Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/484680.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Soul_Eater
  Relationship:
      Medusa/Franken_Stein
  Character:
      Medusa_(Soul_Eater), Franken_Stein
  Additional Tags:
      Mild_Gore
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-06-10 Words: 727
****** Just As Venomous ******
by Narroch
Summary
     A smaller Medusa is still just as venomous.
Notes
     Wrote this back in '09 on fanfiction.net. Moved it over here to save
     it from the Purge of Filth.
Stein dimly wonders how all of this is affecting little Rachel.
If he were to cut open her skull right now, would he be able to see the neural
scarring with his naked eye? Because no normal little girl would even be able
to conjure up nightmares about what she is being forced to do now. The train of
thought careens off its tracks as the vectors tighten around his limbs, as if
to remind him to stay focused, stay in the present moment. Even though he has
wanted this for weeks now, ever since he kissed the snake and then danced in
her bloody rain, the madness still tugs his mind in many directions making it
difficult to focus on what he really wants right now. And he knows he wants
this. Despite everything else in his life that was once solid and real with
clean cut edges dissolving into the misty musings of madness, he knows with a
delightful clarity that he wants this.
He aches for it.
He is held immobile as Medusa delicately engulfs him with her small borrowed
mouth, that part of him just as stitched and explored as the rest of his body
(though it still managed to keep a secret from him). A groan is pulled from his
lips and his restrained hips try to buck up into that warmth. He never knew he
could react like this because of a child, and he has enough wherewithal to feel
vaguely disgusted with himself. But the feeling quickly melts away just like
all his other logical thoughts.
This is no child.
Despite the traces of baby fat still clinging to her fingers and the cherubic
roundness of her face, no child could ever hope to imitate her possessive
demonic leer, or the way she manipulates her tongue (long, sharp, cutting), or
the absolute unapologetic forwardness of her hands as she grips his balls and
pulls down hard.
This is a woman, and an evil witch human at that, and someone he already killed
once. A smaller Medusa, still just as venomous.
The thought turns Stein on even more. He tugs against the vectors, suddenly
wanting to use his hands to force her head deeper, wanting to cut her and watch
the gossamer membrane snap as he peels skin from flesh, wanting to find another
hole (or make a new one) and use that to finish so he can watch her face fully
as it happens...
But they are just idle musings, his warped mind reeling off recommendations in
spasms of reckless insanity. The reality is much better.
Medusa finally pulls back, leaving him glistening and bleeding and aching. Her
mouth twitches, elongates, until it becomes a smile wide enough to display the
full extent of her vindictive sadism.
"Vector Arrows," Medusa murmurs as her smile pulls back even farther to reveal
sharpened teeth.
The dark sinuous matter shoots out to join the vectors already holding him
down, but instead of attaching to his spread-eagle limbs, they begin wrapping
and squirming around his arousal. Stein cries out in shock; the vectors are
cold and hard, sharp and unfeeling. The damage done by Medusa's tongue is
eclipsed by the slicing edges of the arrows.
But despite the pain, or maybe because of it, Stein still can't stop himself
from trying to buck up into the stimulation. Even he can tell just how deeply
his madness runs when he can not even distinguish between pain and pleasure. He
knows he should be concerned by this, but the tenuous idea is lost once he
feels an arrow prod at his opening, hovering close like a patient lover.
Medusa just stands there, her feet planted on either side of his writhing hips,
arms crossed smugly across her flat chest, venomous delight glittering in her
amber eyes. He moans as the arrow pushes unhesitatingly forward, the motion
meant equally for both entering and slicing.
His eyes roll back and he spasms as the cutting edge drags over his prostate;
his release streaked with red and it sizzles as it splatters across her
vectors.
Medusa pads forward, placing a bare foot on Steins chest as he heaves for
breath, as his eyes dart frantically, unseeing, about the room.
"Stein, you are mine," she says as the vectors all tighten to a fever pitch.
He giggles softly in reply.
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