Chapter Text
“So I have your permission to do anything I deem fit?”
Cecil lets out a disgusted grunt at the insinuation, and you chuckle imagining the all-too-familiar way your former boss’ forehead crumples with annoyance. “Do what you must, for fucks sake.”
“Old prude” you snort, tapping the earpiece slightly. Teasing him was just too much fun, but it seems he still holds onto resentment about you trying to seduce him into spilling GDA secrets some years prior. Anyways, he possesses an exceptionally strong will - that you found out the hard way back then.
Still, it was kind of nice to have someone to converse with face to face without having to resort to sign language.
When the comm goes quiet you crawl out of your hiding, overlooking the already evacuated city – or rather what’s left of it.
The only other present hero, Invincible, is currently unconscious and hopefully far enough away to not be affected shall he wake up. You spot Conquest hovering in the air right next to the nearly collapsing skyscraper you had climbed on, close enough to hear yet too far to rip you apart instantly.
Shit. Fuck. You really don’t want to do this.
There’s no guarantee your powers will even work on a Viltrumite. You’ve tried with Nolan once for the fun of it and the man nearly ripped your head off in irritation. He might be immune due to his alien heritage or simply the utter devotion to his wife, no way to find out - until now.
Well, what other choice do you have? The literal fate of this planet is at stake, so it’s either fight or prepare for inevitable, devastating loss.
Fuck it, time to shine.
As soon as the first note falls from your lips, Conquest’s neck harshly snaps into the direction of the sound. Another enemy being foolish enough to confront him, he thinks - but suddenly his head is wiped clean of any violent thought, instead being flooded with other fantasies revolving around you.
However his menacing stare does not falter, the anxiety inside of you skyrocketing with each passing second failing to evoke an beneficial response. And yet you continue singing – the most effective way of using your curse – until in the blink of an eye, the Viltrumite lunges at you.
“Ah, little Enchantress…” he mocks, hand already wrapping around your throat but not tightening yet. He doesn’t use his synthetical arm deliberately, excited to feel your pulse spike beneath his fingertips. “What do you think you’re doing?”
This is it. This is how you die.
You fucking knew it, literally told Cecil those genocidal maniacs couldn’t even comprehend basic human emotions, let alone feel them - so your chances were near zero from the very start!
“P-Please, big guy…” you coo, voice dripping with fake courtesy nonetheless, in a desperate attempt to spare yourself whatever torture his deranged mind would conjure. “At least kill me quickly, okay?”
Conquest’s grip on you grows slightly less rough with every word, every syllable gracing his ears. He is still firmly pining you in place but the threat of his touch doesn’t linger as much, feeling oddly dissatisfied watching you squirm in his hold.
“Stop…stop this…” he utters, face flashing through different expressions before settling on utter terror. “No more talking.”
For a while he considers to just snap your neck, but quickly decides against it. He must keep you alive to gather more information.
What kind of ability is this? Are there more of your kind? Is this an exploitable weakness to all Viltrumites, and if so, are other humans aware of this?
But if things continue like this, then- no. He’ll simply crush your vocal cords to make sure that doesn't happen.
You feel his thumb relentlessly digging into your windpipe, making you cry out a both pained and pleading whimmer that instantly makes him stop in his tracks.
“Tha-ank you…” you croak rawly yet no less sweet, giving it your utmost to sound appealing in spite of fear and pain.
Conquest observes in shock, not at the sight of you clawing at your throat gasping for air, but the fact that seeing you harmed - despite having committed so much worse that it became his second nature - made him feel…yeah, what exactly?
Remorse? Worry?
Care?
It’s been so long, he couldn’t even name the feeling – and that is probably the reason it threatened to overwhelm him.
This literal behemoth dropped to his knees, head lowered akin to a fighting dog – submissive, yet no less dangerous even to those seemingly having domesticated it.
Over the years you’ve witnessed countless people being driven to the border of madness by the power of your curse, and though the results may vary, especially males tend to express rather physical desire more often than not.
But Conquest? He wept.
“Oh, you poor thing…” you whisper, tone almost pitying. “Reacting so viscerally…how lonely must you have been?”
He shivers at the first genuine expression of kindness someone had given him in centuries, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “Agonizingly long…”
Either way, you approach him cautiously, like one would coax a feral animal that could snap at any time. Cupping his face with trembling hands, you softly lift his chin and he doesn’t resist - instead pulling you into a near suffocating hug, cradling you like a lost child would cling to its soothing blanket.
“It’s all good now, Darling…let me take care of you." You play the part perfectly, smiling and chanting and drawing soothing patterns into the muscles of his back - all while starting to feel like death would've been a mercy compared to imprinting this monster on you.
Cecil grits his teeth as he observes this feeble victory on their surveillance footage, the possibility of a suspicious individuum like you getting your hands on the most powerful being yet known leaving a bitter aftertaste.
But that’s a worry for later, though.