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morallyinept · 5 months

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What a year it's been for fic writing!⭐️

There have been soooo many stories I've read and enjoyed this year, that's it's been super hard to pick favourites, and I've spent a good amount of time this year trying to narrow it down to just 25.

Listen, every single story I've read this year has been absolutely amazing. I am blown away by the sheer amount of talent and creativity we have in this fandom!

If you're not featured here on this particular list, it's not because I don't like your work or didn't enjoy it - far from it. I've simply put together a list of my personal favourites this year, based on how they made me feel, how often I re-read them, and some that have completely floored me.

And if you want more than just the 25 fic recs I've mentioned here, then please check out my Pedro Character Fav Fic Rec List where all the stories I've read/want to read and come across are featured. My TBR is through the roof, let me tell you, but it's a great problem to have!

And if your story isn't on my fic rec list, it's more than likely because I haven't found your work yet, so please yell at me to check it out! I'd absolutely love to!

Keep on writing, writers. You're all amazing!

So, without further ado, please find my top 25 Pedro Character Fics that I've really enjoyed reading this year! 🖤

☝️In no particular order, and includes a summary from the writer, where provided. Some series may still be ongoing. Please check the specific triggers/warnings on each story individually as some may not be suitable to your tastes:

• I Am Touchin', I Am Grabbin', Everything I Can't Be Havin' - @chronically-ghosted Dieter Bravo "A storm and a dead phone leaves you at the front door of your uncle’s mansion in LA. Thing is, you haven’t seen each other in over a decade and neither of you quite remember the other one looking like that. But what’s one night gonna do? Well, as it turns out – as Dieter spirals at a breaking point in his career and you’re so lost in life you can’t see up from down – a whole fucking lot."

• Rock Bottom Series - @ghostofaboy Frankie Morales "Frankie is spiraling after Tom’s death. Drugs lead to some unhealthy friendships, and too ashamed to reach out to his former teammates for help, Frankie is drawn into a world he’s afraid he can’t get out of."

• Palomino Series - @fuckyeahdindjarin Agent Whiskey "Unable to get a refund for a week-long horse-riding pack trip you’d booked with your ex, you decide to go solo. As it turns out, a rebound with a cowboy named Jack while traversing the wild landscapes of Wyoming might just be what you need."

• Stepwise @the-scandalorian Din Djarin "Requests for both soft and smutty touch-starved head canons spiraled out of control and became this."

• It Pours From Your Eyes - @the-blind-assassin-12 Joel Miller "Some things don't need to be said. Until they do."

• Transplant Series - @marisferasiop Joel Miller & Ezra "You are a resident and the only trained doctor in Jackson. You're bubbly and sweet, outgoing and friendly, and also in an unlabeled "situationship" with the town scrooge, Joel Miller. He won't say you're together, but he'll scare anyone else off. When Tommy drags back a half-dead man and girl from a patrol, you dutifully patch them up and help them settle into their new slotted house - across Rancher Street from yours and Joel's houses. Ellie and Cee get on like a bonfire, and when Joel sees how often you talk to your newest patient, his insecurities make him draw up and away from you. As you slowly give up on him and start something with Ezra, Joel's pining turns to frustration. Tommy convinces him to see if you'd be interested in being a throuple. Surprisingly, you and Ezra are both open to the idea. But can Joel's insecurities and possessiveness withstand such an arrangement? Or will the blow of another loss be what finally breaks him?"

• I'll Know It When I See It Series - @bageldaddy Joel Miller "It's the golden age of porn. Sex and sin are the national pastime. Your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name Texas."

• Compulsion Series - @iamskyereads Ezra "Beatrice is a Drifter, a member of that oft-maligned, enigmatic subsection of workers on Baylor Corporation’s long haul expeditions. Ezra is a man with flowery language and a dark past, but he plays guardian to a strong willed, soft spoken teenager. In a madcap scheme to steal precious gems from the corporation’s mining operations, Ezra and his ward, Cee, form a reluctant alliance with this lone Drifter."

• Left In Lincoln Series - @toxicanonymity Joel Miller "After you were orphaned by the Outbreak, Bill and Frank raised you, sheltered in their closed community. Now 21+, you're still inexperienced. They leave to get treatment for Frank and ask Joel to look in on you while they're gone. The town begins to creep you out, but Joel is glad to provide comfort and protection."

• Summer Schooled Series - @boliv-jenta Dave York & Joel Miller "Needing some cash before college, you start babysitting for Mr Miller and Mr York. When you decide to spend the summer teasing them. They decide you need to be taught some lessons."

• I Urge You, Bite Me - @netherfeildren Joel Miller "Sometimes love hurts like a split nail, and sometimes we like it like that. Sometimes Joel hurts like a split nail, you like him like that too."

• Sex Worker Frankie Series - @prolix-yuy Frankie Morales "Francisco “Catfish” Morales, a former sex worker at Pope’s escort service, takes on a final client and is met with something unexpected."

• Said The Spider To The Fly - @blueeyesatnight The Thief No summary provided by author, and I won't spoil it, however this is an awesome little fic which I urge you to check out if you haven't already!

• Catalyst Series - @ezrasbirdie Frankie Morales & Joel Miller "You've been nursing a crush on one of your closest friends, Frankie Morales, for a year now. At his 40th birthday party, you finally meet his new friend and neighbor, Joel Miller, who Frankie hasn't been able to stop talking about. You hit it off a little too well."

• Just A Piece - @palioom - Dave York "Dave only married you to keep his life as a hitman hidden. But when he comes home one day to you having cooked one of his childhood meals, he is doubting if he only married you out of necessity."

• This Charming Man - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin Frankie Morales "Frankie’s wife kicks him out and files for divorce following a second trip to retrieve their money. He feels lost and hopeless until he meets someone new. He falls hard and fast for her. He’ll do anything to have her."

• Lemon Cakes & Lust - @thetriumphantpanda Oberyn Martell "Just a lowly kitchen girl, that’s all you were. A life of struggle behind you, masked by the facade of the palace. A tray of lemon cakes holds your fate with Prince Oberyn and you are only too happy to oblige his wanting of you."

• Headshots Series - @secretelephanttattoo Marcus Pike "You're a photographer and you get a job working for the FBI, taking corporate headshots."

• Starving Season Series - @wannab-urs Dave York "You and Dave York are two people with nothing left in this world. You find yourselves starving for each other, trying to fill whatever void you each have in yourselves."

• Akrasia - @sp00kymulderr Ezra "Ezra quarantine smut that focuses much less on the lockdown and much more on the smut."

• Sequins - @trulybetty Joel Miller "On a night out with friends, you run into a broad-shouldered stranger and there's no denying that there's an immediate attraction between the two of you."

• Kill Shot Series - @magpiepills Ezra "A lonesome prospector comes face to face with a dangerous stranger. What happens when you can’t resist his charm?"

• Send In The Clown - @covetyou Dieter Bravo "You lose your scarf on a visit to the carnival. Send in Dieter Bravo - washed up actor turned circus clown."

• Precious Possessions Series - @exquisiteserotonin Dave York "Work conferences were supposed to be boring. A meeting with a mysterious man sets your life on a very different trajectory."

• Rumour Has It Series - @senorabond Marcus Pike & Javier Pena "You've recently transferred from a promising job in D.C. to Texas when DEA Special Agent Javier Peña approaches you with his current case. Rumor has it you have an in with the FBI art crimes unit, and the DEA could use your skills and connections on a suspected narcos money laundering case. You need to do well on this case to prove yourself, but you're not sure Marcus Pike will even help after the way you left."

Thank you so much to all the writers for writing such amazing stories this year!

⭐️And as a bonus, I've picked a fic from my own writing that I feel is my absolute favourite piece that I've written this year:

The Pit - Ezra - "Ezra and you stumble into an ominous pit on a prospecting mission for coveted azure diamonds on the Narillan moon, and find more than you bargain for."

🖤

PEDRO CHARACTER FAV FIC REC MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #javier pena #frankie morales #ezra prospect #dieter bravo #agent whiskey #marcus pike #dave york #comandante veracruz #oberyn martell #din djarin #jett's fic recs #jett's top 25 fic recs of 2023

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skyshipper · 5 months

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@PSCENTRAL EVENT 22: 2023 WRAPPED PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS AS PRESENTS

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marquezian · 1 month

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#DaniLoveFest Day 12 -> Dani's riding style Fabio Quartararo and Fabio Di Giannantonio make Dani giggle by complimenting him on his riding style during Dani's wildcard appearance in Jerez, 2023.

#dani pedrosa #fabio quartararo #fabio di giannantonio #mp4 #2023 #danilovefest #i was gonna gif all this but the prospect of blurring all those hard subs... no thankies #*

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a-scattering-of-stars · 7 months

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The calm before the storm <3

#favourite weather <3 #perfect for a picnic #I'm completely serious #picnics are more enjoyable faced with prospect of being swept out to sea #ocean #oceancore #beach #sea #sirencore #mermaidcore #stormy #storm #i think this is my first beach trip of 2023 #I'm ashamed of that

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wannab-urs · 1 year

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Hello and welcome to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Campaign 2023!

My dear friends and I took on the challenge of pegging many of Pedro boys over the last couple weeks, and I'm here to put them all in a masterlist for you!

I'll be updating it as we get all of the boys who have been... uh... claimed... posted, but also there are a few boys we didn't take on. Feel free to message me about adding your fic to the list!

Thanks to @atinylittlepain, @serenaxpedro, @jksprincess10, @cutesyscreenname, and @beskarandblasters for helping me put this together <3

List below the cut!

Anything For You, Babe by @wannab-urs | Frankie

You and Frankie try something new because he's a simp and he loves you.

Nothing to Hide by @atinylittlepain | Pre-outbreak!Joel

she learns a couple new things about her man over the course of a night.

Non-Disclosure Agreement by @atinylittlepain | Dieter

Something unprofessional keeps them professional.

I’d suffer hell if you tell me what you'd do to me tonight by @serenaxpedro | Post-outbreak!Joel

You knew you could trust Joel with your life, knew he would never judge or betray you. But what if it came to a very particular want of yours? Would he be up for a night of new kind of fun?

New Experience by @jksprincess10 | Javier Peña

A new discovery leads to a new experience for Javier.

Vaya con Dio by @atinylittlepain | Sean "Dio" Morrissey

Dio thinks he's got her all figured out, but she's got a few tricks up her cashmere sleeve.

I Bite Back by @wannab-urs | Max Phillips

Max Phillips is seemingly always in command, always domineering, always on top… except when he’s with you.

Something Different by @beskarandblasters | Din Djarin

You work at a brothel on Coruscant. It was a night just like any other but you wanted to do something different for a change. And you get that when a Mandalorian walks in looking for intel on a bounty.

Office Hours by @cutesyscreenname | Mr. Ben (SNL)

Reader surprises Professor Ben during office hours. And not for lunch.

Appropriate Reactions by @wannab-urs | Ezra (Prospect)

Ezra is stranded without a ship and has nothing to offer you in return for a ride off The Green... So you make a deal.

Gold by @jksprincess10 | Oberyn

Oberyn has given you a beautiful but strange gift, and he wants you to use it on him.

Play by @atinylittlepain | Javi Gutierrez

it's not that kind of play, honey.

Coming Soon:

Marcus Pike - claimed by @atinylittlepain

Dave York claimed by @serenaxpedro

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Happy Pegging!

#peg that middle aged man campaign 2023 #peg that middle aged man 2023 campaign #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Joel Miller fics #frankie morales fics #dieter bravo fics #dio morrissey fics #max phillips fics #din djarin fics #Mr. Ben fics #Oberyn Martell fics #ezra (prospect) fics #javi gutierrez fics #javi p fics

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absurdthirst · 8 months

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Kinktober 2023: October 3rd

Day 3: Rimming, Fingering/Handjob, Dry Humping

Ezra (Prospect) x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Spit, filthy language, hand jobs, self image issues, cum

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

His curses reach your ears, making you glance over your shoulder discreetly to where he was fumbling and berating himself under his breath.

Since coming back from the Green, Ezra has been different. Churlish and short tempered with his shortcomings that have become apparent with the loss of his dominant hand.

He had insisted that he needed work, that he could do it. Coming to you with an almost desperate plea in his eyes that was very unlike the loquacious and enigmatic prospector. Tugging on the strings of friendship and occasionally more when you both were of like mind.

The job was pretty straightforward. Harvesting was Ezra’s passion and his skill. Needing to bring in five cases of latinum, processed from the crystals near the cobalt vein on Fero 2.

Except….Ezra is struggling. Unable to do what he could before that fateful tour on the Green’s treacherous surface. The ragged and red skin that has been patched together over the remaining stump of his arm is a testament to what he has lost.

More than that, he’s not the same charismatic, confident floater that had talked his way into your bed and into a split of your profits. He’s lost. You can see and worse, so can he.

“Mother fuckin’, mong nonger, flipper cunt, son of a bitchin’ floatin’ piece of shit.” Ezra hisses, slamming the palm of his left hand against the cursed zipper that it stuck. It’s been one hundred and twenty cycles since he had lost his fucking arm and still he’s unable to do most of the simple tasks he had taken for granted.

It doesn’t help that it’s been nearly a hundred and twenty-five since he’s had anything resembling pleasure.

Ezra isn’t a greedy man, but he is one who sees to his needs. Now, he’s unable to. Not just because of proximity, there’s no privacy in the smaller tent you are both residing in with most of your gear taking up the space. It’s because it doesn’t feel the same. There’s no pretending it’s a lover stroking his cock when he closes his eyes. The damn phantom pains knock him out of any fantasy.

Now he’s here with you. A woman that he intimately knows and he cannot even bear the thought of touching you. Knowing that his skills are woefully inadequate for being considered a lover. Unworthy of treating you to a fumbling, unsatisfying encounter with a man who is unable to perform at the peak of his ability.

He wants to cum, he needs to. But he can’t even drag the zipper down on his suit right now.

You watch him, sighing softly at the stubbornness of the man. That was something that has been consistent from the Ezra prior to the Green and the one in front of you.

He’s spoken about his fears. His shortcomings and his desires. Not in verbal words, but the way he has acted has been louder than any story he could have told you.

The cot you are sitting on is yours, the only space you have to stretch out and relax. Where you unwind from a day of dealing with Ezra’s increasingly short temper and the work of extracting the crystals you had promised to fulfill the contract. Your boots off and your suit stripped down to the soft, worn underclothes that protect your skin from the rubberized suits.

“Ezra.” He grunts, not even looking at you as he continues to struggle with the protective outer layer of his outfit. Another few creative curses filling the tent.

There’s a hazy idea on what would soothe the rough and raw man. It’s the same that always mellows you out when you have an itch that needs to be scratched, the pulsing pleasure of an orgasm making your rough day better.

It makes you move, standing and quietly shedding the layers until you are bare. Your feet padding quietly across the thick canvas flooring of the tent. Moving closer and reaching out to touch his shoulder gently, soothingly.

“Gem- please-” You can hear the rejection of help in the tone of his voice, the haggard resignation.

Instead of saying anything, you shush him and circle around his body. Bringing your own to stand in front of him and for once, Ezra is quiet with the exception of a strangled groan as his eyes widen. Taking in the sight of you nude in front of him.

Taking advantage of his silence, his frozen movements, you take the zipper that has been giving him so much trouble and drag it down after a few good, hard yanks. “Let me help you.” Is all you whisper, looking up at him under your lashes as you start to push the fabric off his shoulders. The neatly pinned sleeve on the right easily drops, but the left side is still caught on his bent elbow.

“Gem-”

“I’m going to jerk you off.” You tell him, concentrating on undressing the prospector while he stands stiff as a board. “I’m going to get on my knees and wrap my hand around your cock. Stroke you until all you can think about is cumming on my tits.”

You smirk when he groans, knowing how much Ezra once enjoyed painting your body with his cum when he was feeling particularly wicked. Filling your mouth and covering your face when you gagged on his cock. Or splattering his seed on your tits and belly. Seeing himself on you was something he had enjoyed.

Ezra exhales, a ragged sound that you imagine costs him dearly. The round curve to his shoulders as you strip down the suit to his waist and then to his ankles. His cock is half hard, poking up in the threadbare sweats that hang on his hips. Obviously interested in the helping hand you are offering despite himself.

He doesn’t say a word, barely breathes as you pull off his boots, strip him of the suit, pull down his sweats and reveal the body underneath. He never wore underwear, didn’t believe in it, and you’re glad some things haven’t changed.

Leaving him in the ripped, holey shirt, his cock curves up, hardening even more as you had knelt down and proven to him that you were going to do this. Eyes dark and piercing as he stares down.

Your own eyes are meeting his when you spit in your hand. Coating it generously and reaching out to wrap around the bobbing, quivering length.

“Fuck.” His hiss is gloriously raw when you squeeze him, sliding your hand up loosely to coat his dry skin. “You are really going to treat me, aren’t you, gem?”

He’s not expecting an answer, no when you had very clearly told him what you were going to do. Spitting in your hand again and then leaning forward to allow the spit to dribble directly on his cock from your mouth as Ezra swallows a moan.

His cock is perfect. The foreskin rolls back beautifully and reveals the pink, shiny head, begging for your mouth but you aren’t going to suck it. Wanting him to take this bit of pleasure that you will give him. Allow him to relax for a moment without lamenting his inability to do anything.

Starting slow, making sure that the long, luxurious tugs to his cock are pulling every ounce of pleasure out of him that you can. Letting him feel the crevices in your hand and the warmth of your grip.

“You’re too good to me.” He groans out, head tilting back and exposing the long length of his stubbled chin and neck. “Undeserving of your beauteous consideration. Your curative touch.”

His cock throbs in your hand, twitching when you twist your wrist as you stroke back towards the base. You had watched him several times as he had stood over you, jerking himself off to finish after he had finished wrecking you.

“I should be servicing you, dear gem.” He grunts, biting his bottom lip until it is plump and bruised with his eyes fixed on the slow, steady movement of your hand and the feeling it brings him. If he closes his eyes, it would almost feel like his own touch. “For so readily dealing with a cantankerous, feeble man.”

You huff, not finding him to be feeble, but you don’t argue with him, knowing it would be useless. His hand finds the curve of your face and you turn your head, pressing a kiss to the palm of it, enjoying the roughness of his skin as you nuzzle into it.

“So pretty with my cock in your hand. Imagined that image so many times as I tried to pleasure myself. Angry about having no means to give myself love. It was not nearly as sweet as the grip you hold my length. My fumbling attempts to stroke myself falling sort of your angelic touch.”

There’s the Ezra you want to hear, to see standing above you. His chest rising and falling under his shirt as he starts to pant. His mouth running more and more as he slowly starts to rock his hips forward. “You’re gonna let me paint you, gem?” He asks breathlessly. “Adorn your glowing skin with the white hues of my pleasure?” He twitches again, obviously looking forward to such a thing.

You hum, nodding up at him while your grip tightens slightly, enjoying the feeling of soft, velvety skin over the hardness beneath. Growing wetter as you remember how that hardness feels as it is pounding into you. Perhaps you will bend over your cot tomorrow and beg Ezra to fuck you. He would be able to manage that position with ease.

When you squeeze his cock, moving your hand faster, you seemingly steal Ezra’s ability to speak. The groans and moans of his pleasure all the music that your ears are privy to. The symphony of his sounds shooting straight to your cunt and if you weren’t focused on relaxing him, you would have started touching yourself. This is for him. A handjob for a man who continually laments the loss of his own.

“Shit- gem, gonna-” Ezra barely manages the strangled words before his cock is pulsing in your hand. Giving you a split second warning before ropes of cum start spurting from the tip. His warmth splattering your skin and his whine of joy at the release nearly enough to make you cum. Working him, milking his cock of every last drop until Ezra reaches down and wraps his fingers around your wrist.

You are covered in him. The milky white seed coating your tits and chest is thick, viscous. Copious amounts that speak of it being a long time since he had cum.

“Kevva, gem.” He hums, almost drunkenly. “I am humbled by your assistance and have yet begun to sing your praises, but my cock is nearly untouchable from how pleasured it is at the moment.” He closes his eyes and sighs, a small smile on his face. “Have I ever told you about the orgy that I had the pleasure of engaging in on Rynock?” He asks, showing glimpses of the man you know.

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect fanfiction

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palioom · 8 months

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day two - titfucking

pairing: ezra x f!reader word count: 723 warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; ezra only has one arm; titfucking, lowkey spit kink, ezra is obsessed with boobs, cum play, cum eating

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

Ezra had been worked up all day already, unable to tear his eyes away from her. The way she looked in that tight turtleneck shirt, her breasts perfectly on display for him, seeing her perky nipples poke through the thin material. Stiff because of how fucking cold it was up here, taking a rest in between prospecting gigs to sell some stones and stock up on food and utensils again.

Trying to get her to come back to their ship the whole time, always brushed off by her because they had shit to get done. She had very well noticed his eyes glued to her chest and she had just waited for his hand to reach out and grope one.

But now that they were finally back on their small ship, his hand immediately wrangled the hem of her shirt out of her pants, pointedly looking at her to just fucking help him out here.

She did, pressing her lips onto his as she quickly took off her top, her bra following right after. It was still difficult for him to accept the loss of one arm, but he was getting better with each passing day.

Knowing exactly his mood would improve the moment he got to slide his rock hard cock in between her pretty tits.

His hand was on her naked breast right away, groping and pinching her nipple, guiding her backwards towards the small kitchen table and pushing her down onto a chair.

“Squeeze them together for me, my gem.” He rasped, fiddling with the buckle of his belt, swiftly taking his cock out. Ezra had become quite good at that, wasting no time as he presented it to her, letting her spit dribble all over it so he could give himself a few pumps.

Groaning at the feeling of his calloused hand around himself, watching how she pressed her breasts together, some of the spit dripping onto them.

“No prettier gems than these in the whole galaxy.” He chuckled, positioning himself so his cock was in between them, unable to keep his hips still, already thrusting on their own. “Certainly none softer than these.”

A giggle left her, moving her breasts up and down in time with his thrusts, letting more spit dribble onto her skin to help him.

The sight of his dick poking out between them and then vanishing over and over again was mesmerizing, her eyes glued to the display right in front of her while Ezra made all these wonderful sounds above her. Rambling along as he picked up some speed, his hand digging into her shoulder for purchase.

“Oh, Kevvar.” He moaned, trying hard to keep his eyes on her beautiful tits, but only wanting to throw his head back in pleasure. This was so much better after having waited all day for it, her skin so soft, the mess of her spit exciting him. “My sweet gem, open your mouth for me. I want to cum onto your tongue.”

So close already, his hips stuttering when she did as he asked her. A smile on her lips as she opened her mouth obediently, almost like she wanted to taunt him, spur him on.

“Make a mess on my tits, Ezra.” She cooed, batting her lashes at him. The desperation in his eyes had her squeeze her thighs together, hoping to ride her own frustrations out on him later. “Please, cum for me, baby.”

His fingers curled into her shoulder as he came with a low grunt, watching his cum cover her chest, some landing on her tongue. Humming at the salty taste, she waited until his dick had stopped twitching to swallow what little had made it into her mouth with a grin.

Ezra slumped into the chair behind him, breathlessly taking in the mess he had caused on her chest, the spit and the cum mixing as she let go of her breasts, swiping some up with a finger and sucking it clean.

“Oh, my pretty gem.” He breathed, chuckling quietly. She really was a sight, with her grin and her glistening skin. “I could lay my cock in the valley of your breasts for all eternity, watch the mess I create.”

Utterly obsessed with her breasts, even more so than her pussy. And she couldn’t say that she minded one bit.

#ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect fanfiction #ezra prospect smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #my writing #kinktober 2023

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onmytape · 11 months

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top prospects at game 2 of stanley cup final

#connor bedard #adam fantilli #leo carlsson #will smith #someone explain the vibes to me #nhl draft 2023 #nhl draft prospects

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aeb-art · 6 months

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what's going on with geo that might cause this reaction?

characters belong to @8um8le

#2023 #stellar city #sc mall toons #sc pyro #sc hydro #sc tele #i love these lil dudes #there was something for them to react to but i couldn't make it look right and gave up o7 this was silly tho so y'all can have it #hydro is snapping a picture on his phone idk if that's clear #i feel like i've stared at it too long bc i'm self conscious now like did i misinterpret all of them or is this fine? idk #it's more nerve wracking at the prospect of messing up somebody's OC vs messing up a character from a series... i need it to be right #okay okay okay i will admit it now that there's a block of text before it:#what they were looking at was geo awkwardly holding hands with an insert... listen i gotta get serotonin somehow #tbh i think it mostly looked bad bc i'm out of practice with digital yknow? i can try again at some point maybe idk #okay everybody have a great day and night bye bye mwah mwah

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insomniamamma · 2 months

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Threefold: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/N: I am still working on my kiss prompts for @yearofcreation2023. Yeah yeah. I know we are well into 2024. But I am determined to finish these prompts. The prompt for this fic is "Kiss as a lie." This does not connect to any of my other Prospect fics, even though some terms may overlap. Enemies to reluctant allies. Reader is disabled and relies on body mods to assist her breathing. This one really got away from me. like 6K away from me.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries and medical procedures. Alcohol and drug consumption. Vomiting. Smut but nothing super graphic. Mentions of bodily fluids. This is not my usual Ezra. He is a shit in this one.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t splatter your brains all over this bar.” You jam your thrower into the curls at Ezra’s nape. You watch him in the bleared bar mirror, watch the color drain from his face even as he smiles, starts to turn his head and you dig the barrel of the thrower in deeper, feel your finger tightening involuntarily, your need for vengeance vying with your need for satisfaction, for some sort of answer for what he did, finger curls slightly and releases again, Kevva knows you never expected to see him again, Kevva knows—something cold jams beneath the angle of your jaw and you snap back into the present. The bar mirror shows a slight girl with a halo of pale hair and thundercloud eyes, a small, freckled wisp. “Put it down,” her voice is soft and steady, “I don’t want to hurt you but I will.” “Well if this isn’t quite the predicament,” says Ezra, “How but you ease up on the trigger and we talk this out like civilized folk.” “Your time for talk ended five stands ago,” Your eyes flick towards the bleary girl in the bar-back mirror, “I don’t know what he promised you, kid, but he’ll fuck you over the second it makes sense. You’re what, fifteen stands? When he ditches you on some no-name moon what’re you gonna do?” The barrel digs deeper into the flesh at your neck. Ezra says your name, not darlin or kitten or sweetheart or any of the slew of names he gave you down on The Green, but the one you told him, the one he murmured against the sweaty column of your throat while you arched beneath him, quivered around him, felt like a blessing from his lips as he spilled fever hot inside you. “I did you wrong,” says Ezra, “You weren’t the first and you certainly weren’t the last, and, if I’m being honest, I did not think on you overmuch—“ The little girl in the warped mirror shakes her head-- “Ez--“ You feel the gun held against your throat tremble. “But these past stands have not been kind,” says Ezra, “To either of us, I imagine.” His eyes flick up towards your reflection and you know exactly what he sees, and how could he not? Paired auto-breathers clipped to your collarbones, metal and plastic welded to meat in an a scarred seal, ports that can be used for a filter-hookup with the right adapters. “So what? That’s the Fringe, isn’t it? That’s what you told me then—“ “How, exactly, do you imagine this plays out?” says Ezra, “You kill me, she kills you. Both of us dead here on the deck-plating and what’s the point of it? Revenge? Satisfaction?” You dig the barrel of your thrower into the meat at the nape of his neck, even as his girl shoves her weapon tighter against the angle of your jaw. “Or let’s say I kill you,” Ezra purrs, and you become aware of a buzzing, like a neglected data pad with incoming message against your inner thigh, but that doesn’t make sense, data pad’s in your left breast pocket and he grins in the mirror, flick your eyes down and damned if he doesn’t have a laser scalpel pressed into the meat of your leg, blood corona already spreading, “Think you can make the shot before I clip your femoral artery? You didn’t crawl out of Bakhroma’s well to bleed out in this dive, did you?” “Damn you, Ezra. You owe me. You left me to die down there.” “I did indeed, and if you ease off the trigger for a tick, I can offer your recompense.You think it’s an accident? You and me nested into the same ring? Show her, Cee.” “Ez, I don’t think-“ “Show her. And I’ll get us some drinks. I think a toast may be in order.”

“You know what we need to do, when we meet up with the others, right?” You cling to him despite the sticky heat of the tent, air thick and heady with the smell of sex, his come smeared between your bellies as you lay half atop him, head on his chest, his arm curled around your shoulder. “I stay on one,” you say, yawning, drifting as he traces aimless patterns up and down your arm, “You switch to two. Give them the talk. You fake a comms error and go for your channel box. You take the big one and I pick off the leader. The one with the red. Then we get, we get out of here.” He squeezes you tight as sleep takes you, his heart slow and steady beneath your ear.

Cee sighs, rolls her eyes, pulls her thrower off your throat. “Fine,” she says, and reaches for a bag slung at her side.

Ezra hails his crew, and hiss of static on your ear when he switches to two, your thrower in hand, trained on the leader, brilliant red plast pauldron over his exosuit, waiting for the signal, for Ezra to go for his channel box, what is he waiting for? He looks animated, smiling through the fog of his helmet, this is wrong, you think, and he turns, thrower in hand and shoots and the world whites out for a tick, your leg collapses under you and when you lift your head there’s Ezra, tucking his thrower back into his holster, the press of his boot against your shoulder rolling you on your back from where you curled around yourself, broken nerves screeching around the path of cooked flesh just above your knee. You know what’s happened, but part of you can’t believe it— “Help me!” You say, met by the hiss of an open channel, he grabs your trophy case and tosses it to his friend, the big man with the railer he was supposed to kill, leans in and reaches for you and for a moment you think this is all some mistake, something that can be made right and he wrenches your filter out of it’s clip, cuts the hose so it’s you and the dust laden atmosphere. “Why?” You ask and know he won’t answer, makes a big pantomime of tapping his helmet and shaking his head. Your eyes scrim over with tears, the cooked nerves in your leg screaming a wordless anthem, “Please.” Ezra bows his head but still smiles, presses his gloved fingers to his helmet and blows you a kiss , that’s the fringe, girl, even with comms cut you can make out the words, and then he turns away, walking off into the brush with his crew.

“Carom-burned pearl,” you say, mouth taking over while your brain runs wild, this gem is trash, sure, but the size— “So what?” You drop your thrower back to your hip without even thinking on it. Impossible to tell the quality with the membrane half-burned into the surface, but still— “Don’t play stupid.” says Cee, “You were on The Green. You know what you’re lookin at.” “I know that I am looking at a botched pull,” you say, “I’m also looking at a little girl who thinks she’s found a friend way out here in the ass-end of the Great Arm. Did he give this to you, spring-sprite? Spin you a tale of buried treasure? He promise you an even split—“ “60/40. My way. 16th per point garnishment to clear his debt,” she says, “Ezra works for me.” You laugh, a real one deep from your belly and the intake fans, your intake fans whir faster to make up for the perceived oxygen debt, vibrations through your bones that you can’t seem to get used to even after all these stands, “Oh, honey, I was gonna kill him, but now I don’t think I will. Think I’ll let you reap the consequences here. Me and Ez? We’re done.” “It’s the Queen’s Lair,” says Ezra, and you stop cold, half-way up off of your stool, seep back down like your legs have forgotten themselves. “I know. I know you’ll never believe me, but we were there.” “You just happened on it right? Just happened to drop right down in the place that every fool and their brother went hunting for on that Kevva-forsaken rock.” “Not me,” says Ezra, “Cee’s father.” “So why isn’t it him making the pitch?” “He didn’t make it,” says Cee. And you nod. Spacer’s phrase for a constellation of mishaps. A blown hull. A dust infection. An altercation in some shit station bar over points or pussy or any number of things. An invitation to not ask. “It wasn’t even really him that found it—“ “Cee—“ “My father was contracted to harvest for Karoclan. Group of mercs found the Lair by accident. Probably digging a shit-pit. We landed bad. By the time we made it to the site it was just me and Ezra, and things got complicated.” “Complicated.” “We had to fight our way out. We barely made the sling.” “You couldn’t do the job,” you say, “And you know I can.” “That’s not-“ “She never learned the trick and I was trying to cut the blisters weak-handed,” says Ezra, “That’s why we need you.” “You went back there. Even after all you took from me. You could’ve gone somewhere better with your cut but you didn’t. You got addicted to the rush.” “I did,” says Ezra. “Me and Ezra and now you are the only people that know the Queen’s Lair is even real,” says Cee, “We go there, we get a good pull and we can live off it for years. Now that the line’s dead the value’s just gonna go up. We get the pearls and trickle them into the market—“ “How’re we gonna get there with the line dead? No one makes the BG sling anymore. They just route everything around Ikhar and—“ “Got a hot-jumper willing to take us for a cut.” Says Ezra, “We ride the line till just after the Ikhar sling and then unclip and burn. Gets us in orbit in 6 stand months.” “Risky,” you say, tapping you index and middle fingers against your right breather, vibration passing from metal into bone, a nervous habit born out of a rerouted urge to scratch at the healing skin. “Yeah. But if we do it right, if we play it smart, none of us will have to drop down some Kevva-shunned well for a hand of points ever again. We can have the lives that sharp-toothed bitch moon took from us.” “Like you didn’t have a part in it—“ Ezra reaches across the sticky bar and folds your hand in his—

He grabs you under the arms, woah there girlie, this is bad ground, yanks you back, so focused on the pull that you didn’t feel the ground shifting beneath you, grab your gear and hold it to your chest even as you’re pulled back from the rapidly forming sink-hole in the loamy dirt, draw your thrower and whirl on the stranger, your gear scattered all around your feet. Don’t fuckin touch me. Is that anyway to talk to someone who just saved your life? What’re you doing out here all alone anyway? who says I’m alone? You got crew? Raise ‘em on coms. Yeah that’s what I thought. Gonna get killed out here all alone.

“I had every part in it,” says Ezra. “The breath of your lungs, Cee’s only living kin, and the arm from my own body. All victim to my greed and stupidity and short-sightedness. I used you and I duped you and robbed you and left you to die and Kevva rightly and thoroughly kicked my ass for it. If not for Cee I would have breathed my last in that forsaken jungle-“ You yank your hand away as if burned. “You do not touch me,” you say, “We are not friends, we are not lovers. That part is over. Forever. We clear?” “Clear,” says Ezra, that infuriating little half-smile crawling up his cheek, “That mean you’re in?” “Maybe.”

Didn’t realize how loud those fans were gonna be. Maybe you’d like me to suffocate about it. Does she ever turn that player off? Do you ever turn your breathers off? Not the same. To her it is.

What’s with you and her? You aren’t kin. You said you cost her only kin. In that pretty speech you gave me so I wouldn’t shoot you. That is a complicated and lengthy tale. We’ve got time.

“Ezra? I don’t like this.” Cee eyes the blue gel pack in her hand. “Once the bolts release Jada’s gonna burn hard,” says Ezra, “She’s got mods to deal with the pain and sickness, but we don’t. If we don’t dope down, we’re gonna be in a world of hurt.” “People’ve died,” you say, and Ezra shoots you a dark look that you give right back, “They go into shock sometimes. Don’t wanna risk that right?” “It’s not addictive, if that’s what you’re worried about,” says Ezra, “We’ve got a sixteenth to take it and have it work. You go past that and it’s your choice, Little Bird.” Cee’s eyes flick from your face to his, and you wonder how you’ve slipped into caring for this girl, this orphan of Ezra’s making, how you became someone she’d look to in a place of indecision. “I’ve never hot-jumped myself, but I was crew with a man who was on a prison transport that did,” you say, hoping the grain of truth in the story will be enough to get Cee to chomp down on that gel pack when the time comes. You heard the story second hand on over drinks on Leylan bench, but Cee doesn’t need to know that. “They didn’t bother doping down the prisoners. Guess they didn’t want to spend the points. Aggie said him and most of the others exploded from both ends. It wasn’t nice. Hallucinated on top of that if I remember right. Hot jump fucks with people.” “Heard some of those tales myself,” says Ezra. “Jada’s a professional. She’s so modded up she can’t handle a drop down a well anymore. She wants her cut we’ve got to be her hands. It’s not in her interest to lead us wrong.” “We got a sixteenth?” “Yeah, but how bout we get ourselves secure and do it all together?” “Okay,” says Cee. The three of your wordlessly prep, following the instructions Jada gave you on boarding. Wear something soft. No jewelry, nothing rigid. These, Jada had flicked a finger against Cee’s music player, are a no-go. The crash beds have plenty of give but I’ve seen people come out the other side with holes in em from fancy buttons on their pants. These gonna be a problem? Jada eyed your breathers and poked at one with a questing finger. How long’ve you had em? Bout five stands. Should be fine then. Bone’s had time to remodel and deal with the extra mass. You’ll be sore though. You remove the ring your mother gave you before you left the well, remove the studs from your ears, don the softest clothes you have. Cee wears an over sized shirt with Puzo in his space suit, long, coltish legs and bare feet sticking out. Her toenails are painted an alarming sparkly green, and your heart squeezes a little. She may have shoved a thrower into your neck but she is still very much a little girl. “We ready?” “This is gonna taste bad isn’t it?” “Most likely,” says Ezra, “We bite down on a three count, yeah?” Cee scrunches her face, tucks the gel pack into her cheek and you and Ezra do the same. “Ready? One, two, three-“ “Oh that is nasty-“ says Cee. You crunch down and swallow the drug in a convulsive gulp, bitter medicinal taste beneath something that is supposed to taste like bananas. Not that you’ve ever seen or eaten one. “That is just—wrong.” You feel sleep sucking at your bones, and you can hear the sound of the hot-jumper’s engine’s spooling up, a bright spike of anxiety tries to lodge itself in your chest, familiar whir of your breathers kicking up as your heart rate rises and then the drugs take you down.

Come to with a raging headache, Ezra and Cee are already awake and at the controls. “Here,” says Cee and tosses you a pack of stim-chews, “Just do one. It’ll kill the headache.” You crunch one, sickly fruit and bitter and you feel a little more alert, but not in a pleasant way, like remembering the last bits of a long and unpleasant dream, not sure exactly what happened, but there was blood and horror and pressure. “Something happened—“ “That’s the drugs,” says Ezra, “Telemetry’s good. We’re right down the line. Five by. Took you a little longer to come out of it, that’s all.” You try to sit yourself up, and your pectoral muscles scream, your clavicles ache where the breathers are clipped to them. You must make some sound, because Ezra turns to look at you, those dark eyes locked on you and you want to slap that concerned face right off his skull— “You okay?” “Yeah. Gimme a minute. Jada said it would hurt.” “Should’ve said something, Kitten, I would’ve gotten you a patch—“ “I’m not your kitten, and it’s not your business.” “You’re right,” says Ezra, “it’s not my business. But we go hot in a sixteenth and I’ll need you sharp. You know what you need to do?” “Do you?” “How bout both of you shut up and focus on the drop,” says Cee, “You can fight it out once we’re clipped back in and bench-bound.” “Fair enough, Little Bird,” says Ezra, “You take the conn, Cee. Your controls.” “My controls,” echoes Cee. “Where’s the pain?” “Clavicles. Achy around the breathers. I don’t think anything’s fractured-“ “Here,” says Ezra. He hands you two pain patches. “Peel these and I’ll stick em.” “Fine.” You open one patch and then the other, stick them to your fingertips and hold up your hand for Ezra to take them. Scoop your hair out of the way and Ezra smooths the gel-patch on to the join of your neck and shoulder. “There you go. Let’s get the other side.” His hand lingers, brief and warm and before you can tell him not to touch you he withdraws. “That should keep you creamy until we’re dirt-side. Don’t be shy about takin what you need from the kit. Need you steady downworld, we clear?” “Clear.”

This feels nothing like a normal drop, not the warning alarm and dull thump of bolts retracting. Going hot means a hand of solid fuel boosters will push you screaming towards the Green Moon, igniting as soon as the clips let go, push you away from the hot-jumper without slowing, vibration shaking the dropper in a sick two part resonance that hurts your ears and churns your stomach— “Oi! chute status” Lock your eyes on the jittering screens. “Bolts are go. Drogues are go. We’re go.” You flip up the toggle guards and hold your fingers above the switches. The thrusters fire and the dropper rocks, flipping itself so the engines face down, watch the numbers on your screen go green and listen for the callouts— “Heat shield sep!—“ “Tracking?” “We’re clear! Go for drogue deploy on your mark—“ The switches vibrate beneath your fingers, you feel the vibrations in your skull, in your bones, strange resonance in your ears that churns your stomach, crush your eyes shut so you don’t have to see the way the screens jitter in and out of focus. “That’s atmo—“ says Cee. “Blow the drogues in 3..2…1…mark—“ You flip the toggles and lurch forward hard into your harness, and then back into your crash-couch as the landing burn starts. “Where we at—?” “Transonic,” you say, numbers blearing green on the scope, “we’re green.” Hook a bag from where its stickied to your seat and wretch into it, smell of fake chocolate half-digested Bitz-Bars and jump drugs. Grav and spin enough to fuck your inner ears, and the engines burn hard, “Landing gear deploy—“ calls Cee. There’s a hard thump and you’re down and stable but your roiled stomach and pounding skull and tight neck betray you and you dry heave while the others gear up. “Gimme a minute,” you say, pressing your eyes closed, trying to get some sort of control over yourself, “Haven’t done much well-work since— since—,” heave helplessly over the bag but nothing comes up, there’s nothing too come up. Ezra rests his hand your arm. “Hey. Look at me—“ You try to lift your head, and the world starts spinning again, too much time station-side, too much time in the gentle, predictable spin of bench-rings, your body’s forgotten the suck of the world on your bones, on your blood on your lungs “Can’t,” you crush your eyes shut, welcome dark nulling out some of your screaming nerves. “Okay,” says Ezra in the roiling dark, “Okay, Baby, I need you to breathe real deep through your nose for me.” “Not your baby—“ “I know,” he says, “Deep breath. Through your nose. One, two, three--“ You breathe in, left over bitz bar chunks making their presence known, irritation followed by something numbing and cool and slightly spicy, you stomach calms but sweat breaks out all over your body-- “Is this even gonna work?” Cee glares, hands on hips, mostly suited. “Finish kitting up and start scouting the perimeter,” says Ezra, “Stay on two unless I tell you different. We’ll be out shortly.” Cee narrows her eyes, but does what she’s told, seals her helmet and clips her filter and steps through the hatch, brief breeze of equalizing pressure, scrubbers kicking up to deal with the dust as do the fans clipped into you. When the seals cycle Ezra hands you a styrette. “This’ll kill the nausea. Also you won’t be able to shit for a half-hand or so. It’s intramuscular” “I’ve given myself hot-shots before,” you slide your pants down and jab the styrette into the meat of your thigh. Ezra’s eyes flick away. “Cee’s funny about chemical help,” says Ezra, “Her father was an addict you see. He’d dope down and then stim awake and it scares her so-“

“Let’s just suit up and do the job,” you say, baring your back to Ezra so you can don the compression garments that go under your suit. The suit’s a custom-job to accommodate your breathers, filter clipped into a hose split and spliced three ways, clean air for your breathers to pass on to your dust-scarred lungs, and another than clips in to your helmet. Settle your mic-rig over your ear. “Channel two how read?” “Channel two clear,” says Cee. “Two clear,” says Ezra, odd doubling of his voice through your rig and through your helmet. And then the channel goes dead. Hollow thump of Ezra’s fishbowl pressed against yours. “Can we do a suit check right quick?” His voice muffled by his helmet and yours, “I think i’ve got it, but I’d like—“ “Turn around.” “Cee usually—“ “I’ve got it.” He turns his back to you and you lift the loose fabric off the back seal, two twist catches with hook and loop for the outer seal. You tighten the right side catch and smooth everything else into place. “Thank you,” he says, “You need checks?” “No, I’m green.” “They’re still here—“ Cee’s voice loud and overdriven through your rig and Ezra bolts for the hatch. You shove yourself into the nacreous light, Bakhroma hanging above, it’s curve spanning the sky like a diseased rainbow, pulsing through thick clouds and the endless fall of dust. “They’re dead, Birdie! Look! They’re just bones in suits. They can’t hurt us, okay?” You turn your back on them. Cee’s breath loud and ragged on two. “Okay,” says Cee, “M’okay—I just” “What the Kevva be-cursed fuck?” A plast box rises out of the tall grass, curled around in flowering vines inside and out, a skeleton inside seated on a small bench, glints of gold and bones stained a livid, unnatural pink. “He got back in the box,” says Cee, “Why would he do that? He let us go and then he got back in the box.” “Karoclan,” says Ezra, “An oblation I suppose.” Your neck prickles. “Those folk are fuckin crazy,” You press the back of your hand to your helm and push away, palm out, a gesture to dispel bad luck, can’t rightly remember where you picked it up. “Look,” says Cee,” standing in a bare, cracked circle of dirt, “This is where we boosted from. Must’ve baked out the soil.” “Hey. Let’s get the pull. We can get all nostalgic once we boost.” Ezra gives you a dark look, but Cee, bounds past and into the trench. “Ezra,” she says, her voice flat, even over coms. You and Ezra catch up to where she’s frozen, stone still, “He’s still here. Why is he still here? Why are they still here? It’s been almost a stand.” You push past Ezra and examine the sprawled and sagging suit, nudge the boxy helm with you boot, rotted breather hoses crumbling, dust floating up. “Are you gonna get your shit together or not?” Cee flinches. Glares at you through her fishbowl. Ezra scowls. “I hardly think—“ “I’m here to harvest,” you say, “And I will harvest, but I am not doing it alone unless you alter the split.” “You’re out of line, Kitten,” says Ezra, “You seem to have forgotten who’s hired you on for this venture—“ “It’s okay,” says Cee, “I’m okay. Third time pays for all, right?” “Third time pays for all,” says Ezra, “Clear.” “So lets dig,” says Cee, “Fuck these guys, right?” “Fuck ‘em.” you say, “We’re gonna get rich while these fellas feed the bugs for the next stand and change.”

The kips that came before you exposed the leading edge of the deposit, oxidized crusts shimmering in Bakhroma’s murky light. “They didn’t prime any of this?” “They didn’t know to do so,” says Ezra. “That one over there—“ Ezra jerks his head towards a blood colored suit with faux gold adornments glimmering through a twisted clutch of creeper-vines, “Got himself acid burned for his troubles.” “Dry breach.” “Something like.”

This is no hurried dig, this is no quick pull and boost, Jada has her heart set on atmo-skimming around the outer moons before hooking back up. Trying to break some record. Ezra hovers at first, flitting around the perimeter you’ve established, light poles stabbed into the boggy ground, and then gets drawn in to the excitement of the pull, peering over your shoulders as you and Cee work. Cee is a quick study, follows your instructions to the letter, and between her hands and yours? The size and clarity is like nothing you’ve seen. “This makes what we got last time around look like pea gravel,” you say. “We’re going to have a weight issue,” says Ezra. “Do we stop?” asks Cee. “Absolutely not,” says Ezra, “We keep pulling and take the highest grade with us. And then we chem-burn what ever we leave behind.” “That’s crazy!” says Cee. “Think on it,” says Ezra, “We burn it behind us and no one else can get ahold of these gems ever again. Not at the size and quality we’re pulling.” You split the fibrous outer husk and Cee squeezes in the diffuser without being asked, and you feel yourself smile. “The scarcity sets the price,” you say, “We’re the only folk who know about this deposit. No one will ever know we scorched it.” “But all these pearls—“ “No one knows about them,” says Ezra, “Only us and Jada and she can’t ever drop down here herself. And some hot jumper hits a bench blatting about buried treasure on a world they can’t touch? Only ads to the mystique and rarity, and the points in our accounts.” “Enough to get me into the Academy? You’re laughing,” she frowns at you, “why’re you laughing?” “Because this is fuck you money,” you say, “We play this right you can probably buy yourself a station-ring or five somewhere in Central. This is do whatever we want forever kind of money if we keep our heads.” “She’s right,” says Ezra, “We play the long game and there’ll be precious little we can’t do.” “Still want to go to the Academy” says Cee, peeling the outer husk away just like you showed her and backing off so you can cut the carom blisters, but there is a tub full of the biggest pearls you’ve ever laid eyes on hardening in the fazer. “And so you shall,” says Ezra. “You do this one.” “You sure?” “You’ve been watching me excise blisters all cycle. Give it a go.” Cee turns the pinkish mass one way and then another, jaw clenched in fraught concentration, trying to grip without touching the blister, the trick is to slide the blade under and cut it free from beneath, go in at the wrong angle and the cillia react, defensive mechanism. “What’re you gonna study at the academy?” You ask, and her face loosens up some, her hands do the work they’ve been trained in, pulls the inner husk tight and slides the blade under the blister. “I’m thinking a botany/anthropology double major,” she says, flicks the blister into the weeds like she’s done it a million times before. “Huh,” you say. “Interesting combination, Birdie,” says Ezra. “What ties the two together?” Cee slices another blister and flicks it away, brief curl of steam where it sizzles in the grass. “What doesn’t?” says Cee, “Why do people bring certain plants from one world to the next? You remember the orchard we saw on Verres? Someone planted those trees there. Don’t you wanna know who and why?” “Guess so,” says Ezra, “It was a bit creepy seeing all those trees in lines. Verres being classed unihabited and all.” “I’ve seen stuff like that too. Folks’ve been screwing around in The Great Arm for a long time-“ “Hey! Fazer!” Cee barks and you squeeze the fluid into the cut, watch the husk curl and shrink away. “There she is,” says Ezra and the three of you look at Cee’s prize, held aloft in the murky daylight, Bakhroma’s ruddy arc taking up most of the sky. “Not the best one we’ve pulled—“ “This one’s mine,” says Cee, snatches the squeeze and coats the pearl before tucking it into her suit pocket, slow smile creeping up her face, “This is my fuck you pearl. We make it out of here and I’ll use it as a paperweight if I get into the Academy.”

“When you get into the Academy,” says Ezra, and Cee rolls her eyes, and you feel yourself smile a little. You like Cee. “You should do one, Ezra,” says Cee, “You peel it down and I’ll hold it for you.” “I don’t think—“ “Give it a go,” you say, “Get yourself a fuck you pearl.”

Ezra eyes the exposed deposit, an irregular honeycomb of aurelac pores, dirt darkened to mud, sprayed water from the onboard tanks to rinse away the caustic slime. “In for a penny in for a pound,” he says, just loud enough for the mic rig to pick up and shoves his arm inside. His breath comes ragged over two. “Ezra?” “I’ve got it, birdie. It’s a big one,” he says, and Cee slices through the dirt flecked umbilicus. Ezra cradles his prize like a kitten then sets it on the tray. Cee gives it a good rinse like she’s been trained to, pinches the outer husk and rolls it between her gloved fingers, loosening it up from the inner husk so Ezra can cut. “It’s thick,” says Cee, “You got wiggle room. We got time. It’s not like before.” Ezra’s breath steadies and he cuts, splitting the fibrous husk, slow, careful movements, beads of sweat popping out on his brow. Cee peels the husk away, like taking off a sock and you douse everything with the diffuser. Ezra primes the blade, waits for it hit the right setting and then freezes, sharp edge glinting in the ugly light as his hand shakes. Cee wraps her hand around his wrist. “You’ve got this.” “Okie. Yeah. Let’s give her a go. Third time pays for all, right?” “Third time pays for all.”

One half-stand later…

Pain is the first thing, deep, sprained ache in your chest, thirst is second, thirst and taste in your mouth and nose like burnt rubber, third is a warm hand holding yours. Squeeze your fingers around a warm palm, around a plastic handle with a button on top that you press and then there’s no more ache, no more thirst, no more light shining blood ugly through your closed lids.

Later. You come back to yourself. The pain is less and the thirst is more. Slit your eyes and cram them shut, dark blob leaning over you haloed in screaming light, the hand holding yours lets go. oh, shit, let me douse the lights. And the bloodshine through your eyelids stops. Blink the tears out, and Ezra’s face resolves out of the dark his face pinched with worry. “Oh Kevva, I’m dead.” His eyes go big and then he brays laughter. “Fraid not, Kitten. Might not feel like it right now but the head nurse assured me that you’re healing well.” You close your eyes, and press the button that will kill the pain. “Why’re you here?” “Cee was worried. She keeps tabs on both of us. She couldn’t make it herself, she’s up to her eyeballs in her new school, she tested in and—“ Sleep is calling, the ache in your chest dying to a low hum. Why’re you really here? not sure if you say it or think it, and the drugs call you down before you can figure it out.

thirsty. “Can you sit? I’ve got you.” His arm curls warm around your back and tilts you up, plastic straw pressed against your lip and you drink deep, frigid water against your raw throat. “Slow sips,” says Ezra, “Don’t want to shock your stomach.” One arm holds you up, a hand offers you a cool drink. You blink your eyes open, confusion and cool water against your dry tongue wake you some, close your lips around the straw and drink deep before Ezra snatches it back, plastic bottle gripped in an intricately articulated prosthetic hand, burnished metal plating like the scales on a snake's belly, telltales and indicators winking, etched over with decorative grooves, circles and curves. Looks a bit like a nav map. “Slow,” he says. You narrow your eyes at him and swish the water around your mouth, trying to wash the dryness, the foul taste away before swallowing. “You didn’t go for a regrow?” Your voice sounds lower than usual, ratchety. Ezra shakes his head. “Too much nerve damage for that,” he says, “Scarring and time passed.” You reach for the bottle and he puts it in your hand “Slow,” you say before he can, “I know. Ezra, why are you here? You got your new arm, I got my breathers out and Cee’s got her schooling. We got the agreement set. Third time pays for all, so why are you here?” “Cause I did you dirtier than that cache of pearls could ever pay for,” says Ezra, “And you shouldn’t be all on your own right now.” You want to say something back, but you’re so tired, even the act of speaking has made you tired right down to your bones, chest and throat screaming in protest, and your eyes scrim over with tears. One escapes and Ezra strokes it aside with the pad of his thumb. “I pushed the call button, Kitten, they’ll be here soon.” “Not your fuckin Kitten,” you say as Ezra folds your hand warm in his, “Not your friend.” “I know.” i know.

#year of kisses #year of themes 2023 #yeah yeah it's 2024 #what am i supposed to do time travel about it?#ezra x f!reader with cee #prospect 2018 #prospect fanfic

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lincolndjarin · 7 months

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The Thing That Gives

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day thirteen - afab!reader x ezra

prompt : tentacles [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 2.4k

summary : you find yourself in the slimy grip of the unknown.

warnings, etc. : dubcon/noncon (these tags apply to ezra, i wrote a reader who is like really into tentacles), dead dove do not eat, smut, tentacles, reference to pornography (reader reads hentai lmao), sort of tentacle horror i guess lol, reader is into the tenacles of it all like i'm gonna be so honest she's like hell yes about tentacles she's a real weirdo in this (she just like me fr), t in v?? (tencacles in vag??), tentacles in every hole, anal, oral in the tentacle receiving sense, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, ambiguous ending

a/n : i'm so so glad someone requested him with this prompt bc it's so ezra like let's be real. originally i wanted to write something where he's a tentaclly monster and lowkey if people like this i might do that in the future lol. anyhow this is def the craziest thing i've ever written but it was so so much fun, happy friday the 13th!!

“Pretty little thing like you? Shouldn’ta been on the Green in the first place.”

That’s what that son of a bitch had said when he’d locked you in that abandoned ship ages ago, those words have been replaying in your mind ever since. You’d been skeptical to trust him in the first place, he spoke in strange, strung out sentences and he had a smile that immediately made you suspicious but he’d just been too damn charming.

It didn’t help that you’d just lost your partner.

She had been your protector and navigator, as a third generation prospector you were equipped to do one thing, harvest. She had done everything else for you but after an unfortunate incident where her suit had gotten caught on some rubble you were left alone with the entire harvest and no one to watch over you.

Maybe that’s why you’d been so naive to his allure, and his promises to keep you safe on your journey back to your ship.

Stupid.

You practically handed your ship to him on a silver platter.

“This looks familiar, I think we’re nearby.”

You had signed your own death certificate with that.

He’d wrestled you into an abandoned ship minutes later, firmly sealing it shut and taking you entire harvest. He doesn’t even give you enough time to feel angry with those parting words, you just feel dumb.

It took you days to get out of there.

You’re lucky you stay stocked up on rations in case of emergencies but you don’t get to feel good about that fact. You’re too busy mourning the loss of your harvest.

When you finally manage to pry the metal doors open you immediately go off in search of your ship. You’re certain it’s a lost cause. Ezra probably took off ages ago but what else are you supposed to do? So you keep on marching through the Green.

It only takes a few moments more before you’re shocked to see the outline of your ship in the distance.

Had he somehow missed it?

Sure he was a scumbag but he was a smart scumbag, he should have found this with ease. It’s an easy hike, down a steep hill and back up another, that’s the quickest, most straightforward way there.

But of course you fuck even this up, because that’s just your luck these days.

You stumble over a tree route, tumbling down the hill before your helmet collides with a stone at the bottom, your nose slams against the glass with a sickening crunch and just like that, you’re out cold.

When you finally come to your senses you’re shocked to find yourself face to face with the man who betrayed you in the first place. You’re used to hearing his sickly sweet, over complicated sentences, you’re convinced he enjoys the sound of his own voice more than anything else on this godforsaken planet. But for the first time since you met him, he’s speechless.

It doesn’t take much to figure out why, as you blink a few times, clearing up your vision. You rake your eyes across his form, he’s held in place by several slick and constantly moving tentacles, his space suit is in tatters, his helmet thrown to the ground along with your own and you briefly wonder how he’s even breathing, but based on the way his chest rises and falls he’s perfectly fine.

“B-birdie?” He rasps out. Your first instinct is to slap him but you realize quickly that you’re in a similar predicament, your suit discarded on the ground with your limbs being restricted by the throbbing appendages.

Well this probably isn’t good.

There’s a lot going on in your head right now.

You sort of wonder if you died during your fall and this is some sort of afterlife. You’d heard reference to the eternity after this life, people often talked about it but you never really believed it until now. But now you think of the magazines back on your ship and wonder if this is your afterlife, is there some higher power out there who knows you spend your free time looking at dirty magazines featuring people in the exact predicament you found yourself in now?

That doesn’t exactly make sense though.

If this was your perfect afterlife it would just be you and the tentacles, why is Ezra here?

You don’t get much time to question anything going on because the tentacles start pulsing, almost violently, squeezing your limbs tightly before starting to frantically surround you and your ex-partner.

“No- please, Kevva above.” You watch curiously as a tendril wraps around his throat, he’s a few feet from you, directly across from where you’re propped up.

You can practically feel the fear coming off of him. You swear he’s about to cry as the tentacles remove his remaining undergarments.

“Not again, please, please-” His prayers are cut off when one of the pulsing limbs pushes past his swollen lips. You almost feel jealous, is this your afterlife? To watch Ezra living your dream and not appreciating it? You want to feel its sweet caress, sliding into your mouth, slipping under your clothes and holding you with its entire being. You frown, practically green with envy.

He isn’t even appreciating it. He thrashes and whines through the slimy flesh between his teeth. You don’t have to be bitter for long, the tendrils surrounding you are gentler than his, almost sweet with how they move across your goosebump riddled skin. There’s so many colors, swirling purples and greens and grays until one finally presents itself in front of your face, as if it was looking at you.

You don’t know what compels you to do it but you open your mouth, letting whatever it is slide across your tongue. Tiny suction cups prodding at your taste buds as it slips further into you.

You should be choking, or at the very least gagging as it bumps against the back of your throat, but you don’t. Ezra certainly doesn’t seem to have the same luxury, his chest heaves and his eyes water as the tendril in his mouth pushes itself in further. You experimentally let your tongue swirl around the appendage, sucking slightly and you’re rewarded with a sweet taste that hadn’t been there until now, closing your eyes you suck it in deeper, letting it slide further down your throat.

It’s giving you air.

That’s how the two of you are still alive, whatever this thing is provides you with it. And you desperately want more. You want to be one of the girls in those comics, you want to be ripped straight out of the magazines you love so much.

So you moan.

Almost as if to show it how good it makes you feel. How thankful you are.

And deep within the depths of your subconscious you know how happy that makes it. How long it’s waited to have its affections reciprocated, and in return it is gentle. It doesn’t tear your clothes the way it did Ezra’s, it doesn’t even fully remove them, the tentacles slow from their frenzy as they lift your shirt above the swell of your chest and tug the waistband of your shorts down to your knees. You don’t even get a chance to feel self conscious because at the same time Ezra spits out the tentacle in his mouth, groaning as the remaining scraps of his clothing is fully destroyed, and boy is he a sight.

How long has he been here? The entire time you were stuck? It looks to be that way, his cock red and aching as the tendrils slide across the already leaking tip. He’s a mess. More so than he usually is. It looks almost painful. How many times has he come?

You're snapped out of your thoughts when your own tentacles mirror the movements of his. The one in your mouth slowly retreats but you whine, running your tongue against it and it stills, no longer filling your throat but still letting you leisurely suck it.

Ezra once again opens his mouth to speak but instead of it filling him once more it just slides across the bottom of his face, still rather effectively silencing him. You can feel one of the thicker tentacles spreading your legs, it isn’t much of a strain, the others help keep you balanced. You can’t look down but you’re certain if you did you’d see yourself dripping for this unknown being. You don’t have to wait. It simply slips past your folds and finds its home against your cervix. You almost sound like Ezra now as you scream, except yours is more of a squeal, overjoyed and blissed out as it pulses within you, never actually moving in and out, just expanding and shrinking inside of your weeping cunt. You’re having a bit of trouble focusing in your haze of pleasure but you realize that it moves as one. With every pulse inside of you it matches the pattern when it slides up and down his shaft.

It’s like he’s fucking you without touching you, sort of.

Although this is better than sex.

At least for you, Ezra continues to look at you frantically, tears spill from his eyes now and you can tell by how his muscles tense and his balls tighten that he’s coming yet there’s no physical release, it’s like he’s already spent. He doesn’t even have a chance to go soft, the tentacles continue without missing a beat and he’s still hard in their grip. You don’t feel all that bad for him, not after what he did to you, and it’s hard to feel bad about anything when the tendrils wrap themselves around your breasts, circling them until they jut out, a pair of suction cups attaching themselves to the peaks of your nipples, the same happening to Ezra as you both begin writhing.

Are you even going to be able to go back to normal sex after this? Your first orgasm tears through you violently. Your entire body trembles and you fight the urge to bite down as you scream.

You can’t possibly ever feel this good again, it’s just too perfect. You assume it can’t get better yet somehow it does, a thing tendril wrapping around your leg before a smaller suction cup latches onto your clit, at that point you’re a goner. Your body evaporates into muffle moans and squeals. It barely even registers when another thick tendril slips between the swell of your ass, pushing into your other hole, taking you completely in its slippery hold.

Now it’s perfect.

You watch with wide eyes as a matching tentacle slides up Ezra's leg.

You’re one in the same, if there was another here with you would they receive identical treatment? You have so many questions that you’ll know you’ll never get answers to, the idea makes you a little sad but almost as if it knows you’re mood has shifted it pushes up deeper into you and you unravel all over again, shrieking as you come, your slick mixing with whatever already coated the tentacles.

You must be the spitting image of your favorite illustration in the magazines, the page that you can flip to purely based on muscle memory. A woman, vaguely resembling you, stretched out with a tentacle in every hole, you probably look as happy as she does as well, drool leaking from the raised corners of your mouth.

You want another orgasm, one more would be nice. You aren’t sure how many times Ezra’s come at this point, you do suppose that if it kept at this all day long you might eventually snap, after a certain number of orgasms it would probably get painful.

In all honesty you aren’t sure you care though, it’s kind to you, whatever it is, a part of you thinks it wouldn’t let you hurt. The moment the thought crosses your mind you come one last time, this one catches you a bit of guard, following the last in quick succession. Maybe you could live like this, here with whatever this creature is, watching Ezra would eventually get sad but you would adapt, this thing, whatever it is, is gentle, and it loves.

You make a conscious choice to give yourself up to it completely.

You could live here and be happy with this creature.

And in an instant you’re released, the tendrils slide out of you, setting you down.

All you had to do was give in to it and it let you go.

You gasp for air as it drops you to the ground, fumbling for your helmet, taking in several gulps of filtered air as you retch. You’re eternally grateful to the fact that your helmet didn’t crack during your fall. It takes several minutes to find your bearings but eventually you manage to resituate your suit and fix your clothes before you stand face to face with him. Despite watching what you did to escape it doesn’t seem to register with him as he continues to thrash and fight, he must be exhausted at this point.

Stubborn bastard isn’t ever gonna relax.

Poor thing, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

You tilt your head as you stare at him, the tendrils still stroking his red straining cock while he gives you a pleading look. But you only have eyes for the case at his feet once you remember its presence. You reach down, taking it in your hands and clicking the locks to see if it’s all still there and much to your delight everything is accounted for, you swiftly shut it and look up at him once more. The tendril slides away from his mouth, it’s giving the two of you a chance to speak.

“Plea-“ His words are cut short as you watch a tentacle tweak his nipple, you reach out a gloved hand to run a thumb over his puffy chest.

“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have been on the Green in the first place.” You grin at him before crawling out of the ravine, the sounds of his strangled moans follow you until you close the doors of your ship behind you.

Maybe you’ll come back for him. At the very least you’ll come back for the experience of being held by such a creature as the tentacles beneath the earth.

It doesn’t matter all that much.

Either way you won’t be back until you’re sure he’s learned his lesson.

a/n : ooooo hope everyones having a frightening friday the thirteenth and i also hope everyone enjoyed this lol

#lincolndjarin #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect x ofc #ezra prospect fanfiction #ezra prospect x you

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wannab-urs · 1 year

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Appropriate Reactions

Summary: Ezra is stranded without a ship and has nothing to offer you in return for a ride off The Green... So you make a deal.

WC: 1.6k

Content/Warnings: Butt stuff :) oh and just like... warning for the way Ezra talks. Excessive use of lines from the movie.

I am excited to present the next installment of the Peg that Middle Aged Man Campaign 2023. My dear friends @atinylittlepain (who made the graphic!), @beskarandblasters, @serenaxpedro, @jksprincess10, @cutesyscreenname and I are all writing a series of pegging fics for you lovely freaks. And we all have at least one out already! We'll be posting a masterlist next week, but for now, you can find them under the tag #peg that middle aged man campaign 2023.

Thanks to @str84pedro for the edit/commentary <3

Ezra Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

The Green is a terrifying place to mine for Aurelac, being one of the rougher and less regulated prospecting destinations. As such, you don’t make a habit of talking to strangers here. Get in, get the shit, get out. That’s how you’ve always done it.

This time is different though. This time you found a man sitting on a log, helmet-covered head pressed into his hands. You tried to retreat quietly, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. It’s never a good idea to get caught out here alone. People got desperate.

Before you could safely make it back into the cover of the forest, the man looked up and locked eyes with you. You pulled your thrower on him, taking several steps back. The man threw his hands in the air and said, “Easy there, stranger. I do not intend to cause you any harm.”

He spoke with an odd cadence, some fringe-planet accent coloring his dialogue. It was oddly disarming, causing you to drop your weapon a tad.

“And why would I believe you?”

“I happen to be without a ship and therefore have no reason to dispossess you of your trophy case,” the man shot back, hands still above his head.

This shocked you, as being without a ship on The Green pretty much guaranteed you were not long for this world. His air filter would give out sooner or later and the dust would choke him to death. You may be tough, maybe even cold, but you’re not evil. You couldn’t leave him there.

You holstered your thrower and took a few steps toward the man. “I can give you a lift, but I won’t do it for free. What can you offer me?”

The man had slowly lowered his hands to gesture at himself. “Your offer is indeed generous, and I would be more than happy to sign and seal save for one glaring slip… I have naught to my name but this suit and my body.”

You considered him for a moment. It was a little hard to get a good look under the bubble of his helmet, but from what you could see, he was handsome. He had dark hair and golden skin. A mustache framed his plush lips and a scruffy beard covered his jaw. His nose was prominent and curved, which you’ve always liked on a man. Fuck it, he’s hot. “Your body will do.”

He had shrugged and stood up, striding over to shake your hand. “Name’s Ezra.”

On the walk back to your ship, you’d introduced yourself and asked for the story of how he came to be without a ship on this gods forsaken moon. It was a sorry tale and made you more than a little wary about his motivations, but he was so damn charming you couldn’t help but trust him.

Now, sitting in the captain’s chair of your ship and taking in the sight of Ezra out of his suit, you’re glad you decided to trust him. The man is gorgeous, sitting sprawled out against the wall. He’s all broad shoulders and thick thighs wrapped in a black and tan flight suit. His close cropped hair has a little blonde patch at the front and his eyes are a deep chocolate brown.

“Would I be too forward in asking how you intend to proceed, little bird?” Ezra drawls.

“Not at all. How experienced are you, exactly?” You doubt very much that he’s a blushing virgin, based on looks and age alone.

“I myself have frequently indulged, and I have not often found regret,” he throws a wink at you, the corner of his mouth quirking into a self-satisfied smirk. He knows he’s hot, damn him. But you intend to throw him for a loop.

“I’m not sure you’ve indulged in this particular technique… If you want a ride on my ship, you’ll have to let me take you, pretty boy,” you stare him down, smugness settling into your features as you take in his shocked expression.

“I… um. I have not had that particular pleasure… you do not appear to have an apparatus with which to accomplish the task at hand.” He gestures at you, clearly wondering if you’re hiding a dick under your flight suit.

“I’m full of surprises.” You stand and make your way to a small wardrobe by your bed, digging around in your stash to find what you’re looking for. You shut the door, triumphantly holding your strap out for Ezra.

The harness is made from a similar material to your flight suit. Already slotted into the ring is a long flesh colored phallus made from a soft but firm material mined on your home planet.

“Now this is somethin’ I have never seen… in all my time in The Green.” Ezra looks fascinated by your contraption, not a hint of nervousness in his big brown eyes.

“So what’ll it be, Ez? Deal or no deal?”

---

Ezra is truly beautiful. His golden skin shimmers with sweat as you pump two fingers in and out of him, lightly stroking his pretty cock. He’s laid back on your bed, thighs spread to accommodate you, a pillow under his hips to grant you easier access. “Feel good, babe?”

“Kinda nice… tingly,” Ezra chokes out, throwing his head back onto the bed dramatically. He’s extremely vocal, talking himself through the new sensation and whimpering when you curl your fingers into the sensitive spot inside him.

You lower your head and gently suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, skimming your lips over the smooth skin and taking in the earthy taste of his precum. Ezra whines and jerks his hips, trying to push himself deeper in your mouth, but you follow the motion. You just know his begging will be glorious and you’re determined to draw it out of him.

You dip your tongue into his slit at the same time you add a finger inside him. Ezra’s whole body goes taut for a moment, his head snapping up off the bed, before he relaxes into your touch. “You’re so responsive, Ez. Good boy.”

“I greatly… appreciate the compliment… little bird.” Ezra grits through his teeth. “I would also greatly…” he breaks off with a moan as you press the pads of your fingers into his prostate again. “... appreciate getting… a move on.”

You decide you’ve teased him enough for now, sitting back on your heels and slicking up your fake cock. You grip the backs of Ezra’s thighs and push his legs toward his chest, admiring the way he’s so pliant for you. You settle the tip against his hole and push in just a bit. “Good?”

“No harm done yet,” Ezra says breathlessly. You rub your hands up and down his thighs soothingly and push in slowly. Ezra sucks in a breath and blows it out quickly a few times and you giggle at him.

“Ezra, sweetheart, you alright?”

He shifts his hips, seating himself fully on your toy with a slightly pained groan. “You don’t have to be so gentle with me, little bird. I will not shatter.”

You take this as your cue to fuck him stupid. You wonder if you can render him speechless. Leaning forward slightly and readjusting your grip on his thighs, you pull out of him and thrust back in to the hilt twice.

“Slow… slow down a beat there, little bird.” Ezra’s hands flutter over his own chest and up into his hair, like he doesn’t know where to settle them.

You slowly circle your hips, rubbing against the spot inside him you know will get him back on board. Ezra tugs at his own hair and babbles a string of praise at the sensation. “There ya go baby. I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?”

You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his head and slot your thighs under his. You thrust slowly in and out of him, drawing a circle with your hips each time. His body chases your movements like he doesn’t want you to pull away at all, hands sliding up around your waist and pulling you into him.

“Fuck, little bird, you are a miracle.” He gazes up at you in awe, as if you just told him you know where the Queen’s Lair is and you’re going to take him there. His lips part and his head digs into the sheets as he arches his hips up to you. You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around his length and begin stroking him in time with your thrusts.

“Are you going to come for me, pretty boy?” You whisper before sucking his earlobe into your mouth. He whimpers and arches further into your body, hips shifting to meet every thrust.

“Please! Don’t stop birdie, I’m near- nearing my rel- release.” You stifle a giggle at his phrasing and speed up your hand on his cock. You feel his body jerking beneath you and pull back to watch his face as he cums.

His eyes are shut tight, brow pinched in the middle, and little moans and whimpers fall from his parted lips. You lean forward and suck his plush bottom lip between your teeth, grazing it lightly before kissing him fully.

You feel the hot spurts of his cum cover your fingers as he breaks the kiss, throwing his head back and groaning deep and loud. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your back, pulling you down on top of him.

He lays there, panting into your shoulder for a minute before he turns his head and whispers in your ear.

“Actions like these foment the threat of appropriate reactions.”

----

#peg that middle aged man campaign 2023 #peg that middle aged man 2023 campaign #Ezra #Ezra fics #Ezra fanfiction #Ezra x reader #Ezra x you #Prospect #Prospect (2018)#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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