sopping skin, dragging her arousal away with a teasing caress.
“No one fucks you the way you want, do they?” he pressed. “Like a whore? Like my little slut?”
She nodded her head, teeth sinking into that plush, bottom lip.
“They fuck you like a pretty princess. Fragile. Breakable. Made. Of. Glass.” Eris punctuated each word with a near violent press of his cock. She was rolling her hips, lifting to meet him. She widened her legs, tightening around him rhythmically again and God, Eris thought watching her come again might be the closest he ever got to a religious experience.
“They don’t know what a vicious thing you are, do they?” Eris crooned. Her eyes, half-lidded and heavy with desire, looked at him with some new, soft emotion that made Eris feel raw. Important.
Cared for.
He blinked it away.
“You’re my vicious wife,” he praised, stroking and stroking until Arina arched up again, her legs clamping around his waist. He could feel her trembling, could see the way her pussy gaped and sucked, looking for that last little push, that one small thing that would take her right over the edge.
“Take it, Arina,” he begged, his own orgasm barrelling towards him. “Take it all.”
She screamed again, writhing and twisting to escape the unrelenting pleasure that he was sure pained her. Arina’s cunt practically milked release from his body, holding him so tight Eris was rutting against her, no better than an animal. He couldn’t stop, gasping and panting as he poured and poured–more come than he was used to. It was some sort of magic she had, some special ability to empty his balls and take his soul right along with it.
“Oh my God,” Eris breathed, sheathing his cock to watch come slide down her body and pool against his dark bedsheet.
“Unrestrain me right fucking now,” Arina panted. It took Eris a moment to regain control of his limbs, to press his chest against her own as he slid in the key and freed her. He waited for her wrath, her violence, but the moment Arina had control of her hands, she reached for his face and kissed him roughly. There were tears in her eyes when she pulled back and Eris couldn’t help himself.
“Come here, come here,” he murmured, tugging her against him so she was cradled against his chest while he reclined against the pillows. Smoothing out her hair, Eris peppered kisses against her scalp. “You were so good,” he praised, over and over until the tension in her body eased and she unfurled her body to lay against him.
“You were good, too, Eris,” she whispered, running a hand over his bare chest. “I feel like no one ever tells you that. You were good, too.”
“I’m not good, Arina,” he replied. He couldn’t have her thinking he was some kind of prince, even a dark one. Eris was very firmly the villain, would always be the bad guy.
“You’re good to me,” she replied, pressing a kiss to his stomach. “I don’t care about anyone else.”
“You don’t mind if I burn the whole world?” he questioned, breath hitching his throat at the sight of her fingers trailing over the thin strip of auburn hair leading towards his cock.
“As long as I’m with you,” she replied. “The whole world can suffer.”
And suffer, he suspected, they would.
ARINA:
Freedom.
Or something like it. Married for a week, Arina was allowed unrestricted access to everything Eris owned. His fleet of cars, his money, his apartment. If Arina wanted to go to the gym, a car was waiting when she stepped into the lobby. If she wanted to spend an obscene amount of money, Eris’s credit card was in her bag, her own name added to the heavy black metal. And when Elizabeth called two days after the impromptu interview and offered Arina the job, Eris had merely congratulated her over the phone and then later that night with his mouth against her body.
He was all wrong and nothing like she expected. At night, after he fucked her raw and stupid, he’d lay out everything he knew about her father and how to get close to him. Arina smiled and filled in the answers to his questions, knowing full well the best way to get to her father was to merely start moving through the world again.
Which was exactly what Arina was doing. Spoiled and dripping in designer clothes, she knew he was watching. Furious that she’d embarrassed him more than once. That Eris had tried to blackmail him through the daughter he didn’t want and instead of killing her, had married her. Her father had never found any value in Arina—why should anyone else?
And so, it was freedom to eschew the car and walk that day, taking the subway like she had in the past. Eris would have killed her if he knew but Eris was too busy with his empire to track his wife. He trusted her to his detriment and Arina almost loved him for it. It would have been so easy to put a leash on her, to let her languish in his gilded cage. It was why Arina kept his phone number queued in her phone at all times–just in case.
He would come if she needed him.
The museum was Arina’s new, favorite place. It was more than just a favor that Eris called in; some write-off he liked to pretend didn’t matter. To Arina, who had never felt smart or special or worth anything, stepping into the tiny office on the fourth floor meant everything to her. Eris, who could have done nothing at all, had taken the time.
Had seen her.
He’d put an absurdly large diamond on her hand just the night before, demanding she wrap her hand around his cock so he could enjoy what he paid for, if only once. Arina wondered if he hadn’t chosen that ring, delicate and beautiful as it was, imagining the hand job he’d get later. Eris was so fussy like that.
Heals clacking against the marble, Arina wove through the emptied atrium of the four block, sprawling complex that housed more art than Arina could appreciate in a year. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, of course. Those twilight hours of dawn and dusk, when there was no one around but her and Arina could wander to her heart's content, had done something to soften her aching, wounded soul.
She was sitting in front of a Renaissance painting, examining the expression with studious, careful eyes, when Eris texted.
Late tonight. Order something for dinner.
What was late to a man who was never in any earlier than ten? Arina merely sent a sad face and called for a car. There would be no subway tonight, not when the sun had already set. Not when it was Eris and his ilk roaming the streets like predators. Someone would surely tattle and she’d have to listen to some self-important lecture from a man who was easily bested by her foot against his jaw.
She waited on the steps, leaned against a pillar to scroll at the endless options for dinner when that black car rolled up. Just like Eris, it stopped in the fire lane. Arina hurried down, ignoring the way her feet ached from a day in heels and yanked open the door.
“Daddy?” she breathed, staring into the backseat with an all-too familiar face.
“Get in,” he ordered, a gun resting on his knee. That was new. Arina did as she was told, sliding into the seat carefully.
“Where did you get a gun?”
“It’s not hard,” he dismissed, looking to the rearview mirror where his driver watched. Arina paused.
“Where is my driver?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Dead.
Since when had her father become a killer?
The car zipped into the night, her father’s leg bouncing beside her. She glanced towards the man who’d given her life, who had tried so hard to make every minute of it miserable. His dirty blonde hair was graying at the temples, blue eyes wrinkled at the corners. He was still in good shape, still handsome. She could see the whisper of what her mother had once found so appealing. She knew when he’d wanted to be, he could be kind and soft—just enough to keep her mom guessing, from doubting herself.
Wedged between her body and the unyielding car door, Arina pressed the button that would silently dial Eris. She glanced down, furious to see he hadn’t picked up. A text fluttered over her screen instead and Arina could just imagine his annoyance.
What do you need?
She needed him. Arina dialed again and again and again, all of which went unanswered. In every scenario she’d imagined, she’d never pictured a gun and she certainly hadn’t envisioned Eris too busy to help. Deciding to try one last time, Arina turned to her father, unable to look and see Eris reject her.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked him, unfamiliar with the part of town they were rolling towards.
“So many questions,” he murmured, staring out his window and the blur of white and red tail lights streaking past. “When it’s me who should be asking you what you think you’re fucking working.”
She might have been eight years old again, staring at her towering father while he demanded why she was so noisy. Arina swallowed, heart in her throat. “Working.”
He scoffed. “Working? My daughter hasn’t worked a day in her life.”
She didn’t let that hurt her feelings. “You just picked me up from work. You know where—”
“And Vanserra? What is that?”
He turned the full weight of his hatred on her and not for the first time, Arina wondered why he’d ever wanted a family at all. She knew he’d wanted more but some hiccup with her mother had prevented it. Was it sons that he was after? Or just the veneer of happiness? Of a man in love?
Arina felt shame wash over her.
“That video he sent me…” her father clicked his teeth. “Everyone saw, Arina.”
Her eyes snapped to his face. “What?”
“Well, of course we had to send it to the lawyers,” he replied smoothly. “And I had some colleagues look…I don’t want to see my own daughter that way.”
“You…” Arina had never considered, in a million years, that her own father would hand out what amounted to pornography of her.
A cruel look spread over her fathers face. Lips curled over too-straight teeth, he said, “I wanted to know if you were trying to extort me, too. I’m sure your little shopping trips are eating at your inheritance.”
Arina took a breath. “So you showed that video to everyone…in order to determine if I was enjoying myself?”
He glanced towards the window. “Yes.”
“And what did you learn?”
He didn’t look at her. “That it didn’t matter, as you married that fucking bastard anyway.”
Arina opened her mouth to protest, to insist she hadn’t wanted to but why was she trying to defend herself to her father? It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. It wouldn’t have mattered if Eris put a gun in her mouth and ordered her to sign that piece of paper. All he saw was a disappointment and nothing Arina could have done, no amount of defiance, would have ever changed that.
“Is that why you’re here? You wanted to give me a wedding gift?”
The car halted in front of an unfamiliar building on the outskirts of town. Arina’s blood ran cold when she saw that dilapidated front, practically leaning against the night sky. The building beside it had been burned to the ground and though she couldn’t prove it, Arina just assumed it must have been intentional. She glanced at the phone in her hand, miserable when she realized Eris had hung up on her again.
Her father looked at her again, his face illuminated orange beneath a flickering street lamp. “Men like Vanserra kill as often as they fuck. So he married you last week. This week your body is rotting down by the docks. No one notices, no one mourns. All they have is a little video of him torturing you for cash. Vanserra goes to jail and you go…wherever disappointing whores of daughters spend their eternity.”
She couldn’t look away, her heart pounding heavily in her chest.
“He thought he could fucking break me? I’m not you,” he whispered, pulling open his door. “I’ll see you both six feet under before this is done.”
She stayed in her seat, letting the cool air flood into the climate controlled car. The driver didn’t so much as look at her, his gloved hands gripping the steering wheel. How much had he been paid to look the other way.
“Get out, Arina,” her father ordered. Her legs uncurled from beneath her and Arina slid along that backseat until her immaculate black heels were pressed against the filthy, crumbling asphalt.
Glass crunched beneath her shoes, punctuating the sound of a siren somewhere in the distance.
“You’re going to kill me?” Arina asked as he led her towards the rotting boards attempting to keep people from squatting in the condemned building. It reeked of urine and decay. This was where she was going to die. Arina had given very little thought to the how and when but surely it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Would Eris avenge her? It was a strange thought as she stepped onto gray office carpet half peeled from the floor. He barely knew her. Maybe her father was right. Married one week, divorced the next. Eris had only ever wanted money, besides. He was wily. He’d figure it all out, would keep himself from a prison cell.
Darkness flooded her vision as her father turned, framed by that crumbling doorway. “I think you’ve killed yourself, Arina.”
He pointed that gun only to hesitate, his eyes sliding behind her. Arina felt fingers curl over her shoulders for only a moment, dragging the familiar spicy, masculine scent of Eris Vanserra. “I’d think about your next move very carefully,” he murmured, hands sliding off her body. Eris sounded lethal, angrier than she’d ever heard and yet his voice was controlled–almost calm. She couldn’t suppress the shiver that raced up her spine. Standing beside her, Eris’s cold, imperious face was illuminated in a sliver of artificial light pouring from a broken window. She’d forgotten how dangerous he was.
“You first, then,” her father clipped, pointing that gun at Eris’s chest. Eris smiled, and Arina screamed, taking two steps towards him when that shot rang out.
Not him, not him, not— Three more shots rang out though she didn’t see them, not her body seemed to explode in every direction. She didn’t even realize she was falling until she collided with the filthy ground. All she felt was a burning so potent she even her hair seemed to ache. She thought she was on fire.
She groaned without meaning to when something—someone—wrenched her off the floor and into the air. Eris was staring at her with wide, terrified eyes. “You have blood on your face,” she breathed, trying to focus on anything but the way her body seemed to be crumbling. That amber color, flecked with brown, kept Arina from closing her eyes.
“Why would you do that?” he demanded. Were they walking? Arina couldn’t figure out what was happening. “Why would you–”
Eris sucked in a ragged breath, stilling, still holding her desperately. “I was waiting. He couldn’t hurt me. Arina, look at me. Look at me right now, sunshine. Tell me why you did that!”
“Not you,” she whispered, struggling to get the words out on her heavy tongue. “I didn’t want it to be you who died.”
“Arina, look at me,” he demanded but it couldn’t be helped. Arina tried to reach for his face, the one she’d come to love inexplicably. She wanted to tell him.
I love you.
She didn’t know what happened after that.
But the pain was gone.
ERIS:
It took Arina four fucking days to wake up. Eris didn’t take her to a hospital like a good husband would have because, despite the bullet in her back, doctors called the cops. And cops liked to ask questions Eris couldn’t answer—like where Novak was, which was chopped up and tossed into the river. Of course, they were looking for him anyway but it was hardly Eris’s fault if Novak just up and vanished. He had a perfectly reasonable alibi, besides. He’d been in court all night and his wife worked at the museum and no, you couldn’t talk to her thank you very much.
Eris had begged Elizabeth to push Arina’s start date back given her father’s disappearance and Arina, the sweet, lovely thing, had made such an impression that Elizabeth didn’t even mind. It left him only to tend to his wife, treated in a warehouse by the docks by the butcher, which was really just Conall who had become a surgeon rather than another lawyer.
She’ll live, his brother had said, eyeing him with distaste. As if Eris needed the reminder that he’d failed her, had let her get hurt. He couldn’t stop replaying that moment, her fear, how she’d stepped in front of a goddamn gun to keep him, a worthless criminal, from dying.
Or her last, whispered words.
I love you.
Eris was working that morning, the sun filtering brightly into the bed. And Arina, still as always, unaware he curled himself against her every night and begged for her forgiveness, moaned. He stilled, snapping his laptop shut to look at her. Apollo lay at her feet, tail thumping loudly on the bed. Eris let his dog slowly crawl up the bed, sniffing at her neck hopefully. Arina raised an arm and pushed.
“Stop it,” she whispered. “I mean it, Eris. Not right now.”
“Is that what my breath smells like?” he asked dryly, heart pounding in his chest. She peeked open an eye, her face entirely too pale, too exhausted for his liking. “Dog?”
“I didn’t even notice,” she admitted, curling her fingers in invitation to join. Eris hesitated.
“Arina,” he began, earning an exasperated sigh he didn’t think was warranted. “You were shot.”
She winced. “Is my father—”
“Dead. Very, very dead.”
Her eyes closed, a small smile curving against her lips.
“You…” he didn’t know where to even start with her. Arina looked up at him again, eyes wide and trusting.
I love you.
“So you got what you wanted, then?” she questioned. “The money, I—”
“You almost fucking died,” Eris snapped. “Fuck the money, Arina, I almost lost you.”
Her mouth formed a soft oh. “I’m okay.”
Eris dragged a hand through his hair. He must have aged a million years between that bullet and now. Opening and closing his mouth, trying desperately to get the words out, Eris went to her, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. “Why would you…”
He pressed the back of her hand to his lips, well aware she could feel how he was shaking. Arina waited, lacing her fingers through his while Apollo rested his head on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t…You shouldn’t—”
“Eris,” she whispered. “What are you trying to ask me?”
“Why would you step in front of a gun for me?” he rasped, the words raw even to his own ears. “Don’t say–”
“Because I love you,” she whispered, not looking away from him. “I didn’t plan it. I just did it.”
Eris laid himself out on the bed, face down as he buried himself into the crook of her neck. “I was wearing a vest. If he’d shot me, it would have only bruised. I came prepared…Lucien was just behind him. You..”
“I didn’t know,” she replied, dragging her nails through his hair.
“Why wouldn’t you assume?”
“I’ve known you for two weeks, Eris,” she reminded him. “I didn’t even think you were coming–”
A miserable groan escaped his throat. “You thought I–”
“Just say it, Eris,” she whispered. “Say the words you’re trying to get out.”
He looked down at her, beautiful face bruised from the lack of sleep. Holding her in his hands, he murmured. “I would lay the word at your feet, Arina. I think I’ve loved you since I first saw you. Smart, beautiful, sunshine.”
“Your wife,” she added, earning a grin he couldn’t help.
“Goddamn right,” he agreed. “My vicious, fearless wife.”
“How bad was it?” she asked, wincing as she tried to twist herself up.
“Connal will be by later to check. You’re not supposed to exert yourself—”
“My job,” she breathed, eyes filling with horror for the first time since she’d woken. Eris ought to have known the death of her father would unphase her but the possibility she’d lose that spot at the museum would fill her with dread.
“Safe,” he promised as he helped her sit upright. Arina eyed him for a moment with open suspicion.
“So…until I’m well, I’m supposed to just lay in your bed? Unrestrained?”
He smiled again. “Our bed, wife. Our bed. And I will restrain you if you keep sassing me. I have a documentary on world war two ships—”
“Okay, alright. Help me to the bathtub, Eris. I know I smell just as bad as your dog mouth.”
Eris kissed her forehead.
“Whatever you say.”
~ Two years later ~
“A package, Mrs. Vanserra,” the doorman told her the very moment she stepped into the building. Arina nodded, following him towards the front desk where he handed her a clipboard to sign before offering up a thick white envelope.
“Thanks Curt,” she murmured with a smile, striding to the elevator. A neon yellow manicured nail slid through the glue as the elevator raced upwards, taking her home. She’d just removed the tacky lip from the heavy paper when the doors dinged open and Apollo barked, pulling her attention from the mail.
“Hey, baby,” she murmured, reaching to scratch his ears as she tossed the mail forgotten to the side table by the door. Arina unbuttoned her jacket, tossing it to the couch as she passed through, well aware it would bother Eris. He still hated mess, a tragedy given who his wife was. She didn’t care. Phone in hand, Arina saw Eris’s last message.
Home in five. Want dinner?
She unzipped the back of her dress, leaving it pooled on the floor. She did this with the rest of her clothes, draping her bra over a doorknob and her underwear on a chair, until she was in nothing but her tall white pumps. She heard the elevator ding just as she reached the dining room, smiling when she heard Eris’s sigh of exasperation.
“Your mother is a mess,” he muttered to Apollo. How long would it take him to find her, perched on the dining room table, legs spread right in front of his chair? Embarrassingly long was the answer. His nice shoes clipped over the hardwood, stopping in practically every room. Arina smothered a smile when his irritation gave way to fascination.
“Sunshine?” he all but purred and she wondered if he’d found the panties or the bra. “Where are you hiding?”
So dumb. Eris was the smartest man she’d ever met and somehow also the dumbest. She merely waited, elbows starting to ache from the unyielding wood beneath her. Didn’t he know posing like this was supposed to be a quick thing? Arina knew the moment she sat up he’d come strolling in and the whole mood would be ruined.
Jacket tossed casually over his arm, Eris strolled in her clothes in one hand, the mail in the other. His lips curled upwards, eyes burning with want. “Is this dinner?” he asked, tossing everything in his hands to the chair beside him.
“Do you want it to be?” she asked, heart pounding with arousal. Eris was unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them to his elbows. She wanted him to take it all off but Eris loved a good game.
“Considering I had to skip breakfast,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving her pussy. And that was true. She’d heard his phone ringing shrilly at four am, had heard his soft, furious rumblings before he stormed out, foregoing his usual morning foreplay before work. “I’m starving.”
Arina squealed when he lunged, his fingers curling roughly against her thighs. Yanking her against the edge of the table, Eris pressed slow, hot kisses against the inner part of her leg.
“Are you going to tell me how your day was?” Eris murmured. “Or are we to eat in silence?”
Arina pressed the toe of her shoe against his neck. “Shut up, Eris,” she panted, earning a deliciously dark look in response.
“Is that so? My wife wants me to stop talking? You know, I had a difficult day. Perhaps I would like to discuss it at length–”
She surged forward and shoved at his head, fingers tugging at his hair.
“You’re too in love with the sound of your own voice,” she complained when he chuckled, kissing the lips of her cunt softly.
“Wrong, as alway. I’m only in love with you.”
Eris pushed her back roughly. That was one thing that had never changed, in the two years she’d known him. His demanding hands, his proclivity to be rough, to edge her pleasure with pain. His teeth nipped at her skin, tugging just enough to convince her to lay flat on her back for him. Pulling her legs over his shoulders, Eris watched her through his auburn lashes, a wicked smile gracing his face.
“No clever words now?” he taunted, licking a wet stripe up the center of her body. Arina exhaled. “My pretty wife has become spoiled. You’re too used to having your pussy eaten…maybe I should dig out that vibrator–”
“Eris!” Arina pleaded, already throbbing from that one little touch. He offered her one last look, the sort that betrayed his own shredding control before he descended like the rabid animal she knew he was. With that first brutal sucking of his lips over her clit, Arina was reminded there was truly nothing soft or sweet about this man. Not truly. What did it say about her that she craved the way he came at her, the way he handled her.
Forceful fingers pushed into her dripping pussy, the very same that had liked wrapped themselves around a trigger that morning. Pleasure for her, pain for everyone else. The things Eris cared about were minuscule and the things he was willing to go to war for? Well, perhaps only his family. His brothers…her.
Arina was burning, her nails scraping against the wood as Eris held her tight against his face. His mouth alternated between soft, almost languid swipes and brutal, demanding nips and sucks while his fingers fucked her without mercy. It was a preview of what he’d do with his cock just as soon as he was satisfied.
“Please,” she begged, getting that out of the way before he could order it from her. “Eris, please—”He sucked again, tongue lavishing praise over the unhooded flat of her clit. It was permission and thank God. Arina’s urge to climax was practically a hair trigger, her scream of pleasure bouncing off the glass around them. Eris kept her where she was, still thrusting his fingers, still licking and sucking and nipping until that second orgasm ripped through her just the way he liked. Unwilling and desperate, her body forced to bend to his will.
Eris was on her again, kissing her roughly, tongue behind her teeth so she had to taste herself. “You’re dripping,” he panted, fumbling with his pants. “You made a mess of me.”
“I think you like a little mess,” Arina breathed, letting him flip her to her stomach, his warm hands surprisingly gentle against her skin. She felt him knead her ass with his usual appreciation—Eris was nothing if not an ass man, after all. He punctuated his sweetness with a hard slap to her cheek, groaning when he heard her gasp.
“I hate mess, Arina. If you keep that drippy pussy of yours sliding all over my table, I’m going to have to clean it up.”
God, she wished he would. Arina would have died to watch him lick her off that table. There was no time to truly ponder it. Hips arched, Eris offered no preamble to that first violent thrust, the kind that promised to bruise the walls of her cunt, that meant she’d feel him every time she sat down for at least a day. Maybe two, depending on how long he could draw himself out. Sometimes Eris had the same quick urge, could just barely restrain himself.
Tonight, his hand wrapped around her throat, his other pressed against the hole of her ass, Arina knew he would be quick. If he was touching her like this already, it meant he needed her to come with the least amount of effort on his part so he could, too.
It meant he’d be on her again in an hour to make up for his lack of time. He wouldn’t be so rough the second time around, would spend more time kissing, rolling his hips until she was breathless and whiny. It would be a slow build, one he controlled entirely and when she came, it would only because Eris willed it.
Now, though, he just needed her to do exactly as he said. “Are you going to coat me in your come again?” he asked, his voice more grunt than anything. Gone was his elegance, replaced with the frenzied thing pumping brutally into her. “I want to see it,” he added, slapping her ass again.
She moaned, trying to press her forehead against the table so she could arch her hips and take him deeper, could feel that violent stretch everywhere. Arina was so full, so brutally hot. Eris kept his grip, tightening his fingers against her windpipe until all she could do was draw shallow, panting gasps.
“I can feel that tight pussy,” Eris all but begged. “Take it, Arina. Come fo–”
She tried to scream but Eris held tight, drawing only a choked moan as Arina came violently, spasming around him so hard he could only rut his own release with a grunting plea to a God she knew he didn’t really believe in.
He released her throat to drop his head against her shoulder blades. Kissing her skin, Eris withdrew, touching the spend dripping from her legs. She let him slide it over her swollen, sensitive clit.
“I think you should take out your birth control,” he murmured like he always did when he was still hazy with lust. He wanted a child in theory but Eris was terrible at sharing and Arina thought they had more than enough time.
“Mm,” she agreed noncommittally. He’d be back to being grateful she had it in twenty minutes when his head was clear and his floors were clean. Eris dropped into his chair, unbuttoning his shirt as Arina righted herself fully, letting him pull her into his lap as he reached for the mail.
“I do want to eat, you know,” he told her, kissing the top of her forehead. “Order something.”
She twisted for her phone in the same chair he’d thrown her clothes on while Eris went for the envelope she’d begun to open.
She knew something was wrong before he said a word. His body, loose from the sex mere moments ago, became rigid and taut. Arina peered up at the hard set of his jaw, his furious eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I know this woman,” he said, setting a photograph onto the table. Arina would never be used to the causal violence of his world, of the way men just snapped photos of naked, blindfolded women strapped to chairs. Her mind flickered, for only a moment, to Lucien and the girl he’d been holding before she banished it entirely.
This was me, once.
Arina pressed a kiss to Eris’s bare neck.
“Who is she?”
“Nesta Archeron,” he murmured, turning over the photograph as if it bothered him. “We went to school together. First in her class. I knew that last name was familiar…Archeron.”
Arina waited for Eris to expand on his turbulent thoughts.
“Lucien kidnapped that girl…Elain. Elain Archeron. Graysen has her sister.”
Arina pressed her head to his chest. “You should get her back, Eris.”
“I should fucking kill him,” he replied. “He’s going to drag us all down with his theatrics.”
She kissed again. “What does he want?”
Eris tossed the little letter to the table, letting it flutter against the photo. “Lucien, of course. There’s nothing he could ask me for I’d give him, though. He must know it.”
“I trust you to do the right thing,” she murmured, well aware the right thing would involve a messy murder she would pretend to know nothing about. Arina had become quite good at looking the other way while Eris washed blood off his hands at night.
He brushed stray pieces of hair from her face.
“C’mon,” he murmured, hauling her up into his arms. “Let me put you to bed before I deal with this.”
“Can’t be worrying about your wife?”
“I know what happens when I leave her unsatisfied,” Eris murmured, turning for the stairs, his fingers digging in her skin. “I can’t risk your wrath.”
Arina smiled. It was a strange life.
But it was hers.
#once again trusting the right people to find this#and everyone else to just stay away#mafia eris is not a nice man#but he IS a sexy one#and sometimes that just has to be enough#but this man in jail#but let him have a conjugal visit or two#the edit makes this seem really sweet#you know what though#hes doing some decent aftercare#dog mom arina
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Implore (Astarion/Tav)
Warning! Major Character Death
TW: Death In Childbirth
No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”
Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”
***
"Raphael...I have come to make a deal..."
"Ah, little vampling...you must truly be desperate to show up to my lair, asking me for a deal..."
"I want Her back. And I will give you anything for Her. My body, my immortality, my mind, my-"
"Firstborn son?"
Part One
For once, Astarion was glad he couldn't see his reflection. If he had to look at the face of the incompetent wretch that failed Her, he would strike the mirror to shards.
Hubris once clouded his vision. Astarion's love was an elf and a mighty hero. She would live for centuries. By then, they would find a way to immortalize Her body and mind. They had decades to walk under the stars, make love by moonlight, and hold each other through the night. They had years to explore the realm, make new companions, and finish adventures.
She had a novel idea.
He remembered when She delightedly showed him the book. 'A child. Born of a vampire and a mortal. Our child.' Astarion's mind flashed with memories of the orphaned children at their camp. Astarion was jealous of the attention but couldn't deny the joy on Her face. Who was he to deny Her?
Astarion liked their life as it was. But what She wanted, She received. To Astarion, she was the God that answered when all others ignored him. He would have given Her the world. She wanted a Life.
'There is always a risk,' the midwife told them. But Astarion arrogantly ignored the crone's words. This wasn't some waif pushing out a sickly bastard. This was Her. She was the savior of Baldur's Gate, giving birth to a Dhampir. She brought down the Netherbrain. Indeed, She could handle what thousands of people did each day.
As a male, Astarion was put out of the birthing room with only Gale out of everyone to keep him company. Shadowheart was allowed to sit with Her. The two had invited themselves over to help with the baby. She, in Her infinite kindness, welcomed them with open arms.
Gale and Astarion sat awkwardly on the cushioned bench outside the doorway. Astarion was worrying about the threads of the fabric with his nails. Pulling, tugging, snatching. She was screaming, and he was drawn to Her. Gale kept patting his shoulder. Something about it 'being natural'. Childbirth was inherently painful.
The smell of blood was thick in the air. Astarion could feel his mouth begin to salivate. He hadn't drank one drop from Her body once the midwife confirmed the pregnancy. Since then, Astarion was Her servant. She barely lifted a finger with him around.
Astarion wasn't particularly excited about parenthood. His own parental memories were lost to time, fuzzy and untouchable. But if She wanted his participation, he would give it. There was a…fondness Astarion had for some of the tiefling children. Perhaps something more could form once he had the baby in his arms.
At the very least, the baby needed to arrive to ease Her suffering. The pregnancy was difficult for Her. How Astarion resented the unborn child for causing Her pain and lethargy. But She loved this child and frequently spoke of Her excitement. She would be a perfect mother.
They had finished decorating the nursery when She felt the first sign of labor. Hours later, Astarion waited impatiently outside as his love wailed. Something sharp and piercing cut through the air. Even Gale froze. The moans indicated something more than typical labor pains. The screams suddenly halted. Then, a baby's cry broke the silence. Long, strong, and healthy. Gale let out a relieved chuckle, "Congratulations, Astarion."
Something was wrong. A dark, imposing force invaded the area around them.
Shadowheart was the open who finally opened the door. She held a small bundle in her arms. She couldn't hide that she quickly closed the door after her. She smiled, but the expression did not meet her eyes. It was too tight. Shadowheart murmured, "It's a boy. Purple eyes like his mother, but no mistaking that snow-white hair..."
"You're not telling me something," Astarion pointed out. Something primal pulled from his heart to the bundle. He walked over to her, momentarily distracted by the tiny face staring back at him. It was true. The little boy had his mother's eyes, but his hair and ears were all him. "Oh...Oh..." Astarion whispered, sufficiently distracted from Her. Shadowheart extended the bundle to him. Hesitantly, Astarion took the baby from her, adjusting the little creature in his arms.
"Well, handsome boy, aren't you? Of course you are. You're mine," Astarion cooed. The boy blinked his eyes at him inquisitively. The look in his eyes, that purple hue, reminded Astarion of the pending matter.
"I'm not a doctor, but I believe the boy is supposed to be with his mother," Astarion pointed out, stepping forward. Shadowheart suddenly stopped him, avoiding his gaze. "Shadowheart...what aren't you telling me?" He challenged. She wouldn't look at him. Inflamed, Astarion shoved by her, cradling the baby in the crook of his arm before opening the door.
Purple eyes, impossibly vast and blank, stared at him. She was on the bedroll in a puddle of Her own blood. The midwife and her words were irrelevant. Astarion only used her as a prop. He shoved the baby into her arms, ignoring the sudden cry from his son. People were calling his name, but it was irrelevant. Astarion fell to his knees. Fresh blood had never nauseated him before. He pulled Her into his arms, his ear pressed to his chest. He listened for the sound of a heartbeat. No, She just had to be weak and listless. She couldn't be gone. She was the Savior of Baldur's Gate. Something as mundane and typical as birth couldn't take Her from him. They had years, decades, and centuries together. And one day eternity.
Something soft and faint reverberated in her chest. Astarion almost wept with relief and delight. "Oh, my love. I heard you. Please, again..." But Her heart would never beat again. Her slight body felt so heavy in his arms. She was gone.
And he wailed.
#whumptober 2023#no.16#Would you lie with me and just forget the world?#gurney#flatline#don't go where I can't follow#baldur's gate 3#fanfiction#death tw#childbirth tw#bg3 fanfiction#astarion/tav
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In the Shadow of Speculation Part 2
Part 1, Ao3
Heavy chapter, please heed the following;
Blood tw
vivisection tw
descriptions of a flashback
descriptions of a night terror
descriptions of recovery
abled verbiage tw
self hatred tw (mild)
forced parenthood equivalent (but in a ghost culture way)
Danny took a deep breath and used the Ring of Rage.
A glowing portal formed in the air before him, perfectly stable. Cold, bitter wind blew through it, along with the smell of antiseptic.
Wrinkling his nose, Danny stepped through the portal and closed it behind him.
“Oh, greetings Mr. High King! Are you ready for your check-up?” a nurse Yeti said, looking up from her clipboard enthusiastically.
Danny attempted a smile.
“I’m prepared for it, yeah.”
“Wonderful! Your friends are already in the room for moral support!”
Danny paused.
“Who-?”
“The Lady of the Green and the Lord of Innovation, of course!”
Oh thank the Ancients.
Danny nodded his thanks at the nurse and started for his assigned rooms.
Every inch of the hallways, unfamiliar before the Accident, were ingrained in his memories now.
He’d finally walked from his door to that window without help four months after waking up, and he’d been so fucking proud about it too. He’d hid behind that potted plant during his first flashback. He’d climbed out of that window and crawled on the roof just so he could feel the snow on his skin two months into Physical Therapy.
That was the yeti that had taken the brunt of his anger and hurt on his worst days, nodding at him as Danny passed. That was the room he’d pleaded with Dan to take him away from the hospital, that he couldn’t do it anymore, that he just wanted to go home-that was also the room Dan had set his foot down and said that he’d play the bad guy for Danny one last time.
And oh, how Danny had despised him for it.
But it had worked. Danny, with someone who was there for the sole purpose of taking the verbal assaults meant for his Physical Therapists and himself, who was only there to snipe back and deliberately egg Danny on, helped Danny find the energy to push forward.
And Danny still felt awful about that.
Danny passed the table he had eaten his first solid meal at, one month after waking up, and took a left.
There it was.
The door to the rooms that had been his sanctuary and his prison, right up until they hadn’t been needed anymore. The first place he’d seen when he’d woken up, and then been amazed that he’d woken up at all.
With a deep breath, Danny pushed it open.
“Hey man!”
“Danny!”
Danny’s smile was weak, and he was holding back tears in the face of so many memories he hated and adored in equal measure.
“Hey guys, thanks for coming.”
~~~~~~
Dan knew he was asleep. Dan knew he was awake. Dan knew he was somewhere in that awful inbetween.
He was in his parents basement. No, wait. They weren’t his parents. They’d never deserved the title.
He was in the Fenton’s basement.
The world kept glitching out, the colors kept melding together, and the only thing that stood out was the overwhelming feeling of disbelief and terror.
Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was strapped to a table. Little him was-
Stop.
Assess.
What was going on?
Little him was strapped to a table; he was locked in place. He was in his Core form. It was…damaged. It was damaged.
Why?
Who would…?
There was a sliver missing. They’d torn a piece of him off. They’d tried to peel him open. They’d-Little him would be crippled.
If he survived.
But he had survived, hadn’t he?
Little him’s core was strapped to a table, damaged, and there was no resonance coming from it. There were vials upon vials of ecto-blood on the tables.
That was a kidney.
That was a stomach.
There was blood on the floor.
There…there was blood on his shoes.
Dan floated off of it, listening to the dripping sounds it made as it rolled off his soles.
The door opened.
Two monsters walked through, all giant bug eyes and sharp metal knives.
Dan had two options.
He could kill the things that had done this.
Or.
He darted forward to break the straps and shoved Little him’s core next to his own, where it would be safe, where it could recover as it leeched his excess energy off of him.
The world glitched again.
Dan was standing in Jazz’s living room, hand digging into his own chest. Searching.
With a shaking breath, he pulled it out.
He’d only carried Danny’s core next to his own for two years, but he still found himself searching for it in moments of weakness.
He hadn’t been the best Spirit to host Danny’s core, but he’d fought tooth and nail to do it. Vengeance Spirits could not normally house Protective Spirits.
It was why he’d done the whole hero thing after; it would help Little him heal if he did. And when he scared the people he was saving away?
He’d opted to train the little fledgling heroes. He’d make sure they grew up safe, protected from actual villains and, if needed, their own personal ones.
Anything to make sure he didn’t have to see another kid so close to completely shattering into Nothing, he never wanted to see that shit again-
Dan forced himself to move away from the couch and towards the kitchen.
It was pointless to dwell on the past. He did everything he could; if the Twerp wanted to be next to those monsters, that was on him.
So what if he’d fucked up their relationship? At least the kid was alive.
Dan’s hands still shook as he made himself a cup of coffee.
…
Maybe he’d just check in. Just for a bit.
~~~~~~
Dan may have failed steps one through ten.
It had probably started when he’d played surrogate for the Runt, if he was completely honest. There was no way Dan hadn’t absorbed a little bit of his Protective nature.
Point was; Dan genuinely could not remember going to Arkham.
He just sort of…came back to himself while floating ominously above it.
He could see the alarm lights flashing below him. The humans running for their battle-stations.
The inmates being herded deeper into the complex.
Dan felt his eyes grow hotter, felt his claws dig into the flesh of his palms.
They were right there. Right fucking there. All he had to do was phase through the compound and just reach into their chests.
It would be so. Fucking. Easy.
In fact, he even caught a glimpse of Maddie through one of the windows.
Dan snarled, lifting a hand, the ectoplasm pooling in it hotter than anything he’d made before-
-and he was in the kitchen. Mom was trying to make hot dogs, but they kept fighting back. She was laughing at a dumb meme he’d shown her. His homework was covered in mustard from the fight with their food.
“I guess you can tell Mr. Lancer that you ‘mustard’ up every resource you had!” Dad called out as he walked by, and Dan felt so loved-
-Dan dropped the hand.
Maddie was hauled past the window and to safety.
Fuck.
Fuck this place.
Fuck this city.
Fuck everything about this situation.
~~~~~~
Batman grappled his way to the tallest watchtower in Arkham, keeping an eye on Phantom the entire time.
The guard that was already in the tower-a new hire, if he recalled-nervously stepped up to fall in line beside him.
Batman waved him off.
He knew Phantom. He knew that the man wasn’t actually a villain.
A Training Villain wasn’t something Batman had seen younger heroes needing, but when the Ghost in front of him had started play-fighting with the younger heroes to teach them through safe combat, the Bat had been mentally kicking himself.
It was a perfect job to train younger heroes, and Batman couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed the previous iterations by not realizing that.
Robin was still angry that he’d fallen for it, of course he was, but Batman could not deny that Phantom’s strange method of training had been instrumental in helping his youngest work through his rage.
Just like he could not deny that he and Phantom had something in common with Arkham.
It wasn’t hard to assume that the walls held a person responsible for the death of someone in the man’s life.
Phantom had only shown up to Arkham a total of three times.
The first time, he’d just hovered outside of it, holding his hand to his chest. He’d done nothing, and left in an hour.
The second time, two years later, he’d broken two walls and shattered a watchtower, screaming for someone to come out and face him. Robin had been on scene before Batman had time to distract him, convinced it was the same Phantom he was used to dealing with.
Surprisingly, the sight of Robin had been enough to still the beast Phantom had become. He’d toned down, forced Robin into a surprise hug, and then disappeared. Robin had been livid, but Batman had learned something about the Training Villain he didn’t think he wanted to know.
The man knew loss, and Batman was pretty sure he knew it on the same scale Bruce did.
From there, it wasn’t hard to figure out the most likely objects of his wrath.
Phantom was a Ghost. Ghosts had a very, very bad history with the American Government. The Anti-ecto acts had just been revealed to the public by Lois Lane, and the country was tearing itself apart.
The people who had been the most avid supporters had been, currently were, the Dr.s Fenton.
Who were housed in Arkham.
Batman had said nothing. He had gone back to the cave and quietly updated Phantom’s file, and left it at that.
The third time was the present.
Phantom had almost lost his temper. Almost.
But he’d reigned it in.
“Phantom,” Batman started, staring at the figure above him, “I know you can hear me. What’s happened?”
The Ghost stayed where he was for one hundred and twenty seconds, before slowly gliding down to the Bat.
Phantom did not say anything.
He did not have to.
His eyes were anywhere, everywhere, but where he actually was. When he actually was.
Batman quietly hissed through his teeth.
Alright then.
“I’m here if you want to talk, otherwise we can be silent. Just know that at this moment, you are not alone.”
Phantom chose silence for a good seventeen minutes.
Then Phantom opened his mouth.
“I should hate them,” the voice was halting, tired, “I should, I really should. They loved me so much, but they…they tore him apar-“ Phantom’s voice failed him.
Batman said nothing, and gave the Ghost time to collect himself.
While he waited, he compartmentalized what he’d learned. The Fentons had torn apart someone very, very important to Phantom.
And Bruce had an awful feeling that he meant that literally.
“I can’t be here,” Phantom said instead of finishing his previous thought.
Batman nodded.
“You didn’t hurt anyone this time, so go; I see no reason to stop you.”
Phantom didn’t grace Batman with a goodbye, but the Bat swore he felt an invisible hand squeeze his shoulder after the Ghost vanished from sight.
~~~~~~
Danny laid on the examination bed, one hand being held by Sam while Tucker lounged on the bed at Danny’s feet. They were talking about their new companies, how the world was changing, and distracted Danny while Frostbite examined his vivisection scarring.
Danny looked everywhere but Frostbite as the yeti pushed and prodded. He didn’t want to look at his chest if he didn’t have to, but he also didn’t want the embarrassment that was accidentally meeting his doctor’s eyes in the middle of a physical.
“Fantastic news, Young Savior,” Frostbite said, interrupting their idle chatter, “Your core, while still healing, is recovering at a phenomenal rate. Truly, Lady Gotham is good on her word! At this pace, your core should be fully healed in a mere century!”
Danny hated that. He hated that it needed to heal, and he hated that he was going to outlive his friends.
Sam and Tucker leaned a little closer, offering comfort for something that they knew the Ancient before them wouldn’t understand.
“Better news, the physical damage appears to be almost completely healed. The regrown kidney and stomach are showing no signs of failing, and the scarring should be the only nuisance. I recommend the afore-mentioned stretches and lotion to help the scar tissue conform with your movements.”
Danny nodded, sitting up as Frostbite stepped back and removed his hand from inside Danny’s torso.
“I also see no issue with your residual limb, although it does appear you’ve been forgetting to remove the prosthetic often enough to cause some light bruising. Can’t say I don’t understand, but perhaps write a reminder and pin it on your bedroom wall.”
Danny avoided Sam’s flat look.
Tucker just flashed his phone screen at Danny, the words ‘I can make you something really cool with rockets it you let me’ sprawled across the screen.
Danny absorbed Sam’s flat look and mirrored it towards Tucker.
Tucker threw up his hands.
“Ancients forbid I do anything, I guess,” the techie sighed dramatically.
Once Danny pulled himself together and got ready to leave, Tucker threaded an arm around his own.
“So, wanna go ding-dong-ditch Walker?”
Danny paused, then grinned; and for the first time in two weeks, it wasn’t a lie.
~~~~~~
Danny waved back at Sam and Tucker as they went through their own portals. They would definitely have to get together and hit the town on Earth.
Danny walked through his own portal and ran face-first into a mass of muscle.
Dan steadied him as he bounced back.
Danny was immediately hit with conflicting, very confusing emotions.
He was looking at Dan, his enemy. He was looking at his father? No, it was Dan. Wasn’t that the same-?
Danny shook his head. He’d never gotten a straight answer about why his Ghost self’s view on Dan had changed so dramatically; everyone always shied away from the question.
“Can I ask what you’re doing in my apartment?” He asked instead, stepping back and closing the portal.
“Just making sure you’re settling in, Tiny.”
“We’re the same height?”
“Nah, we’re not.”
Danny shoved the absurdity of their interaction in the back of his head and made for his couch.
“Well, whatever you’re doing here, here’s to hoping it involved making dinner,” he groaned, sinking into the cushion and pulling up his left leg to start the tediously cumbersome process of pulling it off, “because per the doctor, I’m supposed to keep the prosthetic off for the rest of today.”
“I was gonna order out. Move, we’re watching Sailor Moon.”
Danny whined pitifully when Dan physically picked him up and moved him to the side.
He fought his instincts, and his instincts won.
He leaned back and allowed Dan to take the prosthetic off, clawed fingers delicate for all that the man snarled under his breath.
He also allowed the man to commandeer the TV; not something he would even allow Jazz to do.
“Why do I let you do these things?” Danny muttered, eyeballing the quasi-villain on his couch as said villain massaged the stump just below his knee.
Dan snorted.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
“Ugh, no one tells me anything.”
“We’re pacing you,” Dan corrected, blunt for all that the words were careful, “when you’re back on your feet, you’ll get the non-vital details we skimmed.”
Danny didn’t bother arguing; he’d already tried for the better part of the previous year. For some reason, the yetis took Dan’s side, too.
Instead, they fell into a companionable silence, appreciating Sailor Moon. Which was fine by Danny, since he never knew how to behave around Dan. It was only interrupted by the delivery of the Greek food Dan had ordered out.
Danny was on his second Gyro when Dan finally broke the silence.
“So I heard there was a rogue attack outside your apartment,” he said idly, and Danny could feel his eyes on him.
“Yeah.”
“So you got to see the Bats in action?”
“…Yeah.”
Dan leaned in, eyes going critical.
“What needs improvement? Don’t lie; that ‘yeah’ was one that means you weren’t impressed.”
Danny shrugged.
“I dunno, just…they didn’t have someone who’s only job it was was to evacuate the people, or help the injured. It was just offense, no defense.”
Dan snorted and leaned away.
“Kept telling that to Robin, but no; ‘Father this’ and ‘Father that’.” Dan shook his head, chewing thoughtfully on his rack of lamb. “So. What are you gonna do about it?”
Danny blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve seen what they need, and I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll stay out of the game forever. What are you gonna do about it?”
Danny looked down at his Gyro, frowning.
What was he gonna do about it?
He couldn’t fight, not like he used to, not really. But if the Bats were tanking, then…he probably wouldn’t really have to.
“I’ve been in medical facilities for almost a year,” Danny said slowly, ignoring how Dan stiffened next to him, “I think I’ve picked up a few things. Frostbite would probably be thrilled if I asked him to teach me, honestly.”
Dan relaxed, humming thoughtfully around the bone he was chewing on.
“I think…I’ll be a medic.”
@simplestoryteller @gildedphoenix
I do not suffer PTSD, and I've never had a life-altering injury. That said, I know people who have, for both of those.
I apologize if my descriptions are off.
Here's some notes to piece together what this chapter outlines, for those that want the sparknotes as to what Dan is alluding to.
From my notes;
"Ghosts can carry another ghosts core if that core is injured, to protect and promote healing. Typically, the father or mother figure does it. In this particular instance, Dan did it.
We will see in a bit, but for Dan their relationship went from enemies-warden-person I gotta apologize to-person I’ve got to save-the core housed next to mine-son.
For Danny, it randomly went from enemies to ‘why do I think dan is my dad more than I think my dad is my dad’."
This is where the "forced parenthood" tw comes into play, because Dan felt like he had to do it, and due to instinct Danny subconsciously got dragged along for the ride.
Also, if it wasn't clear from the age list on the first chapter and the timeline presented, I'm playing around with Lian and Roy's timeline; Dan's first year he babysat her, and then she died. She came back only four weeks prior to Danny re-entering the human world.
#in the shadow of speculation#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#blood tw#vivisection tw#flashback tw#night terror tw#descriptions of recovery#physical therapy mention#self hatred tw#abled verbiage tw#forced parenthood tw#healing through helping others#past abuse#past torture
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(venting, transphobia tw)
how am i supposed to just go about life rn like the governor isn't actively trying to kill us? i feel like i’m at the worst stage of every horror movie where one person knows what’s going on and no one believes them.
i don’t think everyone understands just how bad it is in florida. this is literally the worst it has EVER been for trans people in the states.
my testosterone prescription is only gonna last me another 2 months maybe and planned parenthood has been forced to stop providing HRT bc nurse practitioners provide 90% of it and it is now illegal for them to do so.
i will be, i am, WE ARE being forcibly detransitioned. it is illegal for me to use the men's restroom now, but if a cis woman sees me and decides i don't look femme enough (which i don't), she can still call the cops on me.
if you have a trans kid and allow them to start HRT, the state is now allowed to kidnap them from you and charge you with child abuse.
performing drag in public is now classified as a sex crime against children, which are now punishable by death without a unanimous vote.
are we just supposed to pretend we don't see what's happening? it's not a conspiracy, it's not a theory, it's an active threat building a fire in the attack and i'm supposed to go to work like i don't hope a militant leftist does the funniest fucking thing possible in the world to ron desantis right about now?
this is going to go down in this shitty country’s history as yet another gruesome, genocidal chapter that was completely avoidable.
#cashapp or venmo steviebea if ur cis and well off#bc trans ppl in the south who can’t afford to move like me need URGENT help right now#and we shouldn’t HAVE TO LEAVE.#WE SHOULDNT BE CHASED OUT.#FUCK DUDE#literally cartoonish levels of pure villainy. like what is WRONG with you people !!!!#transphobia#tw transphobia#vent
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need: resources (im in canada if that makes any difference)
tw references sexual assault
do you guys have a link to that post about what tests and vaccines/treatments you can get after you were forced too have sexual contact with someone and you dont know if they have anything? im tryg to find it somewhere and i really need its advice
thank you a tonn
Hi anon,
I'm sorry about what happened to you. I'm not sure which post you're referring to so I can give you some resources here.
Firstly I would recommend taking note of any symptoms you may be having right now, if any. Even if you don't have any symptoms at the moment, it's important to remember that you may still be carrying a dormant STI, so an examination may still be necessary. It will be convenient to have an inventory of your symptoms to make a potential medical examination easier.
You may want to look into an appointment with a healthcare provider such as a gynecologist or urologist. Depending on how long ago the assault occurred and what local hospitals are participating, you may be able to receive a sexual assault forensic medical examination. Also depending on what STIs are suspected, they may also need to conduct a blood or urine test (for cases such as HIV).
This resource also says that there are at-home STI tests available in Canada, which is especially convenient if you do not have a family physician. Looking further into this however, it looks like the only available test through their website is for HPV testing. So it may be a better option to seek professional medical care to be able to get tested for multiple STIs.
This resource states that you can get tested via your healthcare provider, a sexual health clinic such as Planned Parenthood, a local public health unit, or a walk-in clinic.
Here is a list of Canadian sexual assault hotlines you can also reach out to. Here is also a list of Canadian sexual health services.
I hope I could help. Best of luck with everything. Please let us know if you need anything.
-Bun
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wait a minute, is eduardo ‘eddie’ hasan-vidal still in town? i thought i saw a flash of (heavy boots, the smell of fabric softener, an abandoned cup of coffee in the morning)! last i heard they were working as a(n) nurse and paramedic. when it’s the (aquarius)’s birthday on 02/14. i forget that they’re detached and celebrate that they’re reliable. i hear late night talking by harry styles every time i think of them.
⌠taylor zakhar perez, 27, cis male, he/him ⌡
A B O U T
tw: abortion mention
he’s a local. been here since he was born, and only left for college. his family is very steady on the middle class, didn’t have much of a hardship growing up and even inherited the old family car when he turned 17.
he has a sister that’s one year older than him, but he hasn’t seen her in almost ten years. she turned eighteen and left town to never go back, which left him as the sole child of a family that put too many expectations on their children.
eddie had always been a good kid, barely ever got in big trouble. he went through the rites of passage, being caught drunk (multiple times), crashed the car (barely made a scratch), aside from getting caught inside of it with a girl (neither of them had their tops on). his sister went through all of these, and more. way more.
after eddie’s sister left home, all his parents’ hopes and dreams were placed onto him. his father wanted him to be a doctor, so he said goodbye to his dreams of star athlete or music star (his two hobbies), and ended up going to the best college they could afford.
it was alright by eddie. he made friends easily, and of course didn’t take long before he found a girlfriend- the cutest girl he had ever seen, but perhaps the craziest one - and he fell head over heels for her.
by sophomore year, they had been together for about eight months, when she came to his dorm on a thursday night with her eyes red and swollen. she was pregnant. it took eddie by surprise, because he was sure he had been careful every single time, but told her he would be there. he was scared to death, but he had been well educated, and even after a couple days the idea of being a father felt... compelling. even exciting.
*tw* this girl disappeared for three days only to call him early morning to pick her up at planned parenthood. eddie drove as fast as he could- thought something bad had happened, but when he finally asked she simply said she got rid of it. “what?” “you heard me.” he let it happen. it was her choice after all, but a part of him was mourning something, but he wasn’t going to let it come between them.
a couple months later, he found out about her cheating on him during more than half of their relationship, the pregnancy probably being this guy’s doing. it had to be, but he didn’t reproach it. he simply broke up with her. she made a scandal, yelled, cried and by the end of the week she had started a rumor about him forcing her to have an abortion. *tw over*
eddie’s life in college completely changed. he was stared at in the hallways, even teachers had somehow taken a stand against him no matter how hard he tried to deny it and tell the truth. he didn’t bother to finish the semester- packed all his stuff and drove back home.
he became the family’s disappointment. specially because he didn’t care to explain what had actually happened. they were far too conservative and religious to even touch those subjects. he simply said it was not for him, and he would find a job in town.
eddie has worked in every single business in town in the past eight years. but somewhere about three years ago, he decided to use what he had learned in med school for something, and took several courses to become a paramedic. he decided it was not too bad of a future to help people after all, and he found driving the ambulance pretty damn fun.
he lives by himself with his dog- an old schnauzer that whines and barks way more than eddie speaks to him. but it’s okay. he fills up the empty space most of the time.
C O N N E C T I O N S...
high school and life long friends.
friends of his sister.
hook ups, flings and exes from the past
hook ups, flings and people he flirts with nowadays.
friends from the hospital
people he sees at the hospital way too much
his partner in the ambulance- basically best pal nowadays.
little sibling-esque kind of connection
and many more......
@liminalintro
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TW: Rape, forced pregnancy, abuse, parenthood
*
This might be a weird ask, but what would have happened if Valen HAD gotten pregnant? Would he have carried the child to term? If so how would he be as a parent?
Honestly if Valen had gotten pregnant while living with Priscus, he probably would have secretly tried to get an abortion or induce a miscarriage. He was ostensibly there to bear an heir, but as time went on he gradually realized that was probably the last thing he actually wanted. I'm honestly not sure how that would work with vampires only being able to be killed with a stake through the heart, but I imagine there are ways vampires can miscarry, such as if they're not being fed enough. If he'd gotten caught, they probably would have restricted his movement to make sure the heir was born safely. It would be a CRUSHING blow to his mental health to be forced to carry a child to term, he would probably be in an extremely bad place mentally and might end up being an abusive and negligent parent because he'd have no way to deal with his feelings.
Valen would probably be an awesome parent to a child he wanted to have, under better circumstances. He would probably rather have a partner carry the child--he wouldn't care about being genetically related to it or not.
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Bad Child: pt 1 (TW!)
I accept this title. In the eyes of my parents, I have and always will be the bad child. I was always told by them that they should have forfeited the whiskey and bought condoms instead. My name growing up was hardly ever my legal name, "Dumbass" was what I was referred to. I was never physically abused, but emotionally and mentally I was. Neglected? Absolutely. They didn't believe me when I said I couldn't see or that my chest hurt constantly, and so it took until adulthood for me to be diagnosed with a degenerative eye disease and a serious heart condition. I can remember times I was forbidden from clothes and forced to wear one outfit for weeks at a time, leading to my being bullied in school, which was still a sanctuary for me compared to my own home. Crying wasn't allowed. Being mad wasn't allowed. Being anything other than happy wasn't allowed because, to them, as long as they weren't beating the hell out of me, they were winning at this whole parenthood thing.
Dad was a drug user and dealer and seriously addicted to gambling. We moved a lot because he either pissed off the wrong person or he lost all of our rent money at the poker table. I can remember a period of time he bet what was suppose to be money for our utilities. He lost and we were without power and water for weeks. No showers and canned beans for dinner. It was my job to bag up their literal shit and throw it out. It was my job to walk a few miles up the road with empty milk gallons and fill it them with water from the gas station. I was 11.
Mom, well she's the type to stand by her man no matter the situation. The Bible says the order of obedience is God first, spouse, and then children after all. That's what she would tell me anyways. She smiled always and told us we were loved. Shit's hard to believe when I was constantly being ridiculed and humiliated by one parent and the other was never brave enough to say "this is not okay." She did try to leave once, I was 6 I think. She came into my bedroom late one night, crying, having just had a brawl with my father. She had me hide the car keys and begged me not to tell him where they were, no matter what he did or said. As I typed that last bit out, I realize she wasn't trying to leave, she was trying to get him to stay.
I began self harming around 12 years old. When they found out, their response was to lock me in my room. They didn't believe in mental health or therapy after all. Needless to say we didn't discuss it. Or much of anything that really mattered. I grew into a rebellious teen. Drugs became an escape. And after my accidental overdose, I was court ordered to a facility. I loved it there.
That's weird right? That someone could find happiness locked up? But I did. I may have only been permitted to stand in the sun an hour a week, living with a bunch of other fked up detoxing teenagers, but it quickly became home. My dad stopped talking to me. I was "seeking attention" and "making him look bad." My mom wrote to me in the beginning. She even came and saw me for a home visit. Only I wasn't allowed to go home. Dad said no. So we had lunch at a park nearby before she sent me back.
I was there for 10 months. 4 months longer than what I was suppose to be because my parents temporarily lost custody of me. They refused to take part in individual or family therapy. They never called. Mom stopped writing and ignored every home visit I was allowed. They essentially gave up one me, so a Judge ordered me to stay despite having completed my treatment until my parents decided I could come home again. I was 16.
And shit only got worse from there...but wtfe, right? At the time, I thought every lived the way I did. I thought everything was completely normal.
#trigger warning#bpd#childhood trauma#bad child#borderline personality disorder#wtf#addiction#recovery#addiction recovery
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For what reasons would members of the Gen'ei Ryodan impregnate their S/O?
TW: Mentions of forced relationship, forced pregnancy, gestation, breeding kink, body changes, parenthood, children, possible threat to children
Phinks:
It is the type of couple that is extremely overprotective, at the same time that it is extremely dominant, there is no better way of dominance than to impregnate your beloved, leave her plump and unable to do anything, so that she does not do anything stupid, nothing bad happens to her and there is no doubt that he is your absolute owner because you are carrying HIS child, and the idea of fucking you pregnant isn't something he's going to refuse either, he likes the idea, I'll just say that and of course he will love his child, I feel that he is the type of man to whom being a father comes naturally.
Feitan:
I don't feel that Feitan understands that concept of "family" and "parenting" and he doesn't care much either and if you're not very interested in the subject, pregnacy is not something that is going to happen, BUT, if we go to his sickest and most twisted side, especially the sadistic one and mixing it with a yandere or quite sick theme, if he sees that the idea of getting pregnant from him terrifies you as he is your captor, he is going to impregnate you with desire and on purpose, just to fuck you, torture you and well, in the process he will mark territory, by fucking you he will torture with the idea, if he achieves his goal now he only has the same thing left, making you feel bad, making you feel guilty, but he will probably still take care of you since in the end you are valuable to him.
Uvogin:
He barely fell in love with you, he knew that you were going to be the mother of his 78 children, Uvogin is the stereotype of a man who wants to get you pregnant 24/7, it won't even be two months after you have given birth before you are already pregnant again, he simply likes it because it is a way to keep you by his side, dominate you and take ownership of you. He has a fairly activated reproductive instinct due to his barbaric and somewhat animal nature.
He's excited about getting you pregnant, he's excited about having you pregnant, he's excited about being able to fuck you when you're swollen with his babies.
Added to that he may be a horrible person, a thief, a murderer and many other things, but it comes naturally to him to be a father, he loves his children, all of them.
Nobunaga:
The truth is that I feel that Nobunaga is one of these characters with the authentic desire to one day have children, he likes the idea of raising little swordsmen who run from one place to another simulating an epic and legendary duel and there is no better way to join the love of your life than forming a family (That's what he thinks) It doesn't matter much if you agree, it will still happen.
He is going to get you pregnant, he is going to take care of you and he will do everything humanly possible to be with you, of course I also emphasize that probably doing it with you even if you are pregnant, it is quite exciting for him.
Franklin:
I wouldn't know how to interpret him very well in fact, I feel that he is not someone who is dying to be a father but he also does not hate the idea and if you ask him he will listen to you, he will take great care of you and his little ones. (I DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT FRANKLIN, FORGIVE ME FRANKLIN FANS!)
Illumi:
The same as with Uvogin, but somewhat different.
He would say that he has a fairly marked kink breeding because in his family he has seen it as common and necessary to have many children (he literally has 4 siblings).
When he fell in love with you the next thing in his brain was to imagine the family he would have with you as soon as possible.
Once you are together (Whether by marriage or kidnapping) Illumi will probably have locked himself in the room with you until he makes sure that you are pregnant, Illumi never shows his emotions, but when he is fucking you and has you tightly grabbed, his body trembles of the emotion and excitement of being able to get you pregnant.
Once you are very pregnant and swollen, he won't stop fucking you either (As long as your child is safe), he can simply become more obsessed with you now that you are carrying his baby.
If everything goes well, I estimate at least 7 pregnancies, furthermore, all these pregnancies are going to be followed, as soon as you give birth, it will be a matter of time before he impregnates you again.
Hisoka:
I don't find any logical reason, he likes the idea of having a partner, but not forming a "family." The only reason I can find is that in his moments of madness and revenge.
Especially if he has already left the Gen'ei Ryodan and wants revenge, if you are a partner of one of them, he will impregnate you with hatred and desire but only for revenge.
Shalnark:
I think we have already talked about this in this profile multiple times but we will do it again.
Shalnark doesn't want kids, he hates kids, he hates kids grabbing his things, he hates not being the focus of your attention and everything related to pregnancy and having kids.
BUT
It is an idea that he can consider in the same way, if he consider that you have problems in the relationship, he will consider an alternative to soften you and tie you down.
In other situation, if you mention it to him, obviously you have to beg him if you are the one who wants to have children, but if you are convincing, you will have your child.
But Shalnark is cruel and twisted in nature, I don't think he is someone who loves his children in a paternal way, he probably sees them as a pet and will appreciate them (Also as something to blackmail and threaten you with).
Chrollo:
Chrollo is a being of curious, selfish and greedy nature, a being rejected by the world. I think he has that desire to form a family and ABOVE ALL, have a child, it is something that will finally be authentically HIS.
It's not that he KILLS to get you pregnant or it's a mortal necessity (Like Uvogin to Illumi) but it's a recurring thought.
It doesn't matter if he agrees or not, he's still going to get you pregnant when he can. He is going to push hard into your pussy and he is going to cling to your body telling you how beautiful mother you are going to be and how he is not going to stop until you are all swollen and pretty, that you will be his queen and that he will do everything for you.
Simply love your pregnancy, love hugging your belly, talking to it and planting soft kisses on it.
Thanks for reading this shit 🤍
#hxh#hunter x hunter#phantom troupe#genei ryodan#genei ryodan smut#shalnark#shalnark ryusei#shalnark x reader#hxh x reader#chrollo#chrollo smut#chrollo x reader#chrollo lucilfer#hxh chrollo#yandere chrollo#yandere#yandere hxh#soft yandere#yandere shalnark#tw yandere#tw pregnancy#tw forced pregnancy#uvogin x reader#franklin x reader#nobunaga x reader#feitan x reader#illumi x reader#phantom troupe x reader#hisoka x reader#phinks x reader
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Out of curiosity. What happens if a human is bearing a entity's child? Would it take a massive toll on the human or would it be like a normal pregnancy. And also the reverse where a entity is bearing a human child, which would probably never happen.
Tw//pregnancy + gore ment (what is up with this blog)
I never say never tbh. Let’s have fun! The narrative can be serious and concurrent while still being crazy.
SPECULATION BECAUSE AS OF CURRENT THERE ARENT ANY HYBRIDS BORN VIA NATURAL MEANS!!
Three things come to mind:
Nothing, because an entity has to want a child in order to conceive one. No accidents here.
A strange trip to planned parenthood (if they’re informed of the danger)
(If they choose to keep it, what will likely happen) a death sentence as the months go on.
If they have sufficient knowledge of ancient history + the occult, they could keep their unholy spawn alive.
Not pretty, an entity x human pregnancy, while possible doesn’t mean it’s a very good idea. I think I mentioned it before, but Jeff’s relatives married/started families w/humans millions of years ago
He sees them as kin so he absolutely abhors and condemns the idea of killing them.
But those humans were built different (and they HAD help btw- like help from the entitie’s communities with access to like..even though it’s herbs and a village midwife + rituals every other week make sure the baby doesn’t eat ur body/your life force.
Baby entities in utero are like parasites to the one who carries them. Sapping energy over time from its parent (and they have..LITTERS). Since entities are (mostly) MADE from energy, magic, whatever you call it this can literally kill them.
little guys will prioritize their own existence over their parent. Luckily death is avoidable as long as the entity eats and maintains a healthy amount of energy.
Humans aren’t made out of energy. We’re made out of flesh, and blood. We have little of what the entities have and it mostly makes up our souls. So they’d probably fuck up the average modern joe schmoe. Hollow eyes sockets, weak fingernails, tired voice, bruising, maybe a bit of rotten flesh, a walking zombie. It’s its own little bag of body horror. Probably kill the parent (and by proxy, the still developing child) in as little as a month or two.
Idk who’d wanna put themselves through that-
And who’s to say that the fucked up offspring would survive that? Since entities will just straight up die young for absolutely no reason. The dental, physiological, corneal, bone, issues must be absolutely insane. Maybe human parts would slowly, surely slough off revealing the entity beneath.
Hybrids ARE possible though. They’d just be faces only a mother could love. Mandela catalog stretched face lookin headass. The literal antichrist to humans but same shit different day to entities. Stretched out eyes (or lack thereof) elongated mouths, fucked up lookin teeth if the human genes are dominant.
Actually it occurs to me a AMAB person getting with an entity would probably be a healthier pairing- because the entity could definitely take it. They’re absolutely tanks after all.
This isn’t the only way to make a “hybrid” though. Figure is Rueben’s bio kid- though Rue had to do some fucked up shit to himself to get Figure to exist.
Some occult knowledge kinda shit that he’s not too keen on talking about and maybe some man made horrors beyond our comprehension- OH HEY BABY ENTITY YIPEE!!
..
Figure was worth it in his eyes.
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