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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 month

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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

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

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A collection of all my writing. ♡

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x OC

Series Masterlist (ONGOING) (18+)

Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, Lady of Runestone, was not born of love. Nor passion. Nor even a sense of duty. She was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge. But even a child born of such darkness can find her way to the light. With her mother dead, and father flown across the Narrow Sea with a new wife, the girl is taken in by her Aunt, the Queen Alicent Hightower, to be raised among the little family she has left. There, she finds her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. The two spend long nights in the palace library together, studying the histories of both Old Valyria and the First Men, seeking to understand who they are and where they fit in the world. But finding that place proves more difficult than in the fairy tales they read. The seeds of disaster were laid long before they were born, and as tensions in the family rise, it seems as though their places may begin to diverge. Will they let themselves be pulled apart as the dragons dance?

Warnings: Mentions of rape, m/f smut, violence

Studious (ONGOING) (18+) Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Moodboard by @sapphirehearteyes

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI

Your marriage to the One-Eyed Prince is not as romantic as you hoped. The wedding night is beyond awkward and confusing, and afterward, your husband seems more than content to ignore you. But you keep finding yourself drawn to him, and the strange way he makes you feel. And though you don't know it, he is drawn to you as well.

Warnings: SMUT, p in v sex, masturbation (m and f) bad sex (these kids have no idea what they're doing), Aegon saying Aegon things, all the awkwardness in the world

What is Broken (WIP) Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Sister-wife!Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, maybe smut in the future

Inconceivable (WIP) Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Part I - Part II

Westeros has been at peace for nearly a year, and a wedding has been planned to celebrate the anniversary. King Jacaerys will marry his aunt, the only surviving child of the Greens, and unite both Targaryen bloodlines at last. It is a fairy tale ending, but this is no ordinary fairy tale...

Warnings: Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles... Angst, grief, forced marriage, more to be added

My Fair Lady's Maid (WIP) (18+) Prince Aemond Targaryen x Lady's Maid!Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Warnings: Smut

The Girl at the Table (WIP) (18+) Michael Gavey x Reader

Michael has a plan for Oxford: complete his degree at the top of the class, avoid the wealthy, spoiled pricks that make up the majority of the student body, and stay focused. The plan begins well, until a girl begins sitting at his study table.

Warnings: Smut, math

Monsters in the Garden (ONGOING) (DDDNE) (18+) Ettore x Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III

No one comes to your garden but you, not even Dr. Dibs. So what is the most dangerous man on the ship doing leaning against your doorway and watching you work?

Warnings: SMUT; hand job; kissing; blood; mentions of rape, murder, and violence; female genital mutilation; vague mentions of corpse mutilation

Storge, Philia, Eros, and Agape (WIP) Osferth x Reader

Series Masterlist

When he arrives in Coccham to join with Lord Uhtred Ragnarsson's band of righteous warrior, Osferth does not get the greeting he expected. Uhtred himself is very clear that he has only accepted the young monk to irritate his father, and the few warriors he is introduced to delight in picking fun at him. Still, it is better than the monastery, the Lady of the estate is kind to him, and the servant girl who leads him to his new chambers is... something entirely new to Osferth. Something that, perhaps, will help him understand what the Bible means when it speaks of love.

Note: This is a series of inter-connected oneshots that can be read together or on their own.

That Pointy-Eared Blond Bastard (WIP) (18+) Half-Vulcan!Aemond x Human(?)Reader

Graduation - Away Team - Red Alert - Holodeck - Pon Farr

You are Aemond's greatest rival at Starfleet Academy. Or you would be, if he cared enough to have rivals. Vulcans don't care that much. But Aemond is only half Vulcan. And you... you bring out something decidedly non-Vulcan in him.

A Companion (WIP) Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader

Series Masterlist

At the suggestion of Princess Rhaenyra, King Viserys Targaryen had commanded that his Hand, Otto Hightower, find a new bride. Preferably at the King's own wedding to Otto's daughter Alicent. While the Princess intended the suggestion as a form of revenge for Otto's machinations which led to the royal engagement, he intends to make the best of it. While he has always known that his late wife, Madelyn, is the great love of his life, he welcomes the idea of finding a tolerable companion. What he doesn't expect is you, a lady widowed far too young, who begins to spark feelings within him he thought long extinguished.

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flowerandblood · 3 months

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The Void of the Sky

[ canon • Ettore x doctor's assistant • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination kink, aggressive behavior, rape attempts, violence, swearing, unprotected sex, description of wounds ]

[ description: Ettore decides to take part in a space experiment from which he guesses he will never return. Already on the ship, his attention is drawn to a young girl who turns out to be the assistant of the fucked-up doctor Dibs. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension. ]

Author's note: This is my first story with Ettore, which was inspired by a request, it was supposed to be just a oneshot. This was very strange and disturbing to write, let me know if you would like further parts describing the story of this couple!

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He already knew this when he sat in this fucking ship, when he saw her in front of him – her tired, terrified gaze, her resignation, her fear. She looked at him as if believing that no matter what he had done in the past he understood her and what she was experiencing, that they were going through what was about to happen to them together.

What they were doomed to.

They glanced at each other all the way to the space station from which they were to fly away never to return. He watched her wordlessly – her long lashes, her pleasantly rounded cheeks, her plump, puffy lips glistening in the disturbing blue light.

He thought, looking boredly around the ship at the other female faces, that if he had to choose which one he would fuck first, he would choose her.

She was pretty, her figure girlish, she seemed fragile to him – he decided that he would easily squash her to the mattress or the floor, one or two punches of his fist on that soft face and she would let him do to her whatever he wanted.

He knew that, like him, all the crew members selected for the mission were criminals sentenced to life imprisonment and he wondered what such an inconspicuous person could have done.

Perhaps she was not as vulnerable as she seemed to him at first glance.

He grinned involuntarily at the thought, deciding that he needed to find out.

How much force he would have to put in to get her to finally stop resisting him, whether he would have to hit her face with his fist until she lost consciousness, making her look like a squashed tomato, or whether it would be enough for him to choke her a little, ordering her to shut up the fuck.

He sighed quietly, tilting his head back, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his cock at the thought, recognising that sooner or later he would put his plan into action.

He was patient.

As it turned out, she wasn't a regular crew member, but an assistant to Dr Dibs, that dumb whore playing God, who on top of that announced that there was a complete prohibition on sexual intercourse on the spaceship.

He would come into their office to give his sperm just to look at her; while Dr Dibs was sitting over the microscope, apparently selecting the most fertile ova, she was writing something, obviously taking notes, always looking at him when he came in – he would grin involuntarily, wondering if she had heard the smack of his hand against his balls while he was jerking off.

As he left, handing Dibs the vessel, he always looked at her, but she no longer bestowed a single glance on him, frustrating him.

"I want my treat." He growled in her direction, wishing she would bestow at least one fucking look on him and not act like a spoiled little bitch, but it was Dibs who would give him the pill, which he would immediately put in his mouth, not taking his eyes off her as he left.

He knew she sensed what he wanted to do to her and was prepared for it.

It was a simple, animal, primal need.

He could satisfy it with anyone or by himself, but he always came back to her anyway.

To his displeasure, it turned out that her position for some reason came with additional privileges, such as a separate cabin in which she slept.

She did not have to clean or tend the garden, her duties being limited to taking notes, treating wounds and overseeing the energy system of the entire spaceship.

She was the opposite of Dr Dibs and her cool sociopathy – he knew that on several occasions she had helped the female part of the crew to get rid of the unwanted effect of her experiment.

Once, while wiping the floor on his knees, he witnessed Dibs slap her, apparently realizing that she was acting behind her back.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Don't you ever do that again. Do you understand? Your job is to make reports." She hissed, digging her finger into her chest – she snorted under her breath, staring at her with pity and moved ahead.

"You will never become a mother." She said calmly, walking past him, throwing him one intense look before disappearing behind the door of her cabin.

He watched her like a predator, her routine, her habits – he knew exactly her schedule, hours and days of the week when she replaced Dibs in her duties.

One day, knowing that she would be alone and the rest of the crew were busy with their tasks, he left the garden and headed for her office, deciding that this was the day.

He stood in the doorway without making a sound, simply looking at her, her back turned to him, bent over some pills which she was obviously sorting.

He approached her silently, his large hand muffling the scream of surprise that broke from her throat – he cursed loudly as she, with a swift, sure movement, stabbed his arm with a scalpel which she apparently had hidden in the pocket of her medical apron.

He let her go, enraged, pulling the blade out of his arm with a hiss and slapped her across the face with all his might. She fell to the ground as if stunned and stupefied – with a brutal movement he flipped her onto her back and crushed her with his body, trying to slide down his trousers.

"− don't you fuckin' dare −" He growled, grabbing her quickly by the wrist in which she held another scalpel. He snatched it forcibly from between her fingers and threw it far to the floor with a clang of steel, his hands quickly searched her pockets for other sharp objects – he grinned under his breath as he felt a razor blade under his fingertips.

"− I see you've prepared well, hm? − like to struggle a bit first? −" He asked with some kind of amusement while she drew in the air loudly and slammed him on the head with her forehead using all her strength – he growled with rage and punched her in the face with his fist, clenching his fingers on her cheeks, a big red bruise under her eye.

She didn't scream or lash out, she just looked at him, breathing hard, trying to push him away – he wondered how there was so much fucking strength and will to fight in such a small petite being.

"− Ettore, for fuck's sake − use the box −" She growled angrily, feeling him rub his swollen erection between her thighs, an impatient, loud sigh of pleasure escaped his lips.

"− I prefer your cunt − tight and warm −" He gasped as he grabbed the material of her panties with an aggressive, sure motion of his fingers, ripping them off in one violent stroke – she surprised him when she lifted herself up and bit his cheek as hard as if she wanted to bite off a big piece of his skin.

"− FUCK − FUCK − LET GO, YOU FUCKIN' WHORE! −" He groaned hitting her on the head with his open palm – he heard a scream behind him a moment later, Dibs and Monte ran into the office, dragging him away.

She was lying on her back breathing heavily, looking at him and shook her head disapprovingly, as if he was a small disobedient child, her lips red with his blood.

"− let him go, Monte −" She said softly, adjusting the material of her skirt, Dr Dibs helped her up and looked at him tightening her lips, her brow furrowed in disapproval.

"− fucking animal − you're prohibited from using the box for five days −" Dibs ordered, and he snarled under his breath, pulling himself out of Monte's grasp and left, calling her a stupid old cunt under his breath, rubbing his sore cheek.

Small wounds in the shape of her teeth remained on his face for the next few days, making him realize that the matter would not be as easy as he thought.

She was unpredictable.

Just like him.

He would annoy and provoke Monte and Tcherny to get into a fight with them only to have them beat the crap out of him, and he would end up at her door with cut lips, bruises and other injuries that she was obliged to take care of.

She did this, but she always strapped him to the doctor's chair first, tightening special black belts around his wrists, attached to the whole structure at the sides of his body so that he couldn't touch her.

His manhood throbbed greedily in his trousers as she leaned over him, her face calm and focused, sad, her hand holding cotton swabs soaked in antiseptic liquid to gently wash his swollen, sore wounds.

She never used latex gloves, as if she was thus allowing him at least a little intimacy, the touch of her naked body.

He pressed his cheek to her palm, closing his eyes, and she froze for a moment, letting him feel the warmth and softness of her skin – she smelled of soap, her fingers long and delicate, made only for admiration, not defence.

He sighed when she stroked his cheek with her thumb, not opening his eyes – he could feel her looking at him, her warm breath enveloping his face.

"You have to stop." She said quietly, but her soft fingers didn't stop brushing his face. They ran over it like a map, touching his mouth, nose, cheeks, eyebrows, jaw so gently and tenderly that he just fell asleep – he thought he felt her warm, moist lips pressed against his forehead for a moment.

When he woke up, he was already unstrapped, there was no one in the office.

Eventually he began to come to her for no reason, circling around the doctor's office pretending with curiosity to look at what stood on the shelves and in the cabinets – he saw out of the corner of his eye that there were always a few scalpels lying next to her on the desk, just in case.

"You shouldn't be here." She sighed, bent over her notes as usual. He hummed under his breath, glancing at one of the containers filled with pills – he shook it, and they clattered loudly inside.

"You don't take part in these fucked-up experiments of Dibs. You don't use the box. Why?" He asked casually, putting his hands in the pockets of his red trousers, turning and heading towards the gynaecology chair, looking at it intrigued.

"I prefer the touch of my own hand. It's soft and warm." She replied calmly, writing something down quickly.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, wondering whether or not she would have had time to grab a scalpel in her hand if he had stepped behind her and knocked her over along with the chair.

"What about the touch of someone else's hand? Hm?" He grunted, heading towards her, but she stood up; he stopped seeing that her hand immediately reached for the blade and clamped down on it confidently, her breasts rising and falling in accelerated breath.

"No." She said warningly.

"I think about it every day, you know? About what I would do to you, how wet your pussy would be for me. Cuz I know you're wet now. Always lookin' at me with those big fuckin' puppy eyes." He muttered, making another attempt, walking forward with a slow, lazy step, her hand holding the blade raised.

"Put it the fuck down. We'll do it either your way or my way. No third option. Take of your panties. C'mon." He encouraged her with a nod, not pulling his hand out of his trousers, his swollen, throbbing cock clearly outlined against the material of his pants.

She stared at him in disbelief, breathing loudly – he bit his bottom lip seeing that she lowered her hand slowly, her gaze scared and distrustful, full of doubt.

"We'll do it my way." She mumbled quietly.

"Fine." He replied indifferently, feeling that he was completely hard, waiting for her move.

He watched as she flicked sheets of paper off her desk with her free hand, sitting down on it, still holding the scalpel in her other hand.

"Come." She said softly, spreading her thighs wide – he approached her, without asking pulling her shoes off her feet, sliding the material of her underwear off her thighs, his movements confident and swift.

He stood in front of her, with a nimble flick of his fingers releasing his swollen, throbbing erection from under his trousers and drew her to him, putting his arm around her waist – she placed her hand on his chest, her lips parted slightly, her gaze hazy and dark, her body trembling in his embrace.

"− don't be brutal − take it slow −" She muttered in a shaky voice, and he only snorted under his breath with a grin, recognising that he had waited so long for this that he could actually enjoy the moment, feeling that he wouldn't last long anyway.

He grasped his manhood in his hand giving it a few sure, quick squeezes and guided its pink, thick head against her entrance, glistening from her wetness in the red light.

They both sighed as he began to push into her, doing so at an agonising pace from which they both closed their eyes, her fleshy insides hot and tight, pulsing all around him, sucking him inside.

"− ah − yes −" She whispered and he licked his lips, forcing her to fit it all in with deep, slow thrust of his fat cock, his large palms digging into the pleasantly soft skin of her plump buttocks as she mewled from exertion.

"− fuck −" She mumbled, obviously surprised by his size and how shocking the sensation was after such a long period of sexual abstinence, his manhood all sticky with her moisture.

She put her arms around his neck as he slid out of her slowly almost all the way, only to sink again into her warm walls with a calm, unhurried motion of his hips, both of them watching as his swollen length spread her wide open.

"− fuckin' knew it − just look at it − such a perfect little pussy −" He purred out delighted with the sensation, never having done it this way before in his life, his cock twitched all over with pleasure deep inside her, making him know he wouldn't last long.

Although he could just take what he wanted, he liked what he felt, the heat and tension wonderfully filling his lower abdomen each time the thrust of his hips forced him inside her warm, pulsing core again.

He pressed his forehead against hers when he heard her first shy moans, running his lips over hers, puffy, moist and soft, not giving her full kisses, speeding up suddenly, their naked bodies smacking against each other with loud, sticky splats.

"− oh God −" She whimpered, stroking his neck and cheeks. She burshed his lips tentatively, looking up at him with dreamy eyes as his cock slammed deep into her delicate body again and again – he grabbed her by the hair with one hand, tilting her head back with a brutal movement of his arm.

"− when you need to fuck, you will come to me − if I catch you touching yourself, you'll suck my cock until you start chokin' on my cum, that's how many times I'm going to come down your throat − got it? −" He exhaled in between sure, deep, aggressive thrusts, his cock rooting into her faster and faster with loud slaps of his naked thighs against her buttocks, barely slipping out of her – he felt her clench hard on him at his words, giving him a wonderful squeeze from which he groaned low.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled, responding to his thrusts by bucking her hips out towards him – he snorted, smirking spitefully, somehow impressed by her devotion, his thighs all sticky from her moisture.

"− that's my girl − fuck, 'm close −" He gasped in delight, pounding into her like mad, the tips of his fingers digging into her hot, firm buttocks.

"− n-no, not inside me! −" She mewled out but he closed her mouth with his, forcing his tongue deep into her throat, muffling her moans, clamping his hands firmly on her ass so she couldn't escape him, cumming with a loud sigh of relief, his warm semen spilling deep inside her.

She cried out in rage and slapped his shoulder, clenching her eyes shut, coming hard on his cock. He felt convulsions run through her whole body, her walls began to clench against him and suck him inside – he kept pounding into her for a while with sloppy, messy thrusts of his hips.

He pushed her closer to him with a brutal gesture, embracing her around the waist, his other hand holding her hair so that her puffy, sweet lips didn't pull away from his, kissing her lazily for a while longer, continuing to rock inside her with the lewd click of their shared moisture.

He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard, looking at her with curiosity and satisfaction, thinking that perhaps they would find common ground after all.

"− see you tomorrow − and no fuckin' touching −"

_____

General Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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

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thought--bubble · 2 months

Text

Make You Beg

Ettore X Prison Nurse Reader X Will (Salad Days)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 2736

Ettore Masterlist

Will (Salad Days) Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turn and walk towards Ettore, your stomach dropping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will looks at Ettore with anger lacing his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next time?"

To be added to taglists click HERE

#ettore x reader #ewan mitchell verse #ettore high life #ewanverse #ewan nation #ewan mitchell #ettore #ettore fan fiction #will salad days fanfic #will salad days #ewan mitchell fanfic #will x reader #ettore imagine #ettore x you #jess fics #my red flag bf #my emo angsty bf

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asumofwords · 9 months

Text

Treat - Ettore x Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 6.1k

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

It was cold.

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

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

Your senses.

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

Or perhaps it was the chill of being watched.

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

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

So you were good.

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

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

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

Not much of a talker that one.

But Ettore was worse.

He barely even spoke a word. He just watched.

Listened.

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

Death sentence in your case.

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

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

Because thats where he always was.

The Box.

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

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

His pale blue eyes would always find you.

Always.

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

It was hard.

Not being able to touch anyone.

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

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

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

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

Surely it wasn’t good for your body?

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

Unnatural.

But it was all unnatural.

And in some ways, better than death row.

Sometimes.

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

There was that cold again.

It surrounded him like a wraith.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Dibs?

She was different.

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

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

Usually, it held one.

Your brows furrowed as you looked up at her.

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behavioural issues and that.

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

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

What the hell?

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

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

Like clockwork.

Well, cycle really.

You hated it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God you missed the pub.

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

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

Lifting your head, you spotted Ettore watching you.

Still.

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

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

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

But he didn't.

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

You watched her intently, mouth parted to argue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps a lighter cycle this month.

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

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

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

Fingerprints.

More specifically, finger marks, littered across your body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed thickly.

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

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

Your heart leaped through your chest as you watched him.

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

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

“Something is-“

“-Vitamin D deficiency, Iron deficiency.”

“Fuck you. It looks li-“

“Take these.”

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

“I don’t fucking-“

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

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

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

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

It could be so easy.

Who would know it was you?

You could just-

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

"Fuck you."

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

"Fucking bitch."

Something was wrong, and you knew it.

Fucking useless cunt.

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

You needed a release, and fast.

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

All you needed was a good and rough fuck.

Get the anger out.

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

Choking.

The Box would calm you down.

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

Who else would be waiting outside of it but Ettore.

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

Shit eating bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A shiver rolled through you.

Boyse watched you carefully, “You right?”

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

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

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

Proving a point.

Fucking cunt.

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

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

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

Fucking pick-me.

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

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

Two sedatives.

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

But there was something about it.

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

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

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

But fear scrambled in your throat.

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

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

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

You couldn’t get caught.

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

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

So you had only gotten one pill out.

No matter.

Better than both.

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

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

Some things are better left unsaid.

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

It’s dark.

So dark.

And warm.

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

Why was it so warm?

There was pressure.

Pressure on top of you.

Pressure inside of you.

A thing.

Or two.

Maybe three.

What?

The pressure turned to a dull ache.

A pain.

Pleasure?

Why was it so warm?

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

The bed.

Soft sheets.

Grunts.

Weight.

Warm.

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

Breaths in your ear that are not your own.

Grunts.

Moans.

Hisses.

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

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

It was hard.

Hard to stay awake.

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

Heavy mind making it hard to comprehend.

Hard to see.

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

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

Atop you.

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

A face.

Ettore.

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

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

“Wha-“

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

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

Knowing.

You knew now.

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

Was this a dream?

It felt too real.

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

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

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

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

You bit down on his palm.

Hard.

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

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

How long had he been doing this?

How many times had he done this?

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

It also came from you.

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

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

From the pain.

From the shock.

From the pleasure.

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

Another sob, mouth opened to cry out.

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

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

It was all too much.

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

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

He was near his end, and you were too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.” Another tap.

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

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

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

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

Knowing that he would.

And not minding it either.

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

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

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ewanmitchellconnoisseur · 2 months

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𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕... Ettore x Reader (Earth)

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

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

Late Valentines Day Special 💌

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

Next Chapter →

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

Love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did he say love? Was this love?

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

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

He can't give this up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck love. It has no place here.

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

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

(This photo his so perfect for valentines day Ettore)

Ewan Taglist: @thought--bubble @valeskafics

#ewan mitchell verse #ettore x reader #ewan nation #ewanverse #ettore high life #ewan mitchell fanfic #ettore #best fanfic #ettore smut #ewan mitchell #ettore x you

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months

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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.”

#ettore x reader #ettore #ettore x you #ettore x y/n #ettore smut #ettore imagine #high life #ettore high life #high life ettore #ewan mitchell #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fanfic #ettore fan fic #high life fan fiction #high life fanfiction #high life fan fic #high life fanfic

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 16 days

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𝗖𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴

this one's pretty gross ngl lol

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

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

word count | 3.2k🤙🏻

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t the worst you were dreading.

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

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

You never thought about what space was like, pondering the what if questions was never something you wasted your time on. But upon being assigned a space mission as a punishment, you were forced to wonder what it would be like. It didn’t seem like a punishment to you, you didn’t really care what happened to you mostly. It would be an elaborate way to die, that much you were sure of. Theatrical, is one of the first words that came to your mind. You weren’t scared, not much did scare you after all. What did slightly worry you, however, was the fact you’d be on this mission with several other individuals, most if not all of them there for the same reasons as you. Murderers, rapists, terrorists. What a motley crew it would be.

You knew Monty, through word of mouth. The two of you were in the same prison, segregated by gender of course, but you had heard of him. You could appreciate a familiar face in a very unfamiliar environment. He didn’t talk to you much, only when you both got assigned the same work detail. You both had strong similar opinions about the witch that played doctor and mad scientist that was on this mission with you all. You may or may not have made an agreement to eat her first if the station ran out of food. You might’ve considered him a friend, if you had the emotional availability for friends.

Who you never talked to, or even wanted to, was Ettore. Some kid done in for all kinds of sexual assault and violence, even some corpse fucking. I mean, if you’re desperate enough, you guessed. It’s not like you had any room to judge, considering. But even you thought the guy was a bit over the top. You were subtle, tried leaving no traces; Ettore was messy, no condom, coming inside every girl he forced himself on, his bloody fingerprints everywhere. Some people just weren’t smart enough to think of those things. Men hardly ever think things through. You didn’t know what he went through, but you didn’t find it in yourself to care. He was a monster, just like you.

Ettore stared at all the women on board, even the men sometimes, but you always felt his eyes on you. Maybe it was because you were closer to his age than all the others, but he just liked your appearance the most, but you didn’t appreciate it nevertheless. You thought about how pretty his shiny crimson blood would like coating your hands every time he made eye contact with you. Thought about how his gurgles would sound if you slit his throat, choking on his own blood.

You make promises to yourself. You say, you’re never going to do this thing again. You won’t ruin your life like this, you can’t. But then like all promises, you break them and you continue to destroy yourself and everything around you. It’s inevitable, like death. You crave and you ache and you feel like you can’t live if you can’t carry on with this obsession, you need to drown yourself in it. The pain of living with knowing that you’re a monster seems more appealing than the pain of never being able to fulfill that craving ever again. It’s a sacrifice you have to be willing to make. But the difference between people like you and normal people is that your cravings supersedes the want to be normal and live without guilt or remorse. You can’t have it both ways, and you understand that better than most. You figured Ettore knew that too, and that’s the only reason you started to take an interest in him.

Ettore never seemed remorseful for what he did, not like the others. The others had regrets, they wished to go back in time and change what happened, they never wanted to end up in space. Neither did you, but remorse wasn’t in your programming. Regret wasn’t something you ever learned. The world couldn’t handle people like you, not at that time.

You didn’t really know what you were looking for in Ettore, definitely not comfort, he couldn’t give it if he tried. But that’s not what you wanted either, you hated nice people but they were easier to take advantage of. You knew you wouldn’t be able to take advantage of Ettore, he’d be able to sniff that out from a mile away. You usually knew how to approach these things, how to approach your victims, but Ettore was different. He was like you, and you didn’t like that. You felt something you had never felt before; you felt threatened.

You and Ettore were assigned moping the station floors, a tedious endeavor, they’d just get dirtied up again. But this was your chance, to get rid of the threat once and for all. Dr. Dibs was a stupid cunt, for all those experiments she did, she couldn’t even spot you stealing one of her scalpels from her infirmary. Though, you figured she wouldn’t have cared that much anyway.

Ettore kept his eyes to the floor, mindlessly moping away at the tiled flooring. You removed the scalpel from the hiding place you made in your scrubs, gripping the handle firmly and plunging the blade down, aiming for the man’s neck. You barely made it halfway to your blade’s destination before Ettore grabbed your wrist, swiftly pinning you against the wall with a dark look in his eyes. You glared up at him, the feeling of having lost searing your insides.

Ettore easily overpowered you, holding both your wrists above your head with one hand and taking the scalpel in his other. He looked between you and the surgeon utensil with an almost amused expression. “Not the first time a woman’s ever tried to kill me.” He mused, “I’m sure that comes as a shock to ya.” His dry sense of humor didn’t sit well with you, though you didn’t have much of a sense of humor to begin with.

Instead of giving you a taste of your own medicine and killing you like you thought he would, he simply tore the blade through your scrubs top like it was second nature, exposing your breasts, your nipples hardening against the cold space station air. You heard him hum in appreciation, eyeing up your tits like they were a meal. “Not the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, but they’ll do.” You didn’t have time to be offended before asking yourself, ‘they’ll do’ for what?

You were suddenly slammed on the floor, your back hitting the tile hard, Ettore above you predatorily. “Get off me, you dick!” You seethed, struggling against his grasp.

Ettore pursed his lips, shoving his knee between your legs. “Nah, don’t think I will. Been wantin’ to have my way with ya for months. Thinking ‘bout your tight little holes every time I used that fuckin’ box. Don’t need it now.”

“Dibs will find out.”

He raised a brow. “Do you think that’s something I care about? Can’t imagine she’d be too thrilled about you tryna take a stab at me neither. Just shut your mouth and do as you’re told, and we won’t have any problems.” And just for good measure, the man atop you threw his fist across your face, blood and a tooth splattering to the once freshly cleaned floor. He groped at your breasts roughly, surely leaving bruises that would stay for awhile, if you even made it out of this encounter. You spat the rest of the blood that pooled in your mouth up at Ettore, watching the viscous fluid paint his fair complexion. “Bitch.” He spoke simply before ripping off the rest of your clothing and moved up to straddle your chest, his hardened member hovering right above your face. “Suck. Better feel no teeth or you’ll lose ‘em.”

“Piss off!” Ettore smirked as he muffled your protests by shoving his cock inside your mouth, thrusting with abandon, your whimpers and choked gasps only spurring him on further. You felt like you were going to pass out, his dick blocking your airway, only getting barely enough just so you could keep going. You hoped he’d stop soon, but you’d soon regret wishing for that.

With a grunt, he pulled out of your mouth and flipped you onto your stomach.

“Ettore!” You growled, trying to escape the heavy weight of his body, to no avail. You let out a yelp as he landed a harsh smack to your ass, a new feeling of panic washing over you as you felt his hands spread your cheeks and hocked up a wad of spit on your puckered hole. “No-! Not there, please!”

Ettore chuckled darkly, “I like hearing ya beg, do it again.”

Your brows furrowed in discomfort as you felt the blunt tip of his cock press up against your ass, pushing every so slightly. You decided you wouldn’t give in to this vicious man, no matter what. He was yours to kill and torture, not the other way around. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. “Fuck you.” You yelled out in pain as Ettore forced his cock in your ass to the brim, his thickness bringing tears to your eyes immediately, the unfamiliar pain almost unbearable. “Stop!”

“Nah, sweetheart, you asked for it. And I’m gonna give it to ya.” He grunted as he pulled out, only to push back in roughly. You cried out in pain as you felt your tissue tear inside, your own blood acting as a lubricant so Ettore’s cock could slide in and out more easily. Each thrust added another wave of pain throughout your entire body, sweat beading along your forehead and shivers going up your spine that hit the base of your skull. You hissed as he pinned your head down to the cold tile, your tears and sweat mixing and creating a puddle that you’d be forced to clean up later.

“H-Hurts…” Was all you could say, and when you thought the pain would go away, Ettore would just speed up his thrusts, tearing away at you for his own pleasure. You felt his cock throb inside you, pulsing as he finally came with a grunt, forcing his seed deep inside you.

You whimpered as he pulled out, his cum mixed with your blood pooling into another puddle of pain. You wondered if he was done with you. Was he exhausted of you? Ettore inadvertently answered your silent question when he flipped you over on your back, his blood covered cock still hard and standing at attention. “I’m almost tempted to make you clean up your mess here…” He smirked, “but I wanna fill up that pretty pussy of yours, have you leaking from both filthy holes.”

You growled, trying to kick at him only for him to force himself between your thighs. “You’ve had enough, Ettore, now let me go!”

Ettore furrowed his brows. “Enough? No, it’s never enough.” You let out an involuntary moan as his thick cock slid right in your cunt, not for the blood but your own slick making it a welcome intrusion. “Fuck, so wet and tight. You sure you’re not getting off on being taken like this, luv?” No, absolutely not, but you couldn’t really teach him a lesson about the body’s natural defense mechanisms at a time like this.

The harsh, sopping slaps of skin pierced your ears when it would’ve been an otherwise chillingly quiet hallway. It was peaceful at times, the silence deafening to the point it blocked out all the other noise, from outside and from within. Ettore had to taint that too. You felt like you were rotting from the inside out, each thrust his cockhead hit your cervix, making your toes curl and eyes roll to the back of your skull, an aching pleasure like lightning bolts shooting through you. Your loud moans were unavoidable when he pushed your legs back against your torso, making his cock hit deeper, his thrusts picking up speed as he kept hitting that sweet spot inside you. The wiry hairs that decorated Ettore’s pelvis rubbed up against your clit in tandem with his brutal thrusts, your orgasm creeping up on you like a curse.

You clenched hard around him as you came, earning a deep groan from the man, his seed spilling inside you. Perhaps in different circumstances, coming together would’ve been romantic. But alas, you had nothing but pure hatred for the man that was now trying to catch his breath above you, keeping a bruising grip on your legs as he came down from his high. Surely, he was done now, right? “You liked that, did ya? You want more, hm? I can give you more.”

You gave up trying to protest, knowing that it would only make him want you more, so you kept your mouth shut as he flipped you over again, entering you from behind. Your hands shook as his cock pile drived you, his body weight squishing you against the floor, your insides aching as the force of his thrusts moved them around. Unfortunately, you felt another orgasm bubbling up inside you, a growl escaping you as you felt betrayed by your own body. “Fuck!” Ettore moaned, “Your cunt’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You fuckin’ love this cock, don’t ya, slut?” Rage coursed through you like your orgasms did, your moans and whimpers echoing the halls along with Ettore’s. Fuck him. Fuck this situation. You’d rather be dead.

Something shimmering caught your eye, your gaze shifting to spot your long forgotten scalpel laying just a few feet away from your body. If you could only reach…

“Mmm, maybe I’ll fuck a baby into you, maybe Dibs will give me special treatment as a reward.” Ettore chuckled darkly. “Maybe she’ll let me fuck you whenever I want.”

“Fuck you.” You spat venomously, yelping when Ettore suddenly flipped you over on your back and gave you a harsh slap.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch, and take this goddamn dick.” And when he raised his hand to deliver another slap, you opened your mouth and clamped down on his fingers with your teeth as hard as you could.

Ettore let out a satisfying yell, the tangy taste of his blood coating your mouth and arousing you like nothing else could, his flesh tearing and bones beginning to crack and fracture before he pulled away, clutching his injured hand. You quickly kicked him in his lower abdomen and then his chest, successfully shoving him to the floor, giving you the chance to grab the scalpel. You sliced open your palm as you grabbed the wrong end in a rush, stinging pain and adrenaline surging through you.

You screamed as Ettore pounced on top of you, trying to grab the tool from your hands, his fists beating down on your back and arms. You elbowed him in the side, hearing him gasp for air before you pushed him off, quickly straddling him, pinning his hands beneath your knees. “Fuck you!” You shouted in his face, bringing the blade down and plunging it into his stomach. “Fuck you!” You brought the blade down again, this time in his shoulder. With a pained yell and a groan, Ettore ejaculated beneath you, your pussy rubbing against his cock when you straddled him, giving him one last climax before you forced the scalpel into his neck.

You watched with a grin as dark, viscous blood poured out of his various wounds, him choking and gurgling on his own blood as it continuously filled his mouth. You couldn’t focus on anything else but the oozing tears in his flesh that you made, you didn’t notice anything else around you as you watched the life slowly drain from his eyes, his blood creating a large puddle that covered your own blood and his sticky spend, like it was never even there.

You lived for this. The feeling of taking someone’s life. It took a while to get that feeling back, a lot of effort and pain, but it was worth it. Even when you were caught by the other crewmates and Dibs, even when Dibs tortured you as punishment, the other prisoners shoving you outside of the airlock chamber for their own safety…

…it was totally worth it.

sorry, i love my happy endings🤷🏻‍♀️

#high life #high life 2018 #ettore #ettore x fem!reader #ettore x f!reader #ettore imagine #ettore smut #ettore x reader #ettore high life #dark

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aphrodisiac-siren · 1 year

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Masterlist

House of the dragon Masterlist

High Life Masterlist

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babyblue711 · 9 months

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Temptation

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

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

Every day was the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What monster have you just unleashed?

>>> Part 2

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

#ewan mitchell #ettore high life #ettore x reader #ewan nation #ettore fanfiction #aemond targaryen #ettore smut #ettore crackfic

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 10 months

Note

Happy follower milestone! Maybe an Ettore onesbot where reader is assistant to the doctor Dibs and maybe some kind of nurse kink???

Afflictions Of A Dark Nature

Thank you for the request! I hope this lives up to your expectations! This is my first time writing for Ettore so apologies if it seems OOC, I did try my best (I even re-watched High Life and will be sending the bill for emotional damages). Also get well soon @ewanmitchellcrumbs 😚

Warnings under the cut! Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

Warnings: *deep breath* lots of swearing, mentions of past sexual encounters that may have not been consensual, fingering, dub-con, p in v sex, ass slapping, degradation, mentions of a blood test, male masturbation, oral (f receiving), creampie, cum eating, dacryphyilia, choking, kinda face slapping?, ass play, spitting, overstimulation | Word Count: 6.4k~ | dividers by @firefly-graphics

If he had to see that wrinkly, smug face of Dr Dibs again, Ettore would lose it.

He knew who he was. He wasn’t beyond acting out against women if he wanted to. It’s part of what put him here in the first place. Drifting through space, on some suicide mission that the oh-so-wise earthlings had decided it would be better to doom prisoners to death rather than qualified astronauts. Not like it mattered. He was on death-row anyway, so what loss really was it?

Only the loss of his complete sanity.

He knew that if he lashed out at anyone, even Dr Dibs, there’d be a punishment of sorts. In a way that was wholly unethical for someone who is supposed to provide care, but hey, who’s keeping track. Nobody gives a shit on earth. She could put arsenic in the water supply if she wanted to, and nobody could say a thing about it.

For the sake of at least living longer, though it made him dry-heave inside, he sweetened up, got more sleeping pills out of it as a result, which in this place was gold dust. A long, good-night’s sleep did little to take a person away from a situation like this, but it was at least something. A small mercy in a way.

Deep down, there was a need-no, an impulse that Ettore couldn’t shake.

But before he could indulge in the memories of those needs, someone called his name.

“Ettore, is it?”

Her voice was sweet, far too compassionate for someone stuck aboard working on this fucked up prison. And when she raised her eyebrows at him to elicit a response, she gave a polite smile. When was the last time someone smiled at him, truly?

She had a clipboard in front of her, disguising the lanyard around her neck and she wore blue scrubs, which looked the same design as the prisoners, but instead theirs were red.

Perhaps to show how dangerous they were. Hers was clinical and clean. Pure.

He wore suspicion on his face, marked with the furrow of his brows and without saying a word he stood and followed her into the infirmary. She was a head shorter than him which made him smirk when he was sure she wasn’t looking.

All he knew was that he was grateful it wasn’t that wrinkly, smug bitch. He was sure she was doing something fucking weird to them. Just couldn’t put his finger on what.

When she drew the curtain, she let him in first, “Have a seat”

This cubicle was at least separate. And even though they’d not been on the ship for long, it looked crusty and old, with those wax linoleum floors, vile padded walls. It looked like it was going to fall apart.

Ettore slumped into a chair next to a computer with a huff, taking in his surroundings, still trying to figure out what to make of this new person. Why hadn’t he seen her before? And she looked a lot younger than Dibs, was she even a real doctor or nurse at all?

Her hair was in a loose bun, fractionally more formal than Dibs who wore her braid like armour over her shoulder at all times. It made her look older, despite what Dibs would like to have believed.

She sat down in front of the computer, typing in a few things, and he admired her face for a moment in silence. The way the light of the monitor reflected off the colour of her eyes, how her tongue darted out to lick her lips when she was trying to read something and how fast her fingers typed on the old, beige keyboard that was far too loud for his liking. Sounded like a clock was ticking in his brain.

He didn’t say a word. As was Ettore’s way. He was usually never one to speak first. He was an observer, seeking out the weaknesses of people as if he could simply by looking, like he could extract a little piece of them the longer he did. For her though, he couldn’t make her out.

When Ettore craned his head slowly to look, he could see she was reading his medical history and it made him feel special to know that she was finding out everything she could about him. He wished he could do the same to her. Find out all her little secrets.

“Just some general things and blood work today, nothing fancy” she says, meeting his eyes for a moment with another polite smile, the kind of smile where she’s clearly just trying to be nice, but Ettore can’t help the deep ache in his core to have a woman in front of him now, after years of not touching one. The Box was fine, sure, but there was no other feeling like a woman. Their warm, fleshy insides, each ridge within different from woman to woman.

Something knocked on the door in his mind. A sinful thought had arrived and asked how would she feel? Did she use the Box as well? Who did she think of when she touched herself?

“Roll up your sleeve for me” she instructs, holding the blood pressure monitor in her hands and tearing the velcro away.

She meets his eyes again briefly to find him already looking at her when she leans forward to wrap it around his bicep, right over where his tattoo is. She has small, soft hands, indicative of her work. How would they feel on him, wrapped around his cock? Would her hands even surround him? That was all he could think about as she patted the cuff in place, brushing against his shoulder.

The machine whirred to life and it squeezed his arm, at the end bordering on pain which made him wince. She busied herself with typing on her computer in the meantime, the lanyard around her neck now visible, showing her name.

Got you.

When the machine beeped, she looked at the screen and put the results into his record, wheeling her chair to him again to take it off. He felt his cock get hard beneath his scrubs not just at the feel of her hands on him again, but now because of her proximity. He assumed everyone used the same soap here, she was no exception. But it smelled different on her and he inhaled a deep, long breath to commit as much of it to memory as he could.

She looked surprised when he spoke, as if she hadn’t expected him to.

“Why haven’t I seen you around”

It was hardly a questioning tone, more like an accusation. But she didn’t flinch away at it, rather, she was used to it.

She gave another polite smile, “Oh well, I’m usually in here, running all the tests Dibs gives me” she explains, getting her additional tools ready for the blood test, “But she wanted more help with ‘menial’ tasks like this, is how she put it” she says with a short, quiet huff of a laugh, like she thinks the reasoning was poor.

“So now you’re doing poor sod’s blood tests?”

She nodded, “Something like that”

Her tools were lined up, a tourniquet, a syringe and some cotton swabs. She pulled a pair of blue gloves on and moved her chair closer to him.

“So you’re gonna poke at me?” he asks, half-amused, like he’s testing her.

She cleans the area around his arm with alcohol, a puff of air coming out her nose in a quiet laugh, tightening the tourniquet on him “Just seeing if you have good veins” she says, running her thumb over the pale skin of his arm, clearly finding a vein she was happy with.

Dr Dibs always missed his vein at least once, and he’d clench his fist as the needle went in. He wasn’t into drugs, like a lot of other prisoners here, so he wasn’t used to the prickly feeling. He found pleasure in other ways he deemed fit.

“Just a scratch” she mutters, inserting the needle beneath his skin, smiling to herself when blood goes into the bottle. First time.

Ettore watched the vial fill with rich, thick blood, and then watched her, “You seem a bit young to be a doctor”

"Technically I'm a Junior Doctor" she replies, concentrating on his blood flow before meeting his eyes again. She seems to look at him deeply, her pupils flirting across his face now that they're so close to each other. He hears every little breath, every movement of her throat as she swallows thick, like she's nervous. And everytime her tongue darts out to wet her lips, he stares at the pinkness of it, thinking of how it would feel.

"Should I be trusting you to give me a blood test?" He teases with a wolfish grin, trying to see just how far he can push his luck.

"Hm, I don't suppose you have much choice" her smile turns a bit devilish at his quip, which quite honestly, the turn of her lips makes him want to bend her over the desk and fuck her right then and there. Wants to see what kind of sweet sounds she might make. Even the thought of it makes his cock ache.

“Suppose not”

"I'm allowed to give you blood tests" she says with a teasing smile, pulling the needle from his arm and replacing it with a cotton swab, "Hold that there for me"

He obeys, holding it with his thumb firmly, smirking at the banter he didn't expect to have. The fact that she doesn't visibly seem afraid of him only spurs him on more. Thinking how far can he really go to make her feel uncomfortable. To make her realise just how dangerous he is, what he could do to her.

If anything he's shocked at his own restraint that he's managed this long without touching her. Such a small little thing. She wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he put his mind to it. And in those cute little scrubs as well, she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing to him. How easy would it be to just rip right through them, to see if she was wearing anything underneath. He imagined she wasn’t, and that he’d rip them open to be greeted with her bare, soft skin, how plush and feminine her tits would be, filling his palm. He wants to squeeze them painfully, make her whine out like a slut.

His body is getting hot, blood thrumming with want.

Once the cotton swab is secured to his arm with adhesive, he can’t take his eyes off her, challenging her to meet his gaze to see what she would do.

“Why are you here?” he asks, intrigued. She doesn’t look a bit like a criminal. But he could be surprised by her and he has a feeling he will.

“That’s a personal question” she states, not losing the lazy smirk on her face at the fact he’s clearly so interested in her, “why are you here?”

“Alright, point taken”

She doesn’t prod for more information.

Holding out a clear tub to him, “You know what to do right?” she asks, clearly holding back a wider smile.

Cheeky bitch.

He snatches it from her grasp with a grin, “Now?”

Her eyebrow twitches in amusement.

“However long it takes”

A jolt goes through his body, as if a light had just come on inside. Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.

Fucking cock tease.

He gave her a look before drawing the curtain in the cubicle, barely a few feet from where she sat. So close that he could hear her typing on her computer, hear her quiet sighs. What sweet noises would she make with his cock prodding her soft, tight insides.

Usually when he did sperm samples for Dibs, he took no enjoyment from the idea that she was essentially in the same room as him, not that it took him any less time to cum, she was still a woman and that meant something. As repulsive as she seemed.

But when he took himself in his fist and stroked himself to hardness, teased himself with eyes softly falling shut, he imagined they were her hands. Everytime he squeezed from base to tip, reaching down with the other hand to cup his balls, wondering what her tongue would feel like dragging over every inch of him. Would she tease him? Lick his angry red tip only slightly, and that sensitive spot underneath, flattening her wet muscle over it slowly, allowing him to feel every warm and minute movement.

Without even really realising, his hand was guiding himself faster, desperate to feel the friction of her pussy choking him. Would she buck her hips to meet his desperate thrusts, or squirm away as he bullied the end of her, pushing against her cervix recklessly. He wanted her to be a good girl, and just take what he gave her. If he started, would he really truly be able to stop?

He struggled to hold in the shuddered breaths and he very nearly forgot to put the tub in front of him before finishing. A pleasant roll of warmth ran through his body, one that quickly turned into a dark, deep desire. His hand wasn't enough. He hadn’t touched a woman in so long. He wanted the real thing and she was right there. Dirty bitch was probably already wet thinking about what he was doing.

Slipping through the curtain he handed it out to her and she took it with an amused raise of her eyebrows.

“That was quick” she quipped, putting a lid on it and writing his name for the label.

Oh she’s going to get it, dirty fucking mouth.

He couldn’t hold off the sort of accomplished grin on his face, she was more fun than he thought. For a moment, he allowed himself to just simply observe her, wondering what other fun they could have.

He was growing impatient at not being able to act on those thoughts.

“Is that it?” he asks, making her look up again.

“Unless you have any other…ailments?” Ettore doesn’t miss the way she suppresses a grin by biting the inside of her cheek. He doesn’t suppress his and feels impossibly hard once again seeing her dainty lips curl up just slightly. She must be able to see beneath the thin fabric of his scrubs, how much he wants her. Let her see, he thinks, make her squirm a bit.

He watches the way her eyes briefly run over him. It was so quick, that had he not been looking right at her, he would have missed it. She swallows, feeling like he caught her and turns away a bit, trying to hide the warm feeling that settles between her legs at the way he’s looking at her, exciting and yet dangerous at the same time.

She only hopes he doesn’t notice the way she’s squeezed her thighs together.

“Smashing then, cheers doc” he smirks, sauntering off with a certain swagger about him, knowing that his sweet, innocent looking little doctor is all worked up. He looks over his shoulder before leaving.

The ache of the blood test is completely forgotten. Instead, all his blood is below his waist, with none left for his brain to function. It’s been a while since a woman last did this to him. Yeah he’d fucked plenty of women, some had even wanted it. But he wanted her to want it. Wanted the little slut to beg for it. To beg him to stuff her full of his cock.

That was new, he thought. But it didn’t deter him from trying to get near her when she was alone, for any chance he could get at having her all to himself.

Annoyingly, he didn’t find the opportunity for quite some time.

Anytime he stalked past her office, there was always some other prisoner inside, having their own tests. A flash of something akin to a dark jealousy courses through his veins, his hands forming fists whenever he hears her talking in a hushed voice to another male prisoner, speaking in that way that only a doctor does.

It’s short lived, when he realises she doesn’t speak as sweetly to them as she does to him.

It feels like he’s had a hard-on for days, just merely thinking about being alone with her. It’s beginning to become painful just how much he wants it, to make her squirm for him, to make her cry. His use of the Box has increased dramatically, but the more he does it, the less the effect. His hand doesn’t do it for him anymore. He can’t replicate that tightness only a woman's cunt could give, the feeling of being sucked so desperately inside someone, being milked for all he’s worth. He dreams of it. She would take it all, he thinks, she’d be a good little slut and take it.

He thinks that if he goes there often enough, he might just run into her, drag her inside, or to a nearby hallway, or even tackle her to the floor if need be and shove himself so deep in her she won’t be able to hold back her wanton moans. He imagines holding her arms behind her back so she can’t move, brutally fucking her so hard that her hips will be bruised.

He’s always liked walking around in the dark, even though he knows he’s not really allowed.

Tonight though, it rewards him.

A soft light emanates from her office and when he leans against the doorway to peek inside, he emits a quiet laugh through his nose, hands in pockets, just watching her.

Her hair is free of the loose bun she wore before and it trails down her back as she’s sat in her chair, leaning over a microscope. She’s so engrossed in what she’s doing and recording notes that his presence doesn’t even disturb her.

He didn’t even think about announcing his presence. He wanted her genuine reaction.

So he didn’t think twice about stalking up behind her and grabbing a fistful of her hair, yanking her back. Only a quiet gasp escaped before he slammed his palm over her mouth, muffling a surprised cry.

“Shut the fuck up” he warned with a low voice.

She froze at his words, eyes wide and breathing heavily, not even having to wonder who it was. His fingers curled painfully against her scalp, tugging her up so her back is to him. Ettore can feel her hurried breaths out her nose hitting his hand.

“Be quiet and I’ll play nice” he says against the shell of her ear, making her body shudder, drawing his hand away from her mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispers accusingly behind her as he pushes the front of her body close to the desk, the edge biting into the front of her legs. His hands run down the sides of her, sucking in the fabric to the shape of her body, growling low at finally being able to see her form underneath.

“I came to see you” he grins,

“Fucking liar”

There was something exciting about being called out like that, and about her saying such vulgar words. As sweet as she looked, he knew there was something deep inside, somewhere he wanted to prod and poke at.

“It’s your own fucking fault” he snarls, pushing his hardness against the softness of her ass. He feels her freeze up for a moment, as if she’s just putting the pieces together, “prancing about in your slutty fucking doctor’s outfit”

One hand dips beneath the hem of her scrubs, a warm sigh expelled from his chest at the softness of her stomach beneath it, trailing higher over her ribs. He can almost feel her pounding heart from here, and it does nothing to deter him, the smirk on his face evidence of that. His large palm tugs at one of her clothed breasts, slightly annoyed to see that she’s wearing a bra underneath, but he squeezes it all the same, relishing in the pained whine she lets out in response to it.

His other hand tugs her forearm almost painfully behind her, twisting it in his grip harshly. He fully knew how strong he was compared to her and couldn’t have her doing anything rash. Best to keep her hands where he can see them.

“I was just trying to be nice” she counters with a harshness to her voice, not being able to take the breathiness out of it, “Damn sight better than what most of you deserve” she briefly struggles in his hold, that is until he tightens the clamp on her wrist. A warning.

“Careful” he warns low in her ear, “I don’t think you understand the situation right now”

“You need to get off me. Now” she tries to push her hips away from him, but at her blatant refusal, he only pushes himself closer to her, moaning softly at the friction against him and the warmth of her even with her scrubs separating them.

He resists the urge to outright laugh, and scoffs instead, “You are in no position to make demands to me. I see right through you…you want me”

She only grunts painfully in response, half-trying to tear her hand away. Not trusting herself to say anything. Ettore almost wants to laugh at how pathetically she’s trying to avoid showing how she really feels.

“How long has it been, hm?” he says, more like a growl than anything, as his hand dips beneath the waistband of her scrubs, “Since someone touched you here”

She doesn’t reply, half fighting and half giving in. But then his hand cups her clothed sex, only covered by her thin underwear and she feels his large palm rub against her, her clit throbbing with desire at not having been touched in so long. God it had been so long. His fingers tease her entrance, rubbing in circles, coaxing some slick from her.

“A while, huh?” he smirks.

“Stop it, we’ll get in trouble” she says, but it comes out a whisper, not able to hide the way his hand against her most intimate area is having such an effect on her. The heel of his palm rubs against her bundle of nerves, making her blood feel like fire in her veins, arousal pooling in her belly.

“You think I give a fuck?” he retorts, grinning, “I would have a thousand punishments if I meant I could shove my cock in your tight little hole”

“You wouldn’t”

He does laugh at that, “You wanna bet?”

Her body briefly goes rigid, trying to hold back a genuine moan when his hand dips past her underwear, and Ettore groans at the feeling of her warm, wet pussy, coating his fingers with her slick. Her eyes break closed, mouth taut into a thin line to hold in her whine, body slightly trembling at how hard she is trying to hold back.

“You talk all this shit and you’re fucking soaked for me” he grins against her ear, “is this what was under that uniform…while you were prodding and poking me?”

She gasps, her lips opening in a hurried breath as his digit sinks into her, teasing her soft, spongy walls with the calloused pads of his fingertips. She doesn’t answer him. Can’t. She can just feel herself getting warmer. It’s undeniable, the effect he has on her. And she’s not sure if she’d be wise to submit to it.

But it’s getting harder and harder by the second not to.

“Oh, you’re filthy” he says, inserting another finger, stretching her pussy with them, softly but harshly pushing inside “getting off on taking my blood, fucking slut”

At both his words and motions, she lets out a soft and quiet moan, a pressure inside her building the more she feels his fingers caressing her warm, wet walls.

Ettore tugs down his sweatpants, freeing his cock which sits hot and heavy against the curve of her ass, the tip flushed and stood to attention against his stomach. He gives himself a few pumps, pushing forward to let her feel him. He doesn’t even bother to begin the tryst with kissing. He’s not like that.

It’s much too soft and intimate a gesture, compared to what he plans to do with her.

She turns her head, now just quietly moaning at the pleasure his fingers give her, eyes half open and a hedonistic expression on her face. She sees him pull his shirt up his chest, and then looks down, to see what exactly is pushing hard against her backside.

Before she has any time to react, his hand is curled around her nape, pushing her head flush against the table in front of her, sending the samples scattering to the floor.

"Stop it!" She protests, trying to wiggle helplessly out his grasp, "I'll scream"

She sees him smirk, looking down at her with a half lidded lust filled gaze.

"Do it then, makes it more interesting" he shows his teeth, tugging down her scrubs song with her underwear. Now with her body flush against the table and stuck, both his hands knead the globes of her ass, his fingers leaving pink marks in their wake. He takes fistfuls, spreading them to have a proper look at her glistening pussy, just waiting for him. She whimpers at the pleasured pain it emits when his fingers hold her apart, only to turn into a surprised gasp as he kicks her ankles apart.

“Someone could walk in!” she whisper-shouts, holding her hand to her mouth to muffle any sounds when he runs the tip of his cock over her soaked folds, slapping it against her clit and smiling at her reaction.

“Let them watch then, they can see how much of a mess I’ll make of you” he purrs leaning down to press his chest against her back, “None of that either” he pulls her hand from her mouth, “I want to hear how desperate you are for me”

With her cheek flush against the table, she had to only move her eyes to look at him. Glazed over with the pupil blown wide, it betrays just how much she may or may not want it, she still doesn’t want to show him. She’s almost annoyed at his cockiness, until she feels just how big he is, teasing her ever so slightly at her entrance.

“Now let’s see what pretty noises you can make for me, hm?”

He pushes against her, parting her folds, pulling her hips towards him to sink as much inside her as he can. His heart beats faster as he feels her pussy choke him tightly, every single ridge feels like fucking magic against his cock, he feels like just finishing inside her right there. She chokes a moan, his curved member rubbing up inside her at all the right angles the further inside he goes, until he kisses the end of her with the tip, reaching places she could never with her own fingers in the Box. Her back arches slightly as he bottoms out inside her, his fingers so tight on her hips they will definitely be bruised tomorrow.

He doesn’t give her time to adjust, not even a second, as he pulls all the way out, his length covered in her slick and slams back inside with a wet smack, watching how the flesh of her ass ripples when his hips meet it.

“Oh you’re bad…” he purrs, setting a brutally quick pace. Her eyes softly shut, her front rubbing almost painfully against the stainless steel table with each hard thrust.

“Gonna have you on every fucking flat surface in this ship” he breathes, his voice hurried from the effort and how she tightens around him at his words, “you’d like that wouldn’t you….everyone watching how much of a slut you are”

She yelps out in a pained moan when he slaps her ass, gripping it after to emphasise the burn, “Answer me”

“Yes-yes…” she manages through hurried breaths, trying to control her volume but rapidly failing.

Every time he fucks into, the sheer thickness of him pushes the air out of her lungs every time, her walls stretching against him to accommodate. Ettore smirks down at the view. She lets out between a sob and a moan when she feels his spit on her puckered hole, his thumb rubbing circles against it and spreading his saliva over her sensitive skin.

It feels so right and wrong at the same time. And when he pushes a thumb inside, only making her feel more full than she already does, she can't help but buck her ass against him, wanting more friction, pleasured tears falling down her cheeks. It really had been a while since she last had sex, obviously. But nobody had been this forward and rough with her before.

“See? I know you like this…knew you wanted to fuck me the second you saw me” he mocks, giving one hard, deep thrust inside which has her squirming against him with a desperate whine, his thumb sank all the way inside her ass, the movement of their fucking aiding in stimulating that as well.

He thinks, one day he'll claim that hole of hers as well.

But not today.

He pulls out quickly and instantly tugs at her hair, turning her over so that he can see her face. She’s sat weakly up on the counter, thighs held apart for him by one of his hands. Poor thing looks tired out, he thinks, looking at her watery eyes and flushed cheeks, her head lolling back against the counters with a thud.

“Are you fucking crying?” he grins, softly slapping her cheek and grabbing her face so she looks at him, “really has been a while, huh? That’s a bit pathetic”

He practically rips the shirt off her, not even bothering to take the bra underneath off and just tugs it to the side, freeing her breasts. He groans at the sight, perky, rosy and stood to attention in the now hot office, smelling of pure, unadulterated sex. They fill his palms perfectly, and he tugs at them with his fingers, revelling in the low, chesty mewl she lets out.

It’s no effort at all the way his cock just slides into her again, slowly. Too slowly.

She feels the curve of his cock, different in this new position, every vein and ridge. His thickness splits her open until he hits the end of her, pounding mercilessly into her, making the cupboards jolt in place with each snap of his hips against her thighs, which he is keeping in his palms wide apart. Ettore grins down, watching at the way his cock disappears into her over and over, at the ripple of her soft, soft skin each time.

She arches her back against him, warm, pleasured tears pricking at her eyes the closer she gets to that tight, hot pressure in her tummy bursting. He laughs as she clenches noticeably around him,

“What is it, hm?” he sneers, “or have I fucked you stupid?”

Her moans are so desperate she really does look pathetic, “fuck…I’m gonna-”

“You gonna cum for me?” he taunts with a wide smirk, all of this just doing wonders for his ego, “now, why would I let you do that?”

“...ne-need it…”

He never lets up his pace as once hand curls into her neck, tugging her forward so that her eyes are solely on him. She moans softly at the rough action.

Pathetic.

“You gonna be a good girl and be quiet?”

She nods as best she can, his hand tightening only slightly around her neck, trying to will her voice to come out between the deafening smacks of their fucking.

“Yes..”

“Say please, then”

“Please-I need it” she begs in a horse voice.

He shoves her back roughly, smacking her head against the cupboards, watching her tits as they bounce. Truthfully, he can feel himself getting close as well, but more than anything he wants to watch her come undone on his cock. Show her just how much fun she could have with him if she just let herself.

Her cheeks are pink and her chest is dotted with warmth as the air in the office is hot and thick, even more so at the pleasurable lack of oxygen his hand around her neck gives. It makes it harder for those strained moans to pass her lips.

Every drag through her hot, ridged core sends sparks of pleasure through him, crawling up his spine.

You first.

She sucks in a breath when he lets go of her neck, allowing his thumb into her mouth. She sucks on the digit greedily, using her tongue to coat it with saliva. Ettore almost moans at just the sight of her.

He'll have that mouth too, he thinks.

A string breaks between her mouth and her thumb as he presses it suddenly against her clit, hard. She gasps at the painful pleasure of his rough actions, swirling his thumb over her bud to bring her to that precipice first.

Her hands grip his shoulders, but he quickly tears them off him, "I didn't say you could touch me" he snarls in between devastating thrusts, drawing figures of eight on her clit and watching as she squirms.

Her hands brace the counter either side of her legs, needing something to hold onto, "...m sorry…"

"You will be fucking sorry. Stupid bitch"

If it's possible, he moves himself into her faster, bullying that rough patch inside her with such severity that her eyebrows furrow together, her mouth open in a silent scream. She contracts around him at the combined pleasure of his cock and his stimulation to her bud, knuckles going white at her grip on the counter.

"Such a perfect pussy…never fucking using that Box again…not when I have this…" he breathes pressing his body against hers so they are flush, his nose running up the side of her neck.

"Ettore, please…"

It's not really a request, just something that passes her lips. And he knows the second he feels her clench so tightly that she's done for, when her back arches towards him and her body goes rigid for a split second.

Her teeth sink into his skin at his shoulder, muffling the scream of pleasure that threatens to escape. He knows that will be there for days and it will most definitely hurt in the morning.

A gush of arousal soaks his cock and he continues to pound into her through it, pressing his thumb into her clit, extending her little death into a devastating abyss of warmth and rapture. Her walls quiver with overstimulation around him, and he can feel the wetness of her tears on his shoulder, her desperate whines.

"Fuck-shit" Ettore pushes inside once more, hard, with a barely stifled groan, huffing a pleasured laugh at the feeling of stuffing her with his cum and the warmth that surrounds him.

He wants to stay like that forever, keeping his cum inside her with his cock. Her thighs shake slightly, and he delights in the fact that she might not be able to walk afterwards. To remind her who she belongs to, now that he's claimed her.

He calms his hurried breathing just enough to pull his rapidly softening cock from her, earning a low whine from her once she pulls her teeth from him. Her tits move slowly with her breathing, thighs still shaking ever so slightly and parted to give him a good view of the mess he's made of her.

Her arousal combined with the cum that's leaking out of her activates a primal part of his brain and he's tempted to fuck her brains out again, but knows he wouldn't be able to.

Another time.

"Look at my filthy little doctor"

He pulls her thighs close to him, teetering on the edge of the table, and all she's able to do is make a sound of surprise, eyes widening as he sinks to his knees between her legs.

"No-no, Ettore-" she protests quickly. Her hands going back to bracing the counter tightly when she feels his warm, wet muscle lapping against her soaked folds, a combination of her climax and his swirling over his tongue with such lewdness it makes her flush bright red.

After such a recent and all-consuming orgasm, she flinches when his tongue swirls over her clit, the vibrations of his low moans against it feels much too overwhelming now.

"Please-too much-"

He runs his tongue flat over her core, groaning at the combined taste of them and lapping up whatever leaks out of her. He could spend fucking days between her legs if she tastes like this all the time. Her arousal is so sweet and tart, musky when combined with his. Mixed with his cum, he thinks, she's made to be fucked by him. Made to be filled.

Fucking her with his tongue through her fluttering walls, her hand cards through his hair, tugging. To push him away or to bring him closer, she's torn between the two. The warmth of his mouth against her is just too tempting to want him to stop and when he moves his face side to side, his sharp nose nuzzling against her already over-used clit…

"Fuck! Please-"

The orgasm that rocks through her body blazes every nerve in its path, all the way down to the way his tongue is still lapping and sucking her juices, as if she's the best thing he's tasted since boarding this hellscape of a ship. He takes every bit of essence, sighing and moaning, with a grip so iron on her thighs, she can't move even if she wanted to.

Ettore rises to his feet, giving one more flattened lap over her core, sucking at her clit, which makes her twitch. Her glazed over, wettened eyes meet his, the blue almost entirely encompassed by black. He looks like an animal who's just tasted blood again after a long time of being caged. She doesn't entirely know why, but it makes her throb with desire, and it frightens even her to know that such a dangerous man, a criminal no less, is making her feel this way.

It makes her think, is she any better for enjoying it as much as she did.

He looks down at her, almost entirely bared to him, his reddened marks blossoming over her skin in early bruises. Her fucked-out face, a mix of lust and confusion, with that tell-tale pink to her cheeks.

A dangerous grin widens across his face.

"I meant it you know…" he says, dark and low, "...I'm not using that fucking Box ever again"

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

Text

Monsters in the Garden (Ettore x Reader) 18+

No one comes to your garden but you, not even Dr. Dibs. So what is the most dangerous man on the ship doing leaning against your doorway and watching you work?

Pairing: Ettore x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT SMUT; hand job; kissing; blood; mentions of rape, murder, and violence; female genital mutilation; vague mentions of corpse mutilation

Author's note: This was inspired by a session I had with the Ettore AI made by @harrenhalhottie (RIP). It was just so good I had to write it out for y'all. This Ettore is a little different from normal, but I can't help but look at a one-dimensional character and want more. Hope you enjoy, and let me know if you want a Part 2, because I have ideas...

This song also heavily influenced the vibe:

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3

Monsters in the Garden

You were on your knees, leaning over one of your raised garden beds when you noticed him leaning against the open doorway. He wasn’t quiet on his approach – he wanted you to know he was there.

Ettore was always there, in some dark corner, watching you.

By this point, you were almost used to the burning feeling that crawled beneath your skin whenever his eyes were on you.

In the right light, those eyes were a mesmerizing blue. The color reminded you of the sky back on Earth. If he hadn’t been so goddamn creepy, you might have been happy to stare into his eyes just to remember home, even briefly.

But he was easily the most unsettling person you’d ever met. Always leering at the other women on board – though in the past weeks, you had apparently become his one and only target– and using the Box proudly, far more than anyone else did.

It was no wonder why. You knew what he was.

Everyone on board was a killer, including you. But Ettore was the worst. The most dangerous of you all. For he was the only one who had… done worse than just kill his victims.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

Well, some would say what you had done was worse. But that was different. Your victim was already dead by the time you started your work on his corpse, and it had been more than deserved.

You did not let yourself linger on that. You never did these days. The further away from Earth you got, the more distant it seemed. The rage, the guilt, all of it.

Ettore wasn’t distant. He was mere feet away from you, intruding on your garden.

Not yours, not really. Because of your past – specifically, the degree in horticulture you were only one semester away from completing when you were arrested – you were assigned to look after the gardens instead of something more related to the actual mission of the ship like the rest of the crew.

Or more basic, in Ettore’s case. Dr. Dib’s called his assignment “ship maintenance,” but you all knew what he really was: the janitor.

But he never came in here. You made sure of it, keeping everything meticulously clean and fixing all your equipment yourself so no one – least of all Ettore – would ever have a reason to intrude on your space.

You didn’t even allow Tcherny, the other gardener, in here. He was fine with it. He preferred the vegetable and grains and left the medicinal plants – kept in their own room – to you. The only person beside you who ever came in here was Dr. Dibs, and she hadn’t been here in months. She didn’t like the dirt.

Yet there was Ettore, just staring at you.

His eyes weren’t that beautiful, bright blue you so rarely glimpsed. His chin was slightly tucked into his chest, his strong brow casting his eyes into darkness. His face was blank, unfeeling, and unmoving, save for those eyes.

They almost didn’t look human, but animal. Yes, that was the look of a predator. And it was directed at you.

You turned away from him to face the garden bed again, hoping he would lose interest if you didn’t engage. But if he didn’t, and he did try something…

Well, you had your spade next to you. It was probably sharp enough to dissuade him from doing anything you didn’t approve of.

So, you resumed your work, carefully tending to your poppies.

Once the lovely purple-pink petals that were just unfurling fell in a few days, you would harvest the sap from the seedpods so Dr. Dibs could synthesize more of the sedative the crew was forced to take each night. Only a handful, carefully selected by you, would be spared and allowed to produce the seeds that would become the next crop.

Though you hated playing a part in producing the drugs, the poppies were still your favorite plant. They were the only flowers you had left.

The garden was always your happy place, even on Earth, and you quickly found yourself concentrating not on Ettore or the sounds of the ship or even the ship itself. There was only you, the dirt, and your beloved plants.

So, when you finally stood and looked away from your work, you had entirely forgotten that Ettore stood there.

Still, he remained leaning against the doorframe, watching you. He hadn’t moved a fucking inch.

You jumped slightly at the unexpected sight, your hand flying to your racing heart.

While he did not flinch at the motion, Ettore’s brow raised slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirked up.

At least the hunger in his eyes had abated. Somewhat.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, love,” he crooned as he uncrossed his arms and took two steps forward.

God, you had never heard him speak before.

His voice wasn’t particularly deep, but it was low and smooth. His accent was like something out of those British action movies a boyfriend in high school loved to make you watch. Perhaps it was those memories – of either the boyfriend or the handsome actors, that made his voice sound almost alluring.

It had to be. It couldn’t be him.

You instinctively stepped back, raising your hands to try and communicate that you didn’t want him near you. Unfortunately, you forgot your spade on the ground, leaving your hands empty. Fortunately, your gloves were loose enough that he could not see the slight trembling in your fingers.

“I just…” you stammered. “I forgot you were there.”

He just stared at you impassively, those predatory eyes taking in every detail of your face, then traveling lower and lower.

Some of the hunger returned when his gaze landed on your breasts.

You had to shut that shit down.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, pouring all your contempt into your voice to mask the fear that still crept within your blood.

Ettore looked back at your eyes, the corner of his lip flicking up as though he was holding back a sneer. “Just passing through.”

You risked looking away from him to glance at your watch. It confirmed what you already knew. “You’ve been standing there for over an hour,” you informed him. One hour and eighteen minutes, to be exact. “Hardly what I’d call ‘passing through.’”

He raised his brows slightly, apparently surprised it had been that long. “Guess I lost track of time. Watching you is…” he turned his eyes, not to your body, but to the flower bed you had just been working in. When he looked back, he gave a sly smile. “Relaxing.”

Bullshit, you thought. But then you bit back the sharp tang of your own cynicism. Gardening was relaxing to you; it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility that he honestly found watching you relaxing as well. If it had been anyone but Ettore, you probably would have believed them without a moment of doubt.

But it was Ettore.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

You glared at him for a long moment, trying to communicate that you wouldn’t be fucked with – you wouldn’t be a victim. Then, when he still didn’t drop his gaze from yours, you took it as an acknowledgment of the threat and turned away from him.

You were at least half-expecting him to pounce on you then and there, but he didn’t. You didn’t hear a single sound as you walked to your workbench, situated on the opposite wall from the door, and took off your gloves.

“There’s nothing more to watch,” you said over your shoulder. Then, grabbing a clean rag from one of the drawers, you began wiping the dirt from your forearms – rinsing it off in the sink would risk a clog, which would mean a visit from maintenance and Ettore. “I’m done for the day.”

He didn’t reply, only grunted his acknowledgment. He never moved as you continued to wrap up your work – cleaning your tools, sweeping the dirt that had made its way out of the beds, and washing your hands. Still just watching you.

At least it confirmed that it wasn’t the gardening he found ‘relaxing.’

Finally, you discarded your rags in the laundry bin. It would need to be taken out soon – it was ready today, but you were already running later than you wanted. In just ten minutes, you had an ‘appointment’ with Dr. Dibs, and you didn’t want to make her angry. Again. Doing so has become kind of a bad habit of yours.

So, you turned to face Ettore, who continued to stare at you as you stepped within a few feet of him. He stood a little taller at your approach, puffing his chest out as that near-rabid hunger took over his eyes once more.

Your stomach fluttered, and you told yourself it was only because you were nervous about whatever Dibs planned to do to you tonight.

But then the corner of his mouth quirked up, and your heart sank at the realization that it was because you – or rather, your traitorous, repressed body – found Ettore attractive.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

He would be just your type if you didn’t know why he was here. You had never been able to resist a good jawline, and his could cut fucking glass. And as you took another step closer, his height became just as enticing. You always told people you only liked tall men so they could reach things for you. But really, you just loved the feeling of having a big, strong man to protect you.

No one had looked at you like you needed protection in years. No, you were now what people needed protection from.

“Though she be but little she is fierce,” the lawyer had said when convincing the jury to not be put off by your size. A fitting quote, since Shakespeare himself had inspired some of the more gruesome details of your crime.

And now, you couldn’t help but take another step forward, then another. All along, savoring how far back you had to tilt your head to look into those beautiful blue eyes.

God, as he tilted his chin back as well, the bright lights of the garden set them blazingly bright and the bluest you’d ever seen them. They were even better than the sky back home…

You forced yourself to look away when you felt heat begin to pool between your thighs. Instead, you stared over his shoulder to the hall, trying not to snap when you heard him laugh slightly at your movement. Was the blush you felt visible?

“You’re in my way,” you said, your voice more of a whisper than you intended.

When his smirk faded, and his lips – very pretty lips, you realized – fell slightly open, you thought he would have some cutting remark. But he only stepped to the side to allow you through.

As you passed him, you were close enough to catch his scent. Everyone on the ship used the same soap, so how did he smell so different? Beneath the clinical smell you all carried, there was something deeper, more masculine.

You really needed to calm down before your appointment with Dibs. She knew you didn’t use the Box – not after that first time had failed to get you off, despite the engineering genius of the contraption – so seeing you this riled would lead to questions you didn’t want to answer.

Touching other inmates was against the rules. And even if this wasn’t touching… even thinking this way about another prisoner may incur her wrath.

So, you walked a more than respectable distance away from him before turning back. He was still half-in, half-out of the garden. But he wasn’t staring at you anymore, but rather at the poppies...

When was the last time he had seen a beautiful flower?

You glanced at your watch again. You barely had enough time to make it to the infirmary.

“I need to lock the door,” you said, drawing his gaze back to you.

His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced from you back to the door, then back to you again. He sucked his teeth as he looked at you in condescending disbelief. “You need to lock up flowers?”

“It’s protocol,” you answered. Perhaps your tone was a bit harsher than it needed to be, but you were both criminals - murderers. He could handle a little bitchiness. “And there’s more than just flowers in there.”

Ettore let out a laugh that was little more than a hard exhale, but the twinkle in those eyes told you that he was indeed amused. Then, crossing his arms, showing off the odd, triangular tattoo on his forearm, he stepped away from the door.

You would have to walk by him again to get to the door. Perhaps he was cleverer than you gave him credit for – if you had previously given him any credit at all.

If you weren’t so pressed for time, you might have stayed to tease him some more. This was surprisingly fun, even when you knew what he wanted from you and what he had done to get it from other women. You were just that bored.

And horny. You were very, very horny.

That would be what got you in trouble.

You scoffed, pushing past him to lock the door. It took all your effort to slip the key in as your fingers trembled at the feeling of him hovering over you, his breath hot on your neck as he stepped closer to you.

This shouldn’t make you horny. On the contrary, it should make you afraid. But still…

When the door finally locked, you spun around quickly, tucking the key between your fingers like a claw – something one of the college policemen once told you about.

But Ettore stepped back – once, twice. And then the was pressed against the wall opposite you. His stare was still hungry, and you could easily see how heavy his breathing had become, but he didn’t advance.

“I have to go,” you told him, unsure why you were doing it. It wasn’t like you needed his permission or even wanted it. “I have an appointment with Dibs.”

His eyes darkened then. Not with lust or animalistic hunger, but rage. It was almost… possessive?

It was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by his usual empty stare. Still, you did not dare move, not after whatever it was you just saw.

“Can I…?” Ettore gritted his jaw and looked away, his hands balling into fists at his sides. You didn’t know if he was about to cry or kill you – and you didn’t know which would be worse. He still looked away from you as he continued, “Can I come here again tomorrow? Just to watch.”

You should immediately forbid it. It was wrong, it was a bad idea, and it was just fucking weird. But as the hour chimed on your watches, you realized you couldn’t leave when he looked so desperate, almost sad. And you definitely couldn’t say anything to make that horrible expression worse.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You turned as he looked back at you to shut off the alarm on your watch. Dr. Dibs would be pissed at you, of that, you were sure. At the moment, though, it didn’t seem to matter. Not when his eyes lit up again, not from any light, but with excitement. “If you have nothing better to do, I guess that’s fine.”

The corners of Ettore’s lips quirked up like he would smile, but he quickly corrected it and set his mouth in a straight line. He didn’t want you to know just how excited he was, but you did anyways – he wasn’t a great liar. Tipping his head in an attempt at indifference, he sniffed before speaking. “Yeah, wicked.”

You winced a little at his pathetic attempt to seem cool, but it faded quickly when your watch beeped again. This wasn’t an alarm or the chiming of the hour but a summons. If you didn’t obey it, you knew Dibs would happily use the stupid watch to deliver a steady stream of low-level electric shocks until you did.

She was just as much of a killer as the rest of you – worse than some, if the rumors were right. Why should she have such authority over the rest of you?

It was pointless to question it, and even the beginnings of the line of thought had ruined your mood. So much so that you didn’t say anything else to Ettore before turning away from him and stalking down the hall toward the infirmary.

After you had disappeared around the corner, Ettore took a deep breath, silently congratulating himself on handling that almost like a real person would. Then, he turned in the opposite direction as you. He was due to clean the canteen before dinner. But fuck that. He needed the Box – now.

Dibs had been pissed. Not only that you were late to your appointment, but that you were so obviously turned on when you got there. It wasn’t like you could hide it, not when she immediately ordered you into the stirrups and got a front-row seat to your weeping and flushed cunt.

“Have you been using the Box?” she asked, that sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face.

You pursed your lips, looking away. “No.”

Her smile faded, and her eye twitched. “And yet here you are, practically dripping.” She reached for something on her tray, but you couldn’t see what. You had a pretty good guess, anyway. “Well, at least it makes my job easier.”

It had been anything but fucking ‘easy,’ you thought as you cradled your aching abdomen. Under the pretense that you were already wet enough, she had shoved her speculum into you hard and fast – and without lube.

If you thought her tests and procedures had been uncomfortable before… they were downright torturous yesterday. Especially since she conveniently ‘forgot’ to give you any numbing agents or sedatives. And definitely no painkillers.

Not even the sedative you were served with dinner had helped. For the first time since you boarded this godforsaken ship, you hadn’t slept.

Thankfully, you had little work to do in the garden besides waiting for the poppies to drop their petals. But you didn’t want to just wallow in your pain, so you decided to sit at the edge of the bed where your little willow tree resided.

It wasn’t growing very fast, likely because it didn’t have the room it needed or deserved. Still, you were happy with the progress it had made. When the ship first took off, it was little more than a bonsai. Now, it stood a good eight feet tall – the only plant you needed your step stool to tend.

In truth, it didn’t need much tending. Trees never do unless they are very young or something is wrong. But sitting next to it, examining the patterns in its long leaves and tracing lines up its trunk, was spectacularly soothing.

You had never considered harvesting anything from it. Not yet. It was too little still, and you didn’t want to risk damaging it permanently since you couldn’t simply order a new start. But as another pulse of pain surged through your stomach, you found yourself reaching for a lower branch.

All you needed was a small twig to chew on. It was an ancient Egyptian remedy, one that eventually led to the invention of Aspirin. And even if the sedative didn’t help, perhaps something more natural, something you had grown yourself, would.

You had just wrapped a hand around the branch when you felt a large hand close around your shoulder.

Instinct kicked in, and you whirled around, freeing yourself from your attacker’s grasp. Without processing who it was, you threw your arms out, shoving with all your might. “Get the fuck away from me!”

You only recognized Ettore after you had backed into the wall. He had also fallen on his ass and crawled backward on the floor – apparently, you were stronger than you thought. Any amusement at the fact died when you saw the anger burning in those eyes.

It was entirely possible that you just really fucked up.

But your adrenaline, from the pain and the scare he had just given you, was racing too hot and fast to let you consider that possibility.

“What are you doing?” you spat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Ettore’s face grew even more furious, if that was even possible. His eyes burned as bright as any fire you had ever seen. It was beautiful and deadly. “You fucking… you said I could come watch you!”

Damn it, you did say that.

But it was before Dr. Dibs had been such a cunt.

And she had only done it because he got you horned up like you were a pathetic high schooler.

“Well, now I changed my fucking mind!” you shouted. If you could stand, you would have. Towering over him and just screaming your heart out would feel so good. But you hurt too much to even entertain the thought. “I don’t want you here – I don’t want you!”

Ettore shattered.

You watched it happen as your venomous words left your lips.

His face fell, his eyes began to water, and even his tattoos seemed to go dull.

At that moment, he was not Ettore, the murderer, rapist, and monster.

He was just a boy – the both of you were barely more than teenagers when you left Earth – and he was broken.

You broke him.

You looked on in horror as his trembling lips set into a hard line that echoed in his harsh brow, and the tears in his beautiful eyes faded to reveal a primal rage that chilled your blood.

There he was.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

Ettore stood slowly, like a tiger rising from its crouch upon realizing its prey has no escape – that it could play.

But then he looked away from you, sniffed, and moved for the door.

His leaving without doing anything to you should have made you feel overwhelming relief, but it did not. Instead, a great yawning pit of guilt and regret opened in your chest, hurting nearly as much as your wounded core.

You tried to call out to him, take your words back, and apologize, but all that came out was a short yelp of pain. This time, it was accompanied by wetness between your legs – and not the pleasant kind.

As you folded over, burying your face in your knees as you pulled them into your chest, Ettore paused halfway out the door.

He’d heard noises like that before. From other women in pain – pain that he caused. His lip twitched, and his head tilted out of his control, the movement more animal than human.

You were helpless and apparently wounded. This was his chance.

But as he turned to face you, he caught sight of the poppies you so lovingly tended to the day before. With the memory of your soft smile as you cupped a particularly pretty bloom, one that was a deeper pink than the others, he was able to pull back on the reins of that instinct.

Just slightly, but just enough.

“You hurt?” he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded into your legs and lifted your head without meeting his eyes. “I think… I think I’m bleeding.”

Ettore was frozen, his hands flexing, relaxing, and balling into fists as he tried to keep hold of those inner reins. If he was smart, he would leave. Go straight to the Box and fuck himself until this hateful urge was gone. If he was a good person, he would offer his help.

He was not smart. And he was most definitely not a good person.

But something about you and those goddamned poppies woke what little was left of his humanity and made him want to try.

So, he just stood there, staring at your helpless form as he fought a vicious war inside himself.

You watched him. Watched as his eyes flicked over every inch of your body with dizzying speed, as various parts of his body twitched and flexed. You’d never seen anything like it before, except…

The vague memory of a play you went to on a middle school field trip reemerges. Your whole grade was reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and it just happened to coincide with the local community theater’s production of the play.

It wasn’t a good play. Even at twelve, you could tell it was objectively bad. But the man who played Jekyll and Hyde was decent (one of your classmates told you he was their pediatrician), mainly when he performed the ‘transformation.’ You hadn’t been able to look away as he contorted; every movement was desperate, halting, and frantic.

Not unlike how Ettore moved as he watched you.

When he came out of the fog that had settled over his eyes, which Ettore would you get? Did he even have a Jekyll to his Hyde?

You knew you should take the opportunity of his distraction to run. The infirmary would be best, but it would mean seeing Dr. Dibs again. You had no desire to admit that you needed her help. The showers were also an option, but it would allow others to see you in a weakened state. You didn’t want to admit weakness. Besides, Dibs would hear about that as well.

So, even though you knew it was stupid, you decided to take the biggest risk of them all.

“Ettore…?” You called his name softly, unsure of the pronunciation. Whether it was right or wrong, he didn’t seem to mind. He locked eyes with you, and his nostril flared as though he really was a predator and could smell the blood you were now confident was leaking from you. “I need your help.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he looked like he would run from you. But beyond another twitch of his head, he did not move.

“Please?” you begged. You felt pathetic, but you kind of were, so you tried not to let it bother you too much. “I don’t think I can stand on my own.”

Ettore’s brows furrowed at that, and his lips went from a near-sneer to a determined frown. Then, with a lumbering gait, he approached you in only a few steps, holding a hand out in front of him for you to take.

You stared at his hand for a moment, admiring the elegant length of his fingers. And then you realized: he was shaking.

It was subtle, but it was there.

Tilting your head, you looked up at his face. Apart from the slight widening of his eyes, it was again set in passivity. But what was more peculiar than his trembling or his expression was the fact that he was steadfastly refusing to look at you.

Indeed, those blue eyes were set on the softly swaying leaves of your willow, tracking their movement like the tree would attack him if he looked away.

You were so used to his eyes on you. Was it wrong that you wanted it back?

Before you could ponder the answer, you raised an arm to take his hand. He squeezed your fingers painfully as he helped you onto your feet.

The pain surged again as you stood, causing your knees to buckle the second Ettore let go of your hand. You stumbled, falling against his chest.

It was no more than instinct that had him wrapping his long arms around your shoulders and waist to catch you. An instinct that his brain was yelling at him to abandon you and let you fall.

It was too dangerous to touch you, to feel your soft skin as his hand accidentally slipped into the side of your overalls – why the fuck were the sides so low when your shirt was so short?

At the sensation of your hot breath against the sensitive skin of his neck, he let out an involuntary groan as he tightened his grip on you.

He had to get away. Now. As fast as possible. He didn’t want to hurt you. He really didn’t. But his blood was singing with desire, more intoxicating than any liquor or drug. Keeping his fingers from digging into your flesh possessively was almost painful, and he was so, so hard.

The reins were slipping…

You felt it, his hard length pressed into your stomach as you brought your hands to his chest to steady yourself.

You should push him away again. Slap him. Yell at him. Kick him as hard as you could right on that hard, impressively long length.

But you did none of it.

“I need to get to my worktable,” you whispered, “there’s a medkit there. And…”

You looked into his eyes, watching them dilate even further as you finished your request. “I’ll need help getting out of my overalls.”

That blue you were so entranced by was all but gone. Ettore looked like a man possessed, his breathing heavy and heaving as he lowered his chin to look into your eyes.

There was no way he heard you correctly. You knew what he was, what he had done. And you were smart, so much smarter than him. Far too smart to ever ask someone like him to take off your clothes. Even if it were to help you with an injury – an injury he still couldn’t see.

But then your eyes squeezed shut, and you fell forward to bury your face in his shoulder as you moaned in pain.

And then…

Then your right hand moved up his chest to wrap around his neck. Not to choke or hurt, but just to hold.

He expected your hands to be rough from working in the garden all day, but they weren’t. No, your fingers were unfairly, unbearably soft as they swept across his bare skin, coming to rest against the tattoo on the side of his neck.

When was the last time anyone touched him like this – tenderly and without fear? It had been years, even before he was put on this doomed ship.

Ettore almost came just from that simple touch.

More intense than even the extraordinary pleasure was the feeling of near calm that washed over him. It soothed the pain he felt in every muscle and quieted the violent, primal urges roaring within his chest. They weren’t gone, but they were further away.

It made it easier to take the reins.

“The worktable…” he breathed as his grip on you relaxed slightly. He still held you firm enough to keep you standing, but you no longer worried you would bruise.

You pulled away slightly, noting the way he whimpered and winced like a scolded puppy as you slowly removed your hand from around his neck. “Yes.”

He nodded frantically, sniffing and taking a few deep breaths. As if he needed to prepare himself for the short walk to the table. Then, moving with a slowness that suggested the motion took all his concentration, he lowered his arm from your shoulders.

When Ettore turned to the worktable, even with his other arm still around your waist, you felt a rush of unwelcome cold. Even when you were still clothed and the garden was kept at a balmy temperature.

He walked slowly. Perhaps you would have thought it was out of concern for you and your pain, but you knew by now that this was hard for him.

Indeed, when he pulled away after you were leaned against the table, a faint sheen of sweat had broken out across his brow. His breathing was still rapid, and his eyes were glassy, as if he were several shots in.

“Ettore?” When he met your eyes again, you looked down at the buttons on your shoulders holding your overalls up. He followed your gaze and made a choking sound when he realized what you meant. “If I let go of the table, I think I’ll fall.”

It wasn’t just his hands shaking now, but all of him. So much so that you couldn’t tell whether he was nodding or just shaking that badly.

Either way, he reached for the first button on your left shoulder. It took him a few tries, but he got it done. The strap fell, and one side of the overalls slumped, revealing the tight white shirt beneath that left very little to the imagination.

Ettore growled.

What the fuck? Humans don’t growl. At least, you had never heard it.

And yet he did.

A flicker of fear started in your chest, and you chose to focus on that rather than the bloom of something else lower within you.

He began to reach a hand, tense and shaking, towards your breast. But inches away, you caught his wrist. You had to lean further against the table not to fall, but you weren’t letting go.

“The other button, please.” Though you spoke quietly, the command was clear.

You only released his arm when he looked into your eyes and confirmed with a twitch of his lip that he heard you. He clenched and unclenched his fist several times before finally going for the other button.

It took him even longer to get this one undone. But at least he didn’t growl again when the other half of the overall’s torso fell limp around your waist. His eyes did linger on your breasts, but you let it happen.

You had great tits. And he deserved a little reward for helping you, didn’t he?

So, you let him have a few seconds to just stare. As long as he didn’t try to touch again. Because you didn’t want that, right?

Ettore’s gaze fell further, to where the overalls were just barely hanging onto your waist. You said you were bleeding, but he still hadn’t seen it. So just where was your injury?

His cock twitched, and he was sure you could see it through the thin scrub pants he was forced to wear as he realized what would happen next. “You need ‘em all the way off, eh?” He hated how weak and shaky his voice sounded, but he supposed it was better than growling. You hadn’t reacted well to that. “Do you need me to…?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed. Of course, you knew you should say something about burying your spade in his chest if he tried anything. But the fact that he was asking, rather than just ripping the garment off, made you feel almost safe in having him do this. Almost.

You would feel even better about it if you couldn’t see his dick straining against his pants and twitching almost as much as he was.

C'est la vie, you supposed. Though that probably applied more to something trivial, like your school’s football team losing a game they should have won, than you being forced to ask a serial rapist and murderer to take off your pants. But close enough.

You shivered when he lowered his hands to your waist, causing him to pull back slightly. “It’s fine,” you assured him. “Keep going. I’m fine.”

Ettore nodded and fixed his eyes on the bottom drawer of the table as he took the thin fabric of the overalls between his fingers and started pulling them down. Really, he could have just nudged them, and they would have fallen to the floor. But he kept them in his grip as he lowered himself into a kneeling position.

He never once looked at you. Not at your ankles, or your legs, or the apex of your thighs – which were covered with more blood than you expected.

Damn it.

You considered what to do next as Ettore remained on the floor, carefully slipping the overalls over your feet. A difficult task when he refused to look at what he was doing.

By the time he finished, and you felt very much like Donald Duck – shirt, shoes, but no pants – you knew what you had to ask.

It was the stupidest thing you’d ever done.

“As long as you’re down there,” you said, your joking tone flatter than you intended, “the medkit’s in the drawer just to your left. Can you grab it and… and help me onto the table?”

Ettore didn’t reply but yanked the drawer open and grabbed the medkit. After tossing it on the table, he rose. Then, still not looking at you, he wrapped his arms around you again – one around your waist, the other around your upper thighs – and lifted you onto the table.

God, you felt so good in his arms. You were the perfect size, like you were made for him to hold. Warm and soft and… wet?

His eyes shot to the arm that had been wrapped around your legs. And both of you looked on in horror as you realized it was now covered in blood – your blood.

For the first time, you saw a look of disgust come over Ettore’s face.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, voice breaking as tears of embarrassment began to fall. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, Ettore simply stalked over to the utility sink a few feet from the worktable and slammed the faucet on. He didn’t wait for the water to heat before shoving his arm under it.

You watched in humiliation, fumbling to lower your panties as he grabbed the soap and began to scrub. “I’m so sorry,” you said again, ripping open the medkit to find a packet of gauze you could press between your legs. “Ettore, I’m so sorry!”

He shook his head as he scrubbed harder and harder, until his skin burned from more than the searingly hot water. You were bleeding, you were hurt, and all he had been thinking about was how much he’d like to fuck you.

It had never stopped him before, not with any of the other girls. He had never minded having their blood on him. He savored it, actually. But it had been him who made them bleed. You…

“Who?” he growled, stilling his scrubbing but keeping the arm under the water. The burning distracted him from the desire to find someone to hurt. Because he needed to hurt someone. Badly. Preferably whoever did this to you, but he wasn’t picky.

You didn’t want to tell him, not when you recognized that look in his eyes. It meant violence – retribution. You had seen that same look in your eyes when you watched the recap of your trial from your cell, and your lawyer was telling the jury, in excruciating detail, why you had killed your victim.

For a moment, you thought about trying to pass it off as you just being on your period. But he wouldn’t buy it. Not after what you’d already told him. Besides, all the women on the ship were synced, and your periods were still two weeks away.

Finally fed up with your silence, Ettore shut off the water and turned back to you, not bothering to dry his arms. He just prowled back to you, standing between your spread legs as he stared deep into your eyes without a glance at your mostly exposed cunt. You turned away, not wanting to face the darkness in his eyes, but he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Who?”

You bit your lip and fought to get free of his grip, but to no avail. Knowing then that it was hopeless, you locked eyes with him again as you said simply, “Dibs.”

He growled again, not with hunger, but with rage.

And then he turned away.

He would hurt her, you realized. He would kill her.

You weren’t opposed to the idea, but you were opposed to what would come next. What the other prisoners would do to Ettore afterward. And perhaps you as well, since he would do it for you.

Before you knew it, your hand had shot out to grab his shirt, and he froze.

“Don’t,” you pled. When you tugged on his shirt to draw him back to you, he only resisted for a moment before coming back toward you. “It was just her punishment. I’ll be fine. She wouldn’t… damage me permanently. She needs me intact for her experiments. I promise, she was just being a cunt.”

Ettore cocked his head and pursed his lips like he would argue, but you couldn’t have that. So, you lifted the gauze from between your legs to show him how the blood flow had already stemmed somewhat.

“See? It’s already getting better.” But your weak, reassuring smile fell when you realized what you had just done.

He realized at the same time, and he could not stop his eyes from dropping to what you just made visible to him.

His erection had begun to flag while he cleaned your blood from his arm, but there was no stopping it now. Not when he had a full view of what he had been dreaming of for weeks.

Just like the rest of you, your pussy was so pretty. He wanted to kiss it, stroke it, fuck it. His blood hummed with the desire, and he barely stopped himself from diving forward. He closed his fingers around yours where they bunched the front of his shirt. The feeling of your skin against his was his salvation, an anchor to his humanity.

Not you, he told himself.

Not you, who didn’t look at him in fear or disgust. At least, not entirely.

Not you, the only person since his mother died to touch him with anything other than aggression.

Not you, who had trusted him, even knowing what he was.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

“Please.” His plea was hardly more than a breath. Pathetic. “Please, let me go.”

For even with your touch, he was losing his grip on the reins. If he stayed here one second longer, he would do something he really didn’t want to do. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

You could see how much danger you were in, but you did not let go. No, you tightened your grip on his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your forehead rested against his.

Finally, you could look into those eyes and remember the sky back home as you had wanted to for so long.

But the sky wasn’t enough.

You wanted him.

You knew you couldn’t have him fully, couldn’t do what you really wanted. Not when you were injured like this.

Still, you brought your other hand to his chest, feeling him shiver as your fingers traveled lower and lower. Finally, you rest your palm against his length through his scrubs, feeling a sense of satisfaction when his hips cant slightly forward into your grip.

He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he wanted this as much as you do. But, of course, he did. When was the last time a woman touched him there, let alone willingly? The thought should have disgusted you, but it didn’t.

Perhaps you were just as much of a monster as he was,

“Dibs will punish us if she finds out we did this,” you whispered, your lips mere inches away from his. “But I don’t really care, do you?”

Ettore shook his head, his eyes burning like the fires of hell, where you both belonged. He was so close to breaking, losing himself, losing control. He was little more than an animal following the primal instinct to mate.

But letting you take control – and you were undoubtedly in control now – made it easier. For once, it wasn’t him who had to pull back on the reins. Not when he gave them to you.

He nodded vigorously. He wanted you. He didn’t care that he didn’t deserve it. And he didn’t care that you were probably just as monstrous as he was. He just wanted you.

You smiled, pressing a single kiss to the corner of his lips before sliding your hand past the waistbands of his scrubs and boxers and taking hold of him.

He immediately let out a pitiful cry as his stomach tightened, and he had to concentrate so hard not to come before you had even begun to move your hand. It was only made worse when you giggled at his struggle. The sound was sweet and light and utterly infuriating.

Needing to shut you up, Ettore brought his hands back around your waist as he tugged you to the table’s edge. He leaned forward to kiss you, but you pushed against him, holding him back. Then, tensing, he grunted, a low, throaty sound and a begging.

“I know,” you whispered, mock sympathy barely disguising your amusement. “I know what you want. Believe me, I want it to.” You laughed again as you began to pump him slowly, collecting the precum on his tip with every stroke to ease your movements. “You can kiss me another time. Right now, I just want to look at you. Is that okay?”

His hands tensed around your waist, and for a few seconds, he looked like he would let that animal loose and lunge at you. Like he would kiss you with all the pent-up frustrations of an entire life spent unwanted.

But he stopped, looking from where your hand disappeared below his pants to your eyes. And he nodded. Not a small, weak movement, but a firm, final motion.

He would allow it.

He would allow you to do whatever you wanted.

You smiled broadly, and again, he had to hold back his release. He wanted this to last forever.

At last, you released Ettore’s shirt from where you had bunched it with your offhand, raising it to his neck. You traced each line of his maze-like tattoo as you sped your movements, savoring each wince and whine he let out. Cataloging each reaction to figure out, without him having to say a word, exactly what he liked best.

And what you liked best. You were particularly fond of how his eyes would squeeze shut, and his mouth would fall open each time you grazed your thumb over his leaking head, following a short trail up and down his slit.

It was such a mesmerizing sight that you brought your hand up from his neck to touch his face. Every movement of one hand was echoed by the other as you explored each feature.

The severe line of his jaw. His large chin. The sharp cheekbones and flat brow. His long, elegant nose. The pink plush of his lips, from which he let out such tantalizing moans and whimpers.

Once you had taken in every inch of his face, you cupped his jaw in your left hand to feel it work as you sped the ministrations of your right hand. His eyes squeezed even further shut, and he grunted like an animal. But you didn’t stop. You only went faster and faster.

“Are you nearly finished?” you asked teasingly.

Ettore cracked open his eyes, looking from your taunting smile to your hand, working him so skillfully, then back to you. He moaned almost inaudibly, and that animalistic hunger returned to his eyes. He had been locked in a cage for too long, and now you had set him free.

“Yes,” he moaned, almost too quiet to hear.

You brought your thumb to rest against his lower lip, smiling at the feeling of his increasingly frantic breath against her.

For so long, you had feared this man. And now he was reduced to putty in your hands.

With a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, you pressed your thumb further into his lip and let your other hand slow, ignoring his protestations. “Before I let you finish,” you said, your voice tauntingly innocent, “I need you to answer a question for me. Can you do that?”

Ettore’s body jerked wildly as he desperately tried to regain some of the friction you had just deprived him of, but his eyes stayed locked on yours.

He knew he would do anything you asked him to then.

If you asked him to jump? He’d ask how high.

If you demanded he get down on his knees and beg? He’d do so happily.

If you told him to throw himself out of the airlock? He wouldn’t hesitate.

Compared to what he would do, what you actually asked of him seemed so simple.

“Fine…” he gasps, tightening his grip on your waist as though you would pull away. “What is it?”

You smirked, savoring that dark look in his eyes. How could you ever have been scared of it?

Then you squeezed his pulsing cock, just past the point of pleasure, to emphasize the power you held over him.

And, of course, he loved it. Groaning as his head toppled over into your shoulder. You carded your hand through his short hair as you whispered in his ear, “What feels better, my hand or the Box?”

Any pain, any embarrassment at being so pathetically at your beck and call, or any emotion other than his desire for you faded at the question. All that mattered was you and your perfect touch.

It felt wonderful even when you tugged on his hair quite hard to make him face you again. The answer was written on his face, in every piece of the complete, utter joy he felt in every inch of him, but especially where your skin met his.

“You,” he said, the word like a prayer. “You.”

Your responding smile was wicked, and you almost went back on your promise not to kiss him. But you resisted and began pumping his cock at a breakneck pace, brushing each sweet spot with every stroke and letting your pinky graze against his balls each time you came to his base.

It takes every ounce of what little restraint Ettore had to not scream at the overwhelming bliss. It was so much, too much. It was everything.

But what finally pushed him over the edge was you leaning in again to whisper against his cheek, “Just wait until you feel my cunt, Ettore.”

There was a sharp gasp, a guttural cry, a whimper, and a grunt, and then he was spent. Thank God his boxers were thick, or there would have been a very obvious stain at the front of his scrubs.

Ettore whimpered again as he looked into your eyes again, unsure what this meant or what would happen next. He was so drunk on his release that words failed him, or else he no doubt would have said something stupid and ruined his chances of actually getting to experience what you had promised just before he came.

You removed your right hand from his pants, wrapping it around his neck like the left, soothingly stroking the peach fuzz at the base of his skull as he came down from his high.

There was a new look in those blue eyes. Not hungry, not animalistic. Not angry or predatory. No, it was almost reverent.

Who would have ever thought that Ettore, the murderer, rapist, and monster, was capable of a look like that?

You parted your lips and leaned ever so slightly into him. “Thank you,” you whispered against his lips. “For letting me just watch. I think… after giving me that, you deserve a treat, don’t you?”

Ettore didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He could only stare at you as pleading vulnerability crept over his face. The look of a puppy begging for a treat.

Then, he nodded, his only pleading answer.

You ran a hand through his hair again, making him wait just a moment more. “Kiss me, Ettore.” His eyes went wide at the command. “Kiss me the way you really want to.”

His throat bobbed, and he nodded again, still holding your gaze. Then, before you could even take a breath, he pounced.

Ettore’s lips were hot on yours as he kissed you deeper and more passionately than you’d ever been kissed before. It took only a moment before it felt like your souls were melding together for how close he held you. He did not relent until you were both struggling for breath.

Even then, he kept his lips pressed against yours as though he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the sound sending tingles up your spine.

You just sat there, smiling against him for a moment, wishing you could have taken him inside you. Perhaps you were fine now, and if he could get hard again, you could…

But then your watches both beeped the hour. He’d been there an hour. Someone was bound to notice he wasn’t scrubbing the halls soon.

So, you reluctantly pushed him away, heart clenching as he weakly fought to hang on to you. “I want to come back,” he whined.

You didn’t reply as you dressed again, your pain mostly gone, and pulled a clean rag out of another worktable drawer for him to clean himself. As you went to shut the drawer, an idea sparked in your mind. You grabbed another rag and ran to the sink, bunching the cloth as you moved.

Ettore looked on in confusion as you shoved the rag down and down into the drain until you couldn’t reach it anymore. But then realization set in, and he grinned wickedly.

You turned to him and returned the smile. “I think I may need to call maintenance tomorrow.”

#monsters in the garden #ettore #ettore x reader #ettore x you #ettore imagine #ettore smut #ettore fanfic #ettore fanfiction #ettore fic #high life #high life fanfic #high life ettore #ewan mitchell #Spotify

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flowerandblood · 23 days

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The Temple of the War

[ Ares • Ettore x Aphrodite • female ]

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

[ description: Although she thought it would be a fleeting affair, her disturbing relationship with the god of war only deepens, condemning them both to any attempt to reach an agreement. However, her brother loses his patience, wanting to find out what his lover gave Paris in exchange for the apple that Hera and Athena also deeply desired. ]

This is part 2 of The Temple of the God but it can be read as a standalone story. 💕

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

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She wasn't sure she had ever felt anything like she did then, that night, as his heavy, sweaty, muscular body lay on top of hers, his hot breath enveloping her cheek as the last waves of pleasure and heat surged through her.

She stroked his smooth buttocks with her hands feeling his hips rock softly in some natural, subconscious reflex, his half-soft manhood still throbbing deep inside her.

She heard him swallow hard and grunt before he rose up on his elbows, looking down at her with his lips slightly parted, sliding out of her slowly with a quiet click of her moisture, rising up on his knees, stepping off her bed as if nothing had happened, making her press her lips together, disappointed.

"Are you going to simply walk away?" She asked coldly, saw him stop in his half-step, glancing over his shoulder at her, some kind of shock in his eyes, as if she had surprised him.

"Hm?"

"Are you going to leave me like this?"

He looked at her dully, clearly not understanding what she meant, what he was supposed to do now, what more she expected of him.

She realised, sighing heavily with disapproval, that after his aggressive rapprochements with women he was simply leaving them, going back to his own affairs, thinking no more of them, not knowing the tenderness of embraces, of soft, dreamy kisses, of hands trailing over warm, soft, naked bodies, of peaceful, deep sleep after an intense closeness.

"What do you demand of me, sister?" He asked her impassively like a soldier asking his commander for an order; she raised herself up on her elbows, looking at him intensely.

"I do not demand. Do you desire that I should now, after you have warmed me, be left alone in a cold bed?" She asked regretfully. She saw him blink, his eyebrows raised, his gaze quickly traveling over her naked, bared flesh, his Adam's apple waved hard as he swallowed loudly.

"That is not my desire." He replied calmly, looking at her expectantly, his silhouette frozen in stillness like a marble statue, the same kind people placed to honour them in their temples.

She nodded, moving aside, looking at him expectantly. He hummed under his breath, his gaze softening a tad as he lay down beside her lazily, sighing quietly through his nose, watching her, his large hand in some simple, primitive gesture rising to her breast, squeezing it uncertainly. He lifted his gaze to her face, apparently wanting to see if he was causing her pain again as he had when he had first done it.

Something about how direct, how roughly honest he was captivated her; years of poetic chants under her windows, long, theatrical declarations of love that in the end turned out to be lies had tired her.

She thought, surprised, that perhaps such a change would do her some good.

Surprise flashed through his gaze as she moved closer to him, placing her hand on his, encouraging him not to stop, laying her body on her side facing him, looking straight into his face, for the first time so shamelessly, so closely.

His facial features were sharp, as if the sculptor had struck the stone with his chisel too brutally and without finesse, his mouth full, his eyes as dark as the night around her. He shuddered and swallowed hard, drawing in quiet breath as her hand rose tentatively to his cheek, closed his eyes as her fingertips brushed over his warm, soft skin.

She ran her hand like this over his exposed flesh, over his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his shoulders, his chest, feeling him flinch as waves of heat surged through his body, the flick of her fingers leaving a trail of his goosebumps behind.

He opened his eyes as she suddenly took her hand away, placing it casually against her body, the fingers of his hand from her breasts slid down to her waist and from it to her buttocks, squeezing it, pushing her closer to him with a sure, soft movement, she felt his hard manhood on her stomach, ready again for him to possess her.

Though she wanted to protest, she let him take her for the second time that night, her folds slick from his seed and her moisture allowed him to slip easily into her hot interior, a low, animal grunt of satisfaction came from his throat as he threw her thigh against his waist, spreading her wide on his fat cock.

"I can do this all night, sister. You know I can." He exhaled with a hint of menace, from which her lips parted in a shy moan as her walls clenched around him tightly, making him gasp. He accelerated his pace, his free hand clenching in her hair, forcing her to look straight into his empty black eyes as he pounded aggressively into her again and again with loud splats of his thighs against her buttocks.

"This is what you want, isn't it? You despise these poets. Those weak, little boys. You don't believe them, because what's the truth in their pretty words? Hm? This is the truth, sister." He breathed out, and for some reason she clamped her hand on his broad chest and kissed him, heard his low groan of surprise, his tongue came out to meet her immediately, licking her encouragingly, teasing her with the very tip as she longed for him to slide it deep down her throat.

"− take care of me, brother −" She whispered in surprise as her voice trembled, as she felt tears under her eyelids, wishing for someone to protect her, for someone to watch over her, to be safe in someone's arms at last.

She felt him quiver all over, he gasped loudly as if he had waited his whole life for those very words, his hands clenched painfully tight on her hair and bare buttock, forcing her to fit him all the way in as deeply as he desired. Both of them moaned helplessly as they came out to meet their bodies, entwined together like vines, sweaty and hot with desire, his cock throbbing intensely inside her, betraying that he was close to fulfilment.

She thought in disbelief that he truly desired her all this time.

This rapprochement was more tender, more passionate than the first one, shamelessly close, her breasts pressed against his chest, their fingers digging into the naked skin of their bodies, their legs thrown over each other, making it so that if either of them wanted it, they couldn't break free.

"− beg −" He growled like a wild animal, panting right into her mouth, so she begged, again, again and again; she didn't even know when warm tears of relief and regret ran down her cheeks, his hot, accelerated breath enveloping her face, their kisses were an aggressive, wet dance of their tongues and lips, loud and slick.

After his last few desperate, deep, confident thrusts she was sure that all Olympus heard their groans of pleasure as they both finally reached their peak.

"− stay inside me −" She mumbled out, panting heavily along with him once the first waves of pleasure flowed through their bodies. She heard him hum under his breath; she knew he was grinning mischievously, his hand in a careless, lazy motion pressed her cheek against his chest, all wet from exertion.

"− sleep −"

Despite his command, she got no rest that night, and though she slept only for her own pleasure, unlike mortals do not need it every day, never before had anyone fucked her as many times in a row as he had, and as their brother, Helios, appeared in his chariot lighting up the sky, they both breathed heavily, his face snuggled into her bare, sweaty shoulder, one of his hands on her breast, the other on her womb.

"You will bear my children." He ordered, as if it was an obvious decision to which he was sure they were both agreed. She closed her eyes, sighing quietly, knowing that if he was going to leave this amount of his seed deep inside her frequently, for her to carry his legacy under her heart was only a matter of time.

She had no intention of denying him that.

To her surprise, he had visited her every night since that day, leaving his barracks late at night, returning there only at dawn.

He wanted her to satisfy him in every way possible.

She wasn't sure if he preferred to watch his fat cock thrust deep down her throat or between her thighs, she noticed, however, that as she caressed him with her tongue and her lips, licking and sucking him unhurriedly, sounds came from his throat that she hadn't heard before, higher and more helpless, as if the sight of her like this, with her mouth full of his swollen manhood, completely overwhelmed him.

"− f-fuck − faster −" He was panting then, clamping his fingers tighter on her soft hair, forcing her to quicken her pace, as impatient as always, wanting only to come down her throat as quickly as possible, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat again and again, making her gag.

Out of sheer mischief, she gave the tip of his length a few encouraging, teasing licks of her pink, fleshy tongue, feeling his body quiver then, his hot spend spilling deep down her throat with his loud curses and groans of pleasure.

She swallowed everything he gave her, feeling him watching her; he hissed quietly, tilting his head back, clamping his hand warningly on her hair as she began to suck him again, his manhood twitching vigorously between her lips and throbbing, oversensitive after his fulfilment. However, after a moment he gave in, allowing her to repeat the whole process, his gaze hazy, hot, his lips puffy with desire and emotion.

"− sister −" He whispered then, completely absorbed in his deepest thoughts in a way that sent shivers down her spine, betraying what he truly wanted.

She could rarely count on him reciprocating in a similar way, but when he did he was merciless, eating her like a starved man; his tongue forced its way aggressively inside her, pressing and licking the bud between her muscles from which she was shaken again and again by waves of pleasure, his nose pressed against her pearl, his fingers digging into the soft, smooth skin of her hips, not letting her escape even when she begged him to stop.

She could hear his mocking grunt then, his dark eyes shining suddenly with a dangerous gleam, one that sent a cold sweat running down her back, he swapped his lips for his cock then, all hard and swollen from listening to her moans.

Rumours of their affair spread quickly across Olympus. Hermes tried to lay a trap for them, jealous of her and the fact that she had never let him possess her, however, when her fierce lover caught him in the act he would have nearly killed him with brutal, swift blows of his fist, if only their brother wasn't immortal.

Though still silent, cold and distant, in his own way he responded to her request, protecting her the way he was capable of.

"What have you done?" He asked her one day, infuriated, startling her, opening the door to her chamber with a loud slam, bursting inside at noon in full armour, his jaw clenched, his nostrils quivering in anxious breath.

He was furious.

She swallowed hard, putting aside her embroidery, looking at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean, brother?"

"What did you give him for that fucking apple? Hm? What did you give him to satisfy your vanity? Did you suck his cock? Did you let him come deep inside you?" He hissed coldly, walking towards her like an enraged, ferocious animal with the loud clang of his gilded steel armour, ready to hit her, to hurt her, to pierce her with his sword, to destroy her in every way possible.

She rose from her seat, furrowing her brow.

"I gave him what he asked for. I give him Helen of Sparta."

She saw him stop, hesitation in his eyes, as if he was comparing her words with his knowledge. He swallowed loudly, his broad chest rising and falling quickly in accelerated, heavy breaths.

"How."

She turned her face towards the large windows of her chamber open to the view of the halves and rivers around Olympus and sighed loudly.

"He wished to possess her. I described to him her desires and her weaknesses. How he could make her content."

"This whore ran away with him. The Achaeans declared war on the Trojans." He growled low. She looked at him wrinkling her brows and snorted, shrugging her shoulders.

"The God of War does not rejoice that in the name of love blood will be shed again? I do not follow your desires, brother."

"Be silent, woman. Do not speak on my behalf." He grunted warningly, looking at her with a sharp, piercing gaze from which she felt a drop of cold sweat run down her bared back. She smirked involuntarily and laughed helplessly, shaking her head.

"It is you who speak on my behalf, boasting before your brothers and comrades that I believed your words and, out of feminine naivety, let you between my thighs. I gave you what you desired and you come and spit in my face, jealous that another man could reach for what you think is yours. No wonder our father didn't give you my hand."

She snarled, and he stared at her, the corner of his mouth raised slightly in a grimace that could be called a smile if not for his gaze, his eyes wide open, filled to the brim with fire and rage, his hands clenched into fists, his nostrils quivering with each of his deep breaths.

A silence filled with suffocating tension fell between them, the quiet singing of birds outside her chamber windows, the rustling of grass and leaves, the pleasant breeze around them, cool and crisp.

She knew he was going to do it, but still she was surprised that a few brisk steps from him were all it took for him to be in front of her, turning her violently with her back to him, clasping his hand in her hair.

She whined helplessly when her cheek hit the table top in front of her, and whimpered loudly when she heard his fingers tear the material of her thin robe at the height of her buttocks, the fat head of his cock pressed against her fleshy walls without any preparation, without any caress.

"Do you think I fucking brag about how much seed I left in your womb to my soldiers? I have killed hundreds of those who dared to dream aloud about you and your body with my own hands." He gasped through clenched teeth, imposing a violent, fast pace on her at once, thrusting furiously inside her with sure, deep stabs of his hips. She heard his low chuckle when all it took was for the thick tip of his cock to rub a few times against the spot inside her, for her quivering to begin to be accompanied by the loud clicks of her moisture.

"I know exactly what you're doing. You like to fucking tease me, don't you? You know the way I'll fuck you then, hm?" He growled, one of his hands pressing her head against the table, the other digging hard into the bare skin of her buttocks, pounding into her so fast and brutally that he didn't slide out.

She could tell that he was staring at the place where their bodies joined, at what he was doing to her, at how wide he was opening her on his fat, aching length.

"− yes −" She mewled, heard him sigh loudly as he fucked her relentlessly, sinking his short fingernails painfully hard into the delicate skin of her hip as if he was just waiting for this; they both began to moan low hearing how loudly their bodies slapped against each other again and again.

"− that's what I thought − fucking take it now −" He snarled mockingly; she felt his words do something to her, the sensation she was experiencing was on the verge of ecstasy from pain and pleasure.

She cried out loudly, mumbling something, probably his name and how pleasurable it was. She lost control of her body as her walls began to suddenly squeeze him, sucking him inside.

"− shut the fuck up − mghmm − s-sister − fuck −" He gasped and she heard him groan low, feeling her fulfilment, her moisture running down his thighs, his hot spend finally filling her womb with his loud sigh of relief.

He rocked his hips for a moment longer with a lewd, sticky slap of skin against skin, his grip eased and she sighed heavily, feeling immense relief, wonderful shivers ran through her body, something like a tickle throbbing at the tips of her fingertips, her lips and inside lower abdomen.

"− you should stop doing this − at least until you're carrying my child inside you − " He gasped; she could feel him looking at her, his manhood still pulsing deep inside her, his large hand slid lower, stroking her slightly rounded abdomen for a moment in a manner that could be described as tender.

"− I can't −" She mumbled out, ashamed at how pleasurable it was, how wonderful it felt to be out of control, that there was something she had no power over.

His element, his aggressiveness, his unpredictability attracted her, just as he was drawn to her understanding of his complex, violent nature.

He hummed under his breath and she closed her eyes as his free hand took the unruly curls of her hair from her face with a gentle flick of his wrist.

"− let this little boy fuck his Helen of Sparta − I'll support you in the coming war − I'll gladly spit in the face of Athena and your sweet husband −" He sneered, and she sighed in relief, pleased with his words, rising on her hands.

His strong arm embraced her at the waist, his free hand clamped down on her cheeks, turning her face in his direction, their lips pressed together in a greedy, sticky kiss. She heard his low, drawn-out murmur of satisfaction, his soft manhood still twiched deep inside her.

"− brother −" She whispered, his nose pressed against her hot cheek in a sudden, surprising surge of tenderness, his hand ran over her soft, smooth hair, only one more word left his lips.

"− undress −"

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thought--bubble · 2 months

Text

All of your senses

Ettore X (Riding Ettore Reader)

Warnings under the cut

Word Count: 2082

Ettore Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners & Dividers by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You will." You coo in his ear.

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

"I'll teach you"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You slide down further, now halfway down his shaft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be added to taglists please click Here

#ewan mitchell verse #ettore x reader #ettore high life #ettore smut #ettore #ettore imagine #ewan nation #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #jess fics #my red flag bf

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fan-goddess · 9 months

Text

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.

#ettore fan fiction #ettore fic related #ettore smut #ettore fanfic #ettore x reader #ettore fanfiction #ettore #high life #high life fanfic #high life fanfiction #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfiction #ewan mitchell x reader #ttihay #My own works

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