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13tinysocks · 1 day ago

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My Dead Girlfriend

Fallout leaves you scrambling for who really has your back and who doesn't. The Empire reaches the western sect and lays down the law. You're given one hell of an apology.

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

"Tch, that many times that fast isn't possible." Clearly you've never had lesbian sex. NSFW

[Part one] [Ao3] [24] [Chapter Index]

25 * Alliances [15.3k]

Behind Mohawk's boots, the stars passed by. Unknowing, uncaring of your plight, spasming on the floor, drooling at the mouth. You tried to imagine there was something out in the universe that would save you. Something righteous that wouldn't let this happen. But no God comes bashing trough the window, you were left to fend for yourself like you had in prison, under Machine Head, in the desert. It was never-ending.

You didn't see him as you were facing the window, but Gray was at the top of the stairs, fists clenched. You didn't hear him, were too scared to move and set off another spasm fit. But he heard everything, wanted to step in when he heard you scream, saw you drop to your knees. Heard your heart hammering in terror- but that was it, you were still alive- weren't you? He knew Mohawk would take some sort of disciplinary action. Viltrumites were not a forgiving people. If Gray's version of you had acted like that, a higher up would have killed her before he even got a say. The fact you were alive after that clear disrespect was paramount to Mohawk's care for you. Still, he hadn't told Gray about this... collar, he'd called it. Supposed it could corral you, but did he really have to go to such barbaric measures? Gray would have started by taking away more simple pleasures and amenities like his mother had done when he disobeyed as a child. You were a human from an Earth unclaimed by the Empire, you didn't know what you were up against.

Mohawk didn't look at Gray. The man was an afterthought that Mohawk knew wouldn't step in. Gray was already proving to be a good lap dog, you could learn a thing or two from him.

Mohawk spoke, "Oh, don't pout." You weren't pouting, you were in acute shock. "You knew I'd have to curb your bullshit eventually. This is really your fault for acting out." Now that you were subdued, hurting, his voice took a smooth, balmy tone. "I still care about you. I wish things didn't have to be this way." Only your eyes moved, rolling in their sockets towards his voice, set reddened on him like a sick dog. Your mouth moved but no sounds come out, throat pulsing with pain. "Don't look at me like that, I mean it. I'll take it off once you learn to behave, but until then." Mohawk knelt down and got a better look at your face, pressed to the floor and stupid. He reached toward your neck, sleeve dragging in your pool of spit, and tugged on the metal heart in the collar's middle. "I've gotta keep a better handle on you is all. Doesn't mean I love you any less."

Kregg's voice buzzed in his ear.

"I have to go. Duty calls, you know?" The only response he got was the malice twinkling in your teary eyes. He patted your cheek. "I won't take you along. You can go wherever you like, except you know, the stuff I've restricted because it's too dangerous for a human. Just be back in bed by one o'clock. If you're not well..." Another tug at the collar, but there's no humor in his voice like there normally was. "It's got a tracker, I'll find ya."

You couldn't roll out of the way as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your tear-slicked cheek. Mohawk paused as he pulled away. "Shit, right we don't have clocks you could read." Kregg said something else in his ear. Ever since he got back, it was all work, no play. "I'll just have someone get you if I'm busy."

He rose to his feet and finally caught Gray's eye. "I told you to leave, didn't I?"

Behind Gray's back, his hands were fists. "You did, sir. But.." His eyes flickered to you, just as much a weakness to him as you were to Mohawk.

"Well-" At that moment, Markus burst into the room. He heard the scream from nearby and rushed over to find this- you twitching on the ground. He went to grab for you but Mohawk blocked him with his legs. "She's fine. Just a little disciplinary action."

Markus thought you'd get a talking to. Thought maybe the Emperor would be more like himself, fuck you and not let you cum as punishment but this was certainly not that. "She doesn't look fine."

Markus looked around Mohawk. Saw you shivering and crying. Saw the collar locked around your neck and was transported back in time. You'd been a collared submissive in his dimension, nothing as flashy as what Mohawk had you in, but it was the symbolism that mattered. You'd wanted it, asked for it even when he was hesitant. He came around to it, loved pulling you around but with consensual preamble. This was beyond that. You hadn't wanted this. You resisted. You were scared, he could hear your heart's stuttering beats. He was reminded of your face right before he snapped your neck.

"Might be touchy for a few minutes but my sensors say she's completely fine." Mohawk replied. You still hadn't turned to look at them, he could barely make out your face in the glass.

He wanted to rip the Emperor's head from his flared collared shoulder. But he couldn't. There was too much at stake, your safety for one. All Markus could do was feel a deep mourning in his chest. He'd find a way to dig you out of the grave you dug yourself. He'd pull you out kicking and screaming if he had to, as long as he could get that horrible thing off you.

He had to at least try saying, "Are you sure about that? She doesn't respond well to-"

"Who's the Emperor?"

Markus shut his mouth. Mohawk smirked, "Good. Now, I want you both with me, there's something we have to attend to down in medical." Where Markus had just been.

"We're taking her there?" Gray asked, voice hopeful.

"No. She needs time alone to think." Mohawk said.

"Then I'm not going." Markus said.

"Neither am I."

Mohawk's eyes narrowed on them. "An' here I was thinking you two were shapin' up to be real ass lickers. Look at you, standin' up to me. Should kill you for that." He didn't sound it, but Mohawk was mildly impressed. Everyone in the empire bent a knee to his will, but not these other versions of him despite being so thoroughly outnumbered and outclassed.

"You know you can't." Markus said, stepping closer to you. "Do what you need to do but I'm not-"

"Go." Talking burned like bile coming up a raw throat. They all turned to you. Still in the same spot on the ground.

Markus's brow pinched, "I'm not leaving you."

If he wanted his stupid plan to work, he had to. If you ever wanted to free again, he had to. You didn't think about that in the moment though, you could only think about the humiliation of them seeing you like this. Scorned them for not being faster, for not stopping this before it happened. Angry at everyone and everything. "Just go."

"Mm. Look at you agreeing with me already." Mohawk went for the stairs. "Should'a done this sooner."

The duo was hesitant behind Mohawk, throwing concerned glances over their shoulders but if they wanted to rise the ranks, get enough intel to navigate this place and bide time until Angstrom was usable? They had to go, so they did.

Again, you were alone.

Scared, angry, and hurting. Knowing the only way to thrive was to act the same way you had under Machine Head. Never reacting to his jabs, doing whatever he said. You had made it work sometimes content with things, but this was worse. Not only because of the mixed feelings involved but the fact that you had gotten a taste of freedom with Machine Head's death. In the desert there was danger, but you heeled to no master. It was nice not holding your tongue, being happy, yourself- while it lasted. You should've known it would end like this.

Except this wasn't the end. You weren't dead. After some time you peeled your spit-stuck cheek off the floor and sat up. The first place you went was the kitchenette, looking for scissors. There was a tiny pair, good for cutting ends off plastic wrapping. It didn't make a dent in the flexible material wrapped around your neck.

You left the observation deck entirely. The whole place tainted. This whole ship tainted because wherever you went, Mohawk would know where to catch you. You meandered aimlessly, looking for a place to curl up to hide and cry. There was Mohawk's room but there way no way you'd go there voluntarily. There was the lab, but you couldn't get in without Mohawk, weren't even supposed to be in there without supervision. Maybe Mark's cell if you could find it. Wouldn't it be so satisfying for him to see you like this? He'd say you deserved it, should've seen it coming. The thought makes you want to hurt him but you can't anymore, you'd been thoroughly declawed.

You wandered aimlessly. Ended up a few levels higher than where you'd been. When you saw him down the long hall wearing grays and having that face, it didn't register that he doesn't have a mohawk. You turned, head down, and looked for a door to disappear in but go corpse still when he calls out, "Oh shit, hey (Y/n)!"

You were coming up with things to say, biting, but not enough to warrant another round when he swings around your front. So clearly not Mohawk you almost sighed with relief.

Seb took one look at you and said, "Whoa, you look like shit."

You scowled, "Don't act stupid. You knew this was coming." Your voice came out raspy. You immediately regretted it, thinking he could have a remote control too. You flinched, expecting a shock.

Seb blinked. "What?" He was too busy checking you out to notice the collar until you lifted your chin. "Whoa? Is that new? Emperor dude get it for you, huh? Kinda cute." He reached out to tug on it teasingly, "Didn't think you for someone who'd be into-" but paused when you flinched away.

"Don't play dumb." Except you didn't think he was, you're fishing for answers. Wondering if Markus's horrified face had been genuine, if Seb's was, if Gray's hesitation had been knowing.

"Look dude, I'm plenty dumb but I can't be dumb if I dunno what we're talkin' 'bout."

You pulled on the collar as you told him what it was. By the end of it, you were about to keel over crying but you held it in, barely.

"Uh oh..." Seb scratched the back of his neck just for something to do with his hands, "No. No, I didn't know about that. Do you uh, want some help?" You silently nodded, lips sucked in trying not to cry. Seb reached out but didn't touch before he asked, "This isn't gonna kill you right?"

"I don't think so." Your laugh was humorless. "The last time it shocked me so hard I almost pissed myself." You had to try. Mohawk said only he could take it off, maybe it extended to the variants. "Do it."

"Please don't piss yourself." His hands came to either side of the collar, gently curling under the material. You braced for impact that didn't come- not until he started to pull.

Your body was melting everywhere, all at once. The tears came loose, your knees turned to jelly. Seb caught you before you fall, kneeling down and letting you go limp against him. He stopped as soon as he felt a tickle in his fingers that was much, much worse for you.

"Holy shit. Holy fucking shit." He believed you but thought you were exaggerating. Rex always had. Mohawk really was crazy.

Across the ship, Mohawk felt a vibration in his wrist cuff, lifting his arm to look at it. 1 shock administered. Followed by a pull up of the nearest camera, snug into the corner of a hall. He saw your heaving back, Seb holding you upright on the ground. He knew at least one of them would be sympathetic to your plight, try and help when they shouldn't. Not that he'd told Seb not to but come on, man, bro code.

Gray peaked over his arm but didn't catch a glimpse, looking away when Mohawk glared. Markus got a peak while he was distracted. At least you were alive enough to cry. He could tell by the shake of your back.

You were conscious but couldn't get your legs back under you. Everytime you tried, something would twitch or go too loose or tight and you'd fall. Seb kept you upright, head hooked over his shoulder.

"Dude, stop, you gotta lie down." He floated slow, scared he'd somehow give you shaken baby syndrome moving too fast. The journey wasn't far. In the end, you realized he was a few flights and a hall away from Mohawk's room.

You were in a haze. Uncontrollably dripping tears onto Seb's shoulder until he laid you down onto his mattress. You looked up at an empty white ceiling and didn't look away for some time.

Seb hovered over you, constantly scared you'd die or seize out. He'd been with Rex through plenty of bad trips and a few overdoses. Sometimes he thought Rex wasn't going to make it, that he was going to be totally alone in the world because nobody got him, not like Rex did. But he always found a way to pull through. Rex survived Dad's suggestion of killing him for being a 'bad influence', survived the takeover of Earth because he cooperated. Rex didn't survive the rebellion, Eve got revenge for what Rex had helped Seb do to those Guardians losers. He'd been so alone for so long, just coasting by while Dad or other Viltrumites bossed him around. Then he met you and Oliver, but guessed he wasn't allowed to have nice things because Oliver was dead and you were just a human stuck in an impossible situation. He couldn't lose another friend.

Somehow he played it cool. Casual when your neck stopped randomly tensing and your hand stopped curling into a fist. "So uh, why would he do that?"

Your eyes moved to him. Stood by the open hole in the wall that was his dresser, hung with four duplicates of the same outfit he was wearing. The room was jail-cell tiny and just as unfurnished. A bed and a dresser and probably a bathroom hidden in the walls. The sheet you were laid on was blue. You wanted to get up, get away from the color like it'd done this to you but you knew it was a bad idea.

"He made me a dog." You said.

Seb cringed and turned away. You thought he was feeling the sting of second hand embarrassment at your crying, he hadn't handled it well before. In reality, Seb was digging out a hidden bottle from his closet. "Uh. One'a those alien guys showed me where they kept some'a the meds. Think he thought I was the Emperor at first or soemthin' cuz he let me take this whole thing." He presented a white bottle, stamped with Viltrum's logo. Alien language labeling its contents in tiny text. "All I know is, I drank a whole bottle and I got pretty drunk the first night back. So for a human I wouldn't take more than a cup full but..." He held it out to you, "Want some?" He wasn't good with comforting words, but he was good to get drunk with.

You took the bottle and shimmied up onto your elbows. Seb sat himself at the foot of the bed, watching as you poured the milky liquid into a bottle cap and threw it back. It burned going down, hit your stomach like a bomb, you had to keep yourself from puking it back up.

Mohawk watched your vitals on his wrist screen when he should have been paying attention to the Martian bio-engineer. Your heart rate and blood pressure were a given to monitor but he'd also had an atmospheric breathalyzer installed and somewhere near you, something fatally alcoholic had been introduced to the environment. He lowered his wrist, knowing you'd be fine. The old you had kept a bottle of that same toxic poison hidden for emergencies awhile ago. Almost drank yourself to death before he found it and got rid of the thing. Killed a decent number of medical wing staff to get the point across to never give you random drugs. Hopefully, you didn't develop a taste for it. Synthetic Eskewnian blood was hard to synthesize and too useful to run out of.

You leaned over the bed, holding your head as light-headedness washed over you faster than with codeine. Seb took the bottle and drank deeply. He lowered it, sheer white liquid rolling down his chin.

"Man, that tastes like ass." You didn't respond. He glanced at you, face grave. So he took a breath, and as though he was the head of a bomb squad, asked quietly and carefully, "Do you wanna talk about what happened?"

"No." You snapped. "Literally anything else. Please."

Seb had stories, stupid ones but he drew blank after blank. The Empire had infected his mind. Made him remember what he'd rather forget. It came out, hot and bitter like puke, "You know, I was part of the Empire in my universe too." You gave him a withering look. "What? It's not about your..." Calling Mohawk your boyfriend right now felt mean, "That dickhead." He corrected. You looked away and he took it as a go-ahead. "All this shit's crazy new to me too. Like, I knew they'd be uptight and all but geez man these uniforms? Go right up your ass if you're not careful." He waited for you to laugh, you didn't. "I mostly stayed on Earth as a like, enforcer for the rebellion you know? I didn't care about it though, it was all my Dad's idea. I just kinda coasted by, did enough stuff they wouldn't be mad at me." Even if he had gone above and beyond, Dad would still have found a way to be disappointed. Just the nature of their relationship.

You were swaying slightly in your seat now. "Soooo, what's coasting on Viltrum, committing only partial genocides?" You recalled what Omni Man said on TV. What the media openly speculated he had planned.

Seb sighed and leaned forward on his knees, "Yeah, but like, I stalled a lot. Not cuz I'm a pussy or whatever but cuz these guy's are always on your ass to work. It's like can a guy please take a month to find a rebel planet but mostly smoke Saturn's seventy-fourth moon gas station weed?"

"When I said I didn't wanna talk about it I meant all of this shit. Even that stupid planet." You slurred.

"Ah, shit my bad."

"No," you waved him off, changing your mind on a dime, your brain a soup from both the alcohol and repeated shocks, "It's fine. I should know more about this stupid shit anyway, cuz guess whose gonna be forced to be empress one day!?" You looked around, faux searching before pointing at your chest, "Me!"

"Jesus. That's gotta be heavy. And you can't say no if he's got you in a shock collar like a freakin' dog." Seb kicked out his feet. "Man, Oliver would hate it here. He was smarter than me, he'd probably have figured out how to piss off by now. Wouldn't wanna be around all these scary ass old heads with sticks rammed up their asses."

"You're smart." You said only because you were drunk, "You can figure stuff out."

"You can too." Seb said, "You're in a better position than I am to do shit. I just get told to guard empty hallways and write down the temperatures. You got way more opportunities to like, spy."

"Oh." Seb said stupidly. "Just don't get caught then?"

"Plan's already blown before it started dude." You pulled at the collar, your terror of messing with it delayed from the alcohol, but a shock didn't come. You go on, "This thing's got a tracker. Probably knows I'm drunk. He knows everything I'm doing all the time, dude."

Seb went pale. "Shit. Uhm." He scooted closer, lowered his head to be in line with your neck. "You know I'm just jokin' right bro? Lil bit'a drunk thoughts from a dumbass. I love this place actually, way better than my last apartment. Good beds, no roaches." He had no idea if there was a microphone and camera or not, but he was taking zero chances.

You laughed at him. "You're a shitty liar." A flash of your earlier encounter with Mohawk made you cringe. You couldn't believe you let him finger you like that. Then the meeting, maybe you did want to talk about it, "Can you believe that shit at the meeting?"

Seb rolled back onto his palms, "Pretty crazy dude. I thought that old lady's head was gonna explode." He paused to take a drink. Continuing when his lips weren't wrapped around the bottle rim. "Soon as you left, she was like 'lets murder (Y/n)' and everyone was like 'uhhhhh no you decrepit, weirdly sexy old lady, stop.'"

You decided to ignore most of what he'd said. The fear that should have come with that knowledge was dulled in your inebriation. "Is she the oldest bitch here?"

"Uhhh, she looks old so that's a bad sign for how far she is up the empire's ass. Lucan, the bald guy, he's like three thousand and looks thirty so she's like... seven, eight thousand? I dunno."

You blinked, not even really comprehending what that meant. Omni man had implied they lived a long time, but eight thousand years? Your head dipped as you looked down at him, "How fucking long do you guys even live?"

"Uhhhh." Seb rubbed at his temples that now throbbed with subtle drunkenness. "Think Dad told me one time uhhh... Man, I think I was like fifteen and really high so lets say... Forever? But hey, Viltumites are always going to war and killing eachother, so they still die a lot."

You groaned and pulled at your face. "God. All this alien bullshit makes my head hurt."

He laughed and patted your thigh as he said, "That's just cuz you're drunk off mystery juice."

True. "Ok yeah, but you know what I don't get then? If he's going to live forever and I'm here," your arms felt light and floaty as you held them overhead, "wearing this," you pointed down to your neck, "when I'll live max eighty years. Why couldn't he be obsessed over some immortal bitch instead of me?"

"I mean, our medicines probably will hella extend your life but like. He loved you before he knew about most of the alien shit, so there's that. Also, no offense, you can't fight back like a Viltrumite could." The longer Seb talked the more he realized, "This is so fucked up, dude." You sat up, head bobbing. "Whoa bro, don't move so fast."

"I'm just..." You wanted to get up walk around, try and forget. Your legs still feel weak and you could barely sit upright. You ended up flopping to the side, head falling limply on his shoulder. "This sucks."

Seb went tense but didn't push you off. It was nice having someone who actually wanted him around. "Should you be doin' that? He's probably watchin' us right now."

"He doesn't care what happens to me." You slurred and when he was still stiff under you, you added, "I'm not gonna fuck you by the way."

"Didn't say that."

"Sorry I just-" You ached all over, head light and stupid. "-Feel like everyone wants something from me all the time."

"Look bro, you're hot and all but I'm not gonna fuck around when you're all sad n' shit." He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, "Boner killer and like... I think you just like need a buddy right now, ya'know?" He knew, because he needed one too. He'd prefer if the companionship came with some sex but that could be later, when things weren't so messed up.

You leaned harder into him, cheek squishing on his shoulder. "Thanks."

***

"So you can do it?" The Emperor asked.

He'd kept a running tab of who did what in the desert. Phantom worked with GDA tech, had it all over his suit. If anyone could turn that awful ringer into an implant, it'd be Phantom.

"It'd take time to fix it. Then convert it from Earth tech to Viltrum tech." Phantom was sat back in the same room you'd found him in. The alien doctor finishing up the last of the calibrations after his own limbs had sent thousands of volts into his muscles. Mohawk stood framed in the door, his two newest sentries stood on their side of him, forcing their faces blank.

Phantom had run into the debilitating frequency before. After his Dad was imprisoned, Phantom was summoned to Atlantis to atone for his father's slaying of King Aquarus. The GDA thought they wanted him to marry the queen but he was actually tried by combat. He fought a monster that screeched so loud his eardrums burst and rendered him nearly useless. Mohawk nodded along to the story, because he had received the same summoning, but just killed everyone living in Atlantis. Killed the monster so fast he didn't get a chance to hear it. The first time he heard it was fighting the Reanimen in your reality.

Before Angstrom came to Grayson, Cecil had been threatening to put a chip in his head, to control him. After everything Dad did he'd gotten rougher with criminals, killed them when he hadn't before. Cecil thought he was just lashing out, that he'd heal but on the inside Phantom had rotted entirely. There was no sweet hero left in him, only a mourning, murderous thing that wanted you back by any means necessary.

The Empire didn't have the tech to replicate the hyper-specific frequency just yet, but something needed to be done about Scars and Lensless. Thula and Lucan were strong, fast, and wise beyond their years but they were needed on the battle front when they get closer to the rebel planets. They couldn't be babysitting those assholes the whole time. The solution, a chip implanted in their brain that screeched at them anytime they got out of line, just like Grayson had been threatened with.

"Our scientists can help speed that along." Mohawk's words weren't generous. He needed as many eyes as possible on Phantom to keep him honest. He knew the little freak was a planner, if he worked alone he'd try to put something in the code. And of course, the Emperor was always right, he was already thinking of ways to use this opportunity to his advantage.

"Thank you." Phantom said robotically. "For that and," his mechanical limbs moved, not as smoothly as he'd like, but it was better than before, "these. I know that must've been costly on your part." He was thankful but he still had concerns, "But..." Mohawk's lips thinned, Phantom knew he should show submission, especially after he swore loyalty not two minutes ago but he had to ask, "Why keep them alive in the first place? I know you need soldiers but can't we find people from other planets who would fight for us? Those two are an unnecessary risk."

Markus and Gray agreed though they didn't show it.

Mohawk surprised Phantom by saying, "Look, I don't want them around either but we need all the Viltrumites we can get. They're already causing problems." On the way here, a servant came running to Mohawk, frantic about the murdered pilot in the cockpit. Viltrum ships didn't technically need to be steered, for the most part it was self sufficient, powered by algorithms they'd been improving for centuries, the pilot was there in case those systems broke down- which they never did. Pilot was a position for idiots, that was why an alien with half a brain was stationed as one.

Scars had killed the thing before poking and prodding around the cockpit. Hunting for secrets, a way to take full control of the ship. Thula had let him, knowing the pilot was useless and the tech was near infallible. It was a blatant show of disrespect for Mohawk's belongings and she had sent him a message that was ignored as he was busy with you, before sending a servant to intercept him.

Then there was Lensless who was always trying to get Lucan to fight him. Lunging at him whenever and wherever he could. The two ended up bashing through a few walls that the servants were still trying to repair. Mind you, this is all before meal time. They needed to be put on a tighter leash.

"I can't dispose of them yet, it'd be easier for everyone if they could do stuff without taking up my lead officers' days." Mohawk said.

There was an added bonus of letting them roam the ship without babysitters. If you ran into them alone, they'd nip at your heels, chase you around like a bunch of rabid school boys. Without the assumed protection of Thula and Lucan to stop them, you'd be so scared you'd run right back into Mohawk's arms, his protection. You'd come to see there were scarier and worse versions of him to hate. You'd come to forgive him to know you were wrong.

Phantom could almost see this thought on Mohawk's face, because he'd have done the same thing. In fact, if he played his cards right, you'd run into his arms instead. "Understood. Show me the lab and I'll get right to work."

***

For awhile, you sat drunk, leaning on Seb. Wetting the collar of his uniform so close to what his supersuit had been but in gray with Viltrum's logo on the chest. Even though you'd taken a third of a shot, your head still swam a half hour later. You should-

Something in Seb's uniform vibrated. He lifted his forearm. A rectangle in the fabric glowed to life, displaying blue text. Mealtime available until 37:30. "Do you wanna go get lunch?"

"You read my mind."

"Actually this little fuckass iPod read your mind."

"That is not an iPod."

"Tomato tah-mato."

Seb led you down the halls and downstairs. Explaining the whole way while you both stumbled over your feet. Soldiers had strict time schedules they had to adhere to. You caught Seb between tasks. He was supposed to take a whole hour to check oil reserves that the ship did for itself anyway. He half-assed the job and went to take a nap when he ran into you.

If he missed his time slot, the door to the mess hall simply wouldn't open for him. It was now or wait thirty hours till his next designated meal time. He'd survive, he'd gone a lot longer without eating in the desert, but he preferred to eat. They helped him almost forget the smoked and dried taste of his own flesh.

Oh, that was another fun fact you'd somehow missed in your misery, the whole ship ran on Viltrum time where days weren't twenty-four hours but fifty. When Mohawk said be back by one, he meant tomorrow morning. Twenty-something hours from now, while he worked all the way through that time like it was nothing. Jesus.

The door opened just fine, even with you in tow. Unlike other rooms, the furniture was out without the probing of a floor button. A handful of thick tables waited all with a single chair pulled up. Surfaces metal and shining under harsh white light. There was no kitchen staff milling about or window to order food from. Seb trotted to the closest table and borrowed a chair from an adjoining table.

He flopped down on the chair, tall high-back and white, and patted the one next to him. You slid into it, asking, "Do Viltrumites like... Photosynthesize or?"

Seb snorted as he touched a finger to the table. A screen flashed. Ah. Of course, another hidden screen. It was a menu, showing off today's options from the kitchen without photos and all the descriptions were vague. Meat dish with fiber. Gluten, that's it, just the description gluten.

"Whadd'ya want?" Seb asked. "This one's my favorite." He tapped on hydrating meat dish adding it to his order. You stared at the screen, too drunk for this. "I know it's a lil weird at first, but everything I've had here isn't actually bad, better than those bugs."

After what Mohawk did, you weren't very hungry but you knew you should eat, couldn't remember the last time you had. It'd also help with how drunk you were, keep the buzz but not the stumbling. So you pointed to the thing that seems the most normal within your tastes. Seb added it to the order and sent it to the kitchen, no payment required. Viltrum erased all need for currency exchange. They did things for each other to keep the empire running without the corrupting force of money. If only Argall could see his empire was a corrupting force to the rest of the universe.

Seb told you the kitchen was under your feet, you remembered vaguely Mohawk telling you it took up a whole level. When they were ready the dishes would be sent up through the thick table support which was actually a chute. You killed time trying to joke but everything fell flat. You still couldn't believe the collar was there, though the longer you wore it, the less you felt the weight.

The door slid open, bringing a familiar huffy voice with it.

"Okay, okay- I'm going inside." You saw a Mark step inside, one-eyed and skirtless, followed closely by Lucan. Lensless dragged his heels, uncaring that Lucan was pushing him into the mess hall. "Look, we made it, will you fight me now?"

"No sir." Lucan sounded exasperated, adding flatly, "Perhaps once you've eaten."

"You said that last time." Lensless countered.

"Eat." Lucan said.

"What if I don't?" Lensless spun on him, grinning and cracking his knuckles, "You gonna try n' make me? Gonna fight me?"

"No."

"Uggggggghhh. Everyone here is soooo lame." His head rolled on his shoulders. His working eye became a disc when he spotted you, slumped over a table with Seb who looked just as surprised to see him. "Oh! (Y/n)! Thank God I was getting so bored with this loser." He floated over and pulled up a chair that he slammed down next to yours.

Seb leaned down just to be fully visible past your frame. "Uh, she's already sittin' with me dude." Was the best defense he had.

Seb hadn't seen Lensless or Scars anywhere besides the meetings. He liked to keep it that way, with how things ended in the desert. Everytime he thought about Scars he got so angry the blood rushed in his ears and he couldn't feel his fingers, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was weak. Needed to use all the free time his slacking gained him to get stronger. Avenge Oliver. Protect you.

"Do you know how friends work? Did you know you can have multiple at a time? Crazy, right?" Lensless scooted his chair so close it scraped against your own. His shoulder brushed yours as he tapped at the order screen and snagged himself a protein dish (living). He turned over his shoulder, "Hey Lulu, what do you w- Why are you sitting over there?" He pouted at the man, sat three tables back. Relieved to have two seconds without the man glued onto his boot.

"Watching you." Lucan replied dryly. If he was being honest, Lucan was happy for the partial break in Lensless's constant steam of violence-seeking attention. Lucan was stronger, better than the boy, but any retaliation or reaction only riled the boy up more. He could only passively deal with this annoyance for so long.

Lensless huffed but made no more arguments as he sent his order through.

"Sour puss." His attention snapped back to you, "That meeting was crazy, right? You've missed the last few. Where have you been?" He sounded like a long-term gal pal. Even shuffling closer like you wanted him there. You held your tongue, it wasn't like you could make him move away.

You didn't reply. Seb voiced your discomfort, saying, "She doesn't wanna talk to you, bro."

"Aww! You're letting me do the talking for both of us! You're so considerate (Y/n)." Lensless half hugged you, pulling you hard to his side by your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. The way you went stiff at the contact was expected, but the feeling something that wasn't skin against his face was not.

He pulled back a bit, ignoring your clear discomfort.

"Hey," he unwound his arm from your side and reached for the collar, "What's this?"

The way you jerked back and slapped his hand told him it wasn't, "Nothing," like you said.

"It's obviously a necklace." Seb added.

"Yeah." You scooted away, bumping your chair into Seb's. "A necklace."

Lensless took that moment of silence to properly observe you, he saw telltale burst blood vessels in your eyes, irritated by recent sobbing.

"You sound nervous." Lensless said casually. "Don't lie to me." Yet there was an underlying threat in his tone. If Lucan didn't reign him in, you and Seb were on your own.

"I'm not, I just don't like being around you." You lied.

Lensless leaned forward, scrutinizing you with a single, mischief gleaming eye. Two trays of food rose up in the center of the table and he shot out of your personal space. Reaching for the gray tray holding a fleshy head with eyes still rolling in its sockets. Brains purple and glistening, tiny useless arms trying and failing to get it off Lensless's dinner tray. You and Seb watched in mild horror as he pulled out one of the things' eyes and popped it into his mouth. Shuddering with satisfaction as he bit down and raw eye juice splashed over his tongue.

"Look, we match." He said when he swallowed. His food was screaming.

"Oh man." Seb sounded sick. "I wish I wasn't so hungry." He pulled your shared tray closer. His food was some sort of alien appendage, luckily very dead and without any eyes. It was purple with suction cups doused in a sauce that smelled of hot honey. He got to eating right away, slurping disgustingly with no use of the provided utensils. You picked at your food, trying not to think about the collar pressing on your throat every time you swallowed or how Lensless's food was still alive but could no longer scream.

Lensless yammered on about everything. His new schedule- full- his work- mega boring- how Scars was doing- always training or trying to lose Thula.

"I thought we'd have the same meal block together but I guess they knew that'd be a bad idea." He said, stirring the alien's open brains with a fork. "Which is true but kinda boring for me, so I'm so glad I get to sit with you. But I wanna hear about that guy he killed today. I had to make a servant tell me, but I wanna hear it from the actual guy himself. You know, he's really cool if you get past the edgy thing. He's great, really, you should hang out with us sometime (Y/n)."

Seb wiped slippery grease from his lips with the back of his hand. "Nobody wants to be your bro, bro."

"I wasn't talking to you." Lensless chirped. "You're weak and that's suuuper boring but you," his eyes landed on the collar, oh no, "you haven't used your powers on me yet to make me shut up or go away. I think this is longest you've ever let me talk. Why is that?"

"I'm practicing ignoring you." You said.

"Mmm. No, that's not your style. You're always veryyy," he rolled his wrist, thinking, "forward even when it's like, really stupid to be. Just kinda weird. Are you feeling okay?" He laid a palm across your forehead.

"I'm drunk so I'm great, thanks." You tilted your head back but his touch didn't leave. No matter how you moved, he kept a hand on you. "Get off."

"Mmmm, nah. Not unless you make me."

Seb reached around you, grabbing Lensless by the wrist. "She said stop."

Lensless didn't move but he smiled. "What? Are you gonna fight me? That'd be kinda fun."

They both know Seb would lose. Lensless would have a grand ole time painting the room with his blood. Lucan wouldn't do shit about it until Seb was near death. Then and only then would he take him to the medbay because he was needed for the Empire.

Seb wasn't used to being the weaker person. He was literally Invincible. He killed heroes and villains alike. Aliens and humans. He wasn't weak but Lensless was just... better. He wasn't used to being nervous. He could take a beating, but a fight here meant you in the crossfire and he couldn't lose another friend. "You're not gonna fight me on the ship, dude. We'd break a bunch of shit."

"He might." Lucan deadpanned between bites of some glutinous jelly.

"I think I will." Lensless dropped his fork, letting the prongs slip into the congealed brains. He pulled his fist back, angling it to swing around your neck and knock Seb's already notched nose more to the right. "If you don't want me to hit him, you better stop me (Y/n)."

With their arms caged around you like locked bull horns, with Seb's life suddenly in your hands, you were scared.

"I..."

"I can handle it." Seb barked. "This time I'll fuckin' kill you, shithead." Despite his words, he didn't swing first.

"Oh yeah?" Lensless's grin grew impossibly wider.

It'd been a few (Earth) days since they last fought. There was no way Seb had gotten any stronger since then. He was going to get fucked up for you. The only person you wanted hurt right now was Mohawk. "Stop it."

"Hm. I don't feel the urge to stop? Are you really using your powers?"

"Don't." Seb urged.

"I can't, asshole." Your confession made everything go still. In that moment, Lensless's food mercifully died.

Lensless pulled his arm easily out of Seb's grip. Reaching around your flailing hand, pulled at the collar, jerking you closer by the neck. "I thought that's what it was. Lemme see." He pressed his thumb to the collar's middle, gently flipping the inside toward him. Surly enough, a small metal disc was inlaid to the alien leather. "Shock collar, nice! I mean kinda sucks you can't use your powers on me. Honestly, I wish I had a shock collar and you didn't and you also had the controls but-"

"Dude." Seb said warningly, "Let her go."

"God, you are so annoying. Do you ever shut up?" Lensless muttered, running a thumb over the disc. Imagining you shocking him with twenty-million volts. What a dream.

"Seb, it's fine." You said. You could deal with Mohawk shocking you to near-incontinence. You could deal with an overly persistent, one-eyed Mark. Seb knew it wasn't fine, felt the salt burn of a bruised ego that you were protecting him. He let it slide because he thought you needed a win.

"So why's this on you anyways. It's sooooooo cute on you but like, doesn't he want to expand the empire? Your powers could literally help. What is he, stupid?" He let the collar go, snap back into place around your neck before he idly felt along the metal heart on its outside.

Lucan didn't say anything despite him insulting the Emperor.

"Some people don't get boners when I tell them to break their own legs."

"Stop it!" Lensless playfully smacked your arm, not wanting you to stop. "You're embarrassing me! But ugh, I can not believe he doesn't like you using your powers. What a loser. Oh man, Marky's gonna be so mad when I tell him."

"Who?" You asked.

"Shit. Don't tell him I called him Marky it makes him really mad." At your furrowed brow, he said, "You called him Scars."

All at once, your guts were liquid. Mohawk was bad enough on his own. If Scars caught wind of the collar, it'd be over.

"If you tell him I'll kill you." You spat.

Lensless can hear the fearful skip of your heart, can't keep the smile off his face at your reaction. "Look at you trying to threaten me right now. You're precious. What are you gonna do to stop me, use your powers?"

"I'll tell the Emperor you did some creepy shit to me." You said.

"He's super mad at you right now, isn't he? I bet he'd be happy something bad happened to you. Plus, he'd check the cameras and whatever monitors are in that thing." He was right and it hurt.

You had no other choice, grimacing as you said it. "Fine. What do you want in exchange for you not telling him?"

"Dude-" Seb started, that was a bad fucking idea.

Lensless didn't have to think. He said, "Hold my hand." He held out his palm facing up, "Just till we finish eating."

You blinked at him. "Are you serious?"

Lensless did a fake little pout, "Pleaaaassseeee?"

You did it. Threaded your fingers between his, which wrapped warmly around yours. Oddly moisturized and soft. He occasionally squeezed your hand for assurance whenever you were quiet too long. You couldn't believe how easy it was, holding his hand, slotted perfectly into yours. Just like Mark's had.

Lucan eyed your joined hands. Thinking it was pathetic, how weak he seemed to your forced affection. Surely the Emperor wasn't the same?

Lensless continued chattering on and as promised, when mealtime was over (Lucan told him his time was up), he reluctantly let you go. You stacked the trays and watched as the center of the table descended, taking the dishes down to the kitchen.

"By the way, next time you see me, I expect a kiss on the cheek when you say hello." Lensless said.

"What? No. I already did what you asked." You hissed.

"Sweetie, you were a gangster, you should know how extortion works." He clapped you affectionately on the back. "Oh and, I prommy I won't tell Marky, but if he sees that?" Lensless hissed through his teeth, "Yeaaaah, that's gonna go so bad."

He left with Lucan, going down the hall with a happy wave and advised you to, "Wear a turtle neck or something!"

"God," Seb watched him go with a sneer, "I hate that guy."

***

You ended up shadowing Seb for the next few hours. Following behind him like a ghost. Standing outside the room of whatever task he was set to do if the door decided to slam in your face. Mohawk had already set limits on where you could and couldn't go. Though the ship was massive, you felt the walls pressing in.

You wanted to stay away from the room. From Mohawk. But time kept marching forward and your legs were getting tired. You found your way back to the room alone before one. He'd be pleased, much to your distaste but you weren't back early for him.

Mohawk found you in the closet, wearing her old clothes, asleep on the stool. You were still, peaceful, with the bodysuit you'd borrowed from him thrown on the floor. The clothes you were wearing were wrinkled and frumpy, dug from the depths of her wardrobe. He hadn't seen that hoodie and sweatpants combo in years, only worn on lazy days when you wouldn't leave the house back on Earth. You'd stolen it away, a little piece of Earth you wouldn't let him corrupt.

He took you back to the bed. Preferring you'd wear the pajamas but knowing if he woke you up, you wouldn't be so pliant in his arms. He took solace in how you snuggled up to your pillow, contentedly humming. Again, seeing it as proof you wanted this deep down.

Mohawk knew you were hurt, emotionally, physically. But after the day of work all he wanted to do was hold you. So he did, after changing into his pajamas. He wasn't sorry, not at all. The collar was deeply sexual to him and he didn't intend to take it off. In the moment, he was soft and vulnerable. Hoping one day you'd come to understand why he had to collar you. Hoping one day you'd accept that you liked it.

When you woke up, you were alone, but you could smell his cologne in the air. Found a black hair on his pillow. You left the room and a pattern was set. You found Seb if you could, wandered the ship if you couldn't. Avoided the others, only wore loose high necks. Felt time and boredom chipping away at you in this smooth empty ship, devoid of human touch. All hard edges and shiny walls.

You ate very little. You'd gone far longer in the desert, grown almost used to the hunger pangs. You slept twice a day by Viltrum standards. Every morning and night when you were in the room there was a tray waiting by the bed full of Earth foods Mohawk knew you'd like. You brought most of it to Seb, who'd complained about his eating time table.

You never slept in the bed if you could help it. Always falling asleep in the closet only to occasionally wake up on the bed. Mohawk was busy nearly all the time, quietly bent over his desk mulling over reports or on a video call with a distant alien ruler, cementing their loyalty to the empire.

Today was another day, except it wasn't. Your few hours of sleep were actually during the middle of Viltrum's day. Again, you fell asleep on the stool and Mohawk, again, brought you to the bed. You woke up, saw him at the desk and decided you didn't want to pretend to sleep. You ignored the tray of food and Mohawk sat at his desk and headed for the door.

"Wait." It was the first thing he'd said to you in days. Whenever he was in the room, you pretended to be asleep. He knew you weren't but he still gave you space, as long as you didn't disrespect him. The collar had certainly worked in making you more respectful, but he couldn't quite count your silence as a victory.

You went rigid at once. Suddenly angry and afraid, you shouldn't have gotten brave. Should've stayed in bed.

"We're gonna be stopping the ship in a few minutes." He said, not looking up from his papers. "Dunno how much you remember of that meeting, but we're almost where we need to be." You didn't respond. Not trusting yourself to not say something rude, you knew he'd shock you if you did. "I want you to stay in here while it's happening. My room is the safest place on the ship in case anything happens. Which I doubt will. The planets we're going to won't stand a chance." He turned to you then, offput by your silence. Only when he sees you does he realize, "I'm not gonna hurt you for talkin' you know?"

"Are you sure?" It was a jab despite your best efforts.

He smiled, missing your voice even if it came with barbs. "I don't mind you being snarky, babe." He considered getting up, he wanted to touch you. This part of his plan was mostly for you, for her. You wouldn't fully understand, but he didn't want you to, not yet. "There's going to be ships from the Coalition there. I'm going to destroy them myself. Then the planets they asked for help? I'm going to kill every last worthless being on them, because they took you from me with their pathetic ideology. I won't let them do the same to you."

You still had no idea what the Coalition was, why she had worked with them or what had even happened that led to him finding out. It felt like he wanted reassurance, to know if you were grateful or angry or something else. You were indifferent.

"I don't care that you're killing people. I don't know why you're so fixated on me betraying you, I don't think it'd even work, there's no point." You bet she'd say something different, that she'd cry to hear his plans. The other you was brave for going against him, knew more about space politics than you ever would. She had the bandwidth to care, when all the care for other people's lives had been sucked out of you so young. You were nothing compared to her, a shell, a shadow, but here you were, Mohawk's pet all the same. Projecting that image of her onto you when you didn't even know where Viltrum was.

Mohawk was quiet for a moment, he made a mental note to see if there were any human safe depression medications on the planets that were set to be culled. "You've only been sleeping a few hours. You should get some more rest." Was his nice way of saying you weren't leaving the room till he deemed it safe.

You looked to the door, wondered if he'd shock you for disobeying. He definitely would. The thought makes all the fight leak out of you. You crawled back into bed, knowing he'd drag you back if you went to the bench. You didn't mind the comfort Martian silk brought.

When he left to take his revenge, you were asleep. On your temple, he plants a kiss.

***

The warship was stationed at the solar system's edge. Nowhere near as close as Kregg would've liked, but Mohawk wouldn't risk the ship being blasted- even if their artillery would only maybe scratch the ship's shell. He wouldn't have you fearing for your life.

He, the council, and the Marks left the ship. System defenses set high if anything foreign got too close. The plan was one person per planet, hit hard, fast. Leave nobody alive, and when it was done, record a message featuring the heads of multiple planetary leaders. An official universe-wide announcement that the Empire was back and not to be trifled with.

Of course, the Coalition had ships monitoring the planets. The nosy assholes had numbers on their side. All a bunch of useless bleeding hearts from hundreds of planets with some sob story. Boohoo, the Empire killed my whole family! What a bunch of idiots. Being spared was a gift. A gift Mohawk and his men would take back.

The Coalition ships stood no chance. All it took was a body shooting through their hulls like a bullet to make them implode. Then they scattered from planet to planet, wearing the stark Viltrum grays and whites that meant death to anyone who saw it.

It was carnage. The council worked through their planets methodically. Ensuring through hours they leveled every city and tore the heads off every man, woman, and child they saw.

The Marks were messier. Gray was the closest to the council members. He ended lives quickly, leveled buildings by the square mile, going section by section, the way Conquest had taught him. Lensless who had worked with the empire and done this sort of thing many times, let people go on purpose just to hunt them down later. He rejoiced in being free from his babysitter like Scars also had for the mission. Killed lovers in front of lovers. He was the fastest but he made sure they all died slowly.

Phantom tried to kill fast but he was still unused to his new limbs. He heard purple-skinned people cry for mercy in a language he didn't understand and killed them anyways, unable to make himself care. He used the haze of strikes and arcs of blood as a meditation of sorts. He hadn't been in control in so long. It cleared his mind, gave him some time to plan his next move.

Seb had killed so called rebels before, wasn't afraid of doing so, but on this scale he felt like a huge dick. He didn't have strict instructions like he usually did in his home dimension, he just had to kill all of them. But it was them or him so he did it, not happily, but as mercifully as he could.

Mohawk and Scars had something in common. They both went hard on the aliens they found, left no room for mercy or running. Just a death that was long enough to feel some fear, then it was over. Letting out steam at their respective situations, thinking about you, always thinking about you.

Markus being one of the physically largest of the Marks, was given the planet with the most advanced defenses, the planet most of the Coalition members were said to be staying on. Kregg wanted to test his mettle, see if he was strong as he looked. He was. The planet's population had dropped to zero in under four hours. It wasn't an easy job, he had to fight downright disgusting, and he definitely should've taken his time like the others, but he had to be the first one back to the ship.

And he was. Flying so fast the layer of blood coating his body dried and burned off of him. He didn't bother to change, to lift the ozone stench of alien blood off his person. He went right to Mohawk's room where he knew you'd be.

The door slid open, DNA sensors thinking he was the Emperor, revealing you asleep in Mohawk's bed. The light from the hall slid across you in the dimmed room. You stirred, groaning and dreading talking to Mohawk. You knew any kind of violence riled him up, were dreading whatever he had planned. You sat up, rubbed your eyes to the sound of bootsteps coming closer. The door slid shut. It was Markus's silhouette you found outlined faintly in the light of a distant sun.

He didn't wait for you to get out of bed to tell you what'd happened. Hundreds of thousands dead at his hands. The solar system would be completely dead in a few hours. You just blinked up at him, you knew you should cry for the loss of life. Should weep at the empire's cruelty but you just felt numb, glad it wasn't Mohawk. You didn't care who was dead or how, it felt a little hypocritical to start caring about murder now after all the times you'd done it.

You wondered how much the other you would hurt for these people. You could never be a good enough person to care.

All you could say was, "That fast?" Because sometimes it took you a long time to kill even one person if they were stupid and stubborn enough. A whole planet of people was gone like that.

"I haven't had any free time to see you, so I made some." He replied, arms unfolding from the Viltrum solider standard behind his back, he'd adapted in only a few days.

Your laugh was humorless. You could've gone to see him if you wanted to. You'd been getting a better sense of the ship's layout. A decent sense of Mohawk's schedule. If you asked a servant, they would've pulled the right strings, but you hadn't. In truth you hadn't wanted to see him for all his talk of playing along to stay safe then letting the collaring happen.

He knew you were angry. Were receding into yourself.

Especially when you said, "All I've got is free time." Just to rub it in his nose that you could've seen him but chose not to.

Though he'd planned this meeting he was still nervous. Always thrown a little off-kilter by your mean streak, she had never talked to him like this. Would have already been draped over his shoulders after coming back from a mission, never asking what he had done, only how he was.

"I'm sure if you asked for a schedule they'd make one for you." He said stiffer than he wanted. He hadn't wanted the conversation to be about work, but he didn't want to play the rude implication of your statement. He sat on the corner of the bed to be more casual even though he didn't feel it.

You retreated from the bed as soon as he sat down, meandering over to the desk. Looking out the window at the line of planets that got more distant the closer they got to the sun. One of them had chunks floating off it, the planet's glowing core exposed and cooling rapidly in the ice of space. You wondered who was tearing that world apart. Why they'd go so far. It was Mohawk after finding out the head Coalition officer overseeing this solar system was from that planet. So he tore it apart more savagely than he had planned to. Just helping the guy out in the afterlife, sending his whole family and planet down to hell with him.

"I don't want to do anything for the empire." You looked down to the organized stacks of paper. One pile was stamped with the empire's sigil, the other didn't, unread. All of it was too complicated for you to understand. "Plus It'd just be follow the Emperor around and give him head every five hours."

"I see your concern." Markus couldn't find an argument he'd win, because you were right. Mark wasn't very subtle, had pushed you further than he meant to, "I hope you've been taking care of yourself. It's no easy task keeping Mark from crowding you."

You turned, leaning your ass on the desk, partly sitting. "And how are you doing that?"

"Gray and I have advised him to give you some space and have offered an ear when he walks to talk." Markus had meal times in the same block as the Emperor most of the time. Had nodded along to whatever he said. Offering advice where needed but never crossing the line.

"He's not just busy, you know, being the Emperor?" He understood your skepticism, he hadn't been there for you. He should have come sooner, stood up to Mark more than he had.

"He is, but he wants to keep you at his side at all times. But I know that's not who you need around you." Markus said.

You weren't surprised. Again he was insisting he knew what was best. It annoyed you. "Oh? And who do I need?"

"Somebody who wouldn't hurt you."

He said it so genuinely you had to break eye contact.

"You won't hurt me?" Your voice was a mix between caution and disbelief. Markus only caught the glint of hope because he knew you so long.

"Never." He planned to never hurt this version of you, had been painfully honest with you from the start. When she had found out who he really was he had no choice but to snap her neck. That would never happen with you, he wouldn't lose control like that, would be honest about what he was from the beginning.

When you glanced up you could see it in his eyes, he was thinking about her. You felt no pity for the corpses floating in space, but you felt a shred for her, someone who'd lost her life the way you'd lost your autonomy, "I don't know what you want from me, Markus. I'm not the same person. I can't give you what she gave you, I can't give any of you what the dead me gave you."

Markus wanted to touch your cheek but he doesn't want you to get squirrely and move away. He stayed in place on the bed, hands folded on his knee. "The important things are still there, I love you the same." He let the words sink in a moment before adding, "I want to do what I can to make this place better for you." He means it fully and it helped you'd been married since you were eighteen. Even if you were different, he knew all the right things to say.

You felt a flutter of butterflies at the statement and sucked your lips in to any expression off your face. You tried to bite at him but it came out softer than you had wanted, "You care so much about me but you let another guy electrocute me."

"I didn't know about the collar (Y/n), he didn't tell any of us. I came as soon as I heard you yell, I was terrified for you."

"You didn't do shit." You had told him to leave you alone, had insisted it. You don't think it would have helped if he had stayed, but you were still mad. Still felt powerless and lied to despite his insistence.

"I know." He took the attitude on the chin, "That's why I'm here now, to try and make up for it."

"How are you going to do that? Gonna take me on a fuckin' date? Gonna pick flowers from some dead alien's garden to give to me?"

He would if he could. Thought of the flower thing actually but thought it tactless. You didn't need a big gesture right now. You needed someone steady and loving. Someone who cared unlike Mark. Mark 'cared' but was clearly a selfish partner, couldn't admit when he was wrong. Not fit for you. You needed delicate handling while Mark was rough, always shoving the blame for his own actions onto you as he complained when Markus and Gray were shadowing him. As they so often did now.

"I don't trust you. I don't trust anybody on this ship but Seb because he's the only one not licking Mark's ass." You said. It stung to call Mohawk, Mark. Stung because of the two other people you truly associated with the name, but everyone was calling him that now. Everytime you heard it from Seb or the muttering servants, you thought of someone else.

"I don't care about him at all." Markus said, but it wasn't harsh. "I'm only doing this so one day I can protect you. He has to trust me to listen. I want you to be safe and happy, and I can't do that if he hates me." He wished you knew how much he meant it. Mark ran a good empire, a great one really, but he was obnoxious when he didn't have to be. Loud. Flashy. Markus still couldn't believe they were the same person, that he had to suck up like he had to his Father, just to protect you. It was humiliating, but it had to be done.

You couldn't believe it took you so long to realize, you had just woken up but the thought made a trill of fear squeeze your stomach. He came to the Emperor's bedroom. He was less than a few feet away, casually sitting on his bed. There were implications in the action, an underlying loyalty that wasn't to Mark or his Empire. You looked at him now and saw what he had been trying to tell you the whole time. When you fought back, you were only shut down harder than before, you weren't the only one who had to put their head down to survive. The good little Viltrumite soldier was a show, probably one he had put on for years before coming here, the real Markus was the one sitting in front of you. Uncaring of the rules when no one was around, only willing to play along to a point, and that point was you not trusting him. The trill of fear for him morphed into something yearning within you, this was seditious. An act of rebellion that would get you both in trouble. You could both get something out of this, a revenge of your own.

"The last time I needed you in the desert, you wimped out." You said slowly, still staring at him. You watched his brows furrow at the implication, watched the mole under his mouth move as he frowned slightly. Markus was left reeling, unbelieving you were actually coming onto him at a time like this. "You gonna pussy out this time if I ask you to prove it? Prove you don't care about him." You went on, doubled down. Markus remembered the desert sun, you practically begging for him, him leaving to let you cool down, only to come back to the sound of you fucking Seb.

Markus crossed the room in a single fluid motion. Leaned back on the desk, he towered over you, his boots kissing your socked feet. "If you want proof that I love you, that I would always choose you, I can give that to you."

But he stayed back, not quite touching you yet. He hadn't come with devious intentions. He'd come to be a friend, a chivalrous husband, not a full-blown rebel. Yet here he was, unable to resist your pull.

He knew he shouldn't. You were still vulnerable. Throat bruised from Mark's initial grab and collaring. You hadn't slept with him since then, he would've heard Mohawk bragging about it. You weren't endeared to him but Markus could easily get back in your good graces.

His hesitation melted when you brought a hand tentatively to his chest, tracing down his body with light fingers. The way his body reacted to the barely there touch was a reminder he hadn't had you since the desert. And before that, in months, since before your death at his own hands. It'd been a long time. You were still unstable, hurt, but you were looking up at him like you needed this to be okay. He just wanted you to be okay, that's why he came for a second chance in the first place. He'd dreamed of your body beneath his night after night until he went near mad in his own dimension, in your shared home, shared bed. Here you were, offering yourself to him to fix it, to stabilize the both of you.

He couldn't resist. Closed the distance with a hand gently cupping your cheek. The kiss was closed-lipped, slow. He was all softness and caressing, careful touches to your waist where as you were unmoving, the hand on his curled in on itself. Like you were still unsure, trying to discern from his kiss if he was telling the truth. He wanted to prove it and started by hitching you up onto desk by the bottoms of your thighs.

That made you move, kicked something into the right gear because the hand on his chest moved up to his neck, touching the skin where his suit ended. Steadying yourself with the contact. It was a nothing gesture to you, but everything to him. Now that you were here, wanting, under him, it was hard to control himself. But he knew you needed to be properly unwrapped like the gift you were. He settled for darting his tongue along your lower lip. Waiting for entry that was granted after a moment's hesitation.

In the desert, he'd tasted like stale spit and the jerky you hated so much. Here, he tasted like the peppermint mouthwashing tablets when his tongue lathed over yours. It wasn't long until your breath started to hitch and your body stared to grow warm. He knew just how to twist his tongue, knew how much you liked the press of his hand into your back so your bodies were flush. Your thighs splitting around his hips.

You were caged into a Mark, but this time of your own free will. Your defenses melted alarmingly fast. You needed this and he knew it. His caress over your frumpy clothes broke you down, You had asked for this but it was still a shock when he touched you over the sweats. Pressed his fingers into the cloth, rubbing up and down your slowly heating entrance. You gasped and shuddered as he expected, remembering how he first had you in those caves so many months ago. Back then he ran out of time, was worried the others would find you both and punish you for something he had done. Now he knew he had time.

Time to tease. Time to pull your hoodie up your body and let it fall to the ground. To again hold your breasts in his hands, massage your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You felt just like her but you shuddered more violently, unused to the touch in the way she was. You dug your heels into his back and tried to immediately start grinding on his rising dick like a rabbit.

"Slow down." He said, pulling away from the kiss to see your face. He found your eyes glassy with need.

"Speed up." You retorted.

Instead of replying, he bent down and captured a nipple between his lips. Looking up at you under raised brows as he sucked, tongue working over the sensitive skin. You moaned, tried to hold the eye contact but it was too embarrassing and it felt too good not to roll your eyes back. He hummed contently, going from one breast to another. Sucking, watching you, rubbing your twitching pussy through your sweats.

It wasn't enough, didn't fully convey his devotion. He hiked your hips up and pulled down your pants. Leaving you fully exposed, splayed open on the Emperor's desk. So ethereal in the distant space light. Glistening for him so soon after he started, just like he knew you would be.

"You're beautiful." He rasped, capturing you again in a kiss. Fingerpad going to your clit. Circling, pressing with the perfect amount of pressure to make your hips jump. You moaned openly into his mouth. Pressed your bare chest to him, wrapping your arms around his back trying to pull him ever closer. It was all he'd wanted for so long.

One finger pleasuring your clit became two. You were bucking into his hand now, struggling to keep the kiss going with how well he was working you. But you did for the closeness, the human contact you'd been missing, surrounded by all these people, you'd never felt so alone. Markus took the opportunity to slide down to your entrance, easily pushing in two fingers. Listened to that song of, "oh fuck," that fell from your lips.

He pumped into you unhurried, thumb rolling over your clit. You hips brought you down fast onto him, you were trying to chase a quick release. Markus allowed it this time, zeroed in on your g-spot until you came. Hard and squeezing. He didn't stop as the roll of muscles slowed, he kept you moaning, kept your head in the clouds.

He took your nipple into his mouth as he added a third finger, a tight fit but you groaned and quickly adjusted. Pumping with his whole arm, filling you thick then pulling out to the fingertips. Over and over. He switched between breasts, coming up for air to kiss you methodically where your kisses had gone sloppy already. He knew you were close when you tensed around him, so he sped up for only a moment, but it was just enough to make you squeal and cum. Again he sees the orgasm through, but doesn't stop the roll of his fingers. Your hips snapped into him desperately, but he didn't pick up the pace, had already conceded to your impatient nature.

"Easy." He just smiled, kissing your forehead and lowering to his knees.

After months of waiting, he was finally eye level with the only thing he'd ever pray to. Markus kissed down a wellworn path, bouncing from thigh to thigh, took your supple skin between his lips and sucked. Enjoyed the hitched breaths he pulled out of you. Finally, he was close enough to your apex to smell the sweat, the want that made you so silken and pretty. He looked up, legs hooked over his shoulders, fingers idly filling your cunt. You looked down at him, hunched over, heaving, starting to shine with sweat. He couldn't help it as he said, "You're perfect."

Down he went, going right for the kill that made your heels kick into his back. He drooled as he lapped at your clit, tasting that flavor he knew so well. It was a shame that the taste faded as more of his spit coated your cunt but the bane was evened out by the boon of you cumming on his face. He didn't slow, tongue far from tired as your hips rocked against his face. He moaned, caught your eye as his tongue went from flat to lethal sharp. Watched as your face went from wanting to cumming again.

Your hand shot down, twisted into his salt-pepper hair and pulled. It didn't hurt, but it make his cock jump in the tightness of his suit made him moan again into you. A stream of swears fell past your lips, your body was hot and heaving, the pleasure coming in waves, each more intense than the last, leaving you breathless. You were starting to struggle to keep yourself upright, to not thrash and throw all the papers to the ground. You nearly fell back when his fingers left you all at once.

Markus muttered to himself, "Need more." Before he dragged you forward by the back of your ass until you were practically sat on his collarbones. You didn't expect it, but his tongue shoved into your entrance was a welcome change. It was soft, didn't go very deep, but it wasn't about depth for Markus it was to taste more of you, to lap up your cum.

One of his hands busied itself rubbing at your clit. The other pinched and rolled your nipple. You didn't think you'd cum but you did, squeezing around his tongue, giving him just want he wanted to the muffled praise, "Good, hahhh, so good for me," as his fingers replaced his tongue which again latched onto your clit.

You were trapped in hold, gasping, mind being wiped further with every subsequent orgasm. Eight, you think the count was. By then, you'd fallen back onto the desk. Arms thrashed when you weren't holding onto his head, knocking the papers to the floor.

Markus rose from between your legs, baptized from the nose down. You tasted yourself in his kiss as his fingers drilled into you. "Markus I- fuck!" You keened, back peeling sticky off the table as another orgasm was forced out of you.

"Shhh, it's okay." He said against the incoherent babble pouring out of your slick lips. "I've got you."

Your eyes, shiny with tears opened unfocused, "Markus- fuck me."

He chuckled, dark eyes honeyed, "What do you think I've been doing?" You throbbed around his fingers, he’d slowed down to let you think a bit, but it was still too much. He knew it, didn't let up, continued to bully your cunt just waiting for you to beg.

You pulled at his suit, "Take it off, please, I want you inside me.”

He wasn't one to listen to begging when he steeled himself, but hearing you say please changed things. He pulled out of you, leaving you empty and throbbing. You were carried to the bed, laid down over the sheets, legs hanging over the sides. Looking down your body at him, you could see, "Fuck, you're so hard."

How could he not be when you were splayed and desperate for him? Gasping the longer he went without tearing his clothes off and plowing you into the mattress, "Please, Markus, please." He'd already been rock hard, but he felt himself throb every time you pleaded.

The suit was gone. Thrown into the same heap as your clothes. He threw himself over you, kissing you harder while the bottom of his bare cock slipped against your dripping folds. You whimpered under him, pulled at his back saying, "Come on, come on."

"Be patient." He snipped against you, purposefully grinding his length over your clit. Taking great pleasure in your extended suffering without something to fill you up. "You can be patient, can't you?"

"I can't." You made a good case, bucking against him, whining so sweet when you were never this pliant before. "Please."

His cockhead barely pressed into you and your eyes rolled back with a gasp.

"Look at me." He said, steadying your thrashing head with a hand. You leaned into the touch unconsciously, and it took you a moment to unscrew your gaze, to meet his. "Good," he pushed in an inch further, stopping when your eyes fluttered closed, "(Y/n)." There were those pretty eyes again. "I know it's hard but you have to look at me."

"W-" you shuddered as he slid in another inch, "Why?"

"Because," he purred, "this is my favorite part."

All at once, he was buried to the hilt. Holding you down as you thrashed. Cunt throbbing hard around his thick intrusion. He didn't wait, knew you were very ready for the onslaught. Hips clapping into yours, dragging his cock nearly all the way out then ramming it back in. It only took a handful of strokes for you to cum again.

Markus felt his cock twitch inside you but he pushed down the need to fill you. Months ago he wouldn't blink at the feeling, now that his dry spell was over he needed to bring his stamina back up to standard, cumming on only your ninth orgasm was unacceptable.

You were only spared the few seconds he needed to bring himself off the edge, then you were right back to being tortured. You tried to keep up, to thrust your hips back into him, but you'd already gone so limp from his earlier use. Markus ended up doing most of the work, not that he minded using you this way. Not that he knew you would either, in time you'd come to realize you liked being fucked like a toy. He'd let that realization simmer for another day.

Number ten came with a scream. Your nails clawing at his back, your teeth on his shoulder. He kept his pace but was rutting inside you, barely pulling out when you felt so good around him. Eleven followed shortly after.

It's after twelve you said, hardly coherent. "I can't- I can't anymore." You were fluttering around him, twitching, letting him guide you down onto his cock. Mind completely smashed.

Markus wanted to be sweet so badly, to coo and slow down to reassure you, but it was hard not to be mean the way he knew you liked when you were this gone.

"You can." He resolved to be soft but stern.

"No." You shook your head, pussy clenching around him with thirteen just around the corner. "I c-can't. Please-"

He didn't stop, didn't even slow down.

"Don't you want me to cum?" He asked chidingly.

The thought of him cumming inside you nearly made you sob. "Please- Please I want you to cum in me."

Markus wasn't expecting that but grinned anyway. "Yeah?"

"Please," you untangled your fist from the bed to hold his hips rocking into you, your nails digging in like you could make him stop or speed up, you didn't even know what you wanted anymore, "please, fuck, I need it."

Again he almost does but he controls himself. Makes you go raw-throated with orgasms until all you were tight with them. Crying that you couldn't cum again but you always did. He always goaded you back to sanity by whispering, "Just one more," then after you came, he kept going.

You tried to protest, but your words meant nothing. You were back to begging every time you were close which, as time went on, is always seconds after the last orgasm.

When you're well past fifteen, he lets the mental blocks float away. Said to you, "One more for me? Just one?"

You can't even nod but a whine comes from your throat that sounds like another, "C-caaan't."

"Do it for me, baby." Markus bore down on you, finally letting himself circle the drain. Listening keenly for the telltale hitch of your breath as you were about to cum. You did with a final shudder. Markus lunged to kiss you as his cock throbbed, and he filled you with hot release. He was frozen there, hips stuttering as his orgasm left him almost dizzy. Going soft in the mix of your juices. He wanted to stay there forever, and for a long time he does.

When he finally rolled you over to lay on his chest, sweaty and stupid with dopamine, his cock slipped out and your combined cum leaked onto his thighs as he rubbed your back telling you how good you'd been. You just breathed wetly into the crook of his neck.

The first thing you said when you were coherent enough to speak was, "I don't think... I don't think I've ever came that many times."

"Really?" He was surprised to hear it. You had dated him hadn't you? What was that other Mark doing?

"Yeah. That was like, a lot."

"Mmm, it's about average. Maybe a little under if we take a break." He said.

"I can't tell if you're joking, my brain's not working."

"I'm not." Markus ran his fingers down the curve of your back, smiling when you arched into him. Still sensitive and wanting even after he'd pushed you so far. "We'll get you there eventually."

"You're trying to kill me." But at least he was an ally. Well and truly proved his love and loyalty. You can't think of anyone who'd be stupid enough to fuck the Emperor's girlfriend in his bed.

As much as he wanted to stay with you, Markus had to leave, not before cleaning up the room and showering with you, where he made you come undone again. Filled you once more and let it all seep down the drain.

He left with a lingering goodbye kiss and a promise to make things better. You found it hard not to believe him. When the door shut, you finally picked something off of the food tray and ate.

There was a long debriefing when everyone returned. Most of them were clean of blood from how fast they flew except for Lensless who went slow to stay gory. Markus was praised highly by Kregg for his efforts, a rare smile accompanying it. Mohawk clapped him on the shoulder, grinning with all his teeth when he promoted Markus and Gray both to official Emperor's guard. When they finished celebrating he thought he'd return to a wanting you who masturbated in his time away, at least according to the vitals monitoring you. Mohawk didn't like the observation staff watching him all the time so he hadn't had cameras installed in his room. None of them tipped him off to anything strange, so he didn't check the cameras to the hall for a Markus-shaped blur. Didn't think to sync the timetable of his entry and exit with your spiked vitals.

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fall0utmind · 3 days ago

Text

Ruined

Hi, so this isn't my normal fic at all. It was a real effort of labour and love. I would really appreciate you reading it and letting me know what you think. I actually really love it so I hope you do too !!!!!! I know Tony/Fabio isn't the most popular pairing but I really hope you enjoy xx

AO3 HERE

RPF summer camp - 'sunburn'

It was Fabio's fault, really.

He was the one who told Mig that it was fine to include in the podcast.

Fabio had laughed, high and false in his throat, when the older man had asked if he should cut it out, eyes sympathetic. The sensible thing would have been to politely agree and request that any mention of Tony be eradicated from the final cut, but Fabio had never been sensible.

The fans would like it, if nothing else. They always liked the rider interactions. Better if it was something they weren't privy to: the secret interactions in the paddock, hidden behind corners and inside motorhomes. God knew that there were enough of them. Fabio knew that some of them would rock the motorbiking world and hence would never see the light of day.

(Well, not if Marc had his way.)

Mig was kind enough not to push or pry into it anymore, not so subtly changing the subject. But he had done enough by alluding to the nature of their relationship and the privacy it required.

Well, not that there was an actual relationship to keep private.

Fabio sort of wanted to make a childish comment about Franky in retaliation, calling attention to the way Mig stared at him like a forlorn puppy, if only to level the playing field. Instead, he shrugged it off, pretended for a second that this was normal, that he was fine. That Tony didn't mean the world to him, more than a friend ever should, or that Mig's questions had opened a sinking chasm of realisation inside his chest. He pointedly ignored Mig's concerned look and shoved any thoughts of his friend to the back of his mind, leaving before he could be interrogated further. He hugged Mig on the way out, tried not to think about the way he clung on a fraction too long.

He had never quite grasped how undeniably gone he was for his best mate until that moment, warm to the core as he talked about their friendship. Nor was he ready to admit that to himself by giving in to Mig's kindness. Fabio knew that Tony wouldn't mention it. They had been skirting around Fabio's weird affection for years, like biting around the soft, brown bit of an apple, letting the rotten parts decay some more, hoping one day it wouldn't exist at all. Fabio could play it off as a joke, he thought, in the same way he brushed aside all the girlfriend questions, pretending that a relationship was a waste of his time.

If anyone looked closely, if they knew Fabio, they would see that Tony wasn't a joke to him. Most had seemingly worked it out before Fabio. In hindsight, it wasn't like he had hidden his affection, his obsession with the younger man. Surely Tony understood. Fabio watched every one of Tony's races, standing on the other side of the pit wall to cheer him on, unashamed of the constant buzz and the cameras trained on him. He constantly wanted to be around the Italian, sought out his affection like a sunflower chased the sun even as it dipped below the horizon. Fabio didn't do that for anyone else.

It had just taken him years to understand that the affection he felt wasn't just the strong ties of friendship which bound them together. If Fabio was the last to catch on, that meant that Tony knew.

The problem wasn't really on Fabio's end, then.

(Or maybe it was, he was the one who had gone and developed a crush after all.)

He didn't even know where Mig had gotten half of his gossip, however true it was. Of course, Andrea was always in the paddock with the VR46 team, and anyone with eyes could see the closeness between Fabio and Tony. But this hit a little too close to home for his liking. It was like someone had come along and scooped out his soft middle, leaving his aching heart unprotected, almost handing the knife to Tony.

How Uccio had seen him at Tony's door was another mystery. He didn't think anyone had been around whilst he was skulking around the paddock, late enough that even the media had headed home. The picture was burned into his memory, but he had no recollection of when or where it was, just that it had been another bad practice, and Fabio, seeking comfort, had gone to Tony's door, following the warm light seeping out from inside.

He had been brave, for once, calling upon his friend rather than shutting himself away to sulk. Fabio had convinced himself to go to where he knew the younger man was, feeling turbulent, something tight squeezing in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He made it all the way to the door, only to hear the unmistakable sound of Tony's voice, soft and flirty as he spoke; the answering laugh was high-pitched, distinctly feminine. Presumably, he had company, flavour of the month, Fabio scoffed. He squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain, the feelings of inadequacy, fist still raised as if to knock. He left without entering, afraid to be a nuisance, his heart spasming. Fabio didn't think about it again; he cried himself to sleep in the darkness of his own empty motorhome instead.

He felt a little bit like he'd been drowning in denial until approximately three days ago, when the podcast had aired, and he watched just how fond his face was when talking about Tony. It was one thing for his friends to know, another to sit in the puddle of his own ignorance, something else entirely for his dirty laundry to be aired so publicly.

(And yet he had agreed.)

It was a cruel, last-minute wish to have more time, to explore this feeling, to acquaint himself with it before he had to package it up into a neat little box and shove it into the depths of his mind. The sudden switch up from believing he just adored his friend in all the normal ways to realising they had skipped past platonic long ago.

Tom, in typical fashion, sent him the little clips that Mig had posted on social media. The question marks accompanying the reel were damning, as was the incoming call, which Fabio promptly declined, ignoring several further messages from both Tom and Mathilde until he finally gave up and turned off his phone.

The evening was spent with Fabio in tears, wrapped in his softest hoodie, panicking because he had somehow missed the fact that he was in love with his best friend. He knew that he loved Tony, but he didn't realise that he was in love with Tony. How he had managed to miss that one was a mystery to all. His stomach churned with bitter fear, which clawed up the back of his throat, burning like acid. He sobbed until his head was pounding and unconsciousness took hold, still slumped on the sofa, an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table, diet be damned.

The next day, he tried to outrun it, 21km until his legs felt jelly and he bent over the nearest rubbish bin to hurl his guts out. Unpleasant, yet somehow more tolerable than the damning weight of his feelings. Fabio stood in the shower for an undetermined amount of time after, his brain wading through years' worth of repressed emotions, trying to find something akin to authenticity to cling on to. He felt miserable. Thoughts swirled through his mind like water whirlpooling down the drain. He watched the glass cloud with steam, breathed in the air, and held his breath. He counted the droplets trickling down the walls, exhaled when he reached ten, gasping through the burn of his lungs, which matched the crack in his heart. Water fell from his hair, down his cheeks, obscuring the tears which were consistent now, streaming down his face, washed away by the shower.

Fabio didn't know what he was meant to do.

He towelled off after, once the water began to run cold. He redressed into something comfortable, forgoing food since unlikely he to keep anything down. His phone chimed from the kitchen counter, hastily turned back on before his run. He ignored it, letting the ring tone become background noise.

Fabio sometimes hated his former self, the one who made plans whilst he was feeling extroverted. His friends and he had booked a weekend off ages ago, with the idea of going somewhere hot and sunny, with a boat, good food and alcohol. It was meant to be a relaxing mini break, some time to just be themselves. But now Fabio was stuck between a rock and a hard place - everyone would be able to read between the lines, know that Fabio was completely and utterly head over heels for Tony, who would also be there.

In summary, he was entirely fucked.

There was a knock on his door, just after his workout, before he could even get out of his sweaty clothes. Fabio sighed, wishing that he could just have a morning off to mope, but alas. He opened it, revealing Tom on the other side, his face stern. It turned out that there was no escaping this. Sometimes, he really wished that Tom were less efficient.

When they finally met up with the others, Fabio tried everything in his power to act normally, pulling Tony into a bro hug and ignoring the pounding of his pulse. It was easier with the others there, less chance for Fabio to overthink everything he did, so long as he ignored their unsubtle glances. The journey was fine, with most people's attention fixated on either navigation or planning, Fabio managed to zone out and listen to music the entire way there. They had booked out a villa, which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant sharing space with the boys for longer, but also saved the hassle of hotels and Cannes had nice places on Fabio's budget. He disappeared straight to his room when they arrived, feigning tiredness despite the restlessness in his entire body, skipping dinner altogether.

They left early enough the next morning to forgo talking. It wasn't until they settled onto the boat and left the harbour, towels already spread on the deck and jet ski in tow, that Fabio had to consciously worry. He stuck close to Tom, soaking in the sun and lazily keeping track of the threads of conversation, effectively avoiding Tony. It was all going okay, really, until Tony decided to take his shirt off. Suddenly, Fabio was powerless, unable to look away from the miles of tanned skin and muscles it had revealed. His arms were thick, corded with more muscle than Fabio remembered, strong biceps and smooth pecs swelling in all the right ways. In a twisted turn of events, Fabio was delirious with sudden desire, a heat building in his stomach, thoughts of being under Tony, those arms wrapped around him, chest to chest, filling his mind. He licked his lips, tore his gaze away, disgusted with himself. He tried not to make it too transparent, the way he flicked his eyes over every so often, evaluating whether it was him or Tony who had changed. Surely, his body didn't just decide overnight that he was sexually attracted to the younger man. Sure, Fabio always thought that he was attractive, but he wondered whether he had always been so obviously fixated on Tony.

He really should have stayed at home, told everyone that he was too sick to come.

(Tom probably would have dragged him out of the house himself.)

"-Fabio"

He jerked forward, eyes drawn back to the conversation, smiling sheepishly as a blush spread over his cheeks. He had lost the train of dialogue the minute a certain someone had decided to strip. His friends laughed at him, assuming it was just Fabio being himself, ADHD tendencies and all that. He shrugged, as if to say, 'What did you expect?', his smile self-deprecating. Only Tom continued to stare when the discussion moved on, shooting him an inscrutable look - clearly Fabio wasn't fooling him. Tom had always known him too well.

Now there were two people Fabio had to avoid, with both Tony and Tom being dangerous territory, although for vastly different reasons. He couldn't be alone with Tony, lest he a) did something incredibly stupid or b) was asked a question which he couldn't answer and ended up in an incredibly awkward position. Tom was almost certainly going to lecture him about his love life, which Fabio also wasn't too keen on.

God truly was unfair sometimes. Putting him in a one-sided love affair with a sport that hated him, made him fall for one of his best friends, and made another best friend the biggest worrier of all time.

Typical.

A stroke of luck meant that Fabio made it a whole two hours before Tom cornered him. Those hours were full of blissful peace and laughter, over too soon. He was lying on a deck chair, eyes shut, soaking up the sun and trying desperately hard not to think. He didn't see the others move across the boat, leaving him alone, perfect for ambushing.

There was a weight on the side of the sun bed. Fabio blinked his eyes open only to squeeze them shut again when he realised it was Tom who was looking down at him expectantly, his gaze burning.

"Fabio", he began.

"No, go away. I'm tired." Fabio whined.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on with Tony?"

"No."

"Oh, so there is something", Tom badgered, clearly not content with Fabio's want for privacy.

"...no"

"Is this about that podcast?"

Tom raised his eyebrows. Fabio glared.

"No."

"Is there anything else you can say?" Tom asked, long-suffering.

Fabio smirked. Well, Tom just walked into that one.

"Yes", he mocked.

Tom groaned.

"When did you realise?"

"Realise what?" Fabio questioned.

"That you were in love with him, you idiot"

Fabio stopped, stared, squinting at Tim's serious face, the sun haloing around him. Okay, so not joking. Great, did everyone know?

Fabio chucked, humourless.

"Eh, probably the podcast. Around." He answered.

"Jesus fuck Fabio, only then?"

"Ey, shut up. I thought it was a weird crush, a very deep friendship, no?"

"Yeah, but we have a very deep friendship, and you've never felt like this for me!" Tom snapped, tone somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.

Fabio coughed awkwardly and looked away. He could feel his cheeks heat as the silence stretched on.

"Oh my god. Merde. Fabio..."

"Nope, we are not talking about it. Please, Tom", Fabio begged, beyond mortified. This was humiliating enough already, just considering the whole Tony thing.

"You know he likes you, too, right? You two are idiots. It's so stupid." Tom bemoaned.

"He clearly doesn't, or he would have said something."

Tom sighed.

"Maybe he's waiting for you to make a move."

"He keeps dating random girls, so I don't think so. It's not my fault that he isn't interested. Why don't you talk to him instead?"

"Fabio. Bro, come on. You are so not serious about this. You go on that show and spend so long talking about Tony that they have to give it its own titled section, and you still won't do anything. This is ridiculous," he grumbled.

Fabio looked away. Flushed

"What do you want me to say. I didn't know," he whispered, inaudible. He didn't want to talk about this anymore.

"Chéri, stop mumbling." Tom requested, the sweet pet name slipping out, an age-old habit. It did nothing to temper the upset bubbling within Fabio.

"I didn't fucking know okay? I thought it was some kind of weird attraction or jealousy. Maybe a little crush. I didn't realise it was love until after. I mean, I didn't even realise how obvious I've been. Not until it was spelt out for me. On record, I may add. And now everything is fucked and I don't know how to act and everyone knows. And I'm panicking. Fuck, what am I meant to do"

The air deserted his lungs, his breath catching on the way out, making an awful squeaking whimper in the back of his throat as he shuddered through an inhale. He felt like he was burning up from the inside, the walls crushing inwards as he tried to gasp for oxygen for his lungs, which felt like they were collapsing. His vision fogged, blurred, whether by tears or because he felt like he was dying, he didn't know. The overwhelming feeling of dread sat like stone in his stomach, rising anxiety clawing at him.

"Okay. Okay. Fabio, it's okay. Take some deep breaths for me, ok?" Tom soothed, an edge of panic cracking his syllables.

Fabio went through the motions, coached by Tom, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise. We can work this out, yes. Just treat him as normal. It hasn't actually changed. You've just realised. We all love you the same, ok?"

Fabio nodded, finally able to gasp through a breath, and another. He stared up at Tom with wide eyes, accepted the bottle of water handed to him.

"You coming to grab some food, the others will be out soon?"

Fabio hummed, his stomach churning. He looked away, guilty.

"Maybe in a bit", he said.

Tom smiled gently, patting his cheek, allowing Fabio to lean into it. There was evident concern in his eyes; Fabio overlooked it.

"You need to eat, yes? Promise me?" Tom implored.

"Okay"

Tom smiled, stood up. As he turned to walk away, he looked back at Fabio and called out.

"Make sure to top up your sunscreen or you'll burn."

Fabio hummed; Tom always had been the mum friend, which was why he made a good manager, as annoying as it could be. But he was right, the boys re-emerged a few minutes later with plates of food and beers, and Fabio's stomach rumbled. He closed his eyes, rolled onto his front and considered taking a nap. The warning went unheeded.

His eyelids were beginning to droop when the deck chair unexpectedly shifted again. Someone is sitting down. A finger prodded his cheek, once, twice. He tried to ignore them, but they were persistent, annoyingly so.

"Fuck off, Tom"

A huff. Fabio peeled his eyes open to glare, only to find himself face to face with Tony, not Tom. His heart somersaulted in his chest, and the heat of the sun seemed to ricochet up.

"Fabiooooo", Tony sang, clearly a few beers in.

Great.

Despite himself, Fabio smiled, amused by his friend's antics, his pulse beating double time.

"Can you help me with my sunscreen, please?"

Fabio gulped, glanced between the bottle Tony had produced and the younger man, trying not to fixate on the sculpted abs, his sculpted pectorals, or the 'v' of his stomach with the trail of hair which led into his shorts.

"Why can't you do it yourself?" he asked, just this side of whiny.

Tony stared at him like he'd said something odd, perhaps he had, Fabio thought. It was making him feel weird, shifted slightly.

"Eh, I cannot reach my back"

Fabio considered his options. He couldn't say no without making it weird, and couldn't really say yes without going through hell and potentially still making it weird in the process.

It wasn't like he had much choice.

He sighed theatrically and gestured at Tony to turn around. At least he didn't have to look at his pretty face whilst doing it.

He squirted a dollop of sun cream on his hands, placed it carefully onto the warm, smooth skin of Tony's back, trying not to stare, for his hands to linger.

Fabio bit his lip and began to spread the scream evenly across the younger man's back. He focused on making sure to get all the areas which were usually missed, rather than thinking about who was underneath his hands. Tony's muscles shifted under his fingers, and Fabio traced the ridges of them, eyes glued to the way the rippled, pure, compact power.

He dug his fingers into the deep muscle of Tony's shoulder, accidentally putting more pressure through each digit than he meant to. It made Tony shift, whisper-quiet noises falling from his mouth, a bitten-off moan when Fabio grazed the planes between his shoulder and neck.

"Fuck, you're good at that eh?" He said, looking over his shoulder.

Fabio's cheeks flamed red as he shifted his shorts ever so slightly, trying to ignore his growing interest in the situation. Tony leaned back into his hands.

When his shoulders were completely covered, Fabio reapplied the cream, trailed his hands down his back and sides, trying not to linger, torn between two minds, he wanted to draw it out, but the quicker it was over, the better.

He swiped a hand lower, over Tony's lower back dimples, mouth watering we he pressed a thumb into the divot. Tony exhaled loudly. There was an elastic pull of tension between them, now crackling in the air, a second before lightning strikes. Fabio gulped, gave in to temptation, let his hands stray to the waistband of Tony's shorts, briefly dipping under, running across the hot skin there.

Tony stiffened, stuttered a breath. Fabio withdrew his hands quickly, squeezed his eyes shut.

"Okay, you're done", he said, voice hoarse, too low.

Tony cleared his throat, painfully awkward. It was like a moment had been broken, the tension snapping. Fabio's pulse was pounding against his temples, his hands frozen.

"Thank you. Let me get yours, yes?" Tony asked, eyes turning back to Fabio, something in his voice. Tom's words echoed in his head, 'He likes you too'

Fabio halted, considering. He could test the theory, let Tony touch him, revel in the feeling of strong hands on his body. He could let his head fall back, groan quietly when Tony palmed his neck, always so sensitive. But the risk was too great.

"No, no, I'm okay." He muttered, pulling away from Tony's body heat, the sweat forming small streams down the side of his neck. He looked away.

"Eh, Tom said you needed a top up", Tony argued, eyes wide.

"Yes, well. Tom is lying and he is not my mother", Fabio snapped..

Tony held both hands up in surrender, shooting Fabio an odd look, confused, bordering on hurt, before he finally retreated.

Fabio closed his eyes, exhaled, already regretting his anger. He just needed a second to get over it, to enjoy the last few moments of peace before he knew the boys would harass him into food, jet skiing, and generally being childish. He tried to soothe over the hurt, the aching wound of his heart, too raw and vulnerable, and prayed he could get it together in less than five minutes.

For a moment, he allowed himself to remember the feeling of Tony's firm muscles under his hands, his lingering warmth. The sounds he made were burned into Fabio's brain - a small allowance, one he would probably regret. He desperately tried to ignore the feelings which accompanied the pure desire in his belly, swallowed them down until he felt sick to the stomach. Fabio sighed, practiced a false smile before he stood up, readying himself to join the others, stupid heartache be damned.

By the end of the day, he had consumed enough beers to briefly forget the muddle of feelings inside him. Drunk enough to shrug off the veil of embarrassment and spend the day bent in two. Laughing so hard his stomach cramped. He ignored the worried looks from Tom, the curious glances from Tony, and tried to enjoy the time he had before he felt like his world was collapsing again.

It turned out that forgoing sun cream was a mistake. One which became more evident when he stripped off in the bathroom to shower, only to hiss through his teeth at the soreness of his back, red and sensitive under the spray of water. Fabio wrenched the temperature control down to cold, forcing himself under until he was shivering.

He winced at every rub of the towel against his skin, skin oversensitive and hot. There was a knock on his door as Fabio pulled on his boxers. Fabio shifted, hissed at the discomfort from his pulling skin, two sizes too small.

He debated for a second. It would be Tom, no doubt. He didn't really want to talk, but Tom was the most persistent bastard he knew. It had been kind of awkward over dinner, and he really just wanted to go to bed. He knew they would have to discuss this at some point.

"It's open", he called, expectantly trudging over to his bed, flopping down on his stomach, not turning to greet Tom as the door squeaked on its hinges. Fabio had claimed the room furthest away from the others on purpose, more privacy, less chance of people disturbing his moping.

Tom walked in, inhaled sharply. Fabio glanced over his shoulder. Oh, he thought. Not Tom. Tony.

He suddenly became very conscious of the fact that he was clad only in his underwear.

"That's some burn you've got there", he said, approaching slowly, cautious as if Fabio was a wild animal. He moved so he was sitting, watching Tony come closer, a bottle of something clutched in his hands. Fabio hummed in agreement, eyes flicking over Tony's face, his body, unsure where to settle.

"Did you put sun cream on?" Tony asked. Fabio shifted, guilty.

"No"

"You fucking idiot. What's gotten into you? You've been weird all day, this whole trip actually."

There was frustration in his voice, a frown on his face.

"Nothing," Fabio replied, tearing his gaze away.

"Don't lie to me", Tony said. When he was less than a foot away, he knelt in front of Fabio, tapped his cheek. Fabio ignored it, looking down, so Tony grabbed his chin, tilted it up so they could make eye contact. Fabio averted his eyes, tried to escape the grasp. Tony sighed, releasing his chin.

Fabio fell backwards against the bed as he scrambled away, trying to put some distance between them so he could breathe. He bit his lips and winced, hard, as the sheet scratched his back.

He received a raised brow for his efforts, bafflement etched onto the younger man's feature features. Fabio held eye contact for a beat, shifting his legs restlessly. Tony observed him quietly, a steely resolve settled in his eyes, something which rang alarm bells for Fabio. Tony huffed a laugh, clearly something showed on his face. He tapped Fabio's calf.

"Come in, on your front. I have some aloe, it'll help. The burn isn't too bad... well, it won't need any more treatment than this. You are lucky. And if it still hurts, I will kiss it better." Tony said.

To Fabio's mortification, he rolled straight over at the command, barely parsing Tony's words until after, a red flush forming on his cheeks at his friend's joke. It felt almost cruel, all things considered, although Tony didn't know.

"Good", Tony muttered. Fabio barely had time to consider that, the way Tony's voice was husky, and the praise made his heart thump, before there were firm hands on his back. The coolness of aloe vera spread across his shoulders was in direct contrast to the warmth of Tony's hands, the trail of heat he left behind. Fabio snapped his eyes shut at the onslaught of sensations, bit down a whimper.

Tony was careful, meticulous. He slathered on layers of gel, digging his fingers in just right, but always gentle, oh so gentle so as to not hurt Fabio. He was putty in Tony's hands, melting into the mattress with the touch, unable to prevent the way his mind fogged.

He let out a soft moan as Tony ran a hand up the back of his neck, the other on his lower back. Fabio shoved his face into the pillows, felt the way it glowed pink in embarrassment. Even so, he let Tony keep going, kept his eyes closed and tried desperately hard not to shift his hips into the mattress. Fabio lost track of time, only roused at the loss of warm hands on his body. He whined, delirious, and clamped his mouth shut again, mortified.

Tony placed a delicate kiss on his spine, another on his shoulder. Fabio shivered, his brain stuttering to a halt.

"There we go, all better," Tony murmured, his voice gravelly.

"You did so well for me."

Fabio muffled his answering gasp into the pillow, his hips twitching of their own accord.

"Fuck"

Tony moved before Fabio could think, and then strong hands were flipping him over, careful with his back, and pulling him into a sitting position. The younger man crowded against him, almost in his lap, knees bracketing Fabio's thighs. God, Fabio thought, he was so hot. He licked his lips on impulse, relishing in the way Tony's eyes tracked the movement, addicted to the rush of desire, how it prickled his skin.

The first press of their lips together was gentle, loving. Fabio froze for a beat, his heart racing, and all he could think was 'finally', 'finally'. Then, his brain clicked into gear, the sudden feelings rushing in like a tidal wave. He pushed into the kiss, trying to get as close as possible, allowing Tony to lick into his mouth when he gasped. Fabio didn't think he would ever be the same, not now that he knew the little panting noises that Tony made, the way his biceps flexed when he took off his t-shirt.

Fabio moaned when Tony broke off, focusing his attention on Fabio's neck, biting marks into his skin, and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. He let his head fall backwards, gasping up at the ceiling as Tony continued, somehow knowing all of the things to make Fabio crazy, the spot behind his ear, how he licked across his collarbone, biting just this side of too hard. Fabio threaded his hands into Tony's hair, brought their lips together again. Every second that passed felt like a dream as he sank into his friend's grasp, revelling in the way they fit together, how Tony kissed like he never wanted to breathe again. God, Fabio was screwed.

They broke apart, both panting. Tony rested his forehead against Fabio's.

"You're such an idiot", he said.

"Hey!" Fabio scowled, way to ruin the moment.

"How did you not know that I liked you?"

Fabio frowned, confused.

"You didn't really make it obvious?"

'Fabio, I've been obsessed with you for years", Tony admitted, his tone amused, but honest.

"But the girlfriends..." Fabio countered.

"Nothing. None of them mattered. I flirted with you loads, I thought maybe you liked me back, but you never responded when I made a move, so I assumed you weren't interested. That it was a game to you."

"A game? What. No!"

"When did you realise?" Tony asked

"That I liked you?"

Tony laughed, shook his head.

"No, when did you figure out that I liked you?"

"Um, approximately two minutes ago", Fabio admitted.

Tony gaped.

"Okay, wow. And when did you work out that you liked me?" he questioned.

"Ah, Mig... The podcast"

"Of course"

Tony looked entertained, if slightly baffled. Fabio blushed, looked away in embarrassment. He wasn't sure what for, whether it was the amount of time it took for him to work out his feelings or just the foreign admittance of his emotions.

"No, no. It is cute. I am glad, No? Now I can do this," Tony said, before kissing Fabio again, brief and sweet. He pulled away, pressed small kisses to his cheeks, forehead, and nose until Fabio was giggling underneath him.

Tony kissed him properly then, firm and consuming, nipping Fabio's lower lip playfully as he drew back. It made something tingle in his lower belly, somewhere between affection and lust. God, he wanted this man so badly.

"Stay?" He whispered, their lips still brushing together.

Tony smiled, gently, pressed one more kiss to Fabio's cheek and replied.

"Of course, amore"

He silenced Fabio's answering giggle with his lips, playfully pushing him back against the headboard, fully seating himself in Fabio's lap and touching everywhere his hands could reach until Fabio forgot all of his troubles, thoughts consumed instead by the man in front of him.

The sun was bright when Fabio woke up the next morning. There was the foreign heat of another body curled around him. Tony, his head tucked into Fabio's neck, lips ghosting his skin in a way that made Fabio shiver on each exhale. The memories of last night came flooding back. Body heat, the soft sheets between them, the hazy head space he always got to when a partner knew how to look after him. The thought made his hips twitch in anticipation as he remembered how Tony easily pinned him down, both of Fabio's wrists encircled by one of Tony's hands, the other on his hip.

The room still smelled like sex.

He inhaled, tried to forget the fact that he now knew Tony was a talker in bed, constantly telling Fabio how well he was doing, how pretty he looked and telling him what to do. Fabio was officially ruined for anyone else; he would be unable to get into bed with another again without thinking about how Tony seemed to implicitly know everything Fabio wanted, the fine line between dominating and caring, being gentle but firm enough that Fabio could take a back seat.

He sighed, leant back against the Italian, tried not the disturb his sleep.

"Tesoro, stay still for just a second. It is too early," Tony groaned, his voice hoarse with sleep, deeper than usual. Fabio truly was ruined. He shifted again, restless, and pushed his ass into Tony's crotch, enjoying the little sound the younger man made in response.

"Sorry", Fabio whispered.

"No, you're not. Fucking tease." Tony mumbled.

Fabio hummed in agreement, rolled over so he could face Tony.

"You think we can go another round without anyone realising?" he asked, coquettish and coy as he batted his eyelashes at the other man.

Tony chuckled, but his eyes were dark.

They were late for breakfast.

They walked into the kitchen one after another; the others already sat at the table, Tom at the coffee machine, fiddling with the buttons. Fabio knew they weren't subtle, but couldn't bring himself to care, not when they all kind of knew anyway. He was well aware of the ring of bite marks encircling his throat, as well as scattered across his collarbones and chest. It turned out that Tony was quite possessive; Fabio didn't mind, had delighted in pressing his fingers to the bruises in the bathroom mirror earlier.

Tom noticed first, his eyes widening before his face did something complicated, torn between relief and disgust, settling on something like amusement. He fist bumped Tony on his way by, pulled Fabio into a hug, grimacing at the state of his neck.

"Fucking finally", he said, releasing Fabio from his arms and knocking their shoulders together as he turned back to the stubborn appliance.

Fabio blushed, smiled gently at Tony as the Italian leaned over from where he was grabbing two plates to brush a kiss to his lips.

Yep, Fabio thought, definitely ruined for anyone else.

#rpf summer camp #tony arbolino #fabio quartararo #tabio #???#what is their ship #tony/fabio #motogp #motogp rpf #tom maubant #love you guys #so much #hope you read this far to read that!

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kabsey · 3 days ago

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Fledgling

(The fic I started for Rook Appreciation Week is going to be much longer and deeper than I anticipated. But I wanted to write at least a little something for my girl on de Riva day. When I thought about the prompt "Treviso," this is what came out. I fudge ages and timelines a bit, so Ilene is 11 and Viago is 20. Thank you, @rookappreciationweek, for organizing this celebration!)

After Viago all but threw Ilene into the carriage, he slammed the door behind her and began speaking with the driver in rapid-fire Antivan. Ilene rubbed her upper arm, where she would likely develop a bruise in the shape of his hand. Even so, she didn't think he was angry at her. She had done everything he had said: while he had spoken to the man in charge of his Crow House, she had stood at his side, eyes lowered, hands clasped in front of her. She hadn't spoken and hadn't fussed with the elaborate braided style his housekeeper had tugged and pulled her hair into before they left Treviso.

On the road to Salle, Ilene had peppered him with questions about the city that was to be her home while she trained as a fledgling. Until just a few days before, she had never left the limits of Ansburg. Now she was in a new country and had already seen two of its cities.

But when Viago climbed into the carriage (slamming the door behind him again), they began to drive away from the estate. Viago leaned his head back against the cushioned seat back, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ilene had learned years ago from her mother that when someone sat like that, they would not take kindly to chattering.

As they drove through the city, she was content enough to look out the window, but when they reached the rolling countryside beyond, she couldn't help but start to fidget. She'd never worn leather before, and now she was decked in it from neck to heel. It felt thick and stiff, even though it was just a simple jerkin and trousers, nothing like the elaborate armor Viago wore. She wasn't used to shoes either, and she wiggled her toes in the confines of her new boots, which dangled above the carriage floor when she sat back in her seat.

She wondered if Viago would let her keep them when he sent her away. She didn't speak Antivan—she had no idea what the head of his House had said—but it was plain enough that she wasn't going to be training in Salle.

When she finally couldn't resist the urge to learn what her fate would be, she asked, "Where are we going?"

Viago sighed without looking at her, probably annoyed that she had ruined his illusion of being alone. "Back to Treviso."

She nodded. "It's a busy port, right? Ships leave from there to go all over Thedas? I wouldn't necessarily have to go back to Ansburg."

Maybe she'd try to sneak on board a ship to Rivain. Rivain had pirates. Ilene thought she'd probably make a decent pirate, if she could find a captain that needed a cabin girl.

Viago lowered his hand and raised his head to pin her with his sharp blue eyes. "You are not going anywhere. You will train to become a Crow. That was our contract, and Crows never abandon a contract." He huffed a short laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "Let that be your first lesson."

"But the head of your House doesn't want me. How will I train? Where will I live?"

A furrow creased Viago's brow, and he rubbed at it as if it pained him. "You will stay at my townhouse in Treviso for now. I can teach you some things when I'm there."

His mouth twisted like he'd tasted something bitter. He'd made the same face when he'd proposed she become a Crow back in Ansburg, like he couldn't quite believe the words had left his lips.

Ilene frowned back at him. "Have you ever trained a fledgling before?"

"That... isn't relevant," he insisted, lifting his chin. "If that fool back in Salle won't have you, then I will. And when I am head of my own House, you will be one of mine. A de Riva."

"De Riva," Ilene repeated. "Rook de Riva."

Viago closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. "Rook is not your real name."

Ilene shrugged. He had never asked her real name, so she'd come up with a new one when his housekeeper asked. "It is now. Nothing from my old life matters anymore. All that matters is that I'm going to be a Crow."

He opened his eyes to meet her gaze again. She didn't lower hers or look away. Instead she squared her shoulders and set her jaw. She had prayed to Falon'din to grant her mother a peaceful death, and he had answered. If she had to learn how to send other souls to him in exchange, then she would do it.

It didn't hurt that Viago's townhouse could have fit twenty of the shack she'd lived in. Assassinating seemed to pay well.

"So be it," Viago said. His tone was dismissive, and he turned away from her to look out the window.

But not before Rook caught the faintest hint of his smile.

#rook de riva #oc: ilene de riva #viago de riva #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age #rookweek25

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pb-n-jen · 3 days ago

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j.s. lore drop ⭑.ᐟ

pt. 5: i'll follow you

julia scott masterlist here!

|| 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗔 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗢𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨, 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 ||

principal berzonsky sighed, leaning back in his chair as he looked disapprovingly at julia across his desk. it wasn't her first trip here, and it probably wouldn't be her last, which made him all the more exasperated. "she's my friend. i was just....backing her up," julia was saying lamely in response to his line of questioning on her most recent transgression. nat had gotten into a fight with an opponent ant an away game, and when nat got into a fight, chances were julia also got into a fight. principal berzonsky sighed. "i know you know what you did is wrong, julia, so i'm not going to press that," he told her. "but you need to be aware that this isn't a path you should be following. you're a good student, and an even better athlete. i know you feel attached to your team, but they're just that, teammates. you don't have to let your friends drag you down just becaus you feel loyalty to them. they're not like your family, not really. not your siblings." he arched an eyebrow at her. "do you have siblings?" julia swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "no sir, only child."

she knew the minute she left that office that he'd be on her. it was something she'd almost gotten used to over the past seven years.....almost. "only child, huh?" cory's voice was saying. she could almost hear his footsteps behind her, see the lopsided smile on his face, his chipped front tooth. "i'm stung, jules." always so sarcastic. "shut up," she thought as loud as she could in her head. "this is your fault anyway." cory laughed. "really? 'cuz from where i'm standing, you threw the punch." most of the time, he was nice. sometimes, he was mean. loud in a way that julia couldn't ignore, especially when she was alone. in some ways, it made her feel guilty. guilty that she tried so hard to drown him out most of the time, with music or friends or soccer or school. sometimes, she was glad about it. like she still had some connection to him, even if it was all in her head. so, when he egged her on to go help nat, maybe she didn't hesitate.

when he told her to hit harder, maybe she did.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

everyone has ghosts. for julia scott, maybe it was a little more literal than most would think. ever since his death when they were ten, cory scott followed her around like a shadow. every moment, he was there. he grew older with her in the way he never did in life, the blurry image of him in her mind's looking more like her with every year that passed. maybe it was her forgetting what he looked like. maybe it was because of how much he felt like part of her. either way, no amound of expensive therapist medication or loud music could get him to leave. sometimes, it was too much. most of the time, it was just enough.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

this one's hella long but i needed this lore to eat. long awaited cory lore! tagging: @cleverwhvre @daniirosie

#ah yes cory my favorite problematic ghost hallucination #gabe from next to normal lookin ass #jen's ocs ☆#julia scott (yellowjackets)#yellowjackets #yellow jackets #yellowjackets s3 #yellowjackets showtime #yellowjackets brainrot #yj thoughts #yj season 3 #yj spoilers #yj

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multishipper-baby · 7 months ago

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Not publishing the ask yet because I want to reply with the playlist but I have to comment on it because

Anon. You just gave the biggest neuron activation.

IT'S 2 AM. BUT HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SLEEP WHEN I'M THINKING ABOUT THEM.

#I have so many thoughts and none of them are coherent #srmthfg #it's just- they make me a little insane sometimes #especially after ghost in the machine (was that what that episode was called. I think it was that)#what if you had a crush on the second in command for ages but never had the guts to actually confess #because he's always focused on the bigger picture and the job and all the things that are More Important #AND THEN HE FUCKING DIES RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR EYES. WITHOUT YOU BEING ABLE TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT #listen to me. I don't usually have many problems with the show. but I do think the semi comedic tone of savage lands part 1 #was kind of weird sandwiched between all the serious stuff. I understand wanting some levity but everything is in the shit #so. allow me to make it angsty in a gay way. let me indulge for two seconds #WHAT IF YOU SO DESPERATELY WISHED HE SAW YOU AS HIS THIRD IN COMMAND #even if it doesn't matter now that he's gone. you want to think he'd give you that. that he saw you that way #and then he comes back... and you find out that he didn't #but also- he came back a robot. so is it really him? can you trust this illusion just because it talks and walks like him?#even if he isn't... could you ever leave him behind?#WHAT IF HE HELD YOU SO TENDERLY AFTER YOU SAVED HIM AND CARRIED YOU BACK TO SAFETY. WHAT THEN #(blatantly ignores all the spove in ghost in the machind)#WHAT IF YOU GOT TRAPPED IN A MUSEUM AND BECAME COWBOYS. I LOVE COWBOYS #I'm sorry. I'm still kind of sick and thus not fully sane #I promise I'm normal about the monkeys

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ilovetv99 · 4 months ago

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thinking about ch0mpkin's evil evbo post (evilbo, if you will) and going "How can I align this with My Interests (the axes)" and the answer is Very easily actually

#thoughts in tags.....#when the cookie crumbles #pciv #pvp civilization #you know. evbo leaving behind everything he knows for his friend and going along with The Plan #constantly telling himself its for the greater good its for the greater good #but the longer he goes on the worse it gets #and both tabi and clown force him to stop diagetically monologuing somehow because otherwise he'll blow their cover #so he just gets quieter and quieter and withdraws more and more #to the point where even tabi is thinking like “damn maybe i Should've killed him in sword civ...” but he's here now #another thing is i think evbo would 100% buy and sneak another video journal machine out and when tabi finds out she Flips Her Lid #clown is less concerned because he wasn't With them so he doesn't know like tabi does that he spends So Much Time On This Shit #not knowing that (like minute said) video journaling is the biggest reason evbo is able to take in so much new info and maintain himself #and if they straight up take it away from him he's going to get Even Worse #i think clown doesn't see it as much of an issue despite tabi's major objections because he'd literally be talking about their plan On Air #and that tape goes somewhere and is Seen by someone (plus if someone else sees their cover is gone cuz video journals are sword only)#but in his eyes that means the only people who will ever see it are the diamond swords in their ivory tower who can't leave anyways #so why worry? if anything it shows them what they're (the axes) doing to their (the swords) little golden boy and they can't stop it #another thing i thought about is that they would definitely hold killing evbo over his head like. Constantly #and evbo's fear of dying isn't the same because he never died to tabi's axe so he doesn't know zam is waiting for him (which is also funny)#so instead it takes a spin of tabi saying “ill kill you and let you respawn in sword civ and you'll stay there with your regrets”#because even if zam Wasn't still waiting for him he kinda ditched the diamond swords so uh... kinda lost your sense of kinship there #a-NOTHER point of interest: guardfriend #since guards can access all civilizations they'd definitely want to take advantage of his connections and relation with evbo #especially since unless evbo spills the beans he most likely wouldn't know the eternal sword was taken and tabi is the one who took it #let alone that she (and clown by extension‚ but to throw off suspicion he doesn't show up around guard) is a natural born axr #so they can defo use what trust those two have to get places easier #but if he ends up getting in the way... [makes a chopping gesture across my throat]#could even do it in Front of evbo as an example of what happens to those who stand between them and their mission #holy shit this is the first time ive ever hit 30 tags. wtf

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unproduciblesmackdown · 10 months ago

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omgg lol [guy who won't stop going "more like scapeGOATED" voice] now hold! on!! lmao [same guy just saw encanto voice] Hold on!!!

#& [it might be 5am but i'll still see if i can draw some] trackpad homemade reacts. inhales & hands to head/face x9 then walking off #site giving pretty random Suggested assortment there where i was like oh right sure. prob not tumblr keywords captures lmaooo #(plus happened to have it open in firefox) but my god Not the scapegoated literal seers lmfao. whoooo. my god #also it was just really good anyways like right nice. damn #the (queerrr) seerrr the perceiverrr the truth tellerrr the ruinerrr the scapegoat be-errr the internalizerrr the neurodivergerrr #& now i Know there is 0% chance ppl weren't putting ''always a gay cousin or it's you (avuncular edition)'' in that thing #family tree design not even leaving space for the hypothetical kids of this relative we mostly pretend is nonexistent hmm #also that necessarily. it's giving all intents & purposes Disability abt a dozen ways & it's saying [accept that] vs [we'd better fix him]#you don't cite said [it's giving disability] as part of the We All Hate The Horrible Little Freak scapegoating justification & then be like #''actually we don't have to do that anymore b/c he's sooo normal :)'' or not if you're serious about [don't scapegoat your family] anyways #which like oh ok they Are serious so The Weirdo's scapegoating / casting out / lack of support Isn't justified #so he's still weird & you just gotta get over that b/c otherwise. bye. having a natural rat affinity is such a slay btw #& we've all been there like ''you NEVER want two scapegoats talking it's Over if they do'' + littlest kid is like um. they're the best #plankton voice Correct! inhale i'm so impressed like. getting to go ''finally someone Normal'' (serious abt letting someone Be Weird(tm))#which also always counts as like mm hard time suggesting someone's Not queer & also autistic for a start lmao. an award #adding in suggested layers like talking to oneself; talking Oddly / w difficulty; physical uncoordination; rituals ; acting; animal friend #the layer of ''& all that's fine? like?'' again rather than him ever suppressing or even changing it so far as it's suggested #besides that it's observed as Weird like but so? or else what? nonrhetorical: hostility / rescinded support & driving someone off is what?#& that Truth like the [worse treatment / exclusion / scapegoat] oft recipe for someone giving the support they're not getting themself #again Never let the [ppl both experiencing this] talk oh it's So over. or the child who's all i like family support & kindness actuallyy...#obviously also like the complete opposite of billions. knowing what they're about & letting this Just As Beloved crucial guy be So Weird #but billions Also [hmm feels right for our scapegoated guy to Perceive / Tell Truths / openly want/need & then be hurt] now get his ass #anyway [guy who could always go way on could go way on but only has thirty tags & it's 6am & i still mean to try some drawing] voice #remarkable amt of So True & ''it feels like ppl on the same page w/exactly what they're doing are all behind this''#remarkable amount of concentrated My God That Is So A Slay located in bruno all at once. what a gift #sticking to ''sometimes someone In Your Group is Weird. Disabled. deal'' firmly enough there's no ;) oh u can bet we'll Fix Him in the end #everyone always assumes the worst so....me when i'm [always as a kid yearning for Living In Secret Passages]. emile gtmpota?#oh congrats to whatever rando who will be having his dramatic gay reunion w/bruno just out of frame obviously. i perceive #now imagine if That rando was....emile gtmpota! what a crossover event. haunting4haunting. do i have enough tags for this lmao. yea #& having 1 more tag to say: as though the [endless serving] isn't enough bruno's also as close to gender envy as it gets. incl rats; sure

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sskk-manifesto · 9 months ago

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What a good episode. Maaaaaan

#I can't even start I'd be here forever #It did take me in fact like one hour total to watch it lmoa. It sooooo good!!! The animation is very good #(albeit it's awfully low on brightness at times. But such seems to be the sin of lot of recent media unfortunately)#but I'm not even going to dwell on that. The plot / storytelling is so good. Sooooo god. I adore this arc.#Love the symbolism. I've been saying this for almost two years now (is it really been that long ever since these episodes came out... ) but #I want to write an analysis on the op & ed so baddd. The emphasis on the twilight this episode!!#Like the sun was setting on the detective agency. I love love love the hd. They're so cool in this episode and they're so cool in general.#I ADORE Jouno. I don't feel particularly strongly for sue/giku yet their scenes are so cute and funny. I see why people ship them.#Even Tetchou I don't usually care much about is so !!!!! I love all the hd so much fr!!!!!!!!!!#I love love love Jouno. Like much like it is for Akutagawa I'm very weak for characters that aren't really good people.#But they're still trying to be a better person than they were. And oftentimes they end up doing a terrible job!!#But the fact alone that they're //trying// has me ougheueueueu. Here in this episode you can see Jouno–#sliping very easily in his cruel / sadistic habits. But he is trying to be a person that cares for others! He made good actions in the past #and he will again in the future even though right now he's acting like this! Because improvement isn't linear! I love him tonsss #And DON'T get me started on the ada. Yosano's “Welcome” scene. I love women. I love women. Yosano please one chance #KENJI'S SCENE God I needed this. How could I forget the way this literllyyyyy rewinded my brain when I read the manga for the first time.#That scene is so deep and poignant and so so meaningful I. Oughhh #I am going to run out of tags am I not #Kyouka saving Atsushi!!!!!!! That scene is one of my all time favourites. It makes me soft to remember when the s4 trailer dropped–#I was so overjoyed for that bit of them holding hands :') Rightfully so!!! It's so cute.#Her coming back to save Atsushi. The “don't worry– I didn't kill them” direct towards Atsushi–#that is so so Akutagawa and it sends me insane hhhhhhgggggggggg #Kunikida!!!!! His “I'm not leaving anyone behind”!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm not precisely Kunikida's first fan but aaaaaahhh he makes me feel–#so much for him in this scene!!!!! Mmmhhh one last note would be. It bugs me a little how the ada is defined terrorist by the military–#forces starting this episode? I don't have space to elaborate properly but. An action to be considered terrorism must have clear political–#orientation and goal. Violence alone isn't enought to be defined terrorism. It's an incorrect use of the word #Up to the next episode!!! Can't wait to see more Atsushi 🥰🥰#random rambles #It's late now and probably most are asleep rn... Then I'll be queing my posts for tomorrow probably

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navybrat817 · 1 month ago

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Sharp Dressed Man

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky looks good in a suit, and it isn't fair how easily he turns you on.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), referenced oral sex (f. receiving), feels, sweet and spicy fic, established relationship, vulnerability, being in love, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Tower Shenanigans based on an anon ask. ❤️ Thank you to the lovely @buckybarnesfic, @soelstress, @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for looking it over and assuring me it wasn't garbage. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was still getting ready for the day while you made him breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day, and neither of you would let the other skip it. Thankfully the rest of the team had already eaten and were elsewhere, otherwise everyone would try to steal something; except for Bob because he wouldn't take food without asking. Not to mention the last time John tried to steal one of Yelena’s meals he almost lost a finger.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee cut through the last traces of sleep, warming you up as you loaded the plates with various foods and set them on the island. You rinsed the dishes and cleaned the counters while you waited for Bucky, doing a silly little dance in-between tasks. It wasn't your day to tidy up the kitchen, but you weren't going to be a jerk and leave it a mess.

“Someone’s happy this morning,” Ava said from behind you, and you somehow didn't jump at the sound. You were all getting used to her phasing in and out of the rooms. “Let me guess. Morning sex?”

Was it obvious since you were only in your robe and underwear? “Maybe,” you teased.

The wonderful ache between your legs was a nice reminder of how Bucky woke you earlier, making you shiver. You felt his fingers and tongue working you over before you opened your eyes, and you barely recovered from your first orgasm before he had his cock in you. It wasn't rushed either. He took his time, making you feel every delicious inch as he thrust slow and deep. Even when you came again he didn't stop.

“‘Attagirl,” he smiled against your lips while you trembled beneath him, his body effectively caging you in. “But you can give me one more. I know you can.”

“Bucky,” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to fill you to the brim.

“Just one more, sweetheart.” A hand moved between your bodies so he could play you like a well tuned instrument. “One more and I’ll give it to you.”

You did, and so did he, your name tumbling from his lips as he spilled into you. Who wouldn't give Bucky another orgasm if he gently demanded it? Three orgasms wasn't a bad way to start the day. A girl could do much worse.

“Lucky,” she smirked, snapping you out of your thoughts when she snatched a bite of food from Bucky’s plate. “Mmm. Remind me to have you make me breakfast the next time you have morning sex.”

“Hey!” you yelled, but there was laughter in your eyes when she took another bite and phased away. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Who will pay for what?” Bucky asked when he walked into the room, making your breath catch in your throat.

Bucky's hair was tucked behind his ears today, bringing your attention to his steel eyes before you took in the rest of him. His suit was tailored impeccably to his large frame, and he wore it well. He carried himself with composed ease, his steps deliberate and head held high. His presence demanded attention without appearing arrogant, which was tough to balance. He was all man.

He was your man.

“Fuck me,” you breathed.

Bucky may not be a Congressman anymore, but he would have had your vote for anything and everything he ever wanted.

His eyes flashed with unmistakable lust and pride as he walked toward you, making your stomach flip. “Already did.”

“You did, and you can do that again later,” you said, reaching up to trace his mouth.

You smiled when he kissed your fingers. It was an honor to touch him and that wasn't at all an exaggeration. You noticed how tense he got when some got too close to him, but not you. Never you.

“So, I look handsome?” he asked casually, adjusting his tie. “Not that I’m trying to look handsome. I’m only wearing this since I have a meeting, and I might get a few dirty looks if I show up in tactical gear.”

You almost teased that he was fishing for a compliment, but you saw just a flicker of his confidence waver as he waited for your answer. “Suit or tactical gear, you’re the most handsome man I've ever seen.”

He breathed out, his confidence back in full force. “I’m glad to hear that.” Sliding a hand over the curve of your hip, his fingers dug in, a protective and possessive touch, when he brought his mouth to your ear. “And I may have to wear suits around you more often since it turns you on so much.”

You tried to play coy, as if your nipples hadn’t peaked and your clit didn't throb. “Who said I'm turned on?”

Bucky chuckled and lowered his head, his teeth nipping your neck and drawing a whimper from you. His lips moved up to find your ear again while you tried to keep your breathing steady. “Don't have to say it, sweetheart. I can smell you,” he whispered. You couldn't hide anything with those heightened senses of his, a blessing or a curse depending on how you looked at it. “Ruined your panties the second I walked in here.”

Your eyes closed. He was right, the smug bastard. Damn him. Damn him to Hell. No, not there. That was too cruel. Your bed would do nicely.

It was insane the more you thought about it. The man could breathe and it would send your libido into overdrive. Feminism? Where did it go? One murder strut or grumpy stare and it went out the window along with your panties. One smile and it melted your insides.

What had he done to you?

“You're unbelievable,” you sighed.

He pulled back, searching your face. “What do you mean?”

“I was a strong and capable woman before I came here,” you said, the words sounding ridiculous as soon as they left your mouth.

“And you still are,” he assured you. Bucky was one of your biggest supporters, always.

“It’s just… Do you have any idea what that’s like? To just look at someone and get turned on?” You stepped out of reach and gestured to him. You asked yourself some days how Bucky Barnes could possibly be real. How did someone like him exist? “You breathe and I get aroused. That isn't normal.”

No other man had that kind of power over you, body or heart, until him.

The warm chuckle from your boyfriend had you fighting not to smile. “One, we’re not normal. Two, your breathing turns me on, too. And three, I do know it’s like to just look at someone and get aroused because that happens when I look at you,” he said, taking your hand to bring you back to him. He placed it against his crotch and grew harder under your touch. “We’re a match made in heaven, Hell, whatever you want to call it.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. You two were a good match. “It isn't just arousal when I look at you. It’s…” You took a breath and gripped his jacket with your other hand, trying to be careful not to wrinkle it. “You smile at me and…”

“And what?” he asked, catching your eye and softly smiling.

You swallowed, your eyes suddenly misting over before you dropped your hands. It was alarming how quickly your emotions took over in regard to Bucky. “I see a future with you there.”

Bucky cupped your cheeks when you tried to duck your head. He had stripped you bare more than once, but saying something like that made you feel more vulnerable than when you were naked. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“You have the power to break me,” you whispered, your eyes shutting. Not to hide, but to keep the tears at bay. “Which should be terrifying, but it’s very exhilarating.”

To give that much of yourself to another, to trust them to that extent, wasn't easy. But if life taught you anything, it was that it was too short and you had to seize every opportunity to live it to the fullest. Who better to do that with than Bucky Barnes?

You cleared your throat when he didn't say anything, his eyes a storm of emotions when you opened yours. “Your breakfast is getting cold. You should-”

He surged forward, his lips covering yours. The pad of his thumbs brushed your cheeks when he deepened the kiss, coaxing you to open your mouth to his. Emotions surged through you, your heart nearly overflowing as you held onto each other. You felt everything all at once and let yourself be swept away.

He slowly broke the kiss allowing you both to savor the lingering touch of each other's lips and take a much needed breath. “You could break me, too, but you won't,” he said, his forehead resting against yours as you attempted to calm your racing heart. “Just like I'd never break you.”

It was a vow that resonated in your core, a declaration of love, one that had you kissing him again and silently promising the same. “Match made in heaven or Hell, huh?”

“And where you go, I’ll follow,” he smiled.

You'd follow him, too. “Well, right now you need to eat breakfast and head out so you aren't late for your meeting.”

He groaned and refrained from rolling his eyes. “This suit is coming off as soon as I get back,” he said, much to your disappointment. Or maybe your delight.

“Right when you get back?” You bit your lip. “Will you use the tie on me?”

“I can,” he smirked, making your body heat up all over again. “Can have a little fun in the office, too. Pretend I’m your boss and-”

“Or I could be your boss since I'm strong and capable,” you teased.

He moaned, seemingly into that idea as he backed you against the island. “Boss or not, I’ll still bend you over the desk or have you sit on it while I eat your pretty pussy.”

You whined. There was no stopping Bucky when he was hungry. He’d spread your legs and stay between them until you cried, lap up every drop and still want more.

His hands roamed your body, forgetting all about breakfast. “Fuck you raw and fill you up just the way you-”

Bob cleared his throat, both of you turning toward the sound. How long had the poor guy been standing there? “Just getting a drink,” he said, quickly going to the fridge and avoiding looking at you. “I’m not even here.”

“Sorry, Bob,” you smiled sheepishly when he grabbed his drink and bolted. “We should probably rent a hotel room or something soon and give the team a break.”

You and Bucky could be extremely private some days and others there was no stopping you. How the team put up with it you had no idea. Maybe because you made each other happy. It still had to be slightly obnoxious for them.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his handsome face, too. “Or we could always do a campout on the roof so we aren't too far away,” he suggested.

You smiled as you imagined it. Looking out over the city and watching the stars before cuddling up in a tent. A cabin getaway was also something to keep in mind for the future when you two could take a break together. Peaceful, quiet. Something just for the two of you.

“A roof campout sounds nice,” you said.

“Good,” Bucky smirked before he picked you up and set you on the island. “Campout later. Right now I want breakfast.”

“Bucky, your meeting.”

“I won't be late.”

You didn't resist when he opened your legs. “Ava said no more fooling around in the kitchen since we eat here,” you reminded him. Alexei would probably encourage it. “And I just cleaned up, and you haven't eaten the food I made.”

“I’ll clean up the mess,” he winked as he crouched down. “And I’ll eat after I eat.”

And he did.

We deserve this. Bucky deserves this. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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szatears · 2 months ago

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just a lil' something, smoke.

summary: no matter how hard he tries to reject your advances, smoke always gives in. after all, you know his body like no other.

pairing: smoke x reader, platonic stack x reader.

warnings: use of the n word, allusions to sex, making out.

notes: first time writing in a couple months !!! literally had no plot with this one i just went straight off the bag lmao. also this isn't proofread at all!

It wasn't uncommon for you to find your way to his arms. Usually it would all be under his control; he'd call on you, he'd tell you what to do and you'd happily oblige. It went on like that for some time.

Only, you never got used to Smoke's hard exterior.

You thought that with time, you'd be able to read him better, but it seems it only become more difficult as time went on.

You and Smoke had been messing around for some time now, ever since he first laid eyes on you at a neighbourhood event he and his brother were "just passing by". But when he and Stack left for Chicago, all that went away.

You didn't expect the invite to the twins' new juke joint to find you, but there you were at the train station with Pearline when Stack found you.

"I ain't seen you in hot minute," he grabbed at your hand and twirled you towards him, ever the flirt. Your light pink sundress spun with you, frilly and light with air.

"Alright, Stack, let me go," you laughed, pushing at his chest. You turned around to check on Pearline, seeing her smiling at the twins' cousin, Preacher Boy. "What brings you back? Chicago too hard for you?"

"Girl, ain't nothing too hard for us," Stack waved you off, kissing his teeth. "We jus' wanted something a lil' more... familiar."

You rolled your eyes at him, whatever that meant.

"Say, we're having us an opening party tonight. Smoke and I got ourselves a new joint," a smirk graced Stack's face as you held a more quizzical look.

"Oh really? And whose pockets did you pick to get that new joint?"

"You want an invite or not, 'cause the way you goin', you gon' get blacklisted before it even open," he tilted his head to look down at you, his hat shadowing his face a bit.

"Alright, alright," you laughed. "I'll be there."

"Damn right," he smiled. "Imma tell Smoke too, that nigga sure could loosen up a bit."

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes at the mention of his brothers' name, whom you haven't seen since the night he told you he was leaving for Chicago, more like the night you found out rather than got told.

It was around 10pm when you got to the joint, the sound of music and laughter drawing you in. You couldn't lie to yourselves, the boys had outdone themselves on this one. Cornbread was at the door when you arrived, a smile on his face as you walked closer.

"Well, if it ain't lil' missy herself!" He laughed aloud.

"Hey Cornbread," you smiled, wiping away a curl from your face.

"Go on in, Stack an 'em expecting you."

By 'them' you assumed he meant Preacher Boy, who was with Stack when he extended the invite to you.

Walking in, the smell of food hit you straight away. The lights shone on everyone, illuminating faces and figures, some that you knew, some you didn't. Your eyes were looking for a certain someone's, never seeming to find them.

"I knew you'd come," you heard Stack before you even saw him. He swung his arm over your shoulder, a drink in the same hand. "You look good."

"You don't clean up too bad yourself," you patted his chest, a bright smile on your face.

He smiled back at you, gold caps glinting when they caught the light. "Aight, let's get you a drink, hm?"

He didn't give you tike to respond, walking you towards the bae section of the joint. You saw Annie behind the counter and a few others behind her.

"Hey Annie," you greeted her with a civil smile, to which she returned. Things between you and Annie weren't the best, but they weren't bad either. You knew better than to blame Smoke's personality towards you on the other woman in his life, especially because she'd been with him longer than you had.

You pulled out a few crumpled notes from your bra, but before they could even hit the counter, Stack had snatched them.

"Man, get that pocket change outta here," he said, pointing the cash back at you.

"Huh— I'm buying myself a drink, Stack, give it back." You huffed when he held it away from you again.

"It's on the house," he nodded at Annie, who grabbed a cup and filled it, handing it back to you.

"I thought y'all ain't do charity?" you laughed, accepting the drink nevertheless.

"It's a special night, and plus, you one of the few I like," he kissed your cheek, leaving as quickly as he found you, not before he stuck your cash under the strap of your dress on your shoulder.

You shook your head, moving through the crowd with your drink, smiling back at those who greeted you.

You found yourself a little corner to watch the stage and everyone else, leaning against the thick wood as you let the drink flow through your body. As you tipped your head back to drink more, your eyes caught his.

Of course, he was upstairs, watching over everyone else. His eyes stared right back at you as he took a drag of his cigarette, the smoke he exhaled wafting through the joint. You didn't break the eye contact, staring back at him as you drank from your cup.

It felt like you were staring at each other for ages, but seconds later he tipped his head to the side, gesturing for you to come up. Then he disappeared into a room.

Your breath hitched, your hand taking to your collarbone to ease the burn of the alcohol. You didn't know what to expect, things with Smoke were almost always unpredictable.

Regardless, you put the cup down and made your way slowly up the stairs to where you last saw him, adjusting the silky navy blue dress that you wore as you went.

The music was quieter upstairs, slightly muffled by the foundations and thickness of the room's doors.

You stood outside the room before knocking twice on the door, opening it shortly after.

His back greeted you, toned arms begging to be relieved from the slightest tightness of his shirt and waistcoat. He still had the cigarette, though when he turned to you, you knew it was only a matter of time before he ashed it.

You didn't say anything, leaning on the back of the door as you watch him.

He studied you for a bit, and that's when you really saw him for the first time in what felt like forever. His chiseled face, sculpted with time and effort. Those eyes that never seemed to soften, only at times when you got him loose enough to let go, just for a bit.

"Whatchu doin' here?" He said, startling you from your thoughts. You didn't expect that to be the first thing he said to you, but then again this was Smoke, he didn't care what he said to who.

"You told me to come up here, didn't you?" you smiled back sweetly, enjoying the feeling you got when you got under his skin.

"Stop sassing," he mumbled, ashing the cigarette at the end of the wooden desk.

He took a seat on the same desk, folding his arms across his chest.

"How you been, then? Didn't hear much from you these past days," you couldn't care less about how he was, and he knew that. You just wanted the truth and the honest truth.

He didn't answer you right away, simply allowed himself to eye you up and down. The way the dress hugger you perfectly, the navy blue on your melanin skin, the way it was cut low on your chest to expose just a little cleavage... he was enjoying it. Almost like it was just for him.

"You ain't got no where better to be?" He changed the topic again, much to your annoyance.

You let out a bitter scoff, already regretting following Smoke into the room. "You told me to meet you in here. Don't act like you didn't, Smoke," you kissed your teeth.

One thing about Smoke, he didn't do attitudes, regardless of whether or not he deserved it.

"Come here," he spoke to you softly, which should've alerted you if anything. Instead, you allowed your legs to take you to him standing right in front of his taller figure.

His hands rested on your waist, pulling you into him. Now, you stood between his legs as his eyes stared into yours.

"Why'd you leave, Smoke?"

He sighed but didn't act surprised, like he knew this was where the conversation would go. Your hands made their way to his broad shoulders, massaging gently.

"You already know why I had to go, business don't wait for no one."

You huffed at his answer, pulling back as much as you could whilst still in his hold.

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."

"What else you want me to say?"

You look at him then, really looked at him. "I want the truth. Why'd you leave me? When you was just saying all that stuff about wanting to be better for me an' all... It makes no sense."

Smoke looked away from you when you said that, but you still felt his fingers dragging up and down your waist, almost like he was making sure you were real, that you were still in his hold.

When a few moments of more silence passed, you pushed away from him, ready to go back down and pretend none of this even happened.

But Smoke didn't let you. He turned you back around in his hold, your chest against his back. His head dipped down to your bare neck, kissing along. His beard tickled, but you found yourself too busy almost melting into him to register it.

"You scare me sometimes," he mumbled, so quiet you almost missed it.

"What?" you whispered, eyes fluttering closed. "When was you scared of anything?"

"You're too... good. I'on know how to handle that." He was speaking honestly now, and it made sense why he turned you away from him to say this. Smoke never shower any vulnerability. You thought he was immune to it but it turns out he just never wanted anyone to see that side of him.

"Smoke..." you trailed off when he began to suck and bite at your neck, eliciting the faintest of moans from your lips. You pressed back into him, needing to feel more.

"I had to leave. Not because of you but you know I ain't good for you... I'on know why you can't understand that." He brought his left hand to your throat, tipping your head back into his shoulder as he spoke. Your eyes closed, suppressing the lewd sounds threatening to escape. He was barely touching you yet already had you like this? Insane.

"I don't care about that, Smoke." You managed to get out.

"Yeah, well you should." The way he said it sounded almost like a laugh. "You don't make no sense, baby."

He was right. Smoke wasn't the type of guy that a lady should keep chasing if she knew he didn't have what she wanted. Yet you, you kept trying. And that's what confused him.

He did everything to throw you off of him — use you when it pleased him, shut you out, literally everything he could think of. But it seemed to only make things between you stronger.

You forced yourself out of his grip and turned around, now looking him right in the eyes. He could see how hot and flustered he got you.

"I do make sense. I always tell you what I want, it's you who acts like he don't know what he wants." Your hands caressed his face bringing his forehead to rest on yours.

Smoke closed his eyes, his hands cupping your ass as he held you against him. He shook his head, seemingly about to say something before he pulled away.

"Stop," you frowned. "Stop forcing yourself away from me."

"I have to," he grunted, looking anywhere but at you.

Still, you pulled his face back to your, making him look back at you.

"You know you want to," you whispered, dropping a hand from his face and down to his pants, stroking over his clothes bulge. Smoke groaned lowly, throwing his head back. "Give me a lil' something, huh, baby?" you asked sweetly. How could he deny that?

He brought his hand back to your neck, pulling you in til your lips touched his. You moaned almost immediately, it had been way too long.

Smoke kissed you like he would never get the chance to do it again, pulling you impossibly closer to him whilst one of your hands held the nape of his neck, the other still palming him.

He lowly moaned into your mouth when you pulled away slowly, biting his lip. You left him do what he did best, take control.

He turned you around, lifting you up to sit on the desk, his hands roaming all over your body. "You're something else," he whispered against your lips as you fumbled at the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt.

"Yeah, you love it, don't you?"

You felt him smile against your lips, just ever so slightly. If anything, that told you he wasn't ready to let you go. Not just yet. And that was enough for now.

He broke away from your lips to kiss along your neck, your head thrown back in pleasure as your legs wrapped around his body. "Smoke..." you whispered.

"Yeah, baby?" he kissed along your jaw, your hand wrapped around his throat as you pulled him closer to your face.

"I always get what I want."

#smoke x reader #michael b jordan x reader #sinners #sinners x reader #smoke x black reader #sinners fanfic #sinners fanfiction #michael b jordan fanfiction

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muntitled · 6 months ago

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Force-Fed

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: You didn't need a job. Not when you only needed him.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Coercion, Standards Relationship, Abuse, Isolation, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Jealousy, Codependency, Stalking, Yandere!Salesman, Smut (+18) mdni, DDLG, Taboo Sex (she literally calls him dad), Freudian Slip, Daddy Kink, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Subspace, Slight!Age Regression, Choking, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Dacryphillia, Breeding Kink

A/n: If this isn't your vibe, leave the fic alone. Read something else. Like always I'm not responsible for the media you consume.

Installing a mobile tracker on your phone might not have been the most morally good thing to do, that he could admit. Perhaps even more incriminating is that the idea struck him while you were passed out on the floor, your body thoroughly spent from all his ravaging. He was nothing if not an inquisitive man and he needed to see what you got up to during the week, when you were without him. (Note: this started out as a precaution. For your own good. You ought to be thankful to have someone like him in your life).

Who knew that the tracker would bring him here?

His jaw is screwed shut as he leans down under the awning of a building, spotting you through the window of a tired coffee shop, donning a uniform he hadn't even known you owned- it set him alight with a certain level of possessiveness that was foreign to him.

He admits that before you, he'd never had much use for any pointless emotions like love or care. They were, at their very core function, just hormones injected into the brain in order to trick humans into reproduction. That's what he saw you as for the longest time: A means of reproduction. A conduit through which he could fulfill all his most absurd fantasies- fantasies that scared even himself.

When he hit you, fondled you, groped you or stretched your body beyond its tantalizing capabilities, he truly believed he was making you useful, and in return for your services you got to coast through university without having to worry about bills.

That's what it was supposed to be. Nothing less and certainly nothing more.

So what the hell is this?

Today is a Tuesday and your 'sessions' together are scheduled on Wednesday. He ought to just keep on walking and go about the rest of his day forgetting having ever seen you.

As far as your agreement was concerned, you were strictly expected to leave him to his devices throughout the week- it never occurred to him that he would also be expected to leave you to yours.

It makes him tsk, seeing you scrub the counters of a cafe... as if you didn't have him to provide for you.

Had he not provided you with enough?

Had you not gotten everything you wanted?

You were like a dog without a leash.

And his hand was itching to pull you right back to him.

He walks into the coffee shop before his brain is finished processing his movements.

"Good afternoon-" greeted the young man behind the counter. The place smelt like roasted coffee beans and debt. It's obvious in the very few patrons milling about that this business was doomed to fail. Your Salesman had a knack for spotting abject poverty and the owner- your boss, one Lee Junmin was teetering on the edge of financial ruin. It's a very good thing that your Salesman is here to save you from this sinking ship.

"Good afternoon," your salesman says stiffly, almost amicably.

He finds you mid-conversation with your coworker. There's a smile on your face as you crane your neck back, holding a cup under the burning faucet of a coffee machine. You're speaking amicably and you're still smiling. Genuinely. Not at all the robotic smile you reserved for the Salesman during your 'sessions'.

He realises now, watching you with a real smile plastered on your face, that you had been lying to him. You don't seem as broken as you claim to be. Seeing you here, assimilated into society. Sporting a part time job?

His knuckles clench around the handle of his briefcase. He was brimming with the need to punish you for it.

It's absurd.

To punish someone for being a fully functional human being. Not even his own psychological issues could adequately reason that.

The younger boy behind the counter rests a hand on your shoulder, finally letting your eyes settle on the tall Salesman behind the counter.

He can see the moment your breath catches in your throat.

How he wishes he had his heavy hands wrapped tight around that throat. He'd choke you for trying to get rid of him. For trying to... not need him.

"Could you take care of this customer? I need to go out for a break-" Your co-worker mumbles quietly and your heart drops like a bag of dipped in molten lava at the sight of him standing there on the opposite end of the counter. There's a smug sort of smirk playing across his features. I've caught the traitor, now it's off with your head.

You begrudgingly steel your nerves before turning to face your co-worker again, trying to even your breathing as you assimilate back into your easy banter, "And how many times have I told you smoking is bad for you-"

Your co-worker raises his tattooed hands, sporting a boyish grin. It's oddly refreshing to interact with a boy your age- someone normal who wasn't drowning in psychopathic tendencies or bullying homeless people for fun.

"Who said I'm going for a smoke break?" He asks, as you slide up to the counter. You situated yourself behind the barrier as if it was going to keep you safe. You knew nothing could keep you safe from the tense shadow hovering over your benefactor's eyes. The Salesman is livid as your co-worker finally makes himself scarce and after a few tense seconds, he finally speaks.

"I didn't know you did this." He says, staring you down the bridge of his nose.

Play it calm. Play it cheeky. Play it coy.

"You didn't know I make coffee?" That snooty remark doesn't earn you a single gratifying chuckle. It doesn't even earn you a soft, meaningless smile. In contrast, all it gets you is monotony. He's pissed.

"Worked." He spits out, "I didn't know you worked."

You only manage to stare up at him, silently before turning your attention to the screen in front of you.

There were a great many things he had already stolen from you- full autonomy over your body being the greatest loss. You'd raise up hell itself before you truly let him strip you of your independence.

"What can I get you for today?" Swift. Curt. Professional. As if you hadn't felt this man inside you. As if he hadn't choked you out until your vision was sparkling with stars. As if you didn't have his cock down your throat. No one here knew about your arrangement. In this coffee shop, you were safe from your history with the Salesman.

"Americano," You sigh softly, thinking he'll respect you enough to keep things professional. Poor, naive you.

“Tell them you quit." He says, forcing you to look up at his cold, dead orbs. "Do it now."

Your finger pause over the screen and your breathing picks up.

He couldn't do this. Not here. Not when you've finally found refuge away from him, his sadism, his demands and his reminders that he held the keys to you obtaining your degree. This coffee shop was the one place he couldn't reach you...

So why were you already on the cusp of giving in?

Your eyes flit over to the few patrons milling about before staring up at the man on the other side of the counter. Daylight was dwindling and beyond the windows, the city was drenched in an orange, almost pink late afternoon glow.

"Your order's coming right up."

"This place is going bankrupt soon. They'll fire you. It's better you quit now before they do." Your hands falter as you struggle to swallow that deeply authoritative veneer in his voice. That fatherly sort of guidance. Be careful, it said.

"Oh, this is you protecting me?" You hated that this was taking place at work, but business is indeed slow and the only other worker here is in the back of the building, smoking away his problems.

"Not protecting you." He says with a shake of his head, as a slow smile curls the ends of his lips, "Warning you."

You rolled your eyes then. It made his hand twitch with the need to correct you. To force you to submit to him. If there's one thing he couldn't stand, it's a rabid little girl.

"You can have a seat while you wait for your Americano-"

"Fuck the Americano." It comes out louder than he intended. It's a surprise, just like the vein popping out of his forehead. His mask was slipping.

"Tell them you wanna quit." He says in a much softer, more in-control tone of voice. He leans against the counter so that the words exchanged are heard only by the two of you.

There is deep anger and menace in his eyes. You can see the warning in them. Its blood-red and calling for you to just submit.

But you're feeling particularly brave. And so you immediately respond.

"Or what?"

"Or I’ll fucking kill you. You or that co-worker." His gaze fits to the door through which the boy disappeared as he sighed and said, "Remember the roommate's boyfriend?"

How could you ever forget?

There was blood.

So much blood.

Who knew humans were walking around with that much blood inside them?

"You want to threaten me out of having a job?" You were losing this battle and quickly. Desperation is the only thing you cling to as your eyes peer up at him.

"Want to?" He shakes, “Little Girl, I am threatening you. Quit now. Your co-worker would greatly appreciate it.”

He taps that counter once before taking a seat. "I'll get that Americano to go."

𓂃

Devastation.

A hyperbole of sadness and a pure manifestation of self pity that overwhelmed you in the taxi ride back to your apartment. Your mind replayed the confusion that graced your co-workers friendly face when you told him you 'just couldn't work here anymore'. The genuine sadness in his eyes had stopped you dead in your tracks. It triggered tears that you didn't even know you had because he actually made you feel loved.

Real love, not the fake stuff given to you by this hulking man seated silently in the taxi beside you.

The interior is flooded with neon lights and myriad little stars are plastered in the black sky.

"Fix your face," he grumbles without looking at you, "You're ruining everyone's mood."

You went the rest of taxi ride, sulking up a storm, until you arrived at your apartment building where you didn't look at him once, as you rode the elevator up, up, and up.

While you were contemplating genuine suicide, he, on the other hand, was one of the happiest- if not the happiest man on the planet.

He told you to correct your mood but the truth is he loved it. He loved seeing you so juvenile, as if you were teetering on the edge of a tantrum he so badly wanted to correct. He loved seeing you sulk like a child. It set his bones alight with a deep, uncomparable need.

He thought pain was the only thing that got his dick hard.

Perhaps he stands corrected.

"Take off your shoes," he hollers in that same tone of authority once you've entered your apartment building. You're like a ghost as you turn to kick your shoes off at the door before lugging your body deeper into the house. He watches you drop your handbag right there on the floor, before you're throwing yourself on the couch, face first like a sack of potatoes.

He attempts to hide his smile as he walks in along after you. He undoes the buttons of his blazer as he stands above you, eyeing you under a quirked brow as your shoulders begin to wrack with your tears.

He shrugs off the blazer before folding it on the nearest armchair.

You flinch when you feel his hand on your foot, lifting it up to make space for his large frame lowering onto the couch.

That infuriatingly warm voice is back as he quietly asks "Why are you crying?"

He extends his hands to the small of your back, rubbing dizzying circles while you cry and cry. He's comforting you after being the very reason you need comfort in the first place. Everything about this man is one big contradiction.

"I thought you'd be happy about this." Your voice is muffled by the cushion. You don't look up at him.

"What on earth would give you the impression that I want you to work?" He asks.

"W-Well," you attempt to rain in your sniffles and he attempts to not visibly grow a boner as your bloodshot eyes finally come into view. You're a beautiful mess for him. Your lashes are wet and your nose is runny and he wants to do so many vile things to you, its eating away at his soul.

He wants to play this game for as long as he can though, this sulking game that he didn't know hed enjoy so much. He settles for setting his hand at the back of your head as you talk.

"If I have a job that means there's less stuff you have to buy for me and-" You answer, sniffling cutely as you sit beside him. You're staring down at your hands fidgeting in your lap while his eyes can't leave the pathetic tears running down your face.

He doesn't think when he says it. He's not thinking about anything other than your body. How little you become for him. How sombre and sullen and sulky you are.

"And what if I prefer it?" He asks softly, "Taking care of you?"

You shake your head, trying to remove his hand ghosting behind you but he only weaves his fingers into your braids, keeping a wonderful grip on your scalp.

"You had no right to do that- you had no right to make me quit."

He leans over, sufficiently done with all these terrible games you've played and forced him to play. He was so dangerously close to combustion, his hands were trembling as he reached over to undo the buttons of your work polo shirt. You let him.

Of course you let him.

"Who was that then? You kissed him before?" His eyes find you before moving back down to the t-shirt. His fingers hook under the ends of the shirt as he lifts it up.

"Who was who? My co-worker?" You sound tired and dejected and you immediately hug yourself when nothing but cool air drifts over your naked torso. He moves a large hand over your breasts, marveling at the sheer size of it, comparing it in his hands. Your body truly was magnificent, he realizes. And all he has done this whole time is try to kill it.

"That... child," he breathes before dropping his hands down to your work pants. He undoes the buttons and you watch him with an intense look in your eye.

"You have a knack for calling every boy my age a child," you say shortly.

"That's because you're young," he admits before tapping your thigh slightly. You lift your hip and let him maneuver you out of the khaki pants, never to be worn again. The smell of coffee still hangs heavily over your skin but it's significantly less intense. Right now all he smells is you.

"And yet," you showcase to him the latest bruise along your collarbone. It's big and angry and hid very easily under the polo shirt. However, here under the overhead lights of your apartment, he could see them, "Look at everything you've ever done to me-"

He groans then. He actually groans.

His eyes flutter shut as his legs spread a little wider and he sinks a little lower into the couch. "Fuck," he whispers, head swinging towards you as he flutters his eyes back open.

"Come sit on my lap?"

His request only catches you remarkably off-guard. “Excuse me?”

"I said come sit on my lap," he replies so defiantly it nearly has your brain short circuiting. You narrow your eyes, not trusting it.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? Because I'm hard and I'd like you to sit on my lap."

"Is this another game?" You ask, still remarkably on the fence about the man who had been the pinnacle of sadism, suddenly force-feeding you his affections.

"If you don't sit on my lap I will bring out the cane again, don't tempt me-" before your able to make a decision, he makes one for you- attacking you with his large hands before you're able to protest any further. He wrestles you onto him, forcing you to take what he gave.

You're made to straddle his left thigh as he pulls you in close until your tits are pressed up against his shirt. He buries his head in-between the crook of your neck and you croak out a moan as he inhales you sharply. He hugs you towards him, bouncing you slightly on his knees. The feeling shoots straight to your cunt and you immediately begin to groan on top of him.

With his head over your shoulder, you can feel his fingers grace over the marks he'd left before. The marks from the cane. It scarred your back. Moulding the flesh in his image. Branding you as his

"You're young but you can handle it." He whispers, swiping his thumb over your scars before drifting his hands down to your hip. He slowly begins to drag your hips forward and you gasp, immediately searching for something to grab onto. You settle for his shirt. Your fingers curl around the fabric and he lets you ruin it as he pushes you back slowly on his thigh. He continues these torturous movements until your cunt gets the message and starts acting accordingly.

He watches with a slow nod as you begin to ride his thigh like he's conditioned you to.

"Jeez-" It was the sheer intimacy of the actual act that had your arousal dripping out of you and onto his thigh. You'd never had sex with him- purely for sex. It had always been an act of torture or punishment that had always led to sex. But never something so sexual being done so blatantly .

"Fuck yourself on my thigh-" he whispers hoarsely, almost pained as he urges you along. "You can do it, can't you? You can be a good slut for me?"

An equally pained whimper seeps out of your closed lips as you begin to ride his thigh like your life depends on it- spurred on by darkness in his glare and the bulge tenting his pants.

When you notice him undoing the buttons of those pants you realize you are utterly done for.

"Good little slut," he mumbles as he mindlessly reaches inside his boxers to uncover his cock already dripping precum.

"Open your mouth-" he's already shoving his fingers inside, flattening your tongue in order to collect as much saliva as possible before spreading it all over his cock. You watch in complete wonder as he begins to fuck his fist to the same rhythm you ride his thigh- it's so mesmerizing.

"D-Does this count as a session or-"

"Shh-" he says, squeezing his eyes shut as his hand squeezes the base of his cock.

He fluffers his eyes open again, only to state deeply into your lust-filled gaze.

"I don't think I've ever cum inside you with the actual objective of getting you pregnant." His words completely knock you off-kilter and he needs to bring his hand up to your side to stop you from slipping off his thigh.

He continues to stroke his cock, picking up speed.

"I've only ever just... did it.”

“Pl-Please stop talking-” you mumble, “I’ll cum,”

He doesn't listen.

“I cum inside you 'cus it's what I feel like doing in the moment," you try to stitch every piece of this moment to memory. The wrinkles lining his manic eyes, smile wiped clean from his face, leaving only a serious, aroused look of an incredibly grown, strong man.

"F-Fuck," your hips stutter on top of him as you softly whimper. "D-Dad-"

It cracks out of you.

And almost immediately you wish you could take it back but you're already cumming. And your words have his eyes widened as he lifts his hips from the couch fucking his fist deeper.

"F-Fuck I'm cumming-" he admits oh so gravely as his eyes squeeze shut.

"Me too-" you whimper as your own orgasm splits through you, soaking his thigh and ruining the fabric further.

Beyond a few shallow words, guaranteeing you that you won't be annihilated, he almost never initiates affection. In fact, you weren't even really sure if he was capable of it yet here he was, confessing the only way he knew how.

You're cumming on top of him as spurts of his cum land on his chest, making a mess on his shirt. You're both breathing heavily in the afterglow. The fog has yet to clear.

You sit up slowly, body wracking with aftershocks.

"This was nice but um- I need you to be rougher-" the words barely leave your mouth before he's clamping your throat shut with his fist. He's breathing heavily with his eyes still squeezed shut.

"You don't need anything-" he reminds you quietly, "You don't make demands, you take what I give you."

He squeezes and squeezes your throat like he did his cock.

"You're like a baby being forced fed.” He says, “My baby. My thing to take care of.”

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