Blame it on being touch starved (and not the fact your enemy is attractive) | Space Racer/Viltrumite! F! Reader
>> Assigned to track down and kill Space Racer and take his weapon, you try to figure out a way to do so without it exploding.
Though when the alien begins reacting to your proximity in an unexpected way, you come up with an... odd way to get it.
(Or maybe you're just horny.)
Tags: NSFW/18+, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, rape/non-con elements, extremely dubious consent, enemy lovers, violence, fighting, minor injury, forced pregnancy (he doesn't know about it), sex, vaginal sex, wet & messy, alien biology, nonhuman genitalia, knotting, belly bulge, secret child, flirting?/bickering.
Okay so just to be clear: all the above applies, but Space Racer is still very into what's going on. If it were anyone else/a different circumstance, it would be outright rape. It's just a complicated dynamic that's hard to simplify.
4.1k words | AO3
“Viltrumite scum.”
“Three-eyed freak.”
Dust billowed around you as you grappled with the alien below you, one hand on his chest while the other gripped his forearm, keeping him from aiming the Infinity Ray at you. But it was a fight, the alien nomad stronger than you expected– not that you were using your full strength. You couldn't. Injuring him was a risk, what with the weapon being tied to him.
Too many injuries and it may react. It certainly would if you killed him.
So you were forced to use little of your strength in holding him down and keeping the weapon away from you, which was a struggle when your opponent was very keen on getting you off and then eliminating you.
“Just–! Give up!” You grunted, earth crumbling beneath your knees as they dug into the ground of this abandoned alien planet, your palm pressed flat against his chest. Too much and you'll break his ribs. Too little and he'll get out from under you.
You weren't used to holding back. Not when it came to hunting down threats against the empire. Usually you just killed them before reporting back. But Space Racer wasn't like other threats; his technopathic bond with the Infinity Ray meant killing him was near impossible without also putting yourself at risk.
Which meant you needed to find another solution, and fast.
“Never!” He growled, both hands on the gun and fighting against your strength, weapon shaking as he tried to aim it at you. “I won't go easily, not to a Viltrumite! I'd sooner end us both!”
You growl back, flashing your fangs at him. You had half a mind to bite him like an animal, tear into his flesh and stun him enough to throw it away.
That's a thought. You think, considering it as you eye him. Oh, but what if the pain sets the ray off? Fucks sake–
With a grunt, you press down harder, keeping him trapped with your own body. You move your hand off his broad chest and press it into the dirt, feeling it crumble with ease. Your own weight and force will keep him down instead.
Yet as you keep your arm straight and grip both his wrists, weapon still held firm and almost pointing towards you in his awkward grip on it, you became aware of a change in the legendary Space Racer.
Beneath you, his struggling gains a desperate edge, and though two of his eyes glare up at you, mouth stretched into a gritted snarl, his third eye is wide and almost nervous, gazing downwards. You stare down at him, bemused, trying to figure him out when a sudden jolt of his struggling body causes your hips to brush.
And for you to feel something hard press against you.
Immediately, you go extra still, body immovable as you grip his wrists harder, ripping a pained hiss from his throat.
“You are– this is a joke, right?” You ask, head tilting as you glare down at him, unsure of if you should feel disgusted or not.
Obviously, you knew all about bodily reactions. It wasn't abnormal for Viltrumites to accidentally become aroused during grappling. A groinal response was a normal biological response.
But for an alien to feel that way? To respond like this when he so assuredly wanted to kill you? You'd think his overwhelming hatred would've been enough to kill any other reactions.
Space Racer just glares harder, all three eyes now focused on you, though his body temperature did just rise.
“Shut your mouth. I know not what you speak of.” He claims, obviously trying to save face.
So you just adjust your position above him and roll your hips downwards, feeling his own stutter in response.
He gasps, skin flushing a darker green, maybe a little blue, glare faltering into something anxiously fearful and mortified.
You just huff, lips curling into a grin. A thought comes to you, slowly, unravelling into a fully fledged idea, a plan.
“No? Then I must be feeling some hidden weapon then,” you say, rubbing back and forth across the fat bulge straining against his suit, “as surely this cannot be your penis. It's not as though you'd ever grow aroused for a Viltrumite, right?”
He swallows, breathing so hard his helmet steamed up.
“I would never. You're vile. I'd sooner throw myself into a pit of flesh eating parasites than mate with one of your kind.”
You almost chuckle. It's amusing, really, and you've not experienced much of that in your long life.
But the idea is there, and as you press down flush against him, arousal begins to throb between your legs, vulva opening up like the blossoming of a flower. A carnivorous one, but still.
“Then I suppose I should check to make sure.” You say, a dark thrill passing through you at the look of worry on his face. “I wouldn't want to be caught off guard when you pull this weapon on me.”
Then, thanks to his distracted state, you fling the Infinity Ray to the side, keeping his hands pressed to the ground so he can't summon it back. He begins fighting you anew as you reach for the collar of his suit, finding the zipper with a bit of trouble.
Fuckin’ alien clothing–
Your fingers find it and tug it down. Down, down, down, revealing fine muscles and green skin. He lacks nipples but has short frills along each rib. It fascinates you as you have no information on what species he is, but your attention doesn't linger there long. Not when something bigger catches it.
As you stare at his crotch with wide eyes, Space Racer pants from the exertion, useless struggling ceasing as he watches. He dares to smirk, oddly proud of your stunned look.
“What's wrong, Viltrumite? I thought you were going to handle my weapon.” He sneers, taunting.
You don't respond. Can't. Not when you're drinking him in, taking in his alien cock with far too much fascination.
It's not very long, but it is undeniably fat. You might struggle to hold it with both hands. Despite that, though, it doesn't look very solid; it certainly hadn't felt that way under you. No, if you were to guess, it was squishy and flexible, and wouldn't be hard to take.
Covered in overlapping scales, it's a green-blue colour, with no discernible urethra. There is a tip, scales pointing upwards with small divot in the centre, similar to a flower, but no hole for urine or sperm to come out of.
So how…?
With a small swallow, you look back up at him, trying not to reveal how fascinated you are by his filthy alien body. He was lesser than you, just a mongrel. He should be thanking you for looking at him at all!
“Shut up, mongrel.” You snap, adjusting your grip around his wrists, still lent over him in a slightly uncomfortable arch. “I'm merely surveying it.”
“What for?” He asks, still flustered, still embarrassed, but also filled with a sick delight that he'd have a Viltrumite looking so off-balanced. “Do not tell me you're out of your depth here. You started it.”
You had indeed.
Glancing down again, you took in the foreign phallus, the soft looking scales and the way the fat shaft laid heavily in his lap. It was so… alien. Weird. Unique. You'd mated with Viltrumites before, but no child had ever come of the assignment matings. Nor had they always been pleasurable. No, only a handful of times had any partner brought you pleasure.
But here and now, with nobody else around, you could take your pleasure. Who would stop you? Space Racer?
And if I were to get with child, you think, taking a breath, they might be able to bond with the weapon as well. Take it from him.
It wasn't the best plan, but it was a plan.
So, with a disgruntled growl, you let go of his wrists to begin undressing.
For a moment, Space Racer thinks the fight is back on, already reaching to shove you off if he can and summon the Infinity Ray.
But then you lift your top off and he goes still, eyes wide as he takes in a pair of breasts for the first time in years. Takes in sculpted, unnatural perfection as a Viltrumite, a Viltrumite, bares herself to him entirely.
It is so bizarre that he can't help but stare, frozen. Never before had he heard of a Viltrumite mating with any other species. It just wasn't done. They saw anyone that wasn't a Viltrumite as below them.
He also couldn't help but stare because it had been so, so long since he'd felt the heat (or cold) of another's body against his own. Being a nomad, he rarely stayed in one place, and even rarer did he create any relationships. The last time he'd been with someone was… oh, Faunus… thirteen years ago? Maybe more. His trip through the Eczeldia Quadrant had been full of time anomalies.
So while he should be fighting you off with no hesitation, he shouldn't be judged for a taking a moment to drink it in either. It didn't help that you were so warm against him, and his kind thrived off of heat.
Yet as you rose up to shed your pants, Space Racer snapped back to reality, kicking your knee and making it buckle. He didn't watch you fall, already scrambling to his feet and trying to zip himself back up, reaching for the ray–
Only to be slammed into the ground, grunting as his helmet slammed into it with a crack.
He was immediately pushed onto his back with you on top, back in the same position as before. But he was done playing now.
Grabbing your hips, Space Racer held you still as he sat up fast, slamming his helmet into your face. You let out a cry of shock, but he didn't stop, headbutting you repeatedly until a trickle of blood left your nose.
Your eyes snapped open with fury and you grabbed his helmet, ripping it off. It landed a few feet away, shattered and a little dented, but not completely broken.
“Stop–!” You grunted, hands on his shoulders and shoving him into the dirt, skin bruising under your touch.
He growled, pulling his legs back and bending his knees, feet wrapping around your neck.
“Never!”
You were ripped off of him, slamming into the dirt yourself, dust flying up as he tried strangling you with his feet. But for all that they were more dexterous than other species’, they still weren't as strong as his hands, so he was quick to get on top of you, replacing them with his hands as he tried to knock you out. Even just a few minutes would be enough–
He felt your growl reverberate through your throat, felt the venom in your glare like a physical wound, and felt your legs wrap around his waist.
They squeezed. Your thighs were like iron, plush yet achingly strong, bruising him as once again their positions were switched with you rolling him onto his back.
Dust clung to his suit and your skin, your hair equally a mess from all the rolling around. Between their bodies, his cock was once again squished, slick leaking out from under each scale. It smeared along your belly, the sticky pre dripping in thick strands, scent like slightly rotten fruit and honey.
He tried not to react but oh– oh, it was good. The pressure of your skin, the smoothness of it… pleasure shot up his spine, cock hardening some more. He hated it, but didn't blame himself. You'd been practically rutting him before. How could he not react?
Around your neck, his fingers ached, and that was all they seemed to be doing. He watched your chest rise and fall, knew it was a futile effort to keep going, and he already ached to rest, to get a break.
But he couldn't. Because the second he stopped, you'd–
Between his thighs, his member drooled some more, sullying his suit with stickiness.
Shit. He couldn't even think about it without reacting. Damn him for being so weak, so desperate.
His fingers were becoming numb, and his knuckles were pale. So, with you glaring down at him and with no other choice, Space Racer let go, glaring back at you with just as much venom.
Just because he was giving in didn't mean he hated you or your kind any less.
You huffed, reaching up to rub your throat. He felt satisfaction spark in his chest at the sight of bruises.
“Finally giving up then? Good. I was getting sick of this back and forth.”
You lent over him, one hand placed by his head. You straddled him, shuddering as you felt his slick slide down your skin, now cold from the open air.
“It's not even like this will be bad for you.” You mutter, reaching to grab his member, cringing at how slick it was. You held it up, stroking a bit. More sticky arousal oozes out, scent incredibly strong. “You'll enjoy it.”
He scoffs. “You speak too much. Just get it over with already. No mating with a Viltrumite could ever be pleasurable. You probably enjoy bringing your partners pain during it.”
You scowl down at him, taking offense at his words.
“Says the alien who was hard from the start.”
“A reaction to your body, nothing else.”
“My Viltrumite body.” You retort, raising yourself above him, eyeing the size of it.
You hesitated.
Space Racer watched, silent and waiting. When you didn't move, he frowned, eyes narrowed.
Were you… nervous? No, impossible. Viltrumites didn't do nervous.
And yet it looked like you were anyway.
Grimacing, he looked away, staring at the distance instead of you. He wasn't– he shouldn't. You were a Viltrumite, a monster, you deserved no pity or kindness from him. Especially considering you were forcing him to mate. Raping him. No matter that it lacked the overt violence associated with it (no matter that he wasn't as against it as he claimed to be).
Yet despite all the reasons he shouldn't, Space Racer still feels uneasy to see a female, regardless of species, look so nervous during a mating.
So with a deep sigh and a reprimand to himself, Space Racer reaches for your hips, feeling you tense up, ready for another fight. He soothes you by rubbing your flanks, surprised to find it works.
“It looks bigger than it is.” He mutters, hating himself for being so weak. He should be spitting and cursing, still trying to gain the upper hand and kill you. Not comforting you. “Even hard, it's more soft than not. It'll go in easy.”
You stare at him, expression wavering for a moment before a forced scoff escapes you. But you don't say a word in response, merely holding his cock in place before lowering yourself onto him.
Eyes squeezing shut, he lets out a shaky breath, mouth agape as you take all of him. Slowly, agonizingly. You settle in his lap with a shudder, breaths quick and sharp as his phallus squishes, contorting to the shape of your insides, releasing more slick to make it easier for you.
Absentmindedly, Space Racer squeezes your thighs, still idly stroking them. His head tips back and he opens his eyes to stare at the sky.
Despite the circumstances, it's a beautiful view.
Looking back down as he feels you begin to move, the legendary rider watches as your curves jiggle with each bounce, watches as your brow furrows with concentration as you ride him.
The pleasure hits him in waves, settling low in his stomach and tightening with each roll of your hips, with each bounce of your tits and flash of your folds as you rise up. Despite himself, he enjoys it, hates it and likes it in equal measures. He'll feel disgust afterwards for allowing a Viltrumite to touch him, and enjoying it. Allow whatever horror– if there even is any– to be felt later.
For now though, he selfishly indulges in it. If pleasure is being forced upon him, then he's going to enjoy it as much as he can. Especially since he doesn't know when you'll finally have enough and end him.
Beside his head, your fingers dig into the hard ground and make it crumble, your face a picture of agonized bliss. Despite himself, he feels pride. Along with a hope that this memory haunts the supremacist in you– that you recall how a lesser creature's cock drove you to climax and that any Viltrumite you took to bed after this fell short in comparison.
What? He could be petty. Especially towards Viltrumites.
Your hot walls hugged him tight, smooth like silk and squeezing him with each bounce, milking him for all he's worth. It pulls groans forth, Space Racer sliding his hands up to your waist and guiding you into a different rhythm, one he enjoys far more. It's a miracle you let him, but you seem too far gone, ass slapping down onto his lap with wet claps, strands of sticky, translucent fluid connecting them together.
It's been so long since he's last had a woman, or anyone, really. So long since he had such a pleasant view. He can't look away, staring as he spears in and out of you, belly bulging slightly from his size. He wants to touch it, lay his hand on your stomach and feel how he fills you–
Your other hand slams down into the ground, and he flinches, startled.
You grip the ground, back bowing as you roll your hips faster, clit nudging against his pubic bone. The sounds that fill the air are vile, squelchy and gloopy– then again, his species matings always are. All sexes on his planet tend to produce overwhelming amounts of lubricant for sex, and that doesn't change when they take a partner of a different species.
Not that you are his partner, but– same difference.
As you get closer to your finish, he allows himself to touch you more, figuring you won't mind.
He drags rough palms up your waist and around your back, dragging them in circles. He can't help but wonder if you've ever felt coarse palms before, Viltrumite healing making even that impossible.
You whine as he scratches down your back, hips stuttering briefly before continuing their rhythm. Space Racer just continues exploring, two eyes on your body with the third glued to your face.
His palms envelope your breasts, squeezing intermittently as he rolls your nipples, focusing on the hard little peaks since so few species actually have them, only mammals. He almost wants to lean up and suck, but he figures that may get his head ripped off before he can cum.
Eyes fluttering open, you look down at him, lips parted as you pant, pupils blown wide.
The look catches his attention, sucks him in. It makes his already pulsing shaft pulse harder, scales beginning to harden, dragging roughly along your walls.
Based on the way you moan? You like it. Another bit of pride for him.
And to think, he'd only ever seen Viltrumites be stoic or haughty before. Now he'd seen one wrecked and ruined.
“I'm close,” he informs you, voice wobbling with the effort to speak. He gives your tits one final squeeze before gripping your hips again. “Once the scales harden completely, you won't be able to remove me without pain. I'll ejaculate inside you.”
You breathe unsteadily, leaning down.
“Good.” You whisper, grasping his jaw. “Cum inside me, Space Racer.” You demand, the order lewd with how it trembles as it leaves your lips. “Bury yourself deep and cum inside me.”
So of course, he does.
Years without sex, years without feeling another’s body against his own and listening to their pleasure, watching them become undone because of him had left him weak. One command from his enemy and he was undone.
With his hands holding your hips, he bends his knees and presses his feet into the earth, beginning to thrust up into you, matching your shallow bounces.
You let out a shrill sound, not expecting it yet loving it as you cry out in pleasure, his scales hardening into solid fleshy nubs and rubbing and dragging all along your pussy walls. Wet thwaps echo from his crotch as he fucks up into you, feeling you fall atop him, chest to chest as he moved his hips until he was finally cumming, holding you still against him as he shook beneath you.
From under every scale, tiny little holes began spilling out his sperm the same way they had his arousal, filling you up slowly but surely until your belly was bulging with more than just his dick.
Relaxing, Space Racer sighs, simply holding you against him like he would a lover, not caring about anything but his orgasm for a moment. Your walls still fluttered around him, hips lazily rolling to rub your clit against his crotch, trying to milk every last bit of pleasure as you could out of this encounter.
Some time later, you pushed up, staring down at him.
“You look dehydrated.” You comment casually, lifting your hips to see if you could pull off. His hips came with you.
With a sigh, you settled back down, trying not to move too much.
Crossing your arms, you looked away. “Mongrel.” You mutter.
Eyes opening, Space Racer scowls up at you. “Says the woman who just let said mongrel fuck her. You really have no room to talk.”
You huff. “I'm calling you that because you knotted me like one.” You say, giving him a sharp look.
He paused. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh.” You mock, still looking anywhere but at him.
It took a few more minutes until his cock had softened and shrunk. And when it did–
“By the fucking emperor!” You hissed, pulling off of him as a deluge of slick and cum came out of you, narrowly avoiding drenching him.
Space Racer scoffs at your reaction, sitting up and tucking himself back in. “Don't be like that. You knew what to expect.”
“No, I did not.” You huff, standing awkwardly, more mess dripping out of you. You quickly sealed yourself up, labia pressing together before you wasted anymore sperm.
Might as well get the child you'd wanted at the beginning. Otherwise fucking him was for nothing.
Well. Maybe not nothing. No Viltrumite had ever made you feel that way before, that's for sure.
Giving Space Racer a subtle once-over, you thought about making him your pet. Once he was no longer a threat, of course.
He arched a brow at you. “You saw the mess I made before I was even inside you.” He stated. “And you didn't think–?”
“Oh, shut up!”
Turning away, you go to retrieve your uniform, putting it on as Space Racer watches for a moment before, slowly, retrieving his broken helmet and Infinity Ray.
You tense up as he does, but, perhaps stupidly, he places it on his hip instead of aiming at you like he should.
You relax.
He looks away.
Silently, you push off the ground, eyeing him with something foreign. Slowly, your gaze lowers to his broken helmet.
Hmm.
“There's an abandoned outpost a few kilometres east of here.” You tell him idly, no longer looking at him. “There should be materials to fix your helmet. And bike, if it was damaged in the landing.”
Taking that information in, Space Racer frowns. Turning around to ask you why you were telling him this, he paused as you shot off without another word, leaving the planet, and him, behind.
The wind whistled in the silence.
… slowly, Space Racer turned and began following your directions. He wasn't about to wait around to see how long this ‘mercy’ of yours lasted. Viltrumites didn't do mercy, and they certainly didn't do kindness. He wouldn't be here when you came to your senses and returned to kill him.
(In the end, you didn't return.
No, after leaving that planet, Space Racer continued his travelling and fight against tyranny, only to be stopped by another Viltrumite, buried in an asteroid field for a hundred years as he allowed himself to go into hibernation to survive.
A century later, he was rescued and joined the war against Viltrum.
He just never expected to find a young Viltrumite girl with your features and green hair when he did. Nor did he expect the girl to greet him so warmly.
It turns out that, for all your cruelty and loyalty to your empire, you'd raised your hybrid daughter on stories of him, allowing her to form her own opinion of him. Which were very positive, ending in her wishing to travel with him once the war was over.
And despite it not at all being what he expected when he woke up, Space Racer couldn't find it within himself to say no.)
And then the daughter's name... was Hatsune Miku! *Insert thunderous applause*
Sorry, I spent the last bit of the fic just thinking about that stupid joke. I was just thinking "haha, kid with green hair. ... girl with green hair... hmm" and that's what I thought of.
Also reader isn't mentioned in the end because... well, whatever you wanna believe. Maybe she died, maybe she went to earth, maybe she's hanging around in space. Regardless, Space Racer has to be a parent now.
Space Racer, waking up from a 100 year nap, seeing he has a kid: ... Shit. I need to start paying child support.
Reader after getting pregnant: *fucks off to a Viltrumite colony and doesn't come back until her kid is eighteen*
Reader: Grand Regent, I present to you... a new Viltrumite!
Thragg, squinting: why is her hair green.
Reader: ... she ate a lot of veggies.
Also if you want a visual of what I imagined his dick like... look up a shampoo ginger plant. That's basically it.
