may i request a thula x female reader? thanks!
Heck yeah! Although a fair warning I think all Viltrums are Yandere to a certain extant. They’re all about having power over and controlling others to fit what they want/need and I think that just fits with the Yandere theme, and in no way can I see Thula (or many other Viltrums) being the exception to that. Also I’ve only ever watched the show and not read the comics so my characterization of her is from there.
Warnings: Yandere conent, violence, injury, repopulation program mentioned
I Masterlist
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Eight years of college, four unpaid internships, countless side jobs, allowing yourself to be verbally abused and berated, living in an apartment that turned into an icebox in the winter-to the point you didn’t even need to put groceries away when you got home and they remained fine sitting on the counter-and 15 years of grueling work. Countless background checks, DNA test and samples, psychological profiles, physical training. All the while you hated every aspect of your life, reminding yourself day after day that it was all going to be worth it in the end.
You fought your way into working for the Global Defense Agency. Not just anybody but someone even accomplished. But it wasn’t prestige or power you chased. No. You had your mind set in one thing and one thing only; you were going to space, and you were going to meet aliens. NASA or any other spacefaring organization wouldn’t do. You wanted to meet and talk with them. To understand the stars and galaxy as they did, their understanding and expertise for beyond what humanity would achieve in your lifetime.
You had gotten your wish. A delegation sent talk with the Coalition of Planets about the rising Viltrum threat. Earth wasn’t willing to send anyone in an absolute position of power but they also could just send nobodies. They needed competent yet disposable people, and you fit perfectly into that category.
The majority of the trip had been conducted in relative ease, even getting along with some of the aliens that escorted you. While some of the other humans seemed a bit wary you had no such hesitations, eagerly cornering them and taking in as much information as they were willing to give you. Maybe that was why you had been the only one to survive when she showed up.
The guard you had been talking to had been brave-not backing down as Thula cut through the security door like butter using nothing but her bare hands, already stained with the blood of every other person on the ship she killed- but had been struck down with the ease of someone batting away a particularly persistent fly on a warm summer afternoon. Something you had done plenty of times yourself and felt no guilt over. They were annoying after all. Couldn’t they just go buzz about somewhere else?
That must have been similarly what she was thinking as she approached. One last pest to get rid of. A part of you was annoyed at the captain having not surrendered, arrogant pride getting in the way of survival. The first to go when Thula smashed through the window, the secondary emergency gates slamming closed a fraction later but by that point two others had already been sucked out into the frozen expanse of space. The rest was a slaughter, either of those trying to run away or fight. Both rather stupid options considering this was a Viltrum. Still, you let yourself be pulled away from the carnage in a break for the escape pods, only to be stopped halfway as the slender woman cut off your path.
She stepped over the body of the guard, eyes focused on you with all the accuracy of a predator prepared to strike. While undeniably fearful, another part of you soared with rage. How unfair it was that after dedicating your life to getting to space you would die before you could truly enjoy it. It was enough to have you glaring at the woman even as your legs trembled the closer she came. Her hand, smeared with blood and viscera, reached forward.
So that’s how she would do it. You weren’t even worth an actual weapon. Maybe it should be considered an honor actually. From what you had read Viltrumites valued strength above all else, so killed with bare hands was likely considered more honorable than a weapon.
Instead of killing you her hand roughly grabbed your jaw, her glare meeting your own. Her eyes were a frosty blue, almost silver, sending a shiver down your spine. It was impossible to look away even as you recognized the challenge of looking a predator in the eye. Only when her grip tightened and you felt something creak did you shift your gaze downward in defeat.
Fuck her. She wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing the life leave your eyes.
Death did not come. Only silence. From the corner of her eye you could see her head tilt, assessing.
“You must have some importance to be here.” She finally said. Her grip shifted from your jaw to your neck, dragging you along behind until you reached the escape pods. She tossed you in one, gasping for air and nearly getting your hand cut off in the door as it slammed shut. Instead of activating it to jettison to the nearest safe station she ripped it from the wall, carried under one arm as she kicked the side of the ship out. All you could do was watch as the debris of your vessel got further and further away.
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Space was cold. That much wasn’t a surprise. But even when you expected the perpetual chill it does nothing to stop how your body reacts, shivering as you pull the fabric of your cloak tighter around you. It seemed Viltrumites didn’t have much care for coats. They didn’t get cold after all. Even if they did they wouldn’t admit it. Capes were normally meant for people in positions of power but none would mistake yours for anything such. In fact it seemed almost amusing to the others to see you wearing it. Like a child parading around in their parent’s clothing. Yet you
A soft purple thing taken from some other dignitary they had deemed important enough to hold as a prisoner of war. He wouldn’t last long. He knew too much. Unlike you, who it quickly became apart while you did know governmental secrets there were none that they were interested in. The information might have been a bit more difficult to get out of you under normal circumstances but Viltrum was not scared of killing their prisoners. Death was different than torture, though it was impossible to decide which was preferable.
You gave them everything you knew after an arm and a leg were shattered, each bone individually broken in multiple places. Thula herself would sometimes watch, standing in the corner as you were interrogated. Even as you cried from the pain you glared at your captors, hate unrestrained. You met her gaze evenly with her own, ignoring all logic telling you to back down and act submissive- what they clearly valued in life forms considered beneath them-even as you cried, her icy gaze never flinching. You refused to beg for your life, knowing they would have no mercy. It was not a word they dignified enough to put in their dictionary, but tossed aside and trampled until it was unrecognizable. And so you sat in your cell, broken and now useless to them.
Useless, but not stupid.
Even in your captivity your mind remained sharp when not clouded by pain. You studied all your life to contact aliens. To learn from them. And on your life you were going to do so.
Some were more talkative than others, and you were quick to learn which was which after nearly having your jaw shattered by a backhand. The night shift- or what you assumed so as there was no day and night here, only broken by the single meals you received every twenty four hours- were particularly susceptible. Boredom if you had to guess, and it was only by pure luck that your cell was close enough to the door they guarded. They would come in and out at all hours of the day, often pulling struggling captives and limp bodies alike.
It was like pulling teeth and you had to be careful, but you managed to get information out of them. They loved to talk about the Viltrum empire and its superiority. As long as the conversation was kept in a praising tone and astonishment it flowed smoothly, sifting the propaganda from the truth which allowed a better view of their society and functioning, all of which you had studied years for. And what your PhD told you is that humanity was fucked. A chilling realization but unless someone was able to magically call the Viltrums to heel by some sacred ancient power there was nothing stopping them.
Still, the fact didn’t stop you from absorbing as much information as you could. Knowledge of even the smallest kind could be beneficial. It wasn’t until the door in the hall opened and you looked to find the normal guard to replace his much more temperamental friend currently there, already with a dozen questions on your mind, only to find Thula standing outside your cell. Not passing by, but standing right in front, arms crossed as she looked in at you. It wasn’t the first time she had done so, occasionally stopping to stare, though most often it was at night when you would find yourself jolted awake to find her standing there, observing the way you shivered against the cold metal. She lingered just a moment longer before disappearing with a sharp turn. No explanation.
Her posture was rigid as always, spine like a rod and shoulders to match, chin jutted in arrogance and face the same as when they had both been torturing you. Her natural expression it seemed. The worst case of resting bitch face you had encountered so far, putting even your thesis advisor to shame.
It felt natural to glare back, the simple routine you had developed and brought a smidge of comfort interrupted by her presence as an unknown variable. Her eyes tighten in warning, your own dropping in both out of habit and common sense. They really were beast. You could stand up as much as you wanted-maybe to feel as if you were attempting to fight back even if it was useless- but when the pressure was out on it was best to back down.
It was only when the energy shield dropped did you feel a real sense of panic. The last time it had been opened you had been dragged out for interrogation weeks ago, your leg still not full recovered despite the halfhearted splint that had been put on. You still walked with a limp but could get around, not that there were many places to go. Food was delivered through a port in the wall. A slot that would rocket out a hockey puck of a nutrition bar that would knock you out cold if you were paying attention.
Thula stepped inside as you stood, keeping your head bowed in submission even as your jaw remained firmly set. You briefly thought about trying to run but that would only add to her ire all the more when she caught you. Maybe a couple dozen yards if she was feeling generous. No words were spoken as she assessed, circling like a shark as metal rang sharply underfoot.
Finally she stepped back towards the door and you thought that whatever this odd interaction was could be over. Her fingers snapped, drawing your attention to where she looked over her shoulder.
“I have better uses for you. Come.”
With that she walked away, leaving you to scrabble to catch up to her quick pace. The guard didn’t even flinch as you walked by, head dipping in acknowledgment of the woman in front of you while you could have been little more than a ghost.
Following her down the hall, the surprise of a shower waited, finally rid of the grime of weeks past. The blood of the others had long since flaked away, leaving dirty and grime to slither down the drain. And when you stepped out a simple pair of clothing had been laid out. Grey and plain, the material rough. But on it say that damn cloak, a green splatter you decided to ignore on the hem.
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The better use Thula spoke of seemed to be as her servant. Of course you knew the Viltrum empire ruled many planets and that would logically mean they used them for domestic labor. With their small numbers it would be odd to have Viltrumites do anything but what they were breed to do.
Many had their own personal servants to attend to their needs. Viltrumites could be fickle as they were strong and having someone who could cater to their needs without having to be told what to do was preferable. Yet Thula had never taken one. She killed any before they could properly be assigned. Temperamental even for a Viltrum, with a very specific preference in how things were done. At least that’s what the other servants had told you, gossip spoken when your task ran across one another. Species of every kind that you yearned to pick the brains of but only had fleeting moments to speak, least you get caught. One of your companions had already been taken care of due to their loose mouth, and it was only Thula’s intervention that kept your own head even as she broke the hand of the other who had reached for you.
Yet he hadn’t said a word upon realizing who it was, only cradling his wrist to his chest as she passed with you now slung under her arm. Age could be seen as a weakness, if the body grew soft yet it was not an affliction that she allowed to reach her, acting only as a marker of her achievements rather than an impending failing. it was impossible to tell her true age, the only thing giving it away being her silvery hair and the light lines around her eyes. Other than that she seemed as spray and capable as any young Viltrum. Even more so, in fact.
It could have been worse. That’s what you always reminded yourself. From what you had gathered she had a decent standing in the empire, speaking to her ability to keep a personal servant and a decently spacious room to herself. Thula was demanding and expected nothing but perfection. She was not indulgent in mistakes- though maybe so by Viltrum means- and it was only your quick mind that stayed her hand more often.
When she was not on board you found ways to entertain yourself, explicitly ordered not to leave her quarters for any reason short of the ship exploding. It seemed even Viltrumites had pastimes and you found a device with a strategy game on it. Far more complex than and chess or checkers and with a much steeper learning curve. Upon finding you playing the device she hadn’t grown angry as you’d feared, only pulling up the screen to play two at a time. She always crushed you without mercy, her voice sharp and reprimanding while outline each mistake and pitfall in your strategy. Even then you still played each night after brining her meal, doing your best to keep from glaring as she made you feel stupid. Something you knew you were but she seemed intent on drilling into you. In fact it seemed many times that she attempted to get a reaction from you, even going so far as to kill one of the servants not assigned in particular an whom you had befriended right in front of your, carefully watching your face as you glared, anger and disgust barely held back as your hands trembled at your sides, nails cutting into your palms. Yet you remained in control, breathing deeply as you calmed yourself. There was nothing to do. She could kill you just as easily and none would say a word or even spare a thought. It was simply logical to move on. To worry about your own survival, made much easier by the fact that nobody talked to you at all after the incident.
At least two rounds were played each night of the strategy game. While it was difficult to imagine what she could possibly get out of the games you likened it to why humans played tug of war with a dog much smaller than them. Amusing, even if they knew they would easily win.
A pet is what you recognized yourself to be. As much as you hated it you could recognize the attraction. Well behaved but not fearful, still remaining mindful. If you actually had been a dog you might even commend the owner on how well you behaved. All this despite the burning anger that lingered, decades of your life dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and now reduce to a servant. But it was also those years that gave you an edge, having dealt with many bosses like her before. Aside from the being able to kill you part of course. It was the skills you gained from their abuse that were most appealing to Thula, your competence and ability to anticipate her needs above all else. A bit of information she had divulged freely once you worked up the courage to ask.
Upon returning from training it was always best to leave her in peace, brewing a steep of tea that she favored. Something from a planet in a system further away than you had ever been. The pink leaves produced an odd blue color in the water. It might have been a pain relief of some kind- as she only drank it after whenever she was fighting-though the extent of its effects remained a mystery from you. Did Viltrumites have the equivalent of a Tylenol? None that you had heard of at least. Not that you assumed they would even consider taking such a thing if it did exist. One could only grow from pain, or so you had been told.
The first time you presented her with the cup before she could order you to fetch it she seemed taken aback. Or at least as much as she could with the same neutral face. It never really changed apart from showing her anger or contempt. Looking from the steaming cup to you, there was a moment you thought you fucked up, mind already running with the possibility of how she would punish you, only to be waved away. A retreat you took gratefully, unaware of the au her brow quirked as she watched you go.
Thula was a woman of habit, though not predictable. Never, with the silence she kept, shrouding her inner thoughts in mystery. You only knew her displeasure by the quirk of her brow and twitch of her lips. You would follow her wherever needed for the day, attending to tasks she considered beneath her or whatever whim she desired.
Once the affairs were felt it’s for the day or she returned from whatever task assigned she would retreat to her quarters. Dinner was a silent affair and afterwards your game before getting ready to sleep. Every other day she would bathe, her hair washed and handled with the utmost care by yourself, Thula uncaring of her nudity as she stripped from her uniform, left for you to take care of and ensure ended back with the others. It was evident the pride that she took in it, strict instructions of the multistep process it took to properly care for it. Despite doubt you could even hurt her, it was with great care that any debris, blood, or viscera was removed. The silvery locks were allowed to air dry while she did a bit of maintenance to the blade normally woven into the end- something you were not allowed to touch under any circumstance-ensuring the blade was sharpened to perfection and not a speak of blood from who she had slain left. Once done you would braid the hair as she looked out the window, watching the stars that passed in the distance.
Your own had been grown out, braided and styled similarly to her own at her order though it lacked the similar killer abilities. An easier way for others to recognize her claim you assumed. And easier for her to pull on and wrangle you in whenever she thought you to be misbehaving or moving too slow for her taste.
On this particular night she was scrolling through a tablet, the faces of many Viltrums you didn’t recognize flicking past, names and information stored neatly underneath as her eyes flicked quickly over the lines.
“It is a good thing that you do not constantly cry for home.” She breaks the silence of the room, you hands pausing in their work of her hair. “Many of the others do and it grates on my nerves.”
Her head tilts to look at you, expectant. It seems you wo’t be able to get away without an answer as you normally would, exercising caution and avoiding words when possible to lessen the chance of saying something wrong.
“There is no use in crying for something I will not see again.” You finally decide on. She seems content with your answer, a small nod before turning back to the screen.
“It is very fortunate that I found you and not one of the incompetent scouts. They would have destroyed the shuttle in one go of it. Killed you even if you escaped. But I knew you could be of more use. I could see it in your eyes. You display competence and intelligence-even more than some of the lower of our kind I fear-while also knowing your place. Despite this you are not weak enough to be broken so easily. Those ones truly bore me I fear. A true shining example of what your species could be.”
Okay. Maybe less of the average dog and more of a show cat. Still, they were well taken care of, right? Even allowed to get away with a bit more than a typical pet because of their perceived value.
You’re unsure as what to make of her words, unused to the compliment, and instead focus on her braid once again. Once complete you pass it over her shoulder to where she adds the blade, ensuring a tight connection. Instead of dismissal she gestures to the seat next to her. Though with some initial hesitant you follow her instruction, watching as she continues to flip through the files.
“This is exactly the reasoning that I have recommended you for the repopulation program..”
Your breathing stops. Not stutters. Stops, lungs squeezing so tight you can’t get a single breath in, lightheaded as Thula looks at you.
“A great honor I assure you. Of course i shall be the one to pick who the father is.”
The tablet is now more nefarious than any blade, the blue light reflecting across her face in accusation. A part of you wishes you had been paying more attention to her choices as they were filed away, while the louder portion won’t stop screaming. It’s something you had heard about through the grape vine but hadn’t considered a viable option. Not with the way Thula kept a tight leash on you, almost territorial when any other got near. You had assumed it was simply not wanting to get near her but most others avoided you as well even when walking by yourself in the halls. Even the other servants had begun avoiding you like the plague.
“There are a few decent candidates, yet my own son is of the proper age. Still growing in the ranks but has proven himself worthy enough of the Viltrum name for me to not deny his lineage. Both of my children made it through to adulthood. Quite impressive if I do say so myself.” She leaned in towards you, the tablet now set aside. In the dim light of the room, lit by the warm light of the star you now orbited, her eyes seemed to glow with a cold light. Nothing in them had changed, the same icy gaze staring back at you. It reminded you of the arctic wolves you’d seen pictures of, such beauty that they stood out against their pack but just as deadly. Thula was similar, and despite the creeping signs of age her beauty remained as it did in her prime.
Maybe you couldn’t see it, or maybe it had been there from the very beginning. From the very moment she had found you.
“I firmly believe that our combine genetics would make wonderful progeny for the empire, wouldn’t you agree.”
You should say yes. That was the smart thing to do in this situation. To calm and appease, reaffirming her words even if there was no possibility of changing them. But all you could do was scramble back, trying to get away-to breath- but only resulting in being pinned between her and the end of the couch as she moved with speed quicker than you could comprehend.
“Don’t worry. You shall remain mine.” Her face draws closer, lips ghosting over your own as she speaks. A hand firmly grips your jaw in the way it always does when she wants to make sure you’re paying attention.
“No one else shall ever have you.”
