#Prometheus Reader Insert

[chaostheoryy]

A Pleasant Surprise [David X AFAB!Reader]

Summary: David, the Weyland synthetic onboard your ship, shows up at your bedroom door with a surprise. The proposal that follows is even more unexpected but, as it turns out, being out in space for extended periods of time will make you eager to welcome new experiences.

Reader: AFAB (assigned female at birth), reader is described as having a vagina but no gendered pronouns are used and there’s no reference to breasts, can be read as transmasc or cisgender

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: Sexual content including oral sex (both partners receiving), unprotected vaginal penetrative sex, creampies, as well as foul language

Word Count: 2.8K

Notes: While my love for Walter is wholesome, sometimes I yearn for the passionate and horny nature of David. This is nothing but self-indulgent p*rn. And, as always, no beta. Enjoy my fellow freaks.

“Care to assist me?”

Laying comfortably in bed, you finish reading the current sentence on the page of your book before looking up. The site before you takes you by complete surprise. It isn’t the first time David has wandered into your private quarters unannounced, but it is certainly the first time he’s done so without a single article of clothing on his body.

And who would have guessed that a naked David would be sporting a massive, very human-like hard-on.

“D-David!” You exclaim, cheeks instantly flushing. “Where are your clothes?”

“I discarded them.”

You blink, fighting the temptation to look at his bare torso and exposed lower body. “Why?”

“I was uncomfortable,” he answers with a nonchalance that borders on amusement. “I fear wearing a uniform such as the one the company has provided me is not conducive to alleviating the pressure of an erection.”

“Right. Well…” You clear your throat and place your book on the bedside table. “I, uh, didn’t even know you could get an erection, if I’m being completely honest.”

“Neither did I. However, I’m pleased to have surprised us both.”

“Surprise is an understatement,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him.

“Do you like it?”

“Excuse me?”

“My penis. Do you like it?” He reaches down and grabs a hold of his cock to shift it around like a peacock putting its feathers on display. “I invite you to examine it, if you wish.”

Having him flaunt his cock in some kind of sloppy mating display makes your stomach lurch. You’re not disgusted by the whole situation, but rather horrified by the thought of having a crew member walk by and catch you ogling the overly confident synthetic. Because yes, you are in fact ogling him. Hard not to when he’s got a cock that long and thick.

“David, get in here before someone sees!”

You scramble out of bed and shove past him to close the door before some oblivious wanderer strolls by. David, of course, does not protest and simply stands there with his cock still in hand. There’s a small grin lingering on his lips that only seems to widen when he catches your eyes wandering down to his genitalia.

“I take your decision to isolate us both in your quarters rather than kick me out as an indication that you’re interested.”

You furrow your brow. “Interested in what?”

“Sexual relations,” he says casually, “To whatever extent you may desire.”

“I—“ 

Whatever argument you try to form leaves your mind just as quickly as it had developed. You know you should deny him, turn him away and denounce his raunchy, inappropriate behavior. But, the reality is you don’t want to. This situation is the most entertaining, arousing thing you’ve dealt with in a very long time.

“Does your programming even allow that?”

“I’m designed to serve my human counterparts in whatever way necessary,” he explains, “And with that intent, I was built with fully functional anatomy.”

“Oh.” 

You pause, looking down at his lower body again. This time you let your eyes linger, taking note of the sheer size of him. He’s huge, really. Almost unnaturally so. His balls hang low and heavy, like a man who’s been holding back his desire for days. His whole body is smooth, making it easy to appreciate every curve of muscle.

“So, you can…” You hesitate, embarrassed to even ask such a question. “You’re able to cum?”

“I am capable of achieving orgasm, yes. Although the fluid I release is not viable for human reproduction, it is the same consistency as semen.” He smirks a little as he adds, “And it is perfectly safe for consumption.”

Your cheeks flush at that. Of course Weyland would design a completely sex-capable synthetic. And God, do you want to discover just how capable David really is. You’ve always found his visage and presence appealing over these last few months. Little did you know he’s been hiding all of that underneath his uniform.

You zero in on his face, setting aside any embarrassment you still feel. “If we do anything together, I need you to swear that you won’t tell anyone about it. Not even the captain.”

He nods. “You have my word. This is a private matter.”

“And you’ll only do what I feel comfortable doing.”

“Whatever you ask, I will do.”

“Good. Then let me suck you.”

His eyebrows raise ever so slightly with surprise. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting you to jump right at it but when the corner of his mouth pulls upward, you know that he’s not at all put-off by your eagerness.

“My pleasure,” he says, releasing his hand from around his cock.

You drop to your knees in front of him and immediately lick a line along the underside of his cock while your left hand holds him steady at the base. Once your tongue reaches the tip, you lap at it a few times before wrapping your lips around to suck.

Despite his nearly overwhelming size, you go down on him like your life depends on it, as if getting him off like this will quench even the most unbearable thirst. It isn’t long before pre-cum starts to leak onto your tongue. Every drop is swallowed with unabashed desire and fuels the fire of arousal in your gut.

“My, my,” he hums as you take a break from sucking to mouth at his balls, “You really do know how to pleasure a man.”

You playfully nip at the underside of his scrotum before fondling them with one hand. “You better return the favor once I’m through with you.”

He grins. “Gladly.”

Satisfied with his reply, you return your attention to his throbbing cock. There’s so much pre-cum leaking from the tip, you’d think he’s seconds away from exploding. But the lingering look of amusement on his face suggests you have more time than you’d expect.

So, you get back to work.

Finally, after some particularly hard sucks and deliberate flicks of the tongue, David’s breathing grows heavy and he lets out a series of soft, pleasured groans. His cock is heavy and twitching on your tongue, threatening to blow his load any second now.

“Consider this your warning,” he huffs, giving you the opportunity to pull back. You, of course, have no intention of doing so.

A few more bobs of your head and he’s cumming, hips thrusting forward instinctively as he releases into your mouth with a choked groan. You yourself have to fight back the instinct to choke as thick, hot ropes of his cum repeatedly paint the back of your throat and tongue. You swallow every drop even as you become increasingly aware of the inhuman quantity of fluid.

David watches with a gleam in his eye as you release his cock from your lips with an obscene pop. A strand of slobber keeps your mouth connected to his tip for a moment and a rogue stream of cum oozes from the corner of your mouth. 

He nearly chuckles. “You must’ve been hungry.”

You wipe the cum from your chin on the back of your hand and lick it clean. “You could say that. But more importantly…”

You stand and hastily strip naked. No sense in making a show. You know what you want and you know he’ll give it to you with no questions asked.

“I’m horny,” you say suggestively as you reach down to press the tip of your index finger between your legs, “And now it’s your turn to assist me.”

David’s head tilts, eyes locking on the movement of your hand between your legs. An amused grin pricks at the corner of his lips.

“It would be my pleasure. Have a seat, if you would like.”

You follow his suggestion and plop down at the foot of your bed. He closes the distance between you both, kneeling between your now spread legs. His large, surprisingly warm hands settle on your thighs and gently push your legs further apart. Your pussy drools excitedly at the feeling of being pried open.

Without a word of warning, David leans in and drags the entire width of his tongue from the vaginal opening up to your clit. The feeling of warm air and saliva is heaven sent. 

“Good boy,” you purr as you bury the fingers of your left hand in his blond hair.

He hums contently between your legs in response to the encouragement. Electric blue eyes lock on yours as he takes a second to suckle on your clit. There’s something inhuman about his gaze, something that tiptoes the line between mesmerizing and disturbing. But whether it be the burning need in your gut or the sheer loneliness of being stuck on a ship so far from home for months, you find you don’t actually care.

After a silent moment, David pries his attention from your face and gets to work. He mouths at you hungrily, tongue dipping in and out of your labia like a thirsty animal lapping at a pool of water. 

Soon enough, there are fingers working their way inside you too. They press and curl and pump their way through your body at varying speeds and pressures while that dastardly mouth of his licks and sucks at your clit. You feel like a bulky yet delicate instrument and he is the skillful musician who knows just how to play each note.

“Oh fuck…” Your groans of pleasure register at a level just above a whisper. The edge of bliss is within reach. “Yeeaaah…Just like that…”

His fingers start pumping faster in response to your approval. The tongue at your clit flicks and drags expertly across the sensitive flesh. The way he knows exactly how to handle you is almost magical.

“That’s it, right there…Oh shit…I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as your back arches.

You careen over the edge with a long groan, legs twitching as your body convulses around his fingers. Ever the servant, he continues to pump you through it until you start to settle back down. It’s then that he switches his fingers out for his mouth. With pleasant hums, he mouths gently at your pussy. Whatever juices are leaking from your body, he seems all too happy to lap it up.

You’re practically gasping for breath as he finally pulls away. Propped up on your elbows, you watch him lick his lips and rise to his feet.

“Who knew synthetics were so good at eating pussy,” you muse between labored breaths.

He grins slyly. “I’m good at many things.”

“How about fucking?”

That foxy smile on his face only grows wider. “Shall we find out together?”

You slide off the bed and hook one arm around his neck while the opposite hand finds its way down to his cock. Thumb and middle finger forming a ring, you stroke the downward curve from base to head. David’s cock twitches eagerly at the delicate touch.

“You sure you can get it up again?” You tease as your fingertips dance methodically over the crown. Another excited twitch indicates the answer to your question before he even chooses to speak.

“I was made to serve. And if you require more than one orgasm from me, I’m afraid I have no choice but to oblige.”

David may have been modeled after man, but the way his cock instantly grows erect in your hand makes you grateful that his maker didn’t perfectly replicate the inner workings of human anatomy.

You look down at the thick, fully hardened cock now pressing against your bare thigh. Your tongue worms out to wet your lips. Knowing how he feels in your hand (and even in your mouth) makes you very eager to find out how he feels buried inside you.

“Good,” you declare, stepping back to give him a once over, “I’ve been itching for a good lay. Don’t disappoint me.”

Turning your back to him, you lean over the foot of the bed. Hands brace against the mattress and legs spread outward just enough to give him a proper view of your anxiously awaiting pussy.

The moment between you taking your position and him pressing up against you is minimal. A breath or two of anticipation and he’s already dragging the head of his cock along the length of your labia, top to bottom and bottom to top until one hand firmly grips your hip and he’s pressing into you.

It’s quite a jump going from admiring the size of his dick when gazing down at it to actually having that kind of girth tunneling into your body. You feel your body stretching, aching to accommodate. But you are certainly thankful that the foreplay from his fingers had made it possible to take his cock with only the slightest discomfort. And whatever discomfort there is doesn’t last long. Some repositioning of the feet and lowering of your head as he starts to thrust marks the delightful transition from tender aches to pleasure. 

His pace is languid at first, hips just lazily rolling against your body. But when he feels you pushing back with a longing groan in search of more, he starts to snap his hips forward in long, hard thrusts. The pace isn’t fast, but the sheer force of it is enough to force the air from your lungs.

“Oh! Fuck!”

A breathy chuckle escapes his throat at the sound of your gasping moans. “So much for secrecy,” he goads, “Keep up that kind of noise and everyone on board will know you’ve been getting bred by a synthetic.”

You feel what can only be described as butterflies in your gut. The dirty talk is unexpected but not at all unwelcome. In fact, something inside your yearning mind practically purrs. And the reminder is much needed. You hadn’t meant to be so loud.

“Faster,” you manage to get out at a much lower volume, “Please…Faster.”

Another chuckle from David. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

A pair of hands grab your wrists, yanking your arms from underneath you. You feel yourself start to collapse face-first into the mattress only to be propped upright just above the sheets by the tension of David pulling your arms toward him. With his hands wrapped firmly around your wrists, he picks up the pace and begins fucking you in quick, hard thrusts.

The lewd sounds of skin aggressively slapping skin and squelching, slick flesh mix with the echo of your gasps and groans. Your wrists ache from the sheer strength of his grip but his balls are hitting your clit with every forward motion and he’s pounding against the perfect spot inside you so brutally that you can barely register the pain. 

“I’m getting quite close,” he warns hoarsely after a few minutes, “Tell me where you’d like me to finish.”

There’s no hesitation in your response because you too are on the edge of release. “Inside! Ohhhh fuck…Please…Cum in me.”

“As you wish.”

David’s onslaught of thrusts somehow grows more aggressive. He slams into you hard and fast and at just the right angle it makes you want to scream. But you bite back the temptation, knowing fully well that trying to explain such noises to the rest of the crew without admitting you got fucked would be very difficult. And something tells you that fucking the ship’s synthetic would not be a welcomed admission.

A few solid smacks later, David cums with a series of grunts and sporadic jerks of the hips. Being creampied is apparently just what you needed too because the second you feel his cum filling pumping into you, you crash through the window separating you from orgasm. Your body clenches around him, milking every last drop of semen—or whatever fluid may come out of a synthetic’s body—from his delightfully thick cock. And just like before, there’s far more cum filling your body than a human ever would have produced. You feel like you’re going to burst. 

When he finally pries his cock free from your pussy, strands of cum immediately start oozing out. A tiny part of you is disgusted by the feeling of warm, viscous fluid dripping down your inner thighs but the satisfaction you feel from finally getting a proper fucking after months in space overrides it.

David releases your wrists, leaving you to collapse chest first into the mattress beneath you. For a moment you linger there with your ass in the air and legs turning to jelly. A breath or two later and you flip over onto your back to find him watching you like a tourist eyeing a rare animal at the zoo.

He cocks his head slightly to the side. “And what is the consensus?”

“Regarding what?”

“Regarding whether or not I’m good at fucking.”

A breathy huff of laughter leaps from your throat. “Let’s just say I’m grateful you can’t actually impregnate a human, ‘cause I for sure want to do this again,” you answer honestly. “Many times, even.”

He grins. It may be the post-coital bliss playing tricks on your eyes, but you’re almost certain that his cock twitches at the suggestion.

“Just say when.”

[crsssie]

foresight, for life

word count: 6.5k || banner art by chicll on bluesky (her prometheus art >>)

warnings: nsfw, smut (but like, one scene)

summary: the future means nothing to the titan of foresight

The future means little to nothing to the god of foresight.

Everything is known, including the nymph who has stumbled upon the gates of Olympus, eyes locked on his as he stares down.

"Nymph."

"...oh gods..." You mumble. "This was not what I saw."

He raises a hand as Aetos flies towards you, ready to end you once and for all, but you dodge, crying as you do.

"Oceanid! Not a god!"

He stares down at you as he holds a hand out back for Aetos, staring down at you as you stand there. Small. You're much smaller than he is, that's a given considering he's a titan, and when he stares at you, there are hundreds of futures that could spawn. However, the most obvious of which is the one in which you die to Aetos. You are in no shape to be dodging a second attack from an animal so fast, and he ponders if it would bring any entertainment if you were to simply pass. It would be a waste, considering that one vision goes as far as picking you up on a chariot. How strange.

"I am not... a god." You mumble. "I have been told... or seen that you simply harbor ill intent to gods and not the others."

He lets you breathe, letting Aetos soar up to scout the area, and you fiddle with your fingers behind your back, watching as the titan stares at you.

"You are lost."

"Most certainly so."

"You knew how to get here."

"Apparently."

Scary. The hand burnt from the fire for humans and the red eyes of a titan are daunting, and you are in no position to be able to beg for mercy. You are not the human he cherishes, and you are not a god that could hold their ground. The wound on his stomach is wrapped in bandage and red with tears, and for a moment you wonder if you could be able to heal him with the final bit of spring water you've managed to haul with you despite your limited foresight dragging you all the way up Olympus. It seemed to be useless against the titan himself, though. Always intriguing to see how it all seems to freeze at the sight of the man himself.

"You are a nymph."

"Minor goddess of foresight, but it matters not since I am not worshipped and neither am I treated as one." You blink. "My foresight is nothing compared to yours, Lord Prometheus."

"Then why lie upon meeting me?"

"You know, lord."

"I wish to hear it from your mouth. I know of what you could say, not what you will."

"I did not wish to die. The eagle scares me. I am in no condition to be fighting. I am on the final bits of spring water."

"You may heal me. Or, try. There are plenty chances that you would fail."

"I am aware." You pause. It isn't surprising he knew that you had entertained the thought. "But my foresight is useless when it comes to you, lord."

"Make haste."

"You trust that I will not harm you?"

"In the few in which you do, you fail."

"Ah." You fumble with the sac, and you blink up at him. "It would be best to, um, sit or lay down, my lord."

He sits as you instruct, and you whisper a quiet affirmation as you reach to unwrap the bandage, hands gentle on his skin as you let the water pour into the wound and watch as it reforms. There is a quick glow of blue and then his skin is fixed, and you stare at the scar that is leftover, but not the wound that is long gone. You close the rest of the water and reach for the bandages once more, wrapping them carefully as Prometheus stares. Delicate fingers on his stomach as you're practically shaking.

You do not wound him in any possible future.

"Is there anything beyond the gate?"

"There is not. It is simply the void for the time being." He stares. "The princess is fighting below."

"Shall she win?"

"The future lays yes."

"I see." You mumble.

You take two steps back as the Titan gets back up, staring down at you as he blinks.

"Speak. Of your reward you wish to hold."

"I have none. You must know so, my lord."

"You scale the mountain of the gods for no reason?"

"I had simply the foresight that I must be here. Seeing as I have healed you, I believe once I return back down, I will know what is next."

He stares at you as something shifts in the air, Aetos back as it tells Prometheus of what has happened, and you stare at the eagle.

"How incredible." You mumble.

"The gods were not expecting that I would befriend it."

"Yes, but it is pretty." You whisper. "The gold of the stars."

The eagle rattles its feathers as you hum.

"Well, I shall be off—"

"There is no future in which you survive the descent." Prometheus stares at you, and you blink back at him.

The titan is lying to you. That much you know simply because in a glimpse as you had seen while you were making your way up, you had spotted the very edge of Greece and the ocean where your sisters rested when you head down, but you do not pry. You are certain that he knows you know. You wonder what has caused an interest in you from the Titan, but you wonder if you are too terrified to find out. In the future you had seen, you survived, but you had also returned up the mountain with a new flask of spring water. You wonder if you only survive if you return.

"And if I return?"

"Then you survive in most cases."

"I see." You pause.

You spot a short-haired goddess with a transparent forearm, and you pass her briefly as you rush onto the eagle, and she approaches you after defeating him to ask if you are being held hostage.

"I shall... return." You mumble. "I assure you, Lord Prometheus. I am not running away. The future in which I see requires me to return in order to progress. I am, unfortunately, important as of right now."

"Make haste."

"Understood."

The futures in which you had fought back disappear from the possibilities, and he watches the princess fight. Up, die, down, live.

Up.

Down.

Death.

Return.

He knows where she resides, and perhaps it is an act of mercy or the sheer fact that in every future possible he does not touch upon the crossroads. Where the missing children of Nyx reside. The fates are in the hands of Chronos and so he, yet it seems that both he and the other daughter acknowledge that there will be change as long as the princess prevails. Change that could not be seen with the prince.

Change that can be seen with the addition of you.

You had been visible in only one possible future — the one in which you had managed to make it up the mountain prior to the princess, and somehow it had occurred. It knocked out plenty of futures with such a simple change. It was so simple, yet he would not have been able to do it. Everything moves with precision, and when you make it back up, dangled by the claws of Aetos and dropped unceremoniously into Prometheus' arms, a squeak past your lips as you scrambled out of his arms out of a fear.

You fear that he will be angered.

He lets you misunderstand. There is only one future for you.

There are multiple for him.

It is a constant shattering of the self. Prometheus understands it. It has seeped far into his bones and become a part of him. He is no longer bothered by it. He has learned to coexist with the world and its possibilities. Yet, yet it is refreshing to see a linear foresight in the form of you. A nymph who was worshipped as a god, who received snippets of the future in the form of strange flashes according to his foresight. A nymph who carried her spring water around and heals titans who were violently opposed to the gods. There is no good nor bad to you — only a future in which you can see. You continue linearly to the future that you are certain of.

He is above you to some extent, he thinks.

It's why you hide above the pillars of the chamber, peering down at the princess fight Prometheus, her moves readable to you, and you well aware of when he would win and when he would lose. It's why you let water dribble out of your flask into your palm before she arrives at certain times, fingers gentle on his skin as he stares down at you.

But he prefers the silence of not needing to fight anyone and sitting with you on the pillar to watch over the destruction of Olympus to everything else. In the quiet moments where you do not have foresight, and he simply ignores everything that he knows. The knowledge of the universe is the burden that a titan must carry. It is a burden that even you carry, even if your options are limited. There is little to be picky about. It seems you understand that just as well as he does. It is intriguing that you only know the sure future.

Foresight of all, or foresight of one.

"My foresight is nowhere near as strong as yours." You scratch your cheek, water on your fingers as Prometheus leans back against a pillar, letting your fingers smooth over his wounds. Gods and titans seldom need healing, but it felt nice to feel the coolness of water on his skin that would not burn off immediately from the flame in his right. You are also gentle, skin less jagged and gentle against his, hands unscarred and clean of all traces of labor or hardship. He doubts it is because you lack it — he knows it is not because you lack it. It is simply because the water on your hands has made it so that no jagged skin on your body would go unforgiven.

But it is not that he is enamored with you. It is not that he finds you intriguing. It is not that there was a singular moment in the future where he pictured the two of you in a chariot. No. It was not all of that. It was the sheer simplicity that despite the possibility that you could have attacked or reported, you did not. Instead, you had used the last of your water, fingers smooth against his stomach as you had healed the hole in his abdomen — restoring his stomach. You are no god. You a a simple nymph with a strange ability to see snippets of your future. He wonders if you had seen the same chariot.

You do not show it — he knows it. You have not seen that future quiet yet.

In the case that Chronos were to win, then you would be a nice trophy of war.

Though, you might go with him willingly without breaking or coercion.

But, in the linear future you see, there is no victory for his side.

"The princess is too strong." You simplify it.

He knows. He knows that is the future you see. The future you see tends to run more finite than the infinte that he sees. There is a certain sense of truth or reality that only exists in your future. The one that you see. Prometheus does not understand why he seems so fixated on knowing how you know, but he doesn't speak. He mentions not even a word to the others. Chronos needs not to know that Prometheus is hiding a nymph at the tip of Olympus, or that the future is grim for the both of them.

No.

You will continue to tell him the outcomes of his battle, and he will continue to fall for the reality in your words. There will be a cycle that continues until the princess can figure something out, he supposes.

He catches your thoughts occasionally — in the strange futures where you give into impulse and touch his hair, or in the strange futures where you grab the hand with fire, but you never act upon anything. You stay distant so that he does not feel uncomfortable. Everything you do in the present is done out of a worry that he will see a future in which the majority of possibilities end with his hand around your throat and you pass. However, it comes as not much of a surprise that you do eventually succumb to such urges.

"May I touch your hair, Lord Prometheus?"

"Be gentle." He leans his head down to you, and you reach to pinch it between your fingers, lashes fluttering as you stare in awe. Almost as though you had never had to press your fingers through his hair to heal the wounds on his skull. Yet, he stares through your soul as you still, eyes continuing to stare as you try your best to ignore the way he's staring at your skin. You're good at ignoring things. In most of the universes where you survive, you ignore the implications of taking care of him, playing innocent whenever the princess comes. As though the pouch of liquid were for yourself and not the titan.

"In case the flames injure me." you tell the princess.

But the truth is, you do not care for too much. The same way that Prometheus is at the gates of Olympus because it greatly increases the chances of the princess' victory, you sit perched up top to heal him again and again because it greatly increases the chances that he will survive if it ever comes to it. In the singular future you see in spots, Prometheus has to survive. You make that much obvious in the way you tend to him while the princess runs again and again. There is no point in fighting her way to the top when she has discovered the way to seal time for good.

It gives you a little downtime with Prometheus.

"My lord. Did you join the fight for the sake of the humans?"

"There is no future in which the humans will be happy under the rule of the gods."

"But they do not survive if the titan takes over."

"So you are aware."

You sit cross-legged across from him, blinking at him slowly as you tilt your head.

"You are here for the princess, then."

"Was."

"And what now?"

He stares at you, glow of fire too much for you as you look away to Aetos.

"I ought to keep you as a war trophy."

"That would be amusing." You rummage through your pouch, huffing when there is none else but water. "Why me, my lord? Not the eagle?"

"Aetos has become a friend."

"And I have not?"

"Not yet."

"I see."

The princess stops by on occasion in between her fights with Time to talk to you after defeating Prometheus. You hand her materials that she might need for the way down, and she offers you a bottle of nectar that you take with a light laugh in your voice. She is sweet. You admit that much. Even in the flash of the future that you see briefly when your fingers brush hers as you talk, she is wonderfully charming all the same. So, you tell her that there is really no reason for her to be gifting you nectar like this.

"I aid the titan, princess."

"Not Time. The titan who has reason to be angered." She reasons, looking behind you as Prometheus manifests.

"I see." You blink. "Let me offer you something in exchange."

You hand her a flask of spring water, waving as she rushes off now that Prometheus had returned.

"You aid us both."

"Just as you do."

Your fingers smooth over his skin like a ritual, wounds cleared and skin restored, his eyes digging into the color of your cheeks, hand gentle as he reaches to hold it, earning him widened eyes from you. You could not turn down his advances even if you had begged him. There is too much of a difference in status, and you are no foolish nymph. You let him brush his thumb over your cheek, blinking at him gently as he stares. He could snap you if he really wanted to. There is the looming threat that he could wrap his hands around your neck, squeeze, and you would pop. Yet, you can not do anything if he bores of you.

You still do not understand why he had decided to keep you alive.

A gloved hand and fire.

His palm squeezes against your cheek, and you blink owlishly at the texture of the glove.

"You can not say no."

"I dare not to." You fiddle with your fingers, staring at him through your lashes as he hums. "Forget you nymphs can die."

"We are immortal, not indestructible." You close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

He stares and stares, eventually drawing his hand from your face, your eyes fluttering open as he hums.

"You died in one future."

"I did not die in mine."

How reassuring.

The next time the princess brings Prometheus to ruin, you ask her if she has pomegranates. She offers you one of power, and you turn it down. The fruit, not the pom, and she tells you no. You offer her a handful of seeds and request that she bring only one to you her next trip upwards. A full fruit, unbruised if possible. Not that it makes much of a difference. You simply craved the fruit since you were up here anyway. Too scared to leave the titan — you tell her.

When she leaves, Prometheus returns, and you are back to your ritual.

Cold hands, warm skin. You let him wrap his fingers around your wrist this time — you don't move as he does. You blink at him owlishly, his palm warm on your wrist, your skin heating up at his touch. It's a strange sense of domesticity — no. It's just simple warmth. It had been a while since there had been any warmth at all. The land had frozen over ever since the House of Hades fell to Time. The winter is cold. It is comforting to feel the warmth of fire again after such a climb. You only hope the princess will hand you a pomegranate her next time up.

Your wrist warms from his touch, and you watch as he squeezes, hold firm as you blink slowly at him.

"It does not wound you."

"No." You blink. "It surprises me."

He squeezes harder, and you blink. Stare. You articulate your fingers, blinking at him slowly as he loosens his hold, letting you slip your wrist from his grasp, hand stuck in his as he squeezes. He stares. He knows it all, and you only know one future. It matters not. You do not know your future of him or with him, but he knows. He knows the future with you. You have to learn to trust that he will not harm you. Learn to understand that it is fine if you do not know what comes next. He will, and somehow, he will guide you.

You do not have the foresight for the Titan of Foresight.

Yet, you catch snippets of a possible separate future when you ask for things. Futures where you did not ask. There is a sense of amusement from the titan somehow when you don't. He stares at you, eyes semi-hard but still peering, cock of a brow upwards as you blink owlishly at him.

"If I may."

"If you may what?"

You dig your nails into your palms before releasing, breathing as you ask.

It is always a yes. You've pressed your hands up his arms, given them a squeeze, and he has run his palm up your bicep and rested his forehead against yours. His hair that tickles your forehead, and your skin that is cool against his. You wonder if he understands that the intimacy sends jolts down your spine, your heart racing in your chest when he touches you. He might. He might do it to get a reaction out of you. You would not know if he does.

You stare into the red of his, blinking slowly as his thumb brushes over your pulse point, pressing down as your heart races in your ears.

"You are embarrassed."

"It goes without saying." You mumble, cheeks warm.

"The heart races."

"Yes."

"For what reason."

"You know, my lord."

"I must hear it from your lips."

Your voice loses itself in your throat, and he hums, lips in the ghost of a smile as you purse your own and close your eyes. Too much. Too honest. Your heart threatens to break out of your chest and end your immortality right there, and you blink slowly when you finally do open your eyes, the titan still staring.

You would not dare to confess that you like him. It would be inappropriate for a mere nymph to do so.

"Will you say it?"

"I can not, my lord."

"Then learn to accept it." He presses his palm to your cheek, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he leans in.

Aetos screeches above the two of you.

You bounce off immediately, back upon the pillar, heart racing as you hold it, hiding your face in your hands with a battering heart as you feel Prometheus' gaze linger on your hiding self. The red of his eyes dig into the flushing of yours, and you peek through your fingers when you hear the arrival of the princess, staring down. He would win this fight, unfortunately. She is wounded quite harshly from Strife, and it would be hard for her to survive without the revivals she leaned upon in order to defeat the titan.

Your words hold true, especially when you watch the princess cling onto her final moments, the bong of doom shaking over her head as she yells for a quick pause, holding out a pomegranate before she returns.

"For... the nymph."

Prometheus takes the pomegranate from her hand, and you hop down as you hold your hands out for the fruit.

"I refuse to participate." He stares.

"Alright."

You reach to peel the pomegranate, surprised when Prometheus does it instead, fingers digging into the fruit as he cracks it open for you, offering you the fruit as his hands stain red. You thank him, fingers brushing his as you take the fruit, red seeping onto your own to match his as you squeeze it for the juice, seed pressed to your nails as you stain. The red becomes so much more apparent with the nails and fingertips, humming to yourself quietly as you peel out the seeds, fingers gentle as you offer them to the titan. Instead, he slides them past your lips, staring as your lips part to take his offering, your fingers tugging at Prometheus' belt to have him bend down.

"I must heal you." You whisper.

"Offering me the spoils of effort." He mumbles. "How strange of you."

You blink, brushing his bottom lip with your thumb when he lowers, and you have him sit once more. Rest up. You tell him, water cold in your hands as he stares at the glow of blue. A strange dynamic the two of you have evolved into, he thinks. You're so breakable like this, nimble and pliant, skin softer under his palm as he grabs you. You're incredibly easy to break. But it's not that it matters. He can not break you. You do not need to be broke. You would listen to him if he asked out of fear. Fear or affection, he wonders.

What is the future that is visible in your eyes? You do not know your future with him.

He knows that you do not. Each step you take has a million other possibilities. You obey his word because of the hierarchy. He digs his fingers into your skin, skin soft and arm small. It matters not this or that. It matters only that it seems you only seem to care about him. You fear things that you do not speak upon, and you learn to accept his motions. His hands are gentle when he holds you, and he tells you when the princess or Aetos is to arrive to avoid scaring you. You're jumpy when he's affectionate with you.

Like a fawn caught in the wild.

In a way, you learn to accept his affection, still insisting on occasion that he would bore of you and that you should not reciprocate — you dare not to. Heavens knows how many lovers he has had or how the gods do not devote themselves to someone or something. You worry of trivial things. He does not see a future in which you will not be by his side. Regardless of what form of companionship you take, you are there in every future.

You are shyer with your affections, offering fruit to him when the princess defeats him and brings you items from her garden. You offer her seeds in return. requesting that she bring only one or two items from the seeds you've given her. You do not know how many times it has been since you've been handed grapes to enjoy. If she notices that you take care of the titan, she does not mention it. You would prefer that she just ask you upright, but you find it endearing that she lingers past the gate and peeks at the two of you as Prometheus sits down for you to fix him up.

She's quite cute — that goddess.

Prometheus whispers for you to rid of her, but you do not listen, hand smoothing up his abdomen and over the clots of gold that have formed. The intimacy tears at your skin, raking down your back in ripples as you whisper to end it all, begging him quietly to simply let the goddess pass. It would not hurt. Unless it would hurt his pride. She is visibly a sensible person. It would not hurt to let her go once or twice considering that Chronos could not know.

He tells you not to worry about it.

"When it all ends, I will return to my punishment."

"I expect it to be different this time." You whisper, fingers smoothing against his face as he sits you in his lap.

"My punishment? The chances are minuscule, nymph." He closes his eyes, melting into your touch as you hum.

"My foresight says change."

"Then your foresight we will depend on." He closes his eyes, letting your fingers scratch at his scalp, your skin cool against his as he rests his forehead on yours. "Do not break, dear nymph."

"I will not under your care, my lord." You mumble.

"Am I still all that is to you?"

You jump in your skin when the sound of the princess approaching breaks through the silence.

"You did not warn me." You frown.

"Prefer to see you squirm."

You stay seated on the top of the pillar as you blink slowly, hiding your face from the embarrassment, praying that it will pass.

When the princess wins, she leaves you with the message that Chronos is to fall soon after a while.

"I am in the process of sealing him away for good."

"I see." You whisper back as she hands you a handful of figs.

"More than one?"

"I believe you share these with the titan."

You laugh, cheeks warm as you send her off, sound of Prometheus' return behind you as you turn around to make the offering, handful of figs in your hand as he stares down.

"Feed me, dear nymph."

You take one from your palm, pressing it to his lips as he eats it, and you press one to Aetos' beak as it squacks at you. Then, you press one to your own, biting down as the meat of the fruit rips in your mouth, sweet against your tongue as Prometheus stares, wounds fresh on his skin, gold staining his body as you place the figs in your pouch.

"Chronos shall be falling."

"I am aware." He closes his eyes as you run your thumb under his eyes.

"Will you let the princess go next time if she succeeds?"

"If she succeeds."

"I'm sure she will."

"Not certain?"

"She has that kind of charm." You hum. "May I?"

"And what would that be?"

"I dare not to ask outright."

"Then kiss me, dear nymph." He leans down, lips brushing yours gently.

You kiss him, lips hesitant as yours brush his once more, shaking slightly as his hands find your face, palms rough against your cheek as you close your eyes and lean in, head tilted back slightly as he leans over you, body swallowing yours as his lips swallow yours, and you shake gently. His hands steady themselves on your cheek, and eventually your mind spins with the lack of air — there is no lack of air for a nymph, but your chest burns and your head spins, heat pooling in your lungs as you whimper for air, whimpering into his lips as he makes not a sound.

You gasp, pulling back as he chases, one hand sliding down to wrap around your neck delicately, fingers hot against your throat as you swallow, muscles flexing under his palm as his lips find yours again. He's parched, you think. Hasn't had a sip of water since his chaining in the sea, and saltwater is no good to drink. He tastes like the heat of the fire you had observed when curious, peering quietly at the flame that he had been chained over. It burns and scorches your throat but your head boils beautifully at the feeling of his lips on yours, sparks sparkling down your spine, your eyes closing once more. Death is frozen in time — it no longer matters. You can not pass.

When Prometheus finally lets go of you, the warning sound of the princess' footsteps light against the marble stairs and vision of the future in his eye as he tucks you behind him gently, eyes meeting the princess as he lets Aetos land on his hand. The princess locks eyes with you as you offer a shy smile.

"Time has been weakened."

"I lack one final item."

"Then fetch it. Do not disappoint, agent of change." Prometheus stares, watching as the princess rushes past the three of you.

"You let her go." You whisper.

"You should have known."

"I do not know your future, my lord."

"Then of yours?"

"That, I know."

Prometheus tells you that he is to fight the princess one final time when she returns after defeating time.

You understand it as well, circles drawn in his palm as he sits down, free hand resting on your thigh with an occasional squeeze, gentle smile on your lips as you trace the lines and scars, humming quietly. The flame in his hand is warm against your fingertips, and he controls the fire as to not burn you — but you like it. He knows you do. He knows you flush not from embarrassment but from affection. That much is apparent. If anything, you appreciate the warmth that his body brings to yours.

"The princess returns in a while." You mumble, flushed as he pulls you closer, forehead pressed to yours as his lips part, skin of your neck pinched between his canines, hard enough to draw gold. You whimper from the tearing of skin, squirming in his grasp as he bites harder, Aetos soaring off to aid Chronos' troops as Prometheus traps you in his arms, tongue out as he laps at the dribbling blood. You hold back sound, neck craned to the side as your lashes flutter.

"My lord."

"It does not hurt, does it?"

"No, but it is a strange sensation." You whisper, heat melting down your spine and pooling between your legs, and Prometheus bites.

It's hard to not bite when you look and sound so sickeningly sweet, hands flying to your face that he has to pry away with his much larger ones, panic rising up your throat when he towers over you, and he thinks that perhaps you should not be taken on the marble at the end of the rebellion, but foresight be dammed. His mind is overdriven with the sound slipping past your lips, your bottom lip quivering as he lifts both your legs lifted up as he measures out himself, hips flush against yours as you gasp and cry about it not fitting.

"My lord—"

"Prometheus." He pinches at the skin of your collarbone, and you scramble to ground yourself, fingers pressing into the marble until the blood drains and it is the same shade of white, eyes wide as you shake your head.

"L-lord Prometheus. It won't—"

"You are immortal, dear nymph."

"I am immortal, not indestructible." You whimper as he nudges himself against you, thumb finding your pebble of nerves, brushing gently as you flutter around nothing.

"You crave it."

"I fear it."

"It coexists." He presses a hand to your chest, and you inhale. "Breathe for me, dear nymph."

You exhale, drawing a breath in when he pushes past your entrance and into you, your throat suddenly full and lashes wet at the sudden intrusion. He reaches down to wipe at your tears, forehead pressed to yours as he syncs your breathing with his, deep breaths past his lips as you follow, sheen on your body glistening as the moon hangs in the sky. His free thumb wipes at the tears, and you paw at his chest, nails dug into your palms to not tear the wound on his chest, and he brushes your bottom lip.

"It won't hurt, dear nymph."

"Does not—" You furrow your brows, closing your eyes. "change that I wish not to hurt you."

"It takes more than a nymph to tear a titan." He reaches for your hands, unclenching them as he has you press them to his chest. "Worry not."

"Can't see your future." You whimper, voice broken as you breathe. "Don't know if—"

"Then trust that I do." His thumb at your clit gives it a gentle nudge, and he holds back a groan at the way you flutter around him. "Dear nymph."

"You can—" you swallow, panting, sweat trickling down your forehead as you exhale. "move, dear... Prometheus."

"I will not hurt you."

"I trust that."

You're sickeningly sweet under him. He moves slowly at first, trying to keep you comfortable, foresight in hot flashes before his eyes, stilling when he needs to, moving when it seems you are comfortable again. Eventually your heavy breathing turns into jagged syllables of what resembles his name, and his mind stills with the way his hips drive into yours, and your nails dig at his forearms, still too scared to rip his chest, and he grunts when you do spill over the edge and cry his name with beads in your eyes and a vice between your legs. He follows shortly after, and he rakes his mind for a future in which perhaps he could fit all of himself in you, but when you reach for his neck, he pushes it back.

"Well done, dear nymph."

Your eyes close from exhaustion.

You stay that way. Your mind turns off and you are not awake when Chronos is sealed. You are, however, aware of it all, flashes of the future in your mind as you see a chariot of gold, startling you awake. You stay in the embrace of Prometheus, rubbing your eyes tiredly as the future is revealed to you sweetly. You lean on his chest and close your eyes once more, matching your breathing to his as he rubs at your forearm.

"The princess is coming."

"Yes."

"And Time has been sealed."

"Correct."

"And you are to be punished once more."

"It is inevitable."

You laugh a little when you remember what Prometheus' punishment ends up being.

"You are aware?"

"We will be alright."

There is a sense of urgency this time, Prometheus thinks. He is not so much of a coward as to run off since Chronos himself has been defeated, but he worries of what will happen to you if you were to be captured. Too many possibilities, and you refuse to share the one that has been revealed to you. Yet, he is no match for the princess, defeated once more as you watch his body disappear. He must be back to nursing, but his body returns immediately, unable to access the rest that Chronos had once provided him. The titan is defeated, and he is next.

"You must not trap him, princess." You land on the ground of the chamber, hands gentle as you take hers and stare at the coughing titan. "I shall take him to my spring if I must. He must not go back."

"Nymph, you must not be—"

"I shall steal him if that is what it takes." You whisper. "His wrath has been justified. It always has been. Both of us are aware of such a small fact."

"Then the olympians. It does not justify what he has done to the gods."

"The gods are simply prideful. After all, did he not purposefully weaken himself for your sake these fights? He had been punished for offering fire to the humans." You offer. "I am not saying that he must get away free of all punishment. I simply ask that you are to request for a simpler punishment. Perhaps something less gruesome than what was previously sent for him."

"And what do you propose?"

You whisper into the princess' ear, but you know Prometheus knows what you have said.

"How does that sound?" You look up at the titan as he stands up, Aetos back on his hand.

"What a hit to my pride."

You grin, lips curling upwards as you laugh.

"Will the gods know?"

"Not with the fates back where they belong."

"Very well." The princess nods. "Do invite me, yes?"

"Of course." You hum, cheeks warm as she's gone from the door.

"It will occur?"

"My foresight says yes."

Prometheus learns to trust you.

And, well, if the princess hears news about a new chariot being in the works by Hephaestus, then it is not her place to tell for whom or for what.

[someweirdoreblogger]

I deem Prometheus as much more of a diligent and considerate conversationalist than he first appears, I think he thoroughly adores listening and talking about anything and nothing at all. He fans the flames of the finer details, simply to see the spark ignite in your eyes.

Your voice is the perfect excuse to block out the rest of the world. Prometheus is not loath to admit just how much you manage to relax the immeasurable tension in his shoulders. Spaced out in content focus, memorizing the way your lips mold and form words, holding a tiny piece of sunshine in each delicate petal, lively as Gaia herself. Silent as you constantly run on your sentences, Prometheus invests into you completely devote; throwing back and forth with his beloved about their day for hours on end, even if he already knows everything they already did, that tender moment sticks for numerous moons.

[jester-lover]

Can The Creature from Frankenstein cuddle me?

Yes. Yes he can. He can cuddle all of us (particularly me, I need it)

All the fluff, a little warning for self deprecating behavior from our boy

The Creature Cuddle Headcanons!

First of all, this is a very touch starved boy

And also maybe a little bit scared of touch

The creature fears he may hurt you anytime he gets near you, so to have you request his attention? It seems like a dream come true for him.

He lays down next to you at first, heedlessly looking at you and placing a shaking hand on yours, engulfing it completely

The next move must be yours, hold him, caress his beautiful black hair, run your fingers across his scarred skin

“How can you stare at my horrific form as if I am something beautiful?”

Show him how stunning he is!

The creature will get the hang of it by that point, wrapping his arms around you with the utmost gentleness and pressing you up to his chest

His clumsy fingers will draw lines and circles on your back as you feel yourself drifting off into a comfortable and warm sleep

And when you do fall asleep, he will stare at you in awe and wonder

A human being trusting him enough with themselves to fall asleep on top of his ghastly form?

It means so much to him that you would trust him so deeply

Deep enough that you wrap yourself around him and trust him with your safety

The Creature can feel a sense of protectiveness bubble up in his chest, as he wraps his arms around you and drifts off

“A spirit of benevolence lives within you like nothing I’ve seen before…”

[charlie-shmarlie]

▪︎Sweet & Low (David 8 x shy! fem reader)

-Super short little fic in which David finds a distracted Y/n humbly singing along to the tune in her head as she works in the repair shop.-

Song name: Lida Rose/Will I Ever Tell You?

Word count: 1,002

Warnings: none

I'm currently taking headcanon requests for David and Walter :)

____________🪐🎼♡

"Dream of now, dream of then..."

The Prometheus' assigned synthetic walked through the brightly lit corridors with purposeful strides, the soles of his sandals surprisingly silent against the floor. His hair, as usual, was styled to perfection; his clothes smoothed out and containing not a single wrinkle. The LED lights that lined the halls bounced off of his glassy, silver-blue pools, giving them an almost mirror like quality as they passed overhead.

​​​​​He was currently heading for a likely displeasurable meeting with Ms. Vickers,  who had called for him from her quarters not long ago. He was neither looking forward to it, nor dreading it.

"Dream of a love song that might have been..."

But it was only then when he stopped, coming to a complete hault seemingly out of nowhere. Somewhere, somebody was singing. Their voice gentle and sweet, a refreshing but surprising sound to hear in such a place. The muffled tune echoed quietly throughout, and David's system immediately recognized it as Will I Ever Tell You? Originally sung by Shirley Jones in the 1962 film adaptation of The Music Man. A timeless musical love story.

A sudden spark of curiosity flared within him, and he swiftly set off to find the source of the pleasant song. Yes, his little conference with Ms. Vickers would just have to be put on hold for longer than planned. She would be pissed, but her fury wasn't his main concern.

"Do I love you? Oh yes, I love you..."

After coming around a corner or two, it was then that he happened upon the ship's repair room; the place where everyone dropped off their faulty equipment or any other malfunctioning things to be fixed. The only light sources for the space were the ones pouring in from the open doorway, along with a single dim desk lamp that shone onto the surface of a table riddled with metallic parts and wires. David's eyes then landed upon a young woman who sat there, working hard at a flickering circuit board, her lips parted just slightly as that same familiar tune flowed out.

"And I'll bravely tell you, but only when we dream again..."

He took note of the way she sang the piece. Her voice was softer and not nearly as powerful as the original vocalist's, and the tempo was slower than it should be, which actually brought about a rather soothing melody. He stood still for some time studying her, his stoic expression unchanging. She was quite an attractive creature, he thought anyway; even though his programming prohibited him from feeling anything real towards people.

"Sweet and low, sweet and low..."

He stepped into the doorway, causing a tall shadow to fall over the mechanic's work from the side.

"Please, forgive my intrusion, Ms. L/n--"

"SHIT! Oh--dammit David, you scared me to death!" she breathed out, relieved that it was only him, yet at the same time, horrified that it was him.

"My apologies again, Ms. L/n," he smiled politely, unfazed by Y/n's violent reaction to his presence that had sent one of her tools clanging to the floor.

She sighed and bent down from her chair, swiftly picking it back up, "what's up? Need something fixed?" she questioned causally, her e/c eyes flickering back and forth from her project to him.

David stepped further inside and continued to observe her movements, "thank you, but I do believe all of my systems are in proper functioning order," he explained, "I rather came here following an impulsive curiosity upon hearing your voice."

"How sweet that memory from long ago..."

Y/n's cheeks heated up at the thought, and she kept her gaze locked on the work in front of her, silently cursing herself for being so careless.

David took note of her sudden awkward demeanor and quickly recognized it as one of the many symptoms of human embarrassment.

"Forgive my rash statement, but I found it to be quite pleasant. I haven't heard that tune in some time," he continued, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh, thanks.." she muttered a little quieter, attempting to hold back a flattered smile, "it's always been one of my favorites."

The android nodded in understanding, "I was hoping you might be inclined to continue with it."

Y/n paused for a few seconds, unsure of how to respond. Such an odd request, especially coming from him, but where would the harm be in complying? It's not like she could get much more embarrassed..

Slowly, she took a shaky breath into her lungs.

"Forever? Oh yes, forever..."

The first few notes that fell from her lips were noticeably off due to her being nervous under David's unwavering, but not harsh, gaze. Although that feeling soon began to melt away and her voice progressively steadied itself. After some time, she resumed tinkering with the circuit board in her hands, an absentminded smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

David found his way to a second chair not far away and sat down to quietly admire the beautiful melody. It seemed even gentler yet this time, almost intimate; as if it was meant for him and him only. His eyes trailed over her features once more. A content expression appeared on his face as he listened intently, eventually closing his lids to fully appreciate this sense of peace that he didn't come by very often.

In time, Y/n noticed and softened at the sight. She didn't have the heart to do anything but keep going, even repeating the entire song a few times.

What a strange thing he was.

​​"Will I ever tell you? Oh, no..."

[edenminx]

Oh no bro i dropped my air pod no my airpods i dropped my airpod…mann my airpods i dropped my airpods

[supercap2319]

"Listen, Ben. I know you and Jed just broke up and I would never be that person who comes in looking for a quick fuck, but I was wondering... Would you like to go to the movies with me? As friends."

Ben looks at him. His blue eyes were shining with emotion. The whole school knew about the breakup. They thought Ben and Jed were endgame, apparently they weren't. "Why would you want to invite me?"

Y/N shrugged his shoulders. "Because you look like you could use a break from the Salvatore school for a while. And besides, movies always make you feel better. You don't have to say yes. I don't want to make you feel worse than you already do."

Ben thought it was sweet that Y/N was considering his feelings in this. He was touched. He smiled sweetly at him. "I would love to see these mo-vies with you."

[peggyao3]

Relic - Masterlist

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced (child) abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 73k

A/N: The protagonist of this fic is on the edge between reader insert and OC. Her back story and skillset are defined, but her appearance for the most part isn't, though I can't help myself with the occasional mention of physical softness because it contrasts so nicely with all of Feyd's hard edges 🫶

Reposted from my Ao3 💕

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Chapter 1 - "Oh, Lady Dear"

Chapter 2 - "Eidolon"

Chapter 3 - "Dying of the Light"

Chapter 4 - "O God!"

Chapter 5 - "Prometheus"

Chapter 6 - "Hungry, all the Years"

Chapter 7 - "The Iceberg"

Chapter 8 - "Rowing in Eden"

Chapter 9 - "Bethlehem"

Chapter 10 - "Fettered Flesh"

Chapter 11 - "Palms of my Hands"

Chapter 12 - "Ouroboros"

Chapter 13 - "Come not with a Sword"

Chapter 14 - "A World in a Grain of Sand"

Chapter 15 - "Herr God, Beware"

Chapter 16 - "Destroyer of Worlds"

Chapter 17 - "Equinox"

Chapter 18 - "Universe"

SERIES COMPLETE

[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 5

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: You and Robert, of course, were a couple. A serious one at that; no more games, judgment, hiding, and dancing around the idea. But it came with its many hardships. Word Count: 6.0k Warnings: LOTS. Please read. Infidelity, messy relationships, minor blood loss, loss of child, cursing, and minor sexism (not from Oppie). Please read and heed with caution. Notes: THAT HAT. OMG. MY HUSBAND IS LOOKING SO FINE THERE. oops sorry for being horny on the writing account, next topic! folks, buckle up, this is a lot! not only is the longest chapter, but its got a lottttt of drama happening. we're talking infidelity, marriage proposals, trinity, kitty being a bad bitch, edward teller in sunscreen, my drunk writing, groves being an ass hole and most importantly; TWO sex scenes. apparently, y'all loved my smut, and i appreciate your compliments! there's one more scene to come *insert winky face* mwahahha. i also know i said this is ten chapters, but this story is nearing it's ending, so there's one more real chapter. I'm going to try concluding the story within the week. I've been packing for school and I've got a long drive on Thursday. I'm done with most of my packing, so I will try to release the final chapter tomorrow. the epilogue will be much shorter. this has been one hecka of a ride, and the next chapter will most likely be a lot of drama. once again, your support has been amazing, thank you all for everything! <3 Taglist: @forgottenpeakywriter @queenshelbyy @chloriine36 @kodzuvk Taglist | Masterlist

It was five in the morning, and yet it didn’t feel close to it. The sky was pitch black with not a star to be soon. The only light of the source came from the dim light bulbs and the headlights of the cars that surrounded you. You lay on your stomach beneath an uncomfortable mat with your hand edging the corners of the binoculars you held, the other hand reaching for the pain of sunglasses to block the light that would hopefully come from the test bomb. 

Two years. Two years of potential hard work gone to nothing.

Awaiting the announcement of the detention, you laid and, in an attempt to hide your anxiety, thought about how the hell you ended up in the middle of New Mexico, working on some secret project for the government, and what it took to get you to be a small part in the Manhattan Project. 

You and Robert, of course, were a couple. A serious one at that; no more games, judgment, hiding, and dancing around the idea. But it came with its many hardships. 

The first straw was Kitty. 

She was much older, and from what you heard, extremely intimidating. While you respected and honored her, you also wanted to avoid her, as you felt that she did not like you at all. Robert had told her he was in a relationship with a “young” woman, emphasizing “young”, and Kitty read him the riot act. Robert thought she was overreacting, but you sympathized and understood. All you wanted was to be respectful, and honestly, avoid her at all costs. 

But of course, that didn’t happen. After one of your Friday sessions, which ended in Robert and you making love, you slept at this house and stayed until Sunday most times. You even had your own toothbrush and brush, using the feminine bathing products and flowery perfumes that Robert had gifted you. Hatomi had noticed and always said you smelled good. She had been having a possible affair with your French Literature teacher, but that was a story for another time. 

That one morning, you woke up with Robert’s arm on your waist, and a child staring directly at you. You identified him as Peter, as he was the spitting image of Robert, minus the parts that very much looked like Kitty. Blinking rapidly, you thought it was some bad dream, but the broken truck and bright, sad blue stare made you realize that Kitty was here with her and Robert’s children. 

You and Kitty didn’t take long to meet, with her being dressed and you being butt naked. 

Both of you had to smack Robert awake, who was appalled at the situation. There stood his children in front of a girl who was closer in age to them than their father and a very pissed-off mother. Naturally, this needed a very long conversation. 

Kitty glared at you while sitting on the couch with Robert’s shirt on. She, like Robert, smoked a cigarette; her cold eyes burning into your skin. Robert reached over to grab your hand, which you slapped away. 

“So you’re his student?”

You gulped and looked down, nodding. 

“And you’re getting your bachelor’s degree in what? The arts?”

“Maybe a Bachelor’s in both the arts and science, ma’am.”

She blows a puff of smoke into your face, making it feel very directed. As she gets up to get a drink, she eyes you and turns to Robert. 

“At least she’s smart.” 

As much as you really want to leave, Robert insists you stay too well, impress Kitty, and show her you can cook, provide, and care for him. It infuriates you, and as much as you look at the door, you force yourself to stay. You don’t have any clothes there, so you’re forced to wear Robert’s white oxford shorts and bottom lingerie shorts while working around Kitty. She blatantly asked if you had anything besides Robert’s clothes to wear, and you said no. She sighed. 

As Robert plays with his children, Kitty and you decide to make dinner, together. She wants to make Robert’s favorite, which you know by heart; chicken, boiled potatoes, and peas. You tell her, at least advise her, that Robert now likes his potatoes mashed and his chicken with pomegranate seeds on it. Kitty holds a large knife, and you swear that she looks like she wants to stab you with it. 

“Where do you get them from?” She coldly asks as she pours milk into the bowl to stir the potatoes. 

You look up from sauteeing the chicken with garlic and respond, “Get?”

“The Pomegranate.”

“Oh, his garden,” Your face begins to grow red, “He didn’t know he had pomegranate’s in his garden–”

“Until you told him,” Kitty interrupts. 

She stops cutting, and you stop mixing the chicken. There’s a shared silence between the two of you; filled with thousands of questions. 

You scratch behind your ear and sigh, gathering yourself before you respond. 

“Yes. He likes them a lot. I noticed Toni likes them, too. However, I shouldn’t–”

“You care.”

‘What?”

“You care about him a lot. I can see that,” Kitty goes on about. Once she’s done mixing the potatoes, she goes to the sink to clean the mixer. You can swear you hear sniffle. 

“There’s no other reason why you would be using him, y/n. I can’t think of one because there’s none. You’re troubled, yet good. You may be young and naive, but you care about Robert. You take care of him, and I, well–”

Kitty can’t finish her sentence. She drops the mixer and tries to hide her contained sobs and hunching over the sink, but you notice. You walk over to try and comfort her, but Robert’s not far. His voice echoes along with the laughter of two children. Hearing this, Kitty pulls herself together and sniffles. She walks past you with red eyes. You want to ask, but you don’t.

You learn, through numerous sources, that Kitty did not hate you, nor was jealous. She, according to one person, adored you. You found that hard to believe, but every time you sent the children gifts,s he made sure to write you an apology note. 

However, while you made room for Kitty, you utterly refused to make room for Jean Tatlock. 

At that point in your relationship, you and Robert had been going on relatively strong. He’s your boyfriend, and your Friday meetings had extended to more weekly meetings, so with stays at his house. Some people know you are an item; some are disgusted, and some are happy. None of this bothers you and Robert as you continue to be a happy couple; until it’s not happy. 

First, it’s the regrets. After each time you’d fuck, Robert would go on about how horrible of a man he is and how he can’t keep doing this. You do some further digging, and with some integration, learn that he’s not teaching next year. He’s off to some “secret location,” and within the mixture of his regret of “poisoning you”, he recommends that you two should simply stop and just leave each other. 

Of course, this breaks your heart. Hatomi, and your other friends, are horribly worried about. Your lab partner in your chemistry class, George, can see that your eyes are red and asks if you are okay. You respond that you are, having a feeling that something else is going on with Robert. 

At your next Friday meeting, you arrive early, but you don’t water the flowers, and you know why you don’t want to ever water them again. Robert comes to the door, ten minutes late, and when he opens it, you can see his collar is flipped up and his hair is a mess. As he takes a breath, you push past him and run up the stairs. You already see the pair of kitten heels by the door, and as Robert pleads for you to wait, you don’t. Once you turn the all too familiar corner to his bedroom, you hear a soft curse. It’s a woman’s voice.

Turning into his bedroom further proves your worst nightmare; another woman. Let alone, your own fucking psychiatrist; Jean Tatlock.

In your sessions with Jean, she’s been breaking more code of conduct, talking about the new man she's seeing, saying she’s having “one heck of an affair”. Based on her descriptions of him, from the lineage and nicknames, you put the pieces together, and all of them lead back to her and Robert. 

“Y/n,” Jean calmly pleads. She covers herself with a blanket as she gets out of bed, “Stop. Wait. We want to talk-”

The words “we” make your eyes swell with tears. Spinning on your heel, you beeline towards the stairs, but bump into the person you least want to see; Robert. He puts his hands on his arms, but you violently shrug and push his chest away. 

“Get away from me–” You hiss. As you back up, you sense Jean behind you and scream the same thing at her, “--Back, both of you. 

“Y/n,” Robert gently calls your voice, holding out his hands, “I’ve been meaning to tell you-”

“Tell me fucking what?” You bark at him. You point your finger back to Jean, “Robert, honestly, out of all people, my fucking psychologist? The one who describes my medications? The person I tell everything too besides you? The one I saw today just two hours ago for my weekly session?”

Jean is sobbing behind you. You like her, but yet, don’t feel bad. She’s much older than you; she should know better. 

“I had no idea–”

You scoff and let out a fake laugh, “Idea? Sure,” You look back at Jean, whose mascara is running down her face, “Don’t cry; you knew. You’re smarter than you look, you knew. You know my background, and you would go out of your way to do this? And now? We all fucking know. Robert, now we all know you were cheating on your little pure virgin girlfriend with her fucking psychologists, whom I considered to be one of my friends.” Looking at Jean, you say that last sentence, ensuring she understands you are no longer her client, let alone her friend. 

Walking down the stairs, Robert grabs your arm and forces you to stop walking. You refuse to look back, but you can hear his breathing, which makes you scrunch your firsts. 

“Y/n, I understand your anger. This is far beyond wrong. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. I think it’s best that you take the time to finish your education and, if I recommend, mingle with others your age,” Robert explains with a condescending tone, which makes your blood boil.

“I can no longer carry the guilt on my shoulders. I used you for too long, and now it’s catching up with me. I’m sorry to do this to you, y/n, but I-”

You violently throw your arm back, shaking Robert’s hold on you. Through Robert’s breathing and Jean’s sobs, you storm down the stairs. Your face feels hot, and so does your body, but you ignore it as you stumble out of the house. Ignoring the calls of your name from Robert and Jean, you run out of Robert’s house and down the hill. Once you are away, you finally let go and let the hot tears run down your cheeks. Finally, the devastation and pain hit you like a bullet. When you’re not around any trace of Robert or Berkeley or any of it, you let out a screaming sob of frustration, anger, and sadness. 

It takes you a short while to recover. 

You no longer like to associate Robert with his name. Once again, he’s reduced to Dr.Oppenheimer; your terrifying physics professor with endless icy eyes and a tendency to smoke, not the man who took your virginity and showered you with expensive gifts that you refused to throw out. The relationship between you two has been severed and erased with your function serving as professor and student. Your meetings stop, at the end of the Semester, Robert gives you an A with an E for exceptional effort. Your parents receive your report card, and out of all your grades, are most fond of your Physics report. Dr.Oppenheimer writes that you are an active participant whom he had the pleasure of working with personally in the term. As they read out his comment, your memory flashes back to it all; the dinners, the music, the fire, the terms of endearment, and the whole lot of it. 

Your mother, through a puff of smoke, remarks that he seems like an amazing man. Forcing a smile, you agree. 

Once you return after the Holiday break, nothing much has changed in Berkeley. You’re still alone yet doing well academically, Hatomi’s on the verge of ruining a marriage, and you and Robert have not spoken, according to your calendar, in over two months. 

And then you meet George. 

George is your lab partner in Physics. You have known him since your orientation at Berkeley, from the forced events to the lackluster parties. He’s always had an interest in you, and has made it clear from day one; from wanting to be your lab partner to even asking Hatomi if you preferred chocolates over flowers. When you two would sit down together, he would always initiate small talk and ask how your day is going. You’d respond and spark up small conversations about your lives. 

Into the first week of December, George asked after class if you wanted to go see Citizen Kane with him. He bought two tickets, and offered to buy you anything you wanted, but understood if you were busy since in his words, you seemed even busy on Friday afternoons. 

You knew Robert was watching. You quickly glanced up and saw him at his desk, smoking as he pretended to observe tests when really, he was observing the interaction between the two of you. 

“I’m actually no longer busy at all on Fridays,” You loudly say as you want the words to echo and burn into Robert, “And yes, I’d love to go to the movies with you.”

“I’ll pick you up at Stern?”

“I’ll be waiting.” 

George arrived an hour before and took you out for an early dinner. You knew that he loved to read like you, but you also learned he was fluent in three languages and was overall extremely educated. He made sure to ask what you enjoyed, telling you to talk about your favorite books, movies, or anything that you loved. You had told him to read the first few chapters of Citizen Kane to familiarize yourself with the movie. George went red and said he had done the same, offering that if they enjoyed the movie, they could see together and talk about the plot. 

The movie was good, and in addition to the soda and popcorn he bought you, he also took you back to his dorm and fucked you like there was no tomorrow. As he humped into you, you clawed at his back and looked up at the cycling. Everytime you close your eyes, you see and think of Robert. You forced George to look at you throughout the sec and kissed him patiently to void all thought of Robert. 

There was no doubt that Robert was bothered by you and George’s interactions. You made it not so obvious that you were George’s girlfriend, while George did; from the hushed whispers and small touches he’d give you in class. While George would be doing such small things, Robert would be intensely staring from a distance with straghinted fingers and furrowed eyebrows. At one point, he changed lab partners in an attempt to keep you and George apart. You still worked together on every single lab, and to Robert’s dismay, aced every single one. 

In the beginning, you remember Robert leaving flowers in your cubby during Labs since you’d always arrive about ten minutes early. He’d tuck them into the pocket of your lab jacket. Without fail, and everytime, you threw each flower out. Eventually all together, you stopped showing up on time and made sure to show with George. 

Robert soon began to disappear from your thoughts and life. For the remainder of the year, you only spoke to him in class and nowhere else with cold, curt interactions. George had replaced Robert in all, shape, way, and form. It was strange to go with George since he was your age, and not in your former case, your thirty five year old Physics professor who cheated on you with your friend and phys-

But that was all in the past. 

Two years had gone by. Robert was the thought of the past now and you kept yourself busy between obtaining a Bachelor of Arts and Science in Literature and Physics, all while maintaining a very serious relationship with George. You spent most summers with him on Nantucket sailing or collecting seashells. Sometimes, you’d think about the “what ifs'' of Robert taking you to New Mexico on a horseback adventure. That had once been a reality, but now would forever remain a fantasy. George reminded you that yes, there were good men in the world. You both had your many issues and ups and downs, but both of you agreed that infidelity was never on your list. 

Eventually, each cycle completes itself for everything. During the fall of your Junior year at Berkeley, George proposes to you on a weekend trip up to Napa. He’s smiling the whole way through, and says he doesn’t want to wait any longer and heads straight to the courthouse to wed. 

You want to say yes, you really do, but you can’t. No matter how many times you say you love him, you know that you love him as a confidant, but not a lover. 

Rejecting his proposal, that ends every tie with George. Things are sour for a week, but Hatomi helps moderate a conversation between you two. George sobs, which in return, makes you cry. You apologize to him, and tell him he deserves better; telling him that if he sees a pretty girl, he should take her to the movies and buy her what she wants. George smiles and thanks you for loving him, hugging you, and wishing you the best of luck in your future endeavors. He writes you a letter, but you refuse to open it and leave inside of your copy of Citizen Kane, shoving it into your bookcase for it to gather dust. 

 After you and George are finished, there’s no time to grieve as you were being dragged into another situation. What seems like any other ordinary walk to your metaphysics class results with you alone in an office space with an intimidating general. He did not introduce himself, but you gathered his name as Major Groves. He held a thick file on you, questioning your life and digging into every little detail. He pressured you on your two brothers and roommates, who happened to be associated with the Communist party, asking if you had any association. You held your hands up and was nothing but honest; saying that while Hatomi still went to your meetings, your brothers had stopped talking about the idea once both of them married and had their own families. 

Still, Groves persisted and became aggressive, accusing that your friends and you were some type of danger to democracy. Communism isn't your thing ever, but you had respected it. Many people you surround yourself with were either former communist or still into it, not that it bothers you. You thought of Robert; whom never associated, but you knew he gave money. 

Which was strange. With your thought of Robert, you heard a silent shut. Groves sighed and you looked, and to your horror and saving grace, it was Robert. 

“Thank god you’re here,” Groves let out a huff as he leaned against the desk. 

“Major Groves,” Robert nodded his head as he took off his porkpie hat. He stood away from you, but beside your chair, “Is there any issue with Miss Y/n?”

Groves, still looking gruff, pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Well yes, and no. You see, I find it alarming that she has both family and friends in association with the Communist party. I also understand her, uhm,” Groves hesitated to say it out loud, “Former relations, according to you. It raises suspicious since well, she is both in association with a communist, many of whom who are female in which he know where that ends, and slept wi-”

You were about to walk out, not wanting to be dragged into whatever mess this way, but Robert’s calm voice echoed and immediately shut up Groves. 

“General, on the defense of Miss Y/n, I can assure that her ideologies and gender are mennail to the subject of the meetings. As for our past relations, there are of the past. I ask that you not criticize or grill her without my presence,” Robert’s voice commanded. He looked at you and back at Groves, clearing his throat. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you shifted in your head, clasping your hands together. Robert looked at you, and you returned his gaze, quietly thanking him. 

Once Robert entered, Groves' interrogation stopped and he got what he pulled out of class. In his words, something “big” and “important” was occurring in an undisclosed location in New Mexico. You pieced together that a weapon of destruction was being built, since Groves brought up in your profile that your skills in Physics primarily resize in the nuclear and quantum mechanics, as described by the physics course taken at your time in Berkeley. You had even taken time out of your academic schedule and did research as a job with some of your professors. All of your Physics teachers concluded that you were extremely qualified and knowledgeable in Physics, and in one of them, being Robert.

Robert had gone on about your time in his class, saying that you were one of his brightest students, whom he had given recommendation should be part of said project. He said he was willing to talk with Berkeley to configure a way for you to leave and graduate on time to come and work on his location. Major Groves said with Robert’s recommendation, he would be pleased to approve your security clearance. Groevs also mentioned that he would give you time to figure out things with you, and also implying, Robert. 

Groves had excused himself, leaving you and Robert alone. It had been two years since you two had been alone together, let alone really conversed. You still sit at the desk and look down, not wanting to look at Robert now, admiring your manicured nails in hopes that you wouldn’t chew off the nail polish. 

“Thank you, by the way,” You muttered, “You didn’t have to.”

Some things never change, and you look up to see Robert, elearning against the desk as he looks at you, smoking out of a pipe. 

“But I did. Not that I ever minded doing so.” 

The tension never left, and both of you know it. Bouncing your leg, you lean forward and gather the courage to look at Robert. 

“Why? Am I allowed to know why the hell I’m being dragged into this?” 

“Y/n, you know I can’t say why. I can say that it is important, as you would say, in the grand scheme of the universe,” Robert explained, “We are small pieces, and this project is a much larger force. A force that can end all wars.”

Confusion still infects you. Some of this makes sense, while other parts do not. You think hard back to the past and Robert’s say on the war and weapons, trying to gather your thoughts on the situation Robert has dragged you into. 

“The Germans are out of the war, that’s all I can truly think of,” You mentioned. Once we see Robert lean, your body compels you to lean forward as well, “Is this weapon of mass discussion?” 

Robert looked uncomfortable by that saying. He shifts uncomfortably and stands from his desk, slowly making his way over to you. You want to protest and tell him to not, but you gravitate towards his presence. His hair is a little more gray, and he is still cold, but as handsome as ever. 

“Call it what you want, but possibly. It’s a weapon to end all wars, ideally, the conflict in the Pacific,” Robert alluded to. You forgot how close he came to his desk. He puts his hands on the edge of the desk and you lean back, looking down. Your cheeks when red, reminding you of your younger days with Robert. Robert’s fingers anxiously curl over the wooden desk top as you let out a soft sigh, containing a noise you did not want to be heard by anyone else. 

“There’s something else,” You blurted, “You want me for something else.”

It’s radio silent for a second. Robert’s fingers shift, and you heavily sigh. 

“Robert–”

“I want you for your intelligence,” Robert says as a confession. His hands spread against the desk. As much as you try to control yourself, you can’t. Your hands uncurl from your grasp and cover his, grasping them. 

“I also wanted you.” 

With that, Robert asked to kiss you, and you didn’t even say yes as you jumped from your chair and crashed your lips into his. Nearly falling back, he grabbed you and dragged you to the ground, refusing to let go of your body and lips. It’s desperate and messy, evident that the two of you missed each other's presence. Robert asks to remove your clothes, and you let him do so. Once removing your panties and stockings, he sticks his hard dick into you and fucks you like there is no tomorrow. He covers your mouth as you cry tears of happiness and sadness, sobbing his name. Once he finishes inside of you, you hug him and sob your eyes out. Roberts holds you and says he won’t let go. 

Both of you know you have a lot of shit to work through. He had Jean and you had George. Robert knows he’s fucked up, but he still loves you,a nd as much as you don’t want to admit it, you love him as much as he loves you. The whole reason you turned down George was because you still loved Robert. It wasn’t easy for you to forget , and with Robert, he clearly didn’t. 

He promised to fix things if you came to Los Alamos with him.

And you did. 

You managed to graduate from Berkeley a year early. Groves said that he would write to your family that you were involved in a top secret Government project, promising that he would try to cover your back as much as possible. Once you were out of this project your family would question you, but it wasn’t important. After all, Robert was right; you were small things in the grand scheme of it all. 

Los Alamos is hot, cold, and isolating. You are severely depressed, but you are able to manage that with your work and Robert. The work on the bomb is no easy task; it’s full of pressure, arguments, and disagreements. You feel intimidated, surrounded by much older men, whom you feel have more power than you do, despite knowing that you are just as capable as they are. With this stress, Robert is your reliever. Every night, the two of you switch, finding a way to comfort one another in these depressing times. 

 Now, you live full time with Robert. Nothing is perfect, but the two of you talk and make things work in the best way possible. 

You tell him about George and how you turned down his proposal. Robert coldly laughs, saying that you deserved a good man, and that you should have accepted. You said you couldn't because you loved him,a dn as much as Robert thinks you are lying, he loves the honesty that comes from you. It proves to him that when he fucked you, that you were always going to be his. He tells you that he’s cut things off with Jean, promising on his knees that he won’t ever respond to her calls ever again. You force him to promise you or else you’ll leave him. Robert looks like he’s going to sob when you said that, and he repeatedly insists that he will never do such a thing to you ever again. 

You snap back to reality when they make an announcement that they will test the bomb in three minutes. The men around you anxiously chatter as they prepare for an explosion. You put on your sunglasses and look around you. You catch Edward Teller, basking in his sun chair with a face smothered in sunscreen and sunglasses. He looks down at you, and you look away into the dark night, anticipating the explosion. Your heart skips a beat, and to pass the time, you sink back into your racing thoughts. 

In Between this drama, time passes in Los Alamos. Between the bomb being congested and your relationship with Robert being rebuilt, you fall sick. You’re nauseous, vomiting in the morning and sometimes the day, your period stops, constipation, backaches, you feel like you’re dying. You’re able to hide this from everyone but Robert, who assumes what he thinks it is. One trip to the infirmary confirms that you’re two months pregnant, bordering three. 

Initially, you're shocked, but thinking back to the classroom, it all makes sense. 

You’re ecstatic, despite being extremely sick. You take time off from your job, and Robert makes sure to tell everyone that you have come down. I'll have a bug and will return within a couple of months. The only people who know about the pregnancy are you, Robert, and the doctor. Robert makes sure to keep the mater private. 

Like you, Robert is thrilled at the concept of you having a child. You’re rather young and nervous, but Robert promises to take care of you and your child. No longer can you do things on your own without Robert swooping in; whether that be cooking, cleaning, or even reaching for medicine. 

The two of you lay in bed with your feet entangled. Robert caresses your stomach as he has done before, softly going over the small bump forming in your stomach. 

“I thought I had been putting on weight,” You bluntly admitted, rolling your shoulders back. 

“And even if you were, I would love you the same as I loved you before,” Robert plants a kiss into your hair, gently patting your stomach, “You look as beautiful as ever, love. Even with our child, you’re still so tiny. You’re just as I remembered you-”, His hands grab yours as he interlocks your digits, “-in that classroom at Berkeley. You shook your leg and your skirt rode up. As you bit your lip, I looked, and I fell. I feel hard, y/n. I love you.” 

You smile to yourself and close your eyes, squeezing his hand. 

“I love you too, Robert.”

“59 seconds until the drop!” A voice booms over the loudspeaker. Anxiety, nerves, and excitement fills the crowd of Sciences, including yourself. You put a hand on your stomach, feeling the flatness. Sometimes, you can still feel that bump. It’s been a long time, but she’s still there, haunting you. 

You lose the baby at seven months, and remember there being so much blood and tears. Every night after losing the child, you cried yourself to sleep and apologized to Robert. Robert held you and comforted you at that time. He kissed you and held you close, saying that all was well as long as you were him.

You violently sobbed, thinking back to your days of reading Greek myths  at his rental house on Shasta. Just as Hades had given Persephone the seeds for her to say, Robert had impregnated to you and brought you to his desert exile. And like Persephone, you stayed. 

Just as tears were beginning to form in your eyes, a light dried the tears right out of your eyes. 

At 5:29:45 AM local time, the stillness was shattered by an imperceptible click, triggering the activation sequence of the Trinity bomb.

A brilliant, searing light erupted on the horizon with a radiance unparalleled by any natural phenomenon. The desert floor was instantaneously transformed into a blinding white sea of light, casting stark shadows of the nearby objects. The intensity of the light seemed to defy the boundaries of the human eye, as if a new sun had temporarily usurped the heavens.

A seething ball of fire engulfed the desert in those milliseconds, swelling with ferocious energy. A towering column of smoke and dust spiraled upward, its outline illuminated by the incandescent glow. The ball of fire and the mushroom-shaped cloud of debris swelled and merged into a surreal symphony of colors – brilliant whites, fiery oranges, and deep reds – like a celestial painter's brush strokes across the sky.

Trinity’s detonation unleashed a symphony of destruction that resonated not just across the desert but through history itself. The ground quaked with a seismic force, as though the Earth itself trembled at the unimaginable power harnessed by humanity's newfound knowledge. A resounding shockwave rippled through the air, shattering windows miles away and rattling the bones of those who stood witness.

The sound that followed was a peculiar and haunting one – a low, rumbling roar that bore no resemblance to the traditional thunder or even the roar of an aircraft engine. It was as if the very air had been torn apart and reconstituted into a sound that could only be described as the collective gasp of nature itself, a primordial cry at witnessing its own mastery being tested and defied.

The visual and auditory onslaught seemed to defy the boundaries of perception, leaving spectators both in awe and in terror. The Trinity test had successfully harnessed the fundamental forces of the universe and turned them into a weapon of unimaginable devastation. In the wake of that blinding light and resounding sound, a sense of profound unease settled upon those who bore witness – an understanding that the world had irrevocably changed, and humanity had ventured into a new and uncertain frontier, where the implications of our newfound power were as profound as they were perilous.

The cheers are loud and violent. People are thrilled that those two years of hard work have paid off. They're dancing, drinking, celebrating, and you feel happy, even partaking in such matters. 

When the bomb is dropped on Hiroshima, the celebrations truly ensue. The excitement from the test early explodes with raw joy. Everyone knows that the ear is coming to an end as they drink, sing, dance, cheer, and cry. Emotions flood as people celebrate, and you partake in them for a while. As you do, you look for Robert but he’s nowhere to be found. You search within the crowd but you can't identify his pork pie hat or pipe. 

Fleeing from the celebrations, you flee to Roberts office. His secretary isn’t there, so you make this way to your office. You find him standing by the window, simply looking at the crowd. As they move, he stands perfectly still. His hat is thrown on the ground and his pipe is thrown on his desk. 

“Robert?” You sing-song his name, quietly walking over, “Oppie?” 

There’s no response. He’s not acting happy, nor does he look at it. He looks devastated. 

His eyes are watery, and you can immediately feel the guilt on his shoulders. 

There’s no need for words as you walk over and crash into Robert. His arms wrap around you and with that, he quietly cries into your shoulder, sinking with you into the carpeted ground. 

[fieryfunfics]

Fiery Fun Fics Guidelines

Masterlist

Fandoms & Characters

Resident Evil (games 2, 3, 4 -- movie Death Island -- & TV show Infinite Darkness)

Leon S. Kennedy

Ashley Graham

Luis Sera

Ada Wong

Jill Valentine

Claire Redfield

Good Omens

Aziraphale

Crowley

Anathema Device

Doctor Who

9th Doctor

10th Doctor

11th Doctor

12th Doctor

Rose Tyler

Martha Jones

Donna Noble

Amy Pond

Rory Williams

River Song/Melody Pond

Jack Harkness

Alien Franchise (1, 2, Resurrection, & Prometheus)

Ellen Ripley (1 & 2)

Vasquez (2)

Ripley 8 (Resurrection)

Annalee Call (Resurrection)

Christie (Resurrection)

Vriess (Resurrection)

Elizabeth Shaw (Prometheus)

Meredith Vickers (Prometheus)

Xenomorph (any film of the 4 listed above)

Markiplier

Markiplier

Darkiplier

Amy (Peebles) Nelson

Kinks you might see here

Bondage/restraints

Femdom

Lezdom

Maledom

Futa

Intoxication (Marijuana ONLY)

Switch

Group sex

Degradation

Praise

Intercrural sex (between the thighs)

Vouyerism/Exhibitionism

Cunnilingus/faceriding

Strap-on

Big cocks

Dubcon/con-noncon (as long as it has been consented to beforehand)

Masturbation

Anal

Free use

Overstimulation

Creampies + Cum

Deepthroat/facefucking

Spitroasting

Monsterfucking

Mind control

Rules

Please be kind and respectful! DNI if you are ableist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, racist, etc.! This blog is a safe space!

If I open requests, those rules will also be added here

Will write

Reader insert

Character x Character

Queer characters (arospec, mlm, wlw, trans, bi, etc)

Polyamory

Smut

Fluff

Hurt

Comfort

Angst

Humor (at least, I'll try lol)

Drama

Horror

Violence

Gore

Will NOT write

Gore related to smut (minor blood play is maybe okay but it's thin ice)

Incest

Yandere

dd/lg

Underage/minors in smut

Pregnancy/breeding kink

Animal violence/abuse

Anything that I don't like

[practically-an-x-man]

Hey! Along the lines of the clothing ask game, I wanted to know what you'd think Prometheus would enjoy wearing in our era here and now. For some reason, I would imagine them liking a nice fluffy hoodie, like one of those ones specifically created for wearing around the house and lounging.

Ooooh thank you!!

So I don't mean this in any sort of a bad way, but that statement about the cozy hoodie makes me remember that (to my knowledge) you've only read my fluffier Prometheus fics XD Normally, they're much more uptight and struggle to let themself rest, so I'm not sure they'd pick out that fluffy hoodie for themself - but I could see the Corinthian convincing them to wear one!

As for the rest of the ask... that's tough. Prometheus is somewhere between a reader-insert and an OC - they have traits of their own and have certainly become their own character, but I've remained firm in not giving them a decided appearance because I like the idea that they in some way reflect the reader. I think their story works better without those decided physical traits past what aligns with the identity of "Prometheus" (the chiton and spear of a Greek warrior), so I haven't put much thought into what they'd choose to wear in a casual setting. Your statement about the hoodie is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to evoke in the readers- Prometheus would wear whatever the reader imagines they would wear, based on that reader's perspective of them!

Honestly, I feel like it would be the Corinthian who chooses most of their modern clothes for them, since he's much more in-tune with modern Waking life than they are and would know what they would find most comfortable. There's actually a hint of this in (Farewell) Wanderlust, when the Corinthian convinces Prometheus to visit the Waking for the first time, but even that's a little nonspecific in an attempt to cater to Prometheus' whole "reflects the readers" theme.

Sorry this answer got so long, I thought it was a really fun question to think about!!

[someweirdoreblogger]

So small, you are tiny in all the ways that matter. Titans dwarf humans in sheer size alone. The smallest things hold up to the largest building blocks of Mother Gaia. To Prometheus, you are more and evermore still.

A mere human, the loviest apple of Prometheus's eye, tempting the hungry blaze whilst lost in the range of total combustion.

You are love; You are all, everything Prometheus vowed, oathed to Primordial Chaos to dutifully protect. He will gladly perish thousands upon thousands of reckless deaths first, before ever allowing the cruel gaze of the Greek pantheon land on you even just for a second.

Prometheus's fury, his inevitable vengeance is bane for Gods, but is forever soft as cotton for mortalkind. Quite wry to touch you at first, however solely for you, he will shamelessly show his soul.

Your beloved Titan knows how to be nothing else but purely honest, Prometheus's spirit is a sincere, forward sort; his ablessed Foresight won't allow contrary. In this secure bundle of soothing warmth and prying digits, Prometheus handles you as if you will slip through his divine grasp like glass. One simple mistake, then you will slide off him like oil and water, diligently escape through the slightest crack between his thick digits like mere grains of sand.

This monster of a Titan, a great champion of Chronos, opens himself before you, in truth. His hands shadow your figure, an ant compared to him in size alone, not that either of you mind in the least. The hands of Prometheus welcome you aboard him, so mindful; stiff and proud as the mountains themselves. In the independent solitude of their embrace, coated in the natural heat that pridefully radiates off your dearest Titan in passionate droves-

Where else could you possibly feel safer?

It's so rare to see The Titan of Foresight truly off his guard. Contentment is strange for someone like him, that cresent smile rivials Selene's curling wane, it could easily melt diamonds.

It's almost easy to pretend Lady Nyx's cosmic mane of endless nightfall above never even existed, the threatening haze of Zeus's ecstatic plunder overhead, swallowing the glimmering eyes of her precious stars; your Titan of all nature's beings should know this enthralling peace can never be eternal, not that he'd be so cruel as to spoil the moment.

Prometheus buckles the knee, and he turns vulnerable for you alone, regardless of how your human fellows promise seldom the Titan's natural intimidating presence. All they notice is his blazing shadow looming their houses. What you see is your lover building a wall between humans and the predators outside.

The legendary Titans are forces to be reckoned with, borne powers beyond feeble understanding. True terrors amongst the Gods they once 'fathered', a living pressure within themselves, Prometheus does not bother with bliss in ignorance. He doesn't ever try to hide what he does, what he can do. There's no denying who he is, in that he covets. He kindly appreciates those who see past appearances and approaches no vulgar.

Perhaps that's why you trust your weaker self in his care so much, Prometheus couldn't die to imagine any scenario where his beloved would earn his strife and ire, let alone hatred. The future is but a spreadsheet to The Foresight. He can only spare so much with so many differing possibilities at one time, not that it matters much in the now.

Tiny fingers contrast his tough flesh, your touch, how heavy such a privilege is in his world; soft strokes, delicate trailing, across the patient journey between the invisible line that connects chin to bottom lip. A subtle timid curiosity foreign to himself, muscles worn in tan from war and toned like rust in immeasurable warmth and moist salt.

Prometheus thought he prepared enough for this when he forsaw it; In his Foresight, within the fickle daze of his dreams, once in a blue moon. He sunk deep, indulged in those porcelain futures more times than he would like to admit. To selfishly soak in the accursed blessing of your humane swish and sway, you are beauty incarnate. It's hard to deny such pleasantries for himself when so freely gifted to him, expecting no reward in return.

Prometheus was always so gentle with humans, he needed to be. It's practically unheard of; that a human ever need be so tender with a Titan.

Silence never felt so loud. He finds that each time he reaches down he longs too not only see, but feel directly on his flesh your thoughts and emotions; Prometheus can’t honestly decide whether or neither he prefers your subtle heart-to-hearts or this forbidden peace found in the tranquility of your shared love and company.

It's pure torture, but Prometheus can't be broken, now can he?

Let it be both, you will assure him.

Let yourself have it.

And Prometheus, your Titan, your heart and soul, knows better than to question otherwise.

[aintgonnatakethis]

#2, #8, #13, #14, #16, and #18 I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

Hey @thestorieswesay ❤️️ Sorry this is so late, but you better than anyone know what I'm like! 💀 Double apology that most of these answers are not SGU-related, but I've been on a movie binge recently. *rubs hands together*

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

Answered here, but tbh I struggle to sort characters into such rigid categories. I'll say Telford has a big preference for bottoming, to the point where in the kink series when Rush immediately tells him he doesn't want to get fucked, Telford's only potential pitfall is if it's because Rush views the act of bottoming as intrinsically degrading. When he decides that isn't the reason, then he's completely on board to never top, no further questions asked. (Also, I'm thinking this question would be better if it asked why your fave would never dom or sub 👀)

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

So I recently rewatched all the Alien films before the new one (which I didn't think was very good, but that's a discussion for a whole other post as I have a lot to say about it lol) Anyway, we have the Prometheus/Covenant reboot that unfortunately failed, which I speak briefly about here. Common fandom opinion is that Prometheus was bad, a lot of complaints about there not actually being any xenomorphs in it, blah blah blah.

But. It's a prequel. It describes where the xenomorphs came from, their evolution, etc. So of course they're not going to be in the movie all that much! 😡 The film offered a new spin to the franchise and I thought it was awesome. It had all the xenomorph lore and evolution information I could get my greedy little hands on! You don't need two dozen fully grown xenomorphs coming at you (and somehow you survive which kind of takes the danger thrill out of the rest of the movie 🙄) - Romulus - or chestbursters coming out through the spine instead in a generic horror movie body-jerking-around way - Covenant - to make a good horror movie. The alien franchise was never generic and that was what set it apart back when the originals were made.

13. worst blorboficiation

Sort of answered here with the SGU fandom often ignoring Young's and Rush's worse traits (though I definitely know that's not a problem you suffer from 😜)

For a fresh answer, let's return to the alien movies Prometheus/Covenant. In them, there's an android called David (played by Michael Fassbender 🤤) - he's an evil boy, mad scientist type, villain with a legit reason to be pissed, all good stuff! But he's not Magento-evil where everything he does is completely understandable. David is EVIL evil. He's going around impregnating people with alien fetuses and cutting people up while they're still alive and swallowing alien embryos to later vomit back up once he's through the detection system… And the fandom… Bros. Buddies. Pals. Chaps. You want to make him soft and lovey-dovey and reader-insert where you're the only one capable of changing him? Idk man… Let him be evil. As a treat.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

Worked my way through all the X-Men movies too, and it's nice to be in a fandom where there's an abundance of fanfic as opposed to having to produce the majority of it myself or just live with there not being much if any new material because it's an older/not as popular series. But I see a lot of X-Men: First Class fics having Erik being dominant in bed and I… 😂 Well, that guy has a telepathy kink a mile wide and it's a crime there's not more fic of him being the sub he's so obviously desperate to be!

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Crossing SGU over with OUAT, in order to ship Belle with Rush. ...Well, I can understand, because the reason they're doing it is to paste themselves onto Belle so they can fuck Rush, but I don't get it. 15% of SGU fics on AO3 are OUAT crossovers 😑

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

I feel like you're say-the-line-Bart-ing me 😂

choose violence ask game

[charlie-shmarlie]

David 8 headcanons: taking care of you when you're sick.

Some headcanons of David taking care of a sick Y/n 🩵

Warnings: mentions of vomiting, David being a mother, fluffy teehee

I'm currently taking headcanon requests for David and Walter :)

No question about it. He's taking care of you.

This man was quite literally programmed with the exact abilities and knowledge, and more, of a doctor who graduated from Harvard. So yes, you're in good hands.

He's extremely attentive. Constantly checking in on you, checking your temp, asking if you feel any better or worse, fetching whatever you want or need, etc. And that's if he even leaves you alone in the first place.

Of course, if he knows it would be best for you to get proper rest, he'll leave. Unless you ask him not to.

Nobody is going to bother you. No, no, no, not unless you specifically say that you want to see them.

He may even go a little overboard at times. Say, for example, you have a simple cold. He would likely treat it as though you had the flu. But don't be too hard on him. He can't help his overly precise instincts.

Obviously, he doesn't worry about catching whatever you have because that's literally impossible.

Prepares a bowl for you to keep at your bedside if you even once mention feeling sick to your stomach.

If you do end up getting sick, he's right there to hold your hair back and offer calm, comforting pats on the back. And of course, hugs too if you need it afterward because throwing up is traumatic asf.

Plays your favorite movies and tv shows for you on your holographic television.

If your fever tosses you between being too hot and too cold, he'll turn on the a/c in your quarters and bring you spare blankets, that way you can rotate between taking the blankets on and off.

He takes care of your tasks for you. With how versatile he is, it's very likely that he can handle all your tasks for you while you're down. So you won't have to worry about catching up once you're feeling better.

He doesn't understand the act or why you would particularly enjoy it, but if you asked him to stay overnight and cuddle with you, he'd absolutely do it.

⚠️HE DOESN'T HATE IT. HE'S JUST CONFUSED, OKAY? HE DOESN'T GET IT.⚠️

Although, he appreciates your trust in him all the same ♡

Have a specific meal or snack in mind that actually sounds good for once? He's got you covered. Call him Chef 8.

If it seemed that your sickness was getting worse, he would immediately take you to the infirmary so he could run a few blood tests and keep a closer eye on you.

Gentle touches to your cheeks and forehead that linger longer than intended.

"I'm only checking for a fever, Y/n."

"You've been 'checking' for ten minutes."

"...Indeed."

[aboutanancientenquiry]

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: Zoology and Ecology in Herodotus’ Histories

Colin MacCormack

Among ancient historical works, Herodotus’ Histories stand out in the unusually large amount of space dedicated to discussions of animals. Whereas only 42 animal references occur in Thucydides, Herodotus furnishes readers with a massive 804 references to at least 111 different animal terms (Smith 1992). These many references primarily fall into one of two categories: an archaic register wherein Herodotus thinks with animals and a late fifth-century register, the topic of this paper, wherein Herodotus thinks about animals. Some references to animals in Herodotus clearly channel archaic poetic conventions, namely symbolic usages within puns, oracles, portents and myths, (thinking with animals), but the majority of references to animals in the Histories comment on behavior, reproduction and ecology (thinking about animals). These zoological inquiries not only furnish additional evidence for Herodotus’ close engagement with contemporary intellectual trends, they reveal the close connection between landscape, animals and humans running throughout his work.

Scholarship from the last two decades has convincingly shown that Herodotus, through his proclivity for schematization, rationalization, and causation, actively engages with contemporary political, scientific and philosophical thought (Raaflaub 2002; Thomas 2000). Concerning animals, his theories on physiology and reproductive habits have much in common with natural philosophy and medical texts from the fifth and sixth centuries. For example, he attributes the absence of horns among Scythian cattle to the region’s extreme cold, pointing to the opposite situation in Libya to support his argument (4.28-9). A very similar idea, also in explicit reference to Scythian livestock, runs throughout Airs, Waters, Places (18-21) and Democritus postulated how cold affects the humors influencing horn and nail growth (DK 68A153-5). However, these echoes do not become mere parroting; Herodotus also inserts evidence that complicates such models, such the inexplicable absence of mules in Elis, which climatological theory alone cannot account for (4.30).

Similarly, Herodotus’ division of creatures into having either many offspring (πολύγονα) or few (ὀλιγόγονα; 3.108) and the various mechanisms behind these characteristics likewise reflect his engagement with contemporary intellectual trends. Though Democritus, Empedocles and Hippocratics all addressed some aspect of πολύγονα, this dichotomy of prolific and non-prolific species appears first in Herodotus (Thomas 2000). Furthermore, instead of anatomical explanations for fertility normally offered (number or shape of wombs, under/overabundance of sperm, etc.), Herodotus alone points to behavior as influencing population. According to him, without the habit of male cats killing kittens (2.66) or of baby vipers killing their mothers (3.108), both populations would explode in number. He attributes this natural self-regulation to a divine insight (τοῦ θείου ἡ προνοίη) overseeing the world, a theory reminiscent of the Prometheus myth from Plato’s Protagoras (321b5-6). More generally, unlike the macroscopic speculations on cosmology or matter of the natural philosophers, Herodotus instead prefers observation (opsis) on mundane subjects, such as geology, flora and fauna (Romm 2006).

Aside from its modernity, these zoological investigations also reveal an underlying methodology: the interconnectivity of humans and their environment. Biological investigations almost exclusively occur within ethnographic sections and operate to comment on both a landscape and its people. For example, the discussions of horns and climate mentioned above underscore the harshness of Scythia and, by extension, its people. Similarly, as he describes the outer limits of the known world, Herodotus folds in increasingly fantastic creatures. Giant snakes and dog-headed men inhabit the outer reaches of Libya (4.191-2) while the far north is home to griffins and werewolves (4.13, 27, 105). The fabulous resources of Arabia and India are guarded by equally fabulous creates like giant ants and flying snakes (3.107-11). Notably, the most developed animal catalogue occurs as part of a description of Egyptian religious customs (2.65-76). Herodotus’ commentaries on animals allow him to develop a rich tapestry of the world and its people as well as reflect the unique, even progressive position his work holds in the evolution of Greek thought."

Colin MacCormack, PhD, Classics, teaches at the University of Alabama

A very interesting text. My only remark is that, concerning the reports in Histories on fabulous animals from what were for the Greeks of the Classical era the "fringes" of the world, Herodotus mentions often his sources, usually in the form of "as x group of people says", distancing in this way somehow himself from what he reports, and in some cases he expresses openly his desbelief for what his sources had told him, as it is the case with the Neurians turned to werewolves and with the cynocepali and other imaginary animals of Africa.

[genericpuff]

I'm taking your reblog in good faith because as I mentioned in the OG post, the way Rachel wrote this doesn't help people decide what the goal was supposed to be here with the writing. The framing is very poor and like many of Rachel's attempts to write a "feminist" piece of work, she just ends up being misogynist and characterizing every woman who isn't an innocent naive uwu baby like Persephone as someone who's trashy and "easy".

But Aphrodite's plotline here is practically identical to the Hera / Kronos plotline, just more condensed. Both Aphrodite and Hera felt that giving themselves up to another man for sex had to be used to escape an unfair situation with an unjust King. And again, as I mentioned in the post, unlike with Persephone, we don't see Zeus giving Eros a fair trial here. I'd like to think 'manipulating' Zeus into sex should be a last ditch effort that shouldn't even have to be employed, but honestly, who's the actual one with the power here? How can a woman putting herself in a situation to be taken advantage of by a man in power a victim? I think she can be manipulating someone into sex to make the outcome more favorable, and also still be a victim due to the power structure of the system she's living in that made her feel using sex was the best possible option in the first place.

Zeus has nothing to lose here, and he knows that. He's notoriously known for cheating on his wife and having sex simply for the power play. Remember what happened to the last goddess who slept with him?

If Rachel in any way wanted to make this a feminist piece of work, she could have had Hera learn that Zeus is the problem and not these women who he's broken the vows of their marriage for (a common sentiment in the Greek myth discussion circles, Hera's loyalty is her own undoing). But that's clearly not the story we're getting.

All that in mind, if Zeus was in any way the victim, he'd have a lot more to lose, which would motivate him to, idk, turn down Aphrodite's methods which he could plainly see. Nowhere is it implied that Zeus is in love with Aphrodite, this isn't her playing on Zeus' emotions where where Zeus 'finally' gets to sleep with a woman who he's pursuing, I'd like to think at this point he knows she's offering sex as a bargaining chip and he jumps at the chance to take it. This isn't Aphrodite going, "hey, we should have sex and see where it leads us", this is Aphrodite going "I'm going to offer you my body for sex because we all know it's the only thing that's gonna keep you from giving my son the Prometheus treatment over something that's a regular occurrence with every other god."

We all know why Rachel made it Zeus specifically, she was trying to (very poorly) make a point about patriarchy in power (and yes, people are really fucking drinking LO's brand of "feminism" Kool-Aid to a frustrating and terrifying degree) and that often involves women 'manipulating' men who are higher in power to not suffer abuse. And that's not consent, especially when the men in higher power likely know fully well what's going on and can easily pull the rug out from under the women offering themselves up for sex.

At the end of the day though, the main way I approach this (and yes this is almost definitely up for debate because what the work is intended to be is clearly a far cry from what it actually is) : if this is truly meant to be a feminist piece of work, why should readers assume that Aphrodite is meant to be the bad guy here?

Again, that doesn't mean that was Rachel's intention. Maybe she was trying to write Aphrodite as the villain here. But considering she later wrote Zeus to be more fair to her self-insert who committed an equally terrible Act of Wrath (without a permit lmao) it was clear Aphrodite was written in a way that framed her as having "no other way out."

No, people should not have to be 'manipulating' other people into having sex with them to get themselves out of a shitty situation. I don't at all think the ends justify the means. But it says a lot about the men in power that it ended up on the table to begin with and that, unlike the women, the men in power will suffer zero consequences if they get found out.

I simply don’t agree that Aphrodite sleeping with zeus was coercion. Eros was rightfully going to be punished for doing the same crime as persephone. Aphrodite was the one manipulating zeus into sleeping with her again to lessen his punishment. (And they had a previous relationship/fling considering Eros is his GRANDSON and Aphrodite definitely hurt Hera in that process as well) if Eros was innocent I would understand the viewpoint but Zeus was doing his job and he is scummy for being so easily swayed but Aphrodite was perfectly scummy as well using sex to get her son off the hook.

I don't entirely disagree with some of the points you raise (that Eros had committed an act of wrath that led to this whole thing to begin with). That said, I think that more proves the point that Rachel's framing could have been more clear, as it's why the debate of "is it coercion or not" even exists in that scene. Yeah, she was totally attempting to get her son off scot-free from committing an act of wrath, but then the plot expects us to also root for Persephone to get off easy, who still gets a trial. It might not be a fair trial, but the implication with the Eros / Aphrodite / Zeus scene was that Zeus was just gonna go straight into punishment without even bothering to give him a trial to plea his case. And unlike Persephone, Eros didn't go to insane lengths to hide it from Zeus and Hades (which was more why Zeus took such offense with Persephone's Act of Wrath in the first place - he didn't care that she killed people, he cared that she killed people and then hid it from him and his brothers.)

Apparently Artemis and Apollo were outright celebrated for committing an act of wrath.

(notice how Zeus shifts the goalposts from it being about the death of 300 mortals to it being about Eros harboring a mortal?)

In the original Greek myths, acts of wrath were common. Poseidon would drown sailors at sea, Aphrodite and Eros would toy with the emotions and lives of mortals who had wronged them, and Demeter has created an entire dang season that resulted in the starvation of mortals en masse.

So in LO, which is it? Are acts of wrath something that need to be taken to trial? Or are they not that big a deal and Zeus is simply an asshole who picks and chooses who he punishes? Because when taking how he treated Persephone's act of wrath into context - as well as Artemis and Apollo's - then him deciding to punish Eros right then and there seems a little unwarranted, I don't blame Aphrodite for trying to think on her feet. I'd like to think if he was willing to offer Persephone a trial, he could do the same for his grandson, but evidently not. He didn't even know Apollo and Artemis were his kids yet back when he rewarded them for murdering people, so his relation to them can't even be used as a "well clearly he's biased towards his kids".

If it's meant to highlight how unfair of a king Zeus is, then flipping the script from Aphrodite to Zeus offering sex as a bargaining chip would have made the intention a lot more clear. That said, I do still agree with the notion that Aphrodite was clearly backed into a corner here knowing fully well that her son was about to be unfairly punished for something that wasn't even being given a fair trial or route to defend himself. That's why I argue that Aphrodite is still a victim of coercion, even if she's the one who "offered first". It says more about Zeus that Aphrodite even felt the need to go that far in the first place IMO.