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reidmotif · 2 years ago

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Coffee and Consequences

Summary: Reader joins the BAU, and Spencer seems insistent on being a problem for her.

Request: pls i am such a sucker for angst/smut, can you do one where spencer is closed off and cold to a new recruit, and it upsets her, so she tries to get him to like her, which leads to an argument and confession, with soft smut?

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut/Light Angst (Happy Ending)

Content Warning: Reader POV, little shit Spencer, oral sex (f recieveing), gunshot wound/typical canon violence, unprotected sex

Word Count: 6.1k

Upon starting at the BAU, I believed there was no question about me, especially when it came to my skills and ability to perform my job. From stellar recommendations from my superiors at the Academy, to general demeanor and tact, there was no question about whether or not my success was imminent. Most of the team were more than elated to welcome me to the small family they’d built over the years, despite my younger age than most of them, which I was eternally grateful for.

Most, being the keyword in that sentence. Since I’d begun, there’d been one thorn in my roses, the bane of my existence, you might say. Spencer fucking Reid. I’m aware of the fact that not everyone could like me, that was a given. I'm an FBI agent, for god’s sake. To expect warmth and friendship from everyone would be naive and lead to disappointment in any given scenario.

But Jesus Christ, this was getting absolutely ridiculous.

I consistently replayed the events of our first meeting. In an attempt to make a good first impression, (which seems stupid, in hindsight) I brought coffee to each of my new co-workers, hoping to establish myself as a friendly, non-threatening presence in their lives. I’d covertly asked Emily for help, as within the interviews and background checks required to even be considered for a position in the BAU, there was a certain camaraderie and friendship forged through the continued exposure to each other.

Emily advised me carefully, understanding the intentions behind the act, and being more than happy to help. “JJ likes vanilla lattes, nothing too fancy. Rossi is a little simpler, a Caffe Americano.” I spoke, and continued to go through my team’s regular orders, until there was hesitation on a somewhat infamous name, one that I myself was already intrigued by. “Spencer’s an easy order to remember, but you have to make sure you get it right.”

I found myself nodding, the seriousness of Emily’s words striking me- momentarily finding myself forgetting that they were speaking about something as mundane as coffee. "Emily spoke slowly, as if I was advising a child. 'Reid likes black coffee, but you have to make sure to add extra sugar.'" I nodded quickly, "Alright, black coffee with extra sugar, got it-" Emily interrupted me abruptly. "No, no. You're not hearing me, extra sugar. I mean a lot, okay? Otherwise, he quite literally won't drink it."

I found myself chuckling a little bit, thinking about the image of Spencer Reid I’d built up in my head before I’d even met him. I knew he had been framed and had endured a considerable time in prison. I was also aware of his intelligence, a natural by-product of all the papers he’d written, and how many of his own techniques in geographic profiling were referenced during my time in the Academy. Working with him seemed like a dream come true. The idea of a grown man needing as much sugar in his coffee as Emily made it seem added just a bit of charm to the already positive perception I’d had of him.

In the coffee shop, I carefully recited the orders of my new teammates, taking extra caution in advising the barista that the black coffee needed extra sugar. I could tell the patrons behind me were definitely annoyed, but it didn’t matter. First impressions matter more. Even after my incessant requests about sugar, I took the time to open the lid of the steaming black coffee to add in 3 extra packets of brown sugar provided at the customization station in the back of the coffee shop. I could tell the barista was boring holes into the back of my head, and I honestly wasn’t surprised or could blame her. At this point, the sugar had to be more than the coffee itself. I gave a satisfied grin to myself, knowing I’d followed Emily’s directions and the possibility of friendship with someone I’d already come to admire wasn’t something far-off to wish for.

God, was I wrong.

I approached the bullpen cautiously, being greeted by an assortment of new faces. I quickly matched names to descriptors that had been given to me from Emily. I then noticed one face that hadn’t greeted me yet, sat alone in the back with his nose in a book. I couldn’t discern the title, which I quickly figured was due to the fact that the book appeared to be some European language I’d most likely never even heard of. The man had a mess of brown hair on his head, and even from across the room I could tell it was curling softly near the nape of his neck. He was handsome. More handsome than I had pegged him for. I knew almost immediately that this had to have been the infamous Spencer Reid, and I cautiously approached him, flashing a small smile.

He heard me a mile away, looking up quickly and putting away his book. His eyes seemed to size me up, and he didn’t seem to return my smile. I knew better than to shake hands with him, being predisposed to his germaphobe nature and instead held out the coffee, almost as if it was a peace offering.

“Hi, uh. I’m the new recruit, I believe Emily warned you all about me and I just wanted to introduce myself. (Y/N). That’s my name. It’s nice to meet you.” I said, a little dumbly, still holding the coffee out. I quickly realized I hadn’t explained the reasoning behind the coffee cup and quickly added, “Coffee. I asked Emily about how you liked it. And brought it. So, yeah.” I said. I was aware of how awkward this conversation was becoming, considering I was still holding out the cup, like an idiot, and he hadn’t said a word to me yet. He nodded, taking the coffee cup from me and placing it on his desk. “Dr Reid. Welcome.” His greeting was short, but I tried not to let it bother me. Perhaps he wasn’t as forthcoming to strangers, nevermind that. The coffee was enough. I smiled, again, hoping to make my intentions clear. “Nice to meet you, Dr Reid.”

I turned back, feeling satisfied. I’d done what I’d come there to do. Except a sound from behind me alerted me that maybe I was a bit early to assume that, because when I’d turned around, an incredibly displeased Dr Reid was throwing away his coffee- the coffee I had brought! That I’d waited for in a morning rush for, that I’d taken the time to add even more sugar to- that coffee! In the trash! His eyes met mine as he dropped it into the trashcan near his desk, shuddering a bit as he did so. He didn’t even look apologetic.

I approached him, a bit upset and sad, but there was caution in my tone, not wanting to offend him before he even had a chance to know me. “Dr Reid, I’m sorry was the coffee-” Dr Reid quickly interrupted me. “Did Emily not tell you my order?” He asked, a little bit of sharpness to his tone.

Okay, so this guy took his coffee seriously. Emily was not kidding around.

“Um, yes-” He interrupted again. “Yes? Are you sure?” He said, a bit of condescension in his tone. Okay, holy shit. All this over coffee? “Very sure.” I responded, confidently. “Black, with extra sugar- I even put extra at the counter.” I added this, trying to convey that while I was sorry it wasn’t to his liking, it’s not like I didn’t try. That had to count for something, right?

Wrong. Spencer Reid did not seem like the type of man who cared about trying. He retorted with, “Well, it wasn’t enough.” And with that, he shuffled to the breakroom, seemingly to make his own coffee.

It seemed like from there, things only got worse. In one of my first cases, I quickly made a quip about the statistics on suburban murders, hoping to add some valuable information to the conversation. I tried hard not to overpower anyone and stay in my lane as the resident newbie, but Spencer seemed to take personal offense to it, going out of his way to argue that it meant nothing. I fired back, hoping to affront my point but Reid quickly cut me off.

“You’re new, alright? And young. It’s granted that you should be clueless when it comes to some of these things.” His words, although somewhat true, were accompanied by a harsh tone and a coldness in his voice. What could’ve been well-meaning advice from a senior agent on the team was clearly not that at all. All signs pointed to one thing: He absolutely hated me.

For all I tried, it seemed like he only disliked me more. It wasn’t unnoticed by my teammates, how he’d dismiss me. I was aware of my newness, of my inexperience, how this team had had years to grow around each other before I was ever even considered for this position, but it seemed with the more time I spent at the BAU, Spencer’s disdain only increased. He seemed to go out of his way to not sit by me on the jet, or how he seemed absolutely uninterested in anything involving me. I understood that not everyone would like me, but a bit of respect would be nice. I didn’t need friendship, just his tolerance, and even that seemed out of reach for Dr Spencer Reid.

Eventually, this led to the dynamic we harbored now. A year into the BAU, and instead of a friendship, or even acquaintanceship, it was constant bickering. It’s not like I wanted to argue- he just made it impossible for me to find footing within the BAU. I obviously stood up for myself, but was met with resistance from the doctor, and so the cycle continued.

Still, despite the obvious dislike Reid harbored for me, it wasn’t like that magically made him dumb, or any less attractive to me. His intelligence was as impressive as I’d expected it to be, if not even moreso. I watched in real-time as the cogs in his mind turned, his slender fingers finding a point on the side of his mouth to tap, before stopping and sharing what he’d just thought of. He was brilliant, and no one could take that away from him

However, in this particular case we were currently dealing with, it seemed that brilliance simply didn’t matter, because how could someone like him be so absolutely stupid?

The hostage situation we were dealing with was tricky, to say the least. Multiple civilians, and a trigger happy unsub. Any experienced agent would be at a loss when handling something like this, but Spencer seemed confident. He’d been pushing to storm the building, citing that more people would get hurt the longer they allowed the unsub to continue making demands. I found myself wholeheartedly disagreeing, attempting to put my foot down and be heard. I found that perhaps, through negotiations, we could not only save the civilians, but walk away with zero people hurt. Naturally, this caused commotion between the senior agent and myself.

“Reid, I’ve told you for the millionth time that this unsub can’t be approached like this!” I whisper-yelled, clearly fed up with Spencer by this point. He questioned every decision of mine, and it's gotten to me.

“(Y/N), you’ve dealt with maybe 3 hostage situations in your life. This isn’t something for you to take point on. We have civilians in there, and it’s more important we save them.” He responded, in his own hiss.

“You’re being ridiculous!” I retorted.

“You’re naive!” He shot back.

We’d clearly reached a head when it came to this. Spencer huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m using my seniority here. We’re going to give the go-ahead to SWAT and make our way into the building.”

I found myself returning the gesture. “Spencer- '' I began, only to be interrupted.

“Dr Reid.” He corrected, venom in his voice.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I replied, furrowing my brows.

“What?” He countered, seeming calm, but his eyes gave away simply how determined he was to win this.

“This is a terrible idea.” I said, firmly. “Someone’s going to get hurt.”

“Oh, and how do you know that?” Spencer quipped. “Is it your years of experience in the field? Or your time spent as an FBI agent?” He said, sarcastically.

“I understand I don’t have as much experience as you, but-” I started, but I found myself cut off by him again. Bastard. He never let me finish my sentences. “Exactly.” He responded, calmly. “You don’t have as much experience. I know what I’m doing. Let’s go.” And with that, he walked, leaving me to simply follow. God, I fucking hated that guy. Forget the intelligence, none of that mattered when he was such a dick.

As they entered the warehouse doors behind SWAT, I knew that it was wrong. Something was off. We’d profiled this unsub as the dominant type, and an egotistical personality that wouldn’t allow for a partner. It was a part of the profile that they were sure of. It was part of the reason why Spencer was so confident of going in.

Upon entering though, the SWAT team had a clear shot of the unsub, but in a split second, there were shots heard from an entirely different part of the warehouse. From the direction in which Spencer was directly in line of.

It wasn’t like I thought about it, maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have done it. It was based on pure instinct. I found myself in front of Spencer Reid, the man who’d questioned my every decision since I’d begun my job, taking a bullet for him. Maybe he was right, maybe I was an idiot.

I heard the gunshot first, then felt the cold floor pressing into my cheek where I’d been knocked down. Then a tight pressure in my arm. I finally looked down, seeing a bloom of red appear under my dress shirt where a bullet had struck, away from the vest I wore to prevent this sort of thing. I took in a sharp breath of air, eyes widening as my breathing began to quicken. I rolled onto my back, only to be met with Spencer’s concerned and frightened expression above me. I heard ins and outs of his speech into his receiver, as I faded in and out of consciousness.

“Yes! We have an agent down. We need medic, now!” He yelled. I watched him in fascination, his face currently seeming to be the only thing I could focus on besides the overwhelming burning that I felt. I heard him speak to me, calmly. “Y/N? Stay with me, okay? You need to stay conscious. Okay?” He spoke to me calmly, but the waver in his voice was unmistakable. I found my eyelids growing heavier as I nodded.

It wasn’t long until I came to, groggily opening my eyes to see Spencer’s concerned face looking back at me. I heard his voice, soft and distant.

“(Y/N)..?” Spencer said, cautiously.

“Dr Reid?” was my response. I was still a bit dizzy, and a bit confused about my whereabouts.

“You were shot.” He replied, immediately. “In your arm.” He added, as if that wasn’t already obvious.

I found myself chuckling, “Yeah, I can tell.” I said, my eyes meeting his. His expression was a bit unreadable, a mix between sternness and apprehension. I watched him, as his gaze shifted and he bit his lip. “You took it for me.” He said, suddenly. “The bullet, I mean.” He continued. “It would’ve hit me if you hadn’t gotten in the way.”

“Gotten in the way?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Gotten in the way.” He repeated back to me, his face hard.

“Are you upset I took a bullet for you?” I said, furrowing my brows, my lips parting in shock. Was this guy serious?

“Yes.” He said, his voice angry. “What were you thinking?” His voice wavered with anger and another emotion I couldn’t quite discern in that moment.

“I wasn’t thinking, I just-”

“Exactly.” He responded, harshly. “You weren’t thinking.” He said, his voice reaching a volume I’d never heard before, granted, it was still collected, but I’d never seen this side of him.

I contemplated how to respond to this, actually not being able to believe that he could be mad at me for something like this. Yes, it was brash but- he didn’t get shot! Isn’t that a plus? His voice broke my thoughts, now a bit more shaky, softer. “Do you have any idea what that would mean? If you’d been hurt worse, what that would mean for me?” He said, looking right at my face, into my eyes with a blaze. “What you mean to me?”

I found myself unable to respond, still not being able to grapple with what he was saying. What he was implying. “Sorry?” I asked, softly.

“(Y/N)..” He said, softly. His own expression mirrored my confusion mixed with longing I’d never seen before on him. Especially when he looked at me. His hand brushed across my face, moving some hair that had drifted near my eye. I held my breath as he did so, watching as his tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip, still watching intently. I felt my lips slightly part as he came closer, unsure what was going to happen in this moment, but regardless, my gaze was intently trained on his.

In a split second though, the sounds of the rest of the BAU filtered into the hospital room. They jumped away from each other, Spencer now 4 feet away from me. Emily came up to my bedside, looking at the wound.

The typical chastisement came, and the general choruses of appreciation that I was still alive. The diagnosis revealed that (Y/N) would be just fine, given I remembered to clean my wound liberally and change the bandages.

In about a week, I found myself discharged. I was given about 2 more weeks to rest at my apartment. I assumed the time would be enough to forget the strange moment I’d had in the hospital room. At some points, if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself it hadn’t happened at all. The tenderness in his eyes, the way his gaze drifted to my lips, so subtle it could’ve as easily been a figment of imagination. I shook my head, as if I could rid myself of all the feelings I’d harbored about that specific moment. I made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a fresh-set of bandages to apply on the recovering wound, wincing as I peeled away the layers of gauze to reveal the injury. As I began to apply the anti-septic, I began to wrap the gauze, until I heard a knock at my apartment door.

I put down the gauze, looking through the peephole and being surprised to see the senior agent that had been haunting my thoughts for the past few weeks. I opened the door quickly, meeting his pensive gaze.

“Can I come in?” He said, quickly, almost if he didn’t say the words fast enough, he’d bolt the other direction. I sensed the confusion about his own actions, and opened the door wider, allowing him to push past me into my apartment. He noticed the gauze, and the open wound, and raised an eyebrow.

“I was changing the gauze, sorry.” I said, explaining the sight on my kitchen table. He immediately took a step towards the table, picking up the bandages. “Let me help.” He said, quietly, motioning for me to sit down.

I found myself sitting, out of pure habit of obeying him, but still shook my head.

“Dr Reid, no, it’s fine.” He quickly shook his head, mirroring my previous actions, already beginning to take my arm, his light touches on my bare skin shooting a shiver up my spine. This was noticeable to him, him immediately retracting his hand.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, softly.

I found myself shaking my head. “No, no. Sorry. Just. Continue.” I said, trying to get the words out without looking at him. I suddenly remembered the strangeness of this situation, and forced myself to calm down as he began to carefully wrap the bandages around my injury, swallowing and looking up.

“Dr Reid, why are you here?” I asked, carefully. I made sure that my tone was neutral, not trying to express displeasement, but still a bit confused about his intentions here.

“You took a bullet for me.” He replied, simply, as if that explained why he was in my apartment, looming over me as he tenderly wrapped gauze over my arm, looking at me with the gentlest gaze I’d ever seen on him. I sighed, locking eyes with him. “I know, but-” He interrupted. “No, (Y/N), you don’t know.”

Immediately, the rage returned to my eyes, the months of dismissal I’d faced from him flooding back in a moment, and those emotions came to full light in that moment. my brows furrowed, my face turning sour. “Oh, I don’t know, Spencer?” I said, sneering at him. “Am I too young, too stupid, too inexperienced for you?” I question, sarcastically. “Am I so dumb, that I wasn’t aware of what I was doing when I stepped in front of you?!” I say, my voice practically yelling at him now.

“Yes.” He whispered, dangerously close.

“Excuse me?”

“Yes. You weren’t aware.” He says, repeats, softer this time. “It’s the only way any of this makes sense. That.. that you were so unaware, so blinded that you weren’t thinking when you stepped in front of me.” He said, quietly, remaining just as close as before.

“I wasn’t.” I said, firmly, my brows still furrowed but the tension slowly left my face, being replaced with a softness.

“Why did you do it then?” He said, dropping his gaze as he began to focus more on the bandages. “I haven’t been very forthcoming with you since you’ve begun your time at the BAU.”

“Ah, so you’ve noticed.” I said, trying to make humor of the situation, but it came out a bit more breathless and dry. I was aware of the intimacy of the situation, and it seemed my body was catching up. I could physically feel the way my cheeks were heating up, and how they were close enough that I could see every breath that exhaled from his lips. How, despite everything, I still desperately wanted to kiss him at that moment.

I couldn’t be crazy, when he secured the bandages and slowly trailed his eyes over my figure, sitting in front of him. I saw the same desire I felt, reflected in his eyes, and I found myself biting my lip. What the fuck was going on?

“So why’d you do it?” He repeated, still looking at me.

“It felt natural, I..” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain what I had felt in that split-second, but instead went with the simplest retelling my brain could manage, considering how close he was. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.” I said, looking at him. “I.. I care about you.”

I felt stupidly vulnerable. His breath fanned over my face, and I bit my lip. I waited for him to say something, anything, staring anxiously at his face.

“I’m a good profiler, you know.” He says, softly.

I chuckle a little at this, moving away so the tension can be relieved. “Trust me, I’m reminded of that every day.” I said, feeling like the distance between them was now more manageable, allowing me to talk.

But in a moment, he closed that distance to its predecessor, just as close as they were a moment ago. “You learn a lot about body language. Not just by learning to profile, but through years of experience. It just comes naturally, reading people. You can’t really turn it off. It’s like trying to forget how to breathe.” I hung onto his every word, and found my breath hitching when he directed his monologue to me.

He gently inquires, ��Do you understand?”

I nod, looking up at him, as he inches closer.

“So I hope you’ll understand and not take offense when I say I’ve been profiling you.” He pauses. “Would you like to know what I’ve found out?” He says, looking right into my eyes at this point.

My brain is screaming at me to say no, to not take the bait that he was dangling right in front of me, and to not cross that line tonight. Because, surely, that’s where this was going. I had a sneaking suspicion that the man in front of me was going to ruin me, if I let him.

Instead, I ignore the instinct and intuition I normally rely on, and nod. “What did you find out, Dr Reid?” I responded, a bit shakier than I wanted to sound.

“Your pupils dilate when I come near you. It’s an involuntary response, but I notice it every time. I’ve seen it in low and heavy lighting, the only commonality in both those situations being that we were in some proximity to each other.” His voice was low, and seductive, something I’d never heard from him before.

“Your heart rate.” He murmurs, slowly picking up my wrist and pressing a thumb to the pulse point. “This isn’t exactly the best way to measure heart rate.” He explains, “My thumb. It carries its own pulse that can make it hard to distinguish between mine and yours. But right now, (Y/N)?” He mumbles. “I can tell. Because your pulse is going crazy right now. It’d be hard to miss.” He said, with a low chuckle.

And he’s right, I can feel my heart getting faster with every second he speaks to me, in that hushed tone that seems to be driving me crazy.

“It’s not just tonight. I’ve noticed it since the day you walked in.” He whispers, getting closer to my ear, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Since you brought that terrible coffee, actually.”

I pulled back, letting out a noise that was both composed of surprise and amusement. “Oh come on, it was not that bad.”

“It was, but I can tell you tried.” He said, a small smirk playing on his face. “It was cute.” He said, now taking the time to brush some hair out of my face. It all happened quickly, his gaze tender and soft, before he captured my lips in a swoon-worthy kiss, pressing himself against me. I quickly melted into the kiss, letting out a satisfied sigh as I gripped his forearm, before rising from the chair as he slowly guided me to my couch. I let out a nervous laugh as my knees hit the cushions, tumbling a bit as I fell onto the soft pillows. He immediately pulled back, breathless, looking at me worriedly.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He murmured softly, kissing me again, a bit more gentle so I could murmur a soft “no” against his lips.

“Good.” He growled, positioning himself above me on the couch, beginning to press hot kisses down my neck, eventually reaching my exposed sternum, and looking up at me through hooded lids for implicit consent to continue, to which I nodded, feverishly.

“Please.” I whispered, hoarsely.

He took no time in obliging my request, rising a bit to remove the fabric of my shirt in one, clean swoop and continuing his assault on my chest, leaving open-mouthed kissed, eventually switching to nips and playful bites, as he sucked marks into the swell of my breasts, leaving me letting out delighted sighs and soft moans, which only seemed to encourage him to go lower. I arched my back, screwing my eyes shut, until he felt him stop, and come back to my neck.

He murmured against me, close to my ear. I could feel his lips slowly brush the sensitive skin between my ear and neck, barely giving me any real stimulation, but it was enough to drive me crazy anyway.

“Keep your eyes open, baby.” He whispers. “I want to see every part of your pretty face when I do this.” He says, returning lower again, leaving little kisses everywhere he could possibly go with his lips. I opened my eyes on command, watching as he went lower and lower, before finding the button on my jeans, slowly undoing them with nimble fingers and moving them off my legs. I could imagine them so vividly inside me, expertly guiding me to pleasure in a way that mine couldn’t. But right now, if I wasn’t fucked senseless by him right now, I’d just about lose my mind.

“Spencer.” I whispered, breathlessly. “I need you.” I breathed out. “Please.”

“You need me to do what?” He asked, smirking as he already began to undo his own belt.

“Spencer.” I repeated, firmly, not wanting to say the words.

“Say it.” He says, in a much more commanding tone.

“Spencer..” I repeat, breathing out again. “Fuck. I need-” I waver on the words, biting my lip. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

His smirk turns into a grin of satisfaction and pride, capturing my lips in yet another passionate kiss. “Mm. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He says, cockily. I whined against his lips, tacitly begging him to just get on with it and he chuckles, moving off of my mouth.

“Alright. I get it.” He says, moving his lips downwards again, his lips brushing against my underwear, as he began to remove that fabric as well. He nearly moaned when he saw just how wet I really was. It was a bit embarrassing, just from a few touches and words, but it was hard to care when I felt his tongue right on my core, beginning to lap at the hot flesh, reducing me to moans as I knotted my fingers into his hair, arching my back and bucking my hips to feel more of his ministrations. He seemed to understand, hooking his strong arms under my thighs, firmly planting me to the couch we were currently on, continuing. I could feel his moans against me, sending vibrations that only heightened my arousal in that moment. As if that was even possible.

And then it was, because I heard him murmur against me.“You taste-” he paused, using his tongue to lap up more of my arousal. “So fucking good.” He finished, beginning to now harshly flick at my clit, which caused an entirely new slew of sensations. I recognized my end was fast approaching, and I tugged on his hair, unable to form the words as the white-hot pleasure overtook me quickly, he seemed to understand this without a word, nursing me through my orgasm as my thighs shook around him and he held my hips down. Even then, he didn’t stop, continuing to flick his tongue, lapping up my arousal until I had to physically push him away with a soft groan. “Spencer.. It’s too much.” Even then, he continued, reducing me to nothing but moans, and I heard him whisper. “Come on. One more. Please.” The words unintentionally caused a flutter in my stomach, and in record time I was being pushed towards my second orgasm in a matter of 5 minutes.

His mouth was clearly so much better at this than arguing.

I felt him lap up the last bit of my arousal, looking up at me with a glistening chin, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was the most erotic sight in the world at that moment. The man that had questioned me at every turn, now in between my legs. He gave a smirk, moving up and giving me a rough kiss, and I didn’t hesitate to moan in his mouth when I could taste myself on his tongue. He smiled as he broke the kiss, caressing my cheek with one of his hands. His thumb moved along the smooth expanse of my cheeks.

“Are you okay?” He asks, gently, concern in his eyes.

I couldn’t help but break out into a dazed smile, nodding, a thin cover of sheen over my body, where I was still breathing heavily. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good.” He breathed out. “I’m not stopping.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” was my response, his shirt coming off before I’d even finished my sentence.

I watched in fascination as he undid his belt, the very sound of it filling me with anticipation and desire. I could feel myself getting more aroused by the second, despite my previous two orgasms. I wanted him, I wanted this so badly.

I felt him position himself over me, and feeling the head of his arousal run through my folds. I let out a breathy groan, as I felt him push into me. He let out a moan of his own, shutting his eyes. “You feel.. So fucking good.”

I whimpered slightly as my body adjusted to him and his size. He was so big, and I’d never felt full like this before. He noticed this and placed a gentle kiss against my lips, watching my face as it contorted in pleasure and pain. As the pain began to subside, I looked up at him nodding.

“Move, please.” I begged, the desperation evident in my voice.

He took no time in obeying my request, beginning to slowly thrust in and out of me. I moaned, feeling his cock stretch me and fill me up in a way I had never been full before. A pleasant sensation bloomed through my lower abdomen, and I could feel him bury his head into my shoulder as he pushed into me, my walls clenching on his length with every movement he gave. He pressed wet kisses into my neck, and I moaned happily at the feeling. In an instant, I could feel him fucking me desperately, placing both of his hands on either side of my face. I could feel my jaw drop, and no sound came out. I was being hurdled towards my third orgasm of the night and it was all at the behest of the man in front of me, plowing into me like it was his job.

I moaned loudly, my legs wrapping around his waist in an attempt to keep him buried in my deepest point, feeling my release creeping up on me.

“Sp-Spencer..” I groaned, attempting to alert him of my impending orgasm, but he simply swooped down, kissing me roughly, which only caused me to moan into his mouth.

“I know, baby.” He whispered, in a deliciously dark tone. “Come for me, baby. Wanna feel you make a mess all over my cock.”

It took no more provocation from there, as I felt my hips buck up once more and my thighs shake. I came with a loud moan of his name, my free hand gripping onto him and leaving scratches I knew wouldn’t go away for a while.

My release seemed to spur him on, the wetness allowing him to fuck into me harder. I watched the man above me lose all control, and it was beautiful. He grunted a bit, and I could feel his hips stutter, chasing after his orgasm.

“Please, Spencer.” I begged. “Fill me up, I need to feel you come inside me.” I whispered.

It didn’t take long after that, after a particularly hard thrust, a warmness filled me at my hilt and Spencer nearly collapsed over me. He gave me a kiss, murmuring into the skin of my neck. “So perfect, so fucking perfect for me.”

I smiled at the praise, biting my lip. I let my hand traverse over his back, drawing figures into the warm skin. I looked at the man laying on my sternum, looking absolutely fucked out despite being the one to give me three orgasms tonight. “Perfect, you say?” I teased.

He looked up at me, kissing my lips softly, before mumbling against them, “Mm. Perfect.”

I had a sneaking suspicion the next time we were at work, and he’d have something to say about my work, (because he always did), it wouldn’t take long to have him whispering sweet nothings to me in an instant, just like he was now. At least I could do something right on the first try.

hi!! this is my first fanfiction i've written since i was literally in middle school. spoiler. far from middle school right now. leave a comment, reblog, like, whatever! i had fun writing this. my ask box should be open for more requests? if anyone would like. anyway! hope u enjoyed!! :3

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #smut #request #spencer reid request #criminal minds fanfiction

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nowimjustastranger · 6 months ago

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Has Stcmo Ford come across a dimension that alerted him a Stanley was in danger, but he got there, everything seems fine. Keyword “seems”.

And after numerous checks, everything seems like in order. On the surface it just looks like another dimension with Ford, Fiddleford and Stan living together in gravity falls.

But there is just SOMETHING that feels immensely wrong about this dimension.

Like the way that this Stanley and Fiddleford seem a little too overly content with their lives, they aren’t seem to be lost or forgetting things so it can’t be the memory gun. And by the looks of it, the Bill Cipher of this dimension is dead.

In fact the more Stcmo Ford looks into it…

Filbrick is dead, Fiddleford’s wife Emma-May seems to be dead, Shermie is dead, newspapers on about the last few years show that many gang leaders have either gone mysteriously missing or have seemed to have been killed. Jimmy Snakes, Rico, several people who knew Stanley in prison are dead as well. Many people that would be considered a threat have been killed.

There’s something off about this Ford as well, he seems to always be watching Fiddleford and Stanley, the two always were within watch.

Like a wolf watching over his two sheep.

Not entirely sure what era this is happening in, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume it's a "Mystery Trio AU" type situation, so it would be set in the early years in Gravity Falls.

Ford has been in Dimension 1R^86 for three days now and he's nearly at his wits end, he has no idea what the threat is or even where it might come from. He hasn't slept at all either, maintaining constant vigilance of the shack and its inhabitants.

Ford is currently perched in one of the large trees surrounding the shack, hidden in the branches with a direct line of sight to both entrances. There's been nothing, no activity around the shack within a fifty foot radius. Which is another thing, Ford hasn't spotted so much as a gnome rooting through the trash in the three days he's been watching.

It's... something's not right but he can't put a finger on what.

With a growl, Ford's eyes flick to the icon in the top corner of his hud, selecting it with a thought so the data flooded onto the screen, his proximity sensors online to warn him if anything tries to sneak up on him while he's preoccupied.

D – 1R^86 | 29 yo | COD: Blunt Force Trauma

No change.

Ford exited out of the data with a frustrated huff, he'd done a lot of digging into the deaths that surrounded Stan and the results all pointed toward one Ford Pines being the culprit, but the way that he watched over his brother and Fiddleford so intently made it highly unlikely that he was the threat.

The Ford in this dimension reminded Ford 419"3 of himself, an ambush predator watching and waiting for the opportunity to strike. A wolf that muzzled itself in the presence of it's sheep so they would not be afraid, because despite the wolf's nature, those sharp teeth and claws were never meant for the sheep.

They were for other predators.

Other predators that might also be watching and waiting for the wolf to stray too far from the sheep, waiting for the wolf's teeth to go dull as it grew fat and lazy within the comfort of it's den. But not these wolves who starved themselves to keep their body lean, who kept their teeth sharp with frequent hunts, who lulled other predators into a false sense of security by leaving the sheep unattended-

Wait. Shit. How long ago did the Ford leave the house?

His proximity sensors shrieked at him and Ford barely managed to dodge the first bolt that had been aimed at his side, the second burying itself in his calf. So the Ford was looking to incapacitate and not kill, not exactly a comforting realization.

Ford's landing was sloppy, his leg buckling when he hit the ground in a crouch, giving the Ford just enough time to line up a clear shot. Neither moved, both waiting to see what the other would do. The Ford's aim was steady and his finger poised to shoot, his empty stare more akin to a shark than a wolf.

"You've been scurrying around for long enough, little rat." The Ford spoke calmly, with a voice void of emotion. It was unnerving, how robotic this Ford was when he wasn't with his brother and Fiddleford, like he was removing a mask. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you."

"Your brother is going to die." Ford divulged, watching the Ford's hands flex on the crossbow, indecisive. Ford could work with that. "I can stop it from happening, but only if you let me work."

"You really think I'm going to trust you at your word?" The Ford asked with an ominous tilt of his head, dark eyes studying Ford as if he were a specimen. It made Ford's skin crawl, fingers twitching with the urge to gouge the Ford eyes out just so he would stop looking at Ford the same way He used to.

"You're going to have to because if you kill me, your brother is as good as dead."

#gravity falls #side quest #somebody to call my own au #stan and ford #stan pines #ford pines #stan twins #writing #ask box #overprotective ford pines #tw: implied murder #tw: serial killer ford

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ilovetheriddler · 10 months ago

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The Different Riddlers on a date at an amusement Park. Mini fic Scenarios.

Oh boy! That's a lot of riddle loving menaces! These are all short little mini fic scenarios centered around the idea of an amusement park date!

Word Count: 2,160.

Contents: Kissing, mentions of puking briefly, highly suggestive themes but nothing too explicit.

Gotham.

Just where had Ed wandered off to? You weren't quite sure, and it was honestly making you a bit worried. You knew how much he had been looking forward to this date, planning it months in advance to be just perfect, so the idea that he'd just leave without a word confused you.

You attempted to call his phone a few times, only to be met with his voice mail, where on earth had he run off to? You tried looking through the crowd for him and were starting to lose hope of finding him until you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you along with them. By the time your mind fully registered that it was Edward, you were already sitting down, with a bar being lowered in front of you.

"E-Edward?! Where were you?"

"Huh? Oh! I was looking for the ferris wheel! I couldn't find anything about where it would be located on their website, so I wanted to find it as soon as we got here."

You let out a slightly surprised yelp as you felt yourself moving. As you saw the ground getting further and further away from your feet, you realized that you were on the ferris wheel. He had wandered off, found it, and dragged you to it after that. You couldn't help but chuckle.

"Ed, you could have just told me that when we first got here! Why were you so excited for the ferris wheel anyway?"

"Well... I thought it would be a pleasant experience! You know? I find the circular motion to be the perfect mixture of soothing and exciting, plus I get to be close to you... so there's that as well..."

He threw one of his arms around your shoulders and pulled you slightly closer before his lips met yours in a sweet and prolonged kiss.

Batman: The Animated Series.

Edward had been extremely pleased when he found out that there was a small arcade within the amusement park, nothing super fancy, just some older arcade cabinet games, but he was thrilled and you thought it was really sweet how clearly overjoyed he was.

He was currently on his third game, having already acquired the top scores on the previous two. They were puzzle games, which explained why the small little acarde section was practically a ghost town. Not too many people going to an amusement park were really going to play older puzzle games. But these were exactly the type of things that Edward loved.

"My dear! Look at that, I've bested yet another person's score. My skills at this are truly unrivaled."

"I can see that, I'm glad that you're having fun... I was honestly a bit worried that you might not enjoy coming here..."

"Nonsense! This is the most amusement that I've had outside of my own riddles in a long time!"

You couldn't stop yourself from giggling as he pulled you to sit on his lap as he continued playing away on the acarde games. You felt your face heat up slightly as he started kissing your neck gently.

"E-Edward! We're in public!"

"Don't worry, my dear, I'm not going to go too far, just a few kisses here and there.... and besides, there's not exactly anyone else in this specific section. Now, is there?"

His soft and just slightly mischievous laugh rang out right next to your ear as he continued his kisses on your neck and trailed them down to your shoulder.

Arkhamverse.

You had honestly thought that Edward would turn down your idea for an amusement park date, so when he did actually agree to go, you were incredibly excited..... Keyword being were... You genuinely loved Edward so much, but being slung around in a bumper car as he repeatedly slammed into other cars with enough force to almost give you whiplash wasn't exactly what you had in mind!

But you couldn't lie, seeing Eddie with that Grin on his face, cackling to the point where several people were onlooking with deep concern, was truly all it took to make it worth it. At least he was enjoying himself.

"Ahaha! These Imbecilic fools are no match for my excellent driving skills!!"

"....Eddie, your license has been revoked on several different occasions...."

"Only because of the fact that the people of Gotham city can't handle my superiority, so they try to restrict me!"

You continued to be swung around like a rag doll for another thirty minutes until the staff had received enough complaints and forcefully removed the two of you from the park. Going as far as to Ban Edward for life as a precaution. He wasn't pleased about it, not at all.

A few days later, you'd walked into his lair and found him frantically constructing his own version of the bumper cars, specifically to use in one of his traps for the caped crusader. You noticed a man tied to a chair on the other side of the room, the same man that had thrown you both out and banned him.

"Eddie...? Why exactly do you have that guy tied up?"

"It's very simple, I needed a guinea pig to test out my latest project!"

You knew that it was better to pick and choose your battles with Edward, so while you did feel sorry for the poor amusement park worker, it was late and you didn't want to argue over it, so you just went back to bed.

Telltale.

Edward had been on the fence about whether he actually wanted to join you on your trip to the amusement park. He wasn't exactly a young fellow anymore, so walking around all day didn't sound too pleasant. However, he did suppose that he should spend some time with you doing something that you wanted since you've been such a good assistant when it came to his plans.

So despite this being meant as a sort of reward for you, he didn't miss a single opportunity to complain about his joint pain and about how hot out it was, as if he hadn't willingly chosen to wear an outfit with a lot of layers. Luckily, though you didn't mind, you were used to Edward's complaints and were just glad that he was spending time with you.

Much to both your and his own surprise, he genuinely enjoyed the log flume of all rides, He could sit down and relax, and occasionally being splashed by the water made the heat slightly more bearable. He ended up going on that same ride a few times in a row before the two of you decided to take a small break on a bench nearby.

"So um... Thank you so much, Edward. I honestly didn't think that you'd even want to come here with me..."

".... I didn't originally intend to. However, I decided that you deserved a bit of my presence... as a reward for your recent work...."

You leaned against his shoulder, which seemed to throw him off slightly, before he quickly regained his composure and chuckled at the sight. He threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you to lean in a bit closer before pressing a quick kiss onto your forehead.

2022 Batman.

Edward could hardly believe it when you told him that you wanted to take him out on a date to an amusement park. He'd never been to one before, so he was extremely excited! Not only because of the fact that he always wanted to do things like this as a child but couldn't, but because he'd be doing it with you, it'd be an actual date!

He was originally fairly nervous about the idea of how some of the rides would be, but once you both got there, he found himself having quite a pleasant time! Until you got to the Rollercoasters, then it went from a pleasant time to an amazing time! You were both screaming quite loudly while on them, but it was different for both of you. Edward had this look in his eyes, a look of unbridled gleefulness. He looked ecstatic as you both rode the Rollercoaster. In fact, he insisted on riding it another ten times!

You couldn't help but wonder if the reason why he was enjoying it so much had anything to do with the adrenaline his brain was producing as a result? Perhaps it was giving him a feeling that was somewhat similar to how his actions as the riddler made him feel? There was no way to be sure. He was overjoyed as you both got off the ride again. Unfortunately, you had to run over to the nearest trash can, feeling horribly queasy after being forced to endure a rollercoaster eleven times in a row. Edward looked extremely concerned as he approached you and started rubbing your back, attempting to help you through your nausea.

"A-are you alright, my dear? W-was that too many times? I'm so sorry if I overdid it...."

"...It's fine, Eddie. I'm just happy to see that you're enjoying yourself.... but yeah, after the seventh time, it might have been a bit much...."

Zero Year.

You were extremely skeptical and a bit cautious of wherever Edward was dragging you off to, He hadn't seemed all that interested in the amusement park a few minutes ago... what could he have possibly seen or stumbled upon to suddenly shift his mood so drastically?

You were even more confused when he stopped in front of a currently shut down maze of mirrors. You felt chills run down your spine as you glanced over at him to question what exactly he was planning, only to see that mischievous look in his eyes... whatever it was wasn't good if he had that look in his eyes, you could at least say that for certain.

He wandered inside, and you followed behind him. Just what was he planning? After walking for a few minutes, you started to grow frustrated. Perhaps he simply did this to annoy and inconvenience you. You turned around to say something but stopped dead in your tracks as you saw him unbuttoning his suit jacket before tossing it on the ground.

"E-Edward? W-what on earth are you doing?!"

He slowly stepped closer to you, a sly grin plastered on his face as he leaned in closer to you.

"Oh, come on.... there's no one around, and I'd truly be a fool not to take advantage of all of these... mirrors, wouldn't I, my dear?"

"Excuse me?! I bring you to an amusement park, and your first idea is to have sex in a shutdown maze of mirrors?!"

He disregarded his shirt on top of his suit jacket before moving on to unbuckle his belt. His breath drifted across your ear as he lowered his voice to sultry whisper.

"Precisely.... Don't lie to me and say that you aren't the least bit aroused by the idea...?"

The bad thing is that he wasn't wrong.... and that bothered you more than anything else.

Unfortunately, the two of you ended up being banned for life once a worker who was cleaning up the area stumbled upon you two in the throes of passion. Edward seemed unbearably smug, though. Even as you were both thrown out.

Young Justice.

Edward was overjoyed by your invitation to go to the amusement park together, it would be your and his first ever official date, and he was confident that it would be perfect... alright, maybe not fully confident, somewhat confident... he wasn't actually confident, that was a lie, he was deeply worried about something screwing up the entire date.

So he kept his eyes open, watching the area with a keen eye, he'd let this date be ruined over his dead body! As the date contained on there seemingly wasn't any major issues... Until he realized that there was a tunnel of love here and that you really wanted to go on it with him.

He was ultimately unable to say no, so the two of you got on the ride, sat down in those stupid little boats, and started floating along the long, dimly lit corridor. Actually.... the atmosphere would be absolutely perfect for stealing a few kisses from you. Yes, it'd be perfect!

He put his previous concerns behind him as he grabbed you suddenly and slammed his lips against yours, an intense passion behind the kiss. It lasted a few seconds before he pulled away to catch his breath, only to then reconnect them again and again. It was everything he had hoped that it would be. However, then the ride stopped suddenly, and he was sent falling off the boat and into the water, soaking his clothes.

"Damn it!! C-can't those idiots run a ride correctly?!"

"Are you alright, Eddie? That was quite a sudden fall...."

You helped him back onto the boat, but now he felt that his pride was damaged slightly, so he just sat there and sulked in his drenched suit, his favorite suit!

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vagabond-umlaut · 7 months ago

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[11:56 AM]

summary: tokyo's sweltering noons, a rather sensual song and your just as silly dance moves—what a combination, suguru thinks, what a combination... tags: geto suguru x you; established relationship; suguru just loves you very very much; suggestive themes; implied sexual content; he lowkey (highkey) wants to eat you up (out); suguru and you are in your early twenties; mdni; 0.9k wc oneshot from series: to fall in love is to create a religion (that has a fallible god)

suguru sometimes doesn't know what to do with you.

it's nearly noon, the temperature's close to forty degree celsius, every single person in tokyo is getting boiled in their skin only because they exist and for no other fault of theirs—

and here you're dancing your heart away, speakers blaring music at a deafening volume while you dance around the living room, dressed in nothing more than a tank top and a pair of shorts.

the first thought in the man's mind is, aren't you feeling hot?

such sweltering noons make almost anyone into a lethargic, snoozing versions of themselves, too much lost to the heat to be able to do any other work but sleep; the keyword being the word 'almost'. you, pretty evidently, seem to be a delightful exception to the above observation made by the cult leader.

the second thought that occurs to the man, settling in his brain in the same instant, is: you certainly look very hot.

there's a voice in his thoughts that tells him it may be because of the song you've chosen. it's sensual, enough for one's blood to feel a tad warm in their veins, one's spine to throb a touch, a fluttery sensation making itself known in one's lower belly: eager for some action, for a resolution.

but had it been just the song, he reckons he would never have looked at you the way he's looking right now—many, many thanks to your oh so extensive repertoire of dance moves, none of which are silly, not in the slightest—

a bead of sweat rolls down the column of your neck.

the reason's you, the decision etches itself into suguru's mind, intent on never leaving its niche, the reason's you and solely you—

you and the way sweat clings to your skin; sunlight refracting off the tiny beads of them and giving you a sheen as you prance around the space. the way the clothes cling to your figure; the tank top, a bit too flimsy and the shorts, a bit too tiny in suguru's eyes but he finds it an awful lot hard to dislike them, especially not when they aren't making anything of you discreet before him. the way your body moves to the beat of the music; the movements, jerky, yes but he finds himself so entranced anyway, gaze roaming over the movements of your hands and legs before it gets fixated on the swaying of your hips, perhaps a little faster than the pace of the song but just perfect for suguru and his thoughts and his—

what steals the show for the man however, is what he sees when you whirl abruptly. and his eyes meet your engrossed face, eyes shut and lips parting a touch now and then to mouth along to the song's lyrics, before they shift into a pleased little smile within the next moment, a hint of a tongue sometimes peeking out to lick the pink flesh suguru has often had fantasies of sinking his teeth into—in the dark hours of the night as well as in the lit hours of the day, like now—

the cult leader was originally here to collect few documents he forgot to take along with him in his hurry to drop mimi-nana at the monkey-infested school you insist too much on sending them to, realising his mistake only when he was already at the cult headquarters, sitting at the second of the ten meetings scheduled for the day, barely an hour and a quarter in hand until the meeting requiring those papers.

fifty five minutes, he corrects, checking his watch once before lifting his gaze to your figure now leaning against the table, cute little pants and huffs leaving you as you sip greedily from a bottle.

plucking his phone out, suguru starts typing in a reply to his assistant asking him when he'll be back, telling her it'll take him fifteen minutes or so—only for his fingers to pause when a loud crash reaches him.

you're gaping at him.

the water bottle's on the ground, and you're gaping at him. eyes in the shape of the full moon, your lips parted a smidge with a drop of water dangling precariously from the lower one—it takes you but a moment before your wide gaze skitters away from him perched on his rainbow dragon, stationed oh so conveniently outside the living room window, to the speakers standing innocently on the showcase, then darting to your clothes—those same clothes which are hugging your form so so deliciously... the man thinks, nails leaving deep crescents in his palms as he subtly shifts in his seat—

suguru smiles.

and you, all but yelping, dash into the interior of the house—features, the curse user knows, doubtlessly burning hotter than the sun's core.

you look so fucking adorable—so adorably fuckable—when you're shy.

backspacing the text and sending his assistant another message, he sets his phone to 'do not disturb'. an amused chuckle escaping when the man detects your cursed energy in the far end of the flat, in your shared bedroom—precisely where he wants you to be, suguru thinks with a grin, as he further opens the window and jumps into the living room.

quite some distance away in the cult headquarters, manami, miguel and larue share a tired look amongst themselves, before reading the text on manami's phone again:

please cancel all my meetings for today, and pick my daughters from their school at sharp 1. let them stay in my office. i've got few matters to attend to at home. i'll pick them up in the evening :)

mimi-nana are so confused when neither suguru nor you come to pick them up from school; EVEN MORE CONFUSED when their father comes to pick them up from the cult headquarters very close to dinner time and they return home to find you walking somewhat weirdly, your neck covered in SOOO MANYYY bite marks—

adults are very weird, the girls decide, when they ask their mama what bit her and she chokes on the soup, all the while their papa bursts into loud fits of laughter—but none of them answer their question—trying to divert their attention via talks of their school instead.

yeah, very weird and very very confusing, mimiko and nanako think, frowning at each other across the table.

#geto x you #geto x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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scholarlystarker · 2 months ago

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Untitled Starker fic featuring appearance by Deadpool

Rating: Mature for language and content, rating will go up as the fic continues. Pairing: Tony x Peter (aged up, College student!Peter) Words: 2036 ***

Apparently, it was just going to be that kind of night.

“This is… humiliating,” Peter whined, his face red hot below the mask. He tipped his head back as far as it could go within the tube created by his own webbing and felt the back of it hit metal. “Ow.”

“Hey don’t even talk to me about humiliation until you’ve been buck ass in Shanghai with at least two grams of— you know what? Story for another time. Where do those Avenger buddies of your stand on extradition bee-tee-dubs? No reason.” Deadpool was animated as ever despite all of his limbs being bound just as tightly as Peter’s currently were. He swiveled his head left and right. “How flame resistant are you? I might have something up my sleeve that could help us out.”

Peter fought back the urge to headbutt his companion just for a moment’s silence so he could think. He wasn’t wearing the fully upgraded suit tonight because the latest edition was back at the lab where he and Tony had been tinkering.

It hadn’t really needed that holographic field display upgrade but Peter had a running fear that if he ran out of Spidey suits or other projects to throw at Stark, he might somehow lose the older man’s interest.Tony Stark’s attention span was notoriously limited, after all. It had been six whole years now since they started working together, off and on. Peter was no longer the impressive teenage whiz kid.

Which was good, in a way, because he’d long ago lost that frazzled, starstruck feeling (most of it) and even made friends with most of the team. There was a standing invite for him to be an Avenger (whatever that meant these days) once he was done with college. He’d been on multiple missions, including off world, and Nick Fury once gave him a backhanded compliment that was very close to praise itself. There were contacts in Peter’s phone for Sam, Pepper, Clint, Bruce, and even Tony Stark, himself. Not that all of them would answer if he called or texted about anything more casual than a terrorist attack. Still, it was a pretty impressive roster for a broke-ass kid from Queens.

Of course, at the moment Peter’s phone was useless to him since it was back home in a dorm with the rest of his secretly real identity. But he could ask Karen to put out some discreet feelers. There was likely an Avenger nearby who could swoop in for a second and cut through the worst of it.

Peter wiggled again, his lower back suddenly itchy. “I don’t even know how you managed this one, man…” He sighed.

Deadpool wiggled back, the roll of his hips feeling deliberately suggestive. “I just wanna be close to you, Spidey-buddy… in a ‘why do birds suddenly appear’ kinda way, ya know? Quality time?”

Peter scoffed, letting his eye roll reflect on the mask. “I meant literally how. I had this whole thing set up to catch the guy who has been doing fire escape break ins. And then you… and now this.” He tried one more time to press out against the binding but his own work held too strong, which he accepted with a mixture of pride and disappointment. “So now I’m gonna have to call for help like the… like someone who needs help. Which I don’t. Not usually. And then he’s gonna know I couldn’t. Ugh.”

“He?” Deadpool cocked his head to one side.

Ignoring the question, Peter muttered some general non-urgent distress keywords for Karen, hoping against hope that maybe Sam or Rhodey was nearby. Hell, he’d take Natasha seeing him like this over…

“Holy shit it's Iron Man!” Deadpool practically vibrated against him in his excitement.

“Fuck,” Peter muttered, his stomach full of lead.

Iron Man hovered beside the fire escape where Spider-Man and Deadpool were lashed together by a veritable cocoon of webbing.

“Do I want to know?” Tony asked, a hint of amusement obvious even over coms.

Deadpool had no problem jumping in. “Oh you know, just blowing off some steam. Two guys in our tight lil super suits having a lil web-filled fun!”

“I was not having fun, Sir.” Peter interrupted, the embarrassment sinking into his bones as he felt like a schoolboy at the principal’s office.

Six years of teamwork and lab time, late nights hunched over screens together, eating cold pizza as they vollied ideas the way some folks play table tennis, and Peter still couldn’t get a handle on it. This rush of feeling he got when Tony was around, the deep rooted desire to prove himself worthy of that great esteem. The fear that Tony’s favor had somehow been wrongfully bestowed and one wrong move would be all it took for the genius to finally figure that out.

Everyone seemed to think that Peter put Tony Stark on a pedestal, all heart eyes and hero worship. While he couldn’t deny the heart eyes — seriously who wouldn’t have them around Tony??— Peter actually knew perfectly well that Tony was a flawed and fallible human. He liked the man so, so much more than the Iron. Or the Stark, for that matter.

What no one seemed to see, save maybe Bruce (who saw much but said little) was the slippery edge of Peter’s very own pedestal. The one where he toed the line of independent adulthood versus a mentee who still desperately needed his mentor’s guidance and approval. Spider-Man or just… Kid.

And sometimes he wasn’t sure which would be worse.

Iron Man separated Deadpool and Peter’s bound bodies from the fire escape and carried them up to the roof where there was more space to stand.

Meanwhile Deadpool was fussing at Peter. “Tattletale. I know you didn’t mind it that much. Totally felt you getting a lil chub earlier, Spidey. Don’t lie.” He rolled his hips again for emphasis.

Peter, being a young man with heightened senses, could feel his body wanting to react to the stimulation and there was an unintentional note of stress in his voice as he called out; “Mr. Stark, please hurry?”

As Stark silently sawed through the webbing, both of the other men held still. But that did not stop Deadpool from running his notorious mouth.

“Okay wait. You call your coworker mister? Or is it more than that? Is this, like, a kink thing? What did I get in the middle of and how do I get into the middle of you two specifically?” Deadpool turned to look at Iron Man as the webbing finally fell away.

In response, Tony seized Deadpool by the throat, lifting him off his feet like a rag doll and proceeded to dangle him over the edge of the forty floor building.

Deadpool gagged and struggled, holding onto Stark’s metal arm with both hands so he could breathe.

“Shit okay. I get it. No more web pranks. Lesson learned. Coulda just spanked me or something. At least made it fun!”

Stark’s hand tightened slightly and he shook Deadpool bodily as Peter ran toward them both with hands out in a placating gesture.

“Mr…. Tony! It’s okay. He’s not that bad. Really.”

Stark’s voice was difficult to read this time, devoid of amusement but not exactly angry. It was almost colder than anger, precise and clipped. “He’s a vigilante and a predator. Not really a hardship, here. I heard he doesn’t die but this might put him outta commission for a bit.”

Deadpool made a sort of noncommittal sound, swinging his legs. “Hey. Hey now Look vigilante I'll take because it sounds cool. But predator? Pfffbbt. Hardly. Spidey here is a friend. A pal. Maybe with benefits if I get my way, sure! But I’ve never. Y’know.”

“I’ve seen the footage, Deadpool. You cornering him. Rubbing up against him. And tonight’s stunt? No. You need to learn some fucking manners. Boundaries.”

Footage? Peter paused, his mouth falling open. Hadn’t they turned off all of the cams except in case of emergency?

“Wow. Boundaries. Iron Man in therapy or what?” Deadpool shot back, he gave Tony a long flat look. “Cause I don’t think it’s working.”

Taking a step sideways, Peter put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. On Iron Man’s shoulder. “Tony. Put him down. I can handle it from here.”

Deadpool looked down, his mask seeming to grimace. “You know, it’s not the fall that kills you. It’s the splatting organs all over the ground. Which won’t kill me either. Probably. But it will hurt like a bitch. So, I’d really appreciate it if you listen to the Spider?”

Tony’s head turned and Peter wished they could look at one another eye to eye but it wasn’t worth risking his identity. After another silence, Deadpool was hauled back in and dropped unceremoniously onto the rooftop. He scrambled to his feet, brushing dust from his suit and complaining under his breath about bruises that were not ‘earned either of the fun ways.’

Iron Man was aloft once more, staring down at Peter in a way that implied he had more to say but he glanced at Deadpool and took off.

Deadpool made a rude noise and flipped the bird at Tony’s receding back. “Y’know Spidey you coulda saved a guy a lotta trouble if just mentioned that your boyfriend was A. Iron Man and B. The Most Possessive Guy Ever. And maybe C. Goddamn Fucking Iron Man?!?”

Peter shook his head, cleaning up the webbing and dissolving it neatly now that he could access his tools. “Not my boyfriend.” He straightened and looked at Deadpool. “Which is not an invitation for you to keep dry humping me by the way. He was right about the boundaries thing. I mean. Don’t most people at least start with dinner and a movie or something?”

Deadpool touched his forefinger to approximately his mouth area. “Yeah I’m not gonna risk asking out Iron Man’s boyfriend.” He put his hand up, palm out to pause Peter’s reply. “Call it whatever you want but I’ve been dangled over a few roofs before and that guy was seriously considering dropping me.”

“He doesn’t see me like that,” Peter insisted, stubbornly pushing down that childish bubble of hope that arose whenever someone made this mistake.

It had happened a few times in the last few years; people suggesting their relationship might be… more. Especially now that Peter was starting to look a bit less like a fresh faced kid, had the shoulders to fill out a real tailored suit. And yeah, he and Tony had their silly inside jokes, their movie nights (no longer weekly but at least once a month) and sometimes traveled to scientific conferences together.

But Tony had been single since he and Pepper called it a final quits about a year and a half ago and he never once made a move. Peter was around more than probably any of the Avengers, since he’d stayed local for college. He spent enough nights at Stark Towers to have his own room, with changes of socks, underwear, and gym clothes. If Tony was going to hit on him, surely he’d have done it any of the countless nights they’d spent falling asleep on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn between them. Or over those sleepy mornings when everyone else was out and Peter and Tony sipped coffee at the breakfast island in comfortable silence.

Just picturing it now made Peter ache a little inside. It was a foolish kind of self inflicted torture, really, to keep letting himself fall into moments of quiet domesticity with the man he… was very much not dating.

Taking a full, deep breath and exhaling it slowly, Peter sat down on the ledge of the rooftop. “I need to go. You owe me some bad guys for making me miss the break-ins tonight.”

“Oh them? Please. I know where they fence the stuff. I’ll have ‘em tied up in a pretty lil bow for ya by the end of the week. So long as you tell your…Iron Man to lay off me?”

Peter nodded, absentmindedly. “Deal.” He shot his web and took off in the direction of Stark Tower.

#starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #peter x tony #iron spider ship #nff #don't like don't read #starker fandom #starker fanfiction #ironspider ship #aged up peter parker #not beta read #my fic #my starker fic #tnpt #ironspider

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theshitpostcalligrapher · 11 months ago

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OPENASKBOX TIME HERE ARE THE GROUND RULES

1) Funny- the request needs to be humorous, memes usually the most popular but dnd in jokes and other shitpostery is welcome. i abide by the MBMBAM NO BUMMERS rule - there are plenty of sad/deep/beautiful calligraphers out there who’d be happy to work with yall, but this isn’t that sort of channel

2) Length - aim for no more than 75 characters a request, my cue cards are only so big so I can only fit so much on each one and still not look like garbage. There is a little leeway but if you send me smth with like 120 characters it aint getting written

3) Amount of Requests - I am trying to be fair but i am one person running almost the ENTIRE thing, logistics, tech, etc, I have twitch mods and a roommate for retrieving things and that's it. In order to be fair, please restrict yourselves to 3 requests per person to let everyone have a shot, if you send in more i will ctrl-f your username and pick my favourites

4) Content - I will not do anything I consider under the umbrella of general assholery - this includes racial slurs, edgelord bullshit, exclusionist jackassery etc. Please be kind to each other. Please let me know if I’ve taken a request that is some incredibly obscure piece of assholery, someone once tried to slip a really obscure antisemetic piece of slang by me once

5) Repeats - I keyword tag EVERY SINGLE piece i’ve ever done on this blog, if you think I might have written smth already but aren’t sure, the /search/[keyword] is your friend, check if i’ve done your request before

the proper inbox is theshitpostcalligrapher.tumblr.com/ask , not a dm or submission to the blog. I’ll close submissions too so people don’t get the boxes confused. DM me for any actual clarifications, kind words, etc so they don’t get swallowed up by the behemoth of my askbox for months, but I will probably NOT see my tumblr dms until the event is OVER. If you need to flag me down RIGHT AWAY you're GOING to have to go over to twitch chat ask there.

the BEST CHANCE of getting it written live today is to send in your requests with 3 different asks within the first hour or so of the stream going live. after the first hour, it's not gonna matter if it's in one or three asks cuz I'll be scheduling them out in advance and everything that follows the rules above will get written eventually

If you want to jump the ENTIRE queue and get your card done immediately, there are ways to donate on the twitch stream to get your request done with an ink of your choice. You can still submit 3 free requests in addition to what you pay for.

I’ll be streaming the entire time the askbox is open on twitch @ miathecalligrapher, trying to get as many of these done today as possible live. Once 10PM EST hits, the askbox will close but if you get your request into the askbox by then, it will be done eventually as I always have 4 cards up per day.

Here’s the link to my twitch, we’ll start a little after 2 o’clock EST.

twitch_live

Here is a direct donation link to my streamlabs, it works like a ko-fi but I’ve got it set to give me alerts on my twitch so I can see and thank you straightaway for supporting my takeout order

If you would like to receive the card you buy/request for, physically in the mail, here is the shop link:

feel free to dm me first to discuss discounting if you'd like multiple of your cards in a bundle

if you subscribe to my channel on a regular basis, I'll keep your cards back and send them out periodically regardless

there'll be 2 donation goals - one as a forty dollar threshold for ordering food, and the other one will be set at $160 since that's ABOUT the equivalent of living wage for the amount of time I'll be streaming.

#calligraphy #twitch #openaskbox June 2024

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pissvortex · 1 year ago

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if i had to throw a mostly uneducated guess at how tumblr moderation works, it would be that individual reports are just scanned for keywords and if nothing is picked up it’s automatically declared fine. after that if a certain amount of reports on the same user / post are picked up within a certain timeframe, it’s probably noticed by an equally clueless contracted moderator who will give it a cursory glance, but is more likely to play it safe by banning a user. factors that i assume play into this decision are if they have had posts flagged for things like adult content, a process that would be most charitably interpreted as completely automated.

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mystsee · 2 years ago

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CLOSE TO ME ✦ KEEGAN RUSS

✦ about: you went to bother keegan to his room, like usual, yet things turn out differently this time ♡

✦ content: NSFW 18+, grinding, dry hump, masturbation, fluff, friends not so friends to lovers

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

it was a normal thursday, no missions to complete, everyone chilling around, meaning you could either read some new book about languages, or, bother a certain person.

you and keegan had been by now what you could say best friends, if that involves the intense sexual tension between you too, or the stares keegan gives you in the middle of a meeting, or all the touches he gives you every now and then.

he’s taken quite the liking to always settling you onto his lap when you’re close to him, and you don’t complain, it’s way more comfortable than the chair around base, it’s become normal between you and keegan to be like this.

his hands finding a comfortable spot around your waist whenever he strolls by. it’s like there's an invisible force pulling him to stand behind you, always ready to playfully tease you about something. your hair, unbelievably soft, becoming his go-to whenever he’s around you, just playing with it, his fingers making lazy curls or massaging your scalp when your working on something.

and you, you just loved being around him, hugging his arm whenever y’all are walking together, always teasingly touching his big biceps, you secretly adore them, or when he’s working, you put your arms around his neck to scare him even though he’s heard you even before you entered. the moment your arms are around him, he immediately pulls you to his lap again

“what the hell” you said pouting “it’s impossible to scare you” keegan just laughed “you’re forgetting i’m a soldier princess” oh yeah, every once in a while he calls you princess, making you feel all mushy inside.

typical best friend activities no?

another thing you’ve particularly taken a like in to, is going to his room when your bored, it’s just weird being without keegan around you, you’ve gotten used to it :( hence why you were manically running to his room now!

you and other guys, bored as well as you, were chilling in the common area when one mentioned drinks, and you couldn’t deny that, it was about time to relax a little! but that little moved to tipsy to almost drunk, and your drunk self was quite the talker, and touchy.

you knocked on keegan’s door, tried to, cause you were laughing your ass off, god knows about what, and your hand kept opening everytime you knocked, making you laugh even more. keegan could hear your laugh from a mile away, you did had a laugh quite loud, and he’s memorized your laugh on his heart, he just loves to hear it! somehow it physically relaxes him whenever he’s stressed or anxious:(

he could hear you coming closer to his room, he was used to you being in his room now, bothering him, laughing to himself when he heard your tries of knocking. he was dealing with some papers, yet didn’t mind having company, in fact he would never mind having you around.

he would never tell you, but he likes your company a lot, not because he likes you and is practically in love with you, but because you always manage to get a smile out of him.

when he opened the door, you were laying on it with a big smile on your face, still trying to knock, but vanished as soon as he opened the door, the alcohol made your senses a bit lost so you never heard his footsteps approaching, making you almost fall over to the floor, keyword almost, because keegan in an instant had his arms around you, one hand on your waist, the other on your neck, his strong hands on you, on your waist.

you flushed.

out of instinct you put your hands close to his chest, your eyes all over the place, a bit dizzy you could say. keegan’s laughter bubbled up from deep within him. the memory of your not-so-graceful entrance lingered in his mind, causing his laughter to intensify.

you, with a playful pout on your face, attempted to throw a small punch at him, but the lingering effects of alcohol made your coordination comically off-kilter.

"stop laughing" you insisted, your voice carrying a mix of annoyance and amusement. however, keegan only responded by drawing you even closer, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace. his laughter subsided into a gentle chuckle as he looked down at you, a glint of affection in his eyes.

as he held you snugly against him, knowing how flushed you get whenever he holds you close, he murmured, "what are you doing here?"

you leaned back slightly, breaking the embrace but maintaining the proximity “i was bored” you admitted, a mischievous glint in your eyes. keegan sighed in mock exasperation, but it was clear he was used to your antics. your presence was a constant in his life, a playful disruption that he had grown accustomed to.

he always focused on whatever work was in front of him, but you, true to form, persisted in teasing him. your hands always finding their way to his biceps, keegan loves having your hands around him, a teasing grin on your face. "seriously, keegan, do you even lift?" you teased, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles.

keegan, grateful for the mask he usually wore, managed a nervous laugh, the heat rising to his cheeks betraying his stoic facade.

you were always saying stuff like that to him, not realizing the impact you were having on him.

the banter continued almost everyday, you’ve grown used to tease him 24/7. keegan, despite his attempts to maintain a serious facade, couldn't help but be grateful for the routine, for the playful chaos you brought into his life. even when he was on his lowest, you were there, trying to cheer him up.

keegan playfully rolled his eyes at your teasing, a mixture of amusement and exasperation evident in his expression. without missing a beat, he gently nudged you inside his room, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. laughing, he dragged you over to the cozy sofa, urging you to sit.

you tried to stand, expressing your reluctance to settle down, but keegan persisted, giving you a mock stern look before gently pushing you back onto the cushions. "just stay put for a moment" he insisted, a playful smile on his lips.

you pouted, protesting his efforts, but eventually accepted, watching as keegan headed toward the kitchen with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "fine, but make it quick" you called after him.

by the time keegan was back, you were dead asleep on his couch, curled up on yourself, your head about to fall over the head ready you had your arm on. keegan stopped for a second, just admiring you, laying peacefully on his couch, your face looked almost smiley, like you were dreaming already.

little did he know you were dreaming about him. keegan’s strong arms cradle you with a tenderness that speaks volumes as he carries you to the bed. the warmth of his embrace feels like a sanctuary, and with a gentle touch, he lays you down softly.

yet, in your subconscious state, your hand instinctively reaches for his arm, unintentionally tugging him closer. you made a small whine, making keegan freeze, his mind going south, not the first time though.

now close to your face, he sees your wholesome sleeping face. he wishes he could see this side of you more often.

he slowly detached himself from you, deciding to finish his work, feeling warm inside knowing you are sleeping here, on his bed, clutching his pillow close to your chest.

as keegan finished his work, he thought maybe you would wake up, but it never happened, in fact, you started snoring a little, almost falling off the bed.

he was having a battle in his head, i mean, you’ve slept on his bed before, even him next to you, woke up all cuddled up yet never said anything about it, but this time was different, you were drunk.

he decided he would sleep on the couch.

you woke up later, looking over to the clock, you saw it was barely 2 am, keegan should be by now in bed you thought. his absence prompted you a furrowed brow. absently, you reached out to touch the vacant space, almost expecting his reassuring presence. it had become a comforting routine for him to share the bed with you, and him not being here felt odd.

meanwhile, on the couch, keegan was teetering on the edge of a deep slumber. his peace was interrupted by the gentle prodding of your hand on his arm. slowly opening his eyes, he found you on your knees next to the couch. with a slight pout, questioning why he had chosen the couch over the bed.

in a deep, sleepy voice, keegan mumbled an explanation, “didn’t want to wake you” expressing his reluctance to disturb your sleep. not easily dissuaded, you decided to take matters into your own hands, or rather, hand.

amusement twinkled in keegan’s eyes as he saw your attempts to pull him from the couch onto the bed. despite your tough efforts, you couldn't quite manage, resulting in him once again laughing at you.

you insisted that the couch wasn't the most comfortable spot for him. keegan, still amused, shook his head and rose from the couch. with a gentle tug, he brought you along, leading you back to the bed.

keegan settled on his side of the bed, half-expecting you to join him as usual. however, a detail slipped his mind:

your tendency to become exceptionally clingy when under the influence.

as soon as you touched the bed, your instincts kicked in, and you shuffled closer to him, wrapping your arms around his chest and draping a leg over his waist.

keegan, caught off guard, remained frozen in place. he had witnessed your inebriated affections in public, where you clung to his arm or chest, but being on his bed added a new layer of intimacy.

despite the surprise, a secret warmth stirred within him. keegan gently tugged you even nearer, savoring the feeling of your presence. the vulnerability of the moment, your unfiltered expression of affection, resonated with him on a deeper level.

you two slept like babies almost all night, yet your subconscious betrayed you, you’ve come with terms with yourself that you do in fact have a crush on him, your fingers witnesses of that, yet you hope he doesn’t know.

perhaps you’ve been more preoccupied with him not knowing you’ve never realized all the signs he’s given you (literally cuddling like a married couple)

and today was the day your mind decided to have a dream about keegan, it��s not very usual you dream about him, yet everytime it happens it ends up with you crazily horny for him.

in your dream, keegan was passionately fucking you in the shower, whispering sweet words to you, telling you how much he’s missed you, and you, you were moaning in your dream, as well as in real life!

over the night you moved to your side of the bed, keegan going along with you, now spooning you, meaning he felt all your subtle movements.

it was close to 6, his body clock waking him up already, but not wanting to disturb your sleep he decided to stay with you.

yet he wasn’t expecting this. you, almost humping to his now fully erect cock, and, moaning his name, it was almost a whisper, but it was so silent outside keegan heard it. with a small groan, he was praying to god to not cum on the spot.

keegan thought all your actions were friendly like, believing he’d be on the friendzone forever with you, but this, this talked a lot, this changed everything. keegan tightened his arms around you, moving one hand close to your waist, he didn’t want to take advantage of you, but all this months of physically restraining himself to pull you closer to him and kiss you, were hard.

he just couldn’t handle it anymore, he had your cunt directly on his cock, feeling all your warmth on him, with another small groan, he made a small movement, grinding his cock on your cunt, yet he was so hard right now this was more than enough.

it almost seemed that when he started doing that, you also felt in your dream, moaning his name a bit louder now, your hips moving on their own, now grinding on his cock too.

“fuck princess” he said with hard deep breaths, his hold on you tightening. that’s when you woke up, in a daze after almost cumming on your dream, what you didn’t expect was movement behind you! you forgot you were with keegan.

keegan felt when you woke up, halting all his motions “fuck, i’m so sorry” you heard his voice close to your neck, making you blush “i-i didn’t mean t-“ you moved your hand closer to the one that was on your waist “i- it’s okay” you said in a small voice, you weren’t sure if what you were about to do right now was good or not, but what you did know is that you wanted him, all of him.

you could feel his cock, behind you, hard as hell, literally containing himself to hump you like a dog.

“what are yo-you doing” you could hear his desperate breaths next to you. you were not thinking straight when you started grinding your cunt over his cock, arching your back more, but keegan stopped you, erupting a small whine out of you “princess are you sure?”

“i want you keegan”

keegan felt all his composure leave the room, dropping his head to your shoulders, laying a small kiss there “you’ll be the death of m-“ his words vanished as soon as you grinded again against his cock, making him moan.

“fucking hell” you could feel keegan’s hips grinding on you as well, harder now “feels so good princess” his cock was painfully hard by now, his head swiveling feeling all the pleasure “touch me keegan, please” and who was he to deny that?

you felt his right hand move on top of your leggings, edging closer to your cunt, but you were desperate, you grabbed his hand and dragged it inside your leggings, right on top of your cunt, a big moan erupting out of you, you were so aroused that just his hand cupping your cunt made you see stars.

keegan on the other hand was in awe, feeling your warmth on his hand, wet cunt ruining your panties, feeling it all slick. you were needy as hell, and he could see that, so not waisting a second, keegan moved your leggings and panties down to your ankles, opening your right thigh over his leg, spreading you open for him.

from where he was, he could see part of your cunt, your puffy clit catching his attention. keegan’s hand went straight to it, spreading your lips open, dragging his fingers up and down, until they reached your clit, rubbing it slowly in small circles, erupting goosebumps on your skin from the pleasure.

keegan moved his left hand up, near your breasts, moving your shirt and sports bra up, giving him the most beautiful view of your breasts, perky nipples waiting for his hands. his left hand went to your nipple, pinching it and holding it.

keegan’s thigh kept nudging your legs open even more, making almost fully lay on top of him now, he had one goal in mind, make you cum on his fingers, and he was close to it.

he was now rubbing your clit faster now, his hand almost fully touching all your cunt, doubling the pleasure. his left hand playing your breasts and nipples, you grinding your hips on his hand.

keegan slapped your cunt a few times, your body shaking now from the pleasure.

“that’s a good girl, you like my fingers huh?” his deep voice said behind you “yes, yes, yes” you said breathlessly “don’t stop keegan” your whiny voice begged. and he wasn’t going to, in fact, his middle and ring finger entered you in a second, making you moan loud, he started pumping his fingers in and out in such a pace that you were trying to curl up on yourself, giving him a full view of your bum now, his hand in between your thighs, and your breasts now pushed up to your left side.

he absolutely adored this view, yet he was so focused on your pleasure he didn’t see his sweats stained with precum, he was grinding on your bare bum,

but with his sweats on! was he crazy?

he could feel you now, and he wasn’t going to let that opportunity pass.

his left arm moved his sweats and boxers down to his ankles as well, his cock now free of his confines, hitting your bum, just feeling the skin of it made keegan moan, his fingers were still moving in and out of you, and you, were still a moaning mess beside him.

keegan needed to feel you, he just couldn’t wait

he slid his fingers out of you, making you whine, keegan opened your thighs again, your right thigh going on top of his hip, fully open to him now, making his cock rest right on top of your cunt.

“fucking hell, what a fucking view” his voice was so deep now, and you, you couldn’t speak, you needed him again. keegan surprised you by grinding his cock against your folds, his tip touching your clit, making you try to close your legs, but keegan’s arms were strong, effectively keeping them open.

he could see his cock grinding all over your cunt, all the sounds your cunt made were heaven for him, your clit moving every time he slid his tip over it.

he started grinding so good on your cunt your orgasm was approaching quick now, his left hand squeezing your breasts and nipples, it was all so so good.

keegan on the other hand, was humping you like a dog, your cunt felt so good on his cock, his balls grinding against your bum, it was all so much for him too.

“put in inside” your whiny voice begged but keegan denied it “nuh uh princess” you could feel his voice strained “that’s for another time, yeah?” you pouted, moving your neck to look at him “but i want to feel you keegs”

a loud moan erupted from him, you begging for his cock to be inside you was a lot for him, plus the nickname, he was sure he was going to cum any minute now

“come on princess, don’t want me to worship this cute little cunt of yours like you deserve? make love to you?” a moan following after his confession “wanna hear you moan my name like you did earlier baby” “you heard me?” you said it moaning all the words, his cock kept grinding on all the right places in your cunt, your orgasm closer than ever.

“fuck yeah i did, and it was the hottest thing ever” both of his hands were now on your breasts, pinching your nipples “you’re mine baby” he was panting now “yes, yes, keegan, please, i want to be yours” your face was so close to him now, his eyes not leaving your lips.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded thinking he would kiss you right there, but he manhandled you so now you were straddling him, your face right on top of his, his hands on your bum, sliding you up and down his cock. his right hand held your head and moved you closer to his lips.

when your lips met, it was more than just a kiss; it was a symphony of emotions. the warmth of affection, the tenderness of love, and the magnetic pull of desire all converged in that single moment.

as the connection deepened, keegan, sensing the intensity of the shared emotion, couldn't help but draw you even closer.

the kiss was enough for him to feel his orgasm close, his balls heavy with his cum, and his tip red as hell. you, you were close too, moaning loud, your cunt wetter than ever. “will you be mine?” keegan said in between kisses, both of you close to your orgasm “i was already yours keegs” and it was true.

it wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment thing; it was true from the start. keegan was always there for you, like a shield, protecting you from everything. he loved you silently, not always in obvious ways, but in the little moments when he stood by you, making sure you felt safe and cared for.

“say that again princess” “i’m yours keegan” that was all he needed for him to cum, hard, loosing his sight for a second. he tightened his hold on your waist even harder now, and you, you could feel his cock, thick ropes of cum now out of him, in between you and him, his balls clenching everytime he came, making you cum as well.

it was such a view, to see him cum under you, just by dragging his cock in between your cunt, and you couldn’t deny that hearing his small whimpers when he came made you feel even more pleasure.

your hands were on his shoulders, holding onto dear life, your cum all over his cock.

this was probably the best orgasm you’ve ever felt.

you slowly regained consciousness, small ragged breaths in and out of you, feeling keegan hold you softly now, his right hand moving up to your scalp, slowly massaging it.

inthis moment, you felt a profound sense of contentment. never expecting the night to end up like this. moving closer to his face, you could see the love evident in his eyes, his flushed expression revealing the depth of his emotions.

unable to resist expressing your affection, you said "you look so cute right now." keegan, with a faint frown, seemed surprised by the adjective. the idea of being called "cute" appeared to clash with his soldier persona. you couldn't help but laugh, finding joy in the unexpected reaction, before sealing the moment with a kiss.

the initial disbelief transformed into a shared connection as keegan reciprocated the kiss almost instantly. even though you didn’t want to leave his hold, you really needed to clean up “we need to shower keegan” but keegan just shaked his head, pulling you closer to his chest

“let’s just stay here for a while yeah?” “but just a little, cause we actually stink in here” he just shut you up with a kiss again,

loving the fact that he could kiss you now whenever he wanted ♡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

hi hi hiiiiiiiii, idk why but i believe i made the dialogues a bit cheesy idkkkk,

but anyways, i just love the best friend in love trope, i went through that one time and that was the most intense luv i’ve ever felt xd

anywaysss, hope u liked this! mwuah

#keegan russ fic #keegan russ fluff #keegan smut #keegan russ smut #keegan x reader #call of duty keegan #cod keegan #keegan russ #keegan p russ #keegan russ x you #keegan russ x fic #keegan smut fic #cod #cod fic #cod ghosts #cod smut

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sweetestbasil · 1 year ago

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RUBATOSIS || chapter one: self digestion

PAIRING : Dr.Gaul's Assistant!Coriolanus Snow x Experiment!Reader-Insert ( afab, they / them, sometimes it )

RATING : 18+ ( no smut in this chapter, but it's very unsettling )

WORD COUNT : 13, 776

WARNINGS : infidelity ( coryo's engaged to livia ), power imbalance, unreliable narrator ( it's 3rd POV but focuses on coryo's view ), unhealthy dynamics, dehumanizing language, medical experimentation, body examination that has... strange vibes, body horror-esque, coryo and gaul are messed up in this fic, he's more like his book version than movie

SUMMARY : 🙶 rubatosis - noun. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat 🙷

Fortune, marriage, and success - all within the hands of Coriolanus Snow, and it still isn’t enough to satisfy him. Tigris has grown distant and Livia is far more trouble than it's worth.

Dr. Gaul has just the solution for him.

A/N : This is my first time posting my fanfic work on tumblr, so I hope everyone has fun reading this. If there are any mistakes, lemme know. This is the first of five chapters!

[ If you want to read it on AO3 instead ]

self digestion || autolysis - stage one of decomposition

Oh, he hated this.

He absolutely despised this.

A click of the soles, stepping against the freshly clean sidewalk, rid of any possible careless litter and debris. Had it not been for others who, too, were using the same path, even if they were going in opposite directions, had he half a mind, Coriolanus would have taken the moment to prop himself against a wall and let out the loudest sound of frustration. It wouldn’t be unwarranted, it wouldn’t be uncalled for. Dare he say, he almost feels he should be entitled to it. It had only been four days, but four days should have been enough time for Tigris to get back to him already. The correspondence was not even something of dire content, at least, Coriolanus imagined so. Questions of Grandma’am, if her time with Mrs. Plinth ( he was not going to refer to her as ‘Ma Plinth’ ) had been going well, how was the solo business venture regarding Tigris’s fashion going, was there any renovations that the home needed, how were they — things that he assumed, wrongly he guessed, that would be so simple to answer.

God forbid that he still had the decency to still check in with his family even after he long moved out into his own place.

If Tigris thought she could play him for a fool, she was the one in the wrong; the signs were as clear as can be, that Tigris was trying to ice him out as much as she could. And after all he’s worked hard for? Fixing the home up, making sure the fridge never stays empty, stabilizing the family. He’s even gotten engaged before Grandma’am could even croak, and is letting Tigris design his fiancé’s wedding gown! What else was he supposed to do to try and gain back her warmth? Dance and clap like a District to make himself seem smaller, more dumb, to please her? There was a lock to his jaw, a small grit in Coriolanus’s teeth, as he sipped down the coffee in his hand, the other in his coat pocket.

He didn’t even wish to broach the idea of his fiancé on his walk to the Citadel. The heavy breath, a sigh, that breached itself out his lips. A hand raised to rub a gloved thumb briefly at the bridge of his nose.

Ugh, Livia… It was a pain to even internally taste the words of her name on his tongue.

It was an arranged marriage of convenience that he sought after, an extra piggy bank that he could expend on; and how quickly the elder Cardews lapped up at his palm when he planted the idea of marrying their daughter. A man who was of the old guard elite families, an assistant of Dr. Gaul’s, inheritor of the Plinth’s fortune, a gamemaker in training? They were downright salivating, that he almost felt embarrassed for Livia having to witness her parents’ stripped to their barest of greeds. The keyword being almost. Coriolanus needed to play his cards right to ensure his future, it was only fair game. If that meant taking his chance with the Cardews’ and their banks, he’d be just the fool that Tigris would want him to be if he turned them away. But, he could reluctantly suppose that the arrangement could be considered an equal drain on both parties. He seized their assets and their daughter seized up his free time. How could he forget the fundraiser dinner that Livia had invited them both to later on in the evening? She was delightful enough to remind him of it while they shared breakfast together, between his bites of quiche so that he couldn’t show a hint of a frown.

Coriolanus sucked in a careful breath between his teeth.

If she could only put herself to better use than just the one redeeming quality of a socialite. There was a slim chance he may have miscalculated. Perhaps it would have been an easier time, having something set up with Clemensia, or Lysistrata.

“Mr. Snow! Good morning and welcome back, Dr. Gaul is already waiting for you in—“

“In Lab H05, got it! And a good morning to you, too.” He smiled back effortlessly to the front desk worker, giving them a wave and just the right, charming amount of teeth with the upwards pull of his mouth.

Entering into the Citadel and seeing the hive of workers shift from one place to another in constant movement; they all tried to keep their voices at a low volume, but there was a constant buzz in the air, as they went from one hall to the other. Coriolanus maneuvered himself around them, slipping his deep mahogany overcoat seamlessly folded across his forearm. Full-Grain leather gloves that kept him warm from the cold, taken off his hands and instead placed neatly into the pocket of his overcoat. What a marvel it would have been for his young, naïve self to bear witness the luxury of a full wardrobe he now had. Never again did he have to spend long nights studying for the Academy besides an equally tired Tigris, who busied herself with trimming down the sizes of his father’s discarded shirts to fit him for school the next day.

It was a muscle memory at this point, the path to one of the many labs that Dr. Gaul had established her practice in. She had told Coriolanus that she had a lab for each different study and project she was passionate towards, ones that were more… presentable, to the average Capital citizen, and ones that were more uncensored. Having worked for over a year under Dr. Gaul’s tutelage, Coriolanus had seen a decent amount, the clean and the vile, but even then, he knew very well he had not seen all. He wasn’t even sure if he did want to see all. Especially regarding what happened last time he wandered around the Citadel during Academy days. The doors to Lab H05 were wide open, Coriolanus noted, seeing it in his line of sight, getting closer and closer. It was inviting, telling any worker to come in and step in at any time ( should Dr. Gaul be around ).

The air here was entirely different from what it was in the hallway. Where the air from when he first entered had been warm, inviting from the nipping cold outside. The vague smell of coffee, and an even fainter scent of something chemical, had mingled and intertwined to give the vaguest illusion that the Citadel could pass for a workplace like any other. However, the lab was as if entering an entirely different building. The lights that shone uncomfortably glaring, fluorescent lights that were hung overhead, on the ceiling. There were small lights, embedded into the floors and columns as well, guiding the path to any who walked in. It drowned the large room in an almost blue light. Lab H05 was one of the “clean” labs. A sterile scent in the air, the chemicals that were so faint in the halls were far more prominent, evident here. But, to the trained nose, there was something faint here too. The rusted scent of iron tickled under Coriolanus’s nose, but it barely registered to him anymore as anything concerning. Seeing the endless shelves of… odd specimens, the scent of blood was the last thing that should ever scare him away.

“Dr. Gaul, good morning,” He kept a steady tone, not one that sounded tired, nor too joyous. Being seen as her “favorite” didn’t mean he could speak to her as casually as he pleased. It just meant that he took her current attention. A fickle thing that could be stripped away at any moment if he showed any less than acceptable.

“Coryo,” He tensed his shoulders the same time she breathed it out in loving fashion. Her back once facing him, now turned as she walks towards him to cut the distance between the two. Since the gap started to form between Tigris and him, Dr. Gaul had taken to using that nickname on him. If it was to be used in terms of endearing him to her, or to mock him with the name that ghosts had called him, none could say for sure.

Coriolanus liked to believe it to be both, if he believed his assumptions of her character were right.

He never once let his eyes leave contact with her own, but he could hear the movement of her prominent, red latex gloves being peeled off her hands. She always thought it to be ironic, to wear such a color despite her profession. It matched the dye job that she had done on her surgical gown. He felt the weight of hands touching either side of his forearms, the smile on Dr. Gaul’s face caused a crinkle in her eyes as she bared all teeth in her smile. He wondered if she knew how threatening her grin looked.

“A morning to you as well. Has it been treating you good?”

It felt as if some sort of warm feeling was spreading out from Dr. Gaul’s hands, through his arms and into his body. What a disgusting sensation, it made goosebumps rise on his skin.

“As well as it could be.” Coriolanus’s voice spoke softly.

Livia drained his energy far more than he expected with her morning rambles and gossip.

Dr. Gaul’s hands smacked against his arms in a laugh, loud and knowing, she always knew, turning around to walk deeper in the lab. “Hah! By the sounds of it, it seems you’re not getting some peace of mind when you head home,” She turned back to look at him, giving him a glance, she was prying something out of him. “That’s no good, Coryo. You need to be in top shape to work, I can’t have my assistant become so… drained.”

The crease in her eyes showed again.

“If this is your preferred state, there is a new species of leeches I am working on. I assure you it is far more efficient than a Cardew of species.”

Well, now it was his turn to laugh.

A dry chuckle that slipped from Coriolanus’s lips, moving to follow Dr. Gaul. Placing his coat on a table made of rich wood, something less… aseptic looking. There were moments where he often froze under the woman’s gaze; a humiliating, bodily reaction that made him feel so small, so vulnerable as he used to be. Yet, it was in times like these, where he could understand how Dr. Gaul still managed to hold sway over people besides just exemplary displays of fear and power. There was a sense of humor to her, if he could call it that, where if a powerful woman like her involved yourself in - you felt so included, special.

“It was nothing like that. Livia just reminded me that after work today, she and I have to attend dinner later in the evening. It’s a fundraiser for the improvement and reconstruction of the Corso.” He turned his sight away from Dr. Gaul’s eyes, not being able to keep the contact any more. Flicking to the sight of the endless, bright shelves that lit up the tubes containing various specimens and experiments. Some failures, some on pauses, some successes, and some were just creative ‘what-ifs’; that would explain some of the seemingly useless fusions, like the jellyfish that had spider legs mixed in with some of its natural lappets, now encased in a resin tube. Coriolanus can’t recall if he was employed at the Citadel yet when this specimen was made. His fingers briefly touched upon the cool glass of it. What a disgusting idea. “I almost nearly forgot about it.” Dr. Gaul hummed at his response.

“Why, doesn’t that sound riveting! What a joy young life is, flitting from one function to the other, all the night-time glamor. You know, before I was transferred to work in the Citadel, I was the same. I thought of giving my children some of my old wardrobe from my youth, but it’s so out of the current trends, it just collects dust now.” What a blessing, for her kids. They could avoid the embarrassment of coming into the room looking as if they robbed the Pre-Dark Days exhibit at the Capital’s museum. The heels of Dr. Gaul’s heels clicked against the smooth, waxed floor. Coriolanus could feel the brief sliver of her heavy presence pass him by from behind, as she went to head over to another area in the room. It sounded vaguely close to the center of it.

“You must be excited, Coryo. Are you going to wear,” Her words paused. She was tasting the air for something. “Ah, what’s her name… That cousin of yours, the one who started her new business a while ago.”

What was the point of this conversation?

“Tigris.”

A brief flare tickled behind his ribs, reminding him of his thoughts earlier before. Standing up from his spot, fingers now leaving the glass of the odd ( sickening ) creature, his prints left slightly behind on the glass. Stretching his shoulders back with his arms, muscles pulled, away from their previously hunched position. Coriolanus walked over to where Dr. Gaul was, who stood nearby another table at the center of the lab. This time, this one was far cleaner, made of what seemed to be a material of stainless steel. In her hands she carried a manila folder, or two, in her hands; her painted nails sifted through the papers carefully. She was writing something quickly down inside of it. He wanted to know, but he held his tongue. Gaul would tell him if it was something he needed to be aware of.

“And I’m not sure. Livia is still picking out her dress and I want to match with her.” He smiled at her.

“Aren’t you a romantic,” She gives him a look out of the corner of her eye, the blue one that matched his. It made his skin crawl, he hated the feeling of it. “Is your heart melting, Snow?”

Coriolanus hopes she sticks to her career as a Gamemaker, being a comedian looks like a bleak future for her.

The smile on his lips grew wider, a small laugh at her words, his hand reaching to cover his mouth slightly to muffle the sound in the large room.

“I wouldn’t say that just yet.”

He wouldn’t say it at all. Livia? Melt his heart? Sure, she could melt his eardrums when she had that obnoxious snort to her loud laughs. It made her sound like a pig, shipped straight to the Capital from the farms of District 10. That would defeat the purpose of why he married her in the first place. It would be the utmost betrayal to himself, after he had promised to close himself after–

“Since you have a date tonight,” His ears perked up immediately. “I’ll reduce the amount of work you have for today, I’ll be merciful.” He wouldn’t argue if she decided to give him more. She pressed a manila folder into his open hands, her grip was tight on it. This was a folder that not many eyes needed to be on. Taking it carefully from her hands, he raised it to his eyesight curiously, catching the sight of the project name written on top of it.

PROJECT: CAPTIVE – A.01 PROMETHEUS

Coriolanus brought his gaze back towards Dr. Gaul. He assumed he slipped a confused gaze at her, because before he could even ask her, she’s already speaking up:

“This is a project I had started around the time you were exiled in District 12.”

His jaw slightly tightened. She didn’t have to use that exact word to describe it.

“It’s far more… unique,” Her eyes rolled around the room as she sought out the word, the moment it landed on her tongue, she locked her sight immediately onto him. Gaul’s smile pulled a bit more at her cheeks, a festering excitement that was slipping out from her internal confines. The threat of teeth in her smile was no longer an attempt of niceties, but far more sinister in its intentions. Coriolanus would argue on a good day that both were the same, that Dr. Gaul’s cruelty was her being kind. “Than my other projects. Far more different than any of my other muttations, this is a beast of a different breed, but one that you and I know intimately well.”

So this was a human experimentation, Coriolanus deduced.

Dr. Gaul would never dare to refer to those below Capital ranks as something human, there was always something else she had to refer to them by. Animal, beast, plague, insect, if it stripped them of their humanity, she was eager to take it. They shared similar sentiments, but sometimes, he had to give them some form of distinct name to separate them. “I’ve actually grown quite fond of it. Usually, I’d handle its tests and exams, but you seem like you need a pick-me-up.”

It should make him disgusted at how easily she could see through him.

The older woman stepped further away from him, into one of the dark recesses of the room. Lab H05 was one of the main center labs within the Citadel, meaning it earned itself the privilege to have its layout be connected to other rooms, outside areas, halls, and the like. It just happened to be, the darker areas that Gaul was heading in were towards the direction of one of the elevators connected to the room. Coriolanus watched her body retreat into the dimly lit area, not quite following after her. He didn’t know why. His hands felt stiff with the folder in his hands. The pounding beat of his heart in his ears matched in tempo with the steps of her heels against the floor. If he was going to move, she was going to need to ask him. She knew too, the doctor knew her own footsteps, and she was very aware when others’ joined in. Turning around to look at where he still was, standing, watching, she looked back at him. Coriolanus could make out her faint silhouette in the dark, but Dr. Gaul’s blue eyes shone brighter in the dark. As if she had tapetum lucidum, how it reflected so wildly. She was not helping the rumors made against her, that questioned if she ever used herself for a subject of fascination.

“Come now, Coryo. You don’t want to waste time.”

A silence fell upon them both.

“Understood, I’m right behind you.”

Walking after her, Coriolanus descended the small set of stairs that she had gone down from, he stepped into the dimly lit area. The manila folder was still grasped tightly in his one hand, at his side. He didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand her. Yes, she said that she wanted to cheer him up, but he’d be a fool if he was to believe that’d was to be the only reason why she was doing this. Volumnia Gaul, telling confidential secrets because she cared for his well being? No, there was always something else. An ulterior motive she wished to serve, or a lesson she wanted to teach. When he was brought back from his sentence of being a peacekeeper, it was not because her heart broke over him. She was not weeping at him having to tread his feet into the muck and grime of District 12. It was because she was holding him up to an ambition that both him and her both wished to see.

“This one,” Dr. Gaul started her words, occasionally turning her head to the side to make sure he was still following her ( he was ). “Started out as a simple curiosity. I had to sit with myself quite a bit to figure out a punishment that would actually serve some productivity.” Her hands reached behind her, flicking at the folder that Coriolanus was holding. He opened up the folder, finally, to look through the report. Whatever the Doctor was gesturing vaguely in conversation, it would be more explicit in her writings. “Displays of cadavers, desecration of the human silhouette, trauma to the cerebrum, these punishments can only go for so long before new ideas must be made. If the rebels expect the same disciplinary action, you can expect them to gain a tolerance to it.”

Squinting at the paper, he leaned his head slightly down to get a closer look of the subject. A small photo was attached to the report by a paperclip, it was a person who seemed to be in a similar age group to his. They looked clean, proper - they wore an ironed, white button up shirt under a dark vest, with unique, yet simple earrings they donned on. Pearls and tiny opals that dangled from a gold chain earring. A family heirloom, if Coriolanus had to guess. They smiled widely in the photo. Their teeth weren’t perfect, their upper cuspid was a bit more pointed in comparison to all others.

They had once been a capital citizen, turned rebel, to… this.

“I wanted to truly push my mind forward, and see if the impossible would truly be… well, possible.” Dr. Gaul grinned at the end of the sentence. Coriolanus lifted the photo up, after hooking his gaze unto the former for a moment. It’s a shame, he thought to himself. How pretty they are, had they not tainted their mind with childish ideas they would have continued to live in the comforts that they were so comfortably lavishing in before. He was curious as to whose family they once belonged to. A filthy curiosity enticed him, a want to digest more at the report at the risk of tuning out Gaul’s feverish ramblings.

“Personally, I outdid myself.”

There was a small desire to curse her under his breath, the writing for the subject’s name was far too rushed and messy to read properly. Did she want him to read the report, or play word scramble?

Dr. Gaul’s steps had stopped, the white noise of her chatter turned to silence was enough to bring his head back from the report. She stood between him and the elevator, holding her hands in front of her, folded. Peeking to the side, the button for the down level was lit up in a glow of red. Her smile widened.

“Curiosity eating away at you, Coryo?”

It still made his skin crawl, everytime she used that name. How frightening it was, that it also brought him a strange sense of the coldest warmth.

“You’ve talked so vividly about them,” Not clear enough. “I want to see what makes you so excited about them.” He wants to see if they could come close to bringing him out of his frustrations. Fingers that touched the edge of the subject’s photo twitched in tempo with the small ding of the elevator. Doors opening, Dr. Gaul stepped to the side. Hands gestured, letting him know to step in first which he obliged. Yet, no other steps than his own followed him in. Coriolanus turned around, a puzzled look on his face when he noticed how Dr. Gaul was standing in the middle of the elevator’s doors.

“Expected me to come join you? You can’t be so attached to my hip, Coryo.” She laughed, her hands reached in between her surgical gown and work attire. Pulling out a set of keys attached to her worker’s ID, she tugged a key off. Dr. Gaul dipped her body slightly in to twist at a lock that had revealed another panel of floor buttons aside from the usual floor ones. This must have been the key designated for the Citadel’s researchers and engineers. He had a private key of his own, but that was reserved for Game Makers. Still in training, but Dr. Gaul had persuaded the others to give him his own copy. “I have other things that need tending to, so you’ll have to have your fun without me.” Pushing a floor button that was labeled C09, glowing red under her touch, she gave him her key. She pressed into Coriolanus’s free palm, closing his fingers to clasp around it.

“You can keep this one. I’ll ask for another copy.”

Was it because this one almost seemed rusted over to hell and back? Coriolanus wasn’t an idiot. He could feel the textured sensation of something that, usually, was supposed to be smooth metal.

“Thank you, Dr. Gaul.” He spoke softly back to her.

Dr. Gaul sent him another smile towards his way, the abominable sight of her gradually leaving his sight as the doors closed. A divide now between the both of them.

Instantly, a breath of air was released from Coriolanus. His head reeled back, eyes closed, leaning against the wall of the elevator. He was now by himself. Free from that imposing woman, he finally could be released from her watchful gaze. Always gauging him, examining him as if he, too, was another subject on her surgical table. Perhaps, in a strange, distant sense, he was. Which is why he likes it far more when their interactions are limited. Even if it makes him feel guilty if he hasn’t spoken to her for any prolonged amount of time.

Another breath, he brought his head back down, eyes open. Opening his hand to where the key was held in his hand. It was frighteningly warm in his hand, most likely from when both Dr. Gaul and him held onto it. The material of the key was dark in color, rust having formed around some of the edges. Spots of dark stains marred its dull shine, it almost looks black in contrast to the key’s natural dark hue. This most definitely was blood, now dried. In his head, Coriolanus could see the vivid picture in his head: Dr. Gaul barely bothering to remove her gloves after leaving the examination room, holding the key between sticky gloves. A sneer pulled on Coriolanus’s face. He pocketed the key away.

He wanted to focus on something else.

The weight of the manila report at his side stuck out glaringly obvious, he still had yet to fully read through everything. His fingers were still thumbing between one of the pages, bookmarking a random place in the report. Should he wait to see the project on his own? Give himself something ‘fun’ to surprise himself with? A discomfort prickled at the hairs on his neck. No, he didn’t like surprises too much. Surprises meant no control, and no control meant chaos that wasn’t under his hand. And what more could be asked, when what he needed to know was right here. Hands flipped back open the manila folder while he waited for the elevator to finish its descent.

On the first page, there was only one photo of the subject, before the project had started. Dr. Gaul was always so thorough, so there must have been more to see. And how he loved to be right, when the sight of more clipped on photos peeked through in between pages. He stopped at the sight of them. These had been nude, taken in what was most definitely an examination room. They must’ve been in captivity for a few days for how haggard they looked. Gleam completely gone, with only a dark emptiness seen on their face. Signs of minimal swelling on their left cheek from when they were hit by a peacekeeper when resisting arrest. Bags under the optics, suggesting either sleep deprivation or developed insomnia. His eyes lingered on the photos that took in zoomed in shots of identifiable beauty marks that were scattered around their body. One around the back of their left acromial, around the sternocleidomastoid, one on the left mammary gland, and another on the right femoral muscle. Unconsciously, his fingers traced along the edges of each photo as he examined them until they traced after the words of ink.

The objective of the project: engaging and testing pain receptors on the subject. By use of non-licensed medication and surgical operations, the subject’s NTRK1 gene was mutated to a certain extent to gain the closest imitation to Congenital Analgesia ( while still keeping the subject alive ). If Coriolanus recalled, in his textbooks, Congenital Analgesia was a condition that always was given to a patient by a pass down from the parent. It was never really something ‘made’, or ‘given’. He could understand now why Dr. Gaul was so pleased with herself for accomplishing this feat. Curiosity was beckoning him, wanting to see more of what the report entailed.

Pages dedicated to each operation, each test done. There were pain charts made, scales from 1 to 10, to test out the nerve receptors. Each test, the numbers on the chart went lower and lower; 10s that went to 9s, to the current lowest being a 6 for the majority of the subject’s body. The more sensitive areas, such as the frontal or the palmar of the body, were around 7 to 8 on the chart. Flipping to the back of the contents, there was a small note in Dr. Gaul’s handwriting.

Today, please take care of Project Prometheus’s nerve exams. The last surgical operation was done last month and they have just now fully recovered. Update the report by the end of today, to measure if there are any fluctuations on their pain receptors.

Sounded simple enough. If this was all he had to do today, then there was a chance he could clock out from work even earlier to give himself space before tonight’s event. A ding finally was heard from the elevator, he was here at Lab C09. Folder closed in his hands, his foot stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor. What a drastic difference Lab C09 had been in comparison to Lab H05. If it hadn’t belonged to Dr. Gaul, Coriolanus may not have been able to believe that this was an actual functioning lab. It almost seemed forgotten by the Citadel, half of the fluorescent lights not working, or blinking at different intervals. It bathed the floor in a very gray, almost vile green hue. The scent of copper and rust was far more noticeable, and the smell of medicine felt almost nauseous here. There were no grand columns in sight, and no endless amount of shelves dedicated to new specimens and ideas of creation. The floors were unkempt, specks of dirt packed into the corners of where the wall and once sleek tiles met. Occasional cracks on the floor, parts of the design broken and shattered into bits of ceramic. The halls were long, with endless doors that ( thankfully ) all were open, empty, or both. With the exception of the large corridor doors at the other end. He could make out the sight of Peacekeepers that stood on guard, near the corridor door and by the elevator entrance.

This definitely was Dr. Gaul’s more… uncensored labs.

Coriolanus took a few more steps into the lab and noticed the large stain of dried blood that dragged from where his feet stood, past the corridor doors. Eyebrows raised at the sight, but his eyes did not widen. Marvelous, the subject might still be rebellious. If this was to be the case, he’d be severely unimpressed. All these exams to change the NTRK1 and nothing done to affect the amygdala.

Sloppy work here, Dr. Gaul.

Pushing through the corridor doors, after giving the briefest of nods and acknowledgement towards the Peacekeepers, he found himself exactly where he needed to be. Entering an area that was entirely void of light, except for one thing.

A large window glass on the other side, showing the examination room on the other side. It lit up this half of the hall, shelves of varying medicines and chemicals lined against the walls of the examination room. Surgical tools were lined up high on the wall, out of reach, not yet pulled out and placed on the side. Today there was no operation to be done. Examination lights shone overhead, and under it was the examination table where Project Prometheus sat.

They sat down so compactly, so politely, knees folded to their chest and arms wrapped around them, their face leaned against the crevice their legs gave. The subject definitely had changed, physically, since the projects had begun. Their skin barely had the warm glow it had in their photo, had it not been for the peeks of color on their joints, he’d assume that there was no more blood rushing through their body. Their hair that once looked so well maintained, luxurious, was cut at awkward angles. Yet, it still managed to frame their face well enough. Figures, that was former Capital genes at work. Their body has taken significant damage since then. Scars of various shapes were scattered all across, bandages wrapped in some areas, and stitches that dragged around entire limbs, like their arms, thighs, feet, even one on their face. As if they were some over-played ragdoll that was patched up far too many times. There was no fight he could see from their eyes, and no anger. Was the blood on the floor halls really theirs, or did that belong to someone else?

This could not even be called anything, but a shell of a husk.

Coriolanus stood there, watching, taking in the sight of them. It barely felt like he was breathing. And that alone irritated him. It’s like his body was trying to make itself seem smaller; as if he was somehow bothering them. He sighed out his frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. They couldn’t even hear him from the thick glass, what would he be so concerned with? Bringing his hand back down, about to open the manila folder once again to compare their ID photo to their current state - he peeked at their form again.

He had been noticed by it.

His breath felt lodged in his throat, his original action now tossed to the side, as they and him both just… watched each other. Their eyes that had looked so sullen and distant before, were so focused and vigilant of him. But, they didn’t seem scared of him. Their body didn’t look tense, their expression didn’t twist into any wrinkles. What feeling was running through their body? Could they possibly feel anything? Coriolanus stepped away from the glass, slowly, and down further into the hall, to where the door of their examination room was. A peacekeeper stood guard near the heavy door, beside them a surgical gown, cap, goggles and gloves were on a hook. Excusing the other to the side, so he could reach and grab the attire to put on himself. Coriolanus questioned, as he tugged the latex rubber gloves on, if he still wanted to entertain the idea of holding their test today. Teeth grinded inside his jaw, he hated to admit weakness, but it was no lie that they unsettled him when they had stared back.

That probably contributed to why Dr. Gaul favored the project so much, both must take joy from bringing him such unease. A sigh hissed from his teeth, as he put the surgical mask on.

“I’ll be back out in just a moment. I’ll let you know if an emergency comes up.”

It’ll be easy work, and then he can leave.

Opening the door, the sterile smell of the room rushed past him as the metal door was moved from its tight seal and then closed heavily behind him. Their head had moved away from where the glass window was, turned to stare at where he stood near the door, their folder still in his hands. Thinly-veiled sweat was forming inside the gloves, with the silence that fell heavy in the room. He opened the folder.

“Good morning, Subject A01, I am–”

…?

Did they say something?

“...I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Another tense silence fell in the air.

“... That isn’t my name.” Its voice was quiet, slightly hoarse but not entirely. Unexpected, considering their length of stay here. His fingers pinched tightly at one of the pages.

“...What do you mean?” He was not going to call them by their Capital name. They had long since lost the right to use it, after rebelling against Panem.

“Dr. Gaul calls me something else.” Coriolanus was going to kill it if they did not clarify.

“And what does she call you?” This was the nicest tone he could muster.

They spoke it once into the air, still looking at him with those dead eyes of theirs. Had Dr. Gaul been so fond of it to have given it an entirely new name? And they accepted and went along with it? That didn’t feel right, from what he’s examined about them so far. They were a rebel, they had fought against a Peacekeeper, they were dragged around the halls bleeding.

And they gave up their old name?

It had shifted out of its cradled position, their legs dangled off the examination table and their arms were placed on their side. Coriolanus could see the patient gown they wore more clearly. It kicked its feet in the air idly, as it waited for his response.

… Do they even know the situation that they’re in?

“...Right. Well, do you know why I’m here?”

“Not really. I’ve never met you before.” Was context clues also something it gave up while in captivity? “I know the guards, and I know Dr. Gaul. I don’t think I know about you,” They’re a prisoner, it’d be counter-intuitive if people were giving them info about every single staff member here. His mask covered the lower half of his face, but he hoped the slight shift of facial muscle was enough to convey that was trying to smile towards them. He walked further into the examination room, closer to where it sat and where the shelves of drugs and medical equipment were lined up. Their stare was burrowing holes into his back, while he shifted around, opening and closing shelves and drawers to check inside for what he needed.

“Well, I am Dr. Gaul’s assistant. You can call me Snow,” He was not giving his first name to a former rebel. “I’m here today because Dr. Gaul is a bit busy today to handle your check-up, so I’ll be filling in her role.” Gloves shifted bottles around, turning them around to read the labels. The disinfectant, cotton swabs, tweezers, needles, rubbing alcohol, syringes, the bite-rag, marker, he had it all except the custom medicine that Dr. Gaul had made for it. In the instructions of how to construct their exam, Dr. Gaul had explicitly mentioned that they were to take specific medication, as they had helped keep it conscious at all times for operations and exams. It was needed so that they’d be able to relay the ratings, which is why Coriolanus was reading yet another prescription bottle in his hands, squinting in frustration.

“It’s this bottle over here.”

A delicate, scarred hand had pointed at another bottle that sat idly on the shelf. Coriolanus turned his head slightly, seeing the subject no longer on the examination table, standing behind him quietly. Not staring at him, they were entirely looking at where their hand pointed. They were only standing just a couple inches away from his body, careful not to touch him as they stood on the tips of their toes to point at the medicine. With this proximity, it was easier for him to get a closer look at them. The stitches on its body were done with thick, prominent threads; there were far more beauty marks he could pick out on their face that the photos didn’t display. The patient gown was made from a material far thinner than he expected, a visible silhouette could be seen from underneath the flimsy cloth. His mouth felt unusually dry.

A cold chill trickled down his spine. He barely noticed them. He doesn’t even think it made a sound when it moved.

“Careful, keep your space from me.” He spoke, a careful warning to their ears and a threatening promise on his. He didn’t want to risk being so close to them like this, he barely knew the extent of how violent the project could possibly be yet. Still, they listened, backing away from him and putting their hand back down to their side. Both it and him stared at each other again, the tense air dancing back inside the room. They looked as if they had wanted to say something, and Coriolanus, internally, felt almost violent for how demure they were being with him. It repulsed him, how it felt almost endearing if he looked at them for a second more.

“Is something wrong?” Eventually he bit the bullet, speaking first between the two of them. He can’t bear another moment of silence with it.

“... I don’t need a bite-rag. I don’t think I really scream much anymore.” They still had an issue with explaining context to him more, he’ll tell Dr. Gaul that needed some work lat– His jaw ticked… Why did he care about your abysmal social skills? It was a captive, it had no one to speak to other than their own captors. Pulling down their prescription from the shelf, a dark, thick liquid, he said in return: “It’s best to have it on hand, just in case you need it. Now, return back to the examination table.” For a split second, he thought he could see their gaze soften at him. Were they seriously entertaining the idea that he was being nice to them? Coriolanus just didn’t want to deal with their sounds while he worked. It’d be like trading one screaming fit for another, for when he had to go on his date with Livia later in the evening.

They nodded, and followed his command, walking back to sit on top of it. Their body was sitting in his direction though, observing, waiting for him. Coriolanus still felt unsure about them, but… it was strange, their obedience. It made him suspicious of its intent with all this. Trailing back to the center of the examination room, he placed all the tools on a metal tray. Pulling out an exam stool from under one of the tables, he set the syringe to the cap of its prescription. He pulled the plunger of the syringe up, watching as the barrel filled up with medicine, until it sat nicely. The needle left smoothly from the cap, and a drop of the liquid dangled at the edge of it. This form of silence he liked far more better.

“...Do you have family, Dr. Snow?”

So close. Coriolanus flicked the needle harshly, the drop hitting somewhere else. He placed the ready syringe down, and picked up the black marker. Turning back towards them, their head rested in their palms, watching him intensely.

“That’s none of your concern. Now please, remove your gown so we can get started on the examination.” Grabbing the stool to pull it underneath him, he got comfortable in the seat while it moved to get up. As their hands reached behind them to undo the tie around their waist first, it still spoke ( much to his chagrin ).

“I was just wondering since Dr. Gaul usually talks whenever she comes to visit.” That explained why their throat was not as hoarse as he was expecting. Dr. Gaul was treating her trials with them as a morning brunch. “She sometimes talks about her day, or talks about her family.” They loosened the tie around their waist, the fabric more flowy around their lower body. Coriolanus stared intently, taking in the first peek of skin. Looking past the scars, despite the stitches pulling at parts of their skin, and the dented scars, their skin looked soft, malleable. They must’ve been popular on weekend nights, back then. Their hands reached up to undo the tie around their collar. Rather than watching him while he worked, it was his turn to watch them. There was that beauty mark on their left acromial. Eyes leisurely trailed back up to their fingers, the smallest note with how it fumbled around behind them to untie the flimsy string. Their movements were clumsy, in his eyes, which almost surprised him. “She likes to talk about her three kids often.”

Coriolanus looked away from their stitched fingers, confusion on his face.

“Dr. Gaul only has two kids.” He’s seen the photos she has in her office. She has two sons, both who have gone on to have families of their own. Not once has she mentioned a third kid, Coriolanus isn’t even sure it was possible at her age. Didn’t menopause usually affect a person’s chances of getting pregnant? Maybe it was a secret child she had abandoned at the maternal ward while dropping off her resignation as an obstetrician.

“No, she has three. She told me their names: Caius, Martius, and Coriolanus.”

Oh.

Oh, now that’s…

“I see. You must be closer to Dr. Gaul than I am.”

He didn’t know what to really say to that. There was really nothing for him to go and argue about, especially with the patient. Coriolanus couldn’t quite outright say that the third child was him, especially when he specifically told them to refer to him by his last name. And if he revealed that this was an entire lie on Dr. Gaul’s end, he wasn’t quite sure how the woman would react for doing so. It wasn’t his place, when he had no idea what Gaul had wanted to achieve. He understood the physical punishment and hypothesis being put upon Project Prometheus, but he had yet to understand where the emotional, and the mental, aspect of this punishment was. Dr. Gaul will tell him if it was needed, or he’ll figure it out based on his own conclusions. That must be one of the purposes Dr. Gaul had assigned this task to him.

“Alright. I’m done.”

Coriolanus blinked. He didn’t even realize he lost focus on them, he let out a small exhale as he lifted himself from the exam stool, marker ready in hand.

“Right, for the next step of this exam, I need to…”

Words trailed off for him.

What an entirely different view it was, from before, looking at them only from the back. From behind, it was just read to him as a large canvas of skin that had already been stained and painted on. Nothing that gave way to what person under the flesh could be. Yet, the front… There was more to regard and take note of, a far more different feeling than just having viewed from the photos alone in the reports. If he were to ignore the marks left on their body, had they stayed perfect from before, he could’ve made the argument about their body being more alluring than the average Capital citizen. That familiar, dry feeling touched his throat again. What a waste, for genes like that to be wasted on a rebel. There were more beauty marks and moles in the front, along with more stitches and scars. Coriolanus could see the surgical scars that were healing between their pectoralis major area. A curiosity rose, questioning how scarred tissue would feel under his gloves. He raised an eyebrow, as his gaze dared to move to a lower section on their body. Must be for easier mapping, that Dr. Gaul decided it was best to have their pubic area shaved clean.

“...Dr. Snow, are you okay?”

His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips under the surgical mask.

“Fine, just thinking about Dr. Gaul’s instructions.” He was going to go insane before he could even head to the fundraiser tonight. Coriolanus reached his free hand out, hovering it over their shoulder area, guiding them to stand closer to the area between the exam table, and his stool. He took note, that despite the way their body has changed since their captivity, their body still held a warmth that radiated off from their skin. “Stand here, please. For this next step, I’ll be using this marker here to map out the different muscles and areas on your body. Are you familiar with this?”

The subject nodded, a yes from their lips.

Good.

The sound of the marker cap popping off filled in the lack of words on Coriolanus’s part, the black cap falling on the tiled floor and rolling off to a dark, distant corner of the room. “For today, we’ll only be focusing on the external pain chart. Meaning skin surface only,” He lifted the subject’s hair, pushing up against the subject’s head, strands that were long enough to block full access to the neck. Bringing the marker up, he pressed down the chiseled tip of alcoholic ink on the subject’s skin, making the first section of dotted lines. Writing on their skin in careful, small letters, the areas that compromised their neck; the semispinalis capitis, the levator scapulae, the rhomboid minor–

“How long have you worked for Dr. Gaul?”

Fingers nearly stumbled in drawing when the muscle stretched in movement, he lifted the marker carefully away from its skin. The idea of putting in Gaul’s suggestion box the order of a mouth gag was becoming all the more tempting to him.

“It doesn’t concern you.” Coriolanus responded, coolly.

He pressed the marker back down on its skin, moving himself to the anterior of its body. Between his gloved fingers, he held their chin. The muscle limp in his hands, letting him lift their chin up to show more, exposing the unfolded expanse of their skin. The project was an annoying one, but at the least,they were a pliant one. The black dotted lines drew itself across the subject’s body: the sternocleidomastoid, the sternohyoid–

“How has your day been so far, Dr. Snow?”

Would Dr. Gaul throw him to the curb if he strangled one of her projects?

Coriolanus lifted himself slightly from his leaned down angle, his fingers that once lifted its chin up, had pulled their chin back down to look at him eye to eye. Its gaze stared back at him with such emptiness, a lack of anything to be seen, no anger, no defiance, no discomfort, not even joy. His eyebrows narrowed down slightly as he took in the face that held no question to how, and what, manner he held their body in. Were they trying to please him? Make his guard drop down by asking questions, hoping that he’d become more sympathetic towards them?

“Dr. Gaul isn’t here. You are under no requirement to attempt conversations like you’ve done with her.” He spoke, trying his best attempt at sounding sympathetic to their ears. That would be the easiest explanation. The soul of them was sucked out by Dr. Gaul forcing them into an illusion of a grotesque socialite. That’d explain away the project’s incessant speaking.

Yet, the subject had tilted their head under his fingers. The slightest push against his grasp.

“... Do you not like talking, Dr. Snow? Dr. Gaul always looks so happy when she’s talking.”

So they were trying to suck up to him. He locked his teeth. And to think, he was giving them a chance of redemption, by assuming that they had been conditioned to engage in meaningless conversation. Maybe he was wrong about their obedience. There was still a spark of a rebel within them regardless of their time, their experiences, in captivity.

“I only ever see Dr. Gaul, so I got excited to see someone new. I’m sorry for upsetting you,”

They could’ve fooled him with that tone of voice. They sounded as dead as their eyes had looked. Yet, Coriolanus bit his bottom lip as the doubt touched his head; the subject’s stare, if he gazed deeply enough he felt as if he could almost make out a sullenness to them. Were they legitimately apologetic? He didn’t want to even know the answer, he just wanted to finish this job as quickly as possible. He let go of their chin, releasing it. Gloved fingers now traced the space between their shoulder and collarbone, the subject angling their neck to the other side to give him room. He brought the marker back down to their skin, more dotted lines appearing under his wake.

“... What exactly is your relationship to Dr. Gaul, if I may ask?” He hated them, he decided. He hated how quickly they managed to rope him into this dumb small talk. It was almost audible, the sound of the subject blinking, feeling their gaze boring under the layers of his clothes. Did he say the wrong thing? Did they not want conversation? He adjusted the weight of his stance, uncomfortable under the silence the subject had unwillingly placed him in. Was he not doing what they wanted, was that not enough for them?

“Dr. Gaul is…” Their words trailed off. They were trying to find the words, unsure of what to say to him. They most likely didn’t want to try and insult her, considering her assistant was in the room with them. They don’t want to risk possibly earning more punishment. Project Prometheus may have been smarter than what he initially assumed. Coriolanus moved back to the posterior, hands trailed themselves across the subject’s shoulders, feeling, to remind him of the muscle underneath before he marked it down. Trapezius.

“Dr. Gaul is my caretaker, I think.”

Well isn’t that something unique.

If the subject had decided to say captor, overseer, punisher, he wouldn’t have cared. It would’ve been honest. Caretaker? That was something different, that was something sympathetic. The thought of them turning this twisted dynamic into something heartfelt, fell sour on his tongue. It made him feel repulsion towards them. Why bother to lie? “Tell me about that.” His voice was soft, inviting the project to open themselves to him. As the marker continued to mark their skin, Coriolanus took one of its arms under his hand. The subject’s fingers twitched slightly, when he brought his hand under theirs. Their hand was not that big in comparison to his own, unable to fully fill out of his palm. The fingertips were usually the more sensitive parts, when it came to sensations. He hummed. Adductor pollicis.

“...I’m not sure how to describe it well.” They sounded unsure. Spending this extended amount of time with them, Coriolanus could make out the slight tonal differences they had in their voice. It was very small, though. The muscles in his hands seem to slightly tense.

“Do your best for me.”

Their fingertips, the slightly yellowed nails, tapped slightly at the latex material of his gloves. Almost as if fidgeting to gather the words, the right ones, to say to him.

“Dr. Gaul has always been… someone there, I suppose.” Because she has to. “The guards are there too, but they don’t really notice me in the way Dr. Gaul does.” He wrote down on another part of the subject’s arm, drawing another dotted line. Brachioradialis. “Even though the tests kind of hurt, but I’m getting used to it now, she’s been the only one so far to give me a name, a birthday, check up on me, tell me about her day,” He was almost impressed at how their were trying to upsell the ‘normalcy’ of their captivity. A new name and birthday? Maybe the secret third child of Dr. Gaul wasn’t him, but actually them instead. He almost laughed aloud at the prospect of it. Coriolanus turns to the other side of their body, taking the other arm of the subject to write on after finishing the other. Biceps brachii. “That’s like a caretaker, right?” And now it was asking for his confirmation? It truly does want to appease him. He let out another hum, as if he was thinking to himself when he was going to go along with their delusions. “It sounds like Dr. Gaul cares a great deal for you.” He lied to them.

Making his back to the anterior of the subject’s body, he stood in front of them, the subject tilting their head up to him. Project Prometheus was shorter, in comparison to him, standing at eye level against his chest. Latex touched the area of the linea alba, Coriolanus kept his gaze steady on them and they did the same. There was a silence that fell between them, but it felt so uninviting to him now that he finally had it. The subject still held their indifference, their apathy, and he wanted to know why it bothered him so much when he should like how easy of a prisoner they were being. No, there had to be something more. There was always something more. His fingers dragged down their skin, and his marker followed behind, writing down the names of the muscles he touched. The subject had moved their arms, and Coriolanus tensed for a second, thinking they were finally going to react, going to grab him, hit him, something – yet, their arms shifted away from the angle of his body, moving in to hold the muscles of the pectoralis major up in their hands, cupping them. They were making more room for him to write on their upper abdomen.

Coriolanus loathed them.

Had he had half the control, he would’ve smacked the stitched hands away. He liked it far more when they acted like a ragdoll, instead of this game of pacification it was trying to play. Writing down on the external oblique aponeurosis, he brought his hands back up their skin until it rested under their wrists. He held both their wrists on either hand. “Please, bring your hands down so I can continue mapping.” The words came out more as a whisper than he had intended. They instantly had listened to his command, letting their arms fall back on either side and their chest exposed to him. His eyes lingered briefly on the sight, taking in the small details that made the subject unique. The beauty mark on their left mammary gland, now in his line of sight. No longer blocked by the limit of only just a photo. There was that dry feeling in his mouth again.

Carefully, bringing a hand up, gauging their reaction, he held one of the mammary glands in his free hand and a marker up in the other. Judging their face, they seemed neutral, no frown or smile, no wrinkle, no squint. He could assume there must have been discomfort under those dark pits for eyes. He knew that’s what he felt, doing this right now. Coriolanus wondered if it would have been better or worse, if Project Prometheus were to be more… reactionary.

“Let me know if anything bothers you.” Dotted lines followed after his hand. He’d take it, the laborious small talk. It was much more preferred right now than this tortuous silence that had fallen between them. Thick and constricting, had it gone on any longer, Coriolanus knew he would drive himself internally insane if he was to be left alone to his own thoughts. If Project Prometheus had done nothing while he was holding onto their very own breasts in his hands. Had it been any other person, they would’ve squirmed under his touch. Possibly even a twitch to unconsciously move away, as the marker moved against the skin of the areola. The mapping of the right gland was dotted and marked completely.

“You don’t bother me.”

Now, that felt deliberate.

Ink halted, stopping after writing out the final letter of the pectoralis minor. The words were written next to the beauty mark he had noted before. Coriolanus was tempted to make dotted lines around the area, as a place of special interest, though marks like these were no major muscle or nerve. Blue eyes had looked up through thick lashes, he slightly lifted his craned head up to get a better look at the subject. Peering towards their face, he didn’t know why he expected anything different. It was the same look of disinterest, the broken lights hung above them casted a haunting shadow over their face. Did he also look similar, when they stared back at him? In certain angles, despite the unnerving look the room had given them, Coriolanus might’ve thought their eyes seemed naturally soft towards him. Innocent, maybe.

Did they see nothing wrong with what he was doing? … Or had all the tests and operations ruined not just their nerves, but fried them, that their sense of danger seemed near non-existent?

Was this another form of appeasement that it was trying to pull on him?

Unconsciously, his hands had released themselves, finally, from holding onto Project’s Prometheus’s breasts. Both now marked, his free hand slid down the expanse of their abdomen. The ridges and bumps of their scars and stitches were felt briefly, the full grasp of the sensation blocked by the barrier of latex rubber wrapped around his fingers. Not once did he look away from the subject as his hands made its way down, and neither did Project Prometheus. His hand stopped at the tensor fasciae latae. Something was wrapping itself around the cavity of his chest, making the activity of breathing a difficult feat for him to do. Coriolanus didn’t know what he was doing. Was he trying to garner a bigger reaction from it? An attempt of possibly stirring violence, even?

Maybe it was delaying his own discomfort, he realized. Looking down, he stared to see the spread of skin below that had no splotches of black ink. They were shorter than him, he’d have to get down on his knees if he wanted to have clear and easy access to mark its legs. How humiliating… Having risen up through the ranks and bringing the Snow family back to its rightful place of acclaim and fortune; only to fall back down on his knees to a prisoner, a former rebel. If the other families caught wind of this, he’d never hear the end of it.

Reluctantly, still holding onto their hip, his body moved itself to the floor. Knees touched against the uneven grout of the tiles, the position a bit awkward. He was thankful, for the surgical gown he wore, that the vile floor of the examination room wouldn’t stain against his clothes. Tracing his hand down to the stitch mark path of their leg, he rested it at the back of their thigh. Coriolanus tilted his head up, ready to command that Project Prometheus moved their leg more towards him. But, his words fell into a silent, held breath as he gazed up at them from his position. The shadow that had cascaded over their face briefly from before was now entirely enveloped around their body. Sickly green fluorescent lights shone above their head, akin to a haloing effect. Illuminated around the edges of their body, their hair, the subject still looking at him. Only him, and nothing else. A thrumming noise was loud in his ears; it felt dangerous. It felt like a warning that something was wrong here. He had felt it before.

Project Prometheus moved its leg forward, more into him, without a word ever spoken between the two of them. How pliant it was with him.

He pressed the marker against their skin as thank you, dipping his head back down to their thigh. It would be risky, if he lost focus. There was still so much he had yet to know of the subject, the layers that were contained behind the flimsy shield of flesh and tissue. He dotted the area of the vastus medialis, careful not to press the ink against the subject’s stitches so as not to irritate the healing skin there. Maybe its attempts of appeasement were working on him. Not once did he think he’d have a shred of enough care to think about the possibility of ink seeping into their wounds.

He marked down the region of the knee. Patella.

“...You’re a very gentle person, Dr. Snow.” The subject spoke quietly, in a whisper just loud for him to hear. “You treat me so carefully, I barely feel a thing when you hold me.”

It mistook his lightweight hands for kindness. Reality was that he was just wary about setting them off.

“Does Dr. Gaul not treat you in the same manner?” The words came out softly from him. Reaching now the ankle of the subject, gloved hands reached down underneath the sole of its foot, lifting it up for better writing access. Instinctively, Project Prometheus placed their hands on either side of his shoulders so as to not fall. Their body leaned itself more into him, using him as a steady weight of support. The proximity of their small body bent over his, the glare of the fluorescent lights was entirely swallowed up, casting a dark shadow over him, blocking the light from reaching him. Could they feel, under their ragged fingers, the tenseness in his body at their action? If the subject wanted to, they could easily go in to attack him in this vulnerable position. He’d do the same if he was in their position. He continued to write, marker steady in hand. There would be no satisfaction to be gained for the subject, in seeing him stumble and cower.

He wrote the words ‘abductor hallucis’ on their foot.

“She… does not treat me rough, no. If I had to describe it, I think the word for it is more… ‘inanimate’.” He doesn’t quite recall if a new law was passed that required captors to treat prisoners humanely. It sounded as if it was trying to recall certain words again. Should the exam go entirely smoothly with no problems, he might feel generous enough to convince Dr. Gaul to bring Project Prometheus a dictionary for them to study up on. Not like it would do much. It wasn’t like they had anyone to really practice their knowledge on.

Coriolanus wondered what the prisoner was exactly before all this, back when they were formerly Capital. They lacked the air of dignity and ignorance that most Capital elites donned well, but maybe that could be attributed to their decay while staying here. Or perhaps the prisoner had come from a small, simple family. The kind that handled all the manual labor that the Capital never liked to speak loud about. The workers who were hardly ever seen, or acknowledged. That could explain why he never heard any recent fuss over a family’s child being ‘sent away’. No one would ever care for a background prop.

It held onto his shoulders more tightly, as he adjusted the subject’s position. It didn’t want to topple over him.

Project Prometheus's right foot now marked accordingly, he placed its foot back down on the rotten floor. Ready to reach his hand to hold onto their left, the subject moved without the need for his touch. The left leg was gestured forward for him. How sweet of them to realize a pattern. “I don’t mind it, though. As long as she still talked to me.” How fascinating. The subject was pacified by the easy act of conversation. Such a simple thing to be pleased by, Coriolanus could think they were joking. Regardless of how things were going so far, he still didn’t forget it. The bloodstains on the halls was something he could not erase so easily. That suggested, no, it told him, that Project Prometheus had something up their sleeve still. Though, nothing had occurred. Nothing had happened because they were still speaking to each other. Coriolanus continued to write on its foot. Lumbrical.

“...Do you get upset if she doesn’t speak to you?”

He couldn’t help but ask.

He wanted to know. He needed to know.

“...I get lonely, and sad.” Was it trying to downplay its emotional reactions to him? “I wonder if it's because I did something wrong to upset her.” If a prisoner of his tried to fight back numerous times during their captivity, he’d get annoyed too. It was strange, though. Coriolanus knew that morals and values were of no concern for Dr. Gaul, especially against rebels. Any torture, punishment, placed on them was not seen as being done onto another person, but just another animal, a specimen in her collection. It would not be above Dr. Gaul to cut off a limb, or two, to get a prisoner to stop fighting. So… why not do the same here? Perhaps, this form of mental and emotional punishment was more lethal than he assumed. Another curious test from the mad woman, it was impossible to ever understand her whims.

“Sometimes, I think it might be one of her tests.”

Coriolanus didn’t say those words.

He didn’t like this. Such a statement, spoken so simply, brought him a sick swirl of unease.

The movement of ink had halted, yet his mind continued to race. The thin hairs at the back of his neck stood at its ends, and he held tightly onto the marker in his hand. Quietly, carefully, he placed the plantar surface of Project Prometheus’s foot back down on the uneven tiles below the both of them. Reaching his hands up to his shoulders, where the subject’s extensor retinaculum were, he held onto it firmly. The subject put up no sign of objection. Sweat was slowly building up under the tight material of the gloves he donned on, but it was not a sweltering warmth. It was a cold, clammy sensation.

“What do you mean by ‘one of her tests’?” Punctuating the words at the end, he kept his tone inquisitive, curious. Perhaps, a dabble of suspicion. Not towards the subject, but more towards the matter. What was needed in this situation was caution, and he’d be a gutted fool if he was to let the rebel become aware of how much the question startled him to his core. For right now, he’d play the gentle, confused assistant that it assumed of him before. He already told the lie of it knowing Dr. Gaul better than he did.

“Her tests,”

It spoke as if he knew! He knew very well what it was. What once was a flash of fear, had become a steady stream of anger. He knew because he is Dr. Gaul’s assistant. It was his job to follow in the steps she’s placed out for him, and more. Why would a prisoner, a subject, know about the ways Dr. Gaul operated? How much does Dr. Gaul tell it in these ‘conversations’?

It made him sick, that the lie he told before could actually become true.

“I never notice it until it’s done, until she tells me at the end. She never shares the results with me.” For once, he is tempted to strip his pride and beg for more details. “Most days, it’ll be physical tests, like today. Others, it’s more… talking, or writing.”

“Writing?”

It came out quickly before he could properly think his words over. He doesn’t recall seeing possible writing exams in Subject A01’s report. To be fair to himself, he did skim it briefly since he was only just now introduced to the project. There wasn’t much time for him to familiarize himself with all the tiny details written inside. At least, the things that were legible.

“Dr. Gaul hands me scraps of paper and just asks me to write what I think. Like uh, a journal…I guess.” Keeping a diary couldn’t be the only test Dr. Gaul was having it do. If writing random streams of thought was enough to be intellectually challenging, he wouldn’t be seeing students at the University fighting to win passing grades. “I don’t understand the reason why, and I never remember what I write. My memory is not the best.” It was giving him an excuse to try and shift the conversation. How funny it was, trying to take control of the situation. He’d never let such a thing happen. In this examination room, there was only one person and a subject, the dynamic that was at play was clear. The grip Coriolanus had on their extensor retinaculum tightened, an unconscious movement on his part. Project Prometheus had taken in a soft breath of air at the action, the sound loud enough between the both of them. Had it not come from a prisoner, what a sweet sound it could’ve been.

“Could you explain it to me,” His voice came out softly, despite the gnawing irritation that he held back. The tight grasp he had loosened, one hand stroking down a careful thumb down the stitched wrist of the subject in gentle circles. He shifted in his kneeled position, adjusting to a more comfortable weight as the layers he wore started to wear at him, an uncomfortable shift. Wearing the surgical uniform could be sweltering. Tilting his head up slightly to gaze up at the subject, praying that his eyes did not betray and reveal his inner thoughts. “Try to remember.”

Coriolanus could’ve sworn he saw a slight falter, a tremble, in the dark optics of Project Prometheus. Its supercilium furrowed just the slightest inch upwards; did it look apologetic? The first visible change of expression he’s witnessed in the time he’s spent here in this examination room, and it’s one of regret. The subject’s fingers twisted itself into the fabric of his surgical gown, opening its mouth partially as they sought the right sound, the right word. He could make out the faint peeks of its canines.

“... I’m sorry, Dr. Snow. I can’t remember at all,” They breathed out, in admission, surrendering. It treated it as a guilty confession.

“Not a thing?” He whispered softly to them, prompting them to speak more. Coriolanus applauded himself internally, for how sympathetic he sounded.

The subject shook its head.

“My memory is not good.” Again, it reaffirmed its previous statement.

Was his question that hard? Surely, specks of small details, flashes of imagery, that would be sufficient enough of an answer for him. He wasn’t asking for a full essay of their inner workings ( though, he wouldn’t mind it ). However, as both their eyes continued locked in a stare, his thumb slowed its movements. The leathered finger stopping at the center junction of its stitches, the feel of the raised, textured skin apparent under the feel of the material. Project Prometheus was being sincere. Its face hadn’t changed, its body had not moved away from him. Dare he say, the minimal space between them; something he did not mind earlier before, had become much more apparent in his feverish mind. The subject answered him so honestly, it made his suspicions of before seem so ridiculous now. One thing did nag at him though, the writing, the insistence of journaling, the memory.

…

“... Do you remember how long you’ve been here?” Two years ago, Coriolanus recalled. Two years ago, that was when he was abandoned in District 12. When Dr. Gaul had started the experiment on Subject A01, busying herself with curiosities while he was drowning himself in depravities and vices, waiting out like a dog for some form of mercy to reach him.

A new, tense silence consumed them both. He watched the subject carefully, taking note of the slightest movement that could give any indication of anything more. Tracing with his eyes, following how Project Prometheus’s cuspid snagged at their chapped bottom lip. A faint flush of red spread across the muscle, from the pressure exerted on it. Unconsciously, it reminded him of how dry his own mouth felt, the hoarse sensation in his throat. He darted out his own tongue for a brief moment to wet his own mouth, hidden underneath the surgical mask he wore. Nothing was being said between them, but yet there was so much being told. A fierce feeling was soaring, running through the veins of Coriolanus; he knew what it meant and he feared for it. Not for what the answer could be, but what it possibly could bring up.

“You don’t remember how you got it here at all, do you?” His voice was so hushed, spoken as if taboo. It gave him the same feeling of it, the rush as the blood was entering his head and his heartbeat loud in his ears.

A form of dissociative amnesia.

Project Prometheus had developed gaps in memory due to an extended amount of isolation and exposure to severe trauma. It all clicked in Coriolanus’s head. He understood now what Dr. Gaul was attempting to achieve in her games with the subject. The tests, the daily conversations, the journal writing – Dr. Gaul was examining the subject’s mental decay as part of the Project’s ongoing research. Not only has the woman deteriorated and changed the way the prisoner’s nerves had worked, but their mind as well. Is continuing the Project even viable to do anymore? It was a form of punishment. Would it be ethical to operate on a being of flesh, when the subject no longer knew what it was being punished for? The question would most likely give Dr. Gaul a kick of joy. She loved to ponder questions worthy of debate. Coriolanus wouldn’t put it past the woman if she already gave the inquiry out to one of her classes in a lecture hall.

“I vaguely do,”

His eyebrows rose in interest.

“But only in subtle feelings.”

Nevermind.

“I think I experienced some form of confusion. And bits of anger, too. Dr. Gaul… For a moment, I used to be so scared of her. Now, I can’t even remember the reason why.”

Project Prometheus’s indifference, Coriolanus realized, it was not just solely based on apathy. What had become of it was a blank state, unsure of how to process things so the mind refused to process it all. But, it was still something highly susceptible to influences, shown in how Project Prometheus had become conditioned like Pavolv Dog, to associate Dr. Gaul’s silence with anger and disappointment, and her socialness with satisfaction and joy. It all was dawning on him. He could see it now, why Dr. Gaul was so disturbingly fascinated by this project. Gloved hands moved away from the subject’s wrist, and reached out to lay in gentle manner against the side of their bare thighs. The subject allowed him to, never raising a sign of objection. Could he teach it to experience anger once more, when he treated their body like this? Maybe discomfort, disgust, despair - he wanted to show their blank canvas of a mind what it felt like to fully immerse themselves in these ugly emotions. He knew why they were like this, but there still was a lingering crumb of vexation directed at the subject. Somehow, in their newfound state, they still felt far more free than he ever did; how they almost felt nothing, and he had to feel everything.

And yet, there was another thought that touched him. He wondered, if he spent enough time with the subject, could he too, be able to condition them to other things. They thought of him as merciful, kind, in comparison to Dr. Gaul. Could he make Project Prometheus worship him, and in the same quiet breaths they were fond of, resent him? The thought of making them accustomed to anticipating his attendance, and lamenting his absence sounded tempting.

How nice it would be, to have someone other than a deranged crone enjoy his presence.

Tigris certainly didn’t anymore.

Coriolanus rose himself from the ground, gripping on the meat of Project’s Prometheus’s flesh to lift him. Under his touch, the pliant stretch of skin and tissue made the subject remove their hands from his shoulders. Another faint breath escaped their exhale. It was a sound he was slowly getting used to. Back to their original height difference, he no longer had to crane his head up to look at the subject. The subject had to lift their head up to look up at him, now. What did Project Prometheus see, in their gaze as they stared at him, Coriolanus thought. Was he too, consumed in shadow and bathed under the gritty lights of the examination room like they once had?

“We’re done with the mark-up.” It took him a moment to move away from the subject. “We’ll move to holding the nerve exam now, after I administer a low dosage of your medication.”

The uncapped, black marker was placed back down on the metal tray, aside from the examination table. Replacing its empty space was now the syringe he had filled out before, the dark color swishing as he picked it up. The needle gleamed under the fluorescent light. Turning his back around, Project Prometheus had already sat themselves up nicely on the edge of the examination table for him. Their legs dangled off, their hands held at the edges of the worn-out leather cushion, eyes fixated on his person. They were waiting for him. He’s almost bothered, how easily the subject could anticipate his next set of commands. He hoped that this was just due to routine, not because he had become easy to read. Coming up to meet them there, the only sound that filled the air was the sole of his shoes stepping against the tiles. Gloved fingers reached to grab at the jaw of Project Prometheus, the syringe held close to their face. It shone particularly brilliant, mere inches away from their face. The subject showed him no fear, no resistance, despite the way the skin of the cheeks had moved under his grasp.

Already, he wanted to break them.

“Show me where to inject you.”

He’d be sweet, Coriolanus would let them pick where it was most comfortable for him to inject the medication in. Project Prometheus complied immediately to him, holding on the hand that held their needle to adjust the position. They guided him to the back of their neck, moving their hair to make space. To reward their compliance, he pricked the syringe quickly under the skin, careful not to touch an artery or nerve. The dark liquid inside the barrel slowly filled out, emptying itself as he pushed the plunger down. The subject did not let out a sound, a favorable contrast to Livia, who waited for him outside these Citadel walls.

He was going to mold them into something useful.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosas fic #thg series #thg fic #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #volumnia gaul #tw medical #medical horror #fanfic #.// ♡ basil's archive #. // ♡ rubatosis series #its insane how much i wrote for this first chapter lmao #its like 30 pages on google docs #i am obsessed with this man #i really wanted this chapter to be a focus of snow & reader building their dynamic and bond before we jump off the deep end #i am really excited to write the coming chapters

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