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13tinysocks · 2 days ago

Text

My Dead Girlfriend

Viltrum culture can be quite a shock. Everything'll be fine, as long as you listen and do everything the Emperor says. Oh... Well, things wouldn't have to be this way if you weren't such a bitch!

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

World building tiem... Look guys, they be flippin' that shit around tho. NSFW

[Part one] [Ao3] [23]

24 * Bitch [14.4k]

"I get mean when I'm nervous like a bad dog."

Cop Car - Mitski

Having a master bathroom was only something you could dream about. With a deep, wide tub, products hidden away, on demand at the press of a button (Technically there weren't showers in Viltrum, just gas chambers that ionically cleaned whoever was inside but Mohawk had some more human amenities added to his room). Double sinks, clean mirrors that seemed to hover off the wall. Not a cobweb in the corner or spec of dust on the shiny tiled floor. The grand prize, a toilet with a bidet- that you were currently puking in.

You gripped the edges, heaving. Orangey vomit was quietly flushed away without back spray. Viltrumite plumbing was something else. You wanted it to be over but you could still feel your guts flipping, deciding whether to let it end now or drag the torment on for another hour.

"Why didn't you slow me down?" You whined, tears squeezed out the corners of your eyes.

The party had gone on awhile longer. It was all a haze after your seventh glass. You didn't entirely remember when you got back to Mohawk's room but you knew, you'd been at this toilet for what felt like forever. Hurting like a motherfucker.

Mohawk (held your hair/rubbed your) back, as helpful as he'd get. "Cuz she could hold her liquor."

You'd had beer that tasted like cardboard that didn't get you nearly as fucked up. "I can! Your girlfriend was just an alcoholic bi-bllarrgggg."

Mohawk watched your body slump and shudder in misery. Smiling despite it, because karma was real. "This is what you get for being a bitch to me earlier." He singsonged over the sound of puke hitting toilet water.

When it was over, you said, "I'm not gonna say sorry for being a bitch when you fucking kidnapped me."

"Baaabe, we've been over this." He whined. You tried lifting your head to glare but another wave of nausea dragged you back down. "Just accept it already. You're here with me now and you're safe. I'm not gonna hurt you, unless you ask me to." He remembered how you liked it. How willing you were to be choked or pinned down or restrained.

He was going for sexy, you just heard creepy. "You're actually crazy, dude."

He patted your (head/back), tutting, "Only for you."

Through it all, he stayed. Idly chattering in the bouts of quiet between episodes. Asking you about your favorite shows or movies he could put on because the Viltrum Empire had archives of most media from the planets they conquered. Especially the programs he listed as favorites of yours- you'd never heard of. There was Jackets-Yellow or Interrupted, Girl. The titles sounded so stupid and you felt so bad you shot them down immediately.

Eventually, it was over. You were empty and tired and dry mouthed. Mohawk left the room, pressing a button beside the bed and pulling out a bottle of water imported from the medicinal springs of planet Zigguart of the southern sector. Viltrum developed most of its own medicines but sometimes other races just did it better, it was why they still conquered after millennia; there was always something to gain, to learn from other races. The people of Zigguart made a damn good cure for post-vomit, pre-hangover party girl sickness. He often had to make you drink it back when you were alive. You had been right- the old you was something of an alcoholic, because watching you drunkenly vomiting over the toilet bowl was deeply nostalgic for him.

He held your neck while you drank. Praising quietly when you didn't think you could take anymore, "You're doing so good, just keep going, it's going to help. I've got you, babe."

He pulled you gently off of the floor, put a mouthwash tablet in your mouth, and told you to chew. Pepperminty suds washed over your mouth and dissolved any taste of puke and of course all of the plaque. You spit out the remains according to his instructions and felt somehow the cleanest you had in months.

Then he took you to the closet and set you on the bench, handing you a white set of pajamas. A loose white button-down with Viltrum's logo on the breast pocket, paired with white pants.

"It's Martian silk." He said. "Super comfortable."

You'd stopped puking, were still lightheaded, but your stubbornness was steadfast. "I told you I'm not wearing her clothes."

He set the pajamas next to you on the bench. "I don't gotta lotta rules but it's no outside clothes in the bed or none at all."

You watched him as he pulled out his own pajama set, matching yours exactly.

"I'd rather sleep naked." You said.

"Oh would you?" Mohawk turned to you, looking hopeful.

"I'm not fucking you, I'm sick."

"Don't gotta kiss your pukey mouth to fuck you." He leaned forward, fingers pushing between the magnetic fastening of your bodysuit, "Gonna get naked or what?"

You grabbed the heap of pajamas next to you. "I'll wear these, actually."

He patted your head, "Good girl." You were a lot easier to corral into doing what he wanted than he expected. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard.

"Don't call me that, I'm not your dog." You say as you watch him start to peel off his emperor's clothes. Revealing his clean body beneath.

"But you're my bitch." He said not unkindly, like it was some new form of endearment, personal to you. You watched as he pulled the suit down his torso, over his recently trimmed pubes (a landing strip), stopping right before revealing himself. Meeting your eyes with a smirk, "What? You changing your mind, pukey mouth?"

You turned around immediately, hot in the face. "No." You opened the front of the suit and started to wriggle out of it when Mohawk hovered slowly into your periphery. Already changed into those stupid pajamas, wearing a stupider expression on his face at the chance to see you naked. You held the open portions shut, "Turn around, freak."

"Aww, come on, nothing I haven't seen before."

"And nothing you'll see again if you don't turn around!"

His brows waggled, "That a promise?"

"Turn! Around!"

Mohawk sighed dramatically, "You're no funnn." But he turned, listening to the shuffle of clothes as you changed. He tried peaking but was whacked in the face by his bodysuit, blinding him. He pulled the clothes off his face to see you, alive, in those same pajamas, swaying slightly from drinking. You looked so similar in this closet, it scared him. He wanted you, a copy, a re-do, but not the same person who betrayed him.

Quietly, he led you to the bed, dimming the lights. You didn't have the energy to argue for your own place to sleep, you just slid into her old spot and flipped into her usual sleeping position like a glove. Just like she had a million times, normally in bed before him. He watched you, not feeling himself in his own body but knowing he was again lying in bed with you. He was too scared to reach out, to touch you in this room.

You were asleep within minutes. He tried to sleep but couldn't. He stayed up through your twitching nightmares, rubbing your back and telling you it was okay, you were safe, until you calmed. He was utterly still for the first five hours you slept, the first natural sleep you'd had since arriving and it was in his bed, in your bed. At some point you rolled, shifted your leg over his then flopped your arm over his chest. She used to do the same thing. He shifted his arm under you, his shoulder now your pillow. You grunted something in your sleep, nuzzled into him, and went still again. Finally, Mohawk fell asleep.

***

Southeastern space wasn't known for much. Most of it was empty due to a supermassive black hole slowly eating away at it. It was speckled through with minimal stars, a handful of debris fields, and fewer planets. None of which housing societies the empire deemed advanced enough to meddle with.

For the most part, the empire was correct in their assessment. In the hundreds of millions of miles, there was nothing worth anything. That's why when Mohawk learned of Thragg's plans for him, he gutted the motherfucker and dumped him into southeastern space to die. Thragg's heart, the most integral part of a Viltrumite biology, had been pierced. He was to die in the black cold of space alone, without an empire.

His survival came down to luck. The Thraxans saw him, a floating ball of blood and gore, when out on a routine clearing of a nearby asteroid field. They took him in, healed his wounds, and for the last few years and generations of the Thraxan people, he'd been there. Using the Thraxans as he saw fit, siring children, catching the mantis-people up to almost Viltrumite levels of sophistication.

He was nearly ready to make his move on account of one thing. These last ten months, the empire he'd loved so much had been quiet. What transmissions he did intercept about the empire from the Coalition were bad. The empire had lost its grip, taken losses it never would've taken had he been in charge. Rumors floated that the boy-king finally died but nobody had seen a body and Thragg was too disillusioned to hope.

Scanners that the Thraxan scientists had made showed little movement from the Empire. The only thing he knew for certain was that they hadn't taken that lazy idiot's favorite shortcut to western space in all that time. It had been routine for millennia to take the long way, checking and rechecking on seemingly conquered planets just to ensure they were still under Viltrum hold. Pathetic. He was unfit to rule, just like his father.

Imagine Thragg's surprise when a scientist came stumbling into his throne room, right when he was about to get started with one of his hundreds of concubines. "Sir! You're gonna wanna see this!"

Thragg considered killing the insect for the interruption. But he went along, deciding if this was nothing, the useless bug would die. It wasn't nothing. Far from it.

Lo and behold, the emperor's personal ship was flying through his favorite space passage. He was alive and back at the helm for whatever reason. Thragg was as ready as he'd ever be to get his plans rolling despite the danger it could mean for him and the Thraxan people.

"Prepare me a ship."

***

Mohawk woke up long before you. In his sleep, he'd tangled his legs between yours. Had pulled you into his chest so your ear rested on his heart. He was never a prude but the sight of your face, so relaxed and contented, made him flush. He hoped, wished you would be like this more. But he knew you wouldn't. He was still afraid you'd be just like her and betray him the same. Of course you'd try, he'd be suspicious if you didn't try at least once- but it was the secrets he was scared of, if you could keep them from his prying eyes and cameras like she had.

But it'd be a welcome surprise if you didn't. If you just stayed sweet and compliant and a little bitchy for the fun of it.

You woke up and thrashed until he let you go, which wasn't very long because he was scared he'd accidentally crush you play-fighting in bed. Again you refuse to wear her clothes, taking another one of his suits for your own use. He wore his same uniform, power washed during the night by the closet itself. Sensors built into the walls detected dirt or skin cells, pulled them into a cleaning chamber where they were cleansed down to the molecular level. This time, when he tried peaking you used your powers and made him face the wall. Last night was one thing, he didn't mind you using your powers to entertain. But using them on him, the literal emperor? Was another.

"Maybe you shouldn't do that." He said as you both stepped out of the closet, headed for the door because he had said he wanted to show you something before his work began for the day.

"Maybe you should listen the first time I ask you to do something." You snipped back.

"Who has the power here?" He said half-testing, half-joking. He hoped you'd back down, take the joking route.

He isn't surprised when you say, "You're the Emperor of Viltrum, not Earth."

"Uh, actually." He said, stepping through the bedroom door and into the hall, "Earth has been part of the Empire for almost six years, so I'm the emperor of Earth and two-thousand-seven-hundred-forty-two other planets which, by the way, was the number when I first started. No clue what it's at now, probably over three thousand. So yeah, I am your Emperor." He didn't tell you now that the Empire had conquered over ten thousand planets, but most of them hadn't survived the initial culling of dissidents or had been stripped of all useful resources. You would learn about the Empire's history at some point.

You made a face he laughed at. "Don't be so sour, babe. Play your cards right and you could be my Empress. Still not as powerful or important as me but, it'd have a lotta perks." You recalled the ring he threw down, one of the first nights stuck in the desert. The weird look he'd given you. He'd been planning on proposing before he killed her. He wanted you not just to take her current place, but the future he had planned with her as well.

"If you're proposing, you're doing a shitty job." You followed him as he turned into another hall and floated up a flight of stairs. "Answer's no by the way."

"Answer'll be yes eventually." He landed at the top of the stairs and turned, waiting for you the climb the last few steps. "Plus, my proposal's gonna be big. Not some lame ass chicken shit like that. What am I? That asshole, pussy bitch you dated?"

"You literally are." You ignored the hand he held out for you to take.

Fine. That was fine. You'd come around. He could deal with a few disobediences here and there. He'd correct them all in time.

"Yeah, but I'm not an asshole, pussy bitch." He floated backward, you followed.

"You're so good with your words." You paused to take it in. The stairs gave way to a long room, half an oval. The walls were mostly glass, smoothly curved and reaching the ceiling. What little stars you saw bent around the glass in yellow, white blurs.

"I am when I need to be. That's why I'm the Emperor, duh." Mohawk moved further into the room, stopping a few feet in front of the glass where the room came to a head. He watched you through the crystal clear reflection. "This is the observation deck."

"Seems kinda shitty, the only thing you can do is look at stars? Needs a telescope or something." No way he could tell the stripes of stars apart.

He gave you a look, walked to the wall, and pressed a single finger to it. Suddenly, a blue screen was projected over the glass, highlighting stars and planets as they passed, giving at a glance scans of their surfaces, expected resources, gravity force, and compounds of the atmosphere.

You approached and tapped one of the popups. The small data sheet enlarged, tells you the planet is called T-47. Showed you a distant photo of a purple-blue ball. Inhabited by a suspected insectoid race. Status: Not ready for colonization. Potentially suitable in 398 years.

"This is just the simple shit, but we're not here for that." Mohawk tapped a button and all the data was gone. "Come on." He walked away from the screen and headed toward the back of the room where the glass ended, and returned to the regular Viltrumite wall paneling. He pressed a finger to a button set into the wall and a door slid open. You followed him inside to find what looked like a Viltrum version of an office kitchenette.

You squinted, "This is where you make all your food for like? How many people?"

He laughed, "Nah. The main kitchen is six levels down and takes up the whole floor. I had this put in just for you cuz you spent a lotta time up here. You hated when the servants did their job and served you food or drinks. God, this place was such a pain in the ass to get built. You wanted the contractors to be paid with money instead of letting their family live. Ugh." He opened a cabinet, stocked full of snacks, some you recognized, some you didn't. "Still got everything stocked." He checked the mini fridge embedded into the wall, which was stocked so full that canned drinks nearly fell out when he opened it. He shut the door, turned to you hopefully. "Like it?"

You shrugged, unable to ignore the love put into it, how she was immortalized into parts of the ship, how she would always haunt you here. "Nicer than my apartment, so sure."

That wasn't as impressed as he'd like you to be but he wasn't done yet. "How about a drink?"

He remembered how you took your (coffee/tea), made it just right, like he had a hundred times. Sure, the servants could've done it but the old you had always appreciated the gesture. He waited, more anxious than he was willing to admit for your approval. Nearly exploded with relief when you had to hide your surprise, looking away as you said, "It's... good." He can hear the lie in the rhythm of your heart.

Satisfied, he led you back into the main room. Near the glass again, he pressed the toe of his boot into the floor. Paneling you hadn't seen before split apart as a chair rose up. A single white thing comprised entirely of hard edges. Mohawk flopped down into it, making the cushions that looked nothing like cushions, sigh.

He patted his knee. "Come'ere."

You stayed standing, sipping your drink from a pale mug. "There's seriously not another chair?"

"There's a bunch, but I'm not tellin' you where." You opened your mouth, he raised a finger, "Use your powers on me an' I won't take you down to torture that pussy bitch later."

"I could use my powers now and later."

His smirk doesn't quite reach his eyes. "We both know you can't keep that shit up forever. Either you sit down willingly, or I gag you, tie you up, and then put you on my lap- which you'd love by the way- your choice. Oh and-" From the side of the chair came a study table. He took the mug and set it down.

Your cringe was like a reward, but not nearly as rewarding as you shuffling forward and leaning on the arm of the chair. "You're fucking ridiculous."

"I didn't say to sit there," He put a hand to your back and pulled you down. Ass falling over his thighs. "I said here." His hand stayed in place, ready to pull you back onto his lap if you moved. "Good. I can finally show you this." From the arm of the chair, he plucked a narrow thing that was flush with the fabric. Translucent at first but after a moment it lit up, glowing blue. At your confused face, he said, "It's a data pad, dummy."

"Like an iPad?"

"Yeah, but a billion times better." He tapped a circular icon and brought up the landing page for the archive. "Check it, we've got every book in the galaxy." Technically, every book, news article, research paper, and leaked nude uploaded and categorized from all of the thousands of planets the Viltrum empire had conquered. With Viltrum-powered artificial intelligence, any confusing alien text was immediately translated and not in the chunky Google Translate way, it was actually understandable.

He pressed a few more buttons and brought up your personal favorited list. The Southern Book Club's Guide to Vampire Slaying. My Heart Is a Sawchain. The Games of Hunger and all its sequels. You both paused, looking at the last book she was reading. The progress bar said she was a little over halfway through- Jaymocking. Mohawk's fingers went still, but you pulled up the summary. It was some dystopian fantasy, the third in a series about a corrupt, murderous government and its evil figurehead. Ouch.

"I still don't get it," Mohawk said. "I gave her everything she ever could've wanted and more, and she fuckin' betrayed me." He's quiet like you'd have an answer. "You won't do that to me, right?"

You're suddenly very aware of everywhere he was touching you. Every place he could pierce through your soft, human flesh. "I don't even know what she did and uh... What could I do against any of this?"

"You askin' cuz you wanna know?"

Kinda. "I just don't even- I? I just fucking got here? This is like, the first time I've been in a spaceship. I hace no idea what's going on and even if I did try to leave, I'd be sucked into the vaccume of space. Also, I almost starved to death multiple times. I don't know what the fuck you think I'm gonna do if I can't find the other chairs."

His face relaxed. "Right.. Right." He was tempted to tell you what she did but then what if you snuck a data pad and got into contact with the Coalition too? The best thing he could do was make sure you were happy, never starved or wanted for anything ever again. "So... you like reading?"

"Hate it." You lied.

"In that case-" He moved to put the data pad away. You snatched it, you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to read. Gotten to snack and relax and be calm. You scowled at him, "Knew it."

You scrolled though the catalogue, looking for something to catch your eye. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Not for an hour." He said.

"Are you gonna show me the other chairs or have me on your lap the entire time?"

He pretended to consider. "I'll think about letting you up if you read to me."

You laughed, "No fucking way."

He hummed, "Guess you gotta stay here then."

You did. Finally finding something good to read. Titled Spill Your Guts. You didn't read aloud, knowing he was full of it. The writing was terrible but you couldn't stop reading it. Mohawk asked if you wanted to read something better, something cool from an alien planet. To spite him, you said no and kept reading the worst published text you'd ever laid eyes on.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd relaxed like this- aside from the sitting in the lap of an evil Emperor part, but still. You ended up so engrossed in doing something as trivial as reading and drinking (tea/coffee), you didn't notice the creep of his hand until it was set between your thighs. Gently gripping and ungripping to try and get your attention.

You lowered the datapad to its indented bed in the arm. "Move your hand."

He didn't. "Do you reaaally want me to?" He said into your ear, "Don't you remember yesterday?"

You'd focused on the good part, Mark's suffering. Forgetting after the party and getting drunk about the cute little detail of almost letting Mohawk fuck you in that prison cell. "I don't."

"You're such a shitty liar." Mohawk's fingers moved side to side, ghosting over the inner thigh of the suit. "But fine, I'll play along, you want a reminder?"

You snapped your legs shut as you started to feel a pooling heat, inadvertently trapping his fingers. He could've moved them but he didn't. "I'm still mad at you."

"Oh, I can fix that." His other hand moved to the front of your body, aiming for your chest. You should have gotten up, used your powers, but you didn't. Part of you wanted to feel him again, left unsatisfied from the way things ended yesterday. Maybe if you fucked him again, it'd get the need out of your system and the next time he tried something you wouldn't be so defenseless, so easy under his hands.

Still, you put up a mild fight. Trying to tighten your thighs to give him more resistance- give yourself more time to come to your senses. But he was stronger than your thighs, sliding his fingers between them easily until he was rubbing the side of his hand against your apex. Other hand, kneading your chest.

You held in a sigh. Stiffen your muscles so you wouldn't grind against him. Through clenched teeth, you tell him to, "Stop messing around."

"Man, you're really determined to act like you don't want this." He laughed against your neck. He pushed your legs apart, just enough to flatten his hand against you and rub you entirely through the fabric. He felt you twitch, heard the sound at the back of your throat you swallowed. "Just give in."

Open-mouthed kisses were laid to the side of your neck. He listened hard for the start of your words and bit down when you spoke- forcing you to trip over the phrase, "N-no."

But you didn't stop him as he unlatched the magnetically attached front of the uniform, letting his hand slip in under the fabric and toy with your nipple. Fingers pressed harder to fabric, finding the shape of your clit. He knew just where to put pressure and it was terrifying. You held in the urge to gasp but you were starting to lose your head. Hips twitching, unknowingly grinding your ass against his hardening cock, getting him off.

"I'm serious." You spit out. Face hot, pussy throbbing, but still, your mind was intact enough to know this was a very bad idea. Your body didn't agree.

"You know I love it when you play hard to get." That was one difference he really admired. His version of you was perfectly trained, submissive. He wanted that, of course he did, but he liked a little push and pull. Liked to prove to himself over and over you couldn't resist him, and didn't actually want to. It was like a game he just kept winning.

"You know I love it when you fucking listen to me." You hissed.

"Use your powers then, stop me." He said with a particularly harsh twist of your nipple that made you throw your head back against his shoulder and groan. He went on, watching your face flash between pissed and utterly desperate. "Thaaaat's right, good girl. You know you want it." He knew you could be good, deep down, he just had to dig for it. But at the same time- he wanted to antagonize you. Wanted to bring out your mean side because you were so predictable when you were angry. If you stayed predictable, he'd know what to expect.

"Stop calling me that." You snarled weakly.

"Don't like it? Hm. Let's see about that." Fingers left your clothed cunt, traveled up and under the open flap of the bodysuit. They ghosted over the flesh of your belly, slowly getting lower and lower. Your legs were spread but enough enough to be easily fuckable as he'd like so he said, "Open your legs."

You didn't. Still contemplating getting up, leaving him with blue balls. You excuse yourself saying, "What if someone walks in?" Wasn't like there was a door, just a staircase leading to the open room.

"They got jerkoff material for life," Mohawk replied. "What're they gonna do, huh? I'm the emperor, and I can do whatever I want and everyone has to listen to me, even you. Open up." You consider this so long he takes it as an answer. "Oh, I get it, you wanna get manhandled." Faster than you could protest, both your legs were hooked over the arms of the chair, spreading yourself wide and easy. His finger moved viper fast before your brain even process shutting your legs.

"No, I do-haaaahhh." His middle finger slid inside of you to the knuckle. Glided in smooth as silk. His palm was already pumping, finger curling. Shutting your protests down.

"Again, terrible liar." Mohawk hooked his chin over your neck, watching you half-exposed body jerk and twitch. Your eyes were watching the outline of his hand pumping your cunt through the tight suit. "Are you always this wet or is it just for me?"

You opened your mouth to argue but he pressed hard against your g-spot, thumb savagely rubbing your clit. Your eyes screwed shut and your reply was an incoherent moan.

"Good girl." He goaded, feeling your cunt happily squeeze around his finger, trying to suck him further in. "You do like that."

"I'll-" Gasp, "I'll kill you."

"Will you?" His pumping slowed, finger nearly pulled out as he added another. Sliding in easy to your slick, needy cunt. "Cuz if this is you trying to kill me, I think I'm winning."

You jerked and nearly squealed as he filled you further, "Fuck you-"

He grounded his hard cock against your ass, "You are."

"Shut up." You writhed against him. Grinding into his fingers, against his cock.

He took a sharp breath. "Keep that up and I'm not gonna get the chance to cum in you." Mohawk always had to wear a condom with her. She'd get mad if he didn't. He'd offered better birth control but you'd been adamant. Never wanting the possibility of children.

And yet.

"You should stop... They aren't fighting back anymore." You said in this very room, overlooking the orange planet below where Kregg was ripping it to shreds. Taking the resources since they wouldn't offer them up.

You'd been such a bleeding heart, it was a boner killer. He tried working with you around it. "Aww babe, do you want me to keep one alive so you can have a pet?" He put his fingers to his earpiece to contact Kregg.

"No but-"

"Ah, okay, so they all can die, got it."

"No!" He gave her a look. She shut her mouth, backed down.

"If you want a lil thing runnin' around the ship so bad, just let me cum in you already."

"I don't think..." At the time, he thought she wasn't ready. Now he knew, she didn't want to have his child because she saw him as a tyrant. Fine. Fine! It's fine because he saw her as a pathetic revolutionary fighting against an ultimately better future. Not like he wanted kids anyway, the empire wanted him to have an heir, yeah, but it seemed like such a pain. Plus, he didn't want to become a weak fool like his dad had.

Your gasps bring him back to moment. Bucking your hips, desperately riding his fingers while accusing him of being disgusting.

"You're the one taking two..." He slipped out of you a moment to add another digit to the fold, filling you so sweetly, "Three fingers, I think you're a little nastier than me right now." He had to prep the other you for something like this. You just took and took. Whimpering pathetically and never whining about pain- if there was any- hell, maybe you liked that he was moving so fast.

"I-I'll-haaahh- I'll k-kill you."

"Death threats again, babe? You gotta get some new material." You could only gasp and shudder in reply, grinding your ass harder against him. "Or can you just not think of anything else?" Teasingly, he curled his fingers into your g-spot, kept them there, pulsing into you.

Your back arched, eyes fluttered back, "Shut up!"

"You've said that one too. You really going stupid this quick?"

"No, I'm just close, you shith-aaaah-head." He could feel it, the way you clenched around him. The way your whole body was tensing up.

He mumbled into your neck between hickeys, "Just let it happen." The pre-wave of orgasm cinched tight around his fingers. He went in for the kill, "Good girl, just-" He didn't get to finish because you were wailing, cumming around his fingers hard. You really did like that.

Mohawk worked you through the orgasm. Never slowing or stopping his abuse of your weeping cunt. You started to go limp on him but he kept going, growling into your neck, "You're done when the emperor says you're done. I haven't even fucked you yet. Come on, babe, don't wimp out on me."

You're stuck by a moment of clarity, "Don't fucking talk in third person while you're fingering me."

Mohawk clicked his tongue, "You just gotta be a bitch when I'm-" Did you just moan? Just throb around him? "Do you fuckin' like that too? Holy shit?"

"No I-"

"What else you like bein' called, hm?" His words came with a pinch to your breast, "You gonna fuckin' cum if I call you a slut or something?"

You did, in fact, cum. So hard and fast you lost yourself, sounding horrifically embarrassing when you arched your back and gasped out a pathetic, "Y-yesss."

Mohawk muttered, "This is so awesome, holy fuck." She had been fine with some meanness from his end but this much? God, he couldn't wait to find out just how much of a slut you were. How many loads you could-

"...Sir?"

You went stiff. Mohawk didn't, still pumping away. "Shit." He hissed. "The meeting."

Kregg hovered at the top of the stairs. Arms folded behind his back, expression expertly poised. He'd been through this sort of messing about with the Emperor before. With you, he was often distracted, late, off task- but if it meant the empire would have an heir and the emperor had something to fight for (because apparently ruling the greatest empire in the galaxy wasn't enough for the spoiled brat) then so be it. Still, Kregg's fellow Viltrumites were deeply uncomfortable with your... messy lovemaking. Nobody ever told him as such but the others seemed to make themselves scarce when you and the Emperor were at it. Leaving Kregg, experienced with the pleasures earthly women could bring, to deal with whatever fallout came from these dalliances.

"Did you not get my message?" Kregg asked.

Mohawk thought he'd heard some bug buzzing in his earpiece a few minutes ago. He'd been so engrossed in unraveling you, he forgot to respond.

"I did." He said, thumb idly tracing circles on your clit, "Am I late?"

You folded up your legs, tried to get up or snap your suit shut but Mohawk wouldn't let you go. Didn't stop moving his fingers despite the fact that you were mortified. Fucking in front of people to hurt their feelings was a little far, but it'd happened, whatever. In front of Mohawk's political right hand who had nothing to do with this? God, you wanted to jump through the observation deck glass and float into space.

"We waited five minutes, sir." How long had he been at it?

Mohawk hummed, ignoring your thrashing. "Ten more minutes?" It wasn't nearly enough but Mohawk could finish fast, get the rest of his fix later.

"Are you crazy?" You hissed.

Kregg didn't often find himself in agreement with a human. Especially you, back before you were dead. It was an annoyance you were back, and a danger as the council privately advised, but the Emperor didn't care. As long as he had you and Angstrom Levy to bring him more dimensions, he was perfectly content. Still. "This meeting's important, sir. We require your presence."

Mohawk hummed, thinking a moment, fingers slowing. "How important is it really?"

"Incredibly."

"Fine." All at once, he exited you with a loud, wet sound that Kregg definitely heard. You scrambled upright, snapping your suit shut while Mohawk lingered in his seat. "But if this is going over those boring ass charts again, I'll take your other eye." He took the moment you spun to look at him, suit fixed, to suck on his fingers. Obnoxiously rolling his eyes back at the taste of you. Much cleaner than you'd been in the desert.

Kregg shouldn't be afraid of him, but he was. He killed Emperor Nolan, the strongest of them all. Despite his attitude he wasn't that bad of an emperor, just rather nontraditional so he held his tongue, "It's not, sir."

"Good." He stood, boner obvious in the outline of his suit. He turned to Kregg, still hard, uncaring. He waved for you to follow like some well-trained pet. "Let's go." This really had been a mistake.

The war room was large. Table stark white against the gray floor. Viltrumites filled the seats lining its side, the Marks save for Phantom were counted among them. All of them looked at personal data pads while a large 3D map of space projected blue from the table's center. More complicated machinery blipped on the walls, displaying ever changing coordinates and other space travel bullshit. At the table head was a large seat, back nearly reaching to the paneled ceiling.

Mohawk sat himself there and splayed his thighs, patted them for you to sit. Again, there were no more seats. When you hesitated, you were met with an icy glare from the woman whose name you thought was Thula. You shuffled to Mohawk's side, but again he pulled you to his lap. You glared at him, but were hesitant to fight in a room full of murderous aliens.

In the dim of the room that allowed the projections to shine, you couldn't quite tell them apart. They'd gotten so cleaned up since the desert and wore such similar outfits of gray and white, it was a little hard. Most of them cut their hair back to what you knew as the typical Mark cut. Some went back to how they were before. Scars was the only shape you could identify with his longer hair he hadn't touched.

Kregg got down to business. Instead of sitting, he was standing at the other end of the table, in front of a screen that he gestured to along with the 3D map. Battle plans, strategy, shit you didn't understand in the slightest.

Gray understood plenty, chimed in to Kregg's annoyance at first but quickly morphed into relief. Gray had conquered some of the planets that had rebelled and looked to be an issue- solo. His input was valuable, whereas Mohawk had nothing to add. Kregg wouldn't say it, but at first he'd been hesitant about there being more versions of Emperor Mark, but if the others were like Gray? Fuck, let them stay.

Markus was a little too focused on you and how stiff you were to really give much valuable insight. He'd worked for the empire, but not long or deeply enough to be of much value besides in battle. Still, Kregg appreciated that someone was paying attention, nodding along and scrolling on his data pad to follow along. The longer the meeting went on the more he noticed his Emperor's hands starting to roam. Nowhere devious or obvious, but he'd slept with you before, he knew the moves to pull. A hand on your hip went a long way.

Seb gave absolutely nothing. He had no idea why he was even here. He'd be a solider, whatever, but it wasn't like he had to care about the wider plan or planetary shit affecting landing physics bullshit. He worked with Dad, got the job done enough to go home without any of this fuckery. He spun a stylus between his fingers and ignored his datapad, much to Kregg's annoyance. Sometimes he glanced at you, wondering the next time you could hang out so he could talk to someone kind of normal. He never looked long, Mohawk was getting too heavy-handed, too alpha male 'she's mine' about the way he was touching you. Seb wouldn't say no to fucking you again but he seriously didn't want to die.

Scars watched in mostly silence. If he was going to sell subjugation, he needed to shut his mouth a little more. Needed Thula to believe he wasn't as much of a threat as he was before he found a way to kill the old bitch. Then kill that bastard sitting smug in his tall chair. He didn't deserve The Empire, or the fine, fearful thing sitting stiffly in his lap. Scars did.

Lensless wouldn't shut the fuck up, giving terrible ideas that'd get his fellow soldiers killed or injured. He'd been with the empire some years, he knew how these things worked, but always ended up disregarding safety procedures just to get to the carnage faster. Kregg made a note to not put him on the front lines.

Lucan tried reeling him in. He'd done a decent enough job following the boy around, but it was concerning how easily he could be lost. He had a feeling Lensless was letting him follow most of the time. Trying to make him think he wasn't as fast or clever as he really was. The thing was, Lensless was twenty-two, a child to Lucan, well over three-thousand years old. Those tactics wouldn't work.

And yet he couldn't get the twit to shut his mouth.

To your absolute horror, he pointed out Mohawk's hand, resting casually over your thigh, inching to settle between them. "Is he allowed to do that? Can I do that? Cuz he's me, so I'm also technically the Emperor? Hey (Y/n), can you come over here, pleeaaassseee?"

"I can do what I want," Mohawk said, hand slipping further down. You tried not to flinch away, at least he wasn't rubbing your clit in front of ten people. "You can't, shut the fuck up." He pulled you backward, chest firm to your back.

Lensless didn't say, "Yes boss," for him, but for you, and your withering glare that made him shiver excitedly.

The meeting resumed, dragging on and on. You had no fucking clue why you had to be here. It wasn't like you were going to be on the front lines.

You didn't know that you were here because Mohawk had ears in the Coalition. If anything got out of this room, he'd question you first. This time he wouldn't gut you, just... imprison you awhile to teach you a lesson. It wasn't a fully sound plan, but he also liked the comfort of you on his lap. The entertainment of your legs twitching whenever he dragged his fingers down them. He knew you still wanted him. That your cunt was wet and waiting for him to take.

By the time you'd gotten to the meeting room, he'd gone soft enough to flash by the others without setting off alarms. Now, bored, with your ass pressed up against him- he was hard again. Straining against his suit, poking at your back for attention.

You gave no reaction. Unwilling to cause a scene, to give him what he wanted. You'd chew him out later, make him listen.

He ground against you ass. You twitched, catching Gray and Markus's eyes. You did your best not to meet them, to look at the meeting screen as Mohawk, slowly, as not to catch any more attention, ground his cock into you.

You shifted forward, trying to hover off his lap because this was so not happening. He couldn't be serious. He pulled you down, repositioning his dick under your legs, rubbing himself against your clothed pussy. Of course you were still horny but not insane. You shot a hand back, hitting him in the chest as a quiet 'stop it'.

Mohawk thought you were playing. Even if you weren't, he knew once he got his dick in you, you'd stop fighting. He wonders how quiet you could be, wonders how long he could warm his cock in the tight heat of you before one of you broke and started humping the other in front of the whole crowd.

The others did their best to act like they didn't notice. Markus and Gray stayed on task. Seb thought if he looked at all, Mohawk would have his head. Lensless watched, smiling dozily at your discomfort, wishing it was him. Scars counted on his fingers, hoping he could get you alone soon. You needed to be taught a lesson.

For a moment, your eyes lingered on Lucan's bald head. You wondered what Mark would think. He wouldn't even be here, actually. Wouldn't stand for any of this. Would've taken you back home or away from the empire that ruined him. Even if he stayed, he would've spoken up. Wouldn't have let this bullshit happen. But he was dead in another dimension. Mohawk ground on, breath hot on your back. His council let it happen. The Marks let it happen.

"Can you fucking stop?" You snapped over Kregg and Gray's conversational back n' forth. Heads turned, eyes stared into you but at least Mohawk stopped.

"(Y/n)." His voice was quiet, dangerously sharp. You turned, meeting his eyes that bore into you, trying to telepathically tell you to obey. To not make a scene in front of his council when he was the one who started it. "Do not interrupt my general when he is speaking."

"Are you fucking serious?" You went to stand up, but his hands on your sides tighten to keep you down. You do it without thinking, "Let go."��He does. You stand up fast like you'd been burned. In a way, you had, with the lingering want, but you didn't want this, not in front of so many people. Not when he blatantly disregarded your feelings.

The council had been advised of your powers. It raised concerns, lots of them. You could be dangerous, a valuable asset to the Coalition. Mohawk had assured them you were weak, could barely control him at all. But that was in the desert when you were living off cave water and cannibalized rations, always with some wound or ailment.

The command was finished, Mohawk was free but still he sat. Angry, humiliated in front of the council that already doubted him despite how he'd won the empire- pried it from his father's soft hands. But he could almost hear their thoughts as you glared at him, Nolan had been a better Emperor, Nolan kept people in control. If Mohawk couldn't control a human- again- he'd lose more of the faith Argall's blood lent him.

He said with feigned calm, "I think you forget who you're talking to. Sit." His boner still ached in his suit. He was mad about your defiance, but he'd be more mad if you gave him blue balls.

"How could I forget when it's all you talk about? No." You backed up a few feet, keeping a distance from the table and chairs despite how fast they all were. You couldn't feel hands on you yet, only the crawling feeling of so many eyes and their judgments.

He turned to the others, "Stop fucking staring and keep talking." Kregg went back to presenting but all ears were strained toward you. Mohawk growled through barred teeth, "I'm not going back and forth with a human. Sit."

The air crackled between you two. He opened his mouth again, desperate now, but you stopped him in his tracks.

"Shut up." His mouth closed. You held onto his mind with an iron grasp, "Do that shit to me again and I'll kill fucking kill you." This time it wasn't weak sex talk, you meant it, he knew it, the whole council knew it. You turned your back on all of them and almost ran out of the room.

Gray was close to the door, he considered turning to you and saying something, but he couldn't look weak. So he just watched you go out the sliding door and listened as you stomped down the hall. Kregg knew to shut up, making any noise when the Emperor got red in the face like that and was certain doom.

"We should count her as a loss." Thula said as soon as the door slid shut. She did not fear death, for if she died, she deserved it. "This one doesn't even like you, and she's obviously a flight risk. Vidor, the pods are locked, yes?" The ginger nodded. "Good. I know you're... attached to the human, Emperor Mark, allow me to assist you in disposing of her."

Thula never liked you, not then, not now. Humans were a weakness, she saw how their affections weakened Emperor Nolan and Mark. Saw them ebb away at Kregg though he stayed strong and true to Viltrum's core values. You also had a habit of ruining things, the Emperor lost it after you died, then left for ten months to go get another you who was more likely to stab him in the back. Kregg had told her young humans could be awfully flippant, that this must be his humanity shining through. A couple thousand years of experience would squash that out- but not if you were alive during them if he ever reached his goal of keeping you by his side for eternity.

The Emperor's head rigidly turned on her. Hands now empty of something to squeeze so they curled into fists. "Nobody's killing her, she just needs to get broken in. Just get back to the battle plans." He wouldn't go after you, was afraid if he saw you right now, he'd grab you and gut you just like he had before. He needed to calm down.

Markus stood from his chair, "I'm going after her."

"Sit." The Emperor hissed.

"Apologies, sir." Markus said as he walked out the door.

He found you not too far away, headed nowhere in particular, he could tell you didn't know where to go. He landed from his float, trotting to your side. You didn't look at him, eyes set ahead on nothing as you said, "I'm not going back."

"I won't take you back." He said, because he hadn't even been planning to.

It was the first time he'd been alone with you since arriving in One's universe, he had so many things he wanted to say but he knew he only had a few minutes. He had expected you to like it here, to be grateful for food and shelter, but Emperor Mark had always been too overbearing, you couldn't recover from the trauma with him hovering. Markus's grief was the most recent of the living variants, he had heard plenty from the others, knew that the Emperor's version of you had been dead for years. He thought it was weak-willed of him, shortsighted and foolish to push you like this especially when you had just begun to tolerate him in the desert. Markus knew you more than tolerated him now, but he still expected venom. This version of you had always been defensive, moved between cages you had no chance of escaping.

"Then what do you want?" You knew it was Markus from his stupid quiff streaked with gray hair but you couldn't look at his face- Mark's face. It was always Mark's fucking face.

"To talk." He knows you won't start the conversation, you never had when you were mad at him. He began, "I'm sorry that happened. You have the right to be upset but you have to understand-"

"Why didn't you stop him?" His heart ached at the way your voice cracked, trying to cover the hurt with anger and failing.

"You have to understand you can't win by fighting back. None of us can fight back here. You have to play along." The Emperor wouldn't kill you, but he was so scared if another Viltrumite found you, an unwilling human against the empire, they'd make you suffer. The Empire had been ruthless in his universe and it was much the same here.

"Play along?" You stopped, turning to him with a scowl. "Are you serious? He was gonna fuck me in a room full of people! Nobody did anything! The fuck do you mean, play along?"

"Play along until I figure things out." He said. "I can't protect you if I don't have sway with the council. The more they trust me, the more clearance I'll have, I'll know when Angstrom can be used again. I can get us out, but you have to listen to me and play along so you don't get hurt until then." He was already taking a hit to his budding reputation as respectable and obedient unlike other Marks by being here with you.

Your gut reaction was that you didn't want to go with Markus, but it might be better than here. This fucking humiliating place where you were just a pet. You'd probably be the same thing with Markus but he at least wouldn't fuck you in front of bunch of multi-thousand year old aliens. All you wanted was to... You didn't know where you wanted to go, hadn't known what to expect since you stood on that roof and told Mohawk to stop. He was right, you didn't have shit, your life sucked even before he tore it to shreds, but you knew you couldn't stay here. Wanted to be anywhere else.

"Can't we just try running now?" You blinked, held back tears but he saw them shiny in your eyes.

Markus put his hands on your shoulders, resisting the urge to hold and placate you. He'd placated and lied to the other you too much, had built a tower of lies that led to your death, he needed to be honest with you.

"We can't." He said, "I know you're scared-"

"I'm not." You lied.

He lets you believe he believes. Bringing a hand to cradle your cheek, the most he would allow himself, even as you leaned into the touch, "-But you have to be strong, my love. I need you to promise me you'll listen to him."

Your lips wobbled. You'd been holding in how much the desert had affected you, how much the deaths, Mohawk treating you like a pet, had deeply burned you. You held it in because he was keeping you at arms length. Held onto it so hard the sorrow hardened to anger. "Fine."

He took you to Mohawk's room, a hand on your back that he hoped you interpreted as affectionate instead of controlling. He told you to stay and take whatever punishment Mohawk gave when he came back, to know that he was with you. Then he left. Went right back the meeting and murmured in Mohawk's ear that you were dealt with and where you'd be.

You stood at the shut door. Stood over where she died for having the daring to plan on leaving. Fists shaking, eyes burning. You should have stayed, listened, been a good bitch.

But you didn't.

***

You didn't know how long you'd been wandering the ship, looking for Mark in his guarded prison cell. You couldn't quite remember the way, all the halls looked the same and were so long they were disorienting. Had Mohawk taken you through this door or this other identical door? All you remembered was it was a long way down.

You were surprised by the fact that you never ran into anyone. Maybe the servants kept to particular passages or maybe they'd been ordered to avoid you. The thought made you feel strangely lonely. When you finally heard voices behind a door, you didn't think before feeling for a button to let yourself in.

The room was no larger than your studio apartment. Complicated equipment was set into every inch of the wall. Some of it hummed, some of it buzzed. Sat on a patient table in the middle was Phantom. Listening intently as the alien bio-engineers explained to him the state of his new limbs. The machinery that sprouted from his bicep and hip respectively, were attached to his body via strong magnetic implants sewn under the skin of his stumps, nerves connected to intrafascicular electrodes so he could control each analogous part of the limbs. It'd take time for the prosthetics to move exactly the way he wanted, there was no telling how long it'd take for him to be able to curl his fingers or kick his new leg.

The machinery was stark white, smooth, but nowhere near streamlined as everything else on the ship. Viltrumites weren't often amputees, it seemed. Phantom had been changed out of his torn costume like everyone else, into a sleeveless tight fighting tanktop that bore the empire's sigil. His pants only went down his flesh leg, his skirt was tucked back into the belt that held some sort of emergency battery pack or connector or something sciencey you didn't understand. Everything was tight and tucked out of the way of the delicate mechanics.

Blue eyes had already caught onto the shape of you. He didn't know if you were real, standing in the doorway unacknowledged by the scientists. He'd been out of the goo-chamber for only a few hours. They'd told him all of the relevant information, but he still felt the whiplash of everything. It was hard to believe this place was real, hell, that anything in the desert that happened... happened.

One of the Martians turned to grab something and finally noticed you, who he correctly assumed wasn't staff. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"Leave. Do something else. You didn't see me."

The Martians did, easily enough, filing out of the room as you stepped in. Their minds were weak and brittle compared to the Viltrumite ones you'd been training against. You and Phantom were alone as the door slid shut behind them. Room blipping and beeping with machinery.

His buzzcut had been evened out and beard shaved, clean of blood and free of bruises, looking at you with unabashed awe and surprise. You were also surprised to have found him of all people. Mark should've lived, not him. You feel a burning urge to settle the score, to get one more danger to your survival out of the way.

On Phantom's end, he had just realized you were real. You who he failed to covet and protect, whose name he heard in this very lab while the scientists worked over some sort of bendy cuff. Similar to the one he'd thrown on you in Sydney with all its micro-monitoring devices. He took the cuffs as they were from the GDA but the Emperor apparently kept sending them back, telling the workers to make it 'cuter'. He hoped it was some sort of mapping device, something to help you get around the ship, because clearly you were still alive. But he'd helped the GDA make containment units for difficult aliens or villains, he knew what electrical probes looked like. He hoped it was a nerve connector, similar to his own but you hadn't lost any limbs so what if-

"I can't believe they kept you alive, but they let those others shitheads live so why not?" You said, mulling over ways to make him die.

"You should know I-" He sounded much better than he had in the desert, though his voice still fizzled and cracked at the end of words. "I'm sorry."

Your lips twitched into a frown. "Don't lie to me."

Phantom's face went from crestfallen to flat as your powers took hold. "I was terrified for you there, now we're here, and I'm more scared for you than I've ever been. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I want to help you." He couldn't lie under your control. He meant every word.

Even under your control, you could see the fear in his eyes, the want to do better. You needed more lifelines to escape, because what if Markus failed? "How do I know you won't fuck me over again?"

"I'm too scared to lose you." His voice cracked and warbled but you understood well enough, he wanted to fix things between you.

It hurt. God, it hurt so bad. He ruined everything then wanted to get better. Mark couldn't change, couldn't recover because Mark was dead. Dead because of the man in front of you.

You let him out of your grip. Sick to your stomach by his devotion. "You barely know me."

"I want to know you." He was desperate for new happy memories with you. Not the fractured ones from the desert, "I- I don't know what parts from the desert are real. I'm not sure what I said to you there." He couldn't tell the difference between the narrative he told himself and what really happened. He slid off the table, tried to land on his feet but was met a with a jolt of pain in his hip where the prosthetic was attached. "But I want to know, want to remember the time we had together." He floated into the air as he said it, inched closer but stopped when you stepped back. He was being too intense again.

You could easily use your powers, check again if he was lying. You both knew it, that's why you believed him. You don't mean to say it but you do, "You're the only one who's apologized to me for any of this."

Phantom wasn't surprised but finds himself pleased, this would endear you to him. He had done you wrong but, he still had a chance because he was the most humane of them all, the most willing to admit he was wrong.

"I took no pleasure in finding out what Mohawk has planned. I won't submit to him." Keeping the others and him alive was too good to be true. There was no way they could be alive and happy with you and jealousy in the mix. Mohawk was going to use them until they were good for nothing, string them along with you as a prize and lead them to fall into their graves. He wouldn't fall for it, wouldn't help the empire that took his whole family from him.

You were quiet a moment, trying to formulate a plan. "You really want to help me?"

"Of course." It was almost instant, bubbling up from him like a well.

"Then help me find Angstrom Levy."

It was like two blind rats in a maze. Phantom had only been in the med wing, had barely known Angstrom Levy was on the ship. You'd only been to Angstrom the once.

He floated over the ground, twitching his digits to test the movement while your footsteps filled the halls. The quiet was heavy between you, there was so much you wanted to say to him, to ask. You didn't know how long you had together before Mohawk inevitably found you. Did whatever he was going to do.

"It's my fault he died." You found yourself saying like a deathbed confessional. Phantom turned to watch you. "I choose when I use my powers and I chose then to tell him to stop and he just... He told me for days it was your whole plan to let him die then you confirmed it and everything was easy because I could live as long as I had someone else to blame but... It was still my fault."

Phantom wanted to hold you. To tell you it was okay, that it was over. He had planned to kill the Viltrumite prisoner, but it shouldn't have been you to do it; it should have been a weight off your chest not a scar that would haunt you. But he knew you didn't want placation, you wanted the truth. "My plan failed and I hurt you. It's okay if you hate me." Though he didn't want you to. "But know I'm different now, I won't lie to you. You can trust me." Getting tortured and eaten alive for weeks really changes a guy.

"I think I'll have to." You said, and Phantom had to suppress his joy. "But if you get any ideas, I'll actually kill you."

He nodded, "I'll make sure you don't have to."

You gave him the greatest gift, a small, genuine smile. "Offering to kill yourself for me? What are you, one of my exes?"

He hadn't meant it like that, but he played along, "Well, technically."

You snorted and turned into another hallway expecting the same old smooth white walls. But you knew this hallway, a slightly darker gray than the rest, with big sliding double door in the center. You raced over to it.

Only when Phantom stood beside you did the door scanner register the Emperor's DNA. You both stepped inside and looked over the railing. You were hit with the same sight as yesterday, Angstrom strung up.

You didn't entirely know what you were doing. Didn't know if making Angstrom open a portal was safe, if he even could in his state. You didn't know where you'd go but this felt like the right place to be. Having a choice in front of you would make deciding simpler. You could just-

A Viltrumite rose up from the ground to float in front of the railing, looking down his narrow nose at you both. "You're not the Emperor. And you're not supposed to be in here without the Emperor."

"You think he's the Emperor."

The Viltrumite blinked then shook his head. "They told me you might do that." He sighed and floated over the railing, going to press a few buttons set into the wall. "I'll call the real one over to pick you up right away."

"Stop." Your powers bounced off him, a pure blooded Viltrum soldier, well over three-hundred years in age. You struggled to control Gray, no older than twenty-two. You didn't stand a chance.

He did. Fingers poised over the call button. "Mmm, you're right he's in a meeting, it'd be better if I brought you to him." He reached out for you, slow as not to startle a rabbit. You were still the Emperor's pet, he couldn't have you screaming and thrashing about.

Phantom's prosthetics made his muscles seize and jump, electric with pain but he still reached out to attempt to catch the man's arm with his new robotic hand. Before the white metal made contact, he went utterly still, the servos locking up, before a bolt of agony was shot right into his nervous system. Liquid lighting hot, electricity. He crumpled to the ground, letting out a torn scream.

"They didn't tell you?" The Viltrumite scientist said. "If you exceed three-hundred miles an hour and Viltrumite DNA other than your own is detected within a few feet, you get a controlled shock." Or in simple terms, he couldn't attack other Viltrumites. Mohawk had flagged him as a risk, had the Martians set him up on an older model of prosthetics that could be tampered with, hence its non-sleek design. "I still don't how that's going to apply to the Emperor, if you're stupid enough to try attacking him at all, but I'm sure those lab rats figured it out. As for you-" He reached out while you were stunned, staring at Phantom on the ground, still convulsing.

The door behind you slid open. "We can take care of them."

Gray and Markus stood in the doorway. Finally having found you minutes after the meeting ended- off track as it'd gotten after you left with most of the Marks trying to leave to follow. Lucan had to force Lensless to sit back down, shut up. It took threats from Mohawk to get the room in order.

Mohawk returned to his rooms, angry but a little contented in knowing you could be reasoned with, as proven by Markus. But you weren't there. He'd rushed to Markus's room thinking him a liar. Thinking he was trying to keep you to himself, but you weren't there either and Markus insisted you'd been in the Emperor's room. So began a quiet, panicked search for you where Gray and Seb were added to the party along the way. Scars and Lensless weren't a consideration, not with their tails or whatever ideas they'd get knowing you were alone.

It was Gray who thought to check the cameras. They all chose a level to search through while flipping through the camera feeds on data pad displays. Gray found you, Markus saw him on the way and followed. Now they were here, witnessing whatever this was.

The Viltrumite paused, "You sure?"

"I won't mention you in my report to the Emperor." Gray said flatly, you knew it was him because he had somehow found the same model uniform he wore in the desert. His voice became a little less rigid when he turned to you, "Come, he wishes to speak to you."

You stayed in place, bristling with the memory of the meeting. He too was complacent, pretended like he didn't see. "Fuck you both."

Markus wore disappointment on his hard-set face, but said nothing to you. He simply grabbed Phantom from the floor and said to Gray, "I'll return him to where he needs to be. I'll meet back up with you." He needed to cool off, to get ahold of his head so he didn't look a fool in front of another Viltrumite. He gave you one last stern look before he was out the door.

Gray waited for you to follow but you didn’t. "I'm not talking to that asshole."

It pained him to see you upset, it really did, but at the end of the day you were just a human who didn't know any better. A cornered animal who was lashing out, he found it endearing, but knew the others would not. His eyes flickered to the Viltrumite scientist who was watching the exchange closely, Gray had known this man vaguely in his world. He was high ranking and ruthless, the overseer of a large group of slaves. He would not be endeared to your nature, would see your resistance as a need to break your will. He kept his breathing level and looked back to you, willing you to cooperate, to know he had to play his role.

"How difficult do you want this to be?" He said flatly.

Your head jerked back like he had slapped you, surprise at his tone evident. He stayed level as you stared at him, remembering what he was. From his boots floating off the ground to the way his body was held taught under his Viltrum uniform, he was a soldier with an order from his Emperor. He could make you go. Make you shut up but he was giving you a choice.

"I thought we were friends." Or something more, mixing romance into this only made the sting worse.

"There are no such things as friends on Viltrum," Though inside, he was felt a rush of warmth at the declaration. He'd have to ask later but for now, he had to put on a cold front and you- you needed to be corrected, not coddled, despite the primal urge he felt to hold you. "Come." Gray inched back into the hallway, eyes hard set on you. You had seconds to follow or else.

Miserable, you followed him.

The walk back was shorter than you'd liked. Gray had been on the ship the same amount of time as you but he knew just what turns to take. You tried dragging your feet, making conversations to slow him down but he caught on every time. Chided you sternly that one more squeak of your heel and he'd be forced to carry you to the Emperor.

Mohawk was on the observation deck. Gray stopped a bit away from the bottom of the stairs, wanting to stop whatever was going to happen. Your behavior had been dangerous and foolish, but he knew you didn't know what the Empire was capable of. He had taught multiple races what Viltrumites were capable of, and he was worried Mohawk would do the same. You stopped beside him still scowling but he could see the fear in the set of your body, hear your heart pounding.

He was quiet, he didn't know what to say, he wanted to protect his mate, but like the version of you before, he couldn't defy the Empire, he had already made too many exceptions. You looked to the stairs while he considered, "Is he up there?"

Gray nodded solemnly, "Yes, he's quite upset."

You bristled, he had said the wrong thing again. "He's upset? Poor little Emperor. You're not upset about what he was doing? You kicked his ass just for touching me in the desert."

He had been upset, had been upset everytime you chose to be with one of the others, but he respected that your situation was unique. But you hadn't chosen this situation and his anger had been shoved down just like it always had to be. He wanted to tell you everything, had from the moment he came inside you, from the moment you became his in his mind. But he knew there were cameras, had been hyper aware of them as a new recruit with his father. They had been an unconventional family by Viltrumite standards, and he had learned quickly to hide that on battle ships. Had learned even earlier to hide it in front of other Viltrumites. He didn't want to hide anything from you. But now wasn't the time or place to share.

"I'm in no place here to be upset, I can only follow orders. Your safety here relies on your ability to do the same."

You scoffed, "Fuck you Gray, seriously. You guys keep acting like there's nothing you can do but there has to be something!"

He looked at you, trying to communicate with only his eyes that he was helpless, had always been despite his desires to protect you. He reached his hand out to yours, a gesture his mother had always done to show sincerity, to show love. You batted him away, so he spoke instead, "There are Viltrumites here older than your planet's recorded history, and they obey the Emperor. You shouldn't upset him."

You said nothing, only watched him with that same sour expression on your face. She had never looked at him so defiantly, only with fear, and he thought he would prefer that now. You were asking for punishment, for correction and it scared him.

"We shouldn't keep him waiting."

You turned to the stairs without him and began to climb silently. He followed behind.

The chair you had sat in before was tucked away under the floor, Mohawk's back to you both as he watched space bend around the ship's window. He had been standing there stiffly a long time, letting the dread brew in you. He didn't turn, instead listening to the quickening of your heartbeat when you saw him. Gray had sent him a ping when he found you so he came here to wait, watching your dower approach on a screen embedded into the wrist of his suit.

Gray lingered as you reached the deck. He should have left, he could feel Mohawk's murderous rage thick in the air. He spoke despite it, "Be patient with her, she is only human."

Patience for lesser species didn't exist in the empire, it barely existed for other Viltrumites. Mohawk could feel how terrified he was for you. How attached.

"Leave." Was all Mohawk said, voice rife with impatience. Gray gave you the best sympathetic look he could, which read more constipated than anything, and left, though not fully. He hovered quietly at the bottom of the stairs, close enough he would be able to hear, maybe step in. Despite what he had told you, he wouldn't be able to stand by if the Emperor hurt you. He wasn't sure what he would do if anything happened, but he couldn't leave you.

The stairs were unguarded but you knew if you tried running things would be worse. You were frozen in place, terrified, angry and deeply lonely because nobody had been a friend to you today. It was just like you were back with Machine Head all over again, just a cog.

"I care about you so much." Was not the opener Mohawk had planned but there it was, echoing off the walls. "I think about you all of the time. I wonder how I can make your life worth living. I knew her for years, I did it for her but not good enough. All I'm asking is you give me time to get to know you. I want to make you happy."

It was sweet, the most genuine thing he had said to you, but you couldn't forget why he was angry at you in the first place. All at once your anger overrides your fear and you snapped, "You dry humped me in front of your council."

He huffed a laugh, "And you directly disobeyed me. We're even now. I'll forgive you if you forgive me. I think we make a lot of sense. We're both angry people, we both care harder than we should about things we shouldn't. We can be good together, (Y/n)."

The more he talked like this, the angrier you were. "I'm not your girlfriend. I'm not your Barbie doll. I'm not like you at all." That last part was a lie, you both knew it. "You love me so much? Then let me go cuz this?" He watched in the glass reflection as you pointed between you both, "Isn't fucking happening, you freak."

He sighed, turned on the heels of his boots and faced you, forcing his expression into indifference. Under his clothes, his muscles twitched and flexed with the urge to hit something.

"You know," his voice slipped into a menacing quiet as he took slow step after slow step towards you, "She never said rude shit like this to me and I still killed her. She listened better than you too. You should watch what you say to me." He hadn't wanted to steer the conversation this way. Really, he had wanted you to break down crying, to apologize for being so ungrateful. He'd have forgiven you, fucked you till you were numb and dumb. But he knew that probably wouldn't happen, that was why he came prepared.

You were scared. Mohawk could see it all over your face but still you pushed. "Kill me then. I bet it'll work out sooooo well for you." You both knew his plans for the empire would crumble without you to keep the other Marks satiated.

Mohawk's mask of indifference cracked down the center. "Would you stop complaining then?"

"Yeah, I'd be dead."

His brow twitched. "You really don't know when to stop."

"Neither do you." Words fall to the floor and there is silence. Neither of you move, it was a western standoff at not-quite high noon. You couldn't take it, his scrutiny. You just wanted this to be over. "Don't do that ever try and fuck me in f-"

Mohawk was all you could see, right in front of you, hand hard on your throat. Crushing the words before they could come out. "Don't tell me what to do." His eyes were dark, flashing feral, but all you could focus on was the pressure in your head. So fast and absolute you thought he was going to crush your windpipe right there. "I didn't want to do this but you just had to be a bitch." You actually were going to die and you couldn't even beg for your life.

Something cold was slapped around your throat. Encompassing it, replacing Mohawk's hand before it was shut tight. You gasped in air, gagging, pulling at the thing as Mohawk stepped back. Finished. The labs had a short turnaround with the design process but they'd made it work. Especially with the cute metal heart in the black center of the collar.

Your heart was racing. You didn't know why he was just standing there watching. You wanted to run, but you knew you wouldn't make it. You settled for trying to tear the thing clasped around your neck off. It had some give, sides occasionally dotted with cool, rounded metal. You scrambled for a back clasp but there wasn't one. You felt around with shaking hands for anything to take it off but whatever you tried did nothing.

"What is this!?" You couldn't keep the panic out of your voice. You didn't know what it meant, but the cool metal touching your neck set off memories of prison, of being helpless and afraid.

"A collar," he said, smiling meanly, "because you act like such a bitch."

"Are you serious? Take this off m-" You couldn't scream because you couldn't breathe. The electricity that shot into your neck made all of your muscles seize at once, your nerves screaming at each other. It was worse than being shot, stabbed, gutted. It was fire all over, under the skin, in your bones. You didn't know you'd fallen to the floor until it stopped, the aftershocks rippling through your twitching muscles.

Your vision pulsed around your hands splayed on the floor, framing a pool of spit that still leaked out your lips. It took multiple attempts to make your neck work the way you want it to, to look up at Mohawk who looked deeply content. "I forgot to mention, it's a shock collar. From now on, anytime you use your powers at all, that'll happen."

You opened drool-slick lips to tell him to die but you couldn't talk, muscles jumping, heart pounding in your ears.

"Ah, shit, maybe I should turn it down a little." He tapped at a screen set on his wrist. "Okay, now try." You didn't, could barely process the command. "Fine, disobey me, I bet that'll go so well for you! Lemme just try the remote control." The pain was back again. It didn't matter that it was lessened when your body was already so abused. When you returned to yourself, you were laid twitching on your side, tears being forced out of your eyes. "How was that? Still feeling like an asshole?"

Through the erratic twist and pull of your muscles your hands shot up and tried to pull the collar off. He smiled, "Oh baby, no one can take that off but me. You're stuck with it until you learn how to behave."

You didn't stop pulling couldn't stop even as the panic ebbed away. You were trapped again, going to be worn down to an empty husk once again. The tears weren't forced anymore.

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