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heli-writes · 8 months ago

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A dragon's heart, part 8.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: injuries, sexism, mentions of male genitalia, orgasms and (oral) sex

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Minors do not interact.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Series Masterlist

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Katsuki fastens the stag at the dragon's back behind the saddle. Y/n stands beside him and secures the stag while Katsuki uses the straps to make sure that the stag doesn't fall off during the flight. She watches as Katsuki works with a grim expression on his face. More grim than usual, she thinks. She wonders why. She doesn't know that Katsuki takes her to his tribe today. He didn't even try to tell her since she wouldn't understand him anyway.

He would never admit it but he's anxious. He knows that his men will celebrate his victory. Coming home with a successful hunt. Bringing home a woman for the tribe.

Concerning the old hag, he's not so sure. His mother is one of the few remaining women in his tribe. The plague took most of the fertile women. Meaning old women past their fertile prime and young girls before their first blood survived. Leaving a whole generation of young men behind.

His mother always had very specific expectations of how Katsuki's life was supposed to take place. Becoming the tribe's leader, for example. That being said, he's not sure she will approve of him bringing home a stray female. Well, that'd be alright if he did and brought her for his men. Or for himself for a night. But definitely not as a potential mate for himself.

Suddenly, there's a warm hand on his bicep. Y/n. She must've said something to him considering how expectantly she looks at him. „What, woman?“, he spats. Y/n furrows her brow in worry. Clearly, something is upsetting Katsuki.

Y/n walks closer to him and wraps her arms around his middle and leans into him. For a second, Katsuki wants to push her away because he is annoyed. When he sees how she looks at him, he changes his mind. Soft eyes look up at him, making him dizzy.

He shifts so he can take her into his arms. He leans his forehead onto hers and takes a deep breath. He can still feel the angry feeling in his stomach. Or is it anxiety? He doesn't know. Either way, it feels like a stone lying right behind his belly button.

Y/n moves her head and meets Katsuki in a kiss. Without opening his eyes, Katsuki kisses her back. In contrast to yesterday at the bonfire, this kiss is sweet and slow. There's no fire behind it just reassurance. Katsuki doesn't realize how the stone dissolves itself.

Breaking the kiss, Katsuki looks down at y/n who places a hand on his cheek and softly strokes it. He wants to sigh and kiss her again but y/n slips out of the embrace and gets another bag that needs to be secured at the dragon's back.

Before they take to the sky, y/n takes a look at Katsuki's injury one more time. She's afraid that the wound won't heal properly with Katsuki moving around so much. Katsuki thinks it's completely unnecessary but he lets y/n fret over him for a bit. Maybe he also enjoys it a bit. When she's done, they mount the dragon.

Y/n watches their surrounding with excited eyes. Somehow, she can't get enough of watching the landscape from so high above. Katsuki does not do any stupid tricks this time and just lets her enjoy the view. Now and then, he presses a kiss to her neck which makes her feel fuzzy inside.

Slowly, but steadily the landscape starts to change. The forest areas become less and less dense and few more settlements can be spotted. The air grows cooler.

They fly for two or three hours when y/n starts to notice a painful ache in her tights. She remembers what happened last time when they flew for a longer period of time. She tries to ignore the pain until it becomes too much. She turns around and asks Katsuki to land. When he doesn't understand her, she keeps pointing to the ground.

„What, you gotta piss? I've told you to go before we left, stupid woman.“, Katsuki mumbles but gives the dragon a sign to land.

After the dragon touches land, Katsuki helps y/n down. He notices how her movements are stiff. He touches her legs and notice how cool she's gotten. He scrambles for some clothes when y/n wobbles behind a tree.

There, she lifts her dress and looks at her tights. There are blisters forming and there are fine tears in her skin. „Fuck.“, she mumbles.

„Fuck?“, Katsuki's amused voice says behind her.

Y/n drops her skirt and turns around. Dramatically, she rolls his eyes to make it clear what she thinks of that comment. She's sure as hell that Katsuki has a foul mouth. He shouldn't make fun of her when she uses a swear word here and then.

„You done?“, he says putting his hand on his hips. Wordlessly, y/n wobbles back to the dragon and looks for the medicine bag. Katsuki watches her closely, not getting why she needs wound dressing.

„You stay here“, y/n tells him, „Don't look.“

She wobbles behind the dragon and sits down carefully she looks for the rash cream and some bandages. Katsuki follows her closely behind.

„Go away!“, she tells him and waves her hand. Katsuki picks up one of the bandages.

„Why do you need those? Are you hurt or what?“, he asks. Y/n gives him a mean look and keeps pointing behind the dragon.

When Katsuki doesn't move, y/n sighs in defeat. It's not like he will see anything inappropriate. It's just legs after all, y/n tells herself and starts ruffling up her skirt.

Katsuki's eyes widen when he realizes why y/n wanted him to leave. However, he does not show any signs of moving away. Instead, he very intensely stares up y/n's naked leg. Y/n makes sure lady parts are covered but can't help feeling embarrassed by Katsuki's stares. He must know this intimate. Especially when she has to prop up and spread one leg in order to get to the wound.

In all honesty, very indecent thoughts run through Katsuki's mind when he sees y/n in this position. That is until he sees the wounds on y/n's thighs. Immediately, he steps closer, kneels down and grabs y/n's knee hollow pushing her leg further apart. Y/n yelps as she almost loses balance.

Katsuki inspects the wound. „Rider's rash.“, he determines. Not uncommon if you ride a horse or dragon without proper clothes. Y/n's dress definitely falls under the category of improper clothes for riding. Katsuki wants to scold himself. He should've thought of this. It's not like y/n had any other choice but to ride with the clothes on her back since she had no others.

Katsuki lets go off her leg and grabs the rash cream.

„I-it's fine! I can do that myself!“, y/n says jittery and tries to grab the cream out of Katsuki's hand. She really doesn't want him to touch her anywhere near there. No, that's wrong. She definitely wants that but not now and not here.

Katsuki just swats her hand away and takes a big goop of cream. Carefully, he spreads her leg again applying the cream onto the wound. While he's very concentrated on treating the wound, he's also painfully aware of how close he is to the place his men would kill for. When the cream is applied he wraps a bandage around it. Without asking, he checks y/n's other leg and repeats the process.

Meanwhile, y/n's face burns in a bright red.

Once he's done, he lets go of her and pulls her skirt over her legs again. A gesture that y/n appreciates. Then, he rumbles through a bag and gets another pair of pants. It's shorter than the one he wears. He helps y/n into the pants and y/n stuffs her dress into the pants trying to use the fabric as a cushion for the wounds that already formed. Katsuki also wraps his cape around her shoulder and arms.

Then, it's time to fly again.

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They fly for the rest of the day. Only taking a quick pee break in between. While y/n is fascinated by the view for a while, she eventually grows tired. At some point, she leans back and rests her head against Katsuki's shoulder. He lets her because he knows how tiring flying can be to an untrained body. He remembers how beat he was after his first few flying lessons.

When the mighty Bear Fang Mountains come into view, Katsuki nudges y/n awake. Actually, she bolts awake and when she remembers where she is, she immediately clings to Katsuki's arms for balance.

„Wow“, she breathes at the sight in front of her. A large mountain range opens up in front of them. Are we flying lower or are these mountains higher than we fly?, she thinks.

„We call them Iron Peaks“, Katsuki tells her. He points along the range of mountains and repeats: „Iron Peaks“. Y/n follows the motion of his finger and mumbles: „Iron Peaks“. Katsuki corrects her pronunciation and y/n repeats the words until she feels Katsuki nod behind her.

Katsuki takes her hand and uses her index finger to point to a mountain to the right of them. „There's my home. There's where we're going. Back home.“, he tells her. Again, y/n repeats the last word Katsuki utters and he nods approvingly.

„Yes, we're going home.“, he mumbles into her hair.

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It's not long before the dragon starts flying lower and a settlement comes into sight. Y/n instantly recognizes how it looks different from the settlements in the kingdom. The settlement is made of tents instead of brick houses. Suddenly, a feeling of nostalgia hits her. While most villages in the kingdom were assembled out of brick houses, that's not where the wandering folk lived in.

Her people also lived in tents. Portable homes that can be set up anytime anywhere. And, of course, one cannot be struck dead by falling stones. Just the sight of the arrangement of tents makes her think of her people, her parents, and her childhood. Her heart aches and she can feel tears pricking in her eyes. Quickly she rubs them away and hopes that Katsuki mistakes them as the result of the cold wind piercing her eyes. She really can't wait to sleep in comfortable leather walls again.

Katsuki's mind is too busy to notice y/n's tears. He's growing more tense with each passing second.

The dragon approaches landing and y/n can make out human figures in between the tents. When the dragon's feet stand firm on the ground, a bunch of rough-looking men walk towards the dragon with loud roaring. For a second, y/n thinks the men are going to attack them until Katsuki lets out a triumphant howl in return.

Katsuki jumps from the dragon and his men immediately tackle him. Katsuki laughs and shoves the men away playfully. Y/n feels awkward watching him greet his friends from atop the dragon, so she carefully demounts the dragon by herself. The motion grabs the men's attention.

„A woman?“, a blonde man says with his eyes as big as saucers. „I thought you wanted to go hunting. You should've taken us with you when you planned to raid a place!“, another man complaints. Katsuki shoves him roughly.

„I wasn't on a raid, you dumb fucks. Basically, found that one roaming the woods.“, he tells them.

„Our chief is a lucky one then, heh?“, the blonde grins, „Is she a good fuck? Or you kept her decent so one of us can have her?“.

Katsuki shoots the blonde an angry glare. „Shut the fuck up, Denki. That one's mine, you got that.“, he growls.

The blonde named Denki raises his hands in defeat. „Alright, chief. But what will your mother say about that?“, Denki teases. Katsuki stomps his feet.

„I'm chief and that old hag needs to bow to my decisions.“, he shoots back.

It doesn't go unnoticed by him how his men exchange uncertain glances. While Katsuki took over the regiment a few years ago, the former chief of the tribe, his mother, still holds a certain power over people.

Y/n walks closer to the men and gives the men uncertain smiles.

„Why is she dressed like this?“

„She's so small. You sure she's gonna make it around here? Their kind is not known for being mountain-weather-resistant.“

„Are her boobs big? And her hips wide enough?“

The men swarm her trying to get a good look at her. Y/n feels really uncomfortable and, by the way the men look at her, she's worried they'll try to tear the clothes off of her.

Katsuki steps in between them. „Y'all shut the fuck up. Get your asses to work. Unload the dragon, and take care of the stag! Tonight we feast!“, he yells at them and grabs y/n's arm.

The men get to work and Katsuki wordlessly drags y/n behind him deeper into the settlement. More men wait outside their tents. Upon seeing Katsuki's angry face, they decide against greeting their leader. Nobody wants to deal with Katsuki in a bad mood. They also oogle at the woman at his side.

Y/n searches for women among them to no avail. Where are they?, she wonders. Do they stay in the tents? Are they with the kids?

She doesn't find an answer to her question. Then, Katsuki arrives at his destination. A large, painted tent in the middle of the settlement. There's a small brick hut attached to its side. One of the only stone constructions y/n spotted so far.

Katsuki leads her inside. Once inside, he lets go of her arms and throws the knife he was holding onto a table at the side. Y/n looks around carefully.

There's a large bed with furs and other blankets in the middle of the room. There are multiple wooden chests on the side of the tent.

There is a small table and two chairs on the other side. And there are weapons. A lot of them. Hanging from the ceiling. In buckets on the ground. Thrown carelessly onto the trunks.

Y/n is pretty sure that this must be Katsuki's tent.

"Y/n", Katsuki says sternly. Y/n turns around carefully. Katsuki says something that sounds like an order and y/n stares at him with furrowed brows. We really have to work on this language thing, she thinks to herself while shrugging helplessly to make him see that she doesn't understand a thing.

Katsuki sighs. He grabs her arm and pulls her to the side of the tent. Behind the table, there is an opening in the tent that is closed off with another piece of leather. Pulling it away, Katsuki reveals the entrance to the small brick hut y/n saw from the outside.

He pulls her inside and a sort of bathroom comes into sight. It's sparsely furnished but has everything that is needed. In the middle of the hut is a bathtub that is already filled with steaming water.

Katsuki points at her, then the water and says: "Bath!". Y/n nods and repeats the words. Katsuki nods and turns to leave.

The hot water feels good on y/n's skin. The cool mountain air already cooled down y/n's body and she's glad she can warm herself up a bit. Also, she hasn't washed herself since before the festival at the village. Now that she thinks about it, she must really stink. She wonders if Katsuki noticed.

Embarrassed, she scrubs her skin until it is burning. Katsuki's tribe must not care too much about smells at least there are no nice soaps or scented oils in the bathroom. Just an odorless curd soap. After y/n dried herself off, she wished she had some of that bee wax lotion that her mother made. Her mother always put some lavender oil in it which y/n find quite relaxing.

When she's done, she wraps the towel she found in the hut around her body. She doesn't want to put on her old dress since it's all sweaty and gross.

Katsuki isn't in the tent when she returns. She sits down on the bed while she waits for him. When she grows cold again, she loses the wet towel and wraps herself in one of the blankets.

After a while, the opening to the tent is lifted and Katsuki steps back into the room. He acknowledges her with a curt nod.

Y/n hops off the bed wrapped in the blanket. "Can I borrow some clothes from you?", she asks him. When she sees he doesn't understand, she holds up her dress and repeats: "Clothes?".

"Clothes?", he repeats and looks at the dress and then at her. Y/n can see the wheels in Katsuki's head turning. Suddenly, his eyes widen and he looks at the dress and then at her in realization.

The realization is that y/n is naked underneath the blanket.

Katsuki swallows hard. There's a naked woman wrapped in his blanket in his tent. Quickly, he tries to shake off the thought. He starts rummaging through the chests for some clothes for her.

He finds a woolen shirt and linen pants. He doesn't have any female clothes and he makes a note to get some for her tomorrow.

Katsuki throws the clothes at y/n and y/n almost drops the blanket. Katsuki wishes she would drop it. He's curious about how she looks naked. So, he tries his luck and keeps looking at her expectantly. Maybe she'll change in front of him.

She doesn't. Actually, Katsuki staring at her makes her a bit angry. It's rude, she thinks. "Turn around!", she tells him and makes a rotating movement with her index finger.

Katsuki waits another moment in hopes she will change her mind but then turns around. It takes all the self-restraint he possesses not to peek.

When he feels her hand on his arm, he turns around again.

"Socks?", y/n asks and shows him her naked feet and Katsuki scrambles for some socks. The socks are way too big for y/n but they are thicker than her own socks.

Y/n feels a lot better now that she wears some fresh clothes even though she must look ridiculous since the clothes are way too big for her and not something a woman would ever wear.

Katsuki however can't take his eyes off her. He hasn't taken her on as his mate yet and the fact that she wears his clothes is so... intimate to him. Like she's already his.

Y/n wraps the blanket around herself again since it's still way too cold for her in the tent. Katsuki leads her to the bed and makes her sit down.

He looks at her for a moment and pets her head for a second before telling her: "Stay here".

Y/n sighs deeply. She already learned what "stay" means. He must've told her a thousand times already. But, she doesn't complain.

She's tired and not in the mood to be confronted with his strange men outside. She just nods at him and lays down. Katsuki tucks her in and presses a kiss to her forehead.

When Katsuki leaves, it doesn't take long before y/n's eyes get droopy and she slips into a slumber.

Somewhen when the sun's already down, she is woken up by loud yelling outside. There are sounds of a celebration but y/n is too tired to care. She just pulls a pillow over her head and goes back to sleep again.

She's woken up roughly by Katsuki shaking her uninjured shoulder. He holds a steaming plate into her face.

Suddenly, y/n is awake in a second. Her stomach is grumbling. While y/n eats, Katsuki disappears into the stone hut.

The food is delicious. It's the stag meat and some form of mashed potatoes but spicier. While y/n eats, she notices how quiet it has gotten outside.

Seems like the party's over, she thinks when Katsuki returns to the main room again.

The food almost falls out of y/n's mouth.

He's naked. Absolutely butt-naked. He's not even trying to hide his manhood.

Y/n throws a pillow at him.

"What?", Katsuki snarks and y/n throws another pillow at him.

When he turns fully around at her to scold her for throwing things at him, y/n slaps her hands in front of her eyes.

"Tsk", Katsuki exclaims but has to hide his grin, "What? Did you expect me to act all innocent like you? This is my home, y'know. Also, you should get used to it!"

Y/n doesn't move until Katsuki puts on some proper clothes (which for him is thin linen pants and that's it) and even then her face is still burning red.

Katsuki lays down next to her and props up his head. Even though y/n's appetite is dimmed after the naked encounter, she finishes the plate to not seem ungrateful.

After she's put the plate away on the table, Katsuki grabs her waist when she returns to his bed. While it takes y/n by surprise, she doesn't fight it. Before she knows it, she's pinned beneath him and his lips are on hers.

Katsuki kisses her feverishly, starved even. As if he's been waiting all evening to kiss her. Which, to be fair, he did. The action overwhelms y/n for a second but when Katsuki doesn't pull back and y/n wraps her head around it, she kisses back.

Katsuki lets his hands wander. He avoids any body parts that get him hit with a pillow, at least for now. Y/n mirrors his actions and runs her hands up and down his arms and back.

Katsuki forces his tongue into y/n's mouth which she gladly accepts. With a dizzy head, she acknowledges that Katsuki is an extremely good kisser. At least to her. Not that she kissed that many people before.

When Katsuki starts pressing open-mouthed kisses onto her neck and collarbone, y/n lets out a breathy sigh. Katsuki's mouth and hands on her just feel too good.

While Katsuki's dick has been hard before this, it jumps at the sound y/n makes.

There's nothing more in the world he wants right now than tearing the clothes off of her and exploring every inch of her body with his mouth.

He knows it's off-limit until they become mates and for a second he contemplates if making her come on his tongue really breaks the rules since he's technically not mating her. He decides not to test the rage of the gods.

He detaches from her neck and rolls over facing her. Y/n is left lying on her back, breathing heavily.

"You asshole", she tells him and Katsuki has to laugh.

She turns to him and Katsuki opens his arms to her. Y/n crawls into his embrace while Katsuki pulls a heavy blanket over both of them.

For a while, they lay in silence. Katsuki strokes over y/n's back and presses a kiss onto her forehead every now and then. Somewhen Katsuki's movements become slower and eventually, they stop.

He must've fallen asleep, y/n thinks. Meanwhile, she's wide awake. She snuggles deeper into Katsuki's chest and listens to his soft, steady breathing.

Somehow, she feels at ease. Even though she's been brought to this place and its strange men. She should probably feel anxious about what happens tomorrow but she can't find it in her to stress out about it.

All thoughts eventually spin back to Katsuki and how she's sure that whatever happens, Katsuki will protect her.

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katerinaaqu · 3 months ago

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Ruthless Justice

This fic is dedicated to my dear friend @artsofmetamoor as a gift! She had also expressed an interest to the events of the murder of the suitors but I decided to take it into a more tragic level; the excecution of the 12 maids and I added some random emotional scene afterwards! You are warned this fic includes dark themes!

The cries that filled the room were deafening. The young ears of Telemachus could not bear them. The slave women were forced to clean up the room from the corpses of the blasted suitors that nearly killed him and took the kingdom of his father. It was the first time Telemachus had killed. He still couldn’t believe it how easy it had been! It was almost easier than hunting wild goats and deer in the mountains of Ithaca! Some part of him had felt a wild pleasure, almost hedonic gladness, when he had stabbed that first body and continued. This hedonism increased by the happiness he felt that he was helping his father, that he was useful. He felt pleasure for this justice that was finally prevailing in the halls of his house; finally the constant harassment and insults his mother and himself had gone through was punished and he had finally found his father. He had witnessed his brain and his ferocity, his dexterity and cunning first hand! So far he had only heard of it from others that had met him and yet now he had actually seen it before him; his father who was no longer at the prime of youth he had managed to clean the hall of 108 men 10 or even 20 years younger than what he was. Some part of Telemachus wondered; how was his father in his prime? How much more ferocity in battle he possessed? How much more wits and wiles could he loom in short amounts of time?

However now that the first thrill of battle had gone, now they had finished cleaning the chairs of the hall with sponges and water, Telemachus was shocked at their own strength and results. He looked around at the hall that was basically full of wrapped bodies; the bodies that used to belong to vigorous, young nobles and his father now stood at the hall, hard as the stones that built that very palace. Odysseus was not a tall man (that much was a surprise to Telemachus, for from the conversations he had heard about his father’s strength and name he had expected him to be as tall as he was, perhaps taller), he barely stood at average height, maybe a little less, but his physique showed the power that his hardships built upon him. His raven hair, which had already started turning silver from time and hardships, was curly like his own and long till his shoulders; those strong shoulders burnt by sea and sun. A thick bushy beard was hiding a strong jaw line and mouth shut tightly closed. However Telemachus particularly noticed his stone look as the onyx eyes of his seemed soulless like glass even if they burnt with hatred and anger. Right now he could see before him a man who lived up to his name; “The Anger Bringer”. Odysseus was indeed enraged; that much Telemachus could tell. The almost full day of slaughter seemed to have created a curst thick like salt upon his face, just as thick was the blood that had splattered it, the blood he didn’t have much time to clean. And yet, despite all that, he seemed to stand naturally within that chaos; like only a war veteran would stand naturally amongst corpses and cries. He remained there as the lamenting women were literally dragged and pushed at his feet as he stood at the podium of the throne. He seemed like a judge; a ruthless judge ready to pass judgment. Telemachus had seen him angry, hopeful, crying, tender and then ruthless in his killing but now he was truly disturbed at the shadow that had passed over his face. He saw then the one that had come from war; the Sacker of Cities… Odysseus looked down at the maidens crying and struggling, as if they were insects.

“I took you to my home…” he said, his voice cold as ice and sharp as a knife, “I gave you a bed, fed you, dressed you…made sure you would want of nothing while you were under my roof… I respected your wishes…never mistreated you and this is how you repay me? By mingling with my enemies…the very men that wished to violently claim my wife and kill my son?”

Every word was a hammer upon a nail. Telemachus felt a shiver down his spine. He wouldn’t want to be to the other end of that look that was for sure! The women seemed pale like bed sheets; like the sheets that were covering the bodies they had gathered with their own very hands. He saw the other two helpers of theirs; the two herders Eumaeus and Philoetius, standing over the crying maidens, watching at their master with pride. Telemachus had never seen so much wild triumph to the old face of Eumaeus’s before. Never.

“Eumaeus….” Odysseus addressed him, “What is the punishment for treason?”

“Death, my lord” his voice didn’t even hesitate

“Quite so…” Odysseus nodded.

He glared at the slave girls like a hawk.

“Normally I should drag you all out and stone you to death!”

Odysseus didn’t have to yell. All he needed was to speak in that low voice that boiled with anger, like the bubbling water in a cauldron. And yet that was more than enough to emphasize his anger.

“However we have caused enough ruin already! And I shall not even spare one single sacred stone of this palace for you!”

One could wonder whether he was about to say he would sell them away or something of similar manner, which would already be cruel enough. However the king of Ithaca said;

“Philoetius! Bring me a long piece of rope! Eumaeus, help me bring these treacherous women out! They shall be hanged!”

The word sounded as terrible as I was clear and the women broke to a woe Telemachus had never heard before (and, by gods, had he heard enough woe in his house ever since he was a baby!). The screeches and the cries they released along with their already blood-painted hands trying to claw themselves out of the swine herder’s strong grip, nearly made him throw up.

“Father!” he protested, “you can’t be serious! They are just helpless women!”

His father’s onyx eyes stuck within his own and Telemachus felt that same shiver down his spine. There was fire in those obsidian eyes! The same fire of earth that had forged the volcanic glass that gave his eyes their color seemed to be now burning deep inside those black orbs; it was though a cold fire that burnt like the ice burns the skin!

“Is the betrayal of a woman less serious than the betrayal of a man?” his voice was sharp as a broken sword; sharpness you wouldn’t know where it would cut you the worst; the actual blade or the broken tip

“N-No…” Telemachus stammered, “B-But…”

His voice was being drowned by the shrieks of the women. He couldn’t stand it.

“Does the dagger being wielded by a woman draw less blood when it stabs you in the back than the one wielded by a man?”

“Father please!”

“Stay back, Telemachus!” his father commanded, pushing him out of his way, “You are not to see this!”

Telemachus felt his heart clench but he held his ground.

“No, father, I shall help you” he said determined, “If I am to become king of this land, I must help justice prevail!”

His father eyed him once more but Telemachus stood his ground. He was Odysseades Telemachus. He had to live up to his father’s legacy. Odysseus eyed him in wonder for one second but he did not protest his request any further. Part of Telemachus had wished he had. However he knew he had to be strong and stand by his father’s side. The cries of the female voices still haunted his ears as they went out to the trees of the garden. Odysseus pointed towards the direction of one of the trees. Telemachus gulped. He knew that tree. He had played so many times around it when he was a kid! He had named it “Troy” at some point, running around with his horse (in other words a stick he fantasized to be his horse when he was five) and he would yell at the people of Troy to open their gates for him, like he had imagined his father would be doing, on occasions scaring the birds that sat on the branches. As he grew older he would climb and sit on them, joining those birds, and looking over to the horizon as if waiting for a ship to appear, as if waiting to see the sails of the 12 ships of Ithaca arriving.

How weird indeed that Odysseus chose that particular tree for the execution hall to be built behind it! Telemachus never made that connection so strongly before!

As the men dragged the women out to their final spot; behind that said tree lay the dome of court where a small, confided space, where the women tied up with one single piece of rope from the throats like cattle being led for slaughter were crying and moaning. Telemachus felt his stomach turn. Oh, Athena, he prayed silently, please give me strength to do what I must! He felt then a gentle touch upon his shoulder; like the sun warming him with his rays. His racing heart slowed a bit in beat and he breathed in deeply. Yes, he could feel Athena’s reminder of his own strength. Yes, he had to do it. He was his father’s son. No one dared to speak at that moment. Apart from the endless woe of the women that were about to be executed, it almost felt like a macabre ritual that was about to happen. The women were forced to their final resting place; the narrow hall that was closed up by the neatherd and the swineherd. Telemachus held onto the end with both hands and sighed again, feeling weirdly calm. It was as if all his essence had gone numb. He was self-conscious that his father was looking at him. He almost felt him regretful as if he tried to release him from his task but Telemachus made a mechanical move with his head to stop him. I am Odysseiades Telemachus, he thought, this is my duty! Instinctually he looked towards the sky.

“May this be no clean death…” he heard himself whispering, breaking the silence and the cries of the women, “…that I take the lives of these women…for they were wishing for my head…both mine and my mother’s…when they betrayed us and lay with the suitors…”

His father made half a step forward. Telemachus had made his resolve

He threw the rope over the dome and pulled with all his might.

The cries stopped to give their place to chocking sounds.

Telemachus didn’t cry. He only sighed and closed his eyes.

Soon the haunting sounds stopped.

There was only the creaking of the swinging rope…

~ ~ ~

Telemachus chocked and coughed as he threw up the little contents of his stomach behind a bush. How strange, he thought, he didn’t feel the need to do that when he killed all those men he hated by his father’s side and yet he reacted upon an execution he performed with his own hands. It was, maybe, because he always learnt to respect women and protect them. Quite frankly he never raised a hand against a woman before in his life. And now he had, with one fateful move he had removed the lives of 12 women he considered helpless. And yet that moment of clarity it was as if Athena was speaking through him; these women are not innocent, he thought she said to him, they betrayed you and your father, they betrayed your mother’s secrets and led to more torment to her. They conspired to kill you.

“Then why…?” Telemachus thought, “Why was this so difficult?”

He felt two warm, calloused hands on his shoulders and looked up. He faced the tired look of his father’s; his face full of the blood of the victims they had killed. In one moment Telemachus felt self-conscious and realized he could possibly look similar to this. He turned his look away in shame. What would his father think? What would he say for his weakness? Instead, though, he heard him whisper:

“I am so proud of you, my son…” the voice echoed somewhere in his soul, “I understand that was not an easy decision to make…”

“F-Forgive me…f-father…” Telemachus stammered trying to stop the sobs that were chocking him, “I…I wasn’t strong enough…”

“You’re wrong, Telemachus” his voice was whispery and yet adamant, “You are strong, much stronger than any man I have seen so far. I understand the task that I placed upon you was not a pretty one or a pleasant one. And yet you fulfilled it with the bravery that many men didn’t show in thousands of wars. I am proud of you…”

Telemachus realized what had bothered him so much; his father indeed didn’t seem to separate women from men before the ruthless justice he threw upon them. Telemachus was taught to protect and respect women. However when Odysseus arrived at the hall and ordered the demise of 12 women with hardly even blinking disturbed him. How much had he changed? This was not the father that his mother was describing…nay, he wasn’t the father he had met in the hut of the swine herder that embraced him and kissed him like he were his own soul. He saw some of that father he met right now, to the father trying to console him but before? A few minutes prior he saw an executioner; not the father he knew and loved.

“But how much do I know him, really…?” Telemachus realized, “I first saw his face a few days ago… What kind of man is he? Really?”

Odysseus patted his son on his shoulders and helped him straighten himself. They walked past the tree where the women still hanged like doves from a hunter’s stick. Telemachus couldn’t look up at the blackened and bloated faces of death. Not Odysseus. Odysseus looked up steadily and steadfast. There hardly was a reaction on his face apart from a wrinkle playing between his eyes. He seemed tired, sure, he wasn’t feeling pleasure he wasn’t smiling and yet Telemachus wondered; does this man have nerves of steel or a heart of stone to look up so calmly? How much horror had he seen so that this gruesome sight wouldn’t make him avert his eyes?

“How…?” he whispered, “How can you take this…?”

His father was silent for one second until he finally decided to talk.

“One can get awfully accustomed to the face of death…when they have seen so plenty of it…”

His voice was almost dead; as if he was just stating a simple fact such as that the sun rises from the east rather than talking about the lives of people. That rubbed Telemachus in the wrong places even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Sometimes…” Odysseus continued, “I feel like my heart has turned into stone… Sometimes I feel like it has no more space apart from you Telemachus…”

It took him a few seconds to realize what his father had just said. Perhaps not even Odysseus himself had realized it!

“What about mother, father? What about her?”

There was silence for one second. However that silence seemed to Telemachus more cruel than any other eternity in Hades’s kingdom!

“Father!” he urged

“Of course, your mother too…” Odysseus finally whispered, “I love her more than life itself! I did everything I could so I can come back to her…to you…”

“You doubted her!” Telemachus whispered in cruel realization, “Oh, gods! I don’t believe it! You doubted her! Even after everything she went through for you!”

“No!” Odysseus immediately retorted, “No, I didn’t doubt her! Not really…it is just…”

“Just what? I don’t believe you! After all these years she waited!”

“I know this” Odysseus retorted almost calmly, “Or rather I absolutely know now. However I needed to make sure…beyond any shade of doubt. This is why Athena encouraged me to hide who I was from your mother, even if it tore me apart inside…”

“But…why…?” Telemachus was almost in tears and he was struggling really hard to keep them under control. “Why would you even doubt her so?”

They had spent years on their own and for as long as he could remember his mother was always waiting, crying and expecting a miracle. He didn’t remember one day to see his mother genuinely happy. She was smiling or complimenting his accomplishments but he had never seen her truly happy; all their life was darkened by the shadow of his father’s absence; of the lack of information whether he lived or not and now his father said that he had doubt, no matter how small it was?! Odysseus sighed deeply and looked at his son. His eyes were almost pleading even if his voice was steady.

“Son…” he said gravely, “I spent years out there…years of ordeals and pain and…many of them changed me… I cannot say much…not now…however there was someone…a woman…”

He gulped. He almost seemed ready to cry himself.

“She…she did unspeakable things to me…for years I endured hoping to come back to you and your mother… She…she kept on planting doubts in my head for years… I didn’t believe her…I didn’t want to believe her! And yet…yet all those years… Telemachus I couldn’t do otherwise! My brain was rejecting what my heart knew… And so I had to make these two come together… I had to…! Please! Perhaps one day I will be able to explain to you…and then you will understand…”

His father began walking away but Telemachus, in the heat of adrenaline and battle didn’t seem ready to let go. Not yet.

“Does this have to do with some goddess Calypso?”

His father froze and then he saw him turn around and saw another emotion he never saw before; fear. There was pure terror on his face. All color had left it; his eyes as wide as plates.

“Where did you hear that name!?” his father croaked out, “Telemachus! Where?!”

“Father…” Telemachus was more concerned and surprised than pitiful at that moment, “Look at you! You’re pale! You didn’t turn pallid when you ordered the execution of these women and yet you lost all color at the name of that woman!”

“Telemachus!” Odysseus called out desperately

“Tell me what happened father! What does this woman have to do with this?”

“I can’t!”

“Please tell me! What did that woman do to you to make you doubt your own wife?!”

“I can’t! I CAN’T!” Odysseus’s voice rose in a constant crescendo, he held his head with both hands as if suddenly his head was splitting in two

“Father, please!” Telemachus urged, “Who is that woman? Who is Calypso?”

“Telemachus!” Odysseus grabbed the shoulders of his son

Telemachus nearly whelped feeling the unbelievable strength of those hands, squeezing him in almost bruising grasp but he didn’t make a sound. He stood his ground. He was his father’s son.

“Where did you hear that name?!”

“Y-Your friend told me about it…” Telemachus finally replied, “I traveled, father. I myself tried to find the answers that I was seeking…and in my travels I visited Pylos…and Sparta…there I met your old friend… He said he had a dream in which you were trapped at the island with some goddess Calypso, but he didn’t know more… You remember him, don’t you? Menelaus the king of Sparta…”

“M-Menelaus…”

He took some breaths and he seemed to find his composure. He slowly released his son. Telemachus noticed that indeed some color had returned to his face. How much had that woman done to him to make his father react that way?! How many horrors had this man experienced to the hands of that goddess so that he would turn pale in terror even if he was completely unhinged by more than 100 vigorous men?

“Yes…of course I remember… Menelaus…he was one of my closest friends…in Troy.” That little recollection somehow calmed him down, “I…I haven’t heard of him for years… Th-Thank gods that he is fine…”

“He is in good health from what I could see…” Telemachus couldn’t lie, he didn’t know much on Menelaus but he knew that ‘fine’ was not exactly the word that described him, “He misses you a lot, you know… He didn’t speak with so warm words for anybody else…”

A sad smile spread to Odysseus’s lips.

“I remember… Menelaus was a really dear friend to me…”

He passed his hand over his face to mop some of his sweat.

“Forgive me, Telemachus…I really didn’t want this feeling to be inside me in the first place but…please understand me…that’s all I ask. That and some time… I will explain everything when I can…”

Telemachus breathed in, defeated.

“I will not pressure you, father…” he finally said, “I understand it is hard. Forgive me for insisting… It is just…”

His father’s arms wrapped around him. That moment he stopped being the heartless judge. He was the caring father again..he was the one Telemachus first met; the caring, protective father…

“Please don’t apologize…” he murmured to his son’s ear, “You have every right to be angry…you have so many questions… I promise you, my son, I will do my best to answer them all…just not yet…I can’t…not yet…”

He pulled back and looked at his son’s eyes.

“Okay?”

Telemachus smiled sadly. Suddenly his own accumulated frustration from the events of the day was evaporated. He needed this breakdown and somehow he knew his father needed it too.

“Okay” he nodded in agreement.

Odysseus patted his shoulders.

“Good.” He said, “Let’s go in now and we must order to get ourselves cleaned now. We must, sooner or later, cleanse ourselves from this murder for we both look like we went mad!”

Telemachus scoffed a bit. He began following his father; never daring to look back towards that grim execution place.

“She didn’t ask, you know…” he suddenly said

Odysseus stopped and turned around.

“What?”

“Mother. When I told her about king Menelaus’s vision, she didn’t ask. She didn’t make any inquiries. She didn’t doubt your integrity not even for one second…”

He saw his father’s chest palpitating almost suddenly. His face almost twisted with another unspoken sob. He turned around, showing Telemachus his back.

“Thank you…” he murmured

Telemachus managed to see one tear running down his father’s bloodstained cheek. There was so much behind that silent cry! Telemachus knew his father was keeping many things inside; perhaps he even blamed himself for everything. He didn’t know. He only hoped that with that last comment, he managed to give him some peace of mind. Apparently either he was right or Odysseus was a very good actor indeed, for he was back to his previous steadfast and calm self. He was once more the king.

The King of Ithaca

The Anger Bringer.

***

Not much to say here. Homer said most of it before me.

I found it disturbing and interesting how it was Telemachus the one to pull the rope of the execution so I thought to add a bit ore angst to this and show this aftermath whirlpool of emotions that could be going on inside hm.

And of course Odysseus and the years of torment, especially Ogygia.

Also in the Odyssey Rhapsody 17 Telemachus does mention to his mother how Menelaus saw Odysseus imprisoned by Calypso but Penelope didn't react to it much. She either believed not much of it in her sorrow or at the same time she felt no need to react at the name of another woman because she trusted her husband.

Hope you like it.

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fizzyxcustard · 2 years ago

Text

One More White Hair.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (human)

Warnings: ANGST! Insecurity, mutual pining, fluff.

Summary: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you but won't let on as he believes he's an old man and is no good for you'.

Comments: Requested by two anons and @lemond57 Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll regarding when this fic should be set. The majority asked for post Quest. We also get a bit of match-maker Dis. So, enjoy!

As always, if you like the story, please consider a reblog. It really does help. If you would like to be added to any of my story tag lists, or my Follow Forever tag list (where you’re tagged in everything) then please let me know.

Thorin sighed as he stood in front of his full length dress mirror. He was sure that another grey hair had appeared overnight. It shone silver as it wove through his braid. Each hair was a reminder of all those years that he was ahead of you. But nothing could stop his heart wanting you as much as it did. By human years you were in your prime of life, at your peak. Thorin felt as though he was now deflated, crumbling away as he approached his second century. Surely if he had met you all those years ago when he was young, and his hair was black and his skin free of blemish, you would have fallen for him. The scars which littered his body acted as a map of all the wars he had participated in. Each blemish was a sign of his experience. Your skin was still unmarked, unbroken. So much innocence.

That evening would be your weekly dinner with Thorin, the rest of his court advisers and Dis. Since being part of the King's Company only a few months prior, Thorin had made sure you now had a home, security and position. You remembered your first day at council, all eyes were on you. No one of the race of Men had ever taken a seat on Dwarf council. However, as time passed, you had gradually found your place. Dwalin and Balin had welcomed you immediately, having been two of your traveling companions.

In your bedchamber and you began pushing through the clothing which hung in your wardrobe. Dresses, tunics, shawls, cloaks, robes. One dress sat at the end of the line of clothing: it was the dress that Thorin had gifted you upon moving into your bedchamber. It was deep, midnight blue. Dresses always made you feel insecure, as if unwanted attention would be drawn to you and mockery would be shown. And this one had been no exception, until now. You picked it up and draped it over your arm. Something hit you, a revelation... it was the same colour that Thorin always wore. Had this been a simple coincidence? Probably. You highly doubted that Thorin would have thought that deeply into such a thing as this.

With a sigh, you shifted away and began to dress for the occasion.

Thorin was first in the hall, sitting at the head of the table. And gradually everyone began to appear, filling up the seats around the long table. Wine and ale was on hand, plenty to keep everyone merry.

You sat at the far end of the table, next to Balin. First off, you placed a napkin into your lap, preparing for the meal. Then you looked up and noticed Thorin glancing at his own reflection in a goblet. Why did he do this so often? Was he becoming vain?

Thorin sighed and looked over toward you, noticing that you had your gaze in your lap. But his heart hammered in anxiety and delight at the sight of you wearing the dress. It looked just as he had imagined; it was a snug fit and showed off your curves beautifully.

Balin smirked to himself as he noticed Thorin watching you. It had become known within the main circle of advisers that Thorin had his eye on you. However, you remained oblivious to the fact.

The evening went as it normally did: eating, drinking and plenty of chatter.

You noticed that Dis kept whispering to Thorin, nudging him. But his face would then contort and grow angry, until finally he hissed something at her and she crossed her arms in frustration. "I think you take the stubbornness of Dwarves to a whole new level!" Dis exclaimed.

"Enough!" Thorin bellowed.

Everyone stared for a second at the King and his sister, then shifted their nervous gazes elsewhere.

"Umm, we'll begin taking our plates to the kitchens," you proposed, feeling awkward. The rest of the table, apart from Thorin and Dis, muttered in agreement and grabbed their plates and cutlery, hurrying to the kitchen, which was just out of the hall.

Thorin and Dis remained sat down, almost side by side.

"Thorin, I'm being serious, you need to tell her," Dis said, her voice soft but firm. "You've given everything for this kingdom, for our people. You deserve some happiness. I see the way you look at each other."

"Dis!" Thorin warned.

"You think the fact you're older than her makes a difference. It doesn't."

"Look at me!" Thorin exclaimed. "I'm an old man. What kind of woman would want..."

"She would," Dis replied. "Trust me. You've got nothing to lose here, Thorin, and everything to gain. Just talk to her."

Thorin sighed and smiled weakly at Dis. "I shall."

As the guests of Thorin's dinner began to disperse, he called you back. "Can I talk with you privately?" he asked.

Dis smiled to herself and winked at Thorin as she disappeared out of the main double doors.

"Of course," you said. You sat down at the table where Dis had been sat. "You look worried. What's bothering you?" The set of his face seemed to be that of anguish. Did this relate to his outburst earlier?

Thorin blinked hard and looked down at the table.

You reached across and took his hand. "You've put your faith and trust in me this far, please do not stop now."

"I..." Thorin began, his silver blue eyes locked with your gaze. "I love you."

You gasped, unable to hold back your shock at this. "You...you..."

"I love you," he said again. "But I'm old, and while I know my sister means well, she doesn't see the years on my face that I do. Every time I look in the mirror, I see one more white hair. My body is littered with scars. I should not be yearning for you the way I do...."

You gripped his hand tighter, your thumb caressing his. "You're not old. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"What?"

You smiled as you saw his eyes widen in shock. "I mean it. You are. You might be older than me, Thorin, but I never see your age. I just see a beautiful man who I would never have any chance with."

Thorin chuckled. "You're very wrong in your estimation of chances."

You brushed your hand through his long locks, still smiling as you did so. "These white hairs just add to how handsome you are, you know?"

"You are trying to flatter me now..."

"No, I'm speaking the truth. I'd never speak anything but truth to you. I've seen you look at your own reflection so many times, and I kept wondering if you were growing vain."

Both of you couldn't help but laugh.

Thorin cupped your cheek with his hand. "It felt like with each new white hair you were growing further and further away from me."

"Never," you whispered, and leaned in for a kiss.

***

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(Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from any tag lists)

#Thorin Oakenshield #Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Fanfiction #Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader #Thorin Oakenshield x You #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin x Reader #Thorin x You #Thorin x Fem!Reader

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melintowriting · 6 months ago

Text

The first Empress-Chapter 3

Hi everyone! Sorry for the wait but writing and translating this chapter turned out to be more difficult than I thought. Hope you'll like it!

Warnings: arranged marriage, smut (+18), mentions of SA (by the Baron on Feyd)

Word count: 5.052

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

The spaceship arrived on Giedi Prime after nearly four days of journey, during which Megan and Feyd had tried to get to know each other a little. Feyd had not spoken much about himself: he had simply told her that he loved killing and fighting in the arena, nothing more. As for her, he had discovered more interesting things. The young woman loved reading, riding horses, history and politics, an unusual passion for a woman, he thought.

His uncle once told him that intelligence was a wasted quality in a woman; but Feyd disagreed. All his life he had only dealt with naive and useless women that were easy to manipulate. He kind of enjoyed the fact that his wife was smart and a woman worthy of his attention.

After that long journey Megan felt tired: many months had passed since the last interspace journey she had undertaken. She had gone to Caladan for an imperial visit to her uncle Leto. That was probably the last time she had visited her mother’s homeworld, but she didn’t know it at the time.

Her husky husband’s voice echoed from behind her as the doors of the spaceship opened, revealing the gray and gloomy sky of the capital.

"Welcome to Giedi Prime, wife." he said with a wide smile, taking her hand.

Megan and Jeremy exchanged a quick look.

What horrible place was that? They had grown up on a green planet with beautiful landscapes, and now they had both ended up in an industrial hell.

The Na-Baron and the Na-Baroness got off the ship immediately after Baron Vladimir, greeted by soldiers’ chants in Harkonnen language. Behind the ranks of the military there were the faces of ordinary people. Men, women, children, all united by the typical features of Giedi Prime.

Jeremy, who stood faithfully behind his sister almost in a protective way, noticed the way they looked at her. They were curious, almost impatient. They looked at her with hopeful eyes.

-The Bene Gesserit.- he thought -They prepared the people for our arrival. -

Megan walked neatly beside her husband.

She could feel his big hand holding hers.

"Do you like it?" he asked, continuing to walk on the long walkway that would have led them to the fortress.

Megan looked around, unsure whether or not to tell the truth.

"It’s a kind of planet I’m not used to." she decided to say.

Feyd looked at her, amused.

"Is that a subtle way of saying you don’t like it?"

"It’s a way of saying I have to get used to it." the girl promptly replied.

Her eyes inevitably met the ones of the common people behind the soldiers, intent on observing her while whispering.

"What’s going on?" Megan asked, noticing that the atmosphere was starting to warm up.

People had begun to speak louder and the soldiers had begun to arm themselves, ready to protect the noble family.

Feyd raised an eyebrow: he was confused as much as she was.

"Uncle." Feyd said, catching the Baron’s attention.

"This scum!" the Baron exclaimed, annoyed and angry.

Jeremy instinctively approached his sister, ready to defend her from any threat, asking, "What are they shouting?"

The screams were in Harkonnen language, an unknown language to the twins.

Feyd stopped to look at the agitated crowd, trying to figure out what they were shouting.

"Na-Baron."

A slimy and subtle voice caught his attention. It was Piter De Vries.

"It’s not wise to stay out here." he said, trying to keep his cool, "You and your bride must go immediately to the fortress."

"What are they shouting?" he asked, ignoring his recommendation.

And then he heard. He heard what they were shouting and he understood who they were shouting at.

"Liberator! Liberator!" they kept saying, pointing at Megan, begging her to free them.

It was her voice that brought him back to reality.

"Feyd, will you tell me what’s going on?" she insisted, slightly squeezing his hand to get his attention.

"Let’s go." he simply replied, confused and upset by the idea of a riot.

-What’s going on? - Na-Baron kept asking himself while dragging his wife and brother-in-law into the fortress. He wasn’t easily broken down, nor panicked, but an unsettling sensation was creeping inside of him. Never since his uncle brought him to Giedi Prime as a child, he had seen the people in such turmoil.

His uncle did not love the people, he despised them, and he taught him to do the same. Normally people would lower their heads in the presence of the nobles and remain silent in fear. Not this time though.

He couldn’t understand why.

******

A few hours later an extraordinary meeting of the small Council was scheduled.

The trusted nobles of the capital had been invited and Feyd, as the baron’s heir, had a duty to attend.

He left his wife in her apartments with her brother, both still confused by the turbulent arrival on the planet, and he then started to get ready for the Council in his own room. He needed to understand, to know more about what happened.

When he opened the door to his room his harpies were waiting for him, laying on the bed.

As soon as they saw him they began to greet him impatiently and to beg him not to leave them alone anymore.

"We missed you so much, Na-Baron..." they kept saying while kissing his whole body "We can’t be without you."

He greeted them with his usual manner of doing, impassive and icy, letting them praise him a little. He loved the fact that their life depended on him. Being the center of their existence pleased him enormously.

He caressed their heads almost as if they were obedient little animals and he then ordered the servants to start dressing him up.

When he noticed that his harpies were busy whispering to each other, Feyd slightly laughed. He knew what they were mumbling about. He knew what they wanted to know.

But he decided to remain silent, waiting for them to speak first.

And so it was.

"Feyd." one of them began, showing her black teeth in a wide smile.

"Yes, my darling?"

"What does your wife look like?"

There was a strong note of hatred in her voice.

At the word "wife" the other two harpies almost hissed in enragement.

Feyd smiled even more widely. They were jealous. Oh how much he loved to be desired...

"She is very beautiful." he admitted sincerely, visualizing Megan’s beautiful face in his mind.

"More beautiful than us?" the other harpy asked with a hint of desperate need for approval from him.

"Yes." he just answered.

He didn’t care if he hurt them or not, it was the truth. His harpies were beautiful for the beauty standards of Giedi Prime, but Megan was more beautiful for his taste.

A general hiss echoed behind him.

"So now that she’s here you’re going to abandon us?"

"Don’t leave us Na-Baron, please. We need you."

"We exist only if you are with us."

Feyd turned to look at them amused.

All that despair was feeding his huge ego.

"No, I will not leave you for now. As long as you satisfy me and you are obedient pets you can still receive my attention." he answered as the servants finished dressing him. He dismissed them with a simple gesture.

"Where are you going, our beloved Feyd?" a harpy asked, seeing him walking to the door "I thought you would spend some time with us..." she whispered sensually while the other two almost started purring.

He knew what she was alluding to: usually, as soon as he returned to Giedi Prime after a diplomatic visit to another planet, he visited them in order to satisfy his sexual needs.

But he didn’t have time to do that that day.

"I don’t have time." he quickly explained, looking at his reflection in the mirror one last time.

He still did not know if after the meeting he would have visited them or Megan.

"Maybe later, if I don’t meet with my wife." he added, postponing the decision.

And after that, in a mix of anger and resentment, they all remained silent while Feyd left the room.

******

The Council Room was a place that invoked memories in Feyd’s mind.

Most of them were dark and hard to forget.

The first memory related to that room was particularly traumatic. Like any seven-year-old, Feyd loved to play. He was always told that playing was a waste of time, that he had to learn how to fight, how to rule and not to invent stupid hobbies. But he was stubborn. He still wanted to play, even though there was never anyone willing to play with him.

One afternoon he was wandering in the fortress while playing with an indefinite amount of imaginary friends, when he accidentally entered the Council Room, interrupting a meeting.

Vladimir had angrily scolded him, humiliating him in front of all the nobles, and then he had told him that he was going to punish him in his chambers.

Feyd knew what that meant.

He knew what was coming.

Even at the time, despite the typical innocence of children, he understood that there was something wrong with all that. That the way his uncle touched him wasn’t normal, that not all children had uncles like that, fortunately.

From that day on Feyd kept his distance from that room until he was old enough to be ready to sit in the Council.

As much as he tried not to think about it, that room always took him back to that memory. Every time he sat at the long table next to his uncle, he felt such a deep hatred for him that led him to often fantasize about killing him.

He thought about it many times but he never did it.

-In due time.- he thought -I will have my revenge. -

"My trusted lords." the Baron said with his hoarse voice, "I think you all know why we are here."

The nobles nodded, visibly upset.

"I leave the word to Piter. He will be able to explain some... things to you better" he said vaguely, inviting the Mentat to continue.

Piter cleared his throat with his usual hasty manner before speaking.

"Well... so, thanks to my Mentat skills, I immediately understood the reason for the turmoil today."

Feyd rolled his eyes. He hated that Mentat. Nobody cared about his abilities, they just wanted to understand why the people were shouting those things to his wife.

-How much I want to kill that idiot. - he thought, still remaining impassive.

"The Bene Gesserit are involved, I bet." a noble said.

Piter nodded: "Yes they are. An ancient prophecy of theirs speaks of a First Empress, the first woman to sit on the throne. During our visit to Kaitain for our Na-Baron’s wedding I tried to gather as much information as possible about our new Na-Baroness and it seems that everyone believes she is the chosen one."

"Nonsense." commented the Baron to reassure the nobles "All nonsense of course."

Piter nodded again, but that time hesitantly. Feyd seemed the only one to have noticed.

Maybe his uncle was underestimating the situation.

"The Bene Gesserit, as always, must have spread the word here on Giedi Prime. The people were waiting for Feyd Rautha’s wife, the one who will free them from slavery and from the Laandstrad system, the one who will make them free men and women."

While all the nobles laughed, Feyd and Piter looked at each other in silence. Neither of them was laughing. It was at that point that Feyd realized that the Bene Gesserit prophecies were potentially serious things.

"A woman will never sit on the throne." the Baron chuckled.

"Women are meant to make children and stay silent. Can you imagine a woman ruling the Empire? We’d be doomed!" another noble said, making all the others laugh.

"Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna let the people love her, think she’s gonna save them, sit on the throne... we’re gonna let them think whatever they want. We will turn all of this in our favor, of course. So that when someone will sit on the throne, that someone will be my nephew Feyd."

Feyd turned to look at him slowly, perfectly hiding the surprise.

His uncle’s fat face deformed into a wicked smile.

"Let that woman believe she can rule and I will make you emperor."

Now all the nobles' eyes were on him.

"Emperor?" Feyd asked, savoring the taste of that word.

The Baron smiled even more widely.

"When she will ask you what happened today, tell her the truth. Fuel her hopes. Make her believe it. If we exploit the support of that mass of beggars, who do you think will sit on the throne?"

Feyd looked him intensely in the eyes, feeling the excitement growing.

"Feyd Rautha Harkonnen!" the Baron exclaimed with a proud look.

"Feyd Rautha Harkonnen!" the nobles repeated in a solemn tone.

******

Giedi Prime was a miserable place.

Nothing about it was pleasant or interesting.

It was sad to think that she would have had to spend the rest of her days there, under a perpetually gloomy sky and breathing heavily polluted air. But at least she wasn’t alone.

Her brother had dinner with her and before he left he had come up with a theory.

"What if what happened today is a sign that the prophecy is true?"

Megan looked at him in silence, analyzing his idea.

They both knew about the prophecy because of their mother.

"I don’t know." his sister replied "The world doesn’t seem ready for a woman on the throne yet... maybe the Bene Gesserit are wrong. Perhaps the Chosen One is yet to come."

There was disappointment in her voice.

“We’ll have time to see if the prophecy is right.” he reassured her "Rest now."

"Unless my husband decides to pay me a visit."

Jeremy tried not to show it but the idea of his sister with Feyd Rautha still troubled him deeply.

"Good night." he said, kissing her on the forehead.

"Good night Jeremy," she whispered, "I’m lucky to have you here with me."

And it was true. Without her twin she couldn’t survive, neither on Giedi Prime, nor anywhere else.

As expected, her husband came to see her.

"Come in." Megan said as soon as she heard a knock. She knew it was him.

Feyd entered the room and closed the door behind him.

He chose to go to her. He couldn’t explain it but the idea of having sex with her excited him a lot more than having sex with his concubines. The newest toy was always the most interesting.

"Did you have dinner, wife?"

"I did." she nodded "Did you attend the council?"

Feyd nodded without taking his eyes off her.

The way she looked at him... she wanted to know, she wanted to ask him what had happened. His ability to understand people was not due to his empathy, but rather due to his attentiveness and meticulous observation.

And just like he predicted, Megan spoke.

"What happened today?" she asked, "Were they shouting at me?"

Why did she ask him such an obvious question? Feyd was certain that she knew about the prophecy about herself.

"I think we both know about the prophecy." he just said, studying her with his piercing gaze.

Megan seemed to frown, slightly tilting her head in surprise.

"How do you know?"

"Bene Gesserit’s prophecies have always seemed like a waste of time to me, but they have the strange ability to spread quickly." Feyd explained, "Our Mentat heard about it on Kaitain at our wedding. Today he only had the confirmation that the people really believe in it. They believe that you will free them from the imperial system."

Silence fell between the two. They looked at each other for a few moments, both intrigued by the other.

Feyd had expected a reaction from her. He had expected astonishment, surprise... she was a woman after all, and women were always exaggerated and sentimental. He had just told her that people thought she was going to be the first woman to rule... and she just looked at him in silence.

-What a strange little creature. - he thought before breaking the silence with a simple question.

"Do you think they’re right?"

He had to make her believe in the prophecy as his uncle suggested, and to do so he needed to make her talk.

Megan remained silent for a while, breathing in deeply.

"I don’t know."

Feyd sighed.

-What a disappointing answer.-

Seeing him unsatisfied with her answer Megan added, "All men are still too dull to accept a woman’s power."

-That is an interesting answer. -

"All men? You’re assuming I am too?"

"Isn’t that right?"

"No."

To be honest Feyd never thought of a woman as a ruler. He had always been taught that women were just about having children and being good wives, but he had never had a maternal model to learn from. He killed his mother a long time ago. As soon as she had tried to stop the Baron in his attempt to bring Feyd to Giedi Prime to raise him as a true Harkonnen, Vladimir had ordered the little Feyd to kill her. And he, a simple child with a knife in his hand, had obeyed without really knowing what he was doing.

Did he regret it? No.

Or maybe.

But there was no point in thinking about it anymore: his mother was dead and he had found a strange pleasure in killing.

His wife raised an eyebrow in an unconvinced expression.

She didn’t believe him.

-You’re more stubborn than I thought, pet. -

"Men are all the same."

Feyd looked intensely into her eyes. That sentence annoyed him. He was not like all men. All men wanted to be like him, to be precise.

"And tell me, what are men like?"

"Frightened by a strong woman." she explained with a firm tone.

Feyd smiled in amusement.

"And you think you are?"

The girl inhaled deeply, nodding without hesitation.

"It’s a fact." and then she went on "That I really am what people say I am doesn’t matter now. There’s still time to figure it out. But one thing is certain: I always frightened men. My father was terrified that I would open my mouth to any event with guests."

The Emperor frightened by a girl? It was both absurd and funny.

"Why is that?"

"Because I didn't agree with him on a lot of things and I wasn’t afraid to say it."

Her answers, always accurate and ready... Feyd was sincerely amazed. But he did not show it.

And then he thought -If she’s so proud and stubborn it might become a problem for me. I’ll find a way to tame her. -

"In what ways did you disagree with him?"

He was really interested in finding out.

"I think the whole Empire is based on injustice and that an Emperor should rule differently."

Now Feyd could understand why her father preferred her when she was silent. Her confidence was unbearable, yet amusing.

"How?" he teased her.

"If I truly am the First Empress, you will see."

Feyd immediately became serious, taking a step toward her.

"Another husband would have already punished you for your insolence."

Just like before Megan didn’t get upset.

"If you do, you’d prove my theory that men are scared of confident women."

-Now it’s too much. -

He had to make things clear, that insolent little creature had to figure out who was in charge.

"I’ll prove something else." he whispered, approaching her, "That I can make you shut up for as long as I want. Or rather... that the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name."

Megan smiled, looking him in the eyes.

"We’ll see." she replied.

Was it possible that the fear with which she looked at him the first time had already vanished?

Feyd sat on the bed, ordering her to kneel before him.

"Now I’m gonna teach you something, pet, and you’re gonna have to listen carefully."

The girl nodded, kneeling between his legs.

"Look how obedient you’ve become now that you know you’ll get my cock." he grinned, caressing her cheek.

Without needing to be told Megan took off his uniform pants, freeing his half hard manhood from his clothes.

His dark eyes watched her fingers running along the numerous veins down his length before wrapping her hand around it, squeezing slightly.

During the journey from Kaitain to Giedi Prime, they only managed to have sex twice. Feyd had dragged her into a small room on the spaceship and made her his with impatience. And Megan also enjoyed those moments. The embarrassment and awkwardness were slowly abandoning her, leaving room for a constant curiosity and desire for him.

If during the first time with him she had been afraid that he might hurt her, now she knew how much Feyd was able to make her feel good instead.

Megan understood what she had to do, something she’d heard about but never done before.

"What if... I hurt you?" she asked, looking up.

-What a stupid question.- she mentally said to herself, seeing Feyd grinning. She already knew the answer.

"I like pain, pet. Both to provoke it and to receive it." he explained to her while slightly pushing her head towards his now hard manhood.

Megan breathed deeply, getting closer.

Her tongue licked the base and then ran up to the tip, following a large bluish vein. She then focused on the tip, licking it, making her tongue swirl around it in circular motions.

-I’m doing well. - she thought, satisfied, hearing Feyd’s deep moans.

After a few minutes of teasing she then opened her mouth, barely taking him all inside.

It was too big to take it all.

She began to move her head, bobbing it up and down his length, while Feyd took her long brown hair in his hand.

"Am I too big for you, little thing?" he groaned, pushing her down further at every movement.

Megan tried to shake her head but she was pushed down on him, feeling his cock touching her throat.

She instinctively tried to retreat, gagging around him, but Feyd kept her still for a few moments, grinning in pleasure.

As soon as he let her go, Megan coughed with tears in her eyes and looked at him with a grim look.

"Don’t make that face." he mocked her, laughing.

He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb, smiling even more.

"Now continue, pet." he ordered, slightly slapping his cock against her closed lips.

The girl obeyed, starting again.

After a few minutes and after understanding the mechanism, she began to enjoy it to the point that she instinctively added the hand movement, hearing Feyd groan even louder.

"Yes pet, just like that. Good girl." he said as bewitched, looking at her bobbing her head with teary eyes "Do you want me to cum in your mouth?"

Megan nodded eagerly without stopping, looking up directly at him.

That look she gave him... it sent him over the edge.

He came with a low groan, pulling her hair as he could feel his cock twitching in her mouth.

He looked into her eyes as she swallowed, almost amazed.

It didn’t matter that their marriage was arranged... the sexual pleasure he had experienced with her that week was a pleasure he had never experienced with any other woman, not even with his concubines.

Maybe they would have never loved each other, and that didn’t matter, but at least they could both make each other feel good.

"You did a great job, pet." he complimented her, caressing her cheeks.

Megan smiled slightly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

He had been right when he had told his harpies that she was very beautiful.

"You are mine." he added possessively, looking into her eyes.

That sentence stirred something within Megan. At first she looked at him in amazement, remaining silent as she caught her breath.

And then she nodded, not taking her eyes off him.

Perhaps there was a reason why according to the Bene Gesserit’s plan they were destined to be together.

And that was the reason: she was his and he was hers.

******

Two weeks later

Feyd told her about the upcoming fight in the arena. Because of Feyd’s duties as Na-Baron the evening was the only moment they could spend together. And when they were not busy having sex they had made a habit of entertaining themselves in conversations. Megan was surprised that they had sex every night. Men usually prefer the company of their concubines and she was sure that he was still sleeping with his harpies regularly, especially when during the day he was busy and away from her. But after all, he always came back to her and that… that made her feel special.

They regularly spoke after sex. It was always Megan to start, since she had understood that Feyd was of few words, but he always participated in the conversations with interest.

One night, without warning, Feyd spoke first.

"In three days there will be a fight in the arena." he had said proudly, looking up at the ceiling.

Megan had turned to look at him, observing his facial features, his body perfectly muscular and sculpted.

"How long have you been fighting in the arena?" he had asked.

"For years. Since I was 14, maybe." he had replied.

Everybody knew how damn good he was at fighting.

"Do you want me to attend?"

Feyd had looked at her, perfectly hiding his emotions behind a detached expression.

He didn’t want to ask her directly because he was waiting for her to make the move.

He wanted her to see him fight, he wanted her to understand and see how strong and skilled her husband was.

"The first time we spoke you said you weren’t afraid of death." he had said, "If it’s true, attend the fight. People want to see their Na-Baroness."

By saying so he had pretended that her presence didn’t mean anything for him but that it meant something to people.

Megan agreed.

And there she was, sitting in the arena, waiting for the show to begin with her brother beside her.

"There he is."

Jeremy pointed at the man entering the arena, greeted by the chants of the spectators.

It was Feyd.

"Who are his opponents?" his sister asked him, using a pair of special glasses to see clearer from afar.

"I heard he fights against prisoners from other planets." he explained, clenching his fists in rage "Including Fremens."

Megan felt blood freeze in her veins as a Fremen entered the arena, stumbling.

Although no one, except for the imperial family, knew about their true identity, the Fremen blood inherited from their real father was for the twins a source of great pride; and seeing a Fremen sentenced to death in that way made them seethe in anger.

The fight began.

"They’re drugged." Jeremy noticed "Prisoners are drugged."

It was true. All her husband’s opponents were staggering and their reflexes were slowed.

Her twin brother was confused.

"You can tell he’s a good fighter... why do this?"

"Because Feyd kills for pleasure. He fights for fun, he doesn’t care about fairness or honor." she explained, looking at the prisoners being killed relentlessly.

The way Feyd was killing them was proving to her how much he enjoyed doing it.

Seeing that side of her husband in person wasn’t reassuring her at all. She always contemplated murder but only for those who really deserved it, for those who committed injustice… not as a hobby.

When the fight finished her husband looked at the Baron, who nodded proudly, and then directly at her.

Megan looked at him, unsure how to react.

Did she have to pretend she liked it? Yes, maybe it was the wisest thing to do.

So she gave him a slight smile, a smile that Feyd secretly appreciated.

The chants of approval from the audience did not stop even when Feyd disappeared from sight, entering the underground parts of the arena.

"Let’s go." her brother said, getting up from the stands.

Escorted by Megan’s guards and maids, the twins left the arena to get to the vehicle that would have taken them back to the fortress.

But something went wrong.

The people were shouting and calling her name again. They started to surround the guards who were trying to protect her, reaching out their hands to touch her, begging for her help.

"Don’t worry." Jeremy told her, drawing out his knife. Her husband was a skilled fighter, but her brother was too.

But Megan wasn’t worried. Not at all.

In those weeks following her arrival she had thought a lot about how the people looked at her, about what Feyd had told her about the prophecy.

She knew she had to try to help them. She felt like she had a duty towards those people. She needed to understand why. She had to find out if she really was what they thought she was.

The guards began to load their weapons, ready to shoot at the crowd, when Megan felt an arm grab her.

She turned to see a young woman who was pulling her arm with a desperate look. She had the typical features of Giedi Prime, dark eyes, smooth and pale face.

"Please, my lady." the girl begged her in Galach, without letting her arm go.

Megan, as in a trance, started allowing the young woman to guide her out of the crowd, but saw with the corner of her eye a soldier pointing his weapon at the girl’s head, ready to stop her from taking the Na-Baroness with her.

But Megan turned to him and without even thinking she used the Voice.

"Stop. Let me go."

The soldier obeyed without resistance.

"No, no!" Jeremy shouted, seeing his sister disappear into the crowd. He started pushing people, desperately looking for her, shouting orders to the guards.

But there was nothing to do.

Megan had disappeared.

From that moment, everything changed.

Tag list: @mamawiggers1980 @avidreader73 @pomtherine

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha smut #dune #dune movie #dune part 2 #fanfic #fanfiction #giedi prime #house harkonnen

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pandorxxx · 1 year ago

Text

An unexpected Visitor: Chapter 1

Lo’ak x omatikayan fem reader

Warnings: forbidden love, trouble maker lo’ak (ofc), angry- Lo’ak (kinda), p in v, cursing, orgasms. (Lmk if I missed anything else)

Synopsis: You were promised to Neteyam. Him being next in line for olo’eyktan and you training to be the next tsahik, it only made sense. However, you had lo’ak on your mind. What happens when lo’ak gets tired of sneaking around, and asks you to be his mate? Will your father approve of this?

Chapter 2

🔞MDNI🔞

It was no secret…although you tried your hardest to keep it as such. You were among the elite kids in the clan, your father being jakes right hand man, and your mother being one of the best hunters here. So it was only fair that you had the prime pickings of the clans finest men.

Everyone thought it would be you and Neteyam. As you both were promised to eachother as young kids. You training to be a healer while Neteyam was up next for olo’eyktan, it only made the most since.

But if you were being completely honest, you didn’t like Neteyam all that much. And it was clear he wasn’t checking for you either. The truth was, he was too similar to you. You need someone to take you out of your comfort zone, not join you IN it. You two were friends, nothing more…nothing less. You both had discussed this many of times, yet either of you were bold enough to tell your parents of the decision you both made. So that situation went untouched.

Plus, it wouldn’t make sense for you to mate with Neteyam as if lo’ak wasn’t the one you were sneaking around with. Yes, it was true. You and lo’ak had a thing going on. It was always speculated around the clan, but never confirmed. You were just that good at hiding it.

Plus, you didn’t need your father hearing about this. He was really strict. Hell, it took him a few years to accept the fact that you were promised to Neteyam, and that you would be having a family of your own one day. So you just knew he would have a problem with lo’ak; the trouble maker of the clan mating with his only daughter? Over his dead body.

So the only way to see lo’ak romantically was to sneak around. Usually at night when your parents were sleeping, or on days like this one, when everyone was too busy doing their chores to care what was going on with the clans good girl and bad boy.

- - -

“Riiide that dick, fuuuuck.” Lo’ak chuckled breathily, receiving the utmost amount of pleasure as your little cunt squeezed his shaft. Your dainty hands were placed on his chest as you rode him like your life depended on it. Each bounce of your hips caused a loud smack that rang through the forest shamelessly.

And you couldn’t care less, not with his 14 inch cock buried deep inside of you. Shit, you couldn’t even think. All you knew was not to stop, or that undeniable pleasure would vanish.

“I-I’m gonna cum. I-I’mmmm gonna c-cum.” You whispered, heavy pants escaping your lungs as you bounced on his lap.

“Yeah?” He asked, siting up on his elbows just to watch your ass bounce. He snaked around, palming the plush skin with a loud grunt.

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded, faint whimpers escaping your lips as your walls began to contract around his length.

“O-Oh….ohhh fuuuck” he spoke, mouth slightly agape as his head followed your movements. He couldn’t take his eyes away. He squeezed your ass alittle harder, his hips bucking slightly into yours. He was close too….

“Same time, baby. S-Same time.” He moaned, lip between his teeth as he admired his favorite part of you. You were a mess, so fucked out that your body was begging for a release. Yet, you knew better. And no matter what you were doing…you hated to say this…but your fathers wrath was always lingering in the back of your mind.

“Let me cum first. Y-You can’t cum inside of me.” You moaned, your voice rippling with the pace of his thrusts now. Eywa, how much he hated those words…every.fucking.time you said them.

He growled out of frustration, taking it out on your tight little cunt. With a strong hand gripping your middle, he knocked the wind out of you with every thrust.

“F-Fuck just once. I need to fill this pussy up. Please.” He begged, faced balled up in pleasure as languid whimpers escaped his mouth.

“I know, b-but don’t do it. Hold it until I’m done!” You cried, legs beginning to shake around his hips. You felt your core heat up, meaning that your orgasm was seconds away.

Lo’ak decided to close his eyes, maybe it would hault his orgasm until you were done. He couldn’t believe what you were asking of him; To let you bounce on his cock until YOU were satisfied, while he was just seconds away from his earth shattering orgasm as well. And lord forbid if he came inside you. How the fuck was he supposed to do this? “Hurry then, b-baby! I-I can’t take it!” He growled, eyes shut and jaw clenched.

“I-I’m- shiiit!” You screamed, walls fluttering around his cock as you let your juices flow down his shaft with every slow bounce. As you rode out your high, you began to mumble nonsense in his ear.

“T-This dick is sooo good. So so sooo s-so good.” You whispered, fangs grazing his lobe. It sent a chill down his spine, his ears perking in excitement.

“Ohh come on, d-don’t talk like that. You’ve gotta- nghh!- gotta get up.” He moaned, pushing on your stomach gently, his eyes back glued to your ass.

“I-I’m still cumming, lo’ak. Don’t stop me, pleaseee?” You whimpered, rolling your hips into his. His eyes crossed, mouth falling agape as pitiful whimpers escaped.

“Fuuck, no. I-I can’t y/n!” He strained, shaking his head in disagreement. He gently pushed you off of him before fisting his cock.

“Ohhhh shit! Oh shit, shit, shit!” He grunted, his seed spewing out of him like lava. Sooo much of it too.

After one final thrust to his hand, he let go, body going limp on the moss beneath him. He was panting, sweat pooling from his body.

“That was amazinggg.” You panted, crawling over to your loincloth. Lo’ak scoffed with the energy he could muster.

“Mhm. I’m glad you had fun.” He snarled, sitting up lazily to grab his loincloth. You shot your head at him. Here he goes again. With his little attitude.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, tying your cloth around your hips. Eyes brow cocked as you awaited an answer.

Lo’ak stood to his full height, making you visibly back down in the slightest. He took a deep breath, tying his loincloth around his hips as well.

“Do you love me or what? Be honest. Because this shit doesn’t feel like love.” He confessed, finally meeting your confused gaze. “Huh? What are you even saying? Because I won’t let you CUM inside of me, I don’t love you now?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“It’s bigger than that, and you know it. After this, we’re gonna go our separate ways until you need me again. It’s funny how you can’t make time for a REAL date, yet you FIND time for some dick.” He spat, eyeing you up and down in disgust. He was getting really sick of this game you liked to play.

“Oh please! Be realistic for 2 seconds. You know I love you. And you know why we CANNOT be together. I don’t know why you’re acting like we haven’t discussed this.” You rebuttal, turning on your heals to leave him where he’s standing.

“You love me, right? prove that shit.” He growled, making you stop in your tracks. You turned around and walked close to him. “I just proved it…5 minutes ago!” You strained. He growled in frustration again.

“God, NO! Everything isn’t about sex!” He shouted, grabbing you by your neck out of sheer aggravation.

“Then WHAT?” You shouted back. He clenched his jaw, nose flaring as his tail wagged high behind him. He loved you so much that he was willing to say this next thing…

“Let me meet your father, properly. So I can take you out on a fucking date for once. A REAL date.” He spoke with less aggression, letting your neck go gently. Your eyes visibly widened at his request. “Lo’ak…my father wouldn’t approve of this.” You whispered, but loud enough for him to hear.

“How do you know that? We haven’t even tried yet.” He asked, a genuine tone in his voice. You sighed, taking his hands in yours.

“Lo’ak, my father knows that I’m promised to Neteyam already. He wouldn’t approve of my choice being his younger brother. It makes me look bad….and-“ you were stopped abruptly.

“And what?” He asked curiously. Head titled slightly as he awaited an answer.

“My father is strict. VERY strict. And you have…a bit of a reputation around the clan. He thinks you’re a trouble maker…everyone does. Im sorry.” You whispered, your voice cracking from the tears that we’re getting ready to form.

He had a look of defeat, disappointment. Was his reputation that messed up…that if fucked up his chances to get the girl he’s always wanted?

“I can be good for you. I WILL be good…for you. I won’t cause any more trouble if it means that I get a fair shot at making you mine. If your father doesn’t like me after, then it’s fine, I get that but….I just wanna try. Please, y/n. Let me meet him.” He begged before placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

How could you deny him? Especially when you’ve got the clans bad boy BEGGING to make you his? Begging to meet your father, just so he can be public with you? Promising to be GOOD…for you? You had no other choice but to say….

“Yes, yes I’ll let you meet my father. Come over for dinner tomorrow. No funny business please.” You nodded, a small smirk creeping on your lips as the possibility of being with lo’ak.

“OH SHIT! YES! This is great! I’ll be there.”

He shouted in excitement. You’d never seen him smile that wide before. You were just happy that he was happy.

“No cursing when you meet him. He’ll kick you out.” You warned, pointing your finger at him. He chuckled before nodding. “I won’t, I promise.”

“No talking back either, please? I know how you get-“ he interrupted you again. “I swear ON MY LIFE. I would never disrespect him.” He spoke in a serious tone.

You smiled, placing your hands on his chest. “Ok then. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” You spoke, standing on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his soft lips.

You turned on your heels again. Going to walk away before you felt a hard smack on your ass. “Fuck! Are you crazy?” You shouted, rubbing the burning skin. He chuckled at you, eyeing your small frame up and down.

“Maybe. I love you, though.” He teased. You rolled your eyes. Turning to walk away from him.“I love you too, lo’aaaaaak.” You sung before disappearing into the tall trees

As excited as he was, lo’ak knew he had some hard work ahead of him….

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina @yeletta @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut @bee782916 @atxxokirina @taylormarieee @sweethoneycn

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cinnamonest · 4 months ago

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Was thinking if there're any yans that'd want to get married asap, because y'know, when girls use the reason that '19 is too early to get married,' they're just trying to get out of doing any real work or struggle and are looking for an excuse to sleep around (actual comment I read from an irl man, btw) But ooooof, they discover darling is waaaayyyy past her prime atp!! She's practically close to hitting the WallTM . I mean, yes they still think about her and yes they'd still pay her to fuck them, and yes, it's very unfortunate she's let so many men run her over and hasn't done achieved anything meaningful in her life, line getting married and serving her husband and enduring the marriage if things get "rough", but that's exactly why he's as generous and kind as he is!!!

ASFjdsKfjwa;fdashfhD ANON I never thought I’d read the phrase “the wall” outside of angry middle aged men on twitter the way I did a double take 😭😭

This specifically has like Ayato/Diluc vibes to me, I feel like even in a modern setting they’re still coming from wealth/nobility and you know how the elite class loves their young marriages, so it’s just what both are conditioned to as being normal.

But you’re so right and I love the thought of some delusional guy with a crippling savior complex lusting after some woman, convincing himself she should be grateful he wants her so bad and that she has some degree of due blame and shame for a perceived fault.

After all, you’re like, what, over 20? Basically a hopeless spinster. Probably desperate to get married, got baby rabies, all that stuff, not to mention probably insecure and jaded and calloused — all things that should be bad, but for him, it sparks these sorts of intricate fantasies and urges.

To correct you. To save you. You poor, misguided thing. Maybe you were too focused on pointless things like a career, not knowing that such a thing is worthless for you.

Or maybe you were just too shy. Or too picky. Whatever is wrong with you or however you screwed up, it’s okay, you can be forgiven for your wrongs. Sure, you’re resistant at first, in the same way a stray cat picked up off the street might initially hiss and scratch, a defense mechanism out of fear, nothing more. But with enough persistent affection — healthily balanced out with a firm hand where needed — you’ll come around in no time, and he knows you'll very happily and naturally fall right into the role he wants from you.

#.miso

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eruhamster · 8 months ago

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hours have past and i now have a full belly and my nap meter has been fulfilled and so i am no longer angry but i will still insist that people thinking thistle is a child are, in fact, bitches

There is not a single suggestion he is a child through that entire manga. the most we get is a fan translation of a piece of that adventurer's bible that says it's "ok" if he wears elf earmuffs but "just ok" if pattadol or marcille wear elf earmuffs. but the same fan-translated blurb also says "children and young people" wear them, and specifies that young women often do not - implying that the difference in "ok" and "just ok" could be that Thistle's more fine to wear it as a man, versus Pattadol and Marcille.

We do not actually know the ages of any of the people from the Golden Country. We have nothing we can go on beyond estimations from the Tall-men aging. People saying "Thistle is short he must be a child" are full of it, because elves ARE short - he is the same height as another adult elf, Otta.

We physically see Thistle age through his backstory. We know he is fully grown.

He had to have been at least around the human equivalent of 10 when Delgal was born. We do not know a pureblood elf's equivalent to this, but it is going to be older than a dwarf's since elves live longer. To put it in perspective, Senshi, at 13, was the human equivalent to a 6yo:

Able to do simple chores. About 6 or so. So dwarves likely age at about half the rate of humans. Elves live even longer than dwarves, and likely age even slower. So a human 10yo would be a dwarf 20yo or so, and for an elf, that is likely 40 years old since they live 400 vs dwarf 200 years - So when we're looking at Thistle at Delgal's birth, what looks like a 10yo tall-man child would be a 40yo elf. It is highly likely around there unless it's said otherwise anywhere.

At 40 at the time of Delgal's birth, we could just add how old Delgal is. We don't know his exact age, but this man looks at least 40. He already has a son.

So going by this, Thistle is probably about 80 at the time he officially becomes Dungeon Lord. This is the elf age of maturity according to the Adventurer's Bible.

And you need to remember, while immortality exists in the Golden Country, it does not mean aging is ground to a halt.

Delgal's son continues to grow, and has a child who grows into adulthood all within the dungeon. Delgal continues to age:

Absolutely nobody is stunted in aging since the start of the dungeon. There has never been a suggestion of that. At some point it appears he made sure to lock everyone in the age of their prime, but Thistle continued to physically age at least through Delgal seeming to be at least a 70yo man.

So Thistle is solidly an adult, in body and mind, ESPECIALLY at the time of the story but including when he became Lord of the Dungeon. At absolute best, if you shave off years, possibly initially he could have been maybe the elf equivalent to late teens, but that's really pushing it.

Not a single time in the entire series, even when the Canaries see Thistle, does anyone remark that he is a child, or even exceedingly young. He is treated like an adult by absolutely everyone.

Every single person that says he is a child is working on pure headcanon or are overly distracted about his size and cute face, which is ironic since that's an ongoing issue elves deal with with with non-elves. He is not any shorter or any less babyfaced than other adult elves we know.

EDIT: Had one person point out a single part of Thistle's first proper introduction, where Marcille thinks "a child?" - A possible misunderstanding on Marcille's part, or a later retcon by Kui by the time we see his whole backstory. Regardless, I wasn't aware of it, and now that the episode that would have it is out - it's worth noting that the anime removed that.

He is not a child.

#thistle #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #worst part of manga getting an anime is having to deal with animes getting mad abt spoilers tbh

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beware-of-pity · 4 months ago

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Just before tonight's episode airs, I wanted to get out of the way some of the little thoughts that still wander my head from last Sunday's one. I know this post will hold little to no meaning or significance after the episode airs, because it could probably completely change the trajectory of where the relationship between Rhaenyra and Jacaerys stands seeing as we already got teased a conversation with these two, but there was something that did bother me about how they choose to portray these two th last episode that I feel the need to talk about it.

I really, really, cannot get down to what they want to do with the dynamic with these two. I really do not understand where Jacaerys and Rhaenyra's relationship is heading as of last Sunday's episode. While it seems like they can have moments where they communicate and understand what they're both feeling and going through, most of the time these two are on screen they do nothing but misunderstand and be angry at each other.

Rhaenyra treats Jacaerys just like how Viserys treated her under Otto's influence, as seen in episode two of the first season. She ignores him, doesn't listen to his suggestions except for when she's on board with them, and shuts him down at every turn- and yet she deliberately tells Mysaria that Jacaerys is rebelling against her, a feeling that showrunners like Sara Hess back up as the truth of the matter.

And all I can do while watching all of this unfold is ask myself if I've either lost the plot of what's in front of me or if I'm just not seeing what the showrunners want me to see. All I've been seeing for the past six episodes is an inactive Rhaenyra being angry at her council for.... something I'm still not exactly sure about. I understand, her, feeling diminished and put down and perhaps still not being taken seriously as a woman in a room full of men but every time there's a council scene and Rhaenyra is in it, I can kind of also understand why she's still not being taken seriously. Every time she recoils with uncertainty because she does not know what to do, how to retaliate, or how to get her faction back on her feet, her mind leads her to what she knows best, participate with Syrax. When she's told that her getting on her dragon and becoming an active participant in the war is a bad idea, she scoffs and becomes annoyed because she doesn't know any better. Rhaenyra doesn't know what to do because with the little education she was given by her father battling a civil war with her half-brother was certainly not on the curriculum. And while I wouldn't blame young Rhaenyra for not knowing better, adult Rhaenyra should have certainly foreseen that her ascension to the throne would have been challenged, challenged enough that a dragon war breaking out would have been on the cards that she would have to, one day, play.

This hesitation is what costed her rook's rest. Had she already started cooping up the men-at-arms of the houses whose support she had on her side, she could have had the means to face Cole with an army. But the writers were literally obsessed with turning Rhaenyra into another version of Viserys, that instead of us getting the Rhaenyra that's grieving and wanting to avenge the death of both Luke and Visenya, we got the Rhaenyra who doesn't even mention the death of her only daughter, the one she was desperately dreaming of, not even once and treats the death of her son as something of a matter of fact, something that happened that we have to get over with, something that the show almost wants us to believe Lucerys either deserved or had it coming for him. Something that will not have anyone mention the faults of Aemond's intention and doing, with him not even once being called or denominated as a Kinslayer, while he actually goes down in history as being the prime epitome of said act.

Jacaerys feels virtually and emotionally alone, there is no other way to put this. His half-sister and cousin, as well as his three little brothers, were sent off for their own good and the only person that he feels comfortable enough to open himself up to is Baela, but even he understands that he cannot put and vent all of his feeling and frustration on her. He knows he cannot burden other people with the things he shouldn't even have to go through. The person he has ever felt closest to, both in age and in as a human being is now gone, and he cannot even let himself properly grieve him because of the war he now has to put himself to the bone for. The person he openly seeks out to consolidate and ground himself is his mother, the only other person who can feel his pain to the fullest and because of everything going on Rhaenyra cannot see what Jacaery wants in her in those times he tries to seek her out. And it's both tragic and makes you want to bash your skull on the nearest wall available at the same time.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd speculation #hotd spoilers #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra #lucerys velaryon #hotd lucerys #hotd rhaenyra #hotd jacaerys #hotd episode 6 #hotd season 2 #hotd s2 #waiting for the next episode to see if i change my mind on this take #quiet honestly at this point i don't even know what direction this show is taking when it comes to these characters

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muffy-official · 3 months ago

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More oc shenanigans

Now featuring Tilly who I've mentioned before(the prime asset who gave Gabby away for contraband goods which were wine and whiskey, same person who enjoys using that reagent/expop as her dress up mannequin once in a while)

Not your traditional bride to be either, she fantasises a lot about ceremonies, her previous occupation as a bridal model let her play out this fantasy over and over without the to her grim consequences tied to actual marriage such as becoming a mother and housewife before being taken by Murkoff as she tried to get rid of a body of a woman she killed out of dread she'll be replaced. She's her own boss and she won't let men command her around, not shying away to get physical if needed if giving false affection that's believable enough won't cut it. Kisses men(if not repulsed by them) and women if necessary, with women she's more open with it to have some fun herself

Claims to be for womens safety yet proved to be somewhat of a hypocrite when she gave the former reagent Gabby away to Barbi for some goods and him promising to stay far away from her for a while at least so he won't keep on annoying her. Saw her own safety and comfort as more important than the others.

Will get very angry if female expop get harmed or even violated in her presence, will not react well to the lady big grunts corpse once Murkoff let's her roam the docks during prime time

Had her place left in a mess once Coyle came to collect what belonged to Phyllis, got into quite a violent argument aswell before having to switch her demeanour to diffuse it only to not succeed in keeping the young woman hidden in a wardrobe away from him in the process

Love drawing this guy getting hurt lmao

Most of these doodles are almost very tiny too I can't seem to just draw normally or in a larger scale lately

#outlast #outlast trials #outlast trials reagent #outlast trials prime assets #outlast trials expop #outlast trials oc #mother gooseberry #leland coyle #franco barbi #tilly matilda newman #gabriella garland

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homoeroticbetrayal · 2 years ago

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Iconic Homoerotic Betrayal: Round 3

Poll Directory

Context:

Judas/Jesus

Summary by Clock

Judas sold Jesus to the Romans for 13 pieces of silver. He signaled the Romans and marked out Jesus amongst the disciples with a kiss. (He could have just pointed and said "that's Jesus" but he decided to kiss Jesus one last time.) He later hung himself, the 13 pieces of silver laid unspent by his feet.

Lelouch/Suzaku

Summary by Anonymous Contributor

szll is already iconic but I'm just going to list all their betrayals (and perceived betrayals) as a refresher:

(first, for context, one thing you gotta understand is lelouch, leader of the rebellion who believes ends justify the means, is also the discarded prince of the empire he's fighting against. suzaku, rising knight of the empire who believes means have to justify the ends, is the son and killer of the prime minister of the country being oppressed. this is PEAK narrative foils and enemies-to-lovers recipe right there.)

- lelouch and nunnally were sent to japan as political hostages. britannia takes over japan quickly after and lelouch, knowing how much japan means to suzaku, promises to destroy britannia. suzaku should be angry at britannia! lelouch will free them!! except years later he learns that suzaku is now WORKING for the empire? he's becoming a KNIGHT for the empire, betraying his own country and their shared hatred for britannia. what the fuck, what happened to principles, suzaku? this is lelouch's first (perceived) betrayal.

- lelouch (accidentally) kills euphemia, the only princess who's trying to make peace with the japanese, the princess that suzaku is knight of, the princess suzaku LOVES and lelouch adores. now yes, this was an accident, but lelouch ROLLS WITH IT and lets suzaku and the rest of the world believe that it was intentional, thus fully driving that knife deep. he never tells suzaku this was an accident. this is suzaku's most painful betrayal.

- suzaku finds out lelouch is zero, leader of the rebellion, and turns him in to his evil dad, emperor of the empire, in exchange for becoming a knight of round (the highest military status). now if you count akito the exiled as canon, this also means sending lelouch to be BRAINWASHED into serving the empire as a master tactician before R2 happens. suzaku monitors him all throughout, watching lelouch destroy nations and praise the empire against his own principles.

this is just season one of code geass. this doesn't even touch how suzaku is also forced to betray his own loyalties/principles sometimes whenever the "live" geass that lelouch condemns him with acts up. how suzaku would monitor lelouch and keep deceiving him that rolo is his beloved sibling, not nunnally. etc etc.

AND YET despite all of this, code geass culminates with them SWEARING LOYALTY to each other, with lelouch becoming the demon emperor and suzaku becoming his right-hand man, the knight of zero. lelouch becomes a tyrant that suzaku is destined to kill. lelouch brings peace to the world but will never be able to live in it. he will always be remembered as the dictator, the scourge of the world. suzaku atones for all his sins by being reduced to a heroic symbol, by being punished to kill his best friend and never becoming suzaku the person ever again. with the "live" geass, he is cursed to never die, never to escape, always bearing both of their sins -- the eternal punishment he has been seeking. and by killing lelouch, he is able to avenge euphemia in the end, and bring the peace all three of them desired.

code geass is a hot mess but there is poetry in their betrayals. they are thematically bound to live this tragedy, and that is why they are iconic. the ending of code geass is well-known and highly regarded as one of the most iconic endings ever, and it can only ever be so because it stands on the love and loss and betrayals of suzaku and lelouch.

See other descriptions of Suzalulu

#jedas #suzalulu #polls #suzaku kururugi #lelouch lamperouge #jesus christ #judas iscariot #jesus christ superstar #code geass

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probablyspooky · 1 year ago

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One Of Us (Celtic x Reader) P.2

Born as if you were a yautja yourself, you join your pack to go on your right of passage trip. But running into other humans always causes problems for you.

Trigger warnings : Blood, swearing, white men of course, British people, NSFW

[Last]

The man begins to shout in agony, as if something was tearing him up from the inside out, the membrane that held him firmly against the wall glistened against his skin as he struggled to try and free himself, yet he had no strength in him. He continued to scream, begging for Lex to help him.

“Please! It’s inside me!,” He shouted, writhing in pain as his chest started protruding out, something inside of him was bumping into his ribs, desperate to free itself from the human host it had been born into.

You put your hand on the hilt of your blade, standing to attention, ready to take on this chest burster. Lex rushed to the man, grabbing at the membrane trying to free her colleague from his prison.

You rushed over to her pulling her back.

“Stop! Are you stupid?,” you shout at her, suddenly hearing the sound of bones breaking, and flesh tearing. Hearing the battle cry of a xenomorph young, you turned as it leapt out of his chest. Grasping it mid air, it struggled against your gloved hand.

“This! This is what could have killed you!” you shouted at Lex, your facial expression hidden by the mask you wore, but the sound of anger present in your voice.

Lex stared in horror at the empty chest of her friend, blood dripping from the exposed bones that were shattered by the strength of the tiny monster you now held in your hand. She stuttered nervously, clearly sad her friend is dead, but even more afraid of the anger you now had.

Celtic walked over, his heavy footsteps seemed to still clank against the slimy ground. His large hand finding its place on your shoulder, his head tilted as he clicked underneath his mask.

“She is untrained, do not waste your rage on her,” he said, grabbing the still growling xenomorph in your hand, and snapping its neck with little to no effort.

Dropping its corpse, you stomped along, following your pack through the halls. Lex slowly walked behind.

Scar started to slow down, seeming to take pity on Lex for being unable to handle the harshness of this hunt. You were lost in your thoughts, angry that the hunt was going so wrong. If the humans hadn’t stolen the plasma casters, then this hunt will be done and over, you wouldn’t be stuck in such an awful situation. You could be at home right now on Prime, snuggled into Celtics arms in your nest, eating the sour fruits that grew on the trees.

Celtic could obviously see that you were rather…angry, though he had seen you angry before, like the one time he and his brothers crashed into the bathing room as you were soaking in the tub, or the time he knocked you into the freezing waters in the clan central fountain. Taking a deep breath, he quickened his pace to meet yours, and he scooped you up into his big arms, spinning you around.

“Oh stop!”, you growled, trying to squirm out of your mates arms, “Put me down!”

But he didn’t, Celtic nuzzled his cool mask into your neck, purring from his chest.

You could never help it when he purred to you, or when he held you this closely, you found yourself giggling uncontrollably as he continued to spin around. You straightened yourself in his arms, your eyes meeting his, he could tell he lifted you out of your funk.

Suddenly the temple shook hard, as you could hear the crumbling of ancient bricks and doors being crushed down, down by something large, something large was coming this way. Everyone turned to look down the hall, and in horror you watched as a flood of xenomorphs cackled as they rushed down the hall, followed by the queen. Her large footsteps shook the ground as she ran past. A few stragglers turned, noticing the five of you, Scar and Chopper pulled their wrist blades out, and with a roar they charged to battle. You turned to Lex, knowing she’d be a burden in battle, you rolled your eyes and rushed over to her, standing defensively ahead of her to keep her alive. Celtic nodded to you, understanding the situation you were currently in, he turned, taking his spear out, as it extended, he began to fight his way through the swarm of xenomorphs.

While the others fought, you looked around to find any way to escape this current area you were in. Scanning the walls that began to sizzle with the blood of the xeno, you noticed one area that was sprayed could see into the other room. An idea came to your mind, as you handed Lex a blade.

“Don’t die,” you ordered, pulling your spear from your back, you pierced through the head of a xeno, and pushed it towards the hole, hitting at the wall multiple times, as its blood oozed from the exit wound of your spear, the blood began to eat away at the rubble.

The other began to catch on, as they began throwing all bloodied xeno towards your exit plan, soon after 7 or 8 of them had fallen to the hands of your pack, the hole was just big enough for Celtic to fit though. Once your pack has reached the other room, you could spot the lights coming from spot lights the scientists had left behind,

Between you and those lights, you could spot the Queen and her crowd of xeno rushing to the exit tube.

Without thinking, you took your spear, and put everything you had into the throw, sending it soaring through the air, it pierced the queen through the chest, pinning her to the ice. She let out a horrific battle scream, and all the rest of her minions rushed towards your small group.

Chopper growled, pulling out a plasma grenade, tossing it towards the group, obliterating nearly half of the swarm.

Scar clicked, impressed with his brothers and your actions against the xeno swarm, Scar pulled his throwing star, sending it towards the queen, slicing those rushing towards you in half, as he hit the back of the queens leg, slicing it clean off, a flood of her acidic blood coated the now sizzling melting ice. Celtic, wanting to show off to his brothers, and mostly you, he pulled out his spear as well, throwing it and kabobing a few xenos, melting his spear in the process.

You chuckled at your mate, as the four of you rushed to the large queen, who was still pinned to the ice, you began to type on your wrist computer as you ran, producing from it a silver orb, you threw it under the queen, where other xenos were trying to free the queen. The silver orb began to spin and glow, as the plasma shot out, the queen let out one last piercing cry, as its blood burst with plasma, sending its life.

Shielding yourselves with a plasma field, you looked back at your pack and Lex.

Scar, Chopper, and Celtic let out a battle cry, and threw their fists into the air as they claimed their victories over the xeno, and were now fully blooded yautja. They took off their masks, showing off their faces, their mandibles clicking as they acknowledged one another. You smiled, taking off your mask, turning to Lex.

“It is over,” you smile at her, your eyes checking her for any injuries, but instead your eyes trailed to the knife you had given to her prior.

“Did you…kill one?” you asked, tilting your head towards her.

She dropped the knife rather quickly.

“I had to defend myself,” she frowned, staring at the corpses that now littered the ground below.

You turned to the three and they nodded in agreement, as you knelt down before a corpse of a xeno, cutting its finger off, the green acidic blood oozing from it as you stood up, and walked over to Lex.

“With this, you are a hunter,” you said, placing the burning finger against her skin, carving the mark of the blooded to her face forever, and turning it to yourself and burning your cheek.

The five of you then walked to the entrance tube, and began to climb up. You rode on Celtics back as he climbed, Scar carried Lex, the five of you had reached the top, your wrist computers began to buzz, you all looked at them as you saw off in the distance, the mothership you had left earlier that day now turned off its cloaking devices, it now sat on the icy Earth in all its glory. Your pack walked to the main shuttle door, as it opened, the Ancient Elder walking down in his ceremonial garb as he stood ahead of you. Your brothers, your mate, and yourself knelt down as a sign of respect towards him, as he examined all your marks, clicking as if telling you that you had done a good job. He motioned for you to return to the ship, so that you may rest and return home, but then noticed the additional human standing behind you.

He growled and rushed over, grabbing Lex by her face and lifting her up to examine her, noticing the mark upon her cheek, he nodded, releasing her from his harsh grasp.

He turned to the yautja behind him, grabbing a ceremonial spear weapon, and presenting it to Lex, he extended it to its full length, and then retracted it. Placing it in her hand, he turned and boarded his ship.

Your brothers and mate boarded as well, and as you stood Lex spoke up.

“Are you really okay…?” she asked, watching you board the ship.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you replied, staring at her with a confused look.

“You…you’re not one of them.”

Celtic heard this, and quickly retreating back down the rap, he placed his hand on your waist, and pulled your small frame into his large one.

“She is one of us.” he said, in near perfect english,

He took your hand and led you aboard the ship. The docking doors closed, and the ship began to hover into space.

The excitement of returning home now washed over you as you walked to med bay to get your vitals checked over. They gave you the okay, and showed you to your temporary room, where you found a plush bed to rest your head on.

You were so excited when you began to drift off to sleep, but you heard your room doors open as you mate, Celtic walked in.

You looked at him puzzled, but soon understood, as he dropped his armor onto the floor, and removed his mask, his large mandibles clicking as his eyes scanned over you. He walked over to the bed and laid next to you, pressing your soft skin against his rough one, his tongue slithered out of his mouth, and began to gently lick in circles onto your neck. His large hands began to graze lower onto your hips, as he pressed himself into the back of you.

Small moans came from your mouth as he used his spare hand to rip your thin clothing off of your body, his hand found its way to your clit, as he gently began to swirl pleasure into your stomach, sliding a large finger into you as he continued to swirl your clit and pump into you.

You began to whimper as he continuously pumped into you, the sound of you liquids squelching around his fingers echoed in the chamber.

“Please…,” you begged your mate, gripping the smooth leather of his loincloth between your fingers as you lifted it to the side, showing off all his length of his shaft, his glistening nectar sitting upon his tip.

“You are much too impatient my love, “ he groans, shifting above you so now he was hovering over you, “After such a great hunt…I find it fitting to savor this session of ours”

You whined underneath him, practically bucking your hips against his crotch.

“Patience….” he whispered, licking your neck and slicing your bra off of your body, licking down your chest. Taking extra time to savor one of your perked up nipples. You whimpered, feeling the warm wetness coating your nipple, his free hand massaged your free nipple between his rough skin.

“Celtic…please I need you…” you whined under him, sliding off your panties and placing them on his mandibles

He let out a deep chuckle at this, and took them off of his mandibles, tossing them aside.

“Very well…my love” he says, taking his length and sliding it into your slick.

You let out a moan, feeling him stretch out your walls, he let out a deep growl, allowing your body to coat him, allowing him easier movement against you.

“Look at how you body temples for me, begs for me…You are perfect…” he growls, moving against you.

You cried out as your body shook against his strength, feeling every pulse of his cock as he rammed into you with inhuman strength.

Feeling his hips roll against you, your face flushed red, his hands began to grasp random fatty parts of your body, he growled, feeling his peak coming.

“God…you’re so…” he groaned, shaking slightly as he felt the end nearing

You begin to whine, feeling the pool of pleasure filling in your stomach as he continued to fuck you senseless, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your climax peaks, sending your fluids onto his torso. He roared a mighty roar, filling your cup with his love as his body shakes with ecstasy.

Later, you were curled up in his arms, taking in his scent

“I love you,” you whispered, tilting your head up to meet his gaze

“I love you too,” he replied, licking your forehead, "I am glad you are one of us”

#yautja #predator #predator x reader #yautja x reader

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homosexuhauls · 1 year ago

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By Vidya Krishnan

GOA, India — My niece was just 4 years old when she turned to my sister-in-law in a packed movie theater in Mumbai and asked about gang rape for the first time.

We were watching the latest Bollywood blockbuster about vigilante justice, nationalistic fervor and, of course, gang rape. Four male characters seized the hero’s sister and dragged her away. “Where are they taking Didi?” my niece asked, using the Hindi word for “elder sister.” It was dark, but I could still make out her tiny forehead, furrowed with concern.

Didi’s gang rape took place offscreen, but it didn’t need to be shown. As instinctively as a newborn fawn senses the mortal danger posed by a fox, little girls in India sense what men are capable of.

You may wonder, “Why take a 4-year-old to such a movie?” But there is no escaping India’s rape culture; sexual terrorism is treated as the norm. Society and government institutions often excuse and protect men from the consequences of their sexual violence. Women are blamed for being assaulted and are expected to sacrifice freedom and opportunity in exchange for personal safety. This culture contaminates public life — in movies and television; in bedrooms, where female sexual consent is unknown; in the locker room talk from which young boys learn the language of rape. India’s favorite profanities are about having sex with women without their consent.

It is the specific horror of gang rape that weighs most heavily on Indian women that I know. You may have heard of the many gruesome cases of women being gang-raped, disemboweled and left for dead. When an incident rises to national attention, the kettle of outrage boils over, and women sometimes stage protests, but it passes quickly. All Indian women are victims, each one traumatized, angry, betrayed, exhausted. Many of us think about gang rape more than we care to admit.

In 2011 a woman was raped every 20 minutes in India, according to government data. The pace quickened to about every 16 minutes by 2021, when more than 31,000 rapes were reported, a 20 percent increase from the previous year. In 2021, 2,200 gang rapes were reported to authorities.

But those grotesque numbers tell only part of the story: 77 percent of Indian women who have experienced physical or sexual violence never tell anyone, according to one study. Prosecutions are rare.

Indian men may face persecution because they are Muslims, Dalits (untouchables) or ethnic minorities or for daring to challenge the corrupt powers that be. Indian women suffer because they are women. Soldiers need to believe that war won’t kill them, that only bad luck will; Indian women need to believe the same about rape, to trust that we will come back to the barracks safe each night, to be able to function at all.

Reports of violence against women in India have risen steadily over the decades, with some researchers citing a growing willingness by victims to come forward. Each rape desensitizes and prepares society to accept the next one, the evil becoming banal.

Gang rape is used as a weapon, particularly against lower castes and Muslims. The first instance that women my age remember was in 1980, when Phoolan Devi, a lower-caste teenager who had fallen in with a criminal gang, said she was abducted and repeatedly raped by a group of upper-caste attackers. She later came back with members of her gang and they killed 22 mostly upper-caste men. It was a rare instance of a brutalized woman extracting revenge. Her rape might never have made headlines without that bloody retribution.

Ms. Devi threw a spotlight on caste apartheid. The suffering of Bilkis Bano — the defining gang rape survivor of my generation — highlighted the boiling hatred that Indian institutions under Prime Minister Narendra Modi, a Hindu nationalist, have for Muslim women.

In 2002 brutal violence between Hindus and Muslims swept through Gujarat State. Ms. Bano, then 19 and pregnant, was gang raped by an angry Hindu mob, which also killed 14 of her relatives, including her 3-year-old daughter. Critics accuse Mr. Modi — Gujarat’s top official at the time — of turning a blind eye to the riots. He has not lost an election since.

Ms. Bano’s life took a different trajectory. She repeatedly moved houses after the assault, for her family’s safety. Last August, 11 men who were sentenced to life in prison for raping her were released — on the recommendation of a review committee stacked with members of Mr. Modi’s ruling party. After they were freed, they were greeted with flower garlands by Hindu right-wingers.

The timing was suspicious: Gujarat was to hold important elections a few months later, and Mr. Modi’s party needed votes. A member of his party explained that the accused, as upper-caste Brahmins, had “good” values and did not belong in prison. Men know these rules. They wrote the rule book. What’s most terrifying is that releasing rapists could very well be a vote-getter.

After Ms. Bano, there was the young physiotherapy student who in 2012 was beaten and raped on a moving bus and penetrated with a metal rod that perforated her colon before her naked body was dumped on a busy road in New Delhi. She died of her injuries. Women protested for days, and even men took part, facing water cannons and tear gas. New anti-rape laws were framed. This time was different, we naïvely believed.

It wasn’t. In 2018 an 8-year-old Muslim girl was drugged and gang raped in a Hindu temple for days and then murdered. In 2020 a 19-year-old Dalit girl was gang-raped and later died of her injuries, her spinal cord broken.

The fear, particularly of gang rape, never fully leaves us. We go out in groups, cover ourselves, carry pepper spray and GPS tracking devices, avoid public spaces after sunset and remind ourselves to yell “fire,” not “help” if attacked. But we know that no amount of precaution will guarantee our safety.

I don’t understand gang rape. Is it some medieval desire to dominate and humiliate? Do these men, with little power over others, feeling inadequate and ordinary, need a rush of power for a few minutes?

What I do know is that other men share the blame, the countless brothers, fathers, sons, friends, neighbors and colleagues who have collectively created and sustain a system that exploits women. If women are afraid, it is because of these men. It is a protection racket of epic proportions.

I’m not asking merely for equality. I want retribution. Recompense. I want young girls to be taught about Ms. Bano and Ms. Devi. I want monuments built for them. But men just want us to forget. The release of Ms. Bano’s rapists was about male refusal to commemorate our trauma.

So we build monuments with words and our memories. We talk to one another about gang rape, keeping it at the center of our lives. We try to explain to our youngest, to start protecting them.

This is how the history of the defeated is recorded. That’s what it all boils down to: a fight between forgetting and remembering.

#rape culture #radical feminism #indian feminism #vidya krishnan #misogyny

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sweetestpieces · 2 years ago

Text

Pairing: Giantess!Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Giantess, Size Difference, brewing romance, fluff(?), idk, first time writing fic

Length: 1.3k

Summary: King Viserys wants a suitor for his daughter Rhaenyra soon. The princess is not so keen on the idea and would rather spend time alone with you. (Part 1? of ???)

Storm’s End was about what you’d imagined it would be. A huge bleak castle that eternally resists the rage of the waters beneath it. You knew King Viserys was adamant about finding his daughter Rhaenyra a suitor soon. But for the life of you, you could not understand why he would look here. The men all looked the same, tall and dark-haired and well-built. They spoke with flowery language as if each of them were singers as well as soldiers. All of them except for two. The Dondarrion lord was the oldest of the group, a man well past his prime with his greying beard and balding head. The other was a young man from the Riverlands, a Blackwood, short and looking like he could barely hold the sword he wore on his hip.

You couldn’t stand the thought of any of them being with the princess. The very thought made you strangely angry. Your rampant imagination was quickly put to rest each time a new man stepped forward. The princess casually glanced in your direction with a sly smile that only you knew. Her eyes would just as quickly return to the next man in line and hear their story, their pitch for marriage.

The princess in her flowing red dress made the Baratheon dais look comically small. The stone chair was clearly not made for someone of her stature. Even sitting she towered over Ser Criston who stood tall beside the dais. The sight of her squeezed into that chair recalled your first memory of meeting the princess.

Just shy of two years ago you were brought in along with a handful of other young women as potential handmaids to the royal house. The princess sat at a table breaking her fast with her father the first time you saw her. You’d heard rumors of the princess’s stature before, tales and stories. But none of them did the reality any semblance of justice. It’s been said that Targaryens are closer to gods than men. You never really understood what that meant until you met the princess. She stood from her seat as you entered, her long flowing silken white gown spreading out on the floor. Two of the girls gasped, another began mumbling a prayer to the Mother, and all you could do was stare. The Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen stood nine feet tall, towering over everything and everyone in the room.

“Ladies, a pleasure for you to join us this morning,” King Viserys stepped forward, opening his arms in a welcome gesture. “This is my daughter Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne. We are eager to meet you this morning. The Red Keep, our home, is so large and busy that it takes nothing short of an army to staff it. I am told that each of you brings some valuable skills to that might assist us in more efficiently running our home. More specifically, you would be in the service of my daughter here.”

The Lord Protector of the Realm, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, first of his name, son of House Targaryen that survived the doom and rode dragons of legend stood right in front of all of you. And yet, no one looked at him. All eyes were on the princess behind him, towering over all with a beauty so radiant no song would ever do her justice.

She looked down at you and smirked. Or at least, you thought she did because in an instant it was gone and her face turned neutral, uninterested, once again.

Your trials as a potential handmaid were rather rough. You were no stranger to mishaps and mistakes, often forgetting tasks or mishandling running baths for the princess. You thought certainly you would not earn the position and have to return to your meager farmhouse in the Riverlands where your father worked you to exhaustion tending to the animals.

You were met with immense surprise upon hearing that you’d been asked for specifically by the princess. You met her in her bedchambers after your selection. She was standing by the open window overlooking the Blackwater when you arrived. She somehow seemed even larger than before, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for her acknowledgment. “I’m so pleased you accepted the offer.” She finally turned to face you, and began walking toward you. “Would you mind fetching me some fruit from the kitchen?”

You’d almost forgotten yourself. “As it pleases you, my lady.”

Over weeks you began with simple tasks of running bath water, helping clothe the princess, fetching food, and tending to visitors. The princess offered you little in terms of conversation as you found her to be rather quiet, not shy by any means, but definitely a woman of very few words. She often spoke with her eyes, giving the most subtle signs of approval and disapproval that you began to pick up on.

Even after months in her service, you never became accustomed to her stature. Each time you saw her was like seeing her for the first time again. When she walked with the tallest and most gallant knights, she made them look the size of children. Some seats in the keep were specifically designed to accommodate her size, though very few of the doorways were high enough for her to pass through without ducking.

You being barely waist high to her frequently required a stepstool to fix her hair or properly fit her dresses. It was during these times that she spoke to you the most. As you stood behind her fitting a jeweled tiara onto her head she asked your opinion on her father, her uncle Daemon, political matters, and what lord you thought might make a good husband.

Even to you, the bond you were forming during these times was not obvious, but it did help alleviate some of the tension whenever you were in a room with her.

Your thoughts of past times with the princess are shattered as the sound of a sword being drawn echoes throughout the Round Hall. The Blackwood boy had drawn his sword and was facing the Bracken lord. The princess stood soon after and strided around the crowd followed closely by Ser Criston. “Come, Y/N,” she said as she walked past you.

There was the sound of swords clashing and then a pained cry. Rhaenyra did not pause to see the result of the fight.

You overheard the princess arguing with her father some days later after your return to King’s Landing. You did your best to not intentionally listen, but their voices carried down the corridor just outside the princess’s bedchambers. “Marriage is necessary, Rhaenyra. The future of our house rests on you and you alone.”

“I understand that, father. Don’t you want me to find a man that is not only suitable but one that I take a liking to? Those storm lords are little more than well-dressed soldiers. Not lovers, not husbands, not fathers. All they know is how to fight and die.”

Their argument carried on for another hour as they fought back and forth over the topic, the king constantly bringing up other highborn men as possibilities. Rhaenyra eventually had heard enough and stormed out of his solar and into her chambers. She shut the door behind her and slid to the floor in tears. This was the first time you’d seen her cry in earnest. You approached her cautiously. “My lady, are you alright?”

“Fine, Y/N. I’m fine.” She wiped the tears away. It was strange seeing something so large appear so vulnerable. You placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked at you. Her lilac eyes piercing you. She leaned her head against your shoulder and began crying even harder. Her larger hands found your lower back and pulled you in closer as she wept.

#rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x y/n #giantess #size #size fic #giantess fic #g/t #fanfic #romance #fluff #hotd fic #g/t fiction #g/t fluff

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