˙⋆✮ summary. you are victor's protege and one true love
pairing. victor frankenstein x monster!f!reader warnings. dubious morality, allegory to religious worship, religious themes in general, creator and createe relationship, deplorable levels of yearning, gender roles and gender discourse appropriate for the time, sexual tension, gore (for study purposes), +18 smut (for gooning purposes. body worship, victor loves titties, lowk tries to baby trap u :/), unrealistic declarations of love wc. 5.8 ✧˖°.
author's note. this chapter was actually too long so i split it in half. second part tmr, then epilogue wednesday 🙂↕️ or mb ill add the epilogue to the second part idk tbh also u will not BELIEVE the smut inciting incident
creds. div. @uzmacchiato !
✶mlist | buy me coffee | bride mlist ✶ parts ✶ 1 ✶ 2 ✶ 3 ✶ 4 ✶ 5 ✶6 ✶epilogue (optional)
BRIDE, VOL. 5: OR, THE RETELLING OF THE UNHAPPY FEMALE CREATURE, AS AUTHORED BY THE MODERN PROMETHEUS
you did not sleep that night. victor, inspired by great passion, released you from his hold to wander about the darkened room, collecting all which he deemed necessary to show you the truth of being. “come,” he beckoned, from the shadows to the moon-drenched tomes promising revelation. “let me help you make sense of this world.”
you were presented with pages of mesmerizing symbols. they formed complexities which neither literacy nor phonetics could accurately position, and while you recognized the sloping similarities between the new, misshapen s, the quite faithful rendition of l or i – context depended, or thus you conjectured – and the sound that made surprise, o, no other thing permitted such liberal classification. victor’s beloved hand found the back of your neck and lingered, “here,” he said, and you took the book, “the foundation of all existence. mathematics.”
the prospect of matter being revealed to you made you so eager to begin you found yourself, once again, lost in the throes of your own untamable emotion. to put order to chaos; to explain both nature and man and all that had been born from the combination of both – were you permitted to study these secrets at last?
“is it?” you questioned, hopeful rather than disbelieving. victor, in response, gave a little squeeze in affirmation. “all of it?”
“yes,” he confirmed, and kissed you once more.
yet for all his genius, victor was a precarious and much too impatient teacher, never willing his thoughts into a simple, coherent string a newly appointed pupil could follow without stumbling. all of his explanations beheld a certain expectation of knowledge too vast and too dense – the cloying syrup of it caught between your teeth and restrained you into perplexed silence. when he noticed your confusion, he would slow and breathe out deeply, not in disappointment but in some benign discontent at being stalled by trivialities. the air and look of it would fade away each time he caught your gaze. how he tempered, how quickly the passions left him – as though the wind knocked them out, but the night was so still.
indeed, this continued till the shroud lifted and a golden sunrise touched upon his cheekbone. the light cradled him gently in its warm embrace, kissing along his lashes and his aquiline nose. there were many moments as such throughout your study, where these reveries would render you useless. was affect stored within the bloodstream, felt along the heart? your experiences were not fit for sinew and flesh, yet constrained within those bounds they happily existed nonetheless.
you were very taken by him in those instances before your curiosity demanded your focus, and he was very taken by you in others. he played with your hair and held your hand and kissed along your jaw, your neck, thoughts of teaching lost to some immediate, insatiable hunger. as such, you sat on the uneven wooden boards, cravats and cuffs undone, among books, wax, and wavering lights, strangely disjoined like two parts of the same that need only turn slightly to fit.
his chin eventually drooped onto your shoulder, curls tickling your cheek. how tired he was, yet how content! you could not, in good consciousness, allow him to infringe upon your study further, for he seemed on the verge of collapse.
“you must rest,” you reminded him.
“and leave you?” he rasped.
“i shall join you later,” was your amicable bargain.
“no.”
not for a moment did he consider your proposition, or how beneficial it was. your victor was truly stubborn when the day had worn him down to bone.
“then we shall go now together.”
in bed, you braced against the pillows and sat with your book. his head found comfort in your lap, and he fell asleep no sooner than his lips had left a small kiss onto your shift.
the following few days were spent in this manner of pleasant leisure. you inhabited the strangest of places and never the same one twice: an hour in the nook between the shelves, snug yet unexpectedly comfortable, an hour underneath a table, with your new alphabet etched into the wood. victor could find you atop windowsills and behind the couch, by the mirror or sat primly nestled into the curtains, yet could never rouse the anger to reprimand you, nor the will to relocate your person to somewhere he deemed more preferable. he could not make sense of your wandering either, though spoke not a word of it and, when surprise eventually gave way to fondness, would join you for a moment to touch upon your cheek or place a kiss onto your forehead, lastly leaving you to your enlightening yet solitary venture.
it was the morning the call arrived that you deciphered your first equation into the very same page it was proffered, with victor’s steel-nibbed pen. you made home on the chequered washroom tiles as victor bathed. he was leaned back and to the side, throat exposed and delectable. one of his well-shaped arms was lost under perfumed water, but the other, and such was always the case, found itself reaching for your willing person. thus, he was always nearby when, within quandaries, you needed an adviser, or more so often, his reassurance and affection.
“do you wish to go?” he inquired, fingers massaging your scalp as you enjoyed the gentle motions.
he had become more sensitive, somehow. the impermeability of his guise fell by tiny increments. slowly, it was ceded to you; slowly, to your influence, he crumbled.
perhaps you would have been a better student had your focus not had the lousy tendency to shift upon the slightest provocation. the ink-stained formula, worked and reworked once more, laid forgotten as you dedicated yourself to instinctive longing. the feeling went deep and burrowed within every fragment of your innards. no part of you could reject it, nor tolerate anything that disturbed the amity it bestowed.
you closed your eyes to allow this unusual and most charming impression to resonate.
“with elizabeth?” he continued after you failed to answer, giving a perfunctory tug to arrange the tangle in his grasp, “last time, it proved stimulating enough. she did seem partial to you, as anyone would be. an appeal from her cannot be dismissed lightly, but, if you don’t care to join her, then i'd much prefer you here with me.”
all your contentment coalesced into a great soap bubble, that, when touched, dispersed in twirling filigree.
“she must have a wonderful afternoon planned,” you smiled.
“hm,” victor pondered, “hardly a matter worth engaging, though, is it?”
there it was. that odd something that seeped through the quiet and settled between phrases. he glanced sideways; the muscle in his jaw twitched and eased. he had not meant the slip perhaps, nor the subsequent proof of it melding onto his features. for all your inexperience, he was the one you observed the closest, and therefore, managed to identify, with no great difficulty, something troubled lurking just beneath the surface.
if you had no response before, your instincts were now keener than ever, and you knew the right words to reassure.
“dear one,” you murmured, “do not fret. i'll be away briefly, i’m sure, and no trouble will find me, of that i am also certain. you must know i have never denied myself the sight of you, but an opportunity as such could be beneficial, for i shall learn more with her than without."
slight colouring arrived to his cheeks. “very well.”
a kiss solved the worst of it. a peck, really, yet that gave you the pleasure to see him smiling fondly at you for your efforts.
when the carriage came, though the ride was long and windy and damp, you did not notice these deficiencies at all, nor did they hinder your sense of impending fulfilment, for it was your first time traversing the unknown all on your lonesome, and meeting a friend – a true, honest friend! – at a foreign station.
elizabeth waited for you atop the white steps of the building which claimed her interest. she wore green in celebration of the drenching mizzle and, were the rest of her outfit just a shade or two lighter, she might have appeared as a pale shaft of wheat, surrounded by budding, moorland flowers. the day was overcast, but her smile alone brought about a gentle brightness inherent to her womanly nature. two gloved hands extended to yours. she brushed upon them the tender prelude of your outing and asked after your health.
the rooms inside were remarkably small, and within them worked the industrial machine of memory. seen through beautiful apertures, preserved animal bodies sat austerely still and unseeing. an ugly shade of bright yellow wallpaper peeked between large displays of various lepidoptera, to which elizabeth strayed readily and gave a faithful account of their innocuous characters. she seemed to possess a great deal of knowledge about the unnoticeable and insignificant, and gazed lovingly upon a flayed mayfly. behind you, children squealed and dared not pet the sharp-toothed corpus of a fox.
“you enjoy the natural sciences as well?” you asked, hoping to locate a common ground on which you may be able to stand on firmly. while the sight of butterflies and insects did not stir you nearly as deeply as her – no, that is not right, it did not stir you at all – you could appreciate their compositional arrangement, their marvelling colours, and their logical necessity. the lives of these creatures, which seemed to matter to elizabeth so dearly, you did not care for; nor for any other animal creature exhibited.
this, elizabeth did not know, and took your query to heart. her head dipped, and some expression accosted her. if you had the vocabulary, you would have known it as dreaminess, though you recognized its appearance on victor, too, as he always regarded you so when he was lost in thought.
“indeed,” she admitted, “my field of study is entomology. neither as popular nor as loud as its sister philosophies, though no less wonderfully nuanced. the minutiae are endlessly fascinating. don't you think, angel, that the tiniest of animals could present an excellent study, an insight into life itself? for none is ever like the other. each has its place and exists by virtue of a carefully managed sequence of cause and effect.”
she paused to look at you to see if you have given her ideas the consideration they merited. you moved onto the adjacent room in cordial silence as you briefly parsed through all which you had thus far collected. here, the animals were much larger. their stiff bodies appeared so unnatural that even you, who did not know them, thought them much unlike what they ought to have been. you inspected the coarse coat of a deer closest to your person. above the blind glass eye which beheld the menagerie, a poorly patched wound mark crushed into the skull.
“not unlike the complicated nature of human-beings, i suppose,” you offered at last, “which, as individual as it may be, still subjects itself to the grand narratives of natural cycles.”
on her face there flickered a shadow of a forlorn smile. “i can see why victor is endeared to you,” she uttered, which made you very happy. “as well, you said. i knew as much the moment i saw you, though william insisted that you possess a romantic spirit. he has convinced himself of the matter, in fact, and pled me to give you our copy of romeo and juliet. i took the liberty to reject him. i did not think you’d be much fond of verse. though, if i’m incorrect, please forgive me. i shall pass it along when i see you next.”
you did not know of any romeo, nor juliet who, from phrase alone, was his pair. verse, too, you had heard of but never encountered. “i’ve never read it,” you admitted.
“would you like to?’
“what’s it about?”
such a strange apprehension reflected in her eyes, gone in an instant. “love,” she said, “of the most tragic sort. needlesly dramatic, if you were to ask me, though william is very partial to it. i prefer scientific publications to those of entertainment.”
had you a preference? you felt incredibly inept. no matter where you looked, the canvas was blank. victor was so immensely remarkable, as were elizabeth and her william, each, in their unique facets, had given themselves an identity you did not possess. were you an empty shell with nothing of interest to contribute? would they grow weary of you soon, once the novelty of you was exhausted and all there was to say had been uttered? no, you thought, that cannot be so, for to leave you would be unkind, and these human-beings, to the contrary, displayed admirable sensitivity toward one another.
your heart pounded a little too violently. what an awkward intermission, and what a clumsy interlocutor you have proved to be! the damage must be reversed. you thought very carefully on what victor would do were he in your place. “i suppose i’m still, hm, finding my real interests. i was briefly very much taken by medicine, and though i still enjoy it, i’ve found that mathematics suit my character much better. i would still be happy to read romeo and juliet on an interest of leisure and opinion, though please don't assume me capable enough of engaging into a critique of the prose, for i doubt it shall have as profound an influence upon me as it has, evidently, had on william.”
for all the missteps, you seemed to have put elizabeth at ease. in the next minute she laughed a delightful lilting laugh and, through lashes, gifted to you a warm smile. “then we shall be excellent company for one another!”
once all the rooms were accounted for, you took back to civilization. the thin, heavy raindrops fell less often now, and a muted, milky sun shied behind cloud cover, allowing you both reprieve. together, you traipsed along cobblestones and made pleasant conversation which, by chance or fate, soured when the topic of victor frankenstein was discussed at length.
elizabeth seemed to subtly abhor him, though the reason for this resentment she would not voice. it was in the narrowness of her eyes and the stoniness of her genial expression, the precipitous turning away to appraise the architecture as though to evade you. you wished to alleviate any suffering his name had caused, and thus, proposed the following: “please, elizabeth, if victor has done something to upset you, i beg you, allow me to remedy his mistake. he is dearest to me, and it hurts greatly to see you ill at ease because of his thoughtlessness. will you permit me a fair audience of your grievance? i will see what i can do to satisfy it, if the opportunity arises.”
she stared into the distance and debated the viability of her story. ultimately, her conclusion yielded to a brittle and entirely unexpected chuckle. a teardrop welled and, as quickly as she noticed it, fell forgotten onto her skirts. “dear angel, this you cannot repair. victor has done a terrible thing which can never be amended. a series of horrors, in fact, for which no contrition would be good enough.”
what was the sin that warranted such terrible condemnation? it seemed quite contrary, the conclusion she reached. if she were speaking to the victor you knew, you hardly believed this severe a judgment would hold. the heart which beat inside his chest was unwavering, if passionate. in spite of his brusqueness or cold demeanor at times, his interior blazed, so inviting you could happily get lost there so long as it pleased him.
you did not wish to invalidate her experience nor deny it of significance. no matter her rejection, however, you had to stand by his conviction and defend him, because she did not have the good fortune nor the wisdom of knowing what lay beyond the skin.
“can you tell me what happened?” you asked gently, placing a reassuring hand upon her arm. her breath quickened, then steadied, and her expression softened.
she shook her head. “no. i can't speak of it. you won't believe me either way, but,” she hesitated, "i worry about you greatly. of what future lies in wait for you in that house.”
“if i know victor well,” which you believed to be true, “he would never let any harm befall me. whatever it is which troubles you, dear friend, have faith – i am well looked after and cherished.”
she looked at you with a sort of pity then, and left you with this parting remark: “angel, i fear you do not know victor at all.”
your next lesson escaped the stifling confines of paper and ink and bled outside the margins. when the following evening eclipsed, you chased victor deeper into the veiny insides of the city which, outside the asperity of its veneer, revealed itself most prominently in the muck. the slums were inhabited by grimy, humanly shapes. their ravenous gazes staked after your person, lingered on pockets and crevices where things could be hidden and, consequently, repurposed. yet, none dared approach, wary of your victor, who stormed a new path with the conviction and sureness of a crusader.
some rancid odour permeated throughout this world without order; the noise, as well, was crass and raucous. you felt compelled to shield the innocent wholeness of your senses against them and wondered how victor bore the torment.
one corner, then another, and quickly you became lost. could mathematics explain this, too? the economical condition of poverty had a face which victor did not care to apprehend, and you possessed no knowledge of how to respond to, and thus beheld true misery with the privilege of distance that, to an observer, might have seemed cruel.
the shadows were long by the doorway marking your destination. some gangly, crooked figure shimmered beside it in idle guard, though abated the premises once it collected victor’s shiny coin. the unlocked entrance gaped inky, and the smell assaulted you so suddenly you almost startled away were it not for victor’s hand keeping you placed beside him. he steered you further into the slimy, rot-wet interior of the dying body that belonged to the dying part of the city. you hadn’t even had the time to protest.
“mind your step,” victor spoke low. you focused very hard to discern the shapes in the dark and the derelict steps underfoot which inspired no confidence – not for your safety did you then choose to worry, but for a much more fragile and well-loved person whose humanness lends it the distinct and seemly condition of susceptibility.
oh, why did the oil lamps struggle to illuminate this space so! perhaps what hid here was best left unseen for it was too disagreeable. cursorily, you wondered what deformity would stir you, for appearance you did not care about, as you found appeal only in those that were your dear friends and nothing entirely when presented with any visage.
it was simply too dim, and the darkness clawed at everything it touched. this hall ate the sounds of your footsteps. on each side lay wooden hollows holding the uncanny renditions of human frames. they all differed in one way or the other, bloated or dried or whole or missing their appendages, and here, you realized, must be the museum of human cadavers.
on the table which sat in the middle and was, it must be noted, illuminated best, the unmistakable and neatly butchered pieces of the most recent arrival were presented. the splayed corpse’s half-opened mouth begged a small audience. it was long and slender, wrapped in translucent skin that maintained not a hint of its once lively, organic shade.
upon your exhale, your breath misted, though you felt no colder nor warmer than was custom to your person. you looked to victor for guidance.
“the anatomy theater of a few medical schools,” victor said, “you’d be surprised, my dear, to know how oft students linger here. i’ve spent much of my life in such places as well, both under the tutelage of my professors and on my lonesome. though, suppose you’re hardly ever truly alone, what with this silent company. are you excited? i've procured our privacy so we could study. clay can hardly show you what the real body can.”
the explanation proved satisfactory, and you were definitely curious to see where this would go. thus, you strayed closer to the body which, already, had begun to decompose. here, you were met with the cause of death, for it was sudden blunt trauma, and left evidence of itself above the bridge of the nose and between the burst eye sockets. the area was large and spanned to the temples, black with rot which began to conceal the fragmented shards of skull and brain-matter. this was a human-being, you thought with odd clarity, which breathed and spoke and lived.
was it the human-being condition, to end up as such? will one day your victor, too, be appraised by unfeeling, scholarly eyes? these thoughts disturbed you horribly, and you wished to retreat. no, the physiognomy of this thing did not scare you, but the inevitability of natural law made you anxious. you must appeal your case to victor – if anyone could evade this result, surely it was him!
alas, your distress did not have time to manifest fully before victor reprimanded: “focus.”
very well, you yielded, but i shall bring it up later!
your gaze then travelled further. another wound, though this appeared much more intentional, offered you the true interior of the glistening things all human-beings housed within themselves. with the protection of skin and bone unpeeled, you scrutinized that which you thus far had known from renditions: deflated lungs, a curled stomach, yellow-bile spleen, meaty liver, and the tenderest muscle of all – the heart.
“a factory worker,” victor said and pointed, “you can tell by the blackened lungs – a typical appearance for those that inhale smoke over a prolonged period. in the event the accident did not cause death, the condition certainly would have, eventually. a modern disease, this one.”
with introductions concluded, victor then demanded you put names to organs and list their varied properties, stopping lastly on the clipped cavity which, even in its frail, wilting state, held an intriguing power and force. there was a pause in which you, quite fondly, beheld the apparatus of life – the shape was preserved, though the pink had given away to gray pallor, and the blue-red veins and cartilages had gone black.
victor shifted slightly closer. “do you remember,” he began quietly, “the average weight of a male human heart?”
in the shade, his eyes gleamed. a smear of darkness underlined them both. “nine to eleven ounces,” the answer came easily to you, “and for females,” you added, in the case he needed to compare the two, “it is eight to ten.”
victor swallowed.
“why?” his question was mild, but his voice betrayed a subdued strain. he loomed, such an imposing presence which both unsettled and appeased. his severe features were made sharp by the shadows, yet you knew they were soft to touch. “why is there a difference of mass in the female heart?” a gloved hand came to rest, very deliberately, onto your lower back, “depth of emotion?” he wondered, head tilted slightly as he appraised you, “a tendency to the melancholic?”
his proximity demanded the reverence that you never failed to give. the intensity of his stare puzzled you somewhat, but you responded amicably with the only truth you knew to exist. “not melancholy, no. volume of blood, i should think. muscular irrigation. there is nothing whimsical nor poetic about it, despite how it may feel at times.”
“yes,” he murmured and drew nearer till the breath between you was naught. he was everywhere, then, replacing the view of this voracious chamber with a hunger of his own. you held fast against him, mouth captive as he drank from it deeply.
caught by a strong riptide, a swooning motion drove you forward to him. with his teeth did his insistence gnaw. they pierced into your softness and your body startled before it settled in sweet submission. blood surfaced; his tongue, ever curious, came to lap it gently, a little noise rising from the back of his throat. “exquisite,” you could catch, though not much else in that stolen whisper.
then, he stood back and observed, lips swollen and flush. they curved around a word, barely-audible, that stalled around you. you shivered as a strange sensation prickled at your spine and took low.
“i am afraid,” he breathed, “this venue has worn away what was left of my self control.”
it was becoming ever so much more difficult to articulate through this unfamiliar thickness. the only certainty you were willing to hold onto now was that it felt so wonderfully natural, and to deny it – impossible. “i have no qualms. i would be honoured to be the object of your indulgence if you should be the object of mine.”
a most unexpected tender thing appeared within those swirling depths for eyes which he possessed, some true happiness his abrupt and decisive character abandoned before it could shape itself. with haste and resolve, victor secured your hand in his and led you both away.
you retook the road of filth in a state of delirium. how quickly your heart pattered, and how your legs strained to keep pace! the rush was frenzied, but the impatience which transferred from his person to yours urged you ever faster. to what ends – you could not say, as this feeling was wholly new. soon enough, you walked the familiar fleshy street, and sooner still, the door locked behind your shuttering sigh.
the rooms whirled. dizzied, you were pressed into red sheets of the red room which sparkled and bowed and swayed. victor crashed into your mouth, eager for the sweetness that dripped there, which yielded so happily to his appetite.
your garments fell loose and were dismissed, leaving your most vulnerable parts uncovered. how odd it was to no longer exist in layers, how freeing! the body delighted your victor, antagonizing him deeper into his plunge to madness, and thus the body you adored. he drew back but for a moment and tore away his jacket, his waistcoat, his shirt. a gust of heat sprang up between you and his fine structure, forever the cause of your fascination, revealed itself to your keen gaze and quivering fingers.
he panted into your cheek as his hands ran the delicate planes of your form, caressing and seizing their fill. you heeded to them all which they wanted, then shifted closer in demand. no, the strange sensations were not to stop – on your skin, they frolicked in pursuit of a sensitivities to tease and sought attention in most callous ways.
a tiny sound escaped. his grip slackened marginally to allow some freedom should you be willing to escape. in lieu, you embraced him tightly to keep him firmly against you. “victor,” a name which he loved to hear you found you loved even more to say.
the ghost of his smile greeted you. his voice had grown deep and rich, the pleasurable timbre that you had been privy to already yet did not reflect upon diligently, “yes, my angel, speak my name,” he pressed a soft kiss, a token of his adoration, onto your brow, “and i shall gladly answer.”
his fingers dragged their way into unexplored terrain, where you held supple and warm. your breath trembled out, and again, then quicker, shorter, until the syllables melted into mewling pleas, though what exactly you required you would not have been able to properly express. he praised and urged you to accept the decadence which railed in your person, and though you tried to resist, your desire outgrew your power to subjugate it.
a chorus of pretty notes emanated from him, and with those your world fell, piece by piece, into sweet entropy. you grasped him as an anchor. in a desperate bid, you arched into his hand to find more – the sufficiency, the all-encompassing, for which the human parts of you clamored. his nose buried into the crook of your neck. the world paused, then tumbled in its rush to completion. the clench of it wrung your limbs clean.
“i love you,” words so ardently spoken, again and again as his fever-bright mouth mapped newly bruised skin, kissed the slopes of the mounds of your chest, suckled, then left. with a keening cry, your neck twisted, a reflex to escape the overwhelming deluge of corporeal sensations. “look at me,” he whispered, voice wavering, and took to you gently with a finger first, then another. they filled and moved in deliberate exploration. the air which you had so precariously collected was knocked from your lungs.
victor nuzzled into the underside of your breast and watched as you grew taut and sore. in this malady, your voice called his name. an answering moan trembled upon your flesh. victor pressed his mouth over the nipple that crested there and closed his eyes in worship.
how wondrous you had become, how well-mannered! under such tutelage, you would blossom and familiarize your person with what it truly meant to be a human-being. victor’s rapt attention was perhaps more pleasurable than his touch, and you thought, and this was the one truth if there ever was a truth to be said, that he could do all he wished to you!
but oh, how your thighs trembled, and how your body quaked, for it was, indeed, all too much. your noisebox ceased once more, locking behind the workings of a dry throat. so much, all at once, that you could naught but cling to him and draw your nails up his back, which he seemed to enjoy.
“do you want me?”
an absurd question, and quite insulting, too! you managed a shaky nod and only a single word: “victor.”
“how beautiful you sound,” he praised, and your heart sung with it. he appeared quite ruined to you then, and ever more handsome. a muse of sweat-swept curls and flustered lineaments that, for all their wantonness, bore the signs of love. your own, you imagined, appeared much the same.
a shiver rocked his entire person as, under your hands, you explored him. soft muscle tensed in expectation, twitched and were held in suspense as your curious fingers dared between his legs. you brushed up his shaft and over the head, though the angle obscured it from your entirely. his forehead knocked into your shoulder, and at the base of your ear a gruff groan issued.
the vigor with which he moved was remarkable. as you touched him, he responded in the most attractive manner, a mixture of inhibited noises that pleased you immensely. he stilled your hand to slow. a flurry of words fluttered around you as his mouth fell over the side of your neck, kissing in lazy succession. then, all you knew was the biting down on a sharp intake, and the pain which was so agreeable, as it was inflicted by him.
“angel,” victor whispered. he pushed your legs apart. “truly divine,” he gasped and squeezed your breast in his hand. “i love you,” he mumbled thickly against you, “i adore you.”
from below, the cleft parted and the tip of him stroked through the folds, guided into your slit. your hips were wracked. victor swallowed and, pressing, insistent, filled you slowly with himself. his expression broke with something rapturous. the tension wound tightly within your chest loosened. a pulse passed. then again, and a rhythmic course began.
mist swirled all thoughts into oblivion. you could no longer think nor make sense. each thrust rolled and flooded you fuller still. in its fervor, the heat poured all over. beads collected and wet his brow, which bowed over your face and smoothed with pleasure.
“breathe,” he gazed, warm-eyed, and a tad lost, “keep your eyes open, my love. i wish to see. look at me. you are so beautiful.”
blush blossomed underneath his kisses. the dizzying roll, his moan, your heart, it beat so rapidly! with his name upon your tongue, you felt that coil and strained against him to bring it upon you. never had you felt so full and stretched, and never had you appreciated the weight of him more.
“all mine,” victor rasped. the adoration burned white-hot, “my beautiful wife.”
the rhythm fell out of sync as a tremor tore through you. you held to him and rode out the peak until it ebbed, cries muffled by a fevered kiss. at long last, victor came to a grinding halt and pressed wholly inside of you, spilling his seed and gasping into your hair as he found completion.
you did not wish to let go, nor he to leave, and thus, here he rested in your warm embrace. the aftermath was stunted by inhales that did not feed the lungs enough, for the air had fled the chamber. the muscles trembled. this, you hazily figured, is what it means to be human.
your fingers curled and toyed with the strands of his hair. he sighed very deeply, more than content, and the affection which swelled within your threatened with tears. you held on that much tighter, no, you shan’t release him ever! there was no way now for you to exist with his constant presence, and should you were to inhabit separate rooms you would claw at the walls till they crumbled to nothing and trampled upon all which stood in your way.
such were the delirious ponderings of those few minutes in which all remained still. at last, victor broke from you with a hiss and your unhappy whimper, and settled beside you. his palm, never that far from your person, warmed your stomach. he drew idle shapes there as you attempted to pull the parts he had loosened and gain some sense or coherence. no such luck!
“victor,” you managed.
he hummed and bent to kiss your cheek. “did you enjoy yourself?”
his effect must have been obvious, though you could never deny him anything, and therefore readily supplied: “yes, very much.”
“good,” he said and smiled, so wide it thawed out his features, till his eyes creased, and how wonderful was that! a stray impulse took you to seal a kiss over it, and you did, again and again. “i wish never to relinquish you. you are mine.”
“i have never not been,” you assented happily.
some strange look disturbed his rare peace. “a contentious claim but, no, you're correct. i built you solely for myself.”
bemused, you reached for his hand and pressed your lips to the palm. “and i do not wish to be dispossessed by you.”
“never. nothing could make me part from you. i treasure you most, for you are mine, and all which we will bring into this world will be ours.”
author's note. i like how the foundation of all existence is math but the foundation of human existence is subjectivity and love. i also like the audacity of this man to attempt to baby trap bride. terrible, terrible man. and you know he'd neglect the kids, too, and if he had a son, tbh he'd prolly kill him.
anyway, what a journey. from taxidermy to human corpses to beautiful procreation. yall i was cackling when i wrote this idk what possessed me. but victor does love her, i think, and it makes sense that he truly deeply loves her because he's a narcissist and she is his creation
victor prometheus agenda forever, loved him setting fire to homes and hearths and loins alike. he's such a freak, i adore him. i hope you caught the movie dialogue (heart discussion) cuz if not then the spiral of that scene probably gave you whiplash. it probably still gave you whiplash. it gave me whiplash, why did i do that?
like i mentioned, this part was split into to so the next part ill post tmr after i finish editing it heh. c ya!
(fic tags. @lem-hhn , @uselessnewt , @demonteef, @ody-see, @bellaisasleep , @seenthroughmia, @jellyforbrains , @notnorrr , @hongtyong , @thesadvampire , @ohnogovno , @fromsaltandsea , @thetruecardinalsinner, @aprilcolours , @niceforcum22 , @pixviee)
