* ˚ ✦ Welcome to Honey's first Kinktober!! ೃ⁀➷ FANDOMS INCLUDE :: This contains a various amount of fandoms within Anime and/or Manga, such as; My hero academia, naruto, haikyuu, demon slayer, hunter x hunter, bungou stray dogs and tokyo revengers.
Please fill out this form to be tagged (here), when i put you on the tag list, if your age isn't in somewhere on your profile showing you are 18+ i will not add you to it !! make sure its easily visible too! in your bio or pinned! if i can't find it there, i will not add you!! (taglist closes on the 30th of September)
DAY 1 彡 SHOTO TODOROKI
KINK :: Somnophilia
╰┈➤ fandom, my hero academia
WARNINGS :: shoto todoroki x fem!reader, timeskip!shoto, somnophilia (sex while asleep/semi-conscious), non-consensual themes (prior consent is implied), soft D/s undertones, breeding, creampie, praise, possessiveness, references to marking + more
DAY 3 彡 GIYUU TOMIOKA
KINK :: Intoxication
╰┈➤ fandom, demon slayer
WARNINGS :: Giyuu x fem!reader, explicit sexual content, alcohol use/intoxication, heavy kissing and making out, fingering, first-time sex, soft D/s undertones, missionary/straddling positions, praise, marking, creampie/breeding implications, overstimulation + more
DAY 5 彡 ILLUMI ZOLDYCK
KINK :: Bondage
╰┈➤ fandom, hunter x hunter
WARNINGS :: Illumi zoldyck x fem!reader, BDSM/bondage (rope play), D/s dynamics, punishment roleplay, sexual restraint, coercive/forceful elements (consent is portrayed as complicated/ambiguous), verbal degradation/praise, and exhibitionism/voyeurism (exposed through a window), power imbalance + more
DAY 7 彡 SANEMI SHINAGUZAWA
KINK :: Breeding
╰┈➤ fandom, demon slayer
WARNINGS :: sanemi x fem!reader, breeding/creampie, somnophilia undertones, overstimulation, possessiveness, praise, degradation/praise mix, choking, light breath play, hand restraints, multiple rounds, mating press, prone bone + more
DAY 9 彡 BAKUGOU KATSUKI
KINK :: Lingerie
╰┈➤ fandom, my hero academia
WARNINGS :: timeskip katsuki x fem!reader, explicit sexual content, lingerie kink, lingerie reveal/teasing, rough sex, dirty talk, possessiveness, praise mixed with degradation, rough kissing/biting, creampie/breeding implications, overstimulation, and strong language + more
DAY 11 彡 SASUKE UCHIHA
KINK :: Edging
╰┈➤ fandom, naruto
WARNINGS :: rough sex, lap sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, denial, forced pleasure, teasing, possessive sasuke, dirty talk, hair pulling, choking/pressure, explicit language, messy aftermath, semi-public vibes, orgasm control, intense sexual content, prolonged sexual activity + more
DAY 13 彡 CHROLLO LUCILFER
KINK :: Throat Training
╰┈➤ fandom, hunter x hunter
WARNINGS :: Chrollo x female!reader, explicit sexual content, oral sex -> male receiving, deep-throating, gagging, dominance/submission dynamics, hair-pulling, edging, praise kink, and sexual coercion themes, control and power exchange + more
DAY 15 彡 KAKASHI HATAKE
KINK :: Cockwarming
╰┈➤ fandom, naruto
WARNINGS :: kakshi x female!reader, explicit sexual content, cockwarming, orgasm denial, overstimulation, rough/controlling partner dynamics, hair-pulling, intense dirty talk, crying during sex, creampie, no protection, please use protection + more
DAY 17 彡 KENMA KOZUME
KINK :: Filming/ onlyfans
╰┈➤ fandom, haikyuu
WARNINGS :: timeskip kenma x fem!reader, kenmas chat being freaks, sub reader, dom kenma, begging, praise, filming, mentions of onlyfans, doggy style, implied overstimulation, cervix fucking mention, camera recording sex + more.
DAY 19 彡 HAWKS
KINK :: Dry humping
╰┈➤ fandom, my hero academia
WARNINGS :: hawks x female!reader, explicit sexual content, heavy dry humping/grinding against clothing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light power/control dynamics, dirty talk, possessive teasing, crying during sex, soft aftercare? + more
DAY 21 彡 CHUUYA NAKAHARA
KINK :: Office Sex
╰┈➤ fandom, bungou stray dogs
WARNINGS :: chuuya x female!reader, office sex, desk sex, against a window, semi-public sex, rough sex, dirty talk, possessive chuuya, light degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, semi-voyeurism, biting & hair pulling, messy desk aftermath + more
DAY 2 彡 IZANA KUROKAWA
KINK :: Motorcycle sex
╰┈➤ fandom, tokyo revengers
WARNINGS :: izana x fem!reader, public sex/exhibitionism, fingering, degradation mixed with praise, brat taming/bratty behavior, possessiveness, overstimulation, dirty talk, and mild pain play (gripping/bruising), slight humiliation (being seen), jealousy, and voyeurism + more
DAY 25 彡 TSUKISHIMA KEI
KINK :: Oral -> M!
╰┈➤ fandom, haikyuu
WARNINGS :: timeskip! tsukishima x fem!reader, explicit sexual content, including oral sex -> male receiving, deep-throating, gagging, slight cum play, slight dominance/submission dynamics, hair-pulling, and strong language. + more
DAY 27 彡JINSHI
KINK :: Oral -> F!
╰┈➤ fandom, the apothecary diaries
WARNINGS :: Jinshi x fem!reader, explicit sexual content, cunnilingus/face-sitting themes, fingering, edging, prolonged oral sex, overstimulation, orgasm denial, passing out from pleasure, non-consent-adjacent fainting, and strong language. Slight! dominance/submission dynamics, and prolonged teasing and indulgence + more
DAY 29 彡 DABI
KINK :: Corruption
╰┈➤ fandom, my hero academia
DAY 31 彡 DRAKEN + MIKEY
KINK :: Threesome + Play Fighting
╰┈➤ fandom, tokyo revengers
Do not copy, steal, translate, use for ai
Reblogs and comments are always welcomed and appreciated :)
Reader is ── Female | Phantom Troupe member
Story is ── Romantic | Drabbles
Warnings ── Mentions of torture (not reader)
Chrollo
✦ ── It was typical for him to disappear for weeks to months at a time, with none of the Troupe aware of his whereabouts, doing who knows what. Except he always contacted you once a month to meet up.
✦ ── Different place every time, but always some kind of book cafe. He would meet you there late in the evening and update you on his dealings and treat it almost akin to a one-sided book club.
✦ ── This spot had a nice couch, and you took the opportunity to lie across it, head on one armrest while he sat at the other end, your ankles on his lap. He'd read aloud to you, even if he spotted you drifting off.
"Am I that boring?" Your leader mused, closing the book to rest his chin on his fist, elbow propped on the other armrest. You were fast asleep and had been for a few minutes now.
Once Chrollo was sure he had memorized your sleeping face, he went back to reading his book, held in one hand. His other toyed with the small chain around your ankle, an anklet he had gifted you long ago.
He wouldn't dare rouse you, nor would he let anyone else. Chrollo would sooner kill everyone in the shop if it meant he got an extra moment with you like this.
Feitan
✦ ── He's small. He's cold. He's uncomfortable. Feitan has no reason to believe you'd ever go to him for 'comfort'; he is a sea urchin of a human.
✦ ── So when he's reading, having just finished torturing the man bleeding out a few meters away and having gotten the intel he wanted, and you slump against him? Yeah, he's surprised!
✦ ── When you do wake up, you might catch him practicing some of the words from the book aloud. But once he realizes you're awake, expect his lips to be sealed and to be shoved off him.
"What doing?" He practically spits the words, harsh as always, and throws you a hard side-eye.
You're asleep. How? How on earth could you sleep like this, and with the victim's ugly sobs audible no less? Whatever. You can stay, only because you'd be no use to him deprived of sleep.
You're nice and warm, too.
Hisoka
✦ ── Are you sure that's a good idea? It's certain that he wouldn't shy away from contact or find affection gross, but he might not be the safest option.
✦ ── At least that is what anyone else would think, but you don't seem to care, because you're fast asleep with your back to his chest.
✦ ── Hisoka doesn't seem to care either; he just adapts. He pulls you closer so you don't slump forward and rests his hands on your lap instead. He can still shuffle, even with his arms around you, and he might try to build a card tower on your lap if you're still.
You were always direct with him, telling him to move his arms so you could plop yourself right between his legs and use him like a rest. Still, he didn't expect you to fall asleep.
"How amusing." He poked you a few times, but it didn't gain any reaction, so he continued practicing small card tricks in front of you, even if you wouldn't see.
He has his head resting on your shoulder so he can see his hands as he works and listens closely to every breath you take.
Illumi
✦ ── Always as stiff as a board, effective, and calculated. It's insanely hard to get close to Illumi because he always assumes one's actions are for the worst.
✦ ── But you're just so disarming. You make every effort to touch him—usually his hair—and never seem offended when he moves away; you just try again. So, Illumi decides it's a waste of time making space between you two.
✦ ── You can play with his hair, poke his needles, and fall asleep on him all you want. It's not like it brings him any harm, and why would it matter what you did?
You make him feel weird, and you always do strange stuff, but at least you're predictable while you sleep.
It did leave you vulnerable, though. He thought you were being stupid for resting on him when he could so easily kill you. He would not, no, not ever, but he could.
Illumi is used to being still for hours on end, and so he will amuse your antics for the time being by staying still and allowing you rest. Assassins do not need friends, but allies are good to have, right?
Machi
✦ ── Machi keeps her distance from everyone, even those she likes, just to be sure she's ready for anything unexpected. That, and it was harder for the others to tell who she liked.
✦ ── But when you two are alone, she stands close, like a guard dog. You want to sleep on her? Yeah, okay, she won't hold still for you, but she'll let you.
✦ ── God, you're so in the way of her sewing that she has to run her arm around your waist so she can get around you and keep working. So annoying.
"Seriously?" She mutters under her breath, scoffing at your ridiculousness. There was a bed not more than a few meters away, and you still decided this was the best place?
Who cares? You can sleep wherever you want. So long as you don't ruin her project or tell anyone about this, she'll let you rest.
Pakunoda
✦ ── She was friendly, sweet, and alluring. You always commented on the captivating scents of her perfume oil, and she always tried to find one you'd like more than the last.
✦ ── Given she always has the relaxing aura about her, especially with you, it seems to finally slip beyond a pleasant feeling into something so gentle you get real tired around her.
✦ ── Paku watches you fall asleep in real time, and she gently guides you down until you're resting with your shoulders and head on her lap. She won't touch you any further, but she will admire you.
It was late, and they were still waiting on the rest of the troupe to arrive. Pakunoda methodically polished her revolver, counting each bullet as she locked them in place.
Below her working hands was your resting face, head cushioned from the floor by her thighs. Her eyes traced you every few minutes, making sure you showed no sign of discomfort.
When it was time to wake up, she'd give you a quick kiss on your forehead and nudge you until those pretty eyes opened.
Phinks
✦ ── This cocky asshole may act like he's nothing but a fighting machine, but he cares. Yeah, he cares a lot actually, and you're his soft spot.
✦ ── You could tell him point blank you're going to sleep on him, and he'd let it happen, but he's glad you did it unexpectedly because he can play it off as if he isn't happy about it.
✦ ── He'll wrap both arms around you and hold you close, lie back so you can rest comfortably on him, and do his best not to move too much.
Thank god there was a couch nearby when you fell asleep, because without his track jacket he'd have frozen if you'd both stayed on the floor.
That very jacket is pulled over your shoulders like a blanket, and he's holding you close to steal some of that radiating warmth you let off. His expression remains cold, almost annoyed, but he's still holding on tight.
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood." He says it knowing you won't hear it, mostly to rationalize his affectionate actions as nothing more than chance.
Shalnark
✦ ── Out of anyone, he's most likely to have fallen asleep on you before, and he's always opening his arms to envelop you in a hug once he knows you'll accept it.
✦ ── So when you finally make yourself comfortable, curling up next to him and resting the side of your head on his lap, he has to stop himself from celebrating.
✦ ── There is no shame; Shalnark will let his hand play with your hair and touch your face. He wants to feel you, and it seems to soothe you into an even deeper slumber!
His fingers were careful not to mess up or tangle your hair as he carefully brushed through it, moving his hand to trace the outer edge of your ear and follow your jaw where his thumb could caress your cheek.
Your soft breathing was a sign that he wasn't being a disturbance, so he kept going. Mindlessly memorizing the dips and plush parts of your face while he listened for any small noises you offered.
"Sleep as long as you like." His voice was more soft-spoken than he expected, a smile making its way to his lips. You really did mess with his feelings, huh?
Shizuku
✦ ── Not the kind to initiate contact, but also not the kind to shy away from someone else. She is quiet and a great companion for sleep if you want to be watched over the whole time.
✦ ── Shizuku is pretty certain you've never just passed out against her, though. She was sure she would remember something so meaningful! That's why this is such a big deal.
✦ ── Stares at you the whole time and wonders aloud what you might be dreaming about. She'll ask questions, even if she knows you can't answer.
"Are you asleep?" Her eyes peer at you through her glasses, though the answer is obvious when your breath is moving so slow and you give not an inch of a reply.
"Did you not rest well last night?" This time, her hand lifts to hold the side of your head and pull you against her more, making sure you're at least a bit more comfortable.
"If it's okay, I won't wake you up." She could, but she doesn't really feel like it. She likes you anyways, so you should make sure to sleep extra long so she can enjoy it!
Uvogin
✦ ── Ah, yes, this is certainly not the first time you would have fallen asleep on him. Uvo is big, warm, and well-cushioned. He naps all the time while being forced to wait on orders, too.
✦ ── But in the middle of a mission, while you're in the getaway car and being chased down? He barely feels it when you lean against him, but when he tosses a glance your way, he can't help but chuckle at your carelessness.
✦ ── You're moved to his lap, both to make more room for the others and so he can shield you from any stray bullets or if the car takes a tumble.
"You're crazy." He says it with a grin, because quite frankly he likes that about you.
Watching you rest as if you're in a safe haven, and watching you cling to him, is extremely amusing. You're nowhere near this clingy when you're awake, so he's going to savour it!
Even as the car comes to a screeching halt, you don't wake. So Uvogin takes it upon himself to sling you over his shoulder and fight one-handed! He's extra vicious because he's gotta make sure Sleeping Beauty gets her rest.
Author's Note | Genuinely I love each and every one of these guys so much that it is criminal. There is no favouritism because I LOVE THEM ALL DEEPLY. Please enjoy, dearest reader.
i have him on the brain (unfortunately), but imagine working with/for victor gideon. no, let’s top that—imagine flirting with victor and he’s like a brick wall to each tease, or charming compliment you throw his way (bonus points if they center around his intelligence and/or achievements, we need him hooked while also pretending to be disinterested). it just keeps going for a while. kind of becoming a little inside joke between the two of you that you assume is one-sided at first, only for him to start reciprocating in the most intimidating, off-putting way possible. genuinely flirting vs harassment, but you’re actually pretty into it.
It is only when Dr. Victor Gideon drops you to the floor of the small, clinical washroom that you realise he has actually taken the time to walk you somewhere other than the supposed safety of your own private room.
A terrible nightmare having pulled you from your unbroken sleep, the urge to escape the care facility had been overwhelming in its intensity. It was enough to cause the terrors and inherent wrongs which you had been subjected to while here to finally break the dam of your self-preservation and you had made a foolish effort to escape.
An escape which was thoroughly thwarted by Dr. Victor Gideon himself.
Finding you in the examination room, the good doctor had expressed disappointment in your choices as his huge body had easily caught up with your own and offered to escort you back to your room before things escalated.
At his calm demeanour you had reacted poorly.
It was that same damned calm and collected demeanour which never seemed to shift even as his touches lingered across your skin and his attentions seemed to touch on inappropriateness as he subjected you to more and more personal examinations and blood work.
So filled with anxiety and terror at the thought of being taken again, you had fallen into a cabinet of mixed chemicals as you attempted to dodge his grasp. Instantly, a variety of beakers and test tubes had smashed across your body, coating you in their unknown liquids as Victor inevitably snatched you up from the floor and held you to his chest until the fight finally fled your body and you fell limp.
And now, he had taken you here – to this goddamn washroom.
“Your clothing is contaminated with chemicals which will irreversibly corrode your skin within the hour.” Victor explains with a tone which is more exasperated than anything as he watches your eyes dart around the room. Your attempt at escape seeming to be a minor inconvenience to his day rather than a perceived betrayal, his stance is casual as he slings a hand within the pocket of his lab coat. “You will need to wash the residue thoroughly to prevent significant damage from developing.”
As he speaks, Victor turns the taps of the stand-alone bath on and the sudden rush of water into the tub makes you startle in place.
Still frightened by his calm state, you give a pathetic nod as you strive to keep any wayward anger from rising in case he decides that a damaging punishment would be appropriate. Your failure is a shame which stains your cheeks and makes you compliant, survival now more important than anything else as you want nothing more than to quickly bathe and return to your room to comes to terms with what would happen now.
“O-okay, Dr. Gideon.” You stutter out, wringing your hands together as you try to keep your spine straight; to at least pretend to still have a little bravery within you. Once he left, you could strip, quickly hop in the bath and get dressed before any real consequences could arrive.
Victor follows your gaze, glancing at the door before tilting his head back to you with a strange smile playing on his lips, “Oh, I think you mean for me to leave. That will not be happening, dear. As your primary physician within these walls, I must ensure that your body is thoroughly decontaminated or your value as a patient will be marred.”
“What?”
“You will bathe, and I will stay here.” Victor pauses, “For your own safety of course. After tonight’s events, to leave you unsupervised would be…foolish.”
“Wait,” panic flutters in your chest as you instinctively bring your arms to your chest, “no. You can’t- that, that’s private. My privacy-”
“As your doctor, confidentiality is guaranteed. No need to be ashamed. Not in front of me.” Victor says, bolstering his earlier argument. “Now, strip before I am forced to assist you.”
At the word, something indulgent wraps around his tone and you know, in your bones, that he is enjoying your predicament and taking great satisfaction in the humiliation ritual which you are being subjected to.
He wanted you to strip; to place yourself in that vulnerable state while he observes you like a bug under a microscope.
The rush of the water continues as you remain frozen in place, every droplet a noose around your neck which tightens as the waterline rises.
And there was nothing you could do about it now.
Your hands shake terribly as they move to pull the medical gown from your body, slipping the fabric overhead and dropping it to the floor in a messy pile. Now left in only your soft cotton bra and panties, you turn pleading eyes to the monster and find the total impasse of his own golden gaze meeting your own without even a shadow of mercy.
It was a look which silently confirmed that he had given an order and you were going to follow it or he would be forced to personally, and enthusiastically, ensure compliance.
“You must check the temperature yourself before entering.” Victor admits as he turns the taps off and skims his fingers across the still, clear waters. “My enhanced tolerance does not make for an accurate measurement as the heat I could endure would melt the skin from your bones.”
Dipping your hand in the water as your other arm remains dutifully pinned across your chest to protect as much of your skin from his easy gaze as possible, the water feels almost painfully hot to the touch and only just bearable as you swirl your fingers within it.
You are here because you had failed and the part of you which almost asks for a little extra rush of the colder water is silenced by the more twisted part which berates you from the inside and whispers that you deserve to feel the discomfort; that the heat will help to burn away some of the wrongs which your body has been subjected to.
“The undergarments must also be removed.” Victor sighs. “Surely you don’t mean to ruin them as the facility will not budget to replace them easily.”
Biting your lip to keep the cry which threatens to slip out at bay, your shaking fingers unclasp your bra and allow it to fall to the floor before dropping to the sides of your panties and hooking within the fabric to also slip them free of your body. The whole time, tears burn in your eyes and you refuse to look at Victor – instead focusing your attention on the side of the bathtub and pretending to not hear the soft puff of air which Victor makes as your body is fully exposed to his sight.
You swing over the side of the tub and drop into the water so quickly that your skin screams when the heat envelops you in an instant; the shock of it so great that your mouth falls open into a short, gasping cry.
It’s a cry which stammers into something even more pathetic as you draw your knees up to your chest in a foolish attempt to protect at least a little bit of your dignity.
Bending at the waist as he stands by the tub, Victor produces a small washcloth and a sterile bar of white soap from seemingly nowhere as he offers them for your use. Staring blearily at the pair of items, you cannot bring your hands away from your body as they refuse to leave and expose any more skin than they have to.
Victor, having all the time in the world to indulge his little game, watches you with a serene expression as he wags his finger to shake the washcloth, “I am happy to lend a hand if you’re not up to the task, sweet girl. I will ensure thoroughness.”
Feeling total revulsion at the thought of this monsters’ hands wiping you down with the rag he is so gleefully holding out to you, a quick shake of your head rejects his offer as you pluck the washcloth from his hand as well as the sterile soap. Lathering them together, you shakily swipe the rag across your arms and neck as you try to keep your elbows close to your chest.
“Much better.” A rumble of approval from the monster as he stares down at you with a terrifying, unblinking gaze. “Make sure to clean every inch.”
Skin burning with shame and the sear of the water, you take a deep steadying breath as you bring the cloth to your chest – leaving a slight trail of suds across the swell of your tits. The trail catches Victor’s attention and his fingers visibly twitch as he tilts his head ever so slightly to take them in.
Hand trembling you clean them away quickly with a forceful rub of the cloth as you dare to glare up at him with the tiniest hint of defiance even as despair makes your gut feel hollow.
“Every inch.” Victor repeats, the defiance only stoking his sadistic delight as his tongue once more flicks out to press at his lips while he speaks so softly that the words are almost more of a hiss than anything else.
Biting at your inner lip as you fight the urge to cry, you spread your knees only enough to create the space needed to drop the washcloth into the water and swipe it between your legs.
The soft material grazes your sex, making you jump slightly as the motion allows the painfully hot water to burn at your most sensitive skin but the shock of it passes quickly enough as you wipe the area a few more times before dropping the washcloth into the water.
Your vision blurs with unshed tears of humiliation, a deep embarrassment and fear that Victor might push for something more the only thing keeping you pliant to the simpler demands. In this position you are powerless, and you understand the unspoken warning which comes hidden within that fact with a wallowing distress.
Apparently only now content with your humiliation, Victor claps his hands together and the sudden shock of the noise agitates you into a sharp jerk of surprise that threatens to spill the water over the side of the tub.
“Okay, that should be enough. Out now.”
Victor holds a small towel out to the side of the tub, his reach so high that you have no choice but to stand fully and expose your naked frame one final time before you are able to snatch the coarse towel from his hand and wrap it speedily across your shaking body. Stepping out from the tub, the squeak of your soaked feet against the now-damp floor makes you cringe as you clutch at the edges of the towel as though they are a lifeline.
As steady as a stream, the utter lack of obvious liberties which Victor could take is arguable worse than his total control; his hair swaying slightly against his shoulders as he observes you with a false warmth which makes it feel like you are nothing more than a prey animal trapped by a predatory beast which loves to play with its food.
“I will step out for two minutes to allow you to dry and make yourself presentable with the clean clothes in the linen cupboard.” Victor announces, his voice carrying in the silent room as he clasps his hands to his stomach and takes large strides towards the door to the washroom. Pausing in the doorway, he tilts his head over his shoulder and fixes you with an unblinking stare, “Attempt to escape again and I will overtake all bathing and feeding privileges for the foreseeable.
Nodding pathetically in agreement once more, you watch him close the door behind him and exhale shakily as you try to ignore the continued presence of the very obvious tent in Victor’s pants which had so shamelessly presented itself as he indulged himself in your humiliations.
Disclaimers: stalking, creepy Victor, bullish Victor, reader is unaware until reader is, canon typical violence, slight parasocial relationship, female reader (I really struggled to make this gender neutral I'M SO SORRY)
In short: You are Doctor Victor Gideon's beloved secretary. There is literally no way to escape that man's attention (there will be a part 2)
-> Part II
Thank you so much, @ifleasxoxoi , for sending in a request! I would have posted your request, but my dumb ahh accidently deleted it. OOPS <3
I remember you wanted a stalker!Victor Gideon x Reader fic and that you were unsure how to get him to have romantic obsessive feelings for the reader. Which is VERY MUCH agree with. THEREFORE, I figured he'd build a deep affection for someone who has to work relatively close to him often, anticipate his needs, someone he leans on and tolerates his bullshit, like perhaps a secretary...
PLEASE dm me if there's anything I didn't remember right or if you want me to change anything as this is completely MY FAULT.
I'm trying out a slightly different writing style so let me know your thoughts if you've read my content before!
SIT THIS ONE OUT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 PLEASE
~◇~
The sub-levels of the Rhodes Hill Chronic Care Center were perpetually chilled, a climate maintained with surgical precision to keep the Director’s biological volatile experiments stable.
In the flickering blue light of his private lab, Doctor Victor Gideon sat like a silent, emerald-scaled gargoyle.
He was working, or at least he was meant to be. A petri dish was sat beneath a microscope to his left, but his attention was a fractured thing, constantly snapping back to the monitors above his workstation.
He was deeply irked.
The morning had begun with a profound, clinical insult: an intern.
The boy had been trembling so violently the ceramic cup had rattled against the saucer, and the coffee, while technically correct, lacked the specific, grounding scent of the woman who usually delivered it.
Then came the final blow: a ping from his workstation. An email. A digital summary of his day, sterile and devoid of the soft, melodic briefing he had grown to rely on.
His multi-lensed visor whirred, clicking as it zoomed in on Camera 4-B.
There you were.
He watched you through the high-definition feed with an indulgence that bordered on the religious.
He noted the way you tucked a stray hair behind your ear, the slight tension in your shoulders that hadn't been there a week ago.
You were avoiding the main elevator. You were taking the staff wings. You were sending children to do a woman's job because you were attempting to drift out of his orbit.
His split tongue flicked out, tasting the recycled air. Even through the screen, he could practically smell the spike in your cortisol. The shift in your behaviour was a variable he hadn’t authorized.
"A summary," he whispered, his voice a dry, dangerous rasp in the empty room. "As if you are a stranger to me."
He reached out, his long, ring-heavy fingers hovering over the sleek desk phone. He dialled your extension, a number he knew as well as his own pulse.
The sharp trill of your desk phone made you flinch, your hand nearly scattering a stack of intake forms. You stared at the caller ID: DIRECTOR’S OFFICE.
You couldn't hold in the deep huff that escaped your lips. For months, you had successfully compartmentalized your relationship with Doctor Gideon.
During your onboarding, the HR representative had been practiced and dismissive. They described him as a miraculous survivor of the Raccoon City collapse, a man whose biology had been "uniquely altered" by the viral trauma of the incident. They had used comforting, corporate words like non-contagious and perfectly stable. They told you to expect a tall stature, a flamboyant personal style, and a bit of an ego, nothing more.
You’d believed it. You had no reason or authority to not believe it. The money was great, and he seemed pleasant during your interviews, if only a bit self-absorbed, a bit in his own world. You chalked that up to his personality. No one was perfect.
At first, his attention had even felt… flattering. He was brilliant, powerful, and unapologetically fixated on you.
You told yourself his lingering stares and habit of invading your space were just a kind of high-level office theatre. Something controlled, something you understood. A game you were handling well.
But lately, that clinical distance had dissolved. The "banter" had taken on a suffocating, heavy weight. The way he lingered in your personal space and the quiet, possessive edge to his voice had shifted the atmosphere of the clinic entirely.
You had started to pull back because it felt like you were being slowly, meticulously drawn into a snare. But you were beginning to realise your sudden desperate attempts to redefine your boundaries only seemed to make the trap tighten.
"How can I help you, Doctor Gideon?" you said, trying to keep your voice level, sweet.
"I find the digital copies of the Arklay budget reports... insufficient," his voice purred through the receiver, melodic and impossibly soft. It sent a cold shiver down your spine. "Would you be a dear and bring the hard files to my office? Immediately. Do not delegate this; I require your specific... insight."
"Of course, Doctor. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Make it five," he corrected, and the line went dead.
You gathered the files, your mind racing. You reasoned that taking the North Staff Wing was the most "efficient" choice; you could handle two tasks at once and minimize the time spent in Victor’s stifling presence. But the hallway felt longer than usual. Every white-tiled corner seemed to stretch.
You were passing the supply closets when a shadow eclipsed the fluorescent lights. It was distorted and gargantuan, cast against the sterile wall.
You froze.
"The North Wing is notoriously busy this time of day, dear heart. A strange choice for someone in such a... hurry."
Victor stepped out from an alcove near the nurse’s station. The pale greenish scales of his coat looked like oil on water in the dim light. He stood there, a mountain of pale skin and ink-black veins, filling the entire hallway.
"Doctor!" you gasped. "I was just... I needed to see Nurse Miller about the—"
"I asked for you. In five minutes," he interrupted, his voice a low vibration that seemed to rattle your teeth. "When you did not arrive, I feared you had... lost your way."
He didn't move. He stood there, filling the entire hallway for a moment longer, as if to be spiteful. Then he unfolded his arms, his gold-clad fingers twitching.
"But then," he stepped forward, his massive frame looming over you until you had to crane your neck back just to see his chin, "I remembered we have cameras everywhere."
The air felt like it was being sucked out of the room, "It’s a comfort, isn't it? Knowing you’re never truly alone?"
He didn't reach for your arm. Instead, his hand rose and settled heavily, possessively, on the nape of your neck.
You audibly gasped in utter shock.
His fingers were deathly cold, the skin feeling like damp marble against your heated flesh. The sheer size of his hand nearly wrapped around the entirety of your neck, his thumb resting just beneath your ear.
"Come," he said, the pressure of his hand guiding you forward with effortless, terrifying strength. "I'll escort you. We wouldn't want you getting distracted again."
The walk to his office was agonizing. He didn't speak, but his hand stayed firmly on the back of your neck, his thumb occasionally stroking the skin there as if checking your pulse.
When you finally entered his office, the atmosphere shifted violently. While the rest of the clinic was kept at a precise, clinical chill, Victor’s space was a sweltering 30°C. It was a humid, heavy oven, necessary for a man who could no longer generate his own warmth. The air was thick enough to make your lungs labor, yet he seemed to expand in it, his movements becoming more fluid as he absorbed the artificial heat.
He closed the heavy mahogany door. The click sounded like a gunshot.
"The files," he murmured, extending a hand. You handed them over, your fingers trembling.
He moved behind his desk and, to your surprise, reached up and unlatched the multi-lensed visor. He set the heavy device down on the blotter with a hollow thud. Without the glass, his black sclera were fully visible—void-like pits that seemed to absorb the dim light of the room. He spent a long, agonizing minute pretending to skim the papers, his split tongue flickering as he read.
"Satisfactory," he finally whispered, setting the files down.
"If that's all, Doctor, I should get back to my desk." You said as you turned to leave, your chest already loosening at the thought of the cool hallway, but his voice cut cleanly through the humid air.
“Stop.”
You froze mid-step, your boots skidding faintly against the polished floor. He didn't raise his voice. It was just pure instinct held you there before thought could catch up, and by then, it was too late. A flicker of confusion crossed your face as you glanced back—
—and saw him moving.
You watched as he walked leisurely around his desk, past you, and claim the space between yourself and the only exit of the room.
Then he came toward you.
He didn’t touch you. He didn’t need to. The intent in his posture, the slow, predatory certainty, drove you back step by step until the edge of his desk struck the small of your back.
He leaned down, his face inches from yours. The heat of the room made the scent of his expensive cologne and something faintly, sickly sweet fill your lungs.
"Tell me," he began, his voice dripping with a terrifying, indulgent fondness. "Have I offended you? You’ve been... distant."
"Oh, no, no! O-of course not!" You lied, your voice trembling. "I thought if I handled the logistics from my desk, it would save you time. Be more efficient?"
“Efficient?” he repeated softly, the word dragged out as if it offended him. A faint glint of gold flashed between his lips. “No… no, you misunderstand the term entirely.”
His gaze dragged over you, slow and assessing, as though recalibrating something that had slipped out of alignment.
"Efficiency," he continued, the cool draft of his breath ghosting over your lips, "would be you where I expect you to be. When I expect you to be there."
His hand rose, unhurried and heavy, to settle along the line of your jaw. The chill of his skin was a shock, a sudden, heat-leaching weight that made your pulse stutter. His fingers pressed with just enough surgical precision to tilt your head back, forcing you to map the blackened veins threading up his throat and the void-like depth of his eyes.
He leaned in closer, his shadow swallowing you whole. "Instead, I am forced to waste my time tracking down a secretary who has decided, for reasons unknown, to make herself scarce." His thumb shifted, pressing beneath your chin. "I do not tolerate inefficiency in my facility," he went on, voice tightening almost imperceptibly. "Least of all from you."
"I... I’m sorry, Doctor Gideon," you whispered, your voice trembling as the small of your back pressed harder into his desk.
"I know you are," he rumbled, his grip softening only to allow his thumb to trace the trembling line of your lower lip. "But do not confuse my patience for permission. If you attempt this stunt again..."
He studied your face for a long, suffocating moment, his split tongue flickering once to catch the scent of your rising panic.
“I assure you,” he finished, almost gently, “there is nowhere in this building you could place yourself that I would not reach.”
He withdrew his hand, the sudden absence of his touch leaving your skin feeling unnervingly raw. The dismissal was sharp, a flick of his ring-heavy fingers toward the door.
"Go back to your desk. And tomorrow... bring me my coffee yourself. I find I have lost my taste for the interns incompetence. Understood?"
You swallowed, forcing your voice to steady. “Of course. It won’t happen again.”
A low hum of approval followed, of bored satisfaction, as if your total compliance was merely a natural law he had finally re-established. He didn't look up again as he reached for the files.
"Go on, then."
You didn't wait for a second dismissal. You murmured a frantic apology, something about a pending shipment of sedatives, and turned on your heel, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.
As the heavy oak door clicked shut behind you, the relative chill of the hallway hit you hard enough to make you shiver violently.
You started quickly down the hall on the path to your office, but as you passed under the first dome shaped security camera in the corridor, you felt a sickening prickle at the base of your neck.
You didn't look up, but you could feel the lens tracking the crown of your head, following the line of your shoulders, recording every panicked breath.
Summary: You have a fever, and because you’re his very special patient, Dr. Gideon tries to help. In his own way…
Word count: 4.7k
Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, noncon, medical experimentation, vomiting, blood & injury, implied SH, drug use, needles, knifeplay, size difference, oral sex, vaginal fingering, penetration, choking, biting, dry humping, orgasm denial
Link to AO3
A/n: this is pretty gross and bad but the smelly reptile man brainrot is too powerful and I needed to something about it. Enjoy!
***
You know it’s him before he even enters the room.
The lock to your cell gives its familiar double-click, the sound cutting through the quiet of the room. Your stomach roils on instinct before the nausea can catch up, but luckily, you’re already awake. Have been, for hours, trapped in a feverish half-sleep suspended on the ebb and flow of your symptoms. Every swallow tastes like blood, and your thin nightgown clings to your skin in damp patches. Your body can’t seem to decide if it’s ice-cold or scalding, so you burrow yourself deeper into your bedsheets. You prefer it this way, if only to avoid looking at him.
Fluorescent light spills in from the hall. You sense it crest along your silhouette and pull the sheets up even higher, suppressing a shiver that cannot be blamed solely on your illness. Measured footsteps approach the bed, and his scent, antiseptic and metallic, surrounds you.
Dr. Victor Gideon makes a low, gravelly sound before he speaks.
“You’re awake,” he says simply.
A hand settles over the crown of your head, the unnaturally cold appendage shocking your eyes wide open. Thankfully, he can’t see that. It takes everything in you to steady your frantic breathing, fingers blanching where they curl into your sheets.
You wonder if it’s worth feigning sleep. The doctor is not an idiot, and certainly no stranger to your failed attempts at deceiving him by now, but you think he deserves the pettiness anyway.
There’s only silence for several more beats until he says your name, loud enough to produce a resounding echo in the small space. The dread it fills you with forces your lips apart, but no sound comes out. You try again, and your voice scrapes up raw.
“I couldn’t sleep,” you say, cringing at the pain in your throat.
Gideon says nothing. His hand brushes aside the hair concealing your face until it reaches the slope of your forehead, feeling the sweat that has accumulated there. You bitterly note the pleasent bite of cold from where his skin and rings press against you, a reprieve from your body’s own stifling temperature.
He hums low, as though considering something, then leans close enough for you to feel the mattress dip.
“Sit up,” he says, disconcertingly soft.
His proximity makes your head swim and stomach lurch.
“I can’t.”
“I won’t ask again,” Gideon warns.
With a huff, you force your elbows beneath you. Thankfully, the doctor backs up enough to give you space, but as you rise, your vision blooms with bleary spots and your feverish joints protest sharply.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
At last, you turn to look at him. Gideon is dressed in his usual coat, snakeskin leather shining dangerously in the low light of the room. He must’ve been out, you think, noticing the way his wiry hair is slicked back. A wet sheen covers the expanse of his inhumanly pale chest, as though he’d been in the rain.
He’s even wearing that wretched visor. It is perhaps the thing you loathe most of all about this man. The cold, all-seeing glint of it a constant reminder that he would never offer you something as simple or as equalizing as eye contact. It’s a power imbalance you have known since he took you captive all those months ago.
The cameras activate, whirring softly as they extend outward to analyze you. You cannot fathom what he sees besides the shell of a girl he’s reduced you to in the name of scientific research. A cannibal’s hubris.
You turn away from the uncomfortable scrutiny of it, but Gideon catches your chin between his large fingers and turns you back. You utter a noise of protest, only to be startled into silence by the sudden proximity of his face.
“You have a fever,” he notes, standing straighter.
No shit, you think hatefully. You’ve been sick. For days. It was really only a matter of time before all his drugs caught up to your body. Some darker part of you almost rejoices at the simple fact that this illness could be lethal, maybe your only way out of this hellhole.
“An inflammatory response to the last treatment,” he says again. “Taking longer to resolve than expected, it seems.”
He’s speaking out loud more for himself than you; you never understand what he’s talking about anyway, divulging only the barest details of his findings on occasion. You’re not even entirely sure there is a purpose to these experiments.
You know there is something that Gideon wants from you, though. The reason for these daily visits and the continued abuse and exploitation of your body. After all, you can’t imagine this monster has any room for affection in his heart. It’s a truth grossly apparent in a moment like this, where his behavior feels more perverse and unpredictable than ever, as though he is acting on some private fantasy.
Gideon reaches into his coat pocket and procures a small bag. Inside are three pills, all smooth edges and ill intent. Your stomach churns at the sight alone.
“No,” your voice cracks. “I can’t keep anything down.”
“I don’t think that’s fair,” says Gideon coolly. He shakes the pills from the bag and places them in your palm. “You don’t want to keep anything down.”
Frustrated tears burn at the corners of your eyes. “Please, the medicine makes it worse,” you insist. “It always does.”
The doctor says nothing to that, only staring down at you with the same unreadable expression. Then, his hand drifts towards a metal cart by your cot and flexes over a large syringe. The blood in your veins turns to ice.
The message is simple enough, and you know all too well that he will not hesitate to follow through on it.
“Good patients do as they’re told,” Gideon murmurs. “Surely you know that by now.”
You’re choking on air as hot, angry tears stream from your eyes.
You don’t want to yield to the threat, but the fear of falling victim to the mad doctor’s wrath paralyzes you. After a beat of hesitation, you nod slowly.
Satisfied, Gideon reaches for a cup of water and places it beside you. His disfigured smile, lips curling excitedly over jagged gold teeth, tells you he must get a kick out of this little game of defiance.
Despite the harrowing threat of Gideon’s temper, you keep your jaw shut. Your gaze falls to the pills in your shaky hand until your unshed tears blur their colors together, Gideon watches calmly, but the slight down pull of his mouth tells you his patience is thinning.
Silence stretches until the pressure feels as though it might split your skull. You tip your head back and place the pills on your tongue. Sharp bitterness invades your senses at once, and the urge to gag rises hot and violent.
Gideon beams, pleased.
You snatch the cup of water and down it in one go, but your throat seizes in immediate protest. He places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing placating circles as you cough sharply.
“Shh… just let it pass. You’re doing very well,” he murmurs.
The praise is short-lived as nausea crashes over you.
You bow forward, stomach clenching hard enough to make your ribs ache. He does not step back, but instead reaches for the metal cart to pick up an emesis basin, as though he expected this, and places it beneath your chin. You retch, once, then twice, bringing up the bitter medicine, water, and bile. Cold sweat turns waxy on your skin.
“I-I’m sorry, I r-really didn’t mean to do it this time,” you sputter between gags, but Gideon watches on disinterestedly.
He sets the basin aside once you’ve recovered, “I hoped that wouldn’t be necessary, but perhaps we should try the bath again.”
Your head lifts a fraction, eyes misted with the effort it took to expel everything from your body. You internally try not to panic
“N-no, not that again. Please.”
The doctor continues, “Your present fever is proving inconvenient for the data we require.” He pauses for a beat then nods to himself, like he’s pleased with his own idea. “If you still cannot stomach the medicine, then we will simply have to try the traditional approach again.”
“But it hurts,” you choke out. The room tilts on its axis as you try your damndest to keep down another wave of nausea.
Before you can argue further, your blanket is stripped away. Cool air bites at your clammy skin as Gideon hooks one arm beneath your legs and hauls you over his shoulder with effortless strength. The shame that flares through you burns hotter than any fever.
He carries you out of the room and into the adjacent bathroom, unceremoniously dumping you onto the stool bolted to the ground. Without another word, he approaches the bathtub and turns the tap. It sputters, then steadies into a crystalline stream.
Gideon glances back at you. “Remove your clothes.”
You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so terrified. Instead, you rise from the stool at once and lunge for the bathroom door, only for a rough hand to clap over your shoulder and shove you back towards it.
Your cheeks burn hotly with indignation, unsure of what to say. And why should you? Gideon is leaning down to stare at you, lips thin and expression unreadable, but you already know you’ve crossed the line.
As you stand beside the man now, you're disturbingly reminded by how this monster towers over you, capable of swallowing you whole should he wish it.
“Can I at least do it myself?” you plead, begging for some semblance of reprieve from his overbearing presence.
Something like amusement crosses Gideon’s marred features. “Oh,” his smile turns predatory. He leans impossibly closer, until you feel his hot breath condensate along the shell of your ear. “But we already tried that once before. Didn’t we?”
He punctuates the last part with a squeeze of your throat. If any of the nausea from earlier had begun to recede, it certainly comes rushing back now, along with the memories of your last attempt at rebellion when you attempted to drown yourself in this very tub. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to bury the memory of this cold-blooded monster’s hands on your bare skin and fists tangled in your hair.
”That won’t happen again, I swea—“
Without warning, you are lifted and dropped into the bathtub. A yelp tears from you as frigid water engulfs your body, the cold is so immediate and absolute it steals the breath from your lungs. Your flimsy, white nightgown soaks through immediately, but you hardly have the presence of mind to feel the shame of lying practically naked beneath him.
Gasping for breath, you look upwards to where Gideon stands over you.
The grin he fixes you with is carnivorous. He drops to his haunches beside the tub, imposing height still oppressive even bent down to your level.
“You’re not like others, you know,” he breathes, sweeping a wet strand of hair from your face. “That is why I must take such careful measures.” His hand drops to caress the tendons in your neck, lower until it cups a breast, flicking an erect nipple through your wet gown.
Your hand moves before your mind can stop it, striking him square across the face.
The crack that splits through the bathroom sobers you at once; shock detonates in your mind so violently that you can do nothing but stare at the profile of the man before you, then at your own hand as though it belongs to someone else entirely. You let it sink into the icy bathwater, then shrink back against the tub as though it’ll make you invisible.
Gideon goes still. Then he turns back.
And then he is on you.
Your head slams into the tile as his hand buries itself in your hair, forcing you still as he kisses you. Pain blooms hot behind your eyes, the violation of his nearness causing a surge of panic to flood through your body. His tongue traces the seam of your bottom lip hungrily, serpentine and cold. It demands entrance and you don’t have the strength to stop it. The forked appendage finds yours, and you’re certain you still taste of vomit but he doesn't seem to care.
Groaning in revulsion, you shove him away, but Gideon’s hand closes tightly around your neck. The callused pad of his thumb finds your carotid instantly, stroking it in silent warning until you yield.
The surface of your tongue catches on the chipped edge of a tooth, eliciting a small cry of pain as the tang of blood fills your mouth. Gideon groans when he tastes it, lapping up every trace with ravenous greed. When he finally pulls away, a thin strand of saliva remains connected to your mouths.
“I thought we’d moved past these little tantrums,” he seethes. His thumb presses deeper into your throat, making your head feel airy.
“Just kill me,” you spit. “I’m not getting better, and it doesn’t fucking matter–”
Gideon sighs and releases your throat, rising to his full height. You drag in a ragged breath, still reeling from the assault, only to freeze when you look back up and find him grinning at you. Fresh blood stains his smile, gold and crimson flashing in the low light, as though his teeth had been inlaid with rubies.
“Kill you?” he repeats, like you’ve just insulted him. “I’m afraid I can’t do that—not while I still have use for you.”
Suddenly, you are being hauled out of the water and slung over his shoulder. You scream and thrash against the iron grip, soaking through his beloved coat and sending water streaming from your hair and clothes to the floor. Droplets splatter like tears across the concrete floor as he carries you back to your bed.
”No. No. Please, just leave me alone.”
You’re tossed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. A wave of disgust rolls through you at the feeling of your soaked nightgown clinging to your skin, and the abrupt shift from the bath’s freezing water to the suffocating warmth of the bed makes your teeth chatter. You can scarcely catch your breath before he is on you again in a blur of snakeskin and pitiless cold metal.
You cannot escape him. Gideon’s presence is absolute no matter where you are, a reptilian bane that lives in your very marrow. His mouth finds yours again, nipping at a sensitive spot on your lip that begins to bleed. His arms trap you, fingers roaming about your body and squeezing into your nightgown and skin like he means to wring you out.
Something sharp digs into your skin, making you flinch. When you look down, a scalpel gleams in Gideon’s hand. It carves a long, bloody stripe along your collarbone, the searing pain briefly pacified by his tongue dashing out to lap it up. You go slack in his arms like a limb doll, head still throbbing from where it struck the wall earlier. The bath has done nothing for your condition, and fever creeps back over you in a nauseous wave, bringing with it that drowning delirium.
“You… you are my masterpiece,” Gideon pants, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your sternum and breasts through the material of your gown. A crimson tongue darts out to swirl lasciviously around your peaked nipples.
You briefly wonder if it would be possible to snatch the scalpel from his hand while he’s distracted and end your life right here, months of experimental torment beneath his thumb for the sole purpose of cruel dominion. A perfect retribution for a life that you no longer owned.
Almost as though reading your mind, he begins to laugh like a madman. You flinch at the sudden noise, which sobers him, turning his expression eerily grave.
“You are my finest work. Did you really believe I would ever let you go?” His face splits into a smile, with all the unhinged delight of a hunter closing in on its prey. “You, of all people, should know better than that.”
“Don’t you dare touch me,” you snarl, twisting in his arms to fight him off despite your mounting nausea, but he pins you down to the bed with inhuman strength.
Sinking to his knees, Gideon licks away rivulets of bath water on your bare legs, twisting the flesh tightly enough until the pressure blanches your skin. You cover your eyes with your arm and cry out, making him ease his grip before stroking gentle circles into your calves like he means to placate you. A hand glides up your leg, skirting along the wet edge of your nightgown. You hastily attempt to clamp your legs shut, but noticing this, he scores a deep cut into your thigh with the scalpel, sucking at the wound greedily.
“There, there,” he murmurs. “I’m only trying to help you.”
His hand resumes its ascent between your legs, cupping your sex over the drenched fabric. You instinctively reach over to cover his hand with your own in a silent plea to stop, but it only serves to compel his ministrations.
“Shhh… please don’t fight it,” he murmurs feather-soft into your skin, sounding vulnerable in a way that is unbecoming of him. “Can’t you see that I need you to trust me?”
“No more, please,” you collapse back onto the mattress and pretend this is all just a nightmare, a fever dream wrought of venomous heat.
The bottom of your nightgown is torn by the scalpel as Gideon rips the rest away, baring you entirely.
He leans over to plant a chaste kiss at your navel, sliding upwards until his mouth latches onto a nipple. His rapidly hardening cock digs into your abdomen, uncharacteristically hot from this cold-blooded monster. He sucks at the peak experimentally, capturing it between his front teeth and nibbling down. You sink your nails into his feathery hair and swallow back a broken sob. Why is he doing this to you? How much longer must you endure this torment before this creature decides you have nothing left to give?
He moves higher to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, grinding his clothed cock against your bare sex. The pressure of the snake buckle on his belt feels unexpectedly good against your pubic mound. He registers the small whine it elicits.
Gideon whispers your name reverently. “Tell me who you belong to,” then, seething, “Tell me.”
He emphasizes the command with another cut of skin at your sternum, licking that one like the others before he kisses you again. You taste yourself on his tongue.
“No one,” you hiss against his mouth, and Gideon laughs menacingly.
Cold fingers dash quickly between your bodies to find your cunt, gliding embarrassingly smooth along the folds. You turn to bury your face into the sheets, horrified in the face of evidence to your unwanted arousal. He makes a hum of approval as his fingers circle about your entrance and before you can stop him, two digits are pushed deep inside of you. Despite your wetness, the brutish size of his fingers leave you crying out in burning agony as they begin to pump in and out at a cruel pace.
Your body is betraying you. It must be. He has no right to it and still, it bows and thrums to his every touch. It feels too weak, too pliant that you wonder if he’s done something to you; after all, you have no idea what kind of drugs he has been pumping into your system since you were first taken here, nor what fills the syringes he administers whenever you misbehave. Maybe there was even something in those pills, despite your efforts to purge them. Colors writhe in the void of your clamped eyes as you try to imagine yourself a million miles away from this moment, somewhere in a lush forest, or deep beneath the sea, where this monster could never find you.
“I won’t… fuck…. Please just stop…!” You protest, squirming beneath his weight. But then he adds a third finger and curls it until he finds that spot along your walls that turns your brain to cotton. The combination of your fever, pleasure, and humiliation makes you feel like you might dissolve into the bed.
Time slows as you reach the edge. You defeatedly squeeze around Gideon’s fingers, if only to get this over with faster. But your release never comes.
Gideon detaches himself from you like a ghost. You clench around nothing and cry out, swallowing the plea that rises in your throat, certain it would shatter whatever ragged scrap of fighting spirit you have left if you ever let yourself yield to this beast’s whims.
You scramble up against the wall as soon as he moves away, and fix him with the most poisonous glare you can muster. “You’re fucking insane–”
The words lodge in your throat as Gideon begins to unfasten his visor.
You’ve seen his eyes once before, but the sight of them now, ablaze with sadistic hunger, makes fear cinch tight around your gut. Unnatural eyes, serpentine and bright, trail hungrily over your naked body before lifting to lock with yours.
“What I have planned for you will not be stopped by these petty little shows of rebellion, but it is entertaining to watch you try,” Gideon muses, placing the visor on the metal cart. Fear paralyzes you when he reaches for the syringe.
“No! Fuck, get away from me!” you scream, wrenching from the bed, but Gideon traps you again with his eager hands.
He twists you by the ankles and drags you right back towards the edge of the bed where he kneels, prying your legs apart to bring his face between them as the tip of the syringe rises like a serpent’s tooth and plunges deep into your thigh.
You collapse onto the mattress, defeated. A strange drag settles over your limbs, as though your blood has thickened in your veins.
The injection site burns, but even more scalding is the wet, dragging slide of Gideon’s tongue at your sex. You can’t stifle the broken moan that comes out of you, half-panicked, as you weakly attempt to kick him away with your foot. He barely reacts, squeezing your ankle tighter until the pain shoots white-hot up your leg.
Gideon closes his mouth around you, that hateful tongue pressing flat against your clitoris as he suckles lightly. He is merciless against your swollen folds, forked tongue plunging in and out of you until you’re left wheezing for air.
Your thoughts wade brokenly in your mind. You think the drug is beginning to take effect as weakness seeps through you in slow, poisonous increments, like you’ve been filled with this monster’s venom. Pleasure dies at the stake of your stupor. At some point you begin to cry, your cheek meeting the cold dampness of tear-stains on your sheets as you turn away to bury your burning face.
Your breath hitches at the half-lidded stare Gideon gives you from between your thighs. He’s grinning, the mess of your arousal apparent on his lower face as he lingers there, savoring your anguish. He blows on the sensitive flesh, using his coarse thumb to rub quick circles on your clit. You tear away as the scene becomes hazy and attempt to focus your attention on counting the ceiling tiles.
Something about that must amuse him because he begins to laugh against your folds, the vibration sparking every nerve to life. This, along with the delve of his greedy tongue into your sopping cunt sends you over the edge. But the pleasure does not arrive cleanly, instead it drags through the chemical fog in a warped pulse, too dull to ride out.
His hands keep you pressed to the bed, slurping down your orgasm and dragging his tongue from your slit to clitoris until you're left writhing in the muddy throb of overstimulation.
But he’s not done with you. Before you can recover, he wipes his mouth against your thighs and grabs a hold of you, rolling you onto your stomach effortlessly.
“Stop. Please, please, that’s enough–” you moan out, forehead slamming into the mattress. You feel like rolling over into a cramped ball on the floor and purging your body over and over until it forgets the feeling of his hands on you, in you–
“It’s taken me forever to find you…” He releases a shaky breath, caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Now, at last, you can fulfill your destiny.”
You are still trying to decipher what he means when the jingle of his belt buckle and trousers coming undone barely registers in your syrupy brain.
No. No. No.
In your mind, you lurch away from his hands, but your physical body remains motionless on the bed. Gideon grips your lower body and slams his hips forward without warning. You scream into your own mouth, teeth sinking hard enough into your cheek to draw blood. Your bottom half feels like it might split in half from the force of trying to accommodate his inhuman length. The scarred, ribbed skin of his cock rubs obscenely against your walls, large hands settling on either side of your hips as you faintly feel them slither up and down your ribcage in a futile attempt to soothe.
A helpless sob escapes you, but the doctor moans over you, deep and ragged.
“Shhh… Oh, forgive me… But you’ve left me with no other choice.”
Gideon begins to ride you to his pleasure, sliding deep enough that you feel the hot, swollen head of his cock pound against your cervix, girth stretching your walls unbearably wide. Fingers on one hand squeeze your hips, hard, the other reaching for the underside of your body to tightly squeeze and pull at your breasts, rolling a nipple between his fingers.
“You’re doing so well, ah– that’s it. So damn well for me.” Cold flesh envelops you once more as he dips down to lick the space between your shoulder blades, your back unintentionally bowing toward him. The hand at your breasts drops to your lower belly and presses against the bulging impression of his cock as it jerks in and out of you savagely.
His next thrusts are harder and more merciless, even in your drug-induced haze, grazing a spot inside of you that sends a fresh wave of feverish heat in your blood. You gnaw on the bedsheets until your mouth is dry and brimming with the downy taste.
One more punishing snap of Victor’s hips into that particular spot, fingers rubbing tight circles at your clit with deliberate pressure has you coming undone in his hold; it’s a mangled sort of release that makes dark spots burst like fireworks in your vision.
Gideon isn’t too far from release himself, because the pulsation of your walls around him have his thrusts growing more desperate and sloppy.
“Yes… yes, yes, ah, that’s it,” he hisses, words blurred into a liquid murmur. “Can’t you see I’m the only one who recognizes your worth?”
A hand entangles itself in your hair, rings snagging at the strands, and wrenches your face close enough that you can hear Gideon snarl his release. Ropes of warm seed flood your channel, curdling any lingering pleasure from your orgasm into a deep, sour nausea.
You are wholly trapped beneath this monster’s weight and the effects of the sedative to do anything, even as he continues to pump a few final, agonizing strokes into you.
The doctor hasn’t even removed himself off of you before you feel the iron grip of his fist begin to wring your neck. You are slammed back against the bed before you can make sense of what is happening.
Gideon whispers your name like a prayer, “Rest, now,” he says, voice sounding strangely faraway. “We have so much more to do when you wake.”
Darkness swells around you, your final scraps of consciousness shattering into the blessedly quiet void of the sedative.
The peace is startling and merciful, like the breaking of a fever.
Summary - An attempt to hide in the kitchen gone wrong, you find yourself captured by Victor Gideon as your short game of cat and mouse reaches an unexpected end. (3.9k)
In hindsight, the kitchen was a terrible idea for a hiding place.
So, when a thick hand wraps around your ankle to pull you harshly from the low cupboard which you have so pathetically tried to stuff your body within, you really only have yourself to blame for the shitty choice.
The graceless scream which bursts from your lips is very quickly silenced by the appearance of a wide greying hand wrapping around your throat, lifting your flailing body easily to your feet to pin you hard against the nearby kitchen wall.
Eyes blurring due to the pressure of pure terror which fills your head, you blink away the disorientation as you fight against the pressure around your throat to continue to take in shaky breaths and stare up at your ongoing pursuer with open fear.
Victor Gideon stares back at you with a casualness which has the audacity to spark the faintest hint of irritation in the small space which wasn’t currently occupied with anxiety or thoughts of how to get the hell out of this predicament.
“Foolhardy girl.” The monster speaks, his voice gentle in a placating way which throws you off as you pause your fruitless struggle for only a moment. Still pinned by the throat, your toes are only just able to scrape the linoleum as you try to gain some decent purchase to keep the pressure off your struggling windpipe.
Your eyes dart across Victor’s face and body as this new close positioning allows you take in his terrifying, inhumane appearance.
The metal visor which covers the upper half of his head does little to hide the discoloured skin below, the shade an off-grey which looks cold and rough to the touch. His hair, long and dishevelled at the ends, is a mixture of silver and white – the strands overlapping and clearly in need of at least some basic care. The only other uncovered skin, aside from the hand which covers your throat, comes at his collarbone where the black shirt is low enough to expose an odd ragged scar which runs down his neck; the twisted skin furling and pitted where the scar seems to have punctured the deepest.
A lack of warmth lives in the skin which encircles your neck with little pockets of added chill where the ornate, gaudy rings which decorate his fingers lay flush against your throat. His clothing is surprisingly human. A black shirt, the fabric fastened by odd-looking hooks, and black pants mostly covered by the pale leather snakeskin coat which shrouds his massive frame.
Everything about him feels unnatural, from his height to the very real strength which allows him to hold you in place as though you were little more than a paperweight in his hands.
And here you were, trapped.
However, as the seconds tick by without any violence or motion, you realise that Victor is studying you with about as much intensity as you are him.
“Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Not here, not in my clinic, and not from me.” He tuts loudly, the sound cutting through the velvety tones like a bullet. “Even if you do put on quite the display.”
Eyes flicking down at the weird comment, you take in your apparent state of undress with a wild choking noise.
When you had first slipped within the cupboard as you bounced from the corridor into the filthy kitchen, the metal edge of the cupboard door had caught your shirt but in the flurry of movement you hadn’t given any real thought to the tearing sound which filled the space which wasn’t occupied by your panicked breathing.
But now, looking down, you realise that the tear is particularly grim as the torn flap of shirt sits open, exposing the dark material of your cotton bra. Your tits are barely contained, heaving chest and frantic movements having shifted the material so much that both areoles peek free of the simple bra.
Even through the greyed skin, the slight flush which rises into Victor’s cheeks is unmistakable as his unseen gaze flicks between your chest and face – only the slight movement of his head telling you where he’s looking. The appearance of the blush only makes you struggle more against his hand, unable to deny that he’s noticed the display and horrified at what he might do because of it.
“Well,” his voice is soft, so soft that certain words seem to dissolve into nothing as he continues to speak more to himself than anything else, “that’s something I haven’t seen in some time. If this is a wild attempt to distract me from the fun of the chase then congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”
The way he speaks, so calmly rational despite how utterly batshit his actual words are, sparks a terrible consideration in your chest – one which repulses you as much as it gives way to an even more terrible hope, a flicker that you could survive this encounter with your life intact.
Maybe you could use this.
He smells of hospital, of that forced antiseptic cleanliness which is forced over every surface to give the illusion of hygiene. It, plus the lingering scent of leather which clings to the snakeskin coat which fills out his wide frame, is almost enough to cover the scent of decay which lies beneath – something uncanny which alerts those most primal parts of your brain which can recognise the presence of death.
But maybe you could use this.
Going suddenly limp in his grasp, you drag your hands from their clawing motion against his clothed arm and instead bring trembling fingers to the buttons of your shirt, undoing the highest button as your teeth appear to bite at your lower lip to keep it steady.
“Interesting.” Victor breathes the word out, his head tilting as his metallic eye mask clearly continues to rove between your expression and your uncovered chest as you undo more buttons. “Now that is an unexpected move.” He hums. “I was growing tired of the bratty insolence and had planned to dispose of you kindly. However, this,” he paused, shifting his bodyweight from one leg to another as he leans in closer to your trapped frame, “is perhaps slightly more preferable.”
Putting on a brave face even as your chest tightens, it takes every inch of your control to not pull away in disgust as his head drops to your neck – his fingers spreading and loosing enough to allow him unfettered access to your skin as you feel him sniff at your skin and inhale sharply at the soft remnants of the perfume you had sprayed on the area earlier in the morning.
His mouth is hot against your neck and the shock of it makes your body stiffen as a distinctly non-human tongue flicks across your pulse point in such a way that you cannot help but shiver with heated revulsion. It feels almost serpentine, dual sensations telling you it might even be forked, but your thoughts are short-circuited as the tongue is quickly replaced by teeth which are so sharp and uneven in pattern that you can’t help the pathetic noise which snaps free of your lips.
It’s a noise which rises into a strangled cry as those sharp teeth press even more roughly into your neck – not hard enough to break through the skin but with enough strength that you know it will leave vicious little unmistakable imprints. The threat of the teeth remain as chapped, rough lips join to suck heavily at the skin, the lazy sensation going straight to your groin as your erogenous zones and body betray you to confuse anxiety with horrific arousal to pull a stunted groan from your chest.
His hulking body freezes at the sound, mouth pulling away from your neck as his face comes to peer into your own – the garbled mess of your reflection mirroring back at you from the dulled shine of his metallic visor. He doesn’t ask permission, perhaps knowing that you would never consciously force yourself to give it, so the shock of his free hand sliding up your outer thigh as he shifts attention to slip his hand up within your modest skirt is something which passes without comment as you momentarily appreciate that his slightly loosened grip of your throat is enough to allow your feet to sit more steadily against the floor.
You bite the inside of your mouth to keep any more noises from spilling free as his hand creeps higher to its intended target. A part of you wants to attack and defend yourself at the humiliating situation but a larger part of you, the part that wants to live to see another day, strangles it in the crib – instead forcing your attention to look at the intricate belt which loops through Victor’s pants as his hand finally reaches your inner thigh to brush against your panties.
Thick fingers curl around the fabric and you momentarily fear that he’s going to rip them from your ass like a beast. However, after a moments indecision he simply tugs them off to the side and pushes forward to cup your cunt with his hand, the size difference painfully clear as the cool touch of his skin engulfs your entire sex with ease. His touch is almost experimental, fingers delving past the trimmed pubic hair to prod along your slit, feeling the lack of dampness with the slightest frown as his head tilts back down to brush against your ear.
“Try to relax, pet. I’m sure you know how this works.”
His knuckle pushes up to graze your clit and the sensation is so sharp and unexpected that you can’t help but pull heavily against his hand and unthinkingly renew your struggle to be free of him; despite your unspoken acceptance of his touch.
“I can’t. It’s- this is all- fuck!” Sudden clarity hits you, the reality of your own foolish choice and betraying arousal making your mind fracture into pure panic, “Let me go.”
“Now?” Victor muses, his hand remaining around your throat as he carelessly keeps you flush against the wall, “I don’t think so. You’ve captured my attention which is a rare, rare thing these days. My work consumes so much.” With that he shifts his hips forward and you gasp as the stark evidence of his arousal presses roughly into your hips.
Even unseen, you can feel the size of his cock through his pants and it stills you into submission once more – fresh fear forcing you more into a freeze mentality than the original flee. Victor continues to speak as he feels your body relax in place once more, “It’s nothing pretty to look at but since we are sharing what we have under the hood…”
His hand falls from your cunt to drop to his pants, deftly loosing his belt and freeing his cock as you keep your eyes above his shoulders, too afraid to look down and accept the reality which you had sold yourself into. However, the choice to stay ignorant clearly irritate him and you can see it in the way his face tightens and his hand takes a moment to shake your throat in warning, a gentle reminder that – should he wish it – he could snap your neck with shockingly little effort.
Tilting your head down, you take in the exposed sight of him with a frozen look of pure terror and concern. His cock, much like the rest of him, is huge – much bigger than anything you’ve seen before, even in the scant few porn films you’d enjoyed. The terror came not just from the length, but in just how thick the heft of his cock is as it juts proudly from his opened fly. The colour is just as terrifying, boasting a similar shade of grey to the rest of his skin. Whatever other secrets his genitals hold are thankfully covered by his fly as the fabric sit in such a way that it hides everything else away from sight.
Victor takes your silence for what it is, his body closing in another few inches as his cock twitches, untouched, at the attention.
“You’re anxious.” He grunts, low tone filled with mock consideration. “That’s understandable. Touch it, touch me, touch and feel the choice you’ve made.”
Understanding that it wasn’t a question, your shaking hand drops from his forearm and slips into the space between you to wrap around the heft of his length. He’s cool to the touch, the surprising temperature making your hand flinch away for only a moment before returning. The texture is very odd, almost as leathery as his hands but not quite as rough and it’s easy to forget exactly what it is that you’re doing as you run your hand along his length, feeling the ridges and pits of his tarred skin.
The effects of your touch are immediate as Victor’s mouth falls open, exposing even more sharpened teeth, as a low, hissing noise slips free of his lips. His body is steady but you can feel the thrum of barely concealed excitement in his stance; his upper body curling over your own like a weeping willow as he effortlessly fills the space around you.
“Delicious little thing.” He says and you gasp as his hand wraps around your leg, raising the limb to give him easy access to your cunt as he pushes his body forward fully – his massive frame now engulfing your own without any hope of escape. His movement knocks your hand free of him as his cock shifts to press up roughly against your hole, a shocking sensation as you really start to feel just how thick he is and how woefully unprepared you are to receive him.
“Can you,” the words come like acid against your tongue as you finally allow your pride to break enough to ask something of him, “touch me?” You feel heat flare in your cheeks at the question, “It’s too-too much like this. You’ll hurt me.”
“And what if I want to hurt you?”
The question is mumbled and comes with a muted curiosity. Regardless, it still sparks fresh moisture in your eyes as your body tenses at the thought of being forced to stretch around him without any prep. You can feel his gaze on your own as you fight the urge to cry, his visor still hiding away his eyes, but relief floods your gut as his free hand releases your leg and acquires to your ask as it instead returns to your cunt.
Without preamble, he thrusts two fingers within you and the sudden stretch makes your back go rigid against the wall as you bite back a cry of discomfort. His hands much larger than a normal man’s, the two fingers feel thicker than any cock. You try to widen your thighs to alleviate some of the pressure as Victor begins to shift the digits in place; curling them against your walls almost experimentally as he enjoyed the tightness of you clenching around him.
You try to cling to the barest hint of pleasure which creeps along the discomfort, a slight dampness – your body’s natural reaction to events – making his touch easier with every passing moment as he continues to stretch you around his fingers. The room is surprisingly silent, the only noise to breach the peace being your muffled grunts and the quiet noises which huff free of Victor’s lips as he claims his prize with surprising enthusiasm.
The peace wasn’t to last though and after a few moments, Victor’s impatience is quick to flare. “Delays will only irritate me, silly girl.” He announces, his voice carrying a hint of something sharp which instantly sets you on edge, “Let’s not bother wasting more time.”
His cock returns to your cunt, rubbing along your slit to gather the subtle arousal which is only really beginning to coat the skin as his hand grips your leg once more; lifting it high to the side to allow him to fuck you without any barrier.
The first thrust is brutal, the blunt intrusion so shocking that it steals the breath from your lungs as your whole body tenses at the sheer girth of him – scant arousal only just allowing his thick cock to stretch your opening without tearing the skin beyond repair.
The hand around your neck tightens ever-so-slightly and you whimper as Victor’s head drops to press into the wall just above the side of your own. His breath floats down to your ear, the erratic rhythm saying more than his words ever could as his body tenses with tightly-held control. The strength you can feel in his arms is terrifying, his fingers around your neck able to snap your bones with about as much effort as it would take his other arm to crush the spine which it quickly settles around to allow him to control your every movement.
“Unbelievable.” He huffs, voice trembling with arousal and the need held within is so apparent that it’s almost reverential. A strange fact which soothes that little part of your psyche which is terrified that he’s still going to kill you when he’s finished.
Surely, if you’re letting him do this then…well…it had to count for something.
You decide to beg, sensing that maybe he’ll be more merciful if you show a willing submission to his wants, “Please, it- it hurts.”
“Yes, I suppose it will. Such a small body to be kicking up such a big fuss. What the nerves require is stimulation.” Humming at his own assessment, Victor’s tone quickens into a gasp as he gives a shallow thrust to roughly bully another two inches of cock within your hole.
With the hollowing pain mostly concentrated at the entrance of your hole, his deepening thrusts only spark a real fresh discomfort when the head of his cock glances off your cervix before sitting flush against the tissue. Glancing down, you immediately regret the choice as you spot the remaining few inches of cock which had absolutely nowhere to go without tearing a fresh hole through your punished sex.
Stuffed beyond belief, it’s only the fear of being trapped by such a monster and the complex mixture of pain and whispering pleasure which keeps you focused as your hands scramble along the fabric of his coat. The leather makes it impossible to gain any real purchase and, if anything, the desperate clawing movements only seem to excite him further as Victor tightens the grip of his arm which laces around the base of your back to keep you impaled on his cock.
“So tight around me-” Victor grunts, cutting off his own words with a suffering groan, “It’s almost painful, you know. Perhaps I should have spent more time opening you up…”
Not trusting your voice, you squeak out something incomprehensible as you try to relax as much as possible for your own comfort. Despite it all, the pleasure was there; creeping steadily with a growing strength along the discomfort with every stroke of his cock – his girth forcing every nerve to spark to life as his oddly textured cock dragged along them.
“Release will be difficult, given my state, but your body is enjoyable. Sensations I haven’t felt in-” Victor cuts himself off, his voice dissolving into a self-satisfied hum as he makes considerations you aren’t privy to.
Something viciously delightful ignites in your chest as you realise that he’s not going to come inside you, soothing a fear which you hadn’t even truly realised was knocking at your psyche. He was barely human and what kind of mess such a…thing…would produce was a scary thought which you quickly push away as you refocus on the traitorous pleasure which his cock is wringing from your punished nerves.
His rhythm is slow and commanding, a careful control which feels somehow worse than if he’d just let loose and use you like the monster you think him to be. He is being cautious, meticulous in not breaking the fragile thing in his hands as he jerks his hips and pushes his cock enough to fill your cunt without causing any real, unfixable damage. And the more he pushes, the more you had to confess that it feels kind of good. Too good.
You come around his cock with nothing but pure shame roiling through your veins, the event inevitable given just how wickedly his length is able to stroke along all those delicious spots within your walls. Your release is silent, the tension snapping with a swallowed groan as your fingers clutch tight into the arms of his leather coat and you bite at your lips desperately to keep your moans hidden away. For his part, Victor seems perfectly aware of your delight – his rhythm stuttering only slightly as his fingers tighten against your legs with such a grip that you know small purple bruises will soon decorate the skin.
Eventually, Victor pulls his cock free after a few more lazy thrusts and the sudden emptiness after such a large intrusion feels strange, a pathetic emptiness making your brain feel immediate disgust and self-loathing. Your cunt aches as he releases your leg and allows you to stand back on both feet – a hollowing discomfort which you know will take at least a day to begin feeling better.
The mess against your thighs, all of your own making, feels cool in the chilled air and your hands are quick to adjust your panties and smooth your skirt out to hide your shame. The heave of your chest is noticeable given the still-opened shirt and you don’t bother to try and readjust the buttons given the torn state of the fabric.
As Victor fixes himself, tucking his still-hard cock away into his black pants, your attention once again falls to the odd scar which cut down from his throat to his chest, it looks almost like something they would give a corpse and the thought makes your shudder – fresh revulsion making your gut roil and bile threaten the depths of your throat.
Something soft hits you in the chest and you inhale sharply as your hands automatically clutch at the fabric which Victor had just casually plucked from the wall behind your head and tossed in your direction. Looking down, you take in the chef’s coat with some confusion before realising that he probably meant for you to wear it.
“My office is free of danger.” Victor offers, his voice as soft as even if a little more strained than you have heard it previously. He straightens the lapels of his coat as he turns from you and swiftly makes way towards the nearby corridor, clearly possessing no interest in continuing any kind of conversation or action. Pausing at the door, his head tilts over his shoulder as he surveys you through his visor. “Perhaps I’ll find you once more when my masters work is completed and the world is thrust into new understanding of his brilliance.”
Finally exhaling as he disappears into the dark depths of the care facility, the deep breath comes shakily and erratic as your entire chest shudders with relief. You pull the chef’s coat over your ripped shirt and fasten it up as your shaky legs begin to carry you – almost automatically – towards the map which you could remember seeing on the wall by the stairs.
An area free of danger wasn’t something you could afford to pass up with so many monsters patrolling the care facility and, despite everything, you trusted the honesty of Victor’s claim.
Victor whispering in your ear "I know, I know" & shushing you gently while he impales you on his massive [REDACTED]... each whimper making him throb inside you... he's so tender & grossly intimate that it makes you want to sob, but you don't even know why - you can't think of anything else but how he's stretching you to a sense of total fullness, his voice reaching to a place you've never had anyone enter before; you're disemboweled, degloved, everything inside on the outside... you've never put so much trust into anyone before & he knows that, that's why he's telling you just how good you're doing, that there's no need to be afraid, you can feel safe with him. it's almost humiliating how your body seems to so readily betray your pretenses of caution & restraint, yet this surrender feels better than anything you could possibly imagine. don't resist the inevitable, let him in, let him redefine everything, intoxicate & corrupt you save you from yourself
Victor Gideon headcanons (a few relationship ones sprinkled in)
Warnings- none
I just know Victor Gideon would probably smell of either rank death or soaked terribly in cologne that doesn’t help.
He strikes me as the kind of man who enjoys a good gummy worm. Like I can’t explain it but he looks like he at least tried eating worms once and just decided to eat gummy worms instead.
Victor definitely uses the money he gets from Zeno/the connections as a means of expanding his wardrobe. I mean we all see what the funky man wears. He definitely has a huge ring collection too.
I think he would be down for more body mods for himself just to see what he can get away with.
He definitely likes to have a partner who he can just sit in silence with while he works. But I believe he loves someone who talks a whole lot more keeps his life entertaining.
He’s a tongue kisser I mean he keeps flicking it out so he’s definitely doing it while kissing. Also he just loves to lick and bite playfully at your body.
He also wants to be around you a lot so be prepared to be around him hours at a time.
May I humbly request Dr. Gideon hunting down a patient that has escaped his "care"?
Anon I love how your brain works ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
I just so happen to LOVE writing chases and have a Predator/Prey kink so thank you this was a treat to write♡ This kinda ran away from me in terms of length but I'm happy with it because it is VERY self indulgent.
Words: 2500+
Tags: Predator/prey, chasing, post chase sex, penis in vagina sex
Reader is Gender neutral, Reader has a vagina, no gendered terms used, Compliments like "Sweetheart" and "Dear".
There was no need for him to run. This centre was a fortress honed to keep you in. A labyrinth with it's own minotaur to patrol the cold, white halls. No security guards were deployed when you escaped from your room. Only a lockdown put into place and a crooning siren blaring through the halls. Now, you scurried through the building, bare feet slapping loud against the hard floors. While it looked like you were alone here, you knew better.
Slamming your back against the wall you stop for the first time since you made your initial mad dash. Your body shuddered with every laboured breath as you tried to focus, your head dizzy with a lack of oxygen. Eyes wide, you glanced around taking in your surroundings. You found yourself in the lounge, somewhere on the second floor. It was meant for the owners to relax in so you had never actually seen it before, only heard about it in passing. The room was ornate to say the least even with the lights off. If you weren't so panicked it might have made you livid with how mediocre your own room was given what the director got to indulge in. That flicker of a thought made your blood run cold as it reminded you how you ended up here. Doctor Victor Gideon.
As if on cue you caught the sound of a heavy footfall cutting through the silence. Quickly searching over the room you ducked behind a couch on the far side of the room. Huddling down as small as possible, you ducked your head in and hoped you weren't visible from the door. Before you could fret anymore, the steps approached the room, pausing briefly and followed by the creaking of the door as it was pushed open.
Victor didn't need to see you. Letting his tongue slip from between his lips, he wriggled it in the air a moment before pulling it back in. Running it over the roof of his mouth, he breathed deep and let his eyes slide shut. There was no mistaking your scent. Blood, sweat and panic. Stepping into the lounge he continued to flick his tongue, taking in more as he moved slowly through the dark. Scanning the room, he honed in on where you were. He would give you this; you hid yourself well. If it weren't for the fact that he could practically taste the blood pumping through your veins, you would have actually had a chance.
Moving with measured steps, Victor circled the seat you had tucked yourself behind. Your heart thundered in your chest as you tried to control your panting. Staring at his boots as they tapped heavily across the floor, you watched as you thought he was turning away. Maybe he had missed you. Then, he turns towards you. Your eyes flicker up his form, travelling higher and higher until you find his half covered face. That cold metal visor gazes at you empty, all the while a wide, gilded grin greets you.
"Found you."
There's no time for you to scream before he was on you. The doctor's massive form stooping down in a flash as he grabs for you. Scrambling back, you managed to get away by a few feet. However you don't stand up in time and Victor wraps a hand fully around your calf. The grip is like a bear trap, clamping down and surely bruising as he yanks you back towards him. You're rolled onto your back and swiftly hoisted off the floor in one easy motion. Those hands encircle your waist, holding you up in front of him. You squirm in his grip but you are only wasting your energy. Shoving at his giant palms does nothing either and eventually slow your attempts at escape. Panting, your thrashing stops while the anxiety in your chest continues to bloom.
Victor can't help but coo at your fruitless fighting, tilting his head as you slow to a stop in his hands. You had a habit of trying to run and at first, Victor was annoyed by the constant escapes. It took time out of his day and pulled him away from what he deemed more important work. As time went on, and the chases became more intense, Victor soon found himself anticipating them. That rush of adrenaline and power as he followed you through the building easily. His size clearly inspiring fear in you as he cornered and captured you. By the end of this little game, both of you were panting, sweating and exhausted. There was no denying he enjoyed this as for more than just a power fantasy.
Bringing you closer he hovered his lips close to your jaw, breathing deeply again as the peaks of his forked tongue brushed your cheek. Immediately he was flooded with the salt on your heated skin. Beneath it was something else, a scent wafting off of you that most likely not even you knew about. A boon of Victor's mutation. He needed more to parse out what it was and so his tongue darted out again. This time he presses more of the muscle to your skin, dragging it a moment longer. You let out a heavier breath than usual, but Victor pays it no mind. His eyes have closed again as he sorts through all the information he took in, his lips hanging open just a bit.
That salt was still prominent but now he could smell other hormones flooding your body. Everything in your blood that made your body run and hide the way it did. Made your heart flutter in your chest and the sigh escape your lips as his breath grazed your ear. While he can smell the stress in your sweat, he knows he can smell something else. What the hell was it?
A hand clamps itself onto the back of your head, the fingers wrapping around and pinching at your cheekbones. Yanking your head back you let out a yelp. Victor leaned in close before pressing the body of his tongue against your neck, dragging it up before detaching at your chin. The sigh you let out stuttered as it fell from your lips, a heat building in your cheeks against your will. You hated that such a disgusting act had any affect on you, yet alone anything this strong. Fighting back any further reaction, you avoid the empty gaze of his visor by looking down at the floor.
Victor's eyes rolled back in his skull as he took in everything about you. The feel of your pumping blood beneath your skin sent sparks at the fire that was already building from the chase. Absently, his hands were travelling over your body, shifting you in his grasp and pulling you closer to him. You didn't fight it and despite what you had hoped, it wasn't because you were too exhausted too. You could have kicked him square in the groin, could have bit him or clawed at his face. Instead your fingers found his neck and collarbone, resting tentatively against the cool, grey skin. As his eyes opened behind the visor, he had finally figured out what was hiding beneath it all.
"How...interesting."
Victor's voice is a low rumble in his chest. Pressing you against his body, he could feel the now unmistakable warmth washing off of you. Running his hands over you, he hummed lowly into your ear. In return, you let out a strangled moan and slid your arms further around his neck. You'd be lying to yourself if you thought these late night runs were just to try and escape. Maybe the first couple times were, but now? You almost craved the way he could easily find and detain you, using his sheer size to pin you and haul you away. With your body now pressed to his and his hands sliding under the open back of your hospital gown, there was no lying to yourself anymore.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٠
The lounge floor was littered with clothing, a trail that lead to the two forms on one of the couches. On a nearby side table, his visor sat watching you blankly through it's empty glass eyes. Victor's broad, bare back hunched over you as he knelt between your legs before the couch. You were sat on it, giving you enough height for your hips to actually align with his. His thick arms trap you against the cushions below, two solid pillars to either side of your head that you cling to with each thrust. Panting above you Victor watches through half lidded, yellow and black eyes as your face contorts with pleasure.
Your head is flooded with heat leaving you dizzy and light. While trying to fit his cock was a stretch at first, he was slow with his preparation. Whispering filthy compliments into your ear with that growling bass, he stretched your cunt with his fingers. Despite the initial sting, your body adjusted to him quickly as he continued to soothe and praise you. The serpent whispering in the ear of Eve, he opened you up with each and every word. Now he was pistoning his hips against yours with absolute precision, each connection filling the room with loud, wet smacks. Joining the lewd symphony, you mewled and moaned freely completely unfazed by the idea that someone may hear you.
Even though he held your thighs in his hands he had no reason to. They hung limply in his grasp as your body fell completely pliant under him. He used the hold to pull you against him, making each thrust hit harder and deeper. Meanwhile your own hands rested on his collarbones, drifting down to his heavy chest now and again. His torso exuded strength and you did what you could to gawk at it here and there. Grabbing at the ample flesh there only pulled low groans from him as a response.
Pausing his steady thrusts a moment, he panted hard as he adjust position slightly. Bringing your legs up and together, he let them rest against his shoulder before continuing. Even the small change had you seeing stars, your eyes rolling back as your lids fluttered shut. Your mouth hung open and your hands lost most of their strength outside of gripping onto his forearms for dear life. The coil and heat in your gut tightened exponentially, pushing you closer to the edge faster than before.
"Nng- Doctor! Ah! Doctor G-Gideon!"
You tried to spit out what you wanted to say but it was muddied with each new hard drive of pleasure. That full head of his cock bouncing off your cervix as he drove hard and deep into you. Above you, you heard him chuckle. A low, dangerous tune that sent a shiver through you.
"Now, now sweetheart. Speak up."
While his thrusts slowed just a bit, he continued the punishing beat, barely offering a reprieve.
"I'm so close-Ah! I'm gunna c-cum! Please!"
Victor cooed in response condescendingly.
"Ohh...Surely you're smart enough to cum on your own?"
Leaning in closer, he folded your body further, pushing you to the limit of your flexibility.
"Or are you too stupid to even do that now, hm?"
Victor kept his pace, fucking you through the peak of it with nearly reckless abandon. Watching your face go slack with ecstasy, crying out his name and clinging to him was more fuel on an already raging bonfire. Adjusting his grip he latched onto your hips and straightened out his back, now towering above you. Like this he could use you like a doll, moving you freely as he fucked you into the couch below. The increased intensity sent you reeling, overstimulating you and leaving you gasping lewdly. With his body now too far to cling to you dug your fingers into the pillows around you, squirming and writhing in his grasp.
From here his thrusts could reach even deeper, the upturned shaft of his cock allowing the head to graze your g-spot as it sunk into you. You barely lasted a few moments in this position before coming undone, the words he huskily spoke into your ear driving you over the edge. Letting out a shout of his name you followed it with several relieved cries as the pleasure in your belly finally snapped and washed through you. Arching against his stone like body, you writhed in his grasp while you rode out your orgasm.
Snapping his hips hard he finally stilled as he let out his own barking cry, growling as he came hard within your fluttering cunt. Every pump from his thick cock sent heat back into your belly, making you moan pathetically. There was no wriggling from his hold either as he ensured every drop filled you as thoroughly as possible. Once he finished, he curled down over your form again, panting from his open mouth and coming down from his own high. In this moment, he looked almost calm. Peaceful. His face softer than you had ever seen it. You made a note to commit it to memory for the nights you felt particularly lonely in bed.
"Let me know when you're done staring, dear."
Finally coming back to reality, Victor gingerly pulled his cock from you, both of you letting out your own noise as it slipped free with a sickly wet sound. His cock still drooled slowly onto the floor below, mixing with the mess that had already collected there. The cum inside you also slowly dripped out as he let your legs drop down to either side of his waist. The room was now silent outside of your shared panting, a sound that filled your ears entirely.
In the post coitus calm, you could finally take in his body more thoroughly and you did so greedily, drinking in his solid torso and committing it to the same memory that held his blissed out face. That bulky, dense torso filled your vision, your eyes glazing over the bulk in his shoulders.
The comment caught your attention immediately, your gaze flickering up to his face. Without the visor, Victor's face was far more handsome than you expected it to be. A heavy brow, prominent nose and dark eyes made him awfully appealing. It's a shame he didn't take it off more often.
"Wha-"
"You're gawking. Keep looking at me like that and you won't be returning to your room until morning."
It sounded like a warning, but to you it might as well have been an invitation. Raising a brow you let your eyes drift down again, drinking in the swell of his pecs followed by the roundness of his belly. Unconsciously, your tongue slipped out over your lips. Two fingers found your chin, tilting your eyes up to meet his again, an almost incredulous look on his face.
"Really, sweetheart?"
The flush in your cheeks gave you away as it was, but the almost shy glance away from his intense stare was comically obvious. With what sounded like a scoff and a laugh, Victor shook his head and stood. Before you could think that you had pushed this game a little too far, he had tucked himself into his pants, leaned down and scooped your limp body into his arms. The clean up of the lounge could wait. Right now, he was determined to stash you away in his room.
