#high life angst

[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

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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 −"

[drarrily-we-row-along]

It had been literal years since Harry had seen him, it shouldn’t still feel like this.

Looking at Draco Malfoy while he swanned around the gala, not even noticing Harry’s existence, felt like he’d been hit with a bombarda to the chest. The grief, the rage, the fear, the brokenness, everything came back like it was yesterday. Like he was twenty one and desperately in love, like his entire life was oriented around another person. And the devastation of being left without a word; the empty, expansive void that filled his entire body.

He couldn’t stop watching him. Couldn’t take his eyes off his lithe form, so similar and yet different. He walked taller now, he was self assured in a way he hadn’t been. Open, smiling, like he actually knew he was worthy and it changed how he viewed other people. But he was still himself; clever and funny, still a little bashful when someone praised him.

Harry wondered what else was the same. Wondered if his mouth still tasted the same, if his hands could still make Harry’s body go pliant and his mind go blank. He wondered if he still got giggly after sex. Wondered if earl grey was still his favorite type of tea. If he still hated tequila. Wondered what Harry’d done wrong and how he could have messed up badly enough that Draco left after three years together without a word.

It was inevitable that he found himself following Draco when he went to the men's room, a moth to a flame that would incinerate it and leave its charred smoking remains in a pile of ash. Locking the door behind him, he waited, leaning against the row of sinks until Draco emerged from the stall. There was barely a hitch in his step, barely a flash of recognition in those silver eyes when he looked at Harry.

"Not even a hello?" he asked, suddenly incensed at Draco for ignoring him, at himself for setting himself up for this.

"Hello, Potter," he said evenly. "Enjoying yourself at this fine Ministry Gala?"

"Fuck you," he hissed.

Draco turned and raised an irritatingly perfect eyebrow at him, "Was a hello not what you wanted?"

And Harry saw it, the flicker in his eyes that meant he knew he'd asked the wrong question. "Not what I wanted," he repeated, throat tight and eyes stinging. "Not what I wanted?" He shook his head, "when have you ever cared about what I wanted?"

"Right," Draco said. "Terribly sorry that this Gala helps to fund my research and I had to be here tonight for my job." He said it calmly, devoid of any of the emotions that were racing under Harry's skin. "If you'll excuse me," he said, starting past Harry and moving toward the door, "I'll just get out of your way."

Harry's hands were on him before he even knew what he was doing, shoving him back against the door and pinning him there. "Seven years, Draco. Seven years and not a single word."

"Let me go," he said, voice still unerringly calm.

He shook his head, "No. Not until you-" he broke of, chest heaving as he fought for control, as he fought to get a breath.

"Until I what?" he asked.

"Not until you tell me why," Harry said, voice shaking. "Not until you give me the reason that you threw away three years together without a single. fucking. word."

He just stared at him, still not giving him a word.

"Tell me," he said, begged really, "just. Give me something. Give me some closure. Let me move on."

"Nothing is stopping you from moving on," he replied steadily.

He growled, "Fucking hell, Draco. Just tell me-"

"You're hurting me," the other man said, pressing a palm against Harry's chest.

Harry loosened his grip, "You hurt me," he whispered. "You tore out my entire heart when you fucked off and left. You left this giant, gaping sink hole of a wound in my chest that has never closed, never healed right. It always fucking hurts."

He shook his head, eyes suspiciously bright.

"Tell me," Harry demanded. "Tell me what I did. Tell me how you stopped loving me. Tell me why you left. I would have given you anything, I would have done anything, would hav-"

"I know!" Draco exploded, his voice sharp and furious, and Harry reveled in it, in his loss of composure. "I know that you would have and I didn't want you to."

"What?" he asked.

Draco shoved him off, "Let go of me." He tried to turn and get the door open but Harry grabbed him and spun him around again.

"What do you mean?"

"Let go!" he demanded, pushing roughly at him.

"No," he replied stubbornly. "You owe me this much, at least."

"I owe you nothing," Draco hissed, voice low.

Harry released his grip on the other man, body involuntarily taking a step back as he shrunk in on himself, curling away from him. "Fine," he whispered, wishing he could sink into the floor, wishing he could just disappear, wishing for anything that would take the pain away.

The other man sighed and Harry could hear him straightening his robes before he pulled open the door. "I owe you nothing because the cost of leaving was too high in the first place," he said.

And Harry's head filled with a thousand questions, he looked up but Draco had already left. Rushing out after him, Harry caught him just at the end of the hall. They were in plain sight of everyone at the Gala, if they cared to look their way, but Harry couldn't have cared less. "What?" he asked, maneuvering so that he was in front of the other man. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Everyone can see you," Draco said, voice low so no one would hear, his face impassively blank in a way that Harry detested; it made something go funny in his chest, the desire to break him from that shell, to muss him up, to kiss him until he was breathless and smiling, color high on his cheeks.

"I don't care." He shook his head, "For fuck's sake Draco. I don't care what any of them think. Please," he whispered. "Please just," he let out a rush of air that he'd been holding too tight in his lungs. "Please."

"Not here," he said, glancing around the room very clearly trying to clock who'd noticed them talking.

He nodded eagerly, "tell me where and when."

Draco looked at him, actually looked at him, his eyes moving over Harry's face like a caress. "Mac's, 9:00 pm."

He spun off and left Harry standing there, staring at the wall. He hadn't been to Mac's in seven years, not since Draco'd left.

The rest of the Gala couldn't go quickly enough and Harry found himself leaving before he really needed to but he couldn't help it; he couldn't stand and talk to one more person that he had no interest in talking to. Not to mention the torment of watching Draco swan about, wooing donors; Harry's heart couldn't take it.

Flooing home to change into a green jumper and a pair of jeans before heading to the diner seemed like the only reasonable course of action.

The neon clock behind the counter revealed he was only ten minutes early and he mentally congratulated himself on taking up as much time as he had.

"Well bless my soul," the waitress, Barb if Harry remembered right, said. "I haven't seen you in ages. Look how you've grown."

"And you look just the same, lovely as ever," Harry replied, smiling at her. It was true, she wore the same blue dress and apron, hair pulled back in a bun, still had the same blue eye shadow.

"Flatterer," she accused, but she looked pleased. "Where's your young man?" she asked, leading him back to the corner booth that they'd always preferred and for a moment Harry's heart twisted painfully in his chest.

"Coming, I hope," he said.

She nodded, eyes full of understanding, "Now, don't tell me," she said. "You're a strawberry shake and he's-" she broke off, brow furrowing in concentration.

"A chocolate malt," he said at the same time as another voice behind her.

Both he and Barb looked up to find Draco standing behind her, hands shoved into the pockets of his impeccably tailored trousers, top button on his black dress shirt unbuttoned. He looked like he'd stepped straight out of a muggle magazine, hair just a little disheveled but devastatingly handsome. Harry could barely breathe around how fucking gorgeous he was, how badly he wanted him.

"But if I'm being honest," he said, "I haven't had that much sugar in ages. I should probably-"

"Nonsense," she said, shooing him into the booth across from Harry. "Reunions always require something of the old to mix with the new."

Before either of them could respond to that, she bustled off to the kitchen, leaving the two of them staring awkwardly at one another.

"Draco-" he started just as the other man began with "Look-"

Harry shook his head and gave a little chuckle, running his fingers through his curls and tucking them behind his ear, "Go ahead," he offered.

Squaring his shoulders, Draco began again, "Agreeing to come here with you was a moment of weakness."

"A moment of weakness?" Harry interrupted.

Draco glared at him, "Yes. I'm really not interested in having this conversation. I'm not interested in rehashing everything that happened."

He took a slow breath, "I deserved a good bye," he said eyes stinging.

"Excuse me?" he asked, sounding a bit taken aback.

Barb came over and deposited their shakes and a platter of nachos between them. "I'll just be tidying up," she said. "Over there," she added pointedly. "Don't be shy if you boys need anything."

Harry waited until she was a reasonable distance away from their table before he said, "Listen, I don't need to know why you left. You're right, you don't owe me that. So even though I'd like to know, even though it kills me not to know what happened, what I did wrong," he broke off, shaking his head. "You can have your own reasons and I don't have to know them. But I deserved a good bye."

Those grey eyes, the ones he'd spent countless hours staring into, the ones he'd dreamt of more times than he could count, stared at him like he couldn't comprehend what he was saying.

"I loved you, Draco," he said softly, the truth splitting the wounds in his heart open wide. "I loved you more than anything, I would have done anything, I would have given you anything. If you'd told me you needed to leave, I would have been heartbroken, but I would have let you." He took a deep shuddering breath, "but I deserved a good bye."

"I couldn't," Draco said simply. He started to slide toward the edge of his bench but Harry reached out.

"Damn it, Draco," he said. "Sit down. Please. If you ever loved me-"

"If I ever loved you?" he asked and finally his exterior cracked. "If I ever loved you?" he repeated incredulously. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" he repeated, blood pressure rising.

"Yes, you fucking idiot! What do you mean 'if I ever loved you'?" He shook his head, "How can you possibly imagine that my leaving wasn't out of love for you?"

"Because it wasn't!" he exclaimed.

"Yes it was."

He shook his head, "There's no way in hell," he said. "It wasn't for me because you leaving completely destroyed me. You leaving left me in a state of depression that made me wish I was dead. For fucking months. I went to therapy; I still go to therapy, you leaving still comes up. Regularly. There was nothing about that choice that was good for me.”

“How do you imagine that relationship would have ended?”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t know. I’ve been too preoccupied with dealing with the fall out of how it actually ended to wonder how it might have ended otherwise.”

He sighed, rubbing his forehead in a gesture that Harry had seen enough to know that he was getting a tension headache. He wondered if scratching his fingers through the hair at the back of his head still helped, wondered if rubbing his neck still eased the pain. "That relationship would have ended with you hating me."

"Right," he said. "So glad we avoided that outcome."

"Do you hate me?" he asked, looking at Harry like the answer mattered to him.

He let out a breath, "I wanted to. It would have been easier if I could have."

Draco nodded, "And I wouldn't blame you if you did, but I didn't want to stick around for that." He sighed, "Look, we couldn't have kept living in the shadows. Coming out to muggle restaurants, sharing a bed, living on the edge of the world and hoping that we didn't get caught."

"Draco, I would have come out with you. If you'd wanted to tell people, I would have. Godric. How little can you possibly think of me that-?"

He shook his head, "That's my point. You would have come out, you would have told the world, and we would have lived under the proverbial shit storm that rained down on us. Constant harassment, we'd be the front page of every newspaper. I had to leave the country to get accepted into a training program that would accept me as it was."

"And?" Harry asked, "I'm not new to the media shit-show."

Draco looked at him, eyes sad like he could see something that Harry couldn't. "You're not, that's the point. Harry," he said, and the way that he said his name felt like Harry's heart was being ripped open, "you deserved time to heal. You deserved a shot at a normal life. You deserved to be happy. You deserved so much-"

"That wasn't your choice to make!" Harry exclaimed. "What I deserved, what would make me happy; it wasn't your decision. Not without me at least. Because it didn't make me happy. You made me happy."

"But I wouldn't have," he said. "It was the only way. For both of us. I needed to get my life together. I'm brilliant," he said, and somehow it didn't sound cocky, it was just a statement of fact. "Harry, I'm so good at my job. I'm so good at developing potions and magic that is helping people in ways we couldn't have imagined even five years ago."

"I know," Harry replied. "I've followed your career. I've read your articles."

The little smile that curved Draco's mouth shouldn't have felt like that still, it shouldn't have made him feel like his heart expanded four sizes. "And you needed to find your life outside of me. It felt like you hated everything, like you wanted to burn the entire world, everything outside of our bed. And I was never going to be enough to fill that need."

"You were," he said, throat burning. "Draco, I would have supported you. I would have given you anything-"

"I know. And I couldn't let you." He shook his head, "Leaving you," Draco looked down at his hands where they were clenched on the table. "Circe, Harry, it nearly killed me. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. I meant what I said about the cost of leaving being too high. I wanted to give you the life you deserved.”

“All I wanted was you,” he replied.

“I know. And don’t you see why that is a problem? Harry, if all you wanted was me, how could I ever be enough? When all of your dreams, or goals, or aspirations revolve around me,” he shook his head. “I wanted more for you.”

“I didn’t mean to put pressure on you-”

He nodded, “I know. But by the end, neither of us even knew how to be a complete person on our own.”

“Three years of shared life will do that to a person,” he replied blandly.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, and Harry couldn’t count the number of times that he’d wished to hear those words. “I am. But I would do it again.”

The dried, brittle remains of his heart crumbled in his chest. “Right.”

Draco’s hand reached across the table and covered Harry’s, and Harry stopped breathing. “You might be right,” he said. “You probably deserved a good bye. But if I’d given one to you, if I’d even tried, I never would have been able to leave you.”

He opened his mouth to reply but Draco continued.

“I’m not a brave man, I’ve never been well versed in denying myself what I wanted. But I had to give us a chance. I had to give us both the chance to grow into the men we needed to become. I had to give you the chance to be happy.”

“Is that what you think I am?” Harry asked. “Happy?”

Draco blinked, “Well, yes.” His eyebrows furrowed, “you run multiple successful charities that are doing immeasurable good. You’re always in the Prophet with some new witch or wizard gazing adoringly at you-”

“I haven’t slept with anyone since you,” he said bluntly. “Some events require a plus one, so,” he shrugged. “But I still sleep on the left side of the bed. I still unconsciously check to make sure the covers aren’t bunched under me when I roll over because my body got used to not wanting to take them from you.

“Yes, I run my charities,” he continued. “I attend ministry functions. I visit my godchildren and hang out with friends. Yes. I do the duties set before me in my life and I make time for people I love.” He shook his head, “but no one who knows me would say that I am happy.”

Draco stared at him uncertainly.

“It never made sense,” Harry continued. “I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong, how I’d fucked up so badly. I loved you so much, I wanted what was good for you, and I came to terms with that not being me. But for you to tell me it was for me,” he blew out a breath and shook his head. “Whatever you may think, that wasn’t what was good for me.”

No words came out of the other man’s mouth, and Harry decided he’d probably tortured him long enough.

He rapped his knuckles on the table and stood, dropping some money for the bill before murmuring, “good bye, Draco. I hope your life is everything that you wanted.”

Then he all but fled the diner, desperate to be anywhere that wasn’t there. His heart couldn’t take it. Maybe Draco has been right and a conversation only made things worse.

Before he could get to the alley down the street, the one he and Draco had stood in more times than Harry could count to snog until one of them got too horny and apparated them back to Harry’s bed, he heard the sound of footsteps chasing him down the sidewalk. And he would have recognized those footsteps anywhere, could have picked out Draco’s gait out of any line up. “What-” he began, turning toward him.

But he was interrupted by Draco cupping his face and kissing him, his body surging against Harry’s.

Harry didn’t waste this moment, he grabbed onto the other man and pulled him in, kissing him back with all of the heart ache, all of the desire and love that he hadn’t been able to give him when he’d left.

Draco pressed him back against the wall, caging Harry in and making him feel kept and held. “I’m sorry,” Draco managed into the kiss. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, trying to just draw him back into the kiss, he didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want anything but this moment; Draco in his arms, bodies pressed together, not a space between them.

But he pulled back and Harry felt bereft. “Forgive me,” he pleaded. “I really believed I was doing the right thing-”

“Draco-”

He shook his head, pressing a trembling finger to Harry’s lips, “there hasn’t been anyone else for me but you either,” he confessed. “Harry,” he broke off, a tear sliding down his cheek, “you are the love of my life. I wanted you to be happy.” He broke, tears spilling down his face. “I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re brilliant,” Harry echoed back to him.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. “If you meant it, when you said you weren’t happy here,” he started, “come with me. Salazar, I know it sounds crazy.” He shook his head, “but I’ve hated every single moment of not being with you. I love you.” He pressed his forehead to Harry’s, “I love you so much. Come back to France with me. We can start a new life there. I know it sounds crazy-”

“Yes,” he interrupted him. “Godric, yes. Let me come with you. Let me stay with you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Draco cried, tears still pouring down his face. “You don’t know-”

“I know you,” he replied, holding Draco’s face in his hands to kiss him. “Yes, this is fast and sudden, and I’m sure we’ll have more than one fight about it. But I love you too. I have spent the last seven years wishing you’d walk back into my life, I’m not about to waste that opportunity now.”

“Come back to my hotel with me?”

He shook his head, “come back to our flat?” he whispered. “Come sleep in our bed?”

“You stayed?”

He nodded, “it was ours. I didn’t want to leave behind all I had left of you. And if you ever decided to come back,” he broke off. “Well, I wanted to be there.”

Draco wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, “take me home,” he whispered.

“Home is anywhere, as long as I’m with you.”

[cometblaster2070]

i am upsetting myself at ungodly hours by imagining how the scene in apple and raven's dorm room must've looked like after raven refused to sign.

like imagine apple sobbing the night away and raven tries to comfort her only to be rebuffed and she spends the entire night awake and staring at the ceiling while the guilt eats away at her as she hears apple's quiet sobs.

and apple's there feeling so hurt and angry and alone, and in that moment she probably wants nothing more than a friend, a comforting presence, but she can't even look her bsf in the eye because she's just so upset about what's just happened.

idk there's something about the two of them being so steeped in distress and sadness because raven can't force apple to understand her and apple can't comprehend the reasons for raven's decisions.

and the two of them love each other SO MUCH, but right then they're just stuck in that suffocating dorm room with only each other for company, wondering what they're going to do next.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Innata Malevolentia - Part Three (End)

Summary: She's managed to avoid him, but is she only delaying the inevitable? | Word Count: 4.3k ~ | warnings below the cut! please read, this is DD:DNE!

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Ettore Taglist

warnings: DD:DNE, rape, noncon, choking, injury, violence, threatening language and actions, hair pulling, spitting, vivid descriptions of sexual assault, suicidal thoughts, murderous intent, slapping, punching, blood

‘The moment of betrayal is the worst, the moment when you know beyond any doubt that you've been betrayed: that some other human being has wished you that much evil’.

She read the passage over and over again, her fingers drifting across the torn page, curled and frayed from years of use.

Some other woman aboard the ship had read this book before it seemed, and found it necessary to highlight the passage with a soft pencil line underneath, as if she were not sure if she should be writing in the book at all.

Unsure.

She shut the book with force, not bothering to save her place. A kind of hot, poking fear prickling at the back of her neck like a spirit had entered the room and was looking right over her shoulder.

The other book she’d swiped from the Rec Room was no better at alleviating her worries.

The same woman, she surmised who had read the first, had also read this one too.

‘Why do men have to kill beautiful things?’

There was some irony in the sense that a ship, packed with a dozen prisoners, who had all done meaningfully and equally horrendous crimes, was also packed to the brim with dark books and crime novels.

Was she a beautiful thing? She asked herself.

She was a woman. That alone did not make her beautiful.

She had done unapologetically horrific, morbid things, all in service to satiate a mortal desire inside.

One she had felt when she’d pressed that scalpel to Ettore’s neck and pushed, watching the veins and arteries beneath throb with life.

It was a shameful thing to admit to herself, that she’d wanted to see that life blood coat her hands, just as they had done on Earth all those years before.

To compare herself to him, did her no favours. She was merely opening yet another argument inside of one. Who is inherently good, amongst murderers and rapists?

There was nobody good here.

They were made for this. Built to suffer.

And it was Dibs who had dared to introduce their sexuality into that suffering. And she didn’t know if she could ever forgive the old bitch for that.

When men like Ettore see a woman, they see a small, pliant, weak little thing. Something to be twisted and bent to his liking, in positions most favourable to him. A man that revelled and moaned at their displeasure, drinking it in like a life essence, as if he could not survive without it.

She didn’t doubt that there were many before, women who had the unfortunate chance to happen upon him. And if they were lucky, perhaps they didn’t make it out of his grasp. Perhaps he would bend them so irreparably, they’d just snap, mouth frozen, eyes all distant and still wet with unfallen tears.

She looked up to the empty spot where Mink used to occupy the space. Her bed made, and untouched for days since the couples were put together.

“I might as well try and have some fun out of it. Besides, Tchemy isn’t bad looking”.

Mink had said as she threw the few belongings she had into the spare blanket, wrapping them up to carry them easily.

She’d remembered being sat where she is now, listening to Mink talk about it like it was the most normal thing in the world. To tell the truth, it made her feel a bit sick.

Mink was leaving her, to join Tchemy in his cell.

Leaving her all alone. Without the female company she craved acting as some kind of protection.

But then again, she doubted that would have swayed Ettore one bit.

From her spot, she could hear Tchemy’s bed rattle against the wall, rhythmically, and the soft pants of hurried breaths punctuated through each little pat. She imagined Mink, pressing her lips together, trying to contain just how much she enjoyed it, wrapping her legs around the man who rutted into her from above, wordlessly asking for more.

She’d heard Mink moan his name, and it made her feel even worse.

As far as she knew, Boyse and Monte remained apart, completely upset with each other at the situation they’d been forced into.

Though Boyse liked Monte to an extent, as far as she could tell, it was a platonic sort of romance. Intrigue, perhaps more than anything. But nothing overtly sexual seemed to radiate off either of them.

She thought with a sense of dread, that if the situation had been different.

If Ettore hadn’t been Ettore.

That he ‘wouldn’t be bad looking’ either.

But he is Ettore.

And he was everything she ever feared he would be. But had yet to show his full, true, unwavering potential.

In the days that followed the announcement, and she didn’t entirely know how, she’d managed to steer clear of him. Avoiding him as if knowing his whereabouts before he even knew them himself.

The cell without Mink there felt shockingly empty, too quiet. And Dibs, as a sort of reward for participating in the fertility experiments, allowed the women involved to sleep unhindered. Yet, when she slept, she rubbed her wrists, as if she still felt tied down by them.

In a strange way she missed them. It represented a freedom before this.

But now if he did come in the night, which he didn’t, she would have been able to fight back.

Perhaps that’s why he didn’t bother.

It was too easy now.

Brutally, she almost wished he’d just do it, and get it over with. So that she didn’t have to suffer in anticipation.

It was late in the artificial evening by the time she and Boyse were almost finished with their shared duty for the day, prepping the kitchen for tomorrow’s breakfast, lunch and dinner. It was an arduous task, one that easily broke a sweat in both of them, but a nice distraction the hell the women shared with one another.

“Mink is enjoying it at least,” Boyse muttered.

She only hummed in response, while she busied herself stacking away the various pots and pans. Disinterested in the subject already, as if it had not been plaguing her mind everyday since.

“Monte and I tried last night”, Boyse confessed suddenly, her eyes looking very much like a scared girl. She was young. And it was only evident when she was afraid, just how tiny she was.

Boyse shrugged, “It’s not so bad…” she murmurs, unconvincingly, “...he’s nice about it”.

She struggles to see what the point of the conversation is.

Boyse starts, “Maybe with-”

“That maybe with Ettore it will be all cute, romantic and lovely?” she interrupts, her voice firm, “Have you been that blind to who he is this whole time? I know you’re not that stupid”.

The other woman has nothing to say to that.

And the silence stretches uncomfortably.

“It’ll happen eventually, you know…” Boyse remarks.

But she can only give a small, exhausted huff. Knowing that she was completely right.

If by the time their first examination came around, Dibs found out there was no sexual intercourse, it wouldn't take long for her to force them into a room together, and throw away the key.

She never imagined herself a mother.

Why would she, when she can hardly atone for her own actions?

What if they all got pregnant?

What would become of this floating prison then?

She'd told Boyse to go off early while she finished up labelling the portions for tomorrow's dinner.

But really, she just wanted some time to herself, and perhaps a nightly visit to the Box to tie things off.

The canteen was dark, a blue, unnatural light stretching across the linoleum floor, making the ship feel colder than it actually was.

She wondered where he might be right now. He was more often than not on maintenance, on the other side of the ship.

Far away.

But it was late. He was probably finished by now.

The hallways were darkened and empty as she made her way down the metal ladder towards the Box. Thinking about what she might do later tonight.

Maybe finish one of those books?

Maybe go out to the deck and watch the stars and planets disappear into the blackness of space?

Sometimes it calmed her.

Down where the Box was, there were no windows. A sense of privacy.

She was about to reach for the touch-activated button when-

Darkness.

Utter and complete nothingness.

So dark she could not even see her hand before her own face.

'Temporary electrical failure. Emergency oxygen has been activated. Please wait while power is restored'.

Harsh blue lights flashed for a second, illuminating the hallway for a brief moment, a loud, searing alarm accompanying it. Her eyes hurt from the intensity of it.

"Fucking piece of shit ship.." she murmured, using the brief light of the alarms to navigate her way through to the control panel in the maintenance cupboard.

She huffed with annoyance, that there was no emergency torch inside the maintenance cupboard to light her view. The flashing blue light would have to do.

She could barely think with the incessant booming noise.

And it all seemed to go quiet, her face going all pale.

The wires connecting the electrics to the mains, were missing. Deliberately.

Dread pooled in her stomach. And the resonant ringing of alarms were pulled back up to her ears, setting every nerve on edge, fear prickling the little hairs at the back of her neck.

Her breath felt hot in her chest, difficult to push up her throat.

She shuffled back, her back meeting the wall of the hallway in a state of shock. Every now and then her vision going black when the blue lights went down, now feeling significantly longer than a simple second.

Like a rabbit in the deep, dark bushes of a forest, her head whipped at the sound of movement over the intense alarming environment.

It took a moment to really see, as the lights made it feel almost nightmare-like. Sucking his figure into darkness to illuminate him again in his dark red prison garb. His light blue, but darkened eyes staring at her from under his brow.

His expression was stoic, fading into darkness. She expected him to approach slowly between periods of nothingness, like those horror movies she always used to watch on Earth.

But this was very real.

A very real horror in the form of a man.

Ettore dropped the wires onto the floor, his form looking significantly smaller on the other side of the hallway, mercifully far away.

Instinctually, she felt for the shape of the scalpel in her pocket, her senses set alight to find it wasn't there.

It was difficult to see the smug look on his face.

"Look at you. All soft and pretty, waiting for me to have my way with you. With that dumb look on your face".

She swallowed over the lump that formed, fear overtaking everything else, her legs primed to run.

"It would be a shame, if I took what I wanted without asking".

A shame.

But he would do it anyway.

She thought, if he was a true predator, he'd be able to hear her breath, feel the thrum of her beating, female heart, as if it were in the palm of his hand, squeezing savagely.

"Don't you think?"

She waited for it to go black before she broke into a run, hoping to at least make it to the deck, where she knew there'd be more chance of escape to the safety of her cell.

But did it really matter?

Navigating the hallways, though mostly straight and clear, was still difficult with the flashing of blue light and then inconceivable blackness.

The floors of the hallway or the bed of her cell?

Choose your poison, it's still killing you nonetheless.

And every time she shifted one leg before the other, she heard him running after her.

Getting closer.

He was much faster. Taller. With wider strides.

She crossed the deck, beneath the skylight, her laboured breathing burning-

Pain.

Blood?

She felt him tug at her hair, wrenching her head back first and then straight into the metal doorframe.

Was her vision fading? Or were those the lights?

Everything felt so blurry.

Was he talking?

The floor was cold against her face. The blood in her hairline where the fresh cut has sliced into her skin sliding warmly down the side of her face.

Her head throbbed.

Where am I?

A large hand pulled at her shoulder, turning her over onto her back. And she felt warmth on her legs where his broad body was straddling her, his head partially blocking off the cosmic light emitted from the skylight, making the blonde wisps of his hair light up in a half-halo.

For a moment everything was quiet.

She blinked slowly. Before fear and panic gripped at her senses, flinging her headlong into fight or flight.

She felt pitiful, pushing against his chest with all that remained of her strength, a small voice saying, "Get the fuck off me!"

Watching his face split into a grin in horror, Ettore took her wrists easily and twisted, loving the pained grunt she gave him in return as he slammed them to the floor, "You wanna be rough? Fine, let's do it properly then, shall we?"

Her vision spun violently when his fist cracked against her jaw once, sending her face flying to one side.

This time, she was sure she blacked out for a second.

Blood in her mouth, coating her teeth.

It was so cold.

Using her moment of vulnerability, Ettore huffed animalistically, out of breath from running, as he tore at the front of her shirt, splitting it in two and exposing her breasts. He took a handful of one and pinched spitefully at the flesh. The motion jolted her, and she moved her legs and hips in an attempt to get him off her.

"You made me do this" he uttered darkly, "you know I can't control myself".

No I don't. She thought with panic.

"You were asking for it".

No I wasn't. She thought with fear.

I never asked for this.

Consciousness rose in waves to the surface, strength slowly gaining. And she pushed her legs against him, her hips, anything to get him off her. She writhed beneath him, her lips etched into a frown as she tried to break free.

"Don't make me hurt you".

His words had no effect.

It felt like life or death.

She ripped one wrist free and slapped him harshly across the face, her nail dragging along his cheek, watching with tired pride as he grimaced.

Before his face set into a scowl again.

"Stupid worthless cunt", he punctuated it with a slap of his own, in the same spot he'd punched her previously. Nausea rolled in her gut at the pain, her eyes near rolling back as she struggled to keep herself afloat and conscious.

She felt hands all over her.

Under her ripped shirt, kneading her breasts in his calloused palms.

His knee anchoring her legs down as one hand ripped at her sweatpants to tear them off with a grunt.

Vomit bubbled at the back of her throat when she felt her core exposed to the chill of the air, and how he simply looked at it, growling like an animal.

"No…" was all she found the courage to say, "Stop…"

Her mouth felt so dry.

Ettore chuckled, "Stop?", he mocked, "you should be grateful I'm even doing this".

Grateful?

Her bleary, dazed eyes rolled around before landing on him. Watching as he knelt, looking down at her, pulling his sweatpants over his hips just enough to free his length.

He was aroused at the thought of hurting her.

One hand was wet with saliva, rubbing the artificial slickness over his length as the other pushed meanly against her folds, dryly prying them apart, introducing a searing, uncomfortable pain.

She felt blood in her eyebrow as she furrowed them both in anguish, trying to push herself on her back away from him as he touched her without care.

He huffed in annoyance when he found she wasn't wet in the slightest, as if he had expected her to be.

She fought the urge to gag when she saw him lean over and spit on her core, using the hand that was already there to smear his saliva over her.

The waves of pain tugged her lower.

So much so she could barely hear his voice.

Come on. Get up.

She tried, she really did.

Get up and fight him.

Writhing weakly beneath him, "Get…off…" she said firmly, through the wavering tones of agony.

She felt real, real fear when he leaned over her like a big, broad shadow, and pressed his palm against her neck, his fingers tightening against her flesh with the veins flexing.

"Shut the fuck up and take it".

Her lips parted to gather air.

Air that wouldn't pass into her lungs.

I'm going to die.

She gasped and swallowed for oxygen, tears covering her eyes as she felt his knee prop her limp legs apart.

"This is what happens to women who don't know their fucking place" he hissed in her face meanly.

She felt she truly wanted to die, when she felt the head of his cock part her folds and push into her dryly, brutally. Her walls tight, trying to push him out. He only let out a sigh, warm against her face. Too soft for the horrendous crime he was committing on her body.

If his hand hadn't been clamped on her throat, she would've screamed.

His face showed no pleasure in the intermittent blue light of the alarms. And it was only here she realised they were still sounding, as her consciousness was constantly being ripped from her.

She winced in torment, as he reached the end of her, splitting her open painfully on his length. His body was against hers, holding her down, pushed to the hilt inside of her and tearing up her insides, causing the faintest bit of blood to wet his length inside of her.

The air was getting thin in her head.

Just kill me.

Just a little more, and I will be dead.

But instinctually, as he let go to sit back on his haunches, her body took a deep breath in, filling her lungs again. Her throat, sore and battered, felt like fire as she coughed weakly.

No.

A tear was stinging her cheek where he'd punched her, now blooming with an early bruise.

It was only now he looked like he was enjoying himself. His cock dragging ruthlessly in and out of her, igniting the pain in a new place. He fucked into her quickly and without care of her mewls of pain, bullying the end of her like he wanted to impale her.

Like he wanted to kill her.

She watched his face briefly light up with blue as he looked down to where he'd split her open, her sex still trying to reject his assault with every harsh smack inside.

Realising her own body was denying him, he pressed harder against her, only to smirk at hearing her heightening volume of protests.

She felt as if every hard and dry journey inside of her, that he was taking a little bit of her away with him. Felt her heart breaking with little shards peeling off.

Fire licked between her legs, up her spine, fuelling the burning migraine.

"You like that, don't you? Bet you've been waiting for me - oh fuck -" his moans were staggered, " - nothing but a fucking piece of meat - my little fuck toy -"

He laughed when she winced with her voice and body at the hard thrust he gave at the punctuation.

"Stop…" she pleaded weakly, though she was confident he wouldn't listen, "...hurts…"

He leaned forward, his palm pressed harshly against her abdomen, to feel himself rutting inside her, forcing her walls open around his length.

He grinned widely.

"Stop? Hurts?" he mocked in a high tone, "Yeah, I can feel your blood soaking my cock".

She could've sobbed, if her throat weren't so sore.

Her head lolled back, thudding against the linoleum with every shift of his hips driving his cock into her. She felt tears coat her vision, darkness creeping in.

His hands clamoured at her. Hips. Breasts. Neck.

But she didn't feel it anymore.

There was a numbness.

Instead, she stared up at the skylight, above where Ettore's head rhythmically moved with pleasure. His chiselled features illuminated every now and then when he tipped his head back and moaned loudly over the sound of sirens. The tattoo on his neck stretched and rippled like a puzzle.

The universe watched back.

The universe. The blackness. The void. Watched her assault.

And she thought with pain, that she wanted to be out there. Floating around mindlessly. With no air in her lungs to breathe. No effort.

She could put herself out of the airlock if she wanted to.

It was tempting.

She watched the stars and planets fold in on themselves while her body and breasts jolted with Ettore's assault. He didn't even try to touch her in a way that would bring any pleasure. He didn't care.

All he saw was a hole that needed to be filled.

He tapped her cheek. And then grabbed her face harshly. His fingers smeared the blood over her face.

"Come on now, stay with me" he cooed falsely, "I want you to feel it".

But she didn't move.

Not a single inch.

She thought of Earth.

The vast fields in her hometown.

Her family.

Going out on a Friday night to the pub with her friends.

Was today Friday?

Is that what they were doing right now?

Were they stood outside the pub, passing a cigarette around, drunkenly laughing and pink in the face from the chill of the breeze.

Did they think of her?

His thrusts began to increase in both strength and speed as he neared his end. Her eyes planted on the skylight still.

Did they even remember her?

I'm right here.

Help me.

She fought the urge to gag as he used her hips to pull her onto him repeatedly, his breath quickening in the telltale way.

He pushed himself as far inside her as he could go, fucking sloppily into her as blood streaked his length.

And with a long, loud grunt, he stilled and went all rigid.

And the warmth at the end of her made her want to die right there.

The blood in her eyebrow had now begun to slide down her face, her head throbbing still. Pupils shaking.

Ettore's eyes were screwed shut, looking more so in pain than pleasure as he emptied himself inside her. Thrusting shallowly with a loud squelch, pushing his cum deep, moulding her insides to the shape of him. Prolonging his selfish pleasure.

You could beat me to death. So just do it.

Kill me so I don't have to feel like this.

She couldn't help the little sound she let out when he pulled out of her. Though he was now only half hard, the feeling of his cock reigniting the pain through her sensitive walls had her arch her back to get away from him.

For a long moment, he simply looked at her. Every now and then to his hands, the tips of his fingers painted with blood. His blue eyes flitting from her brutalised core, to her face, which showed nothing.

There was nothing.

Did I deserve this?

She felt only a dull sense of shame as his cum leaked out of her. And the thought of one day being pregnant, perhaps as a result of this, felt devastating.

She thought, she wanted to make him feel every inch of what she'd felt.

There was something inside missing now.

As if with every thrust, he had pushed something out of her, to make room for him. And those bits she'd lost, she could never get back.

All she could hear was her breath, weak and shuddered.

It wasn't clear exactly when Ettore stood up to leave.

But after pulling himself from her, he didn't touch her.

There was only the artificial warmth of the cosmos to warm her cold, numb body. Looking down at the ripped and torn human shaped entity that was once a living, breathing woman.

'But who can remember pain, once it's over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see'.

Maybe that book was right.

The alarms stopped, and darkness descended once again.

She felt the blood and cum on her inner thighs begin to dry.

How long have I been here?

Her clothes were falling off her as she crawled over to the doorway, using the frame to pull herself onto her shaky feet, a deep, stabbing pain thrumming through her core.

A trail of blood was all she left behind on the floor.

Unlike his other victims, he couldn't just kill her to get her to shut up. Or do it so she'd be out the way, and wouldn't tell anyone.

She was stuck here, with him, to face the truth of his actions.

Perhaps that's why he'd been so quiet after. That realisation that she was a dangerous person as well when prodded.

Her body ached as she reached the haven of the showers, wanting all proof and memory of his touch off her sooner rather than later.

It was a challenge removing her clothes, her joints rolling uncomfortably from the hardness of the floor against her back.

Even the warm flow of water onto her naked skin couldn't cleanse her of what she felt. The bruises around her neck, her hips, her back and the torn apart agony she felt inside her, wouldn't subside quickly.

No tears.

No crying.

There was just nothing.

Hair damp around her shoulders, and new clothes freshly sticking to her tacky skin, she took calculated steps through the hall, the blue light setting dread in her stomach.

She clutched the knife in her hand like she was born to it, moulded to her skin, and as if she wanted to put all the suffering she'd felt into keeping it close to her.

Ettore slept on his back, chest rising and falling steadily with sleep. Half of his naked torso covered by the sheets.

The first thought she had was, how can he sleep?

Does he not know how he has changed me?

What he's created.

She thought, that he was like a child, taking what he wanted without bothering or even thinking about the repercussions. Snatching the sense of autonomy from the women he came across as easy as swiping the possessions from someone's pocket.

That he must have been either broken to the point of emptiness or simply evil.

But now, broken by him, inside and out, she could not find it in herself to have a slither of empathy for him, warranted or not.

He deserved this.

The blade twisted in her fingers, her eyes roaming him wondering where would be best to kill him the quickest.

An artery somewhere.

Bleed out.

She didn't flinch as his blue eyes opened softly, looking right at her, sensing another heartbeat in the room with him.

Look at me.

Look at what you have made.

He blinked down at the knife, and then back up to her.

And had the indecency to smirk.

Quotes: The Handmaid’s Tale & We are All the Same in the Dark

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Ettore Taglist (1): @bellaisasleep | @iamavailablesstuff | @the-common-cowgirl | @theroyaldixon

[terrence-silver]

Imagining high school sweetheart!beloved and Terry getting married before he gets shipped off to war and Beloved always sending letters to Terry while he’s away

Bonus: Terry comes back home after the war and finds Beloved’s unsent letters to him that were written when he was M.I.A. and sees how worried she was about him

---

I feel nobody would believe Twig is married because he's, well...Twig!

He's so young! So shy! So wide eyed! Scrawny! The idea of Privates infinitely more experienced and worldly than him only just being in the stage of sharing correspondence back home with their respective sweethearts and go-steady girlfriends while this kid here is already legally married is straight out of the Twilight Zone for most of his fellow soldiers who immediately wrote him off as a sore loser, perhaps with the rare exception of John Kreese who stands up for him and defends him when he's teased and called a liar who just about invented a full-blown Missus for himself to seem cool and less of a wimp in the eyes of everyone else, the letters he receives from beloved deemed fabricated one way or another even though they're actually entirely legitimate, the parcels bearing the seal of the military mail, arriving the same as everyone else's packages do.

''Did your momma write those?''

Someone might cruelly jest right before Kreese gives them a look, telling them to step off.

Gets slightly worse during POW captivity. All the members of Twig's platoon are in the same mess but it doesn't prevent in-fighting and the day-to-day cruelty and microaggressions from continuing even inside of a cage when validly, once communications are entirely cut off and they're trapped deep in enemy territory, there is no way for beloved's letters or anyone's as for that matter to come in and circulate, and the soldiers and even Twig's own Commanding Officer Turner never let him forget that like he's somehow to blame (And in their mind's eye, he is. They feel he's got them all captured through his negligence and incompetence. There will be payback for that. If the Vietcong don't do him in, his own will. For all Turner cares, Terry Silver got them here and pray to God, in the following weeks, he'll make this kid's life so difficult in this cage he'll wish the Vietcong ended him day one, bullet to the brain, same as Ponytail and what better way to utilize psychological warfare than to use the boy's own spouse against him the way he later tries with John and Betsy), finding it an apt pastime to pester one of their own even when facing death, torture and execution from the Vietcong that captured them. It's easier in a weird and very sick sense; poking and prodding at the weakest link in the hierarchy of things to better endure the gravity of the situation and just forget for a while.

You do some pretty awful things under duress.

''Guess the love letters stopped now, eh, Twig?'' Turner mocks.

''Momma back home ran out of ink?''

The older man laughs into his own chin as Twig scoots further back against the bamboo bars of their shared jail, missing beloved so badly he can feel the ache of it in his bones, loathing the fact he has no control of anything going on and John Kreese, witnessing the sight and having stood up for his friend countless times vows that one of these days, he's gonna give their Commanding Officer a piece of his mind even if he ends up court martialed for it after they're released seeing as how John can vouch that if the other soldiers are boneheads Captain Turner has enough intel on his own men to know for a fact Twig never lied and that he is in fact married back home. That beloved's real the same way his Betsy is real. Man has no excuse for the hell he's putting Twig through just because he can. John gets his chance to retaliate for the abuse a few weeks later once the Vietcong force them to fight over an open pit of snakes.

As for Twig?

Once they're rescued from the POW camp, he is finally reunited with the stack of letters beloved's been sending him back at base and it's like being reunited with a missing limb. When he gets home, beloved gives him a package of unsent mail just around the time he was captured and gone missing. Everything he's been made fun of entirely real and genuine; not one word of it a lie or made up. Everything right there, in black and white, written down with beloved's own pen. Every bit of concern. Fear. Care. Of course, it only serves to turn him a little more...well...Terry Silver as we know him. No point in being truthful if he won't be believed anyway, even when he is. Might as well fabricated. Might as well manipulate. Everyone who ever laughed at him died. And he's here. He survived. He is loved. He's won. And he'll keep winning and winning.

He hugs the stack of letters and beloved close to his chest with a vice grip.

The first seeds of something very dark have long been sown.

[todorokis-girl]

That's really not what I meant - Kuroo Tetsurō (pt 1)

Hey 🌸

Summary: Our protagonist struggles with unrequited love for her childhood friend and team captain, Kuroo Tetsuro. With the support of her twin brother Kenma and their teammates, she faces the challenge of moving on and finding happiness beyond her crush. This story is filled with high school drama, emotional moments, and the strong bonds of friendship and team spirit. 💖🏐

(part 2)

masterlist

"You're drooling," my brother remarked, his eyes glued to the screen, the distinctive music of his game continuing uninterrupted.

“I am not,” I retorted, though my voice lacked conviction. 

“You are,” came a voice from the opposite side of me, the familiar tone of the libero, Yaku, unmistakable.

“Yaku!” I exclaimed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. To add insult to injury, they were probably right. I had the most annoying crush on the team captain, Kuroo Tetsurou, a childhood friend who had grown from an awkward boy into an undeniably attractive and charismatic leader. Watching him command the court with such confidence and skill was mesmerizing.

I sighed deeply, resigning myself to the teasing. "Fine, maybe I was," I admitted, rolling my eyes as I stood up. I grabbed a water bottle and a towel to hand to the captain as he walked back from the court for the break. My heart thudded in my chest as I approached him, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance.

“Good job, captain,” I said, trying to keep my composure as I handed him the bottle and the towel.

Kuroo’s eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “Thanks, miss manager,” he replied, taking the items from me. His fingers brushed mine ever so slightly, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. I rummaged in my waist bag and pulled out a band-aid, noticing a small scrape on his finger.

“You scraped your finger earlier,” I pointed out, trying to sound as professional as possible. “If you don’t put a band-aid on it, it’ll be bad. We can’t have our middle blocker out of commission.”

Kuroo chuckled softly, a sound that made my heart flutter. “Thanks for looking out for me,” he said, his eyes twinkling with appreciation.

I watched as he carefully applied the band-aid, my mind wandering back to the countless memories we had shared. Growing up, Kuroo had always been there for me, whether it was to bandage a scraped knee or offer a comforting hug when things got tough. Now, seeing him in his element, leading the team with such passion, only made my feelings for him grow stronger.

As the break ended and the players returned to the court, I found myself lost in thought, my eyes trailing after Kuroo. The way he moved, the way he commanded the court, it was all so captivating. I shook my head, trying to focus on my duties as the team manager, but my mind kept drifting back to him.

Yaku’s voice broke through my reverie. “You know, you’re not very subtle,” he teased, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

I groaned inwardly, knowing he was right. “I know, I know,” I admitted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” Yaku suggested, his tone surprisingly gentle.

I looked at him, wide-eyed. “Are you crazy? What if it ruins everything? It’s a lifetime of friendship! Not to mention that if I ruin it with Tetsu, Ken will definitely kill me and then forget I exist.”

Yaku shrugged. “Or it could make everything better. You won’t know unless you try. I just can’t see Kuroo not being your friend at the end of it, no matter what his response is. At the very least, I know he loves you—friend or girlfriend, I don’t know.”

I mulled over his words, my gaze drifting back to Kuroo. Maybe Yaku was right. Maybe it was time to take a chance. But for now, I’d continue to support Kuroo from the sidelines, hoping that one day, I’d find the courage to tell him how I truly felt.

When the last whistle of the day rang, signaling the end of practice, I started packing up the team’s equipment, handing items to Fukunaga, who was assigned to place them in storage. The atmosphere in the gym was winding down, players joking and chatting as they headed to the locker rooms.

“Ken, you have 20 minutes to get ready. I want to get started on dinner early,” I called out to my brother. He waved me off without turning around, his focus already shifting back to his game. It seemed video games provided all the sustenance he needed these days.

As I gathered the remaining items, I couldn't help but steal glances at Kuroo. He was talking to Kai and Yamamoto, his face animated as he recounted some play from the practice. His presence was magnetic, drawing me in despite my best efforts to stay composed. I sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

Yaku's words echoed in my mind. Maybe it was time to take a chance, to risk everything for the possibility of something more. The thought terrified me, but the idea of never knowing was even worse. I finished packing up and handed the last of the equipment to Fukunaga, my mind still racing. I could feel Fukunaga’s eyes on me, and I ignored him. I REALLY needed to get better at hiding how I feel.

Walking over to the edge of the court, I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, watching as Kuroo and the others made their way to the locker rooms. Kuroo glanced back and caught my eye, offering a smile that made my heart skip a beat. I returned the smile, my resolve strengthening.

Later, as the team dispersed and the gym quieted down, I found myself lingering, my thoughts still in turmoil. The familiar routine of managing the team's needs provided some comfort, but it also underscored how intertwined my life had become with Kuroo. I couldn't imagine a day without seeing him, without feeling his presence nearby.

“I’m done, let’s go,” Kenma said, startling me out of my thoughts. He stood there with his gym and school bag over his shoulders.

I nodded and looked past him to see Kuroo still hanging out. “He’s staying past practice today. Says he has a date.”

“Oh,” I swallowed thickly and nodded, opening the gym doors to allow Kenma to head out first.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice unusually gentle.

“I’m perfectly fine, Ken,” I replied, forcing a smile. My heart felt heavy, and I could feel the sting of tears threatening to spill over, but I kept them at bay.

The walk home was quiet, the silence filled only by the sound of our footsteps. Kenma was lost in his thoughts, probably planning his next gaming strategy, while I struggled to keep my emotions in check. The idea of Kuroo on a date with someone else gnawed at me, a painful reminder of the feelings I had kept hidden for so long.

As we reached our house, Kenma headed straight to his room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I started preparing dinner, the repetitive motions of chopping vegetables and stirring pots providing a small measure of comfort. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the image of Kuroo with someone else, laughing and smiling the way he did with me.

By the time dinner was ready, I had managed to push my emotions to the back of my mind, focusing instead on the task at hand. Kenma joined me at the table, and he seemed to sense something was wrong with my mood “You’re not ok” 

“I’m fine, Ken.”

“Y/N, we’ve known each other our entire lives, we’re twins for a reason. Don’t gaslight me into thinking I don’t know you.” He stared at me, almost reading my soul, forcing me to speak.

“Were you teasing me, or was he actually going on a date?” Kenma rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, taking a second to play around with it. Then, he showed me the screen on his smartphone.

It was a picture of Kuroo at some flowery local café shop, wearing one of his button-ups. Next to him was a familiar face. She sits next to us in class. How did I not notice… “Is that…”

“Yes, it is.” I let out a sigh and turned back to my food, deciding to finish the conversation, the weight of Kenma’s eyes on me trying to convince me to waver. “She asked him out during lunch break last week. She was very smart in timing it just as you left to the bathroom.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“It wasn’t for me to tell.” I sniffled and cleared my throat, looking back up at him. I didn’t think my heart could’ve broken any louder.

“I think… maybe it’s time to move on. I can’t stay in this space forever. All I’m doing is breaking my own heart.”

Kenma reached across the table, placing a hand on mine. “You deserve to be happy, Y/N. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to, but that doesn’t mean it’s the end. It just means there’s something else out there for you.”

I nodded, appreciating his words even though they couldn’t fully mend the ache in my chest. “Thanks, Ken. I just need some time.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said softly. “Just remember, I’m here for you.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. I went through the motions of cleaning up and getting ready for bed, my mind a storm of emotions. As I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but think about what Kenma had said, almost competing with what Yaku had said earlier that day. Maybe it was time to let go of my feelings for Kuroo, to stop torturing myself with what-ifs and maybes, IF all I had to do what tell him how I felt, I was too late anyway. 

But moving on was easier said than done. Kuroo had been a part of my life for so long, and the thought of not feeling this way about him was almost unfathomable. Yet, I knew that holding onto these unspoken feelings was only hurting me more.

As I drifted off to sleep, I made a promise to myself. Tomorrow, I would start the process of moving on. I would focus on myself, my friends, and the things that made me happy outside of Kuroo. It was time to heal and to find a new path forward, even if it meant letting go of the dream I’d held onto for so long.

(part 2)

[i-will-always-love-the-jedi]

The light of the Jedi?

Come on Star Wars give her a break that woman is very tired

Bonus fans under the cut:

…

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main masterlist

Favours Ettore x nameless female character. Multi-chapter - complete. Smut. Angst.

The Hand That Feeds Ettore x nameless female character. One shot. Smut. Angst.

Know What You Are Ettore x nameless female character. One shot. Smut.

The Great Below Ettore x nameless female character. One shot. Smut.

Schism Ettore x nameless female character. One shot. Smut.

[parchmentknight]

forgot about cole cassidy guys.... he was so Eye-Catching to young me (2016)..... he is literally Cowboy..... i wish i was him so bad

[xxcherrycherixx]

I know i like to talk about cupid and blondie just fucking every second but i legit just also want them to just do normal couple shit man, like cuddling on the sofa or treating the other to their favourite home cooked meal.

Kissing each others cheeks and foreheads sweetly, holding hands everywhere. Constantly telling their respective friends about how much they love their gf.

They go to the fair and try to win each other prizes! Theres an archery game and blondie keeps telling cupid she can totally win it, cupid misses miserably. Blondie has a turn and wins immediately explaining her skills with “sometimes i get bored when you’re not home so i shoot your bow in the house” cupid just stares gobsmacked unsure wether to tell her girlfriend off or kiss her right there. (She absolutely breaks that bow when she gets home just incase blondie has accidentally hit herself with one of the arrows)

Cupid eventually starts bringing blondie through the portal and to other worlds, they never stay for long and cupid makes sure they’re very careful to not get caught but they get to go on wonderful dates.

Blondie starts bringing cupid with her on field work days, cupid takes it very serious and helps as best she can (although she does sneak kisses in now and then which distracts blondie)

They live in a little cottage, near a forest so blondie can explore (occasionally cupid gets dragged along with her, she still isn’t a big fan of the woods though) they have multiple spare bedrooms and when people ask why they have so many empty bedrooms they just give each other a look and make an excuse about how the place just came like that and they didn’t really mind the extra space.

Those spare rooms quickly become kids rooms (and a cub room, blondie brings home a baby bear one day and cupid just sighs in acceptance of the fact that she’s now also a mother to a bear. She of course loves that little one just as much as their other kids though)

None of the children are cupid’s biologically, she states that shes not comfortable with the idea of birth so Instead they’re all either a mix of blondie’s genes and a donors genes or they’re adopted.

Cupid’s family happily take in blondie and the kids as family, but they always give cupid sad looks when blondie and the kids aren’t around. Nonetheless blondie gets invited to join their parties and get togethers as cupid’s plus one, Aphrodite likes the blonde girl very much and tells her to call her auntie too, she often invites the girl to join her and her friends for drinks claiming blondie is great at sharing gossip.

As the fairytale worlds society changes, Blondies family comes around to accepting the relationship. especially when blondie introduces their first child, a girl with golden curls. All the remaining walls drop and blondies mother scoops her daughter up in a tearful hug proud of her for becoming a mother too and apologises for not being there to support her through the pregnancy. Blondie’s mother makes sure to be there for every single one afterwards and it makes blondie so happy.

But not everything is “just right” in a relationship. ( hey guys trigger warnings here for like um lots of shit about death and suicide 😬 whoops it got angsty)

Theres a lingering dark cloud that hangs over cupid and blondie’s relationship. Cupid doesn’t bring it up but she knows and hates whats to come, Its a horrible realisation that strikes her not long after they start dating, its the reason her family gives her pitying looks, its the reason she refuses to have biological kids of her own even though she wants to. She notices her wife change, and she changes herself physically to match, but its never real.

Blondie is aging and she isn’t.

She confides in briar one afternoon, the girl was meant to sleep 100 years and outlive her friends and family, and while she wont have to do that anymore, she still had to live with knowing it was going to happen. Briar tries to comfort her, but fails. She tells cupid to tell blondie, but she refuses to.

Two years into their marriage blondie becomes pregnant with their first child. When their daughter turns one years old cupid visits her family alone and cries. She cries and screams about the future, how quickly one will turn to ten and ten will turn to her first child being lowered into a grave. Her father holds her silently, knowing that nothing he says can comfort her.

Cupid continues for the next decade trying to keep her fears at bay, and then blondie gets a call about a loss in the family. An older relative who had taken their own life not long after the death of their spouse.

Another horrifying realisation hits cupid. She doesn’t confide in anyone about this one.

one day Aphrodite finally lets it slip to blondie that cupid will outlive her and their entire family.

Blondie struggles with learning this, she had known her wife was immortal and very much older than her, but having it finally hit her that her wife will outlive her by thousands upon thousands of years with most likely many lovers after to replace her hurts. Knowing cupid and their family will be her forever, but she and their family will not be cupid’s forever, absolutely tears her heart to shreds.

One day she breaks and tells cupid, her wife tells her that she will in fact “be her forever”, that there will be no one else after her. Blondie accepts it as a lie to comfort her, but one day she realises what cupid really meant. she feels sick and terrified of her wife’s intentions, but she feels even more sick at the relief it gives her to know that she wont just be a short fling the other woman will one day forget.

They don’t speak on it again and they definitely dont tell cupid’s family of her future intentions, they continue to live happy and in love, but every now and then they think about the shared grave that awaits them.

[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 −"

_____

General Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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

[klutzymaiden123]

Okay so apologies for how long this current chapter is taking. It isn't that I don't feel motivated, it's just that I keep writing more and more outlines for future chapters because Shortaki is finally getting somewhere.

I am still currently working on Chapter 29. It is still coming! I have not given up and I'm not even taking breaks! She shall be posted!

[silkflovvers]

Guys I can’t do this, IvanTill are 20+ in canon why are all the fics of them set in a Highschool AU. Make it college AU AT LEAST, I’m begging.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

~✨Request Rules✨~

Update: Requests OPEN 

Characters I write for:

Tom Bennett (WOF)

Michael Gavey (Saltburn)

Billy Washington (Trigger Point)

Ettore (High Life)

Aemond Targaryen (HOTD)

Daemon Targaryen (HOTD) sparingly

Rules:

Please refrain from sending plot-heavy requests. They’re extremely difficult to write and I just find I can’t put much creativity in them.

No specificities for the reader/female character of the story like disabilities/eye colour etc.

I am at my liberty to change certain details of requests if I feel they gel with the story better. 

If I don’t think the request suits the character, I may not take on the request.

Please be patient! I will be working on other things alongside requests.

Thank you all again 💕

[tokbilltom]

Tuesday, March 5th, 2024

Why is it so hard to get over a talking stage.

Like all i think about is him AND IM PRETTY SURE HE HAS A GF NOW.

Like no i don’t wanna think about him anymore i want a new crush a new person to obsess about but there’s nobody!! Like.. 😭😭 please.

Maybe it’s cause he was all i ever wanted, a skater boy who wear baggy jeans, affliction, spiky bracelets and trapper hats. He liked tokio hotel too.. that’s not ok.

Anyways, look at my husband.

[smt-obsessed]

✰MASTERLIST✰

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Hello! I'm a part of a lot of fandoms and I like to write!

Here's my Masterlist of all of the fandoms/characters I'll be writing for, and all of my works and works in progress.

But I write slower than fuck, please bear with me lol.

requests are open ♡

(check out my pinned post for more information.)

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☆ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

American Horror Story

(I can see this one being the cause of a lot of darkfics, especially Hotel. There will always be a trigger warnings list before anything I write, so please read it if you feel like you might need it.)

Kit Walker

Lana Winters

Cordelia Goode

Madison Montgomery

Misty Day

The Countess

James Patrick March

John Lowe

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Attack On Titan

(I'm gonna be honest; I haven't finished it. But I want to, even though I know the ending! But I've also been wanting to write for them... So please forgive me if they seem a little out of character, it'll get better I promise! I'll also probably be rewatching and getting caught up on it while writing these lol. I'll update y'all!)

Armin Arlert

Connie Springer

Eren Jaeger

Hange Zoë

Jean Kirstein

Levi Ackerman

Mikasa Ackerman

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Criminal Minds

(I had a really bad "Criminal Minds" hyper fixation 2 years ago, but I got out of it before I could finish any of the fics I had set up for them, so I deleted most of them like a year ago 😭)

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Emily Prentiss

Jennifer Jareau

Penelope Garcia

Spencer Reid

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

D.C.

I just recently rewatched the first "Deadpool" movie and remembered how much I love it, so I'll hopefully be writing for him soon, as well as Harley Quinn! I'm also thinking that maybe I'll write about both of them x reader... But I'm not sure, we'll see!

Harley Quinn

Wade Wilson / Deadpool

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Jujustu Kaisen

So I haven't watched the second season 🙈 I was really liking it! but, in all honesty-

⚠SPOILERS⚠

I got spoiled on pretty much everything and I just could not continue on, knowing almost all of them were gonna die 😭.

Gojo Satoru

Megumi Fushiguro

Nanami Kento

Nobara Kugisaki

Yuji Itadori

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Life is Strange

(Fun fact! I've never played this myself, I've just watched Jacksepticeye play it a lot, lolol. ♡ I'll probably add Rachel and Sean to this list but I definitely need to re-watch those two first.)

Chloe Price

Max Caulfield

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

My Hero Academia

(This is the first place I tried to shift too (iykyk), It never happened- but I might try again soon!)

Denki Kaminari

Eijiro Kirishima

Iiada Tenya

Izuku Midoriya

JiTn BuWbaIigaCwaEra

Katsuki Bakugo

Kyoka Jiro

Momo Yaoyorozu

Shoto Todoroki

Tamaki Amajiki

Toya Todoroki

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Ouran High School Host Club

(My comfort anime. it's problematic but so good.)

Haruhi Fujioka

Hikaru Hitachiin

Kaoru Hitachiin

Kyoya Ootori

Takashi Morinozuka

Tamaki Suoh

Mitskuni Haninozuka

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Spy X Family

(I love this show, I haven't finished it yet- but that's only because I'm waiting for the second part of the second season to be dubbed on Hulu!)

Loid Forger

Yor Forger

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Sturniolo Triplets

(I'm hyper-fixating on Matt at the moment, so I'm really sorry if I'm slow at writing for literally anyone else. 😭)

Chris Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo

Nick Sturniolo

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Umbrella Academy

(I absolutely love this show, I'm happy to talk about it with whoever wants to!)

Allison Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Five Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Lila Pitts

Luther Hargreeves

Viktor Hargreeves

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Walking Dead

(This is probably my favorite show ever; I've been watching it from the very start. Talk with me about it in my asks or messages!)

Beth Greene

Daryl Dixon

Glenn Rhee

Maggie Rhee

Michonne

Negan Smith

Rick Grimes

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☆ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

And that's it!

(for now at least)

I would like to restate what I said at the top of this post; I really do want to write. I love thinking of ideas, planning it out and writing it!

But I'm very indecisive person as well as a perfectionist and so honestly, I'm just very slow at it. 😅

I promise I'll try to post as often as I can though.

I love y'all! Ttyl. ♡