#invincible thragg

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.

Weak. Usless. Frail.

Those cruel words are throwed at you every single day of your god forsaken life. Ever since you were a little girl, your mother made you feel like you should never have been born. You are a Viltrumite who should have been killed as a baby, so weak were you. A shame, a living disgrace to the glorious Viltrum Empire. Your mother probably would have killed you too if it hadn't been for your father. Your father did everything in his power to oppose your mother. He begged on his knees for her mercy just so that you could live, survive. Something that, to his sorrow, quite disgusted your mother even more.

How could such a weak, useless creature like you even exist on this planet?

If you had been born on Viltrumite, they would have instantly murdered you without batting an eyelid, and yet that didn't happen here. Maybe it was because your mother liked you in her heartless way, or maybe she did it for your father's sake. Whatever it was, you were still happy to be alive. Even though it was a hard almost invincible challenge, you needed to make the best out of it - at least this was the only thing you told yourself every night before you got to sleep. Just survive, it will be better. You will get stronger, one day.

The years went by and you even gained some amount of powers, something your mother believed to be almost impossible. Deep down, you could hardly believe it yourself. You had assumed that you weren't destined for such things, after all, that's what you heard your whole childhood. Still, your mother tried her best to not tear your head off immeadiatly when she had to watch her useless daughter try to keep her balance and not fall to the ground for the fifth time. Flying was one of the first things a Viltrumite learned, and even that was hard for you? Before your mother could confront you about it, your father was there to calm her down somewhat. Even though this was rather counterproductive, you thanked him with a small smile.

From that day on, you decided to learn about your new powers on your own, your mother would only yell at you again or, worse, beat you up. That was her way of showing you how useless you really were, because a real Viltrumite would resist this small punches. With a small sigh, you stare into the bright light of the full moon that illuminates this planet with sufficient brightness. Fireflies fly around you, something that makes your worries disappear for a moment. Perhaps things would get better, they only had to!

~~~

The uneasy feeling that all eyes were on you, filled with contempt and pure hatred, could no longer be ignored. Even an idiot couldn't ignore the immense pressure around you. This planet was filled with powerful presences, something you could only dream of. But what else did you expected? Everything you knew about Viltrum was more cruel than anything your mother could ever have done to you. (M/n) was called to Viltrumite by the Grand Regent himself, and even though you would have preferred to stay on your home planet, neither of you had any choice. An order was an order, and the order was that all Viltrumites should return home as quickly as possible.

You try your best not to draw any more attention to yourself, although that's nearly impossible. It's almost as if they can smell your weakness… You lower your head as quickly as possible, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. The only logical explanation that occurred to you is to hide behind all the other Viltrumites who had also gathered in a huge hall. Anything to avoid standing out. You have no other choice, not if you value your dear life.

Fortunately, it doesn't take too long before the heavy door is opened.. Immediately, everyone shuts their mouth as no one dares to make a single sound. Instead, everyone kneels down and bows. You don't have to think twice and follow suit. The powerful steps of the Grand Regent make the already tense situation seem even worse. Even though the silence is worse than any training session with your mother, it didn't take all too long for the man to speak. “Rise.” The Viltrumites around you immediately rise from the ground, all assuming an almost stiff posture. You immediately follow suit, even though you don't really know what to do, but as long as you don't draw attention to yourself, you're doing everything right, at least according to your mother.

“I called you from your planets so that we may all gather here today. As you are probably aware, the coalition of planets is becoming more dangerous every day. These tiny, litte insects think they can get away with killing our people...” His voice is commanding and filled with pure contempt, and even you can´t ignore his powerful presence which surrounded him. His speech alone could make the entire hall tremble, something that unsettles you more. Nevertheless, you must—no, you cannot let it show. Thragg gaze falls on the crowd and for a brief moment of time, your (e/c) coloured eyes meet his. Your body starts to freeze, as your instinct acts faster than your mind could ever be.

Your gaze immediately wanders to the white ground, your eyelids close abruptly. Inside you fervently beg that he hasn't noticed anything. Fortunately, his voice echoes once more through the crowded hall as he continues his speech. “They won't get away with it. We will crush them like the maggots they are, and our glorious empire will rule over the entire universe.” A loud applause echoes through the hall, as everyone begins to cheer in agreement. You exhale once as you run your fingers through your (h/c) hair. Hopefully this meeting will end soon, you would much rather prefer to be on your lovely planet, but somehow you have the uneasy feeling that this isn´t going to happen any sooner. Just as Thragg is about to leave the hall, he whispers something to one of his closest advisors. His sharp gaze lands on you again.

Confused, you look around, wondering if your mother might be here somewhere. Maybe you could fly home again... Slowly, you push your way through the crowd, your heart starts to beat wildly. But before you can go any further, you feel a strong hand on your shoulder. “Come. Now.” The cold voice that told you this was no joke sent a chill down your spine. You wanted nothing more than get away from these people, from this creepy planet, as quickly as possible. Instead, you did nothing, just nodded slightly and followed the Viltrumite as he led you through a huge building. You would have loved to take a closer look at the corridors, but the Viltrumite didn't seem like he would be patient. To be honest, he didn't make any nice impression at all. God, what have you done? "

Unfortunately, you notice too late that the man suddenly stopped, and you accidentally bump into him—something that obviously angers him. You both stand in front of a large door, as his voice echoes thorugh your mind. “One wrong word and your blood will decorate these walls, understand?” Shocked by what he says, you don't dare to speak, instead you just nod as the door opens. You both enter the almost empty room, as a huge throne catches your eye. Above the throne, a red banner of the Viltrum Empire adorns the hall. But what worries you most is the person sitting on the throne... The Viltrumite, who was previously quite sullen, immediately bows, his voice sounding much gentler than before. “Grand Regent.” He gives you a deadly glance as you obey and bow down as well. Nodding, Thragg looks down at both of you, while the advisor leaves the room.

“You...” Slowly, the emperor rises from his seat and approaches you. You don't know exactly what to do, as your body begins to tremble again. Before you can say anything, you feel a strong, burning pain in your stomach. Immediatly, you fly into a wall. Blood pours from your lips, and the disgusting metallic taste spreads in your mouth. You let out a pain-filled cry as your hand wraps around your wound. “Weak... A child could have countered that blow.” You are about to bend over when you feel another immense pain in your hip. Immediately, you fly into a wall again, as the red liquid flowing from your body now stains the shiny floor. “Why is someone as useless as you still alive?” Gasping for breath, you close your (e/c) eyes as tears gently run down your cheeks. You never felt such pain in your entire life, even your mother was gentler than this Viltrumite. “Answer me,” Thragg commands as he stares at your weakened (b/s) shaped body. "I...I-I.."

You wanted to say something, anything, to defend yourself, but you couldn't. Your tears just wouldn't stop flowing, no matter how hard you tried to stay strong. Annoyed by your pitiful appearance, the man crouches down, as he suddenly grabs your (h/c) hair, and forces you to look him in the eyes. "I said you should answer me." "I...I don´t know. Please I.." Thragg doesn't take his eyes off your frightened gaze as he stands up, his hand still tugging at your hair, as another wave of pain makes you scream again. “Pathetic. I should kill you before you can damage my empire.“ With a simple movement, he throws you to the ground, causing more blood to spurt from your wounds. You don´t have enough strength to get up. Still, you couldn´t just lie here on the ground and do nothing! You need to fight back..somehow. Even if it means to die. Slowly, with all your strength, you rise. You rise up from the ground. More blood flows onto your now red-stained uniform as you face him with trembling legs. “Y-you won't do that. I´m not letting that happen.” It's almost a miracle that you can get those words out of your mouth, so overwhelmed are you.

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.