#high life fan fiction

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Hand That Feeds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck is she playing at?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck was that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter two || Series masterlist

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Drown Inside Me

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

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer me.”

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

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

“Go on then. Keep going.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck-”

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

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

She grinned in a way he both loved and hated.

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

“You can fucking talk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[thought--bubble]

Make You Beg

Ettore X Prison Nurse Reader X Will (Salad Days)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 2736

Ettore Masterlist

Will (Salad Days) Masterlist

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Banners by @arcielee

Gorgeous Banner inspired by this story made by @vhagar-balerion-meraxes it is so beautiful!

A/N: Not me writing the filthiest thing I can imagine with two minor characters. This is purely self-indulgent.

Warnings: Ettore is his own warning, mentions of physical violence, blood, Dubcon , biting, scratching, predatory behaviors, hair pulling, mentions of pain, some sub/dom behaviors, degradation, fingering, oral sex male receiving, PinV unprotected, rough sex, deepthroating, crying, humiliation and praising.

"Again?" You sigh as your favorite frequent flyer, Will, shuffles into your exam room with yet another bloody lip and possible broken nose.

"What can I say? I missed ya. " he chuckles as he makes his way to the gurney on the left.

You put your hand up to the guard that brought him as he goes to handcuff him to the gurney.

"That isn't necessary. Will here won't give me any problems" You smile at Will, you have been through this with him many times and have built a friendly rapport. You trust him to behave.

"It isn't you that I'm concerned about" the guard laughs heartily, as another guard walks in with an inmate you haven't seen before.

The inmate has clear injuries to his mouth but would still be lesser priority than Will.

Will rolls his eyes and audibly groans. "This fucking nonce"

The other inmate lunges toward him, the guard grappling him to the floor.

"Cut it out!" The guard yells authoritatively, the inmate on the ground immediately stops struggling, allowing the guard to get him back to his feet.

You shriek as you jump back. "Should we even have them both in here at the same time?"

"They will be fine as long as this one can learn to shut his gob," the guard by Will says as he latches Will's arm to the metal post of the gurney.

You move to the second inmate as he is also latched to his gurney. "Ettore," the guard next to him says. "Watch out with this one he is a....... just watch out"

You look at the two guards with confusion as they move toward the door. "Where are you going?!" Your voice is laced with panic. You have never been left alone with an inmate, let alone two.

"The fight they started devolved. It's all hands on deck. They are hooked tight. You'll be fine. I will come back as soon as possible"

"Surely you are joking?" You whimper slightly as the two guards leave the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

When you turn back around, you see your two patients. Each handcuffed to their gurney. Will looking over at Ettore, hatred etched across his face while Ettore stares directly at you. Tilting his head slightly to the side as his eyes wander up and down your form.

"Right. Ummm, " You nervously wipe your palms on your thighs trying to quell the nausea creeping its way up your throat. "Will seems to have more injuries, so I should tend to him first"

You nervously move toward Will while trying to position your body so that you don't entirely turn your back on Ettore.

"I wouldn't let him hurt ya, ya gotta know tha" Will smiles at you from his place on the gurney, his voice soft and sweet.

"No offense, but you let him hurt you pretty good." You chuckle as you start to dab away the blood on his lower lip with a cotton ball.

"Yeah, well, that's different. Two blokes throwing blows. Not the same thing as an animal like that coming after a lass. " You can hear Ettore grumble from across the room, his handcuffs clacking against the metal bar of the gurney.

"Will," you say warningly "remember, watch your words. I don't want any further trouble with you two."

"You know what he's in here for?" He asks, making your stomach turn. You don't know and don't want to know.

"You're all in here for something, hardly my business, to know what" You finish tending to his lip and start to clean around his eye.

"I robbed a post office. Then beat my best friend half to death over a girl that never even liked me. I'm an idiot. Not an animal. " You stay silent and continue to tend to his wounds. You had always wondered how he found himself in here. He was scrappy, but he was so sweet.

"He is an entirely different beast." He motions toward Ettore, who simply scoffs.

You swallow nervously. Between the comments from the guard, Will's analysis and Ettore's lecherous gaze you had an inkling of what type of "beast" Ettore might be, making the fact that you have to treat him all the more daunting.

"I'm here to heal, not judge. Now sit back. " You push Will back against The gurney by the shoulder so you can inspect his nose further.

"You have such a handsome face. You really should stop getting punched in it. " You move to set his nose, and he grunts.

"Think I'm handsome, do ya? He wiggles his eyebrows at you and smirks.

You blush and pat his shoulder. "Nose should heal up fine."

You turn and walk towards Ettore, your stomach dropping.

"Hello Ettore, let's take a look at that mouth ok?" You take his chin in your hand and angle his face upward and can't help but notice the goosebumps that ripple across his skin at your touch.

Swallowing deeply, you gently ease his mouth open with your thumb and use your little flashlight to peer inside. "Doesn't look like any teeth were knocked loose or anything like that so you should be fine."

You move to leave his bedside, but his hand shoots up and holds your wrist tightly. "Ettore....." You attempt to sound intimidating so you could assert your authority over him.

"Oi!, let her go!" Will yells from the other side of the room, his cuffs jangling wildly against the metal bar of his gurney.

Ettore pulls you down roughly toward his face and sniffs into your hair with deep, long controlled breaths.

You stay very still, your mind telling you to run but unable to respond physically. Frozen in place while Ettore continued to sniff you.

He clamps his hand tighter still on your wrist as he grips the hand cuff with his other hand pulling tightly until the gurney bar snaps out of place.

Your breath hastens as you hear the light jingle of him sliding the handcuff down and off the bar before bringing his newly freed hand to the back of your head gripping your hair tight and pulling your head back.

You can feel the harsh thump of your heart beating in your chest as he drags his nose down the length of your neck, breathing in deeply. You can still faintly hear the sounds of Will struggling against his confinement on the other side of the room as Ettore begins to speak quietly.

"Do I excite you?" He asks as he nips at your neck. You feel a burning heat building in your core. You know you shouldn't. This is a bad man. A man that you should not be anywhere near. Yet you gently nod your head as he smirks at you.

"Hey! Let her alone!" Will desperately attempts to free himself to no avail. The desperation evident in his tone.

Ettore bites into your neck harshly, and you can't help but squeak. "Mmmm," he grumbles into your neck. Shivers of pleasure and fear make their way down your throat and down the length of your spine. He gently licks at the marks he left, the stinging sensation further adding to the heat building in your core.

Will's struggling is echoing throughout the room, and his desperate pleas pull at your heartstrings, seemingly breaking the spell Ettore has cast upon you. You pull yourself away from Ettore and stumble backward a few steps.

Your brain telling you to put as much distance between him and you as possible, your body begging you to return to him.

Ettore looks at you with curiosity and then smirks, swinging his legs over the side of the gurney.

You turn and walk back to Will quickly. "You alright?" He reaches out and gently touches your cheek before turning his head towards Ettore, who is now stalking over to you.

"Let her alone!" Will wraps his free arm around you, clutching you toward his chest. His heart beating loudly against his rib cage. The feeling comforting.

Ettore wraps his arms around your midsection, pulling you towards him while Will swings at him wildly with his free arm.

"I swear I'll kill ya!" He yells, desperately pulling against his restrained wrist.

"She don't want that..... do ya?" Ettore strokes his hand down the side of your body, lightly grazing over every curve and dip, until he reaches the waistband of your scrubs and quickly brings his hand to your heat.

Pleasure shoots straight through your body all the way down to a pleasant tingle in your toes at the touch.

"No," you just barely whisper, leaning your head back against Ettore's shoulder.

Will's mouth drops open in shock. "What?"

He watches as Ettore rubs at your pearl in circles, your head leaning back against his shoulder, your muffled whimpers growing in volume.

A satisfied smirk crosses Ettore's face as he continues pleasuring you while his gaze is fixed on Will.

"Want more?" He growls in your ear, his never-ending staring contest with Will still raging on.

"Yes," you moan more than whisper desperate for more of the delicious friction his hand was providing. Ettore bends you over the gurney, your chest pushed down into a stunned Will's lap. He makes quick work of your scrubs and panties, bringing his hand to the back of your head and yanking you up by the hair.

"Look at him," Ettore growls as he shoves a finger into your cunt, pumping it furiously. "Make him beg for some"

You lift your eyes to meet Will's while wanton moans escape your lips.

Will brings his hand down to your face and gently strokes your cheek with his fingertips. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. The praise going straight to your heat.

Ettore removes his fingers from you and pulls his own pants down to his mid thighs stroking himself a few times before roughly grasping your hips and shoving his cock inside you all the way to the hilt.

You scream at the sudden intrusion, the pain mixing with pleasure as you feel yourself split open on his girthy length.

"Shhh shhh, you're ok," Will gently coos as Ettore starts to pound into you furiously. Dragging his free hand down your back, his fingernails digging into the skin like an animal marking its territory.

You emit a sound somewhere between a painful screech and a moan while Will takes your face in his hand. Like you were made of glass, his tender touch mixing with the raw animalistic touch of Ettore, causing a swirling of pleasure to radiate up through your stomach.

Will shifts on the gurney, adjusting himself, trying to hide his growing bulge as he watches Ettore take you, all the while providing you with tender words and caresses.

Your mouth hangs open as Ettore roughly drags his cock against your walls battering your insides with reckless abandon. Your eyes connected to Will's as he wipes the tears that stream down your face.

Ettore reaches up and once again grips your hair, yanking your head back.

"You're a little fucking whore aren't ya?" His breathing is labored, each of his thrusts somehow seeming harsher than the last.

"Yes, yes," you whimper your mind blank and fully submissive.

"Then act like one," he grunts as he shoves your head down harshly, your face pushed up against the erection hidden within Will's trousers.

Will looks at Ettore with anger lacing his face.

"You don't have to do anything for me. Don't worry about me. " he pushes Ettore's hand away from the back of your head and caresses the recently abused area with a gentle touch.

"I ... I want to" your voice bounces as Ettore continues to slam into you from behind the skin on your ass going numb from the repeated skin to skin smacking.

"Uhh..." Will's voice is unsteady as you bring your hand up to his bulge, gripping his length over his trousers. He closes his eyes and groans at the pressure, shocks of electricity traveling up his spine.

You pull at the trousers and Will lifts himself up for a moment allowing you to get them down enough to free his cock.

"Only if this is what you want" He says breathlessly as he grips his length tightly the angry red tip leaking pre cum.

"Fuck!" Ettore growls loudly from behind you digging his fingernails into your skin. "Do it you little fucking whore."

At Ettore's demand you take the tip of Will's cock into your mouth swirling your tongue around the tip moaning as you taste the pre cum that has begun to collect there. "Shitttt," Will moans as he pushes your hair out of your face, giving him a better view of you with his cock in your mouth.

Ettore's thrusts grow harder forcing Will's cock further into your mouth as he begins to involuntarily buck his hips. "You're so fucking pretty, so pretty" Will moans stroking the back of your head gently as Ettore's cock continues to roughly spear your cunt and Will's cock batters the back of your throat being pushed further and further until you struggle for oxygen.

Ettore grabs at your ass digging his fingers into the skin before bringing his hand around your hip and rubbing furiously at your pearl.

"Cum you dumb slut. I want to feel you clench around my cock as I fill you up" he snarls like an animal in heat leaning down and biting into the soft skin of your back.

you whimper at the demand and the pain, feeling your climax creep up closer and closer, unable to do anything but succumb to his wishes.

"Let go beautiful," Will whispers pleasure etched across his strong features, his thrusts into your eager mouth growing sloppier by the second.

With his gentle words and Ettore's rough touch, your orgasm wracks your entire frame. You moan loudly in pleasure, eyes rolling back, and legs nearly buckling beneath you.

You hear a loud grunt from behind you as Ettore empties himself into you, his fingernails again digging into the plush flesh of your hips.

Will thrusts into your mouth twice more before he whimpers releasing a salty stream of cum down your throat before collapsing back on the gurney.

Ettore pulls himself from your quivering walls and pulls up his trousers quickly, moving back to his gurney and plopping himself down with a satisfied huff.

Will slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth pulling your face up towards him and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You alright?" He asks as he rubs your back soothingly.

You're too winded to speak and can only absent-mindedly nod towards him. He fixed his trousers before leaning over and helping you pull your own bottoms up.

"C'mere," he coos, pulling you onto the gurney with him cuddling you with his free arm.

"You did so good. So, so good, baby. " he kisses your shoulder and gently rubs your hip where Ettore had dug into your flesh.

You jump from the gurney quickly as you hear the deep voices of the guards nearing the door. Running over to Ettore and sliding his cuff back onto the metal bar of the gurney and popping it in place, hoping they wouldn't notice that it is broken.

You fix your hair as quick as you can and wipe the tears out from under your eyes as the door swings open.

"Everything go alright in here?" one of the guards asks, hardly looking at you before moving over to Ettore and unlocking his cuff.

"Yes," you clear your throat, trying to make sure to hide any hint of your dazed and satisfied condition.

"They are both fine and cleared to go back to their cells." You wave your hand towards the door dismissively. Your ultimate goal is to get all of these men out of your exam room immediately.

Ettore is removed first. He says nothing just drags his eyes up and down your frame once more before being dragged out the door.

Will, on the other hand, smiles toward you as he is led out behind him.

"Next time I'm coming alone!" He yells just as the door closes.

You sit down in your chair winded, confused and aching.

"Next time?"

To be added to taglists click HERE

[fan-goddess]

You made me love you

Pairing: Ettore x reader

Chapter Summary: You try to get back to normal after what happened last night. Only Ettore has different ideas for what’s going to happen.

Chapter Warnings: Questionable consent, f oral, praising, heavy masochism from both parties, implied breeding kink but squint ya miss, this is limited plot this is practically all heavy porn

Story Taglist: @chainsawsangel, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @chompchompluke, @targaryenrealnessdarling, @omgbrcat, @humanpurposes, @mushu-09, @toodlesxcuddles, @pendragora,

Other Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five,

When you turn over, still half naked with his seed and other bodily fluid covering you, your too tired to hold the smile from your face. You were right, that was exactly how you thought he would fuck like.

He’d been rough. With a minimal amount of actual care in how you were feeling at the time. Yet even so, you can’t help but ponder about how much you actually liked it.

As you listen to Ettores laboured breaths while he pretends to not lurk in the doorway, much to your amusement, you can’t help but let a small drop of your blood that trickles down your shoulder slightly gather onto your index finger, and plop it in your mouth. You find yourself savouring the strangely powering taste of iron that lingers in your mouth as you finally close your eyes, and let yourself drift into a deep sleep.

The next morning though, you find yourself waking to the unmistakable aching that throbs in your shoulder. You can also hear the background chatter that happens between the two other women you share a quarters with, and you must admit, fear strikes you for a quick moment when you look down at yourself and remember you’re still half naked.

Though it seems that Ettore not only fucked the dignity out of you last night, but your sanity as well. Instead of doing what a normal person would’ve done, and making yourself decent, you just laid where you are. You keep yourself still to imitate sleep, and listen to their conversation on how tired they became last night, and how deeply they both appeared to sleep.

If they’d noticed your bruises and your half nude self, then they kept it to themselves. None of any real conversations were attempted, or even directed to you the entire time you laid there.

You only began to move after they’d left. Wincing and hissing slightly at the dull pain that had begun to radiate through your whole body and acting sluggish when you change into your day clothes. As you look at your bruising flesh, you can’t help yourself from letting a single finger trail over the mark and press lightly on it.

Even when you walk to the mess hall, you can still feel the reminder of last night sticking to the skin of your inner thigh. A throbbing sensation making itself known to you that leaves you limping slightly.

Your mind though, is like it’s in a trance like blur. Filled with a type of numbness that radiates through your brain as you obediently eat the stuff in front of you that Dibs deems fit to call food fit for consumption.

When you look up, it is Ettores eyes that you meet once again from across the room, and with last night flicking through your head like a slideshow, you don’t find yourself able to look away. The action, whilst it makes your heart beat loudly in your chest from some current unknown emotion, also makes you aware of the growing wetness in your already ruined underwear.

You don’t feel as though your human. As even after all that, you just continue to stare blankly at him while you try to continue eating. Choosing to ignore the dark gleam that you can see in his distant eyes as they consistently watch your every move.

Though when you leave to clean yourself and rid yourself of Ettores dried cum that lingers on your inner thigh, the moments of the night playing once more through your head like a slideshow. You can’t get the imagery away from you even if you try, and it was strange enough to think just how much you actually liked what he did to you. That while you were waiting for him to possibly come to your bed and take you, you felt yourself growing wetter with arousal at the idea of what he’d do.

The rest of the day is filled with thoughts similar to before. Filled with inner debates where you argue with yourself on your, feelings for Ettore while you do your chores mindlessly.

You’re in the middle of taking the basket of dirty laundry into the laundry room, a task that does not need much thought processing for, when you hear the sound of the rooms door closing behind you with a loud creaking noise.

You instinctively turn around to see what is happening, and it’s as if your chest seems to almost stop, at the sight of a nearly naked Ettore just standing there.

You don’t make a noise in greeting or dismissal. You don’t even really acknowledge him. Instead, you just put the dirty laundry into the machine and turn it on before turning sitting yourself on the machine to look at him once more.

“What do you want Ettore?” You murmur as you look at him with hooded eyes.

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he stalks towards you slowly, before taking a firm grip of your upper thighs and pulls you to the edge of the machine. He makes harsh eye contact with you, and with the mixture of just his presence and the slight vibrations the machine is giving you, you can feel your underwear begin to dampen. It only worsens more as the supposed tension between the two of you rises. The room feeling hot and humid the more his eyes pierce you.

“Just relax… it’ll feel good.” He mutters before harshly pulling your trousers and underwear off in one almost impressively clean go. The feeling of his warm breath against your naked lower half causing a mixture of shivers and electricity to go straight down your spine.

“Fucking perfect pussy…” He mumbles quietly before licking a thick stripe of your leaking cunt with his tongue, groaning while he swallows seemingly merely at the taste of you.

“Oh fuck…” you whine before quickly weaving your hand in his head and tugging slightly, moaning through a smug smirk as you feel the slight vibrations of Ettores groan right where you wanted him to be.

“Knew you’d taste absolutely fucking perfect…” Ettore smirks as he continues to suck and lick at your soaking cunt, using his hands to grip almost bruisingly at your thighs to keep you in place while he tastes you.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you feel your peak arriving when a single hand slithers down and joins in on the assault on your cunt, not even needing to prepare you considering how wet you were already. Soon, the feeling of his thrusting fingers and the mixture of him licking and sucking on your clit makes you grip his hair firmly between your fingers, as you feel your peak wash harshly over you.

While you attempt to recover, the feeling of his tongue almost cleaning you of your juices causes weak noises to pitifully spill from your mouth. When you find yourself able to move and look down at him, it almost looks as if he has to forcibly pull himself away from you.

When you get a look at his face, practically shining in the light with how much of your arousal covered his lower mouth, you feel a whole new range of emotions hitting you all at once. The image of his tongue poking out to lick at the remnants of you round his mouth, and the one of him sucking on his soaking fingers, already imprinted in your mind forever.

He doesn’t say anything else for a while. Simply pulling his trousers down before yanking your head up by your hair to make eye contact with you, as he inserts himself deeply inside of you. You hadn’t been able to see him the last time, but now, you get a front row view in seeing Ettores face scrunched up with an almost ethereal look of pleasure.

There’s no resistance like the last time, due to the most generous amount of preparation Ettore gave you moments ago. So he wastes no time before harshly pulling himself out leaving only the tip still inside of you, before thrusting back into you. The feeling of his hips roughly hitting your own whilst being slightly uncomfortable at first, only adds to a whole new sense of pleasure that you’re feeling. Plus, the sound of his attempted muffled grunts mixing with the wet sound of your fucking makes your head spin with a dazed grin.

Again, you almost feel embarrassed by how quickly you feel that coil inside of your nearly ready to burst. But then you feel the slight throbbing of Ettores cock inside of you, and the slight jagged breathing you hear in your ear, and you can’t help yourself from smirking as the realisation hits you. Ettore was just as desperate as you were.

“I’m close” You whine as you attempt to focus only on the feeling of his hands clenching at your thighs. You can see Ettores eyes dart to look up at you for a mere moment, before immediately going back to being transfixed by the sight of him impaling you on his cock over and over again. You can feel yourself about to moan again, but before you can do that, the feeling of his hands that you were so intently focusing on moment ago is gone. Instead, one of them moves to grip firmly on your throat, deliciously bordering on pain and pleasure, while the other trails down your sweat soaked body to help in the task in making you cum.

At the sudden added stimulation, your hands that were once gripping the machine bellow you for dear life, now move with almost a mind of their own to take a fistful of Ettores head and yank him closer to you. His head jerks up with a mixture of pleasure and confusion on his face, but soon he becomes out of sight as you go to sink your teeth harshly into the skin of his shoulder.

And even though you know he’ll probably deny it, you know for a fact that you could hear an almost clear sounding moan releasing from his mouth at the feeling of your mark. Your own bite throbbing in memory.

You can feel the warmth of his cum inside you as he fills you to the brim with a low groan of his, and once again Ettore for some unknown reason doesn’t pull out of you immediately. Instead, he just continues to stand there panting in your ear. Your own face still near buried into the curve of his shoulder with heavy breaths and a dazed smile.

You move your head only slightly, as if to remove yourself, but not before you spot the indents that your teeth left behind in Ettores skin. Your own bite mark still prominent, flaring in remembrance. When you turn your head away from the slightly erotic view you’re greeted with a direct view of his tattoo, an even more beautiful sight than the one you just saw, if it was even possible.

You can’t help but stop all your movements and admire it though. Looking deeply at the strange intricate details of the triangle, you’re almost tempted to pry off the hand still threaded in his hair and use a finger to trace the patterns lightly. Still, you resistant and try to imprint the view to memory. It seems to move with the skin of Ettores throat while he seemingly still tries to catch his breath, and you can’t help but try and preserve the almost beautiful sight before you before Ettore can move.

You know that he’s not a good person. Far from it, as the specific descriptions of him from his records come to mind. But the strange man in front of you almost looks vulnerable.

Ettore, vastly unaware of your thoughts, is currently tracing illegible patterns onto the skin of your bare back, while you feel him soften inside of you. His rapidly cooling spent you can feel leaking from your insides.

It’s a strangely nice moment between the two of you, you thought. Yet it seems Ettore doesn’t agree, as he all of a sudden pushes you away, so quick he himself stumbles slightly. He puts on the minimal clothing he wears and all but runs out of the room, without so much looking behind him as he slams the door.

It’s weird, but as he leaves you feel a part of yourself sadden as you watch him. He didn’t look back at you at any point, only looking at something in the distance as if he was in thought about something.

The sound of the washing machine brings you out of your thoughts. And as you get down from the machine you were sitting on, your legs give out when you try to stand. Your hips specifically crashing into the frame of the machine, and you can’t help but hiss at the blunt and unpleasant pain that begins to sting slightly.

“Stupidly pretty mother fucker…” Dark thoughts brewing as a you rub your somehow already bruising hip.

[alkeneater]

little break 😙(selfship content yay)

since my Abe is already an adult, i think he goes to college too! Clone college probably. Let's make it a real thing in this AU (it's definitely an AU why didn't i think about that).

And I go to uhhh some kind of art college (idk actually, in this AU i moved to exclamation!usa but idk if there are any design/art colleges🤔). I return home a bit later than him and he always waits for me :з and then we cuddle on the couch or armchair, i show him my artworks i made in class that day, vent, listen to him talking about his day, watch tiktok together, etc... just chilling after a hard day!

yeahhhh we do look like an old married couple...... 😳 because we kinda are... i even have a ring... i'm fr....

anyways this is how it looks in my head. IRL it's just me coming home, flopping down on my couch and talking to my blank white bodypillow...... lol........

[silusvesuius]

i legit love when a character's gender is so integral to their personality (and perception obviously.) like so concrete that if genderbent their whole shtick would just be absolute dookie. anyways i'm just writing this text so i can talk in the tags (My beautiful safe haven)

this 14 minute song is soooooooooooo FYRE

[randompajamaalt]

oups hand slipdt

im sane about him. completely. absolutely. not feral at all. nooope.

in a burst of hyperfixated joy i drew this fellow up in about 2 hours with no pauses. i finished at 2am. i had to wake up at 5am. i then had auditions at 9am. it was a wild ride

[rotato-potato]

I live in a delusional world where in high school musical sharpay and kelsi had a secret tumultuous toxic frenemies with benefits relationship in which sharpay was deeply in denial of her lesbianism hence her overcompensating with her obsession over troy and kelsi was just experiencing a combo of low self esteem I’ll take what I can get and I am fascinated by this turn of events and want to see how it plays out and throughout the movies as kelsi gains more confidence it changes the dynamic of their relationship and they either end up with a respect for each other that slowly turns into affection or they just both end up hurting each other so devastatingly that they never speak to each other again

[irepostalot]

Great i learn that one of my favorit characters are alive and and learn that my favorit from a diffrent anime died on the SAME DAY

I like acually had to sit and proces it for a moment, even though i knew that there was a huge chance of it happening

SPOILERS FOR JJK:

Rip Gojo Satoru, fly high<3

[millenari]

Ive been going through a really rough time rn, and i am gonna be completely honest: Gold Rush is one of the only things keeping me going. Every Wed and Sat i keep refreshing around the same time you usually update, and seeing 'next chapter' pop up makes me so happy.

Then it hit me: how much this fic really means to me. Its really helping me take things one day at a time, which is difficult in my situation. This fic is literally like, the one good thing in my life rn. So, thank you. To some it may be a fun fic. But to me, its a reason to keep going and not give up.

:) I'm so happy my little fic can be of so much help

[trashmouthbaby]

you know fuck people trying to be the purity police in fandoms recently, holding this moral high ground like it has its place there.

This is mostly about the way I’ve seen people treat ff authors and works. It baffles me to see fanfics being « cancelled » on twitter or TikTok or even there, seeing author being bullied and harassed because their work isn’t « woke enough » « problematic » or doesnt follow your particular hcs.

Fun fact ao3 has a tagging system. Everything that is important is tagged and you are warned. If you see « dead dove do no eat » don’t read it, but if you go around social media trying to cancel a piece of fiction which is properly fucking tagged because you just do not read the warning that’s on you mf.

Most importantly I don’t understand when this fucking turned around, because at the end of day, fanfiction writer are doing this for kicks, for shits and giggles if I may. It’s free work, they are not paid to write, whatever they do or say is not rewarded with money. So no you can’t hold them to your moral fucking high ground, because it has no place there.

It has no influence, you are not forced to read it, if you don’t like it leave it. But cancelling it, trying to interact with authors but at the end of day turning that against them, distorting everything they say, you sure as hell are a bunch of good people eh.

Ff authors are not influencers, they don’t make money out of their content, they don’t influence shit, they don’t owe you purity in their work, wokeness in their work. They write most of the time alone or sometimes with beta readers, for fun, they are at the end of the day amateurs and since they don’t make money out of this shit and it is not that fucking serious they don’t owe you anything, they don’t owe you being good, they don’t owe you posting a lot, they don’t owe you content, they don��t owe you fucking explanations and excuses.

They tag their stuff, some put warning at the beginning of each chapter or one shot.

The rest is on you.

Ill say once more because it truly drives me insane, you can’t hold a moral high ground on something that is free, not rewarded with any price or money, by people you do not know, that write for fun or other reason and that is properly tagged.

You have a problem with it, it’s yours, do not make it everyone’s problem and bully authors or people.

Good on you for fucking up people safe place or interest.

And stop treating authors like celebrities, if you like their stuff, read it, enjoy it, comment on it, but don’t go around idolising people and just leave them be.

People try so hard to be moral but have no problem bullying, harassing and sending death threat for somethings that isn’t that fucking serious at the end of the day.

People can read or write whatever the fuck they want and if you don’t want to read it then don’t.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Know What You Are

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader Warnings: Allusions to trauma, oral sex (m receiving), smut Word count: ~1k

Summary: Ettore explores the boundaries of consensual touch, and finds he isn't ready to relinquish control just yet.

Author's note: A little addition to The Hand that Feeds but can also be read as a standalone. Day three of the Smuffmas prompts - "in nature and deep throating". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She loves the garden. It’s the only place aboard the ship that doesn’t feel sterile and bathed in artificial light. Digging her fingers into the softness of the soil, allowing the rich, earthy scent to fill her nostrils, she can forget that she’s a prisoner. Every brush of soft green leaves against her skin is like a fleeting taste of freedom.

Her place on board is not undeserved. To some, taking revenge on the man who has raped you would be seen as wholly justified. To a jury, however, the violence of such an act was considered despicable. But it had felt good to watch the way his eyes had gouged from their sockets, to feel the way the knife had sliced through his flesh like butter, all the way to the bone. If she closes her eyes she can still smell the coppery tang of arterial blood. It makes her mouth water. She had enjoyed it, and to derive such pleasure from such depravity is well worth where she finds herself now. She’d do it a thousand times over.

Getting acquainted with fellow inmate, Ettore, has made her time here infinitely more interesting. She had noticed him straight away. Without confirming what he was here for, she’d been able to hazard a guess, it was obvious in how he carried himself. And more than apparent that she’d caught his eye too, he was always watching her.

She ought to be disgusted by him, knowing what he is, what he’s probably done, but there is something lurking beneath the surface that draws her to him, an invisible string that tugs them both together. It has only grown stronger since their first tryst in the Box; him spilling himself onto her stomach with his face pressed between her tits.

He doesn’t allow her to touch him, but despite this she knows she’s the one in control. His desperation for her makes him vulnerable, and she enjoys toying with that, seeing how far she can push him. It’s been days since his hips had rutted against hers, taking her roughly from behind in a storage cupboard, so she knows he’ll be back soon. The Box can’t satisfy him like she can.

She senses him before she sees him, as if the mere occurrence of him entering her thoughts has summoned him to her. His approach is always silent, she never hears him coming, but she can feel his presence. He looms over her, casting a shadow over her prone form as she kneels in the soil, plucking away the browning leaves of a fern.

“Did you want something, or you just lurking?” She asks, not looking up from what she’s doing.

“Tchemy in here with you?” Ettore asks, his tone nonchalant.

“You know he’s not, or you wouldn’t be in here,” she says, ridding herself of her gardening gloves and turning to look up at him.

She begins to rise, preparing to stand, when he holds out a hand to halt her.

“Don’t,” he says abruptly. “Just…don’t. Let me just look at you for a bit.”

She drops back to her knees, staring up at him, watching the way his eyes darken as he looks down at her. It makes her core throb with want.

His throat bobs as he reaches out a hand, fingertips dragging with light pressure over her jaw, before falling to her throat, squeezing experimentally. She allows it for a moment, before pulling back.

“Stop that,” she scolds softly, narrowing her eyes in angry warning. “You don’t need to do that with me. Use your words. Tell me what you want.”

He blinks, huffing through his nose, before bringing his hand back to her face, pulling down her bottom lip with his thumb, before letting it go. “This,” he utters, “want your mouth.”

“Good boy,” she purrs, “go on then.”

“Hands behind your back,” he orders, pulling down his scrubs and freeing his already half hard cock.

She does as she’s told, parting her lips to allow him to slide into the warmth of her mouth. He is tangy against her tongue, the head of him pressing heavily against the wet muscle as he gives a few shallow, tentative thrusts, rousing himself fully.

Breathing through her nose, she inhales the heady scent of him, faint sweat mixed with the ship’s standard issue soap. It’s utterly debasing in a way, yet it has arousal wetting her underwear just the same.

Drool gathers at the corners of her mouth as he picks up the pace, and she suppresses the urge to gag as he repeatedly knocks the back of her throat.

His brows are knitted together, eyes glassy and jaw slack as he gathers a fistful of her hair at the back of her head, using it as leverage to propel himself faster and harder. She relaxes, allowing him to push down further and moans around him, causing him to groan and throw his head back.

Pushing himself all the way into the hilt, Ettore’s grasp on her hair is so tight it tugs at her roots, and he holds himself there, pubic bone grazing the tip of her nose. She looks up at him with glassy eyes, stray tears trickling down her cheeks as she watches his predatory expression, but he is unmoving.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Finally he pulls back, all the way out, a string of her saliva connecting his hardened length to her lips, and she gasps and splutters for air momentarily, before he’s pushing back in.

His thrusts are shallower, salty precome and the pulsating of him in her mouth letting her know he’s nearing his end. When he finally climaxes it’s accompanied by a strangled cry and she quickly swallows, barely registering the viscous taste of him as it slides down her throat.

Releasing her, he tucks himself away and is breathless as he drops to his knees beside her. She wipes her mouth with the back one hand and swipes at her teary eyes with the other.

“I really…really want to hurt you,” he whispers, not looking at her. “But I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“I get that,” she says gently, “really, I do.”

“You’ve seen me,” he says, looking into her eyes. The emotion she sees reflected back at her makes her heart lurch.

“Yeah,” she replies, “and you’ve seen me.”

Chapter one || Chapter three || Series masterlist

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Deadlock

Summary: A jealous Ettore endeavours to remind her just who is in control | Word Count: 1.9k~ | Warnings: dubcon, ettore, face fucking, breath play, degradation, face slapping, jealous ettore, come swallowing

It was dangerous and they both knew it. Someone was bound to find out sooner or later. But what punishment could be worse than what their lives currently were? For her, the worst that Dibs could do was up her sedatives and forgo the use of lubrication when her bi-weekly examinations were due.

Ettore on the other hand didn't care much for thinking how he could be punished. All he thought in terms of that, was what he could do to her.

He remembers fucking seething, sat on one side of the canteen, not even paying attention to how tightly he gripped the fork in his palm, wound tight with anger and resentment as she watched her and Monte chat lazily while they picked out their food.

To anyone else, it was merely a friendly, non-committal conversation. And if Ettore really thought about it, he'd have realised that displaying any kind of jealousy would expose their situation, whatever it was.

So even though he wanted to put his fist through Monte's face, he remained seated, and occasionally caught her gaze as she ate as well. The stupid bitch furrowed her brows in confusion, wondering why he looked so pissed off.

She'd find out. He'd make sure of it.

Once the lights were dimmed in their superficial nighttime, he could feel his heart simmering with both jealous rage and excitement as he made his way to her cell on the other side of the ship. 

His blood ran hot with each shallow stride, his narrowed eyes creeping into every doorway as he passed with the soft pats of the air conditioning against his bare chest. His neck muscles tightened, forming his hands into fists in an attempt to remain grounded and in control of himself. 

In the low fluorescent light, he could make out her face and every single miniscule feature. Unlike the stoic, cold expression she wore when she was awake, when she was asleep she looked near peaceful.

Her arms were tucked beneath the pillow beneath her head, the slope of her back visible with the plain white shirt that clung to her form. The blanket, with her constant fidgeting, had slipped down her back, and he dug his fingernails into his palm when he saw the slither of soft, feminine skin at her hip.

With a half-annoyed huff, she turned over in her sleep, laying on her back, the flesh of her neck stretched so deliciously he could have sunk his teeth right into her and torn her apart like an over-ripened peach.

From this distance, he swore he felt the vibration of her fluttering heartbeat beneath her skin. The blood flooding through her veins.

All laid out like this, vulnerable and open, his mind began to whir as if he were in first gear, his thoughts banging loud and intrusive. His darkened eyes traced the contours of her face with his gaze, so achingly real and fragile.

Her eyes flew open when his palm wrenched over her mouth tightly, fingers digging into her jaw painfully and the other hand pinning her arm to the mattress. For a brief moment, that wide-eyed, primal fear and hurriedly breathing as she woke made that raw excitement simmer hotter.

A smirk aroused across his face, dark, animalistic eyes drawing closer, and voice quiet like the whisper of a predator, stalking and mocking their prey.

"Quiet now," he hissed, his breath hot against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. "No screaming."

His voice carried a menacing edge, a promise of darker consequences if she dared to defy him.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a wild cacophony of fear and arousal. She tried to struggle against his hold, but his grip only tightened, holding her in place with a ruthless strength that left her feeling powerless.

Her eyes gleamed with anger as he peeled his hand away from her mouth, her words sharp like a knife’s edge, “what the fuck do you think you're doing?”

His smirk disappeared, a dark seriousness dancing in his eyes as he leaned closer, the intensity of his presence almost suffocating. "Reminding you of who's in control here."

She bristled at his arrogance, her jaw clenched in defiance. "You don't get to decide that," she shot back, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I'm not some toy for you to play with whenever you feel like it."

His jaw clenched, the muscles tensing with barely contained anger. "You were flirting," he accused, his voice low and edged with bitterness. "With him.”

She could have laughed.

“You cannot be fucking serious.”

Her breath crept back in her throat as soon as his hand wrapped around it, swallowing thickly to try and keep her expression neutral and unfearing.

“You and Monte can measure dicks all you like, but what I do is none of your damn business.”

His grip around her windpipe slowly loosened and he went quiet. But she knew better than to assume it meant this was resolved.

With lips pressed together in annoyance, his fingers crept into her hair at her crown and pulled her forcefully from her bed, her knees knocking against the floor with a pained wince as he forced her to kneel in front of him.

The tug at her roots hurt, but all the same, once she saw how he eagerly lowered his sweatpants over his hips, grunting with annoyance the longer it took, arousal pooled in her stomach nonetheless.

“Had enough of your fucking voice.”

He stroked himself firmly in his palm, rousing himself to half hardness, her hair still gripped in his other hand, “Open.”

Despite herself, she raised her chin and did no such thing, her jaw tightened in defiance.

A surprised gasp is all that came out when he struck the left side of her face, pain blooming in a harsh sting. And while her eyes were shut, Ettore held her jaw in a vice-like grip and pulled her back, taking advantage of her parted lips to slide his half hard cock into her mouth.

“Fuck -” he tipped his head back at the warmth of her throat squeezing him, trying to swallow air past the blockage that remained still. 

The hold on her hair remained tight, pushing her lips as far on himself as she would go, until he felt the fat head of his cock hit the back of her throat, spluttering softly around him as he hardened.

He used the leverage he had to move her head on him when, with a whine, her hands came to his thigh to push him away, as a means of punishing her.

“Shut the fuck up,” he warned lowly, watching with some sick kind of satisfaction as her eyes cracked open to look up at him, with those moist eyes he wouldn't admit he enjoyed so much.

He kept her there for a moment, before easing her off, allowing her to suck in air through her nose for a brief moment. But he didn't allow her a moment's reprieve for long and with the aid of her saliva coating his shaft, he fucked himself between her lips with ease, her whimpers coming quieter.

“Fuck - that's it-” he breathed, his voice softening as warmth crept up his spine, her eyelashes decorated with a constellation of tears as he snapped his hips against her face.

The sound that thumps throughout the room is borderline pornographic, hitting the back of her throat hard with little care if it hurts or not, the way she tries to swallow and gag around him is worth it.

He stills, pushing her head as far on him as she will go, a pleased smirk rising to his face as she glances up at him, with the beginnings of tears pooling in her waterline.

Held there, he counts mechanically in his head, watching the way she squirms for air.

“You look so fucking stupid with my cock in your mouth,” he grins darkly, moving her head side to side on him, the friction making a jolt of white hot pleasure zip through his body. He has to tighten his grip just to keep himself from coming too soon.

She whines, trying to pull herself back, gasping for air around his length.

“Hold it-”

She clenched her fists, eyes screwed shut so that tears now ran over her face. For that, he kept her there for a few more seconds, before loosening his grip, allowing his cock to slip from between her lips as she swallowed air once again down her lungs.

Moving the hair from her moistened face, he guided her back to him with a touch that was uncharacteristic. Ettore's eyes were hooded, feeling himself twitch with excitement as her lips instinctively parted. From this angle, he could see the way her nipples hardened beneath her shirt, and how her thighs were pressed together to relieve the ache that had formed there.

He tapped the now slick head of his cock against her bottom lip, “Go on, finish me off.”

She said nothing and took him, at first, slowly, bobbing on him with a vigour, pressing her tongue flat against the thick vein on the underside. A notion that made his balls tighten and his neck muscles strain.

He always liked her messy, so when he looked back down with awe at the way her saliva made his length glisten everytime she dove back on him, all he wanted to do was take back that control.

But instead he put his arms behind his back and watched, one of her hands came to the base of him, stroking what she couldn't fit comfortably. The other slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear, the moan she let out vibrating through him and tugging him closer to the edge.

As he neared it, his hips subconsciously matched the rhythm she made, chasing that delicious friction, her lips tight around him. And when he hand dropped to cup his balls, gently teasing him to come sooner than he wanted, he bought both hands to her face, threading them in her hair and fucked her mouth ceaselessly to completion.

She remained quiet, only letting out a few sounds that could have been between a whimper and a moan as he pushed his pelvis against her face, hard, one last time, and trembled with pleasure as his come slid down her throat.

The sensation of her swallowing around him had his fingers tighten in her hair with overstimulation. 

With one sure movement, he pulled himself from her lips, stroking his sensitive length against her wet, open mouth and watching in awe as his pearly spend painted her tongue.

She cracked her eyes open, her waterline moistened and red-rimmed. Her knees ached against the hard floor as Ettore smeared what was left on the tip over her cheek, leaving a trail of his come and her saliva sticky on her face.

Ettore's chest heaved, and she could watch him like this all day if she could, his lips parted as he watched her lips close to swallow. But he stepped back a pace and pulled his sweatpants back over his hips.

Just as quickly, his eyes were all dark again, his voice breathy and quick, “Don't push it,” he warned with icy, cold venom, “you won't like what happens if you do it again.”

With the musky taste of him coating her mouth and the wetness between her thighs, though she didn't express it, she very much doubted it.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[aceospadesart]

High school AUs are for Wattpad fanfic writers. College AUs are for AO3 fanfic writers.

[fan-goddess]

Daring Youth

Pairing: Ettore x reader

Chapter Summary: Ettore suddenly gets hit with the realisation of what It exactly is that he wants. You.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, p in v sex, praise kink, f oral, dacryphilia, exhibition, breeding kink, teasing, fingering, choking, breath play, kinda ooc Ettore. If I missed any let me know!

Other Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five,

Taglist: @chainsawsangel, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @bel-bottoms, @omgbrcat, @targaryenrealnessdarling, @humanpurposes, @mushu-09, @toodlesxcuddles, @pendragora, @sylasthegrim

Authors Note: thank you all for joining on this fucked up Ettore story journey. This’ll be the final canon part of this universe before I announce the one shot non-cannon areas of this universe where you can ask whatever you want about this universe. Hope you enjoy reading this, even though I’m for some reason not a hundred percent satisfied with how it’s written 😅😊

Even as he’s waking up, the tastes of your cunt and your skin won’t leave him. The feel of his skin on yours leaves him constantly hard in his underwear. His cock, now unsatisfied with the usually pleasurable enough human warmth of his hand, practically jerks alive at the mere memory of you last night.

That morning, he couldn’t help but find himself staring at you. Admiring you even. The slightest sight of his mark that he left on you was visible from your shirt and it brought a satisfying feeling to bloom in his chest.

Yet when you lock eyes with him, it’s like there’s nothing there. It was like you just didn’t even see him, and it makes him very annoyed. It makes him really fucking pissed off actually. Where was the person he visited last night? The person who desperately clung to him while he willingly allowed himself to shove his seed in you? The you in front of him, is not the you last night. It’s like your this, fake imposter.

Even as you go past him to deposit your rubbish, you still don’t spare him another glance. He’s forced to watch as you walk away from him, his eyes seething deep into your skin. The thoughts of a punishment that come to mind leaves him smirking in his cups as he innocently sips on some unknown drink given to him.

The thoughts though definitely darken in variety as he looks for you. That small festering thing inside of his head whispering all sorts of ways to make you pay and to make you loyal to him when he can’t find you. His cock straining the more deeper his mind thinks into these fantasies.

When he does find you, purely by accident, his cocks seems to somehow stirs even more at the sight of your oblivious state. Your back turned to him while he quietly enters the small room and shuts the door behind him. Now, you’re locked in here with him.

You say something to him, but he doesn’t listen. Instead, he murmurs illegible things to himself as he gets on his knees and tastes you. The feeling of your juices coating his tongue, and the feeling of your hands gripping his hair so hard it teeters on painful, nearly makes him lose it all there and then.

His hand joins though in the need to truly drink from you, and when he finally feels the wave of your pleasure flood his mouth as you cum, he honestly feels like he could drink straight from your cunt everyday if you let him. It was like the taste of you was akin to some type of addictive alcoholic drink that he honestly could never get enough of.

It’s so addictive. So addictive in game that Ettore can’t help but make sure to clean the rest of your cum from his face and his fingers so that he can truly savour the taste of you. Plus, when he pulls the minimal clothing he wears down to reveal himself to you, his ego swells at the sight of your hooded eyes looking at him all wanting and wanton. Like some common breeding bitch ready for the taking.

When he finally pushes himself inside of you though, he can feel his face scrunching up at the feeling of you sucking him in. It leaves him with that feeling of pure liquid heat running down the length of his spine. Scratch what he said earlier. It seems your entire body is addictive as hell, not just the taste of your cunt.

He practically has to try and muffle the sounds he so desperately wants to cry out as he fucks you harder and harder on the machine. Though soon, he finds his thrusts becoming sluggish and uncoordinated as he chases that feeling of his orgasm that creeps up on him.

As he looks down, it’s the sight of your arousal forming a creamy ring aroung his cock while he fucks you welcomes him, and Ettore has to admit that he has never seen a more arousing sight in his life. It practically begs for him to commit it to memory.

“I’m close” he hears you whine. He only looks up for a moment to admire you, your eyes almost looking as if they’re about to cry from the pleasure whilst your mouth opens in a silent moan.

Yet the sight in front of him is not enough. It’s not more ethereal than the sight of him impaling you over and over again and truly marking you his.

It’s a fleeing though that makes him sober for a minute. A thought that makes him realise he doesn’t want these moments to end. But he pushes them away quickly by laying a hand to the base of your throat and squeezing slightly in an admittedly possessive manner, and another trails to your arousal flooded cunt to draw lazy shapes on your swollen clit.

He wants to last. He wants to savour this feeling of you consuming his entire being whole. But once again he’s distracted from these deep longings. Only this time not by his own choice. This time he’s brought back to life by the feeling of you yanking his head up to your level and sinking your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder. At the sudden extreme combination of pain and pleasure, that is what leaves Ettore moaning out loud at the sensation whilst his cum all of a sudden begins to flood and paint the your warm cunt.

It’s silent those moments after, the mixed breathes of him and you being the only things he can hear, and strangely he strongly hates it. The sensations of everything get to him. The sound of the lightbulb that leaves the whole room in a dim light, the feeling of the supposedly high-tech washing machine that makes him feel like his body is shaking. All of it feels like it’s getting louder and louder in this confined room. But then, Ettore finds himself wrapping his arms around you slightly, and as the warmth of your body consumes him it all seems to go away.

All Ettore can find himself able to focuse on, is the oddly satisfying softness of your skin, and the strangely satisfying feeling of your breath tickling his neck. It mixes with that slight stinging sensation from where you bit him, and it honestly near makes him laugh from fondness. Maybe he’s not the only possessive one in whatever the hell the two of you doing is…

That’s the moment when the softness of it all hits him. Him, of all people, is having his hair played with by a woman he’s just had some fucking amazing consensual sex with. He doesn’t fucking deserve it, he realises, nor do you deserve him…

It’s why he needs to leave you right now.

The realisation making his head feel like it’s going a million miles an hour while he dresses himself quickly and pretty much runs from the room, back to his room where he stays till morning the next day.

It felt strange to try and ignore you like you didn’t exist. During breakfast, he could feel your glares on him like a iron poker, and it’s a sick thrill as he welcomes the attention that you were willing to give him with practically open arms.

He could see the other girls on the ship talking to you, and with your attention taken away he couldn’t help but feel disgustingly wistful as he stared.

Though as you moved to dispose of your tray, his eyes roam greedily at your body your shirt rides up to display some your skin to him. Yet as hes staring he all of a sudden sees the medium sized bruising flesh of your middle body.

What the fuck was that?

He saw it only a few seconds before your arm went back down, and the shirt lifted down like a curtain in the middle of a show. Even still though, Ettore could already feel his blood boiling all over.

The bruise from what he had seen had already darkened to a colour similar to the darkness that loomed outside of the ships windows, and much to his relief, the bruise had no distinguishable shape.

As far as he could tell, it held no resemblance to a hand. Though that fact somehow managed to relieve him and anger him in one turn. Cause Ettore knows he didn’t grip your hips whilst he fucked you. The feeling of your thighs in his hands was imprinted in his memory so well he could replay the moment with his eyes closed, and yet the morning after there’s a substantial bruise there for him to see.

You couldn’t have fucked another guy after he left, could you? He fucking hopes you didn’t. He shares a quarters with two other men that he couldn’t be bothered to know the name of. The other man though, the one that Ettore knows is named Monte. Apparently he has his own private quarters for some fucking reason.

Though as he thinks about it, Ettore doesn’t know where Monte had been that night. Monte had the opportunity to touch you, and it really fucking annoys him. So much that he’s at the point where he’s debating on chasing you down to find out how the bruise happened.

He’d originally planned on leaving it till later. He wanted to calm down before he ruined everything, but then he saw the fleeting look you gave him. As you left, you looked behind and locked eyes with him, before rubbing the bruise and leaving. That… that is what set him off entirely.

It’s what made him leave his half eaten food at the table before storming after you. Whilst his eyes were dead set on your retreating figure, he could see the eyes of the women looking at him while they whispered.

Let them talk… he thought. Let them know it is you who belongs to only him and no one else. It’s a one off thought, but he hopes Monte sees him going after you too. Maybe he’ll get it in his thick head to not be such an interfering cockblock…

You turn around and look at him when you pause at the end of some corridor, probably heard his thundering footsteps. Your eyes turn hard with what Ettore thinks is hatred, and yet when they see his own eyes fuelled by hatred and anger, something else bubbles within them. Lust.

“Who the fuck left you that mark?” He snarls as he gets close enough to you. His fingers curl against the shirt to reveal your bruise, and he holds the offending fabric in his hand as if he wanted to tear it straight from your body.

“What are you talking about Ettore? Nobody gave me-“

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!” The anger and rage that Ettore feels blinds him for a mere moment, and yet that is enough time for him to grab you by the waist and slam you against the wall behind you, no doubt disorienting you for a few seconds. Though if he felt any kind of regret from what he just did, then it must have been smothered by his rage.

His hand winds itself in your hair, and he makes sure to grip it so you can’t get away. The need to know overpowering any sense of his current humanity, if he ever had any in the first place.

Though when he locks eyes with yours, and he sees the tears that have begun to form from the sudden pain, he can’t help but feel his heart clenching at the sight. Though the thought is quickly pushed from his mind as he distracts himself from it by smashing his lips onto yours for the first time ever.

It’s rough and if he’s honest to himself it’s also down right feral. The way his teeth carelessly knock into your own, and how they sink into his lips, causing a deep groan echo through the empty halls.

Each of the two of yours hands are greedy on each other’s bodies, with no flesh being left untouched.

When Ettore detaches himself from your lips though to sink his teeth into the unclaimed side of your neck, whilst he simultaneously pushing deep into the bruise on your hip you so dutifully denied, the sound of your pain practically makes him shiver in delight all through his spine.

He can’t deny that he gets the urge to claim you in this very hallway. To make your moans and sounds of pleasure echo so loud that people like the woman who tried to help you, or even fucking Monte of all people, knows that you belong to him, and will always belong to him. But when he looks into your tear soaked eyes, his heart and his cock seem to ache in sync, which knocks all sense of coherence out the ships doors practically immediately.

His hand grasp around your wrists as he leads you to his room. The two men he shares with are always complaining about how long and hard their chores given to them are, but it’s practically near the start of the day.

Everyone will be too busy with their assignments to walk down the hall to hear the two of you…

As soon as they pass the door frame, Ettore can’t resist himself any more from claiming your lips again. And whilst the taste of your mouth currently drives him insane, there’s another taste he wishes to have smeared across his tongue aswell that’ll no doubt make him fucking feral.

His hands move to rip and tear at your clothing, so fast that practically no time has passed before he’s got you laid bare for him on his bed. Your legs already widening themselves to reveal your already dripping cunt to him.

“Desperate slut…” He murmurs with a smirk as his fingers trace over your inner thigh and ghosts over where you obviously desire him most.

He wants you to beg for him though. Some dark thing thats has taken root inside of him wants you to beg for him to touch you. To know that you want him to defile your body just as much as he wants to.

So after he’s teased your entrance with the ghost of his breath and the pad of his thumb a couple times, he’s very glad to hear the stumblings of pathetic sounding begs practically pouring from your swollen lips like a singing canary.

“Good girl.” He mutters, before quickly moving close to your cunt and sucking on your clit whilst he shoves his fingers as deep as he can inside of you to find the spot that makes women see stars. When his fingers do catch on that tough patch inside of you, judging by your sudden reactions he knows he’s found it.

The grip you had on his hair tightens as you keep him practically immobile between your thighs, and the moans and whines that sound from you seem to almost go up a pitch.

The time he spends between your though feels shorter than he’d like. As the next thing he knows he’s feeling as though he’s practically suffocating in your warmth as your cum dribbles into his open and willing mouth.

Ettore almost wishes he could spend more time licking the remnants of your juices that have leaked from your body. But the ache in his shorts reminds him of what he wants to do. No. What he needs to do.

So he does it.

Ettore pushes down his black shorts to reveal his aching cock, and lines himself up with your dripping entrance. It’s a glorious sight alright, but it’ll get a whole lot better once he’s stuffing his cock in you.

“Please…” He hears you murmur. “Please Ettore… Please fuck me…” and who is he to deny you? With a satisfied smirk, Ettore pushes his cock as deep as he can with a light groan, and relishes in the light pain the length of your nails gives him as you grip him.

Ettore has never had a woman whose been willing to fuck him before. Yet the feeling of your clenching cunt and the sounds of your willing body submitting to him is easily better than anything he’s ever felt in his whole life.

When he looks down to admire you, he can see you biting on your swollen red lips, and can’t resist himself from practically caging you with his body to kiss you again.

The sounds of your muffled moans echoes enough so if anyone was walking down the corridor, they would most definitely hear you. When he releases you and pulls away to look at you, a sick thrill runs down the length of his spine when he sees a small trail of saliva connecting his mouth to yours.

“Move…” You whimper. The dewy eyes that stare at him make him want to practically tear you apart from the inside out.

“What’s the magic word now brat?”

“Please…”

“Good girl” It was all he needed to hear before he began thrusting inside your wet heat like a mad man. Iron hot pleasure running down the length of his spine driving him insane with want and desire. The want to claim you. The desire to give you a much more permanent version of a claiming. A child who has your same dewey eyes.

Mindless moans release from both parties as the desire for release is chased. Ettore though finds himself chasing the feeling of your nails digging into the skin of his back as he thrusts into you harshly and without mercy. It felt as though he wanted to merge with you and become one.

A hand of Ettores finds itself wrapped around the length of your neck, and the feeling of satisfaction is immense as your nails dig into his skin deeper. If Ettore focused on what you were doing, he’d no doubt practically feel the scars of raised red skin already forming.

Another hand trails to your clit where he begins to repeat harsh circles. And when Ettore looks down to admire the sight, he has to refrain himself from cumming there and then when he sees the light white ring of your fluids on his cock as he thrusts deeper and deeper.

“You want to be my good slut huh? Then cum on my fucking cock and maybe I’ll give you my own cum to fill you until your fucking dripping of me…”

Your hips buck up to meet his thrusts as you seem moan in excitement, and your eyes almost seem to have glazed over in some kind of pleasure induced haze. In Ettores eyes, it was all he needed to hear and see before he ruined you for good.

His movements got rougher as his hips smacked into your own. The grip Ettore has on your neck tightens only by a little to make you almost breathless for him. When he looks up for a split second at the doorway, a fleeting thought hits where he almost wishes to meet the eyes of someone watching him defile you. The feeling of his cock aching at the thought drawing him back to the truly gorgeous sight in front of him.

“Fuck Ettore s-so good…” You moan. It’s practically said with a slur on your lips and he can’t help but love it. His little cock slut all cock drunk on his dick. How it’s meant to be.

Though whilst he’s admiring the sight, you seem to have tightened up on him too. Your grip leaves no doubt bloodied indents on his back that were sure to leave questions for the other passengers that for your sake only will remain unanswered.

Your eyes are screwed shut so tightly that small lines of tears trail down your cheeks, and the only way he knows that is due to the fact they seem to shine under the harsh light. Your legs aswell feel as though they’re practically vibrating against his skin, possibly due to all the sensational that he’s giving you all at once.

It’s not surprising for either of them that after all that, Ettore finds himself moaning out loud at the feeling of your walls clenching and pulling him in as you cum, effectively pushing him over the edge aswell with a deep groan.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck oh shiiiiit” You whine. It’s so loud he almost wants to shove a pillow over your head to get you to shut the fuck up. But then it’d ruin the whole thing and he can’t have that at all.

When you’ve recovered though from your high, you almost seem to curl up on him. He’s still inside you, even though he’s softened down by now, yet even so he’s happy about it as now his cum won’t be able to effectively leak out of you.

It’s a strange feeling when his arms move to keep you close. Like an overprotective hug. Yet it’s so awkward Ettore doesn’t know what to do and let’s you take the lead. You push him so he’s laying on his back, an act he feels he should punish later on, and move your head to rest between his neck and his chest.

Ettore hates to admit it, but it’s very strangely comforting to have you so close so willingly.

His hand rests on the top of your head, and a single thumb brushed the loose hair away from your face. It’s oddly domestic, and yet he can’t help but find himself unable to hate himself for it right now.

The two of you continue to lay there. Your breaths evening out as you seem drift off, and they leave goosebumps on his skin in their wake.

Ettore however, stays wide awake. The erratic heartbeats that radiate through his whole body make it impossibly to sweetly savour the moment in peace.

Only a single stray thought managed to remain inside him that kept him from pushing you off and running to who knows where.

I think I may somehow be in love with you…

[sailoreuterpe]

I'm so, so tempted to write a Character/Reader ship fic just to prove that you can do so without using "Y/N," "Your Name," or any variant thereof. Nicknames exist! Tenses are a thing! Words are malleable!!