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sweetestbasil · 2 days

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RUBATOSIS || chapter two: bloating

PAIRING : Dr.Gaul's Assistant!Coriolanus Snow x Experiment!Reader-Insert ( afab, they / them, sometimes it, no explicit use of y/n )

RATING : 18+ ( tw body horror / slight sexual content )

WORD COUNT : 20, 501

WARNINGS : infidelity ( coryo's engaged to livia ), power imbalance, unreliable narrator ( it's 3rd POV but focuses on coryo's view ), unhealthy dynamics, dehumanizing language, medical experimentation, operation treated as a metaphor for sex, sexual disassociation, body horror-esque, coryo and gaul are messed up in this fic, he's more like his book version than movie

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

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

Dr. Gaul has just the solution for him.

A/N : Sorry for how long this took, work has kept me busy. If there are any mistakes let me know, and I hope you all like chapter two.

[ If you want to read it on AO3 instead ] [ chapter one ]

bloating || skin slippage - stage two of decomposition

By now, he was already starting to feel ill.

The beaded drops of sweat that started to latch itself onto the bare palms of his hands made them feel all the more off-putting. It made the effort of wanting ( at least, an attempt of so ) to keep a grip on the smooth skin between his fingers a far more burdensome task than needed. His hips shifting back and forth to meet with Livia’s; every single moment of their flesh meeting together, every moan and airy breath that was drawn out of her, it never failed to make him internally recoil. Since adolescent age, he always expected sex to feel passionate, the shot of nerves as if they were on fire from sheer pleasure. Festus had spoken such a great deal of it during meals at the Academy, leaning down into the group of their male peers and speaking in hushed whispers in fear someone nearby would listen in. It was hard not to feel delightfully shocked, with the flushed color on Festus’s cheeks, the juvenile gleam in his eyes.

What a liar.

Never once had he engaged in sexual activities himself prior to… to his graduation from the Academy. Only some heavy grabbing between perspired kisses, and maybe a rut, or two, with another. Livia had been his first, when it came to full on sexual intercourse.

And what an exhausting experience it was!

All that sweat, the cum, having to kiss Livia repeatedly to get the room a bit more quiet - he felt like he had been robbed. Was this not supposed to be some pivotal moment? That some inner, ‘carnal desire’ that others had boasted about would be satiated the moment he lost virginity. Yet, in the end, all he did was feel more empty, starved than he was before having sex with Livia. Starved he still was, when he walked in and out the doors of Pluribus Bell’s nightclubs. Coriolanus wondered at times, where he found himself bare and pressed against another, if there was something wrong with him. Or if maybe, if it was someone else, had it been any one of those two, would he have felt anything.

He didn’t want to question it further.

In the end, Livia always rested on the other side of his bed satisfied. If he was lucky enough to cum himself; he’d try to either sleep the experience off, or leave his place quickly with an offhand excuse, depending on the time.

His tired eyes gazed up from the expanse of Livia’s back. Coriolanus was grateful that today Livia and him fell into a position where the both of them didn’t have to make eye contact with each other. If he stared too long at just one thing, there was a chance his eyes might just become blind from desensitization. Peeks of daybreak managed their way through the dark, rich curtains of his bedroom window. The light casted over his bed in a restrained fashion, hitting his right bare shoulder and slightly onto the lower spine of Livia. He’d soon have to get ready for work after this was all done.

What a freak, he sounded like.

That he was far more excited to be working than being caught by the charms of another woman. A woman that eventually, in just a few months, was going to be the wife, the mother of his children, the one he comes home to. It felt like a nightmare. Maybe this was the “ball and chain”; that the breathing fossils in suits would harp on about at social functions, emptied bottles of posca rolling beside their sleek shoes on the floor.

Lazily, he slid his left hand up from its gripped position on Livia’s waist. The sweat between them making the glide smooth, as he ran his fingers up her shoulder blades. In all their mornings and nights, spent wrapped in the sweltering sheets, Coriolnaus doesn’t think he’s ever seen any noticeable blemishes on Livia. No freckles, no moles, no beauty marks. Not even a small scar from playing too rough in the playground. There was no argument that could be made: Livia Cardew is the perfect Capital woman. The clean expanse of flesh and the untainted blood that ran underneath spoke levels enough.

But, it also made her obscenely bland.

Sure, she’s ambitious.

Livia could be quite the cutthroat when needed, if it meant the spotlight and praise was on her. It was the few things they had in common. Though, there was no physical sign to her character, aside from her sense of fashion and the style of hair she did each morning. Even then, anyone with half a mind might protest if any of that really was part of her. Livia’s never shy when it comes to chasing the current trends of Panem. But, what’s so good about being a trend chaser if you don’t even anything else more remarkable? By all means, become the beacon of hope to the everyday Capital citizen. Tell them that with enough wealth, maybe they can buy their way into a personality, too.

Grimacing, the sensation of Livia’s body tightening around him brought him out of his daze. She was close to finishing. Meaning he was closer to being able to leave. Though, a crumb of uncertainty lodged itself into Coriolanus. It was something he dealt with before.

There was just a small window of time to decide: should he try to finish alongside Livia, or should he cum alone in his bathroom, after.

Maybe if she stopped moving her hips so wildly against him, it’d give him more space to think. His fingers slid back down her spine, the faintest shape of the laminae was jutting out, as Livia arched her back against him. Coriolanus leaned his face down, starting from the bottom of her spine he pressed his lips against her skin. Trailing open-mouthed kisses up, the salty taste of her perspiration lingered itself on his tongue. It made him internally recoil.

He’d have to scrub his teeth a bit more thoroughly, before he headed off to work.

Coriolanus felt bad for Livia’s parents. They most likely hoped that by setting this arrangement with Livia and him, that eventually, the two of them could become obsessed with each other. The truth of the matter is, sex between them both was just more so a formality. Something to give this engagement a sense of normalcy. He definitely wasn’t Livia’s type, and she wasn’t his. His type was… Coriolanus wondered, if Livia carried more imperfections on her, would she have appealed more to him?

He tried to see it.

What would he have here instead, if not just the vast expanse of soft skin. Sheltered away, easy access to the finest things Panem had to offer a girl. Would some blemishes be nice on Livia? It could be cute, if she was flustered about it. A mole? No, Coriolanus wouldn’t consider that an imperfection, unlike Livia. Maybe a scar? That could be interesting, they usually carried a story. Some uneven patches of skin that haven't healed perfectly, possibly from a botched stitch job.

His hand reached up to brush aside the sweat soaked ends of Livia’s hair, away from her neck. He could see it now, the image of that messy, metaphorical scar. The slight discoloration, the dip in the muscle, showing him just how deep the wound went. Coriolanus kissed the nape of her neck.

What would it be like to run his tongue along it?

The hand that was so firmly placed on Livia’s hip, left its spot. Instead, he moved it farther down and under her. How would Livia react, if he put so much attention on an imperfection of hers? Would it draw a choked out sound from her, an embarrassing reaction? It would be so different from the prideful image she carried everyday. Livia’s hips jerked against his own, as his fingers slid themselves between her soaked folds and up. Reaching her clit, his middle finger played with it to help her between the gasps of breath. They both hated each other, but Livia could never call him a selfish lover. Even if he wished for more from her. Even if he desired to see her as someone, something, different as she fell apart under his touch.

How funny would it be, if he took a page from Dr. Gaul’s book. Have her undergo a similar treatment to Project Prometheus, let her be redone as a blank slate. Coriolanus thought about it for a second; the lines of stitches that he traced so carefully under his gloved fingers.

The pace of his hips stuttered.

A sharp intake from his nostrils, Coriolanus quickly bit down on Livia’s neck to prevent the sound of a moan leaving his lips. He could feel the discomforting sensation of the condom filling up. It made his body shudder at the feeling, Livia’s back pressed flush against his chest. Slowly, gradually, his teeth removed themselves from Livia’s skin, taking steady breaths between his lips to try and collect himself. He brushed back a curled strand of golden hair from his forehead, the hair slightly soaked from sweat.

Well… Isn’t this just humiliating for him? The briefest thought about work somehow got him to finish.

He really was a freak.

Not that he’d tell a soul on earth about this. Imagine the stares he’d get if he confessed that thinking about work gets him to cum. Not the body of his fiance, not a pretty face under dark lights. Work. They’d be convinced that it may have been a better option to have abandoned him at District 12, rather than bring him back to the Capital. Coriolanus moved himself away from Livia, lifting himself off of her to stand his back tall once more. He grimaced throughout the entire movement, as the sweltering touch of their skin together was becoming far too noticeable for his liking. He was reminded again, about how much he could withstand Livia before his patience wore thin.

“That… was interesting…” Livia spoke in a breathy tone, a slight whimper at the end as Coriolanus pulled himself out of her.

He offered the back of her head a brief glance, before continuing to pull the condom off of him and tie it. “Something wrong?” He never really bothered to speak enthusiastically to Livia. The one time he did try to talk softly to her when they were alone, she threw him a look of disgust and told him to stop. That she found it ‘creepy’.

Livia shifted herself further into his bed, bringing her arms under one of his fine cotton pillows to nestle her face further into it. She stretched her limbs out, ankles crossing over each other. Great, she was making herself comfortable.

“No, nothing’s wrong.” She must think she’s hilarious for playing coy. “I’m just surprised you managed to stick through the entire thing. For a moment, I was almost worried for your health. You know, impotence is not just for the old.”

“Very funny, Livia.”

He wanted her out already.

Doesn’t she have any friends she should go visit? Or a family waiting for her?

He didn’t bother to look at her, instead getting up from the bed to move to his nightstand. Coriolanus grabbed the alarm clock that rested on it, holding the smooth frame of wood in his hands. Checking the time was far more interesting than participating in this conversation. It was pointless banter, with Livia just trying to get a rise out of him.

“I should say the same to you. What happened to ‘just wanting to rest for the night’?”

It was just shy of six thirty in the morning.

His ears picked on the sound of Livia sucking her teeth a few spaces behind him. Coriolanus rolled his eyes, placing the alarm clock back down with a quiet thud. Quietly, with steady steps, he walked past the lush, wine-colored carpet under his bed and into the connecting door that led to his bathroom. He turned the light switch on, its warm hue from the intricately adorned wall lamps illuminated the entire space.

Before, it always used to be a jarring experience to feel the icy tile of the bathroom floor, it was a miracle if the heater didn’t manage to bust down during the night. Now, stepping his bare foot in without a care, the mosaic marble floor didn’t make him want to jump out of his skin. There was an adequate warmth from the heaters lined at the bottom of the floors. Though, he did slightly ( barely ) miss the cold. If his alarm clock failed to jolt him awake for class, he could always depend on the freezing appliances and water to finish the job. He turned, facing the large sink vanity. The top of the sink was made from sleek ceramic marble, with the cabinets beneath it being made from polished blackwood. Lined against the wall under the vanity, stood a multitude of care products he had taken to purchase for himself. However, something curious caught Coriolanus’s eye. Livia had made her own small collection here, too. Not as plentiful as he had, considering this is his bathroom, but she had her own products that she often left behind. A ‘just in case’, when she stayed nights here.

Coriolanus was half tempted to tell her to get rid of them. If the products were that important, she could carry it in a duffel bag when she came over. Or, she could just handle doing a brisk walk of shame to her chauffeur's car, so she could go home and wash herself. His home wasn’t her extra storage unit.

Outside his bedroom door, he could hear just the faintest sounds of someone moving on the floor below. It was very quiet, the slightest noise of clanging pots and pans. The warm smell of coffee being brewed and warm cooking oil bled through the halls of the estate, and seeped under the cracks of the door. Perfect, the cook came in just in time. If he was lucky, the cook would finish his breakfast just before he came down and he’d be able to finish it quickly before work. Just before Livia could come down. He hadn’t forgotten her actions previously, he noticed how eager she seemed to make a pattern.

Wasn’t this supposed to be his place of comfort?

Here he was in his new home, trying to get some independence away from his family and a woman he didn’t even love was intruding upon it. Coriolanus took the toothbrush from its ceramic holder on the wall, wetting the bristles under the turned on faucet before applying the paste. Bringing it up and into his mouth, he started to scrub thoroughly. The phone connected to his bedside had started to ring. Coriolanus made a gesture to move his body to get it, but Livia beat him to it.

He’d let her take it, for now. He wasn’t fond of it, but if his fiance was the one answering the phone, it’d sell their image of a ‘perfect marriage’ better.

He glanced from the corner of the doorway to see Livia take the handset of the black dial phone in her hands, before he went back to finish brushing his teeth. She answered in a faux sweet tone:

“Livia Cardew, soon to be Livia Snow, speaking.”

Ew.

Just broadcast to the whole world at this point. Hearing her say it aloud brought a chill down his spine. It was true, but it still was a jarring reality to accept.

“Oh, Tigris! Good morning, how are you?”

Coriolanus quickly spat out the paste from his mouth, the mixture of its foam and his spit splattered against the drain.

“Coriolanus? He’s in the bathroom right now. Do you want me to go grab him for you?”

Was his heart racing? He felt like his heart was racing.

His hand gripped at the edges of the marble top, while the other reached to turn back on the faucet. Trembling, his fingers, wrapping around the lever to lift it up and twist to warm. It had been a moment since Tigris sought to call him. Since he left home, it’s always been him to reach out. If he just left it up to her, he feared that he’d only hear from her once a year. She’d probably like it to be that way, too, knowing her. But, he’d never let it happen. He was always going to remind her of the fact that the both of them are family. Regardless of what he did, what he’ll do, the connection of blood between them was never going to diminish. He had lost them, he wasn’t going to let himself lose her, too.

Maybe he should wash his mouth out quicker, to go and speak to her, Coriolanus reasoned.

His hands cupped around the running water, bringing it up to his mouth to swish it around. What did Tigris want to tell him? Was it something mundane? Did she want to check on him? But, it was unlikely, unless Tigris miraculously had a change of heart through the night. Which meant most likely she was calling for an emergency. That made his heart sink worse at the thought. Had Grandma’am’s health declined? Did a doctor notice an abnormality in Tigris’s body?

“You just wanted him to relay something to me? Well, I’m here now, I’m all ears.”

Coriolanus spit the water out his mouth, and grabbed the mouthwash for extra measure.

…So.

She didn’t want to speak to him.

She just wanted him to play sweet messenger boy for Livia.

Taking the small amount of mouthwash into his mouth, he closed his lips to swirl it around the crevices inside. The sound of Livia’s conversation with Tigris began to drown itself out into a white noise. Coriolanus didn’t really care what they were talking about anymore. It wasn’t for him, so it really didn’t matter. He should’ve expected the result. But, it stung just a bit, knowing that she preferred Livia over him. He never expected that designing one dress somehow endeared the seamstress to the client.

What did that mean for him? Tigris had designed, fixed, and traded the majority of his clothes. Was there a limit? Too much work, and suddenly the seamstress only answers calls when the full moon is out and the lucky lottery color of the day is green. Coriolanus spit the mouthwash out into the sink, the strong taste of medicinal mint left on his tongue. Not a single trace of Livia’s taste remained. His hand held onto the faucet’s lever, twisted it back to turn it off. The sleek, cool material of brass slipped out from his fingers, as he brought his palm down. Across the smooth marble top and down to grip at its edges, where it hung just a bit over the blackwood cabinet. Distantly, he watched the remnants of water slowly leak down to the drain.

What had he done? Coriolanus genuinely wanted to know. What had he done, personally, to Tigris, that made her so distasteful towards him?

Ever since he had come back from District 12, when he had told her that he was to be accepted into the University and work under Dr. Gaul’s assistant full-time, Tigris had spoken to him so meekishly, so quietly. When he, on the other hand, had hoped to share this joy with his beloved cousin. Having been recently discharged from that hellscape, and finding new success by his merits finally being acknowledged, Strabo Plinth taking him on as a replacement son - he thought she’d be happy for him. That with their penthouse now off the market, that it spoke to a new wave of golden years for the Snow family. They could finally go back to where things used to be. No longer did they have to worry so much about helping Grandma’am up the stairs, when the elevator broke down. No more, did Tigris have to go through tight street corners and rusted alleyways to exchange goods. Was this not what they wanted? What she wanted?

Coriolanus’s jaw locked into a grit, his knuckles tightening in grip.

Did she just want something new to coddle and dote on? That maybe, rather it being something wrong with him; he just no longer appealed to her naive delusions. Was he not still, the same young boy who’d hold her hand during festivals…? Something glazed over his eyes and he blinked it away quickly, raising his head back up to look at his own reflection.

No, this shouldn’t discourage him.

If anything, it should invigorate him more to proceed with this damned wedding. If dangling Livia on a hook was what it took to keep Tigris still in contact with him, then so be it. And if she grew tired of Livia, then he’d bring her a new one. The pound never ran out of pets to parade.

Coriolanus walked over to the shower, turning it on. Sliding open the glass panels just a smidge more, for his body to slip through. He let the shower head rain over him, wetting his pushed back hair; the combed out strands starting to curl under the exposure, falling along his forehead. Coriolanus was thankful, for the beating sound of water hitting the tiles. It drowned out even more, the noise of Livia’s voice. Her obnoxious laughter was almost non-existent at this point. His hand reached out to the indented shelf built into the shower wall, touching the honed, pine green porcelain tiles. A different focus was what he needed. He needed something else to think about.

Grabbing the bottle of body wash, and the hanging shower luffa, he popped the bottle open. The smell of vanilla and roses touched the steamed air. Lathering the luffa against his hand, when the foam of soapy bubbles finally formed, he brought it towards his body. What a luxury it was, to be able to use things like shower gels and brushes, rather than a bar of mediocre soap and a worn-out rag. He scrubbed the luffa against his body, ‘til his skin started to look red and it felt sore against the hot water. The Citadel didn’t necessarily carry out a specific requirement of cleanliness, but working with other researchers and touching dangerous materials and waste alike; a thorough wash seemed second nature for the job. And the easily swooned crowds of Capital elites always enjoyed a well-groomed figure to stand behind.

If he showed up and greeted Dr. Gaul with the slightest speck of dirt under his nails, she’d chew him out viciously. He’s seen her humiliate workers for less at the Citadel, forcing them to endure the embarrassment of washing their hands in front of her until she’s satisfied. Coriolanus feared that due to their ‘friendly’ bond, she might even go as far as to wash his hands herself. Dr. Gaul’s pruned hands touching his own? He shuddered. A grimace forced his lips into a frown. Closing his eyes to chase out the thought, he brought his head under the water. He scrubbed the conditioner out until he no longer felt any residue in his hair.

He wanted to focus on something else.

Watching the suds of soap slowly enter the drain, he tried to think of Livia. When he dried off, would she still be in bed? They’ve seen each other naked plenty of times, but getting ready together… That felt like a level of intimacy that Coriolanus was not keen on sharing with her. She might even feel the same. He hummed quietly to himself as he turned off the hot water. When they eventually move in together, he should consider making her a personal room in the mansion. He could only tolerate sharing a bed with her some nights. It wasn’t everyday of the week she stayed over, which is why he never spoke out before. Sighing through his mouth, his hand rubbed the bridge of his nose. He slid open the glass shower panel, extending his arm out first, to grab the crimson, cotton towel from the brass hanger. The soft towel was promptly wrapped around his head to shuffle around his wet locks, drying it just well enough before stretching out the fabric to wrap around his waist. Mist from the shower followed after him, as he stepped out of it.

As he made his way back to the sink vanity, he noticed the vague shape of something left next to the sink bowl. He picked it up in his hands, the discarded, salmon colored toothbrush of Livia; wet in his hands. Coriolanus’s face pulled a frown, placing it back correctly. Since when did Tigris and her finish talking? He barely noticed Livia entering and using the bathroom while he showered. Grabbing onto the doorframe of the bathroom, he peeked his head out slightly.

No Livia resting in bed.

His clothes for the day were already picked out for him, laying there instead at the foot of his bed. A relief he didn’t know he craved, filled him immediately.

Blue eyes moved to another target of focus, noticing quite clearly the empty space where one of his robes should very obviously be. And the dread had made its way back into his system!

Coriolanus zipped his head back into the bathroom.

Quickly, he thought. Quickly, he needed to finish getting ready, grabbing the bottle of moisturizer in one hand and plugging in the blowdryer in the other. She is trying to corner him at the breakfast table today. What more did she want? Does she need a favor? Is it another ‘date’? He prayed it wasn’t the latter. He wants to go into work on a good note. Coriolanus checked his face in the mirror; clear of any new, stray hairs around his lips and chin. Flicking out the tooth comb from its place, he took a small amount of pomade and brushed his ( mostly ) dried hair back and to the side. The curls in his hair smoothed themselves out against the comb’s teeth. In his transition back to his room, the towel that loyally clung to his hips was left discarded on the bathroom floor; his legs swiftly moving to slot themselves into a new, clean pair of underwear. He didn’t think much as he put on the ironed white button up, adorning the fitted waist vest over it and matching deep-red colored trousers that hid the black, cotton sock garters underneath. Carefully, he looped the rich black leather belt through the loops of the slack, a satisfying clink from the buckle when he locked in place. With one last look in the mirror, necessities all gathered, and a spray of cologne, he fit himself into his shoes and went out the bedroom door and where he knew Livia was waiting for him.

“Chef, if you could please, pack my breakfast and coffee to go. I have to head into work soon,” Coriolanus actually had thirty minutes to spare. Frankly, he could lounge around and start up a new book if he wanted.

“What? You’re not even late, you’re perfectly on time!” Livia cried out, her head turned to his figure now entering the room.

Sitting just right across from his usual seat, she was wearing the oh-so-familiar robe that was missing before. The entire round table, covered by a white table-cloth and a vase of freshly plucked white roses at the center, was filled to each end with an abundance of food. Varying ranges to pancakes and crepes, bowls of yogurt and sliced fruits, to freshly cooked eggs and meats such as sausages, sliced ham, and bacon. He wished so badly that he could take his time to pick out his selection and eat. But, alas. Coriolanus walked over to Livia, his overcoat and gloves already being put on. A hand against the top of her chair, he leaned his head down to give a kiss to the side of her cheek; Livia grumbled under her breath in response. The cook he hired belonged to him, they would never snitch about the facade between them, but one was never too sure.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Gaul called me in,” A lie, but nothing outlandish. “You know how she can be, I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Livia rolled her eyes at him before going to pick at her plate, her fork poking a bit at the strawberries and bananas she had on her pancakes. He raised an eyebrow, faking a questionable gaze. Internally, however, he was gloating in self-satisfaction. His fears in the morning shower were shown to be warranted, as he watched her. Livia looked akin to a spoiled child who had just been told no.

“Is something wrong? What happened?” Coriolanus brought the hand away from her chair, bringing it down to touch her shoulder. He gave it a small squeeze, an extra effort to really upsell his image of a ‘loving husband’.

A sigh came from Livia’s lips.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Then she should stop throwing a tantrum. “I was just hoping to talk to you about my wedding dress. Tigris finally secured all the material, so she wants me to come in to do some fittings while she gets started on it.”

So that’s what his cousin wasted his call-line on. For something so trivial, too. The Cardew’s home-line should be working just fine: or did Mommy Cardew waste too much money on her trophy of a husband and neglect the phone bill?

“Really? Well, that’s great news, isn’t it!” Coriolanus laughed at the end of his words. Frankly, it was terrible news. It just reminded him constantly of the looming date. It hung over his head like a jail sentence. “What do you need me for? It seems you two have it handled here,” He tried to make his words sound encouraging, but he couldn’t help the slight envy that skipped in his tone. Livia knew it too. This time, she was the one raising a brow back at him.

“I thought you’d be curious to see what we planned. I have the sketch Tigris drew up right here,”

Coriolanus’s brows creased, the smile dropping slightly off his face. He gave her a look of confusion. He wasn’t really quite sure what she was expecting out of him seeing her dress. Validation? Praise? Or, could she see right past him. Maybe she had sourced out the root to his bitter tone. He wondered what Tigris and her spoke about in these appointments. They likely gossiped about him. No doubt Tigris gave her pitiful woes to Livia, how terrified she was to see him again in person. That even a phone call with him had her fingers trembling when it spun the dial. And Livia, undoubtedly ate it all up. It’s why she wanted to show him the sketch. Show him just how close the two became. Coriolanus grinded his teeth internally, the slightest nudge of his jaw ticked.

Her hands reached into his robe that she wore, the sound of paper being shuffled and rustled around being heard. Did she keep other papers in there? She couldn’t possibly be turning some of his belongings into hers. Maybe he should think twice about leaving Livia alone in his home. With manicured nails, Livia pulled out a folded piece of sketch paper, a slight crease at the edge. Opening it up, she placed the paper on the table first. With one hand, Livia did her best at smoothing the edges out before handing it over to him. A simple ‘Here’ was all she said.

Coriolanus accepted the paper, embarrassingly quick, soaking in its details.

The paper was made of coarse, recycled sketch paper, giving a tan hue. There was a smell of graphite and ink that lifted off the paper. Scribbled in the corner were small, little drawings. Variety of poses and designs that have crossed out under ink, ideas that no longer worked. The drawing that had taken the majority of the page was a quick mock sketch of assumingly, Livia. Her hair was pinned up in a stacked bun style, with a pearl caul piece on it. Pins of white roses and buds placed at random adorned the head. Expectantly, the veil was made to match it. A mesh see through material, with rosebuds and pearls scattered around, lace at the ends of it. A pearl necklace was adorned on the sketch’s neck. The dress was a sweetheart neckline, plunged and fitted at the top with white embroidery. The fabric near sheer underneath, turning more opaque when it hit the waist, fitted all until the ankle, where the dress flared and spread. White rosebuds were sprinkled around the calf line, blooming into full flowers as it reached the bottom. Curious though, that the white rosebuds gradually transitioned to red flowers when it touched the ends. It gave the silhouette of Livia’s pure white dress having been dragged through blood. Coriolanus couldn’t understand why Livia would agree to the design. It felt like Tigris was trying to push some personal agenda forward by doing so. He knew there were few elders who still carried the belief that wearing red at a wedding meant something scandalous. Back before, when Panem had yet to be made. Something about being intimate with the groom? Livia is his fiance, so most attendants would hope they’ve slept together.

Did Tigris believe he was supposed to be promised with another?

He ‘dated’ ( was used by ) only one person.

Coriolanus sucked his teeth.

“You don’t like the dress?”

“No, that’s not it,” He might downright hate the dress, actually. If his assumption is right. Coriolanus paused in between his words. Usually, he’d have no issue throwing verbal jabs at Livia. It was a thing that both did to each other. However. It’d be humiliating for him to admit out loud that she needed to change the dress because of a past ex. He sighed,

“I just… slightly regret not asking Tigris to design my suit, too.” Ugh, that sounded too vulnerable now. He needed to reel back in. “Thank you for showing it to me, though. I’ll send you the name of my designer later to send it over, it’ll be nice to have matching attire for our wedding.” He handed the paper back to Livia. Her eyes had an unreadable look to them, as if wanting to say something else. His skin itched under her sight. Don’t say anything. Don’t say–

“Mr. Snow, I have your breakfast packed and ready,”

Eagerly, Coriolanus diverted his gaze away from Livia, giving her the briefest ‘apologetic’ glances before turning his head. Emerging from the connecting hall that led to the kitchen, the cook had taken a step forward towards him. In one hand, they held two breakfast sausages, each one wrapped with an omelette; they were held in tight, folded wax paper to avoid the food’s oil spreading. The other, held the mug of coffee, and a folded, square, white box carrier made of cardboard on their spare fingers. The carrier held minimal, barely any, patterns. Small etchings of abatina flowers and leaves on it. The corners of lips ticked up gradually at the sight of it, a hint of teeth poking out from his smile. His mood had started to turn itself up slowly. The situation just seconds before, now was taking a backseat in his psyche. This, needed his attention. And he’d gladly give it. He didn’t want to think about Tigris anymore. He didn’t want to think about the wedding. Coriolanus reached his hand over to take his belongings away from the cook.

Just think about work today.

“Thank you, you know I always appreciate your work here.” They were getting paid a hefty paycheck, he’d sure hope they were putting their best in everything. “If you mind telling me, what’s in here today?” He was gesturing to the carrier. Lifting it slightly in the air with his finger to emphasize it.

“It’s a cheesecake, with a slightly burned outer layer.”

His eyes creased slightly with his smile.

“Perfect, thank you.”

Coriolanus turned his head back to Livia, who had finally started to eat away at her plate, rather than play. Catching her mid-bite, he asked, as any future husband would: “Will you be here when I come back?” If the cook wasn’t here, Livia would’ve sneered harshly at his feigned curiosity.

“We’ll see. I have some extended family visiting today after my appointment with Tigris,” Oh, so the circus was getting back together. “If you get off work early, you should come by. They’d love to see you.” He’s sure they would.

“We’ll see,”

He repeated the words back to her, before dipping his head back down to give her another kiss. This one just shy above her lips, before pulling away and finally leaving the estate’s premises. Coriolanus hoped his displays of affection ruined her morning, just as her presence ruined his.

The crisp, cold air outside waited for him, keeping him company as he made his trek to the Citadel. Weaving carefully through other citizens, it was thankfully less crowded than normal. He managed to avoid the morning rush of workers; a consolation, that he didn’t have to worry too much about accidentally bumping into someone with his full hands. The steady buzz of the moving trolleys, the humble, yet luxurious cars that drove through Panem’s streets, was at a far lower frequency. Low, and only the occasional loud noise from shops and stores getting to open, the bells of the door a distant chime. He felt almost alone. A great contrast from the minimal chaos before. It gave him space, it gave him clarity. The quietness gave him time to think. Coriolanus tried to ease himself down, as he took his first sip of coffee. He should find the change of scenery liberating. If he stayed any longer in that suffocating environment, he feared he would have snapped right then and there. The headlines would be clear as day: ‘Snow & Plinth Heir Strangles Fiance in their New Home’! He’d lose everything if he couldn’t keep his patience in check. The tightrope he walked on always was fine, and narrow. Everything he did had an audience, and each step he took had an effect. All he wanted was just a moment to breathe.

A steady exhale from his mouth, careful to not be so loud in the tame atmosphere. The movement causing the carrier in his fingers to jostle a bit.

That’s right, he still had this under his control.

It’s such a simple thing to bring his thoughts back down to the concrete path he walked. The weight of the carrier in his hand felt significantly lighter, easier to hold amongst the other things he carried. It gave his tense mind a small fuse of excitement. Curiosity lit his neurons anew, wondering what Subject A01’s reaction would be to the ‘gift’. He had the cook make it specifically for them. Since he held the first exam for the subject, he’s made it a habit to visit it. Not too often, to not cause a rise of suspicion, but enough to satisfy what he needed. Three times a week seemed fair enough. It had only been just a month since.

Coriolanus saw a first glimpse of how Dr. Gaul had conditioned it and affected its mind with only simple verbal conferences. He wanted to take that approach and raise it further: the introduction of spoils to Project Prometheus.

It started small. First, it was small things like hard delights. Hard caramels, strawberry suckers, or tart lemon candy. He’d speak to it, asking questions and probing, coaxing more answers out of them. Coriolanus noted before how limited and short the subject’s responses were. When the subject had started to speak more, he brought them more elaborate sweets. Moving away from candy, he re-introduced simple, but satisfying delicacies back to their tongue. Butter cookies, bites of meringue, and pieces of milk chocolate. He knew that the subject was being fed enough at Lab C09, the fact that their bones didn’t protrude abnormally back in the exam showed that. However, he knew it most definitely wasn’t enough to satiate. He knew hunger well, he’s starved through these familiar streets before. But, even when he had to succumb to the bland boil of potatoes and dated cans of food from the Dark Days; his young self always craved more. Reminiscing of times of sweet toffee and rich peanut brittle he used to eat at festivals while feasting on dubious scrapped food. Project Prometheus’s brain was a blank slate so, infuriatingly, memories of such possible past luxuries meant nothing to them. But, it was smart enough to see the obvious difference between bland slop for meals, and carefully crafted desserts.

It’s so funny, Coriolanus thought. How malleable they’ve become under his hand.

Ever since he started this routine of greeting them, engaging in conversation, smiling at them, giving them a treat at the end; he noticed how much they’ve changed since then. While still very transparent with him, they used to be more withdrawn, he observed. They still have an issue with being more expressive facial-wise, but he could sense the bits of shyness now within their body language. Everytime he comes to Lab C09 and they see him walking past the glass-pane walls, they eagerly wait for him. It did something to his ego, to see this thing be so excited by his mere presence. Sitting on the examination table, its legs kicking back and forth in the air as it waited idly. Or sometimes, on occasion, he’d find it napping on the exam table. He was more partial to the latter, the silence, the resting expression, completely unguarded; it was almost beguiling. All of it far more tolerable than the people he had to deal with outside of the lab. The subject should feel honored. A former rebel was somehow more pleasing to share a space with than most Capital citizens. He knew he felt so honored, when he was with it. Unconsciously, Subject A01 had begun to revere his presence. He could see, in the small pauses of conversation, it was internally salivating. Waiting for him to show the next gift he had for it. Kind, that was the word Project Prometheus had called him.

And was he not the kindest person in the Citadel, maybe even Panem, for doing this?

Coriolanus doubted any other person would ever think to feed a prisoner. A former rebel. They’d run the moment the subject tried to touch them. He’d even bet some would shriek when they saw how disheveled it was. And yet, here he was. Feeding it like he would a pet. Except this one could communicate back. It told him its favorite color, the animals it remembered, what sweets it preferred from the array he brought in, and the temperature it liked in the lab. Things of personal interest were hard to answer, due to the lack of memory. To make it up to him for this, it described other things to him. It said to him how almost the majority of Lab C09 was renovated for them. Specific doors that tunneled them into different rooms: the examination room, the washroom, the operation room, and its cell bed. It believed that it was for its ease of access. Coriolanus deduced it was to avoid having Project Prometheus use the same halls as the Citadel workers, keeping its movements restricted and monitored. The subject made it a habit to head to the examination room everyday, as that’s usually where Dr. Gaul would be. If something else was needed, the Peacekeepers spoke to the subject through intercoms to notify it. He had asked if it ever tried speaking to the Peacekeepers personally. It hadn’t, finding itself too paralyzed to try. Perhaps a muscle memory, trauma from when it was taken away. He asked if it did anything to stave off the time.

It told him that it would just wait for him.

“Good morning,” Coriolanus spoke with a bright smile on his face, greeting the front desk of the Citadel.

The clerk’s eyes widened at the sight of him, having been in the middle of taking a sip from their mug. Quickly, swallowing it down, dabbing the edges of their pink lipstick with a napkin. “You’re here early, Mr. Snow!” A laugh came out from their slightly smudged lips. Had he really come in that early? Coriolanus knew it was a bit much to expect levels of professionalism at all hours, but if they were in a work setting, there should be some self-imposed standard. He always sees the clerk so put together at all times, a few minutes of difference shouldn’t change that. “Good morning to you, too and welcome back!”

The usual hivemind of workers that he saw every time he came in was far more dwindled down, right now. The smell of coffee beans brewing had yet to stain the air, only wisps of it on occasion. People were still getting their day ready before the clock started. The underlying scent of chemicals was far more prominent, with nothing to hide it. To any outsider, it would’ve been nauseating. But, it gave a heavy-handed reminder to guests the purpose of the Citadel.

“Is Dr. Gaul at the usual?” Chuckling at the end of his words. Coriolanus pointed at the top of his upper lip, tapping it, indicating to the clerk the smudge. Did they not own a mirror, or compact, of sorts?

“O-Oh–!” They quickly dabbed their lips again with a napkin. Much better. He gave the ‘ok’ sign with his fingers. “Y-Yes, she should be.”

“Thank you, you have a good day,”

With one last smile to the front desk clerk, he turned his way to the direction of Lab H05. Heading down the familiar hallway, only a few workers occasionally passed by him. With no rush on either side, they could take the time to exchange pleasantries. Saying good morning to one, complimenting the other on their makeup, and another giving flattery to his choice of apparel. Often, Coriolanus never really bothered himself with things like this. A nod and a smile was enough to make the others feel special. Today’s different, he supposed. Or, maybe it’s something gradual that has been building up. He felt fine for the most part, but maybe that was a trick of the mind. The sign that his mind was on the verge of collapsing soon. There was so much already piling up on him and the clock hadn’t even struck eight yet. Coriolanus worried if he was going to be able to come back home mentally sound by the end of it all. Would Dr. Gaul ever fancy the opportunity of playing therapist for a day? She could be dependable. She’s seen, and made some, if not almost all, the skeletons in his closet.

No, Coriolanus feared if he went to her it’d just make him worse. If he admitted to her aloud that he trusted her as a confidant, the disgust he’d feel at her uncensored glee.

Maybe he really was going crazy.

The warmth of the Citadel was starting to feel sweltering beneath the layers he wore. Coriolanus could feel the slightest damp sensation building at the back of his neck.

“Are you here, Dr. Gaul?”

Coriolanus peeked his head into Lab H05 through the doorway carefully. Catching the familiar silhouette of curly hair through his gaze, he knew the gleam of red, latex leather flexing under the fluorescent lights.

“Coryo,” The breathy, saccharine way she said it still brought him waves of nausea. His stomach turned. Whatever happened to the benefits of exposure therapy? Were they just never going to reap in this case? “Please, come in.”

Taking full steps in, there hadn’t been much change to the facility. Only that more shelves had been placed in, making two passageways that were farther against the walls more crowded. Dr. Gaul’s projects were her trophies, and she loved to show off. Even if it made her the weirdest one at parties. She sat at the center of the lab, where all the shelves slowly faded out and stasis tanks became more prominent, perfectly lined up. Of course, an egotistical lady would want her work to quite literally center around her. On a chair of fine, navy leather, bounded up by wheels on the bottom, she sat beside a decently sized writing desk made of dark, walnut wood. The desk was placed near the edge of the center, close to the large stasis tanks that held larger specimens. They lined the edges of the circle, as if a far more grotesque equivalent of statued idols. Their height was impressive, how they almost halfway reached the ceiling, dwarfing almost anything nearby. At the sound of his shoes closing in on her location, she turned in her chair, facing him entirely. Smile and all, with her dazzling row of teeth on display.

“My, Coryo… Has Ms. Cardew turned your alarm clock back a few minutes?” Coriolanus was thankful that Dr. Gaul didn’t refer to her as ‘Mrs. Snow.’ “How sweet, the stage of couple mischief has already started.”

“I suppose you could put it like that.” With a laugh, he wanted to leave it at that.

Coriolanus could see the way Dr. Gaul’s brows lifted in curious glee when he spoke. He’d let her mind run with whatever conclusions it jumped to, seeing how much fun it brought her. It must be hard to find entertainment in old age. Taking another leather chair besides Dr. Gaul, this one lacking the back Dr. Gaul’s chair had, resembling more of a cushioned stool; he took his seat next to her. He placed down the coffee, carrier, and meal at the table, away from the documents Dr. Gaul was bent over moments before. Taking off his leather gloves, he folded it in his overcoat pocket before taking off the overcoat and folding it as well, besides his belongings. Coriolanus made himself comfortable, and with a quick glance, he peeked at the documents. There, sat a manila folder, a report, with familiar font and writing he knew well. His hands fingered its pages often, looking through it.

Project Prometheus’s folder.

… Had there been new developments?

Why else would Dr. Gaul have its case file open today. He couldn’t imagine something bad happening, physically. By the looks of it, the subject had no ounce of rebellion left, it couldn’t comprehend a reason why to fight anymore. It surely had to be something mental. Had the subject’s mental decay reached a point of no return? Had it forgotten Dr. Gaul, now? Him? He’d be pissed, if so. All that sweat, blood, and effort wasted away because Project Prometheus couldn’t be bothered anymore. It said to hell with not just the past, let's get rid of the present, and future, too! Coriolanus was going to murder it, he was sure. He couldn’t lose his stress-release now. Especially when he needed it most of all days. One brow rose inquisitively, looking back up from the file to Dr. Gaul. She responded only with a widened smile, her eyes creasing at the pull of her cheeks. Rotten woman, wanting to keep him guessing. Forget his mention of Gaul being a confidant. Livia and her might as well share a coin together.

“Want to share breakfast with me?”

It was the best thing, for now. Extending a hand out to her, the folded wax paper that contained sausages and omelettes. They still had warmth radiating from it. Not as hot as it was in his estate, but still adequately warm enough to eat. A twinkle went through Dr. Gaul’s eyes that made Coriolanus internally gag. She couldn’t actually be delighted by his request? For goodness sake, does everything he does endear her? Others would think that as he rose in power, the more serious people would take him. On Gaul, it had an opposite effect. It made her want to coo at him more. The sound of leather shifting was quietly heard, as she brought her fingers close to his outstretched hand, before halting.

“Do you have napkins?” She asked.

“I have spare handkerchiefs.”

Better than nothing, unless she wanted to wash her greased hands in front of him after.

Reaching into his pockets, Coriolanus took them out. Alternatives, he kept. He always carried a main one, something Tigris made for him as a gift to celebrate his return after losing his father’s back in the Academy. It was made of simple, off-white linen, with carefully stitched embroidery of foliage and bugloss flowers, and his initials tucked in the inside. His favorite, that he kept ironed, pressed and without a stain. He’s never let anyone use it since. As a result, he’s had to buy miscellaneous extras, for occasions like these. When he had to give hand-outs to a woman who believed herself to be a replacement for the mother that was most definitely rolling in her grave right now. He placed in Gaul’s hand a mauve colored handkerchief, and himself an aegean blue, both made of light muslin. No embroidery, and no personal touches. Simple, and cut perfectly.

Dr. Gaul gave him a delighted ( gross ) thank you, taking the handkerchief to pick up one sausage and omelette. Carefully, she took a bite, not wanting to ruin the dark, red lipstick she had on. He followed in her example, taking a bite of his own. The salted taste of the omelette touched his taste buds immediately, mixing in the delightful savory-sweet bite of the breakfast sausage, the red bell-peppers and green onions used balanced well. He almost regrets giving the other to Dr. Gaul now. He didn’t realize how hungry he was before. A silence had fallen between them, with the occasional sound of their chewing sneaking its way through. Coriolanus stretched his legs out a bit, from his seated position, staring at the stasis tanks that surrounded them.

He wasn’t really sure what he was hoping for, staring at revolting oddities encased in amber resin. Maybe that they’d blink? Surely, that’d be leagues better than this. To stare at Dr. Gaul while they both ate seemed like a daunting feat. She’d most definitely stare at him back unwavering, and that possibility horrified him more.

“So,”

Dr. Gaul started her words, Coriolanus turned his head back to look at her. Dr. Gaul rubbed her gloved figures on the mauve cloth, the entire breakfast he had given her already gone. Does no one feed her? “Are you excited for the wedding? I can already hear the ceremony bells coming closer and closer with each month.”

A misidentification from the chimes of her coming death. Coriolanus was understanding. It was very easy to mix the two sounds up, they do sound slightly similar.

Finishing a bite and swallowing, he held a hand over his mouth, “Only eight months away now,” He smiled politely. Dr. Gaul was always so prying when it came to the details of his life. It frustrated him that she’d never let sleeping dogs lie.

“Livia is the most excited between us. This morning she showed me the design of her wedding dress. Roses and pearls all around,” His finger made a circular gesture in the air, emphasizing the last part. Coriolanus noticed how Dr. Gaul’s eyes slightly narrowed as he spoke, her grin still ever present. He wasn’t quite sure if his words were selling it. Then again, Dr. Gaul always managed somehow to see through him. Gaul rested her elbow against the table, propping her hand up to lean her head on it. Legs shifted under her long amaranth dress, the fabric shifting as she crossed them. He took another bite of his food to stave off this constricting feeling building in his chest.

“My… That cousin of yours works rather quickly. She must be elated for your union,” Sure, let’s go with that. He continued chewing. “Have you gotten your suit designed yet?”

In one gulp, he swallowed the food down.

Coriolanus looked back up at her, a shared look between the two. They both knew the answer to this. He didn’t know why she was asking. If she needed to remember it, might as well just give him a notepad and pen so he could write it down for her. He’d gladly fold the paper too, to put it in her pockets. Lips pulled into a polite smile, a pause before speaking:

“No. I haven’t had the time to seek out a designer just yet.”

There was plenty of time, he just didn’t want to do it. Seeking out a seamstress would only just solidify this grim situation into reality. To put in any effort into this grotesque ceremony would do that.

Gaul tutted at him.

“That’s no good, Coryo. You can’t just leave that for the last minute.”

She still sounded amused, despite her words speaking of disapproval. A woman like her should have no effect on him, but she did. It had an effect on Coriolanus. Livia and Tigris had taken so much of his energy this morning that it left him vulnerable in front of the lion’s mouth. He wanted to retreat into himself, his ears slightly burned in humiliation. Was he not an adult? The ripe age of twenty one and here he was, feeling like a child being scolded for not completing their chores. Her words made him feel small. But, it also made him want to spill so easily in her hands, tell her about the utter exhaustion he felt from early this morning. It sickened him, the ways Gaul made him feel. Coriolanus fought back against the frustrated flush that threatened to spill over to his cheeks, keeping his gaze steady with Dr. Gaul's eyes that only sparkled with delight and play.

That’s right, play, he reminded himself.

She’s only playing, that’s all she does. That’s all she wants. He wanted to save face, but a part of him feared that Dr. Gaul would scold him further if he did. The smile never left his face, but his eyes decently narrowed in warning. It was the most he could do to stand his ground. Dr. Gaul’s smile widened, incisors hidden under her lips, brimming.

“Quite the set of daggers you have there,” The tight sound of pressure applied to latex was heard, thick and suffocating. Gaul raising one hand to bring close to his face, and he could only stare at its unnerving red color. Off-white blue lights from the lab reflected on its shiny material. Her pointer finger touched the center of his eyes, the region of bare flesh and nasal bone underneath. “Those aren’t for me, are they?” Her voice spoke more softly, just a hushed whisper. Coriolanus dared to raise his gaze off her finger, and to Dr. Gaul’s eyes. At usual, they were wide, showing the full, yet limiting, range of her heart to others. Yet, here there were, eyelids half raised. The muscles in her smile barely pulled at the zygomaticus. There was an unreadable look to her, but Coriolanus knew it wasn’t anger. He couldn’t fathom what it was. It made his chest feel tight, the action to take steady breaths proved itself a challenging feat that it was painful.

He wanted to bite her finger off.

“... No.”

It felt like the words were fighting themselves to get out. He had to stop himself from saying it between gritted teeth.

“Never towards you.”

Coriolanus wanted to throw up with how softly he breathed these words out to Dr. Gaul. The saliva in his mouth tasted acidic.

Why was he reassuring her feelings? He’s the one who’s getting married to the physical embodiment of a leech, and he had to placate the fickle feelings of a woman with ‘baby fever’.

“The planning of the wedding is… just a bit of a sensitive subject, right now. For both Livia and I, considering how much is being put into it.” Saying those words aloud did nothing to alleviate the feeling. It only just made them that much heavier. The hand that held his handkerchief of food folded the fabric within itself, clenching carefully before folding it. Coriolanus still made sure to keep his head in place as he did so, his gaze steady on the other. Uncertain of whether it was okay or not to pull away from her touch. The steady warmth of Dr. Gaul’s finger had become unbearable. He wouldn’t be surprised if it left a burnt imprint on his skin when she eventually lifted it up. A silence had consumed them, with Gaul’s head slightly tilted up, as if to carefully look down at him. As if he was just another specimen whose temperament she was testing the boundaries of. Would she hope that he bared his teeth, too?

After careful examination, she let out a small hum.

“Good. I don’t need a rebellious assistant. One was more than enough,”

Excuse you?

Opening his mouth, ready to question more, Gaul’s finger slid down the bridge of nose, over to his lips. The motion silenced him, the weight pressed against the two pink muscles. She’d give him no room to speak on it and he had to obey that. Lifting her finger off, immediately, it sent signals to his entire body to ease itself back. Muscles were still taut and ready, rigid to keep his image, but the pressure before was no longer weighing it down. Rather, it transferred itself into his cerebrum. The words just spoken casted over his head in anxious anticipation.

What did she mean before?

It never once occurred to Coriolanus that Dr. Gaul had more assistants before him. With how much praise she spoke about him to others, calling him her ‘victor’; his high off the approval blinded him from ever looking too deeply into Gaul’s own history. She knew so much about him, but he hardly knew anything intimate about her. Was this assistant from a long past? Someone that spurned her, and flipped the switch in her mind. Or just a low-level employee that couldn’t rise to her expectations. Coriolanus knew Dr. Gaul wasn’t done just yet, seeing how her hand had moved to the file so carefully placed on her side of the table. Dragging the folder closer to her, the sound of the manila folder being dragged against the rich, wooden table. Curiosity beckoned at him, however, he only placed the muslin cloth on his own side. Placing it down on the table, he reached out to pick up his coffee instead to drink. This was just another game for her. Fitting for her title as Head Gamemaker. If he was to take her seat when she retired, he’d need to learn to play just as well. And that started by giving Dr. Gaul the bare minimum of what she wanted.

“How do you feel about the subject of pets?” She opened Subject A01’s folder, her fingers flicking through pages held together by a single paperclip.

“In general, or something specific you have in mind?”

She should save her spiel of human versus animal to the lecture hall, not the Citadel labs. If Gaul could step away from the foreplay and get onto her main point, that’d be fantastic. They both had limited time.

“Just curious, considering you have such an aptitude for taking care of them.” Fingers stopped moving through the pages. Off-colored eyes rose up from the file, properly, to gaze at him.

Of course, she knew.

Thankfully, his body didn’t flinch. Rather, he remained seated in his leather stool. Arms crossed over each other, one hand holding his coffee, his legs slightly spread out, holding her stare passively. Yet, under his skin, it was like a match striking against a fuse. Something lit his veins on fire. Coriolanus could feel the muscle under his flesh being so warm. Was it fear? Adrenaline? He hoped it didn’t show through. Pulling at the tendons of his jaw, his lips pulled back to show his own set of canines. Coriolanus smiled at Dr. Gaul.

“What let you on?”

It wasn’t an outright admittance to guilt. He’d rather not say anything specific in case Gaul was accusing him of something else.

“When the dog hopes it’s someone else walking in.”

“Is that so?” His laugh sounded so delighted, it almost surprised him. It felt nearly genuine. Was it genuine?

How strange. Hearing that Project Prometheus was now so eager for his presence, that it started to act less excited around its ‘caretaker’... The confirmation that it was him that it liked being around most… A warm bloom of pride surged through his chest. He had done that. He was affecting them. How long would it be now until Project Prometheus started referring to him with a familial label? It already was talking about him with others who cared to listen. Right now, he should feel terrified. His boss caught him interacting with a rebel prisoner outside of his assigned tasks, he was surely going to be chewed out. Yet, all Coriolanus felt was a sick glee that tempted him to bounce the heels of his shoes, knowing what’d he done. What he accomplished in such little time. It almost made him forget everything else before. Almost. Maybe he was right to place his bets on having the subject be his new stress-ball. After work, he’d make sure of his visit to Project Prometheus.

Dr. Gaul joined in on his laughter.

“You’re quite the twisted man, ‘Dr. Snow’,” She waggled that wretched finger in his direction. It made his skin crawl to hear her refer in the same manner as the subject. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. By all means, I encourage you to explore further,”

Ears picked up on a familiar set of letters; Dr. Gaul called the subject by its name. He raised his eyebrows at it, but made no verbal cue to question it. Project Prometheus was affectionate to a degree with Dr. Gaul; did Dr. Gaul reciprocate similar sentiments?

“It’s cerebrum, as you expertly noted…,” Call it by a name, but still refer to it as if it was only a thing. “Its hippocampus suffers a bit due to the stress regulation from the pFC,” The prefrontal cortex. “But, as a result, leaves the Project akin to a batch of fresh clay. Easily influenced, and susceptible to any new stimuli.” Dr. Gaul closes the file between her hands. Outstretching her arm, she extended the report over to Coriolanus’s end of the table, she was inviting him to take it into his own hands. And who was he to deny her request. Placing his coffee back on the table, he took the manila folder into his hands, and proceeded to open it on his end. His hands flicked through the pages, seeing the most recent update. The pain scale, the number five on it circled on it. His signature now tucked away and marked within the prisoner’s file. Coriolanus traced his clean nails on black ink. He was now part of this project. He made his first mark.

That familiar feeling of pride escalated again.

“I’ll still be an overseer, but… I’m curious as to what your influence will do to it. You must make any observations, notes, all of it.”

Well, that feels a bit voyeuristic. Has she always been so eager to lend away her mutts?

Dr. Gaul grabbed his chin with a light touch. Forcing his focus away from the slightly stained papers and back to her, where her gloved thumb gently stroked his jaw. The trail of sensations that her own hand left behind made his skin prickle under his layers of clothes. Her touch was sickening as it was caring, leaving Coriolanus unable to decide if he should lean in, or pull away from her touch. So, he remained pliant. Letting her take the lead.

“I made you into my victor. I want to see what you make Project Prometheus into.”

He desperately wanted to see it too, Dr. Gaul.

Reality was, there was no end product in his mind. All he knew was simple, base desires. To use the subject to stroke his own personal ego. Coriolanus didn’t know what would happen at the end. Did he honestly even care? If it ended up better, or worse, it didn’t matter. The subject would still be in Lab C09, sitting idly all alone on the exam table until someone took it out of its misery. Maybe that was it. Dr. Gaul wanted him to put all his effort into shaping Project Prometheus into something worthwhile; then, put it down like a dog after he was done. The thought of it made something deep within the confines of his ribs itch. He wanted to scratch at it.

What a merciless, cruel thing to do.

But, something exactly right in Gaul’s alley. Shame, what a waste of resources. The Citadel had the money to burn, Coriolanus guessed. It was an inconvenience on his end, though. He’d have to go and find a new stress-toy after this project was done. Hopefully, this wouldn’t become a pattern in the future.

“When I bring the results to you, what happens? Does the project end?”

The steady thrum of machinery flowing through the Citadel’s walls was deafening. Straining his ears just enough, he could make out the brief sounds of employee shoes walking past the open lab doors. The leather soles squeaking and tapping against sleek flooring. Painted, red lips smiled, but this was different. So empty and void of any perverse glee, it almost surprised Coriolanus.

“The project doesn’t end until there’s nothing left to reap.”

Until she got bored. That’s all his ringing ears could make of.

If he were to control its lifespan; something would have to be done to keep Gaul’s intrigue up. Proposals for new ideas, possibilities, he’d have to draft them up. Coriolanus felt like he was back in the Academy all over again, writing essays and prompts for Dr. Gaul to read. Later, he’d need to remind himself to call an Avox. Give them the errand to go buy him a ‘do not bother’ sign to hang in his home office. He was going to need it for all the brainstorming he was going to do whenever Livia dropped by.

“That’s why, I think I’ll have you conduct another exam. Don’t worry about your other tasks, I’ll have someone else take care of it.”

Dr. Gaul was too kind. Saving him the trouble of making time out of his day to visit Lab C09.

“You remember last time, I had you do a test on the subject’s external pain receptors, right?” He doesn’t think he could ever forget such an experience. “Today, I want you to do an exam on its internal pain receptors.”

Coriolanus blinked.

Internal?

Did she mean conducting an exam on its insides?

Coriolanus prayed it was something more specific. Internal was just too broad of a subject. There was so much going on in the inside of a living being, it’d be almost dizzying to focus on every single nerve ending that each part had. The digestive system, the endocrine system, pons, medulla, the list can go on. A touch of fear sprouted out the back of his head; the real possibility that Gaul may just ask him to perform an exam on the entire internal structure of the subject. The entailing of all that blood and mess. He pitied the custodians that’d have to clean up after him. He must’ve surely pulled a face, a grimace perhaps, as Dr. Gaul’s eyes lit up in amusement. Letting go of his chin, she smacked against his cheek lightly in her mocking laugh. Coriolanus only half-enthusiastically joined in, still hesitant on the whole prospect. And a bit offended at the casual slap.

“Have you ever done an exam like this before, Coryo?”

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure, no.”

The University offered cadavers from the Districts to examine and explore in open lab hours, sure. But, there was a difference between a corpse and a living thing. A cadaver didn’t squirm when he poked and prodded at it with a scalpel and toothed forceps. Well. Project Prometheus was a five now in its external sensitivity scale, so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. Coriolanus thought back to the cake he brought in for Project Prometheus. Would the subject even be able to eat anything before, or after the operation? He didn’t want to risk aspiration during the operation and they’d likely pass out after he was done. Coriolanus wanted to suck his teeth. He brought the cheesecake for no reason at all then! God, he needed another sip of his coffee.

“You’ll be a natural. It’ll be just as similar as the exam before, just…” Bright eyes rolled to the side, her tongue paused. She was tasting the word on it. “Messier.” Finishing it off with a rich chuckle, wiggling her nasty fingers against the air to put a bit of ‘pizzazz’ to it..

Coriolanus frowned a bit deeper..

“Usually, this is something I handle, but, considering recent developments between you and the prisoner; why not let you take the reins?”

He supposed.

Better him than Dr. Gaul, right?

The sight would be like a nightmare if Project Prometheus gazed up, flesh open, and the first thing they saw was the horrific grin of Gaul. Coriolanus could understand in that sense, why he should be the one performing the operation. It dubbed him with the ‘gentle hands’; unlike Gaul. Citadel cameras only knew how cruel Dr. Gaul can be when handling the prisoner’s insides. She probably gripped exposed tissue and sinew with her bare gloves. He’d only use the medical instruments that were best appropriate, when exploring around. Yes, it was definitely better that he was the one doing this.

“I understand.” Sighing in ‘defeat’. “I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

Gaul’s smile stretched wider when he said that. It pulled at the muscles of her cheeks, making her eyes squint and crinkle.

“You always do, Coryo. If you need any guidance, instructions are written inside the report.”

Covered knees knocked against his own in a brief, playful manner, his legs retracting back quickly from its stretched position. Dr. Gaul turned her seat back around to face her desk. Already, grabbing at another case file to look at; she took the discarded, uncapped pen that laid on the side. She shooed him away with her hand.

“Off you go. You can leave your things here, if you’d like.”

Not even going to walk him to the elevator? And he thought Gaul and him had something special.

Obediently, Coriolanus raised up from the stool, the leather cushion whining from it. Closing the manila folder, he tucked it under his arm and placed his coffee on the table. Spreading out his belongings around his side of the desk, he wanted to get a clear grasp of what he had. What was going to be needed, while he would be toiling away in Lab C09 for who knows how long. There was his Citadel Work ID, his keys, his coffee ( he didn’t trust leaving his drink unattended with Dr. Gaul ), the lab key, and… His hand hovered over the carrier, the one made of white cardboard that held the cheesecake. Coriolanus was still unsure if today was even possible, responsible, to give Project Prometheus this. Knowing what was to be done, there was no promise that he’d come back with an empty carrier. A slight twinge ached deep in his chest, the feeling of it lightly suffocating. An irritating sensation. He conditioned Project Prometheus to expect sweets from him; how sad would it be if he showed up empty-handed?

Coriolanus thought about it.

Had he… ever seen Project Prometheus disappointed? It talked about feeling it, when Gaul would be silent, or ignore them. But, he’s never seen it. That smothering sensation from before began to ebb away. It made his imagination go wild, trying to imagine the subject’s sad face. Would it twist ugly? Would it pout, biting its chapped bottom lip, try to hold back a tear? Or become more withdrawn, silent and moody? Coriolanus wanted to know. Fingers curled around the handles of the carrier, pulling it up from the table. From the corner of his eye, Coriolanus noticed Dr. Gaul take in his action curiously. The sound of pen etching on paper stopped. With only a smile, he waved a free hand goodbye to her:

“I’ll be back, Dr. Gaul.”

And off he went, taking himself to the darkened corners of the lab where the elevator was tucked and hidden away. Greeted by the recognizable sight of sterile, stainless metal, he pressed his finger down on the button for the lower levels. The harsh, red light brimming brightly under his touch. With a ding to cut through the air, the elevator doors open almost immediately for Coriolanus. Bright, white lights flooding out, but it could only light up the dark corners of Lab H05 so much. It barely reached out to even three feet outside the door. Taking his step in, he pulled the familiar key Dr. Gaul had given him just a month prior. The key to Lab C09. After the first day, Coriolanus took it upon himself to clean it as best he could. It was his key now, so he tried scraping off as much rust and dried blood as he could. The key was still a rancid, dark color, but at the very least, it no longer felt so textured. With the key still warm in his palm, he inserted it into the elevator’s panel, twisting until the latch popped upon. He pressed for C09’s floor.

In the meantime, Coriolanus opened Subject A01’s folder. Leaning against the wall of the elevator, one foot crossed over the other, he shifted his belongings into comfortable holdings in his arms. Flipping through the pages, he tried looking to see if Dr. Gaul left a sticky note giving him instructions. She had done it for him last time, so it wasn’t outlandish for him to expect another. But, no. Nothing of the sort. A heavy breath deeply sighed from his nose. How was he supposed to be a ‘natural’ when he had no guide to what he was doing? Fingers flicked through the pages quickly, looking for anything to give him a clue on what he was supposed to do. Maybe he needed to look back at previous updates. Heading back to the early pages, Coriolanus’s eyes flitted around until he found it. There. Tucked behind a faded, pale blue divider; labeled under:

PROJECT PROMETHEUS’S EXPLORATORY LAPAROTOMY

OVERSEER & SURGEON: DR. VOLUMNIA GAUL

The date was recorded back from two years ago. Meaning that the subject’s NTRK1 gene was still under foreign modifications. Coriolanus, for a second, felt a bit hesitant. But, only for just a second. He flipped back the divider, and what did he know? His guess was right. There was Gaul’s written report on the side, what he wanted to read in the first place, but the photos… Numerous that were held onto the report in various placings, held on by rusted paperclips. He could recognize the subject by mere beauty marks, the same ones he traced with ink just a month beforehand. The photos were visceral. Subject A01’s bicipital aponeurosis, extensor retinaculum, patella, lateral malleolus, and sternohyoid were tied down to the operating table by tight, black leather straps and buckles. There were bright splotches of purple and red, areas where the bounded limbs had started to bruise, or bleed. Or both. Coriolanus wasn’t sure if this was caused by struggle before the operation began, or during. He was inclined to believe during. As in each photo that displayed its most intimate internal makings, where the rectus sheath had been peeled back and spread out, the subject’s eyes were still open. It did not look at the camera. How could it? Dark irises gazed listlessly off to the side, reddened orbital adipose to suggest dried tears but, he could still make out a faint sheen to suggest it hadn’t finished drying just yet. So much of the subject’s blood was shown in each photo, splatters that no doubt made it to the operation floor. Most likely from both Dr. Gaul’s indifference, and for the subject putting too much of a fight.

Thankfully, he wouldn’t be dealing with that today.

The subject’s cerebrum had been altered far too much to be in the same state it was in the beginning. Or, at least he hoped it was. Coriolanus let out another heavy sigh, his eyes leaving away from the photos to read the report Dr. Gaul had written.

“06/30/XX

Patient Name: ⏹⏹⏹⏹ ‘SUBJECT A01: PROJECT PROMETHEUS’

Patient ID: ⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹⏹

Objective: Assessment of Internal Pain Receptors

First Exploratory Laparotomy conducted.

Subject had to be forcibly escorted out of their room by Peacekeepers ⏹⏹⏹⏹ and ⏹⏹⏹, to the Examination room. Attempted to assault Peacekeeper ⏹⏹⏹⏹, subject was forced down onto the Operation table to be restrained. Administered drug ⏹⏹⏹ and ⏹⏹⏹⏹ to avoid need for an endotracheal tube & general anesthesia during surgery.

To be able to accurately record the fluctuation in Subject A01’s internal nerve system, the subject must remain conscious throughout the entire procedure. While examining each organ, a timer is a set for every ten minutes to gauge how the subject is feeling, if the scale is changing, or if it is still conscious. Exam ends when the subject is no longer responsive.

Subject was only able to withstand thirty minutes of the operation before passing out entirely. Was difficult in communications, did not respond properly when asked. Had to lean in multiple times to listen to the subject, and could barely hear it between fits of crying. Currently listed at a 10 for pain tolerance–”

Coriolanus stared at the block of text.

Having the exam run until the subject passed out felt a bit overkill. Just how long would he be staying in Lab C09? The first operation was thirty minutes, with the average pain scale of 10. Project Prometheus was now a 5 in the pain scale. They handled the external nerve exam completely conscious, but that was just needles poking and prodding their skin. How long could they last now, with their organs on full display and his surgeon tools prodding around? But… Coriolanus reminded himself; this project is their punishment for rebelling. So, he could understand why the procedure was conducted in such a manner. He shifted the weight of his posture, crossing one leg over the other. The warmth from before, from under the stifling layers of his winter wear, still had yet to completely fade away. It made him just the slightest bit uncomfortable still, knowing there were faint traces of heat still radiating from him. Thankfully, it wasn’t enough to sweat through his button up.

The familiar ding cut through the silence. Instinctively, Coriolanus closed the manila folder as if on command, tucking it under his arm. Lab C09’s natural rusted, nauseous smell welcomed him in. Stepping past the doors of the elevator and into the floor, he needed no guidance to take him where he needed to be. He was well intimate enough with the layout of the structure. Well, the more ‘medically functional’ areas. Project Prometheus’s room was still something he had yet to visit, but that was something to see for another day. The messy bloodstain on the floor was still there, not yet cleaned up. Now that he was ‘in charge’ of Project Prometheus, he supposed he could make the order to clean this up. Yet, something about it felt so familiar to him. It was one of the first things he saw when he first entered Lab C09. Maybe it was Project Prometheus’s first waking moment in Lab C09, too. When they had attempted to escape out of the Peacekeepers’ grasp and make a dash for the elevator. Reaching the corridor hall doors, he greeted the current guards on duty, a brief hello and a curt nod before entering the new hall.

Back where he was on that day, back at the start.

Coriolanus moved his feet, standing where he assumed he first was, when he first entered here. The large glass window that encompassed one side of the hall, where he stood and got his first glimpse of the subject. It wasn’t quite right, he wasn’t so close to the other side of the wall; but, neither was the other side of the glass. To any other eye, the change wasn’t too noticeable. Small difference of details. But, Coriolanus noticed the change immediately. His blue eyes dragged up towards the empty space of wall hooks that once carried the room’s surgical tools. They used to hang up so high, just out of reach so the subject didn’t try to reach for it themselves on its own time. But, there they were. Next to the center of the room, the surgical tools had been placed neatly on a large, rolling surgical tray that was beside them.

Subject A01, Project Prometheus.

Coriolanus’s breath felt a bit heavy, difficult to take in. All he could focus on now was the sight of them, taking in their form. It still hadn’t noticed him, a pleasing change of pace from before. They were seated, as it was expected to do, on what used to be the examination table. The leather cushions that covered it had been removed, revealing the sleek, stainless steel operation table that was hidden underneath the comforting material. Coriolanus took small, quiet steps further, careful as to not alert it. Project Prometheus had a penchant for being the observant type. The subject was sitting mostly upright, but there was a slight slouch to its shoulders. Arms brought forward, its hands pushed between the small space of its thighs. Bare legs dangled off the edge of the table, stitches decorating the expanse of skin. It still had some remnants of bandages wrapped around, particularly around the left brachialis area and its right lateral malleolus, tight and clean. The subject’s dark irises stayed down on the gritty, tiled floor; not bothering to look around.

Project Prometheus still hadn’t acknowledged him yet.

He didn’t know if it was on purpose, or purely accidental on its part; but he understood one thing. And it was the familiar lick of irritation that touched him. What was so different here? All he needed to do was breathe wrong and the subject honed in on him like a hawk. Has something happened? Was Dr. Gaul wrong in her assumption of the subject favoring him? Did he need to condition Project Prometheus longer than he anticipated? The fun of being a passive observer had worn off, the longer he gazed at them. He needed Project Prometheus to look at him, to focus on him. Fingers tapped on the glass lightly, a significant difference, a restraint, from the buildup dwelling inside him. A distinct sound was made, enough for the subject to snap its head up.

For Project Prometheus to look at him.

It stared at him with such wide eyes, their slightly reddened, chapped lips slightly agape in a small ‘o’ shape. There was a small kick and sway to their dangling feet, now. For a brief second, he saw the subject’s eyes dart quickly to the box carrier in his hands before focusing back up on him. The muscles of his cheeks started to pull back into a grin.

Exactly what he wanted.

Satisfaction easily oozed into him, embarrassingly so. But, he got what he was looking for. Project Prometheus’s eyes were now solely on him, not off in some dissociative mindscape.

Coriolanus gave them a wave through the glass, mouthing to them: ‘I’ll be in soon’ before stepping away and further down into the hall corridor, where the examination room door was. Taking the surgical uniform that hung beside the Peacekeeper keeping guard, Coriolanus placed his belongings down to the side to put the attire on. Slipping the surgical gown, cap, goggles, and tightening the gloves onto him, his blood was running high. Coriolanus couldn’t fathom why. Maybe it was the nerves. In just a few moments, he’s going to head in there, break its heart about giving them no dessert, tell them he’s here for an exam, then perform a gruesome operation on them to add the cherry on top. All of it was nerve-wracking. They seemed to be quite obedient, but who's to say this wouldn’t be their final straw? And if they accepted it, taking his surgical exploration with no objection? The bones in his hands only felt like formality, with how much fight he was doing to just keep them steady.

There was so much blood he could feel running through his veins.

“I’ll be conducting an operation today, keep your ears alert for anything unusual.”

The metal door moved open from its tight seal, Coriolanus stepping through before it closed behind heavily with a hefty thud. Muted sounds of bare feet touching the floor; the patter careful to make a noise above a pin drop, slowing down to just a whisper. And then, falling entirely into silence.

“Good morning, Dr. Snow.”

There it was.

Their presence, it was just a few ways behind him. It was faint, and hard to realize at times, but he was getting accustomed to it. Unlike others, where there was a palpable weight to the space they took up in the air, Project Prometheus’s presence was noticed through feelings in the gut. Intuition, maybe. But, Coriolanus could pick out on how whenever the subject was near, his blood would run so cold, yet the adrenaline in his veins made his heartbeat beat faster than ever. It felt almost primal, savagery at its finest. Reduced to relying on his own bodily instincts and survival skills to learn more about a mutt kept behind bars.

“Subject A01,” He called out pleasantly. His restraint was being kept taut on a leash.

Coriolanus smiled behind his surgical mask, turning his body around to finally look at the subject and not the dreary door. There, they stood before him, hands awkwardly stood at their sides, clad in the same thin patient gown. They must’ve been cold sitting almost bare on the operating table. The subject gazed at his gloved hands immediately, after only just briefly looking at his own eyes. There was only the project report and his coffee in his hands. He decided it was best to leave the carrier outside. For a second, he watched how Project Prometheus's stare was unchanged, nothing to indicate on their expression that something had gone wrong in their mind. But, he knew. Coriolanus could feel the slight shift in the air, the dejection Project Prometheus was feeling at the lack of a sweet reward. If their eyes would not say anything, it was their body. The slight shift of weight, and scarred fingers twiddling at the ends of their gown.

His grin widened under his surgical mask.

“Good morning, is everything alright?” He leaned down his head a bit, showing faux worry.

Project Prometheus bit the bottom of their lip briefly, a flush of rosy hues along the cracked surface from the pressure. Coriolanus's eyes traced the spark of color on the overall gray appearance of the subject, almost engrossing him entirely. It is an absolute wonder what a splash of color could do to enhance even the most unsightly.

“... No, everything is alright.”

Was he dreaming, or was there the subtle carry of a pout in their tone? Ohhh, he was living such a high! “And you can call me by my name, Dr. Snow.” They both know that wasn’t going to happen. But, he supposed there were remnants of a naive idealist in its unconscious mind. It forgot all the important details, and kept the worst info.

Taking a step forward, Project Prometheus took no step backward from him. Rather, it craned its neck up, where he stood towering over them. Fingers stopped in its fidgeting, trying to meet his stare through the difference in height. His body made a shadow over its small frame, blocking out the nauseous, overhead lights. Coriolanus stretched a hand over, touching the region of the subject’s infraspinatus with the flat of his gloved palm. Project Prometheus did not tense under his touch. He leaned down.

“Could you wait for me at the operation table?” Words came out just slightly above a whisper, never once breaking eye contact with the subject. He spoke it sweetly, an illusion of a suggestion, disguising a command.

Project Prometheus was silent.

An impatient tick poked at him. Was it even listening to him, or was it trying to disassociate?

“So, it is an operation today.”

No, they removed the examination cushions for laundry day.

“Yes, it is. Will that be a problem?” It better not.

The subject fell into silence once more. Its hands shifted from its sides to the anterior, playing with the front of its dress. The ends of thin fabric was in between its fingers, the slight rise of it, had he bent down, there was no doubt he would see clear peeks of the subject’s lower half. With his brows furrowed, he could feel his throat run a bit dry. He had a drink, but it feels wrong right now to take a taste. As if anything else would ruin… whatever this was. Coriolanus shifted the weight of his posture.

“... Have I done something to upset you, Dr. Snow?”

… What was Project Prometheus trying to play here?

Is… Is this some form of attempt at pacification? Play with the patient gown, try to flash him, and hope he bends over backwards? Regardless, the fear of losing Dr. Gaul’s respect over something so juvenile was far more humiliating than whatever… this was. It brought on a trickled feeling that ran inside his throat, something that made his ears burn. Maybe it was embarrassment he felt for the subject. Or for himself, for having to deal with this so early. Placing his hand over it, the fingers were still continuing to fidget. Gripping the appendages under his gloved grasp, quickly, he put a stop to the movement.

“Enough.” Coriolanus gave an extra squeeze on its hand for emphasis. The subject stopped moving. Alright, that eases him up a bit.

“There’s nothing you’ve done wrong,” He could argue for some, but he’ll save it for another day. “Today is only the internal nerve exam. Dr. Gaul asked me to conduct it in her place instead,” Unconsciously, he didn’t know why, but his thumb started to rub soothing circles on the back of Project Prometheus’s hand. Something that Tigris had done for him, when he needed comfort as kids. But, this didn’t hold the same warmth. The subject’s hand’s too cold for that, and his gloves offered nothing.

“I promise to be kind with this.” Whispering, so that a soft voice would be the final kick for Project Prometheus to behave.

“Okay… I trust you, Dr. Snow.”

A terrible choice, really.

Coriolanus almost snorted, but he stopped himself with a smile, communicating with how his eyes squinted slightly along the pull of muscle. He stopped his thumb, removing his hand off the subject’s before giving a light touch on their shoulder. A simple gesture for it to go back to the operation table, to which it followed. Attentively, his eyes followed the back of it. Never would he dare to take off his gaze until he finally heard the small squeaking sound of Project Prometheus lifting itself on the table, sitting itself fully on the stainless steel. Last time, his eyes left the subject, it gave him a heart attack moments after. The subject caught his stare, and rather than call him out for it, question him, it spoke:

“I’ll wait right here for you.”

Did it know his apprehension?

Coriolanus wasn’t sure whether to be pleased, or disturbed. On one hand, the subject was following orders. The other hand, there’s a very real chance his facade wasn’t as good as he thinks it is. No, it can’t be that. It shouldn’t be. He worried his bottom lip between incisors, shifting to head towards the shelves of drugs and medical equipment. Dr. Gaul managed to see through him earlier this morning, and he knows ( he knows! ) Livia caught the envy he felt when she showed him Tigris’s sketch. There wasn't anything wrong with him. There’s something in the air today, that’s wrong here. He just needed to fix that, gain back control. Just needed to take deep breaths, he has everything under his control right now. Putting the report and coffee down on the shelves, Coriolanus pulled the small, glass bottle of anticoagulant, clean syringes, sternum wires, and the modified anesthesia out in front of him. As all surgical instruments had been placed out beforehand already, all he needed now was the roll of polymer fibers for the sutures later. Traditionally, black has been the norm. It's on the subject right now. Gloved fingers brushed against the barrel of the roll, in thought. Then, put the roll back in place, shoving past to reach another corner to the shelf. Feeling the weight of it, he grabbed it. A roll of red polymer fibers.

Dr. Gaul’s handiwork, her mark, were those black stitches.

So shouldn’t his mark be something more striking? Would it not show as dazzling proof of his first operation?

“Thank you for being patient,” Bringing the materials over, Coriolanus placed them evenly spaced on the surgical tray before him. “Do you remember how this procedure goes?” He wanted to make sure this wasn’t placed in the shredder of its amnesia. If they didn’t remember the previous times, he’ll make sure it remembers this one.

“I think so,” Its dark eyes followed his hands, watching him as he took the syringe between his fingers and the anticoagulant in another hand. Pressing the bevel down through the cap of the bottle, and then taking his thumb to pull the plunger up. The barrel of the syringe starts to fill up decently with a semi-transparent liquid, the color slightly askew with a slight yellow tint. Project Prometheus pointed at it. “That’s what Dr. Gaul uses to thin my blood,” He rinses and repeats the process with the modified anesthesia. The subject pointed at the next one. “And that’s to keep me conscious, right?”

Coriolanus blinked blandly at them.

“How observant of you, I’m sure Dr. Gaul would be impressed that you remembered.” Coriolanus coolly replies. He didn’t mean it as a compliment, but Project Prometheus’s legs dangled a bit more in rhythm at it. He didn’t want to ask further. Dr. Gaul most likely told them all that, but he never knew when it came to the subject. They always managed to surprise him, somehow.

And he hated them for that.

“Can you stand up for me, please.” Project Prometheus got off smoothly from the table, placing both feet down and craning the muscle of its semispinalis capitis up to look at him properly. The tips of his leather shoes stood mere centimeters away from its bare distals. Already, he had placed down the filled syringes to the side. He swallowed down some access that started to gather inside his mouth before speaking. “Turn around.” Obediently, it turned its body around, the back of its thin, patient gown in front of him. The sheer material, kept together by two ties of strands around the splenius capitis and thoracolumbar fascia region. It always looked so flimsy to him. His gloved hand reached to touch the knot that wrapped its waist-line, trailing along the flimsy string. Coriolanus started to untie it.

“... Dr. Snow?”

“It’s just faster if I do this,” Speaking it, he can’t fathom why, but it felt like his words were trying to reassure him. That saying it aloud made it real. He doesn’t know why. It is real. If you want it done right, do it yourself; Coriolanus knows it better than anyone, and that’s what he’s doing. This is just him controlling the situation at hand.

“I’ll help you, then.”

No, it doesn’t need to do that, it can just – Its fingers reached up to start undoing the tie around its neck region. If he acted just as wild as he was feeling, he’d be tempted to bite away the stitched fingers for disobeying him ( seeing as how his own hands were too occupied to pull the subject’s hand away ). Instead, he settled with a slight scolding tone when he spoke while he still continued to untie, not bothering to look up from what his hands were doing. If he looked up, he'd be stuck anxiously watching it fumble around. “That’s not necessary, I got everything under control.” It’d be nice if it could, you know, follow that. One moment, they are pliant and willing to do what he says. The next, they are moving around without his permission, doing whatever it feels like. Whenever he senses like he’s getting closer to having Project Prometheus under his grasp, following the steps that he’s laid out, they instantly slip from his fingers. It makes him feel almost insane trying to put them back in his hand.

“But, I like helping you.”

The knot in his gloved grasp fell loose.

“Really?” His voice came a bit more hoarse than he’d like, clearing his throat a bit.

The fabric around the waist had loosened, revealing the bare skin of the subject’s lower half. Lifting his hands away, it seemed if he lingered his hands longer it felt like he was treading something dangerous. Unpredictable. Project Prometheus’s volatile behavior might just be contagious, he feared. Standing so close to them like this, whatever odd energy they carried, it was trying ( and failing ) to disrespectfully invade his. Shoes making a slight sound, Coriolanus took a few steps back to give Project Prometheus some room. Their fingers finally finished fiddling with the top knot. Just like a disappearing act, the gown fell to the floor, pooling around its feet. The subject stepped out from it, gently pushing the fabric to the side with their distals. Wow, so well-trained.

“I do, you’re always so nice to me.” Not after he finishes this trauma-inducing of an operation, he thought. Eyes transfixed, Project Prometheus never left his sight, moving to sit back onto the Operation with a push up from their arms. “So, I want to help you in ways I can.” They leaned back, kicking their feet under the table, peering back at him from under their lashes.

Was Project Prometheus’s eyelashes always so thick? After all this time in captivity? Their family must be agonizing over such a good batch of genes wasted.

“Thank you,” The words came out softly. “For being so good with me.” Trying to steady the loud thrumming of his veins, Coriolanus reached over his hand to the surgical tray, taking the first syringe in his hands. The thick, dark liquid jostling, catching the reflections of the ugly, overhead lights. The needle gleamed. The directions in where his blood moved felt too transparent, too obvious. An uncomfortable sensation of how… aware he felt regarding his body. And a complete lack of control to make it stop.

“Please, crane your head down for me.”

He needed it to stop.

Compliant, the subject kneeled their head down, brushing their hair to the side. Seamlessly, he pressed the needle in. Pressing the plunger down, watching until the entirety of the barrel emptied itself out. Project Prometheus remained still, as he continued on with the next syringe. Taking a cotton ball, he dabbed it with isopropyl alcohol. He gingerly rubbed the cotton over the injection sites, before placing gauze over it. A quiet thank you was whispered softly under Project Prometheus’s breath.

He took a small breath in.

Placing a gloved hand over the subject trapezius region, another on the deltoid. Just only the slightest of push, and the subject understood his gesture. Bringing their legs up to the table, they adjusted their position to lay down on the cold, steel table, holding onto his own hands for support. Their hair haloed around their head in uneven strokes, spread out. Despite the lights completely over their entire body, their eyes barely reflected any of it. Instead, they were peering at him, focused on him. Their hands still haven’t left his. Were they nervous?

“Is everything alright?” He asked.

“... Can you speak to me?”

Coriolanus blinked. He was a bit taken aback.

“Speak to you? Aren’t I doing that right now?”

The subject shaked their head minimally. “No, not that. I mean during the operation; can you speak to me?” Their fingers tightened at the fabric of his gloves, crinkling the material. “Dr. Gaul doesn’t get very talkative when she performs operations on me, so it makes the whole thing a bit hard to ignore sometimes.” That’s the point, it’s a torture sentence. “If that’s okay with you, Dr. Snow.” He wondered if the subject was comfortable making requests to Dr. Gaul just as much as it did with him.

Sharing a stare with the subject, they both held onto the silence.

Coriolanus breathed out.

“Fine, but it’ll strictly be in regards to the operation, only. Nothing else,”

For a slight moment, he didn’t know if it was a trick of his eyes, or real, but Coriolanus could’ve sworn he saw a brief glimpse of light dancing in the subject’s dark eyes. A droopy, half attempt of a small smile on their lips. Chapped lips spread, showing minimal cracks between dried layers of skin and small winks of their pointed cuspids. He felt the air stop for a moment.

“Thank you,”

Before releasing their hands from him and laying down flat against the table.

Coriolanus adjusted the gloves back to proper fitting, stretched the latex-leather evenly. Moving slightly away from the operation table, he went over to pull over the mobile floor standing lights closer. Hanging the operating lights at just the right angle over, he placed one hand over the subject’s eyes while his other went to flick on the lights. Quietly, Project Prometheus laid. A change of pace, but most definitely attributed to the modified anesthesia he administered now kicking in. With everything in its place, it was all ready to start. He prayed to whatever was out there, that cadaver dissections in class would be enough to carry him through the entire operation. And if not…

He’ll take whatever large stacks of paperwork Dr. Gaul had waiting for him after he was done putting the subject in the morgue.

If Dr. Gaul was kind enough to let Project Prometheus have a moment in the morgue.

Taking the scalpel within his hand, the gleam of the sterile steel refracted against the various angles of light. He pressed one hand against Project Prometheus against their ribcage.

“Take steady breaths,” He needed them for himself, too. Coriolanus breathed in sync with the rising and falling of the subject’s pectoralis major. “Perfect, now, on, 1, 2… “

And in his scalpel went.

A smooth dip in, evenly slicing through the top of the subject’s angle of louis; all the way down to the lowest part of their rectus sheath. A dark crimson streak leaking, steadily trailing after the drag of his knife. Ways from him, a small, almost quiet intake of breath was heard beside him. He almost missed it. So, the sensations already begin. But, thankfully, for now, no bodily squirming. Good, his nerves were already on edge about needing to make a careful incision. He wasn’t really interested in stopping right now to get up and put restraints on the subject. It would be uncomfortable on both ends. And the sounds so far, haven’t been… displeasing, to say the least. Not as bad as Livia sounded early this morning, so small wins for him to take in.

Taking a breath of his own, Coriolanus continued, pressing in the scalpel a bit deeper with the slightest pressure from his hand. Another intake of breath from Project Prometheus. The pitch almost stops him in his ministrations. It didn’t scream, nor did it let out a pained groan. The sound was airy. Blood ran wildly through his ears, the adrenaline picking itself up once more. Coriolanus felt his breath take on a small weight, a bit heavy in his mask as he eased back down his heart from the sudden sound. Again, fine. As long as it didn’t move. The scalpel sliced down past the rectus abdominis, past the subcutaneous tissue, until it touched the sternum. Hearing another quiet gasp of breath come from Project Prometheus, a small splatter of blood hit back up at him. It freckled around the ends of his surgical mask. The subject’s distals flexed a bit, to restrain itself from moving an inch. The blood reminded him of how sweltering the layers of medical wear felt on him right now, tight and restrictive.

He can’t stop now.

“How are you feeling?”

He hadn’t reached the moment where he could start recording for the internal exam, but suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check in. The scalpel continued to move, so that the peel back of flesh would be more clean and effective.

“... I… I’m fine…”

Oh, less talkative?

“… Around a 6… right now. Like… feeling something… unusual, a… and new.” Descriptions, too? Oh, they were being so good for him. This gives more to fluff up in his report after. The subject took steady breath between words, but nothing that seemed to indicate excruciating pain just yet. Rather, it felt like they were trying to speak through small discomfort. Should he look up to see what expression was on its face right now?

“You’re doing great at staying still.”

He licked his lips briefly, wetting them in concentration. Placing the scalpel down behind him on the surgical tray, he reached over to grab at the surgical rakes. Taking it between his fingers, he carefully dipped the rake past the crevice of an incision he made. “Stay strong for me and just keep taking steady breaths for me, okay?” Project Prometheus took a sharp intake of breath. Coriolanus had it dig into the first layer of skin, puncturing and pulling the skin back. The subject’s distals curled. Hooking the rake onto a handle of the operating table, he made sure it was kept in place. He rinsed and repeated with the other side. Coriolanus let out a small puff of air from his lips, inexplicably enraptured with the sight now laid before him. With the thin barrier now taken away, Coriolanus could see more clearly, the layers of muscle that moved in tandem with the rhythm of the subject’s steady breath. Protected by the intricate makings of the subject’s thoracic cage. A morbid curiosity to touch the layers of tissue, feel the blood pump under his gloves, but he held himself back. He needed to explore other things, not this. Blue eyes fixated on the flow of blood from the subject. The stream moved in controlled fashion. A small pool of blood was dripping down the sides of the subject, but not at levels that were concerning, yet. The dark crimson color contrasted and glimmered against the nauseating overhead lights. It looked almost black in the loud, greenish-hue of the room.

Once again, proven right.

He is a far better option than Dr. Gaul. The controlled, clean view he had was such a stark contrast from the violent photos shown in the project’s folder. Coriolanus was tempted even, to break his concentration to pull for a camera and take photos himself. To show Dr. Gaul, and any other doctor after him, how an operation of this level should be held correctly. A small smile grew under his mask. Reaching for the pneumatic sternal saw, gloved hands reached down to touch the sternal periosteum. Dragging his hands down all the way to the bottom of it, feeling the ridges, a discomforted whimper fell out from Project Prometheus. He shushed them quickly.

“It’s alright. I’m going to cut into your sternum now,”

“I… I ha… have no reason to doubt you, Dr. S… Snow.”

Raising the sternal saw, the light catching against the stainless steel material, he brought it down and aimed it just right. Before pressing down on the button and watching the saw blade activate and come to life. The whirring sound of the saw cutting through bone, in the same up and down motion he had done with his hands, he led the saw down. The sound of bone against steel drowned out any sort of sharp gasps that had been pulled out from Project Prometheus. But, he could see it. The ways their fingers flexed out and then curled inwards, trying to grip at anything stabilizing. One hand closed into a fist, and another was clawing ( and failing ) to grip onto the surface of the operation table. Only succeeding in splashing their nailbeds with their own pool of blood, scraping the liquid beside them. Yet, everywhere else was only miniscule fidgeting.

Coriolanus’s smile grew.

“You’re doing so good.” Praise just above a whisper, loud enough for the subject to hear. “You’re doing so, so good right now.”

Project Prometheus gave a soft exhale, before nodding as best it could

“I..It’s a 7… Ma-Maybe a 6?” The subject whined. “D…Discomfort, l-like… cracking…. joints.” The words spoke between gasps of breath.

It was still trying its best to relay notes for him, despite it all. Coriolanus let out a sharp laugh. Something profound in him twitched. His blood felt like it was pumping all through his body at scorching temperatures, everything becoming just so loud. God, was this what Dr. Gaul feels when she runs her gruesome operations? Coriolanus understands it. He thinks he’s finally starting to understand it! For only being his first time, the operation was turning out so smoothly! To add just the cherry on top, Project Prometheus was acting so obedient for him despite the gruesome actions he was performing on its body. So malleable, so eager to please him.

His hand reached behind him, as the saw finally cut down and separated the sternum, replacing quickly the saw with a sternal retractor.

“We finally made it through the tough part.” Correction, he did. He was the one doing all the work. “You’re fantastic.” He let out another laugh.

Placing it between the broken sternum to expand and create space for him to see. To push aside the thoracic cage, and give him full, uncensored access to the expanse of Project Prometheus’s most intimate belongings. The insides of their very being. Coriolanus could see it all. The varying tones of viscera that beat and moved rhythmically to the sound of the subject’s breath. All the pulmonary veins and arteries, leading up to the main center. Bright, carmine flesh that took his breath as Coriolanus could only stare, ensnared by the muscle glistening.

The literal heart of the project.

The sound of it was horrifically deafening.

As if Project Prometheus’s heart had entered into inside him, beating right into his very own tympanic membrane. Something visceral was infecting his body. Coriolanus was sure of it. The rush of the entire procedure was all getting to his head. Unconsciously, a gasp of breath left his mouth. Like as if the quick grasp at air would do some good to help him. That it would clear the haze that was starting to settle in the wrinkles of his mind. Futile, he knows, but what else could he do to alleviate it. Against his better judgment, even if Coriolanus knew he shouldn’t, his eyes moved quickly to the side to see how the subject was holding up. It was only going to be brief, just a second. But, he froze at what he saw. His breath hitching, the inside of his mouth drying up.

The subject laid immobile against the operation table, but their head was tilted to the side. Their body seemed to try to unconsciously shift away from the overwhelming sensation, but the subject was forcing it to stay in position. And their face… Coriolanus never thought he’d see this so soon, but their face looked so different from their usual expression of apathy. A healthy flush of color was spread all over, their brows twisted and furrowed in concentration. Its cracked bottom lip worried against their incisors, but not yet hard enough to bleed. Their eyes were closed down tightly, it couldn’t see him staring at them. It couldn’t read his scrambled thoughts; understand, for a second, under the warped fluorescent lights of the examination room, Project Prometheus almost looked…

Human.

A prisoner, a walking mutation… was looking human to him.

Aesthetically pleasing to his eyes, even.

He was turning insane.

He is insane.

Dr. Gaul didn’t pick her hand around the hat and chose him as her successor because he was an ‘upstanding’ and ‘righteous’ person. He didn’t get this far by playing by the rules. She hooked her nails into him, because right now, with his gloves shimmering, covered in the blood of the subject; he could feel her shadow standing over him. Her brilliant, white teeth peeking out from the dark, grimy corners of the room, cheering him on to keep going. And Coriolanus would do anything for her approval. The movement of his gloves felt sticky, as he shifted his hand over to pull out the stopwatch from the steel tray. His gaze never leaves the delirious sight of Project Prometheus’s face. Another hand of his, reaching across Project Prometheus’s body to hold onto the edge of the operation table. Pushing with just enough weight, Coriolanus brought his leg up and over the subject’s body. And then the other, not bothering at the sounds of blood splashing against his surgical gown. He didn’t care if it breached past the layers of medical wear and stained his clothes.

“D… Doctor… S…Snow?”

Project Prometheus carefully opened their eyes, thick lashes framing against the dull colors of their irises. Twinges of discomfort were behind them, but curiosity burned the brightest there.

“... I… Is ever…ything, oka–”

A sharp gasp caught off the subject’s words.

Between them both, his free hand had reached down past the lungs, pushing the muscle slightly aside. Gloved fingers touched and traced along the endless lines of arteries. Caressing the superior vena cava, the aorta, the auricle… all the way down to grip tenderly, yet promising, at the apex of Project Prometheus’s physical heart. The subject let out a choked sound under his attention. Doing their best to get intakes of air, the lungs of the subject were expanding and retracting besides his hand for him to feel. For him to see. With just the right amount of pressure, he could exert so much damage onto the project’s body. Give the subject respiratory issues for the rest of the project, disrupt the steady flow of enzymes. Crush their heart in just one sitting. Endless opportunities, and Coriolanus knows the subject knows that. There was understanding shared in the heavy silence between them.

But, they were doing nothing to stop him.

No attempts to remove his hands. No yelling, or crying to tell him to get off. Just simple, almost fawn-like eyes staring back at him in hopes for an answer. He couldn’t make out fear, and it baffled him. This whole operation has been nothing short of gruesome, and here he was standing over their body, sinking into their blood, their body, and they did nothing to stop him. This whole situation would’ve been downright disturbing, yet there was a tight knot in his body that he felt unwinding. The control of the entire operation is in his hands, but control of himself was the battle he was currently fighting. And it felt like he was losing the longer Project Prometheus blinked up at him, hints of small tears on their lashes. The longer he gazed back at them, all that was reflected in its dreary eyes was the sight of him. Just him.

“... Do you trust me?” He breathed out, finally.

The subject made an attempt at a sound, the splash of color never leaving their face.

“Y…Yes,”

“More than Dr. Gaul?” He didn’t even know what he was saying at this point, his mouth was rambling before he could even process it.

“...More… t…than anyone…”

And there it was.

The culmination of all that was building up. Those very words felt like it was undoing all the wounded up tension that had been piling since the moment he got up this morning. Coriolanus felt his muscles tremble. But, he couldn’t tell from what anymore. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to even name it, either. It’d just shatter the moment. What was there to even say to that? A thank you was so impersonal. And praise was far more than Project Prometheus deserved, at this point. They were showered enough in it already, what more could the subject want from him. To the eyes of the Citadel, the desire for the project was clear as day. But, in the perspective of a broken animal, what else could they aspire when freedom was conditioned out of them.

Did it matter at this point?

No, it doesn’t, Coriolanus decided. Because as long as he was in the room with them, Project Prometheus' existence was to serve his own selfish interests. And it was doing just that. Coriolanus leaned himself down over the subject. Propping an elbow up besides their head, their laborious breaths closer to his surgical mask. The heated air tickled and brushed against his ears. He tapped his forehead down beside the stainless steel space beside them, letting out a heavy exhale. Standing this close, he could make out that the subject had a faint scent of simple soap. The cooling sensation of the table did nothing to alleviate the warm dizziness swirling in his head.

Pressing down the button next to their left ear, the stopwatch started. Coriolanus spoke in their right.

“We are now starting the timer for the internal nerve exam.”

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marriedtomoneymartin · 11 hours

Text

stressed out

caitlin clark x reader

warnings: sad cait ☹️, a little angst, kissing, some fluff at the end (dont worry im not evil).

in which: you surprise caitlin not knowing how stressed out she was.

caitlin walked through the hallway out of the locker room, her bag slinged on her shoulder and she looked straight ahead. the rest of her teammates were infront of her talking amongst themselves, laughing. caitlin looked at them but then back down at the floor. they reached the door and the group stopped outside the entrance but caitlin kept moving.

“hey, caitlin!” aliyah called after her. caitlin turned around. “we’re all gonna grab lunch somewhere, do you wanna come?” she asked.

“im okay, thanks” caitlin responded. aliyah nodded and everyone turned back to each other and continued to talk. caitlin started to walk towards her car and she looked up from the ground and saw you. she stood there in shock. she hadn’t seen you since graduation because you went back home to see your family. she smiled and started running towards you and you did the same. you hugged her and she picked you up.

“hi cait” you said smiling at her.

“hi baby” she smiled back. you kissed her and she kissed back like she didnt want to pull away. after she set you down, you guys drove back home. both of your deciding to shower because she just had a long practice and you just had a long flight.

a few days later, when caitlin had the day off, you woke up to see her side of the bed empty. you found it weird because you were normally the first one up, but you shrugged it off. you got up and walked out to find caitlin sitting on the couch, looking somewhat upset. you had noticed this throughout the week, but when she was with you it was all smiles. you started to wonder if they were genuine ones.

“hey, are you ok? you look kinda upset” you asked her walking over to where she was sitting.

“im fine” she responded, not looking up from her phone.

“are you sure? you know you can talk to me when-“ you tried to say but you got cut off.

“goodness, i said im fine. can you drop it?” she said, raising her voice a little in irritation. you opened you mouth to say something, but you closed it and walked away, not wanting to annoy her more. you sat back in your shared room, on your phone. you knew she would come around, so there was no point in stressing about it. a few minutes later, you heard three quiet knocks on the bedroom. you looked up to see caitlin looking at you with sorry eyes. you gave her a small smile and she came in. she laid down with her head on your chest, the way she always did when you comforted her.

“im sorry i yelled at you. you didnt do anything wrong, you didnt deserve that.” caitlin said softly. it was moments like this where caitlins big strong personality for the public crumbled before you.

“its ok baby. you wanna tell me whats bothering you now?” you said. she let out a long sigh before opening her mouth.

“it’s all too much” she said, her voice cracking a little at the end. “the media is all on me to be amazing, and to carry my college career into the professional league, but its hard” she said, starting to cry. “i keep getting compared, and we keep losing, and everyone’s expecting me to be the best and im not” she let out a sob. “and im not meshing well with my team. and all this stress is affecting my game and i feel like im the reason we’re losing.” you heart broke seeing her this upset and hard on herself. you kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back.

“you’ve just got to try and ignore the media as best as you can. i know they’re all in your face, but just try and focus on your game. because i know, when you completely focus on your game, you’re unstoppable. as far as the people know, you are the best. you’re the one who broke records and raised attendance and attention to women’s basketball. you might be stumbling a little bit, but you’re still an extremely talented player. making that transition from college to the league is difficult, especially with everyone on your ass to be the best. and you’re transitioning well, you’ll get the hang of things soon, trust me.” you told her. she sat up and smiled at you. you wiped the tears from her face and kissed her. she placed you in her lap and her hands found their home on your hips, yours in her hair. you pulled away and rested your foreheads together and looked at each other.

“i love you” she whispered.

“i love you too” you whispered back.

a/n:

hey gang

did yall like this? i cant write angst for my life.

anyway guess who’s birthday is today.

#caitlin clark #wbb #iowa wbb #indiana fever #iowa hawkeyes #wnba #indiana wbb

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papayatori · 3 days

Text

Fall away (p7)

Inumaki Toge x fem!reader

He’s so pretty HELP

My second mission had finally come. Gojo had sent Maki, myself and Inumaki all together this time. I was concerned about what might happen since Gojo didn’t really fill us in on anything, though, Toge’s reassuring grip on my hand and Maki’s unwavering smirk kept my cool for me. I smiled a little, letting myself relax in the back of Ijichi’s car.

“Not too much farther, now. He called to us from the front.

I gazed out of the window, dreamily smiling at the beauty of Japan outside of the city. It truly was something to gawk at.

“Tuna.” I heard from beside me. Toge was gazing with me, at least I thought he was,

Toge’s eyes were set on you, how you looked when your eyes sparkled with excitement. He could tell you hadn’t gotten out since your last mission other than a few times, he wanted to give you that kind of excitement himself if he could possibly.

I looked up at him, blushing at his soft gaze. His violet eyes were shining, and though his collar covered his face, I could tell he was smiling at me.

Suddenly, the car came to a stop, Ijichi signaling to us that we had arrived.

“We suspect there are several semi-first grade spirits living here in these abandoned apartments. They’ve been evacuated for good measure of our precautions, though we aren’t sure what really lies within these walls.” He stated clearly. He pushed up his glasses slightly before continuing, “be careful, I’ll be here if you need.” He gave us a small look of confidence. It wasn’t everyday that Ijichi took a liking to a group of sorcerers, and I was rather proud of it,

Maki, staff in hand, pointed towards the buildings, there were three of them in the complex.

“I suppose we’ll each tackle one, we have ways to contact one another if need be.” She looked at me as if she knew something that I didn’t, I shrugged it off before I could relish on it.

Inumaki squeezed my hand one more time before dropping it and looking at me with a serious expression on his face. His violet eyes were full of something I couldn’t name, his brows knit perfectly to frame them.

“Salmon.” He stated plainly before we all took our leave to our respected buildings,

_ ••Maki••

My footsteps echoed as I stalked through the empty hallways. The wallpaper was peeling from the thin, plaster walls that separated the rather large building on the inside. It felt almost like a maze. I couldn’t sense anything due to my own lack of cursed energy, but something definitely felt off about the place.

I opened one of the doors, revealing a small living space that was hardly suitable enough for the homeless. It smelled of mildew and mold, in fact it shown plainly on the peeling walls of the small room. A mattress lay in the floor, tucked away in the far corner. There wasn’t even a window.

It sort of felt like a prison to me, if not worse than one. I had seen cells more suitable than this. Who would subject themselves to something like this?

I stood in the center, allowing myself to feel whatever weird sensation had risen into my bones, seeped through my skin. I heard faint water dripping from somewhere, could that be where the mold had come from?

“I didn’t realize Gojo was sending us off to be house maids.” I said to myself.

I found myself following the noise, finding a smaller room that I had mistaken for a closet upon entry, it seemed to be a bathroom.

The faucet wasn’t completely shut off I had realized, it didn’t take a curse user to find a faulty nozzle. I chuckled to myself before opening the faucet more.

_ ••inumaki••

I watched her walk away without a second thought. She was confident, evident in succeeding. Her hips swayed gently, enough to show the confidence with each step she took, and I was utterly mesmerized. Though, I was equally terrified.

Something didn’t feel right about this place, and I wasn’t sure we would make it out unscathed as she had last time. Cursed energy radiated around us predominately, and I was aware that neither of my partners could sense it. Y/n wasn’t really sure how to harness her abilities yet, and I knew Maki had no cursed energy to speak of for herself. I wasn’t exactly sure why Gojo had sent the three of us together, sure y/n was my girlfriend, but I didn’t exactly see how our abilities matched up at all; besides, did Gojo even know anything about y/n and I?

I scoffed listening to my thoughts, I needed to shut them out before it interfered with the mission; but I couldn’t stop thinking about whether or not she was safe. I scolded myself mentally for falling so hard for her, in my line of work there was nothing that could keep her safe but herself should the situation arise, and I had known that from the beginning.

A small drip pulled me from my thoughts. I halted my steps, finding myself in a room that I assumed to be one of the apartments. It was small, weary, and falling to pieces. I glared at the sound, attempting to find the source if it. I opened the small door I had been eyeing across the room revealing a small bathroom with a sink on the wall. The place was old, and smelled like utter shit. Though, it was a bathroom.

I turned the faucet to the sink, thinking it might stop the insufferable noise of the dripping. Had we been sent on a plumbers job? Gojo couldn’t be serious.

Immediately, I felt a surge of cursed energy from within the walls, within the entirety of the room itself. I unzipped my collar, readying for whatever was coming for me. I felt my skin crawl from sheer power.

_ ••y/n••

My thoughts wandered as I entered the building. I felt immensely insecure about how well trained I was to be on a mission like this, even if it was my second time. I knew Gojo was prone to being reckless and stupid at times, and given the strange aura I had been feeling since setting foot on the grounds, I was certain this was one of those occasions.

My ears twitched, hearing faint dripping water from inside one of the rooms. I hurriedly threw open in of the doors, doing my best to remain calm and steady. My life very well could depend on my mentality today. I opened my mind, trying to force my way into the head of whatever cursed spirits lurked sighing the place. I was met with nothing but faint voices. That was something, at least.

They continued to mumble, two voices I could make out roughly. No, there were only two voices speaking in my head. I felt my senses heighten, my adrenaline pour through my viens.

Drip

I opened the small door on the far side of the room, revealing the source of the noise I had been searching. My mind had calmed, as had the incessant mumbling in the back of it. I closed the faucet, hoping to ease the ache of my head.

Cursed energy poured through the faucet as the dripping continued and grew louder. I jiggled the faucet once more, I was sure it had been cut this time. More energy could be felt from within the walls, the pipes, the intricate system of plumbing within the crumbling and cracked walls of the apartment building. I scoffed, trying to keep myself at bay. I could feel the hunger for blood rise within me, another voice this time taking over my own thoughts.

Kill, kill the cursed spirits who are trapped within their birthplace. End their suffering.

My skin was cold, crawling with sweat and grime, even that wasn’t my own. I opened my mind once more, reaching for whatever thing was living within the walls of this place.

I heard those two faint voices once again, I felt adrenaline, eagerness, fear. Why was I feeling these things?

My mind flicked back into Inumaki’s bedroom, the night where I had learned I could speak with him without actually speaking, with my mind.

I was confused, unsure if why I was recalling such an insignificant piece of my history-

“…we have ways to contact each other if need be.”

Drip

I reached out with my everything, feeling everything the other two inside of my mind were feeling. I felt a pain in my left shoulder, a harsh one as I was shoved to the ground. I looked up in shock, but nothing was there.

One of the consciousnesses had cried in pain, I heard it clearly, and it was Maki.

I stood up quickly, reaching out once again.

“Are you hurt, Maki?” I mumbled to myself. I felt a small shock within me before a small feeling of reassurance.

“So, you’ve figured it out, eh?” I heard Maki whisper. I could hear her smirk.

“Answer the question.”

“I’m fine, nothing I havent dealt with before. Though keep an eye out, this one is tough.”

As if on cue, I felt another sharp pain, but this time I looked up to see a watery cursed spirit.

He was translucent, I could see its organs, its heart beating wildly as it glared at me with a dark smile. Its beady eyes seemingly narrowing at my presence. It groaned before launching at me once more.

I dodged with ease, feeling my muscles pump with adrenaline again, except this time, it was my own.

I felt a tug in the back of my mind. I knew it must have been one of the other two. I could feel Toge’s presence wrapping itself around my thoughts, I knew he was looking out for me even from far away. I smiled, dodging another blow that could have been fatal.

I ran down the hall, hoping the spirit would follow me outside. I needed a little room to work with if I wanted to fight it, these cramped apartments were doing my skills no justice. My throat burned as I continued running, feeling another tug on the invisible line of my consciousness.

“Don’t die on me, Toge.” I mumbled to myself, earning a sharper tug this time.

“I guess I don’t have a choice now, do I?” I heard from somewhere in my mind. I smiled. It was odd to hear Toge say anything that wasn’t a rice ball ingredient or a command, though I couldn’t deny the rush of butterflies I felt just listening to his voice. I prayed no one felt that from whatever mental communication we had going on.

I looked back at the spirit, hearing that insufferable dripping and sloshing from its watery husk. I had never seen one like it before, regardless of how little experience I had had in battle. I wondered if it would surrender itself to me, too.

The mumbled thoughts continued to run ramped as I stood in the hallway, unable to find my way out of this crumbling shack. Defeated, I readied myself for battle.

In the middle of the hallway, I could feel the spirits will for me to die, its teeth gleaming as if bloodthirsty and hungry. It hadn’t spoken to me, which was a good sign, but I also hadn’t spoken to it, either.

I heaved a breath, taking in all of my focus and collecting every last drop of energy I could, unsheathing the sword Maki had lended me. I took my stance, waiting for it to strike me first.

Drip

I slashed, hard. Cutting off the wriggling, watery arm of the cursed spirit. Though, it did no good. Its watery and bendable figure simply morphed it back into existence, though, I did notice its figure had become smaller, no longer towering over me.

“Gotcha.” I mumbled with a smirk.

I felt power pour through my veins, blood the only thing on my mind. I was confident, I had found a weakness and knew I’d win this one rather easily.

Drip

I focused my energy in the sword, gradually as I had been taught. I smirked again, slashing at the beast once more. It winced, and I felt it within my soul, its crying pains and death threats that would never come to life as it desperately tried to make them. It threw a punch, one I dodged with ease, reaching out to grab its morphing arm as I did so.

I let out a gasp. It hurt to touch the damned thing. Not only that, but my grip faltered, and my hand went straight through. I heard mock laughter in the back of my mind.

I felt a tug inside of me again, a painful cough belted out of me without me even being aware. I knew immediately what was happening.

“Toge!?” I yelled, breathless and in pain. Had something happened to him?

“I’m fine, y/n. Don’t worry so much.” I say a low chuckle in my mind. At least he was finding this amusing.

I glanced around me, more of these creatures had appeared. I counted three in total, the other two were much larger than the former, as it was still pretty damaged. They hissed at me, spitting liquid from their own bodies as protection.

I remembered something that Maki had told me, the weaker a spirit was, the more it would group together. I figured it was likely they weren’t as strong as Ijichi had said, but I wasn’t confident enough to get cocky.

I slashed again, not wanting to touch the things. I remembered the burning sensation in my hand as I tried to grab it moments before, wincing just thinking about it. I felt another sharp pain in my gut, I figured this was another hit to one of my partners.

I didn’t have time to check on them this time, ramming my sword into the smaller of the beast. It dissipated, slowly becoming liquid in the floor.

“One down.” I breathed out heavily.

I coughed violently, feeling the pain in my abdomen. I prayed Toge was alright, slashing my way into the other monsters before me. I was slowly being backed into a wall, and I didn’t like it.

For the first time, I felt pretty helpless. I was doing decent at defending, but my attacks were only slowing them down a little. They had soaked up the liquid from the deceased beast, claiming it as their own and growing into a larger size, rendering my cuts and slashes useless. I cursed to myself.

“They’re able to morph together.” I heard Maki say down the line, she sounded tired, hurt. I grumbled a little, already figuring that out for myself.

I felt a sting in my arm, but nothing had touched me. I grumbled again, I suppose one of them had been touched.

“Careful, you two.” I growled, slashing again and doing my best to remain calm and composed. The smirk had been easily wiped from my face just as quickly as I had retained it.

I reached inside of me, deep within, pulling of my cursed energy and willing it into my sword, slashing violently and slowly knocking down the form of the two in front of me. It was useless, how little it was doing. I let out a mangled groan, biting my lip to keep from wincing as the liquid sprayed onto my legs. It stung harshly, but I couldn’t let it bother me now.

I felt my back press against the wall behind me, I had been cornered with nowhere to go. The two were smiling, laughing at me, reaching out to grab me. They wanted my death more than I wanted to live.

My sword was knocked from my grasp, thrown to the side with a distant thud. I was rendered defenseless. I wanted to cry, but I held my ground.

I felt a flutter in my stomach, not one of pleasure but one of nausea. I felt like I was going to throw up, had I ever been this nervous?

And then it hit me.

“I can use the cursed spirit I secured with Megumi!” I said allowed, feeling a glimmer of hope rise from within me, following that, I also felt vomit growing in my throat. I let out a gag, stifling a sob.

The other two felt the nausea, earning a violent cough from Toge and a curse from Maki. I couldn’t help but smile.

“It seems I’ve been surrounded.” I said cooly with a smirk, throwing my hands up in defeat. The two spirits laughed again, taking their win for granted. I smiled heinously. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

I called upon the cursed spirit from the school, unleashing it upon them with a fiery smirk. I laughed, watching it tear into the two. I quickly grabbed my sword, stabbing into the back of the closest spirit.

“Never count a victory before the battle is won.” I mumbled to myself, wincing as the hot liquid gushed from the spirits’ corpse. I smiled through the pain, and deadly and gruesome smile.

I watched as my cursed spirit ascended upon the watery one, tearing it to droplets. It cried out, angry and in pain. I laughed viciously.

I felt a strong stab to my left arm, erupting in a fit of coughs. My brain shut down, this one was vital.

“Toge, talk to me.” I said, waiting for an answer. I got nothing in response. “Toge!” I yelled, terrified.

I called back my spirit, sprinting down the stairs to make my way to the apartment building Toge was in. I felt more pain in my throat, in my arms, in my heart. Panic had started to set in.

“Maki, are you alright?” I yelled, finding the exit quit easily now. The cool breeze settled onto my skin as I ran to Toge’s assigned position.

“‘M fine!” She said, a smirk evident on her face. She was in the heat of battle, I refused to break her concentration again.

With that clear, my only concern was Toge. I sprinted through the hallways, feeling the lingering cursed energy grow stronger as I ascended up the stairs, eyes scanning everything helplessly.

My eyes widened as I saw my blonde headed boy on the ground, blood spewing from his lips. He had used himself too viciously. I cursed as I ran to him.

I was attacked from out of nowhere, wincing in the pain. I called upon my cursed spirit once again, allowing for it to feast on this one. This one was much larger than the three I had taken, and it was evidently more powerful, too. I could feel its pain through my skin.

“Toge, talk to me.” I said calmly, though my heart was palpitating. I felt like I was going into shock.

Do my relief, his eyes fluttered open, half lidded. I cursed again, wrapping my arms around him quickly before eyeing him for any vital wounds.

I ripped a part of my uniform, wrapping the spot on his arm that had been wounded. His eyes widened a little bit as he saw one cursed spirit attacking another, seemingly confused and tilting his head a little, as if demanding for an explanation. I shook my head, silently telling him that now wasn’t the time for explanations.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath. The wound was hot, he had been burnt by the spirit. His blood soaked through the fabric too quickly for my liking.

“Are you alright?” I heard his voice speak in my head. I scoffed loudly, a small, disbelieving laugh escaped my lips.

“I’m fine Toge, but it’s evident that you absolutely are not.” I scolded him, always thinking of others over himself. I was upset he hadn’t called for help, but I couldn’t ignore the flutter in my chest that he was still only worried about my well being.

His eyes started to close, I felt the pain coursing through his body in my own. I winced, shaking his body gently.

“Stay with me, baby. Please.” I begged. I hated seeing him like this, my anger taking action.

My cursed spirit had easily finished off the one that had attacked Toge. Honestly, it was for the better, as I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from the bloodthirsty monster that welled within my skin. It had nearly killed Toge, and everything in me screamed to torture the damned thing, to give it the slow, burning and painful death it deserved laying a finger on him, and I’d be damned if it ever tried to again.

My thoughts halted abruptly as I felt his pale hand reach for my own. It squeezed weakly, gently.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” I heard him say weakly, I had to resist the urge to cough as he did so. I was struggling to keep my composure.

“I’m coming that way, can he walk?” I heard Maki say to me, out of breath. I felt a pain in my shoulder that I had felt earlier.

“Can you stand, baby?” I asked in a soft tone. I had to bite back my anger just to manage it. He nodded, slowly standing as I called back my cursed spirit for the second time.

“We’re on our way out, Maki.” I said to her, Toge stumbling over his weakness. He was heavier than he looked, his lean figure hiding his muscles well. I winced, my arm burning from my own injuries. I struggled to keep him walking; but slowly, we descended down the staircase and into the open air outside.

My arm burned the entire way out, the cool air not helping in the slightest. I heard Toge heaving from beside me, hurting just to walk.

“I’m sorry, Toge. I should’ve gotten to you sooner.” I choked, guilty that I hadn’t. He shook his head once, wincing afterwards. His wound had grown a little, like it was spreading through his veins. I looked down at my own wound, which seemed to be doing the same thing.

“You did everything you could, y/n.” I heard him say in my mind once more. I shook my head, fighting back more anger that was rising within the seconds.

“Save your words, Toge. You’re injured pretty bad.” He didn’t respond, accepting my statement.

I saw Maki standing with Ijichi and someone else that I hadn’t seen before, he was tending to her injuries.

She saw us, releasing a breath she had seemingly been holding. She pointed to us.

“I’m more worried about him than I am my own health right now.” She said as the man next to her followed the direction of her finger. His eyes widened as he ran over to help me with Toge.

“I didn’t think any of you would get roughed up this badly.” I heard Ijichi mumble in the cool tone of his. I shook my head, not believing it either.

“I underestimated the damned thing.” I said, quietly. Ijichi hummed in response.

The dorms were quiet that night. I had spent most of it in the infirmary with Toge and Shoko. I was angry, ashamed, and it was eating me alive.

My own wound had been wrapped while Toge was chugging bottles of cough syrup. It was a sight I could get used to, as his shirt had been discarded to help get to the wound that had spread onto his upper chest. My gaze lingered for a little longer than I would have liked it to.

Maki had long been attended to, not being hurt too badly, just a slight cut to the shoulder. Apparently her cursed spirit was like ours too, except it had been armed.

I was a little disappointed that I hadn’t gotten a hold of that spirit, mostly because it was rather powerful and could be used in battle strategically as I had used my only one to my aid.

Toge and I were in his room again, both of us quiet and not feeling the need to speak too much. We had showered, though I didn’t like the sight of the faucet or the water dripping from it. I shook from the memory.

I looked up at him as I exited his bathroom, one that I had become rather used to using as of recent weeks. He didn’t seem to mind, either by the looks of things. He was sitting on his bed, staring off into nothing.

“I guess I know why it always takes a while after a mission to regroup after today.” I said quietly, pulling him from his thoughts. He smiled up at me.

“Salmon.” He responded, the itch in his throat evident as he coughed. I sat next to him, rubbing his bare back gently.

“I’m just grateful you’re okay.” I whispered, dropping my gaze to the floor. “I thought I was going to lose you.” I felt a small, hot tear roll from my eye, I cursed myself for allowing it to. I heard him chuckle, wiping my tear away with the pad of his thumb. His fingers were hot to the touch, full of life, and reminding me he was still very much alive.

Suddenly I remembered his cold had clutched mine early as he slumped to the floor. A shiver went down my spine.

“I’d do everything in my power to stay alive if it means I get to have you by my side.” I heard his voice whispering in my head. A small blush crept onto my face at the sudden sound of his voice. His violet eyes searched mine for something, anything.

“I’ll be damned if anything ever touches you again.” I whispered, baring my teeth slightly in remembrance of the cursed spirit that had wounded him so badly. I felt his arm snake around my waist, pulling me down next to him in his sheets. I instinctively cuddled into his bare chest, feeling his warmth, feeling his muscles, feeling his body alive.

“And that is the very reason that I love you.”

I was shocked to say the least, my eyes growing in size from the moment I heard those words.

“T-Toge?” I stumbled as I tried to find my words. His fingers tracing my back as he planted a kiss to my forehead.

“I said I love you, y/n. I can’t promise I’d die for you, but I can promise that I’ll live for you as long as fate allows me to.”

I felt warmth in my chest as he confirmed what I thought he had said. It spread throughout my body as I snuggled into his warmth, wrapping myself up in it as our legs tangled together, like missing pieces to a puzzle.

“I love you too, Toge.” I smiled before smacking his chest playfully. “…but don’t you dare think about scaring me like that ever again. I have no idea what I’d do if I lost you, and I almost lost myself because of it.” I immediately felt a strong pain in my body upon hitting him, wincing.

“Sorry, I forget you’re still injured.” I said, seeing the pain evident in his face. He laughed through it, sending the pain packing its bags to be replaced by the fuzzy feeling I had felt moments before. I felt his chest tingle as he laughed. It was heartwarming.

My eyes fluttered, feeling heavy from exhaustion as I closed them for a quick moment. My head found comfort in his chest as his arms wrapped themselves tighter around me.

“I’ll never do it again, for as long as I live, my love.”

He had said this aloud, coughing a little afterwards. Though, sleep had already taken me, and I didn’t feel the kiss he planted on my forehead, or the soft ‘I love you.’ that he mumbled afterwards.

I hope you all enjoy this one, it’s my favorite so far 😌 also I’m tired it’s 3am help

Tag list: @gumiiiiezzzz @grilledbananas

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charlataninred · 6 months

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GODS i just had the most stressful dream

#so for reference I have something on today that I’m v excited for #anyway jt started w me waking up very early and deciding to laze around for a bit #but by the time I checked the time again hours had passed and I was already late #and when I tried to get ready everything was in the wrong place and I couldn’t hold it all #when I FINALLY got in my car and onto the road I got to this turn #where one way was empty but the other was backed up as far as I could see #at first I thought I was going the empty route but when I checked the directions I was actually going the busy route #so I tried to message someone saying I’d be running late #but the voice to text wasn’t working and would not let me change the message #PLUS when I looked down at my phone I saw that another 2 hours had passed since I got in the car #just. ough #aegis talks to the void

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yandere-daydreams · 4 months

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Title: Ferine.

Pairing: Yandere!Toji x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.1k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Slight Manipulation, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Knotting, Mentions of Blood + Violence, Slight Breeding, and Biting.

Toji was, by far, the largest hybrid you’d ever taken care of.

Which, technically speaking, wasn’t that big of an accomplishment. This was barely your third month at the research facility, and you could count the number of hybrids you’d encountered before being hired here on a single hand. Still, even compared to the other wolves you currently looked after, Toji was beyond impressive. His long, pointed ears and stocky build set him well above six-foot, and even if he’d lacked height, he would’ve been able to make up for it with the planes of sculpted muscle circled around his biceps and thighs, laid over his chest and back. Top it all off with a set of claws each longer than your pointer finger and sharp enough to pierce reinforced steel, and he was practically fit for exhibit. Not that Toji could ever actually be a show dog, no – he’d tear the judges apart before they’d so much as heard his name. He was sweet, but he had a temper. You had to be careful not to set him off.

His fangs were impressive, too – perfectly in-tact despite years of less-than-adequate care, only a touch duller than a real wolf’s. You were careful not to let your hand stray from where it cupped his cheek as you looked for signs of damage or rot only to, of course, come up empty. The longer you spent with him, the more convinced you were that nothing could actually hurt Toji, even if the faded scar stitched into the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise.

“All done,” you started, letting go of his cheek. Immediately, Toji’s jaw snapped shut with enough strength to take off a finger, had you given him the chance. “Perfect as always, Toji. I think you might be my best patient.”

A cocky smile found its way to his lips, and you could hear his tail beating lazily against the dirt floor of his enclosure. The facility was committed to replicating the natural environments of their more exotic hybrids as closely as possible, even if Toji claimed he’d trade it all for a punching bag, or better yet, something ‘real’ to dig his teeth into, whatever that meant. “Do I get a treat, doc?”

It was asked playfully, but still, you hummed by way of confirmation, pulling your duffle bag into your lap and fishing Toji’s well-earned rewards – a generic chocolate bar and a can of some painfully acidic, sickeningly sweet brand of soda your hybrid patients couldn’t seem to get enough of. It was a meager prize, but it was as much as you were able to spare considering how strict his caretakers were when it came to his diet. You’d probably save yourself a few dirty looks if you didn’t give him anything at all, but it didn’t feel right to leave him empty-handed.

He accepted your humble offering greedily. While the chocolate bar was stowed away for later consumption, the can was pierced with a clawed thumb and emptied in one long, unpleasantly audible swig. You’d only started to push yourself to your feet when Tojj finished, letting the now empty can fall to the ground before turning his attention back to you. “It hurts my feelings, knowing you’re just gonna run off and put your hands on another animal.” His ear pressed flat against his scalp, as if he was trying (and failing) to feign disappointment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you didn’t really care about all the time we’ve spent together.”

“You’re not exactly in desperate need of medical attention,” you chided, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “And I’m on a schedule. Not all of us can sit around, grooming ourselves all day.”

That earned a breathy laugh, a coy lilt to his smile. “Well, if you wanted to take a shot at it, I wouldn’t—”

“Save it. I get enough of that with the cats.” Just thinking about it made you grimace. It was one thing to think that Toji might bite you. Knowing Satoru and Suguru – the bonded leopard and panther pair who shared a check-up date with Toji – would insist on licking any exposed skin raw before letting you do your job was a much more tangible reality. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. You’ll be good until then, right?”

“I’m gonna gut those fucking strays.” His answer was blunt, immediate, but he cracked as soon you shot him a purse-lipped frown. “Kidding, kidding. I’ll just rough ‘em up a little – make ‘em regret putting their paws on you, y’know?”

You couldn’t help but soften. Toji was rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a bad dog. He just had a protective streak and that, paired with his brash personality and tendency to bite before he barked, was enough for most people to write him off.

You really did have a long, long list of other appointments you had to get to before the end of the day, but against your better judgement, you paused as you passed him, reaching down to rake your fingers through sleek black hair. He was stoic, especially for a hybrid, but even his cool, dark eyes and wry smile couldn’t hide the way his tail moved just a little faster at the feeling of your nails raking over his scalp, his ears immediately perking up. It only took a second for him to bat your hand away, but you only laughed as you started towards the staff exit, waving to Toji over your shoulder.

Maybe, for his next check-up, you’d see if you could sneak in something special.

“Your mutt’s been unruly, lately.”

You glanced up from your clipboard, turning your full attention to Nanami and quickly finding that he hadn’t paid you the same courtesy. He was one of the senior researchers and, so far, the only one you could stand to be around for any longer than a few minutes. Since the higher-ups expected you to fill out your reports with one hand while you took a four-hundred-pound tiger’s temperature with the other, you tended to camp out in Nanami’s office when you had paperwork to file. “Toji?” Nanami nodded, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m just the vet, Kento. If his handlers aren’t doing their—”

“The problem isn’t his handlers, it’s him.”

His voice was flat, his tone icy. You laid your clipboard over your lap, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s an animal. It’d be more out of character if he didn’t lash out occasionally.”

Nanami opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. After a lengthy pause, he leaned back in his seat, bringing a hand to his temples and massaging absentmindedly. “Do you know why he hasn’t been released back into the wild, yet?”

Obviously. Working with hybrids – let alone exotic hybrids – was dangerous, and your debriefing had drilled the face, name, and background of every animal in the facility into your memory. “He was born in captivity. He’s too acclimated to human society to adjust to the wilderness.”

Nanami pressed his lips into a thin line – an expression you’d learned to read as ‘you’re right, but I’m not going to say that’. Still, a degree of satisfaction accompanied his silent confirmation. “He was found in a dog fighting ring – or, what was left of one, at least. It took three rounds of sedation and two broken muzzles before our recovery team was able to get him under control.”

A knot formed at the base of your throat. Fuck chocolate, Toji deserved a blanket and as many hugs as he would let you give him. “That’s terrible, Kento. Were the organizers arrested?”

“The organizers—” Nanami straightened. “—were found mauled and stuffed into a kennel. Their bodies were so thoroughly mutilated, we had to rely on blood samples to identify them.”

“Wolves aren’t known for attacking unprovoked. It could’ve been another—”

“One of his handlers is currently hospitalized,” Nanami went on, as if you hadn’t cut in. “And two have already turned in their resignations – a resounding fear for their welfare in the workplace, supposedly.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, and that knot in your throat tightened until only the barest whisper could find its way out. “He’s not a bad dog,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “He just— He loses his temper, sometimes. He doesn’t mean to hurt anymore.”

“He’s never tried to hurt you?”

You didn’t have to think before shaking your head. “Never.”

That, of all things, seemed to catch Nanami’s attention. For the first time, his eyes flickered briefly to you before falling back to his desk, his paperwork. “Good,” he said, marking down something on a piece of scrap paper in front of him. If he felt the need to elaborate, he clearly didn’t deem it worth the effort.

Later that day, you were informed that you were being transferred to the reptile wing indefinitely. If you’d been there for a few more months, if you’d had a little more experience to throw around, if you’d had a little more authority, you might’ve protested, but it was all you could do to nod and set to memorizing your new schedule.

It took exactly three weeks for you to see Toji again.

One of his handlers – a woman in her early twenties sporting a pressed scowl and a gauze-padded bandage on her cheek – met you at the facility’s gates and flatly told you that Toji was injured. You’d never been in the facilities (much less with a hybrid) after sundown, and in the simulated wilderness of his enclosure, it was easy to forget that you were never more than twenty feet away from a security camera, that there was only one apex predator you had to be afraid of. After checking your usual meeting spot (clear spot near the center of his enclosure – neutral territory, safe territory) and finding it vacant, you reluctantly stumbled your way to his den, dragging your feet despite the urgency of the situation. Toji wouldn’t deliberately attack you, but any animal could react if provoked. You didn’t want to set him off. More importantly, you didn’t want to prove Nanami right.

You’d never ventured far enough to see his den, but you knew what to expect. A square shell of cement occupied the deepest corner of Toji’s enclosure, bracketed off by a metal door tucked inside of a deep entryway meant to give the illusion of privacy. You approached it slowly, stepping underneath the shadowed overhang with no small amount of caution, but you didn’t get the chance to knock before a hand manifested on your shoulder and shoved you against the cold steel.

Claws bit into to the dip of your shoulder, then your wrist, too, as he caught your hand and shoved it into the small of your back. You felt hot air on the nape of your neck, heard heavy panting laced with the barest trace of a throaty growl, and it took everything you had not to panic, not to struggle, not to give him a reason to dig his teeth into your neck and tear. Toji wasn’t a bad dog, but he was still a dog. He’d still bite, if given an excuse.

“Toji,” you started, slowly, taking care to soften each harsh syllable of his name. “I’m here to help you.”

He didn’t respond, his hold only tightening. His check pressed into your back, and there was a short, airy noise – sniffing, as little as you wanted to put a name to it. “Toji,” you repeated, with more urgency. “I heard you were hurt. Will you let me help you?”

A second passed in silence, then another. Finally, he pulled away from you, releasing your wrist first, then your shoulder. He remained where he was – a little too close, a little too looming – as you shuffled to face him, forcing yourself not to consciously acknowledge that you were in a very big cage with a very poorly behaved animal. His handlers hadn’t mentioned why they’d needed you, but you didn’t have to wonder for very long. Even in the pitch dark, you could see the dark blood covering his jaw, washed over his throat and chest. It was on his hands, too, coating the white bone of his claws, and matted into his dark hair. Your waning self-control faltered then shattered altogether, your hands shooting to his head, his face, searching for bruising or swelling or broken bones, but surprisingly, all your worry earned was an airy laugh. “It’s not mine, doc.” He laid a hand over yours. “I’m doin’ just fine. Even better, now that you’re here.”

But he wasn’t. Twin sets of puncture marks were littered across his throat, his face, his arms. Something had taken a chunk out of his left bicep, and five matching scratch marks had been etched deep into the skin of his chest. The wounds looked feline, but you couldn’t bring yourself to linger on the implications. “You’re hurt,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your hands fell to his shoulders, pushing him downward gently. “I— I’ve got bandages, and sutures—” You let your bag fall from your shoulder to your elbow, already reaching for the zipper. “Find somewhere to sit. We should get you cleaned up before something worse sets in.”

Panic was quickly overshadowing your better judgement, but Toji didn’t move, didn’t look away from you. He was still wearing that coy, sardonic grin – almost teasing, given your anxiety. “I already told you, I’m just fine.” His smile widened, until his pointed fangs caught in the dim light. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said I could ask for whatever I wanted, but—” He paused, sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Toji, you’re not making any sense. You need help.” Again, you pushed gently on his shoulders, and again, he didn’t seem to notice. This time, though, he shifted, leaned toward you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You scowled, shoving a little less gently on his chest, but Toji didn’t move. “Toji, please, just let me help—”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You felt his hands on your waist, then your ass. His chest was slotted against yours, and his tongue ran unabashedly over the curve of your neck once, then twice before he went on. “Keep sayin’ my name like that, and I won’t be able to control myself.”

Something pressed into your thigh – hot and hard and, like the rest of Toji, fucking huge. Your heart fell into your stomach, the air flooding out of your lungs and leaving you dazed, breathless.

Fuck. Fuck.

You should’ve stuck with the fucking reptiles.

Toji was panting audibly, again; his tongue lapping over your neck, your cheek. You were still cursing yourself for ever applying for this shitty job in the first place when Toji fell to his knees, forcing your thighs onto his shoulders as his claws caught on the fabric of your pants, decimating the thin material in an instant. His teeth tore away your panties just as quickly, leaving you exposed, splayed out on a silver platter in front of him. You reacted reflectively – knotting your fingers in his hair and doing your best to pry him away from you, but your strength was nothing compared to his and in the end, all you earned was a throaty groan, a tight squeeze to your ass before he buried his face in your cunt. His teeth grazed against the tender insides of your thighs, his claws biting into your now-unprotected skin, but the feeling of his tongue laving over the length of your slit replaced every other sensation with pure heat.

Predictably, he was near animalistic – his thick tongue fucking into you as the bridge of his nose ground shamelessly into your clit. From a distance, it would’ve been hard to tell if he was trying to eat you out or eat you alive; every noise he made feral and wet, punctuated with rough growls and little, uncharacteristic whines. It would’ve been impossible not to feel anything, but still, you couldn’t help but hate yourself when it started to feel good. His tongue was thick and textured, long enough to fill your pussy and flexible enough to curl inside of you, abusing the walls of your cunt without mercy. It was difficult to tell how much of the gloss staining his chin and the inside of your thighs was his drool and how much of it was your arousal, but even if your mind was disgusted by every slick noise and sharp flick of his tongue, there was nothing your body could do to block out the sudden pang of heat in your core, to fight the way your legs ached to clench around his head and pull the source of your revulsion that much closer.

“To—Toji, no, st—” you tried to say, like you were scolding a normal dog, like any part of you still thought he was listening. A cracked moan cut you off prematurely, and even if it hadn’t, Toji’s only response was a bruising squeeze to your ass, a low moan just loud enough to reverberate against your sensitive clit. Blinding white flashed across your vision, and before you could stop, before you could bring yourself back from that edge, you were coming undone on his tongue, your hips bucking against his face as he nursed you through your mind-numbing climax. Rather than pull away, he forced his tongue that much deeper into your pussy – taking advantage of your hypersensitivity to drag another unwilling orgasm out of you, then another, until the dried blood smeared across his lips was tacky and dripping onto your skin. He only pulled away when your little, pained sounds began to die into half-choked pleas and your limited strength failed, leaning you limp and boneless on top of him, and even then, he took the time to drag his tongue over your slit, to lap up what would’ve been wasted slick. You would’ve given anything for him to just leave you like that – messy and covered in your own arousal, but unfortunately, Toji had never been a bad dog.

His gaze flitted up to meet yours. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, when he saw the misery knitted into your expression. The broad grin he wore was anything but apologetic, though. “Might’ve gotten carried away after all. Can’t help it – you always come to me, smellin’ like other men, and nobody ever lets me do anything about it.” He nuzzled into the inside of your thigh, nipping at the tender flesh with just enough force to break the skin. There was a tight pinch, of bright spark of pain, but Toji tended to the minimal wound lovingly, running his tongue over the thin stream of blood. “Gonna have you nice n’ scented by the end of the night.” A sharp whimper slipped past your grit teeth as the points of his fangs grazed over your skin, and Toji sighed. “Gonna have you nice n’ bred, too, if you keep making those sounds.”

Bred. Bred. Bred. You turned the offensive word over in your mind, unable to grasp what it possibly could’ve meant, as Toji carefully lowered you onto the ground – never so much as toying with the idea of fucking you into anything other than the cold, raw earth. It wasn’t until his clawed hand fell to the hard, pulsing cock standing stiffly between his legs that you were able to fully process what he’d said, what he was threatening to do to you. Your thoughts went blank, your years of veterinary school and countless hours of animal-handling training and common sense all dissolving into total nonexistence in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was taller than you, stronger than you – you were already throwing your full weight against him, scratching at his chest with your blunt nails, doing everything in your so incredibly limited power just to get away from him. Your latest wave of resistance wasn’t enough to overwhelm him, but it earned a frustrated rumble at the base of his throat, a downward quirk to his cocky smile. Your nails caught one of the puncture marks on his cheek and, reflexively, he straightened his back, brought his hand to his face, left just enough space between your body and his for you to roll onto your chest and scramble desperately towards freedom. You’d barely gotten your knees underneath you when his hand lashed out, catching you by the collar and forcing your cheek into the soil. His chest pressed into your back, his legs caging yours in on either side, and worst of all, his cock throbbed against your ass – somehow, impossibly, harder than it’d been a few seconds ago. You might’ve jotted it down as an impressive display of canine resilience, if you hadn’t felt so desolated.

“Shoulda figured you wouldn’t make this easy on yourself.” His voice was rougher than it had been, but no less self-satisfied. That made sense. Wolves were endurance predators. He would’ve come into this expecting there to be a struggle. “I thought you’d be more of a mate than a bitch, but—” He paused, his mouth settling against the nape of your neck. “—either’s fine by me.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “Please, Toji, don’t do—”

But, it was already too late. He rutted your ass once, then twice, before his tip caught on the entrance to your abused pussy and he was inside of you, fully sheathed without a trace of resistance.

Toji was big, even for a hybrid. He was a hunter, tried and true, all muscle and agility and pure, unfaltering strength. Even with his generous (albeit, unwelcomed) prep, it was all you could do to convince yourself that his cock wouldn’t tear you apart. He was thick enough to press against every soft and sensitive spot inside of you, long enough to leave a tight knot of pressure sitting in the pit of your stomach, and when he started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, the force alone was enough to scatter little black spots in the corner of your vision and leave you hazy, light-headed. The way he was fucking into you didn’t help anything, either. Keening whines slipped out of some deep, feral pocket of his chest as he took advantage of your vulnerable cunt, alternating between grinding into you with a desperate sort of clinginess and trying to bully his way that much deeper with bruising, brutal thrusts. One arm wrapped around your midriff, dragging you even close to him, while a groping hand found the delicate buttons of your top and tore, ridding you of what was left of your protection against him. He kneaded half-consciously at your chest as he fucked into you; his own pleasure suddenly his only priority.

His selfishness should’ve been a welcome change, but you were too far gone, your body too eager to find a silver lining to his rough affection. Your hands clawed mindlessly at the ground as he pumped into you, the heat of his body against yours clouding your senses and making the feeling of cock stretching you open, his dull head pounding against your cervix all the more unbearable. You doubted he’d be able to talk, even if he’d had anything left to say, but he was still vocal enough. Raspy groans and harsh grunts rung distantly in your ears, his calloused hands groping mercilessly at your chest, your stomach, your waist. Finally, his thumb found its way to your neglected clit, and with less than a full second of stimulation, you were buckling into yourself, clamping down around his cock with a fractured whimper. As humiliated as you were, Toji wasn’t far behind. With something between a moan and a howl, he was cumming inside of you – predictably making no attempt to pull out. Something hot and vile flooded into you, but it was hard to focus on that when you could feel something hard and bloated and wrong press into your entrance. Toji’s breath hitched as he forced his knot into your tight cunt, and whatever hope you had for coming out of this unscathed curled up and died inside of you.

You could feel him slacken on top of you. You almost thought he would collapse like that, leave you locked to him and trapped under his weight, but instead, he nuzzled against the crook of your neck, his fangs ghosting over your throat before sinking into the soft flesh just underneath your jugular. He stayed like that, his knot splitting open your pussy and his teeth buried in your neck, until you lost any hope of him ever pulling away.

Exhausted, you shut your eyes, sinking into yourself. You’d been right, in a way. Toji wasn’t a bad dog.

He was just a terrible terrible man.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oneshot #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #toji x reader #yandere toji #fushiguro toji x reader #yandere fushiguro toji #hybrid au

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whateveriwant · 6 months

Note

I just read your pregnant wife with 141 but that got me thinking. What about horny pregnant wife with 141

Feel free to ignore this if you feel uncomfortable writing it

-🍱 (if it’s not taken)

I haven't written smut in ages so forgive me if I'm a little rusty. 18+ only pls and thx (vaginal sex, cunnilingus)

Soap

Hooo boy! Alrighty, here we go

So for starters, that man is PENT UP. Like seriously, he's so backed up, he thinks he can feel it all the way to his esophagus

Since you first got pregnant, it's been nothing but morning sickness, aches and pains, and a total and utter lack of desire on your part

Trust him, he's tried taking care of himself in the meantime, but it's never really gotten the job done since it wasn't with you

But once you enter your second trimester and the desire has come back, it takes everything in him not to ravage you the moment you give him the green light

Why? Well, truth be told, he's scared about potentially hurting you or the baby

You know how he can get in the sack. What if he dents the wee bairn’s poor head? He's knocking (more like pounding) right on the little one’s door after all

You have to assure him that he's not going to hurt you or the baby (and please, never refer to your cervix as a door again)

So he'll start slow and gentle at first, not wanting to be too harsh, but it won't take much to get him back to fucking you hard and rough like you're used to

He's got your knees up by your chest (or, as close as they can get) while he’s drilling into you from above, snarling like an animal

When he finally finishes, it's loudddd, slamming the headboard against the wall, and he pushes his hips as far forward as they'll go while he empties four months worth of cum inside you

Ghost

I'm so sorry to have to be the one to inform you, but you're not getting that man's cock while you're pregnant

It's not because he's overly rough when you make love normally; it's just that he's not willing to take any chances when you're in such a delicate state

However, the man is inherently a giver, so with just enough whining and begging and pleading from you, he'll oblige you to some degree

He'll stick mostly to his fingers or his mouth, maybe a toy or two if you're really needy, but he's generally going to rely solely on his own skill to get you where you want to be

He'll have you recline against a mountain of pillows while he settles himself between your legs, his arms looping around your hips to hold you still for him while he works

But he doesn't just dive right in, oh no siree. The man loves to tease you – kissing your thighs, the inside of your knee, the bottom of your belly first

He'll turn you into a pathetic little thing squirming desperately for his touch, before finally granting you mercy by giving you his tongue

He'll make you cum so hard with just his mouth alone that you'll temporarily lose all thought of that gorgeous dick of his

But afterwards, if you want to return the favor, you certainly won't hear him complaining about it

Oh but trust that the moment the doctor gives the okay after you’ve given birth, he's gonna be all over you, making sure you walk funny the next morning (and the following week after that)

Gaz

Like the other two, Gaz is concerned with potentially putting you and the baby in a dangerous position

But the man is a sucker for your puppy dog eyes, so it doesn't take much convincing to get him to take you to bed

But he still wants to be safe about it, so he researches the best positions for couples to have sex while pregnant

That's how you find yourself in his lap, naked back to his chest, as he sits in one of the chairs he dragged in from the dining room

You're bouncing on his dick, hands braced on his thighs, ass smacking off the hard plane of his lower stomach as you lift up and down

His hands on your hips are more of a placeholder than a guide as he lets you set the pace, just sitting back while you take what you need from him

It doesn't even matter if he cums or not, that's honestly the farthest thing from his mind. All he cares about is making sure you're satisfied in the end

Need him to snake his hand forward, tracing the curve of your belly down, until he's circling your clit in fast, tight motions? Gladly, love.

Your thighs may burn and your eyes may water, but there's something about this position that makes him hit so deep that it leaves you gasping for more

Ultimately, your orgasm will trigger his own (nothing gets him there faster than the sound of you cumming), and afterwards he'll help you into the bath where he'll clean and massage your aching muscles better

Price

Unlike the other three men, Price is eager to fuck you the moment you show even the smallest inkling of want

What's that? His poor baby needs him to fuck her right now? Say no more, sweetheart. Hubby's come to the rescue

That man is dicking you down anytime, anywhere he can

Just got done shopping? He'll find a deserted road to pull over on. Just stepped into the shower? Might as well kills two birds with one stone

Really, it becomes a challenge to find where in your house he hasn't had you in these last few months. The kitchen, the garage, the back porch. You name it, he's done it (multiple times, in fact)

But his favorite – oh boy, his favorite without a shadow of a doubt – is when he takes you in front of your bedroom’s full length mirror

He'll hold you up from behind, standing you both on your feet, and just watch as he fucks you nice and slow

Seeing it in profile is fun when he wants to watch his dick slide in and out of you, but he's especially fond of having you directly face the mirror

There's just something about getting to watch you – that pretty face, those juicy tits, that fucking delectable rounded belly – that makes him blow his load faster than a damn rocket launch

With the number of times he's had you like this, you swear, that man of yours is trying to knock you up a second time (But shhhh. Quiet now. Don't go giving him any bright ideas, sweetheart.)

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wtfsteveharrington · 1 month

Text

don’t you want me | boyfriend!steve x reader x eddie

content & context: you and steve are tasked with checking in on eddie while he’s hiding out at reefer rick’s.

mentions of drugs & all parties smoke, virgin!eddie, eddie gets caught masturbating by reader and steve, oral (all receiving and giving), steve accidentally initiates oral with eddie (makes sense i promise), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, steve!breeding kink, cum play, cum swapping. everyone’s a lil fruity! reader is kinda just passed around!! **emphasizing that there are sexual interactions between steve and eddie!**

she/her pronouns used for reader!

author’s note: ... i can't believe this is finally getting posted but here we are! its been ages in the making and i'm so glad to finally have it out there. if i missed something during editing pls let me know! <3

word count: 8.4k - i added plot to this one!

If you thought Steve complained about being the babysitter, you should hear the way he complains about being Eddie’s caretaker.

In all honesty, he still wasn’t quite sure that Eddie was completely innocent in all this mess. Was he a killer? Probably not. That doesn’t mean he wants to hang around the guy, let alone have you hang around him.

He’s protective, that’s all.

The grocery sacks hit the floor of the kitchen while Steve shoves the case of beer into an empty spot on the counter. He’s pensively looking around the house, a grimace on his features as he takes in your... Questionable surroundings. Empty cans of food, question sticky spots on the floor, a disgusting bong on the table sat next to McDonalds wrappers.

“Now how the hell did Munson get his hands on a Big Mac but we’re still stuck doing supply drops?” Steve’s scoffing to himself, finally looking around the room to realize - “Wait a minute. Where the hell is he?”

It’s instinct. Within seconds of acknowledging that there might be a problem here, you’re back to back with Steve while the two of you scan the room. Looking for any signs of life or, well, death. You both hone in on a sound coming from behind the door at the end of the hallway. Exchanging a quick glance before he’s looking for a weapon - Grabbing a hold of the bong to use as a weapon. You however? Decide to settle for one of the knifes on the table which Steve thinks makes much more sense but he’s already committed to this damn bong now.

The door’s barely cracked open and as the two of you get closer you can begin to hear Heaven’s On Fire by KISS playing faintly on the radio. Considering how tense Eddie’s been lately, you’re surprised he’s being this... Sloppy?

you drive me crazy when you start to tease

You’re peeking over Steve’s shoulder, hand instantly coming to clamp over your mouth at the sight in front of you two.

you could bring the devil to his knees

Eddie Munson’s laying back on the bed, boots planted firmly on the ground, his jeans and briefs shimmied just far enough down his thighs to free his length. He’s hard, untouched, and you’re salivating at the sight. You and Steve stand there for a second longer than you should, both of you shocked at the sight. It’s not until Eddie wraps his fist around himself, lifting his hips off the bed at his own touch and letting out a quiet moan that Steve finally breaks -

“Holy shit.”

No one knows who reacts first but within seconds Eddie’s trying to cover himself up at the same time you’re reaching past Steve to pull the bedroom door closed. You’re trying to process what you just saw, mind only able to hyper focus on the fact that he looked... No, stop. You can’t let your mind wonder like this.

“Jesus Christ! Don’t you people knock!�� Eddie shrieks on the other side.

You look over at your flabbergasted boyfriend who’s punching the air and cursing Dustin Henderson for getting involved with this Freak. If you look close enough, you can see the flush to his cheeks. “C’mon, Man. Maybe consider not jacking off while you’re on the run for murder, huh? Especially when you have people running around getting you shitty Pabst and Doritos!”

The door’s being jerked open and Eddie looks so frazzled. A far cry from the man who was just sprawled out in bed touching himself.

He has a finger pointed in Steve’s face, “A murder I did not commit! So excuse me for trying to blow off some steam while I thought I was alone. If you’re so concerned then I’ll be sure to clear it with you next time, Harrington.” His hair is a crazy mess, shirt haphazardly tucked into his pants, and his belt unbuckled. You can’t help but spare a thought towards how pretty he looks. If Eddie would meet your eye, you’d have to look away considering just how embarrassing your thoughts were getting about him. But, in fact, the boy refuses to glance in your direction.

You turn on your heels, dragging Steve behind you in an attempt to avoid them getting into even more of a fight. Storing the fact that Eddie Munson has a pretty dick away for later. “C’mon, Idiots. I’ll cook dinner if you two can play nice for a few hours. Eddie wash your hands and zip up your fly before you come in here.”

The song continues as you walk down the hallway. Giggling to yourself and sneaking looks over at your still flabbergasted boyfriend.

feel my heat takin' you higher.

burn with me, heaven's on fire.

paint the sky with desire.

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

Eddie watches as you two navigate cleaning up the kitchen in almost perfect sync. His hand on your lower back when he brings the rest of the dishes to you, the way he takes notice of your sleeve falling down your arm and rolls it up for you, then you have the audacity to sing along to Steve’s favorite lyrics as the songs shuffle through on the radio.

He’s taken to sitting on the couch during clean up, citing his “impending doom” as the reason why he can’t help. Really, Eddie’s not sure how much more of the love birds act he can take before his carefully curated facade finally breaks. It wasn’t that you two were being over the top with the displays of affection, quite the opposite actually. If anything, it was toned down from the normal levels you showed around everyone else.

It’s just the fact that it’s real that’s driving him crazy. Cursing every day he spent without someone who loved him that deeply.

Once the kitchen is cleaner than it likely has ever been, you and Steve wonder out of the room and finally join Eddie. Steve’s grabbing the packed bowl left on the coffee table along with the lighter, sitting back in the recliner while you perch yourself on the arm of the chair. Trying to balance yourself carefully. You watch as Steve takes a long hit, holding the smoke before holding the bowl towards you. Glancing from him to the slouched figure on the couch, “Can we spend the night with you?”

Eddie’s shrugging, grumbling out “’Ight with me but there’s not many blankets around this place that ain’t filled with holes.”

Nodding, more towards yourself than him, you lean forward to trap the piece between your lips and Steve brings the lighter up to the bowl.

You’re coughing.

Like, way more than normal.

Steve’s quickly pushing out of the chair, grabbing one of the last wine coolers for you and popping it’s top with ease before bringing it back to you. There’s a reassuring hand rubbing over your back as you work your way through your coughing fit. Cheeks burning hot with embarrassment that one little hit nearly took you out in front of Eddie Munson.

“S’good shit, Honey. No surprise you can barely take it.” You’re giving Steve an appreciative smile as Eddie teases you, leaning into his touch for a bit of comfort. “Should be this good considering it’s been the talk of Hawkin’s that you’re raising your prices on us, Munson.”

Eddie’s got his hands up in the air, his bright laughter filling up the room before he’s reaching out for the bowl Steve’s offering. “Hey, a man had to eat, y’know? Now a man’s gotta pay bail... Prices are gonna triple after this.”

When Steve’s assured you’re not going to pass out, he’s going back to the table and grabbing two cans of out the lukewarm Pabst case. One’s being slid over to Eddie while Steve grabs his keys out of his pocket to begin the base of the can to chug.

It’s some weird power play you’re pretty sure. Asserting dominance with who can chug the fastest. Eddie’s quick to follow suit, using his pocket knife to carve out his own hole..

Now you just need to figure out why it’s kind of.. Hot?

You watch as Steve and Eddie cheers their punctured cans against one another, both of them giving the other a small nod then they’re throwing their heads back, popping the tab, and chugging the beer out of the can. It’s entertaining, this dumb grin plastered on your face. The weed in your system is probably making this feel like a much more endearing sight than it actually is. They both drop the cans once they finish, an argument ensuing as they try to decide who finished first.

“I’ve never shotgunned a beer.”

Suddenly there’s a lot of attention on you. Steve’s confused, Eddie’s entertained.

“King Steve Harrington’s girlfriend has never chugged a beer? Surprised he hasn’t corrupted you already.” Steve’s hitting his arm, giving the other boy a playful shove before grabbing a can out of the case and tossing it your way.

“You wanna learn, Honey? I’ll teach you.” Spoken so sweetly. Steve’s voice always laced with this delicate tone reserved just for you.

He’s standing behind you now, chest firm against your back and holding the can properly in your hands. Steve’s digging a hole with his keys into the side of your can, his chin on your shoulder as he concentrates on making it a clean cut. “All you gotta do is tilt your head back, okay? I’ll pop the tab. Don’t feel like you gotta finish it.”

You nod obediently, freeing one of your fingers from it’s death grip on the can to flip Eddie off. He’s laughing, grabbing the forgotten bowl from the table and getting to work repacking it. Part of you wonders what Rick would think of Eddie using so much of his stash. Then again, it’s not like it’s going to be much use to Rick for the next few years.

The can’s brought up to your mouth, tilting your head back against Steve as he keeps his promise and opens the tab once your lips wrap over the hole. There’s beer dripping from the corner of your mouth, down your chin and neck, and you’re quickly reminded that you hate the taste of beer. Especially cheap beer. But you’re putting on a show so you’re committed to finishing it.

Steve grabs a hold of your chin as the now empty can clatters to the ground, your lips colliding quickly and he wastes no time licking into your mouth. He tasted like a mixture of weed, more cheap beer, and underlying hints of his spearmint gum. You’re giving an appreciative moan as his hand slips from your chin to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Now, Eddie knows he should look away. He’s intruding on a personal moment, right? But there’s just something about the way that you and Steve interact that’s so addicting to him. It’s clear you’ve spent hours memorizing one another, learning what makes the other tick. There’s a sad thought that passes through his mind registering that there’s no way he’ll ever get to have a connection that intense. Even before the, you know, murderer from another dimension ruined his life. Eddie was a lot. He liked being a lot. He never found a girl who liked him being a lot and for a long time he was fine with pretending it didn’t bother him.

Then the picture of true love showed up to this damn house hours ago and he’s begun aching to feel even a tenth of that amount of passion.

He’s lighting up the bowl, finally forcing himself to look away while taking another long hit.

Your hands are firm on Steve’s chest, fisting around the soft material of his shirt and gently shoving him back. “Enough. Eddie doesn’t want to just sit around watching you devour me all night” He’s giving you a dopey grin, the hand not on the back of your neck coming up so he can use his thumb to swipe away the saliva shining on your lips.

“Munson gets it. Sometimes you just can’t help yourself, right?”

Steve’s looking over to Eddie for approval but he won’t look at either of you. Exhaling a stream of smoke from his last hit before responding.

“Nah, man. The Freak title excludes any and all sexual connotations. Made out with Elizabeth Hertz last year but that was just because she wanted free weed. Gareth kissed me after a show because he was drunk off adrenaline. Don’t really count him on the list of conquests though.” He’s blaming the high inching it’s way through his body, but for some reason he wanted to make it known that he’ll happily kiss boys too. In fact, Eddie Munson will pretty much kiss anyone who wants to kiss him.

“Huh.”

It comes out so quickly and you can stop yourself, both boys now looking your way. You give a little shrug, leaning into Steve as you respond. “Just surprised, that’s all. You’re pretty, figured someone would have thrown themselves at you by now.”

Eddie’s blushing at your compliment. Honest to God, cheeks turning pink blushing. He’s throwing a wink your way while trying to downplay how much the compliment got to him.

“Wish everyone felt that way, Sweetheart.”

You’re looking up at Steve now who just knows what’s coming next.

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

The two of you had talked before about including someone else. You both liked girls, that came up pretty quick. Robin asked you to play fuck, marry, kill one night while you sat around at Family Video during your shift. The way you drooled over Faye Dunaway gave you away pretty quickly.

Then, late one night, Steve was a little drunk and half asleep when he asked you what it felt like to kiss a boy. You said it was firmer, that their lips were rougher. But that kissing him made you feel safe and loved, though that wasn’t the norm.

“Kinda wanna kiss a boy the same way you wanna kiss girls. Quickly followed by, “Happy if I spend the rest of my life only kissing you though. Just something I wouldn’t mind happening.”

You just laugh while pulling his sweaty party clothes off of his body, tossing them across the room to deal with tomorrow.

“You wanna kiss a boy, huh? Well, I’m sure we can make that happen.”

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

“So - Is that like a thing then? Making out with you in exchange for free weed? Because in that case, you’ve been smoking me and Steve out all night. Pretty sure that means we’ve got a great debt to pay.”

Eddie can strike the idea down. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mere hours ago you weren’t fully sure if Eddie was a killer and you weren’t fully sure that Steve wouldn’t kill Eddie. He’s toying with the rip in his jeans over his knee, looking over the two of you as if he’s trying to decide if this is real or not.

“You and Steve…” He’s dragging out your names, almost as though he were testing out how they taste on his tongue. You and Steve.

You’re looking back to get confirmation from Steve who’s nothing more than entertained. You’re stepping towards Eddie now, slow enough where anyone can stop you yet not surprised neither of them do. He’s not taking his eyes off of you and you can see his breathing pick up as you get closer. Your knees are sinking into the couch beside him, kneeling into the cushions and reaching over to rest your hand on his upper thigh. Giving him a small squeeze and his muscle twitches in response to the touch.

“Do you wanna kiss me, Eddie? Kiss us?”

His breathing cuts off completely, and if you weren’t paying such close attention to his face you would have caught the way his hand goes from playing with the rip to actually pinching himself on his thigh. There’s no way this is real. Eddie’s nodding a little too eagerly, his cool guy facade falling apart. You lean forward, the smell of your perfume ever so faint but taking over his brain, to grab his hand. Dragging it up your own chest, along the curve of your breast, bringing his hand around the front of your throat, finally directing him to cup the back of your throat instead.

“Then kiss me.”

Eddie’s risking a glance over to Steve as he tightens his grip on your neck, half expecting to see the other boy with his fist cocked back, ready to swing and fight for you.

He’s not though.

Just giving a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to bite down his entertained grin. You always got what you wanted, Steve’s just surprised it’s Eddie you want. He can’t blame you. Maybe it’s the mood set by the two year old Christmas lights that Rick never takes down illuminating the room, the buzz vibrating throughout your bodies, or the way Eddie keeps looking between you with those wide brown eyes... Something about the situation has Steve understanding the way you feel.

Your hands are on Eddie’s chest now, fisting around the material as you lean in to ghost your lips against his. “Are you gonna make me ask again?” His fingers are twitching on the back of your neck, tightening his grip before finally connecting your lips together. The kiss is timid at first, you can feel the nerves practically rolling off of his body, so you take it upon yourself to take the lead.

Eddie’s moaning into your mouth when he feels your tongue swipe along his bottom lip. He’s licking over his own lip, savoring the taste of Pabst, weed, and the sickly sweet taste of wine coolers you’d been sipping on all night. Somewhere buried under all that, there’s the taste of just you. His tongue slips between your parted lips, licking into your mouth and giving an appreciative moan once again. You delight in just how vocal he’s being.

The couch’s dipping beside you, Steve settling back into the cushions to get a better view. His hand is low on your back, sliding down to knead at the flesh of your ass as you and Eddie settle into a rhythm. You can tell he’s inexperience and it’s endearing to say the least.

Your hand cups over the bulge in Eddie’s lap, rubbing along his growing length as he moans into your mouth. “Wanna see you, Baby. Is that okay?” His jaw goes slack, risking a glance over to Steve for approval. He’s just shrugging it off, his own hand coming to palm over his jeans as he mimics your motions on Eddie. “Whatever my girl wants, she gets.”

Eddie’s trying to process everything going on and it takes a moment for him to respond. Finally giving an unsteady nod to the room before looking back to you and God you can tell he’s nervous. His hands are on the back of your arms now as he mindlessly rubs up and down them, trying to keep himself grounded in the moment. “Then, uh, yeah. Yeah, that’ll be.... Good.”

Without much more convincing you get to work undoing his belt buckle. Unlatching the cold metal before giving it a firm tug, Eddie arching his hips up in order to help you remove it from his body. You pitch it under his arm and you feel his body jerk at the sudden sound. If you weren’t careful the mood could go sour quick due to the reminder of why you’re all here in the first place.

“So no one has ever touched you before? Just me?” Eddie nods enthusiastically as you unbutton his jeans, his breath hitching when he hears the sound of his zipper being pulled down. “Just you, Princess. Kinda scared, fuck, that I’m not gonna last that long if we’re being honest.” You’re giggling at the admission and Eddie’s thanking every star in the galaxy that he took the time to actually shower and change into clean clothes when you guys showed up.

The room fills with the sounds of both of you moaning when you finally slip your hand into Eddie’s boxers and feel his length against your hand. He’s gripping the back of your arms now, the circuit he’s been running this whole time, as he whimpers and rocks up to your touch. You make quick work of tugging his jeans and boxes down just enough to free him from his clothes. Marveling at the sight of him erect and desperate.

You wrap your hand around the base, giving him an experiment dry tug. Eddie’s head falls back against the wall as he moans out a string of profanities. His mind has to drift off to focus on anything but your touch or he’s going to finish from just one brush of your hand. You’re proud of yourself, giving him another flick of your wrist before letting him go. You start to push off the couch, standing up and pulling your shirt off of your overheated frame. Making quick work of your bra before tossing the both of them into the corner.

Eddie’s thankful for the break but he’s so hard that it fucking hurts. The sight of you topless in front of them is not helping his cause.

Steve’s eyes are on you as you reach over to him. He’s entertained and you can tell he’s hard in his tight jeans. You hold your hand out under his mouth, “Can you spit in my hand, Baby?” Steve grabs a hold of your wrist and does as he is told. Licking a strip down your fingers before spitting into your hand. He’s giving your wrist a squeeze before pushing your hand back towards Eddie.

You fall to your knees in between Eddie's legs and go right back to wrapping your wrist around him, lazily dragging your fist around him. Eddie’s clinging to you as you take your time exploring him, smiling down at the boy. “You’re longer than Steve. Not as thick but you’re long. Such a pretty cock, Eddie. Thank you for letting me take care of you tonight.”

He can barely even get his thoughts together fast enough to respond before you start shuffling off of his lap. Hand still firmly around his length as you settle on your knees between his legs. Eddie finally looks down at you and there could be angel wings coming from your back as far as he's concerned considering what a heavenly sight you make.

"Can I taste you, Eddie?" You're hamming it up for him. Batting your eyelashes and pouting. Something straight out of a porno, all for him.

It's odd - Steve feels almost... Proud? Maybe that's not the best word for describing watching your girlfriend suck someone else's dick but it's the best one he can find. You gorgeous in this lighting, you're being playful, and hell it's practically charity work. Taking this poor guy's virginity as a treat while his world is falling apart. It's admirable, really.

Eddie's frantically nodding while he twitches under your touch. Reaching down to try and shimmy his pants further down his legs so you have a better angle. "Darlin', you can do fucking anything to me. Don't have to ask anymore, okay? I appreciate but whatever you want is fine by me."

You grin up at him and lean closer, sticking your tongue out and keeping eye contact while tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. There's saliva dripping off your tongue and onto him, running down the sides of your length until it meets your fist. You're leaning in to wrap your lips around the head of him. Giving an appreciative hum before sinking down further around him.

Steve's taught you well. He's laid back and let you 'practice' sucking him off for hours at this point. His fingers laced behind his head while you get your throat used to taking him further and further. Sometimes he feels bad taking up all the attention and has you straddle his face to return the favor while you suck him off.

All that training and Eddie gets to reap the rewards.

It's easy for you to build up a stead pace. Tongue swirling his tip and using your hand to jack off his exposed length before you take him back into his mouth. Your other hand comes up to cup the weight his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as you work.

Eddie’s bucking up his length deeper into your throat, causing you to gag around the sudden intrusion. “Gotta chill out, Munson.” He’s storing away the fact that Steve Harrington chastising him makes his cock twitch in your mouth. Something about a pretty boy being firm gets under his skin.

“Shit, my bad, Sweetheart. Just felt too fucking good.”

Steve's scooting closer to you both while the old, thrifted and worn couch makes creaking sounds under him. He's taking your hand that isn't currently occupied with Eddie and putting it on the front of his too tight jeans. You give a hum of appreciation at the familiar feeling of your boyfriend under your touch, pulling back from Eddie's cock with a string of spit attached to your lip. You're using the same motion on the both of them while grinning up at Eddie.

"Can you get him out for me? Unless you want me to stop touching you?"

Eddie gasps involuntarily and shakes his head, pumping his cock through your fisted hand. It's slick and obscene and he's twitching in your grasp. He looks between the two of you nervously but when Steve doesn't object he decides to lean forward to move your hand out of the way, shaky fingers touching the metal of his belt. "You guys are-..." He's cutting himself off with a broken laugh as your lips press a kiss to the head of his cock, a reward for doing as he's told, "You're fuckin' insane."

Steve's beaming. He's eating this up.

His hips arch under Eddie's touch and you keep your eyes trained on the boys while lazily jacking off Eddie. Steve helps the two of you and pushes his jeans down his thighs, the head of his cock threatening to slide out of the slit in his briefs. Eddie's watching his face for a moment before hooking his fingers under Steve's boxers and pulling them down.

Steve's cock is thick and hard, dripping at the tip. You whimper at the sight of him, rubbing your thighs together as your clit starts to throb. Steve snatches up your free hand once again, spitting into your palm before bringing your hand to his cock. You wrap your fingers around the base and are back to repeating the same motions on the two boys.

You wrap your lips around Eddie's cock once again, his length sliding down your throat as he fucks into your warm mouth. You notice his fingers still linger on Steve's thigh, he's short circuiting at the combination of the both of you. "You are uh.... Fuck, she wasn't lying." Steve's chest puffs up with pride as the two of you both admire how thick his cock is.

There's a giggle coming out of you that you just can't help though the sound gets muffled by Eddie's cock.

This is crazy.

Eddie whines as you pull off of his cock once again but God are you a vision. Spit dribbling down your chin, eyes wide and dark with lust. You look over and pout at your boyfriend as your wrist starts to slow its pace on both of them. He knows exactly what that look means - You're needy. Rightfully so too.

It takes mere seconds from the moment your attentive boyfriend picks up on your queue for the situation to completely change. He's pushing back against the couch and kicking his jeans fully off before ushering Eddie away from you. Eddie who's almost skittish, desperately wanting to make sure he doesn't overstep and doing as he's told.

He watches as Steve pulls you up from the ground, a hand instantly going to the back of your neck as he pulls you into a feverish kiss. You instantly melt against his chest, a mess of parted lips and breathy moans and whimpers that are going right through him. There's a hand slipping into your pants, Steve's nimble fingers making quick work of cupping over your heat.

Steve moans into your mouth while his cock twitches against your thigh, "Baby, you let yourself get this wet without letting me know?" You pathetically nod, desperately gripping onto Steve's arms as he drags a finger between your folds. "Bet this pussy wants to be fucked so bad, huh?" That finger presses into you now without warning and Steve bucks his hips at the same time you clenched around his digit. "Fuck, can feel how needy you are."

Eddie's going to fucking combust.

Your boyfriend doesn't even look away from you as he pats his hand against your pussy, kissing you once more before just talking into the abyss. "We need a bed."

And that's how you end up down the hallway with Steve pushing you back against this shitty bed, the springs whining under you as you bounce against the thin padding. Eddie can't help but think how much better you deserve but they're working with what they've got for now. Your pants and underwear are being ripped off by Steve and Eddie nearly creams himself at the sight of your bare pussy exposed to them both.

Your feet are planted far apart, legs falling open to give them both a good look. Their gazes are intense and empowering as you reach a hand down to toy with your clit, giving them a dramatic moan as you do. Someone needs to check Eddie's pulse because he's half convinced he died the other night and this is just some weird section of Heaven.

Steve steps over to Eddie, clapping a hand against his shoulder before reaching down to tug his shirt off of his slender frame. "I'll let you go first since you've never fucked before but you better treat her, Muson. I know my girl, I'll know if you don't do a good job, yeah?"

He's stumbling over to you, jaw slack and all he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears as he watches you slide two fingers into yourself. "Jesus Christ...." You do your best to look like every man's dream porno at that moment - Pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, fluttering your eyelashes, whining while you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples. "Need you to fuck me so bad, Eddie."

Eddie’s looking around the room on the hunt for what you can only assume is a condom. Panic playing across his face much to both you and Steve’s entertainment. Your boyfriend’s laughing besides him, “She’s on the pill.” To which you nod eagerly, “Knew from the first time Stevie and I hooked up I had to be.”

The sound of a sharp smack fills the room as Steve playfully spanks his hand against Eddie's ass before moving to stand next to the two of you at the foot of the bed. He's leaning in to press a kiss against your lips, roughly grabbing at the breast you weren't teasing while Eddie moves to kneel on the bed between your legs. "He's gonna take good care of you, Baby."

Your brain is fuzzy. Your body is needy. Something needs to give.

Eddie’s hovering over you now, his hair hanging down and tickling your face. “Here, m’gonna take care of you.” You’re pushing your fingers back through his hair, gathering it up in your fist before sliding the elastic from your wrist and giving him a haphazard ponytail. It’s the best you can do given the circumstances.

Remember how Eddie was afraid he’d never feel affection like he wanted to? That moment threw his fears out the window. You were so gentle with him, so caring. It’s making his heart have this painful flutter and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to convey to you how much this night means to him.

You’re leaning up, brushing your lips along his which brings Eddie out of his train of thought. “You sure you wanna do this? No pressure, Honey. We can all go to bed and act like none of this happened.” None of this happened? There’s no way he could ever forget tonight. He’s shaking his head, catching your lips in another kiss while lowering his hips so your bodies are flush together. Eddie’s moaning into your mouth at the feeling of your core along his length, instinctively rutting himself against you. You snake your arms around his chest, holding him close to you while he balances himself with one elbow digging into the bed, his other hand reaching down to fist around himself.

There’s a choked out moan coming from the boy as the head of his cock pushes into you. Eddie has to pause his motions and regroup himself before starting to sink in further. This is a life altering experience for him... He refuses to be nothing more than a virgin who can only last thirty seconds in your mind.

You arch your hips up to meet him halfway, both of you adjusting to the sensation. Eddie’s staring down at you as though he’d lasso the moon and bring it down to Earth if it would do so much as make you smile... Maybe he needs to remind himself that you’re taken and this is only happening due to the oddest set of circumstances ever experienced.

Hey, sue him, but maybe he doesn’t remind himself at all.

Maybe as his hips rock into you, with a motion that isn’t exactly coordinated but it’s still driving you wild, he allows himself to savor the affection you give. The way you’re trying to fight the urge to close your eyes because you don’t want to miss a second of his expression. The way his name falls from your lips.

Like Steve said earlier, sometimes you just can’t help yourself.

“How does she feel, Munson?”

“Like fuckin’ heaven.”

Eddie’s rutting himself up into you, trying to decide between just staying buried so deep or using every last breath he has begging you to move with him. His body is short circuiting and he just knows for a fact that this probably isn’t the best fuck you’ve ever had but as far as he’s concerned? Sex has never felt better for anyone in the world than how he feels right now. You’re warm and wet, practically soaking everything that touches where the two of you are connected.

He’s letting out a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into your sloppy pussy and Steve finds himself entertained as he watches Eddie take on the role he normally gets you in. Babbling and begging. Steve’s laughing to himself before coming to stand behind Eddie. He’s holding his hands higher on Eddie’s hips, silently directing the boy on how to fuck you better.

To his credit - Eddie is a quick learner.

He’s capturing your lips in a gentle kiss - you can tell he’s been getting better at kissing over the course of the night. Your arms wrap tight around his neck, slowly beginning to drag your hips a few inches up and almost lazily fucking yourself on Eddie.

Eddie who can’t see straight anymore and isn’t sure his heart has stopped beating.

“Holy shit, holy fuck, holy fucking shit.”

You can tell by his frantic words that he’s getting closer. You’re not sure how much longer he has left in him so you make a show of arching your back into him, grabbing ahold of his hair and his bicep with the other hand. Fluttering yourself around his length before giving a dramatic gasp and letting your ‘orgasm’ wash over you. This part of the night was about letting Eddie use you for his pleasure, you didn’t want him to look back and think you didn’t enjoy yourself.

Steve knows you, knows your body. He knows what you’re up to and will make sure you’re well taken care of.

And it does work. Eddie’s hips start sputtering while he mutters out, “Holy shit that was so hot.” He’s barely got time to fuck another few strokes into you before he’s finishing without warning. Chasing the feeling by rocking himself through his orgasm, finishing deep inside of you. Partly kicking himself in the ass because he doesn’t want this experience to be over already.

It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, leaning in to kiss you and mutter out praises and thank you’s in between every kiss. In that moment he’s no longer on the run, there’s no longer his life imploding around him. He gets to just be Eddie and there’s not enough words in the English language to convey how much that means to him. Eddie gives you one final kiss before he's whining and pulling out, the cool air against his wet and sensitive cock causing him to hiss.

You only have but seconds to recover before you feel your boyfriend’s touch.

Steve grabs a hold of your ankles, throwing them both over his shoulders before he leans in for his turn to kiss you. It's sloppy and messy and you haven't had a coherent thought since you laid down on this bed so you can only imagine what kissing you is like but he's not complaining. He pulls back to get a good look at you, giving himself confirmation that you were still doing okay. Fucked out and blissful, he knows you're thriving probably more than you should be but you didn't feel any shame.

He pulls even further back to continue his examination, stopping at the sight of you spread open for him, marveling at the way Eddie’s cum drips out of you. He’s used to seeing his own, used to scooping it up and pushing it back inside of you, but something about seeing you filled up by another man… It’s bringing out a weird, feral part of Steve that he doesn’t quite comprehend.

You're whining and grabbing a hold of his waist as you feel the thick head of Steve's cock press against your sensitive hole, your puffy pussy throbbing even harder than you thought possible. "Getting fucked twice in one night... Just know you're happy, aren't you? Mhm, fuck, this greedy little cunt was made to be wrapped around my cock. Might share it every now and then but you know where you belong, don't you?" Your nails dig into Steve's shoulders and he chuckles as you arch your hips up, desperate to get him inside of you.

"Stevie, please. Need to feel you." And he doesn't make you ask twice. You're gasping and thrashing against the bed as Steve stretches you out. Even after Eddie fucked you it still took a second for you to adjust to how girthy he was. There's a mixture of your wetness and Eddie's cum being pushed out around his cock as he buries himself into you, the sensation driving him wild.

He’s slowly dragging himself back out of you, much to your protest. Taking the head of his cock through the cum that’s leaked out, collecting it on himself before lining up and pushing into you with one firm thrust. The sinful sound of Steve stretching out your wet pussy filling the room. He’s letting you relax under him while those strong arms hold you close to him, body going lax.

“So fucking full. Can’t think straight. Two pretty boys in me… S’good.”

Every word and sound you could make is caught in your throat, effectively rendering you dead silent. You don’t know who noticed your fingers working your clit first but Eddie’s tight grip on your wrist is keeping you from continuing. “Absolutely not.”

Eddie’s watching Steve’s expression for any hint of disgust or disapproval. There’s none. Instead he’s giving Eddie a small nod of encouragement. There’s a shift in the energy in the air.

You feel Eddie shuffle on the bed, his warm breath on your stomach, and all of a sudden you see the lights of Heaven when you feel Eddie’s tongue lapping at your clit while Steve picks up the pace of fucking into you.

Even in your turned on bliss, you’re not missing the fact that Eddie’s tongue is accidentally brushing over Steve’s cock. By the look on Steve’s face, he doesn’t quite mind the extra attention either.

“You’re both such pretty boys. Thank you for taking care of me so fucking good. No one else can treat this pussy like you two.”

Your words make Steve’s hips lose their pace, pulling out a little too far which causes him to slip between your folds and up towards your clit. Towards Eddie’s open mouth. His tongue already out for your clit when suddenly he has the firm weight of Steve fuckin’ Harrington’s cock in his mouth.

And they’re both moaning.

Neither pulling away.

Steve’s pumping himself further into Eddie’s mouth before he truly realizes what he’s doing, his balls tightening up for a second at the new sensation. You want to cry out, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing after being so deliciously filled. But you know better. You don’t want to disrupt the sight.

It’s Steve who jerks his hips back first, pulling out of Eddie’s mouth. “Fuck, bro. Sorry.” But he wasn’t sorry, not really. The only thing Eddie wants him to be sorry about is pulling out of his throat. You’re dripping wet. Like, wet spot in the bed because of your pussy wet. Steve’s losing a bit of that friction feeling and he doesn’t want you to be missing it too. That’s what he tells himself at least.

Tells himself that you need to be cleaned up so this night feels better for you.

Right?

So he’s taking a hold of his cock, fist wrapping around the base. “You uh, -… You wanna clean her up for me, Munson?” An offering to Eddie. He can either go right for your pussy and pretend that Steve wasn’t asking to suck him off.

And you’re not even offended when he picks Steve. Because the sight of Eddie Munson sucking you off of Steve’s dick?

Steve’s moaning as Eddie wraps his lips around his cock. Swirling his tongue around the tip before working on taking more length. Your fingers are back on your pussy and fuck you really did need to be cleaned up. You’ve got two fingers pushed into yourself, and while it doesn’t match how full you just felt, the view makes up for it.

The sight doesn’t last long, Steve pulling himself out of Eddie’s mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’. “Not gonna last much longer if we keep this up.” And to his credit, Eddie’s pouting. His fingers touching his lips as he remembers the feeling but he’s nodding nonetheless.

Your nails are digging into Steve’s back, clinging to him as if he were a lifeboat while you're drowning in all these sensations. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes and Steve’s cupping your face to wipe them away while Eddie adjusts himself until the three of you are as comfortable as possible. There’s Eddie’s lips at the back of your shoulder pressing a tender kiss as Steve speaks, “Words. How are you doing? Too much?”

It takes you a moment to collect yourself but you’re finally able to muster up a lopsided smile for him, nodding with your head bumping against Eddie’s. “Good, so good. Thank you for checking on me.” You slide a hand through the hair on the nape of Eddie’s neck, giving him a kiss as Steve pushes back into you.

You only get a few more kisses before Eddie has to pull back - He’s starting to get hard again and it hurts. He decides he has to try even harder to make sure he gets out of this alive just on the off chance you two ever invite him in again.

Steve takes this as his chance to lean in, pressing his chest flat against yours as he bends you in half. There’s a warm hand cupping your jaw and you wait until he gets closer, your lips finally touching so you’re able to keep your voice low. “Always so good to me, Stevie. Treat me so well… Treat this pussy so good. Love belonging to you.”

He’s groaning into your mouth, savoring every word you give him. “Gonna make my pretty girl cum…. Can feel how bad you need me. Fuck, squeezing me so tight.” Steve starts to pick up the pace and jackhammers himself into you. Relentless, claiming. All you can do is lay there and take your boyfriend. He knows how bad you need to finish, how badly you need him. The coarse pubes at the base of his cock keep brushing against your overstimulated clit and you cry out, arching your back up into him as you start to black out from this level of pleasure. Spots in your vision, no thoughts in your head. Just pure pleasure taking over your body.

There’s not much warning when your orgasm finally hits your body. Your back arching off of the bed and legs starting to shake as it vibrates through every inch of your being. The loud, lewd sounds coming out of you making everyone thankful they’re so far into the woods. Steve’s slowing his pace while he fucks you through the sensation, warm arms wrapping around your body after he drops your legs to let them fall to the side of you two. He’s shushing you, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck. “That’s it, Baby. Let go, I’ve got you. Such a good girl for me.”

Steve's orgasm comes quickly after yours, the spasms of your core milking it out of him. You know he's going to be scratched and bruised tomorrow morning from the way you're desperately clinging to him at the feeling of being so, so full. You wanna offer him the same reassurance but there’s nothing able to come out of you except a mess of ‘Love you. Love you so much’ which makes his heart tug.

He’s pulling back after the two of you have a moment to collect yourselves, looking at you all blissed out and your body fully relaxed after having been used as much as one could probably withstand. Your head is still tilted back against the pillow, his fingers pushing through your hair as it keeps sticking to your damp forehead each time you adjust. It’s kind of endearing how gentle he’s being with you considering how filthy the three of you have been.

Your whines fill the room as Steve pulls out of you, falling flat against the bed next to you. His fingers tangle together with yours as he still craves your touch.

Eddie had left the room towards the end of your intercourse - The moment so intimate that he felt as though he was intruding. He’s sneaking back in, giving the sight of you two sprawled out on the bed a fond little smile as he sits down cups of water on the side table. The least he could do was attempt to take care of the both of you the best he could.

He’s stepping over to stand between the two of you, a warm hand cupping your knees to give them a gentle squeeze. That’s when this sneaky little idea comes to Eddie. Your eyes are closed, giving an appreciative hum at the affection felt between Steve’s touch and Eddie rubbing his hand higher along your thighs.

It’s quiet for a moment as Steve lays on his back next to you. One hand behind his head, the other grabbing you still the only warning you get is a shuffling on the bed before -

“Holy fuck, Eddie.”

His head is between your thighs, tongue dragging right between your folds. Your back is arching while your hands come down to lace in his hair. Steve’s slacked jaw, watching as Eddie begins licking you out. His cock is giving a painful twitch, still sensitive but it’s a damn fine sight.

Eddie’s dipping his tongue into you, curling it just right to collect whatever he can get. Your hips are starting to rock up against his face but the sensation is just too much. He takes your choked out whimpers as a sign. Pulling away from you with this practically pornographic pop of his lips as his suction is lost against you. His lips are shiny, eyes trained on Steve.

You watch as Eddie shuffles forward, reaching out to cup Steve’s chin. The sight above you? It’s addicting. Eddie’s thumb drags across Steve’s lips and he’s quickly letting his jaw fall open under the touch.

Eddie’s leaning forward and you gasp as he spits into Steve’s mouth. A mixture of you, Eddie, and Steve being shared between the two. Steve’s groaning and your eyes are trained on his neck as you watch him swallow.

Next there’s Eddie’s warm hand around your throat. His eyes are so playful, so cocky as he looks down at you. You know what’s expected of you and open your mouth before you’re asked. The reward? Eddie’s hand tightening around your throat. You’re reaching out to grab his hip, nails digging into his flesh while he leans over you a bit more to get the angle right. Like he said earlier, he doesn’t want anything going to waste.

Eddie’s spitting the rest of what he has into your mouth, his hand coming up from your throat so his thumb can come between your lips. You close your mouth around it, Eddie feeling as you swallow what was given to you.“Uh -“ Eddie’s cheeks go this pretty shade of pink and he refuses to look at either of you, “Not to make this all weird and shit, but thank you guys for doing that with me. Never fuckin’ expected to lose my virginity to Steve Harrington and his hot ass girlfriend. But it was good.”

#can't believe she's finally done eeeee #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steddie x y/n #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #e.m.♡#s.h. ♡#steve harrington

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kentopedia · 8 months

Text

♰ pain reliever — okkotsu yuuta

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 2 - vampire!yuuta

your vampire boyfriend can't resist the taste of you during a certain time of the month

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, smut, period sex, vampire!yuuta, cunnilingus, blood drinking, slight teasing — 2.2k

a steady ache in your abdomen pulls you out of your previously deep sleep, the dull throb increasing with every second. it’s the middle of the night, and your eyes are still heavy with exhaustion, the back of your eyelids burning when you try to squeeze them shut once more.

though, no matter how many times you flip to the other side, the pain won’t subside, not even a little bit. you’re left curling into a ball, glaring at the emptiness of the dark.

beside you, the bed is empty, though that wasn’t unusual for the middle of the night. still, it would’ve been nice to curl up into another body, to feel your boyfriend’s large palm rub over your stomach, in the hopes that it would ease the cramps.

you shift onto your stomach and check your phone, already missing yuuta. it’s just a little over three, but there’s no messages from him, no indication as to where he’d gone for the evening.

you contemplate calling him; but when your finger hovers over his name, you click your phone off and sigh. they’re just cramps—nothing you can’t handle on your own. this time of the month had come and gone a hundred times before. you just need a heating pad and some pain reliever, and that should be enough to lull you back to sleep.

with eyes that are half-shut, you lazily slump towards the door, feeling far too much like a zombie. the floor is cold under your bare feet, and you shiver, picking yuuta’s sweatshirt up off the edge of the bed to throw it on.

the moment you open the bedroom door, a wave of overwhelming perfume assaults your senses, the mixture one of every fall aroma. it combines into a cloud of smoke and wax, and its too much, far too much. the smells nearly have you choking.

in the living room, there are thirty different flames lit, spread across the surfaces. they illuminate the room with a haunting glow, showcasing yuuta, who sits in the corner of the sofa, contemplative.

“yuuta?” you say, calling out his name. he clenches his jaw but keeps his eyes forward. with his acute hearing, he’d probably heard the breath you took when you woke up, and every movement you’d made after that. “the candles are giving me a headache, baby.” your eyes begin to water from the smoke in the air, and one by one, you start to blow them out.

“no!” yuuta exclaims, and when you turn, his irises are darker, wide as they watch you move around. “leave them.”

you frown, but blow another one out as yuuta squeezes his palms to his side. his back goes taut, straightening as tension stretches him thin.

“it’ll just make me nauseous.” there’s a sour taste growing in your mouth, a pain in your temple. you reach for the final three candles. they aren’t as strong, but they still fill the air, a culmination of pumpkin, vanilla and coffee. “i started my period.”

yuuta’s eyes flash as he watches you bend over to blow out one of the candles, your lips puckering, before you move to the last flame. his gaze is careful, considering as your little exhale extinguishes the fire.

“i know,” yuuta says, grabbing your wrist before you can blow out the final flames. his dark locks are loose, falling over his paler skin as he licks his lips. a sharp gaze pins you, tracing from your forehead to your chin. “i could smell you all the way from the bedroom.”

you blink, swallowing at his predatory eyes, the way his pupils darken, sharp white canines curling over his lips. it’s easy to forget, truly, how dangerous he is. he’s sweet and caring—not like the vampires you’ve seen in the movies—but he is, still, a vampire.

yuuta lures you in, inching you closer until you’re beside him on the couch, your breath the only sound between you. “i thought you were…” you trail off, a part of your voice cracking. “didn’t you go hunt?”

it seems like a strange word to say, but you couldn’t think of a better one. you suppose, at the end of the day, he is more of a creature than a man. his instincts ones of bloodlust, ones that he has to fight against every moment that he’s with you.

“couldn’t leave,” he says, his voice coming out clipped. “tried to, but i just kept thinking of your sweet blood. tastes so good.” his hand rests on your thigh, fingers rubbing small circles near your hip. “are your cramps getting bad?”

you look at him from under your lashes as he licks his lips, pushing you backward slowly, until your head hits the arm of the sofa. the palm on your body is cold, but it does little to cool your heated skin.

“it hurts,” you finally nod, breathing heavily as he smiles, sympathetic to your pain.

“let me help,” yuuta inches a finger into your waistband, slowly dragging down your shorts. his tongue darts out across his lip, hungrily, like he might have trouble controlling his urge to devour you.

you swallow. when you still him with a touch to his wrist, he simply cocks his head, curious, his fingers still resting between your shorts.

“get a towel first,” you say, but the request is ignored. he slides the shorts completely off, lowering his head. “you’ll make a mess.”

yuuta ignores you, salivating as he kisses from the crevice of your knee, up your thigh. he inhales deeply against your hipbone, the strong aroma of your arousal and blood almost too much for him.

bowing his head, he presses his lips to your cunt, licking you through your panties, lapping at the spot of blood that had already begun to stain there. “i don’t plan on wasting a drop, princess.”

a stuttering breath leaves you, and your head falls back as yuuta kisses you softly over the cotton. his tongue flicks out, warm and wet, licking a stripe through your folds. the thin piece of cloth sucks into them, blood seeping through.

“yuuta,” you whine, impatient he takes his time with you, his long fangs catching on the flimsy underwear.

“don’t want to go too fast.” finally, he glances up, stares at you with hungry, black eyes. yuuta drags your panties off, but he’s far too slow, teasing you. “you know how much i love sucking the blood from your pretty pussy, hm?” his voice comes out in a near growl, and his grip grows tight around your knees, spreading your legs further. “wait for it all month.”

he runs a tongue over sharp white teeth, hungry at the sight of you spread out, bloody and bare, just for him.

“even when it hurts?” you ask in a small voice, but yuuta smiles, his thick eyelashes fluttering. his dark lips curl at the corners, more mocking than kind, drinking you in.

“it won’t hurt for long, love.” yuuta kisses the inside of your thighs, licking every inch of skin he can manage to get his tongue on. “besides, you get turned on so easily when you’re bleeding.”

he pushes his tongue against your entrance, curling over your wet arousal. the kisses are with such care, reminiscent of the sweet boy you’re used to loving, the one who stumbles over his words and still flushes hot when you kiss him. though, that familiarity only lasts for a moment. once yuuta gets a taste of you, his hunger doubles.

he sucks, hard, his lips around your clit, the pressure sending a wave of desire through your body. you reach down and grip his dark locks, in any attempt to guide him within your thighs. though, you’re under yuuta’s control completely, and he licks deep in you, gathering the clots of blood onto his tongue.

“fuck,” he hums against your cunt, his nose nudging your clit as he curses. the vibrations of his words shake you, and instinctively, your thighs try to squeeze together. but yuuta is stronger than you—much stronger—and he keeps them spread apart, fingers leaving tiny imprints on your skin. “you’re so sweet. so good for me. never tasted anyone like you before.” he praises, but its hard for him to speak as he fucks his tongue into you, lapping at your juices like its the nectar of gods.

you can’t think of anything to say, and a soft whimper leaves your lips, the sound of his name barely audible with your exhale. yuuta’s fangs are smooth against your hot body, almost soothing as he runs his tongue along your folds.

“i’ll make the the cramps go away.” he says. yuuta’s been replaced by a much cockier, confident version of the occasionally awkward vampire. his fangs gleam as he looks up at you, and your eyes flutter shut, hardly able to focus on the sight of him sucking at your bloody pussy. “promise, princess. it’s the least i can do when you keep me so well-fed.”

you nod, humming, but the sound is lost as yuuta dives back down, the blood coating his lips, his nose, dark against his chin. he takes both your thighs and throws them over his shoulder, reaching deeper in your hole as you moan, far too sensuously for the silent room.

“yuuta—” you start, but you don’t remember it feeling this good before, you don’t remember pain ever being taken from you so easily. the words die, and you begin them again. “your tongue—”

he smiles, tightening his grip as he sucks faster, harder. “feels better?”

“almost,” you say, breathless. “it’s… not enough.”

yuuta groans, but he pulls back, licking the blood off his lips. “course it’s not,” he says. “so greedy, sometimes.” he presses, small, quick kisses across your thigh, teeth grazing the skin, and slides a finger into you; then another.

his fingers are long, far longer than his tongue, and he stretches you, your walls sucking them right back in. with a gasp, you squeeze your thighs around his head, but yuuta just sighs.

“please,” he says, teeth against the soft skin of your thigh. “please, can i?”

he’s close to begging, even though you’re the one who’s desperate, and you nod, needing him to curl farther into you, to reach the spot that’s deep within you. the sounds grow louder, lewd as his fingers sink in and out of you, so thick within your tight cunt.

yuuta bites you, then, sinks his fangs into your thigh, and you nearly scream, arching up into him as you start to tremble.

his usually white teeth stain a deep scarlet, and he groans against your body, pulling back to watch you. “want you to cum for me, nice and hard, okay baby? we gotta get rid of those cramps.” he drinks from your thigh again, and you’re so close, not even realizing that you’re thrusting your hips up to meet his fingers as he goes inside you.

“y-yuuta” you say, taking two hard breaths when he abandons the open wound on your thigh, and returns to sucking your clit, rubbing you with just enough force. the ache builds up and up, and you’re right on the ledge, about to fall over, his name leaving your lips once more in a cry.

“that’s it,” he says, pumping in and out of you, graceful and heavy. “oh you’re so pretty, you know that? i’ve lived for centuries, and in all that time, i’ve never seen anyone look as perfect as you when they cum.”

you break then, squeezing his fingers as babbled words leave your lips in a moan. your entire body shakes, convulsing as you reach blissful release, and you slump back on the couch, your head hitting the arm rest.

yuuta slides his fingers out of you slowly, and then he sticks them in his own mouth, licking every drop of your blood and juices from his hand. his eyes are blown wide with lust, hazy and dark as he drinks you up.

“i can’t get enough of you,” he says, his voice so hoarse that the words are almost nothing at all. “my sweet little human girl.” yuuta doesn’t move, but he’s so lost in the taste of you, even as his cock strains hard against his flannel pajama pants. “just right there for the taking. a warm body full of the most delicious blood. mine.”

you pull him close then, needing to kiss him, feeling his hard teeth bump against your own. he tastes metallic; it’s not as good as he makes it out to be. still, if it drives him crazy, turns him into an absolute addict from just the scent of you, you’ll gladly give him every drop he wants. a smile graces your lips as he groans into you, licking your mouth.

“yuuta?”

he pulls away for just a moment, blinking lust-blown eyes. “hm?”

“my cramps are gone.”

tags: @satohruu @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @annoyingpainterprincess

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

btw this was going to be a toji fic and then he lost the poll ... i did not know there were so many yuuta fans following me

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

Text

My Missing Piece

616!Wanda x 199999!Fem!Reader

Summary: You've lost your wife Wanda. Leaving you alone with your twin boys to try and pick up the pieces. What happens when the Scarlet Witch comes looking for her boys?

Word Count: 10.4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, R calls W Mommy, W uses pet names, enchanted strap use, Dom!Wanda, sub!reader, overstimulation, magic restraints, depressive thoughts/episodes.

A/N: Made this forever ago and forgot about it until like two days ago lol. I really liked the idea of this so I hope you guys enjoy~ Also I decided that world 199999 (which was the original MCU world number before MoM turned it to 616) is just a parallel world where no one died :)

Every night after tucking my boys, Billy and Tommy in to bed, I have a bit of me time. Sometimes I watch TV, sometimes I'll scroll through social media on my phone, sometimes I'll write because I was told that was supposed to help with grief, it hasn't so far, what helps the most is when I talk to her before bed, "I miss you Wands...our boys miss you too...of course they love their Mama, but you're their Mommy. You carried them for nine months, you were in labor for just over a day." Tommy was born first 12 minutes ahead of his brother Billy. "You gave so much for our boys and our life here and I wish you had never said yes to that mission after all these years..." I break down, quiet sobs wrack me as I curl up on her side of the bed. It still smells like her.

I let sleep take me as I have the same dream I do every night. Wanda, but not Wanda...some twisted version of her with black fingers, and she just seems off, but she's searching, as if she can see me? She's looking for our boys. Every morning just as she finds me, us, I wake up. Dried tears on my cheeks and my eyes red. The bags under my eyes have never been darker, but I cover them up as I get out of bed to start yet another day without my wife.

The alarm blares through the quiet of the room, jolting me awake from my restless slumber. With a heavy sigh, I reach over to silence it, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Another day begins, much like every other since she left us.

I stumble out of bed, the weight of grief still heavy on my shoulders as I move through the motions of the morning routine. It's a struggle to keep it together, but I have to be strong for Billy and Tommy. They need me, even though every fiber of my being aches for her presence.

As I make my way downstairs, the memories flood back, hitting me like a tidal wave. Wanda was always the light in our lives, her laughter echoing through the halls, her warmth enveloping us like a comforting embrace. But now, there's only emptiness.

I try to push the thoughts aside as I prepare breakfast for the boys, forcing a smile as they bound into the kitchen, their youthful energy a stark contrast to my own weariness. They chatter excitedly about school and friends, oblivious to the pain that lingers beneath the surface.

After they've eaten and headed off to catch the bus, I sink into the solitude of the empty house once more. It's in these quiet moments that the ache is most palpable, the absence of her presence a constant reminder of all that we've lost.

I find myself drawn to her belongings, unable to resist the pull of her memory. Running my fingers over the familiar objects, I'm transported back to happier times, when our love felt invincible, untouchable by the darkness that now threatens to consume me.

But amidst the despair, there's a flicker of something else. A determination, a resolve to keep going, if not for myself then for her. She wouldn't want me to wallow in sorrow, to let the grief consume me. She'd want me to live, to cherish the memories we shared and find solace in the love that still remains.

With a deep breath, I push myself to my feet, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall. Today may be another struggle, another battle against the pain, but I refuse to let it defeat me. For Wanda, for our boys, I'll find the strength to carry on, one day at a time.

The day went by quickly and soon enough the boys were home filling up our home with noise once more,

"Boys homework first or no ice cream!" I call from the kitchen when I hear them start to fight over player one controller.

"Awww but Mama!" They whined.

"So you boys don't want ice cream tomorrow night either I see." I hear them grumble and then the TV go off, the sound of the dining room chairs scraping as I look over my shoulder to see they're working. "There are my good boys." I turn back smiling as I carry on with prepping dinner. Suddenly something feels off. A pit in my stomach starts forming and I feel eyes on me, not the boys though these feel predatory.

I look up and through the window I don't see my own reflection, I see Wanda, the same one I see in my dreams.

My heart leaps into my throat as I freeze, the knife in my hand forgotten as I stare wide-eyed at the impossible sight before me. It's her, but it's not. The twisted version from my nightmares, black fingers reaching out like tendrils of darkness, eyes filled with a hunger I can't comprehend.

I feel a chill run down my spine as her gaze locks onto mine, a shiver of fear coursing through my veins. Instinctively, I reach for the pendant hanging around my neck, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the purple power stone embedded within. It's a comforting weight, a reminder of the power that pulses through me, but even it feels insignificant in the face of this apparition.

"What do you want?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. But she doesn't answer, only continues to stare, her presence suffocating in its intensity.

Desperation claws at the edges of my mind as I struggle to make sense of the situation. Is this some kind of illusion, a trick of the mind brought on by grief and exhaustion? Or is she truly here, some twisted echo of the woman I loved?

Before I can gather my thoughts, a sudden crash from the dining room snaps me back to reality. The boys, my precious boys, oblivious to the danger that lurks just beyond our walls. With a surge of adrenaline, I lunge forward, grabbing the nearest weapon within reach.

But as I turn back to face the window, she's gone, vanished into thin air like a wisp of smoke. The only evidence of her presence is the lingering sense of unease that hangs heavy in the air.

I rush to the dining room, relief flooding through me as I find the boys unharmed, their laughter filling the room once more. But even as I hold them close, a sense of dread lingers, a silent reminder that darkness still lurks just beyond the edges of our reality.

"Mama is everything okay?" Billy asks as I hold them, kissing the top of their heads.

"I just thought one of you got hurt. I'm happy you boys aren't." I lie to them as to not worry them, but Billy looks at me trying to search my thoughts. "Hey no mind reading little man." I ruffle his hair. "Everything is fine. If you boys are finished you can play one game, dinner will be ready in 15 minutes." The minutes tick by slowly as I finish preparing dinner, the aroma of comfort food filling the air. I glance at the clock, realizing that my boys are engrossed in their game, blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling within me.

With a heavy sigh, I take a moment to compose myself before calling them to the table. As we gather for the meal, laughter and chatter resuming, I try to push the unsettling encounter out of my mind. But deep down, I know it's not over.

As we eat, the boys share stories from their day, their infectious joy momentarily easing the ache in my heart. I force a smile, savoring these small moments of normalcy in our fractured world.

After dinner, as the boys retreat to their rooms for the night, I find myself once again standing by the window, staring into the darkness beyond. The pit in my stomach returns, the unease settling in as I feel a presence lingering just out of sight.

The room is silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the night. I close my eyes, summoning the courage to speak the words that linger on the tip of my tongue.

"Wanda, if you're out there, if you can hear me, please... don't hide. I don't know what's happening, but I can't face it alone. I need you, now more than ever." My voice trembles with a mix of desperation and longing.

The air remains still, the response elusive. I wait in silence, hoping for some sign, some reassurance that I'm not losing my mind. But the universe remains silent, withholding its secrets.

"Gods I feel like I'm going crazy Wands...how am I supposed to do this without you?" I feel the hot tears in my eyes, streak down my cheeks then suddenly a loud bang from the living room, the sound of a portal. "Stephan? Is that you?" It wasn't uncommon for Stephan Strange to pop in and check on me and the boys. Stephan had lost his love many years ago. Before I reach the living room, I hear the familiar sound of heels clicking on my hard wood flooring. Suddenly I'm standing face to face with the Wanda I've seen in my dreams...."W-Wands?" I questioned,

"A version. I've lost something precious to me and I've come to get it back." I look her over. It's Wanda, but not mine. As I get closer, Her hair is a different shade, her eyes are a little less of an emerald green and more of a sea green, this Wanda has a scar on her forehead, just above her left eyebrow.

"Oh...what has your universe done to you Detka?" I ask softly reaching out and she grabs my wrist with a force.

"It took everything from me." She seethed. "I want my boys back. I'm taking them." She tosses me aside like I'm nothing. Luckily with the power stone embedded in my chest. I push back, barreling back into her. Tackling her to the ground until I'm on top of her and it's then that she notices my stone, "You have the power stone...how? That's impossible. I've seen it kill people that touch it.

"I'm tough that's why my Wanda loved me." I had her pinned and used my own magic to subdue her. "I've been called the Violet Witch here for years. It became my code name."

"That can't be..." I give her a questioning look. "I'm the Scarlet Witch." She tells me, the scarlet witch? Wanda never said anything...? I stumble back off of her, reeling, "The Scarlet Witch." I let out a dry chuckle, "It makes sense, but I can't let you take my boys. If I loose them then That means I've lost my Wanda and them. I might as well die." I tell her,

"Wait so your Wanda is gone?" She asks. I nod,

"She was needed for a mission. I begged her not to go, we had retired from being Avengers 10 years ago when we found out she was pregnant. She told me everything would be fine. She promised me...and then suddenly I have Strange and Parker on my doorstep with Bucky and Sam behind them carry the casket." I feel my eyes blur as I walk over to the scarlet witch, "If you are another her then," I take her hands putting them up to my temples and ease my forehead onto her, letting my memories over the past ten years flood through her mind.

As our minds intertwine, I feel a rush of memories flooding into her consciousness. The love, the loss, the moments of joy and heartache that have shaped my existence since Wanda's departure. It's a whirlwind of emotions, a bittersweet symphony of love and grief that binds us together in ways I never thought possible.

For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, a glimmer of understanding amidst the chaos of her own turmoil. She sees the depth of my pain, the desperation to hold onto the fragments of a life that's slipping through my fingers.

But as quickly as it came, the moment passes, and she pulls away, her expression hardening once more. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of sympathy. "But my pain is just as real. I've lost everything too, and I'll do whatever it takes to reclaim what's mine."

I feel a pang of empathy for her, a shared sense of anguish that transcends the boundaries of our separate worlds. But beneath it all, there's a primal instinct, a fierce determination to protect my boys at all costs.

"I understand your pain," I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "But my boys are not yours to take. They belong here, with me, with their family."

She narrows her eyes, her resolve unwavering. "Then we're at an impasse," she says, her tone final. "I won't leave without them."

I take a step forward, meeting her gaze with steely determination. "Then I guess we'll just have to see who's stronger," I say, my voice echoing with a newfound resolve.

With that, the battle lines are drawn, two versions of Wanda Maximoff facing off against each other in a clash of wills and power. But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remains clear: no matter the outcome, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my boys and honor the memory of the woman I loved.

Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of pain and longing mirrored in their depths. The tear I wiped away lingers on her cheek, a testament to the shared sorrow we both carry. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, time seems to hang suspended.

"I... I don't know if I can stay," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. "But the offer, it means more than you can imagine. In my world, everything has crumbled, and I'm left with nothing but ashes and echoes of what once was."

I can feel the weight of her words, the burden of her grief, and I tighten my grip on her cheek, desperate to convey the sincerity of my plea. "Wanda, you don't have to face this alone. You're not just a version of her; you're your own person, with your own pain. But here, in this universe, you have a chance to rebuild, to find a new kind of family."

She opens her eyes, the sea-green gaze locking onto mine. There's a vulnerability in her expression, a crack in the stoic facade she wears. "I'm so tired," she admits, a raw honesty in her voice. "Tired of loss, tired of fighting. Maybe... maybe it's time for a different path."

A tentative smile plays on her lips, and my heart skips a beat. I wipe away another tear, this time a tear of relief. "You don't have to decide now," I say softly. "Take the time you need. But know that here, you have people who care, people who understand loss and are willing to help you carry the burden."

The room seems to brighten, as if the weight of the universe has lifted, if only for a moment. And in that moment, I see a glimmer of hope, a possibility for healing and connection that transcends the boundaries of our fractured worlds.

"I need to know one thing." She speaks, "Is Vision alive?" my brows furrow together.

"Vision? Who is that?" I ask genuinely confused.

"Wait...how did we meet here?" She asks.

"Oh well we met in Sokovia. We were protesting Stark together at a rally. Your brother flirted with me first and I never let him live that down especially when I married you and he was my best man." I smile at the memory. "Anyways, we were approached by Hydra and experimented on. They had the mind stone and the power stone. You and Pietro were exposed to the mind stone and I was too, but nothing happened unlike you two so they put me in a room with the power stone. It decided my chest was it's forever home. I ended up breaking us out from the Hydra base with the help of the Avengers who had caught word of the base. The three of us joined the Avengers and the rest is history." I tell her.

"So no Ultron? Sokovia didn't fly in the air? What about the Sokovia accords?" She throws question after question.

"No idea what you're talking about love. We carried on doing small missions, taking down hydra and radicals, but the three of us spent a long time training before they let us out doing field work." I tell her.

"Three? Is...is Pietro..?" Her voice breaks.

"Alive? Yeah of course." She falls to her knees and starts sobbing.

"Mommy?" Billy is at the middle of the stairs and the look in Wanda's eyes.

"Yeah baby it's Mommy." Wanda opened her arms and the little speedster found his way into her arms." Her eyes spilling over tears.

"Mama said you weren't coming back." Billy whispered.

"Mama didn't think I was, but Mommy always finds a way back to her boys." Wanda pulls back and looks up at me. "I'm staying...how could I say no when this is just about the most perfect version I could ask for?" I smile and start crying again as Tommy joins us before I can even blink. "Our little quick silver." Wanda smiles hugging the boys, her boys.

Tears of relief blur my vision as I watch Wanda embrace our boys, her boys, with a tenderness that speaks volumes. Billy and Tommy cling to her, their small arms wrapping around her tightly as if afraid she'll disappear again if they let go. And in that moment, I realize that this is where she belongs, with us, her family.

I join them on the floor, wrapping my arms around them all, unable to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions that threatens to consume me. "Welcome home, Wanda," I whisper, my voice choked with tears.

She looks up at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. "Thank you," she says softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Together, we sit in the warmth of our embrace, a makeshift family forged from the ashes of our shared past. And as the night stretches on, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a belief that no matter what trials may come, as long as we have each other, we can weather any storm.

========================

The days blurred together in a haze of longing and uncertainty, each moment tinged with the ache of what could have been. Wanda's presence in our home was both a blessing and a curse, a constant reminder of the love I had lost and the impossibility of reclaiming what was once mine.

I watched her interact with the boys, her smile forced but genuine, her laughter a melody that echoed through the halls. And yet, beneath the surface, I could sense the weight of her own grief, the burden of a past that refused to let her go.

I tried to be strong, to be there for her and the boys, but every smile felt like a lie, every laugh a hollow echo of the joy we once shared. And in the darkness of the night, when sleep eluded me and the silence pressed in like a vice, I found myself haunted by memories of another Wanda, a version of her that existed only in my dreams.

She was so close, yet so far away, a phantom presence that taunted me with what could have been. I longed to reach out to her, to hold her close and whisper words of love and comfort. But she was gone, lost to me in a reality that no longer existed.

And so I forced myself out of bed each morning, steeling myself against the pain that threatened to consume me. I buried myself in the routines of daily life, seeking solace in the mundane tasks that kept me tethered to reality.

But no matter how hard I tried to push her memory away, she lingered in the shadows of my mind, a ghostly specter that refused to be forgotten. And as the days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if I would ever find peace, if I would ever be able to let go of the love that still bound me to her, even across the vast expanse of the multiverse.

My Wanda and I had always had a policy of no mind reading since we could both do it, but this Wanda pokes at my thoughts constantly. Reminds me to smile through telepathy. One morning after a really good dream with another Wanda I can't get myself out of bed. Everything is too much. I know I had told her I'd be fine, but I'm not.

"Come on Y/N. Time to get up." I turn away from her, curling up into a ball further. "Y/N? What's wrong?" She asks.

"Nothing just tired. Just tell the boys I don't feel good. I need a Mama's day. So they can have a Mommy day. Take them out, get them ice cream. Do whatever you want." I grumble.

"Okay..." I close my eyes, letting myself drift back off just needed to see her again.

I don't know how much time has past when I'm being woken up, "Detka...come on wake up." My eyes blink into focus as I look at Wanda sitting above me and smile, forgetting my reality for a moment before my smile drops.

"What?" I ask.

"I dropped the boys off with their uncle for the weekend." I sit up straight,

"You did what!?" I screech.

"I left them with Pietro for the weekend. He was more than happy to have a boys weekend. Something about taking them to the lake?" Wanda mentions.

"He takes them every summer, usually it's a family thing and we all go." I tell Wanda.

"Well I figured you needed a Mommy and me weekend. I want to take you out. I want to get to know you. I already know my boys, but you. You're different, new, you aren't like Vision. You're human." She cups my cheek, smiling and I know it's a genuine smile. "I'm sure you've been feeling neglected and I wanted to try and do this sooner, but the boys were too excited to have me back." She says as I lean into her touch, Gods how I missed her touch. Though her fingers were no longer black her nails seemed to permanently stay black which made me laugh as I compared it to her emo phase which apparently this Wanda had one too.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. "For understanding."

She smiles, a warmth in her eyes that belies the weight of her own pain. "We're in this together. You don't have to carry the burden alone."

With her words echoing in my mind, I find the strength to push myself out of bed, to face the day with renewed determination. Wanda's offer of a Mommy and me weekend is a lifeline, a chance to rediscover myself amidst the chaos of grief and longing.

As we spend the day together, exploring the city and sharing stories of our pasts, I feel a sense of peace settle over me, a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for a future filled with love and laughter.

And as the sun sets on our day together, I realize that while Wanda may not be my Wanda, she's still a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, there's always someone willing to stand by our side, to offer a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on.

With her by my side, I know that no matter what the future may hold, I'll never have to face it alone. And as we head home, the weight of grief feels a little lighter, the shadows a little less daunting, as we embrace the possibility of a new beginning, together.

When we got back home, I pulled her to the couch, "Time to watch sitcoms." I tell her and her face lights up.

"Dick Van Dyke?" She asks.

"No Detka. I want to show you my favorite this time. It's a more modern one. It's an animated sitcom though is that okay?" I ask, realizing this Wanda maybe never experienced animated and only enjoyed live action ones.

"Of course dorogoya." Her accent popping out sent a wave through me that landed between my legs.

"O-okay good." I say and get 'Bob's Burgers' playing. As the show starts I settle in with a slight distance between us, but she pulls me in against her side.

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She asks looking down at me.

"Y-yeah...of course." I move slight, readjusting to get comfortable as we fit together like two missing puzzle pieces and I let out a sigh of relief, that feels like so much weight is taken off my shoulders.

As the episodes of "Bob's Burgers" played on, I found myself relaxing into Wanda's embrace, the tension that had been coiled tight within me slowly unraveling with each passing moment. Her warmth seeped into my bones, a comforting presence that chased away the lingering shadows of doubt and fear.

With her by my side, the laughter that bubbled up from the screen felt genuine, a reflection of the newfound camaraderie we shared. And as I stole glances at her profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the television, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment, the simplicity of just being together.

Her laughter mingled with mine, the sound music to my ears, a symphony of joy that filled the room with warmth and light. And as the credits rolled on the final episode, I turned to her, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "For today. For everything."

She returned my smile, her eyes shimmering with affection. "Anytime. I'm here for you, always."

I sat there staring at her, getting lost in her eyes so much that I don't even realize that she's leaning in until she's inches from my lips, she stops and I can feel her breath on me, my own hitching,

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She whispers in a husk against my lips.

"Y-yes." I manage out as she kisses me softly at first, testing the waters, but soon enough she's kissing hungrily, like she's starving for my taste now that's she's had a nibble. My fingers find their way into her hair, getting tangled in her auburn locks. One of her hands is on the back of my neck and the other is on my hip, gripping tightly, I can feel her nails digging in.

The world falls away as our lips meet in a fiery embrace, a collision of passion and longing that ignites every nerve ending in my body. Her kiss is intoxicating, a whirlwind of desire and need that sweeps me away in a tide of sensation.

I lose myself in the taste of her, the feel of her lips moving against mine with a hunger that mirrors my own. Our breath mingles in the space between us, hot and heavy with unspoken desire, as the intensity of our embrace grows with each passing moment.

Her hands are everywhere at once, trailing fire along my skin as she pulls me closer, her touch igniting a wildfire of sensation within me. I cling to her desperately, losing myself in the dizzying whirl of pleasure that consumes us both.

Time loses all meaning as we surrender to the passion that binds us together, lost in a world of our own making where nothing else matters but the fiery connection that burns between us.

And as we finally break apart, breathless and trembling, I find myself drowning in the depths of her gaze, a silent promise of more to come lingering in the air between us.

In that moment, I know that this is just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, passion, and endless possibility. And as we cling to each other in the aftermath of our shared passion, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected twist of fate that brought us together.

User

"Bed. Now." Her eyes lit up red for a moment. My Wanda had never been dominate, but this Wanda before me exuded dominance. I didn't waste any time getting up the stairs with her hot on my tail as we crashed into the bedroom, stumbling to the bed in a heat of kisses as she took the leading role.

The air crackled with electricity as we stumbled into the bedroom, our lips locked in a frenzy of passion and desire. Wanda's presence was intoxicating, her aura radiating power and dominance in a way I had never experienced before. And as she took the lead, pushing me onto the bed with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine, I felt myself surrendering to the raw intensity of the moment.

Her kisses were demanding, igniting a fire within me that burned hotter with each passing second. I moaned against her lips, my fingers tangling in her hair as I lost myself in the heat of the moment. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she explored every inch of my skin with a hunger that left me breathless.

With each caress, each whispered word of desire, I felt myself falling deeper under her spell, my body responding eagerly to her every touch. And as she claimed me as her own, I surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the ecstasy of our shared passion.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered but the intoxicating connection that bound us together. And as we moved as one, bodies entwined in a symphony of passion, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

The sensation of relinquishing control, of surrendering completely to someone else's will, was both exhilarating and liberating. As I basked in the warmth of Wanda's dominance, I found myself embracing a side of myself that I had long suppressed, a side that craved the thrill of submission and surrender.

With each touch, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the abyss of pleasure, my mind consumed by a haze of ecstasy that left me breathless and yearning for more. And as Wanda took the lead, guiding me with a firm yet gentle hand, I found myself surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the intoxicating dance of pleasure and desire.

In her arms, I felt safe, cherished, and utterly alive, my body responding eagerly to her every touch and caress. And as we moved together in a symphony of passion and desire, I embraced the freedom that came with letting go, allowing myself to be swept away by the currents of our shared passion.

For in that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful surrender where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as we surrendered to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with exploration, discovery, and boundless pleasure.

"Ah...Wands..." A smack hit my thigh making me jolt and yelp.

"That's not my name Detka." I feel my stomach flip. I call her this all the time. I have for years now, but never in this setting. Another smack and then her teeth find my skin, biting and sucking harshly, marking me.

"Mommy!" I can feel the smirk against my thigh.

"Good girl. Go on. Show me how needy you are baby girl." Her fingers find themselves between my folds as I move my hips against them.

The sensation of her touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through me, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. I arched my back, pressing against her fingers as they explored the depths of my desire, teasing and tantalizing with a skill that left me trembling with need.

"Please," I whimpered, the word spilling from my lips in a desperate plea for more. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she pushed me to the brink of ecstasy.

With each caress, each stroke, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of our shared passion. And as she whispered words of encouragement, urging me to let go and surrender to the pleasure that awaited, I felt myself surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as I succumbed to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

The sensation of Wanda's magic enveloping my wrists sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me, a tangible reminder of her power and dominance. I tested the restraints, feeling the firm hold of her magic as it kept me securely in place, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and arousal.

"Safe word. Green, yellow, red. Green is keep going, yellow slow down, red is stop." Wanda husked.

"Green, yellow, red," I echoed, committing the safe words to memory as a reassurance of our mutual trust and consent. With each breath, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the heady haze of pleasure, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

As Wanda continued to explore my body with a skillful touch that left me trembling with need, I surrendered myself to the ecstasy of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

And as the intensity of our passion grew with each passing moment, I found myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our connection. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

I don't think there is a place she hasn't marked on me in some way and after hours of edging until I couldn't form sentences she finally let me release. A string of moans ripping through me as the most intense waves roll over me as I drown in them, covered in sweat and her marks.

As the waves of pleasure washed over me, leaving me trembling and spent, I basked in the afterglow of our shared passion, my body still tingling with the echoes of our ecstasy. But just when I thought the intensity had peaked, I felt something pressing against my entrance, a sensation that sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through me.

I gasped, my body instinctively tensing as Wanda's touch ignited a new wave of desire within me. Her fingers teased and tantalized, exploring the depths of my desire with a skill that left me breathless and eager for more.

With each gentle thrust, I felt myself opening up to her, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation. The pleasure was exquisite, a symphony of ecstasy that echoed through every fiber of my being as I lost myself in the blissful abandon of our shared desire.

And as Wanda continued to guide me with a firm yet gentle hand, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our connection, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

Wanda soon enough needed more and so did I, "Faster...ha-ah...harder..." My breath hot against her, panting like a dog and that gave her the perfect opportunity to place her fingers in my mouth, gaging me with them, but I loved every second as I sucked on them, moaning against them as I tasted myself on them from earlier.

The sensation of Wanda's fingers in my mouth sent a thrill of arousal coursing through me, a heady mixture of pleasure and desire that left me panting and eager for more. With each thrust, each gasp of pleasure, I eagerly sucked on her fingers, tasting myself on them from earlier.

The taste was intoxicating, a symphony of desire that heightened the intensity of our connection as we moved together in perfect harmony. And as Wanda responded to my pleas with a fervor that mirrored my own, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

With each thrust, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our passion. And as we reached the peak of ecstasy together, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire. And as we surrendered ourselves to the ecstasy of our connection, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

As I slowly regained my senses, the cool towel on the back of my neck and Wanda's comforting presence helped anchor me in reality. Her magic gently caressed my mind, offering reassurance and care as I took in the aftermath of our intense encounter.

"Easy, Detka. You're okay," she murmured, and I found solace in the warmth of her embrace. I took the offered water bottle, sipping slowly as she continued to tend to my well-being. The realization that I had passed out from pleasure left me both surprised and amused.

"Never happened before," I admitted with a chuckle. "The other Wanda was more of a sub, so I was usually the one in control. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but being on the receiving end is a whole different experience."

Wanda's magic fetched a baggy shirt, and as I recognized it, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It was a shirt from a concert we attended when we were sixteen, a tangible link to our shared past.

"It's good to know not everything is different," I remarked, smiling as she kissed my temple.

In the warmth of our makeshift cocoon, surrounded by blankets and pillows, Wanda's magic weaving a protective barrier around us, we continued to watch 'Bob's Burgers.' However, my focus was no longer on the show; instead, I found myself captivated by the woman holding me close.

A sudden wave of fear and doubt crashed over me as I wondered if this intimate encounter was just a one-time gesture to alleviate my grief. The fear of being tossed aside after a momentary respite haunted my thoughts, threatening to overshadow the joy we had just shared.

Wanda, sensing my internal struggle, gently addressed my concerns. "Hey, woah, Detka. Those thoughts of yours are the farthest thing from the truth. Do not listen to them. I would never do that to my soulmate," she reassured me, her forehead finding mine in a tender gesture of connection.

"I love you, Y/N," she confessed, her words washing away my fears and opening the floodgates to a cascade of happy tears. "I love you, Wands! I didn't think I'd ever get to hear you say those words to me again," I admitted, clinging to her shirt as I sobbed into her.

Wanda's promises echoed in my heart, a vow to cherish and reaffirm our love every day. She kissed away my tears, each tender touch a testament to the depth of her commitment. "I promise I'm going to say it every chance I get. I'm never going to stop. I'm going to remind you every day how beautiful you are and how much I love you, and I promise I'm never going to leave. No missions. Nothing like that. I'll always be by your side," she declared, her own tears mingling with mine.

In that moment, as we drowned in each other's love, I knew that this second chance at happiness was a gift we would both cherish. And as Wanda whispered, "I love you," over and over, I felt the weight of my grief lifting, replaced by the warmth of a love that transcended time and space.

========

In the midst of my peaceful dream, I found myself enveloped in a sense of tranquility unlike any I had experienced in well over a year. Waking up with a smile on my face I turn my head, looking over I gazed upon the sleeping form of Wanda, her features softened by the gentle embrace of slumber, I felt a rush of overwhelming love and affection welling up within me.

With a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I leaned in closer, pressing gentle kisses along the curve of her neck. Each tender touch elicited a soft moan from her lips, a melody of pleasure that echoed through the stillness of the night.

Lost in the intoxicating embrace of our shared intimacy, I continued to shower her with affection, reveling in the warmth of her presence and the depth of our connection. And as I whispered her name, a soft murmur of adoration, I knew that this moment, this fleeting glimpse of happiness, was a treasure to be cherished for all eternity.

As Wanda began to stir awake, her voice still heavy with sleep, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her. Her words, though tinged with a hint of warning, only served to deepen the bond between us.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kotenok," she murmured, her voice laced with sleepiness.

"Shchenok," I corrected gently, a small smile playing on my lips.

Her eyes snapped open at the correction, surprise evident in her expression. "When did you learn that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

I shrugged, the memories of our shared past flooding back to me. "I was with her for like 20 years of our lives. I learned most Russian. Also Natasha, she..." My voice trailed off as Wanda's expression shifted, a wave of sadness washing over her.

"Oh my god, I forgot about Natasha. Is... is she alive here?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

I nodded solemnly, feeling a pang of empathy for the pain she must be feeling. Crawling into her lap, I wrapped my arms around her, offering what comfort I could. "You really lost a lot there, dorogoya," I whispered, my voice soft with compassion. "But don't worry, everyone here is safe. We've apparently had it relatively easy here, it seems."

I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, my heart overflowing with love and gratitude for this woman who had endured so much. "Now you have your loved ones back. You aren't alone anymore, and you won't ever be again. I promise."

==============

As the weekend unfolded, Wanda and I remained entwined in each other's arms, our connection deepening with each passing moment. When the boys returned home with their uncle Pietro, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and affection, a tangible sense of family that enveloped us all.

Pietro's hug was tight, filled with an unspoken understanding that transcended words. In his whispered question, "Did you guys finally connect?" I detected a mixture of curiosity and genuine concern.

With a small nod and a soft "Mmhmm," I confirmed what he already knew. This Wanda wasn't his real sister, just as she wasn't the Wanda I had known and loved for decades. But she was here, she was special, and in her embrace, I found a sense of solace and belonging that I had thought lost forever.

==============

As the following Friday arrived, Wanda and I made the decision to gather our friends and family together to share the details of our new lives. It was a momentous occasion, filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension as we prepared to unveil the truth about our extraordinary circumstances.

Gathering our loved ones in a familiar setting, we began to recount the events that had led us to this moment, explaining the complexities of our intertwined destinies and the newfound connections we had forged. With each word, we sought to convey the depth of our emotions, the challenges we had overcome, and the hope that now burned bright within our hearts.

As our gathering unfolded, the emotions in the room were palpable, each hug and embrace a testament to the depth of our shared experiences and the bonds that bound us together.

Wanda's first instinct was to embrace Natasha tightly, their bodies trembling with sobs as they clung to each other. For both of them, it was a moment of overwhelming relief and joy, the realization that they had been given a second chance to be reunited with someone they had feared lost forever.

Next was Clint, the stalwart friend and ally who had saved Wanda countless times in her timeline, offering comfort and support when she needed it most. As they embraced, the weight of their shared history hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the trials they had faced and the strength they had found in each other's presence.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family who had become like kin, Wanda and I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the bonds that had been forged through adversity. And as we shared stories and memories, laughter mingling with tears, we knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, drawing strength from the love and support that surrounded us.

As our friends and family listened intently, their expressions shifting from surprise to understanding, we felt a sense of relief wash over us. To have our loved ones by our side, supporting us through this journey, was a gift beyond measure.

And as we concluded our explanation, surrounded by the warmth and love of those closest to us, we knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, united in our shared bond and unwavering commitment to one another.

As the night wore on and the festivities continued, Stephen pulled me aside, his expression grave with concern. "You know what she's done in her universe, right?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

I bristled at his question, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within me. "Do not start this, Strange," I warned, jabbing a finger in his direction. "If I had gone through what she had, this universe wouldn't even exist. What she did, in my eyes, is child's play compared to the horrors she endured."

My words carried a weight of conviction, a steadfast belief in Wanda's resilience and the sacrifices she had made to protect those she loved. And as I met Stephen's gaze, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the depth of Wanda's strength and the magnitude of her courage.

"She threw a tantrum essentially. Took over a town for a bit and then went on a killing spree to get here. I saw it through her eyes. I know if it had been me, you'd be lucky if America had still been standing," I asserted, a hint of steel in my voice as I tapped the power stone embedded in my chest.

The reminder of the immense power at my disposal served as both a warning and a declaration. Wanda's actions in her universe were a testament to the depths of her grief and the consequences of unchecked power. In contrast, I recognized the responsibility that came with wielding such force, a responsibility I vowed to use wisely to protect those I loved.

As the weight of our conversation lingered, Stephen nodded in acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between us. The night continued, but the specter of the past and the potential for the future hung in the air, a reminder that even in moments of celebration, the shadows of our pasts were never truly far behind.

"I don't think you understand, my strength isn't superhuman, it's otherworldly. The precision it requires to ensure I don't break everything around me at any given moment is a delicate balance. With one punch, I wouldn't just put a crater in the earth, I'd break it in half," I emphasized, underscoring the magnitude of the power I possessed.

The distinction between superhuman strength and the cosmic force I wielded was crucial to grasp. While others might possess extraordinary abilities, mine was on a different scale altogether, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality itself. It was a responsibility that weighed heavily on me, requiring a level of control and restraint beyond what most could comprehend.

As I spoke, I could sense the gravity of my words sinking in, the realization dawning on Stephen of the immense power at my command. It was a sobering reminder of the delicate balance between strength and responsibility, a balance that I vowed to uphold no matter the cost.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to remind you-" Stephen began, but I swiftly cut him off, my tone firm yet understanding. "Don't, Stephen. I know you're just trying to help. I don't need the reminder though," I assured him, acknowledging his concern while asserting my own understanding of the situation.

With a nod of acceptance, Stephen backed off, respecting my boundaries and allowing me to return to the comforting embrace of Wanda, who had been engaged in conversation with Natasha and Clint. As I settled back into her arms, the warmth of her presence enveloped me, a reassuring reminder of the love and support that surrounded me.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a quiet reassurance that no matter the challenges we faced, we would face them together, united in our shared bonds and unwavering commitment to one another.

As Wanda continued her conversation with Natasha and Clint, her fingers traced delicate patterns on my hip, their touch a gentle caress that spoke volumes of the journey she had undertaken. Once stained with blood, those same hands now exuded a tenderness and compassion that belied the darkness of the past.

Feeling the soothing rhythm of her touch, I couldn't help but marvel at the transformation Wanda had undergone, the evolution from a place of pain and turmoil to one of healing and redemption. It was a testament to her resilience and strength, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, it was possible to find light amidst the shadows.

In that moment, as her touch danced across my skin, I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the woman before me, for the love and forgiveness she had extended, and for the hope that now blossomed within our hearts. And as our conversation continued, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and understanding that had brought us to this moment.

As the room suddenly filled with the energetic presence of our children, along with Clint's youngest and Kate close behind, my boys bounded into mine and Wanda's arms with cries for help. "Moms! Save us from the monster!" they pleaded, their laughter filling the air.

I chuckled as I gathered them close, feeling their warmth and energy envelop me in a comforting embrace. Glancing over, I caught sight of Kate playfully tickling Nathaniel, the mischievous grin on her face confirming my suspicions.

With a smile, I joined Wanda in rescuing our boys from the clutches of the imaginary monster, enveloping them in hugs and laughter as we reveled in the joy of family and friendship. In that moment, surrounded by the ones we loved most, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the blessings that filled our lives, each smile and laugh a reminder of the happiness that awaited us in the days to come.

As the boys began to drift off to sleep in my arms, I couldn't help but smile at the sight. "I think it's time to go, my love," I murmured to Wanda, gesturing towards our sleeping sons. Despite their ten years, I scooped them up effortlessly, their weight feeling light in my arms.

A momentary look of surprise flickered across Wanda's face, her gaze lingering on me as she seemed to momentarily forget about my strength. At just 4'11, I was indeed petite for someone with such power, a fact that often caught others off guard.

With a soft chuckle, I gently adjusted the boys in my arms, their peaceful expressions a testament to the love and security they felt in our embrace. As we prepared to leave, I felt a surge of gratitude for the family we had become, bound together by love and the unbreakable bond of kinship. With Wanda by my side, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our shared love and determination to protect those we held dear.

As I glanced over at Wanda, watching the tender expression on her face as she looked upon our sleeping sons, my heart swelled with love and gratitude. The depth of emotion reflected in her eyes filled me with a sense of warmth and contentment, knowing that our family was complete and our bond unbreakable.

In that moment, as we stood together, surrounded by the quiet stillness of the night, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. The love that radiated between us and enveloped our children was a testament to the strength of our connection, a bond forged in the fires of adversity and tempered by the trials we had faced together.

As we prepared to depart, I reached out to take Wanda's hand, intertwining our fingers in a silent gesture of unity and love. With a shared smile, we turned and made our way home, our hearts full and our spirits lifted by the knowledge that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, as a family.

===========

Wanda and I are on the couch when she asks, "Do you have photo albums of the boys?" I look at her, peeling my eyes from the TV as I pause it.

"Of course." I get up grabbing several albums of almost everything of their lives. "After we left the Avengers I took solace in capturing moments so we have a lot." I tell her as she starts through her pregnancy photos one of every month. Then the hospital photos of her giving birth. The look of pure happiness and bliss on both our faces as we held the boys. Both of us having skin to skin contact with them. As Wanda goes through the albums she starts crying.

"I missed out on so much because of my magic..." she whispered solemnly. "They went from babies, to 5, to 10 all because of words I said...Y/N...I missed everything." Knowing that Wanda had used her magic to create our boys in her universe and not anything like how we had here made her incredibly sad. I hate seeing her like this.

"How about I show you. Their first words, their first steps, everything." With a gentle touch, I leaned in closer to her, resting my forehead against hers as I offered her a silent gesture of comfort and solidarity. Feeling her fingers against my temples, I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to flow, every precious moment from the joyous announcement of her pregnancy to the bittersweet final days we shared together playing out before her.

As the memories unfolded like a vivid tapestry, I watched as Wanda's tears began to subside, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe. Through the magic of our shared recollections, she was able to witness the milestones she had missed, the laughter and love that had filled our home in her absence.

In that moment, as we shared in the memories of our past, I felt a renewed sense of hope blossom within me. Though Wanda may have missed out on so much, I was determined to make every moment from this point forward count, to cherish the time we had together and to create new memories that would fill the void left by the past.

With a gentle smile, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as we basked in the warmth of our shared love. And as the echoes of our memories faded into the night, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our unwavering commitment to one another and to our family.

As I looked into Wanda's eyes, feeling the weight of her sadness and longing, I knew that I had to do everything in my power to ease her pain and make up for the lost time. With a gentle touch, I cupped her cheek in my hand, my thumb brushing away the tears that lingered there.

"Everything with them feels too quick and also a lifetime," I whispered softly, my heart swelling with love and determination. "But now that you're here with us, you'll get to experience it all with me. Together."

In that moment, as we shared in our shared resolve to embrace the present and forge ahead as a family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. No matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our love and commitment to one another.

With a tender smile, I leaned in to press a gentle kiss against Wanda's forehead, silently promising to cherish every moment we shared and to make up for the lost time in any way I could. Together, we would build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless memories, united in our bond as a family.

Once we put the albums away, shut the TV off for the night we headed upstairs. Stopping to look in at the boys sleeping peacefully before heading to our own room, getting ourselves ready for bed. As I climb in, stretching out, Wanda climbs on top of me. I bite my bottom lip, looking up at her. I can see the look she has. I wrap my arms around her neck, gently trying to pull her down. She doesn't budge.

"Did you want something, shchenok?" Between the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice, and her in just a tank top of sleep shorts I'm weak to her completely under her not just physically.

"Want you. Need you." I tell her trying again to pull and when she still doesn't budge. I pout and whine. "Wands...please.."

As Wanda's hands worked their magic, binding mine above my head with a delicate yet firm touch, I felt a rush of excitement and anticipation coursing through me. With each tug of her magic, I was rendered powerless, completely at her mercy as she explored my body with a hunger that ignited a fire within me.

"Behave and we'll see where it goes," she husked, her words sending shivers down my spine as she pushed up my shirt, her lips finding purchase on my chest with an intensity that left me breathless. The sensation of her teeth grazing my skin, her tongue tracing patterns across my flesh, sent waves of pleasure radiating through me, making me squirm and writhe beneath her touch.

As I felt myself slipping deeper into subspace, surrendering to the heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability, I couldn't help but lose myself in the moment, giving in completely to the sensations that engulfed me. With each kiss, each caress, I felt myself unraveling, consumed by the overwhelming desire that burned between us.

In that moment, as I surrendered myself to Wanda's tender ministrations, I felt a profound sense of connection and intimacy that transcended the physical realm. With her by my side, I knew that I was safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure, and as I surrendered to the ecstasy of the moment, I knew that our bond would only grow stronger with each passing day.

Wanda plays with me and teases me for hours and I can't even remember how many times she's pushed me over the edge of ecstasy. As she brought me to another one as she slammed into me with a magic strap-on she'd conjured up, my mind already drowning in subspace, barely able to form words, but one slips out and then a few more,

"Mommy...gonna...ah-ha...ah..." After my words she sped up leaning down to whisper in my ear,

"That's right cum for Mommy like a good girl. Mommy's gonna cum with you. Gonna fill you up and breed you baby girl." As she whispered those final words in my ear, her voice a husky growl of lust and desire, I felt myself shattering into a million pieces, my entire being consumed by the ecstasy of release. With a cry of pure ecstasy, I let myself fall over the edge, my body trembling with the force of my climax as I surrendered myself entirely to the pleasure that engulfed me. Feeling her fill me up completely made my eyes roll back and the only word I could comprehend was, “Mommy.”

In that moment, as I basked in the afterglow of our shared ecstasy, I knew that I was exactly where I belonged, wrapped in the arms of the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

#ley writes #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximommy #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #the scarlet witch x fem!reader #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch

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explorevenus · 3 months

Text

baby steps ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5k

description: moving to raccoon city with leon, your long-term boyfriend and childhood sweetheart, doesn't go as planned. while you consider moving back home to lick your wounds, leon conspires to keep you right by his side, where you were always meant to be.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, specifically rookie cop leon, squishy soft dom leon, manipulation and generally toxic behavior, baby trapping (via tampering w condoms), daddy kink, praise kink, pet names, no use of y/n, fingering, p in v, creampie, cockwarming, mention of vomiting

a/n: this piece was commissioned by #1 Soft Dom Rookie Leon Truther and My Feral Puppy Wife @nexysworld ,, pls pls check out her work, she's so very talented and sweet and i am lucky to call her a friend ;w; <33

hopefully if u made it this far u read the tags and know what ur in for, but out of an abundance of caution i would like to reiterate that this is a yandere!leon fic and therefore contains dark themes a la dubious/uninformed consent and unhealthy relationship dynamics. if that's a no-no for u, pls kindly move on and take care of urself !!

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fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Leon had it all figured out from the day he met you, the first day of kindergarten. The two of you were going to be just like the movies, just like the storybooks– you would grow up as friends, blossom into lovers, marry young and start a family, and everything would be exactly as it should be. He would have fulfilled his purpose, and you would have fulfilled yours. All would be right in the universe.

And he wasn’t exactly far off, for a long time. You were attached at the hip through elementary school, somehow managed to stay friends through middle school and after an awkward, smitten kiss shared in the empty auditorium, you began dating in high school. It was perfect, he thought. He didn’t even have to pull that many strings.

You went to prom, got drunk for the first time, learned to drive, all in each other’s company. You had each other’s virginity. You’d seen, touched and savored every inch of each other. There was almost nothing you didn’t share.

It wasn’t too long after graduation that Leon applied to begin training at the police academy, just like he’d always dreamed of. It was a solid profession with plenty of benefits for both of you and it would give him the opportunity to help people, ticking off all the boxes of what he wanted for himself. It was perfect, it was safe.

No one was surprised when he soared through the police academy with impeccable marks. You were such a little angel when he graduated, showering him with kisses and sweets and letting him pound you into the mattress for a whole weekend to celebrate. And when his application in Raccoon City was accepted, you did exactly as he hoped you would and you followed right along with him.

Of course you would follow right along. You didn’t know what life without Leon meant. You couldn’t even conceptualize what that would feel like and you had no intention of finding out, but that was fine by him. He was happy to be your rock, your guidance, your big, strong boyfriend who would hold your hand and follow you through everything.

With Leon, you would never be alone. You would never be far from home. After all this time, he was your home, exactly as your lives were designed.

For the first few months of living in Raccoon City, the two of you shared a cozy apartment. It was a little worse for wear, but it was cute, and it was a fun way to start your adventure into young adulthood together. He was happy to handle all of the spiders and quadruple check the locks every night if it made you feel safer, if it gave you an excuse to come crying to him like a beautiful angel whenever you were frightened.

Bumps in the night, creaks of the pipes, the skittering of the upstairs neighbor’s little dog, they all sent you folding into his arms, shaking like a leaf, crying for him to protect you. He was your knight, and God were you his perfect little princess. The apple of his eye, the one and only object of his affection. No, not his affection, his obsession.

You were all he thought about, day and night, for more than half of his 21 years of living. Everything he did, every breath he took was with you in mind. You were the only living manifestation of complete and total perfection, every inch of you crafted with care and divinity. Your lives fit together like puzzle pieces– hell, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You were meant for each other.

It wasn’t long after you moved that the job you had lined up fell through, and you were left reeling. Moving away from home just to fall flat on your face was a massive blow to your self esteem, especially considering your parents practically screamed a hole through the phone at you about it. The next few days were spent sulking around the apartment, trying to pick up the pieces and choose a completely different path for yourself.

And there was Leon to hold you while you cried. To make dinner every night and dote on you endlessly, to pamper you with gifts and to insist over and over that he could make rent on his own, that he didn’t mind if you needed a little more time to wallow before finding a job… and to console you when your search for employment would prove fruitless once again.

He was there to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that the job market was just rough right now and that no matter what, he would be there to take care of you.

Weeks stretched into months and you still felt like you were spinning out, even with Leon by your side. Every single day was beginning to feel the same and you didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life like this. Something had to give and Raccoon City clearly wasn’t it.

Leon came home with a big smile on his face, just like any other day, but today was extra special. He’d finally had his one year review at the police station, and he was getting a sizable raise. He couldn’t wait to tell you he was gonna get you out of this shitty apartment and into somewhere nicer. He couldn’t wait to sneak his way down to the jeweler in search of a ring. The storybook life he had laid out for you was coming to fruition right before his eyes.

But you were quiet over dinner, and you looked exhausted. You wouldn’t even meet his eyes as you picked at your plate.

He was just about to ask you what was wrong when you finally spoke up, “I-I think I need to move back home with my parents.”

Silence. He felt like he had been shot.

“It’s just that… I know you said you’re happy to take care of bills and everything, but I just feel terrible every day being a burden and I think I need a chance to figure things out and get back up on my feet. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life anymore.”

His expression fell and his heart ached, any and all excitement he had about his situation now gone in an instant. All the money in the world meant nothing to him if he couldn’t share it with you, and to see you so lost and scared made him feel like he fucking failed you, his poor, sweet princess who looked to him for purpose and protection and partnership.

Leon wasn’t stupid. He knew that allowing you to move back in with your parents could potentially be a death sentence to your relationship. When people aren’t around each other anymore, it’s only natural that they drift apart, and Leon could not let that happen. It wasn’t even an option in his brain. Something had to be done and something had to be done now, before your lease was up in a few months, before push came to shove and you would finally have to make your choice.

He wasn’t even really sure where he got the idea. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before, mostly because he didn’t think he’d ever be put in this position.

A few nights after that conversation, Leon couldn’t sleep. It was well past two in the morning and you were peacefully asleep beside him while he stared at the ceiling, entirely lost in thought. He witnessed the worst and darkest of humanity at work every single day, but nothing scared him as deeply as the idea of losing you.

Eventually he got out of bed as carefully as he could manage, not wanting to wake you with his troubles. He only planned to get some water and maybe a minute or two of fresh air to clear his mind, but what he didn’t plan to get was some inspiration.

You had asked him to stop at the store on his way home from work to pick up a few things you needed, and the bag was still sitting on the counter. He took it upon himself to grab a few things he needed, too, and among the items left in the bag was an unopened box of condoms. At first his eyes skimmed over it without much interest, but it wasn’t long before he froze where he stood and turned to look at the bag again.

Leon wasn’t sure what came over him. He didn’t really feel like himself, it was like he was watching his next moves from a third person perspective, hovering above, detached. For a moment he even wondered if he was sleepwalking, or if this was a dream. He stared down at the box in his hand, carefully opened it, and pierced a hole in the center of each and every one. He tucked the packets back into the box and brought it with him on his way back to the bedroom, stashing it in the usual spot in the bedside table.

On his side, of course.

He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t help but just watch you. You were so pretty, so peaceful when you were dreaming, such a nice contrast to the stress and insecurity over finding your life’s purpose that plagued you in your waking hours.

But Leon already knew your life’s purpose. He reached out, gently brushing your messy hair away from your sleepy face so he could admire you more fully, and all he could think about was how much happier you’d look with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. Maybe an unexpected nudge in the right direction would set you back on the correct path and make you come to your senses about moving back in with your parents.

You huffed out a sleepy little breath from between your plush lips, stirring in the bed and peeking open your eyes to look at him. It was clear you weren’t fully conscious yet, but you were trying, squirming closer to him to tuck yourself into his chest.

“W’time is it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

He smiled fondly, petting your hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you cuddled up to him like a sweet little baby bear, and he tried to pretend he hadn’t accidentally made himself hard as fuck thinking about knocking you up just to get you to stay with him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was gross, he knew it was wrong, he knew it could violate your trust in so many ways.

But Leon was nothing if not a yearner, a hopeless romantic who couldn’t bear the thought of life without you by his side. He’d done everything right by you and you were still straying away from him, and that just wouldn’t do. It’s an act of desperation, he thought to himself, justifying his actions into the ground, I just want her so badly I’m not thinking straight, all pleas for forgiveness he would store for later use.

“It’s late, baby,” He mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

You just shook your head and tightened your arms around him, clearly on the verge of dozing off again. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, he would have just let you, but he wouldn’t be awake in the first place if it weren’t for the extreme sense of urgency he felt.

His broad, warm hands engulfed you, one cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your lower back, tapering off to paw at your hip. Your shirt– well, his shirt– had ridden up nearly to your waist, baring your cute panties, your soft belly and your plush thighs to his gaze. He swiped the pad of his thumb along your hip, imagining your bone structure spreading open to make room for his growing baby.

Leon didn’t take the time to talk himself out of it before his fingertips were sneaking down between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and finding your clit with practiced ease. The sensation was enough to jerk you awake again, a quiet mewl tumbling from your lips as you rocked into his hand, so sleepy and out of it and just so very cute.

“Leon?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but airy and light with sudden onset desire. That was all he needed to know he had you right where he wanted you.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” He cooed softly, following up the soothing whispers with a few gentle nibbles and bites to the shell of your ear, knowing that such attention always melted you into a puddle. “You’re alright, pretty baby, I just wanna play with you. Can daddy play with his sweet angel?”

You squirmed in his hold for a second, pondering his proposition while barely awake, but it wasn’t long before you were nodding into his shoulder and peppering his collarbone with wet kisses in return. It never took much to convince you when he spoke to you like that, so adoring and saccharine.

“That’s my good girl,” He mused, invigorated by your consent. Almost instantaneously he became more heavy-handed with his touches, fingertips massaging firm, purposeful circles around your clit, occasionally dipping down to collect your growing arousal and bring it back with him. “You’re all mine, you know that? Never gonna let anyone else have my baby.”

Poor you. Clueless of his intentions, you interpreted that sentence in a much different way than he really meant it. But, ignorance is bliss, and what you felt right now was nothing short of blissful.

You poked your head up just to catch his lips with your own in a wanton grasp for more intimacy, a signal of your agreement, like you were giving yourself to him. He knew it was wrong that you didn’t fully realize what you were agreeing to, but again, he compartmentalized that, deciding that was a problem for his future self. What mattered right now was securing your place at his side for the rest of your lives.

He could feel the way your hips were stuttering, he could feel how short your breaths were becoming against his lips, and he knew you were getting close. Grunting into your mouth, he forced his hand further down your panties and sank two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you open for him. The intrusion was quite a bit less gentle than you were used to from him, drawing a shocked whimper from you, but you soon began to relax once more when he curled up into your sweet spot, sending you boneless.

“D-Daddy,” You whined, nails biting into his shoulders. “Hurts… Slow, slower…”

A shiver rolled over his body, that of immediate guilt. He knew he was being a little rough with you, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt you, but…

“Fuck, I can’t help it,” He groaned, “Been thinking about this pussy all night, princess, I need you like air…”

You could hear the desperation in his tone, and even more you could feel it in the way he touched you like he was starving, like he was stranded in the desert and you were an oasis. Softened by this– and entirely hypnotized by his praise– you resigned to the feeling, allowing him to play with your body as he pleased. He was rutting into nothing without even thinking about it, his cock woefully hard and straining against the front of his grey sweatpants.

He wanted to prepare you properly, he really did, but he was so revved up and needy, he didn’t want to risk blowing his load anywhere but inside you. That wasn’t an option. Hands shaking, he pulled away from you just long enough to kick his sweatpants off and reach for one of those condoms, silently resenting the fact that he had to wear one at all, but he had an appearance to keep up.

He tore the package open haphazardly with his teeth and rolled the condom on, shuddering deeply. His grasp was tight on your thigh as he pulled it up and over his hip, his other hand pushing your dainty purple panties aside to guide his cock into the heavenly, pillowy walls of your ethereal cunt.

Fuck, you were so fucking tight, clenching around him, whimpering and whining and writhing like a perfect little puppy in heat. Leon’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he bottomed out in you, and he almost could have sworn he felt the tip of the condom rip open even wider. The image alone had him moaning like an animal, pinning your quivering body to his own while he rolled his hips, fucking you deep and hard and slow, savoring every single stroke of your slippery walls around his aching cock. Every meeting of your hips was joined by obscene squelching with the way you were practically sucking him in.

“G-God, fuck,” Leon growled, his face contorted with pleasure. You and Leon had always had what you considered to be an active and healthy sex life, but you’d never seen him quite so beside himself with raw lust. Whatever drove him in that moment was primal, and you could feel it in his every movement, his every breath, see it in the wild look in his eyes.

His pupils were like dinner plates as he gazed down at you, stamping your forehead with kisses and feeling over every inch of your body. “Look at you, just look at you… Such a perfect little dolly for daddy to love on forever and ever, huh? Oh, my princess…”

You were lightheaded with arousal, every nerve ending in your body lighting up with white hot pleasure. You could barely even form a sentence, just nodding along as he moaned out his praise and letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll. Perhaps his words had more than a modicum of truth to them.

“F-Feels so… so… fuck, daddy, feels so good,” You babbled mindlessly, head falling back to the pillows beneath you. He was overwhelming your senses, taking over every corner of your mushy brain. The room was dark and you were still a bit delirious with sleep and to that effect, nothing existed in your world right now but daddy, daddy, daddy…

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the spot on your shoulder he’d so harshly bitten earlier, the pace of his thrusts not faltering for a second. “Yeah? I’ll bet it does, judging by the look on you,” He teased, nipping at your throat. “So pretty when you’re all fucked out.”

Your back was arching up off the bed, your eyes rolling back and your walls pulsing around him. Addicted to eliciting pleasured reactions from you, Leon wedged one hand between your two bodies, flattening his palm on your lower belly before pressing down.

Stars. You saw stars. A broken, high-pitched cry ripped from your throat, and you didn’t even have the capacity to hope the neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered, because you didn’t care. You could feel every rigid inch of him inside you, dragging over every nerve, his cock stuffed so deep that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Toes curling and your nails raking down his naked back, tears were beginning to prick at your eyes– you were close.

That was a good thing, though, considering he was too, and he could only hope the wet heat of your release would mask the feeling of his own. Leon sealed his lips over your own once more, swallowing your broken, needy cries as he fucked you to completion, letting his hand fall a little bit lower until his fingertips were on your clit again.

Your body twitched at the stimulation, thighs clamping down tight around his hips as you sobbed into his mouth and soaked his cock with your gushing sex. “Daddy,” You wept, clinging to him for dear life as he fucked you through your high, his own spilling out in sync. “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, I’m right here,” He cooed, taking your bottom lip playfully between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just stay put, you’re doing so good for me, angel…”

His hips continued to piston forward as he hoped to force as much of his cum into you as he could manage, while still maintaining the believable illusion of protection. He intended to put every last one of those tampered-with condoms to use, though he wondered silently to himself if you might give up and just let him take you raw once you were to inevitably find out you’re pregnant.

You were a weeping, shivering mess in his arms, thighs clenching and twitching around him as he shushed you and babied you, petting your hair away from your tear-stained face and stamping you with delicate kisses, still stuffing his cum into you with shallow thrusts. He couldn’t wait to see you blossom right before his eyes. He couldn’t wait for you to realize your purpose was right here with him. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for the rest of your days, his princess.

Leon remained sheathed deep within you, even as he softened, wanting to make sure you stayed plugged up well. But, he also couldn’t resist the warmth and wetness of you, how comforting it felt to be enveloped by you.

“You just stay put right there, okay, princess?” He reiterated quietly, lips brushing over your brow in a loving kiss. “Want you to keep daddy warm for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”

As if he even had to ask. You would have done practically anything for him when reduced to such a bleary, agreeable state of mind. He knew you all too well.

You just nodded like a bobblehead, dreamy, doe eyes staring up at him through teary lashes, hanging off his every word like gospel. He tucked you in even closer to his chest, cradling you with such adoration, his hips rocking forward every now and then just to get a reaction out of you, and to remind himself this was real.

He wasn’t at all surprised that you were able to fall asleep like that, stuffed full of cum and sated like a good little princess deserved to be. In a perfect world, you would never have to move again, just stay there in his lap forever and soak up every drop of him you could take.

In the coming weeks, that box of condoms wouldn’t last long. The only thought on his mind day in and day out was bending you over every surface in the apartment, and you thought nothing of it. Of course you noticed his sudden, insatiable lust for you, but you assumed it was a symptom of knowing his beloved girlfriend was just a few short months away from potentially leaving. He was only grasping at every inch of you he could commit to memory, right?

In all fairness to you, you weren’t exactly that far off.

Your tired eyes pried open at the familiar feeling of Leon rutting up against you, gripping at your hips like you would disappear if he didn’t. The morning sun was just barely beginning to peek through the windows and the bed was warm, it was a lovely way to wake up, one you would never get tired of.

Or at least you never thought you would. You loved Leon— and his sexual prowess— very dearly, but you also loved being able to sleep through an entire night without interruption, and you hadn’t been getting much of that over the past several weeks.

“Mnh… Leon, babe,” You grumbled, burying your face back into your pillow. “Not today. I’m exhausted.”

He was taken aback by this at first, and then his expression fell with disappointment. Leon had gotten so used to breeding you dumb every morning before work that he wasn’t confident he could go back to functioning without it. Regardless, Leon knew that continuing his attempt to seduce you while you were this grouchy would be a death sentence, so he opted to take the path of least resistance.

After the moment or two it took for him to process that decision, Leon’s touches quickly shifted from provocative to soothing– he was no longer grasping at your hips but wrapping you up in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and cheekbone as if to regain your good favor.

You hummed contentedly, relaxing back into his embrace. Leon always warmed up like a heater in the night, and you were more than happy to bask in it. His muscular frame was like a weighted blanket and his presence alone was usually enough to knock you out like a light, but for some reason, you were struggling to fall back asleep. Every second felt like five minutes and despite your best efforts– and your complete and utter exhaustion– sleep refused to reclaim you.

Biting back the urge to blame Leon for waking you up in the first place, you huffed out a breath and rolled over in his arms, hoping the change in position might be just what you needed.

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Something about the movement made you dizzy, nauseous, your stomach twisting into knots. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t even sure what to say. It came on so suddenly that it caught you off guard and you weren’t even fully confident you would be able to get up at first.

You whined his name quietly, nuzzling into his chest and wrenching your eyes shut in an attempt to reorient yourself, your arms closing around your middle instinctively.

“You alright? What’s the matter?” Your sweet boyfriend asked quietly, brows furrowing with concern. He could feel your body trembling against his own, your back rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.

Now it was your throat tightening, too, and the second your mouth started to flood with saliva, you knew what was about to happen. Leon didn’t stop you when you writhed out of his embrace and stumbled out of bed, depending on muscle memory alone to get yourself to the bathroom with how woozy and ill you felt.

You just barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. The cold tile felt nice on your knees, but the impact, not as much. It wasn’t long before Leon materialized at your side with a glass of water and a cold washcloth to hold over your forehead, rubbing your back and already silently conspiring to call out of work and give his poor, sick angel the princess treatment all day.

You collapsed back into his chest with a deep shudder, reaching for the water in a desperate attempt to wash the taste of bile from your mouth. He ended up grabbing it for you, raising it to your cracked lips and helping you take slow, measured drinks.

“There you go, pup,” He hummed, rocking you gently in his lap, his poor little darling princess. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of relief washing over you at last. Maybe you just caught a bug, or ate something your body didn’t agree with, or your stress and exhaustion were finally catching up to you. Surely you would feel better within a few days.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it affectionately. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Leon smiled, a burst of warmth spreading through his chest. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that meant to him, considering he chose to interpret it in whatever way felt most validating. After all, no one could take care of you like Leon could, and they wouldn’t have the chance to try, anyway. Not over his dead body.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon’s every word was thick with syrupy sweetness, “My baby, I would be so lost if I didn’t. Taking care of you is like breathing to me.”

And he meant every part of it. He didn’t just mean it, he showed it. He showed it when he held your hair back, and he showed it when you realized you couldn’t even remember when you’d had your last period. He showed it when you sent him to the drugstore in the middle of the night for pregnancy tests, and he showed it when you broke down crying at the results, wondering how this could have happened.

His favorite part was showing it when you tearfully called your parents and told them you were staying in Raccoon City, not because you had found a job, but because you were pregnant.

“I can’t believe they’re choosing to react like this, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They should be happy for you, and it’s awful that they’re anything but happy for you,” He said, voice low and soothing, tone purposeful. “I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you and this baby, and we’re gonna be happy. Alright?”

Leon tipped your chin up with his knuckle, making you look at him. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were puffy with tears, droplets still clinging to your little dolly eyelashes.

It was hard not to believe him when he spoke with such conviction, when he looked at you with those rich blue eyes that bled from an endless well of love. The pad of his thumb skimmed over your pouty bottom lip as you unknowingly submitted to his grand design.

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you

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say-al0e · 3 months

Text

Cling

Rating: M | This is smut! Minors, DNI! No one under 18!

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you and Steve have been close. What others see as clingy, Steve sees as comforting, right? Or, you fell in love with your best friend and suddenly, everything is too much. Warnings: Unprotected PinV, oral (f!receiving), blink and you'll miss it angst. Pairing: Steve x fem!Reader Words: 5.5k

Though the sun had long disappeared, dipped below the horizon in a blaze of oranges and reds hours ago, the scent of artificial coconut and chlorine lingered as you lounged beside the Harrington pool.

The kids disappeared with Eddie the moment the sky tinted pink, off to finish a campaign they spent much of the day discussing, and Robin followed soon after with a weak excuse designed to hide her true destination of Vicky’s house - despite the fact that you all knew.

That left you and Steve, always the last two standing.

Steve stretched out on a lounge chair to your left - sunglasses resting atop his head, t-shirt forgotten somewhere in the backyard, garishly patterned swim trunks resting low on his hips. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling evenly, though you knew he was far from sleep.

Regardless, you took the chance to study him in the rare moment of silence.

The apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose were tinted pink, not burned enough to cause concern but clearly effected by his time in the sun. His hair was wild and beginning to curl, free of gel and still a little damp from his last dip in the pool. The weeks of swimming, back in the pool where he spent so much time growing up, had toned his arms - his shoulders, his stomach, his thighs - and you could see the result of his resumed habits so clearly.

A swath of hair covered his chest, tapered into a faint line that disappeared into the band of his trunks, and you were struck by just how many times you’d been here - sitting to his right, smelling of chlorine and coconut. Over a decade of friendship, more than half your life, and you’d witnessed Steve go from a lanky boy to a confident twenty-something.

Moments like this reminded you of why your best friend was one of the most sought-after bachelors in Hawkins and why, somewhere along the line, you joined the long list of those desperate for him to give you the time of day.

Only, you were lucky enough to be one of the few that had Steve’s full attention. There was little question that he knew everything - nearly everything, not this, never this - there was to know about you. Even less of a question that you would be sharing his bed later on, though not in the way you’d secretly started to want.

“Quit starin’ at me, creep.” Steve’s voice came then, before you could begin to spiral and question whether you could handle another night of sleeping beside him - wrapped in his embrace, his sheets, his scent - and you hummed.

“Just seeing if I need to get the aloe,” you teased, hoping it sounded as light as you meant it. “Should’ve listened to me, when I told you to put on sunscreen.”

Steve laughed. “You mean I should’ve sat still while you attacked me with it. I would’ve, if you’d given me some warning. Not nice to just start mauling a guy.”

“I know you dream about me mauling you.” The deflection was easy, reflexive, and accompanied by a laugh that rang a touch hollow in your own ears but Steve huffed, good-natured, anyway.

“Hm. Think that’s the other way around.” He cracked open an eye, then, and turned his head to glance at you while you reached for his half-empty beer in an effort to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Please,” you scoffed, though it was weaker than you intended. “I can’t get you to stop touching me.”

Despite his upbringing - or, really, because of it - Steve sought physical affection in those closest to him. It was true that he hadn’t stopped touching you over the course of your friendship, hugs and holding hands and cuddling on the couch. There was never any hesitation, never any awkward shuffling or adjusting. It was as natural as breathing, comfortable, and lately, you savored every brush of his skin against yours.

Still, Steve waved a dismissive hand and reached for the pack of cigarettes he discarded on the table after the kids left. “Sure.” He lit one, fixed you with a teasing grin as he took a drag. “Easy for you to say when you’re the clingiest person I know.”

The observation was not unkind. If anything, it was soft - fond. It was a joke he’d made before, once or twice, but the label ‘clingy’ struck a nerve that he likely had no idea even existed. One that hadn’t existed until recently.

There was a conversation that you weren’t supposed to hear. It was Eddie, asking the kids if he had a chance - whether you and Steve were, you know, a thing - and their varying responses. He only asked because of how close you were, he explained, how often Steve had an arm around you or you clasped his hand in yours.

Someone, you didn’t catch who because the words rang harsh in your ears, dismissed his concerns with the dreaded refusal, “Just friends.” Though another followed it with, “I’d be annoyed if I were Steve. She’s always all over him and they’re not even dating. So clingy.”

Eddie laughed, as did the others, and you waited just beyond the door for a few moments to pretend that you hadn’t heard.

After, you tried to distance yourself, if only a little, without arousing Steve’s suspicions. Despite being called clueless, unobservant or even stupid, despite his difficulty connecting the dots, there was little about you that escaped his notice. It was difficult to create space when none had existed since you were children and, clearly, you hadn’t done a very good job, anyway.

“Yeah, well, I’ll unstick myself from your side.” You intended the quip to be teasing, a joke that earned you a laugh or a soft swat as you passed him by, but it came out wrong. The words were acidic, tasted bitter in the back of your throat as they rolled off your tongue, and you could see him wince from the sting of them as you stood from your chair. “I’m gonna go shower,” you deflected, unable to look at him. “Chlorine’s burning my eyes.”

Steve sat upright as you gathered your towel and discarded clothes, your empty soda can and the tube of tropical sunscreen. He stubbed out his cigarette and reached out, hand searching for yours and coming up empty for the first time in a long time.

“Wait,” he urged, rising to his feet as you busied yourself with removing any trace of your presence from the immediate vicinity. “Did I… what did I say? Whatever it was, I didn’t -“ His brows furrowed as he lifted the hand you avoided and carded it through his hair, sighing when you winced at the sound of his sunglasses clattering to the ground.

“You didn’t - it’s nothing.” Steve tipped his head, an attempt to catch your eye as you blinked back the stinging sensation - chlorine, really, and overwhelmed, traitorous tears. “Just tired.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his face. He wore a concerned frown, warm eyes raking over your form as he recounted the last few moments, before he winced. “Oh. Shit. Hey, you know I’m joking,” he insisted, taking a half-step closer. And when you took a full step back, he frozen, uncertain - unused to the distance. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know I love it when you’re close to me. It’s nice. I’m not - that was a shitty thing to say.”

“It’s okay.” You waved him off, a dismissive hand held aloft for a moment before dropping to hold your towel close to your chest, and hoped he believed the crack in your voice was from the yelling you’d done earlier in the day. “It’s true, ’s’what everyone thinks, anyway.”

“What?” He looked confused, frown deepening as he tried again. He took a cautious step to close some of the distance and lifted a hand to reach out for you before thinking better of it. His hand fell to his side and you clutched the material in your arms tight to your chest to keep from reaching out yourself. “No one thinks that.”

“They do,” you confessed, finally lifting your head to meet his gaze as you forced a laugh. “They think it’s weird and sad and annoying that I’m, like, all over you. They think I’m, like, obsessed or something.” The admission was uttered casually, as easily as you could manage when your heart felt as if it might beat out of your chest, and Steve took another tentative step forward.

“Who said that?”

Though it was phrased as a question, it came out a demand. His expression shifted, flickered from soft concern to annoyance - not at you, very rarely at you - as he waited.

“I overheard the kids joking about it,” you told him with a sigh. “And back when you were dating Nancy, Tommy and Carol said something. So did Billy. It didn’t bother me then ‘cause Tommy and Carol and Billy were morons, but now, well… Maybe they were right. I - I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so… attached.”

Steve stepped closer then, insistent despite your feeble attempt to keep the distance, and reached out for you. One warm, large hand fell to your waist, fingers finding bare skin still warm from the sun while the other cupped your cheek. He was patient, soft, as he encouraged you to meet his eyes once more.

“They were total morons. I’m honestly surprised they paid enough attention to someone else to notice,” he huffed, rolling his eyes at the memory of your former friends. “And the kids, they’re just kids. They don’t - don’t listen to them, alright. I don’t think you’re clingy or annoying or sad or anything else. I think you’re my best friend and I like being close to you.”

Though it brought you comfort to hear how adamantly he denied thinking you were clingy - how adamantly he denied finding your constant presence annoying - the reminder that he only saw you as a friend did little to ease the roiling in the pit of your stomach.

A fresh wave of traitorous tears stung at the backs of your eyes and you did your best to blink them away as you nodded. “Yeah,” you nodded, acknowledging him with a watery half-smile. “Okay.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” he asserted, dipping his head to search your face for the answer to a question he had yet to ask. “I want you close to me, like, all the time. Robin laughs at me but I don’t really know what to do when you’re not there. I like it when you hold my hand or sit on my lap. It… it makes me feel like you want me with you as much as I want to be with you.”

Though the lump in your throat persisted, though the tears still threatened to fall, you immediately reassured him. “Of course I want you to be with me. I love spending time with you.” You sighed, allowing yourself to melt into Steve’s touch. “It’s always been us.”

“Always has been, always will be,” he confirmed, smile soft but still a touch concerned. He hesitated for a moment, seeming to weigh his words for the first time in a long time, before he settled on asking, “What’s up, babe? Why’d it bother you so much?”

“It’s stupid.”

Immediately, Steve shook his head. He refused to allow you to wave it off, to dismiss the tease that clearly hurt your feelings, as his thumb stroked your cheek. “It’s not, not if it’s bothering you.”

“I just…” You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you attempted to gather your thoughts. Though Steve’s closeness would’ve brought you comfort under ordinary circumstances, it made it difficult for you to concentrate as your heart began to beat a touch too fast. “Just been thinking,” you finally began, choosing your words carefully. “It was fine when we were kids but, I mean, we’re adults now. What happens when one of your dates pays off and you find someone to fall in love with? Don’t think she’ll be too happy with, you know, this. It’s not like we can cuddle on the couch or have sleepovers for the rest of our lives.”

Steve remained quiet for a long moment - a silence that stretched on forever, thick and suffocating - and you swallowed the emotion clumping in the back of your throat before opening your eyes. You were met with his warm gaze, soft brown eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn’t quite read as he took a half-step closer.

“What if… I mean, we could.” Two words, and you felt frozen in uncertainty. Everything around you, everything outside of Steve, ceased to exist. You could feel your heart thudding heavily in your chest, your breath caught in your throat as you waited for him to elaborate. “The dates,” he began, now looking as nervous as you felt, “none of them have felt right. They don’t feel like this, like us. They don’t make me feel like you do.”

For months, you’d dreamt that Steve felt the same way. You imagined that somewhere, beneath the fond smiles and teasing jabs lingered the same nerves, the same butterflies, the same all-encompassing love. You imagined that his head was full of the same ‘what-if’s’ as you shared his bed, the same hope that you’d share the same bed for the rest of your life. You dreamt that he would one day confess his love and end your hopeless attempt at getting over him.

But now that it seemed within your grasp, so close you could practically feel his heart beating just as erratically as your own, it felt too good to be true.

“What does that mean?”

The question came as a whisper, afraid that if you spoke too loud you might break whatever spell had been cast over the backyard, but Steve heard it clearly. He met it with a half-smile as the hand on your hip began to trace nonsensical patterns across your skin - a nervous habit that made you feel as if your skin was on fire.

“Means that I want to keep holding your hand and having sleepovers,” he elaborated, voice soft in the still of the night. “Means that I… I don’t want to keep going on dates with anyone but you. Every time I think about the future, it changes - what I’m doing, where I live. But you’re always there and that’s all I want. I’ve been trying to pretend like I’m not in love with you but I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Steve’s confession rang in your ears, crashed over you like a tidal wave, and left you unable to speak - unable to breathe. He waited, patient, understanding, as your racing thoughts scrambled in search of something coherent. But when you failed to gather anything resembling a complete sentence, you decided to allow your actions to speak for you.

In the way that you’d started to imagine as you drifted off to sleep, you dropped the items in your arms and lifted your hands to tangle in his hair to pull him in close. He smelled of summer - cigarettes, cheap beer, artificial coconut and chlorine - and something so unerringly Steve that you suddenly couldn’t imagine being this close to anyone else.

The hand on your cheek was encouraging, soft and warm as he tipped your chin, and you gave in to the urge you’d been fighting. With one step, you pressed yourself close - your chest meeting his, the warmth of his bare skin setting your nerve endings alight - and pressed your mouth to his.

Despite your expectations, there were no fireworks, no sparks or heavenly choirs, but there was an instant sense of comfort. Kissing Steve felt like coming home, warm and easy, as if you’d done it a thousand times before.

There was no awkward shuffling, no tentative brushes of uncertain lips. Instead, you moved together seamlessly. His body slotted against yours perfectly, fit exactly as if you belonged there - together, intertwined. His lips were soft, as plush as you’d imagined, and his skin was so warm that you wondered if you would be branded with his touch before the night was over.

Though your fantasies varied - desperate kisses, eager to make up for lost time; filthy ones, a mess of lips and tongues and teeth, as you swapped spit and stumbled down a dark hallway toward his bedroom; soft kisses, designed to convey years of unspoken feelings - this kiss destroyed them all.

It was soft, slow and eager as you sought to become acquainted with the taste of one another, and laced with the underlying promise of a beautiful future.

Steve’s touch was eager, unrestrained and achingly familiar, as he held you close and swallowed the soft noises you made. Every breathless gasp and quiet sigh of pleasure, was met with a hum of his own as he slipped the hand on your cheek to the back of your neck.

Neither of you wanted the kiss to end, content to breathe in one another until your lungs collapsed, but the lack of oxygen and the reality of the situation had you feeling dizzy enough to break away. But as close as you’d always been, Steve kept you pressed tight to his body and rested his forehead against yours.

“Taking that to mean you’re in love with me, too,” he teased, breathless as he searched your face for any sign of regret, of hesitance. When he found none, he smiled - bright, happy, easy. “Totally not cool of me to admit, but I’ve wanted to do that forever.”

“You’ve never been cool, Stevie,” you returned, giggling as he pinched your side.

“Was gonna be nice,” he huffed, pretending to be put out though his grin never faltered as he shifted his head, brushed his nose against yours. “Tell you how pretty I think you are, how I want to spend the rest of my life with you; all that mushy stuff. But since you wanna be mean…”

Before you could blink, giggle out a teasing apology for your perceived slight, Steve’s arms fell to your waist. He held you close, lifted easily, and carried you the few steps to the edge of the pool. The moment you realized his intentions, the moment you opened your mouth to squeal out a plea for him to stop, Steve stepped over the edge and plunged you both into the water.

Even as you fell, sinking into the deep end, Steve kept you close. He hauled you both back up above the water, laughing as you huffed - thankfully used to this, almost expecting it as he attempted it every year.

“Steve!”

“What?” He grinned, dark hair dripping into his eyes as he guided you both into a more manageable depth and encouraged you to wrap your legs around his waist. “All this could’ve been avoided if you’d just been nice to me,” he reasoned.

“I’m always nice to you, Stevie.” You weren’t - your friendship was an equal mixture of soft encouragement, soft words and even softer touches, and teasing jabs - but Steve hummed, just the same. “But I can be even nicer.”

“Know what would be really nice?” When you hummed, Steve returned a hand to cup your cheek - tipping your head to meet your eyes, only a hint of insecurity swirling amongst the warm, soft brown. “Telling me I’m not getting all this wrong. I… I know I don’t always get it,” he acknowledged, swallowing thickly, “but I… I get this, right?”

“Oh, Steve. The reason I got so freaked out about the clingy thing,” you began, lifting your hands to brush the damp hair from his forehead, “was because I was afraid you’d see it, how in love I am. I… I’ve been in love with you for a while. You’re it for me, Harrington.”

Steve grinned, then, relieved - elated, clearly brimming with joy at the revelation - and leaned forward to close the gap. The press of his mouth to yours was eager, firm, and relieved some of the ache in your chest, the fear that this was something you’d dreamt up, too good to be true. He crowded you against the wall, body caging you in as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you sighed as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

Though the pool water was cool, the press of Steve’s body against yours had you melting. He always ran warm, left you blistering in the wake of his hands exploring your skin, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest as his fingers mapped the slivers of skin he’d only held through fabric.

“Babe,” he breathed, mouth barely parted from yours as you shifted your hips, “don’t wanna do this in the pool. Not the first time. Let me take you inside.”

The urgency in his tone drew a soft moan from you, eager to feel his touch and touch him in return. “Please. Waited so long, don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Desperation, eager and hurried, that had lingered beneath the surface of the entire encounter - a desire to give in, finally, after waiting for so long - showed clearly as you both rushed out of the pool. Steve remained close to you, one hand on your hip even as you both roughly toweled off, and ushered you into the house.

The Harrington house was as familiar to you as your own. It was a space you could navigate with your eyes closed, under the worst circumstances, and you were grateful for the knowledge as you and Steve rushed up the stairs to his bedroom without pause.

As many times as you’d stepped foot in Steve’s room, as many nights as you’d spent wrapped in his sheets, there was an understandable difference in this moment. The tension was palpable and, despite how eager you both were, you both faltered for a moment as the door clicked shut behind you.

“This… we don’t have to do anything,” he began, stepping close, his palm warm against your waist. “We can just shower, maybe watch a movie or something before bed.”

Again, rather than fumbling for a coherent sentence - attempting to make sense of the thoughts that remained scrambled in your brain - you reached out for him. Steve sighed as your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, eyes blazing with a heat that made your head spin, and you almost hated to lose the sight of his parted lips and lust blown eyes as your mouth pressed to his.

Steve’s hands began to wander, fingers mapping your skin in a desperate bid to commit it all to memory, as he walked you backwards. The plush of his bed hit the back of your knees, duvet soft, and he followed you down easily. With a knee pressed into the mattress beside your hip, a hand beside your head, Steve hovered above you, mouth never leaving yours.

While his fingers traced the skin of your stomach, your hips, your shoulders, your thighs, you brought your own to his chest. You raked your nails over his exposed skin, committing the warmth of him to memory, as he broke the kiss to lavish your neck with attention.

As he nosed at your jaw, lips pressing fleeting kisses to your skin, his hand fell to your breast, eagerly cupping the soft flesh over the damp material of your swimsuit.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathed, reverence lacing his tone as his hand flexed. “So warm, so soft. Smell nice.”

“It’s the sunscreen,” you gasped, words pitching higher as his lips latched onto the spot just beneath your ear. “You should try it.”

“Mm. You can put some on me tomorrow,” he offered, tongue darting out to soothe spot he’d nipped.

The promise was laced with an eager desire that had your hands wandering, nails raking over the trail of hair dipping into the band of his trunks, and you could feel the contraction of his stomach as he inhaled sharply. You knew that you tasted of chlorine and chemicals, of summer, but Steve didn’t seem to mind as he continued pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

Eagerly, he began to dip lower, his lips exploring your heated skin and leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Every touch was electric, sent a shockwave through your system and left your chest aching with a warmth that you hoped would never cool. You could feel the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach, gathering slick between your thighs, as Steve nipped at the skin of your chest.

Skilled hands made quick work of the fabric covering your chest, easily ridding you of the damp suit without lifting his head from your skin, and you felt your breath catch in your throat as Steve began to make his way down. He nipped at the delicate skin of your chest, stubble scraping your skin in the most delicious way as he shifted to free his hands.

As Steve’s hands shifted, cupped your breasts and hummed, your own hand dipped beneath the band of his trunks. Your fingers brushed the warm skin, reveling in the stuttering breath Steve released, even as his own hands began to trail downward.

“Always pretty,” he complimented, voice rough as he began to follow the path blazed by his hands, pressing kisses down your chest and stomach. “But this,” he hummed, grinning when you whined as he moved out of reach, “too fuckin’ pretty. Not fair.”

“You’re one to talk.” It was breathless, a gasp that escaped as his lips latched onto a patch of skin near your hip, and Steve grinned. “You’re so beautiful, Stevie. ’S’distracting.”

Steve continued to sink lower, mouth blazing a devastating path across your skin, as his hands fell to the plush of your thighs. He spread them easily, settled between them, and glanced up at you from near the foot of his bed with a devilish smirk that reminded you of the days of King Steve - handsome, flirty, charming.

“How’ve we never done this before?” His hands drifted closer to your aching cunt, so close to where you desperately wanted him yet so far away as his mouth pressed to your inner thigh. “Wanna spend the rest of my life here.”

“Haven’t even got my bathing suit off,” you teased, though it was weak - wrecked, already so entirely destroyed for him. But Steve took it as a challenge.

Almost immediately, Steve’s hands slipped beneath the band of your bottoms and tugged, easily working the damp fabric down your thighs. The moment they were gone, tossed across the room to be found later, he settled back between them and grinned.

Before you could tease, make a joke about him being eager, Steve’s hands shifted exactly where you wanted them. Warm fingers swiped at your slick folds, gathered the evidence of your arousal easily, before they lifted to his waiting mouth. Your lungs constricted and breathing felt impossible as you watched him lap at the slick, an exaggerated moan leaving his lips as he pulled them free with a wink.

“Knew you’d taste amazing,” he complimented, dipping his head to nip at your inner thigh.

Steve nosed at the juncture of your thigh as his fingers returned to your folds and you could feel his triumphant grin when you gasped as his thumb found your clit. But he didn’t allow you time to speak as he dipped his head and licked a stripe along your slit.

Large hands found your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin to keep you spread open as he lapped at you. There was no tentative tasting, no hesitant swipe of his tongue; Steve ate you like a man starved.

Those plush lips wrapped around your clit, eagerly tasting all you had to give, as his fingers returned to your puffy folds. He swiped them through your slick, gathered it on his fingers, before pressing them into you and working to open you up.

“You’re,” a gasp interrupted you, stole your breathe as Steve glanced up at you from between your thighs - his shoulders keeping you spread open, hair caught between your fingers. “Fuck, Stevie, you’re good at that.”

Steve preened under the praise, lashes fluttering at that and the combination of your fingers yanking at his hair, as his fingers - longer, thicker than yours; easily pressing into the spaces you could never quite reach - sank deeper into you.

As desperate as you were to feel him, to have him push you over the edge, this wasn’t the way you wanted to go. You wanted to feel him, to feel his weight pressing you into the mattress as his lips met yours, and you told him as much as you tugged at his hair.

“Wanna feel you, Stevie, please,” you begged, stomach tight and chest aching as you desperately sought to catch your breath.

“Fuck.” Steve’s forehead pressed to your thigh, warm breath fanning over your sticky skin. “Wanted to hear you say that forever,” he admitted, eagerly clambering up to shove his trunks down his hips.

As Steve shoved his swim trunks down, you tipped your head - eager to see if the rumors were true. And just as you’d heard, Steve was larger than you ever could’ve imagined. He was bigger than anyone you’d been with, bigger than anything you’d seen, and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached out to touch him.

The tip was an angry red, dripping precum, and Steve swore as your thumb brushed at the pearly bead. “Fuck, you’re so big,” you whined, wondering how he would fit - eagerly anticipating the stretch of him.

“Can’t say shit like that,” he huffed, laughing - pink cheeks blazing, embarrassed and secretly pleased at the attention - as he settled above you. “Ego’s already too big,” he teased.

“Not the only thing,” you returned, grinning when he laughed, fingers dipping between your thighs. “Fuck me, Stevie, please.”

“Anything you want,” he promised, hand wrapping around the base of his cock and guiding it to your puffy folds. He dragged the head through the slick, both of you moaning at the contact, before he notched the head at your entrance and pressed forward.

The stretch of him was delicious, too much and not enough all at once, and you swore you could feel him in the back of your throat as he sank into you. He went slow, careful, eager not to hurt you, but with every inch he sank forward, you were desperate to feel him fully.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Steve was pressed fully into you. It was overwhelming, being so impossibly close to him - completely intertwined, bodies as one - and all you could do was pull him into a searing kiss.

The kiss was a mess, a clash of tongue and teeth, uncoordinated but so satisfying as his hand gripped your hip. You could feel him surrounding you, all-encompassing, and you never wanted the moment to end.

Even as his hips began to snap, his rhythm steady, deep, you struggled to catch your breath - to care about anything other than the warmth of his skin against yours, the scent of him, the weight of him over you. The only thing you could say was his name, repeated like a prayer as his thumb found your clit and his lips remained just inches from your own.

Steve was all that existed, all that had ever existed, and suddenly the future was bright. There was hope, an eager desire to spend the rest of your life here - in this moment, with Steve pressed close - and you couldn’t help but whimper out a desperate, “I love you,” as you felt yourself barreling toward the edge.

The words were returned in a reverent chant, equally desperate, as you felt his hips begin to stutter. You were both nearly there, just a few presses of his hips - another swipe of his thumb, another press of his mouth to your heated skin - and you were careening over the edge with Steve following shortly after.

Warmth flooded your veins, his spend filling you so completely, and his lips sought yours despite your shared inability to regain your breath. It didn’t matter, not when all that existed was this moment, and you didn’t care that Steve’s weight had fallen to press you deeper into the mattress.

For a few long moments, you both lay there - gasping, fighting to catch your breath and return to the moment at hand - before Steve pulled away just enough to settle at your side. There was no distance left between you, slick skin pressed together, and you would’ve been content to lie there forever.

Steve, it seemed, felt the same as he settled into the pillow and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

Though the afternoon began with a fear that Steve would see you as clingy, that he would never love you in the way you loved him, you were ending the night in the only place you wanted to be; clinging to your boyfriend, sated and happy and looking forward to the future for the first time in a long time.

______________________________________________________

Author's Note: This was inspired by a sunscreen, believe it or not. Don't know how we got here but it was a fun journey.

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