#Ettore x reader

[flowerandblood]

The Temple of the God

[ Ares • Ettore x Aphrodite • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, fingering, smut, angst, violence, swearing, marital infidelity ]

[ description: Many men look at her with lust, however, no one's gaze is as terrifying as that of her brother, the god of war, cruel and cold, reminding her more of a barbarian than one of the kings of Olympus. He is known to care little about pleasing women in his brutal rapprochements with them, however, he surprises her with his attitude when he visits her one night. ]

This oneshot is my Valentine's Day gift to all of you. I love you, thank you for being here! I plan to come back to this couple in the future, let me know what you think! 💕

Part 2 − The Temple of War

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She could see it in the way he looked at her. She saw it in the light movement of his head, his raised chin, his slightly parted lips, his gait lazy, confident, careless, like that of a bear or a lion. He circled around her, angry and frustrated, unable to get what he wanted.

There was something animalistic in his nature, in his posture, in his aura, his gaze seemed to her empty, yet at the same time endlessly deep and dark; he could not concentrate on calm deliberation, there was a perpetual, irrepressible storm in his mind.

He would exert himself on the battlefields, at the head of armies of his heroes, with whom he would train and duel for days, their muscular, broad bodies often completely naked, glistening with sweat and oil.

She watched them sometimes from the windows of her chambers on Olympus. Their great wars and pointless exercises aimed at making them tear their opponents to shreds, with one sword cut depriving them of their members, wallowing in their blood.

Her brother did not abhor carcasses, decay, murder, cruelty, she thought he fed on it, his enemies knew no mercy from him, their pleas clashing with the cold stone that was his heart.

Her nature was the complete opposite of his and they both knew that they had nothing to offer each other. However, whenever he caught sight of her silhouette, walking in the company of her servants, river and mountain nymphs, entertaining her with conversation, he did not take his piercing, hot gaze off her, his lips pressed into a thin line; he turned the hilt of his sword as if in a trance then, drifting away with his thoughts.

He did not desire her, he wanted to devour her.

She knew that he had cohabited with many women, including her maidservants, who later lamented to her that he was brutal and cruel, that he did not know or understand what female fulfilment and joy were, did not know the women's bodies and their secrets, because he was only interested in his own fulfilment.

One day she visited him while he was practising with his warriors; they were wrestling and throwing each other to the ground, the one who gave up had to pat the other on the shoulder.

They were completely naked.

Seeing her, several of them covered themselves, knowing full well who she was, ashamed that she might judge them or their bodies, mock them and expose them to the ridicule.

She, however, approached her brother, looking straight into his eyes beaming with utter black emptiness, his broad chest adorned with drops of sweat rising and falling in heavy breathing.

He stood before her without any sign of embarrassment, his eyes roaming all over her body, judging apparently how her flesh presented itself in her soft velvet-like translucent white robe, pearls braided into the curls of her hair. They stared at each other for a moment in silence, as if testing each other, her face, like his, expressing nothing.

"Stay away from my servants, brother. They have complained to me that you are hurting them." She said at last, his jaw clenched at her words, his nostrils quivering in impatience.

He didn't answer.

He never answered.

She turned away, heading back towards the cloisters, feeling the thirsty gazes of the men turning behind her, disappearing at last into the halls of the gigantic ancient palace.

Men craved her for many reasons, one of which was the urge to prove to themselves that they could be desired by the goddess of love herself.

It was a great oversimplification, however, because of her experience this is what she came to be called, people, men and women, began to offer prayers to her begging her blessing in their marriages, asking for her intervention in matters others would have been afraid to whisper about.

She blessed ardent loves, burning to the core.

Yet she herself, though she was ashamed to admit it, had not experienced one herself.

Every time she thought it was the one, the man she believed to be her beloved died, or betrayed her by following another goddess, bored. Her heart was broken so many times that she allowed herself to be approached by men only to give her physical pleasure.

Her husband, Hephaestus, was a good and warm-hearted man. He spent his days in his great forge located in the heart of the volcano, in which the fire flowed constantly. She visited him there rarely, the dust and noise there was unbearable for her.

Although they both had respect for each other and a kind of cordiality, he preferred to devote himself to his work. He did not understand her needs, just as she did not understand his, for which she did not blame him.

Their marriage, unlike that of Zeus and Hera, was more peaceful, both of them resigned to their roles and didn't get in each other's way.

She knew, however, that before her father, ruler of the thunderbolts and all of Olympus, had decided to marry her to Hephaestus, it had been the God of War himself who had furiously demanded her hand, believing that she was his to claim.

Their father did not share his decision, apparently fearing his violent nature and what kind of husband he would turn out to be.

Her brother then disappeared for years, sinking into great wars and battles, the earth trembled from his rage, from the peaks of their heavenly mountain she heard the cries and moans of his enemies.

That day, after what she had told him, he came to her at night.

Completely naked, without a trace of embarrassment on his face, he walked slowly across the cold stone floor towards her bed, draped with a canopy and translucent curtains, which he pushed aside with an impatient flick of his hand, passing between them.

He stopped when he caught sight of her bare figure, looking at him with furrowed brows she raised on one elbow, feeling no shame whatsoever, yet unable to stop the squeeze between her thighs and the heat in her lower abdomen noticing that at the sight of her body his manhood twitched and swelled.

"Get out." She said coolly, but he only hummed as if he was considering something. She turned on her back, ready to scream if necessary, knowing her servants would come to her aid and her brothers would drag him away from her.

She was curious, however, to see what he would do.

She looked vigilantly at his silhouette walking slowly towards her, with his big cold black eyes and tense body he reminded her of a wild animal preparing to attack.

She thought he was about to throw himself at her and try to take her against her will.

He, however, sat down beside her; his large, wide hand raised and, in an uncertain, calm movement, ran down her thigh, his fingers digging into her skin as if he wanted to see what it felt like.

"− like velvet −" He murmured low, breathing through his mouth as if he was trying to calm himself; she seemed to notice on his face something of childish curiosity, as if she and her body was something unremarkable and completely incomprehensible to him.

His hand went higher, to her breast and began to rub and play with it, as if he liked the shape of it and how pleasant it was to the touch. She sighed quietly, realising with disbelief that what he was doing and how he was behaving was making her wet, her fleshy insides pulsing with tension.

Finally his fingers ran over her neck and face, his thumb stopped and parted her plump, glistening lips; he leaned over her as if he wanted to get a proper look at her, his warm breath enveloped her skin, the smell of his sweat seemed primal, masculine to her, her body involuntarily quivered at the thought.

He kissed her, kissed her as if he wanted to devour her, his caress full of chaos and impatience, of his hot, sticky lips, of his wet tongue, of his saliva and teeth. She gasped into his mouth, surprised to feel what he was doing between her thighs, her heart pounding like mad.

He groaned low into her mouth in surprise and tightened his fingers on her cheeks, panting hard as her hand gripped firmly his hard, swollen manhood.

She gasped for air when she felt how generously he had been bestowed by the heavens; she gave him a few slow, encouraging squeezes sliding her hand from the fat, pink head of his cock to it's very base, his hips involuntarily began to respond to her movements.

"− harder −" He commanded, closing his eyes, his hand involuntarily squeezed her breasts, too hard and without sensitivity. She hissed quietly, clamping her hand tighter on his length, wanting to cause him pain; he growled feeling it, digging his fingers into the skin of her cheek, looking at her with rage.

"− not like that − more gently −" She explained, clamping her hand over his, showing him with the strokes of her fingers how he should caress her, directing his thumb to her nipple.

"− rub this place − ah, yes, just like that −" She mumbled, tilting her head back, feeling his impatient breath on her, watching her and her reactions with interest, surprised apparently at how she was able to change in a matter of moments.

She felt his length tremble in her grasp when he heard her first, quiet moans.

"− that's enough −" He said impatiently, laying down on top of her, his large hands, rough from holding the sword, gripped her thighs, wanting to spread them apart and finally possess her, her fingers tightening on his sweaty, muscular shoulders.

"− no − not yet − touch me there −" She mumbled.

He looked at her with a gaze from which her whole body froze, it seemed to her that his irises were completely black, menacing, burning with a desire that destroyed and devoured.

For a moment he didn't move, breathing heavily as if he was considering her words; she licked her lips realising that he had never done this before.

He had never touched a woman down there with his fingers or his lips, never caressed her before he owned her.

She swallowed loudly, sliding her hand down to his, in a gentle motion encouraging him to sink his fingers into her hot, leaking womanhood.

She heard him draw in a loud breath at the sensation, foreign and unfamiliar, tense, he rested the weight of his body on his elbow, leaning to the side, watching from the corner of his eye what he was doing to her.

"− here, brother − touching me here will give me pleasure −" She whispered, guiding his fingertips to the bud hidden between her folds, showing him how to tease her clit with circular, slow movements.

She parted her lips, feeling the pleasant tingling in her lower abdomen, her hips involuntarily began to respond to his strokes.

"− only here? −" He asked lowly, furrowing his eyebrows, his stony face expressing concern at her words knowing that the place she was showing him was outside and not deep inside her. She sighed quietly, guiding his middle finger to her slit; he looked at her face, gasping out loud, feeling the way her fleshy walls resisted him, hot and sticky.

"− not only − can you feel it? − right here −" She whispered, directing him to the spot inside her just above her opening, between her muscles. He shuddered all over, licking his lips, dried apparently from emotion, his erection hard and swollen, twitching involuntarily, betraying how aroused he was.

"− yes −" He exclaimed, digging his middle finger into the spot she showed him, his thumb teasing her pearl, clearly wanting to see what would happen when he started touching both places at once. She moaned loudly, tilting her head back, delighted at how unexpectedly pleasurable the sensation was.

"− gods − put it inside me −" She mewled, feeling that she no longer cared about retaining any remnants of her dignity, her free hand sank into his hair, pulling him close. He grunted loudly into her mouth like an animal throwing himself at her body, her fingers dug into the bare skin of his back, a moan of exertion escaped her throat when immediately the thick tip of his cock began to push against her tight walls.

"− wider −" He exhaled with a grin that was disturbing to say the least as with an impatient, confident thrust he forced her to let him in deeper. She breathed loudly, unable to believe how hard he was stretching her and threw her head back, a drop of sweat running down her long neck.

"− brother −" She whispered, something in the way she said the word made him lose his patience, his length began to slam into her in a fast, brutal rhythm, each time rubbing the spot inside her from where she could see the stars; it seemed to her that everything around her was spinning, the fingers of his hand cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him.

"− no, fucking look at me − look at me and listen to what my cock is doing to this weeping cunt − pathetic −" He hissed out through clenched teeth, as if he was both furious and proud at the same time. She whimpered helplessly, a loud smack echoed around them each time his thighs hit the bare skin of her buttocks, there was something lewd and definitive about the sound, proof of how wrong she was.

"− mghm −" She babbled, feeling like he was going to pierce her, the movements of his hips quick and aggressive, full of desperation and desire, their breaths embarrassingly loud and raptured. They stared at each other with their mouths wide open, as if they couldn't believe in what was happening.

"− what does it feel like, brother? − what does it feel like to fuck your own sister? −" She gasped, heard his surprised sigh at her question, his cock quivered hard inside her, his fingers dug harder into the soft skin of her cheeks, causing her pain.

He was moving so fast inside her that he was hardly slipping out of her, her fleshy walls, all leaking from her moisture, were no longer resisting him.

It seemed to her that he wanted to reply something, but the pleasure took his speech away; he leaned over suddenly and pressed his forehead against hers, panting loudly, his hot breath enveloping her face.

She could smell the masculine scent of his sweat, from which her cunt began to throb around him, her fingers traveled down from his back to his buttocks, stroking them with movements that could be called tender.

"− it feels good −" He whispered, looking at her with a gaze that sent shivers through her, at the same time animalistic, empty and full of something she couldn't name, desire as dark and disturbing as the night around them. The sure, loud, deep thrusts of his hips made her breath get stuck in her throat, she thought with horror, feeling a pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen, that she was about to come.

"− it feels right −" He muttered and ran his tongue over her lips, something in the way he said those words, in this shameless, lewd gesture, in the way the tip of his fat cock rubbed her again and again at the spot of her greatest pleasure made her melt in front of him.

She involuntarily tilted her head back and closed her eyes, a soft, helpless moan of delight broke from her throat as a wave of wonderful heat and relief shook her body, her walls began to squeeze him, sucking him inside.

"− fuck − fuck-fuck-fuck −" He merely muttered before sighing loudly.

She felt his hot seed spill inside her, filling her, and although she rarely allowed anyone such an honour, she was unable to deny him.

She stroked his naked buttocks with calm movements full of affection, in some subconscious, natural reflex, he continued to thrust into her for a moment longer, looking down at her with his mouth open wide in pleasure.

They stared at each other, breathing loudly, and she raised her hand, letting her fingers run over his temple, his cheek and his clearly defined long jaw. She saw him close his eyes for a moment, as if he wanted to remember this moment and this feeling.

"− there is no place for me to rest − no haven where I can take refuge − here is my only true temple −" He gasped in half whisper, as if he were revealing to her some shameful secret that was tormenting him. She swallowed quietly, feeling his body cling to hers, her breasts pressed against his bare, broad chest, his face snuggled into her hot cheek, his soft manhood still throbbed deep inside her.

"− my home −"

_____

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[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Drown Inside Me

23/12: Bed Sharing & Accidental Stimulation - Ettore Word Count: 1.3k~ | Warnings: somnophilia, degradation, thigh riding, choking, p in v sex, cockwarming A/N: This takes place in the Supernova Universe!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

If she was anyone else, he'd have outright ignored her.

They were already breaking the whole ‘no fraternising between prisoners’ rule. Sharing a bed was another level above that. It wasn't a moment of passion and lust, back to faux-normality at the next moment. This had the possibility of getting caught. Facing real consequences.

Yet it was very much like a moth to a flame. Like fire and gasoline.

Drawn to each other but, in the end, destined to do nothing but hurt each other.

Ever since their hot and humid reunion, it was a borderline infatuation.

He knows it's wrong. Against everything he thought he was as a person, but there was just something about her. And not even just that. 

It was the taste of her as he woke her up with his face between her thighs, watching as she whined and tried to push him away, overstimulated and sensitive.

It was the sounds she made when she'd already cum twice and his pace didn't falter, feeling the way her walls fluttered around him, drawing painful pleasure from her with every harsh press of his fingers against her clit.

It was the feeling of her skin, flush and hot in his palm wrapped around her neck, her pulse trembling beneath it  as he pushed her knees to her chest, rendering her completely helpless as he speared her open on his cock.

Every now and then, between those moments, there was space for a slither of intimacy.

When he cracked his eyes open tiredly, unaware of what had woken him, he had his arm thrown around her waist, his knee nestled between her legs to anchor her to him. It was clear it was still the middle of the night, as the lights were still low.

The waves of consciousness slowly roused him, when he felt movement, the slightest bit. Like she might have been shifting in her sleep.

Except her movements felt far too calculated and intentional for her to be asleep.

From this angle, he could see her eyes were closed, lips parted to breathe slightly heavier. And she was moving her hips, to gain friction on his thigh that was nestled between her legs.

He dare not move, but a smirk rose to his face.

The little slut was using him for pleasure, thinking he was asleep. The dirty cunt.

For a bit, he allowed her to have her fun. Her subtle canting of her hips was not quite enough to get her off entirely. And he could tell she was getting frustrated at the slow pace, not wanting to wake him.

Good.

He would be quite content to let her do it, relishing in her humiliation, but he was getting painfully hard from the experience himself.

She gasped quietly as his hand that was around her waist suddenly slapped around her throat, tugging her back to his chest harshly, his fingers clenched at her jaw.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

She halted her movements instantly, her words and breath stuck hot in her chest.

“Hm? Using me to get yourself off while I'm asleep?”

Embarrassment clawed at her skin, not at the act itself, but the fact that he'd so clearly caught her doing it.

“Answer me.”

She nodded, “Yes..” she answered breathlessly.

She could feel his breath on the shell of her ear, his lips teasing the skin there. Ettore shifted his thigh firmly back between her legs, the stimulation making her jump.

“Go on then. Keep going.”

It was almost automatic. Her mind clouded by lust. She dragged her clothed core over his thigh, the friction making a fire blaze softly in her gut, she had to press her lips together to keep quiet.

He grinned, pressing his thigh to her in tandem with her movements.

“You just want to get fucked, don't you? Dirty fucking slut.”

She made a quiet whimpering noise, emboldened by his words and how he was saying them.

“Tell you what, if you get yourself off, you'll get the real thing. Would you like that?”

She nodded as best she could in Ettore's grip, moving herself in earnest and fucking herself on his broad, muscled thigh. His hand remained around her neck, reminding her exactly who was in charge.

Moisture pooled between her thighs, her lips parting as the feeling grew larger yet, her stomach tightening with each roll of her hips. Alongside this, he managed to grind his hard length against her backside, gaining the smallest bit of friction from the moment.

She moved her head back, her eyes fluttering shut as her peak began to crest, moving in earnest on his thigh that the bed began to creak.

“-fuck- that's it - can't wait to feel you cream on my fucking cock-” he breathed, his lips pressed to her neck, “-so good for me-”

When his hand tightened around her throat she whined quietly, the euphoric feeling of haziness combined with the way her limbs were being flooded with warmth had her feeling as if she was floating.

“-shit-” is all she managed to say as she felt herself fall apart, moving pitifully on his thigh, feeling the slick pooling there as she rode out her high on him.

She wasn't even done before Ettore hastily pulled his sweatpants down, obviously unable to wait any longer, relishing the choked whine she let out when he sheathed himself inside her in one, smooth movement. 

The blunt head of his cock began to bully the sensitive spot inside her in earnest, with no build-up, his hand wrenched on her thigh to keep it elevated to open her wider.

“You need to shut the fuck up, or we'll get caught-”

She nodded quickly, “...sorry, I'm sorry…”

But that didn't mean he had to slow down. With one hand still tightened around her neck, as if he didn't care whether he was blocking off all air or not, he pushed his hips against her with a wet smack, feeling her slick coat the length of him and some of his thigh as well.

“God, you're fucking pathetic - making a mess on me-”

He revelled in her tight warmth, each little ridge inside her choked him for dear life, her body still sensitive from her previous orgasm which had barely ended. He could even feel her walls flutter around him, trying to suck him in deeper.

Usually he wasn't vocal during sex aside from the odd sentence and low moan, but there was something about this time that just felt so different. So right. His breath was hot and patted against her tacky skin, now chasing his release, envisioning his cum leaking out of her.

Each thrust was followed by a quiet moan, until it evolved into a long, choked whine as she tightened around him again. Her second crept up on her rapidly, and as she clenched impossibly, it was almost difficult to stuff himself back inside her one last time before he too let go.

Each sighed as he filled her to the brim, the feeling of his warm release at the very end of her made his grip loosen somewhat around her neck.

“Fuck-”

All that was heard was their heavy breathing, trying to suck air back into their lungs.

She laughed breathlessly, “enjoy that, did you?”

She grinned in a way he both loved and hated.

He hummed, almost so low it came out a growl, moving his hips to keep himself nestled inside her.

“You can fucking talk.”

She smiled mischievously, her eyes glimmering, spent from the exertion of sex.

“I thought that's what you liked about me?”

“Hm”, he grumbled tiredly, his head falling back on the pillow, “I might change my mind if you don't shut up. Go to sleep.”

He knew she wouldn't take it personally. She never did.

She huffed a tired laugh and laid her head on the pillow, melting into the mattress, tired and fucked out.

He wasn't one for words, not nice ones anyway. There was no time for affection.

And as he watched her eyelashes flutter shut, tugging her body back to his with his length softening within her, he only showed it when she was asleep, with something as simple and innocent and brushing his fingers through her hair, easing her to sleep.

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[alicesivory]

The Moon Song

Inspired by the movie ‘her’ 2013 - directed by Spike Jonze 

Pairing: Billy Washington x female! Reader

Warning: smut, angst, and teeth rotting fluff (mdni), and not proof-read lol. 

WC: 7005 

Disclaimer: I am not comfortable using [y/n] but I won’t be using any OC since it’s still an x reader fic. But I’ll slip a nickname or two in some stories ;) Oh and I took some words and sentences from my favourite scene from the movie and the iconic monologue at the end but I revised it so it would fit into the story but all credits goes to Spike Jonze. Enjoy!

“War? You don’t got a clue- what do you know about war?! War against halal butchers? You don’t know anythin-.”

Billy nodded as tears started to build up in his eyes. Of course he knew nothing. It's as if anyone gave him a chance to know something. It’s meaningless at some point, he meant his life and all this bullshit about all of this charade. Just when he felt like a somebody, of course his sister had to crumble it all down.

Or just trying to make him snap out of it from this dreamlike state he’s in as his inner self tries to justify his actions. 

He didn’t mean to be like this in the first place or mingle with those thugs. 

He never did. 

“-grow up, Billy!”

He nodded once more as a tear dropped from his eye. 

“You done?”

“Yes, I am.”

Billy kept an eye on his sister as she stomped away from his room, and finally from his apartment. 

Slamming the door. 

Humiliation weighed over his shoulders as he hung his head low, running his fingers through his sandy blonde hair with frustration. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way. Not the way he wanted it to. Taking a deep sigh, he lets go of all of his tears letting them roll down from his cheeks. Sniffling and crying alone in his dark room. But just as wanted to just curl up in bed and cry ‘till exhaustion, he heard a knock from his apartment door. 

Wiping away his tears and snot, he stood up bravely and walked towards the door. It’s probably his sister, wanting to yell or lecture him about…literally anything, really. Nothing’s good enough for her or their parents. He sighs and opens the door with no hesitation without checking who it was. 

“Coming back for mo-.”

Oh, it wasn’t his sister. 

Her name rolled off his tongue easily like he was dying to say her name for months. She looked at him curiously as she stood there with an awkward thin smile. “I bumped into Lana and…she looks pretty pissed. Did I come at the wrong time?” she asked, pointing towards the apartment hallway. He quickly shook his head.

“N-no! Not at all. We just had an argument- you know how it is.” 

It has been…8 months and 2 weeks since he broke up with her (yes he has been counting) and 2 months since he last saw her. Their breakup was hard for him and sometimes Billy believed that their breakup was the one that caused his downward spiral. He had known her since they were in university, she was his friend before he slowly developed feelings for her. His train of thoughts were snapped away by her gasp. “What happened to your hand?”

He quickly hides it away behind his back.

“N-nothing! By the way, What’re you doing here?” He asked, not wanting to tell her the truth. What will she think of him? He can’t just dump his troubles into her. 

“I know this is silly, but I forgot to take some of my stuff,” she sighed in defeat, clearly letting him brush away the topic of his hand. Billy knew what she left and he didn’t even bother to tell her since he..well..just wanted her to maybe stop by or just kind of let it stay in his apartment to remember something of her. A piece of her, some sort.

“Yeah? What did you left?” He asked, acting dumb. 

“Some books and my brown watch. Have you seen them?”

“No, not at all. Come in.”

Three years ago. 

Laughter filled the apartment floor as his pale cream couch was being moved from the first floor to the third floor. He was at the bottom end while his sweetheart was trying to pull the couch up. “It’s getting heavy, love!” He teased as he tried so hard not to laugh seeing them fail over and over again to move their couch up to their apartment. 

What’s now his apartment, used to be their apartment. 

“Hold on! Oh dear Lord-,” she cackled as she took a step back up the stairs, lifting up the other edge of the couch. 

“Alright, now push!” She ordered as they finally succeeded to drag and carry the couch unison. It took them a while to finally make the couch fit through the doorway, but they managed. Back then, their apartment was still empty. No mess or dirty clothes scattering around the floor. It still smelled like paint. “Phew!” She said before crashing onto the couch. Billy follows along, putting his arm around her, letting her lean onto him. 

“Tired, sweetheart?” He teased.

“Terribly.” 

“Gosh I think the last time you were this tired was two nights ago when I fuc-,”

“Ew, no ew stop-,” she says with a giggle trying to get away from him but he won’t budge.

“And you told me to keep going! ‘Ah harder Billy! Harde-,”

“You are so disgusting!” She exclaimed as she covered his mouth with her palm, but he kept teasing her with his stupid dirty jokes. “Really? The last time you told me that was when I gave you backs-,”

“You are so infuriating!”

The only thing to make him shut up was tickles and her plan worked. When her fingers started to wiggle on his stomach, he burst out laughing like a mad man. “Stop! Stop!” He begged her. After one last tickle, she pulled away with a satisfied grin. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.” Billy placed his arm back around her shoulders and gave her a sweet peck on her lips. “I shall be,” she replied cockily, booping his nose. He smiled at her as he admired her features that he loved more than anything. 

He didn’t know he was able to love someone this much. 

“Can’t believe we have this place to ourselves,” he said softly to her, brushing a hair away from her face. She smiled back, “Can’t believe I’m doing this with you.” They both shared a sweet kiss where no one could disturb them or interrupt them. Ever.

“I uh…I applied for the military,” he informed her as they pulled away from their kiss. “Yeah? That’s amazing..,” she said supportively, brushing his hair with her gentle fingers. “Yeah..I wanted to try, y’know? Seeing Lana on field…I  want to be like her y’know? Brave…tough…,” he listed. 

“But you are.”

Her words made him scoff. 

“You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m your boyfriend. It’s biassed.”

“It’s still an opinion,” she said gently, still brushing his hair. Seeking her comfort, he leaned his head on her shoulder. “You think I can do this?” He asked with a hint of insecurity in his voice. “Of course you can,” she reassured him, giving him a gentle kiss on his head. 

Present day

They ramage through his apartment trying to collect all of her stuff. Piece by piece they collect the stuff she left in his apartment. “Alright we have the books…wuthering heights, pride and prejudice, little women, yada yada yada, and all I need is my brown watch. And it’s nowhere to be found- you sure you haven’t seen it anywhere?” She walked towards his gaming chair and sat on the pillowed chair while he sat on the cream coloured couch. 

Normally, he won’t let anyone sit there. Even Becky, or Lana. She was the only one he trusted to touch his possessions. He smiles as he listens to her babbling and talking. He hates to admit it, but he missed it. 

“Nope, not at all,” he lied. 

Sighing in defeat, she starts rocking the chair as she looks around the room they’re in. “How you’ve been, by the way?” Billy shrugs at her question, acting all casual even if his life was basically crumbling down. No job, shitty friends, commit a minor crime, his sister, parents, even current girlfriend hates him. “Just fine, really.” 

His answer made her smirk. “Well your hand says otherwise,” she says. Her witty answer made him chuckle. “What can I say? I’m a busy man.” He always liked how easy it is to talk to her. “What about you? You doin’ alright?” He asks, his tone gentle and eager to know if she’s been alright. 

“Well, yeah I’m alright. Ups and downs here and there, y’know?”

“Compared to me, you look like you’re doing amazing,” he compliments her, leaning in to take a good look at her even if they’re a little bit away from each other.

His compliment made her chuckle. 

It always does. 

“Thanks..,” she replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I’m serious though..you look amazing.” His tone genuine and full of meaning into it. 

She looked at him for a moment, trying to read him before nodding. 

“Well you look like you need a haircut and a shave.”

Her comment made him laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s been awhile since he felt that much comfort in him. 

After a while, their laughter died down and a comfortable silence swept the room. “You seeing anyone?” she asked. He nodded, “Yeah, but it’s a bunch of crap. Her name’s Rebecca and I haven’t heard from her since last week.” She gave him a thin smile, both of them knowing that they don’t want to discuss that topic further. “And you?” 

“Been on a date or two but none of them worked out,” she shrugs. He nodded again, a little bit glad to hear that. “You happy with your new book?”

“You’ve read it?” She asks with a chuckle. “Well, I saw it in a book store last week and it looks pretty cool, I might have to buy a copy after this,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean sure I like how it is,” she says. But he saw how she pursues her lips with a pregnant pause coming from her. “But I feel like it’s true to what I set out to do. So I’m happy with that.”

“I swear, You’re your own worst critic, I’m sure it’s amazing. Even that paper you wrote on synaptic behavioral routines made me cry.” 

“Yeah, but everything makes you cry.”

“Everything you make makes me cry.”

A sense of familiarity washes between them. How easy it was to just talk like normal people would. Alice looked into his eyes for a moment before darting away and spots his injured knuckles once more. 

“No but seriously though, what happened?” She asks, pointing at his hand hesitantly. He looked down and felt heat coming up to his cheeks.

“I uh…it was an accident.” “What accident?”

“An accident that involved me and some glass shards.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

Why is she asking me all this shit?

“You don’t want to know.”

“I would love to know, actually.”

He looked at her for a while to sense any sort of hesitation in her words but the only thing he could find in her eyes was determination. It intimidates him. She could scoop anything from the bottom pits of his heart. 

“For fuck’s sake, Ismashedawindowatabutchersh-“

“What?!” 

“It was a fucking protest-“

“—What protest, Billy?! All I see is that you’re now doing property damage-,”

“—Am not!—”

“—Then what was that for? Why on earth would you smash a butcher shop’s window?!” 

Billy was silent.

Why did he do it?

“I..”

Did he actually believe all that bullshit? Or was he just tagging along with his buddies? To be…accepted?

“Everything I do is never enough for you, is it?”

His words created this thick tension in the room. Her brows crinkled as she took his word as an offense. “Why would you say that?” She asks, her voice cracking. “Because it’s the truth-.”

“No it isn’t,” she said, stern and true. “I always felt like you wished I could just be a happy, light. ‘everything’s great’, bouncy girlfriend who always puts a smile whenever you come home either happy or angry and I’m sorry but I can’t do that, I still have feelings too-.”

Billy winces at her words and shakes his head, “No I didn’t want that.”

“You avoid me and shut me out whenever I point out something wrong about you, or us- even when we argue you never wanted to listen!—“

“—No I don’t!—”

“—It’s like as if you can’t handle real emotions, Billy—,”

“—They are real emotions, how do you—,”

“—What? Say it! Am I really that scary, Billy? Say it- How do I know what?!” 

Silence hung in the air once more. They were both seeing red and they…she...he…realized how this argument was going nowhere. Billy saw how her gaze shifted, how her brow relaxed and her eyes slowly softening. Her once angry demeanour changed into what is now left with regret and embarrassment. Rubbing her arm, avoiding his gaze. God, did he really messed up this bad?

“I was gonna marry you, y’know?” 

He didn’t even realize that he said those words out loud, avoiding her gaze as his head hangs low once more. Not realizing how her eyes softened, looking at the man that she once loved and believed was the love of her life. Maybe he is still the one she loves- but he sees that as wishful thinking. 

“I’m sorry that came out of nowhere-,”

“—Billy, It’s okay-,”

“—But I mean it though, I…really want to marry you. Back then, after I’m finally in the military or something- but turns out none of that shit worked out, so…,” he says running his hands through his hair once again. His sentence hung in the air as he shut his mouth from talking any further. 

Billy’s birthday, last year. 

“You’re so infuriating..,” she giggled lowly as she laid on his bed, in his arms, tangled in bedsheets as the moon shone bright from the window. “Me? Infuriating? Is that a proper way to say to your birthday boy tonight?” Billy teasingly replied, leaning his head to hers letting his forehead rest on hers. 

She giggles again shifting her whole body close to him as she clutches the blankets close to her chest to keep her warm. “Jeez sorry, it’s not my fault that you keep giving bad activity ideas for your birthday. Like, seriously? Skydiving? You know I hate heights, you arse!” She slaps his chest, earning a cackle from him. “It was just a suggestion, love that’s all…,” Billy grunts as he cuddles her tightly. 

“Ugh you’re squishing me..,” she complained.

“Stop whining..,” he replied, giving her a sweet kiss on the neck. “It’s still my birthday tonight, I can hug you as tight as I can..,” he murmured sleepily. Alice chuckles and slightly shifts, facing up to him. “No but seriously though, what do you want to do tomorrow?” she seriously asked. 

“I don’t know, really…probably taking you out and the lads up for a few pints. Just the usual, love,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Just wanna spend some time with the people I love.” Giving her a sweet peck on the lips.

“Yeah? You gon’ give your mum and da a visit then?”

Billy groaned as he nuzzled his face on the crook of her neck. “Knew you’d say that.”

“Oh c’mon, love…it’s been a half a year since you saw them. One visit won’t hurt…,” she said gently, running her fingers through his hair. “Yeah one visit will end up my da making fun of me and seeing my mum’s disappointment up close,” Billy sarcastically chuckled. “I won’t let them,” she whispered closely to his ear. 

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Her response earned her a smile out of him. “What’d I do without you, sweetheart?” He asked sultry before he started to kiss her jaw…down to her neck as his big hands snaked her waist, holding her gently. “I think you’d do just fine,” she answered with a sensual sigh. Billy smiled, nuzzling her cheek with his nose before capturing her lips with his. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him back with a low hum, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they explored each other's mouths. Billy took his time as he slipped his boxers down and placed them somewhere in the bed. “Mm…y’know I love you right?” He asked in between kisses as he pinned her down to bed, hovering over her. “I know,” she said. His kisses trailed down from her lips, her jaw, her neck, down to her chest. Gently squeezing and caressing one of her breast while his mouth nipped and sucked the other carefully. He’d then squeeze one to make her nipples perk so he could kiss it and suck it better, leaving wet trails down to her tummy and finally finding his treasure.

Gently spreading her legs, he could see that her white cotton panties had already left a dark wet patch on it. A smile tugging at his lips and he gently nuzzled his nose on her clothed sex. “Already all wet for me, babe?” He asked, placing a sweet kiss onto it before pulling down her panties in one swift motion as if he’d done this a thousand times already.

“C’mon…where’s my sweet darling..ah there she is…,” he muttered to himself. Without a warning he kitten licked her whole sex making her gasp in pleasure. Smirking smugly up at her, he continued to tease and lick her pussy before managing to eat her out properly. Hungrily munching on her like a starved man. He rubbed her clit gently in a circle motion as he stretched her hole with his tongue, fucking her with it. 

This motion made her squirm and gasp, her brows crinkling feeling the intense pleasure that she couldn’t get enough of even if he’d done this to her more than she could count. “M gonna put a finger in, yeah?” His voice said in a reassuring and gentle tone. She nodded with no hesitation and just as she knew it, she felt his finger slipping into her. One finger then became two fingers, slipping in and out of her dripping hole as he licked her clit making her cry in pleasure. 

He took his time to help her find pleasure. He could die between her legs and he’d be happy. He groaned in delight as he licked all of her juices when his fingers pulled out of her weeping hole. He couldn’t get enough of her as he licked off her juices before he had to pull away and looked up to her. 

“W-wha- why did you stopped?” she asked. He hovers over her once more, “Need you inside of me.” Needily nuzzling his nose to her neck, sucking onto her. He then felt his body shift as now he has is back on the bed as she sits on top of him like a queen on her throne. Straddling him, he could see all of her. Caressing her sides, he saw how she looks down and groped the base of his shaft, giving it a few strokes. 

“You okay with this?” She asked.

“Mmhm…y-yeah- fuck yeah,” he couldn’t even speak properly, blinded with pleasure.

Then he felt her lining up their sexes, his cock leaking with pre-cum as she teasingly rubs the outside lining of her pussy with it. “Don’t tease-fuck!” Before he could even finish his sentence, she slips his cock in making both of them gasp in unison. “F-fuck, Billy…,” she moaned, adjusting to him. She loved how he felt inside her. Not too overwhelmingly big or small, to her it’s the right size and girth. 

“You’re made for me,” he grunted as he needily thrust up begging for any movement or friction. Billy saw how she looked at him, eyes full of lust and love as she started to move up and down and rocking him as they adjust to their pleasure.

“Billy?” she called out to him as she thrust into him, her body full of sweat. “Y-yeah?” Holding her hips with his big calloused hands. “Wake up.”

“W-what?”

“I said wake up.”

Present day, Billy’s birthday. 

The sun started to rise, but only tiny streaks of sun rays managed to peek through the blinds. Billy opened his eyes, finding his room empty, finding his bed empty. 

Fuck, he just had another wet dream of her.

He looked down, finding a dark wet spot on his pants. Of course he did. His phone kept buzzing beside his bed, probably some ‘happy birthday’ notifications from his mum, dad, and sister. Becky didn’t even bother to send him a ‘i’m leaving you’ text. Ghosted and gave up on him. 

Like the others do. 

He sighs, getting up from bed and throws a shirt on himself and changes his shorts before finally picking up his phone. Then he saw it. A notification with her name on it. It’s been months since he last saw a notification from her. What is she going to say? Should he open it now? Maybe later- oh fuck it!

Hi Billy how you’ve been? I just want to say happy birthday here and hope you have a great birthday this year🎂 Sorry for the other day, I really didn’t mean a lot of those things, just wanted to see how you’ve been.

I know it’s been 10 months since we broke up and I know you probably don’t want me in your life again but I really just want to say that I wish you nothing but the best things in life. We’ve gone through a long way, we grew up together and all that shit and I just can’t act as if you don’t exist in my life. You always do in some way and I hope that’s okay. 

Have a great birthday Bil.

That text was the last straw for him. He looked around his no-good apartment, in the back of his mind he remembered everything he’d shared with her in every corner of this apartment. It drives him insane how he can’t have that now. But God he’d take it all back and do better for her. Reading her text, knowing how much of a shitty person he is, and she could’ve ghosted him and never talk to him ever again yet she decided to acknowledge him as a person. Not wanting to cut him out of her life, even he himself wouldn’t do the same thing if he was her. It drove him off. 

He hates the way he projects himself. But it is how he is.He hates everything in his life. It’s insufferable and suffocating in his own flat. He didn’t ask to live like this, but he knew the only person he could blame was him. 

Not his family, 

Not his friends, 

And definitely not her. 

He couldn’t stay in his place any longer but as he was about to just grab his stuff and leave the place, there was a heavy knocking on his apartment door.

-

Life went on for a while that summer. He jogged to his car and placed his phone on the phone holder. He opens his phone, checking if he has any texts to answer before he starts driving. He sighs as he spots her name again when he opens his messaging app. He has read her text but he hasn’t replied to her. Opening her chatbox, he realized that there were also a few things he’d like to say to her. Tapping his heel and his leg bouncing anxiously, he contemplates whether or not he should reply to her or leave it be. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered. 

Pressing down the voice message icon, he starts to speak,

“Hey uh…hey love, thanks for the uhm message, I appreciated it r- fuck why do I sound so nervous?” Billy presses the stop button and deletes it. He clears his throat, “Hey uh, I got the birthday message, I really appreciated it, ta. I’ve been doing better…thanks for asking.” He said as he starts to drive his car. 

“Listen, I…I’ve been sittin’ and thinkin’ about all the things I wanted to apologize to you. All the shit and…pain we caused each other and everything I put on you, like how you think I needed you to be or needed you to say, and I’m sorry for that..really. I think I’m just doin’ that because I want to be better for you,  even until now.  And you know what, you helped make the best versions of me. We grew up together and there’ll be a piece of you in me too, always. Whatever we are in the future, and wherever you are in the world I just want you to know that I’ll always look for you and…I…,” he paused. 

I love you and I’ve never stopped loving you. 

“...I hope you have a great day too. Bye.”

Taking all of his courage, he presses the send button. 

Letting out a big sigh, he leans back onto his seat and tries to drive peacefully. 

Maybe a gum will help him calm down. 

A year ago. 

Billy remembered it like it was yesterday. It was late at night and Billy was watching something off the old Telly. He had a terrible day. After he failed to get into the military, he tried applying for high end jobs but it didn’t work out. Did another interview today and he just knew he’s gonna flunk it. The next thing he knows he’ll get an email saying that they’re sorry and all that bullshit. He sighed, leaning his head back on the couch. 

“Billy?” She called out from the doorway. 

“Hm?”

“How was the interview?” 

“Horrible,” he grunted. 

“You don’t know that-,”

“-They laughed at me,” he snapped his head towards her to the point it sets her off. “I-I didn’t kno-,” “Of course you don’t.” He cuts her off once again before getting up from his couch, brushing her off as he passed through her. “Fine,” she muttered and went to the bedroom. “Can you just be supportive for once?” Billy snapped again as he threw his beer bottle to the trash bin. “Just for once, be supportive of me?” He emphasized, with a hint of sarcasm, bitterness and frustration. “Supportive? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing all these years, Billy?” She replied, taking his words to an offence. 

“Oh really? Well I don’t think you’ve been supporting me, more like nagging at everything I do!”

“Criticising isn’t nagging, Billy!” 

“You call that criticising? Critics are supposed to help me be better not bringing me down!”

“I wasn’t bringing you down, Billy! I was just saying the truth! Your CV was weak you didn’t put your best qualities that should’ve been the key point-,”

“--Just stop! Stop it, you’re such a know it all, aren’t you?--”

“--Me? Ha! I’m not the one who can’t accept criticism! Who can’t accept real emotions–”

“--Oh fuck you! Atleast I’m not the one who got rejected by 10 publishers just because the book you’re writing is complete rubbish!”

Her eyes widened. As much as they like to argue, Billy will never dare to say anything about her work- most of all, her book. Billy’s rage died down as he realized what he just said. He crossed the line. He fucked up. He saw how her lips slightly trembled as she wanted to speak. 

She nodded as tears built up in her eyes. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?-”

“--No, fuck- babe I didn’t mean that I’m sorry–,”

“--No, it’s fine–,”

He gently walked towards her and tried to keep her from going away from him. Trapping her in a gentle embrace. “--No, it’s not fine…I’m sorry..I didn’t mean any of that…I messed up I’m sorry,” he apologized over and over again. Placing gentle kisses onto her head. His heart sank when he heard her sniffles. Gently stroking her hair, he murmured his apology to her showering her with kisses to make it all better. “Why are we like this?” She asked in a small tone. “Like what?”

“We keep hurting each other.”

Billy’s thoughts were suddenly snapped when a notification enters his phone 

Lana: Mate, I’m with Becky. She came to mine looking for you. Call me NOW. 

Becky? Why did she came to Lana looking for him?

That doesn’t makes any sense. 

Billy brushed it off and probably thought that Becky’s there to call him off or take her stuff from his flat or something. So he clicks on Lana’s contact number and dials her after constantly ignoring her. 

“Billy!”

“Can you put Becky on?” “Where are ya? Ya sound like you’re drivin’,”

“Yeah was drivin’ to meet my mates, why? Let me speak to Becky.”

“What mates? Anyone I know?”

“Just mates, Lana.” Billy says as he takes a turn on the road. “Why, what’s going off?”

“Listen, Billy I’m not with Becky- I just needed you to call me.” Billy furrowed his brows as he listened to his sister speak on the phone. 

“What?- What do you mean you’re not with Becky?- What do you mean- what- why?”

“I need to talk to ya. You’ve not been answering my calls. You’ve not been about-wh-where are you driving to?

Suddenly his car bumped into some people who were doing some protests. Flipping him off for bumping into them. “Billy? Billy- Where exactly are you?” Lana asks again. Billy flips a protestor on his side bumping into his car. “Farringdon Tube Station,” he answered Lana, annoyed. 

“Listen, Billy, it’s important, what are you doing at Farringdon Station?”

“I was meant to meet the lads but they’re not here. Outside the tube he said, but I can’t see them. Just a load of lefty wankers.”

“Billy, why did you drive, was that your idea?”

“Nah, my mates asked me to give some of the lads a lift down. Must be some kind of joke.” 

Billy looked around not finding any signs of those so called lads. Shit, he got set up. A joke, like people would see him as. Fuck. 

“Yeah they’ve set me up, haven’t they? Havin’ a laugh, aren’t they? Knobheads,” he says with a disappointed demeanor that even Lana could detect. 

“Billy, these new mates of yours, they’re not who you think they are.”

“Lana, what you on about?”

“Nick. Nick Roberts, he’s a…he’s a terrorist. One of the Crusaders that killed Nut.”

In a flash, he finds himself in the middle of Cranstead Fields with a fucking bomb inside of his car. He could hear his heart beating rapidly, his ears ringing as it mutes everyone and everything around him. From many different scenarios in his head, Billy didn’t think he’d die like this. Trapped in a car in the middle of Cranstead Fields with a ticking bomb that’s about to go off at any minute by now. His breath ragged and unstable as he kept an eye on the timer. Swallowing a lump on his throat, he looked up to his rearview mirror. “Oh no..,” he pants to himself. Scared to death, really. He wondered if he’s ever going to survive this. Maybe he should’ve chosen better shit in his life and maybe he won’t get blown off by a fucking bomb latched onto those terrorists. If only he chose better friends, listened to his sister, he’d be at home patching things up. If he was any good maybe he’d be watching some old telly show with her. 

Fuck, he didn’t even said goodbye. 

He hasn't told his mum and dad how sorry he was for being a mop, and for everything he did. 

“Billy! I’m here! Alright it’s gonna be fine! Just stay really still for me, I'm gonna have a look around the car.”,“Yeah you gotta do something about this,” he pants, glancing at the timer that’s still ticking. “About three minutes, yeah?” Three minutes and twenty five seconds. Twenty four, twenty three..shit! He hasn't read her new book. Lana tried to take a look at the bomb as well through the window with a worried and nervous expression. But when Billy faced her again, she tried to put on a brave face for her brother. “Okay stay still, I’m gonna go have a look- Don’t touch anything, I’m just gonna check the car okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah…just-just hurry!”

11 months ago.

Billy leaned onto the hood of his car as the night breeze swept through him. One hand on his jacket pocket, and the other holding a fag as he took a drag out of it letting out a puff of smoke into the air. Looking down at his phone, he saw that it’s 7:00 pm sharp. She should be home from work by now. He sighs, flicking the cigarette down to the ground before stubbing it as he walks to the building. After going through security, he saw his sweetheart talking to the receptionist at the lobby as she had her bag on her shoulder. After finishing her chat with the receptionist she turned around and spotted him immediately. A smile plastered on her face. 

“Heya Billy…,” she greeted with a smile, hugging him with her arms around his neck. He kisses her cheek and neck intimately. “Hiya, love.” As they pull away from the hug, he has his arm around her waist leading her out of the building. “How’s work?” He asked as they walked towards his car together. “Same old, same old,” she shrugged. 

“And…how’s your book going?” His question made her giggle and grins in excitement. “I just got an email that..they’re actually going to publish my book!” She cheers. “Told ya they’d love it,” he said to her smugly, giving her a kiss on the head. “I was so scared and nervous though…but I guess I just needed to take a deep breath with it all,” she said, opening the passenger door. “Yeah, you actually do need to do that,” he said with a pregnant pause. He kept his eye on her as she fastened her seatbelt. 

“Hey, babe?”

“Hm?”

He gently strokes her hair. “Look, I just wanted to say sorry about that night. I was a big dick to you that night, didn’t know what came over me…,” he said carefully to her. “It’s fine–,”

“Don’t say that it’s fine, bub. It’s not. It was stupid and fucked up for me to say about your book. Those 10 publishers who rejected your book were also stupid. I think everything you write is amazing. Can’t wait for the next one.” He kissed the back of her hand, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. “You forgive me?” He asked. Billy saw a smile creeping on her face, “I’ll forgive you. If you promise you’d buy a copy of my book everytime I release one.” 

“Easy, I’d buy Five.”

“Five, huh? I’ll keep your promise, Washington.”

He chuckled, giving a kiss on her temple. 

“Promise, love.”

Present day, Cranstead Fields. 

What felt like an eternity of Lana checking the bloody car, he gripped his steering wheel while glancing at the timer once more. Two minutes and fifty three seconds. Fifty two…fifty one…his heartbeat was banging like a drum inside of his chest. Breathing in, breathing out. Lana looked at the timer and the bomb through the passenger seat’s window, trying to find a solution and just..anything! To turn that stupid bomb off. But her expression wasn’t that convincing. It scared him. 

“How bad is it?” He had to ask Lana. 

Lana could only look back at him with a nervous smile. “It’s fine,” she lied. 

“I can tell when you’re lying, man! So how bad is it?!” He asked again. 

He kept screaming his sister’s name as she went away for awhile- but she can’t just  leave him, he needed his sister. Screaming out Lana’s name like a mad man, his face gone red as he cried inside his car. He does not want to die. He swore it felt like hours inside that stupid car. From the rearview mirror he saw Lana running back to him. “Billy! Listen to me! LISTEN TO ME! LOOK AT ME, YEAH? The timer means nothing! They put it there as a trick so you’ll open the door–,”

“--please–,”

“--Can you hear me?!”

“...please,” he begged again.

“Don’t touch it! Stay still! It’s gonna be fine.”

“Oh fuck,” His head hangs low as he realized that there’s no way out of this situation. 

“Listen to me, I’m your sister, okay?!”

She’s his sister.

“You need to trust me, I’m gonna go and get some stuff–,”

“--Lana please, don’t go–,”

“--You gotta trust me! It’s gonna be fine.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded. Okay. It’s gonna be fine. It is. It is. 

He resisted the temptation and fear of opening the door. But when the timer ran out, it freaked him out. But everything was silent, no explosion or anything going off. There he realized that Lana was right. It was a trick. Okay- fuck. He has to stay focused right now. Watching from the rearview mirror once more, he saw Lana’s team hurriedly bringing their tools. 

“Alright Billy, we’re gonna just take off the rear window so you could crawl out, yeah? Stay. Still,” Lana reminded him calmly. She takes a glance at the bomb once more, giving him a thin reassuring smile. “See? It’s gonna be fine. Don’t touch anything.” Billy nodded at her words even if he was internally screaming. Slowly, he saw how her team plucked out his rear window. “Okay Billy, just slowly crawl right out. We got you,” Hass says, reaching out his arms to pull Billy out. Billy nodded and carefully crawled from the front seat, avoiding the shift gear or anything really! Not wanting to trigger the bomb. As he reached the backseat, the timer of the bomb went on again. 

“Shit!” Billy screamed, hastily scrambling out of the car. He lets his sister and Hass pull him out taking his arms. “Get me out of here!” He screamed as they all grunted, pulling him out of the car. Billy landed on the ground with a thud and the team ran from the car as the timer counted down from five.

“Fuck, ma ankle!” Billy winced as he rubbed his ankle that got twisted after he got out from the car to the ground. 

Four…

“Billy!” Lana screamed from afar. 

Three…

“Shit shit shit shit.”

Two…

Billy tried to walk as fast as he could, away from the car. 

One. 

-

Billy didn’t explode in the car, but his ankle got twisted and his leg was burned from the sparks of the explosion. Laying down on the hospital bed after consulting with medical staff in the ER, Lana accompanied him throughout the day. Not leaving his side. Even his parents came to check up on him. His mum was crying, thinking that he died or something. It made his heart warm by the fact that he had a second chance with his family. His dad hugged him for the first time in years which was also surprising. But, he liked that surprise. 

“Miss, you’re not supposed to go in there-,” he heard one of the nurses said from outside. What kind of commotion is happeni-.

And there she was. 

Panting like as if she was just running a marathon, she stood there by the ER doorway. Then she saw him. “Billy!” she sighs in relief before instantly running to him. Billy couldn’t believe it as they both embraced each other. She hugs his head close to her chest, her heart beating rapidly. 

“H-how did you-,”

“--Lana called me,” she says with a relieved smile, running her delicate fingers through his hair. Billy turns to look at Lana and saw Lana sipping her coffee with a mischievous smile that says; ‘Thank me later’ all over her face. He gave his sister a nod before turning back up to her. 

“Are you okay?” She aks, concerningly. “Never better, love.”

He was done with being afraid. Done being a coward. 

In her embrace, he pecks her lips. 

Even though she was quite surprised, he earned nothing but a smile from his sweetheart. 

“I’d say yes, y’know?”

“About what?”

“If you still want to marry me.” 

Billy smiles to her. Guess he gotta save up then.

A/N: I SWEARRRR this fic took me so long to complete cuz it’s so overwhelming to write especially the Cranstead Fields scene- I had to go back and forth on youtube to keep the dialogues and description right꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱. But anw, thank you so much for reading until the end! I hope you guys enjoyed it and I still had so much fun writing this fic. I hope this fic makes sense, cuz I really wanted to keep it as accurate as possible with ‘Trigger Point’ in the first place(゜▽゜;). I’m up for requests for any Ewan characters and if you want me to write something in the future or you have ANY fic ideas, don’t hesitate to hmu! My inbox is open :D THANK YOUU!!! 

P.S, I would like to give a little shoutout to @/targaryenrealnessdarling and the Cranstead Fields scene was also inspired by their Billy Washington series fic called “It’s Who We Have” so please check their blog as well they wrote so many amazing fics. 

That’s all! Love, Alice!ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

Tags🎀: @ladytargg @anukulee @michaelsgavey @whencokewascasual @fan-goddess

[thought--bubble]

All of your senses

Ettore X (Riding Ettore Reader)

Word Count: 2,082

Ettore Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners & Dividers by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Ettore, Dubcon, smut (PinV unprotected). Male whimpering because I wanted it, and I can! Hehehe

Therapy! Ettore scoffs at the thought. As if therapy could ever help him. As far as he understood himself, he didn't need therapy.

Therapy is something to help a person sort through their emotions. Ettore simply doesn't have any. He does not feel things in his head or his heart. The only feelings he recognizes are physical.

You can't hurt his feelings, but you can break his nose. You can't send his heart a flutter, but you can get him off.

In order to be cleared for that damn space mission in which he would be made part of a co-ed population of inmates, he had to go through therapy and nothing was going to stop him from getting on that ship and once again having access to women.

So, with full fledged irritation and annoyance, he drudged his way down to the prison shrink. A guard flanked him on either side.

He thinks it's a bit dramatic. Yes, he can be violent, but it's actually pretty rare. Only when it serves a purpose and beating down the person who could clear him would be counterproductive to his plans.

When you open the door and beckon him inside, he becomes painfully aware of why the guards are necessary. You're his preferred victim type. A young voluptuous woman, long silky hair, skin-tight pencil skirt, and button-up top. The only thing that can make him lose control.

Ettore walks into the room, the chains connecting his hands to his feet scraping across the floor.

"Hello, Ettore." Your voice makes a shiver run down his spine. He doesn't answer you. Instead, he steps closer and sniffs before one of the guards grabs him and pulls him back, shoving him into a cold metal chair before proceeding to strap his arms and legs down.

Once Ettore is securely fastened to the chair one of the guards turns to you with concern.

" We really should stay. This inmate can not be trusted...... around women"

You chuckle at this. " therapy doesn't work well with an audience. I trust that you have fully secured him?"

"Yes, but-" you stop him with wave of your hand.

"I have full faith that he will stay right where you put him. You can wait outside the room."

The guard mumbles under his breath as he motions for the other guard to follow him out into the hallway. He gives Ettore a final stern look before closing the door, leaving the two of you alone.

You sit down in a plush chair directly across from Ettore with his file in your hand. You had been reading everything the prison had on him for the last week in preparation for this evaluation, and you had a pretty good idea of how he ticked.

"So Ettore. How are you feeling today?" You knew this approach most likely wouldn't work with Ettore. Making him comfortable didn't matter. He wouldn't open up to you just because of some pleasantries. He doesn't know how to open up, and if he did. He still wouldn't.

Ettore stares back at you blankly, his eyes endlessly scrolling the length of your form, yet never looking into your eyes.

It's carnal, the ache he feels inside at the sight of your soft skin. His fingers twitching around the arm of the chair. He wants to touch you. He needs to touch you.

"Why don't we start with your childhood. Your file says your mother died when you were young and you were left with your father, who may have had a bit of a drinking problem." If your words were affecting Ettore, you would never know by looking at him.

His eyes continued to ravish you from your neck to your knees. His heart pounding in his ears. What he needs is right there in front of him, yet just out of reach. He once again fights subtly against his restraints. The inability to move suffocating and controlling his every thought.

"Losing your mother so young, coupled with the nature of your crimes. It's my belief that you are in need of a gentle touch." Ettore finally lifts his eyes to meet yours, and you smile back at him.

Touch? His favorite word. Not care, support, or love, as all the other therapists have deamed. No. You used the word touch, the simple phrase having the desired effect.

You stand from your chair and step toward him slowly, his eyes darting down to your legs watching each step.

"Something ....... soft. " You walk up to the side of Ettore's chair and gently graze his cheek with your finger. You can see his arms and wrists fighting against his restraints, and you chuckle.

Ettore's eyes darken at the sound. How lucky you are that he is strapped down to this chair. If he were not, chuckles would not be the sound to come from that pretty little throat.

"Oh, no need to worry." You lean down and bring your mouth right up next to his ear and whisper, "I'll be gentle."

"I won't be." He growls in response, his patience waning. This challenge to his dominance is not something he likes or is willing to accept.

From this angle, you couldn't see his face only the back of his neck where the hairs stood on end, his breathing controlled and heavy.

"You will." You coo in his ear.

You place your hands on the back of the chair, one over each of his shoulders, and bring your mouth close to the nape of his neck. Just gently breathing, letting him feel the ghost of a touch across his skin.

"I'll teach you"

You enjoy watching his response. The tightening of his shoulders the flex in his bicep as he pulls and pulls against his restraints with no hope of getting loose.

"You need some tenderness. That's all. " You walk back around to the front of his chair, Ettore looks up at you, rage clearly written across his face.

A caged animal. Face to face with his prey and unable to act upon his most primal desires.

You hike your pencil skirt up to your mid thighs, and Ettore's eyes instantly drop. The look of anger quickly replaced with hunger, his arms again pulling against his restraints.

"Tsk tsk." You gently rub at his wrists. "Stop that silly boy, you're going to hurt yourself."

His eyes flit about your body wildly, and you smile before placing yourself in his lap, your legs straddling either side of his hips.

Automatically, Ettore thrusts his hips up toward you. "No," you gently scold and hold him down by the hips. "Gentle"

Ettore closes his eyes and breathes deep. A predatory grumble rattling in his chest.

"Now, sweet boy." You bring your cheek up to his, the stubble on his face a little coarse against your skin and the tightness in his jaw apparent.

"Relax," You roll your hips against him slowly, his thin prison pants giving away his excitement.

Ettore again desperately pulls against his restraints. You can't have the power here. He can't let you have the power here.

"Stop," you say, voice firm. You bring your hand up to his chin and gently message it with your thumb. You gently tug on his bottom lip before leaning in and placing a soft kiss against his lips. He doesn't reciprocate. The feeling so foreign, so strange.

"Doesn't that feel nice, sweet boy?"You move your hands so that you are cradling his strong jaw. Holding his face so he has no choice but to look at you.

"Just what the doctor ordered, hmm?" You bring your lips down to him again. Slowly pushing your tongue into his mouth. Not aggressive, not passionate.

You move your tongue in his mouth, and you feel him start to kiss back, aggressively at first, but you keep your pace steady and soft.

You bring your hands to the back of his head, tugging briefly on the hair there. You control his movement this way. Too aggressive, you tug him back.

You roll your hips against him again, falling into a steady rhythm.

With his head pulled back and his neck craned completely powerless as you grind yourself against him, he whimpers.

"What was that sweet boy?" You grind yourself harder against his erection and he whimpers louder.

"Tell me" you demand as you again increase the speed and pressure of your movements.

"Please." He finally croaks out, followed by another whimper. "God please"

"Oh, poor thing." You keep his head pulled back and lick a stripe up his neck. "Am I teasing you?"

Ettore groans, and you slightly lift yourself from his lap.

"I don't want to drive you mad." You release his hair, and he looks at you, panic in his eyes.

"No, wait," Ettore tries to reach for you but is trapped by those damn restraints.

"Oh. Don't worry, sweet boy. " You grab his cheeks and squeeze them briefly. "We aren't done"

You reach beneath you and shimmy his pants down just enough to free his cock. His mouth opens slightly at the feeling his eyes glazing over.

"Slow and gentle." You nuzzle your nose to him as he holds his breath.

He looks so desperate. So pathetic. It's so satisfying.

You press the head of his cock to your entrance and sink down just enough so the tip breeches your walls and nothing else.

Ettore instinctually bucks his hips once before you again grab him and hold him in place.

"Tsk tsk," you scold him as you hold him down and slide up and down over just the tip of his throbbing cock.

His body starts shaking so harshly that it's nearly convulsing. It takes your full strength to hold him in place, his hips desperate to move.

"Fuck fuck fuck" He whimpers loudly. "I need it. More. Fuck more!"

"More?" You sink down just a smidge further and watch as Ettore's head lulled, and his eyes started to roll back.

"Ahh!" He clenches his jaw and moves his hips subtly, getting himself just a tiny bit further.

You slide down further, now halfway down his shaft.

"Kiss me nice and gentle like I taught ya" He lifts his head and looks at you with confusion.

"Not moving another inch till ya do," Ettore quickly brings his face to yours. He tentatively kisses you with slow unsure movements.

As the kiss continues, you slide slowly down the rest of his shaft until your ass rests on his thighs and he moans into your mouth.

You smirk, you have an apex predator beneath you, whimpering, moaning, and begging for relief.

"See? So gentle you are. " You softly blow into his ear as you roll your hips slowly.

Ettore gasps at the sensation, his entire body vibrating. He's been in this prison for two years already, with no one but his hand to keep him company.

The pressure builds up in the base of his spine quickly, but he fights the urge to buck his hips, knowing you would stop if he did.

"You wanna cum sweet boy?" He nods a pained expression on his face.

You lean back in and kiss him again, this time with more urgency as you bring your fingers to your clit. The perfect mixture of his soft kisses, your nimble fingers, and his thick cock scraping against your walls bring you over the edge quickly.

As your cunt pulses around him you grip his hair again exposing his neck to you.

"Cum sweet boy. Right now, " He has no choice but to comply he bucks his hips twice and then spills himself inside of you, his mouth wide open and eyes closed.

You kiss him once more, but he is spent, mouth just hanging open lazily. You hop off of him and fix his pants as he smiles up at you, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

You fix yourself and, without another word, to him open your office door telling the guards to take him back to his cell.

On his way out the door, he keeps his eyes on you, tripping over his shackles and being caught by a guard.

You pay him no mind and quickly close the door behind him and sit down at your desk.

You fill out the sheet you were given approving him for the mission, and of course, suggest a few more therapy sessions before he goes.

To be added to taglists please click Here

[jacevelaryonswife]

— My Recommendations | HOTD, TLK and Ewanverse

Throughout my years of reading I’ve come across incredible works (some even life changing) in this vast universe of wonderful writers. I brought some fic recs that I think you guys should read!

Back to the Puzzle | Ettore x fem!reader (+18 and dark content) from @missglaskin , the most canon version of Ettore I’ve ever read.

An Eye for An Eye | Aemond x fem!reader (+18 and dark content) also from @missglaskin prob my Aemond’s favorite fic.

Silver Coins | Osferth x fem!reader (+18) | from my darling @arcielee 💜 this is soo canon!Osferth and such a comfort fic.

No Pain, No Gain | PersonalTrainer! Aemond x fem!reader (+18) | from @targaryenrealnessdarling one of my favorites Modern!Aemond fics ever.

And It’s Just as Good I as I Knew it Would be | Jace Velaryon x fem!reader (+18) from my dear @astrumark 💙 such a good fic!

Three's Company | Sihtric x fem!reader x Finan | (+18) | from our Finan’s Queen content @gemini-mama 💙 this fic is mind blowing.

This Party is Boring, Wanna Leave? | Michael Gavey x fem!reader (+18) from my dear @venmondiese ugh such a serve for us Michael girlies, this story is hot and fantastic!

No Shortage of Sordid, No Protest from Me | Jacaerys x fem!reader (+18) from @sunnyhvnny this is sooo damn good! 100% slay factor.

The Sapphire Spell | Ghost!Aemond x fem!reader (+18) from @aemonds-fire such a creative and good plot 💙

+ more to be added 💙

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Hand That Feeds

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader (physical attributes such as large breasts and alternative appearance described) Warnings: DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT. Mentions of child neglect, prostitution, substance abuse, death, murder. Dark and obsessive behaviour, attempted sexual assault, sub/dom dynamics, male masturbation, smut. Word count: ~3.7k

Summary: Ettore is used to having to take women by force - it's how he ended up on death row, and now a suicide mission in outer space. However, when a fellow crew member catches his eye and becomes the object of his twisted fantasies, he soon learns that the touch of a woman feels more satisfying when he's made to work for it. Based on this request.

Author's note: For @orcaunionleader. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Ettore screws his eyes shut. Strapped into the seat of the spaceship as it hurtles upwards, plunged suddenly into darkness when the lights fail, he feels trapped. It must have been twenty years, at least, since he has felt so vulnerable.

His earliest memory is sobbing as he is shut in the cupboard, the pitch blackness terrifying and too much to bear, but the sight of what he sees when he bursts out is so much worse.

The man on top of his mother, the noises they’re making, he feels strange, a combination of wanting to watch but also a churning in his tummy that makes him feel unwell. He retreats back into the dark, closing the door and hugs his knees to his chest until it all goes quiet again. 

Ettore soon learns it is better to enter a room head first - if he is able to see exactly what is happening then he knows quickly whether it’s safe to come out, or whether he needs to retreat. Not placing his entire body in the way reduces the likelihood of being grabbed, hit, shouted at.

There’s a different man each time, and every time they leave there’s always money on the bedside table of the small studio flat, and his mother is asleep. It’s then that he crawls into bed beside her, cuddling into her warmth, tracing his fingers over the marks that litter her inner elbow creases.

He doesn’t recall his mother ever having hugged him, when she is still like this is the only time he is able to get close to her, and he wraps his arms around her until the rumbling in his stomach gets too much to bear. He is always hungry.

His bare feet crunch against spilled Rice Krispies on the dirty kitchenette floor. Sometimes there is bread to eat, if he picks around the mold, sometimes there isn’t. He sees through the window that there is a place across the road that his mother goes to every few days. She always comes back with glass bottles that clink against each other in the plastic bag, but sometimes there is bread, and less often there are Rice Krispies. He likes those, though he often spills them.

The hunger pangs in his stomach grow so bad he begins to cry. His mother no longer feels warm when he cuddles against her. He is not sure when she last woke up, why she won’t wake up now. Maybe she is just really tired.

He can see the place where she goes to get food from the window, it is not very far, perhaps she’ll wake up by the time he gets back, and so he wanders out of the flat, not closing the door behind him, and walks across the road.

Ettore’s eyes light up the moment he sees the familiar blue box of Rice Krispies, clutching it tightly in both hands. It’s only then that he looks up into the horrified face of the woman standing over him, unable to comprehend why she’s looking at him like that, as she takes in the sight of the malnourished, barefoot child before her, wearing only a t-shirt and a dirty nappy.

There are a flurry of adults around him after that, and he’s taken to live somewhere else. He never sees his mother again. He hears the phrase “non verbal” used a lot, and learns that someone of his age should be able to speak. He doesn’t know how to, and so slowly he is taught how to communicate with words.

Even when Ettore has mastered the power of speech, he prefers not to use it. He finds watching people is far better than talking to them. Most people tend to talk a lot even when they have nothing to say. He prefers the quiet.

There are lots of other children his age at the facility he’s placed in, but slowly they leave, one by one, when adults come to look around. He never leaves though, he supposes it has something to do with the way he has overheard the staff describe his eyes as “haunted” and how strange it is that he has no interest in playing. Grown ups don’t want to share their homes with children that aren’t happy. Ettore doesn’t feel he has much at all to be happy about, when he curls his lips into a smile it feels strange against his face.

As Ettore grows older, he learns of what actually happened to him. His mother had been a heroin addict, she had prostituted herself to fund her habit, and he had been a victim of her extreme neglect. She had died of an overdose and he had laid beside her body for days, until his own hunger had gotten the better of him and he’d wandered into the local corner shop in search of food. He feels nothing upon finding this out, if anything he yearns for the simpler time of huddling against the warmth of his mother as she’d slept off her fix. No one will touch him now, he craves physical contact but doesn’t know how to ask for it.

He’s placed into a foster home when he’s a teenager, though it is a placement that’s short lived. The woman has a daughter, she’s a similar age to Ettore and he longs for her touch. He knows all too well from the way that she squirms under the intensity of his gaze and leaves the room whenever they are alone together that the feeling is not reciprocated.

To Ettore it does not matter. He always waited until his mother was asleep before cuddling her, he reasons that he can simply do the same here. And he does just that; waiting until night falls and the house is quiet, he sneaks into her room, laying down upon the bed beside her.

He breathes in deeply, a delicate floral scent filling his nostrils as he runs the tip of his nose over the softness of her hair. His fingertips creep beneath her pyjama top, and he exhales a shaky breath at how silky smooth her skin feels to touch.

It’s then that she wakes up and lets out a loud scream, he topples from the bed, startled by her outburst and her mother rushes into the room. That is Ettore’s first and only foster care placement, another term is now used to describe him; “maladaptive”.

But he takes away a valuable lesson from the situation - if he wishes to touch a woman then he needs to ensure she stays asleep.

He watches couples with resentment, knowing that no woman will ever kiss or caress him with any semblance of love, not willingly anyway. Women don’t want men that are haunted and maladaptive, but that’s fine with Ettore. If it’s not freely given then he knows precisely how to take it.

Ettore preys upon those that are fumbling with their keys in the lock as they try to return home, women under the influence who spend just a little too long on their phones while trying to get a cab, and the ones that walk hurriedly towards their cars in empty, darkened parking garages.

He moves slowly, carefully, his body only moving in sync with where his head is looking once he’s certain of the target he’s selected. He is unhurried in his movements, and so he goes utterly undetected until it’s too late.

It starts as simply knocking them out and then using their bodies however he sees fit, but it  rapidly escalates when he accidentally kills one of them, it happens twice more before he’s finally apprehended.

He doesn’t try to fight it, pleads guilty in court and is sent to prison. Even with good behaviour, his sentence is such that he’ll be elderly before he’s ever free. But any opportunity for eventual freedom is snuffed out when he gets into a scuffle with another prisoner.

Threats of solitary confinement hang heavily over him as he’s dragged away, and something inside of him snaps. He won’t go back to being locked away in the dark, he can’t. So he lashes out, and as he’s stomping upon the guard’s head he is reminded of the crunching of Rice Krispies beneath his feet from when he was a child.

The death penalty doesn’t exist within the United Kingdom’s judicial system, but he knows he’s being served a death sentence when he is given the news that he has been assigned to board a spaceship with other prisoners on a mission to extract alternative energy from a black hole. There is no coming back from that, he’s not foolish enough to believe otherwise, yet he readily accepts it. There is no other alternative for him, truthfully, there never has been.

When the lights eventually flicker back on and they are alerted they can unfasten their seatbelts, Ettore finally opens his eyes, looking at the prisoners that are seated around him. He’s surprised and intrigued to find there are women as well as men on board. He hasn’t encountered a woman since being sent to prison.

The scrubs they are given to wear are baggy and conceal much of their bodies, so to his disappointment he is unable to admire the feminine curves of the women on board - except one. She is shorter than he is, the remnants of a long since faded colour adorns the ends of her hair. Both her arms are full sleeved with tattoos. He wants to tear away her uniform and see what other artwork decorates her flesh. If he were a normal person, he’d strike up a conversation and ask, but Ettore is not one for words, so he simply stares, watching her every movement as a silent storm builds inside of him.

Though she is slenderly built, he can clearly see the way the baggy top half of her clothing curves over the ample swell of her breasts. His eyes linger there whenever he passes her in the corridor, picturing what it would be like to run his hands over them and squeeze their softness.

It’s these thoughts that are the cause of his every visit to The Box, the ship’s masturbatory aid. It’s used gratuitously by all crew mates, as sexual conduct between prisoners is prohibited on board, so he spills over his knuckles every chance he gets, imagining it’s inside of her. Would she claw at his shoulders and slap at him to get away, or simply lay still and take it?

Occasionally he deposits a sample into a plastic cup, taken away by Dibs, a supposed doctor on board who seems to be the main authority figure. She never fully explains what is to be done with his specimens, but once he has taken the reward he’s provided afterwards - usually a sedative - he cannot find it in himself to care.

He has heard whispers that she is conducting fertility experiments on the ship, attempting to artificially inseminate the female inmates. If that’s the case, he is thankful that his involvement is far less invasive than theirs must be, but ultimately it’s not his problem. He keeps to himself, ever watchful of those around him.

At least there is structure and routine; he goes to sleep and wakes up at the same time each day, participates in mandatory exercise regimes, eats regular meals and is assigned maintenance work duty.

Getting to know his own schedule means becoming familiar with other people’s, and that includes her’s. There is a sense of both excitement and comfort in knowing exactly where she is and exactly what she’s doing at all times.

The first time he encounters her coming out of the Box, he’s struck by how beautiful she is, pupils dilated, skin glowing with a light sheen of perspiration, her lips slightly parted as she attempts to calm her breathing. The heady aroma of her arousal lingers faintly as he goes in after her and he has never come harder in his life than he does on that day. He makes a point to go in after her every day after that.

If she were any other woman and these were any other circumstances, he’d have forced himself upon her by now, but they are in a confined space together and there’s no way for him to act upon his urges without there being almost immediate consequences for it. Every day it feels as though a coil inside of him is wound tighter, and every day he is left wondering if that will be the day when it finally snaps and he brings everything crashing down for both of them.

Despite his internalised conflict, she seems utterly unperplexed by him, which is confusing for Ettore. He is used to women regarding him with unease and disgust, so for her to be completely unphased by his presence is disarming. She is a criminal too though, he reasons, and for her to have been served what is effectively a death sentence she must have done something terrible. The thought makes her all the more alluring to him.

He is on cleaning duty today, tasked with scrubbing down the shower tiles. He enters the showers slowly, deliberately, unable to hear water running, so assumes that there’s no one in there.

But then he spots her, her hair wet and sticking to her bare shoulders, the tops of her breasts just about visible. She hasn’t seen him, yet. His eyes roam slowly over the greyscale body art that adorns her arms and thighs, wondering if there's more hidden beneath the towel that clings to her svelte figure. 

Absent-mindedly his fingers move over the triangular motif that's tattooed on his right forearm; though the scar is no longer visible he still feels the indentations of teeth. If he closes his eyes he still remembers the way that girl had fought, biting into his flesh as he'd wrapped his arm around her throat. He can never recall their faces, but he remembers the marks they left upon him - each one now covered by the same tattoo - a target so that he never forgets - a slash of a broken bottle against his bicep, acrylic nails gouging into his neck. They're never quite strong enough, though they fight to the end. He wonders if her ink serves the purpose of covering or reminding, what sinister deeds have led her down a path of such finality. He intends to find out.

Her head snaps up to look at him and he sucks in a harsh breath as she makes eye contact with him. She doesn’t scream or shy away, simply returns his unblinking stare and his fingers flex at his sides, mouth running dry as he considers whether he’ll need to silence her or not.

“Like what you see?” She whispers, letting the towel fall slowly away.

Ettore remains unblinking, though he feels shaken to his core on the inside. He drinks in the sight of her bare flesh, her full rounded breasts, the dip of her waist, her curvaceous hips, feeling his cock twitch in his scrubs.

What the fuck is she playing at?

“Fuckin’ cock tease,” he spits out, before turning and walking away to the Box.

He reaches his peak embarrassingly quickly, brow furrowed and jaw slack as sweat rolls down his temples.

Once the feeling of euphoria has worn off it is replaced by anger and confusion. Had she been trying to get him into trouble? Did she actually want him? Was she making a mockery of him?

His mood darkens at the thought and as his mind races after lights out that night, unable to find sleep. He slips out of his bunk and walks slowly, silently, along the corridor towards her cell.

He can see the outline of her body beneath the covers, and is suddenly unsure of what he came here to do. Torn between wanting to lunge for her, grab her by the throat and make her pay for her earlier indiscretion, or simply slip beneath the covers beside her and allow his hands to roam freely, he stands and does nothing, watching her.

“Come inside, if you want,” she calls out quietly to him in the darkness, making him startle, “bunkmates are all sleeping.”

Ettore hesitates, remaining rooted to the spot, unable to believe that a woman is actually inviting him into her space, that she wants to be near him.

“You gonna pussy out again like you did earlier?” She questions playfully.

He feels embarrassment flush his cheeks and allows it to propel him forward, over the threshold, into her space. He won’t let a woman get the better of him.

She shuffles back against the wall, lifting the blanket and patting the space beside her.

He hasn’t laid beside a woman since the night he was kicked out of his foster placement for getting into bed with the host’s teenage daughter, the only other times before that were when he huddled beside his passed out mother.

Ettore swallows thickly, not wanting to show weakness and quickly slips in beside her.

She smells of the ship’s standard issue soap, yet somehow on her flesh it has an utterly different scent, it’s sweet and intoxicating and has him longing to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He inhales deeply, feeling himself grow hard from her proximity and the warmth of her soft skin against his bare torso.

Apparently she feels it too, as she eagerly snakes a hand between them, palming at him through his shorts. 

A woman has never touched him like that before, not willingly. Usually he’s the one in control. It feels too much, too fast, bile rises in his throat and he jerks away from her, stalking silently back to his own cell, shame blooming hot and heavy in his chest as he feels tears burn beneath his eyelids.

What the fuck was that?

For the first time in Ettore’s life a woman had wanted to touch him, and he’d freaked out and run away. Does she not realise what he could do to her, what he’s capable of? He is supposed to inspire fear, not lust.

He wants to storm back to her cell and smash her head against the wall. She’s made him feel weak, inferior, yet despite that he can’t shake the feeling of her hand between his legs.

Unable to help himself, he waits for her as she exits the Box the next day, the telltale signs of her having just climaxed etched all over her features as she steps out. Her expression hardens when she sees him, rolling her eyes and side stepping him, until he grabs her wrist, stopping her from going anywhere.

“Let go of me, Ettore,” she says threateningly.

“How d’you know my name?” He asks, pulling her close so he can stare down into her eyes.

She smirks. “You’re not the only one that can skulk around the ship finding things out. Dibs left your file out the last time she had me up on the table, so I snooped. I know your name, your blood type, your sperm count–”

“Do you know what I’m serving time for?” He narrows his eyes as he asks this.

“No, I figure if we’re gonna explore whatever this is,” she gestures between them, “it’s better we don’t know that about each other.”

Ettore scoffs, quirking his lips as he eyes her carefully. “And what is this?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. Clearly you’re not comfortable letting me touch you…yet. So how about you touch me instead?”

He keeps a neutral expression, despite the surprise he feels once again that a woman would willingly let him touch her. “How would that work?”

“You’re about to use the Box, right? Take me in. Touch me while you touch yourself.”

Her words send an aching pulse straight to his balls and he nods, walking into the Box, not checking to see if she’s following. He knows she will be.

“Take it off, take it all off,” he orders quietly, gesturing to her clothes.

She pulls off her top and slips off her bottoms and his gaze rakes appreciatively over her form, only this time his hand slides into his trousers as he does so, his hand wrapping around his steadily hardening length.

Her lips are parted, eyes wide as she stares up at him, her breathing almost matching the intensity of his. Tentatively he leans down, inhaling her scent. The sweetness fills his nostrils and something inside of him snaps.

Pulling his erection free, he moves his fist over it in quick, aggressive strokes, biting at her pulsepoint, before moving his lips downwards towards her tits, pressing his face into their soft warmth, mouthing at them without restraint.

True to her word, she doesn’t touch him, keeping her hands balled into tight fists at her sides, though he can tell she is desperate to reach for him, her breaths erratic as she arches into his touch.

His stomach muscles contract, pressure building at the base of his spine as droplets of pre-cum help to guide his rapid, successive jerks of his cock.

Reaching between her legs, he groans at feeling how wet she is, a combination of her previous orgasm and how aroused she is from what’s currently happening between them.

He buries his face in her chest, sinking two fingers inside of her. There is no scratching, no slapping, no disassociating. She is soft and pliant against him, willing, and as often as he has fantasised about taking her by force, this feels better than anything he has ever experienced previously, better than anything he could have imagined.

As the pressure reaches its apex and he finally climaxes with a groan and a shudder, releasing white hot ropes of his seed across her lower belly, she reaches up with shaky, tentative hands to gently run her fingers through his hair.

“Good boy,” she coos, “did so well for me.”

He sighs, leaning over her, resting his head against the wall behind her. Next time he wants to sink inside of her, to feel what it’s like to be touched, wanted, needed. Because as haunted and maladapted as he is, as he opens his eyes and stares into hers he sees that she is too. Her darkness plays well with his, and in a cold and sterile environment Ettore has finally found the warmth he’s always craved.

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

"Mɪᴛᴄʜᴇʟʟ Esᴛᴀᴛᴇs" - Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

Divders (In each Chapter) by @firefly-graphics & @cafekitsune

Hello! This is the Masterlist page for my 17-part Ewanverse Series titled: Mitchell Apartments! This series includes 11 of Ewan's most prominent characters and does take place in the modern world!

Summary: You manage to finally get an apartment, the rent isn't cheap and you know you'll have to overwork yourself to afford it but you have no other choice. You can't go home and you can't afford to go anywhere else. It's quiet and lonely in the beginning but you soon make some connections with the other tenants, and you manage to get yourself into some trouble too.

Can you survive living in this new area? Or will you be packing up and moving before the year's up? What could go wrong? They just want to be friendly.

Fandom(s): House of The Dragon, Salad Days, Grantchester, The Halycon, Fire, World on Fire, Saltburn, The Las Kingdom, Trigger Point, High Life, and Doctors

Warnings: These fics will include dubcon, manipulation, & violence More specific warnings will be added to individual chapters! 18+ only fic!

If you wish to be added to the taglist please comment on this!

Chapter 1: "Moving In"

Chapter 2: "Bitter" (Will x Reader)

Chapter 3: "Babysitter" (03/16)

Chapter 4: "Gentle" (Jack x Reader) (TBD)

Chapter 5: "Confident" (Billy Washington x Reader) (TBD)

Chapter 6: "Trouble in Paradise" (TBD)

Chapter 7: "Filthy" (Abraham x Reader) (TBD)

Chapter 8: "Good Boy" (Osferth x Reader) (TBD)

Chapter 9: "New Beginning" (TBD)

Chapter 10: "Date Night" (Tom Bennett x Reader) (TBD)

Chapter 11: "Good Neighbor" (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) (TBD)

Chapter 12: "Pop Quiz" (TBD)

Chapter 13: "Flustered" (Billy Taylor x Reader) (TBD)

Chapter 14: "Nerd" (Micheal Gavey x Reader) (TBD)

Chapter 15: "Laundry" (TBD)

Chapter 16: "Easy Money" (Genyen x Reader) (TBD)

Chapter 17: "Rent" (Ettore x Reader) (TBD)

A/N: If not mentioned in chapters I wish to reiterate something. All characters that partake in any sexual content (even fluff) are 18+. No one is underage. If you as a reader are underage I beg of you to not read this! If I knew how to sniff you guys out and block you I would.

If you decide to not listen to me please understand you are responsible for your own consumption. No Parents should be attempting to get my account taken down because of your choices!

PLEASE READ: I would also like to say. These stories are not meant to be taken any specific way. I say this because I worry how people will react to her sleeping with ALL of her neighbors. This was honestly just for funsies and if I see any serious slut shaming comments you're getting blocked.

Honourable Mentions: @thought--bubble Jess is honestly the whole reason I started writing in the first place! Her Kitty Cat Series inspired me to write my own Ettore fic which has led me here today. Thank you Jess for feeding my delusions and being a source of inspiration!

MaximumWill (NSFW! LINKS) Patreon & Soundgasm You guys may think this is odd...but I gotta credit him. I do not believe he has Tumblr but I have linked to his patreon. He is an 18+ audio maker...(if you know what I mean 😏🍆) He is the inspiration for the Micheal Chapter with this audio & the inspiration for this ENTIRE series + the Ettore chapter with this audio. (Please do not judge me...Im already ashamed🫠🫣)

[asumofwords]

Treat - Ettore x Reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Somnophillia, rape, non-con, slight dub-con, masturbation, creepiness, sedation, assault, drugs, induced vomiting, blood, spitting, cum play, violence, degradation.

Pairings: Dark!Ettore x Reader  (It’s Ettore… come on)

Synopsis: The cold of space had nothing on the cool glare of Ettore, another inmate on the spacecraft you were sentenced to life on. At the mercy of the Doctor onboard, Dibs, all are a part of fertility experiments and used as test subjects. Said Doctor has increased your sedation dosage as part of the trials, what will happen when suspicions arise for the unusual things happening to your body?

Word Count: 6.1k

Notes: @targaryenrealnessdarling and @ewanmitchellcrumbs inspired this hedonistic fucking abomination by creating an obsession with a man I shouldn’t even like. This is DD:DNE territory, so you have been warned. I blame you both for making me so fucking feral for this man. Enjoy ;) <3

It was cold.

It’s not supposed to be cold, but it was. 

There was no way to keep out the chill of outer space. No way to keep the sub zero chill outside from seeping into metal ship you drifted in. No way to keep the unnatural of being in space away from your bones.

Your senses. 

There was heating, and it was warm enough inside for you to wear shorts and a shirt, some mandated clothing given to you, but even then, the artificial warmth couldn’t keep the chill from seeping into the walls or floors.

Or perhaps it was the chill of being watched. 

But you were always being watched, prisoner and a body for human experimental trials, or ‘guinea pigs’ as Boyse says, another inmate who hates being there just as much as you. She was sweet enough, but you kept her, like everyone else, at an arms length. 

Being put on the floating jail in space was a combination of a shit routine and being stuck with other not so great people. When you first arrived, you had kept to yourself, quiet, head down, methodical. You didn’t want trouble, you just wanted peace. And anything was better than the Super Max they had you in before back on Earth. 

So you were good.

Took your meds when told, took showers when commanded, ate and slept on the clock like a well trained pet. And sometimes, if you were feeling particularly inclined, which was more often than not, you found yourself in The Box. A crude space for you to go in and get out your ‘urges’.

'Fraternising' with the others was a big no no, but really, what were they going to do? Shoot you out the hull? You doubted it, and if you were honest, you didn’t care much either way.

You were going to die on this ship, lost in the same fucking routine for the rest of your days if you didn’t all go absolutely bat shit insane and cannibalise each other, which was a real fear Monte had whispered to you once.

Not much of a talker that one. 

But Ettore was worse. 

He barely even spoke a word. He just watched. 

Listened. 

Like he was sizing everyone up, writing invisible notes in his mind of who was who, and what was what. As though he was collecting intel from everyone like a secret government plant, or as though he was waiting to sell secrets, not that there really were any, all of you were there for crimes that warranted a life sentence. 

Death sentence in your case. 

And the way Ettore watched you, watched Boyse, or any of the other women on board, gave you an inkling as to what he may have done to deserve being locked up with the rest of you. 

But it didn’t stop you from being intrigued, nor casting an extra glance here or there to watch him. Pine over him even, bent over, shirtless scrubbing the floor, but what else were you to do? You hadn't been touched in months, maybe years, you couldn't tell how long it had been with no natural rise or set of the sun, and he wasn't bad on the eyes. Leaning against the wall of the hull, waiting for whoever it was in The Box to finish.

Because thats where he always was. 

The Box. 

You would say it bordered on slightly neurotic. Obsessive. Insatiable.

And it was the moments before he went in that really rivalled the chill of space.

His pale blue eyes would always find you.

Always.

And although it sent shivers down your spine in fear and disgust, it also settled a warmth within you too. 

It was hard. 

Not being able to touch anyone. 

Being surrounded by people, all day, all night, and not once having a chance to feel them. Hold them. Be with them. You had thought that perhaps Dibs would have at least let same sex interactions slide because there was no possible way for conception, but it was as if the bitch was edging herself. Or had some sick fetish of having everyone in a fucking cube strung out to shit in space. 

Not the smartest of moves to whoever gave this experiment the go ahead, but you had to give them props for their misplaced faith.

You padded down the hall, making your way to the Doctors office, ready to collect your meds; sleeping pills which knocked you flat on your ass about half an hour after ingesting them, and then go to bed.

You saw the door up ahead and sighed, it was not that you didn’t want to sleep, you just hated the idea of constantly being pumped with this shit.

Surely it wasn’t good for your body?

But then again, being in space and stuck where you were with no choice to go outside in fresh air, noting that there wasn’t any air outside the craft, wasn’t good for you either. 

Unnatural.

But it was all unnatural.

And in some ways, better than death row.

Sometimes.

Just as you moved to round the door, Ettore’s large body ducked beneath the frame, strolling right past you. His eyes flicked over your body quickly, predatorily, lashes blinking softly as he brushed past you and went on his way back to his cell. 

There was that cold again. 

It surrounded him like a wraith.

You slid into the room, Dibs barely sparing you a glance as you stood behind her, her long fingers fucking about on the table as she took her time to give you the meds you got from her at the same time, every fucking day. You thought that perhaps she may be a little more organised since all she did was sit around on her ass and be a prat.

But she wasn’t, and you waited, standing beside her as she swivelled in her stupid little chair to face you.

You had always had a pretty good read on people. Ever since you were young, you could spot the bad ones from the good, but it never really kept you away from the bad. Your ex's more bad than they were good.

It excited you, if you were going to be honest.

The rush of adrenaline, feeling of fear as your fight or flight would kick in when you looked at someone and just knew they had a more sinister part of them simmering beneath the surface.

And the moment you had spotted Ettore on the ship, being strapped in beside him, the alarm bells had rung in your head, blaring red DANGER behind your eyes. And you had felt the same fluttering in your chest as you felt his eyes on you the whole time.

But Dibs?

She was different.

There was something more malevolent than what meets the eye. Something that hid behind her dark gaze. And as you stood inside the make shift infirmary, doctors notes spread out on her table, shut curtains behind you, you felt as though perhaps you would have been safer stuck inside The Box with Ettore.

Dibs held out a small plastic cup to you, two pills inside.

Usually, it held one.

Your brows furrowed as you looked up at her.

"Changed dosage.” Was the only thing she offered you.

“Why?”

The Doctor blinked up at you with no answer, silence falling over you. You asked again, and were met with the same blank stare. And so you took the cup begrudgingly, snatching it from her hand and throwing the two little pills into the back of your mouth to dry swallow them. You could feel them catch on the back of your throat, sitting heavily like a lump, and so you swallowed once more to get them down. 

Dibs gave you a sterile smile, and turned away back to her notes, scribbling. 

You stomped away, walking back down the corridor to go to your cell, feeling the acidic, briny feeling on the back of your tongue.

No matter how many nights you had swallowed those things, it always made a bad taste settle in the back of your mouth, and a hollowness in your stomach.

When you had first arrived on the ship, you struggled to fall to sleep knowing that you were drifting in space, and couldn't get off even if you wanted, with the low hum of the ship in a constant drone keeping you alert, and so Dibs had given you sedatives to help you drift off.

There was already sedatives in the water Dibs gave you all, but the other girls in your cell followed suit soon enough, asking for the little pill so that they could sleep undisturbed in the night.

The closer you go to your room, the more your mind felt clouded, as though a thick layer of fog had crossed it, obscuring your thoughts and making each one feel as though they had been dipped inside a vat of molasses.

Even your limbs felt heavy, and so you hurried your uneven pace to your cell block, stumbling against a wall where you flopped down onto the bed, too exhausted to pull yourself beneath the sheets as the room around you spun. 

You could feel and hear the others making their way to their bunks after you, but your eyelids grew heavy, and soon enough, you were out like a light. As though a switch had been flicked by the manicured nails of Dibs.

There were no dreams to be had, not even an awareness of sleep, just a deep, black abyss that swallowed you whole and completely, with neither complaint nor fight from your limbs. 

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was how tired you still were, as though the medication still lingered in your periphery like dark little tendrils that rubbed smooth and soothing hands upon your mind, trying to lure you back.

But the day had to move on, and you were unstrapped from your bed, limbs feeling entirely too heavy to lift as you hauled yourself out. You didn't understand the need for the restraints, especially since you would be sedated and unable to move anyway, but you supposed they were there to keep you put in case you did.

Behavioural issues and that.

Who knows what the others had done to warrant a death row sentence. Yours certainly wasn't a light one.

The moment your feet hit the ground, your stomach lurched. Pain rippling up through your stomach. 

What the hell?

You rubbed your face blearily and sighed, chalking it up to your period making an appearance early this month, or perhaps Dibs' experiments had finally stuck, or were melting your insides by the feel of it.

Dibs was going to have a field day with you, you knew it. You would have your legs pried open by stirrups and have her shove a million and one swabs inside of you like she did every month.

Like clockwork.

Well, cycle really.

You hated it.

Another thing to add to the misery of it all; being prodded by a stone faced bitch who only showed kindness to the men on board. Couldn't even get off to the way she shoved those cotton swabs or fingers inside you, fishing around as if she was going through a pocket for spare change.

Except this pain was sharp, and stung, but was dulled by whatever lingering sleeping pill was dragging your body down. You would have to tell the eager Doctor to be more gentle about turkey basting you with whoever's cum she picked from her cups.

Boyse had told you once she could have sworn she saw Dibs dipping her fingers into the 'donation' cups to taste test each one. You had laughed so hard you cried, and Monte had eyed you from across the canteen.

You yawned and stretched, ignoring the ache and hit the showers with the others, beginning your day of chores.

Today you were cleaning, something you actually didn’t mind. It was methodical, time consuming, and there was a clear outcome at the end that you enjoyed. 

Cloth and cleaner in hand, you polished handles and doors and any surface that you could reach, wiping down the metal and other surfaces to sterilise them.

Boyse was on floor duty that day, and so she cleaned alongside you quietly, the occasional whisper or conversation had as you moved. But you truly struggled to hold one, your mind still muddled from the lurch of the changed dose.

You would need to speak about lowering said dosage back to normal with Dibs. This was like trying to think and exist when shitfaced at the pub.

God you missed the pub.

It was the little things you missed most. Things that you had taken for granted, like wind, or rain, or bugs. You missed the itch of being bitten. How fucked was that? Missing mosquitoes? Dibs needed to check your head rather than your fertility.

And so the day ended, and every surface in one wing of the ship was spotless thanks to yours and Boyse’s work. You ate alongside the others quietly and couldn’t help but feel that chill again, covering you in an icy blanket.

Lifting your head, you spotted Ettore watching you. 

Still.

Like those nature documentaries you used to watch, when the lions would be hidden in the tall grass, still as a rock, watching and waiting to pounce on the galloping gazelle.

Your mouth felt dry, and the hunger you had felt left, pain winding its way inside of you as you stood slowly, careful to not set anyone off, especially him, and moved to clear your plate to go to Dr. Dibs.

You were more eager to get away from Ettore’s piercing gaze than anything, feeling like a game of cat and mouse, waiting to turn your head and see him chasing after you down the halls. It set your skin alight.

But he didn't.

Your journey to speak to the doctor about your dosage was a waste. Dibs didn’t budge, and in your hand ,the small pill tub was dropped with two inside.

You watched her intently, mouth parted to argue.

“You done yet?” Ettore’s voice swallowed the artificial air in the room. 

Your head snapped to the door, watching as he slowly walked in, like a predator, looking at you intently. You blinked up at him, his lean form towering over you in the sterile cream room. You could smell the soft scent of generic soap you all used and the musky undertones of him beneath.

“I want my treat.” He spoke again, hand held out to Dibs, who placed a pill in his palm, no cup holding it. Simply placed into his palm with her fingers, as though there was an element of familiarity between the two. 

The cold of his gaze contrasted the warmth of his body as it loomed over you.

Dibs spun on her chair to look at you through her lashes, eyes dropping pointedly to the pills still un-swallowed in your cup, “Take them.”

You threw the pills into the back of your throat, locking eyes with Ettore as you dry swallowed them, holding back the grimace as they slid down the back of your throat roughly. Ettore followed, smacking his palm over his mouth as he swallowed his own, then turning his head to open his mouth in show to Dibs, who gave him a soft smile. 

“Smashing. Thank you.” He spoke down to her, accent thick on his tongue. His eyes flicked over you once more before he sauntered out the room.

Your feet felt stuck on the linoleum flooring until Dibs cleared her throat at you, “Go back to your cell.”

Taking her command, you left, winding down the corridor, falling onto your bed again and succumbing to the heavy sleep. 

This went on for days, the same dosage, the same medicated sedation, and the same groggy rising with a continued ache that never seemed to leave your core. You waited for the blood to come, but there was only the occasional bit of spotting. 

Perhaps a lighter cycle this month.

It wasn’t until that morning, when you went to the showers did you notice something was not right. Something that justified the inkling in the back of your mind that something was afoot with the pain that wracked your body.

That the pain wasn’t due to your monthly cycle, and something far more sinister instead.

Washing down with soap, the others in their cubicles beside you, your eyes were drawn to colour that should not be on the skin. Dark blotches of purples and blue, streaked with pinks across your hips and inner thighs. Your fingers pressed into them, hissing as pain shot up through you. But the pain wasn’t what made you blanch. It was the shape of them. And how your fingers fit perfectly within the large blooms of colour. 

Fingerprints. 

More specifically, finger marks, littered across your body. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you looked at them, horror and sickness skyrocketing inside of you. Bile rose in your throat, and the urge to scrub your skin raw became an immediate compulsion, your nails scratching at the bruises roughly. 

Dressing rapidly, you raced to the Doctors office, shoes not even on as your feet slapped on the floor loudly as you made your way down. But of course, whatever high power above controlled the fate that surrounded you had other plans for you, and your body collided with a body of steel. 

You neck craned up, meeting the icy glare of Ettore.

“Watch it.” He sneered down at you, hands at his sides in fists.

You didn’t know what to do but blink at him, and it was all you did, looking up at the man who set your skin alight, a blush creeping along your cheeks and fear shimmering down your spine.

“You gonna move?” He asked again, lips pulled into a sharp frown.

You took a step back, then another, and another, Ettore’s eyes grazing over your body, settling on your chest as it heaved, wet patches of your shirt sticking to your skin.

You swallowed thickly.

“Quiet one, huh.” Ettore mused, eyes becoming half hooded as he watched you, “They always scream the loudest.”

You sneered, watching as Ettore walked towards you, leaning his head down just a bit as he whispered to you, “I’ll be in The Box.” Before he was on his way, body swaying with his walk. 

Your heart leaped through your chest as you watched him.

-

“Somethings wrong.” You sat on the doctors bed, legs in stirrups as Dibs looked at you in annoyance, clinical eyes roving your body as you pulled your shorts high on your hips to display the bruises on your thighs. 

Dibs didn’t even blink at them, just glanced at them shortly before writing in her notes.

“Something is-“

“-Vitamin D deficiency, Iron deficiency.”

“Fuck you. It looks li-“

“Take these.” 

Her hand was held out to you, a small circular brown pill and an oblong pink one sat inside a medical cup. You blinked at her hand as she held them out to you.

“I don’t fucking-“

“-Take them. Or you will be marked as refusing treatment.”

Snatching the cup from her palm, your own nails scratching her hand, you threw them back into your mouth, staring at her angrily as you swallowed them.

“Good girl.” Dr. Dibs spun in her chair away from you and back to her desk, already looking through her notes in dismissal. 

You swung your legs out of the stirrups and sat on the edge of the bed looking at her, staring daggers into the back of her head. 

It could be so easy. 

Who would know it was you?

You could just-

“Are you refusing to leave now too? Very naughty of you. Monte will have to come deal with this behaviour, little birdy.” Came her slimy voice.

"Fuck you."

Grunting, you hopped off the bed and stormed out the room, muttering beneath your breath in agitation and anger as it poured out of you. 

"Fucking bitch."

Something was wrong, and you knew it. 

Fucking useless cunt.

You went back to your chores, but found that you could scarcely concentrate with the anger that seemed to mount within.

You needed a release, and fast. 

The Box was made for just such thing, and so you dropped the clippers in your palm in the garden and made your way to your destination. The anticipation of going into The Box made way for excitement over the anger, but all in all, it still rippled through you in waves.

All you needed was a good and rough fuck.

Get the anger out.

Your ex was always a good source of inspiration when inside The Box. The way his hips would snap into yours brutally, his teeth in your flesh, hands slapping, pinching.

Choking.

The Box would calm you down.

Your legs carried you down the ladder before you jumped down the last few impatiently, the light in this part of the ship far darker than the rest. You walked forward, looking at the closed door before feeling ice wash over you.

Who else would be waiting outside of it but Ettore.

His cool eyes flicked to yours as your steps slowed, looking to him and then the closed door. His lips pursed together into a pout and one corner pulled down into a smirk. 

Shit eating bastard.

He leant back against the steel wall of the hull, head turned to look down at you as you leant beside him. Too frustrated to turn back, and not willing to let him scare you out of a reprieve that you needed. 

“Gonna be waiting a while.” Ettore hummed, suggestive grin on his lips before he swiped a tongue against the front of his teeth noisily.

You looked him up and down, no mood for his attitude or creeping glares, “You look like it’d be quick.” You purred.

Ettore’s nostrils flared and his lips pulled down into a sneer, he pushed off of the wall, looking down at you as he adjusted his jaw, the muscles clenching tightly, blue eyes narrowed. 

Your head connected with the metal behind you as he jerked you back into it roughly, forearm pressed against the top of your chest. Pain bloomed in the back of your skull, but that didn’t stop the small mewl that escaped from your lips.

Ettore’s eyes widened before they narrowed, face looming in closer to you as he watched your chest rise and fall rapidly, heat blooming in your stomach. 

The door to The Box opened and Boyse stepped out, eyeing the two of you suspiciously. 

Ettore stepped back dropping his arm to his side as he spun around and entered, facing you as the doors began to close, his eyes roaming down your body slowly as he sucked his tongue. 

A shiver rolled through you.

Boyse watched you carefully, “You right?”

You cleared your throat, feeling your heart beat like a drum in your chest, “Yea, I’m alright. Asshole.”

Boyse nodded and left, and you waited for your turn, waiting for the door to open again, but it didn’t. 

The moments flew by and it almost felt as if he was taking his time because of your comment. Punishing you.

Proving a point.

Fucking cunt. 

You huffed and pushed away from the wall, making your way back to work again, knowing that dinner would be soon, and then the deep and dreamless sleep once more. 

Dinner was quick, and in no time you were walking down to collect your sedatives from the Doctor who made your skin crawl almost as badly as Ettore. Your mood had not improved, and you would say that the want that simmered inside of you made it even worse now that it had gone unattended.

When you entered the infirmary, Ettore was already there, talking quietly with Dibs who was seated, craning her neck up to look at him with a soft smile on her lips.

Fucking pick-me.

Upon hearing your arrival, both turned to face you, and Ettore instinctually held out his hand, a pill placed in its palm, before it put it in his mouth, his eyes on you, narrowed and almost angry. But when he looked down at the doctor, a soft smirk wound its way on his lips and he whispered a small ‘thank you’ to her, brushing past you with a sniff on his way out.

You held out your palm in the same manner he had, eyes still on the door Ettore had walked out of, feeling the plastic of the small cup being placed in the centre. You looked down at it.

Two sedatives.

"You're a fucking bitch, you know that?" You grumbled, and tilted your head back, letting the two pills roll onto your tongue, Dibs eyes watching. 

But there was something about it. 

Something about her watching you like that, that made you shiver. 

“Show me.” She commanded and you swallowed both dryly, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue obscenely at her so that she could get a closer look.

The Doctor nodded and turned away, back to her notes. 

But fear scrambled in your throat.

You all but raced out of the office, making your way straight to the toilet, dropping to your knees in front of it as your instincts took over, shoving two fingers down your throat. You gagged quietly in the space, daring to not draw attention to what you were doing. 

You did it again, and the bile and bitter taste of stomach acid flooded your tongue. You bent over the rim gasping, looking down into the water to see if the pills were in the bowl with your dinner. 

You spotted one and collapsed down onto the floor feeling some sort of relief, though your stomach still turned, and bile coated your tongue. You sat there for a moment, feeling the cool of the bathroom floor on your thighs and hands before standing.

You couldn’t get caught. 

You flushed the toilet and brushed your teeth carefully, cupping water into your mouth to rinse the acidic taste that settled behind your teeth. And yet still, you were still wrought with nerves.

As you lay in your bed, bottom bunk opposite to Boyse, you stared up at the top one, the restraints strapping you down by your arms as the beginnings of sedated fatigue gnawed at your vision. 

So you had only gotten one pill out. 

No matter.

Better than both.

At least it calmed your heart, and you turned your head to look at Boyse who was already out like a light, the soft curve of her nose shadowed in the dim of the room.

You wondered what she was here for often, but never had the courage or want to learn. 

Some things are better left unsaid.

You tried to resist it, tried to fight the way your eyelashes sagged and your limbs fell heavier by the second, but in no time at all, you were sucked into the usual dreamless state that you had been in for god knows how long you had been on that goddamn ship.

-

It’s dark. 

So dark.

And warm. 

Soft pressing in the back of your mind, drawing you just below the surface of consciousness. 

Why was it so warm?

There was pressure. 

Pressure on top of you. 

Pressure inside of you.

A thing.

Or two.

Maybe three.

What?

The pressure turned to a dull ache. 

A pain.

Pleasure?

Why was it so warm?

It curled in your gut and you groaned, mind foggy, limbs of stone as you felt the weight of your body come back to you. Come back to the room. 

The bed.

Soft sheets.

Grunts.

Weight.

Warm. 

Pain in your thighs. Pain between them. Weight on top of you. 

Breaths in your ear that are not your own. 

Grunts.

Moans.

Hisses.

Eyelids feeling like lead as they fluttered, the sound around you louder, rustling, wet, clapping, breathing. 

The room spun on its axis, mind reeling as you were pulled from the depths of your sedated sleep, your body reacting to whatever was being done to it. 

It was hard.

Hard to stay awake.

You drifted again, bobbing beneath the surface only to rise back up again, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks. Blurred vision making it hard to focus.

Heavy mind making it hard to comprehend.

Hard to see.

“Whas-“ You slurred, head being rocked backwards by movements, making the nausea that rose within stronger, barreling through you with a spearing sensation.

A loud grunt in your ear as the jolting of your body picked up. Something moving inside of you.

Atop you.

You could see movement above you, hair, a body.

A face.

Ettore.

You blinked, his sharp jawline coming into focus, comprehension wading through the thick fog of your mind as you continued to look up at him, mind reeling to figure out what was going on.

Eyes half lidded, lips pulled down into a sneer, Ettore rutted into you from above. 

“Wha-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He growled, hand slapping over your lips as he fucked into you. 

Your eyes widened, pain blooming through you, strength dulled, senses foggy, but knowing. 

Knowing. 

You knew now.

Ettore’s length fucked into you roughly, the tip beating against your cervix painfully. The stretch stung as he drilled into you, splitting you apart on his cock. Each thrust was just as brutal as the other, the sound of his hips clapping against yours loud in the cell of the others sedated, still in their dreams.

Was this a dream?

It felt too real. 

You writhed beneath him sluggishly, trying to get out of his grip, breathing heavily through your nose as his hand stayed pressed against your mouth, small whimpers and grunts spilling into his palm as his cock bullied your walls repeatedly.

Ettore watched your face, lips pulling up into a smile as he gave a particularly harsh thrust, your eyes scrunching shut in pain as you yelped, sensing you had come fully to the surface of consciousness to feel the truth of his assault.

Pain pinged up you, your walls clamping down on him as your hips tried to angle away from him, restraints cutting into the skin of your wrists, legs too heavy to lift. Tugging at them for dear life as he watched you struggle from below. He laughed, deep in his chest before a groan fell from his swollen lips, eyes closing in pleasure with his mouth hung open.

You tried to scream beneath him palm, to try and wake the others, to call for help, for anything. But the hand at your mouth did not budge, and so the muffled sound of your cries fell on sedated ears. Tears prickled in your eyes from the pain as you tried to shake your head away from him, mouth opening. 

You bit down on his palm.

Hard.

Ettore cursed, flinching as he pulled his hand away from your face, fist reeling back before it connected painfully into the side of your mouth.

You could taste blood. Coppery on your tongue, and you didn’t know if it was his or yours. Probably a mixture of the two. But your bite did not deter him, and his thrusts only became crueler, your body jolting beneath him as you felt wet beneath your hips. 

How long had he been doing this?

How many times had he done this?

But the wet was not just from the man above you. 

It also came from you.

Small sparks of pleasure wound its way up through your gut as he rutted into you in fervent, animalistic thrusts. Each one a sharp grunt or hiss falling from his lips. Each one, his tip bullying the soft and sponge spot within you. Each thrust winding the coil within tighter and tighter.

Ettore slapped your cheek, a small cry falling from your lips as you looked up at him, tears running down your cheeks as you sobbed quietly. 

From the pain. 

From the shock.

From the pleasure.

“Fuck you’re tight.” He growled, “Fucking dirty bitch.”

Another sob, mouth opened to cry out. 

His lips pursed, and warmth sprayed across your face, the wet of his spit landing across cheeks and lips, hand coming to grab your jaw painfully as he squeezed, the joints protesting with pops as he continued, no doubt bruises to be seen in the morning. 

Your walls fluttered around him, each snap of his hips grazing your swollen clit sending euphoria racing up your spine.

It was all too much. 

“Look at you.” He sneered at you meanly, “Gonna cum on my cock aren’t you? Feel you tightening up. Fuck. So fucking disgusting. Asking for it. Always looking at me with those fucking eyes. Take it.”

It was a peel of words that continued to fall from his lips, his hips stuttering as his pace faltered. 

He was near his end, and you were too. 

With two hands, he wrapped them around your neck, leaning his weight down on it as he fucked into you, black spots blooming in your vision as he cut off both air and blood supply. You wheezed beneath him, thrashing against the restraints, hands in fists as they rubbed the skin raw.

You felt light, airy as you looked up at him, the lead of your limbs lifting with the lack of oxygen, the angle he fucked you in having changed, and each rut of his hips jabbed against your G-spot violently.

“Take it, you fucking cunt.” He growled, your eyes fluttering shut as you began to feel weightless, beginning to drift back to your sleep. A nice sleep. Comfortable one. Soft and warm and-

You came violently, a silent cry ripped from your throat, eyes shooting open as you looked up at the man who bit his bottom lip roughly, eyebrows knotted together as he fucked you through it. 

The hands left your throat, gasp sucked into your lungs as you writhed beneath him, his thrusts pulling painful pleasure from you as his hips stuttered, one hand clawing at your hip, the other tugging your head back by your hair, exposing your neck to him. 

Ettore came with a grunt, head dipping down to bite into the sensitive skin in the crux of your shoulder, teeth piercing the skin as you whimpered below him.

Hot ropes of his cum filled your walls, his thrusts stilling as you felt him throb within you, teeth still in your neck that he lapped at with his tongue, breathing hotly through his nose against the skin.

Another tear fell down your cheek as you lay beneath him, staring up at the cool, darkened grey of the ceiling. Pain and pleasure swirling around each other hotly in your core and gut, walls still fluttering around him from your own release. 

You swallowed dryly, throat hoarse from where he choked you and wriggled beneath him, stirring his rest as he grunted into your neck, finally releasing the skin from his teeth. Small incisions and blooming bruise beginning to take its spot there, a dribble of blood leaking from where a crooked tooth pinched flesh between another.

He huffed above you as the world spun, slowly pulling out of you. You whimpered and half whined, feeling sensitive. Stinging pain and pleasure winding its way around your entrance.

Too much.

Ettore sat back on his haunches, cock softening in front of him as he looked down at you, fully naked. Your eyes roamed his body, muscular and lean all in one, watching you with lust filled eyes and hatred. 

Another tear dripped down your cheek as his eyes roamed down your body, to the torn shorts he had ripped to the side, watching as his spend leaked out of you. His hand shot out, scooping fingers through your folds as you hissed, playing with his cum and smearing it into your folds and along your thighs. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, nausea turning painfully in your stomach as he moved to loom over you, looking down at your tear streaked cheeks and the blood on your split lip, bits of his saliva dried on your face from where he had spat on you.

His lips pulled into a smirk, sticky fingers coming to smear themselves on your cheek as he pulled your shorts back into place, adjusting you roughly beneath him.

“Wasn’t too quick for you I hope.” He mocked, giving your face a rough tap before he stood, pulling on his pants and shirt as he looked down at you, chest heaving as you cried quietly, adrenaline pumping through you.

His eyebrows lifted on his face, grinning once he was dressed, grabbing your face in his hand and shaking it as he cooed at you.

“Good girl.” Another tap.

He left without another word, leaving you strapped to your bed, body aching and bruised as his cum leaked out of you, pooling wetly into the crotch of your shorts. You could still feel him inside you, thrusting atop you, his breath fanned in your ears. 

You sucked in a steeling breath, shaking in the restraints, skin raw and bleeding in some places where you tugged too hard, pulled too violently as you shook beneath him, pleasure exploding within. 

You didn't drift back to sleep, no matter how hard you tried, the sedative had worn off and adrenaline kept you alert. 

You simply laid in your bunk, in your cell, surrounded by people who were none the wiser to your attack, sleeping soundly in their own restrained cots as your eyes stayed to the doorway, waiting for him to return. 

Knowing that he would.

And not minding it either.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @hiraethrhapsody @hogwarts1207 @notnormalthings-blog @iamavailablesstuff @youraverageaemondsimp @mochi-rose @bel-bottoms @sassypain @triscy @watercolorskyy @moonliightbabes @toodlesxcuddles @avataranne @tosiaf @bunnychuu @malfoytargaryen @tssf-imagines @qyburnsghost

[babyblue711]

Temptation

Ettore (High Life) x Reader - Part 1 Summary: Tired of the monotony of everyday life aboard the spaceship, you decide to start a little game to taunt Ettore. But your plan backfires and now you must deal with the consequences of temptation. This fic was heavily inspired by these two songs. I recommend giving them a listen before continuing: "Fill the Void" by Lily-Rose Depp & The Weeknd and "Little Girl Gone" by CHINCHILLA Words: 6.3K

Warnings: PLEASE READ! NSFW, Smut, Mature Themes 18+, Sexual Content 18+, Noncon, Dubcon, Rough Sex, Physical Violence, Mention of Suicide, Mention of Physical Abuse, Language, Degradation A/N: Consider Part 1 to be "just getting warmed up". I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to @arcielee for beta reading and @myfandomprompts for providing most of the pics and gifs! Dividers by @firefly-graphic

Every day was the same.

Trapped on this doomed spaceship that was destined for hell, every day felt like a relentless loop of monotony and misery. Same work, same people, same experiments, same old bullshit every fucking day. 

The utilitarian living quarters of the spacecraft make you feel like you are in a mental hospital, cold and uninviting. Every facet of the interior is minimalistic; a mix of sterile clinical spaces and dimly lit, shadowy corridors. Blue light shines at night that’s supposed to help the inhabitants sleep. The bland functionality and oppressive “sameness” just makes you want to scream.

Some days it all becomes too much to bear and you feel a small part of you snap. You despise feeling helpless and not in control of your life anymore; with each beat of your heart, white hot fire courses through your veins. At times, you yearn to unleash your fury on someone, anyone, to let out the pent-up frustration that has been building within you for far too long. But then the storm inside of you passes and you settle back into your repetitive routine once more. 

Your fellow shipmates are a bunch of criminals and weirdos. You try to make due with what you have, except for Dr. Dibs, whom you hate with your whole heart. Her cold demeanor and cruel experiments are a constant source of dread. She seems to derive pleasure from the suffering she inflicts upon you and the other girls aboard the ship.

Although you aren’t really sure you could call them friends, there are a few people you were “ok” with, mainly the other girls that also had to suffer through Dr. Dib’s sick experiments. A few of the guys are alright too; Monte is a loner that mainly keeps to himself and you’ve never heard him say an unkind word. Tcherny’s favorite place on the ship is the makeshift garden and you couldn’t blame him since it reminds everyone of Earth, of home. 

Ettore is…unusual. He has a certain aura that just feels…off. Your hair stands up on the back of your neck whenever you catch him staring or whenever he passes too close in the corridor, as if an electric current surrounds him, radiating off of his body. He’s a man of few words; you’ve rarely ever heard him speak. 

Amongst the girls, it’s well known that he doesn’t give a fuck if he is caught staring or leering, which he often is. Boyse especially dislikes him because he gives her the creeps. She normally has trouble sleeping at night because she says she can feel her skin crawl when he looks at her. You try your best to just ignore him most of the time. 

Until one day, during lunch in the cafeteria, you are sitting with the girls, mingling and talking quietly, when you feel a tingle go down your spine. You glance up and immediately make eye contact with him. 

His eyes lock onto yours, and you find yourself momentarily captivated by the intensity behind his gaze.

You were already having a bad day and you can feel the beginnings of another storm brewing inside. You’re sick of Ettore’s shit so you stare right back, issuing him a challenge in a silent duel to look away first. The air seems to sizzle with tension as you watch his glare harden when you don’t look away, like most of the girls normally do; he looks positively predatory with his sharp angular face and dark blue eyes. 

You refuse to let him intimidate you. Your eyes are watering but you’re too involved in this stupid little battle of wills to concede to him now by blinking. Thankfully, a welcome interruption arrives in the form of Monte. Having not noticed the little contest between you and Ettore, he walks right in front, breaking the spell between you two. You blink rapidly and take a deep breath, watching as Ettore leans around Monte to look back at you, an unspoken promise in his stare that seems to say, I’m not done with you yet. You roll your eyes and look away.

“What are you looking at, Y/N?” Boyse asks from beside you, snapping you to attention. 

“Uh...nothing,” you mumble back, not really wanting to engage with her.

“That fucking creep. He sits across from us to stare at us on purpose, have you noticed?” Boyse says, noticing the trail of your gaze.

“Yeah, I know but don’t let it bother you, Boyse, just ignore him,” you try to diffuse the situation. You don’t want to be involved in yet another incident where Ettore made a girl feel uncomfortable. Boyse goes back to picking at her food silently and you do the same. 

You ignore him now; he isn’t worth your time or attention. Even though you get a bad vibe from him, you can’t help but notice a certain attractiveness about Ettore. He is tall and lean, with corded muscles on his arms, toned chest, and abs. He has a very angular face, strong jaw and chin with a sharp nose and luscious lips. You have to admit that you had never seen a man with as beautiful lips as his.

Lost for a moment thinking about his body, you bring yourself back to the present. You scold yourself; perhaps the monotony of this ship really was driving you insane, lusting after someone who gave off such ominous vibes. You swore to hate men for all eternity after what you had endured. That’s how you ended up in this hell hole to begin with….

After years of torment and physical violence of both you and your mother, you finally snapped and murdered your abusive stepfather in his sleep after he was passed out from another drunken rage.

But, despite arguing in court that your actions should be considered self defense after years of abuse, the jury found you guilty and sentenced you to life in prison...or join this sick experiment in space. You aren’t remorseful that you had killed your step-father. He got what he deserved and no other woman would have to deal with his violence ever again. However, when your mother learned that you had chosen to accept this mission in space, she couldn’t bear the pain of losing her only daughter. She took a bunch of pills and never woke up. 

Now, you are an unloved, unwanted murderer and no one cared if you lived or died. This mission is perfect for people like you. 

You’re standing in line for the shower that evening, towel in hand, when Ettore walks by; his hair is still wet from his shower and he’s wearing a fresh set of scrubs, towel slung over his shoulder. You see him coming and avert your eyes so as not to attract his attention. He saunters over anyway and you know he’s trying to annoy you on purpose.

He stops right beside your left shoulder and you reluctantly bring your eyes up to meet his gaze. His presence is imposing and you can't help but notice how much taller he is compared to you, making you feel small and vulnerable in his shadow. He leers, invading your personal space and it takes everything in you to not step back from him as he looks down his nose at you. Your eyes lock in a tense standoff, each daring the other to back down. 

Despite your inner resolve, you feel a knot of tension in your stomach, and your hand instinctively tightens around the towel you're holding. It takes all your strength to hold your ground, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he sneers in a low voice. 

You realize that he is trying to intimidate you with some stupid alpha-male shit, but you are not afraid of him. Fire burns hot in your blood and you are ready for a fight.

“I’m not doin’ shit, Ettore, now fuck off,” you say back aggressively, letting him know you won’t be an easy meal with your tone.

“The fuck you aren’t,” he growls lowly, deep in his chest. He steps closer to you, suddenly trailing a finger from your eyebrow down the side of your face. The gesture is so unexpected that you flinch and freeze, staring up at him with wide eyes mixed with confusion and defiance.

“C’mon, love, I know you’re just playing hard to get,” he whispers as his eyes look you up and down suggestively. Finally, he turns and walks away.

As he exits the bathroom, you let out a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding and think, What the fuck was that? You curse internally; you knew you shouldn’t have started anything back in the cafeteria. Now he thinks you’re interested or some shit. But…maybe you were, in a way? You feel conflicted, knowing that he thinks of you as an easy target. 

Finally, it’s your turn for the shower. You undress quickly and start to relax as the hot water streams over your shoulders. As you’re washing your hair, an idea comes to you and butterflies flutter in your chest at your wicked thoughts, the most excitement you’ve felt in a long time. Because of your abusive past, you refuse to let anyone ever make you feel small and insignificant ever again and decide on the spot that Ettore is going to become your next target of torture. You knew his weakness; you’d exploit his obvious sexual deviousness, which was probably fueled by the rules on the ship that the inmates couldn’t engage in any sexual behavior with each other.

A dark chuckle escapes your lips. You’d show him who’s boss. Given the lack of privacy on the spacecraft, you’d never fear his retribution; you could tease him mercilessly and always be able to evade any potential advances if he thought he would take things further…or so you hoped. 

A tiny alarm bell rings in the back of your mind. You knew that what you were planning was the equivalent to waking a sleeping dragon but you didn’t care. You are so beyond sick of the monotony of everyday life that you convince yourself that you needed this little extra bit of spice as an escape from the mundane reality of your circumstances.  

So, you allow this little game to proceed between you and Ettore, a cocktail of emotions swirling within you: boredom, lust, anger, hatred, desire—all of them fuel this strange dance.

As the days pass by, you continue to provoke him with stolen glances and lingering eye contact that says more than words ever could. He responds eagerly to your meager attention, just as you knew he would. His advances quickly became more pronounced as simple stares turn into physical contact: brushing your shoulder on purpose as he walks by, daring you to react. Anytime you are in the same vicinity as him, you feel a magnetic energy pulling the two of you together. You have created this friction on purpose to drive him mad, but you can’t help but feel like you are getting caught up in it too…  

Something had awoken in you that night when he touched your face in the bathroom. A wild, feral animal rattles at the bars of this proverbial cage that you had locked away deep inside a long time ago. Women aren’t supposed to be sexual creatures in the same way men are. It was a part of yourself that you have spent years hiding because you are afraid you’d just be labeled a whore or a slut. But what did it matter anymore on this dreaded spaceship? You can’t deny that you, too, feel a deep void, an ache in your chest, a need for something more.

Upon arriving back at your bunk one evening, you hear a deep breath from behind you. You whirl and see Ettore across the hallway, standing in another doorway, watching you. It’s the most provocative he’s looked thus far since he’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants. You hesitate, then decide to make a show of looking him up and down, biting your bottom lip, secretly admiring his toned chest and abs. When your eyes flick back up to his face, his gaze locks onto yours as he reaches into his pants and starts pleasuring himself right in front of you, not caring if anyone saw. 

Your eyeballs pop in shock at this brazen display of desire. Your heartbeat picks up and a million thoughts start to race through your mind. Should you tease him in return? What if he decides to come into your bunk? Red flags wave a warning in the back of your mind and you knew you were walking on a razor’s edge. You think he’s about to take a step towards you when, thankfully, a door slams nearby and Ettore vanishes into the shadows. You let out a deep breath, doubting your stupid plan to taunt him that was working way too easily. A ripple of unease flows through you. You could feel that he was like a volcano waiting to explode. What would you do when he did?

You decide to ignore him from now on to try to diffuse the tension you had built between you both. He needs to get a grip and, honestly, so did you. So, as much as you despise it, you release your frustration within “The Box” when it all becomes too much to bear. 

A few nights later, you are walking back to your bunk after visiting The Box. Still unsatisfied, you turn the corner and see Ettore scrubbing the floor in front of you, his back to you. He is shirtless again, dressed only in orange cargo pants. He doesn’t look around and you don’t think he’s heard your approach. You pause behind him, admiring the way his shoulder and back muscles ripple as he scrubs the floor. He has three tattoos, all black triangles; one on his right forearm, another on his left bicep, and finally, one on the right side of his neck. You assume they are symbolism for some type of gang. You’re staring, openly, almost hypnotized by the movement of his muscles. 

“I know you’re there,” he says suddenly and you jump out of your revere, heart leaping into your throat. He continues to mop the floor, not even bothering to turn around.

You feign nonchalance and start to walk by him, glancing down just as he is looking up at you.

“I can do you better than that box, you know,” he purrs at you with a cocky smirk. 

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at his words. Your heart pounds and you know you can’t give him any encouragement, so you give a noncommittal grunt before hurrying back to your bunk. When you lay in bed that night, you know, deep down, that if you stood there and watched him any longer, half naked on the floor, you might just be tempted to find out for yourself. 

The next day starts like any other. You’ve been assigned to organize the storage room; a redundant and mundane task, located in the bottom level of the ship. You’ve been at it for a couple of hours, in the middle of inventorying the stockpile of supplies, when you feel a presence from behind. You don’t know what tipped you off exactly because he hasn’t made a sound, but you turn to see him silently shutting the door behind him and locking it, staring at you with a predatory gaze.

“The fuck do you want?” you ask aggressively, firing up at once. Anger is your first line of defense as your heartbeat picks up, but the smallest thrill of fear laces up your spine. An alarm bell goes off in the back of your mind, a small voice is screaming a warning to get out of that room. You are quite alone down here in this part of the ship and you doubt anyone would hear you if you try to scream. This was it…you had pushed him too far and now the consequence was right in front of you, looking at you mercilessly. 

“I think you know what I want,” he almost growls, voice deep. “You have a choice, we can do this the easy way….or we can do this the hard way,” his gaze hardens as he stares at you.

“Fuck off,” you say defiantly back. Inside, you are cursing fluently. You knew this day would come, knew he wouldn’t be able to resist temptation. He chuckles as he steps closer until he’s right in front of you, looking down.

“You wanna know what I think?” he says, and you really don’t care what he thinks but you know he’s about to tell you anyway so you don’t even bother responding. “I don’t know what you did to land here on this cursed spaceship, but I think, deep down, you’re just a good little girl, pretending to be bad, aren’t you?” He says this as if hoping to corrupt your innocence; you smirk to yourself, thinking he has no idea who he’s messing with.  

You raise your chin, looking him straight in the eyes and you just can’t help the words that escape from your mouth. “Well…this good little girl is only a bad girl for the right man,” you say with fire in your gaze, taunting him on purpose even though you know it’s a stupid thing to do. “And that sure as hell isn’t you.” 

You could feel the heat radiate off of him from the proximity of his body so close to yours. He smirks and his eyes darken dangerously as he takes the bait.

“Is that so?” he says easily. “You’ve been provoking me for weeks. You think I didn’t know exactly what you were doing all along? I saw you staring at me too. I think you want me as much as I want you.” His eyes seem to burn into you with desire, lust blowing out his pupil.

“It was just a stupid little game, Ettore. It didn’t mean anything, it’s not that serious,” you know you’re babbling as you try to remain calm by playing it off like you don’t know what he’s talking about. His nostrils flare as he sniffs out your lie and you suddenly feel like a mouse that has just wandered into the lion's den. “Besides, you know we can’t,” you say sternly, referring to the rules, trying to get him to see reason. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it. And I don’t give a fuck about Dibs’ rules,” he says menacingly. 

Rage starts to come to your rescue as you realize he’s not going to listen to a word you say.

You level him with a hard glare. “I don’t fucking want you, Ettore,” you growl back at him.

Panic seizes you for a moment when he reaches for you suddenly and cups your face with his hand. His thumb runs over your cheek in an unexpected gentle caress before moving over your lips, pulling your bottom lip down. His eyes flick up to yours as lust surges through your core at his touch.

“Such a smart little mouth you have,” he says quietly as he takes a deep breath. “I won’t have a problem fucking the brat outta you.”   

He moves so fast you don’t even have time to blink as he lunges for you, spinning you around and smashing you against some cardboard boxes stacked against the wall nearby. His fingers have a tight grip on your hair as he pushes your face into the box, using his knees to kick your legs apart, unbalancing you, one hand grabs your left arm and twists it behind your back. He moves at such a lightning pace that it momentarily takes your breath away.

He pulls your head back from the box by your hair and bends your neck to the side so he can run his nose from your ear to your shoulder, groaning like an animal in heat as he savors your smell. Your heart hammers in your chest. Shockwaves roll over you at the speed of his assault and you can’t even form words yet, only whimper slightly from the pain of having your hair pulled. At the same time, wetness pools at your center. 

“I gave you an opportunity, didn’t I?” he whispers darkly in your ear. “It didn’t have to be like this, you stupid little cunt,” he grunts as you try to struggle with all your might to get away from him, but he’s just too big, too heavy, too strong to break free of his grasp.

Rage boils in your blood as you realize just how well and truly trapped you are. Deep down, you knew this would happen. You realize he saw an opportunity to get you alone and he took it.  You know what’s about to happen and you know you can’t stop it, but you aren’t going down without a fight. 

Your breathing is fast as he starts kissing your neck, biting down on your pulsepoint, feeling your heart race.

“Fuck you, Ettore,” you say through gritted teeth. 

Provocatively, he grinds his hard cock against your ass through your clothes. “Oh, you will,” he growls as he lets go of your hair to effectively pin your arms behind your back with one hand. With the other free hand, he starts exploring your body, running his hand over your breasts and squeezing until he trails down lower, dipping his fingers under the band of your pants. 

You truly lose it at this moment as you feel him reach for your core. You struggle and fight for all your worth and he's forced to stop his path to your center and hold onto you tighter to keep you from getting away. His fingers latch around your throat and he squeezes hard, immobilizing you easily as you struggle to take a breath. His body pushes you further into the boxes, leaning his weight on you.  

“Stop fighting me,” he loudly growls into your ear aggressively. “You stupid little bitch, I know I do things to you too, just the same as you do me,” he breathes harshly. “Look how your body responds to me,” your nipples are pebbled against your shirt and he could clearly feel them when he assaulted your front a moment ago. 

“And I bet, if I touched you right now, you’d be wet, wouldn’t you, love?” he licks the outer rim of your ear and releases his grip on your throat. As you gasp and suck in air, as his fingers reach below your panties and his fingers find your slippery core. You whimper and draw shallow breaths as he groans into your ear when he feels how wet your cunt is. 

He dips down to your opening and gathers some slick, bringing it up to circle your bud and you feel the fight slowly leave your body. It has been so long since a man touched you, you feel like a switch has been flipped, lust now running rampant through your veins, like a shot of ecstasy to your system. He feels you relax under his hand and loosens his hold on your wrists that are still pinned behind your back. You moan softly and lean into him.

“That’s what I thought, you little slut,” he whispers in your ear. You allow yourself to enjoy this moment, but you’ve already formulated a secondary plan and intend to make him pay for this too. You’re simply lulling him into a false sense of security right now. By loosening his hold, he’s actually done exactly what you wanted. You let him circle your bud for a few more times, before you tense, spinning around and shoving him away from you as hard as you can. You aren’t the only one who’s going to feel pain today as renewed rage pounds in your chest.

You leap at him and the fight for dominance ensues as you grapple with each other, falling onto the floor. Physically, you know you are no match for him, but taking your anger and frustration out on him just feels so good. You kick and punch and scratch and scream. He’s doing everything he can to block and contain your flurry of blows but he’s not hit back yet either. Even if he does, that’s nothing new to you; you still have plenty of scars from your step-father.

You’re on top at first, but you’re under no illusion that you’re “winning”, just simply letting the frustration out as you claw at his chest. He quickly decides he’s tired of being your punching bag and he flips you over and lays his full weight on top of you, pinning you to the floor. 

You wrap him in a bear hug on the floor, thinking that if he can’t lean away from you to punch you, you’re safe from any strong direct hits from him. You’re both breathing heavily, Ettore trapped between your legs and you try to kick him from your position but he grabs your hip and pinches harshly, causing you to yelp in pain. 

He wiggles free of your arms, pinning your hands above your head with one of his as he looks down at you, fury in his gaze.

“Are you fuckin’ done yet?” he taunts you, knowing you’re pinned now. 

You literally growl back at him like a rabid, wild animal and show him your teeth; maybe he’ll think you’re insane and he won’t want to continue this anymore. It doesn’t work...

He smirks instead. “There she is…you weren’t lying earlier about the bad girl thing were you? I got myself a right little she-devil, haven’t I?” He chuckles darkly, a menacing sound causing fear to tingle at the base of your spine. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you tamed by the end.”

You don’t respond, distracted by his other hand that has traveled up your shirt, roving over your breasts. You try to buck him off but he’s just too heavy and you barely get him to budge. In alarm, you realize you’ve missed your chance to escape. He watches your face as he touches you and you glare back up into his eyes, hating feeling helpless like this. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he squeezes your breasts and then runs his warm hand down your ribs. 

Hatred and fury pound in your chest, but you’re caught off guard that he isn’t beating you to a pulp. It’s what you had come to expect from men, especially after the physical altercation you just had with him. Involuntarily, you feel yourself relax a little at his touch and your breathing becomes a little more steady. After a few more moments, he notices the tension leave you and suddenly his lips find yours in a violent kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. He starts grinding his pelvis into your aching cunt and you moan into his kiss, hating yourself for liking this but you succumb to his attentions, unable to resist more. Animalistic lust and desire blooms from deep within, your head swirls from his kiss, your body aches for his touch.  

You surrender the fight. “Take your shirt off,” you say when you both come up for air from your kiss; he knows he has to let go of your hands in order to remove his clothes.

“Are you going to stop fighting me?” he asks and you nod. He smirks, “so you gonna be a good girl now?” 

“Shut up, Ettore, it's your dick I want, not you,�� you growl back at him and his grin widens. 

He lets go of your hands and quickly pulls his shirt over his head. You notice the red marks on his chest from where you clawed him earlier. You watch his abs contract with each panting breath, noticing his defined chest and lean muscles of his arms. You feel more wetness pool in your core as your eyes appreciate his body. 

You reach for the bottom of your shirt and surprise him by removing it yourself, your breasts pebbling in the cool air; you barely bothered wearing a bra anymore. He looks down hungrily at them, running his hands softly over your nipples. You arch your back and he immediately takes one in his mouth, the other rolling your nipples between his fingers. Your hands are in his hair as you grind your hips into his hard length. He bites down on the skin of your left breast, sucking a bruise onto the skin while massaging the other one firmly with his other hand. He moves upwards, kissing along your collarbone until he reaches your neck, biting, licking and sucking at all of your exposed skin. You rake your fingernails down his back, becoming impatient for more. 

He pulls away from your neck and sits up, reaching for your pants. You lift your hips so he can remove them completely. He admires your naked body, laying bare on the floor beneath him, the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, your wet cunt open for him. From his position kneeling between your legs, he takes your knees and spreads them apart, opening your pussy more for his view, groaning deep in his chest as his eyes feast upon your body. Deciding to tease him a little, you reach down and start playing with your bud and he stares shamelessly.

“Fuck,” he murmurs and watches you for a few moments. “Such a needy little slut aren’t you?” 

You moan and grind into your own hand, fingers dipping down to your entrance to gather some slick onto your fingers. You bring them up to your mouth to taste yourself, knowing that you’re about to drive him absolutely wild. Since he’s seen your “feral animal” wild-side, now you want to see his too. 

His mouth hangs open, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breathing as he watches your lips close around your fingers as you taste yourself and moan. His restraint snaps in an instant.

He pulls down his pants, freeing his large, veiny cock and gives it a couple pumps, watching your face. Your eyes widened at the sight; his cock is bigger than you expected, long and thick, a pearl of his spend visible on the tip. Your eyes meet and you’re sure he can see the slight trepidation in yours as he smirks. 

“You can fuckin’ take it,” Ettore says confidently, as if this is supposed to reassure you. He doesn’t waste any more time as he lines himself up with your entrance.

You were wet and willing and ready for him but you cry aloud as he sheathes himself fully in one thrust, not caring to take things slow with you. You pant and arch your back as his large cock fills you so completely full, eyes popping a little at the intensity of the intrusion. The stretch burns more than you anticipated and you focus on breathing through the pain.  

He gives you a few shallow thrusts before mumbling, “Fuckin’ hell, your pussy is so fuckin’ tight - sorry if that hurt a little after all,” he says in a voice that doesn’t sound sorry at all. 

He pauses for a moment as he watches your face wince at the pain. He doesn’t give you long though, knowing that he’s hurting you but can’t seem to control himself as his hips start to snap into yours at a steady pace. 

After a few thrusts, you’ve adjusted to his size and pleasure starts to course through your core. You begin to meet his thrusts with your hips. He seems to take that as a sign to speed up as he suddenly pounds into you, much harder, causing you to cry aloud not from pain, but from pleasure.

His hips snap into yours as he fucks you hard, brutally, wickedly, deliciously, and you groan as lightning races from your cunt into your chest. Pleasure starts to build deep inside as his thick cock continually rubs your g-spot. He grabs one leg and puts it over his shoulder and leans over you, changing the angle, driving you wild and your walls start to clench around him.

“Gonna cum for me already?” he pants, an amused smirk on his luscious lips.

“Fuck, Ettore,” you mewl as the pleasure starts to overwhelm your senses. It had been so long since you felt this good. “Harder,” you challenge him, as if he isn’t already fucking you hard enough.

He glances up at your face before withdrawing completely and you feel momentary emptiness at the void left behind as he pulls out from your aching pussy. Flipping you over on your stomach, bringing your ass back in the air as he kneels behind you. You prop yourself up on your elbows as your knees dig into the cold, hard floor; you know you’ll have bruises on your knees from this position. He thrusts back into your aching core with a guttural groan and you feel a stinging slap to your rear end. You cry aloud and mewl pathetically, then feel him yank on your hair from behind. He pulls you up so that your palms are now resting on the floor, your neck pulled back, held by his grip in your hair; he fucks you ruthlessly as he rides you from behind. His other hand grips your hip so hard you know you’ll have more bruises tomorrow.

You both are panting heavily as he lands another blow to your ass, harder this time, you’re positive a red handprint remains and you may even form yet another bruise with the strength of his slap. He doesn’t even bother to run his hand along the tender skin to soothe it, he just keeps thrusting with single-minded intensity. The slaps sting but in a pleasurable way as you feel your core become impossibly wetter each time he hits you.  

You reach a hand down to play with your pearl, your walls clenching around his thick cock as pleasure coils low in your belly.

The bites, the bruises, the ache around your throat from being choked, the pull of your hair on your scalp, the sore spot on your ass cheek from his repeated slaps, the drag of his thick cock inside your wet, tight pussy causes your mind to go blissfully blank, all of the sensations overwhelming you. Your eyes roll in your head and you idly wonder how much pain and how much pleasure your body could handle until it snaps. 

Ettore can feel your orgasm approach as your walls start to spasm around him. 

“Little slut, gonna cum all over my cock, aren’t you?” he growls, increasing his tempo. 

You have the wherewithal to get out one request before it’s too late. You try to speak in between his brutal thrusts. “Please…Ettore,” you pant. “When you cum, pull out.” All of the women who had gotten pregnant through Dibs’ sick experiment ended up dying. You didn’t want that fate just yet.

He doesn’t respond, continuing his pace and your breathing becomes harsh as you approach the precipice of your orgasm. The coil snaps and your release rips through you, obliterating everything else, your vision goes white. You cry out his name as he continues to fuck you through your high. 

“Fuckin’ shit,” he grunts as he feels your cunt clench down on him. Your orgasm is still rolling through you but he can’t hold back any longer, he pulls out and paints your ass with his spend. 

He finally lets your hair go and you collapse onto the floor and he falls next to you. You both pant and breath harshly for a few minutes, not saying anything. As you come down from your high from your intense orgasm, reality sets in: part of you feels satisfied for the first time in a long while, the other part of you feels like you can’t believe you just let that happen to you. You wanted it but you didn’t want it; you didn’t know how to feel. You feel relief that he at least listened and pulled out. 

Finally, he sits up and starts looking for his clothes. You take one last deep breath and are about to do the same when you unexpectedly feel him clean his spend off of you with his shirt, making you jump a little. He’s a little rough with the wiping but the gesture is almost nice for Ettore. He throws your shirt and pants over to you and you both get dressed in silence. 

He helps you up off the floor and lifts your chin with his finger.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he warns, looking deep into your eyes. You nod in acquiescence, there is no way you’d ever tell anyone, but you give him the reassurance that he needs.

A smug smile plays on his lips. “So compliant now, I see. I told you I would fuck the brat outta you.” You scowl and try to pull away from him but he’s trapped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He leans in closer and you think he’s about to kiss you, but he doesn’t. 

“You’re mine now, mine to use whenever I want, my own little slut, you fuckin’ belong to me. Don’t forget it,” he squeezes your chin and gives you one last dark glare before opening the door and exiting the storage room, leaving you stunned. 

You watch him go and feel a little paralyzed. You feel as though you just opened Pandora’s box. 

What monster have you just unleashed?

>>> Part 2

Tags: @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @pandemonium105 @aemondsscar @cyeco13 @multyfangirl @chainsawsangel @boundlessfantasy @bellaisasleep @sylas-the-grim @megatardisbaby

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝗖𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴

this one's pretty gross ngl lol

Summary: You thought you could get away with one more adrenaline rush before the mission kills you.

Warnings: DARK NONCON, SMUT (MINORS DNI), mentions of murder, rape, torture, and necrophilia, serial killer!reader, sexual violence, slapping, punching, misogyny, blood and pain kink, degradation, humiliation, oral (m!receiving), (painal) anal, ass to pussy, forced orgasm, creampie, and death

word count | 3.2k🤙🏻

As you sat staring at your own reflection in the two way mirror across from you, your hair a mess and dried blood lightly splattered across your face, sticky hands cuffed to the cold metal table, you started to wonder what led you here in the first place.

You were never abused or neglected. You didn’t have any head injuries growing up. In most ways, you were a perfectly normal girl. Your parents loved you, you had friends, a steady job that made you good money, so how the hell did you end up here?

You thought back to your childhood. You had witnessed many of your parents’ arguments, perhaps that was the cause? Or maybe seeing one too many horror movies? Listening to the wrong type of music? Were you just born with a screw loose? There had to be some sort of explanation for why you would have committed such horrid, atrocious acts. Maybe you’d never know. Perhaps it would be better if you didn’t. Maybe there was no need for closure. Maybe you just wanted an answer more for your loved ones than for yourself. You could live without it, but your parents? You knew they definitely would need one.

You felt as though you should be terrified at the fact you were being held in a police station. Any moment some detectives would walk through that padlocked door and expect you to give them all the answers as to why you did what you did, to give them some sort of clarity and insight. But you still had no idea what you would say, sitting in that uncomfortable stiff chair for what felt like hours you couldn’t even come up with an answer to yourself.

That wasn’t the worst you were dreading.

How do you look your mother or father in the eyes after something like this? How can you even be in their presence? It’s a different kind of pain when your mother or father is crying because of you, because of something you did. The disappointment, the disgust, the fear. How do you go from your father’s little girl or mother’s precious baby to this, a murderer? Would they blame themselves? Probably, even though it wouldn’t have been their fault. You knew this too, it could never be your parents’ fault. They did the best they could, which is all anyone could ask for. But facing them would be the hardest thing you would ever have to do. You saw the way they looked at you, like you weren’t their daughter anymore. You weren’t really, the daughter they knew wouldn’t have done what you did, had been doing for months. They didn’t raise you to be this way. You were an anomaly. You weren’t their child anymore, you were nothing to no one. Just another killer that needed to be behind bars, or better yet, a lethal injection.

You were destined to die, from the minute you were born. You probably deserved it, you did deserve it. Though death didn’t come by way of a lethal injection or prison violence like you assumed it would, no, it was much more interesting.

You never thought about what space was like, pondering the what if questions was never something you wasted your time on. But upon being assigned a space mission as a punishment, you were forced to wonder what it would be like. It didn’t seem like a punishment to you, you didn’t really care what happened to you mostly. It would be an elaborate way to die, that much you were sure of. Theatrical, is one of the first words that came to your mind. You weren’t scared, not much did scare you after all. What did slightly worry you, however, was the fact you’d be on this mission with several other individuals, most if not all of them there for the same reasons as you. Murderers, rapists, terrorists. What a motley crew it would be.

You knew Monty, through word of mouth. The two of you were in the same prison, segregated by gender of course, but you had heard of him. You could appreciate a familiar face in a very unfamiliar environment. He didn’t talk to you much, only when you both got assigned the same work detail. You both had strong similar opinions about the witch that played doctor and mad scientist that was on this mission with you all. You may or may not have made an agreement to eat her first if the station ran out of food. You might’ve considered him a friend, if you had the emotional availability for friends.

Who you never talked to, or even wanted to, was Ettore. Some kid done in for all kinds of sexual assault and violence, even some corpse fucking. I mean, if you’re desperate enough, you guessed. It’s not like you had any room to judge, considering. But even you thought the guy was a bit over the top. You were subtle, tried leaving no traces; Ettore was messy, no condom, coming inside every girl he forced himself on, his bloody fingerprints everywhere. Some people just weren’t smart enough to think of those things. Men hardly ever think things through. You didn’t know what he went through, but you didn’t find it in yourself to care. He was a monster, just like you.

Ettore stared at all the women on board, even the men sometimes, but you always felt his eyes on you. Maybe it was because you were closer to his age than all the others, but he just liked your appearance the most, but you didn’t appreciate it nevertheless. You thought about how pretty his shiny crimson blood would like coating your hands every time he made eye contact with you. Thought about how his gurgles would sound if you slit his throat, choking on his own blood.

You make promises to yourself. You say, you’re never going to do this thing again. You won’t ruin your life like this, you can’t. But then like all promises, you break them and you continue to destroy yourself and everything around you. It’s inevitable, like death. You crave and you ache and you feel like you can’t live if you can’t carry on with this obsession, you need to drown yourself in it. The pain of living with knowing that you’re a monster seems more appealing than the pain of never being able to fulfill that craving ever again. It’s a sacrifice you have to be willing to make. But the difference between people like you and normal people is that your cravings supersedes the want to be normal and live without guilt or remorse. You can’t have it both ways, and you understand that better than most. You figured Ettore knew that too, and that’s the only reason you started to take an interest in him.

Ettore never seemed remorseful for what he did, not like the others. The others had regrets, they wished to go back in time and change what happened, they never wanted to end up in space. Neither did you, but remorse wasn’t in your programming. Regret wasn’t something you ever learned. The world couldn’t handle people like you, not at that time.

You didn’t really know what you were looking for in Ettore, definitely not comfort, he couldn’t give it if he tried. But that’s not what you wanted either, you hated nice people but they were easier to take advantage of. You knew you wouldn’t be able to take advantage of Ettore, he’d be able to sniff that out from a mile away. You usually knew how to approach these things, how to approach your victims, but Ettore was different. He was like you, and you didn’t like that. You felt something you had never felt before; you felt threatened.

You and Ettore were assigned moping the station floors, a tedious endeavor, they’d just get dirtied up again. But this was your chance, to get rid of the threat once and for all. Dr. Dibs was a stupid cunt, for all those experiments she did, she couldn’t even spot you stealing one of her scalpels from her infirmary. Though, you figured she wouldn’t have cared that much anyway.

Ettore kept his eyes to the floor, mindlessly moping away at the tiled flooring. You removed the scalpel from the hiding place you made in your scrubs, gripping the handle firmly and plunging the blade down, aiming for the man’s neck. You barely made it halfway to your blade’s destination before Ettore grabbed your wrist, swiftly pinning you against the wall with a dark look in his eyes. You glared up at him, the feeling of having lost searing your insides.

Ettore easily overpowered you, holding both your wrists above your head with one hand and taking the scalpel in his other. He looked between you and the surgeon utensil with an almost amused expression. “Not the first time a woman’s ever tried to kill me.” He mused, “I’m sure that comes as a shock to ya.” His dry sense of humor didn’t sit well with you, though you didn’t have much of a sense of humor to begin with.

Instead of giving you a taste of your own medicine and killing you like you thought he would, he simply tore the blade through your scrubs top like it was second nature, exposing your breasts, your nipples hardening against the cold space station air. You heard him hum in appreciation, eyeing up your tits like they were a meal. “Not the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, but they’ll do.” You didn’t have time to be offended before asking yourself, ‘they’ll do’ for what?

You were suddenly slammed on the floor, your back hitting the tile hard, Ettore above you predatorily. “Get off me, you dick!” You seethed, struggling against his grasp.

Ettore pursed his lips, shoving his knee between your legs. “Nah, don’t think I will. Been wantin’ to have my way with ya for months. Thinking ‘bout your tight little holes every time I used that fuckin’ box. Don’t need it now.”

“Dibs will find out.”

He raised a brow. “Do you think that’s something I care about? Can’t imagine she’d be too thrilled about you tryna take a stab at me neither. Just shut your mouth and do as you’re told, and we won’t have any problems.” And just for good measure, the man atop you threw his fist across your face, blood and a tooth splattering to the once freshly cleaned floor. He groped at your breasts roughly, surely leaving bruises that would stay for awhile, if you even made it out of this encounter. You spat the rest of the blood that pooled in your mouth up at Ettore, watching the viscous fluid paint his fair complexion. “Bitch.”  He spoke simply before ripping off the rest of your clothing and moved up to straddle your chest, his hardened member hovering right above your face. “Suck. Better feel no teeth or you’ll lose ‘em.”

“Piss off!” Ettore smirked as he muffled your protests by shoving his cock inside your mouth, thrusting with abandon, your whimpers and choked gasps only spurring him on further. You felt like you were going to pass out, his dick blocking your airway, only getting barely enough just so you could keep going. You hoped he’d stop soon, but you’d soon regret wishing for that.

With a grunt, he pulled out of your mouth and flipped you onto your stomach.

“Ettore!” You growled, trying to escape the heavy weight of his body, to no avail. You let out a yelp as he landed a harsh smack to your ass, a new feeling of panic washing over you as you felt his hands spread your cheeks and hocked up a wad of spit on your puckered hole. “No-! Not there, please!”

Ettore chuckled darkly, “I like hearing ya beg, do it again.”

Your brows furrowed in discomfort as you felt the blunt tip of his cock press up against your ass, pushing every so slightly. You decided you wouldn’t give in to this vicious man, no matter what. He was yours to kill and torture, not the other way around. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. “Fuck you.” You yelled out in pain as Ettore forced his cock in your ass to the brim, his thickness bringing tears to your eyes immediately, the unfamiliar pain almost unbearable. “Stop!”

“Nah, sweetheart, you asked for it. And I’m gonna give it to ya.” He grunted as he pulled out, only to push back in roughly. You cried out in pain as you felt your tissue tear inside, your own blood acting as a lubricant so Ettore’s cock could slide in and out more easily. Each thrust added another wave of pain throughout your entire body, sweat beading along your forehead and shivers going up your spine that hit the base of your skull. You hissed as he pinned your head down to the cold tile, your tears and sweat mixing and creating a puddle that you’d be forced to clean up later.

“H-Hurts…” Was all you could say, and when you thought the pain would go away, Ettore would just speed up his thrusts, tearing away at you for his own pleasure. You felt his cock throb inside you, pulsing as he finally came with a grunt, forcing his seed deep inside you.

You whimpered as he pulled out, his cum mixed with your blood pooling into another puddle of pain. You wondered if he was done with you. Was he exhausted of you? Ettore inadvertently answered your silent question when he flipped you over on your back, his blood covered cock still hard and standing at attention. “I’m almost tempted to make you clean up your mess here…” He smirked, “but I wanna fill up that pretty pussy of yours, have you leaking from both filthy holes.”

You growled, trying to kick at him only for him to force himself between your thighs. “You’ve had enough, Ettore, now let me go!”

Ettore furrowed his brows. “Enough? No, it’s never enough.” You let out an involuntary moan as his thick cock slid right in your cunt, not for the blood but your own slick making it a welcome intrusion. “Fuck, so wet and tight. You sure you’re not getting off on being taken like this, luv?” No, absolutely not, but you couldn’t really teach him a lesson about the body’s natural defense mechanisms at a time like this.

The harsh, sopping slaps of skin pierced your ears when it would’ve been an otherwise chillingly quiet hallway. It was peaceful at times, the silence deafening to the point it blocked out all the other noise, from outside and from within. Ettore had to taint that too. You felt like you were rotting from the inside out, each thrust his cockhead hit your cervix, making your toes curl and eyes roll to the back of your skull, an aching pleasure like lightning bolts shooting through you. Your loud moans were unavoidable when he pushed your legs back against your torso, making his cock hit deeper, his thrusts picking up speed as he kept hitting that sweet spot inside you. The wiry hairs that decorated Ettore’s pelvis rubbed up against your clit in tandem with his brutal thrusts, your orgasm creeping up on you like a curse. 

You clenched hard around him as you came, earning a deep groan from the man, his seed spilling inside you. Perhaps in different circumstances, coming together would’ve been romantic. But alas, you had nothing but pure hatred for the man that was now trying to catch his breath above you, keeping a bruising grip on your legs as he came down from his high. Surely, he was done now, right? “You liked that, did ya? You want more, hm? I can give you more.”

You gave up trying to protest, knowing that it would only make him want you more, so you kept your mouth shut as he flipped you over again, entering you from behind. Your hands shook as his cock pile drived you, his body weight squishing you against the floor, your insides aching as the force of his thrusts moved them around. Unfortunately, you felt another orgasm bubbling up inside you, a growl escaping you as you felt betrayed by your own body. “Fuck!” Ettore moaned, “Your cunt’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You fuckin’ love this cock, don’t ya, slut?” Rage coursed through you like your orgasms did, your moans and whimpers echoing the halls along with Ettore’s. Fuck him. Fuck this situation. You’d rather be dead.

Something shimmering caught your eye, your gaze shifting to spot your long forgotten scalpel laying just a few feet away from your body. If you could only reach…

“Mmm, maybe I’ll fuck a baby into you, maybe Dibs will give me special treatment as a reward.” Ettore chuckled darkly. “Maybe she’ll let me fuck you whenever I want.”

“Fuck you.” You spat venomously, yelping when Ettore suddenly flipped you over on your back and gave you a harsh slap.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch, and take this goddamn dick.” And when he raised his hand to deliver another slap, you opened your mouth and clamped down on his fingers with your teeth as hard as you could. 

Ettore let out a satisfying yell, the tangy taste of his blood coating your mouth and arousing you like nothing else could, his flesh tearing and bones beginning to crack and fracture before he pulled away, clutching his injured hand. You quickly kicked him in his lower abdomen and then his chest, successfully shoving him to the floor, giving you the chance to grab the scalpel. You sliced open your palm as you grabbed the wrong end in a rush, stinging pain and adrenaline surging through you.

You screamed as Ettore pounced on top of you, trying to grab the tool from your hands, his fists beating down on your back and arms. You elbowed him in the side, hearing him gasp for air before you pushed him off, quickly straddling him, pinning his hands beneath your knees. “Fuck you!” You shouted in his face, bringing the blade down and plunging it into his stomach. “Fuck you!” You brought the blade down again, this time in his shoulder. With a pained yell and a groan, Ettore ejaculated beneath you, your pussy rubbing against his cock when you straddled him, giving him one last climax before you forced the scalpel into his neck.

You watched with a grin as dark, viscous blood poured out of his various wounds, him choking and gurgling on his own blood as it continuously filled his mouth. You couldn’t focus on anything else but the oozing tears in his flesh that you made, you didn’t notice anything else around you as you watched the life slowly drain from his eyes, his blood creating a large puddle that covered your own blood and his sticky spend, like it was never even there.

You lived for this. The feeling of taking someone’s life. It took a while to get that feeling back, a lot of effort and pain, but it was worth it. Even when you were caught by the other crewmates and Dibs, even when Dibs tortured you as punishment, the other prisoners shoving you outside of the airlock chamber for their own safety…

…it was totally worth it.

sorry, i love my happy endings🤷🏻‍♀️

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Monsters in the Garden (Ettore x Reader) 18+

No one comes to your garden but you, not even Dr. Dibs. So what is the most dangerous man on the ship doing leaning against your doorway and watching you work?

Pairing: Ettore x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT SMUT; hand job; kissing; blood; mentions of rape, murder, and violence; female genital mutilation; vague mentions of corpse mutilation

Author's note: This was inspired by a session I had with the Ettore AI made by @harrenhalhottie (RIP). It was just so good I had to write it out for y'all. This Ettore is a little different from normal, but I can't help but look at a one-dimensional character and want more. Hope you enjoy, and let me know if you want a Part 2, because I have ideas...

This song also heavily influenced the vibe:

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3

Monsters in the Garden

You were on your knees, leaning over one of your raised garden beds when you noticed him leaning against the open doorway. He wasn’t quiet on his approach – he wanted you to know he was there.

Ettore was always there, in some dark corner, watching you.

By this point, you were almost used to the burning feeling that crawled beneath your skin whenever his eyes were on you.

In the right light, those eyes were a mesmerizing blue. The color reminded you of the sky back on Earth. If he hadn’t been so goddamn creepy, you might have been happy to stare into his eyes just to remember home, even briefly.

But he was easily the most unsettling person you’d ever met. Always leering at the other women on board – though in the past weeks, you had apparently become his one and only target– and using the Box proudly, far more than anyone else did.

It was no wonder why. You knew what he was.

Everyone on board was a killer, including you. But Ettore was the worst. The most dangerous of you all. For he was the only one who had… done worse than just kill his victims.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

Well, some would say what you had done was worse. But that was different. Your victim was already dead by the time you started your work on his corpse, and it had been more than deserved.

You did not let yourself linger on that. You never did these days. The further away from Earth you got, the more distant it seemed. The rage, the guilt, all of it.

Ettore wasn’t distant. He was mere feet away from you, intruding on your garden.

Not yours, not really. Because of your past – specifically, the degree in horticulture you were only one semester away from completing when you were arrested – you were assigned to look after the gardens instead of something more related to the actual mission of the ship like the rest of the crew.

Or more basic, in Ettore’s case. Dr. Dib’s called his assignment “ship maintenance,” but you all knew what he really was: the janitor.

But he never came in here. You made sure of it, keeping everything meticulously clean and fixing all your equipment yourself so no one – least of all Ettore – would ever have a reason to intrude on your space.

You didn’t even allow Tcherny, the other gardener, in here. He was fine with it. He preferred the vegetable and grains and left the medicinal plants – kept in their own room – to you. The only person beside you who ever came in here was Dr. Dibs, and she hadn’t been here in months. She didn’t like the dirt.

Yet there was Ettore, just staring at you.

His eyes weren’t that beautiful, bright blue you so rarely glimpsed. His chin was slightly tucked into his chest, his strong brow casting his eyes into darkness. His face was blank, unfeeling, and unmoving, save for those eyes.

They almost didn’t look human, but animal. Yes, that was the look of a predator. And it was directed at you.

You turned away from him to face the garden bed again, hoping he would lose interest if you didn’t engage. But if he didn’t, and he did try something…

Well, you had your spade next to you. It was probably sharp enough to dissuade him from doing anything you didn’t approve of.

So, you resumed your work, carefully tending to your poppies.

Once the lovely purple-pink petals that were just unfurling fell in a few days, you would harvest the sap from the seedpods so Dr. Dibs could synthesize more of the sedative the crew was forced to take each night. Only a handful, carefully selected by you, would be spared and allowed to produce the seeds that would become the next crop.

Though you hated playing a part in producing the drugs, the poppies were still your favorite plant. They were the only flowers you had left.

The garden was always your happy place, even on Earth, and you quickly found yourself concentrating not on Ettore or the sounds of the ship or even the ship itself. There was only you, the dirt, and your beloved plants.

So, when you finally stood and looked away from your work, you had entirely forgotten that Ettore stood there.

Still, he remained leaning against the doorframe, watching you. He hadn’t moved a fucking inch.

You jumped slightly at the unexpected sight, your hand flying to your racing heart.

While he did not flinch at the motion, Ettore’s brow raised slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

At least the hunger in his eyes had abated. Somewhat.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, love,” he crooned as he uncrossed his arms and took two steps forward.

God, you had never heard him speak before.

His voice wasn’t particularly deep, but it was low and smooth. His accent was like something out of those British action movies a boyfriend in high school loved to make you watch. Perhaps it was those memories – of either the boyfriend or the handsome actors, that made his voice sound almost alluring.

It had to be. It couldn’t be him.

You instinctively stepped back, raising your hands to try and communicate that you didn’t want him near you. Unfortunately, you forgot your spade on the ground, leaving your hands empty. Fortunately, your gloves were loose enough that he could not see the slight trembling in your fingers.

“I just…” you stammered. “I forgot you were there.”

He just stared at you impassively, those predatory eyes taking in every detail of your face, then traveling lower and lower.

Some of the hunger returned when his gaze landed on your breasts.

You had to shut that shit down.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, pouring all your contempt into your voice to mask the fear that still crept within your blood.

Ettore looked back at your eyes, the corner of his lip flicking up as though he was holding back a sneer. “Just passing through.”

You risked looking away from him to glance at your watch. It confirmed what you already knew. “You’ve been standing there for over an hour,” you informed him. One hour and eighteen minutes, to be exact. “Hardly what I’d call ‘passing through.’”

He raised his brows slightly, apparently surprised it had been that long. “Guess I lost track of time. Watching you is…” he turned his eyes, not to your body, but to the flower bed you had just been working in. When he looked back, he gave a sly smile. “Relaxing.”

Bullshit, you thought. But then you bit back the sharp tang of your own cynicism. Gardening was relaxing to you; it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that he honestly found watching you relaxing as well. If it had been anyone but Ettore, you probably would have believed them without a moment of doubt.

But it was Ettore.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

You glared at him for a long moment, trying to communicate that you wouldn’t be fucked with – you wouldn’t be a victim. Then, when he still didn’t drop his gaze from yours, you took it as an acknowledgment of the threat and turned away from him.

You were at least half-expecting him to pounce on you then and there, but he didn’t. You didn’t hear a single sound as you walked to your workbench, situated on the opposite wall from the door, and took off your gloves.

“There’s nothing more to watch,” you said over your shoulder. Then, grabbing a clean rag from one of the drawers, you began wiping the dirt from your forearms – rinsing it off in the sink would risk a clog, which would mean a visit from maintenance and Ettore. “I’m done for the day.”

He didn’t reply, only grunted his acknowledgment. He never moved as you continued to wrap up your work – cleaning your tools, sweeping the dirt that had made its way out of the beds, and washing your hands. Still just watching you.

At least it confirmed that it wasn’t the gardening he found ‘relaxing.’

Finally, you discarded your rags in the laundry bin. It would need to be taken out soon – it was ready today, but you were already running later than you wanted. In just ten minutes, you had an ‘appointment’ with Dr. Dibs, and you didn’t want to make her angry. Again. Doing so has become kind of a bad habit of yours.

So, you turned to face Ettore, who continued to stare at you as you stepped within a few feet of him. He stood a little taller at your approach, puffing his chest out as that near-rabid hunger took over his eyes once more.

Your stomach fluttered, and you told yourself it was only because you were nervous about whatever Dibs planned to do to you tonight.

But then the corner of his mouth quirked up, and your heart sank at the realization that it was because you – or rather, your traitorous, repressed body – found Ettore attractive.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

He would be just your type if you didn’t know why he was here. You had never been able to resist a good jawline, and his could cut fucking glass. And as you took another step closer, his height became just as enticing. You always told people you only liked tall men so they could reach things for you. But really, you just loved the feeling of having a big, strong man to protect you.

No one had looked at you like you needed protection in years. No, you were now what people needed protection from.

“Though she be but little she is fierce,” the lawyer had said when convincing the jury to not be put off by your size. A fitting quote, since Shakespeare himself had inspired some of the more gruesome details of your crime.

And now, you couldn’t help but take another step forward, then another. All along, savoring how far back you had to tilt your head to look into those beautiful blue eyes.

God, as he tilted his chin back as well, the bright lights of the garden set them blazingly bright and the bluest you’d ever seen them. They were even better than the sky back home…

You forced yourself to look away when you felt heat begin to pool between your thighs. Instead, you stared over his shoulder to the hall, trying not to snap when you heard him laugh slightly at your movement. Was the blush you felt visible?

“You’re in my way,” you said, your voice more of a whisper than you intended.

When his smirk faded, and his lips – very pretty lips, you realized – fell slightly open, you thought he would have some cutting remark. But he only stepped to the side to allow you through.

As you passed him, you were close enough to catch his scent. Everyone on the ship used the same soap, so how did he smell so different? Beneath the clinical smell you all carried, there was something deeper, more masculine.

You really needed to calm down before your appointment with Dibs. She knew you didn’t use the Box – not after that first time had failed to get you off, despite the engineering genius of the contraption – so seeing you this riled would lead to questions you didn’t want to answer.

Touching other inmates was against the rules. And even if this wasn’t touching… even thinking this way about another prisoner may incur her wrath.

So, you walked a more than respectable distance away from him before turning back. He was still half-in, half-out of the garden. But he wasn’t staring at you anymore, but rather at the poppies...

When was the last time he had seen a beautiful flower?

You glanced at your watch again. You barely had enough time to make it to the infirmary.

“I need to lock the door,” you said, drawing his gaze back to you.

His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced from you back to the door, then back to you again. He sucked his teeth as he looked at you in condescending disbelief. “You need to lock up flowers?”

“It’s protocol,” you answered. Perhaps your tone was a bit harsher than it needed to be, but you were both criminals - murderers. He could handle a little bitchiness. “And there’s more than just flowers in there.”

Ettore let out a laugh that was little more than a hard exhale, but the twinkle in those eyes told you that he was indeed amused. Then, crossing his arms, showing off the odd, triangular tattoo on his forearm, he stepped away from the door.

You would have to walk by him again to get to the door. Perhaps he was cleverer than you gave him credit for – if you had previously given him any credit at all.

If you weren’t so pressed for time, you might have stayed to tease him some more. This was surprisingly fun, even when you knew what he wanted from you and what he had done to get it from other women. You were just that bored.

And horny. You were very, very horny.

That would be what got you in trouble.

You scoffed, pushing past him to lock the door. It took all your effort to slip the key in as your fingers trembled at the feeling of him hovering over you, his breath hot on your neck as he stepped closer to you.

This shouldn’t make you horny. On the contrary, it should make you afraid. But still…

When the door finally locked, you spun around quickly, tucking the key between your fingers like a claw – something one of the college policemen once told you about.

But Ettore stepped back – once, twice. And then the was pressed against the wall opposite you. His stare was still hungry, and you could easily see how heavy his breathing had become, but he didn’t advance.

“I have to go,” you told him, unsure why you were doing it. It wasn’t like you needed his permission or even wanted it. “I have an appointment with Dibs.”

His eyes darkened then. Not with lust or animalistic hunger, but rage. It was almost… possessive?

It was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by his usual empty stare. Still, you did not dare move, not after whatever it was you just saw.

“Can I…?” Ettore gritted his jaw and looked away, his hands balling into fists at his sides. You didn’t know if he was about to cry or kill you – and you didn’t know which would be worse. He still looked away from you as he continued, “Can I come here again tomorrow? Just to watch.”

You should immediately forbid it. It was wrong, it was a bad idea, and it was just fucking weird. But as the hour chimed on your watches, you realized you couldn’t leave when he looked so desperate, almost sad. And you definitely couldn’t say anything to make that horrible expression worse.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You turned as he looked back at you to shut off the alarm on your watch. Dr. Dibs would be pissed at you, of that, you were sure. At the moment, though, it didn’t seem to matter. Not when his eyes lit up again, not from any light, but with excitement. “If you have nothing better to do, I guess that’s fine.”

The corners of Ettore’s lips quirked up like he would smile, but he quickly corrected it and set his mouth in a straight line. He didn’t want you to know just how excited he was, but you did anyways – he wasn’t a great liar. Tipping his head in an attempt at indifference, he sniffed before speaking. “Yeah, wicked.”

You winced a little at his pathetic attempt to seem cool, but it faded quickly when your watch beeped again. This wasn’t an alarm or the chiming of the hour but a summons. If you didn’t obey it, you knew Dibs would happily use the stupid watch to deliver a steady stream of low-level electric shocks until you did.

She was just as much of a killer as the rest of you – worse than some, if the rumors were right. Why should she have such authority over the rest of you?

It was pointless to question it, and even the beginnings of the line of thought had ruined your mood. So much so that you didn’t say anything else to Ettore before turning away from him and stalking down the hall toward the infirmary.

After you had disappeared around the corner, Ettore took a deep breath, silently congratulating himself on handling that almost like a real person would. Then, he turned in the opposite direction as you. He was due to clean the canteen before dinner. But fuck that. He needed the Box – now.

-

Dibs had been pissed. Not only that you were late to your appointment, but that you were so obviously turned on when you got there. It wasn’t like you could hide it, not when she immediately ordered you into the stirrups and got a front-row seat to your weeping and flushed cunt.

“Have you been using the Box?” she asked, that sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face.

You pursed your lips, looking away. “No.”

Her smile faded, and her eye twitched. “And yet here you are, practically dripping.” She reached for something on her tray, but you couldn’t see what. You had a pretty good guess, anyway. “Well, at least it makes my job easier.”

It had been anything but fucking ‘easy,’ you thought as you cradled your aching abdomen. Under the pretense that you were already wet enough, she had shoved her speculum into you hard and fast – and without lube.

If you thought her tests and procedures had been uncomfortable before… they were downright torturous yesterday. Especially since she conveniently ‘forgot’ to give you any numbing agents or sedatives. And definitely no painkillers.

Not even the sedative you were served with dinner had helped. For the first time since you boarded this godforsaken ship, you hadn’t slept.

Thankfully, you had little work to do in the garden besides waiting for the poppies to drop their petals. But you didn’t want to just wallow in your pain, so you decided to sit at the edge of the bed where your little willow tree resided.

It wasn’t growing very fast, likely because it didn’t have the room it needed or deserved. Still, you were happy with the progress it had made. When the ship first took off, it was little more than a bonsai. Now, it stood a good eight feet tall – the only plant you needed your step stool to tend.

In truth, it didn’t need much tending. Trees never do unless they are very young or something is wrong. But sitting next to it, examining the patterns in its long leaves and tracing lines up its trunk, was spectacularly soothing.

You had never considered harvesting anything from it. Not yet. It was too little still, and you didn’t want to risk damaging it permanently since you couldn’t simply order a new start. But as another pulse of pain surged through your stomach, you found yourself reaching for a lower branch.

All you needed was a small twig to chew on. It was an ancient Egyptian remedy, one that eventually led to the invention of Aspirin. And even if the sedative didn’t help, perhaps something more natural, something you had grown yourself, would.

You had just wrapped a hand around the branch when you felt a large hand close around your shoulder.

Instinct kicked in, and you whirled around, freeing yourself from your attacker’s grasp. Without processing who it was, you threw your arms out, shoving with all your might. “Get the fuck away from me!”

You only recognized Ettore after you had backed into the wall. He had also fallen on his ass and crawled backward on the floor – apparently, you were stronger than you thought. Any amusement at the fact died when you saw the anger burning in those eyes.

It was entirely possible that you just really fucked up.

But your adrenaline, from the pain and the scare he had just given you, was racing too hot and fast to let you consider that possibility.

“What are you doing?” you spat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Ettore’s face grew even more furious, if that was even possible. His eyes burned as bright as any fire you had ever seen. It was beautiful and deadly. “You fucking… you said I could come watch you!”

Damn it, you did say that.

But it was before Dr. Dibs had been such a cunt.

And she had only done it because he got you horned up like you were a pathetic high schooler.

“Well, now I changed my fucking mind!” you shouted. If you could stand, you would have. Towering over him and just screaming your heart out would feel so good. But you hurt too much to even entertain the thought. “I don’t want you here – I don’t want you!”

Ettore shattered.

You watched it happen as your venomous words left your lips.

His face fell, his eyes began to water, and even his tattoos seemed to go dull.

At that moment, he was not Ettore, the murderer, rapist, and monster.

He was just a boy – the both of you were barely more than teenagers when you left Earth – and he was broken.

You broke him.

You looked on in horror as his trembling lips set into a hard line that echoed in his harsh brow, and the tears in his beautiful eyes faded to reveal a primal rage that chilled your blood.

There he was.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

Ettore stood slowly, like a tiger rising from its crouch upon realizing its prey has no escape – that it could play.

But then he looked away from you, sniffed, and moved for the door.

His leaving without doing anything to you should have made you feel overwhelming relief, but it did not. Instead, a great yawning pit of guilt and regret opened in your chest, hurting nearly as much as your wounded core.

You tried to call out to him, take your words back, and apologize, but all that came out was a short yelp of pain. This time, it was accompanied by wetness between your legs – and not the pleasant kind.

As you folded over, burying your face in your knees as you pulled them into your chest, Ettore paused halfway out the door.

He’d heard noises like that before. From other women in pain – pain that he caused. His lip twitched, and his head tilted out of his control, the movement more animal than human.

You were helpless and apparently wounded. This was his chance.

But as he turned to face you, he caught sight of the poppies you so lovingly tended to the day before. With the memory of your soft smile as you cupped a particularly pretty bloom, one that was a deeper pink than the others, he was able to pull back on the reins of that instinct.

Just slightly, but just enough.

“You hurt?” he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded into your legs and lifted your head without meeting his eyes. “I think… I think I’m bleeding.”

Ettore was frozen, his hands flexing, relaxing, and balling into fists as he tried to keep hold of those inner reins. If he was smart, he would leave. Go straight to the Box and fuck himself until this hateful urge was gone. If he was a good person, he would offer his help.

He was not smart. And he was most definitely not a good person.

But something about you and those goddamned poppies woke what little was left of his humanity and made him want to try.

So, he just stood there, staring at your helpless form as he fought a vicious war inside himself.

You watched him. Watched as his eyes flicked over every inch of your body with dizzying speed, as various parts of his body twitched and flexed. You’d never seen anything like it before, except…

The vague memory of a play you went to on a middle school field trip reemerges. Your whole grade was reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and it just happened to coincide with the local community theater’s production of the play.

It wasn’t a good play. Even at twelve, you could tell it was objectively bad. But the man who played Jekyll and Hyde was decent (one of your classmates told you he was their pediatrician), mainly when he performed the ‘transformation.’ You hadn’t been able to look away as he contorted; every movement was desperate, halting, and frantic.

Not unlike how Ettore moved as he watched you.

When he came out of the fog that had settled over his eyes, which Ettore would you get? Did he even have a Jekyll to his Hyde?

You knew you should take the opportunity of his distraction to run. The infirmary would be best, but it would mean seeing Dr. Dibs again. You had no desire to admit that you needed her help. The showers were also an option, but it would allow others to see you in a weakened state. You didn’t want to admit weakness. Besides, Dibs would hear about that as well.

So, even though you knew it was stupid, you decided to take the biggest risk of them all.

“Ettore…?” You called his name softly, unsure of the pronunciation. Whether it was right or wrong, he didn’t seem to mind. He locked eyes with you, and his nostril flared as though he really was a predator and could smell the blood you were now confident was leaking from you. “I need your help.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he looked like he would run from you. But beyond another twitch of his head, he did not move.

“Please?” you begged. You felt pathetic, but you kind of were, so you tried not to let it bother you too much. “I don’t think I can stand on my own.”

Ettore’s brows furrowed at that, and his lips went from a near-sneer to a determined frown. Then, with a lumbering gait, he approached you in only a few steps, holding a hand out in front of him for you to take.

You stared at his hand for a moment, admiring the elegant length of his fingers. And then you realized: he was shaking.

It was subtle, but it was there.

Tilting your head, you looked up at his face. Apart from the slight widening of his eyes, it was again set in passivity. But what was more peculiar than his trembling or his expression was the fact that he was steadfastly refusing to look at you.

Indeed, those blue eyes were set on the softly swaying leaves of your willow, tracking their movement like the tree would attack him if he looked away.

You were so used to his eyes on you. Was it wrong that you wanted it back?

Before you could ponder the answer, you raised an arm to take his hand. He squeezed your fingers painfully as he helped you onto your feet.

The pain surged again as you stood, causing your knees to buckle the second Ettore let go of your hand. You stumbled, falling against his chest.

It was no more than instinct that had him wrapping his long arms around your shoulders and waist to catch you. An instinct that his brain was yelling at him to abandon you and let you fall.

It was too dangerous to touch you, to feel your soft skin as his hand accidentally slipped into the side of your overalls – why the fuck were the sides so low when your shirt was so short?

At the sensation of your hot breath against the sensitive skin of his neck, he let out an involuntary groan as he tightened his grip on you.

He had to get away. Now. As fast as possible. He didn’t want to hurt you. He really didn’t. But his blood was singing with desire, more intoxicating than any liquor or drug. Keeping his fingers from digging into your flesh possessively was almost painful, and he was so, so hard.

The reins were slipping…

You felt it, his hard length pressed into your stomach as you brought your hands to his chest to steady yourself.

You should push him away again. Slap him. Yell at him. Kick him as hard as you could right on that hard, impressively long length.

But you did none of it.

“I need to get to my worktable,” you whispered, “there’s a medkit there. And…”

You looked into his eyes, watching them dilate even further as you finished your request. “I’ll need help getting out of my overalls.”

That blue you were so entranced by was all but gone. Ettore looked like a man possessed, his breathing heavy and heaving as he lowered his chin to look into your eyes.

There was no way he heard you correctly. You knew what he was, what he had done. And you were smart, so much smarter than him. Far too smart to ever ask someone like him to take off your clothes. Even if it were to help you with an injury – an injury he still couldn’t see.

But then your eyes squeezed shut, and you fell forward to bury your face in his shoulder as you moaned in pain.

And then…

Then your right hand moved up his chest to wrap around his neck. Not to choke or hurt, but just to hold.

He expected your hands to be rough from working in the garden all day, but they weren’t. No, your fingers were unfairly, unbearably soft as they swept across his bare skin, coming to rest against the tattoo on the side of his neck.

When was the last time anyone touched him like this – tenderly and without fear? It had been years, even before he was put on this doomed ship.

Ettore almost came just from that simple touch.

More intense than even the extraordinary pleasure was the feeling of near calm that washed over him. It soothed the pain he felt in every muscle and quieted the violent, primal urges roaring within his chest. They weren’t gone, but they were further away.

It made it easier to take the reins.

“The worktable…” he breathed as his grip on you relaxed slightly. He still held you firm enough to keep you standing, but you no longer worried you would bruise.

You pulled away slightly, noting the way he whimpered and winced like a scolded puppy as you slowly removed your hand from around his neck. “Yes.”

He nodded frantically, sniffing and taking a few deep breaths. As if he needed to prepare himself for the short walk to the table. Then, moving with a slowness that suggested the motion took all his concentration, he lowered his arm from your shoulders.

When Ettore turned to the worktable, even with his other arm still around your waist, you felt a rush of unwelcome cold. Even when you were still clothed and the garden was kept at a balmy temperature.

He walked slowly. Perhaps you would have thought it was out of concern for you and your pain, but you knew by now that this was hard for him.

Indeed, when he pulled away after you were leaned against the table, a faint sheen of sweat had broken out across his brow. His breathing was still rapid, and his eyes were glassy, as if he were several shots in.

“Ettore?” When he met your eyes again, you looked down at the buttons on your shoulders holding your overalls up. He followed your gaze and made a choking sound when he realized what you meant. “If I let go of the table, I think I’ll fall.”

It wasn’t just his hands shaking now, but all of him. So much so that you couldn’t tell whether he was nodding or just shaking that badly.

Either way, he reached for the first button on your left shoulder. It took him a few tries, but he got it done. The strap fell, and one side of the overalls slumped, revealing the tight white shirt beneath that left very little to the imagination.

Ettore growled.

What the fuck? Humans don’t growl. At least, you had never heard it.

And yet he did.

A flicker of fear started in your chest, and you chose to focus on that rather than the bloom of something else lower within you.

He began to reach a hand, tense and shaking, towards your breast. But inches away, you caught his wrist. You had to lean further against the table not to fall, but you weren’t letting go.

“The other button, please.” Though you spoke quietly, the command was clear.

You only released his arm when he looked into your eyes and confirmed with a twitch of his lip that he heard you. He clenched and unclenched his fist several times before finally going for the other button.

It took him even longer to get this one undone. But at least he didn’t growl again when the other half of the overall’s torso fell limp around your waist. His eyes did linger on your breasts, but you let it happen.

You had great tits. And he deserved a little reward for helping you, didn’t he?

So, you let him have a few seconds to just stare. As long as he didn’t try to touch again. Because you didn’t want that, right?

Ettore’s gaze fell further, to where the overalls were just barely hanging onto your waist. You said you were bleeding, but he still hadn’t seen it. So just where was your injury?

His cock twitched, and he was sure you could see it through the thin scrub pants he was forced to wear as he realized what would happen next. “You need ‘em all the way off, eh?” He hated how weak and shaky his voice sounded, but he supposed it was better than growling. You hadn’t reacted well to that. “Do you need me to…?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed. Of course, you knew you should say something about burying your spade in his chest if he tried anything. But the fact that he was asking, rather than just ripping the garment off, made you feel almost safe in having him do this. Almost.

You would feel even better about it if you couldn’t see his dick straining against his pants and twitching almost as much as he was.

C'est la vie, you supposed. Though that probably applied more to something trivial, like your school’s football team losing a game they should have won, than you being forced to ask a serial rapist and murderer to take off your pants. But close enough.

You shivered when he lowered his hands to your waist, causing him to pull back slightly. “It’s fine,” you assured him. “Keep going. I’m fine.”

Ettore nodded and fixed his eyes on the bottom drawer of the table as he took the thin fabric of the overalls between his fingers and started pulling them down. Really, he could have just nudged them, and they would have fallen to the floor. But he kept them in his grip as he lowered himself into a kneeling position.

He never once looked at you. Not at your ankles, or your legs, or the apex of your thighs – which were covered with more blood than you expected.

Damn it.

You considered what to do next as Ettore remained on the floor, carefully slipping the overalls over your feet. A difficult task when he refused to look at what he was doing.

By the time he finished, and you felt very much like Donald Duck – shirt, shoes, but no pants – you knew what you had to ask.

It was the stupidest thing you’d ever done.

“As long as you’re down there,” you said, your joking tone flatter than you intended, “the medkit’s in the drawer just to your left. Can you grab it and… and help me onto the table?”

Ettore didn’t reply but yanked the drawer open and grabbed the medkit. After tossing it on the table, he rose. Then, still not looking at you, he wrapped his arms around you again – one around your waist, the other around your upper thighs – and lifted you onto the table.

God, you felt so good in his arms. You were the perfect size, like you were made for him to hold. Warm and soft and… wet?

His eyes shot to the arm that had been wrapped around your legs. And both of you looked on in horror as you realized it was now covered in blood – your blood.

For the first time, you saw a look of disgust come over Ettore’s face.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, voice breaking as tears of embarrassment began to fall. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, Ettore simply stalked over to the utility sink a few feet from the worktable and slammed the faucet on. He didn’t wait for the water to heat before shoving his arm under it.

You watched in humiliation, fumbling to lower your panties as he grabbed the soap and began to scrub. “I’m so sorry,” you said again, ripping open the medkit to find a packet of gauze you could press between your legs. “Ettore, I’m so sorry!”

He shook his head as he scrubbed harder and harder, until his skin burned from more than the searingly hot water. You were bleeding, you were hurt, and all he had been thinking about was how much he’d like to fuck you.

It had never stopped him before, not with any of the other girls. He had never minded having their blood on him. He savored it, actually. But it had been him who made them bleed. You…

“Who?” he growled, stilling his scrubbing but keeping the arm under the water. The burning distracted him from the desire to find someone to hurt. Because he needed to hurt someone. Badly. Preferably whoever did this to you, but he wasn’t picky.

You didn’t want to tell him, not when you recognized that look in his eyes. It meant violence – retribution. You had seen that same look in your eyes when you watched the recap of your trial from your cell, and your lawyer was telling the jury, in excruciating detail, why you had killed your victim.

For a moment, you thought about trying to pass it off as you just being on your period. But he wouldn’t buy it. Not after what you’d already told him. Besides, all the women on the ship were synced, and your periods were still two weeks away.

Finally fed up with your silence, Ettore shut off the water and turned back to you, not bothering to dry his arms. He just prowled back to you, standing between your spread legs as he stared deep into your eyes without a glance at your mostly exposed cunt. You turned away, not wanting to face the darkness in his eyes, but he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Who?”

You bit your lip and fought to get free of his grip, but to no avail. Knowing then that it was hopeless, you locked eyes with him again as you said simply, “Dibs.”

He growled again, not with hunger, but with rage.

And then he turned away.

He would hurt her, you realized. He would kill her.

You weren’t opposed to the idea, but you were opposed to what would come next. What the other prisoners would do to Ettore afterward. And perhaps you as well, since he would do it for you.

Before you knew it, your hand had shot out to grab his shirt, and he froze.

“Don’t,” you pled. When you tugged on his shirt to draw him back to you, he only resisted for a moment before coming back toward you. “It was just her punishment. I’ll be fine. She wouldn’t… damage me permanently. She needs me intact for her experiments. I promise, she was just being a cunt.”

Ettore cocked his head and pursed his lips like he would argue, but you couldn’t have that. So, you lifted the gauze from between your legs to show him how the blood flow had already stemmed somewhat.

“See? It’s already getting better.” But your weak, reassuring smile fell when you realized what you had just done.

He realized at the same time, and he could not stop his eyes from dropping to what you just made visible to him.

His erection had begun to flag while he cleaned your blood from his arm, but there was no stopping it now. Not when he had a full view of what he had been dreaming of for weeks.

Just like the rest of you, your pussy was so pretty. He wanted to kiss it, stroke it, fuck it. His blood hummed with the desire, and he barely stopped himself from diving forward. He closed his fingers around yours where they bunched the front of his shirt. The feeling of your skin against his was his salvation, an anchor to his humanity.

Not you, he told himself.

Not you, who didn’t look at him in fear or disgust. At least, not entirely.

Not you, the only person since his mother died to touch him with anything other than aggression.

Not you, who had trusted him, even knowing what he was.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

“Please.” His plea was hardly more than a breath. Pathetic. “Please, let me go.”

For even with your touch, he was losing his grip on the reins. If he stayed here one second longer, he would do something he really didn’t want to do. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

You could see how much danger you were in, but you did not let go. No, you tightened your grip on his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your forehead rested against his.

Finally, you could look into those eyes and remember the sky back home as you had wanted to for so long.

But the sky wasn’t enough.

You wanted him.

You knew you couldn’t have him fully, couldn’t do what you really wanted. Not when you were injured like this.

Still, you brought your other hand to his chest, feeling him shiver as your fingers traveled lower and lower. Finally, you rest your palm against his length through his scrubs, feeling a sense of satisfaction when his hips cant slightly forward into your grip.

He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he wanted this as much as you do. But, of course, he did. When was the last time a woman touched him there, let alone willingly? The thought should have disgusted you, but it didn’t.

Perhaps you were just as much of a monster as he was,

“Dibs will punish us if she finds out we did this,” you whispered, your lips mere inches away from his. “But I don’t really care, do you?”

Ettore shook his head, his eyes burning like the fires of hell, where you both belonged. He was so close to breaking, losing himself, losing control. He was little more than an animal following the primal instinct to mate.

But letting you take control – and you were undoubtedly in control now – made it easier. For once, it wasn’t him who had to pull back on the reins. Not when he gave them to you.

He nodded vigorously. He wanted you. He didn’t care that he didn’t deserve it. And he didn’t care that you were probably just as monstrous as he was. He just wanted you.

You smiled, pressing a single kiss to the corner of his lips before sliding your hand past the waistbands of his scrubs and boxers and taking hold of him.

He immediately let out a pitiful cry as his stomach tightened, and he had to concentrate so hard not to come before you had even begun to move your hand. It was only made worse when you giggled at his struggle. The sound was sweet and light and utterly infuriating.

Needing to shut you up, Ettore brought his hands back around your waist as he tugged you to the table’s edge. He leaned forward to kiss you, but you pushed against him, holding him back. Then, tensing, he grunted, a low, throaty sound and a begging.

“I know,” you whispered, mock sympathy barely disguising your amusement. “I know what you want. Believe me, I want it to.” You laughed again as you began to pump him slowly, collecting the precum on his tip with every stroke to ease your movements. “You can kiss me another time. Right now, I just want to look at you. Is that okay?”

His hands tensed around your waist, and for a few seconds, he looked like he would let that animal loose and lunge at you. Like he would kiss you with all the pent-up frustrations of an entire life spent unwanted.

But he stopped, looking from where your hand disappeared below his pants to your eyes. And he nodded. Not a small, weak movement, but a firm, final motion.

He would allow it.

He would allow you to do whatever you wanted.

You smiled broadly, and again, he had to hold back his release. He wanted this to last forever.

At last, you released Ettore’s shirt from where you had bunched it with your offhand, raising it to his neck. You traced each line of his maze-like tattoo as you sped your movements, savoring each wince and whine he let out. Cataloging each reaction to figure out, without him having to say a word, exactly what he liked best.

And what you liked best. You were particularly fond of how his eyes would squeeze shut, and his mouth would fall open each time you grazed your thumb over his leaking head, following a short trail up and down his slit.

It was such a mesmerizing sight that you brought your hand up from his neck to touch his face. Every movement of one hand was echoed by the other as you explored each feature.

The severe line of his jaw. His large chin. The sharp cheekbones and flat brow. His long, elegant nose. The pink plush of his lips, from which he let out such tantalizing moans and whimpers.

Once you had taken in every inch of his face, you cupped his jaw in your left hand to feel it work as you sped the ministrations of your right hand. His eyes squeezed even further shut, and he grunted like an animal. But you didn’t stop. You only went faster and faster.

“Are you nearly finished?” you asked teasingly.

Ettore cracked open his eyes, looking from your taunting smile to your hand, working him so skillfully, then back to you. He moaned almost inaudibly, and that animalistic hunger returned to his eyes. He had been locked in a cage for too long, and now you had set him free.

“Yes,” he moaned, almost too quiet to hear.

You brought your thumb to rest against his lower lip, smiling at the feeling of his increasingly frantic breath against her.

For so long, you had feared this man. And now he was reduced to putty in your hands.

With a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, you pressed your thumb further into his lip and let your other hand slow, ignoring his protestations. “Before I let you finish,” you said, your voice tauntingly innocent, “I need you to answer a question for me. Can you do that?”

Ettore’s body jerked wildly as he desperately tried to regain some of the friction you had just deprived him of, but his eyes stayed locked on yours.

He knew he would do anything you asked him to then.

If you asked him to jump? He’d ask how high.

If you demanded he get down on his knees and beg? He’d do so happily.

If you told him to throw himself out of the airlock? He wouldn’t hesitate.

Compared to what he would do, what you actually asked of him seemed so simple.

“Fine…” he gasps, tightening his grip on your waist as though you would pull away. “What is it?”

You smirked, savoring that dark look in his eyes. How could you ever have been scared of it?

Then you squeezed his pulsing cock, just past the point of pleasure, to emphasize the power you held over him.

And, of course, he loved it. Groaning as his head toppled over into your shoulder. You carded your hand through his short hair as you whispered in his ear, “What feels better, my hand or the Box?”

Any pain, any embarrassment at being so pathetically at your beck and call, or any emotion other than his desire for you faded at the question. All that mattered was you and your perfect touch.

It felt wonderful even when you tugged on his hair quite hard to make him face you again. The answer was written on his face, in every piece of the complete, utter joy he felt in every inch of him, but especially where your skin met his.

“You,” he said, the word like a prayer. “You.”

Your responding smile was wicked, and you almost went back on your promise not to kiss him. But you resisted and began pumping his cock at a breakneck pace, brushing each sweet spot with every stroke and letting your pinky graze against his balls each time you came to his base.

It takes every ounce of what little restraint Ettore had to not scream at the overwhelming bliss. It was so much, too much. It was everything.

But what finally pushed him over the edge was you leaning in again to whisper against his cheek, “Just wait until you feel my cunt, Ettore.”

There was a sharp gasp, a guttural cry, a whimper, and a grunt, and then he was spent. Thank God his boxers were thick, or there would have been a very obvious stain at the front of his scrubs.

Ettore whimpered again as he looked into your eyes again, unsure what this meant or what would happen next. He was so drunk on his release that words failed him, or else he no doubt would have said something stupid and ruined his chances of actually getting to experience what you had promised just before he came.

You removed your right hand from his pants, wrapping it around his neck like the left, soothingly stroking the peach fuzz at the base of his skull as he came down from his high.

There was a new look in those blue eyes. Not hungry, not animalistic. Not angry or predatory. No, it was almost reverent.

Who would have ever thought that Ettore, the murderer, rapist, and monster, was capable of a look like that?

You parted your lips and leaned ever so slightly into him. “Thank you,” you whispered against his lips. “For letting me just watch. I think… after giving me that, you deserve a treat, don’t you?”

Ettore didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He could only stare at you as pleading vulnerability crept over his face. The look of a puppy begging for a treat.

Then, he nodded, his only pleading answer.

You ran a hand through his hair again, making him wait just a moment more. “Kiss me, Ettore.” His eyes went wide at the command. “Kiss me the way you really want to.”

His throat bobbed, and he nodded again, still holding your gaze. Then, before you could even take a breath, he pounced.

Ettore’s lips were hot on yours as he kissed you deeper and more passionately than you’d ever been kissed before. It took only a moment before it felt like your souls were melding together for how close he held you. He did not relent until you were both struggling for breath.

Even then, he kept his lips pressed against yours as though he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the sound sending tingles up your spine.

You just sat there, smiling against him for a moment, wishing you could have taken him inside you. Perhaps you were fine now, and if he could get hard again, you could…

But then your watches both beeped the hour. He’d been there an hour. Someone was bound to notice he wasn’t scrubbing the halls soon.

So, you reluctantly pushed him away, heart clenching as he weakly fought to hang on to you. “I want to come back,” he whined.

You didn’t reply as you dressed again, your pain mostly gone, and pulled a clean rag out of another worktable drawer for him to clean himself. As you went to shut the drawer, an idea sparked in your mind. You grabbed another rag and ran to the sink, bunching the cloth as you moved.

Ettore looked on in confusion as you shoved the rag down and down into the drain until you couldn’t reach it anymore. But then realization set in, and he grinned wickedly.

You turned to him and returned the smile. “I think I may need to call maintenance tomorrow.”

[flowerandblood]

The Temple of the War

[ Ares • Ettore x Aphrodite • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, hate sex, smut, angst, violence, domination, swearing, marital infidelity ]

[ description: Although she thought it would be a fleeting affair, her disturbing relationship with the god of war only deepens, condemning them both to any attempt to reach an agreement. However, her brother loses his patience, wanting to find out what his lover gave Paris in exchange for the apple that Hera and Athena also deeply desired. ]

This is part 2 of The Temple of the God but it can be read as a standalone story. 💕

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She wasn't sure she had ever felt anything like she did then, that night, as his heavy, sweaty, muscular body lay on top of hers, his hot breath enveloping her cheek as the last waves of pleasure and heat surged through her.

She stroked his smooth buttocks with her hands feeling his hips rock softly in some natural, subconscious reflex, his half-soft manhood still throbbing deep inside her.

She heard him swallow hard and grunt before he rose up on his elbows, looking down at her with his lips slightly parted, sliding out of her slowly with a quiet click of her moisture, rising up on his knees, stepping off her bed as if nothing had happened, making her press her lips together, disappointed.

"Are you going to simply walk away?" She asked coldly, saw him stop in his half-step, glancing over his shoulder at her, some kind of shock in his eyes, as if she had surprised him.

"Hm?"

"Are you going to leave me like this?"

He looked at her dully, clearly not understanding what she meant, what he was supposed to do now, what more she expected of him.

She realised, sighing heavily with disapproval, that after his aggressive rapprochements with women he was simply leaving them, going back to his own affairs, thinking no more of them, not knowing the tenderness of embraces, of soft, dreamy kisses, of hands trailing over warm, soft, naked bodies, of peaceful, deep sleep after an intense closeness.

"What do you demand of me, sister?" He asked her impassively like a soldier asking his commander for an order; she raised herself up on her elbows, looking at him intensely.

"I do not demand. Do you desire that I should now, after you have warmed me, be left alone in a cold bed?" She asked regretfully. She saw him blink, his eyebrows raised, his gaze quickly traveling over her naked, bared flesh, his Adam's apple waved hard as he swallowed loudly.

"That is not my desire." He replied calmly, looking at her expectantly, his silhouette frozen in stillness like a marble statue, the same kind people placed to honour them in their temples.

She nodded, moving aside, looking at him expectantly. He hummed under his breath, his gaze softening a tad as he lay down beside her lazily, sighing quietly through his nose, watching her, his large hand in some simple, primitive gesture rising to her breast, squeezing it uncertainly. He lifted his gaze to her face, apparently wanting to see if he was causing her pain again as he had when he had first done it.

Something about how direct, how roughly honest he was captivated her; years of poetic chants under her windows, long, theatrical declarations of love that in the end turned out to be lies had tired her.

She thought, surprised, that perhaps such a change would do her some good.

Surprise flashed through his gaze as she moved closer to him, placing her hand on his, encouraging him not to stop, laying her body on her side facing him, looking straight into his face, for the first time so shamelessly, so closely.

His facial features were sharp, as if the sculptor had struck the stone with his chisel too brutally and without finesse, his mouth full, his eyes as dark as the night around her. He shuddered and swallowed hard, drawing in quiet breath as her hand rose tentatively to his cheek, closed his eyes as her fingertips brushed over his warm, soft skin.

She ran her hand like this over his exposed flesh, over his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his shoulders, his chest, feeling him flinch as waves of heat surged through his body, the flick of her fingers leaving a trail of his goosebumps behind.

He opened his eyes as she suddenly took her hand away, placing it casually against her body, the fingers of his hand from her breasts slid down to her waist and from it to her buttocks, squeezing it, pushing her closer to him with a sure, soft movement, she felt his hard manhood on her stomach, ready again for him to possess her.

Though she wanted to protest, she let him take her for the second time that night, her folds slick from his seed and her moisture allowed him to slip easily into her hot interior, a low, animal grunt of satisfaction came from his throat as he threw her thigh against his waist, spreading her wide on his fat cock.

"I can do this all night, sister. You know I can." He exhaled with a hint of menace, from which her lips parted in a shy moan as her walls clenched around him tightly, making him gasp. He accelerated his pace, his free hand clenching in her hair, forcing her to look straight into his empty black eyes as he pounded aggressively into her again and again with loud splats of his thighs against her buttocks.

"This is what you want, isn't it? You despise these poets. Those weak, little boys. You don't believe them, because what's the truth in their pretty words? Hm? This is the truth, sister." He breathed out, and for some reason she clamped her hand on his broad chest and kissed him, heard his low groan of surprise, his tongue came out to meet her immediately, licking her encouragingly, teasing her with the very tip as she longed for him to slide it deep down her throat.

"− take care of me, brother −" She whispered in surprise as her voice trembled, as she felt tears under her eyelids, wishing for someone to protect her, for someone to watch over her, to be safe in someone's arms at last.

She felt him quiver all over, he gasped loudly as if he had waited his whole life for those very words, his hands clenched painfully tight on her hair and bare buttock, forcing her to fit him all the way in as deeply as he desired. Both of them moaned helplessly as they came out to meet their bodies, entwined together like vines, sweaty and hot with desire, his cock throbbing intensely inside her, betraying that he was close to fulfilment.

She thought in disbelief that he truly desired her all this time.

This rapprochement was more tender, more passionate than the first one, shamelessly close, her breasts pressed against his chest, their fingers digging into the naked skin of their bodies, their legs thrown over each other, making it so that if either of them wanted it, they couldn't break free.

"− beg −" He growled like a wild animal, panting right into her mouth, so she begged, again, again and again; she didn't even know when warm tears of relief and regret ran down her cheeks, his hot, accelerated breath enveloping her face, their kisses were an aggressive, wet dance of their tongues and lips, loud and slick.

After his last few desperate, deep, confident thrusts she was sure that all Olympus heard their groans of pleasure as they both finally reached their peak.

"− stay inside me −" She mumbled out, panting heavily along with him once the first waves of pleasure flowed through their bodies. She heard him hum under his breath; she knew he was grinning mischievously, his hand in a careless, lazy motion pressed her cheek against his chest, all wet from exertion.

"− sleep −"

Despite his command, she got no rest that night, and though she slept only for her own pleasure, unlike mortals do not need it every day, never before had anyone fucked her as many times in a row as he had, and as their brother, Helios, appeared in his chariot lighting up the sky, they both breathed heavily, his face snuggled into her bare, sweaty shoulder, one of his hands on her breast, the other on her womb.

"You will bear my children." He ordered, as if it was an obvious decision to which he was sure they were both agreed. She closed her eyes, sighing quietly, knowing that if he was going to leave this amount of his seed deep inside her frequently, for her to carry his legacy under her heart was only a matter of time.

She had no intention of denying him that.

To her surprise, he had visited her every night since that day, leaving his barracks late at night, returning there only at dawn.

He wanted her to satisfy him in every way possible.

She wasn't sure if he preferred to watch his fat cock thrust deep down her throat or between her thighs, she noticed, however, that as she caressed him with her tongue and her lips, licking and sucking him unhurriedly, sounds came from his throat that she hadn't heard before, higher and more helpless, as if the sight of her like this, with her mouth full of his swollen manhood, completely overwhelmed him.

"− f-fuck − faster −" He was panting then, clamping his fingers tighter on her soft hair, forcing her to quicken her pace, as impatient as always, wanting only to come down her throat as quickly as possible, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat again and again, making her gag.

Out of sheer mischief, she gave the tip of his length a few encouraging, teasing licks of her pink, fleshy tongue, feeling his body quiver then, his hot spend spilling deep down her throat with his loud curses and groans of pleasure.

She swallowed everything he gave her, feeling him watching her; he hissed quietly, tilting his head back, clamping his hand warningly on her hair as she began to suck him again, his manhood twitching vigorously between her lips and throbbing, oversensitive after his fulfilment. However, after a moment he gave in, allowing her to repeat the whole process, his gaze hazy, hot, his lips puffy with desire and emotion.

"− sister −" He whispered then, completely absorbed in his deepest thoughts in a way that sent shivers down her spine, betraying what he truly wanted.

She could rarely count on him reciprocating in a similar way, but when he did he was merciless, eating her like a starved man; his tongue forced its way aggressively inside her, pressing and licking the bud between her muscles from which she was shaken again and again by waves of pleasure, his nose pressed against her pearl, his fingers digging into the soft, smooth skin of her hips, not letting her escape even when she begged him to stop.

She could hear his mocking grunt then, his dark eyes shining suddenly with a dangerous gleam, one that sent a cold sweat running down her back, he swapped his lips for his cock then, all hard and swollen from listening to her moans.

Rumours of their affair spread quickly across Olympus. Hermes tried to lay a trap for them, jealous of her and the fact that she had never let him possess her, however, when her fierce lover caught him in the act he would have nearly killed him with brutal, swift blows of his fist, if only their brother wasn't immortal.

Though still silent, cold and distant, in his own way he responded to her request, protecting her the way he was capable of.

"What have you done?" He asked her one day, infuriated, startling her, opening the door to her chamber with a loud slam, bursting inside at noon in full armour, his jaw clenched, his nostrils quivering in anxious breath.

He was furious.

She swallowed hard, putting aside her embroidery, looking at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean, brother?"

"What did you give him for that fucking apple? Hm? What did you give him to satisfy your vanity? Did you suck his cock? Did you let him come deep inside you?" He hissed coldly, walking towards her like an enraged, ferocious animal with the loud clang of his gilded steel armour, ready to hit her, to hurt her, to pierce her with his sword, to destroy her in every way possible.

She rose from her seat, furrowing her brow.

"I gave him what he asked for. I give him Helen of Sparta."

She saw him stop, hesitation in his eyes, as if he was comparing her words with his knowledge. He swallowed loudly, his broad chest rising and falling quickly in accelerated, heavy breaths.

"How."

She turned her face towards the large windows of her chamber open to the view of the halves and rivers around Olympus and sighed loudly.

"He wished to possess her. I described to him her desires and her weaknesses. How he could make her content."

"This whore ran away with him. The Achaeans declared war on the Trojans." He growled low. She looked at him wrinkling her brows and snorted, shrugging her shoulders.

"The God of War does not rejoice that in the name of love blood will be shed again? I do not follow your desires, brother."

"Be silent, woman. Do not speak on my behalf." He grunted warningly, looking at her with a sharp, piercing gaze from which she felt a drop of cold sweat run down her bared back. She smirked involuntarily and laughed helplessly, shaking her head.

"It is you who speak on my behalf, boasting before your brothers and comrades that I believed your words and, out of feminine naivety, let you between my thighs. I gave you what you desired and you come and spit in my face, jealous that another man could reach for what you think is yours. No wonder our father didn't give you my hand."

She snarled, and he stared at her, the corner of his mouth raised slightly in a grimace that could be called a smile if not for his gaze, his eyes wide open, filled to the brim with fire and rage, his hands clenched into fists, his nostrils quivering with each of his deep breaths.

A silence filled with suffocating tension fell between them, the quiet singing of birds outside her chamber windows, the rustling of grass and leaves, the pleasant breeze around them, cool and crisp.

She knew he was going to do it, but still she was surprised that a few brisk steps from him were all it took for him to be in front of her, turning her violently with her back to him, clasping his hand in her hair.

She whined helplessly when her cheek hit the table top in front of her, and whimpered loudly when she heard his fingers tear the material of her thin robe at the height of her buttocks, the fat head of his cock pressed against her fleshy walls without any preparation, without any caress.

"Do you think I fucking brag about how much seed I left in your womb to my soldiers? I have killed hundreds of those who dared to dream aloud about you and your body with my own hands." He gasped through clenched teeth, imposing a violent, fast pace on her at once, thrusting furiously inside her with sure, deep stabs of his hips. She heard his low chuckle when all it took was for the thick tip of his cock to rub a few times against the spot inside her, for her quivering to begin to be accompanied by the loud clicks of her moisture.

"I know exactly what you're doing. You like to fucking tease me, don't you? You know the way I'll fuck you then, hm?" He growled, one of his hands pressing her head against the table, the other digging hard into the bare skin of her buttocks, pounding into her so fast and brutally that he didn't slide out.

She could tell that he was staring at the place where their bodies joined, at what he was doing to her, at how wide he was opening her on his fat, aching length.

"− yes −" She mewled, heard him sigh loudly as he fucked her relentlessly, sinking his short fingernails painfully hard into the delicate skin of her hip as if he was just waiting for this; they both began to moan low hearing how loudly their bodies slapped against each other again and again.

"− that's what I thought − fucking take it now −" He snarled mockingly; she felt his words do something to her, the sensation she was experiencing was on the verge of ecstasy from pain and pleasure.

She cried out loudly, mumbling something, probably his name and how pleasurable it was. She lost control of her body as her walls began to suddenly squeeze him, sucking him inside.

"− shut the fuck up − mghmm − s-sister − fuck −" He gasped and she heard him groan low, feeling her fulfilment, her moisture running down his thighs, his hot spend finally filling her womb with his loud sigh of relief.

He rocked his hips for a moment longer with a lewd, sticky slap of skin against skin, his grip eased and she sighed heavily, feeling immense relief, wonderful shivers ran through her body, something like a tickle throbbing at the tips of her fingertips, her lips and inside lower abdomen.

"− you should stop doing this − at least until you're carrying my child inside you − " He gasped; she could feel him looking at her, his manhood still pulsing deep inside her, his large hand slid lower, stroking her slightly rounded abdomen for a moment in a manner that could be described as tender.

"− I can't −" She mumbled out, ashamed at how pleasurable it was, how wonderful it felt to be out of control, that there was something she had no power over.

His element, his aggressiveness, his unpredictability attracted her, just as he was drawn to her understanding of his complex, violent nature.

He hummed under his breath and she closed her eyes as his free hand took the unruly curls of her hair from her face with a gentle flick of his wrist.

"− let this little boy fuck his Helen of Sparta − I'll support you in the coming war − I'll gladly spit in the face of Athena and your sweet husband −" He sneered, and she sighed in relief, pleased with his words, rising on her hands.

His strong arm embraced her at the waist, his free hand clamped down on her cheeks, turning her face in his direction, their lips pressed together in a greedy, sticky kiss. She heard his low, drawn-out murmur of satisfaction, his soft manhood still twiched deep inside her.

"− brother −" She whispered, his nose pressed against her hot cheek in a sudden, surprising surge of tenderness, his hand ran over her soft, smooth hair, only one more word left his lips.

"− undress −"

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Nova Genesis

Part Two

Summary: disgruntled with the decision to return to Earth, who knows what the prisoners aboard will do to cling to their false freedom. And who will get mixed up with it | Word Count: 5.5k~ | Warnings: smut, p in v sex, dubcon, choking, degradation, blood, murder, threatening behaviour

She blinked hard, having stared at the blue, intrusive light of her computer screen for what seemed like hours now. Pressing the heels of her palms against her lids provided some relief to the thudding in her temples, but not nearly enough. This place was suffocating. And she briefly wondered how on Earth the prisoners had lasted as long as they had without going completely insane. She closed her laptop in a huff, her report written, a script planned out in her head for what she would tell Dr Dibs. She steeled herself, preparing for any reaction, her shoes plodding on the linoleum floor, every step echoing her growing apprehension, but she knew this conversation with her was inevitable. The dim lights in the corridor flickered as she reached the door. She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before entering.

Inside, Dibs was hunched over a tray of instruments, methodically wiping each one with a clinical precision that made her skin crawl. The doctor didn’t look up, her voice calm, almost detached.

“You’re here to tell me it’s over, aren’t you?”

Even the tone she used seemed unemotional, a stark contrast to the mess she had been when they had first arrived and broke into their systems, destroying samples. She held her breath, “Yes. The investigation is wrapping up. We’ve gathered enough evidence to ensure this project is shut down. The prisoners will be returned to Earth.”

Dr Dibs shook her head, placing a gleaming scalpel on her table before moving to the next. “And you think that’s a good idea? Bringing them back?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think.”

Dibs finally looked up, her eyes dark with something unreadable. “No, I suppose it doesn’t,” she mused, before her lips turned into a small, cynical smile.  “They’ll tear each other apart before you even reach the atmosphere.”

Her stomach churned with unease at her words, though she tried not to show it on her face that the doctor had managed to make her uncomfortable. There was, of course, a whispering of rebellion amongst those who didn’t want to go back, she knew that. But naively perhaps, thought it would go no further than a few choice words. 

“An announcement will be made shortly. I suggest you prepare yourself for the outcome.”

“Prepare myself?” she echoed, her voice dripping with irony. “It’s you and your team who should be preparing. Once you announce their return to Earth, you’ll be the only thing standing between them and their worst nightmares.”

The prisoners were gathered in the central area of the ship, their eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and suspicion as she stood before them, report in hand, flanked by guards. The air was thick with tension, the kind that makes every breath feel weighted. Each gaze was filled with distrust, hatred almost, all except one, half-lidded with amusement. She took a deep breath, projecting as much authority as she could muster. 

“After thorough consideration and investigation from our colleagues, it has been decided that this mission will be terminated, and all of you will be returned to Earth.”

A murmur spread through the crowd, a mix of surprise, disbelief, and anger. Monte stepped forward, his face a mask of barely contained fury.

“I’m not going back to Earth, not like this. You’re sending us back to rot in a cage, to be paraded around like freaks. We’re not going back. Not all of us.”

“This isn’t up for debate. The decision has been made,” she repeated, her voice firm though her heart pounded against her ribs.

Monte's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white as the tension in the room thickened. His fury, barely held in check, finally broke through, spilling over like a dammed river and before anyone could react, he lunged forward, knocking over the nearest table with a force that sent equipment clattering to the floor. Other prisoners, emboldened by his defiance, began to move as well, their voices rising in a chaotic blend of anger and desperation. Chairs were overturned, shouts echoed off the metallic walls, and the guards tensed, readying themselves for violence.

“You’re sentencing us to worse than death!” Monte roared, his voice booming above the growing chaos. “You’re no better than the people who sent us up here in the first place!”

No. She thought. I’m a lawyer, I’m helping them. Surely.

She could not think why they would be so desperate to stay. So eager to die up here where nobody could find them, or even know where they were. But seeing the sheer determination in some of their looks, she briefly understood.

These people want to disappear.

Her hand hovered near her comms device, but she knew calling for more backup would escalate the situation further. But the guards, finally springing into action, moved to subdue Monte as he approached, and the other prisoners stepped in, creating a human barrier. The room descended into utter chaos as shoves turned into punches, and the violence spread like wildfire.

Across the room, Ettore leaned casually against the wall, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watched the chaos unfold. His eyes locked onto hers from across the room, and for a brief moment, amidst the turmoil, their gazes held. There was something predatory in his expression, a dark amusement at her situation, as if he was enjoying the spectacle of her losing control.

“You think you can control us?” Monte snarled, his body wedged between two guards. “You think you can just send us back to that hellhole?”

With her heart hammering in her chest, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. She tore her eyes away from Monte’s seething form, only to find Ettore still watching her, his expression unreadable. She turned sharply on her heel, retreating to the relative safety of her team, her mind spinning. In the midst of the chaos, one thought lingered in her mind. Ettore’s smirk, his gaze that seemed to pierce through it all, as if he was waiting for her to slip.

Waiting for the vulnerability he was sure was going to rear its head.

Mink sidled up to Ettore, her expression serious as she glanced around to make sure no one was listening. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, filled with concern. “Monte’s losing it. You can see that, right?”

Ettore didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still following the path she had taken as she retreated with her team. The smirk from earlier lingered faintly on his lips, but there was something darker beneath it. He turned to Mink, his voice detached. “Monte’s been on edge since day one. Today just gave him the excuse he’s been waiting for.”

“He’s desperate. Desperate people do stupid things. What happens when she figures out what’s really going on here? If this blows up, they’ll throw us all under the bus.” 

"Whether it’s Monte that takes us out or Earth, doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?"

Her jaw tightened, frustration flickering across her face. “And what about you? What’s your angle in all this? Are you just going to sit back and watch him burn everything down?”

His gaze darkened as he thought about her, like the snuff of a candle, his blue eyes went near-black. There was something about the way she held herself, the way she looked at him, that intrigued him more than he wanted to admit. She had a confidence, a belief in her own righteousness that he found almost laughable. Yet, underneath it all, he could sense the tension, the fear she tried so hard to mask. He’d seen that look before, on other women, other people, just before they broke.

"Maybe I’ll just sit back and watch," Ettore finally answered. "Or maybe I’ll give her a little push, see how far she can really go before she snaps."

The door pressed shut behind her as she pushed into her quarters for the evening, still dressed even at such a late hour. She carried the day’s stress with the tension in her shoulders. If she focuses hard enough, she can still grip the panic she felt earlier that day when the prisoners had all turned on her and her staff. She kicked off her shoes, the tension in her shoulders momentarily easing as she stretched out her feet. The dim lights overhead cast a warm, soft glow over the small, sterile space. A brief respite.

As she was about to take a breath and unwind, everything went dark. The ship's systems cut out abruptly, plunging the room into an oppressive, suffocating silence. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat as she was enveloped in complete darkness. No emergency lights. No familiar hum of the ship's engines. Just an endless, empty, nothingness.

She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, the blackness so absolute it felt as if the walls were closing in around her. Panic began to creep in, but she forced herself to stay calm. The air felt heavy, thick with an unnatural stillness that made her skin prickle.

“Stay calm,” she whispered to herself, reaching out for something, anything, to ground her. But her fingers met only empty space. She knew the layout of her quarters, could navigate it with her eyes closed, but the utter darkness was disorienting. She felt her way along the wall, her fingertips brushing against the cold metal, her breath quickening with each step.

The thought that this wasn’t an accident slithered into her mind. Could this be sabotage? A prelude to something worse? The faces of the prisoners flashed in her mind. Monte’s fury. Ettore’s unsettling calm, and a chill ran down her spine.

Her breath hitched as she considered the possibilities. The ship wasn’t supposed to fail like this. Not without warning. Not without backup systems kicking in. She reached for the small comms device, fumbling in the darkness, but the screen remained dead.

She was alone, blind, and utterly vulnerable.

Heart pounding in her chest, her hand gripped the door frame of her quarters as she cautiously stepped out into the pitch-black corridor. The darkness was suffocating, every sound amplified, her senses on high alert. She moved quietly, trying to navigate the ship's labyrinth passageways by memory.

The path she was taking should have led her to the guards’ station, but the disorienting blackness made it impossible to be sure. She fought down the rising panic, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t afford to get lost. Not with people she knew loathed her, possibly lurking about in the adjoined ship.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally stumbled upon the entrance to the guards’ station. Relief washed over her as she pushed open the door, expecting to find safety within. Her foot slipped, and the metallic scent of something deep filled her nose, sharp and acrid. It was only when her foot caught on something soft and unmoving that she stifled a gasp, her hand flying to her mouth to keep from making a sound.

She took a step back, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to put distance between herself and the grisly reality. Her mind raced, trying to process the horror of it all. How had this happened? Who could have done this?

With trembling hands, she eased herself to the floor, her hand patting over the body of one of the guards until she found her target. The gun felt too large in her hand as she picked it up. The cold weight of the weapon in her grasp was both alien and strangely comforting. She wasn’t trained for this, but she wasn’t about to be caught unarmed.

“WHERE ARE YOU, YOU BITCH?!”

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. The voice was close, too close. And oh so familiar. Her heart thundered in her chest as she gripped the gun tighter, backing up against the wall, her pulse racing. Fear threatened to consume her, but she forced herself to stay calm, to think.

Monte was out there, hunting her.

She could recognize that voice anywhere, the fury behind it unmistakable. He’d gone into her room and discovered she wasn’t there, and now he was hunting her down with a vengeance. Thank God she’d kicked off her shoes. The thought flashed through her mind as she pressed herself against the cold metal wall, her breathing shallow, trying to remain as silent as possible. Without the squeak of her trainers on the floor, she had a chance, however slim, of slipping away unnoticed.

The darkness was both her enemy and her ally. It masked her movements, but it also made every step fraught with the risk of revealing her position. She had no idea where Monte was now, only that he was close, and that his rage was palpable, even through the thick walls of the ship.

Monte’s voice echoed again, closer this time, filled with venom. “WHERE ARE YOU!”

The darkness was suffocating as she crossed into the prison ship, the stale air thick with tension. She prayed Monte wouldn’t think to look for her here. The ship's unfamiliar layout was like a labyrinth of potential traps. Every step felt like it could be her last, each sound amplified in the oppressive silence.

She stumbled into the rec room, her heart pounding against her ribs. She backed up slowly, her senses heightened, straining to catch any sound of Monte’s approach.

And then she heard it, the sound of deliberate footsteps. Monte was getting closer. She couldn’t see him yet, but she knew he was near, racing down the hall towards the rec room, the door luckily closing softly shut to note she had not been near. But all the same, the fear lingered.

Backing up, she collided with something solid. Her first instinct was to scream, but before she could make a sound, a strong hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the cry. She was shoved against the cold metal wall, her back pressed firmly against it as a tall figure loomed over her. Her heart raced, terror surging through her.

“Shh,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek.

Ettore.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, the air thick with a tension that was both terrifying and oddly charged. She didn’t dare move, her breath shallow and trembling against his hand. He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing her ear as he whispered. 

“Stay quiet, and maybe we’ll both make it out of this.”

She nodded slightly, in no position to argue or protest. His voice was a low, dangerous murmur, but there was something almost protective in the way he held her, his body shielding hers from the imminent threat. It was a strange, twisted sense of security, and despite the circumstances, she found herself clinging to it.

Monte stormed into the room, his heavy footsteps echoing through the pitch-black space. The door slammed against the wall, the sound reverberating through the silence. Her entire body tensed, a wave of raw terror gripping her as she pressed herself against the wall, wishing she could melt into it and disappear.

She had never been more scared in her life. The darkness was all-consuming, robbing her of her senses. She couldn’t see Monte, couldn’t gauge his distance or his intentions. All she knew was that he was close, far too close. 

Ettore’s hand remained firmly over her mouth, his grip steady but not harsh. She could feel the rough texture of his palm against her lips, could almost feel the thudding of his own heart against hers, and she fought to keep her breathing steady, her panic threatening to break through. For the first time, she was thankful for the darkness, for the inability to be seen, but it didn’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes, blurring what little she could make out in the blackness.

Monte’s voice boomed through the room, a raw, violent shout that made her flinch involuntarily. “Where the fuck are you, you bitch? You think you can hide from me?”

Her tears spilled over, silently sliding down her cheeks, and Ettore’s hand, still covering her mouth, felt the wetness. She didn’t know if it was fear, hopelessness, or the sheer weight of the situation crashing down on her, but she couldn’t stop the silent flow.

She tried desperately to make out Ettore’s face, to find some anchor in the overwhelming darkness, but it was impossible. He was just a shadow, a vague outline she could barely discern, his presence more felt than seen.

Monte’s footsteps grew closer, his breathing heavy and erratic as he stalked through the room, searching for her. She could feel Ettore’s grip tighten slightly, a silent reassurance or perhaps a warning to stay silent. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might give them away.

The sound of Monte’s boots scuffing against the floorboards seemed deafening in the darkness. The tension was unbearable, a taut line ready to snap at any moment. Monte cursed under his breath and turned away, his footsteps retreating as he left the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and the oppressive silence that followed was almost worse than his presence. She didn’t dare move, not even to breathe, until she was sure he was gone.

“Jesus…” she whispered in relief when Ettore’s palm dropped from her lips. She expected him to move away, for them to find some way of escape.

But his hand, once firm over her mouth, slowly slid down to her neck, his fingers curling around the sensitive skin, holding her in place. The touch was no longer just about silence, it was possessive, controlling. She could feel his breath against her ear, slow and deliberate, as the tension between them morphed into something darker, more dangerous.

Her heart raced for a different reason now, a confusing mix of fear and something else, something she didn’t want to acknowledge. His other hand moved with a deliberate slowness, tracing the line of her waist before cupping her womanhood through her jeans. She gasped softly, the sound barely escaping her lips, but it was enough to let him know that she was fully aware of his intentions.

In the darkness, with Monte gone, the only thing she could see was his outline, and the only thing she could feel was the slow, purposeful movement of his hands. He held her firmly against the wall, his grip on her neck tightening just enough to remind her who was in control.

His hand applied just enough pressure to make her pulse quicken. "You're shaking," he noted, his tone almost mocking. "Is it fear, or something else?"

She could tell from his tone, he was loving this. Amused by her fear and helplessness. He enjoyed far too much the feeling of having someone’s life and control in his hand. 

"Tell me, are you scared of what I might do? Or are you more afraid of how much you might want it?"

Her breath hitched, the question slicing through her like a knife. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she finally found her voice, though it was barely more than a whisper. “I'm not scared and I don't want you-”

The lie hung heavy in the air between them, and Ettore chuckled darkly, his free hand sliding down her body. He didn't believe her for a second, and she could tell.

His fingers deftly found the button of her jeans, and with a single, practiced motion, he popped it open. “So if I touch you here,” he whispered, his hand sliding beneath, “you won’t be wet?”

All it took was his fingers to dip beneath her underwear, sliding between her folds to collect her arousal on his fingertips, for her to freeze, the realisation dawning darkly that his presence in the darkness, his grip on her, and his words, were all having the effect she wanted least to happen.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the involuntary reaction that coursed through her as he drifted north to circle her clit with ease.

“You’re not the woman I thought you’d be,” he continued, his tone mocking. “Say you're a professional? You're a fucking liar.”

Once again, she tried to make out his face. Trying to imagine his expression. She was convinced he could somehow see hers as he pushed forward, stretching her hot walls around his fingers to harshly fuck her with his fingers, as if testing the dangerous waters.

Her hand clamped on his wrist. She wanted him to stop. She wanted him to carry on. The darkness was doing her indecision no favours whatsoever, blurring her common sense.

He bruised his body against hers, pinning her even more firmly to the wall. The sound of her moisture clicking against his skin both erotic and a terrifying reminder of how her control had waned.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenged, his voice low, a whisper that curled around her like smoke. “But you won’t, will you?”

Her voice came a shaky whisper, an attempt to grapple back that sense of self she felt was swiftly slipping. But her tone betrayed the conflict raging inside her. “You…don't know me-” she strained to say, wincing as she felt the rough pads of his fingers brush the front of her walls.

She felt his breath, amused against her face. Ettore’s response was a low, mocking chuckle. “Maybe not,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, “but I know enough.”

Her whine was low as his fingers left her, but her heart stuttered in place when he rolled her jeans over her hips, taking her underwear with it. His knee harshly nudged her legs apart so she couldn't close them, before moving his sweatpants down just enough, his breath hot against her neck, where his palm still pressed.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He knew enough about her to know that at this moment, she wouldn't stop him. Perhaps, couldn't. If she even tried. She choked air out her lungs when his chest pressed against hers, one hand pulling her leg over his hip to angle her up.

And the sharp pang of panic when she felt the blunt head of his cock press into her. She felt herself starting to say ‘no’, but all words died on her lips as she felt him stretch her open on his length, disappearing inside her with barely a sound of his own.

It was sharp and biting, the pain initially. If it could have been called foreplay, none of it had really been for her in any case, so she felt every inch of him. And she winced, eyes pressing shut when his pace was immediately brutal, snapping against her hips with commanding intensity.

All she could do was press her fingernails into his arm, try and share some pain with him in some twisted way. That's the only sound he made, was a low groan, his grip around her throat tightening to feel the rapid thrum of her pulse.

She hated it. Hated giving him this…sick sense of control over her. Knowing that he would be much too proud and one track minded to stop until he'd come, she thought, get it over with.

She clenched around him, hard. Wanting him to lose it himself and just finish what he started. And when she felt his breath catch, she smirked in victory, until his hand raised to her face, pushing her head harshly back, her jaw anchored in his grip.

“No you don't, you fucking bitch,” he breathed, low and dangerous in a way that made her heart freeze. “Think you can rush me?”

The smirk that had momentarily crossed her lips vanished as she realised how deeply she had miscalculated. Ettore wasn’t going to simply take what he wanted and be done. He was going to make her feel every second of it, make her pay for that brief moment of defiance.

“You’re going to come on my dick, and when you do, you’ll sound pathetic. Just like you are.”

It was fucking annoying, was all she thought, that when he renewed his pace to borderline erratic, the pain ebbed into sharp pleasure. The hand that held her leg around his waist drifted inwards, clumsily circled her clit, too quickly and firmly to feel entirely pleasurable, but just enough combined with his relentless assault to send her spiralling.

Her breath hitched, and she felt the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, more from frustration and rage than anything else. He could feel it too, how close she was to breaking, how her body betrayed her resolve. Ettore revelled in it, every small tremble, every shaky breath, feeding his twisted need to dominate.

He pressed her sensitive bundle of nerves like he hated her, and it was enough to send a full body shudder from the top of her spine right through her core. He only let out a breath of smug relief feeling her walls clamp him in, tending uncontrollably around him.

The room was silent except for the harsh breaths they both struggled to catch. The darkness around her seemed to close in, the only light left in the room the fading stars behind her vision. As the reality of what had just happened began to set in, she felt Ettore’s body still against hers, the warmth of him inside her chasing away the numbness that had momentarily overtaken her.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, with a surge of disgust and anger, she pushed against his chest, forcing him away from her. Her hands trembled as she scrambled to right her clothes, feeling hot in her chest with shame. Ettore staggered back, and she could practically feel his smug grin in the darkness. He adjusted himself with a deliberate slowness, clearly savouring the moment. His breathing was still laboured, but there was an unmistakable air of satisfaction surrounding him.

“No use fighting it,” he murmured, amusement seeping into every word.

She scoffed, her hands fumbling with the buttons of her jeans. “Dick,” she muttered under her breath, the word laced with a mix of anger and frustration.

Ettore’s smirk only deepened, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Call me what you want. You know I’m the only one who can get you through this. You need me. Whether you like it or not.”

The emergency lights flickered on, casting a dim, flickering glow over the room. The sudden illumination was a relief, pulling her back from the suffocating grip of darkness. She could finally see again, the oppressive void around her receding. The sight of Ettore standing there, so smug and composed, sent a wave of shame crashing over her. Disgust curled in her stomach, twisting alongside a sick sense of arousal she couldn’t fully suppress.

But like a cold slap to the face, she knew Monte was still out there, stalking the ship, hunting her down. And now, with the lights on, it would be easier for him to find her. |It was a jolt, reigniting the fear she had momentarily pushed aside amidst the dull haze of thrumming pleasure. 

Ettore seemed to sense her shift in focus, his smirk fading into something more serious. "He’s not far," he said, his voice low and measured. “Stick with me. I know a quick way back.”

She didn’t respond, her mind racing. The thought of Monte finding her now, after everything, sent a fresh wave of terror through her. As much as she despised the idea, as much as she loathed Ettore for what he'd done, he was her best chance at survival. But how could she, with everything she knew and everything she had just experienced, possibly trust him?

Was the onus on her? For allowing him to do what he did? For the way she had let him touch her, for the strange, conflicted sensations she had felt?

Before she could dwell on it further, Ettore yanked her forcefully, snapping her back to the present. They had to move quickly. The urgency in his grip was impossible to ignore, and in the rush, she realised too late that she had forgotten to feel for her gun.

They hurried through the narrow corridors, the cold metal walls echoing with the distant sounds of chaos. When they finally reached the entrance to her team’s ship, he pulled her inside with a final, rough tug. Panting, she glanced around the familiar interior of the vessel, trying to steady herself. Ettore didn’t waste a moment.

“Do you have the authority to access the emergency autopilot system?” he asked, his voice sharp, cutting through the haze of fear and confusion.

She hesitated for just a second. “Yes, but what about everyone else? We can’t just leave them.”

“There’s no time,” he shot back, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach drop. “Monte’s not going to stop until he finds you, and when he does, you’re dead. We need to get off this ship now.”

Her hands shook as she moved toward the control panel, the reality of the situation weighing heavily on her. She could feel Ettore’s gaze on her, urging her to move faster, to make the choice she knew she had to make. The ship’s systems roared to life, as did the alarms, signalling their imminent departure from the prison ship. For a brief, harrowing moment, she could hear Monte’s voice echoing through the corridor, filled with rage, mingling with the desperate shouts of others. But then the door hissed shut, sealing them off from the chaos outside.

Ettore was already behind her, his presence looming, suffocating in the small space. “Control Room. Now,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. Panic surged through her, her mind racing as she obeyed, her steps hurried and frantic. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t process the fact that a dangerous criminal was now alone with her on her ship. Panic pushed her forward instead. Primal and urgent.

Once there, her mind scrambled for any option, any way to get the ones who wanted to return to Earth safely off the prison ship. “We can’t just leave them behind,” she stammered, turning, desperation clear in her voice. “There are others who want to return-”

Her blood ran cold as she whipped back at him, he stood tall, almost proud, holding a gun to her face. A brief, fleeting thought roared through her mind that she doubted it was loaded, but she dare not entertain it right now. Not when fear gripped her ribs. 

Her own gun. She knew the second she went to feel for it. 

He’d stolen it during her moment of weakness.

Ettore smirked, his expression infuriatingly smug. “No hard feelings,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Her heart raced with a potent mix of anger and terror. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She had come here with the intention of doing good, of offering these people a chance at redemption or at least a fair trial. And now, what had she done? She’d left behind an entire ship of prisoners, all so she could be trapped here, alone, with him.

She stared at Ettore, her mind swirling with a thousand conflicting emotions. The anger bubbling up inside her was nearly as strong as the fear. How had it come to this? How had she let herself be so easily manipulated, so trapped?

“Here’s how this is going to work,” he said, his tone all business now, as if he were discussing a simple transaction. “You’re going to take me back to Earth, and when we get there, you’re going to make sure I live a nice, cushy life. No more cells, no more guards, just freedom. I’m sure a smart woman like you can figure out how to make that happen.”

She opened her mouth to protest, to argue, but the cold, unyielding barrel of the gun in his hand kept her silent.

“And in return,” he continued, his eyes darkening with a twisted sort of pleasure, “we’ll have some fun on the way back. You’ll make sure of that too, won’t you?” 

Anger and fear warred within her, but the sharp edge of reality kept her from saying anything that might push him further. She felt utterly trapped, forced into a role she never imagined she’d play. The man in front of her was dangerous, and there was no telling what he would do if she refused.

Ettore’s smirk softened, just a little, as if he could sense her internal struggle. “You’re smart. You know what the right choice is.” 

She wanted to scream, to cry out in frustration and fear. A dark, violent urge flared within her, the impulse to bash him over the head, to kill him and be done with it. But here, alone in the vastness of space, without the guards or anyone else to enforce order, who would hear her? Truly hear her? Her fury would echo into the void, and she would still be utterly and entirely, alone.

His voice was a soft, poisonous whisper. “So, what’s it going to be, little lawyer?”

General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

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[alicesivory]

Just watched Alien: Romulus now I want to make an Alien AU with Ettore

[thought--bubble]

Make You Beg

Ettore X Prison Nurse Reader X Will (Salad Days)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 2736

Ettore Masterlist

Will (Salad Days) Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Gorgeous Banner inspired by this story made by @vhagar-balerion-meraxes it is so beautiful!

A/N: Not me writing the filthiest thing I can imagine with two minor characters. This is purely self-indulgent.

Warnings: Ettore is his own warning, mentions of physical violence, blood, Dubcon , biting, scratching, predatory behaviors, hair pulling, mentions of pain, some sub/dom behaviors, degradation, fingering, oral sex male receiving, PinV unprotected, rough sex, deepthroating, crying, humiliation and praising.

"Again?" You sigh as your favorite frequent flyer, Will, shuffles into your exam room with yet another bloody lip and possible broken nose.

"What can I say? I missed ya. " he chuckles as he makes his way to the gurney on the left.

You put your hand up to the guard that brought him as he goes to handcuff him to the gurney.

"That isn't necessary. Will here won't give me any problems" You smile at Will, you have been through this with him many times and have built a friendly rapport. You trust him to behave.

"It isn't you that I'm concerned about" the guard laughs heartily, as another guard walks in with an inmate you haven't seen before.

The inmate has clear injuries to his mouth but would still be lesser priority than Will.

Will rolls his eyes and audibly groans. "This fucking nonce"

The other inmate lunges toward him, the guard grappling him to the floor.

"Cut it out!" The guard yells authoritatively, the inmate on the ground immediately stops struggling, allowing the guard to get him back to his feet.

You shriek as you jump back. "Should we even have them both in here at the same time?"

"They will be fine as long as this one can learn to shut his gob," the guard by Will says as he latches Will's arm to the metal post of the gurney.

You move to the second inmate as he is also latched to his gurney. "Ettore," the guard next to him says. "Watch out with this one he is a....... just watch out"

You look at the two guards with confusion as they move toward the door. "Where are you going?!" Your voice is laced with panic. You have never been left alone with an inmate, let alone two.

"The fight they started devolved. It's all hands on deck. They are hooked tight. You'll be fine. I will come back as soon as possible"

"Surely you are joking?" You whimper slightly as the two guards leave the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

When you turn back around, you see your two patients. Each handcuffed to their gurney. Will looking over at Ettore, hatred etched across his face while Ettore stares directly at you. Tilting his head slightly to the side as his eyes wander up and down your form.

"Right. Ummm, " You nervously wipe your palms on your thighs trying to quell the nausea creeping its way up your throat. "Will seems to have more injuries, so I should tend to him first"

You nervously move toward Will while trying to position your body so that you don't entirely turn your back on Ettore.

"I wouldn't let him hurt ya, ya gotta know tha" Will smiles at you from his place on the gurney, his voice soft and sweet.

"No offense, but you let him hurt you pretty good." You chuckle as you start to dab away the blood on his lower lip with a cotton ball.

"Yeah, well, that's different. Two blokes throwing blows. Not the same thing as an animal like that coming after a lass. " You can hear Ettore grumble from across the room, his handcuffs clacking against the metal bar of the gurney.

"Will," you say warningly "remember, watch your words. I don't want any further trouble with you two."

"You know what he's in here for?" He asks, making your stomach turn. You don't know and don't want to know.

"You're all in here for something, hardly my business, to know what" You finish tending to his lip and start to clean around his eye.

"I robbed a post office. Then beat my best friend half to death over a girl that never even liked me. I'm an idiot. Not an animal. " You stay silent and continue to tend to his wounds. You had always wondered how he found himself in here. He was scrappy, but he was so sweet.

"He is an entirely different beast." He motions toward Ettore, who simply scoffs.

You swallow nervously. Between the comments from the guard, Will's analysis and Ettore's lecherous gaze you had an inkling of what type of "beast" Ettore might be, making the fact that you have to treat him all the more daunting.

"I'm here to heal, not judge. Now sit back. " You push Will back against The gurney by the shoulder so you can inspect his nose further.

"You have such a handsome face. You really should stop getting punched in it. " You move to set his nose, and he grunts.

"Think I'm handsome, do ya? He wiggles his eyebrows at you and smirks.

You blush and pat his shoulder. "Nose should heal up fine."

You turn and walk towards Ettore, your stomach dropping.

"Hello Ettore, let's take a look at that mouth ok?" You take his chin in your hand and angle his face upward and can't help but notice the goosebumps that ripple across his skin at your touch.

Swallowing deeply, you gently ease his mouth open with your thumb and use your little flashlight to peer inside. "Doesn't look like any teeth were knocked loose or anything like that so you should be fine."

You move to leave his bedside, but his hand shoots up and holds your wrist tightly. "Ettore....." You attempt to sound intimidating so you could assert your authority over him.

"Oi!, let her go!" Will yells from the other side of the room, his cuffs jangling wildly against the metal bar of his gurney.

Ettore pulls you down roughly toward his face and sniffs into your hair with deep, long controlled breaths.

You stay very still, your mind telling you to run but unable to respond physically. Frozen in place while Ettore continued to sniff you.

He clamps his hand tighter still on your wrist as he grips the hand cuff with his other hand pulling tightly until the gurney bar snaps out of place.

Your breath hastens as you hear the light jingle of him sliding the handcuff down and off the bar before bringing his newly freed hand to the back of your head gripping your hair tight and pulling your head back.

You can feel the harsh thump of your heart beating in your chest as he drags his nose down the length of your neck, breathing in deeply. You can still faintly hear the sounds of Will struggling against his confinement on the other side of the room as Ettore begins to speak quietly.

"Do I excite you?" He asks as he nips at your neck. You feel a burning heat building in your core. You know you shouldn't. This is a bad man. A man that you should not be anywhere near. Yet you gently nod your head as he smirks at you.

"Hey! Let her alone!" Will desperately attempts to free himself to no avail. The desperation evident in his tone.

Ettore bites into your neck harshly, and you can't help but squeak. "Mmmm," he grumbles into your neck. Shivers of pleasure and fear make their way down your throat and down the length of your spine. He gently licks at the marks he left, the stinging sensation further adding to the heat building in your core.

Will's struggling is echoing throughout the room, and his desperate pleas pull at your heartstrings, seemingly breaking the spell Ettore has cast upon you. You pull yourself away from Ettore and stumble backward a few steps.

Your brain telling you to put as much distance between him and you as possible, your body begging you to return to him.

Ettore looks at you with curiosity and then smirks, swinging his legs over the side of the gurney.

You turn and walk back to Will quickly. "You alright?" He reaches out and gently touches your cheek before turning his head towards Ettore, who is now stalking over to you.

"Let her alone!" Will wraps his free arm around you, clutching you toward his chest. His heart beating loudly against his rib cage. The feeling comforting.

Ettore wraps his arms around your midsection, pulling you towards him while Will swings at him wildly with his free arm.

"I swear I'll kill ya!" He yells, desperately pulling against his restrained wrist.

"She don't want that..... do ya?" Ettore strokes his hand down the side of your body, lightly grazing over every curve and dip, until he reaches the waistband of your scrubs and quickly brings his hand to your heat.

Pleasure shoots straight through your body all the way down to a pleasant tingle in your toes at the touch.

"No," you just barely whisper, leaning your head back against Ettore's shoulder.

Will's mouth drops open in shock. "What?"

He watches as Ettore rubs at your pearl in circles, your head leaning back against his shoulder, your muffled whimpers growing in volume.

A satisfied smirk crosses Ettore's face as he continues pleasuring you while his gaze is fixed on Will.

"Want more?" He growls in your ear, his never-ending staring contest with Will still raging on.

"Yes," you moan more than whisper desperate for more of the delicious friction his hand was providing. Ettore bends you over the gurney, your chest pushed down into a stunned Will's lap. He makes quick work of your scrubs and panties, bringing his hand to the back of your head and yanking you up by the hair.

"Look at him," Ettore growls as he shoves a finger into your cunt, pumping it furiously. "Make him beg for some"

You lift your eyes to meet Will's while wanton moans escape your lips.

Will brings his hand down to your face and gently strokes your cheek with his fingertips. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. The praise going straight to your heat.

Ettore removes his fingers from you and pulls his own pants down to his mid thighs stroking himself a few times before roughly grasping your hips and shoving his cock inside you all the way to the hilt.

You scream at the sudden intrusion, the pain mixing with pleasure as you feel yourself split open on his girthy length.

"Shhh shhh, you're ok," Will gently coos as Ettore starts to pound into you furiously. Dragging his free hand down your back, his fingernails digging into the skin like an animal marking its territory.

You emit a sound somewhere between a painful screech and a moan while Will takes your face in his hand. Like you were made of glass, his tender touch mixing with the raw animalistic touch of Ettore, causing a swirling of pleasure to radiate up through your stomach.

Will shifts on the gurney, adjusting himself, trying to hide his growing bulge as he watches Ettore take you, all the while providing you with tender words and caresses.

Your mouth hangs open as Ettore roughly drags his cock against your walls battering your insides with reckless abandon. Your eyes connected to Will's as he wipes the tears that stream down your face.

Ettore reaches up and once again grips your hair, yanking your head back.

"You're a little fucking whore aren't ya?" His breathing is labored, each of his thrusts somehow seeming harsher than the last.

"Yes, yes," you whimper your mind blank and fully submissive.

"Then act like one," he grunts as he shoves your head down harshly, your face pushed up against the erection hidden within Will's trousers.

Will looks at Ettore with anger lacing his face.

"You don't have to do anything for me. Don't worry about me. " he pushes Ettore's hand away from the back of your head and caresses the recently abused area with a gentle touch.

"I ... I want to" your voice bounces as Ettore continues to slam into you from behind the skin on your ass going numb from the repeated skin to skin smacking.

"Uhh..." Will's voice is unsteady as you bring your hand up to his bulge, gripping his length over his trousers. He closes his eyes and groans at the pressure, shocks of electricity traveling up his spine.

You pull at the trousers and Will lifts himself up for a moment allowing you to get them down enough to free his cock.

"Only if this is what you want" He says breathlessly as he grips his length tightly the angry red tip leaking pre cum.

"Fuck!" Ettore growls loudly from behind you digging his fingernails into your skin. "Do it you little fucking whore."

At Ettore's demand you take the tip of Will's cock into your mouth swirling your tongue around the tip moaning as you taste the pre cum that has begun to collect there. "Shitttt," Will moans as he pushes your hair out of your face, giving him a better view of you with his cock in your mouth.

Ettore's thrusts grow harder forcing Will's cock further into your mouth as he begins to involuntarily buck his hips. "You're so fucking pretty, so pretty" Will moans stroking the back of your head gently as Ettore's cock continues to roughly spear your cunt and Will's cock batters the back of your throat being pushed further and further until you struggle for oxygen.

Ettore grabs at your ass digging his fingers into the skin before bringing his hand around your hip and rubbing furiously at your pearl.

"Cum you dumb slut. I want to feel you clench around my cock as I fill you up" he snarls like an animal in heat leaning down and biting into the soft skin of your back.

you whimper at the demand and the pain, feeling your climax creep up closer and closer, unable to do anything but succumb to his wishes.

"Let go beautiful," Will whispers pleasure etched across his strong features, his thrusts into your eager mouth growing sloppier by the second.

With his gentle words and Ettore's rough touch, your orgasm wracks your entire frame. You moan loudly in pleasure, eyes rolling back, and legs nearly buckling beneath you.

You hear a loud grunt from behind you as Ettore empties himself into you, his fingernails again digging into the plush flesh of your hips.

Will thrusts into your mouth twice more before he whimpers releasing a salty stream of cum down your throat before collapsing back on the gurney.

Ettore pulls himself from your quivering walls and pulls up his trousers quickly, moving back to his gurney and plopping himself down with a satisfied huff.

Will slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth pulling your face up towards him and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You alright?" He asks as he rubs your back soothingly.

You're too winded to speak and can only absent-mindedly nod towards him. He fixed his trousers before leaning over and helping you pull your own bottoms up.

"C'mere," he coos, pulling you onto the gurney with him cuddling you with his free arm.

"You did so good. So, so good, baby. " he kisses your shoulder and gently rubs your hip where Ettore had dug into your flesh.

You jump from the gurney quickly as you hear the deep voices of the guards nearing the door. Running over to Ettore and sliding his cuff back onto the metal bar of the gurney and popping it in place, hoping they wouldn't notice that it is broken.

You fix your hair as quick as you can and wipe the tears out from under your eyes as the door swings open.

"Everything go alright in here?" one of the guards asks, hardly looking at you before moving over to Ettore and unlocking his cuff.

"Yes," you clear your throat, trying to make sure to hide any hint of your dazed and satisfied condition.

"They are both fine and cleared to go back to their cells." You wave your hand towards the door dismissively. Your ultimate goal is to get all of these men out of your exam room immediately.

Ettore is removed first. He says nothing just drags his eyes up and down your frame once more before being dragged out the door.

Will, on the other hand, smiles toward you as he is led out behind him.

"Next time I'm coming alone!" He yells just as the door closes.

You sit down in your chair winded, confused and aching.

"Next time?"

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[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Know What You Are

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader Warnings: Allusions to trauma, oral sex (m receiving), smut Word count: ~1k

Summary: Ettore explores the boundaries of consensual touch, and finds he isn't ready to relinquish control just yet.

Author's note: A little addition to The Hand that Feeds but can also be read as a standalone. Day three of the Smuffmas prompts - "in nature and deep throating". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She loves the garden. It’s the only place aboard the ship that doesn’t feel sterile and bathed in artificial light. Digging her fingers into the softness of the soil, allowing the rich, earthy scent to fill her nostrils, she can forget that she’s a prisoner. Every brush of soft green leaves against her skin is like a fleeting taste of freedom.

Her place on board is not undeserved. To some, taking revenge on the man who has raped you would be seen as wholly justified. To a jury, however, the violence of such an act was considered despicable. But it had felt good to watch the way his eyes had gouged from their sockets, to feel the way the knife had sliced through his flesh like butter, all the way to the bone. If she closes her eyes she can still smell the coppery tang of arterial blood. It makes her mouth water. She had enjoyed it, and to derive such pleasure from such depravity is well worth where she finds herself now. She’d do it a thousand times over.

Getting acquainted with fellow inmate, Ettore, has made her time here infinitely more interesting. She had noticed him straight away. Without confirming what he was here for, she’d been able to hazard a guess, it was obvious in how he carried himself. And more than apparent that she’d caught his eye too, he was always watching her.

She ought to be disgusted by him, knowing what he is, what he’s probably done, but there is something lurking beneath the surface that draws her to him, an invisible string that tugs them both together. It has only grown stronger since their first tryst in the Box; him spilling himself onto her stomach with his face pressed between her tits.

He doesn’t allow her to touch him, but despite this she knows she’s the one in control. His desperation for her makes him vulnerable, and she enjoys toying with that, seeing how far she can push him. It’s been days since his hips had rutted against hers, taking her roughly from behind in a storage cupboard, so she knows he’ll be back soon. The Box can’t satisfy him like she can.

She senses him before she sees him, as if the mere occurrence of him entering her thoughts has summoned him to her. His approach is always silent, she never hears him coming, but she can feel his presence. He looms over her, casting a shadow over her prone form as she kneels in the soil, plucking away the browning leaves of a fern.

“Did you want something, or you just lurking?” She asks, not looking up from what she’s doing.

“Tchemy in here with you?” Ettore asks, his tone nonchalant.

“You know he’s not, or you wouldn’t be in here,” she says, ridding herself of her gardening gloves and turning to look up at him.

She begins to rise, preparing to stand, when he holds out a hand to halt her.

“Don’t,” he says abruptly. “Just…don’t. Let me just look at you for a bit.”

She drops back to her knees, staring up at him, watching the way his eyes darken as he looks down at her. It makes her core throb with want.

His throat bobs as he reaches out a hand, fingertips dragging with light pressure over her jaw, before falling to her throat, squeezing experimentally. She allows it for a moment, before pulling back.

“Stop that,” she scolds softly, narrowing her eyes in angry warning. “You don’t need to do that with me. Use your words. Tell me what you want.”

He blinks, huffing through his nose, before bringing his hand back to her face, pulling down her bottom lip with his thumb, before letting it go. “This,” he utters, “want your mouth.”

“Good boy,” she purrs, “go on then.”

“Hands behind your back,” he orders, pulling down his scrubs and freeing his already half hard cock.

She does as she’s told, parting her lips to allow him to slide into the warmth of her mouth. He is tangy against her tongue, the head of him pressing heavily against the wet muscle as he gives a few shallow, tentative thrusts, rousing himself fully.

Breathing through her nose, she inhales the heady scent of him, faint sweat mixed with the ship’s standard issue soap. It’s utterly debasing in a way, yet it has arousal wetting her underwear just the same.

Drool gathers at the corners of her mouth as he picks up the pace, and she suppresses the urge to gag as he repeatedly knocks the back of her throat.

His brows are knitted together, eyes glassy and jaw slack as he gathers a fistful of her hair at the back of her head, using it as leverage to propel himself faster and harder. She relaxes, allowing him to push down further and moans around him, causing him to groan and throw his head back.

Pushing himself all the way into the hilt, Ettore’s grasp on her hair is so tight it tugs at her roots, and he holds himself there, pubic bone grazing the tip of her nose. She looks up at him with glassy eyes, stray tears trickling down her cheeks as she watches his predatory expression, but he is unmoving.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Finally he pulls back, all the way out, a string of her saliva connecting his hardened length to her lips, and she gasps and splutters for air momentarily, before he’s pushing back in.

His thrusts are shallower, salty precome and the pulsating of him in her mouth letting her know he’s nearing his end. When he finally climaxes it’s accompanied by a strangled cry and she quickly swallows, barely registering the viscous taste of him as it slides down her throat.

Releasing her, he tucks himself away and is breathless as he drops to his knees beside her. She wipes her mouth with the back one hand and swipes at her teary eyes with the other.

“I really…really want to hurt you,” he whispers, not looking at her. “But I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“I get that,” she says gently, “really, I do.”

“You’ve seen me,” he says, looking into her eyes. The emotion she sees reflected back at her makes her heart lurch.

“Yeah,” she replies, “and you’ve seen me.”