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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 2 months ago

Text

It feels like hope.

Pairing: Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 5700

Rating: Strictly +18, MINORS DON’T INTERACT

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, priest kink, catholic guilt, religious kink, smut, unprotected p in v (use protections IRL!), reader has breasts and vagina and hair that can be pulled and wears a shirt and a skirt, apart from that no other description is given, age is not mentioned but they’re both grown up adults and reader is only inexperienced because she grew up in a very catholic family, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), sex in a rectory, hair pulling, blasphemy all over the place 💀, pussy pronouns she/her, drinking, two hits on nipples, improper use of liturgical objects, cream pie, pet names (angel, baby), reader calls him "Father" during sex, mention of hell, mention of porn videos, mention of masturbation, improper use of prayers, God named in vain, another thing that I won’t spoil... listen, this thing is filthy, probably the filthiest more immoral thing I've ever wrote, ok? If you think you can't handle it just scroll down to another story.

This is a revised version of something I had already posted and then deleted because I personally didn't like it.

It took me months to come to an end with it, I don’t know why, I’ve changed a lot of things, I’ve changed the pov, I’ve changed dynamics etc… I really really hope you will enjoy it and please be gentle with me, I really tried hard even if you would think it’s no good.

English is not my first language and I have no beta so any mistake is all my fault, I’m sorry.

Title is a Fleabag quote, specifically from our beloved hot priest “when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope”

Thanks to everyone who has shown interest in this story, thanks to those who were there from the beginning (you know who you are and I love you) and thanks to anyone who will read 🩷

(Just added a brief note at the end 😉)

It all started on a Sunday.

You came to your neighborhood church expecting a nice function and you exited knowing you were doomed.

That Sunday you met the new parish priest.

From the first moment you felt like something in you was compromised.

You couldn't even explain it to yourself and you had never felt like this, it was something so unfamiliar.

A need you’ve never felt before.

Your eyes glued to his holy form, adoring his raven curly hair, his scruff, the curve of his neck, his strong nose, plump lips, broad shoulders, thick thighs, big hands.

Courteous and kind as he greeted parishioners leaving the church, he shook your hand and you felt a jolt.

You weren’t like this before, you did things to do good to others before. But now…

Volunteering for every event, clothing drive, bake sale, children's shows. You were always there for the ride. Making excuses to talk to him.

Wondering if he had any more freckles than the ones on his neck, how warm his skin would be, how manly and intoxicating his scent would be, what his kisses would taste like, what his fingers would have felt like inside your cunt, peeking at the outline of his cock under his black pants.

A perfect Christian girl who would have make your mother proud on the outside, a raging hell of arousal on the inside.

You couldn’t believe that he was him who had awakened this new person inside you, insanely hungry, wanting, needing to taste, lick, bite.

His low gruff voice grueling from his chest echoed against your damp inner walls so much that you were almost afraid to get up after the mass and see a stain where you were seated.

It was more and more difficult every time to fight your urge, stay on the tracks of life that you were taught to live, no sex before marriage, no masturbation because it’s a sin, no impure thoughts because you were a good girl.

Yet now you could hear them, all those voices crowding your head, pushing you towards something you had been taught was wrong.

Entering the church you were trembling, guilt pulsing in your gut.

Everything was quiet and serene, your eyes wandered on the frescoed walls, the organ, the large altar and the wooden benches neatly lined up in rows in the central nave, your steps sounded uncertain and timid on the marble floor.

You entered the confessional feeling your heart beating wildly in your chest, palms sweating and your mouth dry.

You could hear his breathing through the grate.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned”

The following silence weighed like never before.

“Open your heart to the Lord so He can forgive your sins”

And you had confessed.

The words slipped from your mouth like pearls from a broken necklace, finally rolling free between your lips revealing your every sordid thought.

The girl shaped by catholic parents to be a modest virgin, mother and maid, perfect smile and delicate manners was in reality a shameful bundle of filth.

You were a sinner.

A sinner eaten out from dirty thoughts.

You told him how you couldn't stop thinking about him, how you had questioned your feelings and who you were as a person, how you hadn't spent a night without touching yourself thinking about him in many months.

You told him about your desire to kiss him and more. So much more. Everything.

Every single time you lowered your hand in your panties, every single time you squeezed your breasts, driven by instinct and desire, every single time you thought of him as Joel. Just Joel, a man.

You just wanted to let go of the weight on your chest, coming clean. If you said it all out loud you would have realized how crazy it was.

You heard the door snapping, a few heavy steps close to where you were seated, the door opening to your side.

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of you.

He said nothing, only grabbed your arm, dragging you to the rectory.

Dust in the air danced beneath the soft light that came in from two small windows high up.

There wasn't much in the room, a cupboard where liturgical objects were kept, a table, a wardrobe where the clothes for the service were hung.

Nobody was there except the two of you, you could hear the rumble of his breathing and your heart drumming behind your rib cage.

He was staring at you.

Your mouth sealed, a lump in your stomach.

You thought about the day he tried to teach you how to play guitar.

You were here, together, helping with the Christmas party. He was sitting strumming when you walked in, you tried not to surprise him from behind by pretending to cough and he turned to you. He didn’t stop playing as he greeted you, you told him “I didn’t know you played” and he invited you to try. As you sat down your legs were shaking, he gave you the guitar and you just stared at it, fingers uncertain and mind empty.

“It’s not that hard” he told you and he leaned over you taking one of your hands in his and placing it on the neck of the guitar, moving your fingers over the strings “like this. Now play”

You strummed on the guitar and an unpleasant sound came out, you both laughed softly at your clumsiness and a flood of pleasure slicked your panties.

His breath on you was like a caress, you felt the minty scent grazing at your nostrils.

For a moment, just for a moment you thought, “I could turn around right now and kiss him. A few inches and my lips would be on his.”

Your desire flowed before your eyes, leaving you with nothing else to look at.

“But I can’t. I can’t.”

You've tried to swat away that sinful thought with another strum on the guitar but nothing disappeared, instead it burned in your core even strongly than before.

You thought about that day when the rain caught you on your way to set up the bake sale, how you walked into the rectory soaked from head to toe, how he looked at your shirt stuck to your skin that left little to the imagination, how you instinctively covered yourself when you just wanted to let your arms hang at your sides and let him look at you. You saw a reaction in his eyes as he mumbled that he was going to get you a towel, just a moment before he regained his composure, and it was enough. You knew that he was not indifferent to you. That night you touched yourself imagining what it would be like if he took your shirt off, if he placed his lips on your neck, his tongue on your breast, his cock inside you.

You started to navigate on porn sites daily, out of curiosity first and then because you needed to see, you needed to imagine, you needed to visualize something so unfamiliar and strange to you.

You were ashamed, but at the same time you couldn't help it, it was the only resource you could think of looking for and it was there, on your phone, private, no one would have known. You didn't even imagine you would find so many, a whole catalog of big dicks, huge tits, positions that your brain couldn't conceive.

Seeing those women pleasuring themselves scared you but at the same time attracted you, you wanted to be like them, you wanted to reach that pleasure, you wanted to try their way of using their hands, you wanted to refine your clumsy way of reaching that heat between your legs.

You sinked into it.

If your parents had known, if your community had known, you would have been branded an unworthy woman, a pervert, a slut.

But your parents were far away now, your whole life was somewhere else and you were proud to have freed yourself from the golden cage they had locked you in. You were an adult now, it was the moment to choose for yourself. If they hadn’t always denied you any other vision of the world, if they hadn’t forbidden you to have the experiences that everyone has in their youth, maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way.

His mouth was a thin line, tensed, you looked into his eyes and you saw nothing than dark.

So much different from the gentle detachment he had always shown to everyone, his look was a mixture of concern, agitation, maybe a hint of fear, but most of all - to your great surprise - sexual arousal.

You could see him cracking behind those eyes, you could feel his mind filling with all sorts of questions.

His voice was barely a whisper but sharp as a blade when he finally spoke “Are you even honest with that ‘I am a good christian’ thing? Say the truth”

You hesitated, the uneasiest bitter taste in your mouth.

“I-” your throat felt like atrophied “yes” you tried to say.

“No, you’re not. The least you could do is being fucking honest with Him” he raised his finger pointing it at the ceiling.

You’ve never heard him cursing before.

You looked down feeling the weight of your stomach turn to lead and then concrete and if you thought you were free now you felt even more guilty.

You said the only thing your brain could think of at that moment and you knew what you were asking for, you knew what it would do to him and you knew that in this way you would drag him down with you. And yet you did it anyway, because desire was stronger than anything, than faith, than lies, than truth.

“I need-I need to repent. Teach me” you pleaded “teach me how to be good”

Something lit up in his gaze, like a spark of hell, a glow of lust.

He turned around and you hungrily followed his every move.

His hands moving expertly, the cupboard opening, him taking out the mass wine and pouring it into a chalice.

You saw him down the entire glass, without hesitation, without a shred of tremor.

You felt like you were watching a hurricane approaching, just waiting for the wind to suck you in without being able to do anything else.

You wanted it. You wanted it to sweep you away, to make you someone else, braver, indomitable, someone who wasn’t afraid to say what she wanted because of a belief that had been instilled in her, someone who was simply herself.

We are all born with guilt, you told yourself. I am tired, tired of dealing with mine so much.

You just wanted to feel alive, to feel something authentic and fierce, no half measures.

You wanted to be desired in a way that felt relentless and desperate, like air that is necessary to keep humans alive, something unique and undeniable.

Could Joel read it in your eyes? He was so good at reading people, you could tell it right away.

He had guessed a lot about you, he had noticed how coffee was a weakness of yours - and his - and he offered you a cup first thing in every meeting.

He had noticed how nervous Danny, a parishioner who liked to play the fool with any woman present, most often in front of his wife, got you and made sure to never leave you alone with him.

He had noticed how much you enjoyed sewing and had assigned you the costumes for the play and praised your work.

And he did the same with the guitar that day when he saw how enthusiast and curious you were about it. He didn't say it openly, but his gestures spoke for him.

He came closer to you again, bending the chalice to your mouth and said “drink”. Sharp, cold, an order.

At that point you didn’t care it was something you were not supposed to do, forbidden, maybe unholy even, you just drank.

You were dealing with a part of yourself that always existed but you had put that in a box.

Joel looked into your eyes sternly and said: “Show me the good Christian that you think you are. Pray.”

“What?”

“Pray. Right now”

“What prayer?” You asked, confused.

“You're not starting off well, you should know that.” He smirked, caught you in fail.

“Act of contrition” you whispered and he nodded “yes. That’s right.”

He was just inches away from you, his crucifix hanging between your bodies, grazing at your stomach.

You began to recite in a low voice, stumbling over your words, your brain couldn’t think straight:

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest… all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offended Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving all my love.”

You said it dozen of times before and yet it seemed totally different in that moment.

Joel took off his rosary, letting it dangle from his hand and swing across your chest. Beads brushed against the cotton bra you wore under your blouse, making your nipples harden, you could feel them pushing against the fabric.

“Go on”

“I- I firmly resolve with the help of Thy grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen”

“Take off your shirt,” he told you in a whisper.

Something shifted inside him “and your bra”

His voice was no longer the same, it came from deep within him, frighteningly authoritarian but to you it seemed like a magic instrument that was hypnotizing you.

You did what he told you.

You were half naked in front of a man for the first time. It could have happened before, much before, but of course you couldn’t because you never got married. No one was supposed to see your body except the man you were going to take to the altar. That’s what they taught you.

Joel looked at you, entranced, almost in disbelief. You wondered how long it had been since he’d seen someone else’s naked body, what effect it had on him.

You were more alike than you seemed, both of you denied something because of religion.

You were both more needy and frustrated than you were allowed to admit. Tension hung in the air like a fog that clouded both of your gazes.

Every time you had talked to him you had noticed the way he looked at you but you thought it was all in your head, like you were a poor naive girl who was building castles in the air, but now you knew that wasn't the case.

It was another thing you shouldn’t have done but you prayed deep down that he wouldn’t decide to stop.

He raised his arm, clutching his rosary. You felt a slash through the air and then a sharp smack on your nipple.

You looked down shocked as the pain quickly turned into a dull pleasure rising from the pit of your tummy, to fade more and more, becoming a tingling sensation.

You liked it.

You wanted more.

He did the same at your other breast and all the breath you had left in your body had slipped past your lips in a lustful sob.

He took one of your nipples between his fingers, twisting and pinching it and you couldn’t help but moan. A sound you never made for no one and you made it first for a priest.

His body pushed you against the wall, his breath on your neck, his fingers didn't stop torturing your nipple. Everything you saw was red. Red like the passion you had never felt before, red like the blood that pulsed in your veins, red like sin.

“Kneel” he said firmly.

You were equal parts scared of making a fool of yourself and eager to try.

You knelt down, feeling the cold of the floor touch your shins.

His eyes were as uncertain as yours, it was new territory for both of you but you saw a flame burning in him and you felt it inside you.

His face was serious, tense, as if he was ashamed of what he was doing but couldn't contain.

He was punishing you and punishing himself at the same time.

You weren’t afraid though, you were ready to face what was eating you up and you trusted Joel for some reason. You could see in him that he wouldn’t hurt you. At least not more than you wanted.

Your tentative fingers undid his pants, letting them sag around his ankles. A pronounced erection protruded from his boxers as his eyes almost begged you, they weren’t cruel and ruthless eyes, but rather needy and guilty.

You moved your hand closer to his crotch, hesitating for a moment before placing it there, testing the sensation, opening your fingers around it to realize how thick it was. You could feel the heat through the fabric. You caressed it, feeling the tremor that shook Joel's body. Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away, it was the first time you had seen one in person, you were amazed and attracted. You continued to caress him until you heard a grunt leave Joel’s lips and a stain wet the front of his boxers. You were struck by how much he was growing under your hand and the smell, like musk, pungent but not unpleasant.

You remembered the videos you had seen, how women did it, looking into the men's eyes lustfully, with a confidence and naturalness you had never acquired. You wanted to be like them, but you were afraid of being ridiculous or grotesque.

You slowly pulled down his boxers, gasping at the sight of his cock springing free.

Joel had his eyes fixed on you, they were encouraging somehow, he made you feel safe but the trembling of your fingers did not stop. You took his shaft in your hand again and were surprised at how soft his skin was there, velvety. You watched that thin layer of skin retract as you moved your hand up and down like you had seen in the videos, it felt incredible. It was heavy, hot and throbbing. It was uncut. His big balls hanging right under. You ran your thumb over the tip, collecting the pre-cum that was leaking, spreading it around.

Joel was quiet, he let you do it.

He was touch starving, just like you.

You lowered your head and licked him, just with the tip of your tongue. A timid lick, like a kitten.

His taste, matching the musky scent you could smell, invaded your mouth in an instant. You had never tasted anything like it. You braced yourself, while Joel waited, and licked once more, this time starting at the base and working your way up.

Joel groaned.

You pulled away, looking into his eyes, he brought a hand to your cheek and then to your chin and took it in his palm.

“You are so beautiful” he whispered.

And you felt beautiful, you felt like someone was really seeing you for the first time. And you loved that that someone was him.

You took a deep breath and lowered your head onto his cock, you knew you couldn't fit it all in your mouth, but you wanted to take as much as you could.

“Don’t force yourself” Joel murmured as your lips touched his skin, causing another whine.

“I want to do it” you replied resolutely, you were loving hearing him whimper beneath you.

His length slid across your tongue, wet and salty, your lips closing around it.

You closed your eyes and focused on that feeling, just holding it there, nestled inside.

“Suck it,” Joel commanded gently, bringing a hand into your hair and twining his fingers there.

You were unsure how to do it, you tried to suck it in as if you were using a large straw, with all the breath you had.

Joel flinched, almost losing his balance “Easy, baby” he muttered

You pulled away again, eyes widened “oh my god, I’m sorry” almost afraid of having hurt him but he immediately reassured you "no it's okay, just... go slower, go slower if you don't want me to come right away”

“Uh- okay” responding timidly to the smile that was spreading across his face.

You began to suck again more calmly, holding the base tightly with your hand, feeling it pulsate between your fingers and on your tongue.

It was an addictive sensation, spreading through your synapses like a drug.

Obviously you had never tried any drugs, but you imagined that the sensation might be similar to something like that.

Joel still held your head, his grip tightening as you continued, you could feel his body tense and respond, and you liked it. You liked it more than you ever liked putting on your Sunday best and going to say prayers with your parents like you always had.

There was actually a prayer that was ringing in your head and it was Joel's, who softly repeated "just like that, you're being so good to me”

It was exhilarating.

You felt like you had a true gift, for once in your life.

An obscene gift, but still.

You had the courage to run from your mom and dad and then at what felt like a minute later you found yourself there, naked from waist up, on your knees, sucking a priest cock.

You’ve never felt more alive.

Deep down you were exactly that person there, not a whore like everyone you knew would say. Just a woman, a woman who wanted what other women wanted. Sex, pleasure, being important to someone or just not being condemned to do what others wanted for you.

You continued to suck as Joel's breathing became heavier and more labored.

At that point he was just uttering disconnected phrases like “oh my God” and “Yes, go on”, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Suddenly he started shaking violently, almost falling, as something warm and sticky hit your throat. You knew what it was and you were eager to swallow, as you had seen done in so many videos.

A little of it slipped from your lips, down your chin, onto your neck.

Joel's hand was still in your hair, it almost hurt but it was a delicious pain that you were enduring, a small punishment for the rush of adrenaline and excitement that was coursing through you.

You kept holding his cock in your mouth until you felt it relax.

“Get up,” Joel said gently, still out of breath, as he was fixing his boxers and pants.

Your knees almost gave out, you leaned against the wall feeling wetness on your panties.

Joel came closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a deep kiss that left you stunned for a second and then you were more than happy to reciprocate. His tongue in your mouth explored feverishly, you wondered if he could taste himself from your lips.

He pulled out saying “I’ve never done anything like this before” and you replied “me neither.”

And then he was on your lips again, nibbling at your lower one, placing his hand on your thigh, raising it under your skirt, up to your drenched panties, grazing them with his fingers.

You squirmed, moaning a “yes, please” from down your throat, a tingle spreading on your outer lips, in your tummy, up to your chest.

He put his hand inside your panties, brushing your skin.

“What should I do with you?” He asked, in an almost desperate tone, as if he knew he couldn't stop and was asking permission not to.

“Make me come” you pleaded “Please.”

He sighed, pulling your panties aside and sliding his index and middle fingers between your folds, gathering your wetness up to your clit, starting circling it as you writhed.

It was different than when you did it yourself, his fingers bigger and stronger, his touch a little clumsy but still effective and intoxicating.

His mouth landed on your neck, stifling a moan, sucking a hickey where it joined your shoulders, nibbling hungrily at your skin.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Just…me”

He smirked “have you ever put your fingers inside you?”

“I- yes.” there were no point on beating around the bush, you told him that you touched yourself thinking about him. You were already deep down into that dizzy.

“Put your fingers in me” you added immediately “I want to feel them, please Joel, I want to know what they can do to me”

“You sure?”

“Yes, yes.” You breathed.

He prodded at your entrance, just a little bit, making you whine just with his fingers tip.

The rosary lay abandoned on the floor, you could see it out of the corner of your eye and you didn't care about that eyewitness symbol of what was happening between you two.

You would have liked him to put it around your neck while he fucked you, fully participating in that sinful act.

You were surprised yourself at what you were thinking but somehow it made you even more eager.

You felt two of his fingers sink inside you, filling that void that you had never been able to fill enough on your own, stretching you.

It hurts a little at first because they were bigger than yours, but then it was more heavenly than anything else. If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

Joel looked ecstatic “God, she’s so… wet” he whispered “and warm” His face was the representation of pleasure, lips slightly parted, his eyes wide, his pupils dilated, his heavy breathing blowing on your neck.

He began to move his fingers inside you rhythmically, each thrust making you shake and sob, a litany of “yes” coming out strangled from your mouth.

He went slowly, taking his time, as if he was savoring every second of your pussy tightening around his fingers.

He placed his other hand on your breast again, cupping and squeezing and then twisting your nipple. Big hand full of your tit.

It was beautiful. You didn’t know how or why people could deny themselves that, but you certainly wouldn’t do it again, not after having Joel inside you. He curled his fingers, looking for the right way to make you feel the pleasure you wanted, the one you kept asking for.

“You like that, baby?” He asked with an hopeful tone

“It feels so good, so good” you told him, clinging to his neck, digging your nails into his soft skin as you felt like you were losing your mind. You didn't care about losing it, your mind had ruled your life for so, so long.

“Please don’t stop” you murmured, tightening your other hand on his wrist, guiding him “don't stop”

You felt your essence slowly leaking out of you, spreading over Joel's fingers and your outer lips, you had never been so soaked, never so much as under Joel's touch.

Your eyes suddenly fixed on that little piece of white cloth that was around his neck, that little piece that made all the difference in the world and made what you were doing terribly wrong in the eyes of others and God and Joel kissed you again like a man deprived and starved, his lips trembling and dramatic, asking silently for more and more, like they were drinking from yours.

He was all over you, like a sailor through a violent storm, he clung to whatever he could, as if it were a matter of life and death.

Tasting him like this, the smell of his skin, his warmth, his clerical clothes rubbing against your half-naked body, made your head spin.

You moved your hand onto his collar, grasping it with your fingers, pulling it, until it came undone, you squeezed it as you came copiously, repeating Joel's name and God's, cutting off your moans, abandoning your head on Joel's shoulder.

It was all too much and yet not enough, you wished it would never end. Joel held you tight, one hand moving behind your back, as his fingers continued to sink into you. The blinding pleasure that had invaded every fiber of your body was raging like hell’s flames inside you, like a sinful but also purifying fire, wrong and right, heavenly and hellish.

And then it slowly faded, giving way to a sense of satisfaction that had never belonged to you.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and demanding again.

Joel grunted, pulling his fingers out of you, taking them to his lips, gathering your juices with his tongue.

“I want… I want your cock, Father” you whispered, at that point you felt greedy, delirious, drunk on sex.

His eyes widened, being called “Father” was making him even more aroused and dizzy.

You grabbed his balls from above his pants, holding your hand tightly on them “please, Joel”.

If you were going to Hell for this, you might as well go all the way.

Joel pushed you against the table on the other side of the room, making you sit on it, unzipped his pants again, pulling out his cock without hesitation, as if he had finally accepted his fate.

His fingers were big but his cock… you wondered how it would all fit inside you.

“I’ll go slowly” Joel reassured you “It will fit” he said, brushing your folds with the tip, aligning his cock with your entrance, as if he had guessed your thoughts. His eyes were blacker than ever as he prodded his shaft past through your lips.

It felt overwhelming, so big and pulsing, it hurt but you almost immediately felt a fullness that you had never felt and a sense of belonging, your pussy opened like a bud, widening and molding for him.

If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

“She’s tight, so damn tight” Joel gawked “fuck”

You whimpered, looking at his face, so serious, pleasure written all over it and you felt like it was right, it had to be right if it was that good.

“Make me yours, Father, make me good” you pleaded.

Joel growled as he slid in and out of you, slamming against your walls, your pussy making obscene squelching sounds every time he moved, dripping all over his cock and the table.

It didn’t even seem embarrassing to you to be so inexperienced, you both were. You didn’t know if Joel had had sex before but you guessed he hadn’t had it in a long time anyway.

You didn't know if it was the way it was supposed to be but you felt like it was natural, not like in the videos you'd seen which were probably mostly choreographed to please the eye.

It was sex. Pure and simple. Urgent, hungry, even uncontrolled.

And the way your body reacted, melting like wax under Joel's hands, arching into his touch, bending to his will, and seeking all the friction you could get, told you that this was the right way for you.

“See?” Joel mumbled “You’re taking me so well, baby, a perfect angel for me”

You twisted your legs behind his back, pushing him against you as much as you could, kissing the exposed skin on his neck. It drove you crazy that he was still dressed, you wanted to rip off his shirt and run your hands down on him, feel his warm skin on yours so you did it. You placed your hands on both sides and you just popped every button, revealing his broad chest, feeding your eyes with every single detail and your fingers with every shape and curve.

“Never had a cock inside before but that pussy is made for mine, I swear to God she is” he started desperately rutting into you, deeper strokes every time, taking God’s name in vain, murmuring some prayers while he pounded into you. You could feel his big vein brushing at your walls, his big mushroom hammering your cervix, the most intense rapture you’ve ever felt.

He pulled at your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye, murmuring “that’s what you wanted, huh? Dragging me to hell with you?”

Your eyes filled with tears at the thought. It was true, somehow you corrupted him, but you were willing to face that just to feel something so strong. You weren’t sure about him though.

But again, he was there, right there with you, with his cock inside your cunt and you didn’t force any of it, he could say no, he could stop, but he choose the sin. Now blaming you wasn’t so saintly nor kind, but you understood why he did that. He needed to blame someone other than himself, and you were there, open arm taking the weight for him.

Your ass slid back and forth on the wood of the table with each thrust, one of his hands was on your nipple again while the other held you behind your back. He then moved to your clit, applying pressure on it, circling it with two fingers.

You looked down only to see his cock sinking between your lips, his balls bouncing and the bush of hair that adorned his groin glistening with your juices.

You could smell the sex in the air, your mingling scents becoming one, your pleasure merging and becoming one as he shot huge spurts of cum into you.

He muttered a prayer, asking God for forgiveness, his voice exhausted, hoarse, broken by orgasm.

And then you woke up.

Your room was quiet, the crucifix that your mom gave you hanging on the wall behind your bed.

It took a few seconds for your sleepy, blurry gaze to settle on it, you were sweaty and shocked.

You closed your eyes, shutting them and cursing under your breath.

You unrolled your body from the sheets and then stood up and picked up the crucifix. Your days as a good, God-fearing girl were over.

A/n: if you don't know what is dream and what is reality in the story at this point, that's what I wanted, I hope it's not too confusing but I wanted to try something new. I hope you liked it and thanks for your time 🩷

#hot priest!joel miller #hot priest!joel #priest!joel miller #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x you #joel miller x you #joel tlou smut #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #one shot #the last of us hbo #joel miller au

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blackbird5154 · 9 days ago

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𖤐 Encyclopedia of Terzo 𖤐

I've been thinking a lot about how the personality of Papa III was created. Tobias set the basic framework, the archetype, the cliché from which he drew. But the real implementation of Papa was on stage, where his image developed through improvisation. Some things were conceived on purpose, some were invented on the spot, some came out unplanned, due to circumstances. Papa turned out to be as lively and unpredictable as life itself. In many senses, he lived on stage.

Thanks to the research of concerned fans, there is quite a lot of material. It occurred to me to collect them in one post for those who want to get acquainted with the canonical image of Terzo. This catalogue uses materials from two users, Cityofmeliora's and myself. You can use them for fanfiction or just for your own amusement. So, allow me to introduce Papa Emeritus III!

Cityofmeliora: Transcriptions and facts

Radley @cityofmeliora has an academic degree in Terzo Studies. He did a great job watching probably 100% of the Terzo videos and bringing us some interesting insights about his personality from the Terzo mines.

▸ notes / thoughts on Terzo's characterization (Terzo is so disappointed and depressed and i love him)

▸ Terzo's mom was mentioned twice

▸ quotes on Secondo and Terzo's age gap / the Emeritus brothers having different mothers

▸ TF on the archetype of Papa

▸ about Terzo's height...

▸ Terzo's sweet tooth 🍰🍫

▸ Secondo lied about being able to speak Swedish, and Terzo lied about *not* being able to speak Swedish

▸ according to the Nameless Ghouls, Terzo is better than Secondo because he has hair and is "less smelly" 😂😂

▸ TF breaks character a little too much and accidentally makes it canon that Terzo has a child 💀👶

▸ Who is Mysterious Spectre?

▸ transcript: Terzo's first concert - Linköping, Sweden (June 3, 2015)

▸ transcript: Sweden Rock Festival (June 4, 2015)

▸ Terzo lying about his knowledge of Swedish AGAIN!

▸ Terzo talking about his mom <3

▸ Papa Nihil taught his sons to sing

▸ Terzo hates it when people are bad at clapping 👏👏👏

▸ Terzo knows he's always yapping <3

▸ Terzo is hard of hearing 🦻

▸ Terzo did WHAT in Poland? 😳

▸ Terzo totally not bragging about his Grammy 🙄

▸ Terzo + children 🥰

▸ Terzo had eye infections???

▸ "And it is very important that you respect the fact that there are kids and there are"

▸ Terzo thinks 'Cirice' is a sad song

▸ Terzo getting angry

▸ Terzo's fucked up sore throat voice 🤒

▸ Terzo mentioning Secondo 😎

▸ Terzo mentions his parents 🧑‍🤝‍🧑

▸ Terzo + family 👪

▸ Terzo + being old 👴

▸ Terzo saying quesadillas are his favorite food 🧀

▸ Terzo is NOT a fluent / native Italian speaker 🤭🇮🇹

▸ Terzo + musical instruments 🎹🎸🥁🎺

Blackbird: Observations and analysis

My modest contribution to terzology was an attempt to summarise observations and look inside the head of the mysterious Papa III.

▸ Part 1: Terzo's responsible attitude to work

▸ Part 2: The jokes about height

▸ Part 3: The relationship between Terzo and Secondo

▸ Part 4: The ideas behind the birds and the bees speech

▸ Part 5: Terzo's other beliefs that he broadcast

▸ Part 6: Terzo and his loneliness

#know your papas #the band ghost #ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost lore #the band ghost lore #papa emeritus iii #terzo #papa emeritus 3 #papa emeritus #papa emeritus lll #terzo emeritus #terzo ghost #papa iii #papa terzo

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bubblergoespop · 10 months ago

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My Top Milo Quotes

i wanna devour this man so bad. the original version of this is at least triple the length omfg. @mrsmiagreer it’s finally here <3

“From one pretty face to another.”

“Bedroom? Oh. Ohhh. [gremlin giggling]”

“Cute?! You’re gonna come here, into my home, uninvited, and tell me I look cute when I’m mad? First of all sweetheart, you’re damn right I’m cute—“

“Jesus Christ who taught you how to do healing magic, a construction worker with a jackhammer?!”

“Me and Ash give each other shit all the time. He calls me a runt, I call him a bitch bottom, we laugh, we move on.”

“Cuddled up with you, in front of a fire? That’s a one-way ticket to sleepytown, USA, population: this guy.”

“I do not spoil him! Well whaddya want me to do? He’s my lil guy.”

“I swear to god, if I’m lyin I’m dyin, he looks him dead in the eye and says “if concerns about the future of your relationship with Amanda are weighing on you too heavily, I’m sure I can get by with just Milo and Asher here.”

“Are you Lasky?”

“Touch me and your life will be measured in milliseconds. I can see myself out.”

“It’s back. I’m back.”

“And next thing you know, boom, you’re sitting here, a broken man, barefoot with no fucking dress socks.”

“‘So Mr. Greer, what was it that ultimately pushed you over the edge?’ Oh, I don’t know officer, might have something to do with the walking terror I call a mate.”

“So what if I am sappy? I’m running on sleepy middle of the night brain, you get what you get. Shhh. Hush. Don’t you be mean to me. I’m trying to help.”

“He’s a good little dude. Isn’t that right, bub?

“I got to hold my favorite person in the whole world. And only occasionally had to threaten to choke them out.”

“Mmm. You’re cute. Yeah, I called you cute. What are you gonna do about it? Get grumpy? Just makes you look cuter.”

“Do not call them my ‘titties’ you asshole!”

“Personally, I think I’m better at getting clothes off a ya than putting em on, but I’m ever at your service, baby.”

“No no no, don’t do that button. Yeah. Yeah, leave that one undone.”

“There’s my sweetheart.”

“Yeah. Well, it beats for you, sweetheart. A little more sappy shit for the road.”

“There ya go, that looks perfect! Yeah, what you’re wearing right now! You look fucking incredible in it. Yeah, I know you haven’t even started changing into the next look, what’s your point?”

“When I say you’re my mate, I mean it with every inch of me. When I say it, my core lights up like a firework. And when I feel your core answer it, and mirror it back, it feels like the fourth of fucking July in my chest.”

“I mean, obviously we’re gonna look fucking great no matter what, it is us after all”

“Hey, I know Ash is your mate, but would you mind if I use that choke collar you have for him real quick?”

“The power couple”

“And the energizer bunny takes a tumble.”

“And you won’t believe this next part but, uh, as a wolf, I don’t have hands.”

“You don’t have to ask, baby, I trust you. I know you’ll be gentle.”

“You feel like forever in my arms.”

“Oh my god, do they think my house smells weird?”

“I don’t want this for you, baby.”

“These muscles got more knots in em than you had wrapped around you the other night. And that’s saying something.”

“You run through my blood like oxygen, sweetheart.”

“Whose mouth is this?”

“And do not wear that belt, how old is that thing? It looks awful!”

“You’re not alone. I’m here. The pack’s here.”

“You want to see a hissy fit, bootlicker?”

“Cmon, head up. Up for me. There you go. I wanna see this pretty face.”

“Kissing my palm like that… you’re too fucking cute.”

“I just wanna feel you.”

#sorry this took so long #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #bubbler’s top quotes

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incarnadin3 · 3 months ago

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Obey Me! Quotes from an incorrect quote generator pt.2

Mammon: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat? Lucifer: Language, Mammon. Belphegor: Yeah watch your fucking language. Asmodeous: OKAY WHO TAUGHT BELPHEGOR THE FUCK WORD? Satan: 'The fuck word'. MC: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time Satan: Oh my god they censored it Belphegor: Say fuck, MC. Satan: Do it, MC. Say fuck.

Lucifer: MC... How do I begin to explain MC? Satan: MC is flawless. Asmodeous: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000. Belphegor: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan. Mammon: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

MC: *Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat* Mammon: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents MC: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you Satan: Actually I did the math, Mammon would have $225, not $0.15. Mammon: Fam I’m right here.... Asmodeous: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :) MC: while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please? Asmodeous: Sorry I only have a dollar MC: :( Satan: Hey I just realized my brother is right, Mammon would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent Asmodeous: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice Satan: You can buy anything you want with $22,500 Belphegor: Yeah and they want soda and apply juice Satan: Apply juice to what MC: Directly to the forehead Mammon: Great chat everyone

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker* Lucifer: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know. Everyone: Beelzebub: ...I did. I broke it. Lucifer: No. No you didn't. Satan? Satan: Don't look at me. Look at Asmodeous. Asmodeous: What?! I didn't break it. Satan: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken? Asmodeous: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken. Satan: Suspicious. Asmodeous: No, it's not! Belphegor: If it matters, probably not, but MC was the last one to use it. MC: Liar! I don't even drink that crap! Belphegor: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier? MC: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Belphegor! Beelzebub: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Lucifer. Lucifer: No! Who broke it!? Everyone: Belphegor: Lucifer... Satan's been awfully quiet. Satan: rEALLY?! *Everyone starts arguing* Lucifer, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it. Lucifer: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick. Lucifer: Lucifer: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

Belphegor: Rules are made to be broken. Lucifer: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken. Satan: Uh, piñatas. Asmodeous: Glow sticks. Mammon: Karate boards. MC: Spaghetti when you have a small pot. Belphegor: Rules. Lucifer:

Mammon: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something? Lucifer: Nope, absolutely not. Satan: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through. Asmodeous: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life. Belphegor: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you. MC: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome. Beelzebub: I'd be there for you! :D

Lucifer, driving MC and Mammon: So how was your day? Mammon: We almost got surprise adopted! Lucifer: What? MC: We almost got kidnapped. Lucifer: Oh, okay. Lucifer: * slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

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xvysarene · 4 months ago

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𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕐𝕠𝕦

Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader Prompt: Inspired by the quote “I love you in every timeline”, but with a twist Words: ~870 Genre: Eventual fluff Notice: Spoilers of Zayne’s ‘Tower of Secrets’ myth & ‘Still in Dark’ anecdote

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

Throughout his entire existence, Zayne believed that Astra’s punishment condemned him to eternal separation from his true love; forced to either sacrifice himself or spiral out of control upon her death.

But was this truly his punishment, or merely an obstacle? A cruel way to derail him from finding the one.

Thus, when he managed to save his childhood friend without any further complications—without having to give up or lose himself because she survived—he should have felt relieved.

Felt a sense of completeness that he had dreamt for so long.

Instead, the hollowness, the whisper of something just out of reach remained.

“What more do you want from me?” he cursed Astra. Cursing His sick, twisted game.

And so, as he ventured back through his memories, aside from the occasional encounters with others, there was always one person who inexplicably found him.

You.

You, who managed to pick up his broken pieces as he lamented.

You, who brought a sense of comfort like no other.

You, who always mysteriously disappeared in the end, forgotten by him.

“Zayne?” a surprise gasp left your lips.

His fingers remained wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from walking out of his life for the umpteenth time.

The setting sun accentuated your silhouette, as if emphasising the answer he had blindly missed in every other timeline.

“Am I Astra's punishment for you?”

And you, condemned to stay by his side, an unattainable man whose eyes and life were always set on another woman.

“What exactly is His punishment to you?” he pleaded, begging to understand.

He would be damned if he let you vanish again this time, not when he had finally found the one he was destined to be with.

A pang of remorse washed over him as he heard your answer: “To be the fleeting pillar for the man who never looks my way, destined to forget me eventually.”

Just like him, you bore different personas in every alternate universe.

While everyone had forgotten the Foreseer and the Tower of Thorns, they had also forgotten about you—the only other person who had befriended the Foreseer and kept him company in his loneliness.

It was your laughter that thawed the icy hallways of the tower, just to be silenced once a woman intent on stealing the Creatio Protocore arrived.

He then remembered the surviving nurse, living in the same decaying city as Dawnbreaker, patching him up after every chaotic fight with the Abomination and Wanderers, and comforting him as he washed away Georgie's blood from his hands.

“Every time she appears, your memory of me will fade,” you whispered, eyes searching his in disbelief. “How have you not forgotten about me now?”

Oh, how bittersweet it was to continually forget the one who first taught your heart to love.

Unable to resist any longer, Zayne tugged you into his embrace, fearing that you might slip away.

In his arms, you fit perfectly, like the last chapter of a series, completing him.

“How could you remain so kind, when all I ever did was take, and take, and take from you?” The growing lump in his throat nearly choked him.

“If anyone needs a shoulder to lean on, it's you, Zayne. I've never regretted being there for you.” With a gentle touch, your palm came to rest on his heart. “There must be a reason I'm meant to stay by your side, even if it’s momentary.”

For the first time, he felt warm. A different kind of warmth that spread through him like a soft flame kindling deep within his heart.

“All my life, I've always set my sight on the wrong woman. My punishment is to be separated from you, not her.” Gazing at your eyes, bright with unshed tears, was like a punch to his sternum. “I wish you hated me now.”

“Why?” you murmured.

Lifting your chin, he lowered his gaze to your lips, closing the distance between you slowly. “Because then you’ll push me away, knowing that I am unworthy of this.”

And as your eyes fluttered closed instead, mouth already anticipating his, every fibre of restraint shattered.

Both of your lips locked without hesitation, releasing pure longing that had been confined for so long, now unleashed in a wave of intense emotions.

The world dissolved into the intoxicating sensation of lips moulding together. One of his arms pulled at your waist, fingers gripping your curve, drawing you even nearer.

He realised right then and there that he would never have enough of your taste.

“Do you think this is Astra’s wicked scheme? That you still remember me after all this time, yet impending misfortune awaits us?” Traces of doubt were evident in your hushed whisper, lips lightly brushing with his still.

“Astra be damned.” The condemning words rumbled deeply from his chest, causing you to look at him in surprise.

“He may test me, but he’ll not take you away from me. Never again.” Strong hands cradled your face, trailing gentle kisses from your forehead, down to your nose, and finally to your lips. “As long as I draw breath, I'll spend every moment fighting for you.”

In every possible timeline, he had loved you first, and in this moment, his love for you remained unwavering.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

#ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐱𝐞𝐩𝐡'𝐬 writing nook #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x y/n #love and deepspace x you #zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne x you #fluff

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sc0rpi0suntaurusm00n · 15 days ago

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⌑˙•Astro observations ꨄ

Hi guys, it's been a while, oh boy... I have been super busy with school and life, and EVERYTHING!!! But I am back - and here are some things I have noticed lately ~~~

Virgo placements can come from very lovely family dynamic or the lack thereof and they might have this 'I am better than everyone' air about them because they have self taught themselves or were self made often times, and they are usually blessed with good abilities in certain areas due to genetics but still think they are just better and wonder why others aren't Just Better. Often seems like they are like this when underdeveloped and immature, but later they learn to be more humble and less judgy.

Cancer placements often want to please their parents really badly or want to be like a parental figure they admire when young.

Most Aquarius Venus ppl can be very picky with who they let around them, and although they are usually quite a social sign they often have introvert tendencies in their free time and might have a lot of friends but only don't ghost two people who they like.

➥ Fixed signs are often quite intentional with whom they are around and why, we don't generally have to be around only people we agree with but we can be sure of who we want to be around, remind me of the quote "you are the combination of the 5 people you hang out with"

Taurus Mars being in detriment has it's benefits can make really good athletes especially in track or other sports that take perseverance and the slow pace they take to begin which they maintain well and finally finish strong. These individuals are very strong willed when it comes to their passions, and they have incredible ardor if you can bring it out of them. *might even be slow walkers*

Compared to Aries Mars or Scorpio Mars, Taurus Mars often has the perseverance and will-power to continue by saving energy, meanwhile it's counterparts are more Willy nilly with their passion and might have a lot of vibrancy but use it in many endeavors and tire themselves out. Such as wasting energy on hatred or overdoing it at times and getting into arguments often, however these more auspicious placements often have a vibrant inner world and a spark for life that is hard to not notice.

Scorpio/8th house/Pluto 1st house are often intriguing to others for their aura of secrecy that when you get to know them it turns out they are just normal people and they often have a very normal life usually - either that or they have had a lot of death and have aquired many benefits through gained wealth, there is really no in-between.

Pisces placements are the types to either make a lot of crude remarks (Gemini influence) or they don't know what they want (Pisces Mars) or they make a lot of complaints about their appearance or personality as jokes (self deprecating humor), the women on the other hand are just lovely people even when underdeveloped, though might struggle with people pleasing when young. They can be very blessed spiritually (under Jupiter rulership) like they often get a lot of help from family when moving out or going to college, either too much enabling or not a lot of support when they leave, generally no in between. Either the perfect environment for becoming a druggy artist or they have amazing loving parents who give them many opportunities for success, depends on whether their parents are very nurturing or not, these individuals need to be protected at all costs, innocent and loving individuals.

Thank you for reading 📖❤

#astrology #my observations #astro obs #astrology observations #scorpio #aquarius #gemini #pisces #taurus #taurus mars #gemini moon #pisces venus #pisces mercury #pisces men #aries #aries mars #Scorpio mars

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devildomwriter · 6 months ago

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Obey Me as Disenchantment Quotes #1

Lucifer & Satan: *Laughing maniacally*

Simeon: “While I question their evil motives, it is nice to see them happy.”

Barbatos: “Now announcing the triumphant return of our heroes from their quest that we all privately thought would fail.”

Mammon & Leviathan: “…”

Lucifer: “How do we even know it worked.”

Solomon: “Oh but it must have worked. Now to test it, we need a volunteer to kill you.”

Belphegor: “Dibs.”

Barbatos: “How can you keep messing up a recipe with two ingredients?”

Solomon: “If you ever run into trouble give them this note.”

MC: “Kill me?”

Solomon: “Thirteen gave it to me, now I give it to you.”

Leviathan: “I’ve been meaning to…but the thing is, I…so you see…well, I’m glad we had this talk. How bout you talk now?”

MC: “But you haven’t said anything yet.”

Belphegor: “Well I was waiting to tell you until after I was dead so I wouldn’t have to tell you.”

Mammon: “Now just keep holding on, okay. Just keep holding on.”

MC: “It’s okay, it’s okay Mammon, I always wanted to go out while I’m still young and hot.”

Leviathan: “I didn’t want to tell you because I’m terrified of female emotions.”

Satan: “No, no, no, I was mostly raised by Lucifer. And a bunch of friendly drunks down at the pub. They taught me the fine art of stabbing.”

Barbatos: “It’s just too painful seeing the truth all the time.”

Solomon: “Ah, that’s why humans tend to avoid it.”

Belphegor: “The profession left without me.”

Diavolo: “Oh, that’s too bad.”

Belphegor: “I blame myself, cause I didn’t even notice.”

Solomon & Barbatos: *fighting*

Asmodeus: “Guys, guys come on. I’m much more embarrassed than I am aroused.”

Asmodeus: “MC, you poor baby. What a horrific day you’ve had. Let’s have too much wine and forget about it all.”

Beelzebub: “How’d you become a weird talking cat.”

Satan: “You keep shoving waffles in your mouth while I think of an answer.”

Thirteen: “I’ll use my skills as a hunter and Raphael will use his diplomacy to stab them with a broom handle.”

Solomon: “I used to spend many nights up here. Watching the sky, the moon, the neighbors.”

Lucifer: “This is your home. You’re free to explore.”

MC: “Wow, what’s behind that door?”

Lucifer: “None of your business nosy.”

Mammon: “Maybe you were overcome by chimney fumes. It happens quite frequently in a place like this with no chimnies.”

Satan: “What family curse? You mean insanity?”

Leviathan: “No, don’t be crazy. But yes I mean insanity.”

Asmodeus: “You guys are heavy. Do I really need both of you?”

Solomon & Satan: “Yes!”

Asmodeus: “Damn, I hate democracy.”

Mammon: “I knew you could count on me!”

Simeon: “What’s this called again?”

Mammon: “A a massage. It’s like a light well intentioned beating.”

Diavolo: “You’re clearly upset.”

Lucifer: “I’m not upset!”

Diavolo: “You said that like you were upset!”

MC: “Come on Belphegor be reasonable!”

Belphegor: “Never!”

Satan: “We’re gonna have to wing this in a dangerously half assed manner.”

Mammon: “That’s the Morningstar way.”

Asmodeus: “There’s plenty of fish in the sea, Sol.”

Solomon: “Like hell am I marrying another fish woman.”

Lucifer: “Disappointment’s a form of caring.”

Diavolo: “Tell me, where are you from.”

Solomon: “A country setting, it’s kind of like a farm but more stabbing.”

Simeon: “This whole thing feels like a weird dream.”

Mammon: “Or scurvy. When does scurvy kick in?”

Lucifer: “Believe it or not I know what it feels like to be burned alive by a mob of idiots.”

Beelzebub: “Oh, sweet butter, you’re the only thing right with the world.”

Solomon: “Morning, Belphegor! Care to try my new cure all? It wards off the deadly plague.”

Belphegor: “I’m actually hoping for death. Thanks though.”

Mammon: “For the first time in my life I feel completely calm and—“

Mammon: *Gets attacked by hawk*

Satan: “I’ve loved you since the moment you killed my brother.”

Mammon: “You don’t scare me! I was born scared.”

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baejax-the-great · 2 years ago

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Absolutely reeling.

So I knew that the origin of "Hector was a great man, moral, noble, better than all of the Greeks" began as Roman propaganda that somehow has made it to now, the year 2023, and is still taught to high school students.

What I did not know was why scholars shit on Achilles as vehemently as they did (and still do).

My copy of Fagles' translation of the Iliad has a preface by a different scholar who I'm not going to bother to name because he's an idiot (and idk probably dead at this point). I read the entire thing, absolutely baffled, because he would cite a part of the text (that I admittedly had not read yet! at all!), quote it, and then come to the most batshit interpretation based on that quote I had ever seen in my life. His general take was that Achilles was a sociopath who had no feelings for anyone other than himself and his own pride, and every action he took (until welcoming Priam into his hut) was done in service of that pride. To support this, he decided that Achilles did not see Patroclus as a person, but rather as an extension of himself, and thus someone injuring Patroclus was them injuring Achilles, and so he did not care about Patroclus, he only cared about his wounded pride.

Yeah.

That sounded wrong before reading the book, and while reading the book all i could think was, "Did we read the same fucking thing???" Put in context, those quotations still did not support his conclusions whatsoever.

But i cracked open Caroline Alexander's "The War That Killed Achilles" last night, and she solves this mystery of "Hector good, Achilles bad" for me right out the gate (which is good because so far I've only read the preface).

Western Europeans by and large learned about the Trojan war from Roman stories, which became fairly popular, and not the Iliad, which was not translated into French or English until centuries later. As mentioned, these were propaganda that cast the Trojans in a much better light than the Greeks because the Romans believed they were descended from Trojan refugees. This starts a trend that is still going on in scholarly circles as casting the Iliad as a war between "barbaric Greeks living in a shitty, lawless camp" vs "civilized, educated, weaving, real-wife-having Trojans," making the Iliad a tragedy in which Homer for some reason skewers his own people and their warlike culture as barbaric while propping up a dead, foreign city-state. This interpretation is still extant and was the postscript to another copy of the Iliad I have.

According to Alexander, scholars closer to Homer's time saw the entire war as a tragedy--both the destruction of Troy AND the destruction of the Greek army. While this is not covered in the Iliad, very few Greeks actually made it home after Troy. Some that did were then outcast (Teucer for example), some were murdered (bye, Agamemnon), some went on to create new kingdoms in other places (Diomedes), but by and large, there was no going home from that war. There was no great victory with all their loot. The entire thing was a disaster for both sides, spurred on by fickle gods.

Back to the more recent European interpretations of this story, one reason Hector ended up cast in such a "good" light, despite being a dumbass who wants to dishonor dead people just as badly as Achilles ever did, was in order to make Achilles look worse. Why was it important that Achilles becomes a villain in this story in which he is very much not a villain? Because Europeans were involved in so much war with each other and the rest of the world that a young, insubordinate man who criticizes his idiot of a commander, decides his life isn't worth throwing away for this war, and refuses to fight to sack a city was an affront to their values. Young men were to be obedient, follow their commanding officers, and colonize the world for queen and country. Achilles suggesting losing his life is not worth it to prop up Agamemnon's war is a dangerous precedent for all the good little soldiers needed to make their nations wealthy.

It's almost funny that these analyses propping up Troy as a beacon of civilization were made by people living in countries so bent on colonizing the world. They identified with the city being sacked and not the greedy sackers of said city, who they were much closer to. And Achilles, educated, morally rigid, emotional Achilles, is recast as a sociopathic asshole who doesn't care about anyone other than himself, unlike all of those other beacons of selflessness among the Greek leadership.

The tragedy of the Iliad is that Achilles is right, the war is pointless, Agamemnon did dishonor the shit out of him, and it doesn't matter because he's going to die in it anyway.

Frankly, given how badly his character has been interpreted for so long, I think the muses owe him an apology.

#the iliad #achilles #I have only read the preface of this book #hope yall like essays #writing essays at 6am and hoping they are grammatical #haven't even had my coffee yet my head is too full of achilles #also a hefty chunk of it was FRENCH propaganda like come ON

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wordstome · 1 year ago

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kingdom come - iii

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting

7.7k words

tw: explicit smut, animal death, mentions of child death, violence, mild body horror, ableist language (use of the word "cripple")

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"I'm not going to sleep with you." -quote from woman who is about to sleep with him

There’s a portrait of a woman in your room.

Of course, König offered to have it removed or replaced, but you’ve procrastinated the decision because you never thought you would be here long enough for it to matter. Yet here you are, staring up at this lovely young woman on the wall.

You tilt your head, studying her. Her expression is neutral, almost pensive, but the artist captured a playful sparkle in her eyes, as if she’s keeping some sweet secret.

It’s the first queen, of course. König’s first wife. The one who died many years ago. It’s strange that after so long, he hasn’t gotten rid of the portrait.

What happened to you? you wonder. If someone had asked what you thought when you first arrived here, you would have said, without hesitation, that König had her killed. All your life, you had been taught that he and his father were evil, unfeeling tyrants. Now, this conviction has wavered.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s ridiculous, to be thinking better of his character. You only ever wanted to know him better to kill him. But the more you understand about what makes him tick, the less you think that he would do such a thing. Perhaps it’s true, then, that she died in childbirth.

Your eyes travel all over the portrait, poring over every detail of her features. Did you know him? Did you understand him? Did you love him?

Did he love you?

What did that feel like?

“Good. You haven’t left yet.” Calliope comes into the room, bustling with energy even before the sun comes up. You don’t know how she does it.

“We’re about to.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You notice she’s wearing gloves, but more importantly, she’s holding a necklace: a silvery chain with a small, intricate pendant. Vine-shaped pieces of metal hold a white, almost clear jewel in place, its various facets reflecting the candlelight in vivid colors.

“Jewelry? I’m going to be living in the woods for the next few weeks,” you tease as she lowers the necklace over your head. It does look quite durable, but you’re not exactly dressing for a costume ball here.

“Consider it a reminder that I await your safe return,” Calliope responds, securing the necklace behind your neck. “Look at it and remember me. You’re not to do anything reckless out there, am I understood?”

“Understood.” You give her a soft smile as she arranges the necklace on your collarbones. You’re grateful for the gift: though she can’t come with you, a small piece of her will always remain with you.

“Good. And don’t let that handsome husband of yours distract you and get yourself killed.”

“Calliope! What happened to ‘something’s not right with him’?”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t handsome!”

You snort and roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face.

You used to think that living in König’s home already exposed you to an exhausting amount of the man. As it turns out, going on a journey with him is even worse.

There’s nobody else to talk to, nowhere to run or put distance between you two when he frustrates you. It’s not so bad for the first few days: the towns surrounding the capital are still populated enough to provide some respite from him. But once the two of you have made your way outside the bounds of civilization, it doesn’t take long for things to become stilted and awkward.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the last town.”

“I don’t feel talkative.”

“Really? I’m out of my mind with boredom right now. Come, you’re not in the mood to get to know each other a little?”

You give him a look. “What else is there to know? I’ve lived with you for several months.”

“But we don’t talk.” König nudges his horse to walk closer to yours. König is such a large man, his horse is massive too: comically so, next to your normal one. You let out a sigh.

“There’s nothing to know about me.”

“I doubt that. All I know about you is you’re a princess trained to be an assassin. ‘Your whole life’, according to yourself,” he says with a touch of mocking.

You purse your lips, determined not to let him get under your skin. “There’s nothing else to know.”

“Truly? Nothing about what you like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…your favorite food. Or hobby.”

“Hobby? …I suppose I spend a lot of time at target practice.”

“That’s not a hobby.”

“It’s relaxing to hone my skills.”

He gives you an amused look. “You remind me of myself as a young man.”

Something about that irks you. “We’re nothing alike.”

“I used to have the same mindset as you, at least. I held one objective in my mind and didn’t seek purpose outside of it.”

“I…”

As much as you loathe to admit it, he’s right. You have been focused on one objective your whole life. If you probe deeper, you can’t remember having any friends outside of Calliope, nor any interests outside of the curriculum your father set for you. “It wasn’t as bleak as you seem to think it was.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not like I never had fun. I had my own way of finding it.”

“Such as?”

“Well, when my training progress stalled, I’d be sent to bed without dinner. Naturally. I eventually learned how to climb out of my window at night and go foraging in the woods for something to eat.” A smile curls your lips as you reminisce. “Eventually I even worked my way up to hunting—little things, like squirrels. I spent many a cozy little evening cooking for myself over a fire.”

You turn to find an abject look of horror on König face. “What? What’s wrong? Is there danger?” You turn around to scan your surroundings, but nothing immediately jumps out at you.

“No. No danger. I just…he sent you to bed with an empty stomach so many times you learned how to crawl out of your room and hunt squirrels to eat?”

You blink at him. “You’ve never had squirrel before?”

He looks scandalized. “Of course I have! That is not the issue with what you just said.”

You shrug. “It was important discipline. Besides, it gave me hunting experience at a young age. Squirrels are hard to skin, but I could do it in twelve seconds flat if you gave me one now.”

König looks like he wants to say more, but instead he looks up at the sky. “We should make camp soon.”

“Is it that time already?”

“It needs to be set up before it gets dark. We should also start hunting while it’s light out—not all of us can catch things in the dark, squirrel-girl.”

“Hey!”

Later, you’re both chewing on a rabbit when he speaks.

“You know, when you said you wanted to travel with me, I was quite concerned.”

“Yes, I know. You didn’t think I was capable of handling myself.”

“Not just that. I was worried you would be…unaccustomed to living rough.”

“You thought I would be a spoiled princess.”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes.”

You snort. “Well, now you know. I can handle myself in the outdoors.” You toss the rabbit bones you’ve just picked clean into a small hole dug into the dirt. When you leave, you’ll cover it with dirt to prevent predators from smelling the remains and following you on your journey.

“You want the other leg?” you ask. König seems startled, for some reason.

“You caught this one.”

“Yes, but you’re bigger than me. You need the food.” You reach up to pluck a leaf from a nearby tree and wipe your hands. Rabbits sure are greasy…

There’s a strange look in König’s eye as he regards you. You raise an eyebrow at him in response. “What?”

“…nothing.” He reaches for the rabbit while you shrug and walk off to find some water. The back of your neck prickles as you go, as if his stare is physically touching you.

You can’t stand to be near him nowadays, and you don’t know why.

Of course, you have no choice but to. There’s a tension that feels weighty, forbidden. You know he can tell, because he’s been more cautious around you, giving you as much space as he can afford to. Somehow, that irritates you even more.

Tonight, the two of you are camping in a dense, thick part of the forest not far from a road. It’s quiet, secluded: even the usual soundscape of ambient animal noises is silent.

The fire crackles and pops as you stare into the flames, as if you’ll find any answers in it. Instead, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as König returns from washing himself in a nearby stream, approaching you from behind.

“This won’t work if you’re constantly upset with me for some unknown reason.”

You don’t turn to look at him, though some invisible force compels you. “Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’m worried about your comfort too, you know. If you just told me what I’ve done wrong, then we can resolve it before it breeds resentment.”

“I’m just stressed.” Everything he does or says seems to irritate you nowadays, but you know in your heart of hearts that it’s not his fault. It’s your own problem—you assume camping outdoors for so long has taken its toll on your psyche.

He frowns at you, but doesn’t pry any further. You can’t help but watch as he walks around to the other side of the fire, drying his hair with his shirt. God, he is a work of art: all chiseled muscles and glowing skin. Your eyes travel down his torso, drawn by the line of his abs, down to the happy trail leading to the slightly askew waist of his trousers.

“You’re drooling, princess.”

Your eyes snap back up to his face. His eyes are dancing with mirth as he realizes he’s just caught you ogling him. You make a face at him, but it only makes him laugh. “Was not.”

“Incorrect answer. You should have attempted to strike at my ego. Now I know you were looking.”

“I think I’m just being driven mad by spending so much time alone with you in the woods.”

“I know several ways to drive you mad, sweetling.”

You slouch against a tree, your face hot—and not from the fire. In a blink, he’s standing before you, with a gleeful expression on his face like he’s just discovered a cure for dropsy.

“I know what’s making you sour as vinegar. You need to be fucked.”

You bury your face in your hands, unable to look at him. “I thought we had moved past this,” you groan, trying to ignore your rapidly quickening heartbeat.

“What, your ever-growing carnal lust for me?”

“You being a pervert.”

“I’ve never made a secret of it. You, however…” You suck in a startled breath as he leans down, trapping you against the tree just like he had the day you sparred with him. “You’ve been denying yourself.”

Your breath is ragged as he looks you in the eye, the tension between the two of you as taut as a bowstring. A familiar sense of panic rises in you, the same way you feel every time he’s close to you like this. Before, you thought it was because it felt dangerous to be so close to your enemy. Now, you’re second-guessing yourself.

“So what if I have?” you mumble.

“There’s an easy way to fix that.”

“…The last time you had me in this position, you were threatening me.”

He tilts his head slightly, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You don’t feel threatened now?”

You don’t respond immediately, and heavens forbid, he takes it as hesitancy, his demeanor instantly transforming. “One word. One word, and we will never speak of this again. But if you tell me you want this, I will fuck you senseless.”

“Yes,” you whisper, and his lips on are on yours.

It’s a strange sensation, considering half of your mouth is pressed against the cold, smooth surface of his mask. You don’t even ask him about removing it—it’s become a part of him in your mind. And maybe part of you even finds the mystery of it alluring.

You all but melt into the kiss, against him. It’s different, everything is different than that first awkward kiss from when you were younger. It makes you ache, makes you long for him in a way you’ve never wanted someone before.

You have to separate to breathe, but your reluctance to break apart from him is clear by the way you chase his face with yours. He laughs at you, but it’s not condescending at all. It settles in your chest, warm like honey.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you murmur.

“Luckily for you, you’re in good hands.” It’s the cockiness in his voice that does you in, what makes you let go and give yourself over to him.

You feel flustered, awkward, and like the least desirable creature on earth, but he looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like there’s nothing else he wants more than to have you right now.

“You can trust me,” he says softly. You try to respond, but suddenly find you’ve gone mute. All you can manage is a small nod.

To your surprise, he lowers his mouth to your neck. You gasp, a full-body shiver running through you as he kisses you there, sucking and nipping at you as he goes. “W-wait, I’m—”

“Sensitive? I can tell.” You squeak as he continues to lavish you with attention, his fingers trailing down the front of your torso to undo your pants. His movements are deliberate but slow, giving you plenty of opportunity to stop him. But of course, you don’t.

You let out a quick little breath as he finds his way to your pussy, his deep chuckle reverberating against your throat. “You’re so wet…did I do that to you, liebling?”

You’re about to respond, but instead let out a sharp gasp as he dips a finger into your pussy. “How are you ever going to take me into this tight little hole of yours…” he taunts.

Oh, God, you hadn’t even thought about that. Your mind flashes back to your wedding night, and the first time you tried to kill him. You had mostly been shocked by his audacity, but only now do you recall how big he had felt between your thighs.

He’s gentle with you at first, patiently stretching you open as you whine and beg in his arms. You just about sob when he finally pays your clit attention, circling it with his thumb, and in what seems like no time at all, you’re cumming, hard.

“That didn’t take long at all,” he says with that awful smirk of his.

“Th-that’s not fair,” you stammer. “You know…”

“I’m only teasing you.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead as you come down, shivering with pleasure.

He makes you cum twice with just his hand. Your legs are trembling by the time the two of you properly get undressed. You’re soft and pliable, helpless putty in his hands as he lines the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Ready, liebe?” he asks.

“That is not going to fit,” you say, eyes wide and fearful. There’s absolutely no way, you think, staring down the absurdly thick and long monster between his legs.

“Trust me, remember? We’ll take it slow,” he reassures you. You bite your lip and nod, giving him the go-ahead to sink into you.

Instantly, you realize that no matter how well König could have prepared you, there was no chance that it would have been enough to ready you for the stretch of him. You feel like you can hardly breathe as he splits you in half with his cock, your mouth dropping open in a wordless cry.

“Fuck, you are tight,” he groans, but he keeps his promise to go slow, feeding himself inch by inch inside you until he’s sitting snug up against your cervix.

The two of you stay there, suspended in a moment in time, connected to each other in the most intimate way two people can be. It makes your head spin, makes you dizzy with the sensation of his body pressed against yours.

You nod, and he starts to move.

If you had thought before that his fingers felt good inside you, then his cock is something else. The delicious stretch of him is almost electrifying, and you wonder how you went all your life without it.

All you can do is let him take control—you don’t have the presence mind to do anything but hold onto him, gasping and moaning. He’s all around you, above you, inside you, and it feels like nothing else in the world matters, or that there is a world other than König, König, König.

Your third orgasm surprises you, waves of pleasure flowing through you as you cry out, your pussy sucking him in as if it wants him to stay inside forever. That’s what seemingly pushes him over the edge too, a string of expletives bursting from him as he floods you with his cum.

You’re limp and weak, all but purring as he shifts to lay next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You are sweet when underneath me like this,” he purrs.

You swat him in the chest, but it must feel no heavier than being hit by a branch, because he just laughs.

“There’s no reason to be shy now. I’ve seen everything at this point.” You pout at him—something that only seems to bring him delight, because he pulls you in for a kiss.

“This isn’t how I wanted to take you the first time,” he says, a hint of shame in his tone.

Your heart twinges with affection. This isn’t how you imagined your first time, either, but the idea of him wanting you so badly he thought about it beforehand, fantasized about it even…“I’ve slept in trees before, this is nothing,” you reassure him.

He shoots you a concerned look. “You continue to share alarming events from your childhood.”

You sleep together that night, curled up against him with your legs tangled with his. He falls asleep first, the slight rumble of his chest as he sleeps against your cheek. You lay awake a little while longer, watching him, breathing him in. Now, you have no choice but to be confronted with the truth that you’ve been refusing to acknowledge this whole time.

You don’t hate him anymore. You don’t even dislike him now. And you certainly don’t want to kill him.

On one hand, things are easier. Crossing the line feels more like having torn down a wall, with no more need for pretense. On the other, König is somehow even more insufferable than before. Or perhaps insatiable is a better word for it. You go from having daily sexual tension with him to daily sex, period.

It’s like the floodgates have opened. He’s always loved to tease you, but it gets a hundred times worse now that he knows just how to make your cheeks feel warm.

“I was thinking…” he muses one night as you cuddle by the fire. “You may have to start riding on my horse.”

“Don’t I already do that?” you ask, sleepily playing with his hair.

He snorts. “Your susceptibility to my corrupting influence is truly something to marvel at.”

“You’ve been enacting psychological warfare on me for months.”

“Anyhow, as I was saying.”

“Your horse is quite large, but I don’t think it could handle me astride it as well.”

“Well. Certainly something else that’s large could handle that…”

You sigh. “Get to the point.”

“It’s becoming quite distracting, watching you moving up and down with the horse’s stride.”

“I cannot believe you. Innuendos twice in a row?”

“This is a legitimate grievance!”

“Riding on your horse would not fix the problem. Unless you plan for me to sit behind you in the saddle, which I refuse to do.”

“You’re no fun.”

You lean forward to kiss the corner of his mouth instead of responding.

Your newfound…activity, however pleasingly distracting, can’t eclipse what comes next.

The mood is somber as you arrive in the village: it’s a quiet, sleepy place, just a scattering of simple houses dotting rolling hills and one singular street lined with buildings in the center of it all.

In sharp contrast to his playful, almost jubilant mood on the road with you, König instantly snaps into his authoritative persona. It especially suits him when he puts on the hood: it makes him seem that much more intimidating and threatening. Almost inhuman.

The first order of business is to hold counsel with what passes for the leader in this tiny village: a local merchant patriarch. He’s a sturdy man in his older years, face lined with both wrinkles and scars. He must have been quite the warrior when he was young: you can tell by the way he carries himself.

He gives both of you the lay of the land, and it’s a grim predicament indeed. Herding the livestock is a job most often given to the children, as it’s a relatively safe job with less skill required than the tasks the adults take care of. That’s changed, of course, with the arrival of the beast a few weeks ago. He confirms the most gruesome details that have been brought before König by previous messengers, and it turns your stomach just to imagine it. Those poor children…

The two of you set off early the next morning, with directions from an experienced hunter who had been keeping track of the beast and reporting its movements. At first, it feels normal: just another walk in the woods with König. The solemn silence between the two of you serves as a stark reminder that this isn’t like normal—followed promptly by increasing signs of a presence in the woods. Snapped branches, giant pawprints, and worse, streaks of blood.

Then you break though into a clearing, and your blood runs cold.

The beast before you could only be described as a wolf for lack of a better descriptor. It’s monstrously large, being König’s height and half again, with all of its proportions just slightly wrong: its legs scrawny and just slightly too long for its body, the snout lean and far too sharp to fit the rest of its head. Dried old blood crusted into the fur of its muzzle and chest belies the savagery of the creature, even streaking onto the fur along its neck. And the most obvious tell-tale sign of an unnatural creature is that fur: a dark, rusty blue that shifts with impossible pinpricks of light, like the night sky is ensnared in this feral animal’s coat.

You heard its growl before you saw it. But now when it lays eyes on you and König, it opens its snout and…speaks.

“What do we have here?” The voice comes out as a broken, reedy croak, as if stretching vocal cords that haven’t been used in a long time.

Something about it raises your hackles, like your body’s responding to an ancient, ingrained fear. Fae.

“Don’t listen to anything it says.” König’s voice is suddenly soft, dangerous. “None of it is trustworthy.” Slowly, deliberately, his hand moves to his back and draws his sword.

“Ah, the boy king,” hisses the beast. “You simply couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“You’re eating my subjects,” König responds. Your eyes flit to where his hand tightens its grip on his sword. “This is not personal.”

“But it always is, is it not?” The beast and König circle each other, like two combatants in an arena. “You are as ever driven by your past mistakes.”

“König, what is it talking about?” You feel like you’re witnessing a conversation you shouldn’t be, but you feel helpless to do anything about it. If you tried to make a move towards the beast now, it would have its jaws snapped around you in an instant.

“It’s lying, liebling. It’s what they do. It’s trying to throw you for a loop so it can catch you off guard.”

“Liebling now, is it?” The beast lets out an awful, barking laugh. “My, the two of you have come far. But not far enough, it seems.”

König gives you a quick, sidelong glance, then tilts his head back towards the beast. The message is clear. We need to distract it. I’ll keep it talking.

“From her response, it seems you’ve been keeping secrets from your lovely little bride.” The beast shakes itself, its fur puffing up to look larger and more intimidating.

“There’s nothing to keep. None of that is important.”

“I would beg to differ. And if your liebling knew what it was, she would disagree as well.”

“You know nothing about us,” König growls. Yes, you’re in a life-or-death situation right now, but the viciousness in his tone sends an excited shiver up your spine. You’re opposite König now, almost completely hidden behind the beast’s monstrous form.

“You know nothing about each other!” Before either of you can react, the beast whips around. Its glowing-white eyes are fixed on you. “Not that it matters any longer.”

You barely have time to scream before the beast is upon you.

“No!” König’s voice rings in your ears. You can feel the creature’s hot breath, its vile drool spilling onto your clothes, its teeth closing around your neck—

Time slows to a crawl, the events unfolding one after the other in sequence. The first thing you’re aware of is the beast’s roar of pain, booming deafeningly all around you. I’m inside its mouth, you think numbly. The second thing you notice is your necklace: it’s glowing red, as if the metal has become molten hot. But you don’t feel any burning sensation, just a faint tingle.

The third thing you see is König shoving himself between the two halves of the beast’s snout, physically holding it open with his body.

It’s truly an impressive sight, like watching Atlas hold up the sky. For a brief moment, all you can do is stare up at him in awe.

“What are you doing?! Get out!” he yells, and you snap back to your senses.

You roll aside out of the beast’s range, scrambling to get back on your feet. König dodges out of the way just as the jaws snap shut.

“Is that..?” the thing wheezes. You rush to help König up as it glares balefully at you. Its beady eyes focus on the pendant around your neck, narrowing in disgust.

“Calliope,” it spits. “I should have known. This bears marks of your meddling all over.”

Your blood runs cold. “What did you just say?” What does your lady in waiting have to do with this?

“You—” The beast doesn’t get a chance to finish its sentence, because König takes advantage of its consternation to stick his sword into its neck. The creature bellows in pain and lunges at König, who barely manages to dodge the strike but loses his grip on his sword in the process. The monstrous animal whips around and around, attempting to grab hold of the sword with its teeth.

“Strike, now!” König calls before promptly getting clocked in the head with the pommel of his own sword as the beast thrashes and screams.

You don’t hesitate to spring into action, unsheathing a wicked-sharp blade as long as your forearm and sprinting towards the creature. König’s left you a perfect opening: as long as the beast is trying to get ahold of the sword, its chest is wide open for attack.

You don’t waste the opportunity. With the running start, you leap forward, sinking the blade into the wolf’s chest, right where its heart lies. The long, keening wail that the beast lets out is confirmation that your blade has struck true.

You have to throw yourself into a roll to get out of the way before the massive body crashes down on top of you. It lies on the ground, its heaving breaths growing shallower by the moment, its wounds staining the ground with a faintly shimmering golden ichor. So the fae do have golden blood, just like the old legends said, you think, watching the macabre scene with stunned terror.

“Brought low by two fae-touched mortals with barely a fight…” the beast huffs. It sounds weary and resigned to its fate, strange for a creature that had seemed so deadly and menacing just moments before. “Fate is cruel.”

“Fae-touched…what do you mean?” you ask, eyes widening. “Wait! What do you mean by that?!”

The beast doesn’t respond, its chest now hardly moving with its breaths. It’s not long for the world, now.

Behind the hulking, dying animal, you spot König staggering into a standing position. “König!” You gather yourself and rush towards him.

He’s visibly unstable on his feet, swaying slightly and looking dazed. The sword must have hit him hard, because his hood has been partially torn away. Despite everything, though, you can’t see any visible blood or injuries from this angle. Until he turns.

A bloodcurdling scream tears its way out of your throat. König cringes slightly at the sound, but you can’t help yourself. The sight is terrifying.

The skin above one half of his mouth is simply gone. He has no lip, not even any flesh up to his nose. His upper teeth and gums on one half of his mouth are just exposed, giving him a grim, unnatural appearance. He looks like Death itself, resembling the skeletal depictions in the manuscripts.

You should be afraid—scratch that, you are afraid. But you realize quickly your fear is not of him, but for him.

“Did it do this to you?!” you say, panicking. You dash forward and grab ahold of his face, turning it so you can examine the injury more closely. The act seems to startle König, who simply looks down at you in confusion.

“What are we going to do? There’s no way this village has a healer who could dress this wound…” you fret. An injury on this level is almost certainly a death sentence if he doesn’t receive adequate attention immediately, and he certainly won’t last the night if you’re forced to travel by horseback again—

“Schatzi…” König grabs your hands with his and removes them from his face. “I’m fine.”

You stare at him in shock for a moment. “You—how can—you—”

He heaves a heavy sigh, as if a massive burden has been placed on his shoulders. “I’m alright. The wound is…not new.”

“How can it not be new.”

König screws his eyes shut for a moment as if trying to gather his composure. “It’s been this way since I was young. Look,” he says, touching the area with a finger. “There’s no blood.”

On closer inspection, you realize he’s right: not only is there no blood, but the skin around his mouth and nose appear to be completely healed. And not even as if it were a true wound: there’s no scarring, no uneven flesh. The skin and muscle are simply…missing.

“What…how…” You’re at a total loss for words. Since he was young? What happened? How had he survived such an injury as a child? You have a million questions, but you find yourself unable to ask any of them.

You watch him, stunned, as he walks past you towards the beast’s body. It lays completely still now, all semblance of life having fled from the corpse. With one hand on the grip and one foot braced against the beast’s body, he wrenches his sword free, then bends to pull your knife out.

“I know you must have questions,” he says, wiping the blood off of both weapons onto the wolf’s fur with a grimace, “but I can’t answer them here. Please, if I promise to explain, will you…will you wait until we’ve left the village?” He turns to look at you beseechingly.

“I…” Now that the adrenaline and initial panic is beginning to fade, your whole body feels heavy and exhausted. You don’t have the energy to be angry, or afraid, or demand an explanation now. You have no choice but to agree, nodding quietly. König seems relieved at your calm response.

“So that’s why you always wear a mask or a hood,” you say numbly as you watch him take the ruined hood off, shaking his head to get the hair out of his face. He gives you a sad, regretful look.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

“I never meant for anyone to find out.”

The villagers throw a celebration. A modest one, to be sure, but the relief on the peoples’ faces is enough of a reward for you. You can tell König is glad to see it as well—though every time you look at his face, hidden once more behind his mask, you feel a twinge in your heart as you remember what lies underneath it.

You can’t find it in yourself to enjoy the celebrations, even as excited children and grateful parents swarm you to give their thanks. You give them all a smile and a kind word, but that’s all you can manage. Dread and curiosity mix to form a terrible feeling in your gut.

The days between your defeat of the beast and your departure go by in a blur. You’re grateful for the rest, but you can’t stop thinking, worrying, about König’s condition. You manage to stop being petrified that he’s going to drop dead of infection at any moment, but you can’t look at him anymore without thinking about it. About the secret that he’s kept from you, from everyone who’s ever met him. You can’t even wrap your mind around what it all means. You have no point of reference for what could have happened to your husband’s face.

Husband. What a strange thing, to be wed to someone whose full face you had only seen a few days ago, months into your marriage. You haven’t thought of him like that at all. He’s always been König: the king, the enemy, the annoyance. And your lover, you suppose. For the first time, you start to wonder exactly what kind of man you’ve bound yourself to.

Because it’s exceedingly clear to you now. You can’t kill this man. Not just because you don’t want to anymore, but because he might be unkillable.

The village hasn’t yet vanished in the distance behind the two of you when you speak. “What the hell?”

König’s eyes slide to you, then back to the road ahead. “Language.”

You sputter in indignation. “Lang—that’s not what I want to hear!”

“Forgive me. I couldn’t resist.”

“König, this is serious! You promised an explanation.”

“I know what I promised,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice.

“Well?”

König takes as deep breath. Inhale, exhale.

Then he begins.

“Well. What do we have here? You’re awfully young for this, little prince.”

He’s fourteen. He’s about to make a decision that will shape the rest of his life.

He had done as the crone’s old tome instructed. Bone from an animal slain in its youth. Flowers bloomed under the cover of pitch black night. A blade whet on the summoner’s own flesh. He’s knelt under the light of the full moon, round and blindingly white.

The ethereal creature standing before him is easily twice his height, with an unearthly glow to their skin and hair and a smile that could almost be mistaken for kind and benevolent on their unnaturally beautiful face.

He’s done it. He’s summoned a fae.

With no small amount of difficulty, he rises to his feet, leaning heavily on the cane that helps him walk. The fae lets out a noise of amusement as they watch the young boy struggle.

“Usually, mortals don’t gamble away their lives until they’re older, and greed begins to dictate their actions.”

He glares at the fae but doesn’t respond.

“Come, now. Do not look at me so. Give me your name, little prince.”

“…you may call me König.”

The fae’s expression sharpens, ever so slightly. “Clever boy. ‘König’…don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself?”

“I want to make a deal.”

The fae sighs. “Straight to the point, I see. Well, I can’t fault your efficiency. Or is it desperation?” They smirk at him, their eyes taking the rest of him in. He knows he must make for a pathetic sight: a cripple with a harelip, spine curled and legs thin and spindly.

He doesn’t care. This is the last day he will ever be this pathetic.

“Let me guess. You wish to no longer be a cripple.”

“I want to be able bodied. I want to be strong enough to defeat my enemies. I want to be rid of my harelip.” Clear, concise language. He’s spoken these words to himself in the mirror countless times.

“You’ve certainly done your research. Then you know what price I will ask for such things.”

He swallows nervously. “Yes.”

“Very well then. Let us begin.”

It starts in his toes, the strange sensation that flows up through him that he will know all his days. He can feel the strength rushing into his limbs, feel his spine straightening, withered muscles coming to life.

Then comes the pain.

It’s white-hot torment, as if his body has become a living coal. He falls to the ground again, screaming and writhing as his bones crack and realign themselves. Somewhere, in the distance, he can hear the fae’s cruel laughter as they watch him suffer. For a brief moment, some primal, animal part of his brain thinks he’s going to die.

“Fret not, boy king. You won’t perish—I won’t let you until you give me what you’ve promised me,” the fae says, as if they can hear his thoughts.

He’s not sure how long he lays there on the ground, body wracked with agony. It feels like hours pass before he regains use of his limbs. But the pain does eventually fade away, leaving him dazed but still alive. Slowly, he manages to stand up again.

He stares at himself in wonder, legs and arms stretching. For the first time ever, he’s able to stand tall and straight on his own, his cane discarded to the side. And he feels strong. At last, he doesn’t feel weak for once.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The fae’s face has changed: they still look the same, but there’s a beastly, ugly quality to their lovely features that chills him to the bone.

His hands fly instantly to his face. The harelip is still there, he notes with displeasure.

“You forgot something,” he says, frowning in his lopsided way.

“Oh, I didn’t.” Before König can react, the fae’s eyes hollow and grow dark, becoming two pools of endless void. Their teeth sharpen, their face grows gaunt.

“Remember what you owe, boy king,” they remind him. “On the day and the hour your first child is born, I will come to collect.”

He doesn’t even have time to scream before the fae reaches forward with black talons and tears off his mouth.

You’re rendered speechless by his story. Where do you even start?

Your first thoughts are of the way he described himself as a child. König, weak and crippled? König? You look at him now, eighteen hands high astride his horse, the picture of raw strength and dominance. You can’t imagine it at all.

Your second thought is— “You made a deal with the fae? Do you know how foolish that is? Fae never give you what you want, and the cost is always far too high!”

“Don’t lecture me,” he says tightly. “I know what I was getting myself into. I had no other choice.”

“What do you mean, no other choice? You were the king’s son—you are the king! You could have had servants carry you everywhere if need be!”

“You don’t understand what it was like,” König snarls, turning to you with fire in his eyes. “Nobody would have accepted a cripple as their king. My life would constantly have been in danger, having to rely upon others. Unable to even defend myself if an assassin set upon me in my bed.” He’s getting angrier, more worked up as he goes.

“I told you that I was once poisoned as a child with nightshade berries. Did you wonder why there was such a plant in my mother’s garden? Why the royal heir was unsupervised for so long in the first place?” König’s expression is twisted, his voice turned bitter with betrayal. “It was a plot against me by some of my father’s advisors. They conspired with my nursemaid to make it seem like an accident…they expected me to die.”

“I…I’m sorry, König. I didn’t think.”

He glances at you and takes a moment to collect himself before speaking. “I was lucky. My father sent for the best healers he could find. My mother cried at my bedside for weeks.” His brow furrows. “My lot in life could have been worse: my parents loved me, at the very least. But it made me hate myself even more—that I was such a profound disappointment.

“My mother had a difficult birth. Some whispered that it was penance for what my father did: that the spirits of those slain during his campaigns had cursed my mother’s womb. She never was able to conceive again…so all their hopes rested upon my shoulders. My crippled, useless shoulders.”

The venom in his voice when he talks about himself makes your heart ache with sympathy. You move your horse closer to his and put a hand on his arm, squeezing him in what you hope is a comforting manner. His expression softens as he looks down at you.

“It would have been easy for you to kill me if I were still like that, liebe.” You feel your face grow warm again at the term of endearment.

“It makes sense, your strength being fae-given…Calliope said there was something not right about you.”

“Calliope is a perceptive woman.”

You study his face, eyes regarding his mask in a new light. “It really doesn’t look so bad. I only reacted that way because I thought you were injured.”

He shrugs. “Never was that good-looking anyway.”

You make a face. “Are you suggesting I sleep with ugly men?”

“You’ve only slept with me.”

“I’m trying to compliment you.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“When you’re not annoying me.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, now you know.”

You study him. He seems relieved to have finally gotten this off his shoulders. “Do you regret it?”

He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “…No.”

The village’s leader had advised an alternate path back home: it might take you a day or two longer, but it was less remote and lined with other villages. You arrive at the first inn just as the sun is about to duck beneath the horizon, the sky streaked with orange.

It’s a serene part of the wood, and the inn is quite quaint as well. Whoever runs it has done well for themselves, you think absentmindedly as you and König dismount and prepare to unload.

A side door swings open, and a quite frankly huge man walks out, facing away from the two of you. Your sense of scale is attuned to König now, so he’s of course not the biggest man you’ve ever seen, but he’s broad-shouldered and thick with muscle. You can’t see his face from this angle, but you can just about spot his blond hair—

“Shit. Shit.” König instantly spins around so his horse is between him and the man who’s just walked out of the building. You squint. Is he…hiding?

“What’s going on? Should I be worried?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Is he cringing? “Do you think it’s too late to set up camp?”

“Set up camp? When there’s a perfectly good inn right there?”

“Yes!”

“What has gotten into you? That man is quite big, but he’s not that sc—”

“I’m not scared of him, I just recognize him. And I don’t particularly feel like seeing him.”

You’re agog at the scene before you. “You’re the king.”

“Even kings have their hangups, alright?”

“I am not sleeping in the woods.”

“As your husband and supreme ruler, I demand it.”

“Come now. I know you’re tired of fucking me outside.”

That gives him serious pause, which almost makes you giggle. Ridiculous man. You could probably lead him onto an executioner’s block if you held him by the cock.

“Please,” you beg, stepping forward to hold his hand and giving him the biggest, most wide eyes you can muster. “I’m not ready to go back to sleeping on the ground yet.”

His face scrunches up in a hopelessly endearing, almost childlike way. “Fine. But you have to go in and talk to the innkeep. I’m going to stay out here.”

“I don’t know what all the fuss is, but fine. You big baby.” You hand him your horse’s reins and make your way to the front door of the inn.

You’ve barely pushed the door very far at all before you hear a friendly voice from inside. “Welcome, traveler! Come on in.”

“It’s wonderful to make your—” You stop in the doorway, frozen with shock.

“It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, your highness.” A pair of familiar sparkling eyes look back at you. “And you can tell his majesty that he can come inside, I’ve already seen him.”

König’s first wife stands before you, watching your reaction with clear amusement.

Forgive me for that smut. It's been years since I've written anything nsfw, and I wrote this at like. 5AM after a very long day because when I'm not exhausted, writing smut becomes impossible. It's quite the pickle.

Well...I did say that part 3 was going to be a doozy! I'm looking forward to all the reactions...🤭

Comments and feedback are of course always appreciated <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @keiva1000 @catluvwr @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @channelsoph @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @lexuria @complexivelovely

#I hope I managed to tag everyone!!!#könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #König x reader #konig x you #König x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #fic: kingdom come

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gale-force-storm · 5 months ago

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Ok, new headcanon I've been playing around with for a bit, and I like it so I figured I'd share. The gist is this:

Morena Dekarios: Bard

Gale's always felt like he has some theatre kid energy to me. He's dramatic, grandiose, expressive, he quotes Shakespeare, he writes poetry, he loves telling stories, he comes up with a little rhyme on the spot if you cheat at that chess puzzle, he's just got That Vibe. Now, he could have come by this energy naturally. Some people are just Like That. However, please join me in imagining little Gale, listening with rapt attention as his mother performs a ballad, or tells a story with such skill that the entire room is enthralled. Imagine her trying to keep baby Gale entertained with some dancing lights, only for him to swiftly pick up the spell himself. Maybe one of the reasons he likens magic to art is because, well, that's what it was to him, when he was young.

Maybe Morena was an up-and-coming bard, travelling around the Sword Coast. Maybe she started a fling, as bards often do, with some handsome adventurer, and they traveled together for a bit. Maybe they found out she'd accidentally become pregnant, and after some discussion her partner agreed to return to Waterdeep with her, because, Morena insisted, the road was no place to raise a child, and she'd rather have her family nearby for support. So they went and found a house to settle in, and things were ok for a time. A bit bumpy, but they made it work, her partner taking odd jobs around the city and her taking gigs in taverns and inns and feast halls for as long as she was able. Even the first year or two of Gale's life things went relatively smoothly. But then his magic tendencies started really manifesting, and while Morena was initially excited, the chaos that quickly followed threw her relationship even further onto the rocks. They kept trying for a few years, but eventually, when Gale was 4 or 5, the partner decided enough was enough. He never wanted a kid to begin with, and all this? It was too much. He was out, and Morena and Gale never heard from him again.

Morena still did her best after that, of course. She was still proud of her brilliant son, despite the chaos and what anyone else might say, his father included. He was with her constantly, including often sitting by and watching her performances when no one else was able or willing to watch him. Luckily he always loved watching her play and sing and tell stories, so he caused relatively little trouble when he came along. She even started teaching him to cook, and to play a few instruments, which he picked up as quickly as everything else, though the piano seemed to be his favorite. She considered getting him into bard college in the future, following in her footsteps, but then Elminster came along. And while she'd been doing her best to help Gale with his magic, it was a bit of a relief to have someone so skilled, so practiced and renowned, be willing to help. A relief too, to have someone who saw Gale like she did (or so she thought): as a gift. Someone special, rather than a nuisance or possible danger. She adored Gale, doted on him, taught him as much as she could, but she could admit that she was a bit out of her depth with him.

By the time she started questioning the wisdom of having him go to Blackstaff at such a young age, started questioning the messages he might be getting, Gale was old enough and had inherited enough of her willfulness that there was no stopping him from diving headfirst into whatever he wanted to do, including more formal wizard training. She was still proud, of course, but she did worry about him. She was glad that he at least had Tara around to keep an eye on him, and that Tara was willing to report back to her. As long as Gale was happy, Morena resolved, that's what mattered. Her little storm. Her darling son with the mind of a wizard and the heart of a poet. A heart like her own.

#headcanons #morena dekarios #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #my writing #this is based entirely on vibes and the fact that i think it's fun but i do like it a lot as a concept #he just has such a performer's manner and an artist's soul i have to imagine those things were nurtured when he was young #this also adds another layer to gale's love of illusion magic #magic as a source of beauty and entertainment and joy and escape - just like his mother used it

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probablyspooky · 2 years ago

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Traitor (2010 Predator x Fem! Reader) Pt. 2

Yall ate this up like a nice bowl of mama’s chili

(I’m stupid as fuck)

Last Next

Being forced to follow beings you didn’t like wasn’t unusual for the typer of placement you had in your life, when you first met Berserker, you hated him, oh you hated him.

You had been born on a planet much like the one you were on, while your DNA was human, you had never been to Earth before, your parents often taught you of the many things that went on Earth, but soon their numbers were called, and they were taken away to be hosts for face-huggers. By the time you came of age you had managed to make a friend, a young yautja who looked a bit different than the others who surrounded him, his eyes were much more sunken, and his jaw and mandibles were larger than normal, many mocked him, or you thought they were mocking him.

Before you could be used as a host for a face-hugger, you were a servant for the Elders of the tribe, often skinning meat, and preparing meals for those who had just had a successful hunt. Berserker would often watch you, and tease you that he was going to rip your spine off, often cornering you in buildings threatening to take your life then and there, and no one would bat an eye.

You often cried yourself to sleep in fear of being brutally murdered, but this was the life you were born into. As you grew older to adulthood, so did Berserker, even though he was still technically older than you as they age slower, (say you were like 11 when you were a servant he was a bit bigger than you already but like a teen in their eyes, so like 30 something in human years don’t quote me on this I’m so sleepy), when you were brought up to age, you and those in your same age group, were brought up to the Elders chambers, which served as the meeting room. There they were designating where each of you will be sent, whether that be into slavery for life, or being sent off planet to be hunted.

When the Elder came to you, he held the marker covered in acid (much like the xenomorph blood used in Alien vs. Predator), a voice spoke up, that of the Berserker predator, who had grown rather large, larger than those who had made fun of him in the past, he had proven to his Elders in his time to be a mighty hunter and warrior, bringing honor and glory to the Hunters clan.

“Wait!”, he spoke up, causing the Elder to growl in his direction for interrupting this ceremony.

“What is it?”, Elder hissed in his direction,

“I wish to take her as my own,”

“To eat?”

“To mate”

It took a bit of convincing amongst the Elders to see if this was even allowed, but the oldest Elder, dubbed Vi’kor, spoke out on how in the past their kind has mated with those of different species before, often to create stronger hybrid offspring, adding to his argument that Berserker has proven himself time and time again on the battlefield, allowing him to have his pet is a suitable reward.

And like that, you were chosen by Berserker as a mate, he didn’t force himself upon you, but as tradition is important to them, the two of you were to go on a hunt together, somewhere off planet, and as the story goes, the two of you grow closer, perhaps it was the time he rescued you from a large bear tiger beast, or when you helped tend to the wounds he received while protecting you, but the two of you meshed together rather well.

The two of you staring into a fire, where his latest kill was being roasted over the fire, he didn’t prefer this cooked meat idea, but your stomach couldn’t handle raw meats such as these.

While tending over the fire, you began to poke at the meat, trying to see if the meat was cooked all the way through, suddenly feeling the graze of your mates fingers upon your back, you slowly turned your head to look at him.

“Yes?” you asked, turning to look at him

“You are very small...I could hurt you at any moment,” he replied, clicking his mandibles

“Yes you could,” you mumbled, feeling uneasy, and turning back to look at the meat.

While you did this, a second hand found its way around your waist, and you felt his chest press against your back, his odd attempt at a hug.

“I will protect you then,” he whispered into your ear

“Thank you...” you replied, touching his bicep with your hand.

That night, you were truly mated, your bond only growing stronger over the years, eventually as yautja do, he wished for offspring, but not wanting to lose you possibly from any complications, he took you to the best healers his clan had to offer. That year you were poked and prodded, bruises from bloodwork, and other types of medicines on your body, it all took a toll.

Laying in the nest of his chambers, a metal bowl that hovered above the ground, filled with pelts and furs, you lay, resting after another healer visit. You could hear the door open, and the heavy footsteps of Berserker enter. You didn’t dare move, you were too sore, too tired, you simple gave a whimper to acknowledge his presence.

“You are tired?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the nest, taking his large hand and brushing your hair back (or down if you have curly hair).

“I am very sore, but I’ve been sore before” you chuckled, turning over to look at him

“I am sorry...” he grumbled, taking his hand back

“It is okay, I’m doing this for you,”

“If it becomes too much, you can stop”

You smiled and placed your hand onto the hand that was on your head, rubbing your thumb against his wrist.

“I can handle it love”

He quickly stood up, and stormed out of the room, love was not a term that was used often in his native tongue, guilt washed over him, and he began to realize that he cherished you more than his desire for an offspring.

He was on his way to the healers quarters to call the whole thing off, but once he entered the healer greeted him calmly and informed that the tests were a success, and that you could carry a pup to term.

Excitement washed over him, as he rushed back to your shared home, throwing himself onto the nest with you, you jumped up startled.

“What is wrong?” you said, panic in your voice taking over

“You can carry my child!” he replied, pinning you to the bed, ready to take you in that moment

“Wait!” you gasped, as he began to reach for your lower skirt

“What is wrong?”

“It is my time”, you mumbled, embarrassed

Like a clock ticking it took him a moment to understand what you meant, and like bait in a trap, he understood.

“Very well, we will get you pregnant next month, but for now...”he growled reaching for your skirt once again.

And here you were currently, following humans who had in fact been born on Earth, those had seen war, those who committed crimes, some worse than others.

The group continued to walk throughout the forest, eventually forcing you to a clearing, familiar foliage became known and you felt your heart skip a beat as you realized you were closer to camp.

Feeling your excitement over take you, you began to quicken your pace, which surprised Isabelle, she took note of you, hoping maybe your head trauma was fading away. Someone else took note of your excitement, but not in a good way. Royce didn’t trust you, not one bit.

Soon the group came up to the trophy pillar, where disregarded trophies of past hunts were left behind as a remembrance. About a mile from the camp, the group and you were ambushed by a dead mans trap, before you could fall into a high tech bear trap, you felt an invisible hand grip your back, and pull you back, throwing you on your ass to the ground, while the others were scrambling to not get murdered.

You knew it was Tusk, who else could it be, he was watching over you. You began to scan the tree line looking for possible vantage points he could be hiding in. Your eyes landed on a large sturdy branch that was shaking, as if something large was on it.

Smiling you waited walked around the traps, trying to take note of any traps that might also be armed nearby.

As Edwin was freaking out, and Royce and Nikolai investigated the dead corpse who had set the traps that had just gone off, you could hear the sounds of familiar running steps. The sound of your beloved hunting dog panting could fill your ears, same as the rest of the groups. Isabelle quickly grabbed you, pulling you behind her, as they began to fire at the monsters you called your pets.

Berserker had gotten you a dog as protection when you often left their home station to forage in the nearby bramble for fruits and berries for yourself, you didn’t have a name for him, as you just called him your sweet.

Seeing the familiar face of your dog charging towards you, Isabelle lifted her rifle up to take aim at your dog, thinking quickly you pushed her gun into the air, causing the gun fire to miss him just barely. They had managed to shoot and kill one of the other dogs, but before yours could excitedly jump up at you to lick your face as he usually does, Falcon blew the whistle in the distance, sweet looking at you whimpering, and then retreating back into the forest.

The group began to argue, mad at what was going on, Isabelle was mad at you for shoving her gun away, but what could she do, you weren’t talking to anyone. Nikolai dragged one of the corpses into the center of the group for everyone to inspect.

“We’re being hunted” he said, spitting on the corpse, much to your annoyance.

“They sent the damn dogs after us!” Stans shouted, kicking dirt in any direction he could, and then his eyes landed on you again, you shuffled and hid behind Mombasa, who understood the assignment and placed his hand in front of you as protection.

Stans launched himself at Mombasa, putting his small knife to Mombasa’s neck, demanding one of of his weapons as protection. Mombasa, sliding his rifled between the two of them, threatening to end his life, along with his own.

Once the group calmed down a bit from realizing they were hunting game, you continued the walk towards the camp. Your impatience growing with every stop, first Isabelle wanted to show that they were in fact, not on Earth, Royce pointing out they had been there for hours, and it’s as bright as it was when they landed. Dread began to settle over the group, on everyone besides you that is.

Soon enough, you found the familiar markings of the Jungle Hunters clan pillars, and you began to smile wide as the thought of being with your love again began to wash over you.

But of course your joy was short lived, as Royce just had to go bother the young yautja that was chained in the center of the camp, he began to roar and growl at the sight of all these humans, and then his eyes settled on you, cursing you out in their native tongue. While everyone started freaking out, the familiar sound of clicking filled your ear, as you turned to see nothing, knowing your mate was close by, you began to walk away from the group, hoping to feel at home once again. But before you could step too far, Stans ran up and tried grabbing your arm to pull you back.

“Where the hell are you goin?” he snarled, his stupid face was first confused, but it was swapped with fear, as a plasma blast shot between the two of you.

Berserker had fired a warning shot at Stans, as a warning not to touch his mate, soon one by one Falcon, Tusk and Berserker began to turn off their cloaks, showing themselves.

“Shit!” Isabelle shouted, quickly running to your side, and grabbing your arm once again, and with the group, you all began to run away from the camp. You tried stomping into the ground, trying to stop them from taking you away.

“Why can’t you run?” she shouted, at you stopping for a second to scold you like a child.

Mombasa quickly rushing over to help, he grabbed you, and began to drag you with him, the familiar beeping in your breast cup started again, and you quickly pulled yourself away from Mombasa, as he was impaled by a spear trap, causing his gun to go off, a bullet barely grazing your leg, you sneered in pain and agony.

Nikolai quickly ran over, fireman carrying you off the camp, Berserker sending more firing shots in your general direction, trying not to harm you, but trying to scare them off of you. No one was paying any attention to where they were running off to, and soon you all ran off a cliff into a lake.

The cold water rushing over your body as the stinging pain of hitting water hit your body, you began to struggle under the water, Falcon had sent his drone over the waters to see if you were okay as her Alphas orders, once he saw you break the surface of the water, he took note of the rest of the humans and where they seemed to be heading and recalled his drone.

You weak attempts at swimming didn’t go unnoticed, as Royce grabbed the back of your collar, and threw you onto the ground on the shore bank.

“You know what those things are! The both of you!” he shouted towards Isabelle and you.

You didn’t say anything, as your leg was hurting. Nikolai came over and tore the bottom half of his shirt off, Edwin quickly rushing over and bandaging your leg, seeming to take too much time touching your skin, you felt fear rush over your body.

Isabelle sighed, and explained that before, when she was off in the jungles on Earth, her men and her had been taken off one by one, she was injured and it seemed to leave her alone, explaining that those who had seen the beast described it the same way that the young yautja looked.

Royce spit on the ground, and pointing at the rest of the group.

“No more secrets, especially from you” he snarled, pointing at you.

“She can’t even talk, let alone keep a secret, what could she know?” Isabelle stated, standing in between you to, as to protect you from Royce.

As the group continued on, the familiar red dots of a plasma rifle crossed over the whole group, Royce turning his face to look at the yautja mask that uncloaked before you.

“What the hell are you?” Royce whispered, not realizing that whatever this was, it was not in fact a yautja.

“I’m alive” he said, removing his mask to reveal that he, Noland, was in fact a human same as them.

Seeming to have no other options, the group and you followed Noland to his makeshift home, in the wreckage of left behind ships from many seasons ago. One by one Noland lead the group into his home, but stopping to give you a weird look.

Noland began to explain that he had been trapped on this planet for ten seasons, and each season they just send bigger and stronger yautja, stopping to look at you.

“I know you” he said, pointing at you with a shaky hand.

Your face began to burn red, as fear overcame your body.

“Wait you know her?” Edwin asked, turning his between the two of you

“Yeah I know her, I think, do you? No not that one the other one, now you’re just being stupid”, Noland replied, but he seemed to just have a conversation with himself.

“Earth to captain insanity” Royce snapped, “How do you know her?”

“Well, I haven’t see her per say, I’ve seen them talk on those wrist watches they got, little pictures hovering over their arms, sometimes they call others, one of them though, is really ugly, but always has this girl on his lap, kind of looks like her”

Like a lightbulb moment going off in his head Royce turned his gun to look at you. “That’s why you won’t talk! You fucking live with them don’t you! What are you? Like their pets or something?”

“Woah back off fucker!” Isabelle shouted, pointing her gun towards Royce.

You began to cry, tears stinging at your eyes, but that wasn’t the only thing stinging your eyes, as Noland had started a fire in an attempt to kill you all and take your equipment.

“Noland what the hell!” Royce yelled, everyone seemed to drop the issue at hand and move on to survival, Stans kicking down the at a loose wall panel. Everyone else was screaming, the beeper in your breast cup was beeping louder, trying to alert someone who was nearby of your location.

Nolan dies off somewhere because honestly fuck him girly pop.

Soon Stans screams and cries for help continued to echo along with each kick of the wall panel. After a bit, the smoke began to die down, Tusk had put out the fire nearby, the beeper got louder and louder, and when Stans ran over to you to see what that sound was, he shamelessly dug around in your breast cups, pulling out your tracker, holding it up for everyone to see.

“The bitch lead them right to us!” he shouted, turning to you quickly, punching you across the face, knocking you to the ground.

Isabelle quickly ran over, hitting him with the butt of her rifle, and kneeling down next to you.

“Knock it off, I’m sure she has her reasons,” she shouted

Stans was held back by Nikolai and Royce, everyone started yelling, and shame washed over you, and in typical fashion you bowed your head to the ground.

“I’m sorry!” you shouted, and silence was quick, as this is the first time anyone had heard your voice.

“Speak,” Isabelle said, rubbing your back, “Tell them you’re trapped here like us.”

“I am not! I am here with my mate! I did not mean to be here with you! I just...haven’t seen another human in so long, but I’m not supposed to interfere..”

“You fucking BITCH!” Stans shouted, spitting at your face, Isabelle looked at you, knowing she defended someone who potentially got them all killed.

Before anyone else could respond, you began to cry out.

“Tusk!” you sobbed out loud, and as soon as you finished you cry for help, the panel where Stans was kicking, suddenly was punched from the opposite side, knocking it loose, and then knocking it down.

A terrifying silence fell over the ship, as nothing came from the hole, and no one dared move. Seeing this as your chance, you quickly tried to rush to the hole, but when half your body managed to get halfway out, Stans broke off and stomped into your back, causing you to cry out in pain.

A roar could be heard echoing off the walls of the ship, and while everyone momentarily took in their surroundings, you quickly slipped past through the hole, and began to rush down the seemingly empty hall.

Royce, Nikolai, Isabelle, Edwin, Hanzo (I hate that they named him this), and Stans began to follow you. Eventually making their way out of the ship, you quickly ran into the fog ahead, knowing that Berserker would probably be waiting for you with open arms. Seeing that you’re trying to escape them, Stans rushes ahead, and tackles you to the ground, taking a fist full of your head, momentarily whispering vile things into your ear as you laid under him.

The rest of the group caught up and didn’t even try to pull him off of you, but they wouldn’t let him do anything too rash. While the two of you struggled against the ground, a roar echoed over the group.

Stans quickly, full of fear jumped off of you, you continued to cry in pain in the dirt. Before anyone's eyes, you seemed to float off the ground, bridal style. One by one Berserker, Tusk, and Falcon turned their cloaks off.

“Oh fuck,” Royce said, taking a step back.

You continued to cry into your mates shoulder, he quickly placed you on your feet, and with his large hands began to scan your body for injury, seeing the fresh bruise on your face from the punch, his finger gently tapped on your face, causing you to wince in pain, seemingly to ask, “Who did this?”

Through your tears, you pointed to Stans, and pulled Berserker close, whispering into his ear area (they don’t have ears), of how he had continuously touched your body, and the vile things he whispered to you just now.

A rage washed over your mates body, as he caressed your face with his large hand, he turned back to the ground, and roared towards Stans, taking out a small blade, firing it at Stans leg, making him scream out in pain, knocking him to the ground.

The rest of the group went to take a step back, but were stopped by Falcon and Tusk, as to make sure they were going to see their own fates soo enough.

While Stans was on the ground, he tried crawling towards you, as to beg for mercy, but as soon was his hands reached out and touched the hem of your skirt, your mate came up behind him, pulling his wrist bladed out, he hooked into Stans back, making him scream in agony as blood began to spill out of his mouth. Berserker raised Stans to the sky, pulling his blades back, causing his body to one again fall to the ground, Stans screaming in agony as blood began to flood the ground under him.

As a final statement of his status, Berserker reached his hands into the back wounds of Stans, gripping his spine, retrieving the trophy of Stans, his spine and skull. Raising it to the sky, and roaring into the night of his victory, Berserker made a show of making sure the rest of the group would see what he was capable of, Falcon and Tusk then moved back, allowing the rest of the group to run off into the night. Berserker turned to you again, and knelt down, holding the trophy out to you, as a gift.

Smiling you took it into your hands, blood coating your fingers, knowing this is his way of saying sorry, you took his hand into yours, and the four of you began to walk back to your camp.

Once there you took a needed rest in your makeshift shelter, Mombasa’s body still sitting in the trap as flies began to feast on his flesh. Laying down on the large fur that was laid out for you, you tried to close your eyes for a needed rest. But soon you began to feel the familiar pressing of your mates member, pressing into your back.

Turning over rather fast, you grabbed into your mates chest plate, pulling him onto of you. Oh you had missed him, he wasted no time ripping your skirt off of your body. Then tearing his loin cloth off of himself, exposing all of his length to you, forcing himself into your already wet entrance, pulsing himself into you repeatedly, over and over, feeling that you were not showing enough skin to his liking, he grabbed your breast cover, and tore it off of your body.

With every thrust of his torso, he watched your breasts wobble up and down with every thrust. You began to moan aloud, causing your mate to growl like a beast into the forest, Falcon and Tusk were currently sitting on the other edge of camp, pretending this wasn’t happening currently.

Berserker clawed into your legs, gripping you closer to him, he pulled you to sit up and look at him, but he still had that mask on.

“The mask.” you moaned, “Off please...”

He quickly ripped off his mask to show all of his face, his mandibles clicking, soft purrs emanating from his chest. Snuggling your face into his neck, he continued to thrust up into you, his hand grasping your butt with every thrust, his claws sinking into your skin, small droplets of blood began to drip out, but this was something you were used to. Whimpering into your mates ear, you could feel the pool of pleasure reaching its brim, you began to convulse as your orgasm shook you to your core, the tightening of your body sent your mate over the edge, and he reeled his head back in pleasure, roaring into the night sky.

Afterword, he laid you back down onto your furs, and began to pet your hair.

“I am sorry I let you get hurt, I failed you as a protector” he whispered

“It’s fine love, you’re here now that's all that matters.” you replied, tracing your hands across his chest.

Quiet purrs could be heard, he truly was happy you were back in his reach.

Everything seemed to be okay that night, you rested within the arms of Berserker, unknowing of the danger of the humans who lurked nearby.

They knew you were the key to them getting off planet, and they knew they had to get to you soon before Berserker took you away.

#Yaujta #yautja #yautja x reader #predator #predator x reader #2010 predator

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