#invincible thragg

[issybee06]

Baby hotline!

Viltrumite men and how they are in bed!

I got bored and when I’m bored I write so here! Munch!

Short dabbles, nothing major I just thought we should get a little snickersnack

This includes Thragg, General Kregg, Lucan, Nolan, Mark and Conquest, and that one Viltrumite Guard who got his head double teamed by Allen and Nolan(he was very pretty idc I just locked onto him like a dog smelling chicken)

…………………….…………………….…………………….………….

Grand Regent Thragg-

Fucking mean

Like full-on does not care if you aren't prepped or shit he's going in.

He wants kids, not pleasure, so he's fucking like its his 9-5

He's got your ass up, sharp, calculated, thrusts as you're sobbing and begging to cum. Red marks on your cheeks, bite marks on your body, cum from previous orgasms running down your thighs.

You beg again and he scoffs.

“Again…? I don't think it's fair that you've got to cum 5 times now and I haven't cum once,” he chuckled lowly in your ear, “hold. It.”

General Kregg-

Terrible husband, great father.

Excellent in bed.

He gets around, and doing so he's learned A LOT from all his fairs and now knows exactly what makes you tick.

If he's one thing, he's great at memorizing and learning from his conquests.

He's got you on top, smirking as he watches you work yourself before he shifts his hips just enough to get the head of his cock to kiss your sweet spot.

“Fuck!”

He's humming, thumb lazily rubbing circles into your clit, “come on star…youve got it…give me another baby to spoil.”

Lucan-

Omggggg

I love Lucan so much he might be one of my favorite Viltrumites in the comics

So loyal to his wife, refused to breed with any other humans besides her

He would treat his partner right, praising and kissing and would take time to learn what you like and hone in on it 10x more than you'd expect

Like eating you out? He's got that tounge trick down to a T

“Fuck…Lucan…right-right there!”

He'd blink his pretty dark eyes, hick your legs higher on his strong shoulders and work you until you were seeing the stars he hailed from.

Nolan-

HE KNOWSSSSS

We all know he and Debbie were still going at it

He looks older, but his stamina? Unmated. Once he's got you its end game.

He's passionate, rough but not mean, hands on the headboard as he's pounding into you. The wood will splinter, the wall will dent, you wont walk for days, but he's grinning and cooing down at you.

“Come on darling…cant you keep up? I think you can…youre my tough little human…”

He's tweaking your nipple, pinching it and rolling it roughly, snorting when you whine, “shhhh, you like it.”

Mark-

Bottom.

Canon bottom.

Whining and holding you too tightly cause he still can't fully control his powers so you'll bruise, begging you to fuck him harder. You're on top, riding him as he thrusts up into you with a pathetic look on his face. So in love, wanting to please, you tell him to do something hell fucking do it.

“Ah-AH~ ba-baby! So good when you ride me, so tight…so warm-FUCK-b-babe can I cum? Please? Please? Plea-”

“Mark…huh…t-touch me?”

Don't need to tell him twice, he's already swiping his thumb over your clit and watching you unfold before messily cumming inside with a cry of your name.

Conquest-

Dominating

Taughting

Teasing

He's gonna toy with you, drag out each orgasm and then ruin your peak. He wont let you cum, not until you're crying and offering up your soul to a demon does he let you finish.

Its not even about him, he can care less about if he gets to cum, his pleasure comes from breaking you, ruining you, claiming you like this.

He'll laugh, ruining another orgasm, “Aw, were you gonna cum? Did I ruin it for you? I guess we're just gonna have to start over, again.”

You'll cry, hell laugh and lick your tears up without care.

Viltrumite executioner-

I think he's a switch, I mean look at him.

He can either be pounding you mercifully with your legs on his shoulders and one of his hands on your throat.

“You like this? Fuck… you're so filthy…flying all the way to the prison just for some dick…”

Orrrrr

He's moaning, crying, whimpering under you as you force another orgasm out of him and admire the was his tan skin flushes and his pretty eyes fill with tears from overstimulation.

“Oh-stars-p-please…i-i can't anymore…too much!”

[mintyys-blog]

Hi Minty! :)

Can you write a fic about Thragg taking a human wife for breeding but ends up falling in love with her instead? There aren’t enough Thragg fics fr

I love your writing btw!!

LIKE HUMANS DO | thragg x reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: attempted sex, kidnapping, lightly implied depression

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

When Thragg chose you, it was not because he wanted you.

It was because you were… viable.

Human genes, though softer and weaker, carried flexibility that even Viltrumites admired. A human mate could bear stronger children more quickly, survive harsh pregnancies better than many of the pureblood females still loyal to the empire.

He saw you once, trembling in the shadow of a collapsed building after a skirmish on Earth. Fragile, filthy, foolishly brave for baring your teeth at him when he approached. It amused him.

It interested him. And so you were taken.

At first, Thragg treated you with calculated patience — the same way one might tame a feral creature. He offered shelter, food, clean clothes. Spoke in simple, direct orders: Eat. Sleep. Come here.

You obeyed, though begrudgingly. There was no fighting him. No escaping him. He was a towering figure of power, a force you had no chance against. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you still clung to the hope that you might find a way to resist, or at least get some semblance of control back. Your pride kept you from being completely broken.

The first few weeks were cold, sterile. Thragg would come and go, never giving you more than cursory attention. You were an object. A tool. A means to an end. His conversations with you, if they could even be called that, were dry. His voice like stone, his gaze unreadable. He didn’t speak of emotions. Not of kindness. He didn’t see you as a person—you were just a vessel.

That was, until the night he made his move.

His eyes, those burning, calculating eyes, lingered on you. Something had shifted in him — an unsettling, almost imperceptible change that you didn’t fully recognize at the time. But you could feel it. The air in the room grew thicker when he stepped closer, his enormous frame blocking the light.

His large, calloused hand reached for your arm, gripping you with a force that made your heart race.

You knew what this was. You understood the implication. He wanted to breed you. A human female, fragile and weak, to carry children — children that would, by nature, be stronger, more resilient than any Viltrumite-born heir.

The thought churned in your stomach, but you’d learned quickly that your body no longer belonged to you. And if you could not escape, you would resist, even if it was in the smallest, most defiant ways.

So you slapped him.

Hard.

The sound rang through the silence, loud and sharp. A slap meant to remind him that you were not his to control entirely. A slap that would not go unpunished, you feared.

But when the sting of your hand had passed, and you looked into his eyes, you saw something you hadn’t expected.

A flicker of something. Not anger, not rage. No — it was the slightest semblance of… bemusement? You stood there, chest heaving, waiting for him to retaliate.

Instead, Thragg simply exhaled through his nose, his eyes hardening just slightly. He released his grip on your arm, pushing you away with a casual shrug.

“So,” he rumbled, as though the moment had meant nothing. “Not in the mood.”

He turned on his heel, the sound of his boots heavy against the stone floor. His words echoed in your ears long after he left the room. Not in the mood.

You were confused. Pissed. But mostly, you felt… humiliated. Not by the slap. No, you’d meant to do it. But by his indifference. By the way he treated your defiance as if it had been nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience.

There were other women. Stronger, trained women. Women who knew their place.

You were just a human. Just an experiment. An option. The thought of you as anything else didn’t even seem to occur to him.

Days passed. Weeks.

And still, he left you alone.

Sometimes, you caught his eye as he passed, and for a brief moment, there would be something more than cold calculation in his gaze — but it was fleeting. He didn’t linger on you. Not the way you’d hoped. And not the way he had with the other women in the past.

You tried to go about your days as normally as possible, though the stifling silence in his fortress pressed in on you. You weren’t allowed to leave, and even though you found a quiet corner to occupy yourself with books or some form of entertainment, there was an emptiness that gnawed at you. You were being watched. He was always there. Even when he wasn’t physically present, you could feel his eyes on you.

And then came the day.

You didn’t know why you said it aloud. Maybe it was the isolation getting to you. Or maybe, just maybe, you had allowed yourself to dream a little too much.

You were talking to yourself. Muttering quietly, half to the room, half to no one at all.

“I always wanted someone who… would buy me flowers,” you whispered, tracing the edge of your blanket with your fingers. “Someone who kissed me when I woke up. Someone who laughed with me, even after a bad day… I always thought that would come first. Before… everything else.”

You swallowed. “Guess I’m stupid for dreaming.”

It was a bitter laugh, one that cracked in your throat. You could hear your own sadness hanging in the air, like an unspoken plea.

The next day, when you woke up, there was something different waiting for you on the stone table beside your bed.

A bouquet. Awkward, heavy-handed — a thick mass of local flowers, some crushed slightly in his too-strong grip, but unmistakably colorful. Vibrant. Alive. You blinked, unsure if you were still dreaming. The faint morning light coming through the narrow windows highlighted the colors — purples, whites, pale blues — though they looked so out of place here in this cold, sterile environment. It was almost like they didn’t belong in the fortress at all. Like they belonged in a home, somewhere warm and soft. Somewhere that wasn’t here.

You stepped forward hesitantly, your fingers trembling as you reached for them. The petals were rough to the touch, their edges a little frayed, the scent faint but real.

Beside them, a simple note written in that sharp, aggressive Viltrumite hand:

“For you. - Thragg”

[darrens-anarchy]

bro just aura farms😭😭

[strungnews]

Saw this comment on instagram and felt like it should be shared

This is something my mom would do but hold my arm instead 😭

[inkivaari]

Ok... but here me out thragg...🫦

Smth that been in my brain is how he tells the viltrumites to go and mate with the humans and gets upset when they start to fall in love with them

Now thraggs not the type to fall in love persay however I think the man is the type to be come obsessed with you and well your cunt 😭

Serving your planet by stopping an genocidal alien conqueror/emperor by simply letting him fuck his baby in you 😭

Also works for conquest but thragg 🫦

Anyway good morning!

a/n: oh anon.... oh ANON......... okay okay let's think about this for a while, tbh idk about thragg, i can't unsee the freddie mercury memes but it's okay- disclaimers: sexual content, dubcon, f! reader, overstimulation, pregnancy

thragg doesn't love you. doesn't love any of the keepsakes he's taken from other planets, and leaves to lounge around his palace until he chooses to mate with them. but it was clear who his favourite was. he'd go on rampages when he couldn't find you in the concubine's chambers, bellowing your name through the halls as he resorted to following your scent, that creamy sweet aroma that haunts his waking and sleeping.

he finds you wherever you are, in the gardens, in the pool, on the roof, wherever his vixen of a wife wants to hide, pins your hips down without a word and devours your little pussy, not caring when you sob with overstimulation and your sweet clit begins to sting when he sucks on it mercilessly. he's not even thinking about your pleasure, this is entirely selfish: if he goes too long without your cunt in his mouth, he'll drive himself mad.

he isn't stopping until you physically cannot give him anything further, until all he can taste in your pussy is his own desperate spit. and that's when he takes you.

even the sight of that pussy has him snarling, the scent has him panting, the taste brings all his blood thrumming and rushing to his huge veiny cock. he doesn't care if you don't produce young at the same rate as his other wives of different species. this cunt is a diamond among lumps of coal. a glass of fine wine beside puddle water. he isn't just pussywhipped, that would be putting it lightly. i wasn't lying when i said you haunt him. it's only his iron discipline and all-consuming ambition for the empire's expansion that can rip him away from you most days.

your cunt was the only one he used for business AND pleasure. it was a foreign concept until he'd got you. breeding was an exchange. a woman exchanged her people for her womb. but you? well, he had a feeling you would have given him ownership over your body even if he hadn't given you the ultimatum. which made his heart thrum with cruel desire.

breaking you was a delight, and he could do it over and over again and never get bored! you would take it over and over again, making those sounds that bounced around his head and echoed in his meditation night after night. he never cared all that much if his wives enjoyed copulation or not. but you? it fed parts of him he didn't know were starving, when you begged him for more, to go deeper, harder, to cum inside you, please, you'd been so good...

when you became pregnant, which didn't take very long, he became protective. he knew his other wives were jealous of the attention he poured freely onto you, so he'd have you moved into his chambers full time, under constant surveillance, under lock and key and armed guard. it was for the safety of his heir inside your womb, which is what he told himself. but a part of him wanted to keep you all to himself, to watch your precious body develop under his seed's influence, for your cunt to sweeten with each passing day, for you to be lying in his bed patiently awaiting his arrival, warm and naked and all for him...

it wasn't love. it was not. but it stung of something sadistically similar to you.

[bluewizard1]

They are so different <33

[kirbyfigure]

what will you have in 500 years ?

[manzkageking]

I will get him pregnant, and leave him a single father

[aymenpokemon]

I also made thragg!

[espio-drawn17]

happy Easter🐰✏️

[fellerhour]

Thraggot

[issybee06]

thragg x hero!reader where he doesn't understand how his best men could fall in love with something as insignificant as a human until he sees the reader fight several viltrumites and also sees the friendship between mark and reader, but thragg focus on the affection and protection the reader has for mark. and he gets obsessed. so he demands the reader's hand in marriage so many times and the reader still finds a way to slip through his fingers.

Trust the process

Omgggggg I love this idea

Thragg x reader

Don’t know if this is exactly how you wanted it but I hope you enjoy it! 🫶

Major Spoilers from comics!

Pt2

……………………..……………………..……………………..……….

You sniff, groaning as you try to stop the blood gushing from your nose. Soloing was probably the worse thing you could do while being angry. Not being levelheaded lead to you getting your head smashed into a wall.

Well, I won, so fuck them. You mused to yourself, sighing and stretching out your tense and sore muscles.

I think my bones have bruises…

“Human.”

“JESUS!-“

You jump, clutching your heart as your head spins to look over your shoulder at the 6’10 Viltrumite conqueror standing on the roof a little ways behind you. You were on patrol, Mark was still recovering from being hit with the Scourge Virus and you promised to look after earth while he was still on the sidelines.

You didn’t exactly expect to find him here…or did he find you?

“Holy shit…uh…hi?” You raised a brow at the man as he comes closer. You recognized him from a few weeks ago from the Viltrumite ship, he was the king…? Emperor? Something like that, all you knew was that he was powerful…important.

You stood, wincing slightly after the beat down you had just received. His brow raised slightly, dark eyes trailing over your figure. Your torn suit, the way the blood ash and dirt clung to you, your bleeding nose and split lip.

“I saw your little…spar. I must say, I’m quite impressed you held your own so well. I’m constantly reminded the will of the human race, quite fascinating.”

“Uh…thank you?” How were you supposed to respond to that?

He says nothing for a while, staring out at city as the sun crept lower to disappear into the sea.

“…you and the boy, you are close? You seem to care for him greatly, considering how you threatened to murder your boss.”

Did he mean Mark?

“Mark? Yeah, he’s my closest friend. He…he’s important to me.”

Thragg scowls slightly, lower half of his face buried into the white furs of his red cloak.

“Are the two of you…courting?”

You sputtered, cheeks rising with color, “what?! No! No…he’s cute, yeah, but I can’t like him like that. It feels…ugh.”

He casts you a look, eyes narrowed, “you said he was important to you.”

You huff lightly, “yeah…like a best friend or a family member.”

He hums, “yes…forgive me for my assumption.”

He waits again, the silence growing awkward between the two of you. He speaks again, low like a growl, like he couldn’t believe he was actually asking this.

“…so you are unclaimed?”

What the fuc-

“I-I guess? I don’t understand-“

“Mate with me.”

Your eyes turn to saucers, jaw dropping at his request. No, not a request, he was stating it like this was a done deal. You had no choice, in his head you were already his.

“Excuse me?”

“Mate with me. Bare me a child and I may make you my official mate. My wife as you call it here on your planet. You are strong, females here aren’t from what I can see, not like your strength. I need someone strong to handle me and the barring and birthing of my child.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you did the only logical thing you could think of in that second.

You jumped off the skyscraper.

……………….……………….……………….………………………….

No, you did not jump to your death, you did it to get the fuck away from the scariest man you’ve ever encountered.

Like, who the fuck dumbs that on someone you just met?!

It’s only gotten worse since that first meeting a few months ago, he’s been getting bolder.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence that he began to show up at your day job as a barista, didn’t even recognize him because he was in real human clothes. It was only until one of your coworkers walks up to you with a scowl, murmuring that your “boyfriend” was an ass. You had quirked a brow, peaking over to look at your so called spouse when your heart stopped.

He was sitting at a table, tight dark grey shirt over his toned chest and meaty arms, dark blue jeans. There was nothing on the table in front of him, he was just…sitting there.

You swallowed, walking over and catching his attention almost instantly.

“…are you going to order something from the menu…sir?”

He looks at you, eyes narrowed as his frown grew. He looked hurt, if he could, and a bit offended.

“I would never ruin my body with your…human sustenance.”

God you hoped he didn’t say that to your coworker too.

“Sir-“

“My offer still stands.” He interrupted you, large hands clasped together on the table. His dark eyes watched you carefully, calculating, “no other female on this planet meets my standards…you are the closest thing to perfection I can get in this lesser planet. I wish for your hand. I want you to be my mate. I believe you can give me a superior offspring, one that might lead my people into a new age. I know you can give me that.”

A shiver ran through your body, and you swallowed. He was so…upfront, straight to the point like this was a business deal and not fucking marriage.

“I-“

“(Y/n)! Customers!”

“Look, I gotta-“

He stands, and you loose your breath at his height.

“I promise this to you…I will have you, but I will play this little game of yours. Until next time, mate.”

……………….……………….……………….………………………….

“And he won’t stop following you?” Mark asked, mouth full of fries as the two of you sit on top of Burger Marts roof.

“No! It’s driving me crazy! It’s been going on for weeks, Mark, WEEKS! He’s everywhere, Mark, I’m not even kidding. I’m at work, he’s waiting till I get off shift. I’m at the grocery store, he’s reaching to help me to the top shelf! I’m at college, he’s reaching sits and waits till I’m out of class! He’s legit, everywhere.”

You take a bite of your burger, “I’m honestly surprised I haven’t found him in my apartment yet.”

Mark laughs, feeling slightly bad for you, “hey…on the bright side, you aren’t getting cat called anymore because now you have a Doberman following you.”

“Ha. Ha. Not funny. Mark, he won’t stop asking me!”

Mark sighs, playful attitude lessening, “ I’m sorry, (y/n)…I wish I could help but everything is so tense right now with the Viltrumites and with Allen-“

“Mark, no, it’s fine. It’s just…I wonder if he’s ever gonna give up. I might have to just…ride this out until he gets bored of me I guess.” You throw your head back, dumping fry bits into your mouth.

Mark frowns, feeling terrible. He knew Thragg wouldn’t give up, he’d push and push until he had you. Willing or not.

And right now, you were the only reason earth hadn’t been destroyed yet…but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

[mintyys-blog]

TO CARRY HIS NAME 2 | thragg x wife! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | PART ONE | WARNINGS: pregnancy, child birth, neglectful husband, mentioned abuse

The pain hit just before dawn.

A sharp, twisting thing that coiled beneath your ribs and dragged you from sleep in a quiet gasp. You gripped the edge of the bed, sweat beading at your temple as you tried to breathe through it.

You didn’t scream. Screaming was weakness. Screaming would summon him.

You rose, slowly, legs trembling. The corridor outside your quarters was quiet—empty. Thragg hadn’t returned last night. You didn’t ask why. Your hand pressed to your abdomen, now slightly rounded. It was too soon for complications. Too soon for this kind of pain.

But it was happening anyway. You stumbled once, catching yourself against the wall, and that was when you heard the footsteps. Fast. Familiar.

“Mother—!” Samuel. He caught you just as your knees buckled, his arms strong around you, one hand steady beneath your back. “I’m alright,” you whispered. “I just need to sit—”

“You’re not alright,” he said, voice low, furious, but terrified. “You’re not even standing.” He helped you back into your chambers, easing you onto the bed like you were glass. You hated the way your hands shook. Hated the wetness in your eyes. He knelt before you, already checking for any signs of bleeding, of damage. Just like they’d taught him—sterile, precise, detached. But his face said everything else. “This isn’t normal,” he muttered. “You need medical—”

“No doctors. They’ll report to him.” He paused. His jaw clenched. “I don’t care.” Before you could stop him, the door opened behind him—hissing, mechanical. Thragg stood in the threshold, helmet off, eyes already narrowing at the sight of you in bed, and Samuel crouched protectively beside you. “What is this.” Samuel rose slowly. “She’s in pain. I’m helping her.”

Thragg’s gaze snapped to you, scanning your face, your posture, your hands shaking faintly against the sheets. “How long.”

You didn’t answer. Samuel did. “An hour. Maybe more.” Thragg stepped forward, every inch of his frame tight with barely-leashed fury—not at Samuel. At you. “You should have called for me.” You flinched, but held his stare. “You weren’t here.” He approached the bed, towering above you both, and looked at your son like he was an intruder. Samuel didn’t move.

“I said I would protect her,” Samuel said coldly. “And you’ve done nothing but ignore her since she conceived. Again.”

“Watch your tone.”

“Or what?” Samuel snapped. “You’ll train me harder? Hit me again?”

A long, dangerous silence. Then, Thragg’s voice, low. Measured. “You are speaking to your superior.”

“No,” Samuel said. “I’m speaking to the man who’s supposed to be my father.”

You saw it—just a flicker, a crack behind Thragg’s eyes. Like something old and ugly had been forced to the surface. He turned to you. “Are you bleeding?” You shook your head. “No. Just pain. Intense.” He knelt beside the bed, carefully brushing Samuel aside.

His hand moved to your stomach, cold and massive against your skin. He stayed like that—listening. Thinking. Protecting. “You will not leave this bed until further notice,” he said, not unkindly. “Samuel will monitor you when I’m gone. I will assign guards. Food. Everything. You don’t move without assistance.” You hated the implication—that you were weak. But you hated more the way his hand lingered. Like he meant it. “Is that an order?” you asked softly. “It’s a vow.”

His eyes found yours—hard, burning. But something else was there now. Fear, maybe. Or something close. “Do not make me bury you,” he said, voice barely audible.

And for the first time in years, his hand slipped from your stomach to your fingers. Twining them carefully. As if he remembered the shape of your hands. As if it haunted him. He didn’t look at Samuel again. But Samuel stood there, silent, watching. And for once… he didn’t interrupt.

You didn’t sleep.

Not with Thragg seated by your bedside like a sentry, his arms crossed, eyes locked on the far wall, unmoving for hours. Not with Samuel curled in a chair nearby, feigning rest but twitching awake at every sound you made.

There was something about the stillness that made it worse.

As if your body could betray you at any moment, and you would die in the quiet with no one able to stop it.

The pain dulled near morning—manageable now, but present, like a warning. You shifted slightly and felt Thragg’s gaze return to you before you even moved fully. He was alert. Waiting.

“Don’t,” he said flatly, voice low. “Stay still.”

“I have to use the bathroom.”

“I’ll carry you.”

You almost laughed. Almost.

But when you looked at him—his posture rigid, his face drawn tight like a stretched wire—you realized he was serious.

You sighed. “You don’t have to—”

He stood without another word, leaned over, and slid one arm beneath your back, the other under your knees. The lift was smooth, practiced, as if you weighed nothing. As if you belonged there.

You didn’t speak again until you were returned, warm beneath the sheets, embarrassed by your own weakness.

He sat beside you this time. Close.

Not saying anything.

Not touching you.

Until his hand—calloused, heavy—reached out and brushed your wrist.

You froze.

His voice, when it came, was low and raw. Quiet.

“Do you remember… the day we named him?”

Samuel stirred slightly across the room, but you didn’t look.

You stared at Thragg, lips parting.

“You refused to name him after a Viltrumite general,” you whispered. “You wanted something… strong.”

“And you chose ‘Samuel.’ A name from your home world.”

You nodded.

“I hated it,” he admitted. “At first.”

Your heart clenched.

“But then I said it aloud. ‘Samuel.’ And I saw you smile.” He looked down now. At your hand. At your ring.

“I haven’t seen that smile in a long time.” You swallowed. “You stopped earning it.” He accepted that. Didn’t argue. Didn’t lash out. Just stared ahead for a moment, as if the room felt foreign to him now. “I thought if I distanced myself from you, you’d live longer. I thought I was protecting you by leaving.”

“And instead,” you said softly, “you raised our son without a father, and left me to rot in a palace full of breeders.” His jaw clenched.

“I hate them,” you whispered. “The insect women. I hate how they look at you. I hate how they’re allowed to bear your children. I hate that I’m the only one you abandoned.” Thragg looked at you then—fully. And for once, his expression didn’t shift into anger. Only pain. “I didn’t love them,” he said. “I don’t.”

You looked at him long and hard. “Do you love me?”

The silence stretched between you, vast and unbearable. Samuel had turned away. His back faced you both now. And still… Thragg didn’t speak. Instead, he reached forward and touched your stomach again, gently this time. Reverently.

“I’ve killed gods,” he said quietly. “Split planets. Dismantled empires. But nothing… nothing has ever scared me like this.” You placed your hand over his.

“You don’t need to say it,” you said. “Just… don’t let me die.” He looked at you like he couldn’t promise that. But he’d try. And for now… that was enough.

The doctors came every day.

Never the same ones. Always sterile, cautious, afraid of saying the wrong thing in front of Thragg. They poked and prodded, scanned and recorded, speaking in hushed tones while you lay still under their scrutiny. A vessel. A risk. A fragile relic too important to break. Thragg never left during the examinations.

He stood behind them, arms folded, eyes narrowed like he could see their thoughts forming before they were spoken. None of them lingered longer than necessary. None dared speak to you without permission.

But Samuel? He would arrive after the doctors left, slipping in with soil still under his fingernails and sun-warmed skin on his cheeks. He always wiped his hands before coming to your bedside, even though you’d told him you didn’t mind the dirt.

“White petals now,” he said one afternoon, settling in the chair beside you. “The ones on the east wall. Like the ones you called ghost-breaths?” You smiled faintly. “Baby’s breath. They’re not supposed to bloom this season.”

“Well,” he shrugged, “they’re blooming anyway. I guess no one told them the rules.” You laughed—weak, but real. He watched you like he was memorizing the sound. “I pulled some of the invasive stuff out, too. The blue-leafed vines. I think they were choking out the helianths.”

“Helianthus,” you corrected gently. “Sunflowers.”

“They looked angry,” he said. “Didn’t think flowers could do that.” You reached for his hand, fingers curling around his. “You always see what others don’t.” He glanced away, swallowing down something he couldn’t name. Thragg entered not long after. Samuel stood, instantly tense. Thragg didn’t acknowledge him. He rarely did.

Instead, he moved to your side, scanning your vitals on the monitor, then your face. “The doctors said your pressure’s stabilizing.” You nodded. “The pain is less frequent.”

Thragg looked down at you, studying the faint color that had returned to your cheeks. Then—unexpectedly—he reached for your hand. You saw Samuel stiffen in your periphery. He didn’t speak. But he watched. Thragg’s grip was steady. Large. Warm.

“You’ll be moved tomorrow,” he said. “A chamber with reinforced medical support. If something goes wrong, they’ll be able to operate within seconds.”

“You think something will go wrong?” His jaw tightened. “I think we don’t get to be unprepared anymore.”

Samuel cleared his throat behind him. “The flowers are blooming, you know. The garden looks more alive than it ever has.” Thragg didn’t turn. But he did pause.

“Good,” he said. Just that. And nothing else. Samuel didn’t expect more. He left a few minutes later, silent but not cold. When he was gone, you looked up at your husband. “You could try,” you whispered. “Try what?”

“Being his father. Not just his commander.”

Thragg didn’t answer. But his hand didn’t leave yours. And that night, for the first time in a long while, he stayed until you slept—listening to you describe your favorite flowers, and what they meant back on Earth.

He never responded. But he stayed. And you dreamed of ghost-breaths blooming through stone.

The new chamber was warmer than the last.

Not just in temperature—but in light. Panels along the curved walls shifted to mimic natural sunlight, and soft pulses of ambient sound tracked your breathing, regulating pressure and oxygen. You weren’t confined anymore; you were watched. Monitored like a priceless, failing star.

Thragg oversaw the transition himself. No guards, no aides, just him and Samuel—each stationed on either side of your hoverbed like sentinels escorting a queen.

The new bed was softer. Wider. Designed for prolonged stillness without pain.

And it worked.

Within two days, the tightness in your chest eased. The sharp pains dulled to a distant ache. You could sit upright without sweating through your gown. The color returned to your lips.

The doctors remarked on the improvement—whispering to one another outside the chamber, but not too far. Never out of Thragg’s reach.

He rarely left now.

He sat in the corner some nights, unmoving, eyes closed but never asleep. You could feel him even when he didn’t speak—like the gravity of a planet orbiting your body. Heavy. Constant. Absolute.

Samuel came every morning with garden updates, his voice still awkward when describing color and shape—but you didn’t care. He tried. That was more than enough.

“There’s these little green buds near the southwest wall,” he said one morning, perched near the window. “I think they’re lilies?”

“Not this season,” you murmured.

“Well,” he grinned slightly, “they didn’t get the memo either.” You chuckled, pressing a hand to your stomach. The child shifted—barely, but enough. “Did you feel that?” Samuel leaned closer.

You nodded slowly. “It was the first time.” The silence after that was full of wonder. Quiet awe. Samuel didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He just sat there, hands curled in his lap, breathing like he’d forgotten how. The door hissed open. Thragg. Samuel stood automatically. “Sit,” Thragg said. Not sharply. Just… tired. Samuel hesitated, then obeyed.

Thragg approached you and reached for the tablet at your bedside, reviewing the latest stats. His eyes flicked to the vitals—your heart rate, oxygen saturation, temperature. “Stabilized,” he muttered. “Finally.”

“I told you,” you said softly, “you don’t have to watch me sleep.”

“I’m not watching you sleep.” He glanced at your belly—then your face. “I’m watching you survive.” You blinked.

Samuel’s brow furrowed. “She’s getting better. Maybe… maybe that means she can carry to term this time.” Thragg’s silence was unreadable. Until: “She will carry to term. Even if it kills me.” You looked at him sharply. “That’s not the reassurance you think it is.” His eyes met yours. And for the first time, you didn’t see steel or stone or wrath. You saw a man terrified of losing you. Again.

You reached for his hand—and this time, he took yours first. A long moment passed. Then Samuel, voice low, awkward, but determined: “What are you going to name this one?” Thragg didn’t answer at first. Then: “I’ll let her decide.” You smiled. And the flowers, back in the garden, bloomed wild. Just like you.

The bath was deeper than you remembered—sunken into the floor with warm mist curling up the walls, filling the chamber with soft humidity. Steam clung to the mirrored panels overhead, blurring the reflections of your own exhausted body.

The water, scented with something floral—lavender, maybe, or one of the blends Samuel had started growing—wrapped around your skin like silk.

You weren’t alone.

Thragg was behind you in the water, silent and still, one leg bent beneath you to prop up your weight, the other stretched along the tiled edge. His bare chest pressed faintly against your back, radiating heat like a furnace. You didn’t look at him, not at first. You didn’t need to. You felt him.

He’d said nothing when he’d stepped into the water behind you. Just moved with gentle, deliberate care. His strength restrained.

A cloth touched your shoulder. Then your neck. Then lower—dragging slowly along your collarbone in soft, circular strokes. His hand followed it, firm and reverent.

He washed you in silence. Carefully.

Like he’d break you if he wasn’t gentle. Your breath caught when the cloth dipped under your arm. He hesitated there. “Too much?” You shook your head. He resumed—slower now.

Then leaned in. Pressed his mouth to your temple. Kissed it. Not once. But twice. And then again—on your cheek, your ear, your jaw. A map of small, searching apologies in the form of soft, hot breath. You turned to face him, and his hand came instinctively to your belly.

He rested it there. Still. Possessive in that strange, quiet way he only ever was when he thought no one could see. You looked up at him. Damp hair clung to your cheeks. He didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. Just held you there with his hand over the life he’d helped create—and nearly lost.

Your fingers curled around his wrist. “You’re afraid,” you whispered. His jaw flexed. “I’ve seen what fear does to weak men.”

“But you’re not weak,” you said, leaning into his chest, heartbeat against heartbeat. “You’re terrified. And you’re still here.” Thragg’s throat worked with something unspoken. You felt his hand tighten gently over your belly.

He didn’t say “I love you.” He never did. But the way he looked at you then—Like you were the only thing keeping the stars from falling— Was enough.

It began in the dead of night.

A sharp, twisting pain that tore you from sleep with a choked cry. The sheets were damp beneath you—either sweat or water, you couldn’t tell—and your hand instinctively flew to your stomach.

You didn’t have to scream. Thragg was already there.

He sat up in the chair beside your bed before your breath could fully catch, eyes wild, all that quiet control fractured. You saw it in the way he reached for you with both hands—no hesitation, no thought of anything but you.

“It’s starting,” you gasped, curling into yourself. “Thragg—”

He was already lifting you, already barking something into the comm at the wall, already striding toward the surgical wing with you pressed tight against his chest. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath his skin—faster than yours. His breathing was shallow. Panicked.

The medical team met him halfway, rushing to take you, but he didn’t let go.

“She’s mine,” he snapped. “I carry her.” They didn’t argue. They wouldn’t dare.

You were wheeled into a sterile, blinding room minutes later, Thragg beside you, hand locked with yours. Your body trembled—more from fear than pain now—and you could barely process the voices speaking around you, announcing vitals, rushing injections, calling for stabilizers.

Thragg bent low, his forehead brushing yours. His breath was sharp. “You will survive this.”

You nodded, vision swimming. “You better mean that.” His grip on your hand tightened.

Then came the real pain. Worse than the first. Worse than you remembered. Your body tried to split itself apart, lungs crushed beneath the weight of contractions that came harder, faster, more violently than expected.

“She’s hemorrhaging,” one of the doctors said sharply. “Vitals dropping—pressure’s unstable—”

“No,” Thragg said, and it wasn’t a protest.

It was a threat. “She. Is. Not. Dying.”

You tried to scream, but your breath caught on itself. Blood warmed your thighs. The machines shrieked with new alerts.

“Emergency extraction,” another voice snapped. “Prep for immediate operation—”

“No.” Your voice cracked. “No cutting—please. Let me do this.”

Thragg looked down at you—eyes burning. “If you die—”

“I won’t,” you hissed. “You won’t let me.” And when the final contraction hit, when your back arched and your mouth opened on a soundless cry, you felt the weight leave you—followed by a new sound.

A wail. Small. Loud. Alive.

And then— Silence. Before the doctor spoke, holding up the tiny, squirming figure. “A girl.”

Your eyes blurred. You tried to lift your hand. Thragg was already reaching for her. But he didn’t take her. He looked at her—really looked. And then turned to you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, voice low. “She has your mouth.” You laughed through a sob. “Poor girl.”

He didn’t smile. But he did place her—gently—against your chest.

And for the first time, he held both of you at once. Not as a warrior— Not as a ruler. But as a husband. A father. And the universe didn’t fall apart. It began again.

Samuel approached slowly, shoulders stiff like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He hovered just inside the doorway at first, glancing between you and the small bundle nestled against your chest. His eyes were wide—more curious than afraid—but he didn’t take another step until you smiled at him.

“She’s so small…” he whispered. His voice was reverent. “Was I this tiny as a baby?”

You chuckled softly, brushing your fingers through your daughter’s barely-there hair.

“Even smaller, believe it or not,” you said. “You were born premature. Spent the first few weeks in a stasis chamber. I wasn’t allowed to hold you without a respirator between us.”

Samuel looked stricken. “Really?”

You nodded, cradling the infant closer for a second. “But I still talked to you. Every single day. Even when no one else thought it’d matter.”

He blinked fast, swallowing hard. Then his gaze dropped to the baby again. His sister.

“Can I…” he hesitated, the question catching in his throat. “Can I hold her?”

You shifted carefully, and smiled. “Of course.”

You guided his hands gently—correcting the position of his arms, angling his posture, making sure he supported her head. She stirred as you placed her into his arms, her face wrinkling for a second, but then settling as his warmth surrounded her.

Samuel went still. Completely still.

His eyes locked on her face—on the tiny nose, the soft lashes, the way her fists curled near her chin.

“I didn’t think they were really this small,” he whispered, voice tight with awe. “She looks… like she doesn’t even belong here. Like she’s too soft for this world.”

“She is,” you said gently. “But she won’t stay that way.”

“She’ll be strong?”

“She’ll be herself.” You watched him with quiet pride. “And that’s more than enough.”

He looked up at you then, and for a moment—you could’ve sworn he was five again. That same look of wanting to be good. To do right. To make you proud.

“I’ll protect her,” he said.

You smiled softly. “I know.”

And in the corner of the room, Thragg stood silent, watching. Not commanding. Not correcting. Not looming.

Just… watching. And when Samuel looked his way—just briefly—Thragg gave the smallest nod. A recognition. One Samuel had waited a lifetime to see.

[theartofsimpatry]

Invincible characters and their favorite parts about you

NSFW🔞

Mark Grayson: Tits, he cant help but love them. Small, medium, large or XXXXL, he loves them!!

Omni-Man: Ass, he loves to see your ass bouncing against his body when you ride him.

Rex Splode: Ass AND tits! He loves the female form and is classy enough to appreciate both.

Conquest: He’s not picky, he’s an older man and knows that he can appreciate all the parts of your body. But if he absolutely had to pick one? Ass.

Thragg: PUSSY. He’s a breeder for goodness’s sakes! He loves pussies of all sizes, shapes and colors, the only thing he cares about is your fertility.

Cecil Stedman: Another old man that looks past the flesh and cares about whats on the inside… his favorite is thighs.

Allen the Alien: Tits. He likes to compare them to his massive hands, if they don’t fill up his hands, they’re cute. If they do? Its hot as fuck.

[tyheartsthragg]

thragg x (fem)reader

note: this is also on ao3 ! and there’s comic spoilers—be advised lol

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64406905

word count: 1174

summary: after the destruction of the Viltrum empire, thragg seeks a solution to rebuild the legacy—he finds you.

It’s been twenty seven days since the Viltrum empire has been reduced to cinders. The shame of having to leave his entire empire behind was already mortifying by itself, however blending in with humanity was a humiliation ritual of its own. Each stomp he took down the sidewalk was followed by a deep breath, he couldn’t afford to get caught. A small pebble rolled toward his shoe, causing him to glance down with skepticism. The silence cracks open, a deafening sound of rocks and debris collapsing onto the pavement, spreading a thick cloud of dust and ash into the streets.

Thragg turned his attention toward the commotion, civilians screaming and sprinting away from the growing cloud of haze as the building nearby meets the ground.

Regardless, he carried on, walking down the sidewalk as the screams faded off into the distance. It was not his job to interfere, nor did he really care about the lives here. Yet… he is strangely curious to see how the ‘heroes’ on this planet handle a grave threat. With a slight shift of his weight, he swiftly rose into the air, the ground fell away beneath him. His gaze snapped toward the crumbled building, followed by more screams and wails of terror as the weaklings fled from the scene. His eyes narrowed further at a bright crack of lightning down below.

Focusing his sight; there was a man ranting about something inaudible, bolts of lightning crackling around his form. Bursts of flames erupt from destroyed vehicles, rubble and debris decorating the roads, and the ‘heroes’ that are keeping a large distance between them and him. They’re not even attempting to subdue the man, their lips moving but making no sudden action.

These are the defenders of this planet?

Two feelings quickly surged within him, pride and curiosity. The first was mainly due to his own sense of superiority, quickly understanding that he (or any Viltrumite really) could easily stop the idiotic man causing such a commotion. The other side of him, the curious one, wondered just how humans handled issues like these. What made them so worthy of being protected by other Viltrumites? Why did one of their best fighters betray their cause for this planet and its people?

Thragg stared blankly at the scene in front of him as others flocked away in fear, he wanted to see how this would go and if possible, find someone worthy enough to interbreed with. Someone who could create a soldier capable and reliable.

However, with each passing minute Thragg slowly began to realize something. The superheroes in front of him were entirely and completely useless at their job, doing almost nothing to stop ‘Powerplex’ as he called himself, from wrecking down buildings and hurting other innocent humans. Before he could continue living his moment as a nosy aunt, he was interrupted by the footsteps of a figure approaching the manic man. A woman. She appeared like others of her kind, small in comparison to a Viltrumite and lacking in any overt signs of strength such as muscle. He felt a brow rise in confusion, why would the GDA send such a weak thing to fight an already pathetic creature? It’d be much like watching a fly fight a mosquito, both equally annoying creatures capable of providing no positive or useful traits to a society.

He watched as the creature brought her arm back behind her, cranking it like a hard lever, and even from a distance Thragg could see the subtle sight of her veins beginning to pop against her arm. He stared intensely, waiting for her to swing, and then-

He blinked.

He blinked and Powerplex was gone.

The only evidence of what happened was the woman standing in the middle of the battlefield, and the harsh gust of wind that smacked his face from what he could only guess was due to the sheer power of her punch. Thragg stood there in a haze, completely shocked by the power he had just witnessed. Vanquished by a mere human. He rose his head and watched as the sky was illuminated by the loud and strong thunderous roars of lightning bolts due to Powerplex’s power, before the man fell onto the ground unconscious. He felt a smirk grow on his lips, his heart swelling in a strange emotion that he could only compare to excitement. This had to be it, this woman, she was the one.

A rectangular shaped portal tore through the space, hovering above the ruins as GDA rushes out with guns strapped to their chests. An older, suited man hops out last, already turning to speak with the woman who just defeated PowerPlex. The armed guards lie the injured heroes onto a cot, machines already picking up on their faint heartbeats. They left as soon as they arrived, but the elder stayed with the woman, the two seemed to be discussing the matter at hand.

Their conversation appeared to end abruptly when she shook her head, waving a dismissive hand his way. He backed down, and returned back to the portal with a wave before it shrunk back into nothing.

For the first time in the past hour or so—it’s silent. The woman stood there for a moment, before turning to help an injured person beside her.

Thragg descends from the air, gravity pulling him down to meet the cracked concrete. He marches forward, rock and shards of glass crunching beneath his feet as he approaches her. A few heads turn, taking in a single glance at him before darting away from the area. The woman turns as well; her eyes narrowing upon the sight of him. She throws a protective arm over the shaking girl beside her, flicking her head to the side—a silent order to flee. The girl doesn’t waste a second, vanishing into the ruins, leaving the woman’s attention fixed on him.

A gust of wind blows through, kicking up debris and pebbles, filling the silent air. Her posture is defensive—both hands curled into tight fists, her expression stern and unyielding.

“Who-”

“Hello.” Thragg cut her off, his hands folded in front of him. Her eyebrows pinch together in confusion, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Your performance was intriguing.” His words would sound more genuine if his tone wasn’t emotionless. She opens her mouth to reply but he cuts her off once again, causing her jaw to snap shut. “I wish to breed with you.”

The woman stands there in silence, utter disbelief written across her features as she took in his blank stare. “What the fuck?”

[venu-5]

Ramble?

MDNI! (This post is 18+)

This is about Thragg, do not fret, this is no tagging mistake!

Author's note: This was just a silly thought. I hope people enjoy it because I'm not a professional writer nor do I claim to be a good one! Though I hope this is good for a second start.

Word Count: 516

Content Warnings:

Thragg...{Implied Age Gap}, {Reader is legal}, {Pregnancy}, {Sexcy?} , {Non-monogamous situationship?}, {Brief three-way with two aliens}, {Big dick}, {Maybe unrealistic smut-most definitely because author has never felt the touch of another human AHEM} {Cunnilingus}, {Is it a breeding kink if they do it to repopulate a small population out of necessity??}, {Thragg a freak for Reader} {OOC, duh its fanfic and I may or may not have not read the comics...}

Okay, no, I need more Thragg content and I'm no writer nor someone who's experienced but imagine him with reader who's Mark's best friend, Thragg learns the nature of their relationship and he's quick to take Marks friend because he needs leverage because Mark isn't scared so he needs to make him scared! They're powerless, weak, fragile to someone as strong and big as Thragg. It's no use in fighting him, you should just sit pretty and let him smell the fear that emits from you.

He's intrigued. Why? He wouldn't be able to tell you. Is it the way his hand swallows the curve of your throat? Or maybe it's because he can't help but imagine the way you'd look carrying his heirs? To you it's a medieval way of thinking but to him, oh, to him it's necessary-it's the way of life.

He wants to fill you up with his come. He wants to spend every minute and every second inside you until he's sure he's seen your womb swell with a sign of life. He's fallen to the satisfaction of watching your lower stomach swell and bulge as he slips his thick cock into you. That sweet, sweet symphony you sing for him. The first time he ever breached your walls you swore he'd tear you in two but he didn't. Miraculously you remained intact and to him it was sign enough that you were meant to take him.

His concubines are pushed to the side, filled only when their wombs are empty and their nests are empty. He won't spend a second raising children, it's his concubines' job to raise his children. He needed warriors but you, oh, sweet, sweet you. He filled you even when your womb was full. Even when his palm curved over your belly, he thrusted slowly as he nosed at your neck and groaned lowly enough to make your heart vibrate. You had the best doctors, he ensured that they learned human biology and had the correct instruments for you. Even if you were the only one with that humane biology in his presence, he knew you'd prove him right and give him a fierce warrior on the first go.

If you rewarded him properly then he'd reward you in turn though he did reluctantly wait the six weeks of repose that were mandated to allow your dumb human body to heal properly. Besides, six months for another pregnancy? Stupid, in his opinion.

It was hell to Thragg. So he spent every second with his head between your thighs. You sat on your throne (his tongue) with his concubine fucking herself on his cock so he could imagine it was you he was filling-though the way she clamped down around him never felt the way your gummy walls clamped around him. His concubines would never truly deserve his come the way you do. It's a waste when it's spilled in their wombs. How he wishes it's your womb he spills into.

Mark should just forget about saving you.

How long has it been?

Shit...I think he has.