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đđźđđźđđ„đ„đČ đđŹđŹđźđ«đđ đđđŹđđ«đźđđđąđšđ§ - Ettore
ah...um...i have no excuse for this one, just my mental illness. seriously wanted to name this Dark Matter but I already have a fic named thatđ Happy Valentine's Dayđ. Please, please mind the warnings.
Summary: Being forced into deep space as part of some twisted experiment, tensions rise with a fellow inmate.
Warnings: DARK (no really, dead dove: do not eat), minor spoilers for High Life, serial killer!reader (also a bit of a psychopath), nihilism, brief mentions of witnessing CSA, graphic descriptions of murder, mentions of The Boxâą, Ettore being a creep obvi, mild vore if ya squint? (does it count if said voreist doesn't swallow?), sexual violence, Reader and Ettore takes every chance to beat each other up honestly, SMUT (MINORS DNI), switches between con/noncon, hatefucking (they will try to kill each other), choking (but like, actually almost to death), slapping, punching, degradation, some misogyny, blood kink, pain kink
word count | 5.1kđ€đ»
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You were a dangerous killer, but you knew you didnât belong here.
You never couldâve fathomed how brutally cold and dark being in deep space truly was. Even inside the ship, no one could ever really escape the constant chill. At first, you thought this was the obvious option, joining this experiment. It was either this, or death row. But this was death row, in its own way. No one believed theyâd come out of this mission alive. But you supposed dying in a black hole was more interesting than being pumped full of poison. Less boring. Now, you wouldâve preferred death row on Earth. At least that would guarantee you a painless death. Welp, too late now.
At least you werenât completely alone, if you prefer being in the company of other dangerous and evil people rather than isolation. Youâd rather have to constantly look over your shoulder than go mad with loneliness. The crew was an eccentric bunch, as you could imagine. All of them are some type of murderer, like you. Some of them had good reasons, but most of them didnât. What was more distressing was the fact that the doctor, Dibs, frightened you the most out of them all, but it was mostly due to the fact that the witch was on a personal mission to get one of the females pregnant even though the fetus would die from radiation. Even though she was here because she killed her own children. She was the biggest hypocrite of them all, though you had no room to talk, having a bit of a god complex made you one just as much as she was.
You knew you were different from other people, even at an early age. You didnât see the world like others did, you never could find the beauty in anything. The first blossoms of spring, the sun rising over the horizon, the miracle of life, the kindness of strangers; you didnât see any of it. All you could focus on was the evils in the world and you found that the world was overrun with it. Children starving, needless wars, homelessness, animals being tortured and killed for entertainment; it was all there was, it was wrong. It was all wrong.
Your parents had taken you to therapy multiple times, but nothing ever seemed to work. You were diagnosed as depressed and they hopped you up on all kinds of medication, but you werenât depressed, not really. Just because you saw the world for how it really was didnât automatically mean you were depressed, you just refused to be ignorant of it. You didnât see the point of being a cooperative member of society when it wouldnât take care of you. It had nothing to offer you, so you just refused to play along. The first anyone noticed something was truly wrong was the first day of kindergarten. You had beaten a boy near half to death because you saw him pushing another kid around. They werenât fighting back, so you did it for them. Your parents had to pay the bratâs hospital bills. You didnât understand why the doctors helped save the life of a kid whoâd grow up to be an even bigger bully. A waste of oxygen, you thought. You barely paid attention to the severe scolding your parents gave you about how âviolence was never the answer.â Bullshit, you knew that, even your parents knew that, they just wanted to follow the so-called moral rules to be accepted. But that wasnât you, you didnât need social acceptance. Not by anyone, not even your own family. But there wasnât much you could do about it at the time.
You grew into your teenage years without so much of a punch to anyone, not even to defend yourself. You were beaten up by so many of your fellow students, you couldâve gotten a punch card for every time you had to be sent to the nurseâs office. You just bottled up everything.
The first time you ever felt a semblance of love was when your little sister was born. As soon as your mother placed her in your arms at the hospital, you knew you had to protect her. You never wanted her to be like you, you didnât want her to end up like you, ostracized and bullied. Youâd lay down your life and kill for her if need be. You made that promise to yourself. So, when you walked in on your father with his hand down her pants, you had no idea how to react. Fathers werenât supposed to touch their children that way. He had all but flung her off his lap once he saw you, claiming that they were just playing a game. But you werenât a naive child anymore, you knew what he was doing.
Before you could think on it any further, you ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, but your father was close behind to stop you. He had wrestled you to the ground, trying to take the knife away, but you blindly thrusted the blade upwards, hearing a sickening squelch before something wet hitting your face. The world seemed to go dark for a brief moment, before coming back into view and seeing your fatherâs horrified face. You followed your arm to the blade in your hand, your heart leaping out of your chest. You had aimed for your father above you, but your sister mustâve followed you and tried to stop the fight. Tears filled your eyes as you saw your knife stuck in your little sisterâs chin, her tiny body going limp and crumbling to the floor, your arm frozen in place allowing the blade to come free as she fell.
Your father screamed and screamed at you as he wailed with his baby girl in his arms, trying to stop the blood copiously flowing from her neck and making a red sticky puddle on the tiles. But it was too late, the life had already drained from her once bright innocent eyes. You didnât mean toâŠit was an accidentâŠbut you knew your father would spin the story in his favor. So, you did what you only thought you could.
You buried your blood coated knife into your fatherâs back, hearing him exhale a choked breath in shock. The blade was long, so the one hit wasnât enough. So you did it again. And again. And Again. And again. Again until he fell to the floor, unable to yell or cry as you kept stabbing. You couldnât count how many times you dug the blade into his chest, enough until you couldnât tell what was his shirt or his skin. You were drenched at this point. You knew you had to leave. You threw up, thick tears and painful sobs escaping your throat as you looked upon your mistakes.
You showered, rubbing your skin raw and hastily packing a bag and running from your childhood home. You didnât want to think about the look on your motherâs face when she ultimately got home from work, calling out for her husband and two precious children whom she loved dearly. She wouldnât know that he was a predator or that he preyed on his own daughter. She wouldnât know why she walked onto a bloodbath in the kitchen, you nowhere to be found. She wouldnât believe the police when they say you should be considered a suspect. You were odd and violent when you were little, yes, but you could never kill your own family. She saw your face of awe when you looked down at your newborn sister in your arms. Sheâd never believe you to be the culprit, until the DNA came back matching yours. You werenât her daughter anymore. She wasnât a wife or a mother anymore. She was nothing, much like you.
You didnât bother to control yourself anymore. You had nothing to live for. You were nothing. You werenât a protector, now that you had nobody to protect. But you soon realized that wasnât necessarily true. There were other kids in similar situations, you could try to protect them. Like a light bulb when off in your head, you suddenly had a purpose once again. Like your father, youâd find and punish those whoâd hurt their children. And thatâs exactly what you did, until you got caught of course. But you had a good run, ridding the world of some of the filth it had to offer. You were bloodthirst, you craved to see the looks of horror on these menâs faces as they knew they would be punished for their misdeeds. If you had time, youâd torture them. But you rarely had that luxury of taking your time, but you still felt better knowing one less evil person was in the world. It was ironic that you were now on a crew full of evil people.
Monte didnât seem all that bad, a bit temperamental. He didnât hesitate to knock your lights out if you pissed him off, you learned that firsthand. Well, most of the inmates did that. Ettore though, was one you had trouble figuring out. He was quiet, observant, not particularly violent though like the other inmates. He was a pervert though, hypersexual. It definitely put off all of you. He used the Box every day, but that wasnât unusual. You were instructed to never talk about why you were here, but gossip was like breathing, you couldnât go without it. You learned he killed someone in a particularly violent way when he was a teenager, much like you. He was a minor but was charged as an adult, got the same ultimatum like the rest of you; death row or deep space.
Youâd honestly thought heâd try to talk to you, given that you both were around the same age and the âbabiesâ of the crew, but he never did. But maybe that was for the better, attracting the attention of another inmate didnât seem like the best move. For the most part, you just kept to yourself, trying not to bother anyone. But the witch doctor seemed to have it out for you, she hated you, but you knew that was because you couldnât participate in her own experiments. You knew you never wanted to have kids, so you gave yourself an injury that made it so that you were barren. You almost died then, but you figured it was worth it since you didnât have to be seen as just a walking womb to be played with.
Over time, you got yourself into a bit of a messy schedule. Not having a schedule was just something else that would make you go crazy. There wasnât much to do in this space prison, but there was a rec room with games and books. You had exhausted all those resources pretty quickly. A rubikâs cube you were fond of was what you chose to be part of your schedule. Every day cycle, youâd try to solve that cube before going to sleep. It was one of the only things that helped you relax, besides the Box. But similarly to Monte, you didnât really indulge all that often. The Box, even when you needed it, almost always left you numb. You werenât one for human touch, but you werenât immune to craving that intimacy. So the rubik's cube it was. You hogged it constantly, but that only got you a broken nose from Boyse due to it being one of her favorites too. But it didnât matter. You claimed it for yourself, and nobody else cared enough to fight you on it.
Months into the mission, you started to notice Ettore around you more often. Most of the time, heâd justâŠstare at you. Openly. Youâd never gotten attention from him before, so this sudden display startled you, but not enough to do something about it. It was only until he started to purposely bump into you in the halls did you start to worry. He was already a creep, but he only got creepier as he started to catch your gaze just to smile at you. Smiling didnât suit his character, no matter how pretty it was. His lips were one of the first things you noticed when you met him, how soft and plump they looked. But a smile on them just looked out of place for the likes of a murderer. You certainly never smiled, you never had anything to smile about. You knew youâd get some odd looks if you were to suddenly flash your teeth.
You were just so on edge one day, the rubikâs cube wasnât helping, so you went down to the Box. It was just a quick and easy session, just to relieve some tension. And it worked, until you ran into Ettore as you came out of the machine. You watched his already dark eyes darken even more as he saw the state of you. Sweaty, breathless, disarray. He looked like a wolf ready to pounce on you, but it was only the rules that held him back. No inmate was allowed to have sex with each other, hence the reason for the Box.
Ettore hummed as he placed a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his touch linger until you pushed him away roughly, but it only made him smirk and push you up against the cold wall of the Box. You glared as you felt his hard on pressing against your thigh, his hands keeping you firmly in place. âI bet your pussy would feel so good around my cock.â He almost moaned at the thought, biting his bottom lip. âIf it werenât for that cockblocking witch, Iâd have you on every surface of this fuckinâ ship.â
You hated how your recently stimulated clit throbbed at his words, your body betraying you for the most primitive urges. Much like how good it felt to take a life, you knew it would feel good to fuck your fellow inmate. You wanted to tell yourself that he was a perverted murderer, you should not want to fuck him. But you were no better than him, no better than anyone here. But you pushed him off anyway, punching him in the gut and casually walking back to the ladder. âEnjoy the Box.â You spoke before climbing up, leaving the young man aching and angry.
You tried avoiding Ettore after that encounter, but of course thatâs hard to do when youâre on a small ship with nowhere else to go. He didnât hide the glares directed at you and he always seemed like he was about to do something, but never did. He was unpredictable, and you hated that. Everything about this mission was unpredictable, but you did have some control over what happened to you, Ettore was just another variable that you couldnât control. You wanted him dead, but you didnât know how you could get your way without ending up dead yourself.
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Wandering the halls with nothing to do, you found yourself on the bridge looking up at the stars. The view always freaked you out, the sight of stars moving backwards even though the ship was moving forwards. It made you nauseous and a panic attack not too far behind. But you kept looking up through the large windows anyway. At least it made you feel something. Feelings tended to be sparse in deep space. You often wondered what it would be like to be stretched and compressed by a black hole. How badly would it hurt? Would you feel anything at all? Would it last for a second or an eternity? No one knows, and no one who finds out would be able to tell since theyâd be reduced to atoms. Black holes are probably where Hell is located, you figured, if the theory that youâd be in unimaginable pain for all eternity is correct. You wanted to stop thinking about it, but you couldnât. Not until you felt a warm presence come up behind you.
You didnât have to guess who it was, by the stiff length that was pressing against your ass, you could already tell it was Ettore. The young blonde couldnât take a hint, could he? You didnât move away, for some reason that was unknown to you. Even as you felt his hands traveled around your waist, holding onto your hips with a bruising grip, you didnât push him away. He took deep inhales of the scent of your hair, his hands traveling up to grope at your breasts as you continued watching the stars. You started to think about your sister, how she might react to the stars. You remembered the first time you pointed out a constellation you knew, teaching her about various different ones, knowing she was too young to remember. But it was one of your only fond memories. You held onto it, remembering her toothless grin as she got excited about learning something new.
You gasped as Ettoreâs hand brushed against your clothed core, cupping it roughly until you winced. âWhy waste time looking at these stars when I can make you see much prettier ones, hm?â He hummed in your ear, licking up the side of your neck, unwanted goosebumps rising all over your body.
âNo.â You scoffed, pushing him off you, but he stopped you from walking away by grabbing your wrist.
âYou want to.â He smirked smugly.
âNo, I really donât.â You tried pulling away, but his grip only tightened.
âLiar.â
âFuck off!â You yelled, wringing your arm back and swiftly connecting your balled up fist to his nose. You grinned when he stumbled back, holding his hand to his face but seeing his blood flow through his fingers. He looked back up at you with a glare before leaping at you, tackling you to the floor, one hand around your throat and the other wailing on your face with his fist. Your ears rung as his fist landed right in front on your ear and feeling your nose and mouth fill with blood as he punched you. You spit your blood back in his face when you sensed a pause in his beating, leaning your head down as much as possible to bite his forearm of the hand that was grabbing your throat. You bit hard and didnât let go until he recoiled with a shout, cradling his arm that now had a bloody teeth indent and a small chunk of flesh missing. You could still see the outline of his cock stressing against his orange jumpsuit. You couldâve laughed, the bastard was still turned on.
âCunt!â He growled, but all you did was spit out the skin you took from his arm. âYou canât deny me forever.â
You raised your brows unimpressively, standing up while wiping the blood off your face with your sleeve. âWatch me.â
You stormed up with an aching face yet again, but you didnât bother to visit Dibs, you didnât feel like being scolded for defending yourself. But you ended up getting yelled at anyway for biting Ettore the way you did, your dose of medicine only being increased as a punishment. Seeing the bloody bandage around his arm almost made it worth it though.
The next few day cycles were a blur, the drugs making you sluggish and tired all the time. You didnât even try to hide your disdain for Ettore every time you had to be around him and it made everyone feel tense, like they were waiting for a bomb to explode. You knew you couldnât avoid him forever, but you sure did try. It was only a week later until that bomb finally exploded.
You had gone to the rec room before bed like youâd always done to try and solve that damned rubik's cube. You were so close, almost having solved all sides. But looking around the room, you couldnât find it. You felt a panic attack start to bubble up in your chest, frantically searching everywhere around the room until you heard someone clear their throat.
âLookinâ for something?â You frowned as Ettore came into view, him casually leaning against the doorframe, holding the small colorful box in his hand.
âGive it back.â You growled, your skin flushing with anger.
He only smirked, which made you ball your fists and stomp towards him. âNo, I donât think I will.â He chuckled when you tried to grab it from his hands, but he was taller than you and held it up where you couldnât reach. You tried to repress a shiver when he ran one of his hands up your side where your shirt had ridden up, but you instantly pushed him away.
âDick!â You seethed, the urge to punch his stupid face getting stronger and stronger.
He smiled softly. âI know. But if you give me what I want, Iâll give this back.â He juggled the cube back and forth between his hands, giving you an expectant look.
You stood as close as possible to him without touching, getting right in his face, not missing the way his eyes trailed down to your lips. âYou can go fuck yourself.â
Ettore surged forward, roughly pressing his lips against yours with a growl, the sound going straight to your core; but you wouldnât tolerate his behavior. You pulled yourself away and threw your fist against his face, then wound up to hit him again but he caught it this time. He grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled you to his chest, disregarding the rubikâs cube. âIâm getting fuckinâ sick of you hitting me.â
âThen stop acting like someone who deserves to be hit.â He cut you off by slapping you, grabbing onto your neck before kissing you again. You bit his bottom lip, hearing him let out a pained groan as your teeth cut into his sensitive flesh. âLet me go, or Iâll scream.â You demanded.
Ettore grinned evilly. âGo ahead. Scream. Itâll make it better for me.â You struggled as hard as you could against his hold on you, dragging your feet as he pulled you further into the room after shutting the door.
âIâll fucking gut you, you piece of shit!â You yelled, clawing and kicking until he kneed you in the stomach, knowing the breath out of your lungs until you were wheezing. âFuckâŠyouâŠâ You coughed, crumpling to the floor.
Ettore kneeled with you, powerless to stop him from removing your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool air. You winced as he groped them roughly, forcing you on your back with one hand while the other ripped your pants and underwear off. Unwanted tears sprang to your eyes as you fought, just recovered enough from the blow to your stomach to scratch his face, droplets of blood pooling to the surface of his cheek. âCunt.â He slapped you again, straddling your hips as he removed his own shirt but only unbuttoning his trousers.
âYou disgust me.â You spat, glaring up at him.
You let out a yelp as Ettore shoved two of his long fingers inside you with no warning, his smirk making you feel more uncomfortable than the digits stretching your walls. âReally? Why is your pussy so wet then, eh?â
âKnowing that I hurt you gives me more satisfaction than that fuckinâ Box.â You hissed as he pinched your clit with a sadistic chuckle. He forced your legs apart, kneeling in between that as he took his hardened cock out of his pants, lining himself up with your entrance but with a great struggle since you didnât stop wiggling around. Your head jerked to the side as he punched you a couple times, making you unresisting enough that he could fully sheathe himself inside of you. You let out a cry as he hit the ends of you, your walls clamping down on him, trying to expel the intrusion.
âFuck!â Ettore groaned. âSo much better than that Box. So warm. So tight.â He stuttered, moving his hips back and forth without giving you time to accommodate. The stretch burned and you couldnât keep in your painful whimpers. Your cries only seemed to spur him on further, thrusting his hips at a faster pace, way too fast so early.
âStop!â You cried, beating your fists against his chest erratically.
âNah. Youâre gonna take it. Youâre gonna take it until I say weâre done.â He laughed, speeding up his thrusts to purposely make it even more painful for you. But instead of it hurting more, it had the opposite effect. His cock started to brush up against that sensitive spot inside you, eliciting a whine from your lips.
âYouâre gonna fuckinâ die!â You growled angrily, baring your teeth like a cornered animal.
âYeah?â He mocked, giving your cheek another slap just for good measure before continuing his brutal pace.
Eventually, your cunt produced so much slick, it was soaking his cock and your inner thighs, his pelvis shimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the ship. Lewd noises coming from your intimate union forced heat to spread across your cheeks, the wet suction echoing off the walls with every jolt of Ettoreâs hips made an unwanted pang of pleasure shoot through your body, making goosebumps rise along your skin.
You hated that you were feeling pleasure from this. You were so ashamed, but god, it felt so much better than the pain of his cock splitting you open over and over again.
You felt so hot, a thin layer of sweat covering your entire body. Ettore on top of you made it even worse, his sweat coated body pressing up against yours, your breasts being squished under the weight of his chest. You were breathless as his dick kept brushing against your g-spot as he kept moving in and out of you rapidly, feeling your slick dripping off the curve of your ass and pooling onto a puddle on the cold floor. You couldnât keep your moans in and against your hatred for the man, you allowed your body to relax and indulge in the euphoric sensations. Ettoreâs smug smirk made it difficult however.
You looked to your right, seeing the discarded rubikâs cube sitting idly on the floor next to you. You didnât hesitate to grab onto it tightly, hitting Ettore over the head with it again and again until he was weak enough to push him off of you. But instead of running like you shouldâve done, you straddled him, pushing his cock back inside you and riding him, chasing that release that had already begun building in your core.
Ettore groaned with a smirk, looking up at you in a pleasured haze (and possible concussion). âI knew you wanted to fuck me.â You replied by punching him square in the jaw, busting his lip open deep enough that a small trail of blood slid down the side of his face. You shocked him by leaning down and licking the red substance, the metallic bitter taste coating your tongue and making you move your hips faster. His furrowed brows from the pleasure and pain spurred you on further, raking your nails down his chest hard enough until little droplets of blood beaded on his pale skin, his groan filling your ears and making your clit throb.
You placed both your hands around Ettoreâs neck as you continued to thrust against him, squeezing harder and harder the closer you got to your climax. You smiled with a loud moan as you heard his choked gasps, his face getting red as he attempted and failed to breathe in the recycled oxygen. The sight of him struggling to breathe edged you closer and closer. But eventually, he started to fight against you, grabbing onto your hands to try and pry you off. You tried to dig your fingers tighter against his skin, determined to make him pass out at least, but he knocked you off him with a single strong punch to your cheek. âYou canât kill me that easily.â Ettore coughed out hoarsely, his near death experience not even being enough to take a break from fucking you. He took a deep breath and resumed plowing into you like you didnât just almost kill him. âGod, youâre so pretty beaten and bloody like this.â He moaned, grabbing onto your neck and squeezing like you had down previously, though not enough thatâd you pass out. The lack of oxygen made the pleasure all the more intense, your walls clamping down on his cock as your release was right there. âSuch a fuckinâ whore, arenât you? I bet youâve wanted this all along. You just needed to be put in your place, right? Donât worry, Iâll never let you forget where you belong, what youâre good for. Youâre just a pretty little toy whose only purpose is to be fucked and filled.â
You moaned as his words finally made that wave of ecstasy wash over you like a tsunami, powerful and unforgiving as it destroyed you, making your mind go blank as the only thing you could feel was that throbbing pleasure that knocked the breath out of you. Ettore groaned as your walls seemed to pull him in deeper, pulsing rhythmically as you rode out your high with shuddering high pitched moans and trembling limbs. It didnât take long at all for him to reach his climax as well, pumping you full of his cum with a load strained groan, sweat dripping down the side of his face and mixing with his blood as he slumped against you to try and catch his breath.
You came out of your daze enough to feel him against you, hearing and feeling his deep breaths fan against your skin, making you panic and quickly push him off you; there was nothing he could do about it since he was so weak from his orgasm. You sat up with a huff, dressing yourself frantically, refusing to look at Ettore.
âI bet youâve never come that hard before.â He voiced arrogantly, making you roll your eyes.
âI have.â
âLiar.â
You turned back around to glare at him. âIf you try this shit again, Iâll kill you. Thatâs a promise.â
Ettore, still naked, stood up and pulled you to him by your waist with a smirk. âForgive me if I doubt that. You sure seemed to enjoy yourself, slut. I wouldn't be surprised if you came crawling back for more soon.â
You scowled, unable to voice any retort like you usually did. You blamed your post orgasm haze. Ettore only hummed, dressing himself and walking past you, bumping your shoulder. You bit your lip hard until you tasted blood, hating yourself and him.
âWell, whenever you feel like you wanna be filled with a real cock again, you know where to find me.â
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don't know where this came from honestlyđŹ