HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING GUYS!!!! READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE WATCHING, I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO EXPLAIN MYSELF BEFORE EVEN POSTING THIS HERE!!!
I really do want to clarify why I would even use such a heavy thing to be used like a metaphor so lemme like write it down and such
Thragg most probably resented the extreme side of ideas Argall was translating to him, he wasn't fully on board to that ideology and he doubted him - which caused Argall's death. I feel like him announcing the purge could be used like a metaphor for him fully submerging himself in Argall's ideology, taking it to the extreme, 'eating the young' (most of the dead bodies seem very fucking young) and such.
I feel like people dont fully grasp that Ursaal is a carbon copy of Thragg, especially given her way of thinking, her loyalty to her 'Viltrume' - her siblings - her pragmatism and her horror of understanding her father's decline to insanity. She resents his extreme ideology the same way Thragg resented Argall's and it pisses Thragg off.
I feel like this metaphor could be used like a way to describe both Thragg's and Ursaal's disappointment and anger that they felt throughout their life.
Or idk, I'm being a dumbahh, but like, ik invincible's fandom is really braindeaded so like pls understand my point before trying to lit me in fire
Well... in Thragg's defence, I don't think there are many opponents she couldn't beat verbally lol. I love how they improved her character in the show, she's one of my favs. Go mama boss š
I get that power-scaling fictional characters against each other is fun yet I canāt help but feel the irony of it when it comes to the characters in Invincible, particularly between Viltrumites, since one of the core ideas that the show explores is about how physical strength is not the supreme mode of expression and survival.
"no, he would not be soft to you, he would actually kill you-" dooooon't care, make that man sobbing pathetically on his knees as he begs for you to stay.
š Summary: The morning after brings a rare moment of tenderness, or something that wears its shape well enough for you to ignore the difference. Soft streaks of light soften sharp edges, making it dangerously easy to forget what you are to each other. Unfortunately, Kregg has no intention of letting you both forget for long.
ā ļø Warnings: explicit, dub-con, power imbalance, dom/sub dynamics, forced begging, coercion, praise, degradation, no aftercare
A/N: I wasnāt sure if I would turn the previous chapter into a series, but here we are lol. I have a few more ideas for this story, so I think Iāll continue writing it.
ALSO, is this how I learn that Iām colorblind, or is Kreggās eye color somewhat inconsistent in the show? I could swear it was brown, but the Invincible Wiki says itās blue? I spent an unreasonable amount of time looking through zoomed in screenshots of scenes to decide what color I was seeing with my own eyes, and still couldnāt decide lol. In some scenes they look like a greyish dark blue, in some, they just look brown to me.
You can also read it at AO3
The morning light filtered into the room in soft, muted streaks. You drifted awake not to the sound of an alarm or the bustle of a city, but to the sensation of being watched. It was a primal awareness, the feeling of a predatorās gaze resting upon you even in the stillness of your sleep.
Kregg woke up earlier than you, as usual. For some reason, he just had to wake up before the sun rose every single morning. He would leave to tend to his duties shortly after he woke up, and because you couldnāt stay in his room unattended, heād wake you just as early to kindly kick you back to your room.
This time, though, he didnāt leave the bed as he always did. You were still cocooned in the warmth of the bed, your limbs heavy and tangled with his, your face pressed against his broad, muscular chest. You tilted your head up to find the source of the gaze that woke you up, finding yourself staring directly into his eyes.
Your first instinct was to avert your eyes. However, you tried and succeeded at holding eye contact. He always corrected you whenever you tried to look away anyway. It wasnāt like he was malicious, at least you didnāt think so. He was simplyā¦ staring, for some reason. Even after all this time, sometimes it was still unnerving to directly meet his stare. Especially when you couldnāt make out what was going through his head, even if vaguely. Like right now.
"Feeling cozy, doll?" He spoke with a warm, gravelly voice that made you feel cozy indeed as you nodded. With drawn-out movements, you stretched in bed, arching your back slightly, feeling the delicious pull of your muscles. Your body slid against his, relishing the restful feeling. This was easily the latest you had been allowed to sleep after spending the night with him. You felt small and pampered, a delicate creature allowed to bask in the sunlight.
It was easy to pretend everything was fine in moments like this. When you lay between a warm body and a blanket, when your mind was still clouded with sleep. Before the burden of a clear mind settled on your conscience to remind you, with every little detail of your routine, this was indeed not normal.
"Hmm, good," he mumbled, his voice dropping into a honeyed rumble that vibrated against your lips. He leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a chaste, lingering kiss. It was sweet, almost tender. A deceptive thing that began with a sweetness that felt almost domestic, but the underlying hunger was unmistakable. His arm tightened around you, the sheer bulk of his bicep pressed against your ribcage, drawing you flush against him as if he wanted to merge your smaller frame into his own.
As he pulled you closer, his lips found the sensitive skin of your shoulder and neck, leaving stinging, wet marks. His kisses were heated and possessive. He didnāt shy away from sinking his teeth or dragging his tongue over wherever he liked. You could feel the beginning of a stubble growing on the usually clean shaven parts of his face, chafing on your skin as he kissed and nuzzled you.
His hands began to roam as well, large and unhurried. One reached up to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing the bone before tilting your head back to expose your throat. A helpless yelp was ripped from you as his mouth followed the hand, burying kisses and nibbles to the column of your throat, testing the boundaries of your compliance.
Meanwhile, his other palm sprawled over your side, rough skin catching friction against the softness of yours. Sliding lower, his fingers grazed down from your belly to your hips, eventually finding the curve of your thighs and the soft flesh of your ass to squeeze firmly.
There was a calm, absolute certainty in the way he moved. This was where you were meant to be, and you belonged to him. Even if you couldnāt bring yourself to act like it sometimes. When you failed to meet that expectation, he became oppressive, suffocating even. Almost as if he was stifling something within himself, and taking that out on you. You were supposed to be his, not the other way around. A rule he needed to enforce, perhaps more on himself than you.
As if to affirm that thought, his fingers found the edge of your underwear. He didnāt yank or hurry. He traced the line of your hip, his fingers deftly sliding them off your legs. His touch guided your legs to part, exposing your most intimate part to the cool morning air and his intense, dual colored stare.
You felt a sudden, jarring sense of exposure. The cool morning air licked at your folds, making the hair on your arms stand up. You were laid bare before him, your legs parted in a gesture of total vulnerability. An offering laid out on an altar for him to admire as arousal began to well between your thighs.
He lingered for a moment, taking his time admiring you. You could see the way his eyes traveled, a hungry, needing thing. He watched the way your lips parted slightly, chest heaving, nipples pebbled both with arousal and the chill of the room biting into your skin. Then his gaze dipped lower, following your form down to your belly to the junction of your legs. You could see the pupil of his good eye had blown wide, eclipsing the iris almost completely.
"You have been far too quiet since last night," he stated, his voice raspy with desire. "I find myself wanting to hear you."
His hand reached down. Using the flat of his palm to press against your mound, he spread the slickness across your sensitive skin. The friction was intense, the roughness of his skin providing a delicious contrast to the hypersensitivity of your clit. You let out a broken, breathless sound, your hips involuntarily arching upward to meet the pressure.
"You're so wet for me already." He breathed out, sliding his hand down. Long, sinewy fingers brushed against the swollen lips of your pussy. He traced the outer edges, then the sensitive inner lines, making you writhe and thrash. His thumb caught a bead of your wetness and smeared it across your clit in a slow, agonizingly deliberate circle. The sensation was electric, a sharp jolt of pleasure through your spine that made you helplessly buck against him once more with a guttural moan.
He watched the reaction with a small, satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He relished the way your eyes clouded with lust, the way your breath hitched in your throat. All of that just for him.
"Look at me," he commanded. You followed the order, making him hum approvingly. He pressed two thick fingers into you, thumb kept circling your clit in feather light touches. A constant, relentless tease that maintained that barely there, circular motion.
You could feel yourself getting wetter, your arousal acting as a lubricant that made every slide of his fingers sound even louder, even more obscene alongside your desperate whimpers.
"So much juice for such a small thing," he murmured. Each time he pulled back, the suction of your tight, slick walls created a dragging sensation, only to be replaced by the blunt, overwhelming fullness of his return.
He was moving with a calculated, steady pace that drove you crazy. The slow, deep thrusts of his fingers, the occasional curl of them, sent waves of heavy, throbbing pleasure radiating from your core through your entire body, making you feel feverish all over.
He watched the way sweat began to bead on your forehead and the way your eyes rolled back slightly, lost in the consuming feeling.
Then he pulled back completely, leaving you to let out a frustrated, wanton moan. Chuckling, he brought his fingers back to his lips and licked them clean, all while looking directly into your eyes. A low, hungry groan rose from his chest at the taste, his gaze flickering for a fraction of a second. He looked unsure for a moment, like he wanted to dive between your legs, taste more of you. Then his eyes darted to the window, to how the sun had well risen already and how his duties demanded his return soon. A frustrated, barely audible sigh escaped his lips before he gathered his composure back almost immediately, as if nothing had happened.
"Do you want it, pet?" he asked with a low, vibrating growl as he tapped his cock to your pussy, teasing your clit with the head. He waited for an answer, though he knew it was written in the way your pussy twitched and leaked against him. "Do you want me to fill that empty cunt?"
You nodded desperately, bucking towards him as you whined like a wild animal.
He shut you down easily, pressing your hips to the mattress, pinning you down. He clicked his tongue, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. āOh, that wasnāt a proper answer, sweetheart.ā He cooed with feigned sympathy. āI already told you that I wanted to hear you.ā
āPlease... ā When you found your voice again, it came out as a broken plea. A plea, almost not for the act itself, but so he wouldnāt push you to say more.Ā Ā
āGeneral.ā He added. āAddress me properly.ā
āPlease, General,ā you blurted out with a high pitched tone as the heavy palm on your belly squeezed approvingly.
āGood start. But Iāve heard you being more convincing than that before.ā He didn't budge an inch. His strong thighs framed yours, holding you completely captive beneath the weight of his palm that pressed against your lower belly. He waited patiently, enjoying the way your chest heaved with anxiety and arousal. āTell me exactly what you want, pet. Don't make me ask again.ā
You looked at him for a second, silently begging him to just let it go, to not make you say anything else, to let you keep the last shred of dignity you had. But he remained still, his watching eyes unblinking and stern.
āPlease, Generalā¦ fuck me.ā You finally forced the words past the tight lump of shame in your throat. You could feel blood rushing to your face, everything turning into a heated blur as you teared up. You tried to tilt your head to the side as a desperate attempt to hide your face from him, but his free hand deftly gripped your jaw, pinning your stare to his.
āAnd?ā he prompted with a dark, expectant glint in his mechanical eye.
āIāmā¦ Iām all yours.ā You whispered, hot tears pricking the corner of your eyes as you admitted the very thing you were trying to ignore ever since the day your paths crossed.Ā Please just-ā
Finally, he took pity on you, the thumb of the hand on your jaw pressed to your bottom lip, shushing you. āGood girl.ā He purred, looking almost feline in his smugness. āLook at you. Arenāt you so proud of yourself?ā If his words were meant to soothe you, it didnāt work. Shame burned your eyes in the form of tears, settling behind your throat as he moved.
You felt the hot, heavy weight of his cock pressing against your entrance. He began to guide himself in, a languid, lazy movement that felt agonizingly perfect. As the broad head of it pushed past your folds, you felt yourself stretching around him. The sensation was suffocating, a fullness that reached deep into your core and made your toes curl. A soft, needy moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely.
Maintaining the same measured movements, he leaned down until his face was inches from yours. He left feverish, open mouthed kisses alongside the column of your throat before moving to the swell of your tits. His tongue swirled over your nipples, teething around them gently, swallowing your shame.
The rhythm was maddening. He refused to let you buck against him, no matter how much you whined or groaned. His palm was still pressed against your lower belly, keeping you firmly against the mattress. He maintained that agonizingly patient, maddening pace, pulling nearly all the way out until only the tip of his cock remained hooked in your pussy, before sliding back in with a heavy thud that made your hips jolt right against his pressing palm.
"Youāre so beautiful like this," he praised, his voice smooth and coaxing. "Look how desperate you get for me. Your little cunt is practically weeping, begging for more of my cock..."
He punctuated the sentence with a particularly deep thrust and a kiss right on the pulse point on your neck, making your vision swim with a static haze.
āGeneral- please!ā The desperation in your voice irked you for a second. You werenāt supposed to act like this, hell, you werenāt supposed to even enjoy it this much.
As if he realized your mind was drifting, Kreggās thumb slid lower, finding the sensitive, throbbing nub, effectively making you forget what you were even trying to think about. "You like that, don't you?" he groaned, his voice dark, vibrating against your ear. "Look at how you grip me. You're twitching around me like a desperate little mess." He nipped at your earlobe, his tongue swirling around it before he licked a path down to your collarbone.
Another choked out, desperate moan escaped your throat as he drove himself in harder, a sudden, forceful move that made your eyes roll back. He didnāt let you get used to it, though, as he immediately returned to that restrained, torturous grind.
āI bet you're so close right now baby.ā He mocked, voice dripping fake sympathy. āI can feel it, you're right on the edge, aren't you? Just a few more of these slow, deep strokes and you're going to fall apart beautifully in my arms."
āNo! I'm not close," you whined as you reached out, resting your palms on his chest with a desperate instinct to have at least the illusion of control. It was a silly thought. A stupid one, even. But you didnāt want it to end just yet. He was usually much earlier to leave than this, so you knew for sure that heād send you back to your room as soon as it was done. You werenāt sure which one stung worse, the isolation of your room, or being put aside after you served yourā¦ purpose, as he would call it.
The way you said it, the slight tremor in your voice that betrayed your lie, was a spark to a powder keg for Kregg. He liked the defiance, especially if it was a soft, submissive kind of defiance he could deliciously exploit. It felt euphoric knowing he had the power to push you over the edge whenever he chose.
"No?" he mocked, his chest vibrating against your palms. He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his expression amused. "Is that a challenge, doll? Or am I supposed to believe you even while you're pawing at me like this?"
He didnāt speed up, but the pressure changed. He shifted his angle, tilting your hips so the head of his cock rubbed directly against your sweet spot with every punishingly slow slide. The feeling was a blunt, rhythmic pressure that caught every sensitive ridge of your internal walls. Your hips twitched involuntarily as your fingers curled on his chest, nails dragging on his skin.
He leaned in towards you, against your ear. "You're lying," he whispered, his voice a filthy, gravelly caress that gave you goosebumps. āLook at you. Look how you're practically vibrating with it. You can deny it all you want. But you're about to break. And I wonāt stop until I break that defiant streak out of you.ā
The torture of his patience was a weapon he wielded well. He kept his promise, even leaning over you to let you grip his arms, shoulders, wherever you could reach as you felt your core coiling with the familiar, unmistakable sensation embarrassingly fast.
Your back arched like a bow, your moans got increasingly ragged, much to his delight.
"Thatās it," Kregg growled, his voice a dark, triumphant rumble. He leaned his weight onto you, pinning you down as you shook with the anticipation of your climax. "There's my needy little girl. Are you ready to be good for me again?"
The first wave of your orgasm crashed over you. A broken, high pitched whimper was torn from your throat, your hands clung, clawing at the forearm and wrist of the hand he used to circle your clit. You began to pulse and spasm, clamping down on his shaft in tight, rhythmic waves, milking him with a frenzied, instinctive hunger.
He watched you in a terrifying, rapt attention. His eyes, both the dark blue and the glowing, mechanical red one were locked on your face, drinking in every expression of your ecstasy and your vulnerability. He drank in the way your eyes rolled back, the way your lips trembled, and the way your body shuddered under his.
Finally, finally you felt him falter, his controlled strokes turning into short, violent ruts as his hips stuttered, jaw hung open, panting like an animal in heat. He reached his own peak shortly after yours. He pulled back, then with a guttural groan pounded deep one last time, burying inside you to the hilt as he spilled into you.
He rolled to the side after his chest stilled and his pulse steadied. He didnāt linger in the afterglow with much sentimentality. Rising without a word once his breathing returned to normal, he left you alone in the disheveled sheets.
You lay still for a moment, listening to the distant hiss of the shower as you tried to get your labored breath under control. When he finally emerged, he was transformed. The sweat and the musk of sex had been washed away, replaced by the clean, sharp scent of his soap. His face was smooth, the slight stubble you felt against your skin earlier freshly shaved, except for his mustache. He looked a far cry from the feral creature he was minutes ago.
He took the uniform he had folded neatly last night. You watched him methodically dress in the crisp, white clothing. The broad expanse of his shoulders and chest stretched the material taut, the fabric clinging to his form as he adjusted it properly.
You suddenly remembered you weren't supposed to be here after he left. And with his uniform nearly complete, his leave was imminent. Tolerant as he usually was of your coyness and occasional daringness, staying in his private quarters that were full of personal belongings and equipment you could potentially meddle with definitely wasn't one of the things he turned a blind eye to.
"May I leave now, General?" you asked tentatively before he could send you away, trying to inject a sense of dignity into your voice, hoping to appear more composed than you were feeling.
Kregg paused, his hands working the fastenings of his loincloth. He didnāt look at you immediately; his hands stopped for a moment before resuming their movement. Finally, he gave a short, distracted nod.
"Go," he said simply. Despite the curtness of the word, his voice lacked the icy dismissal. He seemed preoccupied and a bit rushed as he probably wasnāt planning to dally around with you for this long.
You quickly scrambled out of the bed, clumsily picking up your underwear from the edge of the bed, then grabbing the dress he had unexpectedly smoothed and set aside for you last night after taking it off. You quickly slid them on. Somewhat clean garments on your soaked skin made you wince. But it was okay. Youād take a shower yourself soon enough. You just had to survive the stairs from his floor all the way down to yours.
