#anissa

As much as I enjoy the idea of Anissa ending up with a woman, I do see the appeal of her finding comfort in a man that’s sweet to her…

Just how her dominant facade breaks under the weight of his courtesy. How fiercely she grabs his face and pulls him into a rough kiss, pulling him on top of her. So absolute in her advances - sure that she’s going to be the one in control, ‘You belong to me…’ she says, briefly breaking the kiss before pulling him back in for more.

And for a while, he is, but Anissa finds herself beginning to slip. I think it might’ve sank in halfway into the act that she really didn’t have to put up a fight against him to get him to do what she wanted.

That she could enjoy the penetrative pleasure without the pressure of having to fight to escape humiliation in the face of pride. That combined with the gentle cupping of her waist, the non-violent thrusting of his hips against hers, and the praise-

Oh the delectable sound of praise right next to her ear… It made her heart leap.

That final realisation that he was giving everything for her, and expected nothing. The less of a threat he became to her, and slowly she relinquished the grasp she had on him, and slowly let him take the reins from her.

How she just let herself relax, her head falling back against the pillow. Her hands reaching behind her to grab the headboard, and just let her body react.

Hips gyrating against his, egging him on to go harder as her vicious instinct starts to show itself. “Is this the best you can do? That’s pathetic. Is that really all you have- Ah-!” and he picks up, causing Anissa to falter.

It’s hard but non-violent, she’s feeling everything but without the worst of it. The paise keeps coming, and something in her abdomen is rising…

She bites down in her lip, ignoring her urge to fight back, the desire to take control, the want for domination in the presence of an enemy. She buries it deep because this is so much more than that.

He noticed she seemed distressed. He asks if she wants him to keep going. “Don’t you dare stop.” she said with an anger-furrowed brow and a voice needy and begging.

The rising in her abdomen reaches its peak. She sinks her teeth into her wrist to silence her whine as her entire body tenses like she’s been ensnared in a vice.

Still he fucks her - only stopping once Anissa could take it no more and she reached out to push him back, though it was more of a shove…

After she stopped seeing stars, the clarity sinks in fast, and she shrinks away from him. Not out of disgust for him, but rather for herself, but from his perspective it was hard to tell.

He offers her something to drink, to eat, but she refuses. She sits in crisis for a short while, pulling back on a t-shirt and shorts to hide from herself.

All while he just sits, nervous, guilty, unsure if or how he should go about offering his comfort.

She does eventually break out of her little funk to cuddle, really not wanting to ward him off at a time like now. She was apologetic for her aloofness. As apologetic as she could be anyway-

He forgave her, and was just glad he hadn’t done anything wrong. He had a sympathy in his eyes that she hated for a reason she couldn’t reckon, but she didn’t want to think about that right now…

With a guy she’s so domineering. She rises to every perceived slight and postures a lot, as if she has this constant need to prove herself…

On Viltrum she never backed down from any of her assigned mates just off of her own principle and it’s a defence mechanism she wasn’t ever really able to overcome. Even if her partner in this scenario is only human.

Sex feels like a competition, and has a tendency to perceive affection as if her partner is trying to get some sort of upper-hand over her.

She wants to be loved so so so badly but it’s like her entire being is working against her and she hates it…

Meanwhile with a women, she’s still unsure of how to receive affection, but is less resistant to it. She lets herself be pushed on and touched without the unwanted triggering of instinct.

She still asserts herself, but more as a means of showing off rather than as a display of defence.

Sex is much more loving because it feels like it’s something she can actually allow herself without some sort of repercussion for lowering her guard.

She doesn’t subconsciously perceive her as some sort of threat…

She came home with the demeanour of someone bearing the weight of the entire world on her shoulders.

As soon as the door to your apartment opened, she would make a beeline to the shower which is where she’d stay for what felt like an age. No words. No noise. Just the perpetual drumming of the cascading water echoing in just the next room.

Even if you said ‘hello’ to her, the only greeting she’d offer you in return was a half-glance of acknowledgment as she passed you by. It was like you barely existed.

And when Anissa would finally emerge, covered thinly by a pair of shorts and t-shirt, she would park herself in the kitchen. Away from the sound of the TV, away from you, and do nothing.

You never saw her eat or drink. She’d just sit in an aura of palpable misery, her brow forever furrowed, her jaw tightly clenched, her shoulders visibly tense.

You felt genuine sympathy for her. Even if she scared the hell out of you, her agony was clear, and just seemed to be getting worse as the weeks progressed.

She had kept her distance from the moment she had moved in. You didn’t mind, as long as rent was paid, you were content to let her standoffishness be.

But now it worried you. She was in a bad way; she looked eaten-up, beaten down— so tired that a sleep as deep as death wouldn’t be enough to right whatever had gone wrong within her.

Maybe that’s why you offered your presence to her that night, your shadow breaking the threshold as you crept into what felt like sovereign territory. Her head moved ever so slightly as you stepped into the kitchen, and that alone felt like a warning…

Still, you proceeded. You sat at her side, offered her some comfort, and the moment you laid your hand to rest on her shoulder, her eye caught your eye.

Her stare lingered longer than what felt friendly, and assuming you’d outstayed your welcome, you decided to leave her alone.

Turns out she had been much more receptive to your gesture of concern than you’d thought, because not even before the end of that week had come, she had you in her bed.

The next night things played out exactly like they always had, but as Anissa emerged from the shower, again, thinly dressed, instead of returning to her seat of despair, she went to you. It was the first night you exchanged proper words since you’d been aquatinted…

The night after she moved in to make physical contact, arm around your shoulder, her eyes looking searchingly into yours.

The third, she leaned in, and you let her lips make contact with your skin.

The fourth she had you beneath her…

Each night she’d come home with the demeanour of someone bearing the weight of the entire world on her shoulders, and each night, between your legs is where she chose to drown herself.

As soon as the door to your apartment opened, she would make a beeline to the shower which is where she’d stay for what felt like an age, all while you dressed yourself down, sitting in wait for her.

She’d emerge, naked, damp, her mouth open and hungry. You had never seen her eat or drink until now, and it seemed you were the only thing she was interested in partaking in.

At first, it was only after she’d showered would she then come for you. She’d pounce you like a desperate animal and grind you into the mattress until you were left a begging mess.

Sometimes if she felt impatient she’d force you onto your knees, domineering your head as she stood over you ready and desperate to receive your tongue.

But as of recent she’d started bringing you into the shower with her. Her body shielding you from the falling water as you lay with her forehead resting against yours, writhing to the sensation of her fingers pistoning in and out of your desperate heat.

You were never supposed to be a lover, just a ‘pet’, which is what she affirmed with every fuck. You didn’t mind, if anything you welcomed the nickname and everything that came with accepting it.

Being hoisted into the air as if you weighed nothing and being tantalisingly eaten as you kick the air in futility.

Having your legs be inquisitively pulled apart and everything between be relentlessly probed and teased to see what noises you’d make.

Accepting commands to deliver her to heavens she didn’t deserve, leaving your face wet and eyes dilated with pure bliss as she regarded you from above with a proud smirk.

Until one night, as you witnesses your apartment door open once again, Anissa emerges like a shadow from the light.

The pinched face of despair she had spent the last couple weeks ridding herself of by using you had returned tenfold, and like that, the tone of the room shifted.

You instinctually approached her fretfully, like a lover and not a pet, she shifted away from you and made a beeline to the shower without any words, and stayed in there for what felt like multiple ages.

Even after the water stopped, she didn’t emerge for quite some time.

You waited for her in bed, comfortable in your nightclothes. As she stepped into the room in the morning’s early hours, you coaxed her toward you with an open hand, and into your hand she delivered her cheek which then melted into your palm, followed by the rest of her body as it collapsed into your small frame.

So upon getting to Earth she see this as an opportunity to experiment, just for her own pleasure… and she goes about it the same way she’d go about it with a guy at first.. but as soon as she gets on top she just freezes because she doesn’t really know where to go from here…

She’s never done this with another woman before and becomes frustrated because her partner picks up on this immediately.

This results in Anissa getting taught by example and is stuck between this feeling of frustration from not being in control, and the euphoria of being so precisely touched and pleasured.

The sex isn’t rough like how she’s used to. It’s disconcertingly gentle for her and can’t adapt. She wants to ‘fight back’ so to speak because she feels helpless, but there’s nothing to fight back against…

There’s no violence happening. Just touching and grinding and deep kisses. She’s so tense the entire time, it’s too strange… not even sure she’d be able to finish because of how unnatural it feels to her.

Doesn’t mean she won’t try again though… she didn’t mind being taught. It was, oddly comforting. Turns out being taken care of is pretty nice, actually…

yes

YESYESYESYESYES

Apart from the fact that I'm incredibly bitter about not having canonically queer Viltrumites (in the comics at least, we'll see if the show does something about it), I think this fits Anissa LIKE A GLOVE

rambling under the cut

I have many, many thoughts about this, dear Anon.

Conquest would definitely be the one that's more delighted about it. He's a sadist but he's also someone who craves and yearns for connection, so just imagine how incredibly moved he'd be to find a partner that is not only okay to be hurt by him, but trusts him enough to let him do as he pleases. And if you were crazy enough to not even give him a safe word— The way he'd love and devote himself to you, feeling proud of how much you can take and how happy it makes the both of you when he bites you, when he draws blood, when bruises blossom on your skin from every hit he bestows upon you. And the way you'd cry and whimper his name, your blunt nails raking against his skin (when he's kind enough not to restrain you) as you suffer—and yet! You don't shy away from the pain, no, you lean into it and into him, even when he squeezes so hard you'd think your bones would give way. But he doesn't. He's good, very good at keeping his strenght in check. He would like to actually break you—he even know you'd let him, but at the same time he wouldn't risk doing some irreparable damage to you, not now that has finally found someone who is so devoted to him, someone who he wants to cherish and keep for as long as he can.

Kregg would be quite the oppoiste. He doesn't mind manhandling you, spanking you and peppering you in bites and bruises by how tightly he holds onto you, but... he's very, very self-conscious of how fragile you are compared to him. Were you to manage to get him to agree to do something more dangerous, where he'd really risk to hurt you, he'd be so gentle with it. First and foremost, making sure you remember your safe word and making sure you know you hold the power to stop it at any time you want, if it becomes too much or for whatever reason. Then making sure you're comfortable, making sure you're still enjoying yourself throughout everything, checking on you while still giving you the pain you so desire. And he'd be a bit scared of doing too much, of going too far, but at the same time it fills him with elation to see how unafraid you are of him, of the trust you rely on him. And then, he'd take such good care of you. Cleaning your wounds and peppering you in kisses and cuddles, giving you all that you desire—be it your comfort food, a warm bath, or just a comfortable silence.

Thragg would be the one that might accidentally kill you. Not that he would try to, but he's the strongest one out there and yes, he'd care for you to an extent, but he might slip if you are bratty enough and get on his nerves like you can easily do. While he'd really be into marking you, to make sure everyone knows who you belong to, giving the pain you want wouldn't be his priority. Even if you asked, he wouldn't go as far as you'd like or be so into it. So you'd have to resort to other things—like acting a brat and getting punished. Because if there is one thing Thragg is into, it's power. He likes—or rather, needs to be listened to. And if you act up, he'd put you in your place. It would take him mere moments to realize why you're acting up, just the time it takes for him to slap you square in the face and for your eyes to lighten up as the pain courses through you. And that's enough for him—he'd be into that, for sure. The more you tease him, the more you refuse to listen to him and do what he says, undermining his position, the more he'd give you the pain you crave. You'd have to be the one to realize when you're going too far with your ways, his hand around your neck making you genuinely fear for your life when your vision starts to get blurry and all you can do is plea for his mercy and hope he can read your lips, 'cause nothing is leaving your mouth. But that would feel so good, wouldn't it?

Anissa would love you, plain and simple. Pulling your hair, choking you, being rough and in control while you look at her with adoration and bliss in your eyes. She'd be mindful of not hurting you too much, she only wants to give you as much pain as you can take and not an ounce more, but she would enjoy every moment so, so much. Still, there'd be a flicker of apprehension in her. Understandable given how strong she is compared to you, and how easily humans can die. But you trust her, and she knows herself well enough to be able to put that apprehension aside to give you what you want without ever going too far. And she'd love for you to somehow manage to fight her back from time to time and hurt her in return (maybe with some kind of blade she herself has gifted you, one that can pierce her skin). 'Cause she knows why you like pain so much, because she herself enjoys it and is as happy to give it as she is to take it.