#ettore fanfic

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Deadlock

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She could have laughed.

“You cannot be fucking serious.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Had enough of your fucking voice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hold it-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#ettore high life #ettore imagine #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore smut #ettore x you #ettore x fem!reader #ettore high life fanfiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fic #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfic #ettore x oc #high life fanfiction #high life 2018 #high life movie #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters

[flowerandblood]

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 −"

_____

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(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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#ettore fanfiction #ettore #ettore high life #ettore x female #ettore smut #high life fanfiction #high life fanfic #high life fic #ettore fanfic #ettore fic #ettore angst #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell angst #ewan mitchell fanfiction #ettore x reader #ewan mitchell verse #ewan nation #ettore x oc #high life #ewan mitchell

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Know What You Are

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good boy,” she purrs, “go on then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#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

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Monsters in the Garden (Ettore x Reader) 18+

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

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

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

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

This song also heavily influenced the vibe:

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3

Monsters in the Garden

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yet there was Ettore, just staring at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you had never heard him speak before.

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

It had to be. It couldn’t be him.

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

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

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

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

You had to shut that shit down.

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

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

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

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

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

But it was Ettore.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

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

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

“There’s nothing more to watch,” you said over your shoulder. Then, grabbing a clean rag from one of the drawers, you began wiping the dirt from your forearms – rinsing it off in the sink would risk a clog, which would mean a visit from maintenance and Ettore. “I’m done for the day.”

He didn’t reply, only grunted his acknowledgment. He never moved as you continued to wrap up your work – cleaning your tools, sweeping the dirt that had made its way out of the beds, and washing your hands. Still just watching you.

At least it confirmed that it wasn’t the gardening he found ‘relaxing.’

Finally, you discarded your rags in the laundry bin. It would need to be taken out soon – it was ready today, but you were already running later than you wanted. In just ten minutes, you had an ‘appointment’ with Dr. Dibs, and you didn’t want to make her angry. Again. Doing so has become kind of a bad habit of yours.

So, you turned to face Ettore, who continued to stare at you as you stepped within a few feet of him. He stood a little taller at your approach, puffing his chest out as that near-rabid hunger took over his eyes once more.

Your stomach fluttered, and you told yourself it was only because you were nervous about whatever Dibs planned to do to you tonight.

But then the corner of his mouth quirked up, and your heart sank at the realization that it was because you – or rather, your traitorous, repressed body – found Ettore attractive.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

He would be just your type if you didn’t know why he was here. You had never been able to resist a good jawline, and his could cut fucking glass. And as you took another step closer, his height became just as enticing. You always told people you only liked tall men so they could reach things for you. But really, you just loved the feeling of having a big, strong man to protect you.

No one had looked at you like you needed protection in years. No, you were now what people needed protection from.

“Though she be but little she is fierce,” the lawyer had said when convincing the jury to not be put off by your size. A fitting quote, since Shakespeare himself had inspired some of the more gruesome details of your crime.

And now, you couldn’t help but take another step forward, then another. All along, savoring how far back you had to tilt your head to look into those beautiful blue eyes.

God, as he tilted his chin back as well, the bright lights of the garden set them blazingly bright and the bluest you’d ever seen them. They were even better than the sky back home…

You forced yourself to look away when you felt heat begin to pool between your thighs. Instead, you stared over his shoulder to the hall, trying not to snap when you heard him laugh slightly at your movement. Was the blush you felt visible?

“You’re in my way,” you said, your voice more of a whisper than you intended.

When his smirk faded, and his lips – very pretty lips, you realized – fell slightly open, you thought he would have some cutting remark. But he only stepped to the side to allow you through.

As you passed him, you were close enough to catch his scent. Everyone on the ship used the same soap, so how did he smell so different? Beneath the clinical smell you all carried, there was something deeper, more masculine.

You really needed to calm down before your appointment with Dibs. She knew you didn’t use the Box – not after that first time had failed to get you off, despite the engineering genius of the contraption – so seeing you this riled would lead to questions you didn’t want to answer.

Touching other inmates was against the rules. And even if this wasn’t touching… even thinking this way about another prisoner may incur her wrath.

So, you walked a more than respectable distance away from him before turning back. He was still half-in, half-out of the garden. But he wasn’t staring at you anymore, but rather at the poppies...

When was the last time he had seen a beautiful flower?

You glanced at your watch again. You barely had enough time to make it to the infirmary.

“I need to lock the door,” you said, drawing his gaze back to you.

His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced from you back to the door, then back to you again. He sucked his teeth as he looked at you in condescending disbelief. “You need to lock up flowers?”

“It’s protocol,” you answered. Perhaps your tone was a bit harsher than it needed to be, but you were both criminals - murderers. He could handle a little bitchiness. “And there’s more than just flowers in there.”

Ettore let out a laugh that was little more than a hard exhale, but the twinkle in those eyes told you that he was indeed amused. Then, crossing his arms, showing off the odd, triangular tattoo on his forearm, he stepped away from the door.

You would have to walk by him again to get to the door. Perhaps he was cleverer than you gave him credit for – if you had previously given him any credit at all.

If you weren’t so pressed for time, you might have stayed to tease him some more. This was surprisingly fun, even when you knew what he wanted from you and what he had done to get it from other women. You were just that bored.

And horny. You were very, very horny.

That would be what got you in trouble.

You scoffed, pushing past him to lock the door. It took all your effort to slip the key in as your fingers trembled at the feeling of him hovering over you, his breath hot on your neck as he stepped closer to you.

This shouldn’t make you horny. On the contrary, it should make you afraid. But still…

When the door finally locked, you spun around quickly, tucking the key between your fingers like a claw – something one of the college policemen once told you about.

But Ettore stepped back – once, twice. And then the was pressed against the wall opposite you. His stare was still hungry, and you could easily see how heavy his breathing had become, but he didn’t advance.

“I have to go,” you told him, unsure why you were doing it. It wasn’t like you needed his permission or even wanted it. “I have an appointment with Dibs.”

His eyes darkened then. Not with lust or animalistic hunger, but rage. It was almost… possessive?

It was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by his usual empty stare. Still, you did not dare move, not after whatever it was you just saw.

“Can I…?” Ettore gritted his jaw and looked away, his hands balling into fists at his sides. You didn’t know if he was about to cry or kill you – and you didn’t know which would be worse. He still looked away from you as he continued, “Can I come here again tomorrow? Just to watch.”

You should immediately forbid it. It was wrong, it was a bad idea, and it was just fucking weird. But as the hour chimed on your watches, you realized you couldn’t leave when he looked so desperate, almost sad. And you definitely couldn’t say anything to make that horrible expression worse.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You turned as he looked back at you to shut off the alarm on your watch. Dr. Dibs would be pissed at you, of that, you were sure. At the moment, though, it didn’t seem to matter. Not when his eyes lit up again, not from any light, but with excitement. “If you have nothing better to do, I guess that’s fine.”

The corners of Ettore’s lips quirked up like he would smile, but he quickly corrected it and set his mouth in a straight line. He didn’t want you to know just how excited he was, but you did anyways – he wasn’t a great liar. Tipping his head in an attempt at indifference, he sniffed before speaking. “Yeah, wicked.”

You winced a little at his pathetic attempt to seem cool, but it faded quickly when your watch beeped again. This wasn’t an alarm or the chiming of the hour but a summons. If you didn’t obey it, you knew Dibs would happily use the stupid watch to deliver a steady stream of low-level electric shocks until you did.

She was just as much of a killer as the rest of you – worse than some, if the rumors were right. Why should she have such authority over the rest of you?

It was pointless to question it, and even the beginnings of the line of thought had ruined your mood. So much so that you didn’t say anything else to Ettore before turning away from him and stalking down the hall toward the infirmary.

After you had disappeared around the corner, Ettore took a deep breath, silently congratulating himself on handling that almost like a real person would. Then, he turned in the opposite direction as you. He was due to clean the canteen before dinner. But fuck that. He needed the Box – now.

-

Dibs had been pissed. Not only that you were late to your appointment, but that you were so obviously turned on when you got there. It wasn’t like you could hide it, not when she immediately ordered you into the stirrups and got a front-row seat to your weeping and flushed cunt.

“Have you been using the Box?” she asked, that sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face.

You pursed your lips, looking away. “No.”

Her smile faded, and her eye twitched. “And yet here you are, practically dripping.” She reached for something on her tray, but you couldn’t see what. You had a pretty good guess, anyway. “Well, at least it makes my job easier.”

It had been anything but fucking ‘easy,’ you thought as you cradled your aching abdomen. Under the pretense that you were already wet enough, she had shoved her speculum into you hard and fast – and without lube.

If you thought her tests and procedures had been uncomfortable before… they were downright torturous yesterday. Especially since she conveniently ‘forgot’ to give you any numbing agents or sedatives. And definitely no painkillers.

Not even the sedative you were served with dinner had helped. For the first time since you boarded this godforsaken ship, you hadn’t slept.

Thankfully, you had little work to do in the garden besides waiting for the poppies to drop their petals. But you didn’t want to just wallow in your pain, so you decided to sit at the edge of the bed where your little willow tree resided.

It wasn’t growing very fast, likely because it didn’t have the room it needed or deserved. Still, you were happy with the progress it had made. When the ship first took off, it was little more than a bonsai. Now, it stood a good eight feet tall – the only plant you needed your step stool to tend.

In truth, it didn’t need much tending. Trees never do unless they are very young or something is wrong. But sitting next to it, examining the patterns in its long leaves and tracing lines up its trunk, was spectacularly soothing.

You had never considered harvesting anything from it. Not yet. It was too little still, and you didn’t want to risk damaging it permanently since you couldn’t simply order a new start. But as another pulse of pain surged through your stomach, you found yourself reaching for a lower branch.

All you needed was a small twig to chew on. It was an ancient Egyptian remedy, one that eventually led to the invention of Aspirin. And even if the sedative didn’t help, perhaps something more natural, something you had grown yourself, would.

You had just wrapped a hand around the branch when you felt a large hand close around your shoulder.

Instinct kicked in, and you whirled around, freeing yourself from your attacker’s grasp. Without processing who it was, you threw your arms out, shoving with all your might. “Get the fuck away from me!”

You only recognized Ettore after you had backed into the wall. He had also fallen on his ass and crawled backward on the floor – apparently, you were stronger than you thought. Any amusement at the fact died when you saw the anger burning in those eyes.

It was entirely possible that you just really fucked up.

But your adrenaline, from the pain and the scare he had just given you, was racing too hot and fast to let you consider that possibility.

“What are you doing?” you spat. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Ettore’s face grew even more furious, if that was even possible. His eyes burned as bright as any fire you had ever seen. It was beautiful and deadly. “You fucking… you said I could come watch you!”

Damn it, you did say that.

But it was before Dr. Dibs had been such a cunt.

And she had only done it because he got you horned up like you were a pathetic high schooler.

“Well, now I changed my fucking mind!” you shouted. If you could stand, you would have. Towering over him and just screaming your heart out would feel so good. But you hurt too much to even entertain the thought. “I don’t want you here – I don’t want you!”

Ettore shattered.

You watched it happen as your venomous words left your lips.

His face fell, his eyes began to water, and even his tattoos seemed to go dull.

At that moment, he was not Ettore, the murderer, rapist, and monster.

He was just a boy – the both of you were barely more than teenagers when you left Earth – and he was broken.

You broke him.

You looked on in horror as his trembling lips set into a hard line that echoed in his harsh brow, and the tears in his beautiful eyes faded to reveal a primal rage that chilled your blood.

There he was.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

Ettore stood slowly, like a tiger rising from its crouch upon realizing its prey has no escape – that it could play.

But then he looked away from you, sniffed, and moved for the door.

His leaving without doing anything to you should have made you feel overwhelming relief, but it did not. Instead, a great yawning pit of guilt and regret opened in your chest, hurting nearly as much as your wounded core.

You tried to call out to him, take your words back, and apologize, but all that came out was a short yelp of pain. This time, it was accompanied by wetness between your legs – and not the pleasant kind.

As you folded over, burying your face in your knees as you pulled them into your chest, Ettore paused halfway out the door.

He’d heard noises like that before. From other women in pain – pain that he caused. His lip twitched, and his head tilted out of his control, the movement more animal than human.

You were helpless and apparently wounded. This was his chance.

But as he turned to face you, he caught sight of the poppies you so lovingly tended to the day before. With the memory of your soft smile as you cupped a particularly pretty bloom, one that was a deeper pink than the others, he was able to pull back on the reins of that instinct.

Just slightly, but just enough.

“You hurt?” he asked, his voice strained.

You nodded into your legs and lifted your head without meeting his eyes. “I think… I think I’m bleeding.”

Ettore was frozen, his hands flexing, relaxing, and balling into fists as he tried to keep hold of those inner reins. If he was smart, he would leave. Go straight to the Box and fuck himself until this hateful urge was gone. If he was a good person, he would offer his help.

He was not smart. And he was most definitely not a good person.

But something about you and those goddamned poppies woke what little was left of his humanity and made him want to try.

So, he just stood there, staring at your helpless form as he fought a vicious war inside himself.

You watched him. Watched as his eyes flicked over every inch of your body with dizzying speed, as various parts of his body twitched and flexed. You’d never seen anything like it before, except…

The vague memory of a play you went to on a middle school field trip reemerges. Your whole grade was reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and it just happened to coincide with the local community theater’s production of the play.

It wasn’t a good play. Even at twelve, you could tell it was objectively bad. But the man who played Jekyll and Hyde was decent (one of your classmates told you he was their pediatrician), mainly when he performed the ‘transformation.’ You hadn’t been able to look away as he contorted; every movement was desperate, halting, and frantic.

Not unlike how Ettore moved as he watched you.

When he came out of the fog that had settled over his eyes, which Ettore would you get? Did he even have a Jekyll to his Hyde?

You knew you should take the opportunity of his distraction to run. The infirmary would be best, but it would mean seeing Dr. Dibs again. You had no desire to admit that you needed her help. The showers were also an option, but it would allow others to see you in a weakened state. You didn’t want to admit weakness. Besides, Dibs would hear about that as well.

So, even though you knew it was stupid, you decided to take the biggest risk of them all.

“Ettore…?” You called his name softly, unsure of the pronunciation. Whether it was right or wrong, he didn’t seem to mind. He locked eyes with you, and his nostril flared as though he really was a predator and could smell the blood you were now confident was leaking from you. “I need your help.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he looked like he would run from you. But beyond another twitch of his head, he did not move.

“Please?” you begged. You felt pathetic, but you kind of were, so you tried not to let it bother you too much. “I don’t think I can stand on my own.”

Ettore’s brows furrowed at that, and his lips went from a near-sneer to a determined frown. Then, with a lumbering gait, he approached you in only a few steps, holding a hand out in front of him for you to take.

You stared at his hand for a moment, admiring the elegant length of his fingers. And then you realized: he was shaking.

It was subtle, but it was there.

Tilting your head, you looked up at his face. Apart from the slight widening of his eyes, it was again set in passivity. But what was more peculiar than his trembling or his expression was the fact that he was steadfastly refusing to look at you.

Indeed, those blue eyes were set on the softly swaying leaves of your willow, tracking their movement like the tree would attack him if he looked away.

You were so used to his eyes on you. Was it wrong that you wanted it back?

Before you could ponder the answer, you raised an arm to take his hand. He squeezed your fingers painfully as he helped you onto your feet.

The pain surged again as you stood, causing your knees to buckle the second Ettore let go of your hand. You stumbled, falling against his chest.

It was no more than instinct that had him wrapping his long arms around your shoulders and waist to catch you. An instinct that his brain was yelling at him to abandon you and let you fall.

It was too dangerous to touch you, to feel your soft skin as his hand accidentally slipped into the side of your overalls – why the fuck were the sides so low when your shirt was so short?

At the sensation of your hot breath against the sensitive skin of his neck, he let out an involuntary groan as he tightened his grip on you.

He had to get away. Now. As fast as possible. He didn’t want to hurt you. He really didn’t. But his blood was singing with desire, more intoxicating than any liquor or drug. Keeping his fingers from digging into your flesh possessively was almost painful, and he was so, so hard.

The reins were slipping…

You felt it, his hard length pressed into your stomach as you brought your hands to his chest to steady yourself.

You should push him away again. Slap him. Yell at him. Kick him as hard as you could right on that hard, impressively long length.

But you did none of it.

“I need to get to my worktable,” you whispered, “there’s a medkit there. And…”

You looked into his eyes, watching them dilate even further as you finished your request. “I’ll need help getting out of my overalls.”

That blue you were so entranced by was all but gone. Ettore looked like a man possessed, his breathing heavy and heaving as he lowered his chin to look into your eyes.

There was no way he heard you correctly. You knew what he was, what he had done. And you were smart, so much smarter than him. Far too smart to ever ask someone like him to take off your clothes. Even if it were to help you with an injury – an injury he still couldn’t see.

But then your eyes squeezed shut, and you fell forward to bury your face in his shoulder as you moaned in pain.

And then…

Then your right hand moved up his chest to wrap around his neck. Not to choke or hurt, but just to hold.

He expected your hands to be rough from working in the garden all day, but they weren’t. No, your fingers were unfairly, unbearably soft as they swept across his bare skin, coming to rest against the tattoo on the side of his neck.

When was the last time anyone touched him like this – tenderly and without fear? It had been years, even before he was put on this doomed ship.

Ettore almost came just from that simple touch.

More intense than even the extraordinary pleasure was the feeling of near calm that washed over him. It soothed the pain he felt in every muscle and quieted the violent, primal urges roaring within his chest. They weren’t gone, but they were further away.

It made it easier to take the reins.

“The worktable…” he breathed as his grip on you relaxed slightly. He still held you firm enough to keep you standing, but you no longer worried you would bruise.

You pulled away slightly, noting the way he whimpered and winced like a scolded puppy as you slowly removed your hand from around his neck. “Yes.”

He nodded frantically, sniffing and taking a few deep breaths. As if he needed to prepare himself for the short walk to the table. Then, moving with a slowness that suggested the motion took all his concentration, he lowered his arm from your shoulders.

When Ettore turned to the worktable, even with his other arm still around your waist, you felt a rush of unwelcome cold. Even when you were still clothed and the garden was kept at a balmy temperature.

He walked slowly. Perhaps you would have thought it was out of concern for you and your pain, but you knew by now that this was hard for him.

Indeed, when he pulled away after you were leaned against the table, a faint sheen of sweat had broken out across his brow. His breathing was still rapid, and his eyes were glassy, as if he were several shots in.

“Ettore?” When he met your eyes again, you looked down at the buttons on your shoulders holding your overalls up. He followed your gaze and made a choking sound when he realized what you meant. “If I let go of the table, I think I’ll fall.”

It wasn’t just his hands shaking now, but all of him. So much so that you couldn’t tell whether he was nodding or just shaking that badly.

Either way, he reached for the first button on your left shoulder. It took him a few tries, but he got it done. The strap fell, and one side of the overalls slumped, revealing the tight white shirt beneath that left very little to the imagination.

Ettore growled.

What the fuck? Humans don’t growl. At least, you had never heard it.

And yet he did.

A flicker of fear started in your chest, and you chose to focus on that rather than the bloom of something else lower within you.

He began to reach a hand, tense and shaking, towards your breast. But inches away, you caught his wrist. You had to lean further against the table not to fall, but you weren’t letting go.

“The other button, please.” Though you spoke quietly, the command was clear.

You only released his arm when he looked into your eyes and confirmed with a twitch of his lip that he heard you. He clenched and unclenched his fist several times before finally going for the other button.

It took him even longer to get this one undone. But at least he didn’t growl again when the other half of the overall’s torso fell limp around your waist. His eyes did linger on your breasts, but you let it happen.

You had great tits. And he deserved a little reward for helping you, didn’t he?

So, you let him have a few seconds to just stare. As long as he didn’t try to touch again. Because you didn’t want that, right?

Ettore’s gaze fell further, to where the overalls were just barely hanging onto your waist. You said you were bleeding, but he still hadn’t seen it. So just where was your injury?

His cock twitched, and he was sure you could see it through the thin scrub pants he was forced to wear as he realized what would happen next. “You need ‘em all the way off, eh?” He hated how weak and shaky his voice sounded, but he supposed it was better than growling. You hadn’t reacted well to that. “Do you need me to…?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed. Of course, you knew you should say something about burying your spade in his chest if he tried anything. But the fact that he was asking, rather than just ripping the garment off, made you feel almost safe in having him do this. Almost.

You would feel even better about it if you couldn’t see his dick straining against his pants and twitching almost as much as he was.

C'est la vie, you supposed. Though that probably applied more to something trivial, like your school’s football team losing a game they should have won, than you being forced to ask a serial rapist and murderer to take off your pants. But close enough.

You shivered when he lowered his hands to your waist, causing him to pull back slightly. “It’s fine,” you assured him. “Keep going. I’m fine.”

Ettore nodded and fixed his eyes on the bottom drawer of the table as he took the thin fabric of the overalls between his fingers and started pulling them down. Really, he could have just nudged them, and they would have fallen to the floor. But he kept them in his grip as he lowered himself into a kneeling position.

He never once looked at you. Not at your ankles, or your legs, or the apex of your thighs – which were covered with more blood than you expected.

Damn it.

You considered what to do next as Ettore remained on the floor, carefully slipping the overalls over your feet. A difficult task when he refused to look at what he was doing.

By the time he finished, and you felt very much like Donald Duck – shirt, shoes, but no pants – you knew what you had to ask.

It was the stupidest thing you’d ever done.

“As long as you’re down there,” you said, your joking tone flatter than you intended, “the medkit’s in the drawer just to your left. Can you grab it and… and help me onto the table?”

Ettore didn’t reply but yanked the drawer open and grabbed the medkit. After tossing it on the table, he rose. Then, still not looking at you, he wrapped his arms around you again – one around your waist, the other around your upper thighs – and lifted you onto the table.

God, you felt so good in his arms. You were the perfect size, like you were made for him to hold. Warm and soft and… wet?

His eyes shot to the arm that had been wrapped around your legs. And both of you looked on in horror as you realized it was now covered in blood – your blood.

For the first time, you saw a look of disgust come over Ettore’s face.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, voice breaking as tears of embarrassment began to fall. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, Ettore simply stalked over to the utility sink a few feet from the worktable and slammed the faucet on. He didn’t wait for the water to heat before shoving his arm under it.

You watched in humiliation, fumbling to lower your panties as he grabbed the soap and began to scrub. “I’m so sorry,” you said again, ripping open the medkit to find a packet of gauze you could press between your legs. “Ettore, I’m so sorry!”

He shook his head as he scrubbed harder and harder, until his skin burned from more than the searingly hot water. You were bleeding, you were hurt, and all he had been thinking about was how much he’d like to fuck you.

It had never stopped him before, not with any of the other girls. He had never minded having their blood on him. He savored it, actually. But it had been him who made them bleed. You…

“Who?” he growled, stilling his scrubbing but keeping the arm under the water. The burning distracted him from the desire to find someone to hurt. Because he needed to hurt someone. Badly. Preferably whoever did this to you, but he wasn’t picky.

You didn’t want to tell him, not when you recognized that look in his eyes. It meant violence – retribution. You had seen that same look in your eyes when you watched the recap of your trial from your cell, and your lawyer was telling the jury, in excruciating detail, why you had killed your victim.

For a moment, you thought about trying to pass it off as you just being on your period. But he wouldn’t buy it. Not after what you’d already told him. Besides, all the women on the ship were synced, and your periods were still two weeks away.

Finally fed up with your silence, Ettore shut off the water and turned back to you, not bothering to dry his arms. He just prowled back to you, standing between your spread legs as he stared deep into your eyes without a glance at your mostly exposed cunt. You turned away, not wanting to face the darkness in his eyes, but he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him.

“Who?”

You bit your lip and fought to get free of his grip, but to no avail. Knowing then that it was hopeless, you locked eyes with him again as you said simply, “Dibs.”

He growled again, not with hunger, but with rage.

And then he turned away.

He would hurt her, you realized. He would kill her.

You weren’t opposed to the idea, but you were opposed to what would come next. What the other prisoners would do to Ettore afterward. And perhaps you as well, since he would do it for you.

Before you knew it, your hand had shot out to grab his shirt, and he froze.

“Don’t,” you pled. When you tugged on his shirt to draw him back to you, he only resisted for a moment before coming back toward you. “It was just her punishment. I’ll be fine. She wouldn’t… damage me permanently. She needs me intact for her experiments. I promise, she was just being a cunt.”

Ettore cocked his head and pursed his lips like he would argue, but you couldn’t have that. So, you lifted the gauze from between your legs to show him how the blood flow had already stemmed somewhat.

“See? It’s already getting better.” But your weak, reassuring smile fell when you realized what you had just done.

He realized at the same time, and he could not stop his eyes from dropping to what you just made visible to him.

His erection had begun to flag while he cleaned your blood from his arm, but there was no stopping it now. Not when he had a full view of what he had been dreaming of for weeks.

Just like the rest of you, your pussy was so pretty. He wanted to kiss it, stroke it, fuck it. His blood hummed with the desire, and he barely stopped himself from diving forward. He closed his fingers around yours where they bunched the front of his shirt. The feeling of your skin against his was his salvation, an anchor to his humanity.

Not you, he told himself.

Not you, who didn’t look at him in fear or disgust. At least, not entirely.

Not you, the only person since his mother died to touch him with anything other than aggression.

Not you, who had trusted him, even knowing what he was.

Murderer. Rapist. Monster.

“Please.” His plea was hardly more than a breath. Pathetic. “Please, let me go.”

For even with your touch, he was losing his grip on the reins. If he stayed here one second longer, he would do something he really didn’t want to do. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

You could see how much danger you were in, but you did not let go. No, you tightened your grip on his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your forehead rested against his.

Finally, you could look into those eyes and remember the sky back home as you had wanted to for so long.

But the sky wasn’t enough.

You wanted him.

You knew you couldn’t have him fully, couldn’t do what you really wanted. Not when you were injured like this.

Still, you brought your other hand to his chest, feeling him shiver as your fingers traveled lower and lower. Finally, you rest your palm against his length through his scrubs, feeling a sense of satisfaction when his hips cant slightly forward into your grip.

He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he wanted this as much as you do. But, of course, he did. When was the last time a woman touched him there, let alone willingly? The thought should have disgusted you, but it didn’t.

Perhaps you were just as much of a monster as he was,

“Dibs will punish us if she finds out we did this,” you whispered, your lips mere inches away from his. “But I don’t really care, do you?”

Ettore shook his head, his eyes burning like the fires of hell, where you both belonged. He was so close to breaking, losing himself, losing control. He was little more than an animal following the primal instinct to mate.

But letting you take control – and you were undoubtedly in control now – made it easier. For once, it wasn’t him who had to pull back on the reins. Not when he gave them to you.

He nodded vigorously. He wanted you. He didn’t care that he didn’t deserve it. And he didn’t care that you were probably just as monstrous as he was. He just wanted you.

You smiled, pressing a single kiss to the corner of his lips before sliding your hand past the waistbands of his scrubs and boxers and taking hold of him.

He immediately let out a pitiful cry as his stomach tightened, and he had to concentrate so hard not to come before you had even begun to move your hand. It was only made worse when you giggled at his struggle. The sound was sweet and light and utterly infuriating.

Needing to shut you up, Ettore brought his hands back around your waist as he tugged you to the table’s edge. He leaned forward to kiss you, but you pushed against him, holding him back. Then, tensing, he grunted, a low, throaty sound and a begging.

“I know,” you whispered, mock sympathy barely disguising your amusement. “I know what you want. Believe me, I want it to.” You laughed again as you began to pump him slowly, collecting the precum on his tip with every stroke to ease your movements. “You can kiss me another time. Right now, I just want to look at you. Is that okay?”

His hands tensed around your waist, and for a few seconds, he looked like he would let that animal loose and lunge at you. Like he would kiss you with all the pent-up frustrations of an entire life spent unwanted.

But he stopped, looking from where your hand disappeared below his pants to your eyes. And he nodded. Not a small, weak movement, but a firm, final motion.

He would allow it.

He would allow you to do whatever you wanted.

You smiled broadly, and again, he had to hold back his release. He wanted this to last forever.

At last, you released Ettore’s shirt from where you had bunched it with your offhand, raising it to his neck. You traced each line of his maze-like tattoo as you sped your movements, savoring each wince and whine he let out. Cataloging each reaction to figure out, without him having to say a word, exactly what he liked best.

And what you liked best. You were particularly fond of how his eyes would squeeze shut, and his mouth would fall open each time you grazed your thumb over his leaking head, following a short trail up and down his slit.

It was such a mesmerizing sight that you brought your hand up from his neck to touch his face. Every movement of one hand was echoed by the other as you explored each feature.

The severe line of his jaw. His large chin. The sharp cheekbones and flat brow. His long, elegant nose. The pink plush of his lips, from which he let out such tantalizing moans and whimpers.

Once you had taken in every inch of his face, you cupped his jaw in your left hand to feel it work as you sped the ministrations of your right hand. His eyes squeezed even further shut, and he grunted like an animal. But you didn’t stop. You only went faster and faster.

“Are you nearly finished?” you asked teasingly.

Ettore cracked open his eyes, looking from your taunting smile to your hand, working him so skillfully, then back to you. He moaned almost inaudibly, and that animalistic hunger returned to his eyes. He had been locked in a cage for too long, and now you had set him free.

“Yes,” he moaned, almost too quiet to hear.

You brought your thumb to rest against his lower lip, smiling at the feeling of his increasingly frantic breath against her.

For so long, you had feared this man. And now he was reduced to putty in your hands.

With a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, you pressed your thumb further into his lip and let your other hand slow, ignoring his protestations. “Before I let you finish,” you said, your voice tauntingly innocent, “I need you to answer a question for me. Can you do that?”

Ettore’s body jerked wildly as he desperately tried to regain some of the friction you had just deprived him of, but his eyes stayed locked on yours.

He knew he would do anything you asked him to then.

If you asked him to jump? He’d ask how high.

If you demanded he get down on his knees and beg? He’d do so happily.

If you told him to throw himself out of the airlock? He wouldn’t hesitate.

Compared to what he would do, what you actually asked of him seemed so simple.

“Fine…” he gasps, tightening his grip on your waist as though you would pull away. “What is it?”

You smirked, savoring that dark look in his eyes. How could you ever have been scared of it?

Then you squeezed his pulsing cock, just past the point of pleasure, to emphasize the power you held over him.

And, of course, he loved it. Groaning as his head toppled over into your shoulder. You carded your hand through his short hair as you whispered in his ear, “What feels better, my hand or the Box?”

Any pain, any embarrassment at being so pathetically at your beck and call, or any emotion other than his desire for you faded at the question. All that mattered was you and your perfect touch.

It felt wonderful even when you tugged on his hair quite hard to make him face you again. The answer was written on his face, in every piece of the complete, utter joy he felt in every inch of him, but especially where your skin met his.

“You,” he said, the word like a prayer. “You.”

Your responding smile was wicked, and you almost went back on your promise not to kiss him. But you resisted and began pumping his cock at a breakneck pace, brushing each sweet spot with every stroke and letting your pinky graze against his balls each time you came to his base.

It takes every ounce of what little restraint Ettore had to not scream at the overwhelming bliss. It was so much, too much. It was everything.

But what finally pushed him over the edge was you leaning in again to whisper against his cheek, “Just wait until you feel my cunt, Ettore.”

There was a sharp gasp, a guttural cry, a whimper, and a grunt, and then he was spent. Thank God his boxers were thick, or there would have been a very obvious stain at the front of his scrubs.

Ettore whimpered again as he looked into your eyes again, unsure what this meant or what would happen next. He was so drunk on his release that words failed him, or else he no doubt would have said something stupid and ruined his chances of actually getting to experience what you had promised just before he came.

You removed your right hand from his pants, wrapping it around his neck like the left, soothingly stroking the peach fuzz at the base of his skull as he came down from his high.

There was a new look in those blue eyes. Not hungry, not animalistic. Not angry or predatory. No, it was almost reverent.

Who would have ever thought that Ettore, the murderer, rapist, and monster, was capable of a look like that?

You parted your lips and leaned ever so slightly into him. “Thank you,” you whispered against his lips. “For letting me just watch. I think… after giving me that, you deserve a treat, don’t you?”

Ettore didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He could only stare at you as pleading vulnerability crept over his face. The look of a puppy begging for a treat.

Then, he nodded, his only pleading answer.

You ran a hand through his hair again, making him wait just a moment more. “Kiss me, Ettore.” His eyes went wide at the command. “Kiss me the way you really want to.”

His throat bobbed, and he nodded again, still holding your gaze. Then, before you could even take a breath, he pounced.

Ettore’s lips were hot on yours as he kissed you deeper and more passionately than you’d ever been kissed before. It took only a moment before it felt like your souls were melding together for how close he held you. He did not relent until you were both struggling for breath.

Even then, he kept his lips pressed against yours as though he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the sound sending tingles up your spine.

You just sat there, smiling against him for a moment, wishing you could have taken him inside you. Perhaps you were fine now, and if he could get hard again, you could…

But then your watches both beeped the hour. He’d been there an hour. Someone was bound to notice he wasn’t scrubbing the halls soon.

So, you reluctantly pushed him away, heart clenching as he weakly fought to hang on to you. “I want to come back,” he whined.

You didn’t reply as you dressed again, your pain mostly gone, and pulled a clean rag out of another worktable drawer for him to clean himself. As you went to shut the drawer, an idea sparked in your mind. You grabbed another rag and ran to the sink, bunching the cloth as you moved.

Ettore looked on in confusion as you shoved the rag down and down into the drain until you couldn’t reach it anymore. But then realization set in, and he grinned wickedly.

You turned to him and returned the smile. “I think I may need to call maintenance tomorrow.”

#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

[fan-goddess]

You made me love you

Pairing: Ettore x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#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

[happilyhertale]

Our little game - Ettore x female!reader

Pairing: Ettore x fem!reader

Warnings: Violence, mention of abuse, Smut; 18+; NSFW

Summary: You are a murderer sentenced to death. To avoid the death penalty, you have agreed to take part in an experiment. You are in space on a ship with other prisoners. Like everyone else on the ship, you have to deal with problems and insecurities. But a prisoner helps you to distract yourself.

Author’s note: Hey you (:

The events in the story are not quite similar to those in the film. There are several prisoners on the ship and the experiment is also running successfully, if you can call it that... The prisoners are on a spaceship and are serving their sentence there. English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 9.6 k

Other stories of mine

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You stand in front of him and grin cheekily at him. You are alone in the room and you just look at him. How often you watch each other. How often you make him nervous.

Make him moan.

He doesn't want that. At least that's what he keeps saying. But still he keeps coming to you. Still you bring him to the brink of despair. To the point where he wants to feel you. To the point where his desire takes over.

But you don't let him.

Your hands slowly reach for your shirt. You pull it over your head. You stand naked in front of him. Only your trousers still cover your body.

He is silent as you come closer, staring at you deadly serious, a nasty smile on his face. "Is that your happy face?" his words echo in your head.

"I don't know... Do I look happy?" you ask as you run your hand over your soft skin.

He is silent again and just stares as you let your hand slide further and further over your skin... You know he is a criminal and the devil, and at the same time there is something about him... an attraction you don't understand.

He doesn't move an inch, but the tension in the room is almost palpable. He continues to breathe. And stares.

You grin at him and you let your hand slide further over your soft skin. You moan slightly as you are about to touch your breasts. You see his gaze follow your hand. How he bites his lower lip lightly. How much he wishes it were his hand gliding over your body. You lean forward a little and moan directly into his ear. You notice how he visibly swallows.

Aroused by this situation.

You let your hand wander further... Again you moan softly. Again directly into his ear. You feel his heavy breathing on your neck. But before he can do anything, before he can raise his hand, you turn away and walk to the door of the room. You laugh and put your shirt back on, "Ettore... You are too easily distracted... I can see that you want this... that you want me"

You see his eyes narrow as he stares after you and he breathes heavily. He wants to tell you how wrong you are, but his lips fail him. He watches you walk away, and he feels... something. He averts his gaze from you and bites his lip until he tastes blood to drive away the feeling of arousal. He clenches his fingers and his knuckles turn white. He takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes and repeats your words in his head. "I don't want you, I don't want you, I don't want you..."

He will not give in to you. You will not win.

You walk towards the canteen. There's about to be food and you're hungry. Hungry from the game you and Ettore have been playing for a long time. You like your game. You like to see how he wants you, but that he can't have you.

You try to tease him, he tries to touch you. But neither of you gives in. Nevertheless, you are tempted to test the limits with Ettore. You love to see his body react to you... even if you won't admit it.

But for Ettore, it's a different story. For Ettore, your game is not 'teasing'. You say you just want to play. But for him it's 'cruel' and 'sadistic'. He calls you 'heartless... cold... a criminal'. You call him 'crazy' and 'psychopathic'. You call each other names, yet you find each other strangely attractive. Like a predator and its prey. An old story. A game of cat and mouse. You test the limits, and he keeps breathing.

But you like Ettore somehow. You wouldn't want to admit that either. He was the first prisoner you noticed when you arrived here. You came here on the ship after you were convicted to avoid your death sentence. Some other prisoners arrived here with you and you were given a tour together. You were shown where the canteen is, where the washroom is, where your bedrooms are. And that's where you noticed Ettore. You walked past him and he stared at you. Since then you can't stay away from him.

Every day, many faces pass you by that you will never meet, that you don't even want to meet. You don't care about the prisoners here. Except for Ettore. He's secretive and doesn't talk much, but somehow he's caught your attention.

You've both done terrible things to end up here. You don't know if Ettore would hurt you, but somehow you have a feeling he wouldn't.

In the afternoon, when you are on your way to the washroom to take a shower, you meet Ettore. He comes towards you in the corridor. You can see in his eyes that his frustration and anger are boiling up again. He walks quickly, with a determined look on his face. He walks past you without saying a word.

His body is so close to you that you can smell his scent immediately... He doesn't smell bad. Not really... It almost triggers something in you.

He passes you, and the tension in the corridor is palpable.

You look after him as he just walks past you without a word.

"Is this your new punishment for me? You don't even say hello to me anymore? Do I have to take my shirt off again... And then I have your attention?" you tease him.

He stops immediately when he hears your voice. He turns to you, his eyes still staring as if they're trying to drill a hole in your chest. He tries to speak, but there's a lump in his throat. He wants to scream, he wants to shout at you, and at the same time his arms want to hug you so much... it's a war in his head. And it's agony, both inside and out.

You smile cheekily at him, "I can't read your mind, Ettore... you have to talk to me..."

With your hands you indicate that you want to take off your shirt. In the middle of the corridor. You don't, but you indicate it by pushing it up slightly on your belly.

He closes his eyes briefly, trying to regain control of himself. You can see him trembling slightly with suppressed anger. But as his eyes open, you can also see a strange desire in him. A desire he doesn't really understand, and he seems confused. How can he feel desire for someone so heartless? He looks at you.

You bite your lower lip, "Mmhm... maybe I'll have your attention if I take off my pants... would you like that? If I stood in front of you in my panties..? Maybe if I bent over... and you could see all of me..?"

You let your fingers wander along the waistband of your trousers.

He closes his eyes again. He tries to control the hunger he feels when he looks at you.

"Ah... stop it..." he finally growls. His first reaction. He shakes his head. "You are heartless..." he mutters.

He is so confused. You are a criminal, like him. And yet... there is something about you... that triggers a desire in him that he doesn't really understand. He shakes his head again and stares at you intently.

You chuckle softly, "Oh, Ettore... I was only joking"

You turn away from him and slowly pull your trousers down as you walk. Down to your bottom. Your fine silk panties are showing. And before you enter the washroom, you stop and smile over your shoulder at Ettore.

He remains still and stares at you. He doesn't move. Not even a muscle. And he's still looking so intensely, as if he's trying to understand what's going on inside you. He takes a step forward, and then... then he stops. He doesn't quite know what to do... he just stares, breathing, waiting to see if you're serious or just joking.

You stand in front of the door to the washroom and take your trousers completely off. Your trousers lie on the floor.

You stand in front of Ettore in your panties. You turn around, stand with your back to him and bend forward. Even from a distance you can see a damp spot on your panties. While Ettore keeps a close eye on you, you pick up your trousers.

"Well Ettore, I hope you're not imagining what my warm, wet core feels like..."

You leave him standing there and walk into the washroom.

He shakes his head again, he doesn't want to think about it at all. He doesn't want to imagine what you feel like. He doesn't want to imagine how you feel around his cock. At least that's what he tells himself.

As he stands alone in the hallway, the tension is broken for a moment and his muscles relax. His lips twist into a faint smile. It is a smile he does not understand.

He turns and makes his way to the canteen. He hangs on to his thoughts. He thinks about how he can't stand you. That you are cold and sadistic. But that he likes you anyway.

You take a shower, you need to wash away the boredom this place gives you. A place you will never escape. In fact, the little games you play with Ettore are the only fun you have here.

You have to smile at the thought. You kind of like him... You get out of the shower, get dressed and walk into the corridor to go to the canteen as well.

In the canteen, Ettore is sitting at the table with another prisoner. They eat and talk a little.

You come into the canteen and see him. He is sitting in a corner. You can feel his gaze from across the hall.

You sit down at an empty table and eat.

When you have finished eating, you stand up and walk over to Ettore. You speak to him innocently, "Ettore..?"

"What", he snaps.

Now you grin blatantly at him, "I'm going to my room now. I'm going to touch myself. Maybe I'll think of you then. Is it okay if I think of you while I do that? Maybe I will also moan your name out loud..." You don't care if the others hear.

You grin at him and leave the canteen.

He stops eating immediately. He looks after you, an evil frown forming. He rises from the table. With an angry expression on his face, he throws the plate aside and smashes it into many pieces. Without saying anything, he also throws the cutlery aside. The prisoners at the table look at him, startled.

"You are vile," he spits. "You are insufferable... you are a heartless and disgusting woman..." he growls.

You laugh, "You are not so unlike me, but perhaps that is why we are attracted to each other? Have you ever thought about that with your pretty little head?" you call out to him.

You go straight to your room and lock the door behind you. You know that Ettore will follow you. He can't help but follow you.

Ettore really is at your door a short time later. He is listening. He doesn't want to, but nevertheless he is standing here. He hears you touching yourself. He hears you moaning. How you moan his name. He feels how it arouses him. The way his trousers tighten at the crotch. He closes his eyes, imagines you lying under him, moaning his name as he thrusts into you. He breathes heavily.

But he does not give in.

When your moans subside and you can breathe normally again, you are curious to see if you will see Ettore standing outside your room. Whether he actually heard you.

You step out of your room and you see him standing in the middle of the corridor. He stares at you. You can see an almost animalistic hunger in his eyes. You hear him breathing heavily. He seems to be waiting. You play your game... and he lets you play with him.

You can feel the tension in the hallway.

"You listened to me, Ettore... Did you like that?" you ask him cheekily.

He looks at you, "Disgusting!" he shouts. "You are the worst of men...!"

You smile, "Mhm somehow I don't think you find that disgusting..." you bite your lip as your gaze falls on his crotch.

"After all, you're the one who followed me to hear me touch myself. And that bulge in your crotch says otherwise... Tell me, Ettore, did you like the way I moaned your name?"

You giggle and turn around, walk down the corridor. Again you leave him alone in the corridor. You feel his gaze on the back of your neck, he doesn't take his eyes off you.

The next day you are sitting in the library. You enjoy the peace and quiet, no one is in the room and you are reading a book. You are sitting with your back to the door when suddenly you hear someone enter the room and the door is locked. You turn around and see Ettore standing there. You turn back to your book without saying anything.

He doesn't go to the bookshelves. As you look at him for a moment, you see a smile on his face.

"Heartless. A psychopath. A monster. Despicable and evil. Worse than me..." he growls to himself.

He starts circling you, watching you like a predator watches its prey. His gaze burns into you.

At some point you look up, annoyed, and look him in the eye, "Ettore... what is troubling you? Are you disgusted with yourself for being attracted to me? Doesn't it give you enough satisfaction to just jerk off?"

You look back down at your book and continue reading.

He stops in front of the table and stares at you.

"I... I..." he stammers, still breathing heavily. "I... you..."

He takes the book from you.

"Pay attention to me when I'm talking to you!" he growls. His gaze bores into you, "I don't understand how you can be so cold..." he says scornfully.

You look unimpressed, "...and now I'm not even allowed to read on?" you sigh, "..please ask yourself, are you really so different from me? Aren't you just as cold? Maybe I like you and this is my way of showing you how much I like you?" you give him a seductive look and giggle briefly.

He looks at you incredulously, "I'm nothing like you! You show no remorse for anything and play with people! I show remorse! I have paid for what I have done! I have been sentenced by the court...", he suddenly stops. It's as if a war is raging inside him, between attraction and rejection. Between love and hate.

You look at him a little confused, "What has that got to do with it? And do you really think I wasn't convicted by the court?? Why do you think I'm here? Certainly not because the entertainment here is so breathtaking"

You look at him angrily for a moment, but quickly catch yourself.

"But... Would you answer a question for me?" you ask with a small smile.

He just stares at you, looking angry. But he nods. You seem to have him right where you wanted him.

"Okay... I'll grant you the courtesy of an answer. But only if you also answer a question of mine..." he says. "Is that okay with you?"

You nod, "Okay. That's only fair. But I'll ask first," you smile at him, "Yesterday, when I moaned your name... Did you think for even a second about coming into the room? To watch me, or maybe join in?" you grin at him.

He is silent for a minute, lost in thought. He doesn't want to think about it, or admit it, that he felt a great urge to just barge into your room and fuck you.

"No. No, I hadn't thought of that," he says contemptuously, "I'm not a sadist like you," he adds. "I don't enjoy seeing other people suffer... Like you do...", he breathes heavily.

You make a little pout, "So you wouldn't have liked to touch me? Watched me moan your name? Very well. Then don't. Then I could go to someone else if you don't want me… But… never mind. Ask me your question and I'll never bother you again. Would you like that?"

You can read a look of disappointment and frustration on his face. He doesn't want you to turn to someone else. But he would never say it. He doesn't answer you about it.

He just smiles at you, "My question is simple. Tell me about your crime..." he says. "I have answered your question, now answer mine. I have a right to know who I am stuck in this experiment with, don't I?"

You look at him with a little grin. That he ignores the first part of your statement is answer enough for you. "But well, my crimes? I killed two people. They deserved it. They were evil. They abused people and they abused me too. I had to fight back. They are dead. And I have no regrets. After they abused my body, they had to die," your smile is gone and you look at him coldly.

Suddenly you see a smile on his lips, as if he is pleased. "They deserve what they got..." he says. It sounds like he agrees with you, but there is a slight tone of derision in his voice. "And so you killed two people... For revenge?" he asks in a mocking tone.

"Yes, I did. Does that give you pleasure now?" you ask.

He stops smiling for a moment.

You can see that he is starting to get annoyed and a little angry, "So... you killed two people... And now you're trapped here waiting to die... right? Am I right?"

You grin and nod at him, "Who has the bigger problem? Me, who publicly admits to killing people or you, who is still attracted to me?"

"Who has the bigger problem??" he says with disdain. "I'm not attracted to you! You are the one who killed two people!" he says mockingly. "Me? I'm a criminal, sure. But you, you're a psychopathic monster! You have the bigger problems!"

You can read in his face that he is getting angrier and angrier. You can see the disgust in his gaze.

You just smile, "So if I came up to you and touched you, you wouldn't want me to touch you? For me to just reach into your pants?"

He suddenly grins, "As long as I still have my dignity, I won't want that. No. You are just scum"

You lean back in your chair, "I don't know why you're resisting. It would do your salvation good if you would just admit that you want me"

He grins a little again, "Is that so?" he says, "Are you saying I'm attracted to someone like you?" he laughs.

"No!" he suddenly shouts. "No, and I'm not the one who has the biggest problem here... you are!"

You sigh, starting to get annoyed, "Okay, I have the bigger problems. Do you feel better now? Is the anger inside you finally subsiding? You don't know anything about me. You only know what my breasts look like. What I look like in my panties. But you don't know anything about me"

He suddenly looks at you seriously. "Okay... Well... Tell me about yourself... and I'll tell you something personal about me. Agreed?" he asks, "Then I would know more than your breasts and panties"

You don't know why, but you nod.

"Very well... I like music. Very much so. I play the guitar. Quite well, actually. But I'm not allowed to play guitar here… I have a little sister who I love more than anything. But I'll never see her again. Because I killed the people who abused me and were about to abuse my little sister," you look to the side for a moment and visibly swallow. You look at him again, "Are you going to continue to judge me now? When you're done with that, tell me something personal about yourself"

He looks at you. He seems surprised... By your honesty. And for a second, just a second, his eyes look like they are filled with emotion. Then his hard expression reappears. His gaze is neutral, hiding all his thoughts. He only gives a slow nod in reply. You can feel the anger in him subside for a moment.

"A musician. A good sister. But a murderer. A ruthless, heartless criminal..." he says. "So... that's what you are"

You smile, "Pretty much to the point. Are you going to tell me about yourself now?" you look at him questioningly.

He's breathing heavily. He is struggling with himself. His eyes look at you with anger... with frustration. He can't say no and he can't lie. He has to deal with it, he has no choice.

"I am a murderer..." he says, staring at you with contempt. He takes a deep breath and continues. "I killed my parents..."

His voice is low, even, without emotion. He speaks only facts now.

You draw your eyebrows together, "But... Why do you find it reprehensible what I did... when you killed your parents?" you ask him.

His face remains motionless for a few seconds. He stares at you with contempt.

"Because my parents abused me... And because I regret my crime..." he replies. "That's it. I am a murderer... But I'm not a monster like you"

And with that, you see the anger and contempt return to his eyes.

You roll your eyes, "Oh Ettore... Really? Just because I don't regret killing people who destroyed so many lives? Those people have murdered! And because I didn't want the same thing to happen to my little sister as happened to me? That's why you think I'm a monster? I don't even know why I like you so much. You're a hypocrite"

As you realise that you have just admitted that you like him, your eyes grow wide for a moment. But you quickly look emotionless again. But Ettore has understood your words perfectly.

He looks at you with a mocking, almost evil smile. Almost for the first time, he feels as if he has the upper hand in your game.

"Now you're beginning to understand," he says. "I am a criminal. A murderer. A thug. But at least I have enough pride to regret what I've done. And I don't enjoy other people's misery. Unlike you. You're a heartless monster. You like to see other people suffer. And I will never like you because you are such a horrible person"

You feel a twinge in your chest, but you grin at him, "Well... somehow I don't believe you... your look betrays too much affection... But I don't want to put up with any more accusations from you either. If I'm so unbearable to you, surely it's not a problem if I find someone to desire me now?"

You get up from your chair and look at him. You see the disappointment in his eyes. Ettore feels stitches in his chest now. He desires you. He wants you... But it's too hard to accept. You turn slowly and go to the door.

He looks at you. He wants to stop you. But he stands firm and looks at the floor. He looks at you again and you see his expression change. He looks at you with a mixture of pity, sorrow and desire.

"Go on... Go on. You will come back..." he says these few words with an almost evil smile on his face... As if he is sure of what he is saying.

You give him a small grin before opening the door, "Yes, like I said, we are attracted to each other. We always get back together," you wink at him.

That's enough for him. He walks towards you and stops you from leaving. He grabs your arm and turns you so that you are looking at him.

"Mhm... finally a reaction from you?" you grin at him.

He looks at you hatefully. Then his lips crash down on yours. He kisses you, wildly.

You bite his lip. He hisses and pulls his head back. You look at each other, both breathing heavily. This time you kiss him. Your lips touch his. The game you've played with him has brought you this far, you need him now.

He kisses you, grabs you tightly. He feels your soft body pressed against his. His hands slide to your ass, gripping it almost painfully. An obscene grunt escapes him. He pushes you backwards, leading you to the table. Your hands are wrapped around his neck. You moan into his mouth as he pulls your pants down with ease. He sits you down on the table.

"You like that?" he asks you when he sees how wet you already are.

"Shut up, Ettore," you gasp.

His hands are between your thighs and you pull him closer to you. Your hand wanders over his belly. You feel how muscular his belly is. You notice how this increases your arousal. Your hand is on his trousers. You feel his hot length through the thin fabric of the trousers. He hisses as you put pressure on his hard cock. You pull down his pants and see his long, veiny cock. Pre cum is already dripping out.

You start stroking his cock. You let your hand slide up and down his cock. A deep moan comes from him.

He needs to feel you. No matter what was or is between you, he needs to feel you.

His fingers slide through your folds and are immediately drenched in your arousal.

"Fuuuck..." he moans. You whimper in response.

He leaves circling motions on your clit, "I need to feel your pussy"

He grabs your waist and pulls you to the edge of the table.

Suddenly you feel his hand around your throat, holding you tight. He looks deep into your eyes. You bite your lip. You're completely at his mercy now.

You shudder.

He pushes you back onto the table by your throat until you are lying flat. He doesn't even bother to take off your panties, he just pushes them aside. He positions himself at your entrance. His hand remains on your throat. Making sure you stay the same way. He looks at you for a brief moment. You can't interpret exactly what you see in his eyes. Until he slides his hands to your hips and thrusts into you without warning. You cry out.

He grins. He doesn't give you time to get used to his size. He fills you completely. The stretching, painful at first, quickly turns into pure pleasure.

"This is what you wanted all along, isn't it?" he asks you in his deep voice. You can only whimper in response. You don't want him to hear that you like it. But the feeling of being completely filled by him makes you dizzy. Your lips fail you.

You moan loudly and wrap your legs around him. He lets you thrust on his cock again and again. The room is filled with skin slapping against each other.

He increases his pace and you notice how he touches your clit again. You look at him and see how he only pays attention as he disappears inside you. You notice how your excitement runs down your ass.

"Fuck... you're so tight," he groans.

Without any care, he thrusts into you, burying himself as deep as he can in your wet pussy. You moan out.

You reach for his arms, wanting to pull him down to you for a kiss. But he takes your arms instead and pushes them down onto the table. He leans forward, increasing the speed of his thrusts.

"You like that? Do you like the way my cock fucks your tight pussy?"

You nod. He bites the crook of your neck suddenly, "I want you to say it!"

You gasp out, "Yes!! Ettore... you feel... you feel so good. So... big"

He moans again. He grabs you tightly by the waist and pulls you down to meet each of his thrusts. You whimper and breathe heavily. Your body surrenders to his every touch.

You see him bending over and letting his spit drip onto your clit. You clench around his cock at the sight. He looks to you and has to grin.

"You like that...", he slides his finger on your clit and applies pressure. You moan loudly and clench again. Your moan is accompanied by his grunts.

"Ettor..." but you are already coming. You come around his cock. It doesn't take long and he follows you. Followed by a deep moan, he pulls his cock out of your pussy and squirts onto your belly.

He strokes his cock a few more times and squeezes out the last drop. He supports himself with his other hand. Gasps and breathes heavily.

You lie on the table and try to breathe normally. You look at him, he pulls up his trousers. Then he looks at you contemptuously and leaves the library.

You sit up and look at the door for a moment. You let yourself slide off the table and get dressed again.

You are confused.

You go to your room. You hate to admit it, but that was the best sex you've had so far. But still, Ettore's previous words have not left you untouched. He said hurtful words. Does he really think these things about you? And does he really think he can just fuck you? That he can insult you... fuck you and then leave you? You shake your head. You will show him that it is not so.

The game goes on.

The next day you sit on a table in the library. The same table where Ettore fucked you the day before.

Another prisoner is standing between your legs. You know him by sight. He's not ugly, but he doesn't interest you either.

He whispers things in your ear and you giggle. His hands are on your thighs, gently caressing you.

Ettore enters the library and sees you immediately. Sitting on the table from yesterday when he was between your legs... Now he sees another guy standing between your legs. How he touches you, how he whispers things in your ear and makes you giggle. He doesn't want to, but jealousy grips him.

You look him in the eye. He looks angry... Apparently he does care when you turn to another man.

You see him blushing with anger.

His hands are clenched into fists. He doesn't move, but he feels like he's about to explode.

Your mouth moves to the guy's ear. You whisper something in his ear and then nibble lightly on his earlobe. Suddenly his arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer to him.

Ettore is unable to move. He can just stare at you. You see a mixture of pain and anger in his gaze.

You turn your gaze to the guy. But you would much rather have Ettore standing between your legs... like yesterday.

Suddenly you feel uncomfortable. You don't want the guy between your legs anymore. You push him away slightly, but he just looks at you a little irritated. "Ey doll. What are you doing? You want this too..." the guy says to you.

But you push him further away, "No, I don't want that"

He just grins, "Well, it didn't look like that just yet," he pushes you closer to him.

You try to push him away with all your might, "I just changed my mind! Leave me alone!"

But the guy grabs you brutally by the thighs to hold you firmly in front of him.

When Ettore suddenly intervenes, "Ey! Leave her alone!" he shouts, glaring at the guy, "Leave her alone or I'll break your neck!"

He takes a step towards the guy and looks him straight in the eye.

You look scared. You've never longed to be near Ettore more.

But the guy seems unimpressed, "Don't be ridiculous, mate! I just want to use her for a moment! You can have fun with her afterwards"

Ettore sees an expression in your eyes that he has never seen before, it is pure fear.

"I won't ask again" he says in a calm but threatening voice. His face turns red. "Let her go! And I mean now!"

The guy hesitates. But he realises there is no point in arguing with this madman.

"Good," he says, "You have your fun with her then!"

He lets go of you and takes a step back.

You get up from the table and walk over to Ettore as if of your own accord. You unconsciously reach for his arm as you stand beside him. You need to feel him. He is briefly irritated by your touching him, but realises that somehow you need it right now.

The guy leaves the library. You stand there in silence for a moment.

You slowly look up at Ettore. He looks at you worriedly.

"Thank you... Ettore," you murmur before leaving the library. You have to get out of there, you feel miserable.

It's night. You are lying in bed, looking at the ceiling and thinking of Ettore... It's been a few days since he protected you from that guy.

The last few days you've been avoiding him. You always managed to disappear quickly before he showed up somewhere.

You don't quite understand what happened. You just wanted to show Ettore that he can't do what he wants with you... and suddenly he's the one who saves you? Suddenly the situation you wanted to show him that you still have the upper hand turns into one where he has to save you?

You turn to the side.

Yet somehow you miss him. Your games. The way he gets upset, the way he fights against wanting you. The way he takes you... You shake your head slightly and close your eyes.

Suddenly you get distracted. You hear something from outside. Someone is talking in the corridor.

You try to listen more carefully. The voice gets louder.

"Come on... Think about it. Be logical! You've been rejected! You're better than that, Ettore!... You deserve better!"

Ettore hasn't seen you for the last few days. He doesn't know why that bothers him. He feels just overwhelmed.

When he sees you, you almost make him despair. But when you are not with him, he feels lost. In addition, he has a strange feeling... He feels he has to apologise to you. That he fucked you... and then left you there. But he had to leave the room. He felt too much.

His voice gets louder, like he's very frustrated. He sounds angry with himself. And then... Tears?

Startled, you sit up in your bed. Quietly, you go to your door and listen. You hear a sob. You open your door and look out into the dark corridor. You see him standing there.

"Ettore? What's wrong?" You ask him.

You can feel the loneliness in this corridor now. It is quiet and dark. You can feel his sadness. And you realize that Ettore's pain... is as great as yours. His pride... is as great as yours.

But this time, you'll be the one to help him.

He doesn't answer you. He looks away from you. He tries to hide his tears.

You are worried and slowly walk towards him, "Ettore? What's wrong? Has something happened to you?" You stop beside him. He still does not answer.

"Hey...? Shall... Shall we go to the kitchen? Have some water? Anything?"

Now He's looking at you. One look in his eyes tells you everything. He is desperate. He still tries to hide his tears, but he no longer wants to hide his pain.

Finally his tears begin to flow and he starts to cry uncontrollably.

"Oh my God," you whisper. You don't hesitate for long, take a step towards him and hug him. His face is in the crook of your neck

"Hey, it's okay.. you're going to be okay"

He hugs you back and holds you tight. He is crying harder now and you sense that he no longer cares to hide anything. His tears and anger are now flowing together on your shoulder. He has been holding it together for too long.

You just hold him. You stroke his back. "Sssh... It's alright. Really... Nothing's going to happen to you. Do you want to tell me what happened? I'm sure you'll feel better afterwards? They say talking about it makes you feel better, don't they?" You're a bit desperate. You're not used to Ettore showing feelings.

That's not how you treat each other. You get angry. You tease each other. You desire each other but have no feelings for each other. But you still want him to feel better.

You feel the wetness of his tears on your skin. His body trembles under his sobs. He was always so strong and stoic, but now he's having a breakdown. "I ... had enough ... I feel bad" he says between sobs.

He holds you tight. You realise that he has kept so much to himself for so long. He has never told anyone about it... never showed any weakness... and now only you are here.

You nod and continue to hold him.

"Okay... that's okay. You've had enough. Of what? And why do you feel bad? Can I help you, Ettore?" you keep stroking his back.

"Of everything..." he continues whispering, "About this experiment... of this chaos... Of my life. Of the regrets... Of the choices I've made"

He breaks down further. "I... I am the monster of us... And then I leave you after we..."

You shake your head and take his face in your hands, "Hey. No. Stop it. You're not the monster of us. And if you were, then I'd be a monster too. And I'm not gonna let you think of us like that, okay? We can only get through this together, Ettore. You're... wonderful in a way... Don't let your thoughts get the better of you? Okay?" you smile slightly at him.

You don't know how to help him, but you do your best.

Ettore stares at you, his eyes filled with tears.

"How... can you be so kind and forgiving to someone like me..." his voice breaks.

"I'm a terrible person!" he cries, "Why... Why have you never hated me?"

"Because I can't hate you! Why else do you think I keep seeking your proximity?"

You stroke his cheek, you wipe away his tears.

He tries to resist you wiping away his tears. He wants to cry, to hate himself.

"I need to be... be punished..." he cries, "...I must suffer..." he looks at you with eyes full of pain. You see, for the first time since you've been here, Ettore showing all his despair. His humanity. His vulnerability.

You just shake your head just slightly.

Then you whisper, "Why did you come to my room?"

He looks shocked for a moment, then whispers, 'I... I just... I just wanted to be with you..." he looks away from you again.

He sighs and continues whispering, "I couldn't resist... I wanted to feel something... real.... Instead of this experiment and this mess. I wanted to feel something different for once, something human," he adds, sounding very conflicted.

You are speechless at first. He has never been so honest... He has never been so full of affection for you.

"Even though you're convinced I'm a bad person... a monster even... you seek me out to feel something human?" you whisper.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "You are not a monster... You didn't just leave me after we..." but his voice breaks.

He looks away from you ashamed, "I just wanted to feel something good again. Something real. Something that felt... right"

You hug him again, "Is that real enough?" you whisper into his neck. You just hold him close.

Ettore wraps his arms tightly around you.

"Yes.... Yes... This is real..." he whispers, "Yes this.... this is good..."

He relaxes.

"Thank you..." he whispers.

He feels your smile against his skin.

"Hey... no problem... you protected me from that guy the other day. It's the least I can do to cheer you up"

Again he sighs, "But the reason I did that... the reason I saved you... was because I wanted to protect you... because I was hoping you would come back to me... It was all just another selfish wish of mine. To make me feel good"

You lean back a little and smile at him, "But... you helped me anyway. Maybe we were made for each other... despite everything..."

He nods, "Tell me... what... what should I do?" he says, "Should I punish myself for the rest of my sentence... or should I..."

He at you with a questioning look.

You stroke his cheek and smile shyly, "No. I don't want you to punish yourself. I won't let you do that. If anyone's going to punish you, it's going to be me... But in a nice, tolerable way. Like we used to do... I'll tease you," now you're grinning, "until you almost lose control and want me. So much that you have to touch me, but you can't. Yes... maybe this is your punishment... Executed by me," you continue to caress his cheek

He looks at you with half-closed eyes and listens to your words. You can see a small smile on his lips.

"And what if I don't accept your punishment?" he says, looking into your eyes, "What if I want to do things my way for once?" he asks in a somewhat teasing voice.

You smile at him as you continue to caress his cheek. Smiling, you shake your head slightly, "Mhm, nope. That wouldn't be a punishment if I just gave in to your wish"

Then you look almost sad, "I'd be too worried about you punishing yourself too much... you don't deserve that. I know you don't like to hear this... but... I couldn't bear to see you suffer"

You have to avert your eyes for a moment. You visibly swallow.

When you look at him again, you see him smiling. You see a hint of hope and a hint of affection in his eyes. It almost makes you embarrassed.

"Very well... so be it then," he says, "We will do it the way you want it... I will accept your punishment and punish myself only as you allow me to..."

He smiles at you mockingly, "Is that good enough for you?!"

Your smile widens "Yes. I can live with that. You don't deserve more or less"

You take a step away from him and take his hand, you pull him with you "Come... let's go to the kitchen, I'm hungry... we could... steal a cake?" you grin at him.

He laughs and nods at you, "Alright. As long as you say so. Then let's go and steal a cake"

He looks at you for a moment. He smiles a little and nods at you. You can tell he's feeling better.

You can't help yourself, you quickly press a light kiss to his lips. You had to.

You blush slightly, "That's all you're going to get. This is part of your punishment"

He looks surprised at the kiss. But after a second he nods and then he laughs again, "Alright... That's all I get. That's all I deserve"

You giggle and pull him along towards the kitchen. "But we have to be quiet, if we get caught there'll be trouble"

He chuckles as you pull him along. He looks at you playfully and smiles, his eyes still full of affection.

You continue to hold his hand and walk into the kitchen.

"Do you realise that your punishment will be like this? I will tease you... with kisses... maybe even with touches... But you can never expect more?"

You smile playfully at him, "Is that all right with you? But what am I asking... Punishments shouldn't be okay..." you are still smiling.

He laughs again. You've never seen him laugh so much, "Everything is okay as long as you say it," he says it like it's a magic phrase.

"I won't touch you, I won't expect anything from you..." he smiles at you and nods.

You nod at him "But... What if I want you to touch me?" you whisper.

He grins, "Then that will be part of my punishment and I will endure it"

You don't look at him, you can't help but think of when he took you in the library. You bite your lower lip lightly.

His grin widens, "What are you thinking about?"

Your eyes grow big, "I'm not telling you that!"

He laughs again.

You stand together outside the kitchen. Carefully he opens the door. You step inside and look around. In the pantry you discover a chocolate cake.

You grin as you stand in front of the cake, "Ettore... this is the perfect reward for us... for sticking it out here for so long," you whisper.

"A reward... for putting up with you for so long"

He grins at you, you punch him lightly.

You sit at a table eating the cake. You watch him... and you realise that you desire him. That you long for that moment back in the library.

"Ettore? Feed me," you tell him.

He looks at you amused, "Is this part of my punishment?"

You just nod and grin.

He sighs, but then wants to bring his fork to your mouth. You shake your head, "with your fingers," you bite your lower lip.

He looks at you irritated until he sees the look on your face and sees you biting your lower lip. He nods. He takes a piece of cake between his index finger and thumb and brings it to your mouth. You take his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue plays around his fingers, you suck a little on his fingers. You look into his eyes. Your gaze shows nothing but pure desire. His gaze returns nothing else. You release his fingers from your mouth and chew on the cake. "Don't think about it, Ettore... that's all you get..." you smile at him, biting your lower lip again.

He grunts slightly. He looks at his fingers, then looks at you again. Then he smiles and he licks his fingers.

"Is that good enough for you?" he asks in a playful voice, his eyes full of life. "Is that punishment enough?" he seems to be mocking you in a good-natured way.

You giggle, "No... not quite... I would love to do so much more with you..." you look innocently at your plate and poke at your cake.

He grunts again, "That's some punishment!"

But he's looking at you curiously now. As you look into his eyes, you don't see the anger that has been with him for so long.

"What... what are you going to... do?" he whispers. He seems unsure somehow, in a way. He's not used to seeing you in such a loving, playful way.

You still have your fork in your mouth and you look up. You think. "Mmhmm, let me think... what would I want to do to you...? "

But he interrupts you, "Y/n... I... like you. I like you really much"

You see him look at you, startled. He seems startled himself, saying something like that all of a sudden.

But you have to smile, "Now... I want to kiss you... But... you've already had one kiss. That's all your punishment will allow. For today," you giggle slightly.

He smiles, "What if I asked? Would you give me... give me another kiss? As another part of this... Punishment... Maybe, just one more?"

He looks into your eyes in a new and... loving way. Something has definitely changed between the two of you.

You think for a moment, but then shake your head with a smile, "You seem to enjoy the punishment too much. But no matter how seductive it seems, no. But maybe we'll sit here until midnight... then it would be a new day... then I could give you a kiss," you smile at him.

He grins, "Then we will wait till midnight... And then a kiss for you, my love..." he says, nodding at you as he smiles again.

Now you blush slightly. ‘My love‘... you like him calling you that...

You nod "I long for it..." you whisper. You take another bite of the cake. "But... you distracted me with your kissing talk! I should punish you for that!" you grin at him, "Would you like to see me without my shirt again?" you ask casually and innocently.

Ettore looks at you, chuckling, "Oh, I would love to see you without your shirt again..." It seems he doesn't care that he is being punished now.

You grin and poke at the cake, "Yeah? How would you like to see me without my shirt? How much do you long to see me shirtless? Tell me"

He stares at you with a mixture of admiration and curiosity

"How much would I like to see you shirtless? Hmm... Hmmm..."

He continues to look at you mischievously.

"Maybe I can make that clear with my actions," he says in his dark voice. He turns on his chair towards you and takes your hand. He pulls you to him and you give in. You sit down on his lap. He gently caresses your cheek and lets his lips slide onto yours. You put your arms around his neck, deepen the kiss.

He breaks the kiss, rests his forehead against yours, "I really want to see you without your shirt, but not here," he whispers.

You bite your lower lip and just nod.

The next morning you slowly open your eyes. You hear a soft breathing. A warm body lies next to you. Ettore is lying next to you. His back is turned towards you. You slide closer to him. You feel his warmth. You gently caress his bare skin. His warmth floods your fingertips.

It is unfamiliar to you. The sudden closeness between you. In addition to the attraction you've always felt, this sudden closeness. But somehow you enjoy it.

You notice how he slowly turns towards you. He turns onto his back and lifts his arm. You don't hesitate for long and let his arm enclose you.

You let your fingers glide gently over his chest. You smile up at him. His eyes are closed, but you see that he is smiling slightly. You gently kiss his lips. He pulls you closer to him and deepens the kiss.

As you slide your hands down him and begin to tickle him. He didn't expect that, he laughs out loud. He tries to free himself from your grip.

Finally he manages to grab your hands and holds them above your head. He leans closer and whispers in a joking voice, "You won't get an inch of me"

As he holds your hands there, he gently caresses your cheek with his other hand. He can't believe he's just enjoying a morning with you.

You see his soulful gaze. Though he holds you tight, you lean up a little with all your might and gently kiss his nose.

"We'll see about that!"

You put your legs around his waist so you can hold him and try to get your hands free. You laugh a lot. Ettore grins. He doesn't need much strength to hold you down so you can't tickle him. But you keep trying anyway.

With a smile, he tries to kiss your lips. You push him away and he can't help but laugh.

Eventually you give up and lie in his arms, out of breath. He kisses you.

"I never want to get out of this bed again," you whisper against his lips.

"Then we won't. What do you say we stay in here all day?"

"Hmm... with that way you have a good chance of me spending the day naked in bed with you," you grin at him.

He grins at you.

He caresses your cheek and kisses you gently. His hand strokes down your neck. You feel it glide gently along your breast. A shiver runs down your spine. He gently caresses your belly, he feels your soft skin. You moan softly. He grins against your lips.

He takes off your shirt and admires you. How you lie next to him and gently bite your lower lip. He kisses you again. You let your hand slide down his stomach. Again you feel his muscular belly and again it makes your arousal rise. You let your hand slide into his boxer shorts. A deep rumbling sounds in his chest. His cock is already fully aroused. You stroke it, already feeling the pre cum, spreading it along its length. You put your knee on his hip, he grabs your knee, pulls you closer to him. Your kiss becomes wilder, greedier. His hand slides along your thigh and reaches for your ass. You gasp into his mouth. He lets his hand slide to your folds and immediately feels your wet panties. He grins again. And with one movement your panties are off. You giggle softly. He kisses you again and his fingers slide through your folds. He spreads your wet arousal until he suddenly lets two fingers slide inside you. You moan and your wet walls immediately clench around his fingers.

"Fuck... we should have done this much earlier," he murmurs against your lips.

You just nod and move your hips towards him to meet the movements of his fingers. He lets his fingers disappear faster inside you. He looks down, enjoying the sight.

"Love... you look beautiful with my fingers inside you"

Your moans and the obscene sounds of your wet pussy fill your room.

"I... need you..." you stammer.

He looks at you, nods barely noticeably and kisses you again. You whimper briefly as his fingers slip out of you and don't disappear back inside you. He takes off his boxers, but before he could lie on top of you, you push him onto his back. He looks slightly irritated at first, but lets himself fall back. You sit up and maneuvering your legs to straddle him. Slowly you let his cock slide through your wet folds. He moans deeply. His hot length is quickly drenched with your wet arousal.

You let yourself slide down his length. You both groan as he penetrate deeper and deeper into you. You let yourself slide up and down on his cock. His hands are on your hips, gripping you tightly.

You lean forward, your hands on his chest, and let your hips slam down on him, his cock reaching deeper inside you. Your whimpers are accompanied by his deep groans. He watches as you slam down on his length. How he disappears inside you.

You feel the pleasure in your belly grow stronger. Your thighs begin to tremble.

"Ettore..." you moan.

His gaze drifts to you. His gaze is hazy and full of lust. His hands on your hips keep up the pace as you falter, allowing you to reach your climax.

"Yea... I got you, come on my cock"

That takes you over the edge. You groan and clenche around him. You throw your head back, your hands on his chest gripping tightly.

You ride out your climax on him. You stare at him, breathing heavily, when he suddenly turns you onto your back and does not hesitate long. He immediately fills you completely again. Before you know it, he is thrusting into you at an ungodly pace.

You lie under him and he fucks into you, chasing his own climax. Every thrust of his rubs against the spongy spot inside you. You moan loudly. Your cunt clenches hard around him, he falters briefly and looks into your eyes. His pupils blown wide with lust as he continues his thrusts again, slamming his hips down on you. You let your lips slam down on his, you kiss passionately. Your whimpering against his lips increases with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. The sounds fill the room. His hand is on your hip, gripping you tightly. Holds you in place while he thrusts into you. As you realise the desire inside you rises again, your whimper becomes a moan and Ettore looks at you knowingly.

You moan loudly as your orgasm overwhelms you. Your pussy milks his cock, trying to get every drop out of him. Ettore can hold it in no longer, he comes hard. He closes his eyes and moans loudly, followed by deep grunts, he empties his hot seed inside you. His thrusts become sloppier as his orgasm subsides. He breathes heavily and stares into your eyes. He smiles slightly.

Your heavy breathing matches his. You kiss him.

When his arms can no longer hold him, he slides down beside you and pulls you into his arms.

"Now I'm not just going to leave," he murmurs into your hair.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx @praline357 @chainsawsangel

#ettore #ettore x reader #ettore x you #ettore x y/n #ettore fanfiction #ettore fanfic #ettore smut #high life #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #osferth

[thought--bubble]

Kitty Cat Part 1 (Revised)

Ettore X (Neuro-Divergent Reader)

Warnings after the break

Kitty Cat Master List

Ettore Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Biggest warning is Ettore ( since he needs his own warning) , mention of murder. Unhealthy coping mechanisms. I think that's it. Anything else I should add, please tell me.

For as long as you can remember, you had an obsession with touch. The feel of skin against skin was a calming presence for you. When you were a child, whenever you were hurt, afraid, or sad, your mother would stroke your cheek and whisper comforting words into your ear.

This need for comfort persisted long after your mother died in that car accident. Long after, you committed a crime that would change your life forever.

This need was still ever present as you were loaded into a ship set to bring you and a group of the world's most unpleasant people up towards a black hole to do God knows what.

Your heart is pounding in your ears as you are loaded into the ship, the leather seat smooth to the touch. The man tasked with strapping you is murmuring under his breath, clearly annoyed.

You couldn't help yourself, you have been trying to rub your face on him the entire time. His arm, hand, wrist, anything really.

Make it stop, make it stop

Anything to bring you that endorphin release and bring your blood pressure down. When the seat belt is pulled over your right shoulder, you start to rub your face against it furiously. The sensation begins to calm your anxiety, and the rushing in your ears starts to subside, and you are finally clear minded enough to start to take in your surroundings.

You feel eyes on you, and your heart rate begins to pick up again.

No no, make it stop make it stop

You bring your hand up to the side of your face. It isn't what you truly needed, but it could help. But then, true relief comes, you feel cold knuckles up against your temple. Foreign. Not an inanimate object or your own hand but the flesh of another. You close your eyes as you begin to nuzzle into the hand, your blood pressure dropping as a wave of euphoria floods over you.

Your mind again begins to clear, you are able to think again, so you look to your right and the red-haired girl seated next to you is holding out her hand that you have been nuzzling up against for the last few minutes. She gives you a small confused smile but doesn't pull her hand away.

Maybe I'll survive on this ship after all

Since your initial meeting, you and the red head who you found out is named Boyse had been what would pass for friends on this ship.

She seemed to accept the fact that you were non-verbal and seemed dedicated to learning how best to communicate with you.

So you would sit next to boyse at meal times and stay close when time allowed, and she would allow you to rub your face on her shoulder or would stroke your cheek.

This kept you in a state of contentment . A few of the other crew mates had expressed how odd they found it, but Boyse paid them no mind.

Life was as happy as it could be on this little ship full of criminals. Each day passing without incident. Boyse by your side filling you with relief when you needed her most.

The only caveat being work assignments.

Most of the time, you were assigned to separate duties, and you had to cope with the lack of touch. You would stroke your own cheek or rub your face into your shoulder to keep the anxiety at bay. You had tried to elicit touch from other crewmates when you worked with them, but most made sure to steer clear from you.

But today, you were assigned to work with him. The one crewmate Boyse had suggested, no ordered you to stay far away from. She had pointed out on numerous occasions when he would watch while she pet you or while you nuzzle her shoulder, and this gave her a sense of unease.

You are aware of your own inability to pick up on proper social cues, so you decided to take her word for it, avoiding Ettore at all costs.

This wasn't a particularly difficult task given his penchant for staying alone. Opting to Leer from the outside.

That was until today. When standing next to Boyse and looking up at the assignment sheet, there was his name in bold black lettering directly next to yours. Both are seemingly assigned to laundry.

Boyse let out a long sigh as she looked at the assignment sheet.

"This can't be right. They can't leave you alone with him!"

Hearing her frustration, your heartbeat began to increase. You move towards her and start to rub your face on her shoulder.

"Not now, kitty, this is serious!" She looks towards you with concern, causing a deep furrow in her brow.

"There's something not right about him and you. You're just a little kitten," she says, rubbing your cheek with her hand. You smile and close your eyes while nuzzling into her.

"I'm going to find someone to switch with you. No way are you working alone with that creep," she stalks off, leaving you standing there before the assignment board.

You wait less than a minute before you scurry off in the direction she took off in.

Why did I wait so long?

Where did she go?

Your panic starts to bubble as you hear Boyse yelling.

" He's a predator! She doesn't even talk! How is this safe?!?"

You come flying around the corner with a crash. Dibs, the insane doctor who is somehow in charge, looks down at you unimpressed and then turns back to Boyse, a condescending lilt to her voice.

"Ettore knows and understands the rules. Everything and everyone will be fine. Go to your assignments."

She looks back and forth between you and Boyse. Boyse opens her mouth to say something else, but you interject by nodding your head furiously.

Boyse looks at you stunned. Then anger spreads across her face as she stalks away.

Please don't be mad, your all I have

You arrive at the laundry room. Blood rushes in your ears as your head swings around like a meerkat sticking its head out of the sand.

He didn't even show up. This isn't so bad

You start rubbing your face against your shoulder and feel the anxiety start to abate.

You fall into a false sense of security and begin to load the pile of clothes left by the machine in, when more drops on top of the pile.

You lift your head up and are met with the steely blue eyes of Ettore.

"That should be all of em"

"I collected you can load em yeah?"

You nod and begin to load the washer. Slightly hunched over, your heartbeat starts to pick up, and your face starts to flush. You instinctually start to rub your face on your shoulder again, the rushing in your ears getting worse as you feel that Ettore has moved much closer, the heat of his body radiating onto your back.

His closeness, his smell, his domineering presence all together cause something to snap in you, and you turn, guickly looking up at Ettore. As he stares back at you, you move closer, closing the small gap between you.

Shoulder is too far up

You can't reach his shoulder, and it fills you with frustration, you place your face against his arm and start to nuzzle.

At first, he tenses, and his breath hitches. But he doesn't push you away, so you keep going feeling the flush in your face start to cool, and your heart beat start to relax. Ettore places his hand under your hair on the back of your neck and slides his hand up into your hairline while scratching his nails against your scalp.

The feeling is nice, calming even as he continues lightly scratching at your scalp, you continue to nuzzle him feeling more and more at peace. Then, as if something has taken over him, he grips your hair tightly and pulls you up against him, his nose buried in the hair on the top of your head.

"OH kitty. You are in trouble "

Part 2

To be added to taglist click here

#ettore x reader #ettore #ettore fanfiction #ettore high life #ettore fanfic #ewan mitchell verse #ewan mitchell fanfic #ettore x you #ettore imagine #ewan mitchell #ettore smut #ewan nation #ewanverse #jess fics #my red flag bf

[mybeautifuldelirium]

OH MY GOD…what is this monstrosity of an Ettore AI bot that I just created…😮 and how tf is it so NSFW?!

Anyways, does anyone want me to make this Ettore bot public? lol

Warnings: NSFW, NonCon, Minors DNI

#ettore #ettore x reader #ettore smut #high life #ettore fanfic #ettore high life #ewan mitchell #high life fanfic

[in-a-mountain-pool]

ETTTTTTTOREEEEEE

Hey qyburnsghost! I am so sorry that this chapter has taken so long to arrive. Life has been really hectic lately what with writing my thesis, auditioning for theatre school, a whole bunch of family stuff, and my own health etc. But I can assure you, I've been typing away at this update as best I can, and I hope to update within the week! I LOVE Ettore, so I'm determined to finish this story and to see where it takes our dear Reader.

Here's a short snippet of chapter 4 of Supermassive Black Hole to keep you busy!

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Allusions to smut

It was night still on the prison ship when you finally stirred awake, the harsh artificial lighting low, casting a dark blue hue in the space around you. The room reeked of sex and musk, the sheets beneath you still damp and sweaty from the events of the night before. The muscles of your body ached in such a delicious manner that you’d almost come to forget, your limbs tight and spent in the best kind of way. A cool draft nips at the bare skin of your legs as they twist into the thin fabric of the covers, a lazy smile spreading onto your face as you remember exactly why, and exactly who was responsible. Tentatively your finger trails a path from your cheek to your lips, the hot sensation of him spilling into your mouth just a few hours before replaying in your mind, over and over.

"Ettore."

Tag list (To remind you folks this exists!): @babyblue711 , @purpleskiesandroses , @sarahkimtae

Link to Masterlist - Click for previous chapters!

#ewan mitchell #ettore #high life #ettore x reader #ettore smut #fics by me #ettore fanfiction #ettore fanfic #supermassive black hole #asked and answered

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

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"

General Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Ettore Taglist:

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#ettore x you #ettore high life #ettore smut #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore x y/n #Ettore x oc #high life fanfiction #high life fanfic #high life movie #high life 2018 #ettore fanfic #ettore fan fic #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore high life smut #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #ewanverse

[flowerandblood]

The Temple of the War

[ Ares • Ettore x Aphrodite • female ]

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

[ description: Although she thought it would be a fleeting affair, her disturbing relationship with the god of war only deepens, condemning them both to any attempt to reach an agreement. However, her brother loses his patience, wanting to find out what his lover gave Paris in exchange for the apple that Hera and Athena also deeply desired. ]

This is part 2 of The Temple of the God but it can be read as a standalone story. 💕

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

My other works: Masterlist

_____

She wasn't sure she had ever felt anything like she did then, that night, as his heavy, sweaty, muscular body lay on top of hers, his hot breath enveloping her cheek as the last waves of pleasure and heat surged through her.

She stroked his smooth buttocks with her hands feeling his hips rock softly in some natural, subconscious reflex, his half-soft manhood still throbbing deep inside her.

She heard him swallow hard and grunt before he rose up on his elbows, looking down at her with his lips slightly parted, sliding out of her slowly with a quiet click of her moisture, rising up on his knees, stepping off her bed as if nothing had happened, making her press her lips together, disappointed.

"Are you going to simply walk away?" She asked coldly, saw him stop in his half-step, glancing over his shoulder at her, some kind of shock in his eyes, as if she had surprised him.

"Hm?"

"Are you going to leave me like this?"

He looked at her dully, clearly not understanding what she meant, what he was supposed to do now, what more she expected of him.

She realised, sighing heavily with disapproval, that after his aggressive rapprochements with women he was simply leaving them, going back to his own affairs, thinking no more of them, not knowing the tenderness of embraces, of soft, dreamy kisses, of hands trailing over warm, soft, naked bodies, of peaceful, deep sleep after an intense closeness.

"What do you demand of me, sister?" He asked her impassively like a soldier asking his commander for an order; she raised herself up on her elbows, looking at him intensely.

"I do not demand. Do you desire that I should now, after you have warmed me, be left alone in a cold bed?" She asked regretfully. She saw him blink, his eyebrows raised, his gaze quickly traveling over her naked, bared flesh, his Adam's apple waved hard as he swallowed loudly.

"That is not my desire." He replied calmly, looking at her expectantly, his silhouette frozen in stillness like a marble statue, the same kind people placed to honour them in their temples.

She nodded, moving aside, looking at him expectantly. He hummed under his breath, his gaze softening a tad as he lay down beside her lazily, sighing quietly through his nose, watching her, his large hand in some simple, primitive gesture rising to her breast, squeezing it uncertainly. He lifted his gaze to her face, apparently wanting to see if he was causing her pain again as he had when he had first done it.

Something about how direct, how roughly honest he was captivated her; years of poetic chants under her windows, long, theatrical declarations of love that in the end turned out to be lies had tired her.

She thought, surprised, that perhaps such a change would do her some good.

Surprise flashed through his gaze as she moved closer to him, placing her hand on his, encouraging him not to stop, laying her body on her side facing him, looking straight into his face, for the first time so shamelessly, so closely.

His facial features were sharp, as if the sculptor had struck the stone with his chisel too brutally and without finesse, his mouth full, his eyes as dark as the night around her. He shuddered and swallowed hard, drawing in quiet breath as her hand rose tentatively to his cheek, closed his eyes as her fingertips brushed over his warm, soft skin.

She ran her hand like this over his exposed flesh, over his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his shoulders, his chest, feeling him flinch as waves of heat surged through his body, the flick of her fingers leaving a trail of his goosebumps behind.

He opened his eyes as she suddenly took her hand away, placing it casually against her body, the fingers of his hand from her breasts slid down to her waist and from it to her buttocks, squeezing it, pushing her closer to him with a sure, soft movement, she felt his hard manhood on her stomach, ready again for him to possess her.

Though she wanted to protest, she let him take her for the second time that night, her folds slick from his seed and her moisture allowed him to slip easily into her hot interior, a low, animal grunt of satisfaction came from his throat as he threw her thigh against his waist, spreading her wide on his fat cock.

"I can do this all night, sister. You know I can." He exhaled with a hint of menace, from which her lips parted in a shy moan as her walls clenched around him tightly, making him gasp. He accelerated his pace, his free hand clenching in her hair, forcing her to look straight into his empty black eyes as he pounded aggressively into her again and again with loud splats of his thighs against her buttocks.

"This is what you want, isn't it? You despise these poets. Those weak, little boys. You don't believe them, because what's the truth in their pretty words? Hm? This is the truth, sister." He breathed out, and for some reason she clamped her hand on his broad chest and kissed him, heard his low groan of surprise, his tongue came out to meet her immediately, licking her encouragingly, teasing her with the very tip as she longed for him to slide it deep down her throat.

"− take care of me, brother −" She whispered in surprise as her voice trembled, as she felt tears under her eyelids, wishing for someone to protect her, for someone to watch over her, to be safe in someone's arms at last.

She felt him quiver all over, he gasped loudly as if he had waited his whole life for those very words, his hands clenched painfully tight on her hair and bare buttock, forcing her to fit him all the way in as deeply as he desired. Both of them moaned helplessly as they came out to meet their bodies, entwined together like vines, sweaty and hot with desire, his cock throbbing intensely inside her, betraying that he was close to fulfilment.

She thought in disbelief that he truly desired her all this time.

This rapprochement was more tender, more passionate than the first one, shamelessly close, her breasts pressed against his chest, their fingers digging into the naked skin of their bodies, their legs thrown over each other, making it so that if either of them wanted it, they couldn't break free.

"− beg −" He growled like a wild animal, panting right into her mouth, so she begged, again, again and again; she didn't even know when warm tears of relief and regret ran down her cheeks, his hot, accelerated breath enveloping her face, their kisses were an aggressive, wet dance of their tongues and lips, loud and slick.

After his last few desperate, deep, confident thrusts she was sure that all Olympus heard their groans of pleasure as they both finally reached their peak.

"− stay inside me −" She mumbled out, panting heavily along with him once the first waves of pleasure flowed through their bodies. She heard him hum under his breath; she knew he was grinning mischievously, his hand in a careless, lazy motion pressed her cheek against his chest, all wet from exertion.

"− sleep −"

Despite his command, she got no rest that night, and though she slept only for her own pleasure, unlike mortals do not need it every day, never before had anyone fucked her as many times in a row as he had, and as their brother, Helios, appeared in his chariot lighting up the sky, they both breathed heavily, his face snuggled into her bare, sweaty shoulder, one of his hands on her breast, the other on her womb.

"You will bear my children." He ordered, as if it was an obvious decision to which he was sure they were both agreed. She closed her eyes, sighing quietly, knowing that if he was going to leave this amount of his seed deep inside her frequently, for her to carry his legacy under her heart was only a matter of time.

She had no intention of denying him that.

To her surprise, he had visited her every night since that day, leaving his barracks late at night, returning there only at dawn.

He wanted her to satisfy him in every way possible.

She wasn't sure if he preferred to watch his fat cock thrust deep down her throat or between her thighs, she noticed, however, that as she caressed him with her tongue and her lips, licking and sucking him unhurriedly, sounds came from his throat that she hadn't heard before, higher and more helpless, as if the sight of her like this, with her mouth full of his swollen manhood, completely overwhelmed him.

"− f-fuck − faster −" He was panting then, clamping his fingers tighter on her soft hair, forcing her to quicken her pace, as impatient as always, wanting only to come down her throat as quickly as possible, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat again and again, making her gag.

Out of sheer mischief, she gave the tip of his length a few encouraging, teasing licks of her pink, fleshy tongue, feeling his body quiver then, his hot spend spilling deep down her throat with his loud curses and groans of pleasure.

She swallowed everything he gave her, feeling him watching her; he hissed quietly, tilting his head back, clamping his hand warningly on her hair as she began to suck him again, his manhood twitching vigorously between her lips and throbbing, oversensitive after his fulfilment. However, after a moment he gave in, allowing her to repeat the whole process, his gaze hazy, hot, his lips puffy with desire and emotion.

"− sister −" He whispered then, completely absorbed in his deepest thoughts in a way that sent shivers down her spine, betraying what he truly wanted.

She could rarely count on him reciprocating in a similar way, but when he did he was merciless, eating her like a starved man; his tongue forced its way aggressively inside her, pressing and licking the bud between her muscles from which she was shaken again and again by waves of pleasure, his nose pressed against her pearl, his fingers digging into the soft, smooth skin of her hips, not letting her escape even when she begged him to stop.

She could hear his mocking grunt then, his dark eyes shining suddenly with a dangerous gleam, one that sent a cold sweat running down her back, he swapped his lips for his cock then, all hard and swollen from listening to her moans.

Rumours of their affair spread quickly across Olympus. Hermes tried to lay a trap for them, jealous of her and the fact that she had never let him possess her, however, when her fierce lover caught him in the act he would have nearly killed him with brutal, swift blows of his fist, if only their brother wasn't immortal.

Though still silent, cold and distant, in his own way he responded to her request, protecting her the way he was capable of.

"What have you done?" He asked her one day, infuriated, startling her, opening the door to her chamber with a loud slam, bursting inside at noon in full armour, his jaw clenched, his nostrils quivering in anxious breath.

He was furious.

She swallowed hard, putting aside her embroidery, looking at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean, brother?"

"What did you give him for that fucking apple? Hm? What did you give him to satisfy your vanity? Did you suck his cock? Did you let him come deep inside you?" He hissed coldly, walking towards her like an enraged, ferocious animal with the loud clang of his gilded steel armour, ready to hit her, to hurt her, to pierce her with his sword, to destroy her in every way possible.

She rose from her seat, furrowing her brow.

"I gave him what he asked for. I give him Helen of Sparta."

She saw him stop, hesitation in his eyes, as if he was comparing her words with his knowledge. He swallowed loudly, his broad chest rising and falling quickly in accelerated, heavy breaths.

"How."

She turned her face towards the large windows of her chamber open to the view of the halves and rivers around Olympus and sighed loudly.

"He wished to possess her. I described to him her desires and her weaknesses. How he could make her content."

"This whore ran away with him. The Achaeans declared war on the Trojans." He growled low. She looked at him wrinkling her brows and snorted, shrugging her shoulders.

"The God of War does not rejoice that in the name of love blood will be shed again? I do not follow your desires, brother."

"Be silent, woman. Do not speak on my behalf." He grunted warningly, looking at her with a sharp, piercing gaze from which she felt a drop of cold sweat run down her bared back. She smirked involuntarily and laughed helplessly, shaking her head.

"It is you who speak on my behalf, boasting before your brothers and comrades that I believed your words and, out of feminine naivety, let you between my thighs. I gave you what you desired and you come and spit in my face, jealous that another man could reach for what you think is yours. No wonder our father didn't give you my hand."

She snarled, and he stared at her, the corner of his mouth raised slightly in a grimace that could be called a smile if not for his gaze, his eyes wide open, filled to the brim with fire and rage, his hands clenched into fists, his nostrils quivering with each of his deep breaths.

A silence filled with suffocating tension fell between them, the quiet singing of birds outside her chamber windows, the rustling of grass and leaves, the pleasant breeze around them, cool and crisp.

She knew he was going to do it, but still she was surprised that a few brisk steps from him were all it took for him to be in front of her, turning her violently with her back to him, clasping his hand in her hair.

She whined helplessly when her cheek hit the table top in front of her, and whimpered loudly when she heard his fingers tear the material of her thin robe at the height of her buttocks, the fat head of his cock pressed against her fleshy walls without any preparation, without any caress.

"Do you think I fucking brag about how much seed I left in your womb to my soldiers? I have killed hundreds of those who dared to dream aloud about you and your body with my own hands." He gasped through clenched teeth, imposing a violent, fast pace on her at once, thrusting furiously inside her with sure, deep stabs of his hips. She heard his low chuckle when all it took was for the thick tip of his cock to rub a few times against the spot inside her, for her quivering to begin to be accompanied by the loud clicks of her moisture.

"I know exactly what you're doing. You like to fucking tease me, don't you? You know the way I'll fuck you then, hm?" He growled, one of his hands pressing her head against the table, the other digging hard into the bare skin of her buttocks, pounding into her so fast and brutally that he didn't slide out.

She could tell that he was staring at the place where their bodies joined, at what he was doing to her, at how wide he was opening her on his fat, aching length.

"− yes −" She mewled, heard him sigh loudly as he fucked her relentlessly, sinking his short fingernails painfully hard into the delicate skin of her hip as if he was just waiting for this; they both began to moan low hearing how loudly their bodies slapped against each other again and again.

"− that's what I thought − fucking take it now −" He snarled mockingly; she felt his words do something to her, the sensation she was experiencing was on the verge of ecstasy from pain and pleasure.

She cried out loudly, mumbling something, probably his name and how pleasurable it was. She lost control of her body as her walls began to suddenly squeeze him, sucking him inside.

"− shut the fuck up − mghmm − s-sister − fuck −" He gasped and she heard him groan low, feeling her fulfilment, her moisture running down his thighs, his hot spend finally filling her womb with his loud sigh of relief.

He rocked his hips for a moment longer with a lewd, sticky slap of skin against skin, his grip eased and she sighed heavily, feeling immense relief, wonderful shivers ran through her body, something like a tickle throbbing at the tips of her fingertips, her lips and inside lower abdomen.

"− you should stop doing this − at least until you're carrying my child inside you − " He gasped; she could feel him looking at her, his manhood still pulsing deep inside her, his large hand slid lower, stroking her slightly rounded abdomen for a moment in a manner that could be described as tender.

"− I can't −" She mumbled out, ashamed at how pleasurable it was, how wonderful it felt to be out of control, that there was something she had no power over.

His element, his aggressiveness, his unpredictability attracted her, just as he was drawn to her understanding of his complex, violent nature.

He hummed under his breath and she closed her eyes as his free hand took the unruly curls of her hair from her face with a gentle flick of his wrist.

"− let this little boy fuck his Helen of Sparta − I'll support you in the coming war − I'll gladly spit in the face of Athena and your sweet husband −" He sneered, and she sighed in relief, pleased with his words, rising on her hands.

His strong arm embraced her at the waist, his free hand clamped down on her cheeks, turning her face in his direction, their lips pressed together in a greedy, sticky kiss. She heard his low, drawn-out murmur of satisfaction, his soft manhood still twiched deep inside her.

"− brother −" She whispered, his nose pressed against her hot cheek in a sudden, surprising surge of tenderness, his hand ran over her soft, smooth hair, only one more word left his lips.

"− undress −"

#ettore #ettore fanfiction #ettore fanfic #ettore fic #ettore oneshot #ettore x reader #ettore x female #ettore x oc #ettore smut #ettore angst #ettore high life #ewanverse #ewan mitchell fanfiction #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell fic #ewan mitchell smut #high life smut #high life fanfiction #high life fic #high life fanfic #high life angst #ewan mitchell angst #ettore x you

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Great Below

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader Warnings: DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT. Violence, dub/non-con, oral sex (f receiving and allusions to m receiving), smut, dark themes. Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: When the ship lands temporarily on a habitable planet, she is relieved to have a taste of freedom. For Ettore, it's an opportunity for him to make his move without prying eyes to observe.

Author's note: Day nine of the Smuffmas prompts - "swimming and face fucking". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

It had never been part of the plan to land on a yet undiscovered planet, and despite Dr. Dibs’ protestations captain of the ship, Chandra, had insisted it was worth the risk. The ship needed repairs, ones that couldn’t be performed while in flight - they would lose lives, and the ship would remain damaged if they were to attempt it. This is their best shot at survival.

There are mixed feelings among the crew regarding wanting to explore. Some don’t want to take their chances in an environment that could potentially be hostile, where the air may not be breathable, if there’s air at all. Others are eager to escape the close confines of the ship, it has become as much a prison to them as the bars they found themselves stuck behind on earth.

Monte is the first to venture out. He volunteers, claiming he is disposable, and if he returns safely it will be an indication that they can step out to complete the repairs without any detrimental effects to their health, and gather resources if there are any available. His first expedition sees him clad in one of the onboard beige and blue spacesuits, and when he returns there is no apparent damage to it. He reveals the planet is much like earth, it has a gravitational force, and a rich, clay-like substance makes up its surface, there is even water, vast expanses of it.

When he ventures out a second time, he dares to remove the helmet of the suit and excitedly informs the crew that he is able to breathe. He’s monitored for twenty-four hours afterwards, and having shown no signs of illness, the rest of the crew are granted permission to explore if they wish.

She is among the first to take up this offer. It seems irresponsible to allow a ship full of convicts the freedom to roam, however, there is the sad realisation that they aren’t really free. Where could they possibly run to? If they don’t return to the ship then they will face certain death without shelter, food or safe drinking water.

Despite this, she is grateful to feel the texture of earth beneath her feet once more as she steps out. She has refused the use of a suit, wishing to feel natural air upon her skin, and when she is far enough away, she removes her shoes and socks, grinning as she wiggles her toes in the softness of the soil. She had almost forgotten what this feels like.

She rolls her eyes when she catches sight of him in her peripheral vision. Ettore. He lopes down the ramp after her, moving slowly, purposefully. He isn’t wearing a suit either. 

She has managed to avoid him so far on board. He sends shivers down her spine with how he behaves. The intensity of his stare makes her feel as though she could be crushed beneath the weight of it, and it always seems to be directed at her.

It is likely the result of being trapped on the ship, it’s enough to test the limits of anyone’s sanity, and everyone’s frustrations manifest themselves in differing ways. However, no one else’s expression of displeasure makes her as uneasy as his. Were it not for his frequent use of the Box, she is certain he’d have attacked someone by now, probably her.

She hopes that a fleeting taste of freedom, and the opportunity to explore a new environment will be enough to distract his focus from her, and other crew members have begun to make their way out now too. There is safety in numbers, so she does her best to ignore Ettore’s presence, picking up her shoes and venturing forward.

Eventually she reaches the bank of a large body of water, similar in size and shape to lakes back on Earth. She stares at it hesitantly. Monte hadn’t drunk from or swam in the water he’d found here, so she has no idea of the harm that this could potentially do to her, it seems foolish to waste the opportunity though.

Tentatively she dips in her toe. The surface ripples around it, the sudden coldness causing her to gasp. However, beyond a slight chill there don’t appear to be any immediate negative effects. It has been so long since she swam, or lost herself in the sensation of being immersed fully in water - the showers aboard the ship just aren’t the same.

Fuck it, if I’m going to die, better to go happy and doing something that brings me joy, than stuck aboard that floating prison cell.

She tugs off her scrubs, dumping them in a pile on top of her shoes at the edge, and steps in. Her skin prickles into gooseflesh at the coldness, and the water gets deeper as she slowly moves forward, the surface rising against her body as her feet move up onto their arches as the riverbed becomes more difficult to stand on, until she is no longer able to touch the bottom at all.

Treading water, she smiles to herself.

Deep enough to swim.

She pushes outwards, stretching her limbs out, as each rotation of her arms propels her body through the water. For a moment there is no ship, no death sentence, nothing; just the cooling breach of her arms and legs against the lake’s surface, her mind quieter than it's ever been.

When she reaches the middle, she rolls onto her back, allowing herself to float, arms spread out either side of her, with her legs parted, staring up at the sky.

It’s only when she sees the murky greyness of the atmosphere of the solar system above her that she is reminded she’s not on earth, she’s not free, and she is hit by the hopelessness of it all. It makes her stomach sink.

No use in pretending, I’ve been served a death sentence.

The novelty of her swim loses its charm, and she paddles her way back towards where she had discarded her clothes, her heart lurching when she sees Ettore standing there, watching her unblinkingly.

She climbs out, and he doesn’t back away, he would force her back into the water if he were to step forward. She shivers, acutely aware of how her nipples pebble against the soaked fabric of the ship’s standard issue cotton bra, chilled by the cool of the air against the dampness of her skin.

Protectively she wraps her arms around her chest, drawing in a shaky breath as her eyes flit nervously between him and her clothes by his feet.

“Going for a swim?” She tries to ask casually, hoping a sense of normality will help to diffuse the situation, whatever that situation is.

His gaze drags downwards, from her head to her feet, before travelling back up again, and for a moment she thinks he means to ignore her.

“No,” he says eventually, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Just watching.”

She scoffs in disgust, stooping to grab her clothes and pushes past him, eager to be away from him as quickly as possible.

“Not so fast, you little cocktease,” he tells her, grabbing her arm to stop her.

Before she has time to think about it, she allows the explosiveness of her anger to guide her actions, dropping her clothes and swinging her fist towards his face. It makes harsh contact with a dull thump and he lets go of her, staggering backwards.

She stays rooted to the spot, chest heaving and eyes wide as she watches Ettore’s hand lift to his mouth, wiping away the thin trickle of blood from his split lip.

Cold terror swirls in her chest, as his eyes lift to meet hers, filled with malevolence.

“You fucking bitch, I’ll make you regret that.”

Faster than her legs can carry her away, he’s tackling her to the ground, knocking the wind from her as her back makes hard impact with the soft earth.

“Ettore, stop!” She screams, attempting to kick him away as his large hands grasp at the waistband of her wet underwear, dragging it down her legs.

He is stronger than her, bigger than her and he easily keeps her in place, the force with which his fingers indent into the flesh of her thighs as he wrenches them apart will surely leave bruises behind.

She lays back, breathing ragged, closing her eyes and resigning herself to her fate. Better to let him do what he wants and wait for him to be finished, than attempt to fight back and make it worse.

Her eyes snap back open when she feels the swipe of his tongue against her folds, her breath catching in her throat he licks sloppily at her, before he moves upwards to suck harshly at her bud.

An involuntary moan escapes her, shocking her almost as much as the fact that she’s enjoying this. He has taken her by force, but she reluctantly admits to herself that it feels good to be touched in this way after so long without it. The Box could never compare to the shockwaves of pleasure that Ettore sends rippling through her.

Her fingers snake their way into his short hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan against her cunt, the reverberation making her throb, and she grinds herself wantonly against his face. She pushes hard against him, rocking her hips as he laves at her, guiding his movements with the grip she has on his hair. Every upwards buck of her pelvis causes his nose to swipe against her sensitive bundle of nerves, making her clench around nothing.

He grips her thighs harder, tugging her against him and she pushes back with equal force, fucking herself against his face, pushing herself towards the apex of her pleasure.

She comes hard, her body trembling with the force of it as her walls contract almost painfully with the intensity of her orgasm, and she emits a choked cry, feeling boneless as she pants and collapses backwards.

Not giving her any time to recover, Ettore pulls himself back to his feet, grabbing her by her hair and forcing her to her knees. She looks up at him through dazed and pleasure drunk eyes. His mouth is bloody and shiny, a twisted combination of his blood and her arousal. The blue of his eyes is eclipsed almost entirely by the dilation of his pupils, as he frees his hard cock, tapping it against her lips.

“My turn.”

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

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Monsters in the Garden II Update

Just wanted to give y’all the current list of warnings on the fic. May add more as it goes on, we’ll see. I’m bumping this up in my queue bc it’s speaking to me rn, so I’m gonna finish the Aemond angst then go to this.

Warnings: ⚠️ DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ⚠️; kissing; slapping; punching; sexual and non-sexual choking; threats of stabbing; scratching; mentions of murder, cannibalism, genital mutilation, and rape; blood; grinding; p in v sex; mentions of pregnancy but it’s not a kink or anything; Ettore learns where and what the clitoris is

Read Part I Here

#monsters in the garden #ettore #Ettore fic #Ettore fanfic #Ettore fanfiction #ettore x reader

[fan-goddess]

The taming of the shrew

Pairing: Ettore x reader

Summary: Ettores finally notices you as you noticed him. Which brings some thoughts to Ettore he doesn’t want to be thinking.

Warnings: Dark thoughts, mix of canon Ettore and non-canon Ettore, explicit language, masturbating, talk of SA, size kink if you squint,

Taglist: @valeskafics, @chompchompluke, @targaryenrealnessdarling, @omgbrcat, @humanpurposes, @arcielee

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

When Ettore first noticed how you seemed to stare at him, he had no real idea why it caused him to face such an internal panic as it did. It was no different than when he did it. Only it seemed your stare held something that stirred somthing in him. The stare held curiosity, and you know that they happened to the cat…

Since you seemed to observe him so much, Ettore thought it was only fair that he observed you back, and the first thing he noticed about you was your use of the box. Quite a few times he was coming out of the box, and the rare times when he saw you coming out when he was coming in, he saw you. Whenever you saw him your cheeks would always go a light red. No one who wasn’t looking for it already would’ve noticed it and yet he did, and he doesn’t know why…

It could be cause in his dark and dreary mind, you’re just like him. You’re never intentionally with anyone else. A loner at heart it seems… As whenever someone would try and get you to join them in some meaningless task or talk to you in any way, you simply say some words and they’ll leave looking as defeated as a kicked dog. They’ll learn eventually no doubt… just as they learned for him.

The idea that maybe you’re like him seems to get him going a lot more than he wants it to though, as his use of the box seems to have massively increased than what it used to be. The image of you on your knees, deep crimson blood pouring from your face as you looked up at him with watery eyes, is an image he just cannot keep from circling in his mind over and over again. The idea of you begging for him both for him to do more to you and for him to stop in the same sentence, sends blood rushing to his cock like nothing else can.

He always goes straight to the box, chanting your name like some sort of demented prayer, as he spills himself on his hands on stomach. Though it’s not the same. His hands don’t hold the same warmth he knows your cunt will hold. His own weak grunts that he makes hold nothing against the sounds of the whines he knows you’d make if he had the chance. The ones he hears when you’re in the box, make him want to bust that door open and fuck you hard till he feels a mixture of cum and blood trailing down both his and your bodies.

Ettore doesn’t know what to call this sudden interest in you. Some may have called it an infatuation with you, maybe an attachment, while some may even call it an obsession. All he knows though, is that now he’s properly noticed you, he can’t get you out of his mind. Yet even with you just constantly coursing through his mind, he can’t even find it within himself able to talk to you. It’s not out of fear, which even if it was he’d never even admit it anyway. It could’ve been out of resentment. Yeah… that’s what he’ll call it. Resentment of your actions and you as a whole.

When he watches you sleep, he thinks of doing those things to you. Making you cry. Making you bleed from all different areas of your body. Yet no matter how much he thinks of it and his fingers twitch in anticipation of the action, his feet refuse to move further into your room than the doorframe he stands at.

He even finds himself getting hard while he stands there watching you. His head going mad as he debates with himself to be rational and to sort himself out in the box, while the other side of his head is ordering him to do something he may or may not regret the next day.

Ettore stands there at the doorway, and slowly puts his hand down his loose trousers. He nearly moans our loud at the friction his hand is giving him, and It certainly doesn’t help him with the fact you shift while you sleep, every so often shifting slightly and either more skin gets revealed or the cover is shifted more on you. It’s like some fucked up casino game. Stay and get rewarded, or stay and get teased.

He finds his release though soon when your shirt rides up so much he gets the glimpse of a tattoo on your upper body. All he can get a glimpse of is the black colouring of it, and yet even that small glimpse made him spill himself into his hand like some virgin school boy. It wasn’t even the tattoo itself what made him cum though. It was the fact that he realised how with the discover of the tattoo, it was one step closer to you being just like him. He obviously had tattoos. The three intricate triangles not exactly hidden nor leaving any to the imagination. Yet your one, it did leave to his imagination. It was like you were both his equal and his opposite, and he can’t even deny how much it thrilled the fuck out of him.

It made him only watch you more, and It wasn’t hard to see that you watched him too. You weren’t exactly subtle in the fact. It was as if you wanted everyone on this damn ship to know you were interested in him. Your eyes like little pricks of needles deep in his flesh, and he most openly welcomed it. Maybe if everyone else saw how you looked at him, they’d get the hint and leave you to him…

Yet, they didn’t. If anything, now that he made his intentions clear to everyone what he wanted, they flocked to you like you were some fucking shepherd with their sheep. It was mainly the women that flocked to you. The ones who looked at him all distrustfully and warily like he was some wild beast. As if he’d all of a sudden lunge at you and tear you to pieces with his teeth to taste at your flesh. A fantasy he can’t say didn’t come to mind one night when he was lying awake at night one time.

Even when he tried to visit you late one night like he’d always do, it seemed the women had formed some kind of makeshift neighbourhood watch committee, and you were the neighbourhood. One of the woman always at the entrance, changing when one got tired to keep you safe from him. As if they’d stand a chance…

It soon became a game to him though. Trying to find a weakness in this seemingly perfect fortress of bitches, and nothing could describe the happiness he felt when he found it.

The doctor it seemed, whenever the tension rose enough for her to deem it necessary, would give everyone on the ship some pills, claiming them to be a kind sleeping pills. It’s utter bullshit though, that’s what it is. Though he soon realised that whoever ate them, would become drowsy and practically immobile within the next hour or too. A perfect battering ram to destroy the vault walls to get the treasure within.

It didn’t even take long for the doctor to bring out the pills again. He’d been intentionally staring harder at you, smirking when he made you blush slightly at the other end of the mess hall. Even shamelessly leering at you whenever you were all forced to do the exercises together to make your guard dogs pissed and angry. It was always the near highlight of his week whenever he’d stand behind you, and find himself smirking whenever it was time to crawl.

Of course, he knew that teasing the bitches would mean there’d be consequences. He just didn’t know that those consequences involved him being punched in the fucking nose.

“What the fuck?” He shouted, the pain making his eyes slightly water and ears slightly ring from the impact. He hears you the clearest funnily enough over the ringing, the sound of you begging the bitch who hit him to stop making him smile through the throbbing sensation that’s spreading through his face.

“He’s a fucking creep? You want him to sink his teeth in you and take you for all you are? Be my fucking guest! I’m not going through all this trouble for you of all people when you obviously want the demented fuck!” Her words drip venom while her eyes shine with disgust as they look at you, and If he wasn’t on the ground trying to stop his nose from bleeding any more, he’d get up and hit her till her eyes no longer shon at all and her blood looked at crimson at his did.

Her footsteps get fainter while she stomps off, while you still continue to stand there, looking like some kind of prey in front of a predator as you look at him not knowing what to do.

“Your not gonna help me princess?” He taunts, the words coming out slightly muffled as his hands in front of his face holding his nose. “What are you too good to help an innocent injured man out?”

Your legs finally seem to move, and one of your hands reach out to grasp his own. When his hand intertwines with yours, he can practically feel his spine shake in pure ecstasy. His blood flows without his control and he can’t help but feel annoyed by his own body. Though what person wouldn’t act like that over finally feeling the flesh of a real person for the first time in months?

Your flesh felt warm in his own. It was amusing when he felt how small your hands were, pathetic really…

“I wouldn’t exactly call you innocent…” you murmur. You probably didn’t expect him to hear you, and yet he did, clear as day.

“Why’s that then pretty?” He hums, the panic in your face nearly making him want to take hold of your arms and take you on the nearest table whether you beg for him or not.

“Doesn’t matter…” You move to release his arms now that he’s up, but if anything his grip tightens. He can even hear you wince when his nails begin to dig in slightly. Maybe if he does it hard enough he’ll draw some blood?

“When the doctor gives you the pills, don’t swallow em, and meet me in the hallway when everyone’s out…” His grip loosens and he stalks away from you. He doesn’t look back to check if you’re looking at him, but by the small feeling of pins in the back of his head, he can’t help but smile at the revelation. The initial blood has stopped by the time he gets to the med bay, but a couple drops make it’s way onto the floor as walked there.

The lady doctor looks at him with no expression on her face as he walks in and she patches him up. Well, he says she patched him up, all she did was hand him a small towel and tell him to wet it under some water and wipe the blood away. He grumbles as he does this, and when he’s about to go through the doorway, a sudden voice brings him back to the room.

“Take these” Ettore doesn’t even get to fully turn around before two small pills are forced in his hand, and a small cup of water is shoved in the other. He looks at the doctor for a second raising a brow as if to be in disbelief, and pretends to swallow the pills dry. He makes a big show of it too. Shoving the pills in the gap between his gums and his cheek before making a big deal of widening his mouth to demonstrate the supposed swallowed pills he’s swallowed.

She doesn’t even make a big deal of checking if he even has swallowed it either. Only just having a quick peek with a tiny light before waving him off and walking away.

When he walks out of the room with a smirk, he’s just in time to hear lady doctor call the rest of the crew for the pills. He even sticks around to watch everyone line up, making eye contact with the bitch who hit him earlier and slightly reveling in the dark stare she gives him. He gives a mocking smile, before letting his eyes wonder the line till he eventually locks eyes with the one he most wants to see. You.

You stand near the back of the queue, and if he had to point anything out about you at that moment he’d definitely point out to say you were nervous. Your foot keeps tapping and you keep biting your nails. Plus, when he makes direct eye contact with you, your face blushes so much he could see it from where he stood near the other end of the corridor.

He doesn’t engage with you anymore. Instead he just stares before turning and heading to the direction of the box. The feeling of your eyes piercing his back giving him more satisfaction then any box experience he’s had in the whole time he’s been confined to this fucking ship.

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[happilyhertale]

Ettore

Our little game - Ettore x female!reader

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[thought--bubble]

Kitty Cat Part 2 (Revised)

Ettore X (Neuro-Divergent Reader)

Warnings after the break

Kitty Cat Master List

Ettore Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings: predatory behavior, mentions of noncon, Ettore himself.

A/N: Ettore is mega creepy here. But this is how I see him. If you don't like dark dark creepy Ettore please don't read this. It gets worse in later parts.

Ettore was fine with the fact that he had been sentenced to life in prison. His life wasn't all that great to begin with. A mess from the start. He did not, however, account for how badly he would crave a woman's touch when he was in a place like prison. Where that touch was impossible to find.

So when his solicitor offered a reprieve in the form of a space mission where they would be trying to do something with something he didn't pay any attention to, he accepted without hesitation. He accepted because of one word. Coed. During his long-winded explanation, his solicitor had mentioned on board that there would be a coed prisoner population. That was really all Ettore had to hear in order to agree. There would be women on board. Criminal women, but still there would have to be at least one woman he could get to touch him, and if not, he had other ways of making them comply.

That's how, a few weeks later, he found himself being strapped into a ship destined for space, sitting next to a woman, and he couldn't help but stare.

It has been so long

He fights the urge to reach out and run his hand down her face, and opts to just stare. The woman is clearly uncomfortable and pushes his face away.

She probably isn't the right choice

He looks around, sizing up the other prisoners. He doesn't pay too much attention to the men. The majority of them seem to be about his age, and none of them look particularly tough where he would truly worry about them being a threat. So he sets his sights on the women. Most look about his age as well. There is a skinny blonde he thinks might make a good choice.

Should be easy to overpower

A redhead catches his eye. The look on her face says she may be a challenge. They lock eyes and he can see anger and disgust in her gaze.

Not worth the trouble

Next to her is another little bird you. He can't get a clear view of your face since you are rubbing it into the seatbelt that's strapped over your shoulder.

Crazy isn't good. Might be unpredictable. Would probably be loud. A screamer. The crazy ones always scream.

He resigns himself to his original decision. The skinny blonde would be the woman he sets his sights on.

His attention is drawn back to the redhead and the crazy one, you. The redhead has her knuckles pressed up against your temple, and you're nuzzling.

She wants to be touched. Needs it.

A willing participant would surely make this easier. Less likely to be caught. Since the rules stated, no physical relationships between inmates are allowed. Maybe he wrote off the crazy girl too fast.

He settled into life on the ship pretty quickly. He functioned better in a world with routines. A set place to go and set a list of things to do. The box was convenient, too. His favorite place to be on the ship.

He watched the other prisoners relentlessly. Figuring out their personalities and quirks was paramount. If he knew how they worked he would know exactly how to deal with them.

The red head named Boyse kept you glued to her side. He overheard her call you Kitty. The nickname suited you. You were constantly rubbing your head on Boyse's shoulder purring as you did so. He couldn't stop staring.

He watched you all the time. In the cafeteria was his favorite. You would scoot up impossibly close to Boyse, who would rub your cheek while continuing to eat. You would nuzzle and purr. A small smile on your face. Eyes sparkling.

It was driving him crazy.

You had attempted to be touched by every inmate here. Except him. This irritated him to no end. They all avoided you or pushed you away. So why did you avoid him?

He would touch you.

He would touch you and never stop. He would run his hands along your whole body and back up again.

This had to be Boyse's doing.

Fucking cockblock.

He waited for an opening.

A situation in which he could get close enough to you to entice you into touching him. Then he would have you.

This opportunity finally presented itself in the form of assignments. You were assigned laundry duty with him. Just the two of you in the laundry room. Everyone else will be busy with their own assignments. Including Boyse.

A pleased grumble crept it's way up his throat, and his fingers tingled.

He went to collect the laundry. He moved swiftly so he could get to the laundry room first.

Setting a little trap for a little kitty

He takes the laundry he had so far collected and heads to the laundry room and drops the pile by the machine.

Not here yet

He ponders whether he should hide in the room and wait for your arrival or sneak back in once you have already entered. He decides to collect more laundry and sneak back in.

It's easier to trap a cat if you get them cornered

Ettore goes back and collects the last few remaining scraps of dirtied laundry he can find before skulking back to the laundry room.

He comes up to the doorway as quietly as he can. You're bent over loading clothes into the washer. From where you are standing, there is the washer in front of you and a folding table to your left. That leaves your right and behind you open. The pile of clothes he had left behind is to your right.

She could step over that pile easily enough

He decides to come up slightly to the right but still behind you. His long arms could reach out and grab you if you decided to take off in either of those directions.

He comes up quietly and drops the clothes onto the pile that already litters the floor.

"That should be all of em, I collected you can load em yeah?"

You dont reply, not that he expected you to. You nod lightly and continue loading the machine.

You are bent over at the waist. Eyes on the laundry or the machine, he isn't sure. All he knows is your eyes are not on him. He takes this as an opportunity to move in closer to you. He is right up behind you now, his body heating up with anticipation.

It's at this moment you stand up straight and look him directly in the eyes. He looks back at you, his hands tingling, ready to reach out and grab you before you can make your escape . Much to his surprise, you move towards him and not away.

Suddenly, you make contact. You're rubbing your face against his upper arm. He immediately tenses. Surprised that you initiated contact. That doesn't happen to him often.

You continue nuzzling, making that little purring noise as you do. The tense feeling starts to leave his body and is replaced by a different sensation. A sensation of thrill and excitement. He slides his hand over the back of your neck and pauses for a second. You don't pull away or try to push him off. You just keep nuzzling. He slides his hand up into your hair and starts to lightly drag his nails across your scalp.

He sighs as he feels goosebumps travel up his back and over his shoulders. He grips your hair tight and pulls your body completely flush against his and much to his surprise you let him. There is no resistance at all. He pushes his nose into the hair at the top of your head and takes a deep breath in. You smell of the same soap he uses. The soap everyone on this ship is forced to use he muses. He let out a shakey breath and chuckles.

"Oh kitty. You are in trouble"

And I am in paradise

A/N: thanks to anyone who reads! Will be starting part 3 soon. Only working on two active series at the moment. Having a lot of fun writing it too!

Part 3

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