#ettore x oc

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

What Grows in the Greenhouse

Summary: Ettore pushes her just that little bit too hard | Word Count: 2.3k~ | warnings: smut, dubcon, oral (f recieving), analingus, cum eating, degradation, sex pollen, just fucking filth

A/N: I was in a mood, please follow @ewanmitchellcrumbs sex pollen writing challenge! Had fun with this 😈 also two birds one stone, fulfilled this request.

Even here in the greenhouse, she could still hear the faint hum of the ship’s systems beneath the sound of clipping leaves and weeding. She was knelt in the dirt, gloves on, trowel in hand, doing the only thing that ever gave her some peace in this place. It was dirty work but quiet, safe. Unlike everything else on this floating coffin.

She knelt up on her knees, leaning over a rosebush, the thorns prickling her forearms as she reached for some soil she had yet to spread. Her eyes caught a glaring flash of orange from a cluster of flowers behind the tended ones. They'd been here since she started doing this little duty, untended and messy, with stems twisting in green and yellow, and their fleshy petals bursting in bright orange like a mouth with a dangerous red centre. It smelled sweet, almost chemical like.

Fuck knows what they were, she'd have to read up on them.

She almost let her curiosity get the better of her, before his voice made her heart fall out her arse.

“What are you doing?”

She needn't even see his face to realise there was a smirk on it. Annoyance bubbled in her gut at the mere sound of him, traipsing across her freshly tended to garden with a confidence that didn't seem earned.

“Working,” she answered without moving, “should try it sometime.”

He laughed, leaning against the workbench, arms crossed, like her annoyance tickled something inside of him. She glanced up, eyes narrowed. His chest was damp as if he'd just been to shower. She willed herself not to notice it.

“Have you come here just to annoy me?”

“Not specifically you,” he muttered through a grin, “but you're the only entertainment here so.”

She rolled her eyes, turning back to her flowers, “then go entertain yourself somewhere else.”

He scoffed, “entertain, huh?”

She ripped a weed out the soil just a fraction too hard, “yeah instead of— starting fights and tugging your tiny dick outside the communal showers.”

“Oh, so you do watch me?” He raised an eyebrow.

She sighed and pushed herself to her feet, pulling off her gloves and bracing herself for the smug expression on his face. “You are such a colossal twat.”

“Rich coming from you,” he spat back, pushing himself off the workbench, making her heart race just slightly. “You walk around here like you're not just another piece of crap like the rest of us, like your shit doesn't stink.”

“At least I actually do something useful around here,” she countered, throwing her gloves on the ground, “unlike you, stalking around like a feral mutt.”

His jaw tensed, but his smile stayed. It was unsettling, watching the way his eyes took her in, searching for the weak point. “You must be so fucking lonely. Touching yourself on your side of the wall, pretending you don't want someone to hear.”

“Go fuck yourself,” she shoved him, palms flat on his chest, and even though it barely moved him, the touch shocked him.

As if acting on pure instinct, he shoved her back, not quite knowing his own strength. She seemed to trip over her feet, hurtling arse first into the bed of bright orange flowers. It cushioned her fall just slightly, enough not to hurt. But it was the pollen that the flowers coughed out that disoriented her, sweet, cloying, hitting her nose all at once.

She blinked, and the air seemed to shimmer.

Heat curled in her belly, sudden and unwelcome. She felt her skin flush bright and needy, pupils widened and her heart racing against its natural rhythm. When she dragged in a breath, it only made it worse. Her nipples hardened under her shirt, painfully almost, and she pressed her thighs together to relieve the ache that formed heavy, to no avail.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” Ettore furrowed his brows, watching her chest rise and fall from a new burst of aggression.

Her eyes raised to him when he spoke as if only just aware he was still there. A haze covered her vision. She could hear the beat of his heart, the rush of blood in his veins. And nothing else seemed to matter. Her lips parted.

Ettore took half a step back, “you good?”

Her eyes crackled with a near feral gleam as she scrambled to her feet, covered in soil and sticky pollen, and grabbed his shirt to crash her lips to his. It was sloppy, desperate, panting. And Ettore mumbled into her mouth, the strength of her grip surprising him and taking him off balance as his back met the workbench again.

“What the fuck?” he spoke against her lips when he could get air in, but she couldn't stop. Wouldn't. Her nerve ends were sparking and he was right here, warm and solid, exactly what her instincts were screaming for.

She moaned softly, pushing her hips to his, her other hand rubbing the growing hardness there recklessly. Her nails clawed under his shirt, leaving red little trials across his pale skin.

“Jesus—wait—” he muttered, grabbing her wrists. He was so used to being the one in control, he didn't like it one bit that he and his body was at the mercy of someone else, someone he hadn't expected to be so strong against him. He was half annoyed at himself for freezing up for so long.

But her lips found his throat, sucking and biting the sensitive skin, and his grip faltered. She was grinding against him now, dry fucking him like a mindless animal. Like she didn't care about anything else. She moved like she needed a primal closeness, like she needed to smell his natural sweat, feel the tackiness of his body against hers, but annoyingly all he smelt of was the dull powdery musk of the prison soap.

He could have pushed her off if he really wanted to. But maybe some part of him didn't. He swore under his breath, “you're high as fuck.”

Her voice was raw and needy, “I need—”, it came out more sob than a sentence, desperate. And fuck if it didn't make his cock twitch.

He pushed her back against with a cursed, ‘fuck’, her body landing once again amongst the orange flowers and another puff of shimmering pollen released around her, clinging to her skin like springy glitter. Her legs tried to catch around his waist, squirming for contact she didn't have yet, dragging him into the dirt with her as he fought to rid her of any clothing below her waist.

“You don't know what you're asking for,” he murmured, crowding her body with his, already pushing his sweatpants down to line himself up with her heat, pressing the blunt head of his cock against her slit.

She twisted beneath him, bucking her hips desperately, her fingers clawing at him with impatience, “shut up— please, just—”

He laughed, low and rough, enjoying the appearance of her like this, a way he'd never seen her before. The laugh died quickly when she grabbed his cock, hard enough to draw out a low hiss of part pain and pleasure.

“Easy,” he growled as she guided him to where she needed him most, her body feverish with the need to be fucked. Her glassy eyes met his, and without waiting Ettore pushed in with one brutal thrust, grabbing her face and swallowing the broken cry she let out with his lips. She clenched around him instantly, her nails creating welts in his back in a way that made his vision swim.

There was no gentleness. Ettore fucked her into the dirt, hips snapping forward and grinding her into the crushed petals beneath. Each thrust pushed out of her lungs and drove the pollen further into her bloodstream. The madness building without an idea of where it would end.

The dirt that had been on his fingers had smeared on her face as he grabbed her jaw, making her lips part, the moans falling out of them with abandon. Her thighs trembled, and he pulled out just enough to hear her whimper, before slamming back inside, deep, painful, as if he wanted to carve himself into her.

She gasped, weak and overstimulated, so close to that delicious high the pollen craved. And her stomach flipped as Ettore grabbed her thighs and lifted, forcing them up until her knees were nearly to her chest.

“Stay like that,” he ordered, positioning higher over her, “don't move.”

He folded her in half, pushing her body further, pinning her open and helpless. The position let him sink in even deeper, the angle making her cry out as he bottomed out with a brutal snap of his hips.

“Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, watching her face twist with pleasure she couldn’t fight, “you feel that? You like this, don’t you? Getting ruined in the fucking dirt.”

She could barely speak now, just gasping, nodding, babbling nonsense between moans and whines. Her hands clawed at his arms, but she didn’t try to stop him. She wanted it. Needed it. Her body arched under his, sweat glistening, completely at his mercy. The slick sound of him driving into her echoed in the humid space, mixing with her breathless, broken cries.

He wrapped one hand around her throat, her pulse hammering beneath his fingers, “you gonna cum, just from me fucking you like this?” he muttered, eyes burning into hers, “like a bitch in heat?”

Her answer was a sob, her legs trembling in his grip as her walls spasmed around him, the orgasm ripping through her with force. She clenched so tight he could barely move, but he didn’t stop, he just kept going, chasing his own release with ruthless rhythm.

But just as he felt himself teetering on the edge, he pulled out, slow, deliberate, dragging a long, wet moan from her throat as he slipped free.

“No,” she whimpered, hips bucking up instinctively, trying to follow him, “don’t—please—”

He slapped her thigh, sharp enough to sting, “shut up,” he hissed.

She froze, panting, eyes wide as he knelt over her, fist around his cock, stroking himself hard and fast. She was spread out beneath him, ruined, legs still trembling, her sex soaked and twitching, glistening with slick and dirt and shame.

“Look at you,” Ettore muttered, his voice smug and cruel, “laid out like a fucking cum rag.”

With a final stroke, he came, hot, thick ropes spilling across her inner thighs and glistening slit, painting her skin in filthy, dripping streaks. Some of it landed just above her clit, sticky and warm, sliding down into the mess already coating her folds. She gasped, moaning at the sensation.

He rubbed the head of his cock along her sex, smearing his cum into her swollen lips, not bothering to be gentle. “Look at this pussy,” he sneered.

It was a sight he wanted to look at forever. Something stirred in his body, need. And it was slow at first, like a fever burning up. A wave of warmth that made his skin itch, made his pupils dilate. The scent in the air, the crushed petals, the sweat, the sex, it got thicker. He blinked, licked his lips, and his eyes dropped back to her.

She shifted slightly, letting her legs fall open further, exposing the full, glistening mess between them, like she wanted to show him, like the burning need still thrummed in her own blood. His cum still pooled on her folds, sliding down slowly.

That was it.

A groan tore out of his throat. Like an animal wounded. And he lunged forward.

She gasped when his hands gripped her thighs, rough and unrelenting, forcing them apart again. His mouth descended before she could even speak. No teasing. No warning. Just his tongue, hot and wet and starving, lapping at her like he was trying to devour her whole.

“Oh fuck—Ettore—!” she cried out, body jolting as his mouth sealed over her cunt.

He moaned against her, tongue thrusting between her folds, licking up the mix of cum and slick like it was the only thing that could satisfy this sudden, burning hunger. He licked deeper, rough and messy, tongue dragging through his own spend like it meant nothing, like he liked it. Every groan he let out vibrated through her, sending new shocks of pleasure down her spine.

He pulled her higher, pulling her body up so all her weight was on her shoulders and her legs over his. She was barely coherent now, sobbing and gasping, hips twitching as he tongue-fucked her, nosing up to her clit only to suck it harshly, then retreat to taste her deeper.

He dipped his head again, dragging his tongue back over her pussy, slow and indulgent, savouring the mess he’d made. But then, lower. Past her folds, past the soaked seam of her slit, down to the soft, untouched skin beneath.

Her breath hitched sharply.

Ettore smirked against her, licking a slow circle around her rim, deliberately filthy. Her body jolted, spine arching as she cried out, too far gone to stop him, too lost in the heat to care.

She screamed out as his hands spread her open, greedy and rough, holding her in place as he circled her tight hole, then pushed in, fucking her with his tongue with reckless abandon.

He licked deeper again, faster now, rutting into her with his tongue like he couldn’t stop. Her thighs were trembling violently, her voice reduced to moans that bordered on sobs. And still he held her open, still he feasted on her like it belonged to him.

She felt his cock against her body, had done since he'd abandoned fucking her altogether to fuck her with his tongue instead. Her mind was clouded with sex and lust, and she understood the same claws had sank into him too, when he began to spring to life again, pressed hard against her backside and grinding.

That's when she was unsure if she would leave the greenhouse whole. Whether clarity would come rushing in any moment now. But for now, lost in the yellowy cloud of pleasure and weightlessness, she could not find it in herself to care.

✨ Please note ✨ I no longer do taglists. If you would updates, please follow @targaryenrealnessdarlingfics and turn on notifications!

[thought--bubble]

Very nice, my love!

Interesting version of Ettore!

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕... Ettore x Reader (Earth)

Thinkink about the Anti Love Ettore fic I forgot to finish in time for valentines day. 😗 Whoops. But here is the overview of it!

Tw: Smut, Oral Sex (m receiving), facefucking, ball play, fingering, tiddy suckin, lactation kink (with no lactation), p in v, creampie

Late Valentines Day Special 💌

A/N: In this fic, Ettore has not been caught for his crimes (yet), so it still takes place on Earth. // Banners @cafekitsune

Next Part >>

Listened to "Do it For Me" by Rosenfeld while writing this.

Love.

Ettore knew that wasn't possible for him. The way he was and the stuff he liked didn't match the soft idea that love is. His sick and tortured mind would be all too dark for the airy and light idea.

It's not as if he didn't love some things. He loved the feeling of a girl clenching around him, he loved how they would moan a mix of pain and pleasure. He loved when he could effectively make them go from hating him to wanting him to go deeper. The best moments of his life were his cock buried in the tight pussy of some unexpecting girl.

But that was the only love he'd ever known. The only love he's ever seen. His mother used to be fucked the way he fucks. Hard and ruthless with no care for the girl. I mean, thats the only way he's ever seen or heard of. Is that is not how it's meant to go?

But Ettore had his moments where he would imagine a girl wanting him. Wanting his touch, kissing him, holding him. The way his mother used to when she wasn't too busy doing drugs, having sex or dealing with abusive fuckers he was forced to call dad.

Ettore's past had only elicited a fucked future. Two girls had died by his recklessness and he was lucky he hadn't been caught yet. But he couldn't help himself. He liked it when they liked it but something about them not wanting it was even fucking better. The way they would scratch his back, the way they screamed. It just all felt too good to him.

There was only one time where Ettore didn't end up killing the girl, and that was with you. You screamed surely, but not in pain...but pleasure. It wasn't like the moans he had heard before, soft and pliable. You scratched him not to fight him off but to make him go harder and deeper. The same feelings he got from the girls who didn't want it he got it from you but the difference...you needed it. You needed him.

He didn't know much about you. But he knew just like him you were just as fucked. Your past is just as dark as his which led you to the same life. Searching for pleasure wherever you could. Ettore found it in women but you found it in items. The stuff you never had. Your fingers were all too sticky and you stole whatever wasn't tied down.

An odd friendship formed between you and Ettore, if you could even call it that. He called you when he wanted to fuck and in return told you of stuff he saw that would be easy to steal.

It was after Ettore had killed another girl and you showed up at his place unexpectedly as he was getting rid of the body that your friendship became the word instead of an unspoken possibility. The way you helped him clean up and get rid of the body was a type of loyalty he himself had never experienced. It had him fucking you deeper and harder right next to the bagged corpse.

It was then that a new feeling formed in his heart when he looked at you. He didn't know what it was but it made his stomach dance and tie in knots. Besides the throbbing of his cock his chest would tighten slightly and a smile (yes, a smile) now adorned his lips at the sight of you. His emotions were like two sides of a coin.

He would kill for you but also kill you if he had to. He would fuck you but also fuck you if he had to. He wouldn't want to hurt you but he would love to if given the chance. He wanted to do right by you but being wrong feels so good. It was a constant battle in his mind.

He was getting everything he wanted when he was with you. But did he crave more? Ettore knew he was by no means soft. But you know that. You above everyone else would understand his darkness and only love him more for it.

Did he say love? Was this love?

No it's lust...it has to be just lust.

You would never feel the same. He's an idiot. Embrace him? Yeah right, you'd laugh at him. Joke about how dumb he was for wanting you. No, all he could do now was fuck you and kill any guy who would get close to you.

He can't give this up.

The way you come into his apartment all giddy, excited for him to fuck you. How you're already on him the second the door is closed. Fuck he loves how badly you beg for him to touch you. Your kisses are always messy and hungry, no matter how many times you feel him it's like you always need more. Like what he gives is never enough and you'll never be tired of him.

He enjoys slowly undressing you. Each time he sees you you're in a new lingerie set you stole. His favourite to date has to be the black piece you wore for his birthday. You found out he'd never had a birthday party before and decided to surprise him. That day engraves his mind, the way you looked in the set constantly makes him hard.

He closes his eyes and lets the memory take over as his hands find their way wrapped around his cock.

You had come over late with a cake and alcohol. Ettore had gotten up to get plates and when he came back, there you stood. Jacket off, shoes off. Just in that set, a black one-piece with thigh garters on. It was lace and framed your body perfectly like a personal fucking painting made just for him. It did his head in right there.

He picked you up and carried you to the bed not giving a fuck about the plates he just broke as they shattered on the ground. Your squeals of excitement only made him harder.

As always your safeword was mango. But he never failed to remind you every time.

"Is this what you came here for?" He grabbed your hand and placed it over his growing erection. You nodded as you palmed him through his sweatpants. "Take it out then."

The feeling of your hand feels way better than he is. He often struggles to get off considering the large difference between your hand and he is.

You're always so gentle when you touch him. As if you could break him. You slowly pull down his sweatpants as he lays on the bed. He enjoyed watching you undress him, the way your eyes would never leave his.

The second he was free from his clothes you crawled in between his lap leaving kisses on his v line then up and down his cock. Your soft hands massage his balls as your lips wrap around the head of his cock. He remembers the way you gently grazed your teeth against him, how it made him shiver, a spark going up his spine.

His hands found their way to the back of your head as he pushed you down further wanting you to take him all the way. He loved the sound of you gagging on his cock, how tears would fall down your cheek as he used your mouth however he wanted.

As you sat in between his legs he fucked up into your face hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. He watched as your fingers made a feeble attempt to pleasure yourself but no one could finger you like he could. You had quickly learned that after your first time fucking him, no boy could ever make you cum the way he does.

Ettore felt the same way he could never get to fuck someone's throat like this, no one would let him and he wouldn't risk his prized possession getting bitten off.

As he came down your throat he pulled you up to him and kissed your tears. The salty taste made him moan. He removed your fingers and plunged his own deep inside you effortlessly rubbing that soft side inside you. You came almost immediately considering you had basically been edging yourself the entire time you sucked him off.

Ettore had found love for the way you ride him a long time ago. The way you sank down on his cock that night felt almost euphoric. He had long torn off your lingerie knowing you'd just end up stealing another one.

Your pussy was his, always so wet for him and happy to welcome him home. You were his home. Inside of you was where he belonged and no one else.

You bounced on him happily scratching and squeezing his chest in pleasure as his hands gripped your ass and travelled up to your tits. His tongue gently grazed over your nipples giving them only the smallest amount of attention before his lips and hands were on them once again. He often imagined what it would feel like for milk to come leaking out of them and pooling into his mouth, how fucking delicious your milk would be.

He could feel you clenching around him but knew you wouldn't be able to finish without him. He was quick to flip you over onto your back and fuck you into the mattress. One hand pressed down on your stomach while the other circled your bud. Fuck you were hot when you came. Shaking around him squeezing his arms. And your moans, louder than they had ever been.

He grabbed onto your hips, fucking you faster chasing his own release. That night he came harder than he ever had. Spilling himself deep inside you as his lips left marks all over your tits and neck.

A new routine had developed a while ago for afterwards. You had taught him the importance of aftercare. Though at first, he didn't understand what the fuck that was and why it was important. For you, he would do it. Checking on you and getting you water as he wiped you clean trying not to be too rough to overstimulate you even though he loved how you twitched when he did.

And a step of his own he added. Holding you. It fed that feeling in his chest having you so close to him. His hands gently rub your back as you lay on his chest feeling your heart beat against his.

Ettore's eyes popped open as he came on his hand the memory quickly floating away. His breathing uneven and unsure.

That's when he comes to a conclusion. He wouldn't be able to survive without you your pussy. He couldn't lose you it to someone else who understood what it meant to love. He knew what he had to do. The second he sees a bit of the mundane life creep in you he will snuff that light out. He needs you to be as dark as he is. That's the only way you will stay with him.

Fuck love. It has no place here.

A/N: My professor had given me two assignments due on valentines day...i came to the conclusion that she is a hater. But nonetheless!! Here is my anti-love Ettore fic!

If you want another part of this let me know I have an idea in mind to develop this further! (ok honestly I have like 5 other parts already planned out in my google docs....)

(This photo his so perfect for valentines day Ettore)

Ewan Taglist: @thought--bubble @valeskafics

[lya-dustin]

The Ewanverse Family Tree

for shits and giggles and A Comedy of Non-Mathematical Errors

a collaboration by @toms-cherry-trees @elizarbell @huramuna

Family tree

9th and 10th century

(the last kingdom)

Osferth + unknown wife

19th century

Mr. and Mrs. Bennett

(World on Fire)                                                                     

Douglas Bennett + Josie Bennett 

-Tom Bennett                                                            

-Lois Bennett 

Vera Chase

(The Halycon)

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Bennett+ Mr. Taylor

William ‘Billy’ Taylor

unknown sister

(Granchester)

Unknown Bennett sibling

-Abraham

20th century

Bennett Family post wwii

Tom Bennett + Diane Shelby (oc)

-Thomas Bennett Jr(oc)

-Elizabeth Bennett (oc)

Bennett Family

1960s

(Saltburn)

Tom Jr + some rich girl he met in Oxford in the 60s (unclear how he became a peer)

Elspeth Catton

Eadmund Bennett (basis GRRM used for Aemond Targaryn)

Micah Bennett

Lizzie + several unnamed men she hooked up with during the 60s and 70s

Billy Washington’s mom, Val Washington(Trigger Point)

Will from Salad Days’ dad

Jack from Fire’s mom

Bennett Family

1980s-1990s

Tom Jr's kids and grandkids

Elspeth + Sir James Catton

-Michael Cherwell Catton

-Felix River Catton

-Venetia Trinity Catton

Eadmund Bennett + Alice Rivers

-Ettore Rivers

Micah Bennett (via sperm donation)

Genyen/Shawn (Doctors)

Lizzie’s grandkids

Lana and Billy Washington (Trigger Point)

Will(Salad Days)

Jack and his brother (Fire)

Daniel from the veggie addicts video

Every single small role Ewan has ever been on

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

'THE CONQUEROR REBORN'. ( DARK! AEGON ii TARGARYEN )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. Here is a sneak peek of one of the chapter's from "THE CONQUEROR REBORN". <3 pairing: DARK! King Aegon ii Targaryen x Hightower! OC ( Roselyn Tully-Hightower ) prompt: It becomes clear that Aegon had no intent to let OC go. word count: 500+ words ( If you like this. Go to wattpad to read the rest of it! )

Feeling a figurative noose tightening around her throat, she pauses for a moment, contemplating what to say or do next. It was clear that Aegon was fragile mentally, the days of mixing arbor red and raging just boiled up into a whirlpool of just bad. Bad everything. Chewing on her bottom lip slowly, she slowly walks away from him, heading to the balcony. Clutching at the pearl necklace wrapped around her throat, she claws at it, feeling like it was choking her.

“I can’t breathe.” She pants, “I can’t breathe.” 

“Roselyn..” He whispers, his voice gentle. 

“I want to go home.” She whispers, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Home?” He asks, “Home?”

She knew the truth, she couldn’t go home. She couldn't go home to the Riverlands. The first time in years, her family wished to see her again, the first time since they had married her off to Ettore, and she could not go home. She could not go home. She couldn’t fucking go home. Holding back the urge to not break down in tears, she leans against the balcony railing, staring down below. 

Letting out a shaky breath, she eyes the lush green of the courtyard staring right back at her. The fall would be enough to kill her. Or if she dared, kill Aegon. Feeling him curl into her side, his hands slowly trail up her hip, wrapping around her waist. His face softly burying into her neck, his breath reeking of arbor red. She could do it. She could push him. 

“We are at war, your family, your House have bent the knee for Rhaenyra. You must understand why I keep you here, Roselyn.” He explains, “Tis’ not safe for you.” 

“I..”

“You married my cousin. You are tied to House Hightower, not House Tully anymore. You are more Hightower than Tully.” He adds, “They won’t accept you, not anymore. Tis’ why you should stay, stay with me, with Helaena.” 

Going deadly still as he brings up Helaena, she could feel the necklace tightening around her throat, her breathing growing wheezy. He knew exactly what he was doing with bringing up Helaena. It was cruel and manipulative, and just so evil of him to do so to her.

Shutting her eyes as her breathing grows more wheezy and fast, she tugs hard at the pearl necklace, a dozen little pearls exploding all over the floor of the balcony. Though it did not matter, as the pressure on her throat loosening and she could breath once again. 

“Now, look at what you’ve done. You ruined my gift for you.” He scolds, his fingers brushing against her neck.

“Your Uncle promised me that I could go home⎯”

“My dreadful little Great Uncle from Oldtown has no right to speak on behalf of me, the King. I want you to stay, so does Helaena.” He whispers, “Do you not care for Helaena? Think of how upset she will be if you leave.”

“I do.”

“Then you will stay.” He presses kisses along her neck, “It would be so cruel to abandon me and Helaena in our hour of need. We need you, Roselyn.”

----

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[xoxorealitygalore]

Love Thy Neighbor 2

Bron Breakker x Black OC

Summary: Bron’s petty feud with his next door neighbor, Bluma evolves into something deeper as he begins to develop unexpected feelings for her.

Previous: Love Thy Neighbor

⸻ August 3, 2024

Bron had never been entirely sure why he invited Bluma to SummerSlam. Perhaps it was the thrill of the moment, the heat of his rematch against Sami Zayn, or maybe it was something deeper, a feeling that tugged at him, pushing him to take a step he hadn’t before.

After all, they had spent months bickering over petty things, little disagreements that kept them at odds with one another. The feud was almost like a dance, each one playing their part, knowing where to push, where to step back. And before he could fully comprehend what he was doing, the words had slipped from his mouth. “Hey, you should come to SummerSlam. It’d be fun.” Bluma had accepted.

Yet, in that moment, standing backstage with his colleagues, he found himself scanning the crowd for her, for Bluma.

It wasn’t just about having her there for the match. There was something else. Maybe it was the thrill of the crowd, the electric atmosphere of the arena, or maybe it was just the idea of her being a part of this massive event.

And now, as he stood there waiting for her, he realized just how much he had come to look forward to this day.

Bluma, for her part, was dressed in a casual chic ensemble that seemed perfectly in sync with the world of wrestling. She wore ripped, high-waisted jeans with a black bodysuit, completing the look with a black leather coat and towering heels that clicked against the polished floors of the backstage area.

Security guided her through the winding corridors, and as she made her way toward the heart of the event, she could feel the energy pulsating through the arena, even before she stepped out into the crowd. It was electric, vibrant, loud, and larger than life.

When Bron first spotted her, he immediately broke away from his group of colleagues, leaving them behind without a second thought. The men he was talking to exchanged confused glances, unsure of what had just happened. Bluma, however, smiled as he approached, her expression light and teasing.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice carrying over the ambient noise.

“Hey,” Bron replied, offering a warm, almost relieved smile. He turned to the security guard who had escorted her. “Thanks for bringing her back here,” he said with a polite nod.

Bluma chuckled, a twinkle in her eye. “So, did you bring me here to watch you lose, or are you planning to win your match tonight?” she asked, her tone playful, yet with an edge of challenge.

Bron let out a small laugh, appreciating her teasing. “You’ll just have to sit ringside and see for yourself,” he said, offering her his arm. He led her back toward his group of colleagues, who were now all watching her with curiosity.

"Everyone, this is Bluma," Bron said, gesturing toward her as he introduced her to the men. “Phil, Ettore, Joe, and Paul.”

Joe, who had a mischievous glint in his eye, grinned. “So this is the neighbor you’ve been at war with?” he asked, clearly amused by the dynamic he was witnessing.

Bluma caught off guard, blinked before responding with a laugh. “We’ve made peace,” she said smoothly, offering Bron a look that suggested she knew exactly what he had shared with his friends.

The men teased Bron a little, and Bluma found herself on the receiving end of several rapid-fire questions.

Phil, a friendly yet bold man, was the first to ask, “So, Bluma, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a Patent Attorney,” she answered, her voice steady and confident.

The men exchanged impressed glances, and Paul’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wow, a Patent Attorney. Bron, ain't you a lucky one?” he said, his tone filled with genuine admiration. “Smart, beautiful, and not afraid to get in the field—if you don’t date her, you’re an idiot.”

Bluma found herself surprised by the candidness of Phil’s words, but Bron didn’t appear fazed at all. He simply waved it off, clearly unfazed by the comment.

“Well, okay then,” Bron said, his voice carrying a sense of finality. “I need to show her around a bit, so we’re walking away now.”

With that, he grabbed Bluma’s hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. The gesture was both natural and unexpected, and for a moment, Bluma simply stared at their hands, her mind racing as she tried to decipher the meaning behind the simple action.

Bron guided her through the backstage area, showing her different places where the magic of the show came together from the production rooms, the areas where wrestlers prepared, and the different departments that kept the spectacle running smoothly. Bluma was captivated by the scale of everything. It was bigger than she had imagined. The people, the lights, the buzz, it all seemed so much larger than life, and yet here she was, standing in the heart of it all, alongside Bron.

Soon enough, the event kicked off, and Bluma found herself watching from a private seating area with Bron. Triple H, ever the charismatic showman, took to the stage to hype the crowd. His booming voice echoed throughout the arena, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

Then country singer Jelly Roll took the stage, performing “God Bless America” and “Liar,” one of the two theme songs for the night. The energy in the stadium was infectious. Bluma couldn’t help but be swept up in it, though she remained keenly aware of the man standing next to her.

As the opening match between Liv Morgan and Rhea Ripley unfolded on the screen, Bluma turned to Bron.

“So, who’s going to win this one?” she asked, her eyes never leaving the action on the screen.

Bron leaned back in his seat, his eyes sharp and focused on the screen. “Liv’s tough, but Rhea has that edge,” he said, offering a brief but thoughtful analysis.

It wasn’t long before the match concluded, with Dominik Mysterio betraying Rhea Ripley by kissing Liv Morgan at ringside. The unexpected turn of events added a layer of drama to the night’s proceedings.

Bron, however, stood up with a sense of urgency. His match was next.

“I’ll see you ringside,” he said to Bluma before he turned to leave, his posture straight and determined. Bluma watched him for a moment before turning to the security guard, who would escort her to her ringside seat.

As Bron made his way backstage to finish preparing, Bluma couldn’t help but feel a little excitement building inside her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but something about this night, about seeing Bron in his element felt different.

She gave him a wave, mouthing “Good luck,” before following the guard through the maze of corridors that led to the ringside area.

Bron’s match was the second one of the night, a high-stakes contest for the Intercontinental Championship against Sami Zayn. Bluma took her seat, eagerly awaiting the showdown.

The match began with Bron’s signature aggression, attempting to take Sami down quickly with a spear. However, Sami, ever the crafty veteran, dodged the move, leaving Bron crashing into the corner instead. The two men traded blows, each determined to prove their dominance, but it was clear that Bron’s raw power and speed were key advantages.

Sami, for all his experience, struggled to match Bron’s intensity. Bron hit him with a devastating spear, sending him crashing to the mat, and soon, after a dramatic series of moves, Bron pinned Sami Zayn to claim his first Intercontinental Championship. The arena erupted with cheers, and Bluma stood up, her hands clapping together in enthusiastic applause.

Bron turned toward her, offering a quick wink before signaling for her to head backstage. Bluma smiled brightly and made her way through the crowd, her heart racing with excitement.

Backstage, Bron was waiting for her by the curtain, his face flushed with the adrenaline of victory. Without saying a word, he pulled her into a hug, the embrace feeling both celebratory and intimate. The WWE photographer snapped a picture of the two of them, freezing the moment in time.

As they walked together toward the gorilla position, Bron introduced Bluma to his boss, Paul “Triple H” Levesque. The two men exchanged congratulations, and Bluma found herself caught up in the whirlwind of attention. It was strange but also exciting.

As the evening continued, Bron seemed to keep a quiet watch on Bluma. She, in turn, noticed how Bron was engaging with everyone around him, but always keeping a subtle focus on her. It was as if she was now a part of his world, something more than just the woman he had invited out of the blue.

As they walked through the backstage area, the atmosphere shifted. It became quieter, more intimate. It was here, away from the crowds and the chaos, that they shared a moment of genuine conversation. They talked about their lives, their work, and their worlds outside of the neighborhood. It was then that Bron asked, almost shyly, if she was single.

Bluma smiled. “Yes,” she said, her eyes meeting his with a knowing look.

Then, just as quickly, the conversation stalled. Bron was suddenly shy, and Bluma could see the vulnerability in him that was usually hidden beneath the tough persona he wore for the cameras. It was cute, in a way. But she wasn’t going to make the first move. If he wanted her, he had to say it.

She gently told him to go get cleaned up, before walking away, leaving him to gather himself.

As Bron disappeared into the locker room, Bluma’s mind was still buzzing with the energy of the night. Then, as if on cue, a familiar voice called out her name.

“Bluma?” Joseph’s voice was surprised, almost disbelieving.

She turned to find Joseph Fatu, better known in the wrestling world as Solo Sikoa, standing before her.

“Joseph!” she greeted warmly, offering him a smile.

The two of them quickly caught up, and she was soon reminded of how well she had gotten along with his wife, Almia. They shared stories and jokes, and Joseph casually mentioned that he had heard rumors circulating about her relationship with Bron.

“I’m not his girlfriend… yet,” Bluma said with a smirk. “He has to grow some balls first and ask me. But yeah, he invited me here, so I guess that’s a step in the right direction.”

Joseph laughed, clearly enjoying her candor.

“Bron doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into with you,” he said, his voice filled with amusement. “That prank war you two had going on doesn’t even scratch the surface of your craziness.”

Bluma grinned. “I’m sure he’ll figure it out eventually.”

Their conversation turned to other matters. Joseph and Almia’s growing family and the upcoming baby shower that Bluma would be hosting. Bluma promised not to overdo it with the party planning, though she had a hard time keeping it low-key.

As the conversation drew to a close, Bron appeared, walking toward them with an intensity that made Bluma’s heart race. He wasn’t trying to hide the slight tension in his posture, and Bluma noticed how his eyes narrowed when they landed on Joseph.

There was something about the way Bron was looking at them, something that sparked a strange emotion inside him. Despite being friends with Joseph, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as he watched Bluma laugh and talk so animatedly with him.

Clearing his throat, Bron stepped forward, making his presence known.

Bluma’s eyes immediately lit up. “Bron, I know you already know Joseph, but this is Joseph. I’ve worked with his wife, Almia. We’re friends.”

Joseph smiled, unfazed by Bron’s sudden appearance. “Hey, Bron. You know Almia and I are going to need to have a double date soon, right?” he said, his voice light and teasing.

Bron chuckled, his voice low. “Yeah.”

Bluma laughed, shaking her head. “You know a double date with them is an interrogation, right?”

Bron nodded with a knowing look. “I’m sure they’ll take it easy on me,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

⸻ September 23, 2024

Bluma had found herself at another WWE event, and this time, it felt different. The electricity of the arena buzzed around her as the night unfolded, the crowd's energy reverberating through every inch of her being.

As she sat backstage, just behind the curtains, she glanced at Bron, who was deep in conversation with a few of his colleagues. His body language was tense, his brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. She knew that Bron, for all his strength and bravado in the ring, was feeling the sting of his recent loss.

After all, his reign as Intercontinental Champion had come to an end in front of thousands of fans, his title slipping away to Joshua. The loss had cut deep, but there was something else, too, something that tugged at Bluma’s heartstrings, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She had been with him backstage since the end of the match, offering him comfort in her quiet, steady way. She had learned over time how to be there for him, how to support him in ways he couldn’t always express. While he had lost the match, he hadn’t lost the spark of energy that had drawn her to him. Bluma knew that, for Bron, this moment was a disappointment, a bump in the road. But she also saw how he was processing it, slowly, in his way. And through it all, she was right there by his side.

Their relationship had evolved, even in ways that neither of them had expected. After the double date with Joseph and Almia, the barriers between them seemed to dissolve, slowly but surely. They had moved past the feuding and bickering, the playful rivalry that had once defined their interactions.

Instead, they had become a little like magnets, drawn together, unable to resist each other. They had found themselves stuck like glue, a bond forming between them that was undeniable. They were not officially a couple, but everyone around them could sense the growing connection, the way their chemistry had shifted.

Bluma had met his parents, an event that had been as overwhelming as it had been heartwarming. She had seen another side of Bron that she hadn’t quite known before, the easy way he laughed with his family, the unspoken affection between him and his parents, the way they ribbed him playfully, teasing him about everything from his childhood antics to his career. It had felt natural, this inclusion into his world, as though she had always been meant to be there, beside him, a part of his life that had finally come together in a way neither of them had anticipated.

Back in the backstage area now, Bluma looked at Bron, watching as he ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mixture of frustration and quiet contemplation. His match had been brutal, the loss weighing heavily on him, but even in his disappointment, Bluma could see the flickers of hope in his eyes. She had learned to read him, to understand his moods, and she knew that this wasn’t the end for him. He was resilient, and like the fighter he was, he would rise again.

Bluma smiled gently, reaching out to touch his arm, a simple gesture of support that spoke volumes. “You’ll get it back,” she said softly, her voice warm and steady. She wasn’t offering empty words. She truly believed that Bron would rise again, that this loss would be just another part of his journey. He nodded in response, his lips curving upward ever so slightly, grateful for her presence, even if he couldn’t fully express it at the moment.

Despite his loss, there was a sense of calm that settled over Bron when Bluma was near. She had become a constant in his life, someone he could count on in ways that others couldn’t. It was strange to think about it, but he realized, deep down, that Bluma wasn’t just a passing part of his world. She was becoming his anchor.

The night unfolded with the usual backstage bustle, the sound of crew members coordinating the next segments, the quiet conversations between wrestlers, and the incessant ringing of cell phones.

Yet, amidst the noise, Bron couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of clarity. This was more than just a match or a title. This was about something bigger, something more personal. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew that Bluma was a part of it, a part of him now, and that felt like the beginning of something new.

After the show wrapped up and the crowd slowly filed out of the arena, Bron and Bluma made their way back to their hotel. The adrenaline of the night was still palpable, but in the quiet of their hotel room, it was just the two of them, away from the chaos, away from the public eyes.

Bron glanced at Bluma, his heart still racing from the intensity of the match. “You hungry?” he asked, his voice hoarse, but not from the loss, just the exhaustion of the night.

Bluma, who had been running on pure energy and adrenaline since the moment she arrived, smiled. “A little bit. Why?”

“I was thinking,” Bron began, his words trailing off as he stood and walked toward the door, “maybe we could grab a late dinner. Just the two of us. No crowds, no distractions.”

Bluma raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his offer. It wasn’t like Bron to be so casual, so spontaneous, especially after a loss. But there was something about the way he said it, the sincerity in his tone, that made her want to say yes.

“Sounds nice,” she said with a small smile. “Where to?”

Bron grinned, and there was a twinkle in his eyes. “I have a place in mind,” he said as he reached for his jacket. Bluma followed him out, their footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway.

An hour later, at the restaurant which was dimly lit, warm, and intimate, the kind of place that felt like a hidden gem, far removed from the bright lights of the arena. The candles on the table flickered softly, casting gentle shadows on the walls. As they sat down, the weight of the evening seemed to fall away, leaving behind a sense of calm. The world outside felt miles away, and it was just the two of them, talking and laughing like they had done so many times before.

They talked about everything, about Bron’s match, of course, but also about the small, everyday things that made up their lives. They spoke about the places they wanted to visit, the food they loved, and the future they both were trying to shape, even if they didn’t have all the answers yet. Their conversation flowed easily like they had known each other for years.

As the night went on, the atmosphere grew warmer and more intimate. The tension from the match had melted away, and now it was just about enjoying each other’s company, enjoying the moment. The waiter arrived with dessert, placing a slice of decadent chocolate cake in front of Bluma.

She glanced at it, a puzzled expression crossing her face. Then, her eyes moved down to the plate. In the center of the dessert, written in chocolate syrup, were the words: “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Bluma’s heart skipped a beat. Her hand hovered over the cake as she blinked, taking in the unexpected gesture. She looked up at Bron, who was watching her with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The words, the question, everything about the moment was so simple, so pure. It was as if, in this quiet moment between them, everything had fallen into place.

She smiled, her heart swelling with emotion. “Yes,” she said softly, her voice thick with the weight of the moment.

Bron’s face broke into a grin, and without a second thought, he leaned across the table, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, full of meaning and promise. The world seemed to disappear in that moment as if nothing else mattered but the two of them, together, in this tiny bubble of happiness they had created for themselves.

The kiss lingered, sweet and tender, before they both pulled away, gazing at each other with a new understanding. They had crossed a threshold, moved from uncertainty to certainty, from the realm of possibilities to something more real, something more grounded. It wasn’t just about titles or matches or anything else. It was about them, and this was the start of something new.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say yes,” Bron murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bluma smiled again, her eyes soft. “I think I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” she said, her tone playful yet full of warmth.

They sat there for a moment, letting the quiet settle around them. Outside, the night stretched on, but inside the restaurant, in that little corner of the world, it was just the two of them. And for the first time, it felt like the beginning of a new chapter. One where they didn’t need to fight for what they wanted, where they didn’t need to wonder if it would work. It just would.

As they left the restaurant, hand in hand, the city lights glimmered around them. The night was still young, and the future was waiting, just ahead of them. They had taken the first step, and it felt like everything was falling into place.

⸻ October 9, 2024

Bron had always been private about his life, particularly when it came to relationships. He was used to the glare of the spotlight when it came to his wrestling career, but there was something different about sharing his personal life with the public.

Still, as he sat with Bluma in her living room on a quiet afternoon, there was a sense of calm in the air. The decision to make their relationship public seemed right. They had been growing closer, and though they weren’t putting a label on their relationship just yet, there was no denying the connection between them.

Bluma had been at the center of his thoughts for months, and after their dinner together, after everything that had happened since, Bron realized that the time had come. He had seen how the dynamic between them had shifted from just neighbors to friends, to something deeper.

And now, as they spent more time together, it seemed natural to let the world in. The thought of sharing their relationship on social media was both thrilling and daunting at the same time.

"Bluma," Bron said, looking at her carefully, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his coffee cup. "Is it okay if I start posting pictures of us on my Instagram? You know, just so people know we’re a thing."

Bluma glanced at him, her expression thoughtful for a moment. She’d already known it was coming. Ever since they’d started seeing each other, she had anticipated the questions, the curiosity. She wasn’t naïve to the public’s interest in Bron’s life, especially with his rising star in WWE. She wasn’t surprised by the question. It was a natural next step in their relationship, as much as it felt overwhelming. Still, she found herself looking at him, gauging his sincerity, his nervousness.

"Yeah," Bluma said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It’s fine, Bron. If you want to post it, go ahead."

His eyes lit up with a mix of relief and excitement. "You sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, it’s fine," she reassured him. "I’m okay with it. We’ve been spending so much time together, and I think it’s good to be open about it."

Bron’s smile deepened. "Thanks," he said, squeezing her hand gently. "I’ll post something later today, then."

And just like that, the decision had been made. Bron picked up his phone, and within minutes, a picture appeared on his Instagram: a candid shot of him and Bluma walking through the backstage area at a WWE event. Bron had his arm casually draped over her shoulder, and Bluma was smiling up at him, her expression content, as if they were just two people, completely at ease with one another. The caption was simple: "Spending time with the right person."

It didn’t take long for the reactions to come flooding in. Fans of Bron Breakker were quick to share their thoughts. Some were excited, commenting on how they had been rooting for him to find someone special. Others were more curious, speculating on who Bluma was and what she did. It was to be expected. Bron had kept his private life separate from his wrestling persona for so long, and now that it was out there, people were hungry for more.

The media wasn’t far behind. Within hours of Bron’s post, articles began popping up across various entertainment and sports sites. Headlines like “Bron Breakker Goes Public with His New Relationship” and “Meet the Woman Behind Bron Breakker’s Smile” appeared. There was an immediate interest in Bluma. Fans and journalists alike wanted to know more about her, who she was, what she did, and how she and Bron had met. It was a rush, a whirlwind that Bluma wasn’t fully prepared for.

At first, Bluma had been indifferent to the attention. She had her own life, and her own career, and the world of wrestling was something she had only recently dipped her toes into. She had grown used to the idea of people being curious about Bron, but this? This level of scrutiny was new.

Her phone buzzed incessantly, with new Instagram followers popping up on her notifications every few seconds. Some of the comments on her photos were supportive, others were filled with questions. It didn’t take long for Bluma to realize that her privacy was no longer entirely her own. People wanted answers. They wanted to know everything from her job as a patent attorney to her favorite color. She wasn’t prepared for the sudden invasion of her personal space, and she found herself grappling with the reality of her relationship with Bron being so public.

Almia had warned her that this would happen. She had told Bluma that the moment her relationship with Bron went public, it would cause a ripple effect. Almia, who knew the dynamics of the wrestling world all too well, had cautioned her about the intense scrutiny that would inevitably follow.

"Just remember, Bluma," Almia had said over the phone a few days before, "you’re dating a WWE Superstar. People will want to know everything about you. Just be ready for it."

Bluma had nodded at the time, agreeing with her friend’s words, but now that it was happening, she realized just how intense the attention could be. The constant buzz of her phone was overwhelming, the steady stream of new followers on Instagram, the articles, the endless speculation. It was all a bit much.

As Bluma sat on the couch in her living room, scrolling through the notifications on her phone, she felt a growing unease.

Bron could sense her discomfort. He was sitting next to her, looking over at the phone in her hand, his brow furrowing slightly. He had known this moment would come, the inevitable backlash of public attention but seeing it affect her like this made him feel protective.

"You okay?" he asked gently, his voice filled with concern.

Bluma looked up at him, a small sigh escaping her lips. "I knew this was going to happen, but I didn’t realize how fast it would happen. People are already digging into my personal life. It’s kind of... unsettling."

Bron nodded, his expression softening. "I get it," he said, running a hand through his hair. "This is all new for both of us. I didn’t expect it to come with this much attention, but I’ll do whatever I can to make it easier for you."

Bluma appreciated his sincerity, but at the same time, she didn’t want to make him feel guilty. "I know this isn’t your fault," she said. "I’m just not used to this kind of... scrutiny. It’s different when it’s just about you, but now that I’m involved..."

Bron cut her off with a reassuring smile. "I get it," he said again. "And if you want, I can release a statement. Just a simple one, asking people to respect your privacy. Maybe that’ll help, give us some space."

Bluma thought about it for a moment, weighing the option. She appreciated his willingness to help, but part of her didn’t want to escalate things too much. "Maybe save that for when it gets more... stalkerish," she said, her tone light, though there was a hint of discomfort. "I don’t want to make a big deal out of it unless we have to."

Bron nodded, respecting her wishes. "Alright. But just know, if it gets too much, we’ll deal with it together."

Bluma gave him a grateful smile. She could feel the weight of his words, the protection he was offering. But even so, she knew there was no escaping the constant attention that would follow them.

Just as she was about to say something else, her phone rang. She looked at the screen and saw the familiar name: Mom. Bluma rolled her eyes, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"Mom," she muttered under her breath, before answering the call.

The second she picked up, Ekene’s voice was sharp and without greeting. "So, I have to find out that you're in a relationship from a WhatsApp link to an article?" Her mother’s voice was laced with disbelief.

"I thought we agreed that I wasn't going to tell you about any relationship unless I announced that I'm engaged,” Bluma said.

“Not when the relationship comes with an article link,” Her mother said.

Bluma smirked, a hint of amusement in her eyes despite her mother’s tone. "Well, mommy, I’m dating a nice young man named Bron," she said, trying to keep the situation light.

Ekene didn’t miss a beat. "Is he there?" she asked, not even acknowledging the tone of Bluma’s words.

Bluma glanced at Bron, a playful glint in her eyes. "Yeah, he’s here," she said, handing the phone over to him.

Bron took the phone, clearly nervous. He wasn’t used to dealing with parents, especially not in situations like this. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Hi, Mrs. Bashir. It’s Bron."

Immediately, Ekene began firing questions at him, her tone sharp and unrelenting. "What are your intentions with my daughter? Are you serious about her? She deserves nothing less than respect, and if you're not prepared for that, you can walk away right now."

Bron took a deep breath, calming himself before responding. He could feel the weight of the questions, but he answered truthfully, speaking from the heart. "Mrs. Bashir, I respect Bluma more than anything. I’m serious about her. She means a lot to me, and I’ll always treat her with the respect she deserves."

Bluma could hear her mother’s skeptical pause on the other end of the phone. Finally, Ekene spoke, this time with a slightly softer tone. "Well, I suppose I’ll need to meet you then. Dinner this weekend. We’ll see how serious you are."

Bron couldn’t help but smile at the thought of meeting Bluma’s mother. "Sounds like a plan, Mrs. Bashir," he said, relieved that the conversation had shifted from suspicion to curiosity.

After Bron handed the phone back to her, Bluma looked at him, a mischievous smile crossing her face. "Looks like you’re meeting my parents this weekend."

Bron’s eyes widened slightly, but he chuckled nervously. "I guess I better start preparing then."

Bluma laughed, the tension easing as they shared a moment of levity. It wasn’t going to be easy, navigating the challenges that came with being in the public eye, but with Bron by her side, Bluma knew they could handle whatever came their way.

Next: Love Thy Neighbor 3

[zaldritzosrose]

Hello, now that requests for this have closed, I thought I would give everyone a rundown of what/who has been requested so you know what to expect. I'm going to take my time and fill them so everyone gets the best quality for their request I can give!

To Do List below the cut!

Completed fics here..

- Joyride - modern smut (Joyride - Kesha) Sihtric x OC!Sigyn

- Pretty Little Thing - Gwayne Hightower x Handmaiden!Reader (smut)

- I Wanna Be Yours - Bucky Barnes x Reader song fluff (I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys)

- Burn to Ash - Masema x Goddess!Reader (mild smut/fluff/angst)

- Like Real People Do - Jacaerys x Noble!Reader song fluff (Like Real People Do - Hozier)

House of the Dragon:

Jacaerys Velaryon

- smut with wife reader (and a smidge of Aegon)

Aegon Targaryen

- fluff + smut with wife reader

Cregan Stark

- fluff + angst with wife reader

- song smut (God Is A Woman - Ariana Grande)

Gwayne Hightower

- angst with Strong!Reader

Aemond Targaryen

- modern era fluff with OC!Lyanna Stark

Multi Character

- Jacaerys x Reader x Aegon smut (inspired by the season 1 dinner gif)

The Last Kingdom

Sihtric Kjartansson

- soft romantic fluff (now a sequel to Viridity)

- angst + fluff (all character, no reader)

- fluff + smut with wife reader

Osferth

- fluff + mild angst (dad!Osferth)

- fluff (dad!Osferth)

Dune

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

- fluff + smut (wife/lover reader)

- smut (rockstar Feyd x groupie reader)

Other Characters

Billy Washington

- song fluff (Last Man Standing - Livingstone)

Ettore

- smut with fellow survivor reader

Benny Cross

- fluff (dad!Benny and wife 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 −"

_____

General Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@triscy @re-per @diiickbrainn @queenofshinigamis @eponaartemisa @zaldritzosrose @writerloversjm @lauzy87 @targaryenrealnessdarling @briefcollectivepersona @ginarely-blog @lcecgg @an0ther-us3r @blackswxnn

[thought--bubble]

OK

I'm gonna reblog this immediately only because I'm posting an Aemond story tonight, and then after that, will be the Kitty-Cat epilogue. It is finally done and just being edited. So a day or 2, maybe 3 if I'm lazy.

Thank you for reading through this insanity!

Make You Purr

Ettore X OFC

Warnings after the cut

Ettore Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: Dubcon,Smut, Mommy Kink? Lactation, Ettore.

A/N: This can be read as a one-shot or as a follow-up to my Kitty-Cat series, which can be found here

"You do not need to accompany her every time," Dr. Dibs looked up at Ettore, irritated while he looked back at her expressionless from his place leaning against the wall.

That's my pet

He stays put a smug look on his face as Dibs does her exam on you checking on the progress of your pregnancy, taking blood tests, checking your weight and just all the things that generally should be tracked and monitored for a pregnant woman.

From the outside, it would seem like a dedicated doctor and a loving boyfriend were supporting you during your pregnancy, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Dr. Dibs is no caring OBGYN. She is a mad scientist trying experiments and using the woman aboard this ship as lab rats. While Ettore is not anywhere close to a loving boyfriend. Ettore is an apex predator driven by primal needs. He is compelled to make moves and decisions that serve to keep him fed. Which is how you ended up in your current predicament.

Your inability to communicate with those around you and your incessant need to be touched made you the perfect prey for Ettore, and he circled and cornered you until finally, like a gazelle to a lion he now has you exactly where he wants you.

Ettore had made himself feared upon this ship and, in doing so, made himself untouchable. Even with this status, he goes about his daily life almost the same as he did before, except now he brings his pet with him everywhere, and he no longer hides it. He doesn't feel the need to pretend that he doesn't own you. No, instead, he flaunts it. Dragging you behind him at all times, he worked hard to catch you at great personal risk, and he would be damned if someone were to come between you now.

You are about 5 months pregnant at this point, and still Ettore keeps you glued to his side. You are his pet. His property, and as your belly grew, and your breasts swelled, you had thought his appetite for you would have lessened, but somehow, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

Ettore was more insatiable than ever to the point where he wasn't even waiting to get you in private anymore. At times, he just bent you over the counter while you worked the cafeteria shift, showing no concern whatsoever to the other inmates coming and going. The never-ending pressure of Ettore's sexual needs and possessive behaviors coupled with your pregnancy had your battery running dangerously low.

After your appointment with Dibs, you were exhausted and wanted to lay down. Ettore headed towards the cafeteria, but you turned the opposite direction towards his room, the room that you now both slept in.

"Kitty?" He calls after you while he watches you waddle in the opposite direction. He follows you back to his bunk, and you crawl in and sigh, instantly closing your eyes.

"Cmon, it's time to eat." He grips your hand tight and attempts to pull you from the bunk. You yank your hand from him and roll over, grumbling.

Why isn't she listening? she always listens?

He crawls into the bunk with you and rolls you flat on your back. You instantly start to whimper and whine.

"Shhh kitty." He strokes your cheek, and with a small smile, you nuzzle into his hand. "What's going on with you, huh?"

He pulls the blanket down and off of you, then quickly reaches for your scrub bottoms, pulling both those and your panties down.

You attempt to squeeze your legs together. You are tired, big, uncomfortable, and your boobs hurt. Trying to keep up with Ettore's insatiable appetite has become near impossible for you, but Ettore always makes sure he gets what he wants.

He positions himself between your thighs and begins to stroke himself to hardness staring at your belly. He rubs his hand up over your stretched out abdomen and tilts his head to the side.

I did this. This is mine

He rubs his thumb over your clit watching as your body begins to twitch, your belly poking higher into the air. He slides a finger into you as he leans over you and grabs one of your tits.

Your eyes fly open, and you wince at the harshness of the squeeze pushing his hand off.

He growls, but as he goes to grip it again, he feels the heat radiating off of your breasts and instead ops to simply roll the nipple between his fingers.

You let out a sound that is somewhere between a sigh of pleasure and a groan of pain. Ettore's cock throbs at the sound as he bites his bottom lip.

Such a helpless little thing, my kitty

He lines himself up at your entrance, unable to wait even another minute before pushing himself into you with a growl. You whimper at the intrusion, as he slowly pushes his cock further until he bottoms out and then starts to slowly drag himself back repeating the motion at that same unhurried pace.

You close your eyes and lay back, trying to just enjoy the sensation. You feel his hands move along the tight skin of your stomach, the touch gentle, much more gentle than you are accustomed to.

You melt into the mattress, eyes closed, just soaking in the attention until suddenly it stops. Ettore pulls out of you and drops down beside you, looking up at the bunk above. You roll your head to the side and, with shock, recognize the look on his face. Only it isn't a look you have ever seen on him, only on others. He looks vulnerable, scared even.

You pull yourself up, and he instantly joins you by sitting up himself, his eyes watching every little movement you make. You know he needs comfort and care. It isn't something you ever expected him to need. You don't know how you know. Maybe a mother's intuition? All you know is he needs this now and you couldn't help but want to provide it to him.

You lift your leg across his lap, straddling him as he looks up at you. His eyes are pleading, like a lost puppy in need of saving. You know this man to be a wolf, but all wolves were puppies once. You kiss his forehead and rub your cheek against his and feel his body tense and then soften.

Ettore closes his eyes the feeling in his chest gets tighter and he is getting worried, he doesn't recognize this feeling and he doesn't like it, but when he opens his eyes again and looks up at you as you gently caress the sides of his hair with your hands he can't help but surrender to this new feeling, even if just for a little while.

Please Kitty, take care of me

You lower yourself onto his cock and ride him slowly. He slides his hands up your back pulling your chest towards his face nuzzling his face in between your breasts. The gentleness of this experience is something entirely new to him, and his head is swirling with new feelings and new sensations, the whole thing becoming a bit overwhelming.

He grasps tightly at one of your breasts, and you shriek out in pain. Your boobs have been so sore the last month that touching them almost at all is unbearable. He takes his hand back quickly and gently caresses your left breast. You continue to bounce gently on his cock as he takes your left nipple into his mouth.

You hiss slightly pulling away, but he holds you in place with his hand on your back as he continues to swirl his tongue around your nipple and gently suck on the tender flesh. His eyes go wide the first time he feels liquid enter his mouth but when he looks up at your face, only to see a look of relief and euphoria he knows this is right, this is what he should be doing. so he continues his ministrations, drawing more liquid from your breast while gently massaging the hot skin.

You start to move your hips with more purpose as he switches to your right breast, again circling the nipple with his tongue before drinking his fill.

You wrap your hands around the back of his head, holding him gently to your chest as you slightly increase your pace, your breath coming out in labored huffs. Your center starts to clench around him, and he knows you are getting close.

He continues to suck on your nipple while bringing his hand down to your clit and rubbing circles upon the engorged nerve.

His eyes open in shock when you start to moan, really moan, loudly. His obedient, sweet, quiet, Kitty almost never makes a sound.

I finally made you Purr

The sound of your moans, the clench of your most intimate muscles around him and the shudder that runs through your body from the power of the orgasm that blasted it's way through you was enough to send Ettore into bliss of his own as he grunted, looking up at you jaw slack while he coated your walls once again.

He helped you lay back on the bed and watched you intently as you drifted off to sleep a small smile on your face.

As he lay there next to you, his hand on your belly, his mind started to race with the thoughts of the other women who had gotten pregnant on the ship. All of them died.

Every. Single. One.

Dibs didn't try hard enough, she missed something, she's doing something wrong.

For the first time in months, Ettore got out of bed and left you alone to sleep while he moved through the hallways with purpose toward the office of Dr. Dibs.

He was determined to make sure she was aware of how important it was for her to figure out how to get you through the pregnancy without losing you.

Because if Kitty dies. Everybody Dies

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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.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[arcielee]

Do you have any fic recs for other characters that Ewan has played?? Tom especially??

Okay, I have my tags [☆ arcie's library & ☆ arcie's fic recs] but you mentioned one of my favorites played by Ewan soo...

My darling anon, do I ever.

Here are some Tom fucking Bennett ficrecs 💖

For series I adore:

The Seamstress & The Sailor by @assortedseaglass This is definitely one of my favorites. Hilde portrays Tom in a way the WoF writers envy and her OCs that she knits into this story are just so perfectly flawed. This is a slow burn and I just love every word.

Gone With Regrets by @myfandomprompts One of my first Tom Bennett stories I have read and I absolutely fell in love. Her Tom is such a scoundrel with a heart of gold and I fucking adored it.

As the World Burns by @theoneeyedprince This has another rich OC. I love the interactions she has with Tom so far, just this palpable tension between. The story is new, but with how Justine delivered with A Refined Taste, I have complete faith in that I will love this one as well.

One-shot delights & depravities I love:

I enjoyed @exitpursuedbyavulcan 12 Days of Smuff, especially the Tom Bennett pieces that fed into one another. They were delicious.

@helaelaemond has written some of the raunchiest Tom Bennett x reader stories that always leave me weak in the fucking knees.

@aemondsbabe [Homecoming] & @happilyhertale [all her Tom Bennett x reader] & @adragonprinceswhore [her Tom Bennett x reader] are other one-shots I have read and enjoyed thoroughly.

@valeskafics has written for Tom Bennett x reader, but she also writes for the Ewanverse in general, and since you mentioned characters 😈

And since you mentioned other characters...

@troublesomesnitch did this Abraham x reader piece that had me chewing on my furniture.

@fallingintoyourlilaceyes has written for Osferth and Michael Gavey and it is also delicious.

@itbmojojoejo did this piece for Ettore that I fucking loved: Home Sweet Prison [but I just noticed there was another one, omg 👀]

And for those who got to see Salad Days, Redemption by @babyblue711 was just wonderful.

Oh! Honorable mention to that sad, wet cat Billy Washington. Most of the writers I have mentioned have also written for him because how can you not?? Look at him! 😭

Please note this is such a small selection of the talent that is on this hellsite. Feel free to reblog with with some of your favorites!

[helaelaemond]

📖 Fic rec time! When you get this, reply with three fics that you've read and loved to pieces, then pass on to at least five other people who read fics. Let’s appreciate fic writers and their amazing stories 💖

I cannot keep it to just three!

Ghost of a King (Aegon x Helaena x Aemond) - @sylasthegrim - this is the first fic I ever read in the Ewanverse space, and the first fic I reblogged on this account. Just thinking about it - and Ez - makes me feel all warm and full of butterflies. I cannot recommend it enough!

Abraham x reader - @troublesomesnitch - this is a truly beautiful fic that I keep coming back to time and time again, it's so immersive, so beautifully written, and so sexy like omg me next pls pls plssssss

Lazy Sunday (Billy W x reader) - @arcielee - one of my all-time favourite comfort fics. It feels like a warm hug, a totally safe space, all hazy orange light and comfy pillows. I sink into it time and time again

See You At Sunset (Billy W x reader) - @targaryenrealnessdarling - this is a genuinely fantastic piece of writing, and the characterisation of Billy is wonderful. It is an intensley perfect balance of romance and sexiness, and I'm not ashamed to admit I've re-read it probably a dozen times

Take Me To Church (Osferth x reader) - @sylasthegrim - my beloved Ez is one of the most artistic writers I have ever read. The way they weave words together is an absolute joy to read, and my own writing improves just from reading theirs. This fic in particular is so intense and so emotive, it's a stand-out to me. Guilt-wracked and impossibly-turned on Osferth is just a delight, and it makes my heart race.

Hush (modern Aemond x reader) - @st-eve-barnes - to put in writing how much I adore this fic would dimish any meaning. I want to write poetry about this and it changed me as a person, I fear

Gone With Regrets - @myfandomprompts - my sweet, wonderful myfandomprompts, who would I be without this series? I have never been one for OCs, and this is the first fic in my entire time in fandom for more than a decade where I have absolutely fallen in love. This series is one of my all-time favourites. The narrative is dealt with sensitively (given the delicacy of writing about WWII from a French perspective) and the characterisation of Tom is so perfect. This series has such a special place in my heart, along with the writer.

Temptation (Ettore x reader) - @babyblue711 - this fic is a dark and intense ride, and handled in a deliciously depraved way. Not for the faint of heart, but for those enjoyers of a truly accurate Ettore, this fic is one of the stand-outs.

[fan-goddess]

Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 🩷

Thank you @anjelicawrites and @the-common-cowgirl for tagging me in this it means a lot 🩷 And sorry for waiting so long to post

1) Not his wife - (Aegon Targaryen x reader) An anon request for jealous Aegon that I actually enjoyed writing and think I got a good flow with

2) I remember you - (Aemond Targaryen x reader/sorta oc vibes) It’s got soft Aemond which I loved writing and him being simp is so cute. Though I wrote this at a time when I didn’t know know to get around the whole having no name thing without having y/n so that’s a whole thing so she gotta Valyrian name even though she’s from (I wanna say crownlands?)

3) The death of a life - (Aemond targaryen x reader) This was my first ever request and I was so proud how this turned out! This was again written when I didn’t know how to write out a name so if you see old comments with Daena that’s why 😅

4) Ten Things I Hate About You - (Ettore x reader) My baby. My first series. Was meant to be a oneshot but was encouraged to make more and loved how it turned out! Finishing it was a heartbreaker

5) I can't think of a 5th 😅

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Fic Title ask game ✨

Deftones edition 🤭

• Cherry Waves

• Diamond Eyes

Cherry Waves - an Aemond x Velaryon OC fic. They're on opposite sides during the dance - genuine enemies to lovers to enemies again type scenario. We love a doomed by the narrative romance.

Diamond Eyes - An Ettore fic - I'd write a psychologist into the crew for the ship and the fic would centre around their sessions together.

Send me a fic title ask game

[thought--bubble]

Yep! That's him.

Insanely hot and insanely..... well.... insane.

Thanks for reading sweetness!

Kitty Cat Part 3 (Revised)

Ettore X OFC

Warnings after the break

Kitty Cat Master list

Ettore Master List

Full Master list

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings:: Ettore, Male Masturbation, heavy petting, dubcon. Sexual themes and references.

You stood nearly still the only movement being your head nuzzling into ettores chest. His breathing getting harsher, and his grip on your hair was tightening.

His body feels solid but warm. He has pressed his entire frame up against yours. The pressure of which you revel in .

"You bastard! Let her go!" Came Boyse's angry voice from the doorway.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to help yourself!" She seethed as she ran over prying the two of you apart.

She turned towards you and rubbed your cheek.

"Are you OK kitty?

You nuzzle her hand with a small smile on your face.

She looked at Ettore with a fire burning in her eyes as he looked back at her with a face of indifference.

"She rubbed up against me." He shrugged and quickly left the room.

"You can't get that close to him, kitty. He's dangerous." She pulls you close to her and strokes the back of your hair.

You shrug and rub your face into Boyses shoulder. The pressure and warmth keeping you calm and grounded.

I want to get close to him again.

You don't know why, but from then on, you were trying to get close to Ettore, but you never could with the great wall of Boyse blocking your path at every turn.

You could tell Ettore was getting frustrated as he was trying to get close to you, too. He would get behind you in line for food, but Boyse would slip in between you. He would stand behind you in excercises, but Boyse would grab you and switch places, and since that laundry assignment, you and Ettore had not been assigned together again.

Weeks passed like this, and you had all but given up on trying to get to Ettore instead, focusing on keeping Boyse happy.

Boyse is the priority

On a particularly restless night, you lie in your bunk surrounded by the snores of the other girls as you stare at the bunk above you and rub your cheek on your shoulder.

Time moves too slow up here.

You have spent a lot of nights like this. Unable to sleep, the cold of the sheets on your body gave you anxiety. The hardness of what they called a mattress that you laid on making sleep a difficult thing to achieve.

As you continue to lay there, you feel a presence. Like a cold chill has swept through the room, the little hairs throughout your body standing at full attention. You lazily roll your head towards the doorway, and you see him. He's ever so silently standing there staring at you, rubbing his hand up and down his stomach slowly. He moves from his upper chest down to below his belly button before returning to his chest, to follow the motion all over again.

Come closer

You stare back at him and bring your hand to your face, and gentlt rub it against your cheek. He watches you with his mouth hanging open while he drops his hand slowly but with purpose into his sleep shorts.

You can see that his hand is moving rapidly , and you watch him, an unrecognizable want growing in your chest as you continue nuzzling into your own hand. Your eyes stay connected the entire time. There is something so strange yet so sensual in the way that you and Ettore can speak to each other without words. Eventually, he bites his bottom lip and grunts quietly before swiftly turning on his heel and walks away. You watch him walk until he is out of sight. That yearning in your chest is growing ever deeper.

Why did you go?

Your eyes travel back up to the underside of the bunk above you. Sleep is even harder to achieve since you are now left with a burning in between your thighs you don't recognize.

Ettore

You don't typically speak, butnevennif you did, you dont think that you would tell anyone about your late night visit from Ettore.

The next morning, you had an inspection by dibs, the aftermath of which had you moving very slowly due to the pain. You had never been poked and prodded this much in your life prior to boarding this ship. Especially in the area she prods.

Due to your odd behavior, you had difficulty forming normal relationships back on earth before your sentence. You've never had a boyfriend or even been kissed. So, for you, Dibs' inspections felt especially violent.

You shuffle your way to the cafeteria and look for Boyse. You're not hungry but are in desperate need of comfort. Your eyes float around the cafeteria. It's basically empty. No Boyse in sight. You see Monte sitting at one table and Ettore sitting at another.

Where is she?

You can't go to Monte. He always shoves you away when you try to make contact with him, and if you go to Ettore, Boyse might explode. You hear that familiar rushing return to your ears as you start making a whining sound and rub your face roughly against your shoulder.

Make it stop, make it stop

This causes Ettore to look up at you. A little half smirk crawls up his face as he looks around the cafeteria. A twinkle clear as day in his eye as he seems to have come to the same realization as you. No, Boyse. While this caused you great stress and anxiety, it seemed to bring a large smile to Ettore's face.

He stands in a rush, discarding his tray. He makes it a point to rub up against you as he passes. Making it seem as if he had to squeeze by. When his body comes into contact with yours, you whimper audibly.

With a small smirk on his face, he goes to exit the cafeteria. He stops in the doorway and turns around, his eyes catching yours.

He raises his hand and makes a come hither motion and very quietly says, "Come kitty".

You follow him out of the cafeteria, your feet carrying you as if you were connected to an invisible leash that Ettore was dragging behind him.

He reaches the metal ladder that leads to the box and gestures towards it "go down the ladder"

Yes

You instantly comply.

As soon as you reach the bottom and get off the ladder, it feels as if your stomach is suddenly filled to the brim with ice.

You hear the light patter of Ettores' feet as they hit each wrung of the ladder as he decends.

When he hits the bottom, you look at him with wide eyes as he decends upon you, quickly backing you up into the wall. He presses his body up against you tightly and immediately starts to shove his hand into your scrub bottoms.

Ow, ow what are you doing?

You let out a whining noise and try to move away when he brings his other hand up to your face. Gently brushing his fingers against your cheek.

"Shhh, kitty, shh," he whispers into your ear.

You feel your body begin to relax, and you nuzzle into his hand. He uses his knee to push your legs apart and quickly shoves his other hand into your underwear and into your heat.

He lets out a deep sigh into your ear once his hand reaches its destination. You continue nuzzling into his hand, purring lightly all the while. You show him no resistance.

"This is perfect," he whispers as he starts to pull your scrub bottoms down with the hand he had just had in your heat while simultaneously continuing to rub your face with the other.

Just then, you can hear that someone has started to decend the ladder. Ettore pulls your scrub bottoms back up quickly and backs away from you.

Don't go

You take a step towards Ettore, and he glares at you freezing you in your tracks.

Tchemy reaches the bottom of the ladder and jumps back when he notices you and Ettore standing there. He briefly looks between the two of you and then continues making his way to the box.

Ettore quickly makes his way back up the ladder, not casting you a second glance. Leaving you confused for a moment before making your way back up the ladder.

You start down the hallway looking for Ettore. It seems he has all but vanished.

Come back

"Kitty! There you are!" Boyses voice rings down the hallway.

You turn and see her coming towards you and you start to move quickly towards her.

"Hey how did your inspection go?" She says gently rubbing your cheek.

You make a light whimpering noise and nuzzle roughly into her hand.

"That bad, huh?" Boyse says softly.

"It's ok, kitty, come lay down." Boyse takes your hand and leads you back to the room that you share with the other female inmates.

"Lay down and rest. Movement makes it worse," she says, looking at you with a solemn expression on her face.

It's always worse

You lay down and look up at the bunk above you and close your eyes, and all you can see are the sparkling blue eyes of Ettore staring back at you.

You make a whimpering sound and whisper too low for Boyse to hear you.

"This is perfect"

A/N : for the one person who messaged me on this fic. I know he is a bad person. I am not justifying his actions, I write about what I want, and almost no one is reading this fic. Lol, let me be!

Part 4

To be added to taglist click here

[dodofour]

This was an OC question prompt I filled out for fun in the discord

01. Oldest OC: My oldest OC is a black wolf named Galar. She has purple boot markings and usually stained with blood. She was actually a side character to a larger story that has long since been scrapped.

02. Newest OC: My newest oc is an unnamed witch from a story I have about magic, fantastical creatures and the scientific world coexisting in one place.

03. Favorite OC: My favorite original character answer at some point easily would have been either Sharu or Lamis, with Fifi coming close behind, but at any given moment I usually have one or two ocs I'm particularly infatuated with and couldn't be for sure.

04. Favorite OC Design: My favorite design I've done that I still own is Scarlet, a "foxpixie"(original species). His design is simple and pleasing to me without being unnatural.

05. Main Reason For Making OCs: Self expression, connecting with others by creating characters that harbor relatable aspects of myself, and just the challenge of it.

06. Character Creation Process: World > Vague Archetype > Vague Appearance > Refining Character Traits > Refining Appearance > Complete Character

07. Do You Ship Your OCs W/ Someone Else's: Romantically, not at the moment, but I wouldn't be opposed to it if I thought the characters would make a good match beyond just their aesthetics

08. Fav OC Ship?: Sharu x Chotsea favorite. Runnerups Taka x Scarlet, and Dusty x Fifi though those two make the best friends already.

09. Weirdest OC: Currently I believe Adek would have to be weirdest. They're a nervous wreck who just as easily switches and finds unwavering confidence as they take different forms while shapeshifting.

10. Villain OCs: Pelona the plant. He is redeemable to a point but his self hatred governs all his actions and he commits terrible acts against those around him in order to isolate himself. Then he turns into an uncontrollable mass of hatred. So yeah, him.

11. Would You Consider Yourself Nice To Your OCs: My older ones, yes. My newer ones, not so much. They go through much more pain.

12. An OC You've Killed (If You Haven't Killed Anyone, Who Would You Kill?): Pelona dies at the end of their story and comes back as a sad, small plant with no semblance of consciousness so I guess that counts. I have multiple alternate endings to Scarlet's story, where the character Muldoon can die in one of them, his loyal knight Ettore along with him.

13. Are Any Of Your OCs Parents: Yes, a few of my cantin OCs are parents (Ixias, Nelif and Paraiba). Sharu and Chotsea were once going to be parents but I undid that.

14. Are There Any OCs You Find Yourself Neglecting: Absolutely. I have neglected all the humanoid OCs in my "solarwitch" world for years. I also neglect most of my OCs made from 2014-2018. I still love them though.

15. An OC That's Difficult To Write/Draw/RP: Dorothy the skunk/cow hybrid has been unnaturally difficult for me to write any backstory for, let alone draw. I don't RP.

16. Tallest And Shortest OCs: Going by relative height to other developed (fully grown) characters in their worlds; CG, Yuuma. Fairy Queen, Periwinkle. As for OCs with no specific universe, Chotsea or Under might be the tallest, Fudgey is the smallest.

17. Oldest and Youngest OCS: Tellstruths and an unnamed dragonfly are ancient in age, while Clauze is the youngest developed OC I have. All are from the Redgrass world

18. Do You Dislike Any Of Your OCs: Dolores is an OC I made my sona as a joke as he is very unlike me. He's high strung and doesn't get along with my other sonas. Therefore he is the closest to disliked, though even then I can't really dislike any of my characters since I made them.

19. Have You Ever Made A Self Insert: I assume this is referring specifically to making a fancharacter for a piece of media that is supposed to represent myself if I were in said world. None come to mind.

20. An OC Regret: I don't give enough love to my OCs and that is regrettable. A design I regret making maybe? I don't have one...

21. An OC You Didn't Expect To Be Popular: Speagle. I knew kidcore stuff was popular but I didn't think people would like him enough to be downloading his pics to put in moodboards and adding him to their kin tags. As for a more recent example, Marbol was more well received than I thought he would be for a little green gremlin thing, so that was nice.

22. An OC You Didn't Expect To Love: I expect to love any OC I design to keep, but Adek in particular was just so silly to begin with I didn't think I'd be so attached to him. His name literally used to be obscenities bc of how much of a joke he was. He's stupid and a scaredy cat and I have a special soft spot for him now.