Tags: NSFW, blowjob, handjob, dick/ball appreciation, established relationship, fluff, pet names, soft(ish) Thragg, pregnant reader/pregnancy.
I wrote this right before bed.
1k words.
“I do not see the point in this.”
Setting a pillow down between Thragg’s thick thighs, you kneel on it.
“The point,” you begin, smiling up at your partner, “is for you to feel good. Simple as that.”
Thragg hums, unconvinced but not protesting against your actions. “I understood that much. But why you're using your mouth I haven't the faintest idea. Your vagina is more than satisfactory.”
Sighing through your nose, you begin stroking his thighs, slowly moving closer to his crotch where his cock hung heavy and filling up.
“Thragg, darling, it just feels different. And I want to give you these experiences.” You lean in, nuzzling your cheek against a hairy thigh, smiling at the prickling sensation. “Plus, this is like one of my only opportunities to have you fuck my other holes.”
The Grand Regent's expression didn't change, even as he looked lower down your form. “Crude.” He muttered, even as he eyed your rounded belly with something unusually soft.
Though you weren't wrong, were you? Ever since the very beginning, Thragg had only one end goal: to breed you full of Viltrumite spawn. Which meant he'd stuck to your pussy with little to no deviation, plugging you up with his cock every night and pumping you full of thick, rich Viltrumite sperm until, finally, you were pregnant with his child.
So, now that his duty was fulfilled (or rather step one of it), Thragg had no reason to strictly stick to your vagina. After all, it would hardly be a “waste” if he came in your mouth or ass or anywhere else on you, now would it? It's not like he could get you double pregnant.
Your argument had been sound and despite himself, Thragg did tend to give into your requests. And it wasn't like he wasn't curious about this… blowjob act.
So, he stripped down and sat on the edge of the bed as requested, legs spread wide enough for you to comfortably sit between, watching as you breathed in his musk and began kissing his inner thighs and crotch.
It sent a rush of pride through him, something masculine and primal. It also made his heartbeat speed up, insides feeling warm and cock twitching further to life, hardening quick until his bright tip was pushing out of his foreskin, eager to feel your flesh.
With a soft sigh, you gripped him, eyeing his hefty tool lovingly. For such a big, tough man, Thragg sure had a pretty cock.
Thick and covered in silky skin, you loved tracing the veins visible through the thick skin, loved pushing the foreskin back to peek at the flushed head. Never before had you been allowed to kiss it though, so now you were making up for lost time, smooching all over his gorgeous fat dick.
Humming, you nosed at the base, neatly trimmed pubes tickling your nostrils a bit, making you huff. Kissing lower, you licked at his hefty sack, also giving them a heart-eyed look.
They were so big and round, after all, perfect to play with– if only Thragg actually let you. But baby steps. You'd make him agree soon enough.
Above, Thragg just watched, eyes slightly hooded as he hummed occasionally in appreciation, laying a hand idly on your hand, stroking back hair.
“This is… adequate.” He says in lieu of anything sweeter; he doesn't tell you these little affections make him feel all the more sensitive down there. “Though I question the ‘blow’ part of the acts name. Would ‘suckjob’ not be more correct?”
You shrug a bit, gripping his cock by the side and pressing it against your cheek, giving it an adoring nuzzle and feeling the heat and softness.
“Probably, but that's what it's been called for a long time, so…” You pulled back, looking up as you slowly stroked his shaft. “It's just semantics, Thragg.”
Then, without further ado, you take his tip into your mouth, sucking softly.
Thragg visible stutters, eyes fluttering and lips parting in shock. A simple “Oh” escapes him as he feels your lips seal tight around him, tongue gently laving at his urethra, tingles sweeping up his cock at the foreign sensation.
“Little one–” he breathed in sharply, brows knitting together as he watched you slowly take more of him into your mouth, savouring this moment. “Perhaps I was too quick to judge.” He muttered, sounding almost normal. But you knew Thragg after months together, so you could hear the faint tremor in his tone, the ever so slight higher pitch.
By his standards, he was wrecked.
Smiling a bit, you continued sucking him off, moaning at the taste and feeling his thighs tense in response. Reaching for his balls, you juggle them before squeezing. Light, at first, then harder as you remember that oh, yeah, you can't hurt him.
A punched out groan is your response as you try to crush his nuts.
His hips tilt, one hand gripping his own thigh, fingers digging in and drawing blood while the other rested on your head, still gently petting your hair.
“Oh, little one,” he muttered something else, eyes shutting for a brief moment before Thragg forces them open again, forcing himself to watch you, to drink in the sight before him.
By the Emperor, you were beautiful. It was the one thought he couldn't escape these days, thinking it every time he saw you, even at your most mundane or pitiful.
You swallow around him, fighting whatever remained of your gag reflex as you bobbed your head and took him deep, tongue writhing against the underside of his cock while your hollowed cheeks brushed and enveloped the sides.
It was such a different pleasure from your slick cunt and its pulsing walls that Thragg was hurtling towards an orgasm quicker than he thought possible. It reminded him of the first time he mated you, how he'd spilled deep inside with just a few strokes.
You'd been deeply flattered, asking if you were that good.
Thragg had responded by fucking you through three orgasms, leaving you overflowing and twitching with ecstasy in the aftermath.
In other words, yes, you were “that good”.
“Mmm, heart–” his breath hitched. “I am close–” he warned, groaning loudly as you pulled off, hands replacing your mouth as you quickly began jerking him off, still licking his leaky tip and even grinding his member between your breasts a bit.
With a few harsh pants, Thragg came, thick spurts painting your face and tits in pure white. As he rode out his climax, he eyed the view with deep satisfaction, enjoying the way he marked you so primally.
Perhaps he'd repeat this act with you more often. Especially if it left you covered in his spend each and every time.
Sorry if this seems silly as I don’t normally ask for requests, but have you ever thought about “Young” Adult Regent Thragg meeting his Young Adult s/o (reader)? I saw a fanart of Nolan when he was a young adult with Debbie on TikTok and I thought about how both Thragg and Reader would interact with one another if they met as their young adult versions ( please excuse the wording if it didn’t make any sense, my apologies. )
Ooh, this is a good idea!
Mmm, how to make it work though...
would you accept some time travel shenanigans?
(this ended up being longer than I intended 😭)
Tags/cw: Thragg thinks of female Viltrumites but reader isn't referred to as either sex, and also one instance of groping.
Thragg doesn't know how he got here. One moment he'd been on a mission, searching a planet for whatever had been giving off such high energy readings that they'd picked up on it multiple systems away. He'd gone alone, as he was usually expected to do, and searched the planet thoroughly, following the energy output underground and through numerous tunnels. At the deepest point, he'd discovered some... worm like creature.
And then it had spoke to him, claiming it could show him his future. Pah! As if anything could do that. Only sorcery could achieve that, and magic was rare to encounter in a universe of science and powers.
But not rare enough, apparently, as the next moment Thragg found himself here instead, no longer underground or on that planet.
Not that he knew where 'here' was exactly, just that it certainly wasn't where he'd been before.
Scowling, the young Regent clenched his fists, looking around warily.
The air was warm with a light breeze; the sky was blue and slightly cloudy. The plant life he could see was mostly green, and similar to the plants on Viltrum. Though the houses and the street he could see was nothing like he knew.
He frowned. Was he on Viltrum? A future version of it, perhaps? The worm did say...
No. He shook his head. He shouldn't believe the words of some mystical beast. This was probably nothing more than an illusion, one he'd soon break out of. Then he'd slaughter the creature, take it back to be studied.
Plan decided, Thragg began looking around, trying to spot... something. A break in the illusion, a way out, some sign of where to go.
The fact he was standing directly on a path leading up to a house seemed like sign enough, so the Viltrumite followed it, walking up to the door. He paused, staring at it for a long moment.
... he did not know how it worked. Should it not–? Ah, but it was made of wood... did wooden doors not have handles–? He looked it over, eyeing the metal protruding from it. Was that it? He reached for it, twisting.
It did not open. Using more strength, Thragg twisted further and heard something snap. He paused but when the door pushed open, mentally shrugged it off. He stepped inside.
It was... unlike anything he'd ever seen before. His nose wrinkled at the clutter, the brown... things. Boxes? Not made of metal nor wood, but something flimsier. And there was quite a bit of dust coating the windows and floor...
Was this supposed to be his future? The creature must think him a fool.
Yet as Thragg stood looking around at the cardboard boxes, he heard the faint sounds of somebody coming up behind him right before something slammed into his head.
Whatever it was, it snapped in half, clattering to the floor loudly.
Immediately, he turned, hand snapping out and grabbing you by the neck. You yelped, dropping the other end of your baseball bat, grabbing onto his wrist.
As you choked and gasped, Thragg narrowed his eyes.
"You dare to attack me?" He questions, pulling you closer, finding no resistance. "Do you know who I am?"
You sputtered, glaring up at him. "T-the– ack!– dick who broke into my home?"
He frowned. Unused to being insulted, he just glared at you in silence for a moment, loosening his grip so you didn't look so blue in the face anymore.
Did you not have your powers yet? Were you even a Viltrumite? Thragg didn't know. He had no idea what to think.
Gasping for air, you continued to glare at him, swallowing thickly. "What do you want?" You ask. "Because if it's money, you're out of luck. I'm practically broke after buying this place."
Thragg looked you over in confusion. You didn't seem hurt, so what did you mean by 'broke'? Never the matter. Taking a breath, he glared down at you coldly.
"No. I am not here for money. I am Regent Thragg of Viltrum, and you will show me respect."
You scowl. "How about you let go of my neck first, then we can start talking about respect?"
He matched your scowl, dropping you.
You gasped, stumbling back and nearly falling. You stared at him warily, rubbing your throat.
For a few moments, you stared at him in silence, searching as you tried to soothe your throat. As you took him in, he did the same to you.
If he were to guess, you were of a similar age to him– physically. He doubted you were hundreds of years old, not if you didn't have powers. And your looks were... hm, appealing enough. Though your clothing was... odd. Old and worn, dirty. He'd be generous and assume you'd been cleaning and that this wasn't your normal wardrobe. If it was... he pitied you.
Finally, you stood up straight, clearing your throat. "You're serious?" He stares at you. "What is a Viltrum?"
"It is the planet I am from." The young Regent said with a frown, wondering how you didn't know of it. Or– no, this was just an illusion. What did he care of it? It didn't matter. None of this was real, and if it was, he didn't see how it could pertain to his future. It made no sense. None at all.
You just stared at him, expression doing something odd. "... so you're an alien." You state, giving him a weird look. "Why do you look like a human, then?"
His nose wrinkled. "I do not look 'human'. If anything, you look like a Viltrumite. Though you're clearly not. Far too weak to be one."
You cross your arms with a huff.
"Uh, first off, rude. Secondly, you're on a planet full of humans, so therefore yes, you do look like us." You say, narrowing your eyes at him once more.
The both of you stared each other down, not moving as seconds ticked by, both too stubborn to back down.
Yet as minutes trickled by, Thragg realised he was wasting time. He was supposed to be finding an exit from this illusion, not... doing whatever this was with you.
Who even were you? A distraction?
Sighing, Thragg broke eye contact and began looking around, figuring this was a good a spot as any. He began walking further in, hearing you startle behind him, calling for him to stop. He ignored you, of course, looking into the cleaner rooms– though rather empty at the moment– for any clue as to what he was supposed to do.
Because this had to be an illusion, a trap of some kind. He refused to believe his future laid here with some... weak imitation of his people.
"Hey!"
As you grabbed onto him, Thragg stopped, looking down at you.
"Can you– get out!" You say, trying to shove him, but obviously failing. You huff, stepping in front of him. "Leave! Disappear! Begone!" With every word, you try to push at his chest, hands tiny against his broad musculature.
He can't help but watch, ever so slightly amused. Despite earlier, something about this felt so unserious in comparison.
As you stopped to catch your breath, arm tired from multiple unsuccessful shoves, he quietly drawled, "Are you done yet?" Tone unimpressed.
You just scowl, hands still against his pecs. Your fingers twitch as you notice, suddenly overly aware of his heartbeat beneath his skin.
Something about it makes you pause.
The Regent just watches you, trying to decipher this new look you wear. Your pupils dilate a bit, lips parted as you stare intently at his chest. Thragg tilted his head, raising a hand to rest upon yours.
You shivered.
Ah. He thought, smirking proudly. You were attracted to him.
While Thragg didn't often care for mating, he could at least admit it spoke to his pride to be desired so openly. Female Viltrumites weren't the most... hm, open with their desires (though neither were the males, really). Most just coldly stated that he'd be a suitable father for their heirs. Like he'd ever waste his seed on just anyone.
Not that it made you worthy, but...
For a moment, Thragg allowed himself to believe this was some future vision. That him being here was... destined, he supposed. Which meant you must be of some importance. Why else would he appear before your abode?
Heart beating under your palm, Thragg squeezed as light as he could, making your breath hitch. Curiosity was a foreign thing for the young Viltrumite, never allowed to indulge it before– never having time to indulge it before. But right now...
Well. Nobody was around. Illusion or time travel or whatever, he was stuck here for the time being. And he could decide how he spent it.
So, as any Viltrumite would, he reached down to cup between your legs, making his intentions known.
Only for your other hand to swat across his face and for you to rip away, face scandalized and angry as you cradled your stinging hand.
... his cheek actually stung for a moment.
Blinking in surprise, Thragg just stared at you in confused shock as you began yelling at him about how "I should've guessed you were a pervert, breaking into someone's home" and "who the fuck tries that?" and "I would've been up for a kiss but groping me? Nuh-uh, I barely know you!"
"... what is a kiss?"
Coming down from your tirade, catching your breath, you just stared at him in silence.
"What– that's what you ask? What you say after– what– why are you like this?" You ask, voice shrill after the emotional rollercoaster after the last ten minutes.
"It is an honest question." He says, folding his hands behind his back, adjusting his stance. "You did not take kindly to my attempt to mate. Would a 'kiss' be preferable?" He asks, completely genuine.
You just stare at him, clearly struggling to keep up with him.
"M-mate? As in sex?" He nods. You shake your head. "I'm not– no. You–" Taking a breath, you look away, "By every god there is, can you be normal for just a minute? First you break into my house, then you... try to kill me then try to molest me, now you're asking what a kiss is? Because you think we're going to have sex?" You swallow. "Is this how things are done on your world?"
What a vexing creature. Frowning, Thragg takes a breath to keep calm.
"Yes. You are attracted to me, are you not? You were looking at me as though you wished to mate."
You grimaced a bit. "I wasn't– sure, I find you good-looking, but that doesn't mean I want to fuck. I just..."
You sigh, rubbing your face. "Can you just leave? This is– too much."
Again, he frowns, unsure of what he did wrong. He couldn't leave, not when he was sure the reason he was sent here is either in this house... or is you.
Clearly, he'd made you upset somehow. But your look had been clear. Hadn't it?
Looking to the side, Thragg thinks for a moment, trying to come up with an idea on how to move forward.
As he thinks, you look at him, tired after this long and messy exchange.
He was good looking, sure, but he was so... frustrating. And dangerous, obviously. Breaking into your house and harming you. But also...
With a sigh, you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking.
Maybe...
"If..." You close your eyes, taking a breath. "If I give you a kiss, will you leave?" You ask, just wanting... this... to be over with and get back to cleaning your new house.
Tilting his head, Thragg regards you with interest, then calmly nods.
"If that is what you wish." He says, undeniably curious now, though he wasn't looking forward to leaving. What if the way out was somewhere here?
Thragg would worry about that later. Right now, you were looking oddly nervous, stepping closer and–
Oh. Your hands were cupping his face. Soft and gentle. The only time he'd ever felt a touch like this was when somebody would try and crush his head. But your touch was nothing like that. Just... nice.
Then you were leaning in, and an odd heat spread through the young Regent as he watched your eyes flutter shut and lips part. He watched until you were against him, noses side by side and mouths gently meeting.
Electricity coursed through him. His breath caught. Eyes flickered and fell shut, a confused groan escaping him as he felt your soft lips mould to his own, pressing and shifting together.
He touched you before he could realize, large hands cradling your face as he tried kissing you back, curious and fascinated and– and warmed from the inside out so pleasantly by this exchange.
When you pulled back, Thragg was dazed, breathless for the first time since he got his powers.
Both of you had looks of soft awe on your faces, having felt that same connection, that same... rightness. Like this was meant to be, as cheesy as it sounds.
Thragg gazes down at you, utterly smitten though he doesn't know it, only for everything to abruptly change.
He blinked.
He was back in the cave.
And the worm was there, eyeing him silently.
Whatever warmth he felt disappeared immediately, Thragg scowling as he turned to the creature.
"What was that illusion, beast?!"
"No illusion," its voice trickled through his ears and into his mind like cool water, "a vision. Your future. I cannot fake what is meant to be."
Scoffing, the young Regent just glared.
Forgetting everything that he'd just experienced, Thragg got back to his mission. Afterwards, long after he'd returned to Viltrum, the only evidence of what he'd experienced would be the lingering tingling in his lips, recalling how sweet and soft that 'kiss' had been.
(It would be nearly two thousand years before Thragg ever met you again, having long forgotten that momentary exchange that he still wasn't sure was real or not.
It wouldn't be until he stepped foot on the planet Earth, seeking a suitable mate among the masses, that he found you again. He'd spot you in the streets, gaze glued to you as you smiled and danced to some street musician, glowing with joy.
When your eyes met his, Thragg's lips tingled, the strong feeling of deja vu hitting him for whatever reason.)
The moment Katsuki falls in love with you, he’s standing in front of you like a giant dog with his tail tucked between his legs while you go off on him, genuine shock written on his face.
He doesn’t even know what to do, he’s so caught off guard.
One second he was being his usual self, short tempered, too blunt, a little brash.
The next, you’re in front of him absolutely laying into him.
And not in that nervous, stumbly way people usually do around him either.
No.
You’re pissed.
“Get it together or get lost Katsuki. You’re a grown ass man, figure it out.” you snap, voice sharp.
And all he can do is stare at you.
It’s the first time he’s ever seen you angry.
He’d honestly started to think you didn’t have it in you, always so damn patient and sweet.
He’s standing there, mouth slightly agape.
A whole pro hero.
One of the strongest people around.
Getting chewed out by someone half his size and somehow losing.
He knows he looks dumb right now, he’s vaguely aware of it at least.
But the way you defend yourself, the fierce look in your eye that’s unwilling to back down.
It stirs something in him, something… hot and almost primal.
When you finally finish your rant, chest heaving and anger slowly simmering, he’s practically staring at you with stars in his eyes.
Your angry little frown deepens, “Anything to say?”
“No ma’am”, is all that comes out, cool and calm.
You huff, turning around and grumbling under your breath.
And he just watches you leave, heart beating hard under his ribs.
He thinks about it for the rest of the week.
..Then the week after that.
Then one day, retelling the story to Kirishima who’s got that dumb smug grin on his face, he realizes he hasn’t stopped thinking about the look in your eyes since.
And that’s when he knows.
He’s completely screwed.
————————————————————————
A/N: went for a run & this came to me…. took a breather so I could write it LMFAO
sukuna sprawled out on your shared bed, two arms above his head, one across his stomach, and another lied idly on your thigh. his hair was messy, strands all over the place, and a few somehow shaped into bangs over his forehead. his stomach-mouth was open, softly snoring while showing off his large fangs.
and although he looked so comfortable, and the moonlight softly shone through the curtains of your quarters, you took a minute to leave. softly, you moved his large hand off your thigh, placing it close to where you slept instead.
after you’ve quietly retreated to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, sukuna almost immediately woke up from the loss of your touch.
he softly grumbled when he didn’t feel your body warmth, then he grabbed at what he wanted to be you, but instead met with sheets.
a huff escaped him, and he turned onto his side with a groan, half sitting up and using a hand to prop himself up.
“wife..” he called out, mumbling with his natural rough voice, a frown appearing on his face.
and almost as if you could sense how he already missed you dearly, not knowing how long you’d been gone, you slowly creaked the door open, walking in with a glass of water. as you sat it on the nightstand, your heart ached as sukuna blearily stared up at you with half-lidded eyes. he slowly blinked up at you like a cat, and his hair stuck up in many different directions.
some drool escaped the corner of his mouth, and you smiled. he probably didn’t even notice.
finally, you climbed into bed again, softly mumbling, “i know, i’m here,” with a smile as he already began reaching towards you to pull you closer.
your hand found his chest, and you rubbed comforting circles on his tattoos as you left a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. before you could pull away, he softly nudged your head with his, letting out a soft sigh as his hand found your back.
but you reached up, hand finding his hair as you play with it. he pushed his head into your hand, asking for more touch.
“you have bed head hair,” you whispered as his eyes nearly closed.
but he murmured, shaking his head with a pout, “i do not,” he let out a dramatic huff, glaring at you with all four eyes.
“whatever you say, honey,” you mumbled as you looked down at him, hand still running through his hair.
and within seconds, he’s asleep as quickly as he woke up. this time, he’s lulled to sleep by your touch. he’s right where he wants to be, falling asleep every night in the arms of his wife.
ib this art by sukunaglazer23 on twt he’s so adorable oml
tags ܍ angst, dark content, dubcon, p in v sex, breeding, creampie, separation, overstimulation, possessiveness, thragg is evil, s4ep7 made me simp more for thragg...5k word count, MDNI 18+
synopsis ܍ that traitor bastard's son always interferes with his plans, but he will sure pay the price, it's all his fault after all now-that the regent takes an interest in you.
You remembered the way Earth smelled-or at least, you used to.
The fresh air you’d breathe in when you stepped outside. The feel of soft grass beneath your feet, just to remind yourself it was real. The taste of human food, warm and familiar, the real food, the kind that had texture, flavor, comfort, and something you could savor instead of endure.
You remembered your friends. Your family.
You remembered him.
His eyes-warm, chocolate brown-and the way he looked at you like you were his world. His everything, the way he held your hand so gently, like you were something fragile, something worth protecting, like always yours. Like no matter how much the world demanded from him, no matter how heavy it became, there was always a part of him that belonged only to you.
Because you were his first love.
Even as Mark Grayson, and as invincible, the mask full of weight and hardships that was forced onto him to wear, he swore nothing would ever reach you, not even over his dead body. He would fight, bleed, tear the universe apart if it meant getting back to you.
You knew he would try.
That’s why it hurt the most.
The sound of his screams, agonized, and broken.
You were being dragged away, pinned down by Viltrumites, tears blurring your vision as you struggled, you tried to get away, but your strength was no match for viltrumites and as you looked at him, tried reaching for him, even while they forced you onto the ship.
He was still fighting, still screaming your name.
Threatening to kill them-all of them-if they touched you, and you heard it, you heard everything.
The sickening crack of bone, the wet, brutal sound of blood, and the way his voice faltered-but never stopped.
Even as the ship doors sealed.
Even as you were taken from him.
The last thing you saw was him still trying to stand.
Still trying to reach you, and the ship was cold, oh silent, save for your sobs.
Viltrumites stood around you, unmoving, their expressions carved from something inhuman-cold, indifferent, untouched by your grief.
It was already over, too late.
Because the one who had taken an interest in you was not just another soldier, it wasn’t just anyone else.
It was worse.
It was Thragg.
The Grand Regent.
To him, you were nothing more than a weak human-the lover of Invincible,
And what better way to savor victory than to take what mattered most? to tear him apart not just physically, but completely because Thragg knew that no matter how many times he crushed Invincible into the ground…no matter how many Viltrumites he sent to dismantle the Coalition of Planets… and no matter how much pain he inflicted-
Mark Grayson would always stand back up.
So this time, Thragg chose something different, something final.
He took you.
And he would make you his wife, not out of love never that.
Humans were weak, fragile and beneath him really and he did not care for you-not truly.
But your kind had one use of course, something that Mark and that traitor bastard refused to go along with his orders for, the reason why their kind was so interested in your planet was because of-compatibility, the ability to bear Viltrumite offspring, it was efficient, practical.
Necessary, two purposes, fulfilled at once, break Invincible and rebuild the empire.
And you-
You would serve both.
Whether you wanted to or not.
You don’t remember the beginning clearly, only fragments.
The journey was long, too long and time stretched into something shapeless, marked only by the dull ache in your body and the suffocating awareness that you were being taken somewhere you could never return from.
Then-hands, harsh, unyielding hands.
They seized you, dragged you forward and before you could even gather yourself, you were shoved off the ship’s dock, the unfamiliar air greeting you as you stumbled hard, your knees striking the unfamiliar ground, pain flared sharp and immediate, forcing a gasp from your throat as your palms scraped against the smooth, cold surface beneath you, and you slowly looked up.
And your eyes slightly widen at where you were now.
Viltrum.
You’d heard the name before, from Mark, in quiet conversations at night when you were at his side in bed, and he would have this unreadable look in his face, every time he talked about it, always carrying an edge of something darker, something unspoken but hearing about it had done nothing to prepare you for seeing it.
The long tower cities gleamed white, towering, impossibly pristine and everything looked engineered to perfection, sterile and advanced in a way that made Earth feel primitive by comparison and above you, the sky burned in a muted orange hue, and there was a low, constant hum in the air, like the planet itself was alive and watching.
For a moment, despite everything, you just stared.
“Move, human!”
A female voice cracked against your ear like a whip, you barely had time to react before a leg shot at your side, your already unsteady body giving out beneath you and you rolled and hit the ground a second time, harsher now, the sting in your knee sharper despite the shallow wound.
A sharp breath escaped you and when you looked up, two blue piercing eyes were already glaring down at you.
Cold. Disdainful.
The woman standing over you had short brown hair, her expression twisted with open contempt. You recognized her… not from memory, but from Mark’s voice, from the tension that used to creep into it when he spoke her name.
Anissa.
“Pathetic,” she said, her lip curling. “You have legs. Use them. Or are humans truly this useless?”
Your throat tightened, and you shrank under her gaze, instinctively folding into yourself as more figures gathered behind her-other Viltrumites, silent, watchful, their presence pressing in on you from all sides.
You looked down. It felt safer that way, because you were easily disposable.
“Enough.”
The word wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
It rolled through the air like distant thunder, deep and absolute. Instantly, the tension shifted. The hostility didn’t disappear-but it bent, reshaped itself into something quieter, more controlled.
You felt it before you saw him.
Anissa straightened, the others followed, their postures sharpening, submission clear in the rigid lines of their bodies.
And then he stepped forward.
Thragg.
He moved without urgency, but there was weight in every step-something inevitable, something that made the air feel heavier the closer he came. His gaze passed over you lazily at first, like you were nothing more than an object left in his path.
Then he stopped in front of you and before you could react, his hand closed around your shoulder.
The movement was fast-too fast. One moment you were on the ground, the next you were being hauled upright as if you weighed nothing at all. Your breath hitched, your body going rigid as instinct screamed at you not to resist.
Your eyes dropped immediately to the floor.
“She is to be my wife.”
His voice was calm. Measured.
That made it worse.
“You will be delicate,” he continued, his grip tightening just enough to remind you how easily he could crush bone beneath his fingers. “Humans are fragile. We cannot afford damage to the stock before its use.”
The words settled over you like something suffocating, the way they talked about you as if you were merely nothing more than just stock, a resource to be harvested.
Not a person, not you.
“...Yes, Regent Thragg,” Anissa said stiffly, her earlier arrogance gone, replaced with something colder, more controlled. “My apologies.”
Thragg released you as abruptly as he had grabbed you.
“Have her escorted,” he said, already losing interest. “Do what is necessary.”
You didn’t even have time to steady yourself before the hands were on you again.
–
After that, everything blurred.
You were moved from place to place without explanation, more cold rooms, more white walls. Unfamiliar technology pressed against your skin. Your knee injured only moments before was healed in seconds by something you couldn’t comprehend.
No one spoke to you unless necessary and no one looked at you for long.
When they did, it was the same every time-detached, clinical, as if you were something to be examined, not someone to be acknowledged really.
Days passed… you think, you were fed-if it could be called that, the food was tasteless, textureless, barely distinguishable from paste but just enough to keep you alive. Nothing more.
That was all you were here for, to be kept alive, to be used.
And at night-
At night, it was worse.
You weren’t given a room, no you were placed in Thragg’s quarters.
Not with him, not always but close enough that his presence was inescapable. It lingered in the silence, in the vastness of the space, in the constant awareness that you were never truly alone and you cried yourself to sleep more times than you could count quietly, carefully and you learned quickly not to make noise.
And every time, your mind reached for the same thing.
Mark, his face, his voice gentle and soothing like waters on the shore and the way he used to say your name like it mattered. Like you mattered, you clung to those memories desperately, replaying them over and over until they blurred at the edges because you were afraid that you’ll forget, you don’t know how long you have here, would you even be rescued?
No. How can you be rescued? Who would even stand a chance against Thragg of all people, Mark couldn’t do it, no one could-
You were going to rot here, and the realization was too horrifying to bear so sometimes you tried to pretend you were still there. This wasn’t real, that you’d wake up and everything would snap back into place, into Mark’s arms again, in his familiar bed, him holding you whispering words of comfort, your old life too, maybe hugging your family again, having tea with Debbie in her house-
Just anything to remind you that you were still home even if you weren’t.
Sometimes you almost believed it too, other times, you let yourself drift.
Anywhere but here.
Anywhere but Viltrum.
But dreams never last for long.
“Look at me.”
The command cut cleanly through your thoughts, It wasn’t loud and it didn’t need to be and you were dragged away from your mind, it felt cruel as you now looked up facing reality before you.
The voice wasn't loud, it didn't need to be. It was a bass rumble that vibrated through the marble floor and up into the very marrow of your bones. It was a command, absolute and undeniable, spoken from the shadowed expanse of the regent's bed, and now you were here.
Where you didn’t want to be, and you wished you could be anywhere but here, you wished you were with Mark, him holding you like it’s gonna be okay, you wish you could be at home with your parents, you didn’t want this.
You forced your eyes up, away from your own bare feet on the cold stone, and past the sheer, silvery fabric of the ceremonial gown that you wore, well forced to, and you wish you could take it off, and past the towering, muscular form of Thragg, Regent of the Viltrumite Empire, who stood between you and the bed, illuminated by the harsh light of twin moons streaming through the arched window, perhaps the sky would’ve been beautiful tonight, but it wasn’t not for a day like this.
Because today was the day, the day you are forced to do your ‘duty’
His arms were crossed over a chest that looked carved from granite, his expression was… assessing, not cruel, not kind, utterly pragmatic, just like a farmer inspecting a new piece of livestock, which that’s what you were.
"You understand your purpose here," he stated, his tone flat and devoid of emotion.
Your throat was too dry to speak and you managed a shaky nod, the thought, which had been a screaming storm in your head for weeks, was now just a cold, hard pebble in your gut.
That you didn’t have a choice here, you didn’t have a say.
And now you have to give a piece of yourself to a man, the same piece of yourself you gave to Mark those nights ago, something intimate and sacred between the two of you will now be ripped away.
"Good, then remove that."
He nodded at the gown, and your fingers, trembling and cold, hesitantly went to the single clasp at your shoulder, and the fabric slithered down your body in a silent heap, leaving you exposed in the vast chamber and the air was cool on your skin, raising goosebumps, you wrapped your arms around yourself and your pupils dropped down.
"Arms at your sides."
You flinched, but obeyed, letting your arms fall felt like surrendering the last shred of a shield you never really had, and you now stood there, naked before a man who could crack a planet with his fists, feeling smaller and more fragile than you ever had in your life.
And the worst part is you couldn’t even stop it if you wanted to, because if you tried you would die.
All you can do now is stand here helplessly as he now can have his way with you.
Thragg took a single step forward and the distance between you vanished. He didn't smell of sweat or steel, but of something clean and sharp.
And his hand, large enough to cradle your entire skull, came up and you braced for a rough grip, but his fingers merely brushed your cheek, tipping your face further up toward his, his eyes, dark and fathomless with no mercy, scanned your features briefly
"I will take pleasure in taking what is his." he murmured, almost to himself and the words made your skin crawl. “and you will bear my offspring, over and over again as much as I want." the implication of his words sent a chill down your spin, and your lips trembled, and you shook, you couldn’t speak and your eyes shut in guilt and shame and the anticipation of what’s going to happen to you now, on this night and his thumb stroked once over your cheekbone, the touch was startling in its lack of violence. It was possessive, not affectionate. The touch of a man confirming the quality of his property, as if he already knew you were his.
"The Empire needs strength, pure strength," he continued, his voice a low drone that filled the room. "Our numbers are few and your… compatibility… is a tool, you will be the vessel for that strength, tonight, and many nights after, that is your only function now. Do you understand wife?"
Wife. A title that should have held love, but it wasn’t, once, you dreamed of walking toward a man who would cherish you, that word should have been warmth, should have been light, now it rotted inside you, filling every hollow space with dread, with hopelessness, with a suffocating, endless despair.
Tears welled, hot and shameful, you hated this, you bit the inside of your cheek until you tasted copper, forcing them back. The words stripped you of everything you were Mark’s girlfriend, a college student, a person with dreams, a person that had a family, one that didn’t involve being bred like an animal on an alien world.
"Yes…" you whispered shakily out of fear, the sound barely audible.
A faint, almost imperceptible nod. "Then we begin."
His hands moved to your waist and they were shockingly warm, his palms rough with callouses earned from years of combat and rule and he lifted you as if you weighed nothing, your feet leaving the floor, and placed you in the center of the enormous firm bed. The sheets were a dark, silken material, cool against your back.
He towered above you, his massive frame blocking out the silvery moonlight, casting you in his unyielding shadow, without any flourish or hesitation, he stripped away his armor-each piece clattering to the ground with deliberate intent, revealing the raw power of his sculpted body. There he stood before you, utterly naked, his thick cock already hardening, veins pulsing along its length as it jutted out aggressively, ready to dominate.
Your breath hitched.
Thragg was pure, his body was a monument to Viltrumite ideal, his impossibly broad shoulders, a chest layered with dense muscle, a stomach ridged like carved stone and between his powerful thighs, his cock was already fully erect.
It was thick, long, and prominently veined... a fresh wave of dizzying fear washed through you. That… that is supposed to go inside you.
“I-” your lips parted in shock and uncertainty.
He saw your wide-eyed stare, he didn’t let you finish. “Your body will adapt," he said, as if commenting on something mundane.
"It has no choice." Then he lowered himself, not on top of you, but beside you and one massive arm slid beneath your shoulders, pulling you halfway onto his chest. The other hand returned to your face, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "You are tense, fear serves no purpose, you will take me." and you shakily nodded,
His proximity, it was so suffocating and intimidating you felt the heat radiating from him, the sheer power held in check, was overwhelming.
"Breathe," he commanded.
You sucked in a ragged breath, your eyes pooling with tears at the realization of what’s going to happen to you and you try not to think about it, a deep pit growing in your stomach.
You didn’t have a choice.
"Good."
His head dipped. You stiffened and you felt his lips met the frantic pulse at the base of your throat, they were firm, warm. He didn't kiss so much as he tasted, his mouth moving slowly down the column of your throat, over your collarbone, and your body trembled, you tried to still, to not move, to not resist, your heart was pounding and he could feel it.
His hand left your face and cupped your breast. His touch was firm, encompassing the entire soft mound, his thumb circling your nipple and it peaked instantly under his attention, a traitorous response you couldn't control, you tilted your head in the pillows, slowly surrendering to his touch, and he moved lower, his lips and tongue charting a slow, deliberate path down your sternum, over the curve of your breast. He took the tight peak of your nipple into his mouth.
You gasped.
You felt his tongue flattening against the sensitive bud, suckling it with perfect, controlled pressure. A bolt of pure, sharp pleasure shot from your nipple straight to your core, making your hips jerk slightly. A small unwanted pathetic sound escaped you.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same thorough, devastating attention. His hand slid down over the dip of your waist, coming to rest on your hip. His grip was solid, anchoring you. The duality was confusing-his mouth wreaking slow, sensual havoc, his hand holding you in place with undeniable strength.
Then he moved again, shifting his body down the bed. He pushed your thighs apart with his shoulders, his hands gripping the tops of your legs. You were completely open to him.
"Wh-what are you…?" you stammered, your eyes shooting down to look at him frantically.
He didn’t answer, his voice now a husky growl from between your thighs and then his mouth was on you.
You cried out, back arching off the bed, the worst part it was so intimate, so shockingly vulnerable. His tongue was broad and hot and he didn't start gently. He licked a firm, slow stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you saw stars.
Oh fuck
He mapped you with his tongue, learning every fold, every hidden spot. He circled your entrance, pressing inside just enough to make you clench around nothing, before moving back up to focus on your clit, and your hips twitched, but his hands held them down with an iron grip.
He pressed the flat of his tongue against the bundle of nerves and applied a steady, relentless pressure, moving in slow, tight circles.
Pleasure, hot and the sensation began to build in your belly, and you couldn’t help it, a knot tightening with every flick of his tongue.
Your fingers twisted in the dark sheets. Your earlier fear was being drowned out by a rising tide of pure sensation. You tried to hold back, to stay detached, to not want this, but your body was betraying you utterly. Soft, broken whimpers fell from your lips.
He grunted, a sound of approval that vibrated through your very center. One of his hands left your thigh and slid beneath you, his big palms cupping your ass, lifting you closer to his mouth and he devoured you. The pace of his tongue increased, the circles becoming faster, more precise. The knot in your belly pulled, tighter, tighter…
"mm…please…" you begged, your voice so high and needy without you knowing it, not even knowing what you were asking for, he gave it to you. He sealed his lips over your clit and sucked, hard, while his tongue lashed against it.
The orgasm ripped through you with shocking violence, white light flashed behind your eyes. Your body bowed off the bed, held aloft only by his big hand under your back and his mouth between your legs.
A raw, guttural scream was torn from your throat as the pleasure convulsed through you, wave after wave after wave, milking every drop of sensation until you were limp and trembling, gasping for air, and slowly, he released you, lowering you back to the sheets. He rose up over you again, his face glistening with your arousal. His expression darkened as his eyes looked all over your body that he already claimed you and your body reacted as if it was his.
Your body was already responding to his touch, as if your body was craving it, and he will make your body submit to his will for he owns it, he owns you.
“You belong to me.” the words left his lips satisfyingly, you were boneless, your mind floating in a hazy cloud of aftershocks. You barely registered him shifting, positioning himself between your splayed thighs. You felt the blunt, huge hot head of his cock nudge against your soaked entrance.
The reality of it crashed back in again, cutting through the pleasure haze. You tensed, a small, fearful sound escaping you, and you shook your head. Your vision blurry as you keep shaking as if it could grant you some respite, or even change this man’s mind. “..no…please-” you hiccuped tearfully, and he paused, looking down at your face. His jaw was clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
"Look at me," he commanded again, his voice strained.
Tears finally spilled over, tracing hot paths down your temples into your hair. But you obeyed, meeting his dark gaze, because he can easily snap your neck in half if he wanted to and it wouldn't be the greatest way to go,
"Your body has accepted its purpose," he said, each word precise. "Now, your mind will follow."
He didn't ask for permission, oh he didn't need to, for he took you from earth and now you were his prize, he can’t wait if he ever saw that boy’s face again, the boy’s face full of distraught knowing that he has claimed you and you will now bear his children.
He pushed forward.
The burn was instant, sharp, a stretching fullness you were utterly unprepared for. You cried out, a sharp sound of pain, and your nails dug into the hard planes of his shoulders. He stopped immediately, buried only an inch or so inside you and his body was a rigid statue above you, trembling with the effort of holding still.
"Breathe through it," he gritted out, his own breath hot against your cheek. "It will pass."
You sucked in shuddering breaths, tears flowing freely, The initial sting began to recede, replaced by a deep, profound feeling of being filled, stretched, occupied inside you, impossibly hard and hot. You could feel every thick inch of him, every prominent vein.
“Wait-” You sobbed out, your eyes fluttering shut at the intense feeling of being so full, and maybe one more pathetic plea, an attempt to beg him not to do this-but your words fall deaf and in vain.
Slowly, with care that seemed at odds with his brutal nature, he began to move. He withdrew almost completely, the tip sliding out feeling it near your folds then sinking back in, a little deeper this time and the friction was exquisite, a blend of lingering discomfort and shocking pleasure that made you gasp, your eyes helplessly rolling back in your head as he set a slow, relentless rhythm, each thrust taking him deeper, stretching your folds further, until he was fully sheathed, his hips flush against yours.
A low, guttural groan tore from his chest. "Finally."
You let out a pained nose, more tears streaking down your face, god Mark…
You were so sorry, images of Mark’s face full of horror, his eyes full of pain, he would look torn if he could see you right now and eventually what would become of you, shame coiled through your stomach, But even against your will, thoughts of him began to drift away.
All your thoughts dissolved into the relentless rhythm of Thragg's thick cock slamming deep into your soaked pussy, stretching you wide with every brutal thrust, withdrawing just enough to before driving back in harder, faster.
Your walls clenching around the intrusion as juices coated his cock as he watched your face twist in pleasure, a smirk curling his lips. “See how you beg for it? Your body already belongs to me.” You stared at yourself in horror at him, too, his face gleaming with cold satisfaction, with something calculating, and the horror settling in your bones.
Because your body traitorously was responding and now the pain had melted away, transformed into a deep, building pressure and the sheer size of him was stimulating places inside you rubbing against hidden walls with every slow, powerful stroke.
Were you enjoying this… were you? Because why did it feel so-
His pace began to increase and the gentle, careful rhythm was abandoned as his control began to fray, his thrusts became harder, deeper, pounding into you with a force that shook the entire massive bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin, of his ragged breaths and your whimpering cries, filled the chamber, he drove deeper, his hips snapping until he was buried to the hilt, balls slapping against your ass.
One of his hands tangled in your hair, not pulling, but holding your head in place, forcing you to keep looking at him. The other hand gripped your hip, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises, guiding your body to meet his punishing strokes.
"You will take it all," he growled, his face a mask of fierce concentration.
"Every drop. You will carry my child, you will give the empire its future." His words slithered in your ears as a cruel looming reminder that after all that’s done, you will be bred and you will have to bear his child, but you couldn’t think coherently at all.
You didn’t want this no, but the pleasure was too much, as he was fucking you brutally and thoroughly, the wet sounds of his cock driving in and out of you, the slap of skin against skin echoed in the chambers, and your mind was full of white cotton, and foggy, incoherent.
"oh fuck..." you let out under your breath, and you felt it, this orgasm was different, deeper, less sharp but more overwhelming. It rolled inside your womb, a clenching, possessive heat that made you scream, your inner walls fluttering and gripping his invading length like a vice.
Feeling your pussy clench around his cock tipped him over the edge with a roar that seemed to shake the stones of the palace itself, Thragg drove into you one final, devastating time, hilt-deep, and held there.
You felt him pulse, the long thick ropes of his cum flooding inside you, a torrent of his seed meant to implant, to breed, to fulfill his purpose.
For a long moment, he remained buried inside you, his body heavy atop yours, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. The only sounds were your combined panting and the slow drip of his fluids onto silk, the evidence of what was done to you.
And what could never be taken back.
Slowly, he lifted his head. He looked down at where your bodies were joined, at the evidence of his release already leaking out around his still-hard cock. A look of primal satisfaction settled on his features, and you cried, wailing in the bed uncontrollably.
Now, only his heavy breathing remained ragged and loud while your cries echoed hollowly through the room.
He withdrew from you, the sensation making you whimper, He didn't go far. He lay on his side, pulling you against him, your back to his chest. One heavy arm draped over your waist, his hand splayed possessively over your lower belly, his face tucked in your neck as you wept.
"You are forever mine." he murmured into your hair, his voice already thick with renewed intent.
He felt victorious that night, he has branded you with his seed, now in your womb and you shall bear his child.
Invincible may have not been dead.
But he took what was dear from him,
You.
Something he could never get back.
And he could try-over and over again.
Fight, bleed, crawl his way back to you if he had to.
But it wouldn’t matter.
Because Thragg wouldn’t allow it.
Not after seeing how much you meant to him, not after realizing just how easy it was to break him, and to break you.
You will forever be chained to his side-not just in body, but in fate.
Thragg would you want you to ride him as he sits on his throne. The servants are ordered away so he can be the only one to enjoy this view of you. Your moans were music to his ears.
“Is this the best humanity can do?” Thragg asks as you struggled to take his cock inside of you. “I-I’m trying…” You moaned out, it’s not your fault he was so fucking big.
“Pathetic.” Thragg suddenly grabbed your waist and slammed you back onto his cock roughly. You felt as though he knocked the wind out of you. You could only cry out when he started *using* you like human-fleshlight.
“Even those inferior life forms of Thraxa could handle me better than you.” All you could do was let out moans and the occasional scream. He was so fucking big. Him and his stupid superior cock.
synopsis : in which thragg wants to show you affection but he’s always awkward when doing so
word count : 932
Thragg was never known as 'gentle', he never thought he would need to be. But since he got married to you, his human wife, he knew he had to be gentle with you. Thragg couldn't accept his feelings the first time he realized he fell for you, knowing he should be with someone of his kind, but he couldn't help but want to marry you.
Since your marriage, he has accidentally given you a few bruises here and there due to the fact that you bruise easily. He realized this when he had held your hand a little too tight, leaving your wrist lightly bruised. He had spent the rest of that day apologizing and spoiling you, in hopes that you'd forgive him.
Thragg didn't know how to properly show any sort of affection, due to his only teaching being training to become the strongest Viltrumite there is, so he made his attempts to learn how to be affectionate toward his wife. I mean, it wouldn't be that difficult right? If he could learn to become as strong as he is now, he could learn to become affectionate.
It began with simple gestures; once you arrived home from your job, he had greeted you with a small peck on the lips, doing his best to be gentle toward you. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling him close to you as his hands went to your hips, holding them under his palm. "You're…being gentle. Very." You chuckled.
"Does it please you, wife?" He asked, his eyes darting away from yours.
"It does." You mumbled before pressing a kiss to his cheek, walking away from him to get to the master bedroom.
His hand went to his pocket, taking out his device which you had taught him to be a phone, going to his browser before searching up the words;
What affectionate gestures should I do for my wife?
Few days later, you were cleaning up the kitchen after baking once you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Your hand reached into your pocket, taking your phone out and seeing the notification on your screen.
Your husband had sent you a text message, asking for you to meet him outside the house, and per usual, he sounded ominous even when he wasn't trying to be:
"Meet me outside. Now."
You sighed and placed your phone on the kitchen island, wondering what your husband had planned now. You shuffled to the front door, putting your shoes on before walking outside, seeing your husband holding a fully grown tree in his hand.
"Thragg what the fuck?"
"It's a gift to you, my love. Why should a woman receive flowers when she can receive trees? Aren't they superior? My trainers said so." He uttered, holding the tree out to you. "Weeping Willow. Your favorite."
"This is really nice, but how am I supposed to receive that?"
His mind blanked.
"I'll put it in the backyard for you…?" You sighed, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"You do that."
You began to walk back inside the house until Thragg called out your name, making you turn your head. "I—I know I don't say it often but I," He paused, taking a breath before continuing. "I love you."
You shuffled over to him before pressing a kiss to his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hands gently were placed onto your hips, letting the kiss deepen. You muttered between kisses; "I love you too." Your hand cupped his face before pressing a light kiss to his nose. "Go put that tree somewhere then come upstairs. I haven't seen you that much today."
"Well your favorite type of tree was difficult to find."
"I didn't think you'd bring me a tree?!"
"My wife deserves the best I can give her. Why would I give you flowers when I can bring you a tree?"
"Just get in the house."
He flew quickly to the backyard, forced the tree into the ground before making his way inside, standing before you.
"Did you take a liking to my gift?" He asked, feeling a slight bit of nervousness go over him.
"Not what I would ever expect but I will admit, it was cute. I did." You felt his arms wrap around you, picking you up and lifting you close to his chest.
"Do you want your very own planet too? Although, it may take some time if there's individuals living on it." Your face lifted away from his chest, giving him a confused look.
"That's a little much."
"Thought so."
A week later, he wanted to try more ways to show his love for you; which he decided to take you out on a date.
He had asked you if there was anywhere you wanted to go, which you had picked the aquarium. Thragg agreed and found one nearby.
The night before, Thragg had kept his arm wrapped around you while you made an attempt to sleep, his chest pressed against your smaller back.
"I love you." He mumbled, his lips pressing against your neck. "When I first saw you, a week after I came to Earth, I knew I wanted to make you my wife."
"Mm…yeah?"
"Yes my love, you've taught me everything about Earth. If you wanted my heart, I'd give it to you."
You laughed and hugged him, his hand moving to pull the blanket up and over the two of you. His lips pecked your forehead. "You are the best thing that has happened to me. I owe you the world, sweetheart."
invincible x reader | grand regent thragg x black! fem! reader
six: after the two of your are crowned rulers of viltrum and thaedus is executed, thragg escorts you back to his chambers. its there you learn of an ancient viltrumite tradition that is supposed to occur on the emperor's coronation night. will you survive?
cw - wc: 5.1k, smut, this took me so long its not even funny, thragg's first time, reader is experienced, oral (m receving) piv sex, dirty talk, thragg has a breeding kink, improper use of magic, switch!thragg, thragg is love and doesn't know it, reader has magic based superpowers, reader is very strong (contends with viltrumites) but still human, thragg is canonically very attractive, the plot WILL NOT make sense if you are a non-poc reader soooo... do with that what you will, all my works are black! fem! readers anyway
The number of Viltrumites in the throne room could've swallowed cities.
The space felt like it stretched endlessly in all directions—high, vaulted ceilings carved from seamless material both futuristic and ancient in its severity.
Massive banners bearing the Viltrum insignia hung in disciplined symmetry along the walls, their stark red cutting sharply against the muted tone.
And it was full.
Overflowing.
The sea of Viltrumites stood shoulder to shoulder, an ocean of white and grey, of hardened faces and unyielding postures.
Warriors... Generals... Citizens reborn into a second life.
Their presence alone pressed against the air, heavy, suffocating.
And at the front, on the elevated dais, stood Thragg.
No longer Grand Regent, but now Emperor.
His ceremonial cape—distinct from the brutal hide of Battle Beast—fell in heavy, regal folds from his shoulders, deep red trimmed in white fur, marking authority for all to see.
The garb beneath was pristine, sculpted to his form like it had been sewn around him rather than worn.
He stood like a monument.
And beside him, you, draped in something entirely your own.
Red and grey wrapped your form, but not in Viltrum's rigid tradition.
A strapless, form-fitting bodice clung to your torso, sculpting strength and elegance into one silhouette, flowing seamlessly into a long, floor-length skirt patterned in metallic designs that caught the light like moving constellations.
Long grey fingerless gloves climbed your arms, stopping at your biceps.
A metallic necklace draped down the length of your body, extending nearly to your knees, swaying faintly with every subtle movement.
And crowning it all, an elaborate metallic band that stretched across your forehead, accentuating the cascade of your curls—voluminous and unapologetically you.
Viltrumite in color, but not in spirit.
And yet it worked.
More than worked.
It commanded.
Your image, paired with his, was being broadcast across the entire planet—every city, every skyport, every corner where Viltrumites gathered to witness history unfold.
Thragg had already been crowned... now it was your turn.
And off to the side, bound to his knees, sat Thaedus, wrists chained and back straight as he awaited death—fully healed, as per Viltrumite tradition.
His execution was to happen in front of all of Viltrum at the hands of its new emperor, an event completely unprecedented in all of the planet's long history.
Just then, Thragg stepped forward, silencing the room instantly.
"There was a time," he began, voice deep and unshakable as his words carried through the air, "when the population of Viltrum numbered only forty."
A ripple of memory moved through the crowd.
"A dark age," he continued. "Though we remained strong... we were few. Stretched thin across an empire that demanded more than our numbers could sustain."
His gaze swept over them, measured and commanding.
"We endured not only the weakness of scarcity... but the persistent interference of the Coalition of Planets. And as Argall foretold—" his voice hardened, "—Viltrum overcame."
He turned to you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your form.
You looked so right standing by his side, so natural.
More than that, you looked radiant, utterly breathtaking, completely gorgeous.
Of course, those types of descriptors were nowhere to be found in Viltrum's vocabulary, so the man had no conceivable way of articulating it, of describing the unfamiliar things your image made him feel.
So he didn't dry, and instead turned back to the crowd.
"Even in death, Argall's wisdom guided us," he continued. "Inspired the Grand Sorceress to stand with us."
The title echoed heavy and real in the empty room.
"It was her power that secured our victory. Her strength that returned us to our rightful place."
Two Viltrumite men descended from above, silent as they presented a thick, fur-lined ceremonial cape.
Thragg took it without hesitation.
"For this," he said, voice ringing through the chamber, "she is granted the highest honor."
He stepped behind you, the weight of him at your back immediate, and settled the cape over your shoulders.
"She made us whole. Reminded us of our power," he said, slightly softer. "Returned to us the stars."
Then, he moved beside you again, firmly taking your hand and raising it high above both your heads.
"And because of her—"
His voice surged.
"All that was once lost—"
He looked out at his people.
"—is ours again."
A pause came before the palace erupted, every Viltrumite raising their fist in unison.
"All is ours!"
The chant thundered.
"All is ours!"
"All is ours!"
"All is ours!"
But you weren't listening—not really—because your focus had locked on Thaedus.
He hadn't looked away from you once, not since you entered.
His glare was sharp and unrelenting, heavy with something far deeper than anger.
You tilted your head slightly, curious.
Then, subtly, you moved, using your free hand to discreetly twirl your pointer finger.
Orange magic seeped from the tip, barely visible, threading silently through the air, connecting.
Speak, old man, your voice echoed in his mind. What's your problem?
He scoffed, and even mentally, it carried weight.
You have no idea what you are doing.
Your brow arched, Is that so?
His response was immediate.
You are a child playing dress-up. Blind to the catastrophe you've unleashed.
A flicker of irritation sparked in your chest.
Wrong, you replied coolly. I'm a woman doing what's necessary to protect her people.
Even if it costs billions?
Your expression didn't change, but your tone sharpened.
Where were those billions when my people needed them?
Silence.
Where were they when we were suffering? When we were begging?
Your magic pulsed faintly.
I won't extend mercy that was never given. And if there's one thing I've learned these past few months, it's survival of the fittest.
You shot him a sharp sidelong glance.
If this is what it takes for me and mine to survive? So be it.
The connection snapped, clean and final.
You turned back just as Thragg lowered your hand.
His speech had ended and the air had shifted.
The ceremony was over, and now... it was time for judgement.
Slowly, he released you, his ceremonial cape sliding from his shoulders and falling away without care.
He rolled his neck once, cracked his knuckles, each sound sharp and harsh among the silence.
Then he stepped toward Thaedus, expression darkened to something cold, certain, and absolute.
"Now," he said, voice low but powerful, "let the execution begin."
.
.
.
When the ceremony ended, it wasn't long before the palace went quiet.
Not silent—never truly silent—but subdued.
The thunder of voices, the unified chants, the echoing weight of execution had all faded into something distant, something that lingered only in the walls.
Night had fallen over Viltrum, its deep, saturated orange sky stretching endlessly beyond the towering structures, casting everything in a dim, molten glow that felt almost unreal, like the the planet itself still rode on the high of the day.
And now...
It was just the two of you.
Thragg led you into his chambers without a word, his posture commanding even in the quiet.
Two servants followed behind, silent and efficient, the massive doors sealing shut with a soft, final hiss once you stepped inside.
The room was dark.
Large—far larger than the room you stayed in before—but somehow even more stripped of personality.
Cookie-cutter metallic walls, clean lines, no clutter, no decoration beyond what was necessary.
If it weren't for the hazy, dim lighting and the massive, fur-covered bed dominating the center of the room, it might've felt cold.
Instead, it hovered somewhere in between, almost intimate.
Thragg's back was to you as he moved further inside, his silhouette outlined by the glow spilling in from the balcony.
"From now on, your quarters will be here," he said evenly. "With me."
You took a slow look around, hands loosely clasped around your back as you wandered a few steps in, scanning the space.
A faint smile tugged at your lips.
"Sweet digs," you hummed with approval.
His head tilted slightly, brow arching.
You glanced over your shoulder, amused.
"I like it," you translated.
He paused a moment.
"You humans have... strange terms."
You shrugged, already drifting toward the balcony, curiosity pulling you forward.
The moment you stepped near it, the view hit you all over again.
Viltrum at night—if you could even call it night—was breathtaking.
The massive sun still cast a lingering glow over the horizon, painting the city in rich siennas and deep golds.
Buildings stretched endlessly, sleek and towering, while figures darted through the air, Viltrumites moving like streaks of light across the skyline.
For a world built on violence... it was beautiful.
You let out a quiet breath, your gaze softening.
And then you turned back, only to find Thragg completely shirtless.
Your eyes widened slightly, heat rushing to your face before you could stop it.
His upper body was totally bare—broad shoulders, defined chest, muscles carved with a precision that felt mechanically engineered.
Every inch of him radiated controlled, deliberate, and undeniable strength.
You blinked once.
Then again.
"...Okay," you said slowly, trying and failing to sound unaffected. "Where did your shirt go?"
He didn't react to your tone.
"Now that I am Emperor of Viltrum," he said plainly, "and you are Empress, it is tradition for us to mate on the day of coronation."
Your jaw nearly dropped.
Oh.
Oh.
Your stomach flipped, nerves spiking instantly.
"That would've been nice to know earlier," you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose.
He studied you.
"It is expected."
"I gathered," you deadpanned, hesitating for a moment. "...Does it have to be tonight?"
His brow furrowed slightly, "It is tradition."
You stared at him flatly, "Yes. I got that part."
He paused, his expression smoothing just a fraction.
"Do you... not wish to proceed?"
You let out a sigh, running a hand through your thick hair.
"No, no, that's not—" you shook your head. "I do. I just... I wasn't expecting this so soon."
Regaining your composure, you squared your shoulders, steeling your gaze.
"If it needs to be done, it'll be done."
You lifted your hand, a swirl of magic flickering before your dress dissolved into nothing, leaving you standing there in simple black lace.
The shift in the air was immediate.
Thragg stilled, body going rigid at the sight.
His eyes sharpened—not in confusion this time, but something else.
Something deeper and harder to define.
You weren't a Viltrumite—didn't move like one, didn't speak like one, didn't exist like one—and yet you stood before him with the same confidence, the same certainty.
It unsettled him and intrigued him more than it should have.
He moved toward you, lifting slightly off the ground, intent clear in the way his body moved, telegraphing quite obviously that he was about to toss you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
You stopped him, pressing your palm firmly against his chest—solid and warm.
He halted immediately, and your finger lifted, offering him a small, warning wag.
"Uh-uh," you denied. "If we're doing this, we're doing it the Earth way."
His brows pulled together.
"It is Viltrumite tradition to—"
"Nothing about our situation has been traditional. And I don't intend on starting now," you scoffed. "So you can either adjust... or this isn't happening."
Silence fell.
He stared at you intensely, his presence pressing forward—intimidating, authoritative, expectant.
You didn't budge, not an inch.
You simply stood there, arms crossed, expression relaxed like you had all the time in the world.
The tension stretched.
Then, he exhaled sharply.
"...Fine," he caved, the sound coming out tight and begrudging.
But your smile returned anyway, soft and a little victorious.
"See? Was that so hard?" you teased.
He didn't answer, simply narrowing his eyes, silently warning you to take your win with grace.
And you complied, tilting your head as you changed the subject.
"Now... do you know what a kiss is?"
His nose scrunched faintly at the odd sounding word, "No."
He sighed, almost exhausted.
"Is this another human expression?"
You laughed softly, "No... But it is better shown than explained."
He nodded once, confused but quiet as he watched you step closer.
Your hands lifted, resting lightly against his arms first, before sliding upward over his shoulders.
He went stiff as a board almost immediately, every muscle tightening under your touch.
But you continued, your one hand curling gently at the back of his neck while the other steadied on his shoulder.
"Relax," you murmured, gaze flicking up to meet his, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone, something in his stomach jolting to life at the sensation.
And then you pulled him down... leaned in close... and pressed your plush lips to his.
For a moment... nothing.
He froze completely, eyes wide, unblinking.
But the warm and gentle contact lingered, stirring something unfamiliar beneath his ribs.
It didn't make sense—not like strategy, or battle, or instinct—but by the stars did it feel so fucking good.
You eased back slightly, noticing his apprehension immediately.
A small smirk tugged at your lips.
"You know you don't have to keep your eyes open, right?" you teased.
"I fail to see the purpose in closing them," he replied bluntly. "And I fail to understand the purpose of this in breeding."
You huffed a quiet laugh.
"There isn't one," you confirmed. "Its purpose is to feel good."
He paused, considering.
"It felt... different."
You smiled, "Different's good."
Your fingers slid down to his hand, curling around it as you took a small step backward, gently tugging him with you.
"And there's more where that came from," you added, a quiet, knowing warmth in your voice.
And for once, Thragg didn't resist.
He followed.
Smoothly, you led him toward the bed, pulling him down to sit against the cool metal headboard and allowing yourself to slip into his lap, straddling him.
Thragg grunted when he felt the heat between your legs rub up against him, even more so when you leaned down and pressed your lips against his once more, his body—this time—involuntarily relaxing into your heated touch.
Instinctively, his hands moved to grasp your ass, your arms wrapping around his neck and bringing yourself closer to him, pushing your breasts up against his chest as you slowly ground your hips into his already growing hard-on.
He groaned at the same time you did, the act of you mewling into his mouth making him even harder.
You pulled away, looking dazed.
"Is this okay?" you asked, breathless.
He paused, thinking to himself.
Is he okay with this?
As fast as the question appeared in his head, the answer was there: Yes.
Sure, he knew this Earth method was primitive, redundant, and frankly full of unnecessary steps—if you two had done this the Viltrum way, he would've been halfway finished by now.
But it wasn't long before he found himself enjoying it.
And, more importantly, enjoying you.
The way your soft body felt in his hands, the way your hips swirled deliciously against his, the way your mouth suffocated his in the best of ways.
At your question, he nodded, but you weren't so sure.
"Are you sure?" you asked, worried by his hesitation. "If I'm doing something you don't like, tell me and I'll sto—"
"No," he instantly replied, roughly pulling your body closer with more power than intended. "Continue."
You jolted at the sudden show of strength, a new question suddenly popping into your pretty, little head as your lips parted at a new realization.
The awkwardness... the stiffness... the slight lack in coordination...
Oh, my God.
"Thragg... have you ever... mated before?" you asked, sounding just as surprised as you looked.
If he was a human on Earth, he would've had to beat women away with a stick.
Though his expression didn't betray him, his eyes and their dodginess told you all you everything.
"No," he answered, simply, though you recognized his albeit faint embarrassment.
"Nothing? Not even like... oral?"
"What is that?"
"Mouth stuff."
"What is mouth stuff?"
"You guys don't have mouth stuff on Viltrum?"
"I do not know what mouth stuff is. And even if I did, I once again fail to understand what it has to do with this."
"It doesn't. I just... I don't know. I expected a guy like you to have a ton of Viltrumite ladies at his beck and call," you shrugged, passively stroking his chest
"If what you are demonstrating for me is true, then it seems mating on Earth is treated as a pass-time. Something done frivolously and without structure," Thragg remarked, brow raised. "That is not so here. On Viltrum, mating is our duty. It is done only when necessary and only for as long as required."
"That sounds miserable."
"It is efficient."
Just then, two things clicked in your head, something inside of you shifting.
A fire flickered behind your eyes, the sight both confusing and partly exciting him.
"Wait, wait, wait... if you've never had sex before... then that means... I'll be the first woman to see you naked," you stated in a soft, sultry voice, lips curling in a smirk. "And see this?"
Your finger slowly trailed down his body, moving to trace his bulge and making him tense at the foreign yet pleasurable feeling of your touch.
"...Yes," he answered, unable to take his eyes off yours.
There was a part of him that felt afraid of being so vulnerable, but he knew deep down he could trust you.
You'd had countless opportunities to betray him, to assassinate him, to fulfill any dark part of your agenda you might have hidden—were the roles reversed, he would've already done so.
But you didn't.
And that earned you a decent amount of trust.
"This... pleases you?" he asked, brow raised.
"Yes," you grinned, cupping his cheek and leaning in to kiss him, coaxing his mouth open and swirling your tongue with his.
Thragg's stomach fluttered at the taste of you.
"Now relax and let me show you what you've been missing," you cooed into his mouth. "I'm gonna take care of you tonight."
Your words ignited sparks on his skin, especially as you began to palm him through his ceremonial skirt.
"Will you let me do that?"
He gasped into your mouth, the sound uncharacteristically soft.
Your touch was... unexpected.
"Yes," he grunted.
You smiled against his lips at the desperate tinge in his voice, giving him a peck on the chin before leaning back and flicking your hand, making your bra and panties disappear with a swirl of magic.
Thragg sat back against the headboard, legs spread and cock twitching as he drank in every part of you.
Your soft, brown skin... your smooth back... your legs, calves, and thighs...
Your breasts that jiggled after being released... the curve of your ass now free from your black, lace panties.
You were beautiful.
Snapping your fingers, you made his skirt evaporate instantly, freeing his cock from its confines.
Thragg's eyes widened instantly, but before he could say anything, you were already on him, lowering yourself eye level with his thighs.
"Jesus..." you marveled with a smirk, pleasantly surprised. "Are all Viltrumites this big or just you?"
He flushed at your reaction, unsure what to make of it.
"What are you doing?" he asked, confused.
You smiled, licking your palm before wrapping a hand around him.
"Just tell me if it's too much or if you want me to stop," you assured.
For a moment, he paused, before nodding.
And slowly, you began to stroke him, coating his dick in your spit in the process.
He couldn't articulate how good yet different your hand felt.
Yours was soft and significantly smaller than his, your brown a sharp contrast to his relatively paler skin, not to mention the grip you had,
It felt like nothing he'd ever experienced.
Unable to help himself, he groaned, grabbing tightly onto the sheets as he desperately fought the urge to moan.
"(y/n)!" he jolted, far louder than he intended. "What... is this?"
You smirked.
"Relax. I'm just jerking you off," you giggled, painfully amused by his surprise. "You think this is good, wait 'til I use my mouth."
You offered him a wink, and he flushed oh-so faintly.
"What is... What is that?" he stuttered, fighting to keep his composure. "And what do you mean by—Mmph!"
His questions were halted when you wrapped your lips around him and began to gently suck, getting him accustomed to your mouth.
His mouth formed a pleasurable O as he watched you take his cock on your knees, sucking on it like your own personal lollipop.
Your warm mouth and wet tongue felt so so good against his cock, caressing every sensitive part of his shaft.
You even took your hand and fondled his balls, while the other stroked him in time, twisting this way and that as if you were trying to drain the life from him.
Unable to control himself, Thragg moved to grip the pillows for dear life, fighting desperately not to make a sound and failing miserably.
It was adorable, listening to the little mewls and moans that managed to escape his mouth.
Briefly, you pulled away to breathe, your mouth coated in spit.
It only made him harder seeing you—his newly-minted Empress—look so... salacious for him.
Then you put your mouth on him again, swallowing him whole.
"Feel good, baby?" you teased, voice muffled by his cock. "You like my mouth?"
You went deeper, taking him into your throat with ease despite his girth, and he nearly jumped off the bed at the sensation.
"(y/n)!" he barked, unable to focus on anything else.
He could feel his hips moving on their own beneath you, gently bucking into your mouth the more you gagged and flexed.
Your plump lips looked so good stretched around him, dripping in your spit as the lewd sounds of you gagging all over him filled the air.
You pulled away once again to take a breath, but not for long.
"C'mon, baby, I know you can do better than that," you taunted, smirk wicked. "Give it to me, Thragg. I can take it."
He blinked at you, unsure if he was hallucinating from the pleasure—though the eager strokes of your hand around his cock made it clear that you were very real.
You put your mouth on him again and, after ensuring you were secure, Thragg tightly gripped your hair, thrusting up into your mouth like it was his own personal toy—as if he knew such a thing existed.
He moaned, unable to keep quiet, too overcome with lust and pleasure as he pistoned into your throat again and again.
It didn't take long for him to feel that tightening in his balls, signalling his end.
"(y/n)... (y/n)... remove yourself... you need to remove yourself," he warned. "I am... I'm—"
You shook your head, and he loosened his grip to let you breathe.
"Uh uh. Do it," you ordered. "Let go, Emperor... I know you can."
Thragg nearly busted right there.
Once again, he grabbed you and thrusted into your throat, focusing on the way your tight, wet walls flexed around him until he could hardly take it.
"(y/n)!" he groaned loudly. "Do not stop... Don't... I—"
He was cut off by his own orgasm, his spend spilling out into your throat.
You moaned around his cock as he came, his sexy groans of release echoing throughout the empty room.
He spurted rope after rope of warm cum into your mouth, which you eagerly took as you slid off his cock.
You sat back and swallowed it all, some of it dripping down your chin.
Once the fog of his orgasm finally faded, Thragg looked down at you, the sight of his cum on your lips sending a sharp throb through his dick.
It pleased him.
It pleased him so much it hurt.
At the dazed look on his face, you giggled, licking your lips and wiping your chin with the back of your hand.
"No wonder you're so uptight all the time," you remarked, looking up at him with those big eyes and a warm smile. "You must've really needed that."
He faintly flushed once again, though you seemed like you enjoyed it so he didn't worry too much.
"So... how was your first blowjob?"
He didn't even have the words to describe it.
"It was... out of body," he tried, eyes thoughtful as he attempted to find the words. "I've never felt so... so out of control."
You grinned, giddy at the fact you made him feel so good, "I guess that means I did a good job."
He lifted his gaze, glancing toward you, "Do you do this often?"
You shook your head, "Not really. Only with a couple guys in the past... boyfriends," you answered, simply.
His brows furrowed.
He didn't know what a boyfriend was, but he knew he did not like that answer.
Slowly, you sat up to straddle him, gently forcing him onto his back.
"Alright," you sighed with a smile. "I think I've kept you in suspense long enough."
His eyes widened as he stared up at you, not use to taking such a backseat.
The same fire inside of him had ignited in you, too.
"Hold onto me, okay? I'm gonna guide you in."
Wordlessly, Thragg nodded, swallowing hard as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock and guided him down to your entrance.
He felt himself getting harder as the anticipation and the sight of you on top overtook.
Finally, after running his cock up against your slit, earning soft moans of the both of you, he finally slipped inside.
He gasped at the same time you released a moan of pure pleasure.
"(y/n)..." he groaned, your soft, wet walls fluttering and squeezing around him, holding him tight like a warm embrace.
You slid up halfway, grasping his powerful shoulders for leverage.
He kept his hands on your hips to help guide you through.
"You alright?" you breathlessly asked.
"Yes," he grit his teeth, nearly moaning once again when your thumb swept over his cheek.
The way you wrapped around him so tight, slowly stroking him—just like your mouth did but so much more intense—was driving him further toward the edge of madness.
You began to alternate between rolling your hips and bouncing on him by balancing on your knees, making him plunge his cock into you again and again.
You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your tits flush against his chest.
Thragg couldn't take it—the wetness of your pussy, the slow rocking of your hips, your soft body moving up and down against him.
Instantly, he pulled you closer, needing more.
"Faster, (y/n)... move faster," he groaned.
He felt you grin against his ear as you nibbled on his earlobe, kissing down his neck.
"You want it faster?" you chuckled.
He nodded as you pulled back, looking him right in the eyes.
"Then grab my hips and make me," you purred. "Take what you want, Emperor..."
That fire inside of Thragg damn near exploded.
You just gave him permission to fuck you up completely.
He roughly grabbed your hips and began to fuck up into you, driving himself deeper and deeper.
Your walls began to flutter intensely as lewd squelching sounds began to emit from your wet pussy.
You were loving it, arms tightening around his neck and thighs trembling from the pleasure.
"O-Oh my G-God!" you moaned, each more shaking from being bounced on his cock so much. "F-Fuck, Thragg! Sh-Sh-Shit!"
A small grin found its way to his lips, proud to have returned you to your place.
He chuckled breathlessly, grabbing your ass and giving it a smack as he drove his cock deeper, his hips slamming against yours.
You held him close, pressing your face into his shoulder.
"Yes, yes, yes! Just like that!" you sobbed. "Feels so good, Thragg! Oh, my God!"
He couldn't explain the joy your words brought him.
He was overwhelmed and flooded with waves of lust, sex, and some other feeling he couldn't name as he heard you... as he felt you... as he tasted you.
Now that he had this, there was no giving it up.
No going back.
He need to make sure you understood that fact.
"Move closer," he demanded, instantly yanking you flush against him. "Don't pull away from me."
He began to thrust up even faster, gripping your ass as you slid a hand between your thighs to frantically rub your clit.
"You are mine now, (y/n)," he growled in your ear. "Mine. There are no more guys... no more boyfriends... I do not want to hear of them ever again, do you understand?"
He gripped your face between his large hand, staring sharply into your pleasure-ridden, lust-blown eyes.
Biting your bottom lip, you nodded your head, gripping his wrist and pressing his hand closer to your cheek.
"Yes!" you whimpered.
"Yes who?"
"Yes, Emperor!"
"Good," he nodded. "Now... I will explain your future to you... I am going to breed you, witch. I am going to fill you with my spawn and you are going to grow round with my heirs, yes?"
"Yes, Emperor!"
"Our progeny will be the strongest in the galaxy... and our bloodline will lead Viltrum as the rightful rulers of the universe, yes?"
"Yes, Emperor!"
"And from now on, we are to mate the Earth way."
"Yes, Emperor!"
You began to push yourself down against him, slamming your pussy down onto his cock again and again to bring you both closer to the edge.
Thragg pressed a rough, passionate kiss to your lips as he rammed into you, pulling you closer to him.
You both swallowed each other's shallow breaths and desperate moans as you moved in sync, the man himself already feeling the edge fast approaching.
"Tell me you're mine," the demanded. "Now"
You sank your nails into his pecs, your strength giving him a bite of pain that sent his cock into a frenzy.
"I'm yours!" you damn-near screamed. "I'm... fuck!... I'm all yours, Thragg!"
You stared into his eyes, pleading for him to give you what you crave.
"Please cum with me!" you begged. "Please, please... hck!... please!"
Finally, he felt your walls tightening, signalling your end was near, too.
He groaned, both your jaws falling slack as the pleasure built to a head.
And when the dam finally broke, neither of you could hold back.
Moans, cries, and gasps filled the air as you both came at the same time, you gushing around his cock and him filling you up.
Thragg growled, sloppily thrusting his cock into you again and again as he rode out the rest of his orgasm with you.
You fell limp in his hold, your moans trailing into soft gasps and tiny whimpers as your pussy twitched around him.
Finally exhausted, Thragg's thrusts grew sloppier and slower until he finally came to a stop, letting your mingled cum drip down his balls.
He felt you twitch slightly against him, but he held your body close anyway.
Typically, once the mating act was done, two Viltrumites simply pushed themselves off each other and went their separate ways.
But that felt... wrong in this scenario.
And more importantly, he didn't want to.
Silence fell as he watched you lay in your afterglow, your cheek pressed softly into his chest.
He stayed inside of you, his cock growing soft and basking in the warmth.
You were so comfortable.
He breathed in your scent, one arm still lazily curled around your waist while the other rested behind his head.
His eyes grew heavy with the sedation of sex, though your voice gently woke him up.
"So..." you gently asked, tracing a finger over his pec. "How was it? Your first time?"
He lifted his head to look down at you, taking a moment to think about it, wondering what words would satisfy you—he'd learned over these past few months that words meant a great deal to humans, and he had to choose his carefully when it came to you.
"It was... pleasurable," he answered, earning a pleased smile from you.
From Thragg, that was high praise.
"Very," you grinned, pressing a soft kiss against the skin of his chest.
It made his cock twitch against your thigh.
Noticing, you giggled, tilting your head to glance at him.
"Again?" you teased, raising a brow.
"I need to ensure you are properly bred," he stated as if it were the simplest thing in the world—though the underlying need in his voice let you know better. "The future of Viltrum depends on it."
You snorted at the poor excuse, utterly tickled as you sat up in his lap.
"Whatever you say, tiger," you smiled, nodding toward the bathroom. "Since we're getting all your firsts out the way, let's tackle shower sex."
"Shower... sex?"
"You're gonna love it, you get to show off your strength and mate at the same time."
"...Show me."
.
.
.
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tell me what you think. smut is not my strong suit.
A better fate, for all involved | Thragg/f! Grayson! Reader
>> Ever since you were a kid, your type had been obvious.
Strong, powerful, charismatic.
Thragg was all those things.
If you happen to act on your crush towards him, it'll be like hitting two birds with one stone. You get to have a relationship for the first time, and also try and change Thragg.
Or—
You come up with the ultimate plan to defeat Thragg with the power of love. It somehow works out.
Tags: NSFW, discussion of abortion, spoilers for comics (Argall's heir plotline), mentions of violence, sex, breeding, pregnancy, childbirth, fluff, dates, soft Thragg, Debbie being a good mom, slightly implied Debbie/Paul/Nolan, babies, slightly crack taken seriously at times (you'll get what I mean).
16.8k words | AO3
Debbie had always known you had a type.
Growing up, you and Mark had done nearly everything together, sharing interests and liking similar things. But where Mark was always on the heroes side, you were always looking at the villains with big eyes, subtly flustered.
It was adorable to watch, and it didn't take Debbie long to realise her daughter was at an age to get crushes. Innocent, little crushes on cartoon characters, but crushes all the same.
Where Mark liked confident and intelligent women (based on his numerous crushes on movie stars and anime characters), you liked your men strong. Watching you bury your face in a pillow when a strong and charismatic villain appeared on screen always made the woman chuckle fondly. And how could she judge you when she had married an extremely powerful man herself?
Debbie didn't mind at all. Growing up, her own Omma had been… strict about Debbie dating. It wasn't until she was well into adulthood that Debbie had even been allowed to go on dates. It had left her feeling… awkward, behind everyone else.
So, when she had children of her own, Debbie swore never to be like that with you or Mark. Obviously she'd ensure you were both careful, but she wanted you to feel comfortable talking about these things with her, wanted you to feel free, wanted to give you that freedom to experiment and live your life because one day you wouldn't be her little girl anymore, and Debbie didn't want you to feel how she did growing up, watching friends date with envy and feeling awkward and wrong-footed on every date she went on.
Debbie would never let her children feel the way she did.
Thankfully, Nolan didn't seem like he cared much either. Too many times had Debbie seen men get up in arms about their daughters becoming their own person and not their “little girl” (read: property) anymore. Some men were normal about it, simply not wanting their daughters to get hurt. Other men though…
Well. Nolan wasn't like that. He teased and gave light warnings, but otherwise left you and Mark alone to explore your feelings and what you liked.
“It's not like that on Viltrum,” he'd said one night, Debbie having brought up the topic and mentioning how most parents were about their children– particularly their daughters– dating. “There, we… take what we want. If someone wants to… date another, they can, they just have to prove themselves worthy first. If our kids want to date someone, it's their choice, something no one else can interfere with.”
Debbie had hummed and smiled, liking that mindset even if something about his wording was odd. “That's very progressive. More people could do with that style of thinking.” She said, sitting and brushing her hair.
Then she brought up your preferences, Nolan chuckling in response.
“Ah, a Viltrumite through and through. Her wanting a strong partner someday is respectable. She'd fit in with my people.”
A thought occurred to her. “Do you think she'd want to date a Viltrumite then?” Debbie asked. It would certainly make sense… and maybe she'd finally be able to meet one of her husband's race that way.
Yet at her question, Nolan coughed, choking on his spit for a moment.
“Ah– I… no. No. I don't think– you remember what I was like when I first came here, right? She'd never have the patience for it.” He said with a laugh, hiding how deeply that thought terrified him.
If either you or Mark were with a Viltrumite… he shuddered to imagine it. He'd adapted to Earth, yes, but would a potential partner adapt to them? He doubted it, and the thought of either of his babies being in that rigid, stifling culture with a partner who'd force them to conform…
Shaking his head, Nolan continued preparing for bed, setting this conversation aside. It was just… parental gossip. Nothing more. Just him and Debbie discussing their children. They wouldn't actually be with his people that way. He doubted it would even be allowed when you both came of age and gained your powers.
No, Nolan had nothing to worry about.
At twenty-two years old, you were a hero, incredibly powerful, had now travelled across the galaxy and met aliens… and still hadn't had a single date.
An odd thing to be thinking about during a fight for your life, but you chalked it up to the whole “life flashing before your eyes” thing. What else were you supposed to be thinking about while duking it out with Viltrumites?
As you dodged rapid punches, you kept your senses piqued, making sure you weren't caught off guard as you dealt with this guy. Despite that though, you couldn't help but think over your life, your wishes and regrets.
One of them of course being that you were still single. Again, not the right time, but every time a hand slashed by your face, you couldn't help but think of all the experiences you haven't had, that you might never have if you die here. And isn't that unfair? Being the older sister, having your powers longer, and your brother still having two whole relationships before you.
At this rate, Oliver will get a date before me, you thought with a frown, flipping back to dodge a hit, which was… always weird to do in space.
And you couldn't allow that to happen. So with a sharp strike, you slammed your fist into the Viltrumite’s face, dazing him before you slipped fingers between his teeth and began to pull on his jaw, ripping it off and forcing him unconscious in the process.
You turned, quickly looking around before with a burst of speed you shot back into the fray, joining your friends and family in the battle, helping Zoe as she shot Viltrumites with those darts and shielding Space Racer from any on his tail.
Through it all, you were overly aware of him.
Hovering in the distance, standing stalwart before his planet, the Grand Regent of the Viltrum Empire watched on, stoic and silent, yet to take part in the fray.
It was terrifying.
It was maddening.
It was… distracting. You couldn't help but keep an eye on him, heart hammering with some primal fear as all your senses screamed at you back! Back!
Perhaps Viltrumites gave off a type of energy, one only noticeable to other Viltrumites. If so, then it was pouring off of the Regent in waves, sending ice through your veins and an odd heat you really didn't want to think about in your belly. Because of course it did.
You couldn't believe you were attracted to him, especially right now. You did your best to ignore it, fighting off different attackers, but as your father went in to attack him, your belly swooped with a mix of fear and something else as Thragg dodged the hit with ease before winding up and punching your father so hard he went straight down to the planet.
You stared, mouth agape.
Thragg turned, just for a moment, and eyed you.
Your heart skipped a beat.
Then he was gone, following Nolan's path and you turned back to the fight, continuing to do your best.
In the aftermath of Viltrum’s destruction, your skin radiated warmth.
You stared at the remains of what once was a home to countless lives, thousands if not millions of years of history… gone.
Regret laid heavy in your belly. How could you have done this? This– this wasn't right. You'd just done what Viltrumites had done to countless others. And– and maybe it made things even and showed them how it felt, but…
It was still wrong.
And so, so stupid.
As Thragg roared in furious pain and ripped the head straight off of Thaedus, you realised just how bad you'd all fucked up.
Because now the Viltrumites had nothing to lose but their lives.
And Viltrumites had never been afraid of death before.
As Thragg went after your dad and brother, you could only hope they had it handled as you and Allen began searching the field of debris for your foolish baby brother, dodging and fighting off the other remaining Viltrumites as you did.
The second you found Oliver though, you passed him off to Allen before shooting after your dad and brother, nearly gasping as you saw your dad's brutalized form. Flying faster, you reached Mark just as Thragg began to loosen his hold.
His eyes are sad, was your first thought as you slowed down, nearly freezing as you both stared at each other. Gently, you reached and grasped Mark’s body, cradling it against yours.
— Please. — You projected, pleading with your eyes. — Please, just– I am sorry. —
His features twisted, Thragg's mourning still clear even as he glared in anger.
— You are sorry? You destroy our home, and that is what you say? —
You lowered your head in apology and submission. It was all you could do at the moment.
Thragg stared, watching as the other Viltrumites began to catch up to them. As Kregg called for him to finish you and your brother off though, Thragg just closed his eyes.
— There are too few of us already. Go, child, take your kin and go. —
You would've sighed in relief if you weren't in space.
— Thank you. — Your words were barely a whisper across his mind, and yet as you flew away, father and brother gathered in your arms, Thragg allowed them to linger, distracting himself with the paltry words instead of the raw wound of his grief.
Staring at the still forms of your brothers and dad, you turned to Allen.
“I'm going to Earth.” You told him, Talescria appearing in the distance as the ship approached it. “I have to. My mom needs to know what's going on and– I should inform the GDA too, and keep a watch out. In case the Viltrumites go there.”
Allen stared at you, much more subdued since Thaedus had died. You swear his light had even dimmed, the warmth in his skin giving way for something colder, sadder.
“You sure about that? You wouldn't rather be with them?”
You hesitated before shaking your head. “They'll be fine. I trust you to keep them safe. But Earth– Mark would want me going there. I just… need to do this, Allen.”
He frowned, laying a hand on your shoulder. “I understand. I'll have a ship prepared for you as soon as I can. I… think I can give those orders now, since…”
Since he was now the most powerful person on Talescria, and the closest person to Thaedus. It was all but confirmed he'd be in charge, at least for a bit.
“Thank you, friend.” You whisper, giving him a hug.
You pretended not to notice how his breath hitched or how he shook.
Today had been rough for everyone.
It took two weeks for the ship to fly from Talescria to Earth.
You shaved off five days by flying there yourself, pushing yourself to your limits, having only an oxygen mask and a digital map to show you the way.
Breaking through the atmosphere, you looked around, taking a deep breath. Despite the distance, you didn't see anything immediately bad, no destruction, no smoke, no Viltrumites.
You relaxed a bit, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, tired and eager for rest. But you– first you had to–
A tingling swept up your spine, and you went still. Slowly, your hands dropped from your face and you turned, heart beginning to race as that aura filled the air, senses tingling with dread as your gaze met Thragg's.
“Yes, we are here.” He said like he'd read your mind– or more likely the dread splashed across your features.
Taking a trembling breath, you swallowed, eyes stinging from lack of sleep and physical exhaustion. Yet despite the way you yearn to go home and just rest, you cannot.
“How long?” You ask, mind running wild. Did the GDA know? Cecil? Were the heroes fine? Or had they all been slaughtered before you had arrived? “You– what have you done?”
“Nothing.” He answered calmly, keeping the distance between you. He was so still as he hovered it almost looked like he was standing on air, only the rippling of his cloak saying otherwise. “We have been here since you destroyed our home. Destroying your own in retaliation is the least we should do.”
You tensed up, fists clenching at your sides.
At the sight, Thragg sighed. “But we will not. I will not. It is… needless, and will only lead to our mutual end.”
Licking your lips, you glanced down, taking in the serenity of a world untouched. “So you've… what? Settled in? Going to… to breed with us?”
He hummed. “You catch on quick. Faster than your brother, from what I've observed so far. But yes, we have. Already the remaining Viltrumites live among the people of this world, wearing their clothes, walking their streets… soon, they will begin repopulating, and our empire will rise again.”
Wind whistled in your ears.
“I doubt you want to do this.” You can't help but say. “It seems…”
Thragg eyed you, some light form of curiosity visible in his gaze. “Beneath us? It is. Breeding with lesser beings is an insult to who we are. But…” He sighed, a truly exhausted sound. “It is either this, or extinction. And I wasn't made Grand Regent just to destroy everything I was made to protect.”
Though you shouldn't, you felt sympathy for him.
“I'm sorry.” The words slip out on their own.
His eyes narrow.
“Those words again… I do not understand them. You go against us, your own people, destroy our home… and yet you apologize? For what reason?”
Under his scrutinizing gaze, you can only shrug. “I didn't want to do that. But I did. Because I had to. Humans are my people too, and so far it's looked like you only wanted to hurt them. Can't you at least understand my side? Why I'd want to protect the only home I have known?”
Thragg just stared at you in silence before looking away.
“I suppose I can. Even if you are wrong in how you feel.” He muttered. “You will outlive every person you know on this planet. What will you have then? You will mourn forevermore if you stay by their sides.”
You just shrug again. “I know. But I'll have my dad and my brothers. Maybe I'll even marry a Viltrumite and have Viltrumite kids. I won't be so alone then, will I?”
Something about your response visibly struck him. Thragg's lips parted, looking at you once more with calculating fascination, his curious gaze sweeping up and down your form and leaving heat in its wake.
“… I see.” He whispers, confusing you. What did you say to get a response like that? What was going through his mind right now?
Fuck, but you wished mind reading was one of your powers.
“My people will not interfere with those of this world. We will not harm you, but nor will we help or intervene in human matters. We could take this world by force and simply take what we want, but I believe this approach to be more suitable for everyone involved.”
You nod slowly to show you understand. It's not like you have any other options. There was no fighting this.
You just hoped your family would be just as understanding about this as you were. You didn't want to imagine what would happen if they tried to fight this.
“You likely won't see me again.” He said, snapping you out of your worries. “I will remain on our vessel, observing from afar.”
“You won't join in on the repopulation efforts?” You blurt out in confusion, the both of you pausing. “I… I mean, you're… literally the strongest Viltrumite around. Wouldn't you… want to pass those genetics on?” You ask awkwardly.
Looking back at you, fluffy cape brushing against his jaw in the breeze, Thragg once more sweeps his gaze along your figure.
Heat roils in your belly.
“… as much as I am willing to lower myself for the good of my people… I will not lower myself as to lay with a human.” He admits bluntly. And then, with that said, he's gone.
As you're left hovering above the planet, you can't help but think about how he said human…
But not Viltrumite.
Or even hybrid.
The realisation played on your mind the entire flight home.
“Mom?”
Entering your house through the back door, you looked around. At the yell of your name, you jerked, smiling tiredly at her as she swept you up in her arms.
“Oh, I was worried sick! Where's– where are Mark and Oliver?” She asked, looking behind you.
Swallowing, you gently guide her over to the living room.
“It's… a long story. But they are alive, just recovering. It was…” You gave your mom a tired look. “It was bad, mom.”
Afterwards, your mother was trembling a bit before putting herself together. It made your heart ache to watch. Debbie Grayson had always been a strong woman. You just wish she didn't have to be.
“I can't believe– oh, Oliver…”
“It could've been worse.” You mutter unhelpfully. “Thragg… God, we destroyed his planet. It's a miracle he spared us at all.”
“And Nolan thought that was a good idea? He didn't consider how– how stupid it was?” Debbie asked, angry before once more looking sad. Sad and tired at the realisation both of her boys her nearly died multiple times. “That man…” She growled.
Gently, you pulled her into a hug. “It's okay, mom. Everything is going to be okay… it's– are you going to be okay if I leave for a bit? I need to tell Cecil what happened.”
Wiping her face clear of any tears, she nodded, sitting up. “Of course. Paul was going to come by later anyway. Be home for dinner?” She asked tentatively.
You give her a bright smile. “I wouldn't miss it for the world.”
After debriefing and explaining everything that had happened in space and with the Viltrumites to Cecil, you headed back home to shower, eat, and then promptly knocked out– but not before saying hi to Paul.
As far as stepdad’s went, he was cool. Even if he wasn't your stepdad. Yet.
The next day you woke up at noon, having a slow day and spending it with your mom. The both of you kept each other grounded, stuck in a limbo as you waited for the rest of your family to return while also trying to go on as normal. At least Debbie had Paul who, while not used to this hectic, super life, was a fresh breath of normalcy, something that was much needed in your lives.
While he gave your mom the comfort she needed, you went back to hero work, trying to distract yourself and keep the world safe. More than once you swore you spotted a Viltrumite, but you couldn't be sure. It felt like your mind was playing tricks on you.
The day after you returned, you'd tried calling Eve, wanting to reassure her about Mark, but she hadn't responded. To any of your calls. So you gave her some time.
But as a week went by you decided enough was enough and showed up at her place, knocking on her window.
“Eve? Please open. I don't know or care why but you ignoring me is starting to worry me.” You called out, hearing movement from within before the curtain was pulled back.
As she silently opened the window, you got a good look at her.
She was… big. Plump.
Mark was going to faint when he sees her, you thought, imagining your brother getting one of those dramatic anime nosebleeds.
“Hey,” she said quietly.
“Hey, Eve…” You frowned. “Is something the matter? I tried calling you…”
Her face crumbled, and before you knew it, you had an armful of Atom Eve and were soothing her as she cried.
“I-I did– is Mark okay? Where is he? There's something I n-need to t-tell him.” She stammered, sniffling.
“He's alive. But he's on Talescria right now, healing. He, uh, it was rough out there. It's a miracle I'm the only one not hurt.” You say as you guide her towards the bed, sitting down with her. “But he's going to be alright, okay? And I know as soon as he's awake, he'll be rushing back here to see you. You were all he could think about, Eve.”
You must've said the wrong thing as she started crying heavier.
Freezing, you hesitated before wrapping her up in your embrace, soothing her the best you could. You weren't sure if you were doing a good job, but she was leaning against you and holding you in return, so it couldn't have been too bad.
And then Eve blurted out that she had been pregnant.
“… oh, Eve…” You whisper, all the pieces slotting together. “You got an abortion?” You ask softly, guessing.
She nods, sniffling and wiping her face. “I didn't know what to do. If it was the right decision or not, a-and maybe it wasn't, but I couldn't do it alone, and all I could think about was Mark coming back and a baby would just be more responsibility neither of us are ready for. But also… I was scared that if he– that the baby would be the only thing I had left–” her voice wavered, a few more years slipping down her rounded cheeks which you gently swiped away.
“Shhh, shhh, it's okay, it's okay.” You rock her in your arms. “Eve, you made the right choice. If you and Mark want a baby some day, you can try again. But you knew you weren't ready right now, know that Mark isn't ready, so you made the right choice.”
She made a gasping sound, taking deep breaths as her crying died down.
“You think so?” She asked, sounding so lost and unsure. God, had she had no support? Did your mom even know or had Eve been too scared of Debbie’s reaction? Considering what her own parents were like, you didn't blame her.
Squeezing Eve gently, you kissed her brow the same way your mom did to you when you were sad.
“I know so. Mark would never be angry and he'll understand. If anything, he'll be regretful he couldn't be here for you.” You comforted her, stroking her hair. “So don't you worry. When he gets here, he's just going to want to hold you.”
Eve glanced up at you, eyes screaming exhaustion after crying so hard.
“Thank you. I… it's been hard, doing this on my own.”
“Mm, I know. I can't imagine what it's been like for you. But I'm here now. And… if you ever feel like talking to my mom… she'll be there for you too.”
Nodding, she held onto you tighter, eyes shutting as she focused on her breathing and calming down.
You ended up holding her for the entire night, keeping your brother's love safe. She needed it. You think you needed it too.
The next day you headed home after making sure she'd be okay and reminding her she could always call, quiet and withdrawn. As lunch came around, you helped your mom cook, making a bigger portion than usual.
“Hungry, are we?” Your mom teased gently, making you huff.
“Always. But… uh, I was thinking about…” You hesitated, stuck on the words. Were you? Actually?
Now that you were thinking about it though, you couldn't not do it. It seemed like the right course of action.
“Uh, I was thinking about taking a… friend some. He's… kinda lonely and probably hasn't had a homemade meal in… forever.” Literally never, in fact.
Debbie gave you a look before slowly getting out a tupperware container.
“A friend, hmm?” She said knowingly, making your face heat up. “That's sweet of you, honey. I'm sure he'll appreciate it.”
You stared at the large slice of lasagna you cut him.
“Yeah, I'm sure he will…”
Suit on and food put inside a much more protective case and then put in a bag you'd slung over your shoulder, you flew past the atmosphere, beginning to look around for a ship of some kind.
You flew towards the moon, moving around it before finding a giant warship laying stationary on the dark side. With a grin, you shot down, flying past windows in search of the Grand Regent.
You'd reconsidered doing this during the flight, but the further from earth you got the more sure you got as well.
All you could think about was what Thragg said. Then of the fact while the rest of the Viltrumites would be surrounded by people, he'd be up here all alone.
Alone and… probably mourning.
The silence of space was always a gentle thing, a blanket over your sense of hearing. As you flew past windows in that silence, your thoughts and worries were loud, overlapping and leaving you second-guessing yourself. And why wouldn't you? You were bringing the fucking Grand Regent of Viltrumites food. What the fuck were you thinking?
I am thinking that leaving him alone is a very bad idea. You told yourself, blocking and dismissing all other thoughts. If dad could change on earth, then so can the others.
And if they could change, then Thragg could change.
You were just being pragmatic! Logical! Forward thinking. He was undefeatable and had the loyalty of a bunch of super beings. Trying this was a good idea overall, and had nothing to do with the attraction you felt towards him. Which you refused to think too hard on considering he'd nearly murdered half your family.
Turning around a corner, you found the helm of the ship (that was the correct term, right? Ugh, words) and flew towards a large, curving window. Peering inside, you felt a thrill upon seeing Thragg sat on a throne, looking pretty despondent.
With a knock on the glass, you waved at him, offering a slight smile.
He drowned in the silence of the ship, so well made that not even the engine, lights, or any of the other machinery made a sound. Truly, it made him feel alone despite the slaves on board, all keeping clear of him and staying in their place.
As he sat on his throne, gazing out at the dark expanse and just about glimpsing the blue orb that was earth at the very edge of the window, Thragg ached.
His hands were empty and his mind too loud. Before, he would've spoken to Argall’s skull, allowing himself the childish comfort of pretending the man could still hear him, imagining the way he'd respond, how he'd frown with disappointment when Thragg was wrong or smirk with pride when he was right.
Now, he did not even have that.
Alone, he sat and hurt, festering in it. He forced himself to think about his mistakes, their losses, over and over again until he could almost cry. The urge came and went as he breathed deeply, heart clenching and fingers cold as he forced himself to feel that hurt, the weight of his mistakes crushing.
How could he have let this happen? He'd been picked– nay, he'd been born for this exact purpose, made under Emperor Argall’s watchful eye and raised to be the man's heir until his true one was found.
Thragg had been made to serve the empire.
Instead, his actions had destroyed it.
And that realisation was crushing.
Every mistake he made haunted him, every death, deserved or not, left him more empty than before.
If only he had killed Thaedus when he had the chance.
If only he hadn't over-corrected and purged the weakness from his people's hearts, leading to billions of lives lost.
Perhaps if so many hadn't died, more would've survived the Scourge.
Perhaps if he'd made different choices… if he'd actually attacked back on Talescria…
Maybe Viltrum would still exist.
And now I have spared Nolan and his spawn. Will that too come to bite me? He closed his eyes, scowling before rubbing his face, groaning into his palm.
What was the correct thing to do? What was the answer? He'd been raised to be a warrior, to be the strongest. Everything else had come second.
Did you fail me, Argall? Or am I just so unworthy that every choice I make weakens us further?
Who even knew at this point? Perhaps it was both. Argall had been wise, yes, but by Viltrumite standards. And Thragg had tried so hard to emulate him. But he had failed, had focused on their brutality and strength instead.
With a grimace, he lowered his head.
I should've never been–
A knock ripped him out of his thoughts.
Sitting up straight, he looked ahead, blinking once, the only sign of his surprise, as he saw you floating outside the shuttle.
You waved, smiling awkwardly before making a gesture, then pointing at your bag.
What…?
With a deep breath, Thragg tapped the console on the armrest. Outside, an airlock opened and you flew in.
Standing up, Thragg waited for you to appear before him. When you did, he swept his gaze along your form, lingering in places he didn't wish to name. As he met your eyes though, his brows furrowed.
“Why are you here?” Straight to the point, he asked, looking down at you as you walked closer.
“I… well, honestly I'm not sure why. I just thought about visiting. Is that okay?”
Thragg just stared. You awkwardly shifted on your feet. Finally, he sighed, turning back to his throne without another care.
“You are already here. You may as well stay and sate whatever urge brought you here.” He sat, watching you once more. He noticed how you kept shifting and fiddling under his gaze, and wondered if he scared you.
Or perhaps… His eyes narrowed, catching the way your eyes flicked over his form, it is something else.
Clearing your throat, you took off your bag. “Right. Anyway… I brought you food.”
What?
“My mom and I cooked together and we made too much, and so I thought… y'know, all alone on a space ship, you probably don't have stuff for a homemade meal.” As you spoke you approached him, pulling out a plastic container and some utensils.
Thragg just blankly stared, unsure if this was some trick or something.
“You… made a meal with your parent… and thought of me?” He questioned.
Your expression shifted, flustered and embarrassed. “I… well when you put it like that…” You shake your head, huffing. “Whatever. Just– here.”
Thragg eyed the see-through box before taking it, unable to deny he was curious. It was just such an… odd situation to be in.
Opening it, he was met with steam and a savoury scent that had his stomach clenching.
Ah. Right. He hadn't eaten in some days. He'd been… preoccupied.
Taking the fork– which looked tiny in his grip and made your lips twitch– he stabbed a piece and brought it to his lips. He felt your eyes on him the entire time he put it in his mouth and chewed. Flavour burst on his tongue, things he did not have the name for mingling and spreading across his palate.
A low hum escaped him as his hunger suddenly skyrocketed, and he happily continued to eat.
Turning your face away, you hid a smile, happy he was enjoying something you made.
Finishing the meal, Thragg suddenly came back to, realising he'd just scarfed it all down. And not only was his stomach pleasantly full, but…
He didn't feel as much hurt as before either.
Clearing his throat, Thragg wiped his lips carefully, setting the container down.
“That was pleasant. Though I am still confused as to why you are here.” He said, watching as you tidied it up, putting it back in the bag.
“I… again, I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I was thinking you're evil and horrible and have done worse to hundreds of other species, but you still lost everything you knew and that means something. I mean… shit, if you destroyed earth, I don't think I'd be able to go on.”
Floating over towards the glass, you gazed out at the hundreds of stars scattered about, hugging yourself.
“I just… I know it's not what Viltrumites do, but on Earth we try to empathize and sympathize with others who've gone through something horrible. So… regardless if you deserve it or not, if you want it or not… I'm sorry for what we did. I'm sorry for your loss. You're stronger than anyone I know for being able to shoulder it so well.” You said the last part while looking over your shoulder at him, and Thragg was trapped, sucked into those depths of yours.
His stomach roiled, but not unpleasantly. The weight on his shoulders lightened a bit as well, and Thragg didn't know how to respond to that.
To have the daughter of a traitor say this… to have you who helped destroy their home…
He didn't know what to say or to feel.
So instead he stood and joined you, both of you staring out at the void your ancestors had traversed for aeons.
The ship felt a little less quiet then.
Entering the house with a smile on your face, you didn't realise you were humming until your mom pointed it out.
“Oh! I… suppose I'm just happy.” You say, shrugging as you wash the dishes. Debbie just smiles knowingly.
It had been a few weeks since you got back, and there was still no sign of Mark or Nolan. Oliver would probably take longer than them. But during that wait, you and mom had done your best to return to normalcy.
Paul came over regularly, and Eve dropped by too. One night you'd come home only to stop, finding them hugging, Eve teary eyed.
You left them be, not interrupting the moment between your mom and the girl she already saw as a second daughter.
And between all the heroing and family time, you kept going to see a certain powerful (and lonely) Viltrumite.
It had been… interesting.
“Happy, hmm? And how happy does this ‘friend’ make you?” Your mom asked, pushing her sleeves up and helping you.
Scoffing, you give her a look. “Don't say it like that.” She just grinned. “I mean it! He's– first of all, if you found out who it was, you'd lose your shit, mom.”
Debbie hummed. Then– “Is it Cecil?”
The sheer casualness she said it with made you stop and burst into startled laughter.
“What?! Ce– no! I mean, I like him but… no. But why did you think of him?” You ask, still chuckling a bit.
Debbie shrugs, drying off her hands. “Oh, well you did say I'd lose it, and that man is too manipulative for you. So if not him, who?”
You hesitated, setting a dried plate down. Did you tell her…? It wasn't like there was much to say.
For all that you visited Thragg regularly, bringing him food you made and keeping him company as he became withdrawn and mournful, you doubted he'd reciprocate your burgeoning crush on him. Though…
Biting the inside of your cheek, you considered what he'd be like as a father. Because that's how you'd get him, right? Give him an heir. Help him repopulate. And as the years went by, he'd be like Nolan, softening for his kids and wife.
It was certainly a plan.
Damn, I'm becoming Cecil. You thought before looking at your mom.
“… if I said the guy who nearly killed us all, how grounded am I?”
Silence.
Debbie stared at you for a long, long moment before grabbing a bottle from the cupboard. You just awkwardly watched as she knocked back a full glass.
Them, she giggled. Giddy, almost mad.
“I– ooh, Nolan is going to have a heart attack! I knew– oh god, I joked about you liking–” she giggled some more, and you worried you broke your mom.
You inched towards the phone.
“Ah– kid?”
“Paul, get over here!” You hissed into the phone. “I accidentally gave my mom a mental breakdown by saying who my crush is!”
“I'm on my way.”
After your mom's mini breakdown(?), the next morning she told you that so long as you were safe, you could do what you wanted. You'd be twenty-three before long, after all, and she trusted your judgement.
Plus… you may or may not have shared your plan with her. And despite her pain and distrust towards Nolan now, Debbie did know that her love and the children they had together did change him. Not enough at the time, but it did change him.
So if there was even a chance that you could change this… Thragg man, stop him from being a threat to Earth and her family… you had her full support.
“Just don't rush,” she warned you, hands clasped in hers. “Be sure you want this before you do anything. I don't want you regretting anything when it's too late.”
Smiling, you kissed your mom's cheek and hugged her.
“Don't worry, mom. I know what I'm doing.”
Not long after that, you once again flew up towards Thragg's ship, carrying with you a bag, another container of food within it.
Upon reaching the ship, you knocked on the glass and excitedly waved at Thragg until he reluctantly smiled, letting you in.
“Are you always so ridiculous?” He asked the second you settled beside him, sitting beside his throne.
“Mmm, nope.” You say, pulling out the meal you'd prepared him. “It's only for you, believe it or not.”
The Grand Regent arched a brow. “Oh? Should I feel special, then?” He asked dryly, making you smile.
“I certainly wouldn't mind that…” You murmur. “I mean, you're already pretty special. Strongest Viltrumite, the only man outside my family I've cooked for. You've got a lot going for you.”
Thragg huffed quietly, as close to a laugh as you'll ever get from him.
“I suppose I do.” He murmured, giving you a certain look before he looked down at the offered food. “Hmm. And what is it today?”
“Rice balls, chicken, and some spiced fried potato slices.” You say, watching as he breathed in the savoury aroma, the tension in his shoulders melting away a bit. “I've been trying new stuff lately. You… encourage me. Motivate me.” You admit, Thragg pausing in his meal to give you another look.
“… good. You should never stop improving your skills. Even if it is just for this.” He said, continuing to eat as you kept him company, gazing out at the stars.
After he finished, Thragg silently watched you, drinking in your profile. Finally, after a good while of just staring, he reached for you.
The first brush of his fingers against your arm made you shudder. As he enveloped your bicep, you looked at him, moving with him as he pulled you into his lap.
“Thragg?”
He stared down at you, leaning back a bit. “I am no fool, child.” He began, carefully beginning to play with your hair. “You come to me day after day, feeding me meals you prepare with your own hands… amongst many cultures, this would be regarded as a courtship ritual.” He said softly, knuckles brushing down your cheek. “Is it?” He whispered.
Stomach swooping, you lean into his touch. “I… I am attracted to you, if I'm being blunt.” You say, swallowing. “Though the food was genuinely just to be nice. Comfort food goes a long way.”
Thragg eyed you silently, expression stoic and unreadable. As you sat in his lap, perched like a pet, a concubine, a mate, he mulled over his options, thumb brushing along your lower lip.
He hadn't been blind to your appreciative looks, eyes sweeping across his physique often. A part of him preened at it, proud that a woman of his kind so clearly was attracted to him.
But Thragg couldn't just mate you like he would a Viltrumite woman in centuries past. For one, you were soft, weak. A proper Viltrumite mating from him would break you. And despite how he tried to embody their culture, Thragg couldn't do that to you or any Viltrumite. Not now.
So if he wished to seed your womb… make a pure Viltrumite child with you… he'd need to do things the way you knew. No overpowering you and claiming your cunt and womb for himself, but through… affection.
Though it chaffed at him, he knew it could be worse. He could be about to court a human after all.
At least despite your weaknesses you were still a Viltrumite, still strong.
So as he caressed your bottom lip and watched your pupils dilate, Thragg leaned in.
“May I kiss you? I understand it is a… sign of great affection on your world.”
You shivered, leaning in. “Yes. Please.”
And as his lips met yours, Thragg thought to himself that this wouldn't be a difficult task to do.
No, not at all.
Your lips were so very soft, after all.
“I do not understand the point of this.”
Looking away from the tank and up at your… up at Thragg, you leaned into his side, squeezing the hand you were holding.
“Hey, you agreed to this date after I explained what we'd be doing.”
The taller man just blinked down at you. “I recall. I just don't understand why this counts as a date.” He said, brows furrowing.
Smiling indulgently, you led him away from the dolphin tank and towards one full of colourful fish, a much better display.
“Well, we're spending time together, we're seeing things we can give opinions on and talk about, therefore get to know each other, aaaand because I haven't gone to an aquarium in years and really wanted to go. Does that answer your question?”
Thragg stared at a lionfish as it passed by. “It is satisfactory.” He muttered. Then, after a moment, he looked down at you. “Do you like fish?”
At least he was trying, you thought fondly, heart still giving a random skip whenever you thought about the fact you were on a date. With Thragg.
“Yeah, they're pretty and interesting. I don't like the flavour much though.” You wrinkle your nose.
He hums, eyeing a swimming mass of them. “I have yet to taste the ones of this world. Though perhaps you may enjoy ones from other planets. There is this one aquatic creature from the planet Zu’thar that melts on your tongue in a dozen different flavours.”
Looking at him with interest, you tilted your head. “Oh yeah? Huh. I wouldn't expect you to know that considering how plain Viltrumite cuisine supposedly is…”
“It had other properties we were interested in.” He stated simply, leading you to another display.
“Like what?”
“It acted as an aphrodisiac and increased fertility.” He said while looking down at you, making your mouth dry up.
Oh. Well. That's certainly…
“I… doubt many Viltrumites needed that.” You whisper, a little embarrassed. Thragg hums at your side before, quietly as people passed by, saying:
“You'd be surprised. Back during the rule of Emperor Val-hor, the man spent a year consuming only the beast's flesh before choosing a dozen women to sire his children on. All fell pregnant within a day.”
Staring awkwardly at the fish in front of you, you wondered what the purpose of that little history lesson was. Just him sharing Viltrumite history with you? Or… was it pointed? A subtle way to say he wished to do the same to you?
The thought of Thragg taking aphrodisiacs was… it painted a very debauched image.
You still doubted he needed them though. He was definitely virile enough on his own.
Clearing your throat, you nodded, squeezing his arm before walking over to the octopus exhibit.
“That's nice. Anyway–”
The first date ended successfully, and you ended it with another kiss that went on for longer than was usually appropriate, Thragg telling you he'd plan the next date.
Which ended up being training on Mars.
“I’m not sure about this. The Martians are kinda… not welcoming of outsiders? They have sequids, too.”
Thragg eyed you, very much not caring for what you just said.
“Sequids are nothing but pests. They cannot harm us. And if any ‘Martian’ wishes to interrupt us, they may do so.” Thragg set aside his cloak. “Now come. I wish to test you. From what I've seen, you show much promise. You simply need a good teacher.”
Glancing aside, you stretch, trying not to picture a scenario like that. Calling him sir while he bent you over a desk…
Damn, that talk about aphrodisiacs messed me up, huh? Not like you hadn't been horny for him before, but… now it was all you could think about.
Especially when he was standing there, muscles tensed and ready for a fight.
He was so much your type it was ridiculous.
“Promise you won't break anything? I don't want to worry my mom.”
Thragg nodded once. “I'll only bruise you. Now, come.” He ordered, gesturing for you to attack.
And you did, flying towards him and aiming a punch straight at his solar plexus.
It did little more than cause a shockwave, Thragg giving you a contemplating look.
“Good form. But you need to be stronger. Faster, too.”
Internally, you just sighed, wishing this had been a normal date and not a training arc. But what did you expect from a Viltrumite?
Hours later, you collapsed to the ground, heaving, bruised and exhausted as Thragg gave an approving hum.
“You managed to knock me back. Quite good for one your age.”
“T-thanks.” You struggle to say. “But… I think I could do better. Another day. Very far from now.”
Thragg chuckled softly at that, making you pause in shock.
“You certainly are not wrong.” He said, reaching down and pulling you into his arms, carrying you bridal style. “It will be many years until you manage to even bruise me.”
You raised a brow. “And you'll… train me until I can? Seriously?”
Thragg grabbed his cloak, putting it back on. “Of course. If I'm to take a mate, I require them to be strong. And you show so much promise. It would be remiss of me to not help you.”
You let out a small huh, resting against him as he shot off the ground, flying off the planet. You relaxed in his arms as he did, feeling them tighten around you. It brought a smile to your face, stomach fluttering pleasantly.
As Thragg entered the void of space, he did not immediately head to the ship like you assumed he would. Instead he flew for a bit, taking you somewhere past the solar system.
— Thragg… —
— Patience, little one. There is something I wish to show you. —
You quieted, looking up at him as he took you somewhere.
As he slowed to a stop, he nodded ahead, and you looked over, eyes widening in awe.
It was a light show. Far, far away two stars ignited, the light from them just now reaching you. In all likelihood, they were already gone, burnt out after going supernova. But right now…
— It's beautiful. — You thought, a whisper projected to him.
— Yes, — Thragg said, taking in your awed expression. — It is. —
Upon returning to the ship, there was a certain… tension between you two. Perhaps from the intimate moment, or even from the training session, blood hot and pumping. Regardless, it led to something.
It led to this.
The bed creaked.
“Mm, Thragg–”
“Shh, let me–” you gasped, clawing at his back. He groaned in satisfaction.
Your fingers scrambled to push down his skirt– or pull it up, whichever was easier. “I need– I need you.”
“I know.” He said, kissing a path up your neck as he undressed you. “You are burning with it.”
You managed to get his skirt off, shoving his leggings down next. His cock sprung free, slapping against your thigh. Your mind was addled with heat and want as you captured his lips in another desperate kiss, holding him close as you swapped spit, making your claim on him just as he did you.
It had been inevitable, just a matter of time before you two did this. The need you felt for this man, the first man to ever truly arouse your interest like this, was extreme; words couldn't describe it.
For Thragg it was much simpler. A ticking clock in the background, slow and near infinite, but there would come an end someday, and before that end came he needed to act, to help keep his people going.
He rubbed himself against your folds, cock growing slick. Then he pressed in, slow and steady, letting you grip his hand as he took what you gave willingly, gasping at the new kind of pain as blood stained his cock. The sight made his teeth ache.
Oh, how it undid him. He almost came there and then, overwhelmed at the knowledge his cock would be the only one to ever touch you, to ever breed you. Thragg wouldn't let you go, after all, there was no one more worthy for you than him.
“Mine,” he whispered, encasing you under his form, arms cradling you as he rocked deeper. “All mine.” He groaned, hearing you echo him as you scratched up his back, nearly drawing blood. Something to praise you for later.
Of course, part of it was sheer pragmatism. If Thragg sired too many children, especially from different mothers, they may fight for the right to take over after him. Which he could not allow under any circumstances. No, it was simply more logical to stick with you, make child after child together and have them loyal to each other.
Yet as Thragg fucked you slow and deep, catching your lips in a messy kiss, he could admit it was also partially because he had… grown attached to you. Something about you made the quiet more tolerable, his loneliness nonexistent with you around.
It fascinated him.
It sickened him.
He knew he should not allow this growing weakness, and yet…
“Thragg!”
Your cry lit a fire in his blood, and he doubled his efforts, bringing you to shaking climax again and again, spilling deep inside of you each time, caressing your bulging belly and kissing your sweaty brow with something almost loving.
“Mine,” he whispered again, nosing at your hairline. “My little heart.” He whispered softly, damming you and praising you all at once for ruining him whilst giving him what he wanted.
Falling beside you, he spooned you, hand gently caressing your belly, praying for a heir. Son or daughter he did not care, so long as they had his strength and your…
Well, Thragg wasn't picky. Anything from you would do.
Your body ached as you woke up.
With a groan, you squeezed your eyes shut, stretching lazily before curling up. As you lightly dozed, a hand rested itself between your shoulders, idly kneading the sore muscles.
Despite your healing factor, yesterday had still been a lot. Both the training and what came after it.
Fingers dragging down your spine, the mattress creaked as Thragg pushed up onto his elbow, watching you rest.
“I know you are awake, child. Get up.” He said, getting a groan in response. Moustache twitching, he trailed his hand lower, fingers delving between your sore folds and getting a needier sound. He hummed, kissing your shoulder. “It is nearly midday. I believe your mother will begin to worry.”
Grunting, you peered up at him sleepily, growing flush as he fingered you idly, thumb circling your clit the way you had shown him. “What do you care about my mom?” You asked, finding it odd he'd bring her up.
“I don't.” He said plainly, fingers brushing against your g-spot, assaulting it with rapid rubs that had you gasping and shaking. “But you show much concern for her. She matters greatly to you, and she gave life to two Viltrumites. I respect her for that if nothing else.”
Grumbling, you lazily reach for his mostly flaccid cock, playing with it. “Okay, I get it, it's nice you care about the people I love– but please, let's stop talking about my family while we're about to fuck.”
Thragg acquiesced, spreading your thighs before mounting you from behind, laying on your back heavily, weight leaving you fuzzy and pleasantly numb as he pressed into you, cock slowly hardening. It felt weirdly nice going in soft.
It was certainly more hurried than last night, Thragg managing to fuck you twice before you reached your limit, taking a quick shower and dressing after. You left for Earth immediately afterwards, leaving him with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to visit later or tomorrow at the latest.
Reaching the house, you slowed down, gently touching down in the backyard, your mom hanging up laundry.
“Hi, sweetie.”
“Hi, mom.”
You rocked on your heels for a moment before moving to help her, the both of you quiet until the chore was done. Only then did Debbie look at you, a knowing gleam in her eyes as she looked you over.
“You didn't come home last night.” She stated simply, making you nod.
“I… did not.” You confirm needlessly, making your mom huff and shake her head.
Debbie entered the house, setting aside the empty laundry basket. “Well, so long as you're sure and happy, sweetheart. There's really nothing else I can say.”
You sigh in relief. You're not sure why you worried a bit there, especially considering how casual she'd been about Mark and Eve. And they were younger than you.
“Thanks, mom.” You mumble, kissing her cheek and gave her a side hug. She hummed, returning it.
“Mmm, it's nothing, sweetie. But–” she said, giving you a look between stern and sly. “I expect to meet him soon.”
You froze. Huh?
“What? You wanna–? Him?”
“Yes.” Debbie crossed her arms. “If you're dating and sleeping together now, it only makes sense I meet him. Especially before your father gets back. Even if it's not purely for emotional reasons, I want to know the man my daughter is seeing and plans to be with.”
You just stared at her, trying to imagine the scenario she was talking about.
Thragg, in your home, talking to your mom.
It sounded like something from a fever dream.
“… uh, you… do remember it's Thragg I'm with, right? Grand Regent of the Viltrum Empire?” Debbie nodded. “He's going to be worse than dad.” She nodded again. “It's probably going to be awkward as hell.”
“I'm aware. But I'm your mother, which makes it my duty to do this.” She said, stepping towards the kitchen island and grabbing her notepad. “Now, what should I make when he comes?”
A couple days later, you sat across from Thragg on the ship, eating together.
You'd moved from the throne room to a cafeteria-esque room a while ago, sitting and eating together like a normal couple. Sometimes you could barely believe how far you've gotten– even if this was still the bare minimum. Your mom had shared stories of how Nolan had been when he first came to Earth, and honestly? Thragg was already leagues ahead of him in some aspects.
Speaking of mom….
Clearing your throat, Thragg's attention snapped to you– if it ever even left you in the first place.
“Okay, so… on Earth we have a custom where people meet their partner's family.” You explain carefully. “And my mom wants to meet you.”
His dark eyes dug into you for a moment. Then, “Would it please you for me to meet her?”
You blinked, not expecting him to ask that.
“It… would, yeah.”
Thragg just nodded. “Then I will.”
“That's it?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I mean, you don't need any convincing or…? Nothing?”
Sighing, the Grand Regent reached across the table for your hand.
“You are my mate, soon to carry the future of my people in your womb. If meeting the woman who made you is the least I can do in return, then I shall do it.” He said calmly, softly; his thumb brushed across your knuckles. It was such a minute gesture, and yet it had your insides fluttering anyway.
It wasn't often he was affectionate like this.
At his words, you thanked him, squeezing his hand. Thragg hummed and continued eating, cleaning his plate as usual.
Maybe that old saying about the way to a man's heart being his stomach was true. You were certainly plying him with all sorts of tasty meals, and in return, he'd softened towards you.
You just hoped a baby would do the same. If it worked for one Viltrumite… it should work for the rest.
As they landed in the backyard, Thragg eyed the building before him.
The house you grew up in was just one of many in this neighbourhood, all copies with little variation. Yet as he looked around, he noticed little touches that made it more personal, lived in.
The backdoor was open, light from inside spilling out. It looked warm, especially with evening quickly descending. At his side, you gave him an awkward, nervous look. Which he supposed he understood. As far as you've told him, he is your first mate. Meaning you've never done this ritual before.
Placing a hand on your lower back, he squeezed gently, in that way that seemed to say: I am here. It made you relax, breathing out softly. You led him in.
Debbie Grayson was a small woman, not too tall nor too short, and not too thin or too big. She was utterly average, and yet she'd managed to not only poison one of his Viltrumites agents, but had also raised two (three if he counted the halfbreed. Which he did not) Viltrumites whom fought their own people for a lesser species.
As he met her face to face for the first time, he did not know if the emotion she invoked in him was respect or not.
“You raised a fine daughter, Mrs. Grayson.” He said, following the formalities he'd learned before coming here. “A strong warrior with an unyielding spirit.”
Her hand was tiny in his, yet calloused from hard work. And despite his superior strength, he almost swore she tried to crush his hand.
The glint in her eye, steely and burning with motherly protection, said she had.
“Thank you, but she's more than just that. I hope you see that.”
His eyes swept to you, seeing you busy yourself as your mother and he became acquainted.
“I do.” He said simply, unaware of the way his tone softened with something reverent. But Debbie noticed, and the steel melted away to something more welcoming. Briefly.
“Good. Now, what's this about you harming my sons?”
You cringed. “Mom!”
Looking down at the Earth woman, Thragg folded his arms behind his back. “It was battle, I did what I must. But I apologize for any grief I caused.” And he supposed he did, somewhere beneath it all. They were simply too few, so nearly killing the three had been foolish of him. “Though I never laid a hand on your daughter.”
She hummed, eyes narrowing before she nodded.
“I don't like that you did, but I'm willing to move past it. But that doesn't mean I forgive or like you.” Debbie whispered, keeping her words between them. “I'm doing this for my daughter.”
“I understand.” He said, simply taking her in. What a truly formidable woman. When had anyone last stood up to him like that? No wonder Mark and yourself were so unbreakable.
With that said and settled, Debbie turned back into a hostess instead of the overprotective mother, seating him and yourself at the table before getting the food.
Seeing your look, Thragg squeezed your thigh. “Do not look so pained. Your mother's protectiveness is… admirable. Especially considering who I am.”
You mumble something before nodding. “I know, it's just… really weird. Is it weird for you?”
Thragg gazed into your eyes, lost for a second as the light revealed hidden depths to them he hadn't noticed before.
“Not even a little.” He said reassuringly, pressing one of those kisses you loved so much on your brow. “You said it was custom, after all. Why should it be weird?”
You laughed quietly. “I… no, you're right. I'm just not used to this. And it's going to be so much worse when Mark and dad get back.” You wince.
Debbie joins them at that moment, placing plates of delicious food before them.
“Oh, I'm hoping it is.” She said, sitting down. “For Nolan. Mark is to be left alone, but feel free to make Nolan uncomfortable when he gets here.” She said almost viciously.
Thragg approved.
“Gladly.” He said, feeling a petty pleasure at the thought of making the traitor squirm. And all because Thragg was mated to the man's daughter.
Yes, a truly petty pleasure. One he couldn't wait to indulge in.
You just sighed, digging in as your mom began making conversation, Thragg giving stilted answers the entire time. But Debbie Grayson had experience with awkward and stoic Viltrumites, so it was really no issue for her.
As time flew by, you almost forgot about the impending return of your father and brother.
Almost.
Yet after weeks of quiet– as quiet as earth could ever get with the constant villain and kaiju attacks– and enjoying the return to normalcy, Mark and Nolan returned, bursting through the atmosphere and seeking out any sign of the Viltrumites.
When Cecil’s voice crackled to life in your ear and told you they were here, you rushed to meet them, biting your lip as you considered how you were going to explain the truth to them.
In the end, you struggled to do it, putting it off as your father swept you up in a hug and Mark clung to you like he was scared you'd disappear if he let go.
Returning the hug, you swallowed, wondering how you were going to tell them. Should you let them rest first? Take them home? Or was it better to rip the band-aid off?
Pulling away, Mark quickly asked you, “Have you seen any sign of them?”
Technically, you hadn't, but you knew better than to drag it out or lie.
So, hesitantly, you looked from your father to your brother, worry increasing by the second as you didn't deny it.
“… I haven't seen them, but I know they're here.” You say, watching horror blossom on Mark’s face, his breathing growing ragged. “Thragg told me himself.”
Mark looked even more horrified if possible.
“Thragg is here?!”
“Yes.” Raising your hands, you reached for him. “Mark, take a breath. It's okay. It's–”
He shook his head, gripping his hair. “No. No!” And then he shot off, flying in the direction of home.
You just stared after him, biting the inside of your cheek. A hand landed on your shoulder.
Looking at your dad, you found him giving you a comforting if anxious look.
“… I assume there's more to things if Earth is still okay.” He said, though it partially sounded like a question.
Nodding, you gestured for him to follow, flying after Mark.
“Yeah… um, I spoke to Thragg and…”
Explaining everything– minus one very important detail– on the way home, you both landed outside the house and went in. Inside, Debbie was trying to comfort a panicking Mark. The sight made guilt well-up inside you, knowing he was truly traumatized by Thragg.
And you were going to have his baby. Fuck, you might as well beat him up while you were at it. You truly were a shit sister, huh?
“God– oh, god, they're all here and– what if they take revenge?! I couldn't even make him move–”
Frowning, Nolan stepped towards his son. “Mark, it's going to be okay. Your sister explained everything to me. They're not going to interfere with humanity.”
The words had Mark stopping, looking hopeful. He turned to you.
“They're going to blend in, live like humans and repopulate. Which is a problem for the future, but it'll be decades if not centuries until then. And that's if they even want to continue being a threat.” You say, sharing a look with your mom. “After all, dad changed by being on Earth. What's to say the rest of them won't either?”
Your brother drank in your words desperately, needing some hope to cling to. He nodded along like everything you said was complete truth and not just a hopeful theory. He relaxed a bit, tension easing out of him.
“Ye– yeah… okay, that…” He nods. “That makes sense.”
Then he frowns.
“But what about Thragg? I highly doubt he's going to be playing happy family with humans.”
Forcing yourself not to return your mom's look, you just give him a weak smile. “Leave that to me,” you say, stepping closer and hugging him, soothing a hand up and down his spine until Mark slumps against you. “You've done enough, Mark. I'll handle him. I'm kind of the liaison between him and Earth right now– Cecil decreed it and everything.” You grinned, slowly pulling away.
“Now, you go visit Eve. She's… really missed you and needs you.”
The mention of his girlfriend was all it took for Mark to perk up, nodding as he carefully extracted himself from your embrace. Giving mom another hug and a kiss, he left.
Which left you and your parents standing in the living room.
Shifting on his feet awkwardly, Nolan looked at Debbie.
“So, how's Paul?” He asked, making the both of you sigh.
Was he just trying to torture himself, or was he genuinely curious about mom's boyfriend?
“Fine, Nolan. He's been a real big help while you were all gone.” She said, just about managing to keep the bite out of her voice. “Now, what's going on with Oliver? How is he doing?”
Stepping away and giving them some privacy, you headed up to your room, still hearing their faint voices as they managed a calm conversation.
You occupied yourself with tidying up your room, glancing at your reflection in the mirror a couple of times.
Pausing and eyes narrowing, you stood sideways, pulling your top taut against your skin.
Was your… belly a little rounder?
The thought made your breath hitch. Okay, it was… fast, but you and Thragg had been sleeping together for a while now, and it had been sometime since you started…
Or… were you overthinking putting on some weight?
You needed to take a pregnancy test. Thankfully, you'd bought some after you began dating Thragg, knowing it wouldn't be long before he tried breeding a pure Viltrumite child into you.
It was his reason for being with you this way, after all. And it was part of your plan, too, so… yeah, preparations and whatnot.
Heading to the bathroom, you were quick to take a seat on the toilet, reading the instructions before peeing, setting the test aside and waiting.
Minutes ticked by, and you found yourself oddly calm as you waited to find out if you were carrying a baby or not. Then again, you'd had time to come to terms with it. And it's not like you didn't want kids some day.
Before your powers kicked in, you figured you'd wait until you were thirty or something. But then they had and your dad revealed you'd live for thousands of years and…
You didn't see the point in waiting anymore. It just… didn't click the same way now. You'd be in your twenties for centuries, not truly ageing for a long, long time.
What was having kids now compared to in a decade? It would be the same either way.
I just hope Eve and Mark don't have a bad reaction to it, you thought, thinking about Eve’s abortion. You really hoped you having a baby after she made the decision to terminate her pregnancy didn't make her feel regretful or horrible. These were two very different circumstances, but emotions weren't logical.
Shaking those worries off, you sat up, checking the time and then the test.
Your heart stuttered.
Positive.
Thragg was going to be thrilled.
On the Viltrumite ship lived aliens; doctors and scientists, all versed in Viltrumite biology.
When you arrived and told him about your pregnancy, he'd smiled the second the words registered. He'd swept you up, pressing his lips to your brow. Then he'd pulled back, leading you towards the medical bay, getting you checked over.
There, they took your vitals, doing scans and confirming your pregnancy. It was still too early to tell anything yet, but they claimed you were perfectly healthy for this early on in the pregnancy.
The entire time, Thragg stood over you, a hand on your lower back and eyes glued to your midsection. Pride radiated off of him and when you left the med bay, he showed you just how proud he was, cradling your face and kissing you deep, truly testing how long a Viltrumite could go without taking a breath.
When he pulled away, your lips were flushed and shiny.
“W– wow, that… wow.” You smiled, absolutely smitten at that moment.
“Come, little one.” He whispered, carrying you to his bedroom. “Let me… show you my gratitude.” He said, almost embarrassed at how eager, how happy he was.
Thragg didn't waste any time in shedding his clothes and yours once he was in the bedroom, cradling you against his larger form, practically making love to you with slow, deep thrusts, mouths connected the entire time.
It was so perfect, so good. It was easy to believe he'd change like Nolan had, like the other Viltrumites were beginning to. You wanted to believe with all your heart that he already was, that your kindness and empathy had been enough to chip away at centuries of indoctrination, that the child you were going to have would soften him the only way fatherhood could a man.
Afterwards, you found yourself idly stroking his hairy chest, cuddled up against him. He offered no protests, resting his eyes whilst giving your hip the occasional squeeze.
“My brother and dad returned.” You told him.
He hummed. “I'm aware. The sensors picked up on them.”
“Ah.” You nod, temple against his shoulder, still running your fingers through his chest hair. “I'm going to tell them about us soon. I couldn't do it immediately because they just arrived, but… after they relax.”
He huffs. “That is quite cruel, little one. Lulling them into a false sense of security only to drop such a truth on them…” He peeked an eye open. “And I thought you were a hero.”
Your movements stopped.
Was he… teasing you?
Looking up at him, cheek squished against his fat pectoral, you slowly raised a brow.
“Well… I am a Viltrumite.” Was your retort, to which Thragg let out a small laugh, making you gape in surprise.
Would wonders never cease?
“Ah, yes, I suppose such cruelty does run in your veins. Or perhaps I am influencing you?”
You tut. “Nah, if anything, I get it from my mom. Now she knows how to be mean and how to get away with it.” You say, recalling some stories she'd shared.
Thragg raised a brow in interest, adjusting himself so he was on his side and facing you. “Do tell. Your mother is quite interesting for an Earthling.”
At his interest, you could only grin, beginning to tell him about the time your mom was in college and got back at her messy roommate by putting lemons in hidden places in their room and letting them rot, attracting fruit flies and other insects until their room was swarming with them.
Debbie Grayson could truly be evil when she needed to be.
Sitting in the living room surrounded by your family, you once again reconsidered doing this. But… it needed to come out sooner or later.
You'd asked Eve to be here as emotional support for Mark, telling her an abbreviated version of events. She didn't understand or fully support your decision, but had basically said it wasn't her place to tell you if it was wrong or not, and that she'd be here.
So, with Debbie and Nolan on one couch (with a lot of space between them), and Eve and Mark on the other, you stood before them, hands clasped before your navel as you nervously gathered your words.
How was approaching Thragg easier than this?! Taking a deep breath, you glanced over at your parents, Debbie giving you a reassuring look. You smiled.
“Okay, so… when I originally came to Earth after the war ended, Thragg and I talked, during which I agreed to terms even though there obviously weren't any other options. But that wasn't our last interaction.” You carefully said, looking at your audience.
Mark, bless him, hadn't caught on yet, slow to catch the tension in the air.
Nolan, meanwhile, had a look of slowly dawning realisation on his face. He was also recalling a silly conversation from over a decade ago, one about your preference for strong men and…
No.
“I… approached Thragg not long after and we… became close. Very close.” You emphasize, Mark beginning to catch on.
“Oh god– sis, please don't say–”
“Meaning we are now together and also I'm pregnant with his baby.” You blurted out, ripping the band-aid off fully.
Mark stared, started hyperventilating, then promptly fainted. Nolan didn't look too far behind him, pale and hunched over with his head in his hands.
At least your mom looked happy.
As Eve cradled his head in her lap, Mark began to stir, blinking quickly.
“What– what happened?”
Eve grimaced. “You fainted after being told your sister and Thragg are together. And expecting a baby.” She said. At least she didn't sound sad or guilty on the baby part. That worry was thankfully for nought.
Mark just stared up at her, then gave you the most tired look imaginable.
“Why?” He whispered, exasperated and utterly done. “I mean… I'd– anyone else. You could've… I dunno, Battle Beast! Allen! Any other Viltrumite– even Conquest!” Eve made an expression at that and Mark quickly backtracked. “Uh, I mean, maybe Thragg is better than him– but still! Why??”
You awkwardly shrug. “I can't control who I like, Mark! And it's for the good of the universe. Dad gave up his mission in the end because of our family. Maybe Thragg will be the same!”
“That's a big if! What if he doesn't?”
“Then I've bought us at least two decades of time. More if we have multiple kids.”
Nolan groaned into his hands at that. “My baby is having a baby,” he muttered, making Debbie snort.
“Oh, grow up. You weren't like this before.”
“Yeah, and that was before I learned my only daughter is with a man who embodies Viltrumite strength and cruelty!” He said, giving you a kicked puppy look. “Sweetheart, are you sure?”
You wave him off with a gentle smile. “Oh, dad, it's okay! Thragg is hardly a wife-beater or anything! The only time he hurts me is when we train.”
Immediately, your dad's expression turned surprised.
“He… trains you?”
You nod. Nolan looks shocked.
“That would normally be a great honour. He wouldn't waste time with someone undeserving…” He muttered, thinking to himself for a bit before sighing, reluctantly nodding. “Well, if you're absolutely positive… I suppose I'll just have to accept it. It's your choice and he… does seem warm towards you, at least.”
The entire time you two spoke, Mark’s eyes swept back and forth before he gave his dad a shocked look.
“Dad!”
Nolan just sighed. “She's right, Mark. Your sister is buying us more time and… maybe Thragg will change. It's certainly a possibility. And it's her choice.” He said, resigned yet supportive– no matter how much he wishes not to be.
But you were his daughter. Even if he heavily disagreed with what you were doing… he loved you too much to hold it against you.
Mark just gave you an unhappy look before nodding.
“Yeah, sure, whatever. But if he hurts you, I'll…” He trailed off before sighing harshly. “Just be safe. Please?”
Walking over, you sat beside him, pulling your brother into a tight hug.
“Always.” You promised.
Life went on as always.
It took a long time before you invited Thragg back to your home– and by that point it had been months. Mom had been to Talescria to visit Oliver and had come back, you were fully showing, and your family was all together, slowly mending itself after the heartache and trauma.
The family dinner where you introduced Thragg to everyone had been… so, so awkward, yet also… amusing? You could certainly laugh looking back on it.
Paul had been invited, managing to be the most normal person there and actually got a conversation out of your… mate? Husband? Regardless, you're pretty sure Thragg liked him the most next to your mom.
Speaking of whom, Debbie had spent the entire night lightly sipping her wine while taking petty joy in Nolan’s discomfort, your dad sat stiff in his chair as what was pretty much his boss sat besides his daughter, whom he was dating, and was also capable of killing everyone there if he felt like it.
Mark and Oliver weren't too different, both eyeing Thragg wearily while eating, managing to miss their mouths a couple of times and making you giggle at the sight.
They glared at you, and it felt so, so normal despite how wild it was to just… have all these different worlds converge.
Eve talked to Debbie and Paul about architecture and whatnot; then later, Nolan helped Paul clean up, both men seemingly trying to find common ground– and quite successfully too, based on their conversations as the hours passed.
Thragg was practically the perfect guest, though he did refer to Oliver strictly as the bug to his annoyance.
You… think he might've been teasing? His slight smirk every time your brother growled in annoyance seemed to suggest it.
Then, as the night wound down and everyone went to bed (did… did your dad follow Debbie and Paul upstairs? Nah, you're imagining things), you gave Thragg a considering look before leading him up to your room.
It was the first time he saw it.
“… you were a very coddled child.” Was all he said as he observed the many plushies and collectibles and, yes, toys you kept.
You just ducked your head, face hot. “I, uh, I hope you don't think I'm weird for it?”
Thragg just hugged you from behind, cupping your large belly and lifting the weight for you.
“I would never. I am… fond of your softness and silliness. You would not be you without them.”
Blinking away tears, you huff, leaning back against him. Damn pregnancy hormones, making you overreact to every sweet thing he said.
Which he'd been doing more and more as time went by.
The day you learned you were having twins was the first time Thragg's demeanour truly cracked.
“You have no idea how much of a blessing this is.” He'd said, kissing your brow as he clasped your hands in his, eyeing the screen where the two grey forms lied mostly still. “There has not been Viltrumite twins in… generations. Even before the Scourge, there hadn't been one recorded in a long time.”
Leaning down, he kissed your stomach, whispering something against it.
The sight had seemed so right to you, then. Like you were supposed to be here with him no matter what, like this was meant to be. Why else would Thragg look so right knelt at your bedside and kissing your rounded belly?
And that affection, that reverence, only increased through the pregnancy. He indulged your every whim, every craving. He pleasured you when your libido spiked and held you as your emotions skyrocketed, crying for no reason or taking your hits when you grew angered.
Thragg even once suggested having a home on Earth– “for the children's sakes”, he'd said at your stunned look. While he preferred the ship, it wasn't suitable for children.
A quick request from Cecil later and you had a few houses ready to pick from, some close to home and others a little more isolated.
“You're really okay with this?” You asked one night while going through the options, curled up against Thragg's warm form.
“If I wasn't, I would not suggest it.” He stated simply, eyeing the houses with little care. “It will be many years before they get their powers and are able to traverse space. I would not separate you from your family for so long. I… do not wish to see you upset.” He admitted, cheeks tinged red.
You hadn't brought attention to it, not wanting him to withdraw or harden his heart again. So you just kept looking through the catalogue, making comments which Thragg merely hummed along to.
The months continued to go by, your due date getting closer– or what your due date was estimated to be. Viltrumite women gave birth at twelve months, after all, and due to being the first hybrid, it was unknown if you'd take after your human side or Viltrumite side when it came to this.
It ended up falling somewhere in the middle.
At ten months and eighteen days, you woke up beside Thragg with an odd ache somewhere in your belly. You woke him up and told him of it, the Grand Regent immediately awake and carrying you to the medical bay.
It was confirmed. You were starting your contractions, and would soon enter labour properly.
As you walked up and down the length of the room, Thragg sent a message to Earth for you, informing your family of it. When you later learned of it, you thanked him, pressing against your lower back and beginning to sweat, overheating.
As the contractions got closer and closer together, you were guided to the bed.
“I am not lying down,” you warned, Thragg giving you a confused look.
“Why would you do that? Viltrumite women give birth hovering above a soft surface.” He said, making you sigh in relief. “I am guessing based on your reaction, earth women give birth in a less… comfortable position?”
You grunt, hovering carefully, control wavering at the waves of pain, but Thragg had his hands ready to catch you if you did.
“On our backs. From what I've read, it sucks.” You grunt, squeezing his forearm as another contraction sweeps through you. Then you feel something drip out of you.
You look down just as your water breaks, splashing against the bed.
“Ah.” You say quietly, squeezing him. “Can I have painkillers now?”
Thragg nodded at the nearest doctor to do as told, and soon you were feeling much better. Not completely painless– you needed to feel if anything went wrong after all– but much better than before.
With a deep breath, you relax, continuing to grip and squeeze his arm in time with the ripples of discomfort you feel, going through the motions as the doctors keep track of your and the babies conditions. Through it all, Thragg stands stalwart at your side, silent yet comforting.
When it's finally time to push he takes a hand, allowing you to squeeze as hard as you need. It's just as much for your comfort as it is out of curiosity; birth seems to have doubled your strength, leading you to bruise his flesh.
It fascinates him almost as much as the birth does. Though he keeps silent about it, the way your expression twists and scrunches up, the way your stomach ripples during your contractions, and the way you groan with the effort of it all… he finds it beautiful in a way only a Viltrumite can.
For them, pain is familiar, after all. It is an aspect of life many even enjoy. It proves their strength, their resilience.
“You are doing well, little one,” he murmurs, wiping the sweat from your brow. “So well. My little warrior, on and off the battlefield.”
You heaved, giving him a weak smile. “Yeah? Don't find me pathetic?” Your voice wavered as you spoke, smile turning into a grimace as you felt something begin to slide out of you with every breath and push.
“Never.” He said, grabbing you as your flight wavers. “Birth is the most important and difficult of battles. That much I know.”
One of the doctors checked on your progress, excitedly telling you the head was crowning. You groaned in relief, realising you were nearly halfway done.
Taking deep breaths, you tried to relax, pushing in time with your body until, with an uncomfortable moan, your baby slid free, caught by their father's waiting hand.
The little creature, bruised and wrinkled, hiccuped before letting out small whimpers, tiny face scrunched up with displeasure.
As it was cleaned of blood, you saw it was a girl.
You slumped against Thragg, simply taking comfort in his presence. He however couldn't take his eyes off the child– his heir, his daughter.
She was placed close by, placenta propped up to continue delivering blood to her until it was emptied. The other doctors, those not keeping an eye on your condition, tended to her in the meantime.
Eyes still glued to the little creature they made together, Thragg cradled you against his chest, stroking your side.
“Thank you.” He whispered, though you nearly missed it, head buzzing and covered in a cold sweat.
One more, you thought, one more time and then I'm done.
Honestly, considering you'd had multiple near death encounters before, this wasn't too bad. Just… extremely new. Distantly, you wondered if your vagina muscles would also grow stronger, and the next birth wouldn't be as painful or damaging.
One could only hope.
With a low hum, you started the process anew, breathing and pushing and trying to crush his hand, Thragg giving you small encouragements. And then–
The weight left you. A shriek filling the air as soon as your son was caught by his father.
And you were done.
Slumping, you laid back, fighting to catch your breath despite your Viltrumite biology. His hand still in yours, Thragg ordered for you to be tended to, keeping an eye on the twins.
You were given water and wiped clean, then given a robe to cover up. Laying back, you grunted, still sore but… certainly better than a normal woman would be. As you recuperated, you looked towards where your babies were, murmuring weakly for them.
Thragg once more kissed your brow. “In a moment. Let them be checked over and then they're all yours, little one.”
Making a sound of agreement, you focused on gathering your strength instead, trusting in Thragg. Despite your instincts wanting nothing more than to feel them against your skin, you knew they were in good hands.
As a little blood was drawn from the babies to do checks with though, one of the doctors froze as the computer processed it, lighting up with an alert that had everyone pausing.
“Hm? Wha’s wrong?” You mumbled, opening your eyes. “Thragg?”
But he was frozen, staring at the display screen.
“… impossible.” The Grand Regent uttered, stepping closer. But the screen didn't change.
Centuries back, when Argall still lived and his heirs remained lost, he set up a system that would detect anyone with his blood running through their veins. No matter how distant the relation, the system would detect the similarities between them and affirm whether or not the person in question was his descendant.
There hadn't been plans to use it before. Back when they were many, it was agreed that Argall’s heir would be revealed through strength and skill, not through a blood test. But after the Scourge…
Thragg had honestly thought there was no chance, no way one had lived. And yet–
And yet.
There on the screen lied the undeniable proof that his children were 100% direct descendants of Argall.
Not from cousin branches. Not even sibling branches.
But direct descendants. Meaning–
“What's going on?” You asked again, sitting up. You looked around, nervous. “Can I– bring me my children, now.” You ordered. It was your motherly instinct guiding you then, yet to Thragg, all he could hear was an emperial command.
The children were placed into your arms, umbilical cords cut and swaddled tight. The alien doctors stepped away, lowering their eyes in taught reverence because they knew. There was only one explanation for how the children had Argall’s blood, and it wasn't through Thragg.
The Grand Regent himself felt heavy as he approached, staring down at your weak form as you met your children, looking at them with curious, soft eyes, beginning to breastfeed them.
The second they both latched on, you beamed, looking up at him.
He didn't return it.
Your smile wavered.
“… Thragg?”
Sharply, he ordered everyone to leave, waiting until he was alone with you.
Then, slowly, he knelt at your bedside, eyes shut as he grappled with this new knowledge.
You just watched him, utterly confused and not having the energy to demand answers. As you adjusted your hold on the twins, you reached over, petting his hair. He sighed.
“… do you recall what I told you about the last Emperor of Viltrum?”
“Yeah? He was wise and strong and appointed you leader because he lost track of his kids.” You summed up, too tired to remember his exact wording of the situation.
Thragg just huffed, amused. “That is right. For the longest time we have searched for his heirs, any descendant at all. But after the Scourge decimated our people, I truly gave up, assumed they were dead.”
Looking up from your children's faces, you turned your head, slowly starting to catch on.
“Wait– you're not saying–”
Thragg opened his eyes, pining you in place with his gaze alone. “I am. You and your family are the last of the emperor's bloodline. Meaning…” He hesitated, scowling before looking away with a deep sigh. “Meaning that leadership of the Viltrumites is in your family's hands now.”
The silence after he finished speaking was deafening.
You were just looking at him, full comprehension of what this meant dawning on you, all while you cradled your newborns and fed them.
And Thragg? He didn't know what to feel. Elated, angry, lost, sad. He'd done his duty the best he could, had done his best to rule for a thousand years now, had found Argall’s heirs… but what did that leave him with? This had been the only life he'd ever known, and now– now Nolan was going to take that from him? He scowled at the mere thought.
But what choice did he have? The man was the emperor, the rightful heir, and you his daughter. He could not fight it, could not refuse to hand over power. It simply was not done. For if he did, he'd be betraying everything he was.
And you…
You were the eldest child, so by Viltrumite custom, you were next in line– unless you were too weak, which you weren't. And you'd also… had his children.
Thragg nearly laughed. This entire time he thought you were having his heirs, continuing his bloodline, but in reality, he was continuing yours.
He was a fool.
Thragg was pulled out of his thoughts as you cupped his cheek, making him look at you. Carefully, you shuffled over, patting the space beside you.
“Come here.” You ordered, “You haven't even met our babies and you're already spiralling. The whole emperor stuff can wait a moment, Thragg.”
Despite himself, he listened, climbing into bed with you. Gently, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. You were so small in his arms, it just made the twins look even smaller.
They were chunky babies, he thought, seeing the little tufts of black hair on their heads. Still too early to tell the eye colours, though, right now they were still that baby blue.
Resting his head against yours, Thragg simply breathed, relaxing as he watched the children suckle, nourishing themselves on your milk. He almost envied them, being able to drink from you in such an intimate manner. It was beautiful to witness.
After they had their fill, you burped them and held them until they fell asleep. Then you looked at him.
“So… my dad is probably heir to the throne or whatever?”
Thragg grimaced. “Yes.” He sighed. “I… I will accept it, little one. I will not fight it, no matter how much it… chafes to let go of my title.”
It was hard to admit, but Thragg had been born for this. And now he was losing it. He knew why, had been ready to accept it for centuries before all hope was lost and he got comfortable in his position.
He'd dedicated his life to leading Viltrum. So now what?
You hum, tucking your head under his chin. “And… after him? Is it me or Mark?”
“You.” He said. Like he'd ever let your brother inherit over you. Not only did he care enough to see you seated upon that throne some day, Mark was too immature for it. “You are the eldest. And even if there were protests, I will ensure you become empress.”
You hum again, slowly drawing shapes on his chest. “And… what would that make you? Emperor-consort? Grand-consort?”
He paused.
“… you would keep me as your equal?” He questioned, truly surprised.
Somehow, in all his thoughts of rightful heirs, Thragg had managed to forget just who you were, forgetting you loved him, had chosen him long before anything had been revealed.
“Sure. Why not? You know more about Viltrumites than I do. And you're strong. And the father of our children. Who else would I choose?”
He grunted, holding you and the littler ones tighter. “It is not a matter of choosing. Emperors simply do not take consorts. They have mates whom they breed, concubines for pleasure, but… they do not have equals.”
Making a scoffing sound, you kiss his chin. “Bullshit. I'm changing that rule. Also, technically, since my dad doesn't know yet, I'm currently empress for a bit. So that's an official rule, I'll have you know.”
As you pointed a finger in his face, all mock-serious, Thragg just… he chuckled, pressing his lips to your forehead.
“Ah, I'll have it recorded, then. My empress.” He whispered, sounding utterly besotted as he held you close, children sleeping on your chest.
All seemed right in the world. Things were going to change, but… perhaps it was for the better.
Grinning, you nod. Then, looking down at the babies, you suggest finally naming them.
“You wanted to name a boy Onaan, right?” You ask, making him nod. “Alright, and a girl… it was between Andraeda and Ursaal, so… which does she look like more?” You ask, considering the baby.
You squinted, taking in her squished features before looking at Thragg, then back at her.
“Ursaal. She looks like an Ursaal.” You decide, Thragg not interfering, content with anything you decided. Even if he didn't understand how a baby looked like an anything.
Kissing your cheek, Thragg nodded. “Ursaal and Onaan it is.” He said, brushing his thumb across their brows, feeling… warm. Content.
Two new Viltrumites, made by him and his mate, and he'd also found Argall's heirs too. Could things get any more perfect?
A knock on the door disrupted them.
Scowling, he called out, trying not to disturb Onaan and Ursaal.
“Grand Regent, the princess’ family is here to see her.” A doctor fearfully informed, the door opening right after.
As Thragg sighed and you tiredly greeted your kin, the babies remained quietly asleep, even as they were cooed over.
Looking down at his nephew and niece, Mark asked, “Hey, why did that guy call you princess?”
You paused, sharing a look with Thragg before giving your dad a toothy grin.
“So… we learned something interesting…”
Many months later…
Sitting on the patio, you carefully lowered Onaan until his feet touched the grass, giggling as the child tucked his feet up again. You'd been repeating this for the last five minutes, your baby boy not seeming to mind outside of wrinkling his little nose.
“Must you torture our son so?” Came your husband's voice behind you.
“Oh, he doesn't mind! Do you, Ony? Hmm? No, you don't!” You coo, cuddling and tickling his belly. He bursts into laughter as you stand, turning to face your mate.
Thragg stood at the door, eyes crinkling as he looked from you to your child. Sat on his arm, Ursaal was sucking her thumb, occasionally reaching for his moustache.
Dressed in casual, human clothes, Thragg looked completely different than how he was before. Nowadays, there was a lightness to his shoulders, eyes shining with life and happiness.
Retirement suited him.
With your dad revealed to be the grandson (or great grandson– it was a little unclear how many generations were between them) of Argall, he'd taken over and was keeping the Viltrumites in check, allowing them to continue their lives on Earth while continuing to make up for everything they'd done to the galaxy. A slow going process, but better than what would've happened before.
With him as Emperor, there was really no reason for Thragg to be in charge, so after looking at the list of houses again, you two decided to move to Earth, raise your kids and simply enjoy life together.
You were surprised Thragg agreed so easily, but… well, you suppose your plan worked. He still wasn't very open with his emotions, but you couldn't expect him to do a complete turnaround after being raised to repress them since he was a literal child.
And he seemed all the happier for it. He really, truly did. The future of the Viltrumites was secure, he didn't have everything weighing on his shoulders anymore, he had children. And, as if to sweeten it all, someday he'd rule beside you.
But that was far away yet, and for now…
Walking over, you pecked him on the cheek. Then looked down at Ursaal. “Hello, princess,” you cooed, doing the same to your daughter.
“Mmm, mmah!” Ursaal babbled, reaching for you. Taking her, you set her on your other hip, not missing how Thragg's gaze darkened with want, loving how… maternal you looked these days.
“Ooh, are you trying to say mama?” You ask, Thragg nodding.
“I've been encouraging her. She's close, I can feel it.”
“Oh, and so early too! Our little genius!”
Ursaal just gives a grin, a few teeth visible. She might still be learning the language, but she knew what that tone meant and was appropriately flattered, hiding her face against your chest.
Bouncing her a bit, you spent a moment simply holding her before heading over to the table, sitting down with the children in your lap. Thragg went back in and joined you a moment later, carrying a small plate of fruit he prepared.
“They're going to make a mess,” you say simply, watching the two begin to gnaw on berries, getting juice all over themselves in the process.
“Let them.” Thragg said, relaxing in his seat, sun making his eyes shine like honey. “Washing them is no trouble. And don't act like you haven't let them be messier.”
“Hey, kids deserve to play in the rain. It's like a childhood staple to splash in puddles.”
He hummed. “And make mud castles.” He drawled, recalling that clean up.
“Mm, that too.”
As you grinned cheekily, Ursaal rubbed her sticky hand against your cheek, making you groan quietly.
“Ugh, Ursa, please…”
When Thragg dared to laugh at your predicament, you passed an orange juice covered Onaan to him, smirking as the little boy immediately reached for his father's moustache, Thragg trying to gently evade his sticky grip.
“Ah– no, Onaan, no, enough– please do not–”
The sight filled you with an indescribable joy. It was just so… simple. So silly.
And it was all yours. Every single day you got to experience this. And yes, it was a lot at times– many times, in fact, but you wouldn't have it any other way.
So even as Ursaal slapped your cheek with a wet hand and got berry juices all over you, you smiled, completely happy with your life.
And even as Thragg threatened Onaan with light punishment, the boy giggling because he knew his daddy would never actually hurt or scare him, he wouldn't have it any other way either. Even if he'd fallen low and lived among lesser creatures now, he'd gotten a family out of it. And that was enough.
A/N: To think I’d be returning back to this fandom so soon… alright, let’s put in this work. Absolutely love this masterpiece of a request–by the way. I’m taking some creative liberties, hope you don’t mind. I know you said the longer the better, but damn, am I sorry for rambling. @edgar-alan-fro
Warnings: Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Power Dynamics, BDSM Elements, Orgasm Denial/Control, Rough Handling, Manipulation, Sounding, Mild Praise Kink, Bondage, Impact Play, Nipple Torture, Mild Alien Physiology, Thragg Lowkey Plotting From Day 1, etc.
Synopsis: What starts as a calculated move to break your spirit quickly spirals into a raw, dance of power and pleasure. Thragg realizes that his own iron will might just be the first casualty of this sensual conquest.
Thragg/Grand Regeant Thragg x Fem!Reader
WC: … :) like 2.6k
Mark had tried to reason with him—if “reason” was what you called shouting through clenched teeth while Thragg stood, unflinching, with small creases between his brows. The Viltrumites were dwindling, he’d said. The Empire needed to live again. Earth was viable—plentiful, adaptable, and resilient despite slowly suffocating their own planet. The humans were... serviceable.
“You would treat them like livestock,” Mark spat. “No,” Thragg corrected, tone calm as a lecture, voice gravelly. “Like soil. You plant seed in fertile ground. You cultivate what yields strength.” Mark shook his head in disbelief. “They’re people.”
“You are half one,” Thragg said, eyes glinting, gesturing towards Omni-Man. “You know their potential.” He paused, pointedly staring at Mark. “You’ve proven their worth in that much.” Mark hadn’t realized what that meant until later—until the reports came in, and your signal vanished mid-patrol.
You hadn’t known about the negotiations. About the quiet agreement Thragg demanded, the one that would allow his kind to “coexist” on Earth under his own dominion. You only knew he’d found you before Mark had a chance to warn you. He could have taken anyone. But he’d chosen you. Maybe because of the connection to Invincible, like leverage, something sentimental to twist. Maybe because he’d seen the fight in you that day, and saw what others hadn’t. Endurance, density, an anatomy that fascinated him for reasons he refused to name. To him, humans were lesser, fragile yet stubbornly alive. You were living proof of that contradiction.
“Your species is flawed,” he said once, staring down his nose at you., “yet evolution occasionally stumbles into art.” It wasn’t flattery. It was possession disguised as admiration.
That day, the street lay split open–cars folded like paper, concrete slabs gutted by force. You could still hear Mark shouting somewhere above the clouds, his voice carried and scattered by the wind. And there he was… Thragg.
Not standing, but looming. He had blood in his hair, blood not his own. He surveyed the ruin like a craftsman inspecting imperfect work and a hen his eyes found you, there was no surprise. He’d been waiting.
“You fight loud for something that breaks this easily,” Thragg said, almost bored, watching your punches glance off his ribs. You wiped blood from your lip, a shaky smirk cutting across your lips. That earned a low hum, more exhale than laugh. “Scared?” His hand shot forward, catching your next swing mid-arc. His grip crushed down until your bones screamed. “You mistake survival instinct for courage.”
Before you could retort, the world flipped. He slammed you into the pavement hard enough that your ears rang. You gasped, forcing a breath back in, body refusing to quit even when logic said it should. “Do you believe you can kill me?” he asked, voice steady, with an indulgent expression. The kind of face you’d make reserved for children claiming they could lift mountains. “Maybe,” you panted. “If I’m lucky.”
“Luck is the excuse of the unprepared. Try again.” He released you only to let you swing again, testing you. Every blow you threw landed like raindrops on concrete. He didn’t counter—just let you exhaust yourself, absorbing every blow, almost crueler than mercy. When he finally stepped in, you felt the wind peel off his movement. His hand closed around your throat and pinned you to a slab of crumbling wall.
“You mistake endurance for strength,” he said, eyes cold, appraising. “I’ve broken civilizations that had more spine than you.” You rasped, air stuttering in your lungs. “Guess I’ll add that to my résumé.” That got him to look—really look—for the first time. “Even cornered, you persist in comedy. Defiance through humor.” He didn’t trade witty banter, no, he delivered pronouncements. It made the gravity of this situation, crush you more than they weight of his hand.
“You’re not exactly giving me therapy options.” His grip tightened just enough to remind you how easily he could end it. “The pressure required to collapse your trachea is less than what I am exerting now. Remember that.”
“Then do it,” you rasped. For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then his expression shifted, something between disdain and calculation. “No. You’re more valuable alive.” He released you; you dropped to your knees, coughing, lungs on fire, never seeming to catch a full inhale. Before you could find your footing, he seized your collar and lifted you one-handed, effortless as breathing.
“You don’t even understand why I bother,” he said, eyes narrowing. “That ignorance is… useful. You fight for a fleeting life. I am offering you a role in the next thousand years of evolution. And your ignorance makes you valuable.” It happened within mere seconds. He didn’t kill you. He could have. He didn’t even knock you unconscious. The air shuddered around you, the ground falling away as he took to the sky—a crimson blur carrying you toward something far worse than death. A purpose.
The cell wasn’t a cell, not in the conventional sense. It was cleaner than most laboratories, its walls gleaming with Viltrumite alloy that refracted light instead of absorbing it. You’d been here long enough to map the sounds. The hydraulic sigh of the pressure door from the main door, the subtle hum of atmosphere control, the faint heat of the lasers caging you in. He visited like a clock tower striking the hour. No guard, no chains, just him—filling the doorway, and then the room. His presence always hit before his voice did with a noticeable weight.
“You haven’t eaten,” he said, voice echoing in the silence. “You watching me now?”
“I watch everything I own.”
“Then you’re wasting your time.”
He didn’t look at you immediately; he was reading something from a tablet, his posture military in its discipline. “Your people have been… difficult,” he said at last. “Invincible resists simple logic. His compassion will get him killed.”
“Maybe that’s what makes him human,” you replied, sounding reminiscent. “Human.” The word left his mouth like he’d eaten something sour. “A convenient term for weakness.” He set the tablet down, eyes flicking to you for the first time in hours. “He cares for you.”
You held his gaze. “And that’s a problem for you, isn’t it?” his words cut through yours. “It’s an opportunity,” Thragg said. “I’ve learned more about him from your silence than I ever would from his words.” He took a slow step forward. His wide stance drawing your attention. You realized how confined the space truly was when he filled it. “You’re wasting your time,” you repeated.
“No,” he murmured. “Time is a resource. You are a variable. You want me to believe your loyalty is unshakable. But every organism has a threshold.” He circled you—not pacing, no, almost orbiting. You could feel the gravity of his attention, he moved with such frightening ease for someone of his size. The faint, deliberate invasion of space suddenly felt heavy. “I’ve tested your endurance. Physical, psychological.” He stopped behind you. “But there’s one reaction you haven’t yet displayed.” You didn’t turn. “Fear?”
His breath touched your shoulder. “Submission.” You swallowed hard. “You’ll be waiting a long time.” His eyes bored into the back of your head. “That depends on how honest you are with yourself.”
He moved in front of you again, close enough that his shadow framed your body. His voice had dropped lower, into a smoother tone, the kind predators used when they’d stopped pretending not to enjoy the hunt. “The accelerated heart rate. The adrenaline. The tremors. Your body betrays you long before your words do.” You met his eyes, refusing to look away, brows knitting. “You really think you can measure me like a specimen?”
“I already have.” His gaze flicked down and back up again, the faintest smile threatening the corner of his mouth—not amusement, but recognition. “And you hate that it’s true.” Something in the air shifted, not the thrum of violence, not restraint either, you didn’t know what but it was unbearable. He turned, heading toward the door, but stopped just before it opened.
“Invincible has three days to decide,” he said, almost casually. “If he refuses, I’ll show him how easily human resolve collapses under the right pressure.” Then, softer—too soft for comfort, he spoke. “You’ve lasted longer than most.” The door sealed behind him, and the silence he left was somehow louder than his presence.
“... Oh, shit.”
Morning came only in theory. In captivity, time bled into itself until you couldn’t tell whether the pale light leaking through the cell’s upper vents belonged to sunrise or to some other planet’s dying hour. You were counting breaths when the door sighed open again. His hair was unbound, uniform half undone, eyes brighter than they should’ve been. Something had changed.
The last encounter you two had felt like it was your last day alive. He visited after you refused to eat again, this time having you study every civilization his people had touched. You realized he wasn’t angry at your resistance; he was compelled by it. Every refusal chipped at whatever conviction kept him above instinct. His peace brought you dsicomfort, so, you studied. Books still in hand as he entered.
He didn’t speak at first. He only watched you, long enough for the silence to start feeling like contact. “Invincible still refuses,” he said finally. His tone was measured, but the restraint in it was cracking at the edges. “He speaks of mercy, compromise… as if such things are currency between predators.”
You crossed your arms. “You sound threatened.” He laughed once, the sound low, but humorless. “By him? No. By you?” His gaze flicked up. “Perhaps.” The admission startled you. It startled him, too; you saw it in the brief flicker of confusion that followed, quickly buried under his usual calm. He stepped closer, the floor reverberating under his weight.
“I have been asking myself,” Thragg murmured, “why I haven’t simply ended this. Why I haven’t torn this planet in half and been done with it.” He lifted his hand, fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face, not gently, but carefully, as though testing what would happen if he did. “You remind me that even strength,” he said, “craves something to measure itself against.” Your pulse kicked hard. “That sounds almost… human.”
“Do not insult me.” But the bite in his voice dulled halfway through the sentence. He drew back, breathing slow. “Every empire collapses the moment it begins to feel.” He turned sharply, as if movement could burn away his impulse over time. “I will not make that mistake.”
“Then why are you here?” you asked. He stopped, unable to answer, annoyance settling across his face. With tense shoulders and a set jaw, he faced you again. There was no smirk, no arrogance—only that quiet, disbelieving hunger of a man aware of the line he’s about to cross. “Because,” he said, each word deliberate, but holding no real explanation, but to him, it was more of an answer than you deserved. “you have made me curious.”
You stood rigid near the doorway, hands clasped behind your back as he'd commanded hours ago. He had you pulled from your cell to be his, “Personla Attendant” he called it. You'd polished his Viltrum Empire medallion clasp until your fingertips went raw, arranged planetorial data by frequency, even adjusted the atmospheric controls to his exacting specifications.
Each task performed under his silent observation, each movement calculated to deny him the satisfaction of visible distress. Yet the weight of his gaze felt different today—less analytical, more... hungry. He always watched you with a certain stiffness—with a hand resting against his inner-thigh. He called you often, like he got off on you performing daily tasks for him.
“Come,” he ordered. The word carried more weight than sound. You hesitated, and it wasn’t bravery—it was a stubborn reflex. He tilted his head, smile cutting sharp. “Even now you question commands. Do you imagine that earns respect?” You didn’t respond, unsure of how far mouthing off would get you.
He was close enough now that the air shifted, heat radiating from him like a star too near orbit. His hand caught your chin, turning your face up as if appraising weaponry. “Mark Grayson protects you. That makes you leverage. But perhaps… more than that.” His eyes flicked down your figure—it seemed clinical, but greed seeped into his gaze. He released you suddenly, pacing the small space with a predator’s patience. “Do you know what separates our kind from yours?”
“Arrogance?” you offered. “Discipline,” he said, voice calm. When he turned again, his expression had changed—something colder, measured, his head gesturing towards the books.. “You wish to understand us? Then serve. Service reveals truth.” You paused. “Serve you how?”
“However I choose.” He replied, curtly.
He motioned you forward. When you didn’t move fast enough, his hand closed around your arm—firm and unyielding, but not cruel. The restraint was effortless. You could feel the hum of muscle beneath his skin, waiting. He guided you to the center of the room, where the floor gleamed like a mirror.
“On your knees,” he said. “I expect you to obey. Whether that comes before or after pain is up to you.” Something inside you bristled—fear braided with defiance. Yet the pull of his authority, the raw gravity of his presence, made refusal feel like holding your breath underwater. You lowered yourself slowly, every motion deliberate, and met his gaze as if daring him to blink first. “Better,” he murmured. “Now, watch.”
He stripped off the upper layer of his uniform with a fluid precision. Beneath the armor, the marks of battle mapped his skin—scars rendered almost ceremonial by the harsh light. “This body,” he said, voice lowering, “is engineered for conquest. Every cell, every breath built to dominate. You understand what that means, don’t you?” You swallowed, refusing to look away. “You think strength makes you right.” He stared down at you, expression unreadable. “No. Strength makes right.”
He knelt then—slowly—until you were both eye to eye. The shift in height didn’t soften him; it made him more dangerous, as though proximity itself could crush you. “Service isn’t submission,” he said. “It’s recognition of hierarchy. You will learn that. And I—” he paused, voice dropping to something rougher “—will test the limits of your endurance.” His fingers brushed your jaw, thumb tracing the pulse in your throat. “Do you know what I could do to you?”
You whispered, “Yes.”
“And yet you don’t flinch.”
“Maybe I want to see if the stories are true.”
The sound he made wasn’t laughter, exactly—it was approval, dripping with threat. “Then earn the truth.”
Before you could even draw breath, Thragg's mouth descended upon yours, crushing your lips beneath his in a brutal claim. This was no tender embrace, but an invasion, like his physiology transformed the act into a primal, all-consuming assault. His lips were a relentless demand, his teeth scraping against yours with a ferocity that left you reeling, each breath stolen as if it belonged to him. The world blurred, spots dancing behind your eyelids as your lungs burned for air.
His hands, callused and warm, slid up your sides with a purposeful roughness, his touch leaving trails of fire in their wake. Through the thin fabric of your tunic, his thumbs found the sensitive peaks of your breasts, thumbs working in short circles that sent jolts of electricity through your body. He pinched and twisted, each movement calculated to extract a response, the sharp burst of pain a stark contrast to the growing heat between your thighs. You gasped into his mouth, the sound torn from your throat by the intensity of it all—and he swallowed it down like a trophy—a low growl of satisfaction rumbling in his chest as he claimed your very breath as his own. With each groan, when you tugged away, he'd yank you back by your nipples with a searing heat sprouting across your chest.
He hauled you into an adjacent chamber, the door sealing with a pneumatic sigh. Thragg forced you face-first against the unyielding wall, retrieving heavy restraints from a concealed alcove—Viltrumite alloys that snapped around your wrists and ankles, splaying you wide, vulnerable. The cuffs dug in just enough to leave marks, ropes dance around your figure, each intricate knot a whisper of restraint that ignites the skin with a symphony of sensation. He tore your clothes with a single upward rip, fabric scattering like ash
He prowled around you, callused fingers mapping your shoulders, your ribs, lingering on the curve of your hip. He spoke with intent. “You will earn my praise,” he said. “Not by surviving. By obeying.” He leaned in, his chest brushing your back, the heat of him seeping through your skin, chest to chest, making your breath hitch as his palm skimmed your thigh, hovering near your cunt without granting contact.
Thragg retreated a step, his face a mask of calculation. He didn’t bother to explain, simply expected you to accept. From a nearby rack, he selected a thin probe—polished and unforgiving, meant for delving deep. He slicked it with a quick swipe of lubricant, then aligned it with your urethra, the cool tip pressing insistently. Your legs went to instinctively shut when cool air hit your skin just before his palm did—a stinging slap across your thigh that left heat blooming in its wake.
"Hold position," You inhaled sharply as it breached, sliding in incrementally, the stretch a fiery intrusion that made your clit throb in response. “Breathe through it,” he ordered, easing it further, the subtle rotation sending sparks of overload through your nerves, your pussy clenching emptily as arousal leaked down the crack of your ass, the sound of slick echoing loudly in the capacious room.
The impacts followed swiftly. Thragg's open hand connected with your ass cheek, the crack resounding, heat flaring across your skin in a red bloom. He struck again, methodically, each swat targeting fresh areas—your thighs, the underside of your ass—while his other hand steadied the probe, inching it deeper into your piss hole. The combined sensations twisted pain into a throbbing ache, your body quivering, cunt dripping onto the floor.
It slid deeper than any human instrument could, a fullness that bordered on violation. Your eye twitched uncontrollably as tingles shot through you. "You learn to accept what strengthens you. Endure." Thragg demanded, delivering a firmer blow to your lower back, the jolt forcing a whimper from your throat. Vulnerability clashed with your inner resilience, mind spinning as your ass stung, the probe filling you with an invasive pressure that bordered on ecstasy.
He halted briefly, probe embedded to its limit, his fingers capturing your breasts, thumbs rolling your hardened nipples before pinching viciously, drawing out gasps. Thragg's head dipped low, his mouth seizing your nipple with a ferocity that made you curl into him, the sudden, intense suction sending waves of conflicting pleasure and pain through your body as he tugged and rolled it between his teeth.
The manipulation was deliberate, each squeeze probing your breaking point: surrender or persist? You locked eyes with him over your shoulder, a spark of challenge in your stare, and Thragg's lip curled faintly—intrigue at the way your body betrayed you with slick need despite the assault. His exhale sounded suspiciously ragged. "Good." The praise landed like a verdict.
At last, he extracted the probe slowly, leaving your pussy tender and pulsing. He released your ankles only to secure your wrists at the small of your back, dropping you to your knees on the grated floor. The head was a deep, angry red, glistening with pre-cum, hair trimmed into a tapered V. He tapped the blunt tip against your cheek, the weight of him heavy against your skin. It was a command and a promise all at once. “Open,” he rasped.
You complied, mouth enveloping the broad head, tongue swirling over the slit, its rather cloying taste overwhelming your tastebuds. Thragg fisted your hair, hips driving forward into your throat, your sounds were garbled, swallowed by him punching that back of your throat with measured force.
Chokes and slurps echoed as drool trailed down your chest, your bound arms straining uselessly. His free hand delved over the curve of your ass and between your legs—digits circling your soaked entrance before plunging three into your pussy, curling to batter your g-spot. His cock stretching your jaw in rhythm with fingers reaming your walls—building a coil of desperation.
"Look at me," he demanded. When your eyes met his, the raw hunger there stole your breath. His thumb brushed your clit with startling expertise, circling once, twice, before withdrawing just as pleasure crested. "Not yet," he murmured just above your ear, the vibration thrumming through your bones. "Service requires discipline." His fingers replaced the thumb, sliding inside you with brutal efficiency while his other hand twisted your nipple sharply. You arched against him with a gasp he silenced by capturing your mouth again—all teeth and conquest and the faintest tremor in his grip.
"Quiet," he ordered his breath fanning your back, the sound sending vibrations through you. When your hips jerked involuntarily, he brought your head down against his pelvis—a warning that bloomed into sharp pleasure. He smelt of cooled metal, a metallic warmth mixed with a hint of sandalwood. "You take it well," he growled, the words muffled against clenched teeth. "Like you were made for this." His pace intensified, hips, words, and fingers working in brutal harmony until your vision blurred. Just as your muscles clenched toward release, he pulled out his sopping wet fingers completely, leaving you trembling on the edge.
"Enough," he rasped, rising to tower over you again. His breathing was uneven, eyes narrow as he studied the flush spreading across your chest. He pressed upwards again your collarbone, he laid a fingertip to your swollen nipple, watching it pucker under his touch.
“Well done,” he said, the commendation rough as gravel, a rare concession. Yet your capitulation masked resolve; you hollowed your cheeks, sucking with fervor, groaning at the praise, drawing a subtle hitch in his breath as his control wavered—hips snapping sharper.
He pulled out abruptly. Hauling you forward by the hips, lifting you effortlessly until your legs wrapped around his waist, your reddened ass thrust out invitingly. Thragg coated his cock sparingly in your slick, he didn’t thrust—he impaled you slowly, inch by excruciating inch. The girth splitting you open in a blaze of stretch and made your vision swim. A low groan tore from his throat as he seated himself fully. You cried out, nails scraping metal as he pounded in, balls smacking your ass with every drive. "Look at me," he demanded.
Your eyes met his—dark, dilated, stripped of calculation. He drove back in with a force that stole your breath, setting a punishing rhythm that rattled the wall at your back. His hand gripped your ass, fingers digging into tender flesh as he lifted and dropped you onto his cock with brutal precision. "Take it," he snarled, the command fraying at the edges. "Take all of it." His thrusts grew erratic, losing their military cadence. You could feel the tremors in his arms, the way his control splintered with every ragged gasp you drew from him.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, it almost became rhythm. The slide of breath, the dull thud of contact, the small gasp that broke between you two. You could feel every ridge—every vein of his cock as he moved inside you, the sensation overwhelming and intense like a live wire. It was hypnotic, mind numbing, feeling every twitch and tap against you cervix like a threat. His tongue roamed the expanse of your neck, exploring every inch of your skin, possessively, each touch a claim of ownership. When he found the place where your pulse lived just under the skin, the world seemed to contract to that heartbeat alone—his, yours, indistinguishable.
The muscles of his ass clenched and released with each drive. You were tight—almost too tight. He marked tempo with every motion, the cadence of dominance written not in cruelty but in how many stars he could make you see behind those eyelids.
He edged your clit with teasing strokes, holding your climax at bay, your muscles fluttering wildly around him. His pace fractured, breaths ragged as your tight pussy gripped him. Grinding deep as his mouth crashed onto yours again—less a kiss than a claiming. One hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. His teeth scraped against your collarbone while his other hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit, dragging it against the callous of his fingertips.
His other hand continued to map every part of your, tracing the curves of your spine, watching as your back arched into the air. It was a sight he couldn't describe; it sickened him with anger. Your legs went slack around him, completely surrendering to every mind numbing caress against your walls. His powerful arms were the only thing keeping you aloft, his cock thrusting deep inside you, supporting your weight with each pummel. You bounced with each movement, a rag-doll in his iron grip. Completely at his mercy. The sensation of being held—secured—impaled and controlled, sent waves of ecstasy through you.
"Now," he commanded, circling the swollen nub with bruising pressure. "Come." The order ripped through you, triggering a convulsive wave of pleasure that locked your muscles around him, his fingers grinding your clit until you shattered, juices squirting over his hand. He groaned, a raw, guttural sound ripped from his chest, as your climax triggered his own. You felt him pulse inside you, hot and relentless, his hips jerking erratically against yours.
The air was thick enough to drink.
For a long moment, he remained buried deep, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breathing harshly against your skin. When he finally lifted his head, his expression was of cold fury—not at you, but at himself. He withdrew abruptly, leaving you cold, empty, and slumped against the wall. Turning away, he snatched a cloth from a shelf, wiping himself with mechanical efficiency. His shoulders were rigid, every movement sharp with contained violence. "Return to your cell," he ordered, voice stripped back to its usual gravel. But when he glanced back at you—at the marks on your skin, the flush still staining your chest—his gaze lingered a fraction too long. Something flickered there: not calculation, not strategy. Something raw, and utterly, terrifyingly unfamiliar.
Thragg straightened, fastening his uniform with precise motions, his stare lingering on your form. No tenderness followed—merely contemplation. “You hold potential,” he murmured, voice threading threat with possibility. An indefinate excuse to prolonge holding you hostage. “Persist, and you may yet shape destinies beside mine.” The declaration hung ambiguous, blurring conquest and alliance, your mind adrift in the haze of blurred lines between power and surrender. For someone as unpredictable as him, what was hidden in those words would never be known to be anything besides selfish.
The hydraulic door opened before you reached it. You hesitated on the threshold, glancing back. Thragg hadn't moved. He stood silhouetted against the glowing star maps, head bowed slightly, one hand pressed flat against the alloy table as if steadying himself. The image was jarring. The conqueror of worlds, undone. You took a breath, tasting him on your tongue. "What purpose?" you asked, the question barely a whisper. He didn't answer nor did he look up. His silence was louder than any admission.
You stepped through the doorway. As it sealed behind you, cutting off the view of his solitary, rigid figure, you heard it—a low, shuddering breath, muffled by the thick door.
It wasn't anger and it definitely wasn't strategy. That would be too sloppy for the viltrumite. But you know one thing, it sounded like the first crack in an unbreakable facade.
A/N: My tumblr conveniently saying it has issues processing my post—FOR AN ENTIRE HOUR. Anyway, additional edits will be made at dawn.
A/N: To think I’d be returning back to this fandom so soon… alright, let’s put in this work. Absolutely love this masterpiece of a request–by the way. I’m taking some creative liberties, hope you don’t mind. I know you said the longer the better, but damn, am I sorry for rambling. @edgar-alan-fro
Warnings: Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Power Dynamics, BDSM Elements, Orgasm Denial/Control, Rough Handling, Manipulation, Sounding, Mild Praise Kink, Bondage, Impact Play, Nipple Torture, Mild Alien Physiology, Thragg Lowkey Plotting From Day 1, etc.
Synopsis: What starts as a calculated move to break your spirit quickly spirals into a raw, dance of power and pleasure. Thragg realizes that his own iron will might just be the first casualty of this sensual conquest.
Thragg/Grand Regeant Thragg x Fem!Reader
WC: … :) like 2.6k
Mark had tried to reason with him—if “reason” was what you called shouting through clenched teeth while Thragg stood, unflinching, with small creases between his brows. The Viltrumites were dwindling, he’d said. The Empire needed to live again. Earth was viable—plentiful, adaptable, and resilient despite slowly suffocating their own planet. The humans were... serviceable.
“You would treat them like livestock,” Mark spat. “No,” Thragg corrected, tone calm as a lecture, voice gravelly. “Like soil. You plant seed in fertile ground. You cultivate what yields strength.” Mark shook his head in disbelief. “They’re people.”
“You are half one,” Thragg said, eyes glinting, gesturing towards Omni-Man. “You know their potential.” He paused, pointedly staring at Mark. “You’ve proven their worth in that much.” Mark hadn’t realized what that meant until later—until the reports came in, and your signal vanished mid-patrol.
You hadn’t known about the negotiations. About the quiet agreement Thragg demanded, the one that would allow his kind to “coexist” on Earth under his own dominion. You only knew he’d found you before Mark had a chance to warn you. He could have taken anyone. But he’d chosen you. Maybe because of the connection to Invincible, like leverage, something sentimental to twist. Maybe because he’d seen the fight in you that day, and saw what others hadn’t. Endurance, density, an anatomy that fascinated him for reasons he refused to name. To him, humans were lesser, fragile yet stubbornly alive. You were living proof of that contradiction.
“Your species is flawed,” he said once, staring down his nose at you., “yet evolution occasionally stumbles into art.” It wasn’t flattery. It was possession disguised as admiration.
That day, the street lay split open–cars folded like paper, concrete slabs gutted by force. You could still hear Mark shouting somewhere above the clouds, his voice carried and scattered by the wind. And there he was… Thragg.
Not standing, but looming. He had blood in his hair, blood not his own. He surveyed the ruin like a craftsman inspecting imperfect work and a hen his eyes found you, there was no surprise. He’d been waiting.
“You fight loud for something that breaks this easily,” Thragg said, almost bored, watching your punches glance off his ribs. You wiped blood from your lip, a shaky smirk cutting across your lips. That earned a low hum, more exhale than laugh. “Scared?” His hand shot forward, catching your next swing mid-arc. His grip crushed down until your bones screamed. “You mistake survival instinct for courage.”
Before you could retort, the world flipped. He slammed you into the pavement hard enough that your ears rang. You gasped, forcing a breath back in, body refusing to quit even when logic said it should. “Do you believe you can kill me?” he asked, voice steady, with an indulgent expression. The kind of face you’d make reserved for children claiming they could lift mountains. “Maybe,” you panted. “If I’m lucky.”
“Luck is the excuse of the unprepared. Try again.” He released you only to let you swing again, testing you. Every blow you threw landed like raindrops on concrete. He didn’t counter—just let you exhaust yourself, absorbing every blow, almost crueler than mercy. When he finally stepped in, you felt the wind peel off his movement. His hand closed around your throat and pinned you to a slab of crumbling wall.
“You mistake endurance for strength,” he said, eyes cold, appraising. “I’ve broken civilizations that had more spine than you.” You rasped, air stuttering in your lungs. “Guess I’ll add that to my résumé.” That got him to look—really look—for the first time. “Even cornered, you persist in comedy. Defiance through humor.” He didn’t trade witty banter, no, he delivered pronouncements. It made the gravity of this situation, crush you more than they weight of his hand.
“You’re not exactly giving me therapy options.” His grip tightened just enough to remind you how easily he could end it. “The pressure required to collapse your trachea is less than what I am exerting now. Remember that.”
“Then do it,” you rasped. For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then his expression shifted, something between disdain and calculation. “No. You’re more valuable alive.” He released you; you dropped to your knees, coughing, lungs on fire, never seeming to catch a full inhale. Before you could find your footing, he seized your collar and lifted you one-handed, effortless as breathing.
“You don’t even understand why I bother,” he said, eyes narrowing. “That ignorance is… useful. You fight for a fleeting life. I am offering you a role in the next thousand years of evolution. And your ignorance makes you valuable.” It happened within mere seconds. He didn’t kill you. He could have. He didn’t even knock you unconscious. The air shuddered around you, the ground falling away as he took to the sky—a crimson blur carrying you toward something far worse than death. A purpose.
The cell wasn’t a cell, not in the conventional sense. It was cleaner than most laboratories, its walls gleaming with Viltrumite alloy that refracted light instead of absorbing it. You’d been here long enough to map the sounds. The hydraulic sigh of the pressure door from the main door, the subtle hum of atmosphere control, the faint heat of the lasers caging you in. He visited like a clock tower striking the hour. No guard, no chains, just him—filling the doorway, and then the room. His presence always hit before his voice did with a noticeable weight.
“You haven’t eaten,” he said, voice echoing in the silence. “You watching me now?”
“I watch everything I own.”
“Then you’re wasting your time.”
He didn’t look at you immediately; he was reading something from a tablet, his posture military in its discipline. “Your people have been… difficult,” he said at last. “Invincible resists simple logic. His compassion will get him killed.”
“Maybe that’s what makes him human,” you replied, sounding reminiscent. “Human.” The word left his mouth like he’d eaten something sour. “A convenient term for weakness.” He set the tablet down, eyes flicking to you for the first time in hours. “He cares for you.”
You held his gaze. “And that’s a problem for you, isn’t it?” his words cut through yours. “It’s an opportunity,” Thragg said. “I’ve learned more about him from your silence than I ever would from his words.” He took a slow step forward. His wide stance drawing your attention. You realized how confined the space truly was when he filled it. “You’re wasting your time,” you repeated.
“No,” he murmured. “Time is a resource. You are a variable. You want me to believe your loyalty is unshakable. But every organism has a threshold.” He circled you—not pacing, no, almost orbiting. You could feel the gravity of his attention, he moved with such frightening ease for someone of his size. The faint, deliberate invasion of space suddenly felt heavy. “I’ve tested your endurance. Physical, psychological.” He stopped behind you. “But there’s one reaction you haven’t yet displayed.” You didn’t turn. “Fear?”
His breath touched your shoulder. “Submission.” You swallowed hard. “You’ll be waiting a long time.” His eyes bored into the back of your head. “That depends on how honest you are with yourself.”
He moved in front of you again, close enough that his shadow framed your body. His voice had dropped lower, into a smoother tone, the kind predators used when they’d stopped pretending not to enjoy the hunt. “The accelerated heart rate. The adrenaline. The tremors. Your body betrays you long before your words do.” You met his eyes, refusing to look away, brows knitting. “You really think you can measure me like a specimen?”
“I already have.” His gaze flicked down and back up again, the faintest smile threatening the corner of his mouth—not amusement, but recognition. “And you hate that it’s true.” Something in the air shifted, not the thrum of violence, not restraint either, you didn’t know what but it was unbearable. He turned, heading toward the door, but stopped just before it opened.
“Invincible has three days to decide,” he said, almost casually. “If he refuses, I’ll show him how easily human resolve collapses under the right pressure.” Then, softer—too soft for comfort, he spoke. “You’ve lasted longer than most.” The door sealed behind him, and the silence he left was somehow louder than his presence.
“... Oh, shit.”
Morning came only in theory. In captivity, time bled into itself until you couldn’t tell whether the pale light leaking through the cell’s upper vents belonged to sunrise or to some other planet’s dying hour. You were counting breaths when the door sighed open again. His hair was unbound, uniform half undone, eyes brighter than they should’ve been. Something had changed.
The last encounter you two had felt like it was your last day alive. He visited after you refused to eat again, this time having you study every civilization his people had touched. You realized he wasn’t angry at your resistance; he was compelled by it. Every refusal chipped at whatever conviction kept him above instinct. His peace brought you dsicomfort, so, you studied. Books still in hand as he entered.
He didn’t speak at first. He only watched you, long enough for the silence to start feeling like contact. “Invincible still refuses,” he said finally. His tone was measured, but the restraint in it was cracking at the edges. “He speaks of mercy, compromise… as if such things are currency between predators.”
You crossed your arms. “You sound threatened.” He laughed once, the sound low, but humorless. “By him? No. By you?” His gaze flicked up. “Perhaps.” The admission startled you. It startled him, too; you saw it in the brief flicker of confusion that followed, quickly buried under his usual calm. He stepped closer, the floor reverberating under his weight.
“I have been asking myself,” Thragg murmured, “why I haven’t simply ended this. Why I haven’t torn this planet in half and been done with it.” He lifted his hand, fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face, not gently, but carefully, as though testing what would happen if he did. “You remind me that even strength,” he said, “craves something to measure itself against.” Your pulse kicked hard. “That sounds almost… human.”
“Do not insult me.” But the bite in his voice dulled halfway through the sentence. He drew back, breathing slow. “Every empire collapses the moment it begins to feel.” He turned sharply, as if movement could burn away his impulse over time. “I will not make that mistake.”
“Then why are you here?” you asked. He stopped, unable to answer, annoyance settling across his face. With tense shoulders and a set jaw, he faced you again. There was no smirk, no arrogance—only that quiet, disbelieving hunger of a man aware of the line he’s about to cross. “Because,” he said, each word deliberate, but holding no real explanation, but to him, it was more of an answer than you deserved. “you have made me curious.”
You stood rigid near the doorway, hands clasped behind your back as he'd commanded hours ago. He had you pulled from your cell to be his, “Personla Attendant” he called it. You'd polished his Viltrum Empire medallion clasp until your fingertips went raw, arranged planetorial data by frequency, even adjusted the atmospheric controls to his exacting specifications.
Each task performed under his silent observation, each movement calculated to deny him the satisfaction of visible distress. Yet the weight of his gaze felt different today—less analytical, more... hungry. He always watched you with a certain stiffness—with a hand resting against his inner-thigh. He called you often, like he got off on you performing daily tasks for him.
“Come,” he ordered. The word carried more weight than sound. You hesitated, and it wasn’t bravery—it was a stubborn reflex. He tilted his head, smile cutting sharp. “Even now you question commands. Do you imagine that earns respect?” You didn’t respond, unsure of how far mouthing off would get you.
He was close enough now that the air shifted, heat radiating from him like a star too near orbit. His hand caught your chin, turning your face up as if appraising weaponry. “Mark Grayson protects you. That makes you leverage. But perhaps… more than that.” His eyes flicked down your figure—it seemed clinical, but greed seeped into his gaze. He released you suddenly, pacing the small space with a predator’s patience. “Do you know what separates our kind from yours?”
“Arrogance?” you offered. “Discipline,” he said, voice calm. When he turned again, his expression had changed—something colder, measured, his head gesturing towards the books.. “You wish to understand us? Then serve. Service reveals truth.” You paused. “Serve you how?”
“However I choose.” He replied, curtly.
He motioned you forward. When you didn’t move fast enough, his hand closed around your arm—firm and unyielding, but not cruel. The restraint was effortless. You could feel the hum of muscle beneath his skin, waiting. He guided you to the center of the room, where the floor gleamed like a mirror.
“On your knees,” he said. “I expect you to obey. Whether that comes before or after pain is up to you.” Something inside you bristled—fear braided with defiance. Yet the pull of his authority, the raw gravity of his presence, made refusal feel like holding your breath underwater. You lowered yourself slowly, every motion deliberate, and met his gaze as if daring him to blink first. “Better,” he murmured. “Now, watch.”
He stripped off the upper layer of his uniform with a fluid precision. Beneath the armor, the marks of battle mapped his skin—scars rendered almost ceremonial by the harsh light. “This body,” he said, voice lowering, “is engineered for conquest. Every cell, every breath built to dominate. You understand what that means, don’t you?” You swallowed, refusing to look away. “You think strength makes you right.” He stared down at you, expression unreadable. “No. Strength makes right.”
He knelt then—slowly—until you were both eye to eye. The shift in height didn’t soften him; it made him more dangerous, as though proximity itself could crush you. “Service isn’t submission,” he said. “It’s recognition of hierarchy. You will learn that. And I—” he paused, voice dropping to something rougher “—will test the limits of your endurance.” His fingers brushed your jaw, thumb tracing the pulse in your throat. “Do you know what I could do to you?”
You whispered, “Yes.”
“And yet you don’t flinch.”
“Maybe I want to see if the stories are true.”
The sound he made wasn’t laughter, exactly—it was approval, dripping with threat. “Then earn the truth.”
Before you could even draw breath, Thragg's mouth descended upon yours, crushing your lips beneath his in a brutal claim. This was no tender embrace, but an invasion, like his physiology transformed the act into a primal, all-consuming assault. His lips were a relentless demand, his teeth scraping against yours with a ferocity that left you reeling, each breath stolen as if it belonged to him. The world blurred, spots dancing behind your eyelids as your lungs burned for air.
His hands, callused and warm, slid up your sides with a purposeful roughness, his touch leaving trails of fire in their wake. Through the thin fabric of your tunic, his thumbs found the sensitive peaks of your breasts, thumbs working in short circles that sent jolts of electricity through your body. He pinched and twisted, each movement calculated to extract a response, the sharp burst of pain a stark contrast to the growing heat between your thighs. You gasped into his mouth, the sound torn from your throat by the intensity of it all—and he swallowed it down like a trophy—a low growl of satisfaction rumbling in his chest as he claimed your very breath as his own. With each groan, when you tugged away, he'd yank you back by your nipples with a searing heat sprouting across your chest.
He hauled you into an adjacent chamber, the door sealing with a pneumatic sigh. Thragg forced you face-first against the unyielding wall, retrieving heavy restraints from a concealed alcove—Viltrumite alloys that snapped around your wrists and ankles, splaying you wide, vulnerable. The cuffs dug in just enough to leave marks, ropes dance around your figure, each intricate knot a whisper of restraint that ignites the skin with a symphony of sensation. He tore your clothes with a single upward rip, fabric scattering like ash
He prowled around you, callused fingers mapping your shoulders, your ribs, lingering on the curve of your hip. He spoke with intent. “You will earn my praise,” he said. “Not by surviving. By obeying.” He leaned in, his chest brushing your back, the heat of him seeping through your skin, chest to chest, making your breath hitch as his palm skimmed your thigh, hovering near your cunt without granting contact.
Thragg retreated a step, his face a mask of calculation. He didn’t bother to explain, simply expected you to accept. From a nearby rack, he selected a thin probe—polished and unforgiving, meant for delving deep. He slicked it with a quick swipe of lubricant, then aligned it with your urethra, the cool tip pressing insistently. Your legs went to instinctively shut when cool air hit your skin just before his palm did—a stinging slap across your thigh that left heat blooming in its wake.
"Hold position," You inhaled sharply as it breached, sliding in incrementally, the stretch a fiery intrusion that made your clit throb in response. “Breathe through it,” he ordered, easing it further, the subtle rotation sending sparks of overload through your nerves, your pussy clenching emptily as arousal leaked down the crack of your ass, the sound of slick echoing loudly in the capacious room.
The impacts followed swiftly. Thragg's open hand connected with your ass cheek, the crack resounding, heat flaring across your skin in a red bloom. He struck again, methodically, each swat targeting fresh areas—your thighs, the underside of your ass—while his other hand steadied the probe, inching it deeper into your piss hole. The combined sensations twisted pain into a throbbing ache, your body quivering, cunt dripping onto the floor.
It slid deeper than any human instrument could, a fullness that bordered on violation. Your eye twitched uncontrollably as tingles shot through you. "You learn to accept what strengthens you. Endure." Thragg demanded, delivering a firmer blow to your lower back, the jolt forcing a whimper from your throat. Vulnerability clashed with your inner resilience, mind spinning as your ass stung, the probe filling you with an invasive pressure that bordered on ecstasy.
He halted briefly, probe embedded to its limit, his fingers capturing your breasts, thumbs rolling your hardened nipples before pinching viciously, drawing out gasps. Thragg's head dipped low, his mouth seizing your nipple with a ferocity that made you curl into him, the sudden, intense suction sending waves of conflicting pleasure and pain through your body as he tugged and rolled it between his teeth.
The manipulation was deliberate, each squeeze probing your breaking point: surrender or persist? You locked eyes with him over your shoulder, a spark of challenge in your stare, and Thragg's lip curled faintly—intrigue at the way your body betrayed you with slick need despite the assault. His exhale sounded suspiciously ragged. "Good." The praise landed like a verdict.
At last, he extracted the probe slowly, leaving your pussy tender and pulsing. He released your ankles only to secure your wrists at the small of your back, dropping you to your knees on the grated floor. The head was a deep, angry red, glistening with pre-cum, hair trimmed into a tapered V. He tapped the blunt tip against your cheek, the weight of him heavy against your skin. It was a command and a promise all at once. “Open,” he rasped.
You complied, mouth enveloping the broad head, tongue swirling over the slit, its rather cloying taste overwhelming your tastebuds. Thragg fisted your hair, hips driving forward into your throat, your sounds were garbled, swallowed by him punching that back of your throat with measured force.
Chokes and slurps echoed as drool trailed down your chest, your bound arms straining uselessly. His free hand delved over the curve of your ass and between your legs—digits circling your soaked entrance before plunging three into your pussy, curling to batter your g-spot. His cock stretching your jaw in rhythm with fingers reaming your walls—building a coil of desperation.
"Look at me," he demanded. When your eyes met his, the raw hunger there stole your breath. His thumb brushed your clit with startling expertise, circling once, twice, before withdrawing just as pleasure crested. "Not yet," he murmured just above your ear, the vibration thrumming through your bones. "Service requires discipline." His fingers replaced the thumb, sliding inside you with brutal efficiency while his other hand twisted your nipple sharply. You arched against him with a gasp he silenced by capturing your mouth again—all teeth and conquest and the faintest tremor in his grip.
"Quiet," he ordered his breath fanning your back, the sound sending vibrations through you. When your hips jerked involuntarily, he brought your head down against his pelvis—a warning that bloomed into sharp pleasure. He smelt of cooled metal, a metallic warmth mixed with a hint of sandalwood. "You take it well," he growled, the words muffled against clenched teeth. "Like you were made for this." His pace intensified, hips, words, and fingers working in brutal harmony until your vision blurred. Just as your muscles clenched toward release, he pulled out his sopping wet fingers completely, leaving you trembling on the edge.
"Enough," he rasped, rising to tower over you again. His breathing was uneven, eyes narrow as he studied the flush spreading across your chest. He pressed upwards again your collarbone, he laid a fingertip to your swollen nipple, watching it pucker under his touch.
“Well done,” he said, the commendation rough as gravel, a rare concession. Yet your capitulation masked resolve; you hollowed your cheeks, sucking with fervor, groaning at the praise, drawing a subtle hitch in his breath as his control wavered—hips snapping sharper.
He pulled out abruptly. Hauling you forward by the hips, lifting you effortlessly until your legs wrapped around his waist, your reddened ass thrust out invitingly. Thragg coated his cock sparingly in your slick, he didn’t thrust—he impaled you slowly, inch by excruciating inch. The girth splitting you open in a blaze of stretch and made your vision swim. A low groan tore from his throat as he seated himself fully. You cried out, nails scraping metal as he pounded in, balls smacking your ass with every drive. "Look at me," he demanded.
Your eyes met his—dark, dilated, stripped of calculation. He drove back in with a force that stole your breath, setting a punishing rhythm that rattled the wall at your back. His hand gripped your ass, fingers digging into tender flesh as he lifted and dropped you onto his cock with brutal precision. "Take it," he snarled, the command fraying at the edges. "Take all of it." His thrusts grew erratic, losing their military cadence. You could feel the tremors in his arms, the way his control splintered with every ragged gasp you drew from him.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, it almost became rhythm. The slide of breath, the dull thud of contact, the small gasp that broke between you two. You could feel every ridge—every vein of his cock as he moved inside you, the sensation overwhelming and intense like a live wire. It was hypnotic, mind numbing, feeling every twitch and tap against you cervix like a threat. His tongue roamed the expanse of your neck, exploring every inch of your skin, possessively, each touch a claim of ownership. When he found the place where your pulse lived just under the skin, the world seemed to contract to that heartbeat alone—his, yours, indistinguishable.
The muscles of his ass clenched and released with each drive. You were tight—almost too tight. He marked tempo with every motion, the cadence of dominance written not in cruelty but in how many stars he could make you see behind those eyelids.
He edged your clit with teasing strokes, holding your climax at bay, your muscles fluttering wildly around him. His pace fractured, breaths ragged as your tight pussy gripped him. Grinding deep as his mouth crashed onto yours again—less a kiss than a claiming. One hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. His teeth scraped against your collarbone while his other hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit, dragging it against the callous of his fingertips.
His other hand continued to map every part of your, tracing the curves of your spine, watching as your back arched into the air. It was a sight he couldn't describe; it sickened him with anger. Your legs went slack around him, completely surrendering to every mind numbing caress against your walls. His powerful arms were the only thing keeping you aloft, his cock thrusting deep inside you, supporting your weight with each pummel. You bounced with each movement, a rag-doll in his iron grip. Completely at his mercy. The sensation of being held—secured—impaled and controlled, sent waves of ecstasy through you.
"Now," he commanded, circling the swollen nub with bruising pressure. "Come." The order ripped through you, triggering a convulsive wave of pleasure that locked your muscles around him, his fingers grinding your clit until you shattered, juices squirting over his hand. He groaned, a raw, guttural sound ripped from his chest, as your climax triggered his own. You felt him pulse inside you, hot and relentless, his hips jerking erratically against yours.
The air was thick enough to drink.
For a long moment, he remained buried deep, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breathing harshly against your skin. When he finally lifted his head, his expression was of cold fury—not at you, but at himself. He withdrew abruptly, leaving you cold, empty, and slumped against the wall. Turning away, he snatched a cloth from a shelf, wiping himself with mechanical efficiency. His shoulders were rigid, every movement sharp with contained violence. "Return to your cell," he ordered, voice stripped back to its usual gravel. But when he glanced back at you—at the marks on your skin, the flush still staining your chest—his gaze lingered a fraction too long. Something flickered there: not calculation, not strategy. Something raw, and utterly, terrifyingly unfamiliar.
Thragg straightened, fastening his uniform with precise motions, his stare lingering on your form. No tenderness followed—merely contemplation. “You hold potential,” he murmured, voice threading threat with possibility. An indefinate excuse to prolonge holding you hostage. “Persist, and you may yet shape destinies beside mine.” The declaration hung ambiguous, blurring conquest and alliance, your mind adrift in the haze of blurred lines between power and surrender. For someone as unpredictable as him, what was hidden in those words would never be known to be anything besides selfish.
The hydraulic door opened before you reached it. You hesitated on the threshold, glancing back. Thragg hadn't moved. He stood silhouetted against the glowing star maps, head bowed slightly, one hand pressed flat against the alloy table as if steadying himself. The image was jarring. The conqueror of worlds, undone. You took a breath, tasting him on your tongue. "What purpose?" you asked, the question barely a whisper. He didn't answer nor did he look up. His silence was louder than any admission.
You stepped through the doorway. As it sealed behind you, cutting off the view of his solitary, rigid figure, you heard it—a low, shuddering breath, muffled by the thick door.
It wasn't anger and it definitely wasn't strategy. That would be too sloppy for the viltrumite. But you know one thing, it sounded like the first crack in an unbreakable facade.
A/N: My tumblr conveniently saying it has issues processing my post—FOR AN ENTIRE HOUR. Anyway, additional edits will be made at dawn.
thinking about 𝒍𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒅𝒚 conforting you after finding out that your excuse of a boyfriend, who happens to be his oldest son, had cheated on you.
you were trembling on his arms, sobbing while trying to say some coherent to him but leon could only focus on how pretty you looked with your face all teared up, lipstick smudged and rosey puffy cheeks.
you were so cute, he didn't want you suffering over the actions of an asshole, even if that said asshole was his own son. so, with all the best intentions a man like him could have, he did all he could to cheer you up and make you forget.
and if that implied eating you out with his son's hoodie still on, so be it.
"mmf, fuck, mr. kennedy," your sweet moans were like music to his ears. your delicate hand found its way towards his head and grasped the grey-ish strands, tugging at them when his face buried deeply into your pussy, and his nose tip brushed against your puffy clit. a low growl teared from his throat when your thighs squeezed his head, making him choke on his breath.
mr. kennedy. oh, how he loved whenever you called him that. normally, it would have been in a polite greet whenever you came to visit. but now, with your soft legs tangled around his head and his mouth glued to your leaking cunt was more enjoyable than ever.
you're squirming and whining under his tongue, holding onto his hair as his mouth sinked more into your core, telling him it's too much for you to handle. yet, he didn't care, not when your pussy was clenching around his tongue, begging for him to keep going. you were so desperate for his touch it was almost pathetic.
poor baby, all of this time fucking a useless prick, not knowing what it was like to be worshipped like you deserved. it was bordeline criminal, a beautiful woman like you—the root of all desire, the tought on his brain whenever he furiously fisted his cock at night—neglected by someone who didn't know what he had.
"that's right," he groaned against your soaken core. "feels good, isn't it? spread your legs a bit more, yeah—just like that, fuucking god."
his hot breath ghosted over your sensitive clit, making your head falling back against the cushions, moaning and pleading, crying your eyes out for a release. "mhmp, mr. ken—oh fuck! r-right there! i'm so.."
leon increased the pace of his tongue, smothering his moans in your pussy, sending vibrations that were enough to drown out his lewd noises with your orgasm— shutting him off while squeezing your thighs, hidding his face between your shaky legs.
pushing katsuki away after you cum despite wanting nothing more than to have him smother you with his insane body but you’re too hot to have this million degree skin touching you. it’s the middle of summer, your body temp already running way to high for your comfort and now youre hot and sweaty and sticky and your heart is jumping out of your chest and you cant handle the heat rippling from him.
“kats…you…” you pushing him away, swatting at his massive shoulders but it does nothing. “away. too hot.”
you’re not making sense but it’s because your head is still spinning and blood is rushing in your ears.
“why are you pushing me-hey!”
“too hot. i’m- suki move.” with two hands you shove weakly against his chest and despite not having the strength to move him, he follows your shove and rolls onto his back beside you. “too hot. i feel hot.”
nonsense spills from you mouth as you breath deeply, gulping down cold fresh air (it’s hot air but it’s not straight from the lungs of your boyfriend air and that’s exactly what your body needs) vision that had been darkening begins to clear, your head swirling less dramatically.
the mattress shifts beneath you and the next thing you feel is a cold towel pressed against your cheeks. the relief is instantaneous, a sigh punching from your lungs as you feel another cold rag on your bare chest. soaking cotton is dragged over your stomach, down your thighs and over your calves before it is brought back up to your chest.
“better?” katsuki mumbles from beside you, his large hands wiping your searing skin cool with each pass of the towel.
your response is a pleased hum, lazy smile blooming.
your boyfriend continues to swipe cold lines over your heated skin, cleaning up the mess between you thighs in the process.
“need water?”
“mm-hmm.”
“snack?”
“mm-mm”
a water bottle is pressed to your lips. “drink.”
your eyes flutter open to see katsuki above you, red eyes half lidded in contentment. lips wrap around the straw, sucking down ice cold water to soothe the inner fire racing through your veins. he waits until youre done then takes a drink after you.
“almost made me pass out.” you mumble, fingers reaching out to trace random patterns across his muscled thigh.
“from heat or sex?”
“sex.” you dig your fingers into scarred flesh. “then heat but that was cause of the great sex.”
a/n: idk how to end this. the writers block is so real rn
🏁 eighteen plus only ! ⋆ minors don’t interact ⋆ angst ⋆ violence ⋆ tweakdoriya ⋆ mentions of kidnapping & crime ⋆ subtle bkdk ⋆ pro hero izuku midoriya, pro hero katsuki bakugou, fem reader
this warehouse has been vacant for years.
an old storage unit just on the outskirts of the city once used for shipping textiles to more rural areas and towns without the larger more commercial shopping districts. but after a secret mission involving the busting of a huge underground crime syndicate along with the tactical skills of pro heroes from both across japan and overseas, the warehouse remains empty. rusting and unused, its location a forgotten memory in paperwork somewhere filled back at the public safety commission’s hq. unknown.
unknown to all except for a select few.
including that of pro hero deku, or to some. izuku midoriya.
a resounding crack echoes through the sole, widespread room. it’s sickening sound reverberating and bouncing off of the high ceilings and thick-set concrete walls. it’s loud enough to make you think … but you wouldn’t hear a peep if you’d happened to stroll by outside.
katsuki grimaces underneath the high collar of his hero suit. unblemished, aside from rubble and ash. practically clean like a normal day’s work. he can’t stand to look, red eyes drawn to a mouse scampering across the damp, floor cracked and dotted with puddles of sewage. he can’t look because he can’t stand how squeaky clean he appears in comparison to deku. crimson blooms against dark green, seeps into the happy golden of his cape and stains the pure white of his gloves.
another sickening crack breaks through the silence, blood splattering to the stone floor and onto freckled cheeks.
“i won’t ask you again,” izuku growls, menacing — terrifying in a way that would be unimaginable to the people that knew him best. hell, even kacchan was scared. “where is she?” he punctuates each word with another slam of his fist against this poor stranger. this person. their visage shattered, teeth missing and the bones providing any form of facial structure surely broken.
katsuki doesn’t even recognise the person they’d brought here tonight. someone who was supposedly there the day you were taken. swept up in a crowd during a huge villain attack, pieces of your clothes and your hair and jewellery mailed in bubble wrapped packages to izuku’s agency, his home. your home. nearly everyday for the last two months.
he can’t even begin to imagine the levels pain, the fear and the anger that swirls within his childhood friend’s bloodstream but he can see that it’s entirely too much for one man to handle. vivid in the strokes of violence izuku acts out. the informant or stranger they were meant to be integrating lies a heap of snapped bones and bloodied features in a chair under piercing white light — accentuating the extent of their injury.
but every wet snack and forceful impact pulls another scream of terror from them. a plead for mercy as izuku loses another second of composure. he’s not who he was back then, he wasn’t even like this during the war — lost to grief he’s not even sure is real. how can you grieve someone when you don’t know if they’re dead or alive?
“i-i… ‘m sorry please! i don’t… i dont know!”
“can’t say, i’ve never seen much value in a liar.” izuku misses you. he’s scared for you. and love has no bounds like a man scorned. he’ll go as far as he needs to in order to bring you home safe. he licks the dots of coagulated blood from his cheeks — charging up fa jin for another jaw shattering impact.
“please! please let me go i don’t know!”
if japan could see their symbol of hope now. would they really still believe? that this was the same boy, who saved everyone … villain or not… with a smile?
“quit. lying.” izuku midoriya’s voice wobbles with a pain no one should ever have to experience.
“i-i’m not!”
katsuki finally pushes off the wall, finally intervenes because he’d let izuku get away with many things but murder isnt one of them. or at least multiple. there have been too many bodies dropped off anonymously at hospitals, some almost beyond repair. “that’s fucking enough, izuku.” he murmurs. “cut it out, you’ll kill the guy.”
“what makes you think i care, kacchan?” spinning to face dynamight, izuku snarls harsh and menacingly. “this fucker knows something. he knows what they did to her. he was there.”
“he says he doesn’t know, izuku. let’s give it a rest for tonight.” katsuki counters, trying not to set the latter off.
“i can’t rest, kacchan.” it’s like he’s snapping, still that boy who cries from appreciation when being helped by friends but now that man who hurts and so hurts others. every stitch that made izuku midoriya, deku, unravels like they’ve been unpicked by the person who kidnapped the love of his life. and the one person, the only one who can bring him back to sanity and put him back together is you… and you’re missing. “it’s been two months since we heard anything. the commission are closing down her case. they sent me her fucking ring. what will it be next, her finger? i’m not waiting around for someone to do something. not stopping until she comes home. even if it mean beating the crap out of the worthless.”
he turns back, winding up his fist — eyes glowing with a murderous intent no one would ever know izuku possessed. “tell me,” he seethes, teeth grit and jaw locked. “where. she. is.”
“i don’t know… i don’t—”
“one for all, one hundred percent—”
katsuki can’t watch another second. moving before his mind had caught up — sparking palms encapsulating deku’s deadly wrist and using his grip to flip the green haired hero to the ground. “izuku god fuckin’ damn it,” he yells, out of warning or fear. he can’t tell. “look at yourself, drenched in blood that ain’t even yours. we’re not going to get anywhere if you keep killin’ the leads.”
the blonde knows better, moving quick to pin deku down to the floor and pull his wrists tight against his back. “let me go, kacchan.” he warns.
“no, you’re outta your goddamn mind.” bakugou mutters back, doing a quick check on the informant with his eyes. relieved at the subtle rise and fall of their chest despite being passed out.
“i said, let me go.” this time, it comes out as a threat.
“no.” the blonde refuses to give.
“bakugou.”
“deku.”
izuku flips the scene, using his weight to roll from his old friend’s faltering grip. one moment, dynamight is up right and the next, he gets a handful of one for all and metal armour to the face, forcing him across the warehouse floor as if all his muscle and weight were a mere tumble weed. izuku is fast when he’s pissed off, throbbing with anger and danger that could kill. it’s then, that katsuki is trapped, glued to the floor by muscular legs that straddle his hips — now with one hand practically crushing his windpipe.
“what?” katsuki laughs with a rasp, though his pulse quickens the less air he manages to intake. crimson lines his gums, stark against his pearly white teeth. “you gonna kill me too? she’d be fuckin’ pissed, you know.”
the green haired hero hesitates, only for a second — just enough for his movements to slow, for there to be an opening of weakness. bakugou moves quick, heavy studded combat boot landing square in the stomach of his childhood friend to kick him off, an explosion at the ready in case he needed it. it wouldn’t be the first time the two fought, but with the carnage izuku was displaying — it could very well be the last.
groaning as he rolls to sit up, izuku midoriya laughs — forehead just as bloody as the guy he’d beaten to a pulp just mere meters away. protected by kacchan. “i would if i had to.”
“would she want that? want you to keep hurting people? beat these guys nearly half to death? even the people you love?” the blonde quips back, forcing himself to sit up too — filling his lungs with the air he’d struggled to breath just moments ago.
“don’t talk about her like she’s gone and you know what she’d say. you’re not her, kacchan. no matter how much you stick to my side, you never will be. you’re just a tool to get her back.” izuku blood where his childhood friend has busted his lip but hauls himself to stand on weary legs anyway. dazed but daring the latter for a fight. his words land like a sword dipped in poison, ready to cut at a moments notice. they make katsuki freeze, cause his heart to stop and hurt to flood his veins. all he wants is to help. to bring you back home to the people who love you. both he and izuku included.
“that’s not fair.” dynamight whispers, shell shocked.
but it’s not like izuku cares. his thirst for the blood of those who took you have him too far gone now. he rolls his shoulders, checking for dislocations, but leaves the goon. he heads straight for the warehouse door without so much as a glance back to his partner. his hero partner.
“get in my way again, and it’ll be you who ends up nearly half dead next.”
the world sees izuku as their symbol. one of hope and one of dream, but to you… he’s just your hero. the one who saved you, always with a smile. so they don’t know the lengths he’d go to, how many skulls he’d shatter, organs he’d tatter, lives he’d take to make sure you came back to him.
he’d be bloody and delirious and maybe a wanted criminal… but at least, he would be smiling when he saw you again too.
end. - reblogs and comments are always appreciated! just liking doesn't do anything. so leave a comment to motivate this writer if you'd like to see more!!
The smell of tobacco clings to the air as moonlight slips through the window, silver light piercing the dark room. It catches the drifting smoke, thin and slow, as it glides outside. Yami stands near the windowsill, one bare shoulder braced against the frame, staring out. His boxers sit low on his hips, the moonlight tracing the lines of his chest.
“Come back to bed,” you whisper, brushing your fingers over the silk sheets where he had been, still warm, still creased with the shape of his body.
He turns toward you, exhaling another slow puff of smoke. The cigarette hangs loosely from his lips, the ember glowing faintly in the dark.
“Idiot,” he mutters. “What’d you wake up for?”
But he's already walking back to you.
He flicks the cigarette away without looking, the faint glow disappearing as he climbs back onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight.
He leans down and kisses you, soft and warm, and all too quick. You can taste the tobacco on his lips.
"Those things are gonna kill you one day," you murmur as he pulls away, finally settling beside you. He guides your head onto his chest, running a calloused hand through your hair.
"My job's people trying to kill me. At least let me pick how I kick the bucket."
"Yes, here lies Captain Yami, who died valiantly fighting a… cigarette." You mock sleepily, waving your hands. He catches them, lacing his fingers through yours.
He's quick, flipping you onto your back. The tumble wakes you right up, groggy eyes flying wide open.
"Stop naggin' me, woman."
His hands never leave yours, now clasped firmly above your head. His black hair hangs loosely, dark strands framing his face as he stares down at you, steel eyes meeting your own. Something about the way he looks at you, the way his rugged features always seem to soften just a bit, makes your chest tighten.
His hands relaxes, moving down to gently cup your cheek, and you feel the hardened skin brushing against your own, a testament to his years of work with a sword.
“Yami…” you whisper softly, his lips move to capture yours, while his other hand guides your leg around his waist, settling at your hip as he gently squeezes between kisses.
His lips move against yours, tongue sweeping against your bottom lip. Your lips part eagerly, the taste of earth and ash melting on your tongue. And for always naggin' him about smoking… you couldn't get enough of the taste of it on his tongue.
His hands slides under your shirt, rough fingers grazing the soft skin, and your breath catches softly into the kiss.
He pulls back only enough for his breath to fan across your lips, his forehead brushing against yours.
“Still worryin’ about that cigarette?” he smirks.
You huff softly. "Someone has to."
Truth be told, the absolute last thing on your mind was a cigarette.
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest before he kisses you again.
The End :) As always let me know if you enjoyed reading! Sorry it's so short, it's been a minute since I've written anything..
I had planned on writing nsfw, but I've only ever written sfw so I chickened out, but ill work up to it one day,,, ,_,
In which your husband is a freak, this was something that you already knew. You just had no idea how much of a freak he really was until you started complaining about your period. He must've gotten tired of your complaints because he showed you a side of himself you weren't prepared to see.
CW; Mentions of periods, mentions of oral (f receiving), mentions of period sex, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of breeding, possible dubcon
Staring; Katsuki Bakugo x reader .ᐟ Izuku Midoriya x reader
K.Bakugo
"I hate it so much Katsu. The stupid cramps and hormones everywhere! And the worst part is when I get horny. Ugh!"
You're complaining about your period again, it's the fourth time in the last hour. Katsuki has ignored it for the better part of that hour by (trying) to focus on some paperwork he brought home from the agency but it's getting increasingly more difficult with you pacing back and forth and whining to him about how awful and stupid your period is. He's finally had enough, so the next time you pace in front of him, he swiftly grabs your wrist and yanks your body onto his lap.
"Woman. Yer gettin' on my damn nerves with all yer complainin' and it's startin' t'piss me off ya know that?"
The words come out in a snarl but there's no real aggression behind them, there never is when he speaks to you, just a hint of annoyance and tiredness that's evident in the way his voice takes on that weird little accent he gets when his words start slurring together and he drops the 'G' sound at the end of some words.
"Katsu."
You're whining again and he grasps your chin between thumb and forefinger forcing you to look at him.
"Ah ah, I'm gettin' real tired of hearin' yer complaints. Ya either let me fuck a baby in ya to get rid of the dumbass period for a while or ya let me fuck ya now to get rid of the cramps."
He says it so simply and glides his eyes down your body before snapping them back up to meet yours that are wide and dumb founded.
"K-Katsu…I'm bleeding…"
You mumble as if that means anything to him with the way he's staring at you.
"W-We can't?"
It comes out as a question and he just continues to stare at you before licking his lips.
"Blood is natural."
Is all he says.
"KATSUKI!"
You yell at him.
"Woman."
He simply says back. The two of you end up in a staring contest, each glaring at the other to see who will give in first. Though his next words leave you in absolute shock at the level of freak you've discovered him to be as you hit his chest with your fists.
"What's the point in having a sword if ya aren't gonna get it a little bloody sometimes?"
I.Midoriya
"Baby please, I promise it'll feel good and it'll help with your cramps."
Izuku's voice drifts through the bedroom door where you have locked yourself inside to hide from him. It started off as you two cuddling on the couch watching a movie together when you started complaining about your cramps and how the hormone changes drive you crazy with how fast they shift. Izuku, your lovely husband who was used to your complaining, simply held you tighter and turned the heat on the heating pad higher to help alleviate the cramps. Which worked for a bit until you started complaining about how the worst part is that you would get horny for no reason what-so-ever.
That's when your husbands demeanor shifted, his grip on your waist tightening in a different manner as his thumbs started rubbing soothing circles on your hips. Body shifting against yours to slot a leg between your thighs as his face hid in your neck, lips kissing at the exposed skin of your shoulder.
Your body had stiffened, voice cutting off mid-rant as you asked him what he was doing. His only response being that he was helping you. It wasn't until Izuku started kissing down your body that you understood what he meant as his lips pressed a kiss to the valley between your breasts over your shirt. You had tried pushing him away, insisting that it wasn't going to happen because you were a mess down there. You hadn't shaved and you were bleeding due to your period. He insisted that it would help make you feel better and that he didn't care if you were messy. It was nearing the end of your period so the blood flow wouldn't be that much and he didn't care anyway because he's a man and he's not scared of a little blood.
You had managed to push him off and run away after he'd lifted your shirt to bite and suck at your hip and that was how you found yourself locked in your shared bedroom, back against the locked door as you listened to him whine and whimper on the other side about wanting to please you and take care of you and make you feel better.
"No Zuzu that's gross, I can't believe you would even want to do that."
In truth you knew Izuku was a freak and that he loved you very much, you just didn't think he was this freaky. You're honestly kind of embarrassed and insecure about it, not understanding why he would want to do something like that. And it seems he knows what you're thinking and how your mind is racing right now.
"Baby it's natural, you're a woman. Your body is just doing what it's supposed to do and it's perfect. I love you so much and I promise it doesn't bother me at all. Please let me in my love, I just want to make my wife feel good, please."
His voice is so sweet and loving and it always makes your knees weak when he calls you 'my wife'. You love hearing him say those words, it's like he can sense your resolve weakening because he continues speaking.
"Please my love, please."
At this point you don't know whether he's begging to help you feel better or if he's begging to taste you for his own pleasure. Honestly it could be both but you have a feeling that it might be more for himself than anything else. You sigh and with shaky hands turn around to unlock the door. When you open the door, your husband in on his knees looking up at you with eyes full of love and want and a desire so deep it has your breath hitching in your throat.
The moment Izuku sees you standing there he's up on his feet, hands cupping your cheeks and kissing you passionately while walking you both backwards towards the bed where he lays you gently while crawling onto the bed to hover over you.
"Thank you baby, I promise I'll take care of you and make you feel so fucking good."
