#ezra x reader

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 1

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Mature (violence, slight gore, killing - typical Ezra 😌 — will be explicit in later chapters)

Summary: Two strangers meet.

a/n: New series alert! Man alive first chapters are hard, and so I am going to yeet this into the universe before looking at it anymore. I owe everything to @bageldaddy for educating me hardcore and for being so extremely kind and thorough, and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for her Ezra eyes and inspiration and to @familyvideostevie for her support and enthusiasm and notes. It took a VILLAGE to get through this one. Enjoy meeting our stranger. :)

--

You come to surrounded by unnatural stillness.

An absence felt in the air surrounding you, there is something about it that tugs at the foggy corners of your brain, beckoning you closer to the surface. You try to listen for anything beyond the ringing in your ears, and there is…something.

A beeping sound emerging through the fog, its incessant chirping grows clearer. You blink slowly, your limbs made of lead when you try to turn your head. Instead of trying to investigate, you let yourself slip slowly back into the lush darkness, closing your eyes.  

But the strangeness of the silence tugs at you, and the beeping gets louder. 

Splices of memory come through in sharp flashes: 

The deep, bone-shaking tremble of turbulence. 

The grating sound of tearing metal. 

Beeping - so much fucking beeping, every sensor in the transport pod going off - and the whole cabin jerking to the left, your body weight pushing against the fabric restraints, your dad’s voice raw with hoarseness as he screams orders at you and –

Oh shit. Your dad. 

Your eyes pop open, and you sit up - or rather, you try to, but every muscle resists. Battered and bruised, you fumble at your harness with clumsy, shaking fingers. Looking up as it finally clicks open, you’re about to leap from the chair when you freeze. 

He’s there next to you, unmoving. 

Dead. 

“Dad?” you whisper. 

You can see without even checking for a pulse that he’s gone. That’s the feeling that pulled you awake, the vibration of life gone from the air. The stillness weighs heavy in the small space, and the beeping gets shriller somehow, more noticeable in the utter silence. 

The pod shrinks to a claustrophobic dome, and your breathing starts to come fast. Harsh, rapid exhales out of your open mouth and then you’re vomiting, right onto the floor. A cold sweat breaks out under your thermals, and you swallow hard against more bile that threatens to come up. 

There is blood splattered on the dash, pooled around the buttons. A deep gash gouged across his temple, his left eye already swollen beyond recognition. You stare at the dark, pulpy wound that runs with blood and with a heave, lose the remaining contents of your stomach. 

To have hit his head like that, he must have unbuckled and tried to fix something mid-crash, but why? Why the fuck would he do that? He knew better than that. You try to think about the sequence of events, but there is only a blur. A foggy, black spot in your memory, hazy images obscured by panic. 

You remember pieces: watching Puggart Bench grow smaller as you ascended through the atmosphere. The vague details of your father’s latest scheme, along with promises that this would be your last job. The frustration you felt at those words – ones you’ve heard a million times. 

You remember rolling your eyes and slipping on your headphones, and then scolding you for not paying attention after he jabbed you in the shoulder to take them off, and then…this. Somehow this. Guilt settles deep in your gut. 

Keeping your dazed eyes glued to the floor, you ignore the blood and beeping and the dead fucking body. You crouch low in the safety of your chair, winding your grip around the harness strap as an anchor and you sit for a moment, trying to steady your breathing. 

You sit. 

And sit. 

–

“Think she’s got anything left?”

The words spread condensation across the lower half of his visor, and Ezra listens for an answer he already knows isn’t coming. 

He always asks anyway: a constant dangling bait, in hopes his partner will bite. 

He hasn’t yet. 

Ezra bends back over the rough dug pit, his fingers splaying through the loose dirt. Anything worth digging for is sealed in his case already, but he stalls, thinking. 

He had watched the pod streak across the sky; the sight not unusual on the Green. Mercs and prospectors landed here every day to try their luck on the uninhabitable planet, but the speed in which the pod broke through the sky was unusual. Ezra could tell it was going too fast, even from the ground. His dark eyes had tracked the potential opportunity’s descent from behind the shield of his visor, and when the ground shuddered with the impact, he felt it through his gloves. 

If it had landed safety, protocol would be to keep his distance – no use needlessly engaging in a potential threat. However, he doubted that was the case after watching it fall to the earth like a stone. If he had to guess, the occupants were probably dead, and therefore, in his favor. 

His old pod flashes through his mind; nonfunctional and by now, probably stripped bare. If he doesn’t get there quickly to stake his claim, this one could fall to the same fate. It didn’t look sizeable by any stretch of the imagination, but he doesn’t need big. 

He just needs enough to fit one man, and his case. 

Ezra keeps his voice light and conversational. 

“Did you feel that?”

He looks up at his silent partner, and is met with a blank stare. Or at least Ezra assumes it’s a blank stare, with the man’s visor blackened. He can’t see his face, and has never been able to. He’s had many offers of partnership while on the Green - some out of desperation, some through coercion, some forced upon him – and though his current partner is one of the latter, he had been secretly pleased at the sheer size of him. Brute strength a valuable commodity; the hulking man is more of a utility than a partner. 

“Think it’s worthy of our time to investigate, or do you suppose there won’t be much left after a landing like that? If you want, I can go it alone?”

Met with more silence, both from his partner and from the unforgiving atmosphere of the Green, Ezra grimaces with annoyance when his partner starts to walk in the direction of the site without him. 

“Hang on now. We approach together.” Climbing out of the pit, the loose soil slips under his boots. He scrambles up as quickly as he can, unwilling to see his chance at the remains slip through his dirt-crusted fingers. 

“Now then,” he breathes heavily. “I think it would be befitting of us to use caution in our approach. The passengers may still be alive, and feeling panicked enough to pose a risk. I think –”

The hulk appears to listen to half of what Ezra says, and then turns abruptly mid-sentence, walking away. 

Snatching up his case, Ezra switches off the comm link in his helmet and his expression falls from tactful to annoyance. His eyes narrow on the man’s broad back, his fingers itching for his thrower. 

Grumbling, he follows. 

“Fucking idiot.”

–

You’re going to have to touch it. 

You wonder what it will feel like – stiff with rigor? Still pliant with traces of warmth? Heavy and impossible to move?

In all the ways you imagined you’d probably find your father dead, you somehow hadn’t thought about the logistics of actually moving his body. You imagined someone else would be the one responsible for it. Medical staff, most likely, who were used to the clammy skin and the stiff weight of death. 

Not you. 

Yet another thing you’ll have to do unwillingly for him. 

The reason you’re on this godforsaken planet in the first place, he’d forced you along to help him pay a debt owed for those fucking drops he relied on to get through his days. Days that bled into nights spent waiting for him, more his parent than his child. A freefall into the nomad life since your mother died, you’d been trailing behind him for years - an afterthought, only remembered when he needed something. 

A reluctant digging partner when he forced you to be, but also a navigator, a cook, a laundress, a caretaker. You were a lot of things to him, but never the one you wanted to be the most. 

Never a daughter. 

Your eyes slowly scan the disarray of the cabin, taking in the damage. For all the things he asked you to do, he had kept you in the dark when it came to any actual useful skills that might help you in this situation. Prospecting, digging, self-defense – anything that would have afforded you a glimpse at the possibility of independence – all of those were kept from your reach. 

Never a mechanic either, unfortunately for you. How the fuck you’re going to fix this thing, you have no idea. The manuals for it were tucked away somewhere, but they required at least a basic understanding, and you have barely that. 

You could stick with the harvesting plan he had vaguely outlined to you on the way here (assuming you could even find the gems, let alone dig them up), try to come back and fix your pod during the evenings (assuming you could even figure it out) and then try to catch the next slingback home (assuming you could even get off this planet). 

Your other option would be…none. There are no other options. 

The entire situation expands into something overwhelming, each step far outside your base of knowledge and your breathing starts to come fast again. You scold yourself, willing it to slow. 

Panicking again isn’t going to help shit. 

Wrestling with your emotions, you take a deep inhale and close your eyes, focusing on the first step. 

Before anything else, you have to move him. 

–

Through the edges of lush greenery, a pod. 

Ezra tries to tamp down his excitement, kicking his senses into high alert to scan for whomever it belongs to - but there is nothing. 

Fucking silence, the bane of his existence. 

Though in this case, a good sign. 

His own pod taken from him months ago in a standoff between himself and his former crew, this off-white piece of rubbish appears as treasure to him. It’s banged up for sure: one of the engines loose from the frame and the metal surrounding the bottom crumpled from hard impact. Unlikely that anyone survived the crash, anticipation thrums through him at the harvest in front of him. 

Keeping his expression measured, he beckons his partner to approach with him, silently advising caution. 

The idiot doesn’t though. Instead, he stomps forward and punches at the hatch button with force. 

Ezra frowns deeply, anger slipping into his tone. “Hey,” he reprimands sharply. 

The man pays Ezra no mind as the ramp slowly opens. 

–

One hand extended towards your dad’s shoulder, it hangs hesitantly in the air for a moment. Inching forward, you try to summon every ounce of bravery that you have and just when it’s about to touch— 

A loud thump sounds outside the pod, and your hand jerks back. Crouching low along the side of the pod, you crawl through the ship's scattered contents all over the floor and grab the thrower, trying to desperately wind a sufficient charge for a shot or two. The rummaging outside grows louder, and you crouch behind your chair, gripping the weapon in your sweat slick hands. Panic floods through your veins, the sharp stink of fear oozing from your pores as your body shivers with adrenaline, and you flex your hold on your weapon.

The door to the pod opens with a hiss, and two men emerge. 

One slighter than the other, which isn’t saying much—anyone would be slight compared to the size of the second man. You aren’t even sure how he managed to get into the pod, between the width of his body and his height. 

Rising swiftly, you point the weapon at them. 

“Stop,” you force out, trying to mask the tremble in your voice. 

The lithe man freezes, surprise showing on his face for a split second before disappearing. Tilting his helmet in thought, he speaks. 

“Now this is something I’ve never seen in all my time in the Green,” he muses with a drawl. “A little girl.” 

A statement, not a question, and you bristle while he continues to study you curiously. 

“Leave, or I’ll shoot.” 

Your finger flexes on the trigger, and he raises his hands in front of him. 

“Calm down, little bird. My partner and I merely ventured this way to see if all was okay after that crash we heard.” His eyes scan the cabin, a scattered mess. “Seems it was quite the landing.”

Shuffling your stance a fraction closer, you keep the thrower trained on them. “I’m fine. Now please. Go.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re fine.” He sounds completely unbothered, like you aren’t pointing a weapon directly at him. Taking a slow step forward, he peers around you. “Your partner sure doesn’t seem fine.”

“He’s not my partner. It’s my –” You freeze, scolding yourself for immediately volunteering information and his gaze drops down to your father’s lifeless form. The stranger's face sobers, and he looks back at you. 

His jaw shifting in thought, his partner seems to grow bored of the conversation and takes a heavy step forward, advancing on you. 

“Stop,” you try to order, panic creeping into the command, but he doesn’t. He keeps going, his large arm reaching towards your thrower. His massive grip choking the barrel, he rips it clean from your hands before you can even think about stopping him, and you crouch back behind your chair, trembling.

“My apologies for my partner, little one. He’s not keen on having weapons pointed at him. You can understand, I’m sure. Why don’t you come out from behind that chair and let’s talk. A deal, if you’re open to it.”

You don’t want to strike a deal with them. You know that any deal you attempt to broker on your behalf is going to be in their favor no matter what the conditions are. Your father never taught you the skills of negotiation – those were always done out of sight. Your mouth dries, sweat beading along your nape. What fucking deal could there even be to make that doesn’t end up with you dead? Or worse?

With so much happening in the last two hours, it’s hard to process anything, let alone a negotiation with deadly strangers on a hostile planet. How you handle this situation could be literally life or death for you, and you beg your brain to pick up pace. 

Please. Please. Come on, think.

Your mind still struggling but knowing you’re running out of time, you force yourself back up. 

“The deal was leave, and I won’t shoot.”

He only grins at that, and rage at the unfairness of it all flares bright through you.

“Besides, why should I believe anything you say? You’ll probably just kill me the first chance you get.”

“Why would you assume I intend harm?”

You don’t have anything to say to that, instead looking at his partner. Fear at his sheer size displays clearly on your face no matter how hard to try to mask it. “Why else would he steal my gun? Shoot me first before I can shoot, right?”

“If that was the case, he would have shot you already.” He lets a beat pass, his eyes narrowing in their focus on you. “Still could though, I guess.”

There is something behind the indifference in his voice, something in his eyes that begs you silently to listen to him — but then his partner raises his thrower, and several things happen at once.

You whimper, dunking behind the tattered chair. 

The smaller man whips his railgun from his hip, pulling the trigger.

You scream, and the bullet hits his partner square in the chest. 

The larger man stumbles forward as if to grab him but the smaller one shoots him again, the second shot landing in his gut. The force of the close shot pushes the larger man backwards, his heavy body slamming into the pod wall. 

He slumps down, collapsing into a lifeless heap.

There is a beat of weighted silence; your form frozen. 

The roguish man’s profile faces you: dark features partially obscured by the dome of his helmet, you can see closely shorn brown hair in matted disarray with a shock of white that smears just above his temple. Black eyes that glimmer in the fluorescent light, the edges lined with age. Tanned skin, a strong nose, plush lips under a mustache. 

He stares at his dead partner with something akin to satisfaction, and it turns your stomach to think of not only how quickly he resorted to violence, but also how much he seems to enjoy it. 

“Well would you look at that. Now we have two to move.” 

Still in shock, the violent scene in front of you startles you just as much as his nonchalance does. You watch as he turns to face you; a hooked scar marring the skin under his eye. 

“Now little one,” he says with seeming politeness. “You ready to hear that deal?”

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra/you #ezra/reader #pedro pascal

[beskarandblasters]

Voyeuristic Tendencies

Din Djarin x F!Reader x Ezra

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist | Ezra Masterlist

Author’s note: I tend not to get horny writing my own smut but there’s a part towards the end that just… did it for me ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) No spoilers but I’ll reveal what it is in the end note. Thank you to @pedgito for beta reading 🤍

Summary: In an AU where the worlds of The Mandalorian and Prospect collide, you and Din are business partners and Ezra finds himself on Nevarro after escaping the Green. You both agree to let Ezra join your partnership but unbeknownst to Din, you and Ezra form a sexual relationship. What will happen once Din finds out?

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), post the events of Prospect, oral sex (M and F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating, voyeurism, MFM threesome, light angst, jealousy, pet names (gem and cyar’ika), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

You and Din weren’t looking to add anyone to your little crew. Grogu went off to train with the Jedi and his absence strained the strictly business relationship you two had. But one day while wandering the marketplace on Nevarro, you encountered a strange man who babbled endlessly. His name was Ezra. He told you and Din that he just left a moon you’ve never heard of; the Green. He told you that he got separated from his old partner, a girl named Cee. And he told you he just recently lost his right arm. He spoke with an accent that you couldn’t quite place where it was from. But all in all, you felt bad for him. 

Din, on the other hand, didn’t want anything to do with Ezra.

“He sounds like a scammer,” Din said. 

“Aw, come on. He seems nice. And he’s in need.”

“You can’t replace Grogu with a strange one-armed man,” Din sighed. 

“Please? It would be nice to have an extra person to help out. Especially if Grogu comes back…” you said. 

Well, when you put it like that… How could Din refuse?

-

You’re walking through the marketplace, hoping to find Ezra again. He couldn’t have gotten far. From what you gathered he tends to hang out around here and somehow sweet-talk the vendors into giving him food. Maybe Din wasn’t too far off when he said Ezra was a scammer…

Whatever, you still want to help him. 

And there Ezra is, at the produce stand, holding a vegetable in his one hand while sweet-talking the vendor. You watch the exchange take place, Ezra using his big lofty words to coerce the vendor into giving him more. And it works, the vendor grabs a bag and puts a few more vegetables in it before handing it off to Ezra with a smile. Maybe it would be nice to have someone with that kind of skill on your crew. 

Ezra turns and walks away, crossing paths with you and Din. He stops and smiles when he sees you, face contorting into a lopsided grin. 

“Fancy meeting you two here,” Ezra says. The sunlight beaming down lights up the blond patch of hair on his head perfectly. 

“You’re here every day,” Din deadpans. 

“Well Mr. Tin Man, it seems I have no place else to go, nowhere to call my own.”

Mr. Tin Man. Din’s gonna hate that nickname. In fact, you can tell he does by the way his fists are clenching and unclenching at his sides. If you want Ezra to join your crew, you’re gonna have to diffuse the situation. 

“He was joking. You were joking, right Din?” you say, nudging Din with your elbow. 

“Yep.”

This is never going to work. 

“Listen, Ezra, we were wondering if… you wanted to join our crew?”

“Really?”

“Yeah but not for free. You have to put in work like we do,” Din buts in. 

“I ain’t no mooch, Mr. Tin Man or should I say Din.”

“You’d have to help if the Razor Crest needed repairs, or if we needed to gain intel for a bounty, or if we had to go shopping for supplies, or-”

“I can offer protection,” Ezra says. 

“I have that covered,” Din says matter-of-factly. 

“Are you in?” you ask. 

Without any hesitation, Ezra says, “I’ll take you up on your philanthropic offer. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Alright then. Let’s show him the Razor Crest!” you say to Din. 

Without a word, Din turns and leads you out of the marketplace to the outskirts of town where the Razor Crest is parked. 

“Here she is!” you say, gesturing to the Crest. 

“Fine looking ship you got there, Din,” Ezra says, shooting Din a smirk. But Din doesn’t acknowledge him. Ezra turns to you and says, “Don’t think I caught your name, little birdie.”

Your cheeks heat up in response to the nickname but you tell him your name. He repeats it to himself and smiles as Din lowers the ramp to the Razor Crest. You show Ezra around the Crest and it seemed so spacious up until now…

“One question for ya, Din. Where am I supposed to sleep?”

This is the third time he’s used Din’s name in the short time you’ve known each other. You should’ve never let it slip. You should’ve just referred to him as Mando in front of Ezra because you know under the helmet Din is physically recoiling every time Ezra says his name. 

“Hammocks?” you suggest, looking up at the metal ceiling. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Din says. 

“Well, what do you suggest?” you ask.

“Two people can fit in the bunk and one person can sleep in the cockpit. We can just rotate each time.”

“Aw, that’s cute, Din. You wanna cuddle up in the bunk together?” Ezra asks, putting his one arm around Din. 

You try to stifle a laugh as Din sighs and removes Ezra’s arm.

“You two can take the bunk. I’ll take the cockpit,” Din says.

“Can’t complain about that, gem,” Ezra says, shooting you a wink paired with a smirk.

“I’m going to the Guild to pick up a job. Be back later,” Din says, briskly exiting the Crest and heading off to town again.

“Is he always a real stick in the mud?” Ezra asks.

“No! No, I mean he means well. He’s just…”

“Awkward? Strict? Stiff as a board?”

“Set in his ways,” you answer.

“Think he’ll be gone a while?” Ezra asks, taking a step closer to you. 

“Probably. Karga talks a lot.”

“Better for us,” he says, slipping his arm around your waist, “I got a way to keep us busy. What do you say, gem?”

For a long time, you were attracted to Din but he never seemed to show you any signs of affection. So, you let your silly little crush die out. But here’s Ezra who has no problem showing you and telling you how much he wants you. You can’t deny that he’s attractive. His loquacious way of… never shutting up has a strange hold on you. 

“Why not?” you smirk, “Where do you want to-”

“Oh, I thought about that,” he says, pulling you to the refresher.

The door closes behind you and he says, “Bend over for me, gem.”

You do as you’re told, watching him sink to the floor in the reflection in the mirror. He pulls your pants and underwear down in one clean motion, coaxing you to spread your thighs a little. His tongue grazes your cunt, causing you to jolt a bit in shock.

“L-Like this?” you ask with a shaky breath, painfully aware of how close you are to the mirror; aware of every detail on your face as you’re being pleasured. 

“Mhm, just like that, gem. Want you to watch your pretty face as you cum,” he hums against your thigh before going back in for another lick at your cunt. 

“O-Okay,” you breathe out.

He buries his face in between your thighs, nose rubbing against your cunt. He wraps his arm around your legs, pulling you taut against his face. As he eats you out, your knees buckle underneath you. Your body shudders while pleasure builds in your core and threatens to spill over. A moan escapes your lips and you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, the tingling feeling about to break loose. But just when you’re about to cum, Ezra pulls his face back, planting kisses on the back of your thigh.

“Doin’ so good for me, gem. Makin’ all those pretty sounds for me. But you better be keepin’ those eyes open, got it?”

“Mhm,” you moan.

“Yes, sir,” he corrects, nipping at your thigh.

You let out a sharp gasp followed by a meek, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he says against your cunt, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

He returns to licking, lapping, and pleasuring your cunt. Soon enough, the small refresher is filled with your moans and squelching, wet sounds of Ezra eating you out. And this time, he lets you have it– your orgasm. Your cunt flutters around nothing, muscles contracting and releasing erratically. Your wetness soaks his face and your knees threaten to fully give out underneath you. 

Once you’re done coming, he rises from the floor, helping you stay stable on your feet before you reach down to pull up your pants. Before you can even address what just happened, you hear the sound of the Razor Crest’s exit ramp being lowered. You hastily grab a towel and hand it to Ezra to wipe his face before dashing out of the refresher. Din catches the tail end of both of you leaving, tilting his helmet to the side. 

“Oh, I was just showing him how to use the refresher,” you say quickly as Din seals the Crest.

“They don’t work like that where I’m from,” Ezra says, “And we usually just call ‘em bathrooms.”

“Bathrooms?” Din says, thinking nothing of you and Ezra being cramped into the small refresher together. 

“Bathrooms,” Ezra affirms.

“That makes no sense. You’re not taking a bath every time you go in there,” Din says, walking past Ezra towards the ladder to the cockpit.

“That’s just what we call ‘em,” Ezra shrugs.

“So, did you pick up a job?” you ask, changing the subject.

“Mhm. We’re off to Tatooine tomorrow,” he says, climbing up the ladder and getting settled in the cockpit.

“Oh, okay… Well, goodnight,” you call up to him.

“G’night, Din,” Ezra says.

Ezra shoots you a suggestive smirk as both of you head to the bunk, crawling into the cramped space. You both rest on your sides, his body pressed up against yours. You just assumed you would go to sleep now, but the bulge poking your ass says otherwise.

“What do you say we pick up where we left off?” Ezra whispers in your ear. 

“Sounds good to me” you giggle.

He shifts to the edge of the cot, resting on his knees.

“Hands and knees, gem,” he commands.

You move to rest on all fours. Ezra hastily pulls your pants and underwear down again, just low enough for him to gain access to your cunt that’s still soaked. You shudder as his hand collects some of your wetness, slathering his cock and thrusting into you. A deep moan escapes your lips, prompting Ezra to say, “Shh, gem. Can’t let the tin man hear us.”

You nod and bite your lip, doing your best to stay quiet as Ezra rails you. His cock expands your walls with each thrust, hitting the deepest, most pleasurable angles inside you. It’s been so long since you’d had sex since working with Din and your body needed this. Ezra feels your cunt clench around him, knowing you’re on the edge of release.

He leans forward, whispering in your ear, “Gonna cum for me already, gem?”

“Mhm,” you whisper, choking back a moan.

“Do it,” he softly commands, slamming his lips into you.

You cum around his cock, reveling in the feeling of being full finally. Your orgasm triggers his own, spilling his cum inside you. He does his best to bite back his sounds of pleasure as he pants your walls, thrusting into you one final time before pulling out. You collapse against the bunk, truly spent. Ezra returns to his position beside you, pulling up your pants as you nestle yourself against him.

“Get some sleep, gem. You had a big night,” Ezra whispers.

You nod and feel sleep start to settle in but before you’re out, you whisper, “Welcome to the team, Ez.”

He chuckles against you, kissing your head before the both of you fall asleep.

-

That night was the start of your sexual relationship with Ezra. You two found time to fit in sex whenever Din wasn’t around, which was hard. Especially considering the cramped nature of the Razor Crest. There were a few close calls, times where you both were convinced Din caught you. But he never said anything, continuing like normal. So, you and Ezra told yourselves you were in the clear. 

That couldn’t be farther from the truth. The reality is that Din had caught you. He just didn’t make his presence known until you were done. He would hide quietly, listening to the way you were being fucked in his bunk. It made his cock twitch in his fight suit. He would listen to your moans in the refresher, listen to the way you rode Ezra’s cock in the cockpit– he listened to it all. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled his cock out, stroking it as he eavesdropped on you and Ezra. But he could never bring himself to tell you that he caught you, wanting to keep his dirty little secret to himself. As far as he was concerned, you were getting off and so was he. Why mess up a good system; a well-oiled machine?

It’s been a few standard weeks since Ezra joined the crew. Din’s walking back from the Guild, bounty puck in hand with your next destination. He thinks about how you and Ezra are probably glued to each other right now. The thought makes his cock hard but now’s not the time. It’s time to head to Sorgan. 

He lowers the exit ramp and heads inside, just like always you and Ezra are far away from each other but sweaty and flustered as if you hastily pulled yourselves apart. 

“Get ready to take off,” Din says.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Sorgan,” he replies.

“Never been,” you say, climbing up the ladder to the cockpit. Ezra follows behind you, sitting in one of the passenger seats. 

“It’s a primitive place. But I have contacts there. Maybe we can all sleep in a real bed before heading back to Nevarro,” Din says. 

“You know someone there?” you ask as Din prepares the Crest for takeoff.

“Yep. The kid and I stayed with a nice widow for a few weeks,” Din says, turning to look at you.

An unreadable expression washes over your face as you think about what he just said. He doesn’t quite understand what’s so confusing about what he told you but he turns his chair back to the control panel and takes off.

The truth is… you’re seething with jealousy. What do you mean he stayed with a widow? For a few weeks, too. Your mind is already going to the worst possible conclusion– that he fucked that widow. And you couldn’t be more jealous; couldn’t be more mad at him. You’ve been practically throwing yourself at him since you started working together. When he didn’t pick up on your advances, you just assumed he wasn’t a very sexual person. But he can stay with a woman for weeks at a time?? And feel comfortable enough to reconnect with her again?? You’re pissed.

You look out the window into the abyss of space, saying nothing more for the rest of the journey. 

-

Once Din lands on Sorgan he sets off to capture the bounty, leaving you and Ezra alone in the Crest. 

“We’ll head into the village when I’m back,” Din says, turning and leaving, his cape billowing in the wind. 

You say nothing, sitting on a crate in the storage area of the Crest with your arms folded. Ezra sits beside you, hand running up your thigh.

“Wanna get busy?” he asks suggestively.

“No. Not in the mood,” you say coldly.

Ezra moves to the floor, kneeling before you and looking up at you.

“What’s wrong, gem? You’ve been so quiet ever since Din told us we were coming here.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you grumble.

“Don’t be cryptic with me, gem. I know you’re bothered by something,” he says softly.

“Fine,” you sigh, “I’m just… jealous.”

“About the widow?”

“Yeah… How’d you know?”

“Figured as much. Anyone with a set of eyes can see you have feelings for Din.”

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Now now. You don’t know that for sure. I get the sense that the tin man isn’t… in touch with his feelings.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” you chuckle.

“All I know is that I’m real fond of you, gem,” he says, interlocking his hand with yours.

“I know… I feel the same way… Which is why I should just forget about him,” you decide. You lean forward and kiss him before deciding to spend your time just leaning against each other on the crates.

Soon enough, Din returns with the bounty, a big, burly human male. He shoves the bounty into the carbonite freezer before leading the way to the village. As you walk there, Ezra says, “You know… This place isn’t too much different than the Green.”

“How so?” you ask.

“The forest,” he says.

“Is it nice? You know, to be reminded of the Green?”

“Not really. The air was toxic and I was stranded there for Kevva knows how long.”

“Kevva?” you ask.

“Kevva is like… the Maker for your folk.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, not asking any more questions. The more you learn about him and where he came from the more confused you get. 

Eventually, you reach the outskirts of the village and as soon as people notice Din, they swarm him.

“The Mandalorian is back!”

“He came back for us!”

“Does he have the baby?”

Groups of men, women, and children surround him. But one woman with long dark hair just smiles softly at him, approaching him once the commotion dies down. You assume this has to be the widow by the way she seems so enamored with him. 

“Welcome back,” she says. Once she’s noticed you and Ezra she says, “And you brought friends.”

He introduces you and Ezra to the woman and you learn her name is Omera.

“No Cara this time?” she asks.

Another woman? What the kriff??

“No Cara this time,” he affirms. 

“Well you’re still welcomed here just the same,” she says.

The sun is starting to set and the sky is turning brilliant shades of pink and purple. 

“If it’s not too much trouble, could we stay here for the night before we leave in the morning?”

“Of course,” she says, turning and leading you further into the village. Watching them interact makes your stomach swirl with jealousy but you try to remind yourself of what Ezra said earlier. But it’s not hard to react to the way she smiles at him, the way she grabs his arm, and the way he seems so comfortable with her. 

“How much space do you need? I assume you want a place for yourself so you can remove your helmet,” she says as you walk. 

“Two huts would be fine. Thank you,” Din says. She nods and leads you to the first one, giving it to you and Ezra.

“See you in the morning, tin man,” Ezra says, bidding Din goodnight. Omera chuckles at the nickname and leads Din to his hut. Your fists clench and unclench at your sides as you watch them disappear deeper into the village.

“Come on, gem,” Ezra says, grabbing your hand and bringing you into the hut. There are two cots inside you know you’ll only need one. You sit down on one of them and Ezra sits beside you. 

“Let’s get busy,” Ezra purrs in your ear.

You shiver and say, “Kriff yes,” palming the growing bulge in Ezra’s pants. You move to the floor, kneeling before him. But Ezra stands up, wanting to tower over you as you suck him off. You pull his cock out of his pants, cupping his balls and kissing his groin. He groans and throws his head back in pleasure, reaching his arm up to one of the wood beams on the ceiling. You take him in your mouth, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and keeping the other hand cupping his balls. You suck your cheeks in and keep your tongue flat on the underside of his cock. The new, more intense sensation has him cursing under his breath. 

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Just like that, gem,” he moans, smirking down at you. You hum, sending waves of pleasure down his shaft. He lets out another moan, this one deeper and louder than the last. But both of you freeze when you suddenly hear a twig snap outside.

“Who’s there?” Ezra calls out. You swear you hear a modulated sigh.

“Din?”

No reply.

“Come on, Din. I know you’re there. Just come inside,” Ezra says. Before you have time to take his cock out of your mouth and protest, Din enters the hut with a bulge in his flight suit.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Ezra laughs. You take his cock out of your mouth and keep your gaze off of Din. Ezra notices the bulge in Din’s flight suit, too, and puts two and two together.

“How long you been spyin’ on us?”

“Wait what?” you ask, looking up at Ezra and glancing over at Din. 

“What? I have not. I-” Din starts but Ezra cuts him off.

“Might as well tell the truth. Get everything out on the table,” Ezra smirks.

“For the past few weeks,” Din admits.

Your mouth falls open in shock. It’s only been a few weeks since Ezra joined your crew. Has he been listening in on you this whole time?

“Well, stop watching and join us,” Ezra says.

You look back up at Ezra, prompting him to add, “Well only if it’s okay with you, gem. Though I’m sure you’ve been waiting for this…”

“Waiting?” Din asks.

“Oh, yeah. This one’s been pining for you from the start. You’ve just been too dumb to notice. That helmet must be too thick,” Ezra chuckles.

“You have?” Din asks, his visor fixed on you.

You’re too embarrassed to answer so Ezra does for you. 

“She’s wanted you this whole time, tin man. Just fix this by joining us.”

Ezra lets go of the wooden beam above him and reaches down to grab your chin. 

“Think you took care of me long enough, gem. What do you say I eat that pretty pussy of yours?” Ezra says, swiping away the mixture of his pre-cum and your saliva dripping down your chin with his thumb. 

You nod and rise from the floor, shedding your clothes. You lie down on the cot, goosebumps prickling your skin as both men tower over you. Ezra moves to the foot of the cot and kneels, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you into his face. He moans at your taste, licking at your wet cunt while Din stands by your side, stroking his cock. You look over at it and somehow it’s everything you imagined it would be; long, thick, and uncut. Pre-cum beads at the head of Din’s cock, spreading down his shaft as he strokes himself. You pull your gaze from Din as Ezra flicks his tongue around your clit, looking up at you with a mischievous look in his eye. He pulls away for a second to kiss your thigh and tease Din because he can truly never shut up.

“Bet you wish you could have a taste, don’t you, Din?”

Din lets out a strained moan, cursing under his breath.

“Yes…” he admits.

“Let me help you out with that,” Ezra smirks.

Ezra slides two fingers into you without warning, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. He curls his fingers before pulling them out, taking a large amount of your wetness with them. He stands and walks over to Din, holding his hand out.

“Try it for yourself,” Ezra says slyly, “You don’t have to take off your helmet. I know you got a creed and all.”

With a shaky hand, Din lifts his helmet, just enough to expose his mouth. You feel rude trying to sneak a glance but how can you not watch Din sucking your wetness off of Ezra’s fingers. Ezra places his fingers in Din’s mouth, watching as he tastes your slick. He pulls his fingers from Din’s mouth and Din lowers his helmet again.

“What do you think? Tastes real good, doesn’t it?” Ezra says.

“So sweet,” Din moans. 

“See, gem. Look what you do to us,” Ezra chuckles, returning to his place on the floor.

He swirls his tongue around your clit and replaces his fingers inside you. You look back over at Din whose gaze is fixed on you, hand wrapped around his cock, jerking off to the sigh of Ezra eating you out. You cum hard against Ezra’s face and hand, moaning so pretty for both of your men. Ezra moans at the feeling of his face getting soaked, letting you ride out your orgasm on his fingers before pulling them out of you. He stands and looks over at Din. 

“You fuck her since I’ve been doing it this whole time already,” Ezra says. 

Din nods and takes Ezra's place at the foot of the cot. You inch up a bit so he has room to situate himself between your thighs. He thrusts into you slowly, face to face with his visor. You gasp as he expands your walls, his cock burying itself deeper and deeper inside you. The modulated moans slipping out from under his helmet only make you more and more turned on. He slams his hips into you repeatedly, building up your pleasure higher until it feels like it’s coming to a head. Off to the side, you hear Ezra jerking off and moaning but you keep your eyes locked on Din and the way he’s fucking you relentlessly.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. 

“Let me feel it, cyar’ika,” he commands. 

With one final slam of his hips into you, you’re coming around his cock. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes as he fucks you through your high. He cums, too, his orgasm triggered by the way you convulse around him. His thrusts become sloppier until he stops, waiting until every last drop of his cum is released inside you. He pulls out and stands up, looking down at your cunt and the mess you made. 

“That was quite a show you two put on,” Ezra says, still standing beside you and stroking his cock, “Think you can help me out here, gem?”

You nod and sit up, taking his cock in your mouth. It doesn’t take long for him to cum. He brought himself to the brink of orgasm watching Din fuck you. You swallow his release, taking on the other man’s cum. But once he’s done he pulls himself out of your mouth and smirks at the both of you.

“That was a long time coming,” he says, sitting down on the other cot.

You lie down on the cot and try to catch your breath, exhausted from the evening’s activities. 

“You need to rest, cyar’ika,” Din says, kneeling beside you.

“Stay with us,” Ezra says.

“Yeah, Din, stay with us,” you plead, making room for him on the cot.

He pauses for a moment but ultimately decides he wants to sleep with you, wanting to feel your body pressed up against his.

“Why not?” he says, scooching in beside you.

“Same time tomorrow night?” Ezra asks.

“Sounds good to me,” you say.

“Deal,” Din says.

“Goodnight, team!” Ezra chuckles. 

And with that, you all fall asleep satisfied with the night’s events and happy that the tension has finally dissipated. 

End note: Lmao it was the part where Ezra gathers the readers wetness on his fingers and Din lifts up his helmet slightly to get a taste ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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[psychedelic-ink]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋.

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: priest au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.”

pairing: priest!ezra x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, dark content

summary: after a breakup, you find solaca at the local church. there, you meet father ezra.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, brief mention of reader going through a breakup, reader having a brief anxiety attack, reader having confidence issues, loneliness, messy blowjob, degradation, leg humping, dirty talk, facial, power imbalance, dumbification if you squint, use of whore, religious themes, this is written for horny purposes only, priest kink, a lot of 'yes father's and 'forgive me father's

Comfort is what leads you to your local church.  

You wouldn’t exactly say you’re a believer, but coming to the church and sticking wishing candles into the sandy surface was one of your finest memories from your childhood. You enjoy the chocolaty smell of the wooden benches, the stained large panes of the windows that cast vibrant rainbows upon the polished floor when the sun hits them just right. 

When you sit on the bench, surrounded by a calm dimness and silent prayers, you feel contented, like the world outside doesn’t exist. 

You feel lonely out there in the modern world, especially after your breakup, which was the turning point that led you to the adorned wooden doors of the church in the first place. It wasn’t a messy breakup, still, it left you in shambles. He’d moved on so quickly. Just picking up his clothes and throwing them into the bag before he left. It broke your heart if you’re being honest. He was never overly affectionate or necessarily cared about the things you cared about, but it was better than being utterly alone. 

Just a little bit of comfort. That’s all you want. Just a sense of belonging. 

Here at the church, the sense of commune affects you, even if you’re not exactly a part of it. 

Sitting at the edge of the bench, you look up. The church is empty today due to the heavy downpour, there’s only one more person other than you. They’re busy in prayer so you don’t stare at them for long, not wanting to be rude. 

Your eyes move away from the person, they linger on the confessionals. You always found the idea appealing in some twisted way. As if asking for forgiveness from some random man will solve all your problems. You never went it, always feeling too paranoid that someone might hear how stupid you sound. 

The person finishes their prayer, and as they walk down the middle, you notice it was a youngish man, his hair stuck to his forehead. His steps echo, a second later the sound of his departure rings dull against the cold walls. 

You rise slowly, eyes once again fixed on the booths. They’re barely noticeable thanks to how dimly lit the church is, and with no sun there’s little light to guide you. 

You’re not even sure a Father will assist you when you open the door to the small space. It creaks loudly and your skin crawls. You’re hesitant, yet you still climb inside and take a seat. It’s small, dark, and smells overwhelmingly of wood. It’s oddly comforting. 

You’re unsure what to do with yourself until you hear the door opening and closing from the other side of the booth. 

“Welcome. I am Father Ezra, and I am here to listen, guide, and offer you the grace of God's forgiveness. As sunlit moments blend with shadows, so too do our lives weave intricate tales of both frailty and strength. With open ears and an open heart, I beckon you to unburden your spirit. When you're ready, please share your thoughts, knowing that your words are heard in the spirit of compassion and understanding.” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t rush his speech, taking time as if every sentence is a story of its own. It’s so smooth, enticing, beckoning you to pour all the darkness that lingers around your heart. You’re surprised to find yourself wanting to hear more of that honey-dipped voice. 

Father Ezra, you’ve heard his name before and from afar, even laid eyes on him. You can barely remember what he looks like now though. You certainly never heard him during sermons, you would’ve definitely remembered his voice if you had. 

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when you hear a creak and a soft flutter of a robe. 

“Sorry,” you say, quick and silent. “This is my first time doing this and I didn’t really have a prepared thing in mind.” 

His soft chuckle echoes—god, why does he sound so good? 

“Sweet, lost, little bird, you do not need to rush it. You can start by introducing yourself. Tell me your name.” 

A shudder that starts from your toes claws all the way up to your spine. All he did was ask your name, yet, it feels like he’s asking for something drastic like your life. You swallow around the know in your throat, lowering your gaze even though there’s no one that can see you. 

You give him your name and something you can’t discern shifts in the air. 

“What a lovely name,” he hums. “Now tell me, what troubles you on this rainy day.” 

“Nothing specific,” a sigh parts your lips, and again, a creak comes through the other side. Your skin prickles. You can feel as if his eyes can see through the thin wall that separates you both. “I’m feeling a bit lonely. I—I went through a break up a couple of weeks ago and. . . I guess I can’t help but feel it’s my fault somehow.” 

You wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, you continue. 

“This might sound dumb—” 

“There is no such thing,” you can almost hear the smile in his voice. “There’s no shame in asking for guidance and forgiveness.” 

“There were these things. . . that he said about me. Things like I was too needy, too dependent, and too much overall. And I feel like it’s true because no one ever seems to stay with me,” you let out a bitter chuckle as tears begin to well in your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m like this, maybe—maybe God is punishing me for a sin I don’t know and i-if that’s the case, Father, I seek forgiveness.” 

A breath. A low, violent exhale of breath. Your eyes flit to the grille, a pair of plush lips now visible through the tightly made slats. 

“You ask for forgiveness, atonement, yet do you actually believe?” he coos, voice low. 

“I don’t,” you answer a bit too quickly and blood boils under your nails. “I–I mean I don’t know.” 

“How do you expect me to help when you doubt the lord’s existence, little one?” Despite the provocative question, you see the faint curve of his smile through the darkness. “Are you desperate?” 

“I didn’t mean to offend,” you say quietly. The rain pour had begun again, drowning out the rest of the sound. “I’ve been coming here ever since the breakup. I enjoy watching people pray and smile, looking comforted. I just thought that if I did this, that comfort would extend to me as well. I’m sorry.” 

“The comfort is fleeting when you don’t believe it to be true,” he murmurs, ignoring your apology. “If you seek guidance, I can help you understand better and maybe then you’ll receive the comfort and the forgiveness that you crave oh so deeply.”

There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that you decide to ignore. It feels only right when you had outwardly said that you didn’t believe in the man’s religion. 

With an open heart, you accept his offer of guidance. 

You visit his office almost every night. 

You found yourself enjoying the church even more after hours. Ezra became a friend, which didn’t surprise you because that man had an essence about him that would charm the pants off of any devil that he might encounter. You guys did bible studies together and talked about other religions as well, and what it means to understand the words inscribed and given to the people. It was interesting to listen to. He would even give you assignments sometimes, telling you to read a specific paper or book. It felt like being at school again. He’d given you something you thought you had lost forever; A sense of purpose. 

It didn’t hurt that he was a sight to look at. His dark brown eyes always held a certain mischief to them, lighting up in amusement whenever you said anything peculiar. 

You knew it was cliche to have a crush on a priest, yet here you were, wagging an imaginary tail whenever he praised you for doing a good job. 

But tonight is not one of those days you feel all giddy and excited to see him. You enter the wide halls of the church and take a sharp turn towards his office, all you sense is impending doom, your insides riddled with anxiety. You’re shaking, barely able to feel your legs as you walk. 

When you enter, his eyes look up from the papers that lay in front of him, his gaze momentarily dropping to where your dress ends, then back up. His brows furrowing instantly at your heavy breathing, “Little bird, what’s wrong?” 

“Everything!” you exclaim, heaving a breath. “Everything is wrong—I’m wrong—I—fuck—” 

Ezra clears his throat in warning, “Language,” he says with a click of his tongue. 

“Sorry, Father.” you look down in shame, your hands balled into tight fists as you fight the urge to pace around his office. “I just—” 

He cuts you off, “Why don’t you take a seat and tell me what happened?” he smiles kindly. “And maybe you can stop shaking while you’re at it.” 

You nod as you take a seat. Your heart continuously rams against your ribcage and you can barely breathe, your throat convulsing in agony. Ezra gestures to you to look at him. When you do, he takes a deep inhale, making a demonstration in showing how his chest expands and contracts, his hand following the movement as if on waves. 

You breathe with him, the oxygen that fills your lungs calming you. 

“Good,” he hums. “Now tell me what happened.” 

“I saw him today. My—My ex,” you shook your head, reliving the moment. “He’s already seeing someone, which is fine if he was just honest about it. It’s some girl from work, the same girl I asked him about when he moved out,” a hiccup parts your sentence and you continue, your eyes dropping away from Ezra’s. “I said ‘is it her, do you like someone else’ and he said no. He pretended not to recognize me, even though his girlfriend did. I could see it in her eyes but he just walked past me, like I never existed.” 

A sole tear trickles down your cheek and you wipe it away with your sleeve, sniffling. When you feel another, you repeat the motion, finding solace in the softness of the fabric. “I’m an idiot,” you say, still not looking at him. “What am I even doing here? I should try to face reality not escape it in some—some church.” 

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. The church had helped you when you needed it most, it had given you Ezra, most of all. But you couldn’t help the words, you’re angry. Furious. You feel invisible out there, but here, here people recognize you, and ask where you’ve been when you came back the other day. It’s good to know that if you disappear some people would wonder about you. 

Ezra’s voice rings in your ear, and without even understanding the words he’s saying, you’re looking up. 

“Let’s try something,” he says probably again. “Come here.” 

You’re slightly confused but obliged. He pushes his chair slightly back, making some room between him and the desk. Your eyes drop to the end of his robes, two shiny shoes peaking from underneath. 

“Get on your knees.” 

You snort, “Excuse me?” 

“It’s going to calm you,” he says. “Do you trust me?” 

Your lips part with a faint gasp, you don’t blink as your eyes search his. There’s a tranquility in his expression that makes your heart throb. “Of course, Father,” you get on your knees. 

“Good girl,” he pats his thigh. “Now lay your head.” 

You do so without question this time, appreciating the firmness of muscle under your head. A moment passes, awkwardness starting to settle in, then you feel his fingers touching the back of your neck and gradually they move up to your scalp. Humming a gentle melody, he starts to stroke your hair, massaging your head as he went along. A deep sigh comes from the depths of your lungs, your nerves humming, your rigid muscles finally relax. 

“You’ve been doing so well these past couple of weeks,” he says, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice. “You’ve been learning, little bird, but you still have much to learn. The church is part of the real world, you haven’t been doing nothing.” 

Listening to him so intently, he sends shivers down your spine, the thickness of arousal pooling between your legs. He drags blunt nails down your scalp and comes down to your nape to squeeze from both sides. You’re embarrassed of the moan that rattles your throat but he doesn’t seem to mind it. You lean closer, pressing your cheek further against his leg. 

“Isn’t this nice?” he asks without needing the answer. “You, my obedient girl, listening and eager to please. You’ll always feel like this when you’re with me. No anxiety, no need to compete and try to accomplish something when all you want to do is. . . relax. . .” 

His voice had dropped to a whisper, every word a gentle caress to your skin. Eyes fluttering close, you only focus on the ups and downs of his voice, your body reacting to every stop and turn. The fabric of your underwear dampens, your folds becoming slicker the more you inch towards him. You ache for your fingers—or better yet his cock—but he isn’t allowed to touch you is he? 

You try to remember the lessons in celibacy but can’t seem to remember any of them. 

Your tighs instinctively press together, the brief friction doing little in dousing the wildfires between your legs. You wiggle a bit closer, his voice nothing but a siren song now. 

Ezra notices the constant movement, his fingers slip under your chin, and drags your eyes up to face him. Your breath hitches. The faint moonlight that trickles through the windows behind him cast his face in complete shadow, his features hardening with darkness. He slips his foot between your legs, the floor creaking under the sole of his shoe, “Now, why can’t you stay still when I’m trying so hard to soothe you, little bird?” 

He lifts the point of his shoe, the leather pressing directly against your throbbing clit. A surprised whimper rips from your throat, your body shaking as he drags the leather tip down. Your insides clench with want, with a primal need that you can’t seem to understand. 

You’re haunted by his words and the darkness that lurks in his eyes. Despite yourself, you press yourself up against his leg like some animal. You can’t seem to stop staring at him. And by the way he pushes his shoe further into you, borderline on almost being painful, you don’t think he minds either. 

Your eyes flutter as he parts his robe, your gaze immediately drops to the outline of his cock that’s visible. Your mouth waters. 

“Worship me,” he unbuttons himself with expertise but leaves it at that. “Until I tell you to stop.”

His leg still between your legs, you pull out his cock. The tip is an angry shade of red, precum dotting at the tip, without much thought you lean over and dip your tongue, tasting him for the first time. The taste of him coats the inside of your mouth and you swallow greedily, the blood rush to your ears muffling his voice. 

“Such a sweet whore,” he hums. “You like sucking cock, don’t you?” 

Dragging your lips down the length of him, you answer with him between your lips, “Yes, Father.” 

“I really do enjoy it when you call me that,” his thumb touches your cheek as you finally take him between your lips, you allow out your cheeks and flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock. “All you needed was a little encouragement and now you’re the perfect hole for me. There’s nothing wrong with you, all you need is someone to take care of you.” 

You hum in approval around him, taking him deeper while grinding against his leg, your dress rides up your thighs, your underwear nearly sheer in color.   

“I can feel how wet you are. So needy,” he lays back in his chair and spreads his legs. “I want to feel every inch of your mouth. I said worship, if this is how you think that works you’re mistaken, dove.” 

Your stomach churns at that. You want to make him happy—you truly do. You part from him, strings of saliva following the frame of your lips as you bend down closer to the floor, feeling the full shape of his shoe. You look up to him, the heft of his cock laying directly in the middle of your face, the scent of sex and him clinging to your nose. Opening your mouth, you lick between his balls, taking one into your mouth, you swirl your tongue around it. His eyes roll in pleasure, a thick drop of precome dripping to your forehead. 

“That’s it,” he raps and guides you back up, lining the bulbous head of his cock against your lips. He pushes forward, cock filling your mouth then inching down your throat. Tears trickle down your cheeks, your throat convulsing as you try to accommodate to the width of him. You swallow and swallow, until your nose is buried into the dark curls that crown his length. You can barely breathe. “I knew you could take it all, little one. I know that mouth could do more than talk.” 

The heavy palm of his hand moves down your throat, he feels the shape of himself through the skin. His cock twitches when it feels his hand, straining your mouth further. 

He pulls out and you gasp for air, his grin is wide as he looks down at you. “I want to make a mess of that face,” with the rough pitch of his words, you roll your hips, your clit catches against his shoe and a loud moan spills from your damp lips. He clicks his tongue with annoyance. “Ask for forgiveness,” he growls, hand moving up and down his cock with hard strokes. 

“For what, Father?” your voice is barely above a whisper. And you’re not sure why you asked when you’re going to surrender to his wants regardless of what they are. 

“For being a whore,” he spits. “For talking about a past flame and for taking pleasure without permission.” 

He watches with heavy eyes as you straighten yourself, his cock aimed directly at your face. You watch him with parted lips. His nail gently traces the vein that curls around the length of him, slick sounds filling the normally silent office. He swipes a thumb over his head and thrusts into his fist. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” you begin. “It has been two weeks since my last confession. I have behaved like a whore, talked about another man in the presence of the clergy, and taken pleasure without permission. I come before you seeking God's forgiveness and guidance.” 

“Will you repeat your sins?” 

“No, Father. Not unless I have permission to do so.” 

His hand quickens, his grip tightening, “Do it then,” he snarls with a devilish smile. “Ask me permission to be a whore.” 

Instead of a verbal permission, you part your mouth wide and stick your tongue out. His eyes widen with shock momentarily before understanding. He seems pleased and in return, you feel genuine jot for finally doing something right. 

He grips your chin, pulling you away from his leg and directly between his thighs. It doesn’t take him long to go over the age—one, two more strokes and you feel the first string of white come spurting over your face. It drips down your forehead from your face. The sounds Ezra make are unhinged, his hips lifting from the seat as he moans openly into the air, defiling you and marking you as his. His seed feels heavy over your face and with your tongue, you catch a bit of it, moaning as you swallow. 

Ezra hunches over you and you feel his tongue on your cheek, taking himself into his mouth, he presses his tongue into your mouth, forcing more of himself inside of you. 

When he parts away, you’re dazed, all pretense of the life outside of this church gone. 

“My sweet bird, so dirty now,” he purrs, this time he collects more of himself over his fingers and stuffs it into your mouth. Your eyes rolling you swallow over and over. “What do you say?” he asks melodically. 

“Thank you, Father.” 

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x fem!reader #priest!ezra #tw dark content #tw dubcon #pedro pascal characters #hauntedhoedown #pedro pascal character fanfic #prospect fanfic

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Trigger Points

Pairing: Erotic Massage Therapist Ezra x f!reader (not romantic)

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Medical kink, massage kink (is that a thing?), erotic massage, mentions of sexual dysfunction and difficulty orgasming, consent forms, the clinical is erotic now, power imbalance due to the masseur/patient dynamic, mentions of uhhh *checks notes* anal massage, lots of vaginal fingering I mean massaging, pelvic floor massaging but make it erotic, dubcon only in the sense that Ezra says orgasm is not the goal and then definitely deliberately gives her one anyway, g-spot orgasms, squirting, Penny gets on her soapbox at the end

Summary: Ezra is a massage therapist. What kind, you ask? Internal massage. That’s it that’s the fic.

A/N: I wrote this in twenty-four hours in a horny unhinged writing frenzy. Am I embarrassed that this came from my brain? Yes. Am I posting it anyway? Also yes. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for the beta (and all of the screaming) and to @leslie-lyman for egging on the medical kink that I definitely don't have.

Masterlist

You aren’t sure what you’re doing here.

This isn’t like you.

As you stare at the nondescript building–no sign, no name on the door–you think back to the seemingly random circumstances that brought you here.

The party you hadn’t wanted to go to. 

The friend–acquaintance–who insisted.

The man with a distinctive blonde streak that kept lingering by the snack table and popping cocktail shrimp into his mouth with an enthusiasm that had made you look twice in wary amusement.

Like so many men, he’d taken your glance in his direction as an invitation to come over and start a conversation, but the resulting discussion was decidedly unlike any other man–or human–you’d come across.

Loquacious to the point of being humorous, the man–Ezra, he told you–was disarming and insightful. You opened up to him immediately; he seemed to have this uncanny ability to pull your life’s story from your lips, much to your surprise and chagrin. Did you really tell a strange man at a party that you’ve been from doctor to doctor, complaining of sexual pain and dysfunction, only to be given dismissive, unhelpful advice? Have a glass of wine, one said. Use different soap, said another. Make sure your laundry detergent is fragrance-free. 

“I think I’m just built wrong,” you said bitterly, taking a sip from your wine glass. “Anyway, it’s fine. You didn’t sign up to listen to a stranger’s problems at some house party.”

“On the contrary,” Ezra replied mysteriously, raising one eyebrow as he regarded you with amusement. “I think our fortuitous meeting must have been arranged by the universe itself.”

Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he had handed you a business card that had only his first name–Ezra, no last name, and a phone number.

“I just happen to be a certified massage therapist, trained to assist with the very complaints of which you speak.”

“What kind of massage?” you’d asked, scrunching up your face in skepticism.

“Internal massage.”

You may have told him to fuck off then and there. You may have made your excuses and left the party in your embarrassment over having spilled your heart to a stranger with a questionable line of work, to say the very least. 

…You may have called two weeks later to inquire about an appointment.

The woman who answered the phone in that same kind of warm, soothing tone that seems to be common in so many legitimate massage practices made you feel slightly less insane about calling. The lengthy consent form she emailed after hanging up, however, sent you spiraling again.

Extensive questions about sexual history, your beliefs about sex, your relationship to sex, your experience with pain, dysfunction, your sexuality, etc. Check boxes indicating your level of experience and comfort with a number of sexual acts and situations. And at the end, three check boxes asking whether you would like to be massaged vaginally, anally, or both. 

A bell tinkles pleasantly when you open the door, and the scent of lavender fills your nose. Soft, soothing music plays from a hidden speaker somewhere, and one of those self-contained rock garden water fountains bubbles away in the corner of the brightly lit waiting room.

A woman behind the desk greets you–it must be the same one you’d spoken to on the phone–and checks you in. She walks you through what to expect during the appointment–first, you’ll meet with Ezra to discuss the consent form, then you’ll be asked to disrobe and lay on the massage table under a sheet. The type of care you’re given, she tells you, depends on what you put down on the consent form, which of course she hasn’t read, so she can’t tell you any specifics. 

“But he specializes in women with sexual dysfunction?” you ask skeptically. It had said as much on the forms. 

“Oh, yes,” the woman nods enthusiastically. “I know it’s an unusual service he provides, but Ezra is a professional, conscientious, and passionate about the work he does.”

You nod slowly, and she flashes you a warm, comforting smile before instructing you to sit anywhere.

You do, trying not to look too nervous as you wait.

Thankfully, you aren’t there for too long before a door opens, and Ezra softly calls your name.

Your nerves cause you to babble as you follow the man to the quiet, dimly-lit massage room. “Sorry I told you to fuck off,” you say. “That was pretty rude, and I’m sure it’s weird that I’m here now even though I clearly thought you were a pervert at the party, and–” you trail off, standing awkwardly beside the massage table as Ezra sits on a rolling stool.

“Now, now. Water under the bridge, I assure you, sprite. My profession is often met with skepticism at best and outright hostility at worst, but I let the testimonials speak for themselves. I assume you’ve read them?”

You nod, thinking back to the paragraphs of women saying they’d never known their bodies were capable of such pleasure before experiencing what they had called erotic massage.

“And I have read your consent form very carefully; I like to commit these things to heart, you see. Helps me do my job to the very best of my ability. Now, I did have a question about your very last answer: you made a checkmark indicating you were interested in vaginal massage only, but drew in a little question-mark next to anal massage.”

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, too quickly, jumbling the words together. “Depends on how… how…”

“How everything goes. Of course.” Ezra nods, making a quick note on your form. “I’ll consider you to be a vaginal-only patient for now, to be revisited at a later date if so desired.”

“Kay,” you squeak.

“Allright, let me give you a rundown of how this works. I’m not a sex worker; my job isn’t to make you orgasm. Like any massage therapist, my job is to find muscles that need to be worked out, and work them out. I just happen to specialize in muscles that other areas of practice typically ignore. This will involve both internal and external work–you might find that I might press on your lower abdomen, for example, with the other hand inside you. I always start slow with new patients; I’ll begin externally, massaging the entire pubic area and finding spots that might require extra attention. When you’re ready, we’ll move to an internal massage starting with one finger and seeing how many is most comfortable for you right now. Eventually, as we progress through your appointments, the goal is for the internal massage to involve two hands.

“Now, all that being said, the goal of these sessions might not be orgasm, but I want to let you know that it is normal and okay if that happens during your massage,” Ezra continues. “This is a safe space, and your comfort and pleasure is encouraged through this process. All of that seem hunky-dory?”

“Mmhmm,” you nod rapidly.

“Perfect. If you’re ready to get started, I’ll leave the room so you can get undressed. You can undress only from the waist down if you’re comfortable, or you can disrobe completely; the rest of you will be covered by the sheet, so it’s all down to what you prefer.”

Ezra leaves, the door clicking shut behind him, and you take a few moments to steady yourself before taking off only your pants and underwear. Grimacing at the awkwardness, you tuck the underwear into your jeans and place your shoes on top of both on the spare chair in the corner of the room. Then, you lie down under the sheet and wait.

Ezra taps lightly to herald his return before opening the door. “Good,” he says, seeing you laying stiffly on the massage table. “I’m going to check in many times during this first appointment especially,” he explains. “So much so that you may tire of it. You may simply say ‘good,’ when I ask how you are feeling, and I will continue. If you do not feel good at any point, I must ask that you say so. Sound okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, this massage table is custom made for my area of practice specifically,” Ezra explains, reaching under the table and unfolding a pair of stirrups–the kind you’ve seen many times at the gynecologist–and you grimace.

“Ah, I know, most people on this table do not have the most positive memories associated with these,” Ezra tuts, “and if you aren’t sure about using these, we can simply rest your legs on either side of the table.”

“I think I’m okay,” you tell him, cautiously reaching your feet out until your legs are uncomfortably splayed open. 

“You tell me if that changes.” Ezra sits down on the stool and rolls it over to sit at the front of the table. “I’m going to do the external massage with the sheet down,” he says. “No need for a cold breeze if it isn’t necessary, after all. As discussed before, I’m going to feel around the entire pubic area, finding anything that needs extra attention. If you’ve gotten a regular massage, you might notice that this one is much gentler; there won’t be any harsh poking or prodding, just light pressure and rubbing. If that’s all good, sprite, say the word and I’ll begin.”

“I’m good.”

“Very good. First, we’re going to warm up a little by touching your inner thighs. All muscles in this area are interconnected, so this will help soften things up as well.” 

You keep your eyes closed and let out a slow breath through pursed lips as you feel Ezra’s large, warm hands slowly working out the tension in your thighs. The unfamiliar feeling of someone’s hands in such an intimate area is an odd one, at first, but you can’t help but slowly begin to relax as he works out the delicate muscles of the upper-most part of your legs.

“Checking in again, sprite, how are we feeling?”

“Good,” you answer, with a little more confidence this time. “It’s good.”

“Excellent,” Ezra praises. “If we’re feeling nice and comfortable about it, I’m going to start to move upward and inward. You’ll feel me touch your outer labia, your perineum, and your pubic bone as we move forward. How do we feel about that?”

“Nervous,” you admit, giggling awkwardly. “But good.”

“Of course, sprite, it’s normal to be nervous about an unfamiliar sensation. Always remember that you are able to say ‘stop’ at any time.”

At your nod, Ezra’s hands shift, his thumbs beginning to rub up and down the outside of your labia. He rubs little circles around the entire area, including–something that makes your entire body flush with heat immediately–the skin just above your little puckered hole. 

“I know, I know,” Ezra soothes. “Just trying to get a complete picture here. We aren’t doing any internal massage in this area, but you may feel my fingers on the skin around it occasionally.”

“Okay,” you agree, nodding again.

“You’re doing so well, sprite. I’m going to stay external, but we’re going to start to examine a little deeper, does that sound okay? I’ll be rubbing your inner labia this time, spreading them apart to examine your vulva, urethra, and clitoris with my fingers. This is where it might start to feel pleasurable, or it could feel odd and uncomfortable as you become accustomed to this type of massage.”

“Yep,” you say, voice tight with anxiety again.

“I need a little bit more than that, sprite,” Ezra chastises. “Are you good to continue?”

“Yes. Good.”

“I can tell you’re nervous; why don’t you take a deep breath in for me for the count of five…” he counts slowly as you obey, “...and as you let it out slowly, you’re going to feel my hands move inward.”

The feel of Ezra running his slicked fingers up and down your inner labia doesn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as you’d feared. You’ve never been touched like this, or even touched yourself like this. It’s an exploration of sorts, collecting some data that means something only to him, perhaps. After a short time, he pulls you apart with his thumb and forefinger, spreading you open. 

“I’m going to rub back and forth just on the surface level,” Ezra says, “You might feel my thumb press down on a few places to locate any areas to focus on later.”

You take more slow, even breaths as you feel his warm thumb move from your perineum to your clit, then back down again. In a few places, he presses down, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb as he locates some unknown source of tension.

“How well you're doing,” Ezra praises warmly. “I've definitely found some areas of tension that we can work on during your sessions. This isn't the end of the external massage, per se, as I'll still want to work on some of those spots, but this is where I start to add an internal component, if you're up to it. What are we thinking?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “I'm okay with that.”

“Good. As I explained before, I'm going to start very slow. I work with clients with a wide range of comfort levels and ability, and I'm not going to push anyone too far before they're ready. Not to be glib or reductive, but this is not dissimilar to a basic shoulder massage. I'll be working all along the muscles of your vaginal wall. We'll start with just one finger, and if that's comfortable for you, we'll see how it goes with two. I'm going to slowly slide one finger in, let you adjust to how that feels, and then I'll begin the massage on your right side, moving to the back, the left, and then the front, around in a little circle like so. At the same time I'll be gently pressing with my other hand so that I can get a feel for the muscles that are stiff, sore, or carry any tension. If at any point any sensation is unpleasant, please bring it to my attention immediately. In that event, I will stop and reassess. If that discomfort is the result of muscle or pelvic floor tension, we will slowly, slowly work through it without causing you any pain. Is all of this acceptable?”

“Yes.”

“And am I okay to begin your internal massage?”

“Yes.”

“Very good. Just as before, I'm going to spread open your labia nice and wide, only this time you are going to feel my finger slowly enter you. Once inside, we'll take a few deep breaths together, I'll ask if you are comfortable, and I'll begin the massage.”

As Ezra speaks, he does each action in turn. You feel your labia being parted, and then one slick, warm finger slips inside. It hits a bit of resistance when he passes your pelvic floor, but doesn't cause any pain. At his instruction, he guides you through three deep breaths as you become accustomed to the sensation.

“I'm going to begin moving now,” he announces. “Beginning on your left side.”

It's an odd feeling to adjust to, the way Ezra’s finger moves inside you. With his other hand pressing sometimes on your hip, sometimes at your side, you can feel him pressing against your wall in–true to his word–the same way one might massage a shoulder. This is just… very different. Or perhaps it's the same, and your brain only perceives it as such. 

Despite the awkwardness of having someone rubbing such an intimate, deep, vulnerable part of your body, you can admit that something does feel good about this. Ezra is right, of course; there are muscles internally as well as externally, and you've never had yours attended to in such a way before. 

Ezra’s finger rubs this way and that, covering all possible knots and tense spots on that particular side. 

“Checking in, sprite,” he intones gently. “How does it feel?”

“Weird… but kinda good. I think I understand why you say it's just like a shoulder massage–I never really thought about having muscles there, but… I can feel them relaxing the same way they would as… as if it were my shoulder.”

“No physical difference between the two,” Ezra says, voicing your earlier thought. “Only up here do we make a distinction.” He taps the side of his head and gives you a sideways grin. “If we’re feeling pretty good with one, would you like to try adding one more? It all depends on your level of comfort, but it is easier to get at the muscles with two, rather than one. Would you like to try?”

The gentle loosening of the muscles you hadn't even known were tense is surprisingly soothing, so of course, you agree.

“You're doing so well at checking in with me,” Ezra says. “Take a nice deep breath for me, and we’ll switch to two fingers. Ready?”

You make a little noise of assent, and as you exhale, you feel the pressure inside you increase as Ezra slips another finger inside you. 

“Doing good, sprite. I’m going to move to the muscles at the back of your vaginal walls now, which means my other hand is going to be pressing up on your lower back and buttocks. Is this fine?”

“That’s fine, yeah,” you nod, and at your consent, Ezra goes back to his steady, methodical working of your pelvic floor. 

At this new angle, the sensations inside you are new and different from before. When he was massaging your left side, all you could really feel was the gentle push and pull as your muscles were soothed and relaxed. You can still feel the muscle tension easing away… but it’s very quickly being replaced by a different kind.

You try to focus on taking deep breaths in and out of your nose as Ezra seems to draw heat into your core with every stroke. You stop focusing on the relaxation entirely, instead concentrating every effort to not make any awkward noises that indicate how much your body is responding to his touch.

You really should have known better.

“Many people find that different areas of the vaginal wall can cause different kinds of sensations,” Ezra says quietly as he gently rubs small circles from within you while pressing just above your puckered hole. “The front vaginal wall, of course, has the tendency to produce the strongest impression because of what most people call the g-spot, but the rear wall is also very responsive. I want to remind you of what we discussed earlier; that you are welcome and encouraged to lean into those feelings. It is common for patients to come to orgasm multiple times during a session, and can be helpful for further muscle relaxation. All this to say, sprite, you don’t have to work to suppress the fact that this feels pleasurable. Of course it does. It’s far more advantageous for you to allow it to happen rather than spend the session working to rein it in. Understand?”

“Y-Yeah,” you nod, trying to sink back down onto the massage table again and stop fighting against your body’s automatic responses.

Even so, you don’t really believe you could orgasm from just this. Hell, you can barely orgasm during sex even when you use a vibrator. Your body’s need for intense, prolonged clitoral stimulation is simply a fact. A law, as immutable as gravity, and no amount of “internal massage” would ever have the same effect. 

“If you ever do wish to revisit that last little question on the consent form, one type of treatment that can be incredibly effective is to massage the area in between, if you take my meaning,” Ezra comments lightly, as though discussing the weather. “It’s perfectly workable through what I’m doing now, of course, but even though I’m capturing the same general area, in my years of practice I’ve actually found that anal massage is an important component in achieving a comprehensive relaxation of all pelvic muscles.”

“Okay,” you say dumbly. His words–all the more impactful because of the detached clinical tone–combined with the constant pressure of his fingers, are creating a maelstrom of pleasure in your brain. You still aren’t sure if you’re “allowed” to find this entire situation to be incredibly erotic, but you worry you’ll soon have no choice, especially if your mind keeps conjuring up how it might feel to have both of Ezra’s hands rubbing something deep within you. How full you might feel.

“Nothing that needs to be discussed now or even in the near future, sprite,” he adds. “But just something to keep in the back of your mind as we progress through treatment.”

“Mm,” you agree. It’s–oh God, are you going to come? The pressure is building, building inside you, and even though there’s nothing touching your clit, it feels as though you might be reaching that point of no return. You make a soft, whining, desperate little sound as Ezra massages your vaginal wall with methodical precision.

“I know, I know,” he soothes in that syrupy voice of his. “Take a few deep breaths for me–I promise, it’s okay to let it go. Allow your body to do what it’s meant to do.” At this, he presses down even harder, and you gasp as you suddenly begin to clench around his fingers. Your chest heaves as you ride the waves of pleasure until they subside to a gentle ebb. Ezra remains still throughout it all, waiting patiently until you stop twitching with aftershocks.

“See? So much better when you listen to your body,” he praises. “Can you feel that? It causes your muscles to relax even further, so much more effectively than even I can manage. Feel the difference right here–” he rubs a wide circle up and down your wall, “–there’s so much less tension now, isn’t there?”

“Yeah,” you agree, still catching your breath.

“Let’s do a quick check-in before I move on,” Ezra suggests, “and while we do, I’d like to make a quick recommendation, if you are amenable.”

“That’s fine,” you answer. 

“Give us a quick run-down of how you’re feeling,” he says. “Any pain? Discomfort?” When you shake your head, he continues. “How about mentally? Orgasm can make us feel vulnerable, and that’s perfectly okay, of course, but not if it leads to feeling uncomfortable or unsafe.”

“It still feels a little… strange, but I’m okay.”

“Ah, of course. Now, as far as my recommendation… Now that you’re far more relaxed, I think it might be helpful to switch to three fingers. How do you feel about that?”

You swallow. “It might feel like a lot,” you admit quietly.

“Indeed,” Ezra agrees. “As a general rule, the more fingers I am able to use, the more effective the massage. The ideal internal massage would be either with all four fingers on one hand, or a combination of three and two. If you’re feeling at all apprehensive about discomfort, however, I think it would be better to wait and see, yes?”

“Yes,” you nod gratefully. 

“Moving on to your right side, sprite,” he says cheerfully. “Halfway there, and doing great.”

You can see what Ezra had been saying–you can feel that your walls are more pliant and moldable after your orgasm. However, it’s also made your nerves more sensitive to his touch, and the intense feeling of pleasure continues to flicker inside you with every gentle probe of his fingers. 

You begin to float, losing track of time and simply focusing on the sensations within you. Ezra quiets down when he senses your more meditative state, and continues to massage with minimal commentary. When his thick fingers begin to move, pressing upward toward your abdomen, however, your breath catches and your hips lift of their own accord.

“My apologies, sprite. I should have warned you I was moving to the front wall before I did so, but you were in such a state of utter relaxation that I was loathe to speak up.”

“S’fine.”

“You may find this area to be the most intense in terms of sensation,” Ezra comments. “There’s a reason I usually save it for last.”

You make a slightly garbled, strained noise of assent as his other hand rubs gentle circles on your mons pubis while the other continues its deliberate path up and down your walls, soothing out all of the tension and finding some incredibly sensitive spots as it does.

Ezra pauses over one such area, and, in such exquisite torture that makes you actually cry out into the room, curls both fingers up to apply even more pressure.

“Ah, that,” he chuckles to himself. “That thing–the little area they call the ‘g-spot’–it’s not some mysterious, unique phenomenon, nor is it mythological. What they didn’t know at the time–and far too many people still are not aware–is that the clitoris is much larger than just the little bit that we see on the outside.” His fingers rub little circles, back and forth, up and down, massaging so meticulously that it feels almost ruthless. “Sooo many nerves in one relatively small place,” he murmurs. “Stimulating the clitoris is normally the most reliable way to acheive orgasm, and yet so little of it is accessible. But here–” he presses up again, and you gasp, “–here we are able to access the other end of the organ.”

You can hardly concentrate on the original goal of muscle relaxation with so much pressure on your g-spot (or, apparently, the back of your clitoris) but you can still feel Ezra dutifully and clinically working out the tension in your pelvic floor. 

“Doing so well, sprite, so well. One nice, big, relaxing orgasm for me and then we’ll gently explore how the tension lessens afterward.”

Despite his insistence before your appointment that orgasm was not the goal of these sessions, you can’t help but notice Ezra appears to be guiding you towards one with masterful precision. With one hand applying light pressure on your abdomen and the other pressing upward to meet it, it feels as though he’s got the most sensitive organ of your body trapped between his fingers. He plays it like an instrument, each finger working independently to stroke different parts of the soft, spongy membrane. 

Finally, finally, the pressure becomes so much that you simply seem to implode; all at once, you clamp down on Ezra’s fingers like a vice as your lower back lifts from the table. A feeling of pure, hot, wet relief surges through you, and the release feels endless, as though your body simply cannot stop pulsing and contracting. Dimly, you realize that it must be the ruthless stimulation from Ezra’s hands keeping you suspended in what feels like a never-ending orgasm. His fingers press upwards, rubbing quickly and insistently back and forth against the sensitive organ, and the movement draws more and more rhythmic clenches that seem to ripple across the entire area. 

And–Oh, God–with each intense throb, little streams of fluid splash out over Ezra’s hand, and you realize with absolute mortification that the sheet, massage table, and Ezra’s white coat are already soaked with your release.

“Oh shit, I’m sorr–” you try to apologize as soon as you have the presence of mind.

“Now, now, not to worry, little sprite. Any manifestation of pleasure is welcomed and encouraged here, and I’ve been at this long enough to know that stimulating the back of the clitoris oftentimes results in strong and voluminous ejaculations…” You twitch with one last, pathetic aftershock, and Ezra soothingly rubs his fingers up and down your wall in the same way one might rub someone’s back after a long day. “But feel the difference, little sprite. Feel how supple and pliant your muscles are compared to before. This is the state we strive for, little sprite. Complete and utter relaxation. When you find yourself starting to tense up again–such is the consequence of the stressful lives we lead–I want you to call up this moment, and the way your pelvic muscles so easily move for my hand, and try to get back to this state. With enough practice on your own in between sessions, this will become easily achieved.

“I’m going to do a couple of nice, wide circles with my hand to stretch out those muscles one last time, and as I do, I’d like you to take some nice, deep, easy breaths with me. Once we get  to five nice big breaths, I’ll slowly remove my hand. Does this sound good?”

“Yuh-huh,” you nod.

“Nice big inhale,” Ezra reminds you, and you dutifully suck in a deep, cleansing breath of air as you feel his hand circle around your vaginal walls, pressing deep into the muscle as he does. You repeat the action four more times, and on your very last exhale, the light feeling of pressure within you finally abates as his fingers slip out of you. 

“How do you feel?”

“Pretty relaxed,” you say with a relieved laugh.

“Mentally?” he prods.

“I dunno, fine,” you shrug.

“Any feelings of vulnerability are normal,” he says as he stands from his stool and helps you guide your legs out of the stirrups and back onto the table under the sheet. “You may find that these feelings may be delayed by a few days, even, so be gentle with yourself for the next week or so. Light muscle soreness is also normal, in the same way it can occur after a normal massage. If at any time this light soreness transforms into pain, please do not hesitate to contact me.”

Ezra picks up your consent form again and scans it briefly before setting it back down and giving you a serious, thoughtful look. “You told me three weeks ago that you were ‘built wrong,’ and you mention several times in your form that you have difficulty bringing yourself to orgasm. Little sprite, I have lost count of the number of clients who have the same complaints and who have similarly insisted their bodies were simply different from ‘normal’ people’s. Now, mind you, the sample size may be biased, but from this data I can only conclude that no human being is ‘built wrong.’ The problem lies in our minds, and more specifically, in the social conditioning we’ve all received since birth–conditioning that in no way favors the female experience of pleasure. Society has failed you, has labeled your pleasure as secondary, illusive, impossible, or even imaginary. Your sessions with me will help to reverse the physical symptoms from a lifetime of unhelpful social conditioning, and now that you know your body is not only capable of experiencing pleasure, but of doing so in ways you weren’t even aware, your mind will follow.”

“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck by how different you feel. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“I’ll leave you to get dressed, little sprite,” Ezra says, briefly patting your hand in a comforting manner. “When you’re ready, go ahead and open the door and I’ll walk you to the lobby to schedule your next appointment.”

#ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #pedro pascal #prospect fanfiction

[pedroshotwifey]

One Condition

This is actually a requested fic from the lovely @survivingandenduring! You can view the request here if you'd like!

Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem!reader x Ezra (Prospect)

Word count: 4.9k

Tags/warnings: unprotected piv sex, sex pollen trope, dubcon, unprotected anal sex, double penetration, oral sex, cum eating, so much cum like its kinda scary, Ezra being a nasty little freak, anal fingering, pain kink, big fat juicy plot twist, this is absolutely nasty shit, stuff I'm probably forgetting, I'm actually not sorry at all for this

Summary: You and your partner, Marcus Pike, get stranded on an inhabited planet and run into problem after problem. You find yourselves in a compromising position that requires help from a strange man, who comes to you with one condition.

A/N: Uhhh. don't look at me 🫣

*****

“Um, Marcus?” 

You look at your partner, who has the same worried expression on his face as you. 

“Yup.” 

It’s not a question. You’re both thinking the same thing; you’re in the wrong place. 

It looks similar to the planet you were supposed to be landing on, but most of the scenery here is a lush green instead of the blue hues you’d been expecting. It’d looked the exact same from above the atmosphere, but there is a clear difference now that you’re on the surface. 

Marcus mutters a curse under his breath but begins the landing sequence anyway. That’s probably for the best; that way the two of you can figure out where you really were, and then where you actually need to be going. 

Dust comes up around your shuttle as you touch ground, the greenery around you rustling a bit as the jets power down. You get up from your seat when you feel the craft settle enough for the floor to be stable. 

Marcus follows, shutting everything down and then unbuckling himself from the pilot’s chair. You’re already on the other side of the small contraption, looking through the maps you have stored in the tiny compartment of the far wall. He comes up next to you and pulls up the planet encyclopedias, trying to find a description that matches the world you’ve landed in. 

You spend the next few minutes flipping through various books and maps until Marcus comes across a planet that matches. He hands the book over and points at the section. 

“Here,” he points. “It looks like we're on a sister planet to the one we’re supposed to be on.” 

You hum in agreement, reading the small passage provided next to the picture.

“Alright, well, let’s get her powered back up.” 

Your partner sighs, running a hand over his face. You furrow your brows. His face has paled a bit and he seems a bit reluctant to follow your request. 

“Is there a problem?” 

“Yeah, actually. We’re out of fuel,” he admits, trying and failing miserably to maintain eye contact. 

You gape at him. 

“Marcus! You were supposed to fill her up before we fucking left! It says here that there’s no civilization!” 

He nods along as you scold him, knowing it’s well deserved. 

“Yeah, I know. I forgot until we were halfway here, but I knew it would take just enough to get us on planet, and we could get more from there. It’s not like I knew that we would be landing on the wrong planet” He spews it out, not defensive exactly, but regretful. 

You groan and walk back to the front of the ship, checking the fuel gauge. 

“We’re running on fumes right now, I don’t know if it’s going to be enough to get us to the neighboring planet.” 

You look at him, trying to keep your anger from showing up because you know that it was genuinely an accident, and Marcus isn’t usually one to mess up like this. But of course when he does, you get stranded on an unknown planet.  

Rubbing your eyes, you walk in a circle around the floor, trying to think of a plan. You can feel Marcus’s guilty eyes following you until you come to a stop. 

“Okay,” you start. “The book said that this planet is typically only used for mining aurelac, right?” 

Marcus nods slowly, obviously confused as to where you’re going with this. 

“Well then there should be at least a few miners on planet in that case, right?” 

He nods again, furrowing his brows in thought. 

“So we should go out and try to find someone to borrow some fuel from?” he asks. 

“Yes. Either that or see if there’s someone who can hitch us a ride.” 

He sighs and puts his hands on his hips, his gaze downcast to the floor as he thinks through the options.

“Yeah, seems like our best bet,” he agrees after a minute. 

Within a few minutes, you both pack small bags and suit up to withstand the harsh environment of the planet. According to the book, the air is extremely thin and can sometimes hold toxic chemicals depending on other factors. You follow Marcus out of the craft and watch as he makes sure everything’s sealed correctly, before you both start walking into the woods. 

“Do you know where you’re going?” you ask after you’ve been walking for a while.” 

Marcus looks at you, his expression still holding hints of guilt. 

“Not exactly. I think most of the mines are located in the forest though, so we’ll just have to keep walking and hope we come across—” 

“Shit, Marcus!” 

You yell for him as he stumbles across a root and tumbles down into a pit. It’s not super deep, but just enough so that he could have seriously hurt himself with that fall. You carefully slide down the side of it to join him. 

“Are you okay?”

He looks up at you from where he’s planted on his back and groans a bit. He opens his mouth to reply and that’s when you see that his mask is on the ground next to him, crushed into several pieces. 

“Shit,” he croaks, already feeling the effects of the thin air. 

You crouch down beside him, feeling him up for any injuries. 

“Does anything hurt?” 

“Just my head. It’s fucking pounding.” 

You sigh. “Probably from lack of airflow.” 

“C’mon,” you grunt, threading your arms under his. “Let’s get you back and hope that you don’t die.” 

He glares at you but allows you to help him into a sitting position.

“Well, isn’t this unfortunate? Two little birds trapped in a cage.” 

You both jolt at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. You peer up to the top of the pit and find a man standing near the ledge, a blaster aimed directly at your head. He wears a shabby, brown suit with a bulbous helmet that would be almost funny looking if not for the imminent threat he poses. You slowly raise your hands and start to stand back up, a rush of fear creeping up your spine. 

“We’re not armed,” you start. “My friend’s mask just broke; we need help.” You try not to sound too panicked as you explain your situation to the stranger, praying to whoever may be listening that he’s not planning to shoot both of you.

“Don’t worry gem, I don’t want to kill you. I simply would like to assure myself that neither of you had plans of my own execution.” 

You furrow your brows at his choice of wording, his strange drawl only adding to your confusion. 

“I, uh. No.” What else can you really say to that?

You glance down at Marcus and see the same befuddled expression on his face. 

“I will warn you that your…friend”—he cocks a brow at you as he says it—”has chosen a rather unfortunate time to lose his filtration system. Assuming, of course,  you haven’t already discovered the effects of the tainted oxygen.” 

You shake your head as your mouth goes dry. 

“Is—is he going to be okay?” 

The stranger pauses for a moment as if in thought. He cocks his head and then looks back at you. 

“He should be as long as he receives the assistance he should require.” 

“What do you mean by that?” This comes from Marcus. 

The stranger frowns and lowers his gun, which he seems to have just remembered he was still holding up. 

“Are you not familiar with this planet’s cycles?” 

You both shake your heads.

The man sighs and kneels on the ledge extending a hand. You stare at it, neither of you making a move toward him. 

“Do you want to stay in this pit? I think it would be rather unsanitary to do so under your current circumstance.” 

You flash another glance at Marcus, who nods slightly toward you, encouraging you to take the other man’s hand. You step forward and place your palm in his, allowing him to pull you up, and then you kneel to help him hoist Marcus up as well. 

“I’m Ezra,” the man says once the three of you are standing. You introduce the two of you as well, figuring at this point that the stranger has to be at least mostly harmless. 

“Alright, well tell me, little bird; are you and Marcus of the romantic type?” 

You just stare at him, unsure of how to answer that, nor of why he would feel the need to ask in the first place. You can feel Marcus’s eyes on you as your cheeks begin to burn. 

“I–uh…” 

You let your eyes meet your partner’s, a silent conversation transpiring. You’ve engaged in some less than appropriate activities throughout your travels, but it’s always been strictly for stress release or simply a product of boredom. The last few months, it’s been more of an unspoken thing. 

The two of you care for each other and behave as most couples would, but you’ve never actually given each other the labels. You definitely never thought that the deciding conversation would be in the presence of a strange man who seems to be about to deliver some bad news. You’re about to answer when Marcus gives you a short nod, lifting the burden off of your shoulders. 

“Yeah, we are.” 

The man nods, though he’s clearly amused. You’re sure he can see what just happened and must have used context clues to figure the rest out out. 

“That’s fortunate for you. What’s circulating in the air currently is what could be described as an aphrodisiac. I’m sure you’re familiar with such?” 

You and Marcus exchange yet another glance. 

“Yes, we’ve heard of them,” you say. 

“Do you have a craft nearby?” Ezra asks, peering behind you as if he could spot one he missed before. 

You hesitate before answering. Even if he’s seemed to be helpful so far, can you really be sure it isn’t a trap? 

“We have a shuttle,” you decide on just to be on the safe side. “We’re out of fuel though. That’s why we're out here in the first place,” you add just in case the man has some extra laying around for some miraculous reason.

Just then, you near a heavy thud and a groan. You spin on your heel to find Marcus keeled over, his hands over his groin and his exposed skin covered in a layer of sweat more intense than what’s normal for this climate. You’re on your knees beside him within a second, your hands running over him until he flinches away as if you’d burned him. 

“Marcus! What’s happening?” You aim your question at Ezra, who’s still standing above the two of you with an almost pitying expression. 

“The effects are getting to him, little dove. I’m afraid you’re going to need to help him in a timely manner.” 

You think for a moment, knowing getting your partner all the way back to your shuttle is going to be a difficult task in the state that he’s in. 

“I have a camp not too far from our current location, I’m willing to offer up the space on one condition. And before you protest, we both know it’s not safe to engage in life saving activities out here in the open.” 

You stiffen at this. Of course there’s a catch; it’s not common to receive help from a random stranger without them expecting anything in return. You glance down to make sure his gun is still in its holster before narrowing your eyes at his face, not liking the way his smile has turned a bit wolfish. 

“What do you want? We don’t have any coin.” 

“Oh, no, gem. I don’t want your profits. I simply desire to join you and your handsome partner. It’s been a long time since I had something other than my own fist to keep me company.” 

“What?” you bark, slightly humiliated that he would suggest something like that, regardless of how handsome he may be. “No, I’m sleeping with a stranger in exchange for shelter!” 

“Now don’t get feisty, dove. I didn’t say it had to be you,” he says, watching Marcus with a newfound hunger. “Though it would probably be fortunate for your friend here that it was, assuming he is of the hetero kind.” 

“Don’t,” Marcus croaks, looking up at you the best he’s able to. 

You’re torn, knowing that Marcus needs help quick, but not wanting to give either of you up to this man. When it comes down to it though, you’re always going to choose what’s best for your partner. You look up at the man with disdain, knowing that you’re not going to have much of a choice here. 

“Fine. But not him.” 

Ezra’s smile broadens. 

“Very well, gem. Right this way.” 

He turns around and waits for you to get a near-delirious Marcus about halfway up so he’s propped by one of your shoulders. Noticing your struggle, Ezra comes to his other side and mirrors your position, one hand supporting around his waist. 

As you walk, Marcus’s temperature keeps rising and his groans get worse. Fortunately, the man wasn’t lying when he said he had a camp nearby; you only have to walk for about a minute before coming across it. 

He opens up the flap as you get closer, taking the zipper all the way down and helping you ease Marcus in. As you lay him down, you can see the bulge in his flight suit; almost twice what is normal. You hear Ezra zip the opening back up and then step in behind you. 

“F-fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t–” 

Marcus cuts himself off as he shakily pulls down the zipper on his suit, revealing his undershirt and boxers. His hand goes down the latter not a second later, a pornographic moan coming from him as his hand makes contact with his engorged cock. He starts stroking himself under the fabric, panting heavily, and it makes your mouth go dry despite the circumstances. 

“Shit, I-it’s not enough,” he grits out, pumping furiously. There are tears in his eyes as he looks at you, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“Better help him quick, little bird,” Ezra quips from behind you, already removing his attire as well. You comply, though for which man you’re not sure. 

You strip quickly, the three of you tearing your own clothes off at the same time, each of you stark naked at the end. You feel so exposed between the two of them, especially with Ezra, who doesn’t help at all by giving a lewd whistle at the sight of your bare body. 

You give him a look so nasty that you’re surprised he doesn’t drop dead. He raises his hands in defense. 

“Woah, little bird, I meant it only as a praise.” 

You ignore him and turn to Marcus, who’s just now shoving his boxers off. You gasp when his dick springs up, heavy, red, throbbing, and leaking an obscene amount of precum. It’s swollen to a point that looks almost painful. 

You swallow your nerves and try your best to ignore Ezra as you instruct Marcus to lay down on the cot. He tugs you with him, feral to get to you at this point. You fall over him and he immediately starts sucking and licking all the skin he can get to, his hips thrusting up into nothing. 

You see Ezra move out of the corner of your eye, taking a seat in the single chair inside the small tent. You lift your head as much as you can to make sure he’s not going to try anything. 

“Carry on, gem. I’m a patient man; I can wait my turn.” 

If you’re being honest, he looks a little too smug.

Suddenly Marcus is flipping you over, shoving you down to the bed on your back, whispering something you can’t quite catch. He doesn’t wait another second before you feel his cock at your underprepared cunt, and your eyes barely have a chance to go wide before he’s forcing himself into you, groaning wildly as he tugs you down onto him. 

It’s only then that you realize he had been whispering “sorry”. 

You scream and your hands come up to reflexively try to get him off. There are tears as he keeps shoving himself in, stretching you to your limit. Through your blurry vision, you can see tears in his as well, more of shame than of pleasure by his sympathetic expression. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“N-no,” you squeak even as your hands claw at his back from the discomfort. “It’s okay. Don’t stop. Even if I beg you to.”

You close your eyes and try not to focus on the uncomfortable feeling between your legs as Marcus begins to unrelentingly slam his hip into yours. You hear a sound coming from beside you, and turn to see Ezra pumping himself through your blurry vision. It’s a sight that really shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

You moan despite yourself as the pain coming from your sore cunt turns into pleasure. You’re getting wetter and wetter as the seconds tick by, the glide of your partner’s cock becoming easier and more toe-curling. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he starts to punch that spot deep inside you. You’re getting hot fast, sweat building up in every crease and crevice as your pussy seems to get more hungry for what Marcus is feeding it. 

Each thrust sends you up the bed, but Marcus holds onto you so that you don’t go too far. He’s grunting like a feral animal, his body maneuvering every which way until he finds the position that provides him with the most momentum.  

“Ohh that feels so fucking good, baby,” he hisses through his teeth. “Gods, you always take me so f-fucking well.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this before—with this level of vulgarity. You whimper, making eye contact with Ezra as Marcus nails something even more delicious within you. His gaze is heavy and on your face rather than on your body, which surprises you as much as it flatters you. 

“Does she suck cock just as well?” Ezra’s deepened voice comes from the chair, his eyes still on you as he asks the question. 

Marcus looks down at you, albeit with heavy lids, for your consent. You nod, already fucked out beyond thinking clearly. 

“Better,” comes Marcus’s reply, his stare just as heavy as Ezra’s. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?” 

You moan at the thought of being taken from both ends, one of the domineering men on each side. This is going much better than anticipated, both your mind and body opening to the stranger despite your earlier protest. 

Ezra doesn’t have to be asked twice, already getting up to hover his thick cock over your face, slapping it gently against your lips. The cot is the perfect height for him to stick it into your mouth, though he waits. 

“You want this, gem?” 

You almost find it funny that he’s asking, considering he didn’t give you much of a choice earlier. You nod anyway, because you honestly do, your gaze is trained on it as your mouth waters. He threads one hand through your hair, pulling you into the right position, and then uses his tip to part your lips. 

He moans as he sinks in, his eyes fluttering shut as you immediately wrap your tongue around him. You find yourself groaning at his salty taste, savoring the weight of him as you start to pull him in. Your cunt throbs as he and Marcus both moan out at the same time, Marcus doubling over while Ezra bottoms out. 

Marcus brings one hand to your clit and begins rubbing up and down at a furious pace that would have made you scream if not for the other man’s cock in the way. Tears leak from your eyes as Ezra begins to pump in and out of you, his hips thrusting as he uses the hand in your hair to hold you where he wants. 

“Oh you feel devine, little gem,” he moans, his eyes still closed and his lips parted as he picks up the pace. You can feel him hitting deep inside your throat, making you resist the urge to choke. It’s overwhelming but in the best way. 

“Oh, fuck!” Marcus nearly shouts the curse as his hips stutter. “Come with me baby, come on,” he urges, moving his hand quicker. 

Your back arches up at the feeling, though you’re still pinned by both men. Suddenly, everything flashes white, your hearing going dull as your entire body convulses with the power of your orgasm. You have just enough brain capacity to think that this has got to be the highest level of pleasure attainable. 

It goes on forever, your pussy pulsing as you sob and moan around Ezra’s cock. You faintly hear Marcus’s own moans and feel his dick twitch and throb within you, coating your walls in his creamy white spend.

You don’t even realize you had closed your eyes until you open them again upon feeling your own drool dribbling down your cheeks to mix with your tears. Ezra coos down at you, wiping away the saliva though he doesn’t dare slow his pace. 

“M-messy little bird,” he laughs.

You glance back down at Marcus the best you can just to realize that he’s still hard as a fucking rock. He’s still riding out his own high, rocking slowly to prolong it as much as possible. His eyes flick back up to yours after a moment, and then to Ezra’s who watches him intently as he continues to defile your throat. 

The gurgling sounds coming from you should be downright disgusting, but they only add to the eroticness of what the three of you are doing right now. The tent seems to have filled with the thick scent and humidity of sex, making your head even more foggy than provided by your orgasm. 

Ezra’s not far after the two of you, grunting heavily and pulling on your hair to a painful level. He pulls out and strokes himself over your face, letting his cum splatter across your features right after you close your eyes. His thumb comes to your lips, making you open your mouth as he moans aloud. 

Some of his seed falls on your tongue, and you swallow it down as Ezra finishes the last few spurts. You open your eyes when you’re sure he’s done, panting and gasping despite your sore throat. 

It’s at the same time that the two men pull away from you, and you’re extremely confused until you see that they’re maintaining eye contact, seeming to have had a silent conversation while you’d been distracted. 

Suddenly, you’re being lifted by the both of them, your body being rearranged to their preference. You’re so fucking tired, but you do your best to comply with their actions. You’re being lifted onto Ezra’s lap when you finally understand their plan. 

His cock is only half-hard after his orgasm, but he begins rutting himself against you regardless as Marcus disappears from your line of sight. You half-collapse on Ezra, moaning as your clit gets stimulated thanks to his thrusts. 

“Second drawer, pretty boy,” he pants. You hear shuffling and then Marcus returning behind you before you get the chance to ask what he was doing. There’s a pop from behind you, and then a cold substance at your ass. 

You yelp at the unexpected feeling, only to be shushed by Ezra. 

“Hush now, gem. I’ve heard you have experience in this area.” 

He smirks at you as your cheeks heat. 

You moan suddenly as Marcus slips a finger past your tight ring of muscle, pumping a good few times before adding a second. He leans close and whispers praise into your ear, telling you how good you’re being for them, how well you’re taking it all. 

He works you up to three fingers before he pulls his hand from you and helps lift you up, propping you up enough for Ezra to notch his tip at your thoroughly soaked cunt. You help the slow descent down his shaft, your lips parting and eyes pinching shut at the sensation. 

Ezra chokes on a groan, squeezing both of your ass cheeks as you bottom out. 

“Fuck, little birdy, your heavenly cunt should be reserved for those of immortal status.” 

You don’t even have the energy to cringe at his wording, instead savoring the way he fills you so nicely, not as long as Marcus, but a good bit thicker. The coarse hairs above his cock rub against your oversensitive clit nicely, making you want to rut against him. Just then, you feel Marcus settle in behind you again, dragging you partially onto his lap so you’re over his cock. 

“Ready, sweetheart?” He asks, clearly having regained some of his gentlemanly status after quelling his lust a bit. You whimper and nod at him, and he starts to push inside of you. 

“Oh, Gods,” you moan, wrapping your arms around Ezra’s back and digging your nails in for stability. He hisses and increases his grip on your ass, keeping you spread for Marcus as his hips come flush against you. 

You’re already so full it’s dizzying, so when the two men start to move, you think you may come on the spot. Ezra goes first, pulling out a bit and then sinking back in, which is when Marcus makes his move, repeating the other man’s actions. Your knees are planted on the cot, giving you the opportunity to move with them. 

The three of you are panting, moaning messes, hot breaths fanning across each other’s skin as you nuzzle together. The pace starts out slow, but quickly picks up, increasing your combined noises. Both of the men start to grab at you, moving their hands and groping anything and everything they’re able to. 

You can feel their cocks rubbing against your middle wall, creating an intoxicating feeling that you know you’ll miss when this is over. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, being so full you can feel them in your stomach. 

Small whimpers begin to spill from your mouth, but are quickly caught by Ezra, who captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his spend from earlier mixed between your tongues. It’s difficult to keep it up with how much you’re being jostled, so he gives up after a moment and instead opts to lick his cum off of your sweaty cheek. You’re pleasantly surprised when you feel Marcus’s hand come up to grasp at your chin, tilting your face so that he’s able to do the same on the opposite side. 

The two of you clean your face with their tongues as they thrust into you at a punishing pace, somehow hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. You let out a raspy groan, your hands scrambling over both of their bodies for purchase. 

A heat is beginning to build once again in your abdomen, pleasure licking up your spine. It only takes a few more alternating thrusts before you’re coming around their cocks with a scream. You tighten around both of their throbbing cocks, getting them closer to their own ends. 

Marcus comes first once again, still slightly affected by the drug from earlier. He bites onto your shoulder as he busts inside of you, slamming his hips up and locking in place, his hands coming up to squeeze your tits as his balls empty into your ass. 

Ezra follows right after, seemingly liking Marcus’s idea of a gag, and biting into your other shoulder. You scream again at the pressure of both men’s teeth, your arms raising so you can grasp both of their hair, holding them close. 

Your orgasm lingers for as long as theirs do, the three of you coming completely down at the same time. You stay in a sweaty heap for a long time, just trying to catch your breath and make sense of what’s real and what’s not. 

You all fall apart after a few minutes, exhaustion officially taking over you. You can feel both of the men’s cum leaking from your holes as they pull out and help you lay comfortable on the cot. They get situated next to you, and you’re all out like lights within the next minute. 

The next morning, Ezra’s waiting for the two of you with a portable can of fuel and an extra mask. Your departure is swift and unawkward, Ezra walking with the two of you back to your ship like you’ve known each other for years. It takes a bit longer than it should due to your body being practically fucking wrecked from last night, but both of the men help you get along. 

When you reach your craft, you all say your goodbyes, knowing this will more than likely be the last time you’ll come across this strange man. To be frank, you’re still a bit confused about what exactly transpired last night, but you choose to ignore it. Your head is pounding with what feels like the worst hangover you’ve ever had, and you’re just eager to get off of this nightmare planet. 

Ezra watches you fuel up your craft and then take off, smiling and honestly quite satisfied with himself. Neither of you even figured it out that he was the one who planted the trap and laced the dirt pit with the drug, nor that he may have let a bit more slip inside his tent.

***** I mean really, do we really expect anything less from Ezra?

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[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen**

Ezra part two

Ezra’s chapter finished second in the poll about who should return to the bakery, and it made me so happy. I'd never written Ezra before and he was a challenge! But the story came together well with the help of his language and personality. But it was also sadder than I planned it to be, and I really wanted to revisit him and continue the story. So please enjoy part two!

(I'm editing and posting this in slightly more unconventional circumstances, so please excuse any errors!)

With a sigh you lock the front door of the bakery and flip the ‘Closed’ sign to face outwards. It had been a long weekend, lots of customers, and not all of them very polite. And to make matters worse, your shop assistant, the high schooler who’d worked extra on weekends, had been accepted at the last minute into their first college of choice and this was your first weekend without them. You’re exhausted and looking forward to your day off tomorrow.

The knock on the back door makes you jump just as you turn off the lights in the shop. Cautiously you walk to the back room and stop by the door.

“Hello?”

“It-it’s me, Ezra,” comes a muffled voice in a stutter from the outside, “P-please…I..”

You don’t need to hear more, you rush to the door and unlock it, throwing it open and the man on the other side almost loses his balance, propped up against the door frame. His appearance makes you gasp, reaching out to steady him as he wobbles. The stark blonde patch in his hair is plastered against his forehead, stained with blood from the cut just above his eyebrow, another cut marks his cheekbone, a bruise already blooming around it. From the way he’s curled his arm around his torso, you can tell something’s hurting his chest.

“Ezra, what happened?” you wince, helping him to step through the door, his face twisting in pain as he puts weight on his left foot.

He only grunts in response to your question, inhaling sharply as you carefully try to take his weight.

“Lean on me, let’s get you to the chair, I’ll call an ambulance, it’ll be ok,” you say, making him lean on you as much as you can as he hobbles into the kitchen and sinks down on the chair with a groan.

“No, no ambulance, I am not that badly off,” he says, shaking his head as you pull over the stool on wheels and make him put his injured leg up onto it.

“What happened, Ezra?” you ask again, sinking down to get a better look at him. He’s pale under his golden complexion, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

“It’s nothing, no matter, I just need to-,” he says, but even as he says it, he closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose, his hand tightening over his chest.

“Ezra,” you implore again, putting your hand on his uninjured leg, “you’ve turned up, injured and bloody, weeks after you disappeared, and you try to tell me it’s nothing? Do you think I’m that stupid?”

With that he peels his eyes open and looks down at you, and the pain in his eyes almost makes your heart stop.

“Ezra…” you implore again, softer this time, “be honest with me, I want to help, you know that.”

“I’m…I’m ashamed…” he whispers, his eyes falling to your hand on his leg, “you know what I am. I know I left you without explanation last time, after you were so kind to me. And here I am, needing your help again, because I have no one else to turn to.”

“Just tell me what happened, please, Ezra,” you say, “let me help.”

“I…I’ve…some men…” he begins, his eyes still on your hand on his leg, “I’d fallen asleep on the bus stop bench, and some men seemed to take offense,” he looks up at you, and you’re suddenly reminded of the mask Ezra is so skilled at pulling up over his true face, it’s firmly in place now, his hesitancy gone as he picks his words.

“They decided to make me leave by shoving me off the bench, and I twisted my ankle as I fell. When I couldn’t get up they roughed me up, threw me in a dumpster when they were done. I hurt my side trying to get out of it, fell badly when my foot gave up,” he gives you a humorless laugh, “Turns out climbing out of a dumpster with only one good arm and leg is rather tricky.”

“Ezra…that’s terrible, we need to get you to the ER, they need to check your chest, you may have broken ribs,” you make to stand up but his hand comes out and grabs yours before it leaves his leg.

“No, please, no, it’s not necessary,” he says, squeezing your hand, “I just need to clean the cuts and, if you have one, a bandage for my ankle so that I can at least stand on it while I make my way home.”

“You need to get your ribs checked, Ezra,” you reply, not taking a no from him, “and you might need stitches on the cut over your eye, it looks deep. Please,” you add as you see him shake his head again.

“Sweet girl, I can’t, please just let me get cleaned up and I’ll leave, I won’t impose on you again.”

“Ezra, you’re not imposing, except with your stubbornness, I’m taking you to the ER and that’s it. I’m not letting you leave without getting looked at by a professional.” You pull your hand from his and reach for your coat and he gives a forced little chuckle, smiling without mirth, his hand coming up as if to make a dismissive gesture in the air, but you stop him. .

“And don’t try that act with me, Ezra, I spent enough time with you last time to know when you’re lying, either to protect yourself or me.”

His hand falls back down, his shoulders slumping, “Your eagerness to help does you credit, but you don’t understand,” he says as you shrug into your coat.

He’s shaking his head, staring down at his solitary hand, picking at a fleck of blood on his stained pants, and you wait for him to press out the words. His words failing him in a way that is so far from his usual unstoppable stream that it makes you stop and look down at him with even more concern as he continues to pick at the blood.

“I…I simply don’t…I don’t have the…means, I just…can’t pay it,” he stutters, clenching his fist tight, his voice defeated, “I have no insurance…I don’t even have a valid driver’s license, they will not even let me in…” He doesn’t meet your eyes as you move closer to him, but he shakes his head again, his shoulders lifting up to his ears as the tension builds in his body, “No address.”

You sink down in front of the chair, taking his hand, stilling it against his leg, unraveling his fist as he sighs again.

“I’m as homeless as an alley cat, you see, sweet girl. I’m ashamed to say I have nothing, nothing to my name.” His voice is low, eyes downcast, and he doesn’t take your hand even though you wrap your fingers around it.

“I guessed,” you say, your voice low, trying to make him meet your eyes, “But you still need help, and I can take you to the clinic down by the church. They can check you out and get you more help, free if you need it,” you give his hand a squeeze, “Please, Ezra,” you implore, “let me help.”

You sit quietly next to the chair for a few seconds while Ezra seems to fight something inside him, his jaw ticking with the tension. With a small grunt, he finally gives you a short nod, his shoulders sinking down again, “You’re too good for this world, sweet girl,” he mutters, taking your hand properly and letting you help him to his feet.

“Not at all,” you reply, getting him to put his arm over your shoulder as you help him limp to the back door again, “but you’re my friend, and you need help whether you want to accept it or not. And I can be a lot more pigheaded than you.” The last you say with a smile in your voice as you help him down the back stairs. And it gets a small chuckle out of him before he winces at the pain.

You get him to sit in the back seat, his injured leg elevated as he grumbles about getting dirt in your car. Rolling your eyes in response, you strap yourself in and reverse out. Ezra shifts in the back, trying to get comfortable, in the rear view mirror you see him gently touch the cut over his eye that’s still bleeding.

“Would you recognise the men who did it?” you ask, looking back at the road.

“Maybe, but I’m not talking to the police,” Ezra replies, guessing what you’re thinking, “They don’t care about someone like me, I’m more likely to get into trouble for bringing their attention to my lack of address.”

“I was just thinking, maybe they make a habit of it, attacking sleeping people, they should be stopped.”

“Not by me, sweet girl, I don’t have enough fight left in me for that.”

You glance back at Ezra again, he never sounded so defeated the last time you saw him, and now he’s leaning his head against the window, staring into nothing, looking utterly forlorn.

Letting the subject rest, you drive in silence the rest of the short way to the clinic.

A nurse comes over as she spots you and Ezra coming through the door and soon he’s been told to lie back on a stretcher while you hover awkwardly nearby.

“Do you want me to wait outside?” you ask him as the nurse leaves to find the doctor on call for the evening.

“Only if you wish to,” he says, dropping his head back on the pillow and staring at the ceiling, “thank you for escorting me, but it’s not necessary to wait, I can manage on my own now. You should go home.”

“Ezra,” you hiss, keeping your voice low in the open room, only curtains separating his bed from his neighbors, “quit being such a pigheaded martyr, you’re such an idiot.”

His eyes snap to yours when he hears your anger, and you continue, “If I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t have opened the door in the first place, and I certainly wouldn’t have cried for a week after you disappeared the last time.”

His eyes widen at this and he opens his mouth to say something but you don’t let him.

“I’m staying. And you’re coming home with me when we’re done here. No arguments, so you can just hold that clever tongue of yours.”

Ezra closes his mouth and opens it again, meeting your glare with astonished eyes as he fumbles for a reply. But before he has time to compose himself, the curtain around the bed is pulled to the side and the doctor appears, followed by the nurse.

Ezra doesn’t protest any more as the doctor treats him. With a small bag of over the counter painkillers in your hand, and a crutch under his one arm, he slowly follows you back to the car without a word. Luckily no fractured rib, but a sprained ankle and a few strips of surgical tape over his two cuts is the tally of the beating, and you’re grateful it’s not worse. You’re even more grateful Ezra found his way back to you for help. You’ll be damned if you’ll let him go back to the streets, even if you have to shackle him to a radiator in your house. Ezra seems to realize this, and doesn’t say anything as you stop at a supermarket on the way home, and return to the car with a toothbrush and various other supplies he might need for his stay with you.

He doesn’t speak until you’ve closed the door behind the both of you and he’s hobbled into your living room. You put the painkillers on the coffee table and turn to help him sink down on the couch.

“Thank you. Truly,” he says, as you put a cushion under his leg, propping it up on the low table.

“Don’t fight it so much next time,” you tell him, “people are nice sometimes.” Straightening up you change the subject as your stomach rumbles, the time for talking is later, “Are you hungry?”

He nods, “Very.”

“I’ve got some leftover pasta sauce and bread, I’ll heat it up for us,” you say, leaving him on the couch. But it doesn’t take long before you hear him hobble after you into the kitchen, sitting down on one of the stools by the island.

“I apologize,” he says, “I was ashamed of showing you how pitiful my life is, both when we met last time, and today. I…I find it hard to accept help, I don’t want to burden anyone with my plight, it was my own foolishness who brought me to this low point. I should carry the consequences of my actions and not burden you with them.”

“Ezra…” you say softly, trying to keep any trace of pity out of your voice, “we all make bad choices, or just have a run of bad luck. Maybe next time I’m the one who needs help, and I hope someone is willing to give it then.”

He nods, but he still looks forlorn and you ache to put your arms around him, but you think he might see it as pity, so you give him a smile, and turn back to the stove.

“You should go back to the couch, Ezra,” you say, “put your leg up again, like the doctor said. I’ll bring you your food.”

“Will you join me on the couch for dinner?” he asks and it’s your turn to nod.

“Of course, I’m starving. Get comfortable, pick something to watch and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

When you return to the living room with two plates, Ezra has propped his leg up again and readily accepts a plate from you. Some nature documentary is playing on the tv and you gratefully sink down on your end of the couch and dig in. Ezra balances his plate on his lap and from the corner of your eye you can see him struggling with twisting the spaghetti onto his fork with his left hand. His eyebrows are pulled together in frustration and the fork clinks angrily against the plate.

You set down your own fork and leave for the kitchen, returning with a tray on legs, for having breakfast in bed.

“Here,” you say, putting it down and placing his plate on it, “Ask for help, Ezra.”

He gives you an indecipherable look, but you just return to your own plate, your attention on the rainforest birds on the tv.

“Thank you,” he says after a minute, looking over at you.

“You’re welcome,” you reply, giving him a quick smile that he returns, the first smile you’ve seen from him since he arrived back at the bakery.

The rest of the evening passes in companionable silence for the most part. You want to ask Ezra about where he’s been since you last saw him, how he’s been. You know why he didn’t return to the bakery, the other shop owners on the street certainly made it known that they didn’t trust him, and didn’t want him near. And you see now, even more clearly, how little value even Ezra places on himself.

I have nothing to give to anyone.

That’s what he’d written in his note to you, the day after his first visit. And it echoes in the back of your mind as you go over the events of the evening, stealing looks at Ezra sitting in the other corner of your couch.

He came back to the bakery when he was injured, but it seems even that had been a hard task for him, to ask for help, and then very reluctantly accepting it. He’d told you he lost his arm in a mining accident, but you don’t know if that was the true story or not. But whatever the truth is, you’re starting to understand the strange dark haired man with the odd blonde patch, a little bit better. He must’ve been fiercely independent before he lost his arm, capable, his skill matching his sharp intellect. And strong, if the shape of his wide shoulders and broad back is anything to go by. You can still remember how his muscles flexed and bunched under your exploring hands when he’d kissed you in the kitchen, a strength that hadn’t diminished when he lost his arm.

To lose that independence, and then his home, to be reduced to relying on others for help, even with the simplest things, it could turn any person bitter. And yet, the Ezra you met in the bakery, as wary as you’d been of him at first, had been warm and passionate, tender and gentle even. The mask he’d let slip while you baked together, had revealed a man you could fall in love with, even with the circumstances of his life twisting the person he showed the world.

You give him another look, his strong profile lit by the tv, his chocolate hair and beard longer and scruffier than before, more streaks of gray and the bags under his eyes heavy. But underneath the layers of grime, the stress of his life, he’s still a handsome man, albeit a little bit dirty right now. But that’s a problem for tomorrow you decide.

With a yawn you stretch and get to your feet, picking up the plates.

“I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket,” you say, “I left a new toothbrush in the bathroom, and a clean towel.”

“I can’t stay,” he says, predictably, and you ignore him, going back to the kitchen to put the plates in the dishwasher, turning it on before you return to the living room. Ezra is standing by the couch, the crutch under his arm.

“You’re staying, Ezra,” you interrupt him before he can protest, “You’re injured, and quite frankly, you’re dirty. Sleep here tonight, wash up in the morning, and then we’ll see.”

“Sweet girl…I can’t let you…” he begins but you shake your head.

“Do you think so little of me? That you think I’d let anyone, let alone an injured friend, sleep rough on the streets?”

Ezra looks back at your raised eyebrows and challenging look.

“Well?” you ask, “Do you think I’m that kind of friend?”

“No,” he says eventually, a small, exasperated smile, softening his face, “I know you’re not that kind of friend.”

“Good. Toothbrush and towel in the bathroom, go clean up, I’ll make your bed,” you point your finger in the direction of the bathroom and give him a stern look, softened by a crooked smile that Ezra returns.

“Yes, boss,” he says, and hobbles away.

Ezra beds down on the couch and you make sure his leg is propped up by a couple of extra cushions before you retreat to your own bed. You can hear him shifting on the couch, the old thing creaking under his weight, before you drift into sleep.

A loud crash startles you from your dreams hours later, early morning light coming through your curtains, and you shoot up in bed.

“Ezra?” you call out, scrambling out of bed, wrapping your gown around you as you hurry out of your bedroom. You find him by the open front door, cursing silently as he struggles to pick up the crutch from the floor.

“You’re sneaking out,” you state, stopping as you see him straightening up, the crutch still on the floor, his hand on the wall for balance.

“I’m afraid I have to depart, a pressing matter requires my swift attention this morning,” he replies, and oh, the mask is so clearly in place, the polite, apologetic smile, hiding the real man.

“What kind of pressing matter?” you ask, “Let me get dressed and I’ll drive you,” you challenge, crossing your arms and challenging him to just fucking dare to lie to you again.

“No, I can’t let you do that,” he smiles, wider now, even more apologetic, “I must converge with a most disagreeable drifter, a small matter of business I have with him that needs to be settled, I truly do not wish you to meet him. Such a rough, uncouth-”

“Ezra…” you say, your voice a warning, as you bend to pick up the crutch, holding out of his reach. It’s a dirty trick but he won’t get far without it.

“I assure you, sweet girl, I really need to depart, it would not be fortunate for you, or your excellent business, to be seen around town with myself, or this disagreeable man. I can’t bring this misfortune down on you after you’ve treated me with such kindness,” Ezra tilts his head, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes, the ringmaster at work, using his words to bend the audience to follow his ques, to believe his illusion.

You shake your head, and lean the crutch in a corner, away from him.

“You forget, Ezra, that you’ve bared more than you maybe intended to me, and I see what you’re trying to do,” you say, moving around him and closing the front door. “Your smooth lies don’t work on me anymore, I can see that mask you pull up whenever you try to bend me to your will.”

You stop in front of him, and he wavers, the smile, almost a leer, slips from his face. Carefully, as if he’s an animal you don’t want to spook, you bring your hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing across his scruffy beard.

“Ezra…you don’t need to fight so hard. Not with me.”

The mask is gone again, his determination to oppose your will melting away faster this time, and Ezra’s eyes fill with regret as he leans his face into your hand. You seek out his, hanging limp by his side and lace your fingers together, squeezing it lightly as you let him hold on to you for balance.

“I left you a note,” he whispers, “I’m truly grateful, I didn’t want to leave again without explanation.”

“What does it say?”

He sighs, closing his eyes briefly, “Same as I said last night, I don’t want to bring you more trouble, I have nothing to give, I don’t want to be a burden. And I know what you’ll say,” he looks up at you as he hears you inhale to berate him, “You don’t think I’m a burden, that I won’t bring you trouble. But I have not lived life honestly, and the people in this community know me as a trickster who cons them. It can only bring you trouble if they see you with me.”

“Have you stolen from them?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“Not from them, no. But I have stolen in the past, and not only what I needed of food and clothes. And I conned them, used their good hearts against them, they will not pardon me and see me as favorably as you do, sweet girl.”

You caress his cheek again, “Maybe it wasn’t honest, but it’s not like you forced them to give you things, just like you didn’t force me to make you a soufflé. Even though I realize I was probably just a con to you too.”

Ezra drops his eyes from yours at that, looking away as he gives you a small nod.

“It was a con, at first, I have to admit it. I was hoping for a loaf or two of bread, maybe something sweet, but…the soufflé, it wasn’t a con, I promise.” He looks up at you again, your hand has slipped from his cheek, down to his shoulder, he’s so close you can smell the toothpaste and his unwashed clothes, the antiseptic from the bandage on his cheek and forehead. You remain silent to let him continue, to see if his mask comes up again, or if he tells the truth this time.

“I told you that you captivated me, and that’s the truth, I was watching you the first day I came into the shop, you were decorating a cake, your concentration palpable, you were clearly very skilled. And knew if I conned you, I couldn’t come back, so I bought a croissant…and I left.” Ezra gives you a small smile at the memory, “You wouldn’t even know, but that croissant…it bound me to you, it was that perfect. I couldn’t help but keep going back, to watch you work, to taste more of what you’d made. And then you noticed me, and I should’ve left, but it was too late, I had already made a plan to trick you, another kind of trick.”

“What kind of trick, Ezra?” you ask and he gives you the smallest of chuckles.

“The kind that let me spend more time with you, to let me be seen as something else than the sad, homeless drifter my life has turned me into.”

He sighs, letting go of your hand to drag his rough palm over his face, rubbing at his eyes, “I’ve thought since that perhaps it was the worst of ideas, that I tricked myself more than you. I let myself step into a bubble of what could’ve been, if I had been a very different man, build a fantasy in my head where you…never mind,” he cuts himself off, leaning on the wall for balance as you seek out his hand again, “I never conned you, and I wish things were very different.”

“Ezra, I missed you when you left, and I was hurt and confused by your note and what other people said about you,” you say, taking his hand in both of yours, “but I trust you, even if you don’t believe me, I trust you. And I want you to stay, at least until you’re better, please stay this time.”

“But your neighbors, your shop…” he begins and you step forward, pressing your lips to his, silencing him. He holds himself rigid for a beat, before you feel his lips part with a soft hum.

“Fuck ‘em,” you whisper against him, “Please, Ezra, just be selfish with me.”

You don’t let him answer, but you feel his arm move, circle around your waist and you take it as a capitulation as he pulls you a little bit closer.

The kiss doesn’t last long, just a mark to pick up where you left off the last time in the bakery. Instead you pull back from him after a little while, retrieve the crutch and lead him back to the living room. The note, Ezra’s lopsided, left handed scribble on it, sits on the coffee table next to his makeshift bed.

“Do I need to read it?” you ask and he shakes his head, taking the paper and crumpling it.

“No, I’ll stay, at least until you bid me to leave.”

“Not while you limp, you’re stuck with me for a while, con man.” The last part you say with a wink, teasing him, and you’re rewarded by the dimple appearing on his cheek as he smiles, his face transforming.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be stuck, sweet girl,” he winks back.

The morning passes easily, now that he’s decided not to leave as soon as you give him a chance. You make breakfast, stacking the bacon high on his plate, an extra fried egg with the bread and mushrooms, three sausages on the side and a large glass of orange juice.

“Sweet girl, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you stopped me from leaving just to give me a heart attack instead,” Ezra says, eyes bulging as you set the plates down on the coffee table in front of him.

“No offense, but you look like you haven’t been eating that well. Let me spoil you while I can,” you reply, sitting down in front of your own, smaller, serving.

"You’re not mistaken, and no offense taken, it has been a few arduous months,” he says while cutting into the food, humming in satisfaction as the yolk smears the bread. It’s the last you hear from him for a while, the food takes all his attention as he works his way the whole plate, even the extra mushrooms and bacon you slide over. Eventually he leans back, balancing a fresh mug of coffee on his belly, letting out a deep sigh.

“I fear I may burst if I eat another bite,” he huffs, his little tummy expanding as he takes a deep breath, “As usual, you’re too good to me, cream puff.”

“I told you, enough with the baking related pet names,” you laugh, leaning back with your own coffee. “I think we agreed on ‘honey’ last time, but I like ‘sweet girl’ too.”

“Sweet as honey,” Ezra smiles, “such a delectable name for the most captivating of women, for someone with such compassion for the most miserable, unfortunate man. Although…” he tilts his head so that he can look over at where you’re curled up on the couch, “perhaps I’m not so unfortunate, I count myself the luckiest man to have wandered into your particular bakery and then even to be allowed to call you ‘friend’.” His smile is soft, “How did a wretch like me stumble into such fortune?”

“There is that charmer that stole my heart,” you smile back at him, “I’ve missed you, Ezra.”

“I did not want to leave you last time, but you understand now why I told you the illusion had to break?” He puts his mug on the table and takes your hand across the couch as you scooch closer to him.

“I understand, but I hope you know now, that you don’t have to leave, and I don’t want you too… however…” you trail off, as the smell of his unwashed clothes reaches your nose again, “you need to shower, and change…”

Ezra looks down at his clothes and frowns, “I have nothing to change into, but I do agree that these old breeches are somewhat on the smelly side. The rogues that roughed me up made off with my bag and the clothes within.”

“Ezra, you should’ve said, we could’ve bought you something yesterday,” you say, pushing off the couch and going to the hallway closet that holds your winter jackets, “I’ve got an old oversized sweatshirt, a relic from an ex, if you don’t mind?” You hold up the sweater and Ezra shrugs.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, if it fits, I will gladly wear it.”

“I’ll put your clothes in the wash,” you dig deeper in the closet, “these will probably fit, my brother’s old shorts, they’ve got paint stains from when we painted the bedroom, but they’re clean, I promise.”

Ezra accepts the clothes and retreats to the bathroom as you clear up the breakfast. You hear him run a bath, and even the satisfied groan as he sinks into it, making you smile as you load the dishwasher. But the disgruntled growl doesn’t sound good a few minutes later so you gently tap on the closed door.

“You ok, Ezra?” you ask and a grumble floats through the door as something clatters to the floor.

“I find that washing my hair, which it is in dire need of, is impossible with the way this bruise seems determined to burn a hole in my side. I can’t lift my arm high enough. And I only have one of those, as you know.”

“Can I help? Are you decent?”

“Sweet girl, I have no concerns about being decent in front of you,” he huffs, “You’ve already been privy to my very lowest state. Besides, your bubble bath really is very efficient.”

The last thing he says with a chuckle and you open the door. You’re met with Ezra laying back, no, Ezra laying back in resplendence, in your bathtub, all but covered by bubbles and a satisfied grin on his face.

“This bathtub really is a most colossal feature, I feel like I could go for a swim,” he smiles up at you as you bend to pick up the shampoo bottle from the floor.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, it’s half the reason I bought the house,” you say, sinking down behind him, “Can’t believe you got me washing your hair too, Ezra,” you mutter, but there’s no venom and Ezra hears the smile in your voice.

“I’ll repay the favor tenfold once I’m all healed up again, honey,” he says and scoots forward, giving you free access to his dark curls.

He’s like a cat, all but purring as you scrub his hair, letting your nails drag across scalp, rinsing it out once and giving it another wash. As you massage his head he closes his eyes and breathes deeply, you’re certain he’ll start snoring any second, and you gently tap his shoulder for him to sit up for a second rinse.

“Conditioner, sir?” you ask him with a teasing tone, as he moans.

Ezra opens one eye and looks up at you, “Are you mocking me, baker girl?”

“Only your obvious attraction to the skill of my hands, your moans are loud enough for the neighbors to hear.”

“Oh, I’ve always been attracted to the skill of your hands, in more ways than one, and I’m sure I can think of other uses for them too,” he winks and closes his eye again, leaving you with burning cheeks as his double entendre makes heat rise in your body.

As you rinse the conditioner from his hair you brush it back from his forehead, running your fingers through the blonde patch, stark white now that it’s properly clean. On impulse you bend down and place a kiss to it as you move to get up.

“All done, sir, enjoy the rest of your bath now.”

His hand comes up and grabs your wrist, surprisingly fast for someone right handed using their left, and he pulls you back down.

“Thank you,” he says in a low voice, bringing you close enough for him to reach up and return your kiss, warm lips pressed against yours for a moment.

“Anytime, Ezra,” you reply when he pulls back a little, your voice barely a whisper. You lock eyes for a few seconds, Ezra’s chocolate brown darkening as he rubs his thumb over the thin skin of your wrist.

“Anytime, sweet girl,” he whispers back and lets you go.

You feel unsteady as you leave the bathroom, slowly letting out a long exhale as you go back to the living room, aimlessly tidying, moving three books from one end of the room and back again twice before you realize what you’re doing and give up. Slumping down on the couch you turn back to the nature documentary from last night and try to zone out, but it’s no use. As you hear Ezra come out of the bathroom you shoot up from the couch and head to the kitchen, doing what you always do to calm your mind; bake.

The rest of the day passes without any more heated moments between the two of you. Ezra rests his ankle and you feed him, he complains that he can’t help you in any way, but you shush him and prop an extra cushion under his leg. From the corner of your eye, you see the soft smile he gives you as you turn back to the kitchen.

When it’s time for dinner you join him on the couch for the Great British Bake Off, a show Ezra is well familiar with but he’s missed most of the past seasons so the evening ends with you going back through the seasons and starting over. Before you know it, you’re lying down, your toes tucked in under Ezra’s warm leg while he absentmindedly strokes small circles on your calf. The whole scene is so domestic, he looks calm, more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. His whole face transforms as he laughs at the tv, looking over at you to see if you’re laughing too. And you are, but mostly because it feels good to see Ezra so comfortable and content.

When it’s time for bed, you scoot over and kiss his scruffy cheek, smelling your shampoo on him.

“Sleep tight, Ezra,” you mumble, relishing the soft touch of his beard against your lips.

“Sweet dreams, sweet girl,” he mumbles back, giving your leg an extra squeeze, “Do you want me to leave in the morning?”

“Not even a little bit, stay.”

“Then I won’t attempt to slip out unnoticed again,” he says, a crooked little smile at you as you straighten up.

“Please don’t, waking up when something goes bang in the night is not my favorite way of waking up,” you say, “Night, Ezra.”

He does stay, the next day and the next and the one after that. You go back to the bakery on the second day, leaving Ezra sleeping on the couch and come back to find him making dinner, wobbling one foot, chopping a stubborn onion with his left hand. The next day he’s done all the dishes and made your kitchen spotless. You berate him for not resting his ankle but he just shrugs and smiles, his soft southern lilt becoming more pronounced as he tries to charm you into believing that his foot is all better now. When you scold him, he gives you the most insincere puppy eyes, mischief lurking just under the surface until you crack and smack his arm and laugh at him. You almost kiss him, his infectious chuckle, the way his dimple appears as his eyes crinkle. The evenings end like the ones before, tucked in on the couch with The Great British Bake Off, but on the third evening you yawn widely and he pulls you in, his strength no match for yours.

“Rest your weary head on my leg, sweet girl,” he says, putting a cushion propped up against his thigh, “don’t stay so far away.”

You do as he says, and he pulls the quilt down over you and rests his hand on your arm. His slow movements, calloused fingers softly gliding up and down over the quilt, lulls you to sleep and it’s not until Ezra gently shakes you, that you blink awake to the end of the episode, and you stumble to bed after kissing his cheek.

The next day you come home to find Ezra packed up, what little he has, in a plastic bag by the door.

“I reckon I’ve imposed on you long enough, sweet girl,” he says as you question him, “I still limp, but I can walk now.”

“You’re not imposing, Ez, you know that,” you reply, putting down your shopping and stopping in front of him on the couch as he gets to his feet, “I want you to stay for as long as you want.”

He is moving a lot better, you can’t deny that, but the cuts and the bruises are still visible on his cheek and forehead. The bigger bruise on his torso has faded into yellows and greens and doesn’t seem to pain him anymore.

“And besides, where would you go?” you ask. You don’t want to be unkind, but pointing out the obvious flaw in his plan of just leaving seems logical. “Stay here at least until you have a place of your own, you know I won’t let you leave just to sleep in a shelter or in a car.”

“Sweet girl, how long would that endeavor not take me? I have no employment, no money to my name, and without it, I have no choice but to find improvised shelter. And finding a job without an address is not easy, finding a job for a one-armed man? Impossible.” He shakes his head and moves around you, “No, I’d rather leave now, and leave you missing my company than stay and have you tire of my disagreeable old face.”

As he limps towards the front door you feel the slow gears of your brain working until it clicks into place.

“Ezra! I have a job for you!”

He turns and looks back at you, a pitiful smile as he shakes his head.

“Do not make up a job for me. Your kind heart does you credit but I won’t accept any more charity from you, sweet girl.”

“It’s not a made up job, Ezra, I need help at the bakery,” you say, “The high school student who worked extra left for college last week, this weekend was my first without them and I hardly got any baking done. I can’t manage the bakery and the shop at the same time, especially not since I'm going into peak season with weddings and graduations. I need someone to work in the shop and you could do that, even one handed I’m sure.”

“I fear it would not do your business any good to have me at the front of your shop, or do you forget how I conned my way around the last time?” Ezra shakes his head again, turning towards the door to pick up his sad bag of belongings.

“And if there’s anyone who can charm his way back into their good books, it’s you!” you protest, yanking the bag out of his hand. “I need someone who can start tomorrow, someone who understands baking and the things I make, and who is as passionate about it as I am. You’re the perfect fit, Ezra!”

You take a step closer to him, putting your hand on his cheek. You haven’t touched since the kiss in the bathroom, it’s just been a comfortable closeness on the couch. He seems to have been holding back, not wanting to impose another layer of complications to the situation of a homeless man sleeping on your couch. You, on your hand, have been squashing your feelings and urges to touch him, not sure what he feels, if he even wants you close, he seemed so intent on leaving as soon as he could. But now you touch him, stepping over the thin line you’d both drawn, needing him to understand how much you want him to stay, not just for the bakery or out of pity for him.

And Ezra leans his head into your hand as you gently caress his cheek, the scruffy beard soft under your fingers, as he looks down at you, something shifting in him too as you come so close to him he can smell the cinnamon from the bakery in your hair.

“I want you to stay, Ezra. I missed you when you were gone, and I need you, not just in the bakery, but I need you in my life too, if you could let yourself believe that.”

“I’m a selfish man,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rest on your waist, “I’ve been telling myself to not complicate your life, but if you offer it to me, I’ll take it.”

“Please, take it then, Ezra, I’m tired of trying to convince you that you’re worth something more, just take it, you-”

He cuts you off, his hand coming up to your cheek as his lips find yours, pushing you back against the wall with his body as your brain catches up, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers finding purchase in his hair and kissing him back.

You sigh into his mouth when he makes you part your lips, claiming your tongue the same way you remember from the bakery, the feeling you’ve been dreaming about since he left. He groans softly, his hand slipping down from your neck and curling behind your back to hold you even closer.

“Tell me again, I want to hear you say it again, that you want me to stay,” he whispers, pulling back just a little and looking at you with his dark brown eyes, filled with need, darkening with lust as you press your mouth to his lips.

“Pigheaded fool,” you smile, “How many times do I have to say it? I want you to stay.”

His responding groan, his mouth opening to let you taste him, sends a sharp jolt of desire through your body. Turning off all rational parts of your mind, you reach behind you and take his hand, pulling him with you through the house. When lead him into your bedroom he falters, an uncharacteristic shyness, or maybe uncertainty, flashing across his face.

“Sweet girl…” he whispers as you pull him onto the bed, making him tumble over you as he loses his balance, “it’s…been so long.”

“Do you want to, Ezra?” you ask, as he holds himself over you on his one arm.

“Yes, very much, I have dreamed so many nights of taking you to bed,” he breathes, his voice low, laced with both trepidation and lust, “I just never surmised you would ever want me like this, and I’m not sure these old broken bones could ever give you the pleasure you deserve.”

“How about we try out your old broken bones and let me judge how much pleasure they give?” you tease him, running your hands down his back, still as broad and muscular as you remember. He chuckles at that, some of the tension slipping from his face as you continue to stroke his soft shirt, tangling your fingers in the curls at the back of his neck, and then back down to his waist again. He puts his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and you can feel his warm breath over your lips, a slow exhale as he relaxes under your palms.

When you slip your hands under the edge of his shirt and pull it off he hesitates, the stump of his arm has always been hidden by his clothes or the bubbles in the bathtub that one time, now you sense his unease again.

“Do you want to keep your shirt on?” you ask, letting go of the hem and resuming your path up and down his back.

“No, no I want to feel your skin against mine,” he mutters, “I’m just afraid…you might find it…repulsive.”

With gentle hands you take hold of his shirt again and push it up his torso, making him roll over onto his back as you pull it over his head, freeing both his arm and the scarred stump. Ezra watches you with dark eyes, apprehensive in a way you’ve never seen him before, watching your reaction as you lean down and place a soft kiss on the scar tissue that covers the end of his arm.

“I’m sorry you lost it, Ez, but I’m glad you’re still here,” you whisper, placing another kiss on the rough texture before his large, remaining, hand cups the back of your head and guides you up to his mouth, his hot tongue seeking yours.

Now it’s his turn to tug at your shirt and you slip it off, tossing it over the side of the bed, letting your bra go the same way. As you sit up, straddling his narrow hips, the apex of your thighs rubs over the growing hardness in his pants, he growls and grabs your hip, rolling his own up into you. You gasp and Ezra pulls himself upright, his eyes now fully dark, lust blown and all trace of hesitancy gone as he pulls your core down over his cock.

“Sweet girl, I’m determined to make you cry my name until your voice is hoarse,” he says, his voice rough and low with a layer of intensity you’ve never heard from him before, “I really have craved you so many nights, dreamt of having you unfold underneath me, make you moan so prettily in my ear again, like you did when I kissed you before.”

He cups your sex with his hand, bringing the heel down over your sensitive nerves, making you ride it through the denim of your jeans, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His mouth leaves heated, wet marks on your skin when he sucks bruises into your collar bone. Hand moving over the buttons, he peels down the zipper and you feel him slide down inside your pants, fingers meeting flesh as he ignores your underwear.

“What if I can make you cry ‘Ezra’ in that delicious moan, make you pant for me, with just my fingers buried in your cunt?” he growls, hot breath on your skin, “Will that prove me worthy of your devotion?”

“You-you…already a-are…” you gasp, his fingers slipping further down, thumb finding your swollen bundle of nerves, two of his thick fingers sliding deep inside and curling back. You feel him chuckle against your throat when you buck your hips, demanding more.

“Fuck, Ezra…” you moan, head tipping back, his beard scraping over your throat as he sucks another mark into the thin skin of your neck.

“Let me feel you fall, sweet girl,” he mutters, pulling back, his dark eyes finding yours half closed, blissed out, “So beautiful, captivating, my sweet girl.” He looks hungry, greedy, and he surges forward, seeking out your skin again. You feel his teeth nipping on the curve of your jaw as he curves his fingers deep inside you, finding a spot that sends stars through your veins. Your fingers dig into his broad shoulders, leaving fresh marks on his flesh as he brings you closer to the peak.

“My sweet girl,” he purrs, close to your ear, his thumb rubbing tight circles, “come for me, honey, I’ve got you.”

It topples you over, his dark voice tickling your mind into submission, your back arching, pushing down on his fingers as he brings you through it. You cry out his name, pant it into the dim room, and he licks his tongue over your sweat salt skin.

“Ezra…” you croak, dropping your head onto his shoulder as he slowly caresses your slick folds and pulls out, his sticky hand curving around your waist and landing on your back. It takes a few minutes for you to catch your breath, Ezra mumbles into your ear, his words wrapping around your brain, trapping them in the haze of your orgasm. When you turn your head and scrape your teeth over the thin skin of his neck, your tongue licking the edge of his ear, his breath hitches, interrupting his torrent of sweet nothings. Against your core you can feel his cock twitch, ignored and aching.

“Take your pants off,” he says, the command soft in his voice, “And take mine off too.”

It doesn’t take long for you to rid the both of you of the rest of your clothes. Ezra hisses as you pull his cock free, letting your hand stroke it, catching the weeping head with the pad of your thumb before you stand up.

“How do you want me, Ezra?” you ask, returning from the bathroom with a condom in your hand. He’s flat on his back, his hand slowly moving up and down his cock as he watches you walk naked across the room.

“On my lap, my symmetry is sorely lacking in balance, I fear I might give you a bloody nose if I was on top,” he smirks, moving himself to sit against the headboard, giving his thighs an invitational pat.

“Just admit it, you’re lazy,” you wink at him, “just want me to do all the work.”

He grabs your hip and pulls you down, his hard length pushed up against the soft swell of your belly, “Oh, sweet girl, if I had both my hands I’d trap you beneath me and not let you leave until you were a quivering mess, begging me to let you come,” he smirks, kissing you hard when you bend your head down to him.

He rolls his hips, giving friction to his cock pressed between you, and you feel him hiss into your mouth, groaning deep in his chest.

You push back and unwrap the condom, slipping it on while he watches your hands with dark eyes. When you rise up on your knees, his fingers dig into your hip, his teeth capturing his bottom lip, biting down hard with a groan as you position yourself. With one hand wrapped around his twitching length, the other on his shoulder for balance, you stroke the head through your slick folds, watching Ezra let go of his lip, an almost animal snarl escaping him.

“My sweet girl, honey…” he pants, opening his mouth to continue, but you sink down over him, squeezing his length, and he groans, a low rumbling pressed up through gritted teeth, head tipped back, eyes closed. You feel him buck his hips, his hand guiding your hip, as he tries to fuck up into you and you hold on to his shoulders with both hands, stroking down over his arms, caressing both his good side and the edge of what remains on the other.

Ezra curls his arm around your waist and pulls you down, bucking up again with another groan. He sits deep inside you, making sparks run through your veins, the feel of him giving you as much pleasure as his graveled groans and panting breath. .

“I’m not going to last,” he mumbles, biting his lip again, “I’m…you feel…f-feel so good.”

You roll your hips over him, your clit rubbing against the dark curls at the base, moaning as he bucks up, rubbing over something electric deep inside. The sight of his face tilted back, eyes half closed in bliss, as his arm sits like a vice around your waist, it brings you to the edge of your own climax much faster than anticipated. Your thighs are protesting, sweat drips down your back, and Ezra claims your mouth again, while you work yourself up and down over his slick cock.

He’s rambling, mumbling into your mouth between licks of his tongue, he’s getting messy, kissing the corner of your mouth, down your jaw, burying his face into the crook of your neck while he grinds against you. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he cries out, his body going rigid underneath you, a hoarse shout against your skin and your own climax explodes. You know you’re leaving marks on his skin, but you can’t let go, Ezra is rolling his hips up, pumping himself into you as best he can, pulling you down onto him.

As your muscles relax you feel him loosen his grip on you too, and you drop your head down on his shoulder, caressing his back, his arms, pressing slow kisses into his sweat damp skin.

“My sweet girl,” he mutters, kissing the mark he left on your shoulder, “my sweet, sweet girl,” heavy breaths still making his chest rise and fall as he pants.

You rake your fingers through his damp curls and lift yourself off him, helping him handle the condom and toss it. Ezra stretches out and you curl into his side, sighing deeply and closing your eyes.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch anymore,” you mumble into his chest, and you hear the chuckle rumble under you between deep breaths, still recovering.

“I’m sure we’ll figure out other usages for the couch if you intend to keep this up with my broken old bones,” he says, smiling, his eyes closed as he begins to caress what he can reach of your back.

You both lie in peaceful silence for a little while, your breathing returning to normal, and your bodies cooling down. When the air raises goosebumps on your skin, you pull the covers over you both, and Ezra makes you curl closer to him.

“You really don’t find it repulsive?” he asks after a while, and tilt your head to look up at him, you know what he’s referencing. His dark eyes are turned to you with a questioning look, the smallest hint of worry clouding his forehead.

“No, I really don’t,” you say, moving your hand so that you can caress the scars at the end of his severed arm, “It’s just skin, or proof that you’ve survived something very difficult, why would I find it repulsive? I’m very happy you survived it.

Ezra places his lips on your forehead, kissing you softly while his one good arm pulls you in tighter.

“Thank you.”

“There you go, Mrs Levinson, all set for the weekend, I envy your guests, you sure do spoil your grandchildren! But I know you would spoil me just as well if turned up on your doorstep like a stray dog.”

Ezra gives the elderly lady his warmest smile and a wink, mischief twinkling in his eye as she returns the wink.

“Ezra, you scoundrel,” she giggles, “you know you’re both always very welcome for dinner any day, and I’ll make sure to spoil you rotten.”

“Never would I be so uncouth as to impose such inconvenience on you, Mrs Levinson,” he replies, a hand on his chest in mock shock, “You should come to our house, I’ll cook my famous one armed bandit stew,” he grins and Mrs Levinson giggles again.

“Oh Ezra, you really do brighten my day, you’re such a treasure to have around,” she titters, collecting her shopping bags, “And I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer.”

“You’re too kind, Mrs Levinson, enjoy the rest of your day now, you hear!” he smiles as she gives him a wave and steps out through the front door.

Ezra turns and heads back into the kitchen, where you’re preparing the final batch of millionaire’s shortbread, sprinkling chopped peanuts over the melted chocolate.

“I may have invited Mrs Levinson for dinner,” he says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arm around your waist, “Said I’d make my stew.”

“I heard,” you reply, “your famous ‘one armed bandit stew’? You’re too much, Ez,” you laugh as Ezra chuckles.

“I did always have a flair for marketing,” he smirks, "maybe we should rename the bakery too, make it official.”

“Make it official that the scandalous baker and her ‘one armed bandit’ are in it for the long haul?” you ask, turning around so that you’re facing him and can see his warm smile as he looks down at you.

“Are we in it for the long haul, my sweet girl?” he replies, bending down to brush the strong curve of his nose across your check, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Well, it’s been two years, and you haven’t tried leaving again, so I think I finally made you realize I want you around,” you mumble as he nudges your head to the side to make better rooms for his kisses.

“You’re stuck with me now, sweet girl,” he mutters, “do you regret it?”

“Not even a little,” you sigh, tangling your fingers into his soft curls and he chuckles.

The bell over the door jingles and Ezra straightens up.

“Go on, Ez, go charm another customer into buying more than they need.”

“Yes, boss,” he smirks, pressing a final quick kiss to your lips before he hurries back into the shop.

“Good afternoon, ma’am, how may I help you on this most beautiful day?”

Part Fifteen

Specifically tagging my Ezra mentor @morallyinept !

 @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers  

#prospect ezra #ezra x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #ezra fanfiction

[xdaddysprincessxx]

Mine, All Mine

Uncle Ezra x virgin f reader

Warnings: Noncon! Unclecest (they are not blood related!) virginity loss, p in v, heavy use of the word kiddo (idk it was doing it for me), filming, uhhh yea I don’t want to say too much so it doesn’t get spoiled. I’d say this is more on the dark side of things so be cautious, you are in charge of your own self and what you read. If it bothers you, stop reading it(:

A/n: this one’s for my love, @bonezone44 ! This literally came from a post they made lol also go check out their Uncle Ezra! It’s the best! (Also if you do/have read hers, maybe you’ll notice a lil Easter egg in mine lol) Enjoy babes! Also Happy Valentine’s Day!😘😘😘

Word count: 4222

Not edited or beta’d (Rad had looked over like half the story so I guess kinda beta’d lol)

It’s the middle of summer and it’s already hotter than Satan’s balls outside. You’re off work today and doing your best to enjoy the day but you’ve found yourself melted to the couch with a fan blasting on high, wearing your shortest shorts and a tank top. Your dad left hours ago for work, he probably won’t be back until much later tonight giving you the whole house to yourself.

You’ve gotten lost in a marathon of Law and Order SVU when you hear a knock on the door. Scrunching your face, confused as to who could be at the door, you get up to go answer it.

Opening the door reveals your Uncle Ezra standing outside, wearing basketball shorts and an old tshirt with the sleeves cut off so his sides are showing, exposing hot, tanned skin.

“Hey kiddo your dad home? I hada to come by to grab a few things.”

You gulp nervously, he isn’t your actual uncle but he’s been your dads best friend since they were kids so he’s considered like an uncle to you. Except ever since you hit eighteen he’s been more touchy, saying extremely sexual things in your ear whenever he’s around. You know it’s wrong, you hate that he does it but a part of you can’t help but like it. You like the dirty things he says, like the way his hand brushes against your ass when he walks by. When you went off to college and moved out you never expected you��d have to move back in with your dad after graduating. Unfortunately life comes at you hard. And ever since you came back home, Ezra has been even more of a menace.

“N-no sorry he’s at work. Um you can come back later.” You say with a stutter as you try to shut the door.

Ezra’s hand shoots out stopping the door from shutting,

“That’s okay kiddo I can wait. Let your old uncle Ezra in sweetie.” He says back with a sly grin on his face, his eyes darkening with mischief.

“O-okay come in.”

“Come in what?”

“Come in uncle Ezra.” You reply with a dry throat.

“Ah there it is. Ya know I like it when you call me uncle Ezra sweetie. It’s good manners and all.”

He walks in through the door, closing it behind him as you turn to walk back to the couch and sit down with your legs under you, leaned against the side cushion. You shiver, now painfully aware of how little clothing you have on now that he’s here. Ezra plops down right next to you, his legs spread as he puts his arm behind you on the back of the couch. You try to swallow, blinking a few times in quick succession.

“Whatcha watching kiddo?”

“Um just law and order. It’s a marathon.” You respond.

Ezra lifts the arm that was behind you and brings it forward, slapping your thigh lightly before rubbing the spot he hit,

“You okay sweetie? Seem kinda off? Is it a boy? Huh? It’s okay talk to uncle Ez. This boy treating you right? Making you feel good?”

Your mouth starts to open and then close as you try to find your voice, “N-no boy uncle Ezra. I-I’m fine. I promise.”

Ezra smiles at you as his hand starts to go up higher on your thigh before stopping and rubbing his thumb back and forth at the top of your thigh.

“Ya know since your daddy ain’t home I’ve been wanting to have this chat with you. Now I know you’re all grown up on me but you should know about men and their needs. But also your own needs sweetie,” he leans in closer so his lips are close to your ear, “Pretty girls like you have pretty pussies and those pretty pussies get wet and needy. Gotta make sure she is properly cared for kiddo. Cant have ya out here dripping and desperate for just any cock. You needa real man.” His low voice sending shivers down your spine. Ezra rubs his nose up and down your neck, right behind your ear.

“S-stop please.”

Ezra pulls back, “Stop? Sweetie I’m just trying to help ya here. I only want the best for ya.” A look of confusion and hurt covers his face.

“I- I want you to stop Uncle Ezra. I know what your doing and I don’t like it. Please stop.”

Ezra sighs real loud, “Okay kiddo. Whatever you say. I’m just trying to look out for ya. I’ll back off.” He takes his hand off your thigh and puts both hands up as he sinks back into the couch, still sitting right next to you. His hands laying down on his open lap.

You swallow thickly before you find the courage to get up,

“I think I’m gonna go read in my room. Feel free to change the channel while you wait.” You announce before heading to the stairs to up to your room.

Once you close your bedroom door behind you, you let out a deep sigh. Taking another breath as though you’ve been holding your breath this entire time. You hate that he feels so comfortable acting so bold. You wished he’d just leave.

It’s been a couple of hours and you’ve been absolutely lost in your own world, reading a new book you’d just gotten. Laying on your bed with your leg propped up against your bent knee as you lay on your back, the perfect reading position. You’re almost to the end when you hear a soft knock on your door as it’s pushed open.

“Hey kiddo just wanted to come check on ya. Wanted ya to have some alone time you seemed a little off earlier.” Ezra says as he walks in and sits on your bed. You sit up straight with your legs criss cross applesauce already feeling a pit in your stomach.

“I- I’m fine uncle Ezra. You didn’t have to check on me.”

“Now I know I didn’t have too but I was worried. You’re like my little girl, you know how much I love ya.” He gives you a soft smile, you can tell he’s trying to put you at ease but all he’s done is make you even more uncomfortable.

Ezra’s eyes flicker over to your nightstand where he sees a sliver of bright pink,

“Well well well what do we have here?” His eyes narrowing in on the object as he reaches forward and pulls out your dildo.

Your cheeks flush, embarrassment washes over you as you grab his wrist that’s connected to the hand now holding your toy,

“Leave that alone! That’s mine!”

“Aht don’t tell me what to do little girl. Now do you mind explaining to me what the hell you’re doing with a plastic cock? I thought my little sweet pea was a virgin. Don’t look like a virgin with this.” He says as he shakes your girthy 7 inch bright pink dildo in your face.

“I am a virgin! And it’s none of your business! Gimmie!” Now you’re fed up, you lunge forward, grabbing at the toy once again only for Ezra to yank it away as his free hand grabs your face, pinching your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger.

“Cut the bullshit little girl, ain’t no way this cunt ain’t been touched if your shoving this fucking thing inside ya,” his eyes leave yours and look down at the toy and back at you, a sly smirk blooming on his face.

“Nah see what’s gonna happen now is I’m gonna see for myself how much of a dirty fucking whore you’ve become.”

He releases your face and immediately you drop your face into your chest, scared to look up at him, wanting nothing more than to curl into yourself and vanish.

“Please don’t. Just leave me alone. Please.” You beg him quietly, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

Ezra puts his hand on the back of your neck and squeezes, making you look up at him,

“Nuh uh. You wanna be a slut? Then you’re gonna take a real man’s fucking cock like the good girl you are and like it.” He says with a sneer.

Your eyes are big, filled with tears threatening to spill over. You’ve never been with anyone sexually before. You’ve never even used that dildo, you only have it because your friend gave it to you as a gag gift and now you fear your uncle Ezra is gonna be your first and you don’t get a say in it.

“Please uncle Ezra, I - I don’t want it. I - I’ve never had sex I swear.” Your lip quivering as you continue to beg him not to follow through on his word.

“Oh kiddo don’t be scared. It’s me, your uncle Ez,” he says condescendingly as he leans forward, so close your noses touch, “I’m gonna fuck this sweet virgin pussy. I’ll make it good for you baby. Make sure she creams all over my cock so much you’ll beg for more.”

Tears start falling down your face, a deep fear spreading through your body like a cancer. A fear your pussy seems immune too as you feel yourself clench around nothing in excitement.

“Now lay on back like a good girl baby. Go on.” Ezra urges you as he lets go of your neck and pushes your shoulder back gently. As scared as you are, you also know how much you do secretly enjoy the attention and the touches you get from him. You bite your lip nervously as your back hits the pillows behind you.

Ezra grabs your calf and uncrosses your legs as he bends forward. His face in between your legs, his nose brushes against your clothed slit as he takes in a deep breath.

“You smell so sweet kiddo.” He says looking up at you before glancing back down, “looks like someone’s excited to meet me.” He said with a smirk as he brings his hand up, taking his thumb and swiping up from the bottom of your slit up, landing on your little bundle of nerves. He slowly rubs a few circles on your clit, your body lights up from the electric feeling of someone touching you there. You quickly bite your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes closed, trying your hardest to hold back any sign that you like how it feels.

Not paying any attention to you, Ezra pulls your shorts to the side revealing your wet pussy. His brows scrunch as he purses his lips together and lets out a little “oooh”

“She’s even prettier than I imagined honey,” he says before laying a soft kiss on your slit, “seems real happy to meet me too.” He says with a little chuckle. Ezra dives right in, his tongue parting your lips as he licks up and down. Up and down. Swirling his tongue around your entrance before going up to swirl around your clit before he suctions his lips around the little bundle and gives it a few gentle sucks.

The feeling of his mouth on you has you teetering on edge already. You’ve never experienced someone licking you down there before. And it feels so good. A breath moan escapes through your lips before you realize it. Ezra looks up at you when he hears it only to see you with your eyes closed shut and sees you quickly clamp your mouth shut.

“Nu uh kiddo. Open your fucking eyes and watch me,” he says before reaching up and slapping you lightly on the face to get your attention, “fucking rude of ya to do that. Guess I gotta train ya to take cock and to be a good little whore huh?”

You open you eyes, looking down at him. You shake your head no, scared to open your mouth knowing you wouldn’t be able to speak normally.

Ezra looks back down at your pussy as he lowers his hand down. He takes his finger and gently prods your pussy. He pushes a little bit into you before pulling back out, only to push his finger in more and twist.

A whimper escapes your lips this time. His thick finger moving inside of you feels so good you just can’t help it.

“That’s it honey, feels good don’t it? Yea it does,” he slips his finger in all the way continuously moving in and out, twisting as he does so, “She’s opening up for me baby. I think she likes me.” He leans forward again and licks your clit. Looking up at you as he keeps licking and fingering, the sensation’s overwhelming your entire being. He starts sucking your bundle of nerves again, Your head tips back as you give up trying to fight how you feel. Letting out a moan as your hand comes up and grabs your breast and squeezes.

“That’s it baby take em out, play with your nipples for me, gonna feel even better,” he orders before diving back in to lick and suck on your bean.

Doing as he says, you pull your tank top up, revealing your breast as you take one in each hand. Letting yourself feel them, giving them squeezes before you take a nipple in between your fore finger and thumb, pinching the sensitive nub and rolling it between your fingers.

He’s right, you find yourself in ecstasy as you continue to play with yourself as he eats you out.

Ezra’s mouth leaves your heat as he sits up and grabs the dildo. Laying back down in between your legs, he takes the dildo and starts running it up and down gathering your slick on the pink phallus.

“I think she’s ready for more baby what d’ya think?”

Your hands stop what they’re doing as you look down at him with eyes wide with terror. Taking a large gulp you give him a tiny head shake, ‘no’ you mouth.

“Don’t worry baby she’s gonna like this. I’ll kiss it better after.”

He holds the base of the dildo and slowly pushes the top inside your dripping entrance. He manages to get just the tip in and stops pushing in. He slowly twists it side to side as he looks up at you to gauge any pain you might have. You tensed up at the intrusion, your mouth clamped shut with tears forming in your eyes. Ezra leans forward and kisses your sensitive clit, making your hips buck up, chasing his mouth for more. He ever so slightly pushes a little bit more in as he wraps his lips around your bundle of nerves and gives it a little suck. You’re not sure how to feel. The searing pain from the dildo entering you seems to subside and turns into overwhelming pleasure as Ezra continues his assault on your pussy. Soon he pushes the toy all the way in you, all you can do is lay there, writhing in ecstasy as he starts pumping it in and out, switching back and forth between licking and sucking on your stretched cunt.

“Ooohh nngh oh fuck oh fuck Un- Uncle Ezra please - I-I’m close oh fuck I’m gonna -“

White hot pleasure erupts all over, your legs shaking, your body starts to thrash and wiggle as your orgasm takes over. Your brain is on mute, no thoughts, you can barely even remember your own name.

“That’s its kiddo, oh fuck yea I told you she’d like this. Prettiest fucking pussy, got my face fucking soaked baby. Come here”

Ezra stands up, taking the dildo out of you and licking the flared bottom of it before crouching down in front of the mirror that’s next to your bed and sticking it on the mirror.

He stands back up and takes a step and is back at your side. He puts his hand behind your neck. You can feel his fingers work up the base of your skull and grab a handful of your hair. Once he has a good grip, he pulls you up by your hair,

“ Get on your knees baby it’s time you take a real man in those pretty holes of yours.”

Your legs are jelly, you can’t even manage to land on your feet when he pulls you. You roll out of bed and land on your knees on the floor. Your hands shooting out, landing on his leg as you try to keep yourself from face planting.

“Stick out your tongue baby.”

You immediately drop your jaw and stick your tongue all the way out. Your eyes wide looking up at him, without a single thought behind them. Your consumed with this want to do whatever he says, to swallow up any crumb he may leave you in hopes of feeling a smidge of the pure ecstatic pleasure he can give you again.

With his hand still tangled in your hair, his other hand pulls down his shorts. His thick cock springs out, the tip an angry shade of red with precum already leaking out. He is easily the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. Way bigger than the dildo you just took. No longer scared of any potential pain he may cause you, instead a pang of desire shoots through your body, you can feel your pussy get even wetter.

He takes himself in his hand and gives his cock a few pumps before guiding it into your open mouth. He isn’t so gentle this time. Instead he’s quick to push his cock down your throat, hitting the back of your throat making you gag on the first entry. Instantly you gag hard, tears fall from your eyes as spit starts to leak from your mouth around his cock. He pulls out and quickly shoves himself back in. Your hands go up, laying on his thighs as he pushes your head down on his cock as he pushes in. Giving you no respite, you quickly learn to breathe through your nose.

“Fuck yea always had a pretty little mouth on ya baby go on, give Uncle Ezra’s dick a good suck. Show me how good my dick tastes baby.”

You try real hard to suck on him as best you could. You cover your teeth with your lips and tighten your lips around him. Sucking on him, moving your tongue around, tracing a vein that went from the base almost up to the tip. Your nose buried in his curls as he holds you down on him.

“Oh kiddo, y’doing so good nngh this mouth is mine honey. Only Uncle Ezra fucks this pretty hole y’hear me? That tight little cunt is mine too.”

You moan around his dick, hearing him claim you as his.

Suddenly Ezra yanks on your hair, sending you back off his dick. He moves out of the way and pulls you forward, causing you to fall on your hands as he continues to pull making you crawl. Once he stops you realize your directly in front of your mirror. More specifically right in front of the dildo that is now sticking to it. He crouches down so his face in close to yours

“Suck on the fake dick now baby Uncle Ezra’s gonna be right behind you, opening up that tight little gash o’yours.”

Your eyes wide as spit trickles down your chin. Ezra leans forward shoving his tongue in your mouth, kissing you with feral enthusiasm, licking into your mouth before taking your tongue between his lips and sucking as he pulls back. A string of spit connects you too as he breaks the kiss he takes a few seconds and just admires how beautiful you are. Hair a mess, spit covered chin, a wild look in your eyes that says you love this. You look throughly wrecked and he’s just getting started. He yanks on your hair one last time and guides you to the dildo where you wrap your lips around it and begin to suck. You look into the mirror and see yourself on all fours, sucking the toy as Ezra stands up behind you and takes his clothes all the way off.

Once naked, Ezra gets back down on his knees behind you. His hands glide over the globes of your ass as he sits back on his legs and just takes in the most beautiful debauched scene in front of him. Taking himself in his hand, he gives himself a few pumps before spitting down onto his dick. He lines himself up and pushes in, he goes slow. Giving you barely just the tip and already he’s letting out this unabashed low groan as his eyes roll back.

“Oh fuck baby this is gonna be a tight fit,” he says in a deep lust filled voice, “Don’t worry kiddo Uncle Ezra’s gonna make her purr real nice.”

He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit with a quickness. Softly rubbing circles on your bundle of nerves, you feel yourself relax completely. Ezra pushes in a little bit more.

He might be immoral but he’s not a complete monster. He knows his pretty little niece is a pure virgin, he’s gonna make this unforgettable. He already knows she’ll come crawling back for more, he thinks to himself as a smirk crosses his face.

“Breathe baby, just breathe. Fuck you feel so good, tight little gash suckin me just right.” He coaches you as he finally pushes all the way in, waiting a few beats before he moves again letting you get used to the stretch.

You feel so full with his cock inside you and the dildo in your mouth. You can’t help but whine as you feel him throb inside of you. You pull off the toy,

“Uh-uncle Ez- Ezra please. Oh p-please move oh fuck I’m so full. . s’good.”

Hearing you moan and beg is all he needs as he starts to move and quickly finds a hard, fast pace.

Your mouth falls open into an O shape as the breath is completely knocked out of you as he starts to really fuck you. It’s too much but at the same time you want more. You’ve never felt euphoria quite like this. You go back to sucking on the toy so you can feel that exquisite full feeling again.

“ Ooh kiddo yea. Fucking hell that’s it baby oh fuck look at you. Got a cock finally inside this little virgin slit and you already need two dicks just to satisfy ya huh? Yea you do. Ho-hold on baby I gotta make sure I never forget this.”

His thrusts slow until he stills inside you as he reaches over to his shorts and pulls out his phone. Once he straightens back up behind you, he opens the camera on his phone and flips it so he sees the debauchery that’s in front of him on his phone.

“Yeaaa that’s it, show the camera how much of a nasty little slut you really are honey. Go on, show em how good your pretty little mouth sucks.”

You should feel shame. Embarrassment. You should beg him to not film you in this lewd act. But you can’t. And won’t. Something about him filming this makes you drip with even more want. Makes you want to do even more depraved, perverted acts with him. Maybe even after, the two of you watch your home movies as you lay in bed.

Ezra holds onto your hip with one hand as the other holds his phone as he drives his throbbing cock back in. He sets an unrelenting pace as he pounds into you.

You’re an absolute mess as you moan around the toy in your mouth.

He chuckles darkly, “Look at my sweet little niece. Letting her dirty old uncle pop her sweet cherry. Nngh oh fuck yea. Perfect fucking pussy squeezing me so tight. Look at my cock hungry little whore. I told you she’d like me baby, she’s so creamy, eating me right up.” His words abruptly ended by a moan he couldn’t help but let out.

“Ff-fuck yea that’s it, Uncle Ezra’s gonna cum in his cunt. It’s mine now baby she’s only gonna take my cock, my cum ya hear? Nnn oh fuck oh fuck let me feel you cum sweetheart, come on”

He reaches back down and quickly rubs circles on your clit and immediately your legs start shaking as you feel your orgasm crash over you. You let out a muffled cry, the toy in your mouth keeps you from yelling very loud.

“Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck.”

Ezra chants and soon you feel him spurt hot cum deep inside you. He stills, cock still buried in your tight heat as he bends down over your back.

Ezra puts his phone down as he holds you for a moment, leaving soft kisses on your shoulder and down your back before he pulls himself out of you. You pull off the toy and slump to the side on the floor.

“Let’s get you cleaned up kiddo. How bout we go get some’ to eat? That sound good baby?”

You look up at him with a smile on your face, “Yea that sounds good.”

Ezra smiles back and with that he helps you up and takes you to the bathroom.

#ezra #ezra prospect #uncle Ezra #pedro pascal #spicy smut #pedro pascal cinematic universe #tw noncon #tw unclecest #pedro pascal characters #Uncle Ezra smut #ezra x reader #Uncle Ezra x virgin reader

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

ezra + bath oil + titties

GO

You absolute menace ily hahaha. Initially I was just going to do a short lil drabble that was a continuation of our disgusting musings about this man, but then I said why not make this into an entire feature in honor of @swiftiscruff's Friendship Exchange? You know, give our boy Ezra some real time to shine, and all in the name of celebrating friendships formed over that little verbose slut?

So, here is my Ezra oil shower titty fic dedicated to the lovely Kelli in celebration of the Friendship Exchange.

𝗔𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗵 𝗶𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂

PAIRING(s): Ezra x fem!reader RATING: explicit material | 18+ WORD COUNT: 3k CONTENT: AU where Cee doesn't exist sorry lmao, established relationship, titty fixation, edible/food safe bathing oils, Ezra comes with his own warning, egalitarian assplay, cumplay, fabric washcloth used as gripping agent

Your nose for the most part had become blind to Ezra’s signature, tangy musk that edged into a ripe stench on hotter days. Even though you’d settled into the outskirts of a modest trading town and begun taking on the doldrums of keeping house, Ezra hadn’t fallen from his habit of going a little too long in between bath days. In times past he would go unshowered due to lack of amenities – the worlds you’d traveled and harvested from had hardly offered much in the way of hygienic routine – but now there was no such obstacle. He could bathe any time he wished and take as long as he pleased. You had your own home together now, one you were building upon each and every day, but the transient, unpredictable life that had become so ingrained into him was hard to shake. The notion of permanence was fleeting no matter how many days passed under your roof.

You, on the other hand, had become part fish since putting down roots here. There was a bathtub and a separate shower, and you craved the warm pool of water to soak in after a long day. Ezra liked to give you grief for wasting such a precious resource as water even though this planet was abundant in it. And yet, his admonishing never kept him from slipping into the wash room to ogle your bare form in the bath. You just wish every now and then he’d partake himself.

“The suns in all their unwavering glory has me feeling wrung of every bit of moisture,” he huffs as he fills a glass with something to wet his tongue and flood his scratchy, dry throat. “It’s good fortune that we needn’t adorn ourselves in protective suits here. I can only imagine the sort of foul fog that would cling to me then.”

You’re well aware of the second sun’s habit of becoming unbearable in these few weeks that your now home planet rotates closer to it. Your skin is sticky and wet with exertion, but at least all the growth pods you and Ezra have worked so tirelessly to establish are flourishing. They needed as much extra attention as any human on this planet did during these hotter spells. Soon enough you will forget all about the vehement heat when you and Ezra take your yields to the market during The Great Exchange and come home with lighter wagons and heavier pockets.

You accept the glass from Ezra and drink down whatever he’d poured. The cool creep of it down your throat already feels one step closer to equilibrium. “I guess we should wash up before we get the entire house dirty,” you reason.

“Hm, I suppose we should.”

You trod upstairs to the bathroom and bite back a scream when you see Ezra procure one entirely too small washcloth from the cabinet.

“You’re only washing at the sink?” you ask in what you pray isn’t a too panicked timbre.

“You don’t think the sink is robust enough to address my filth?”

You scrunch your nose, and that’s all the answer he needs. He chuckles a little and sets the singular washcloth aside. It already has smudges of who knows what just from him handling it.

“Tell me what you propose, my Little Gem.” He has an easy smile and those dangerous, glittery eyes fixed onto you.

“I mean, if you’re too tired I could, you know, I wouldn’t mind getting you washed up.” You shrug as though it’s enough to offset your way too eager proposition.

“You believe my own efforts are inferior?” he teases. “My Little Gem needs to take matters into her own hands and not rely on the fates?”

“Well, you’re always talking about wasting water. Wouldn’t it be saving water if we showered together?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You would forgo your hallowed soak just to bathe with me, Little Gem?”

“I’m way too gross to just get into a bath. It’d just be sitting in a pool of my own funk. This level of gross calls for a full on shower, I think.”

“And you’ll tend to me in there?” he purrs as he steps closer to you and curves his hands over your hips. The pungent tang of his body makes your nose scrunch again.

“Much to tend to, it seems,” he remarks in response to your overt repulsion.

You need to take Ezra up on his noncommittal commitment of getting into the shower with you before he changes his mind. You quickly concoct a plan to hold his attention and agreeability in the small shower. You grab the soaking oil you drizzle into your baths on especially achy days and prop it on the shower ledge. You start peeling off grimy, damp layers of clothing and nod to Ezra, who begins doing the same.

You cross the room to where you stow your accessories and extras and grab a few items to pin your hair back. The last thing you need is something getting in the way of you giving him a thorough scrub down. Ezra saunters after you like a cat on the prowl, eyes roaming greedily up and down. Before he can derail the entire enterprise, you slink into the shower and start the water.

The initially cool spray is a contrary sensation to the heat emanating from your skin, but it quickly warms to a soothing slip. The stall darkens as he steps inside, broad shoulders blocking out the light struggling to filter in through the expanse of him. His frame was a thickened amalgamation of corded musculature padded in the softened flesh of a satiating supper every evening. The work here kept him lean for the most part, but you much preferred this iteration of him – all brawn and lithe but with the markers of an untroubled life.

“It seems all displeasure with my hygiene is forgotten once I’m naked as the day I was born,” he murmurs low and self-satisfied.

You roll your eyes but know he’s correct. A lover as competent and enthusiastic as Ezra meant overlooking other personal drawbacks wasn’t too difficult. “I’m sizing up my work,” you protest.

“And what do you make of its sizing?” he purrs with a gentle roll of his hips against you.

You knew this was where things would go almost immediately, and yet you still had the nerve to be caught off guard. “Ezra,” you grit out. You guide him under the stream and tell him to stay put while you grab the stack of washcloths you’ll need.

Upon your return you note the ashen brown water falling from him and circling the drain. “I must admit–” he says through the water rushing over him. Your eyes catch the flex of his biceps as he raises his arms up to work the water through his hair and scalp. “–There is something quite divine about the ritual. All sins washed away. A clean slate. A pure soul ready to be defiled once again. Isn’t that right, Little Gem?”

“What?” you mumble absentmindedly, too preoccupied on ogling the trail of water snaking down his torso and into the thicket of brown coarse hairs below his waist.

He only grins with a devious slant to his mouth and pulls you under the spray with him. His hands wander across your body in a lazy exploration. The only thing keeping you from abandoning your task altogether and just letting him take you right there in the shower is the persistent odor still clinging to him, now taking on a damp quality that only heightens the earthy grub and grit components within.

“Take a seat on the ledge, Ezra.”

He gropes the curve of your ass and presses a few kisses to the column of your neck before complying. “I’m at your disposal.” He spreads his arms open, inviting the work and focus of your hands on him.

You avoid looking at his half hard cock bobbing gently with every movement and soap up the first cloth. You try to avoid the snare of his gaze as you begin scrubbing his face, but he catches you with it as you lather through his beard. The corner of his mouth pulls up, an instant reassurance that he knows exactly the effect he has on you.

His face is a brighter, pinker vision once you rinse it, and it solidifies your resolve to scrub every inch of this man while he’s indulging your whim. His hands roam up and down your legs as you scratch and scour his hair. The fragrance of the soap combined with the purged dirt fills the space. You move to your hands and knees and start scrubbing from toe to knee then thigh to groin. He surprisingly doesn’t make too much of a fuss, which is good considering it takes three separate washcloths to get that section entirely cleaned.

“Surely I’ve indulged your caretaking long enough to have earned a different kind of corporeal attention?” He leans forward and noses at your neck and earlobe, and your body shivers despite the warm rush of water trailing down your back.

“Grab that bottle to your left,” you order as you start scrubbing down his torso. Your breath catches when your wrist bumps into his fully hardened, weeping cock, and you catch the curve of a smirk playing on his mouth. He holds up the unlabeled bottle and gives it a questioning shake. 

“An aphrodisiac?” His eyebrow cocks in devilish curiosity.

“Bath oil,” you snort. “You can, um, put some on me while I’m working on you. You know, just so it has time to soak in before I wash up, too. If you don’t mind.”

His eyes narrow and pull the edge of his mouth upward. He sees right through you, just like he always does. “Here I was thinking my purest Little Gem wouldn’t resort to such lowly deceit and bribery.” He pops the cap of the bath oil open and drizzles a moderate amount into his hand before setting the bottle aside again. He’s clearly amused with the ruse you’ve concocted, but unfettered exploration of your body is apparently a bribe he’s willing to accept.

“Resume your venture to free me from all the remnants of my labors,” he obliges.

“You know, you could just say ‘keep scrubbing me because I know I still smell’, Ez.”

He grins and raises his hands until they hover above your chest, little trickling lines of oil falling onto the slope of your breasts and dripping down slowly. You push your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep yourself grounded. If Ezra decided to start toying with you, you didn’t stand a chance at resisting his efforts.

You slather his arms from wrist to shoulder and work your way to his torso. Meanwhile he grazes a slick finger against your nipples in a ghost of a touch that has you subconsciously chasing his hand. You finish underneath each of his armpits, and, just when he’s behaved himself long enough to catch you off guard, he flicks one of your nipples hard with the edge of a fingernail. A shaky gasp of sharp pleasure flies from your throat quickly followed by a second one when he does it to the other side.

“See to my hindparts, won’t you?” he solicits with a deceptively innocent expression.

You clench your teeth together and take a step forward so you can reach over his shoulders and wash his back. He dips his head and takes as much of your breast into his mouth as he can and suctions with as much strength as he can exert. You yelp and attempt to release the clutch of his mouth from your sensitive bud, but he only sucks harder with a satisfied groan. His arms circle around each of your legs and cause you to lose your footing, which he uses as a distraction to switch sides.

Little pinpricks of purple have cropped up in a bloom of red from where he already sucked, and the force of his pull now promises no different for the other side. He loved to do this to you – get you off kilter, overstimulated, and seeking out more, often all at once. Your breaths come out whiny as he latches and pulls on your nipples and tissue.

“Ez,” you gasp. “I’m–I have to–to finish.”

He grips the flesh of your ass and pulls one cheek aside so that he can deftly push a thick fingertip into your puckering rim. It glides in with no resistance, and you almost think the oil wasn’t even necessary with how much you ached for him to fill you there. He pulls away just enough to disorient you with his intoxicating diction.

“Perhaps before our wash is complete, you’ll be beseeching me just to feel the breadth of me cleaving you apart,” he husks. “Nearly weeping for me to bury my cock in this hole just as you did only two nights ago.”

 “It feels good,” you mewl weakly. 

He hums low and gravelly in agreement as he resumes his ministrations on your breasts. The tip of his finger plunges shallow, a slow in and out, and you know it’s just to tease you for what you won’t get until you are begging him for it. You think that he must revel in the sway he has over you when he so fervently succumbs to you. There’s something so raw and vulnerable in the way he cannot deny his devotion and attachment to you, and so he must have some part of you in the same way as to not feel entirely powerless.

You’re panting despite exerting very little energy at the moment. “I-I really need to finish washing you u—”

He pops off with a loud smack and abruptly stands. He crowds you against the corner and props a foot up on the ledge, caging you in with his cock right at your eye level. Your hands rush with a washcloth and soap, now more greedy to feel him than cleanse him. You lather his entire groin area and resist the urge to lick up the beads of precum dribbling from his ruddy tip. Your eyes keep traveling up to meet his where he watches down on you with an almost omnipotent, divine consideration.

The last washcloth falls to the shower floor, and Ezra slowly walks backward into the water to rinse himself. It’s probably just a trick of the mind, but you swear he appears less hazy than usual with all the grime cleared from him. Your mouth is slack as you watch from your hands and knees on the shower floor, impossibly cramped into the corner of the small space. He smiles down at you. You know how much he loves seeing you on your knees in front of him.

Without a word, he moves the shower head to the side so that it pelts against the tile instead of spraying down on you both before turning around and hitching his other leg up on the ledge. He braces himself on the wall and the wobbly metal and glass door on the other side.

“Reap the benefits of your work, Little Gem,” he says over his shoulder.

You frantically douse your hand with a generous dab of the bath oil and walk on your knees until your mouth is flush against the cleft of his ass. A strangled whimper ekes out of him as you reach a hand between his legs and stroke his neglected cock with the slippery pull of the oil. You entrench your face into him until your flicking tongue delves into his asshole. You massage and prod into it, eyes rolling back when you feel how it clenches in delight at your motions.

Ezra turns again to face you now with what can only be described as a wild, hungry look in his eye. He takes the neatly stacked pile of used washcloths and tosses them onto the floor. You have no time to question his motives because he’s grabbing the bottle of oil and squeezing globs of it onto your breasts, barely returning the bottle to its place on the shelf before he’s massaging them and awkwardly shoving his cock between them and rutting against their pillowy, fleshy tightness.

“Shit,” he hisses. “That ass. That asshole of yours. These tits.” He sounds pained just trying to speak. His face screws up as he fucks between them, moaning appreciatively when you use your hands to press them closer together for him to fuck.

“You like my tits?” you ask a little breathlessly.

He makes a noise of great effort, eyes pinching shut at your goading question. He frees his cock and takes the flat of his hand to slap against your peaked buds. You cry out in pleasure at the sharp, blissful sting. “Bet I could make you come for me just like this. Couldn’t I, Little Gem?” he grits.

“Y-Yes,” you moan.

He makes some unhinged noise and slaps against your breasts in quick succession, barking out an order for you to touch yourself, and teeth glinting in the light with a manic grin as you climax. He starts fisting his length over your face, breaths coming fast and heavy.

“Open wide now,” he pants as he tugs his cock faster. The tip of it knocks against your lip, and you open wider with your tongue jutting flat and spread out for him to cover.

“Just like that Little Gem,” he rasps. “Hold it open and drink me.”

A few short strokes is all it takes before he’s moaning and erupting all over your face and mouth, the hot, thick bands of his spend sticking to your skin wherever they land. He doesn’t stop jerking himself until every last drop is spent. When he’s finally done, he smears his softening cock against your face, collecting his cum in sloppy swipes.

“Now look who is soiled, Little Gem,” he hums. “Clean up the mess you’ve made.” He watches you with half-lidded eyes and a heaving chest. “Wouldn’t want to leave things filthy, would you?”

You oblige and take him into your mouth, sucking and licking until every trace of his spend has been swallowed.

#PPCUGiftExchange2024 #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #pedro pascal characters

[palioom]

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

[fake-bleach]

fallen star | darkish!ezra x reader

summary: You're lost, alone, and looking for your family in the middle of a planet you know absolutely nothing about. That's until you encounter a man who offers to help you, giving you more than you bargained for.

word count: 9k (crazy i know oops)

warnings: (18+ only!) fem!afab!reader (no use of y/n), bit of a slow burn but not rly, dub-con smut (ezra convinces reader to give in), kinda manipulative/creepy ezra, unprotected sex, virgin!reader & is innocent as hell so.. innocence kink?, age gap (but reader is of legal age & an adult ofc), piv (pls use protection), fingering, foreplay, nipple play, crying from pleasure, slight spit kink, size kink, breeding kink, praise, degrading, dirty talk, all that good, filthy shit - lmk if i missed anything!

author's note: hi all! this is the first official writing i've ever done so please feel free to give me any suggestions, notes, etc! i've been so inspired by the incredible writers on this app, such as @mypoisonedvine & @toxicanonymity's fics & wanted to give it a try for myself! i'd appreciate it so much if you could let me know if you'd like more from me as well! hope you all enjoy <3

ao3 link | masterlist

The heat and humidity sticks to your skin while you run, desperation seething through your teeth as you take a deep breath. You inhale sharply as you finally take a break to sit on the ground. The bright, green scenery around you consumes you as you look around frantically, having seen the same trees and leaves over and over again. You're practically running in circles at this point.

You're stuck, and quite frankly, losing hope.

You've lost your family amidst this strange, new planet, as your father convinced you and the rest of your family that there would be hope to discover new materials and minerals that you'd be able to sell. You all would be rich and finally 'comfortable', not having to live off of the things you'd be feeding off on day by day, as your father said..

What a load of shit.

You're unsure of where exactly your family had gone, as you woke up two mornings ago to an empty tent; the "home" that provided you no privacy for the past few weeks, whatsoever. Since then, you've been on the search for them. They're all you've ever known, and despite the immense pressure and burden you've had on your shoulders for being the eldest sibling, you needed them.

You've never been out in the real world on your own. At least, not without your father to help guide you and provide reassurance in what you were taught to do.. what you had to do. You were completely dumbfounded and unsure of what you'd do next in this planet you hardly knew of, and to your knowledge, barely had any population.

The solitude you've experienced the past 48 hours has been torturous to say the least, and the scraps of food you were luckily able to find were running low already. You were getting tired already. How could you survive if you could barely last a day?

As you catch your breath, you begin to stand back up, prepared to continue on your journey and in hopes of finding more food and water. To your advantage and luck, this planet was breathable, giving you one less problem to worry about. As you lift yourself up back on your feet, you hear the crunch of a branch around you.

You quickly turn your head towards the sound as your breath hitches, your heart racing a bit faster. Your mind wanders to the worst case scenario, unsure of what might be out there. You weren't even sure if there were any creatures or other dangerous species out here.

The one thing you did know was that there were dangerous people out there. There was that constant reminder in the back of your mind, engrained from the repeated lectures that your dad gave you as you grew up.

"Sure, there are monsters out there, honey.. but it's the humans that'll get ya for good. They're the real monsters."

With his words roaming around in your head, you slowly take a step back as you continue to frantically look around, seeing nothing but the same leaves, trees, and branches filled in your eyes. You lick your lips nervously, clearing your throat to prepare yourself to sound tougher than you look.

"Who's there?" You yell out harshly, showing that you're no one to mess with. But to the unknown force watching you, it's not convincing one bit.

Silence fills your ears as nothing responds to you. No voice, no steps.. not a single sound. You take a long pause before you start to open your mouth again, until you see something out the corner of your eye move closer, yet subtly towards you.

Quickly whipping your head around to look towards that direction, you gasp faintly as you see a man approach you slowly. His hands are up, almost in a surrender. "Hey, hey, now.. no need to be afraid.." he says softly to you. The accent that his voice lets out consumes your ears as you take a step back, your eyes looking over him, taking in his presence. He's the first person you've seen in the past 48 hours and you're shocked, and more notably, afraid.

"Step back.. Stay away." You let out sternly, grabbing your small switchblade from your pocket to aim it towards him, trying to prevent him from getting any closer.

He was a tall man with messy, black hair, and a patch of white leaking towards the front. He seemed exhausted, looking at you with hazy eyes and on the brink of passing out. "P-Please, girl.. just need some help, I swear," He says as he licks his dry lips, breathing in harshly, "Been out on my own for a couple of days now.. and I'd assume.. you've been on your own, too."

You scoff as you shake your head quickly, denying the fact of the matter, "N-No, sir, you'd be wrong. I'm just getting back to my family, that's all. I can't.. I can't help you." You tell him as you glance around, a small brink of hope in your chest telling you that your family would be right there. But, you knew deep down, that would never be the case.

You look back at the man in front of you as his hand reaches towards yours, gesturing you to put the switchblade down, "Come on now, no need to do that. We can stick together, huh? I can help you get back to your family, you can help me get some food and supplies.. How's that sound? Keep each other some company, yeah? Then I'll be out of your way.." He tells you with a soft chuckle, a small grin forming on his lips in hopes of you to agree.

You back up a bit more before feeling your back hit a tree, making you sigh harshly as you lick your lips, thinking of what you should do. Your mind races as you think of all the possibilities that can come out of this. If this man was genuine and just needed some company and a bit of help.. he might be able to help you get back to your family.

As long as you kept your distance from him, you'd be okay.. and you would be able to finally find them. You wouldn't have to worry about being on your own anymore.

You look at him with stern eyes as you begin to reply, the grip of your hand on the switchblade tightening, "I don't even know you. You're a stranger. What makes you think I could trust you?" Your voice is a bit shaky as you speak, unsure on what decision you should make.

"That's right, birdie.. I'm a stranger, I know, but I guarantee you that I'm only tryin' to help you. You help me out too, and we'd be doing each other a favor. Killing two birds with one stone, if you will.." He proposes to you, his voice a bit gentle and soft as he tries to persuade you into joining him, giving you a small smile. "You just.. gotta put a bit of faith in me, that's all. I'm sure a pretty girl like you's got a nice heart, hm? We can help each other."

He nods at you as he finishes, taking a step towards you with his hand reaching closer to your switchblade. You breathe out faintly as you nod back at him, slowly bringing your hand back down to the side of your body. You flip the switchblade back and insert it into your pocket, your eyes never leaving his.

You bite your lip nervously as your heart begins to relax a bit, relenting, "I.. Okay, let's say I say yes.. What's in it for me? What makes you reliable in helping me? You said you needed my help too.. what would I be doing for you?"

The shakiness in your voice is evident as he stares at you intently, his eyes focused on you. He chuckles softly, explaining himself to you, "Well, birdie, I know this entire planet like the back of my hand. At least this entire area, that's for sure. More importantly, I know where we can stay for the night. I can give you some food.. a nice, warm place to sleep in.." He lets on, his grin widening as he notices your eyes soften at his words.

He can tell that you're exhausted, the hunger in your stomach increasing as every second passes. He knows what you need.

"Seems to me like you want that, don't you, honey? I can give you that.." He continues as he smiles at you. He seems genuine, even if you can't sense the obscure tone in it. "Just asking for your company, that's all.. that's all I want from you."

You breathe out through your nose, taking in the words he was saying. You're conflicted as your mind races with your fathers' words flooding through your head. But, you know you won't make it out here alone, especially not through another night of wandering on your own without any food or water.

Desperation is getting the best of you.

You gulp and reluctantly nod your head at him, ultimately agreeing to his offer. "Alright, fine, but we're keeping to ourselves, okay? There's no need for us to.. get to know each other or anything like that. You're helping me get back to my family, I'm giving you the 'company' you want: That's it." You establish the ground rules, letting him know that you want nothing else from him.

The man slightly shakes his head at you, poking his tongue against his cheek for a second. He laughs softly and nods, saying, "Alright, birdie. You got yourself a deal. But the least you could do is tell me your name, right? Here, I'll go first.. I'm Ezra."

Putting a name to the face, your eyes soften a bit as you stare at him. Ezra. You acknowledge it and nod your head, taking a pause before telling him your own name.

His mouth forms a bright smile, presenting his nice teeth to you, repeating your name on his tongue. "Lovely to meet you, sweetheart. Now, let me lead the way. Shouldn't take too long." He tells you enthusiastically, looking over at you while he proceeds his way east.

The sun's down by the time you reach the destination that Ezra's led you to. By the time you get there, your mind is hazy, the exhaustion and hunger getting to you with each step you take. Your eyes widen as they lay on the site in front of you; a decent sized tent that seemed much more impressive than the "home" you had with your family for the past few weeks.

Ezra's voice fills your ears, breaking the silence around you outside as he approaches the front of the tent, looking over at you with a grin. "Here we are, honey. Home sweet home." He tells you, licking his lips as he makes his way into it, beckoning you to follow him.

And you do. You follow behind him eagerly, impatiently expecting everything he's promised you: food and a nice, warm place to sleep in. Once you enter the tent, he turns on a lamp that fills the space with light. You're immediately looking around, taking in and cherishing the fact that you're actually somewhere that's remotely cozy and comfortable, just how a home should be.

"Do you like it?" He asks you softly, making his way behind you as you look around with curious eyes. You nod your head, giving him a small smile despite your inability to trust him too much. "It's.. really nice. Thanks, Ezra." You tell him, licking your lips as you pull your eyes away from him to set your bag of things in one of the corners.

The tent has almost everything you'd need in a basic home and it's impressive, to say the least. A small table for you to sit and eat at, a tiny kitchen area, and a decent sized bed that fit perfectly in the corner of it.

You turn your head back towards him, his eyes already wandering over you in curiosity. You ask him eagerly, yet collected, "So.. I was promised food? Can I get that now.. please?" You're trying not to have an attitude, seemingly as this man was kind enough to take you in, but you're starving.

Ezra smiles at you and nods, waving his hand towards his direction to gesture you to come over to him. While he walks towards a decently sized bin, he speaks to you, saying, "Don't got too much here, but it should be more than enough for the both of us the next few days. We'll go out looking for more soon."

You nod and follow him, eagerly looking over his shoulder as he kneels down to open up the bin. It's filled with packs of little food that are meant to get you through a tough journey or for you to get by, but it's definitely not anything special. By all means, food is food and you were more than happy to get what you could.

"Thank you, Ezra, I appreciate it," You say to him kindly as he grabs two bags for you, looking up at you while he places them in your eager hands. He nods at you and gives you that kind smile again, making you grin back at him.

As he grabs his own bags, he closes the bin and stands back up, motioning you to sit with him at the table.

When the two of you sit, you immediately open up the bags and nearly devour your food, your stomach growling in the process of your meal.

You hear a small chuckle as you eat and you look back up at him, mouth full of food. "Slow down, sweetheart. It's not goin' anywhere, don't you worry," He tells you, all while he calmly takes bites of his food, clearly cherishing it more than you are. "The faster you eat, the less you'll enjoy it, you know? Better to eat slow so it fills you up real good." He finishes.

You sigh as you nod at him, agreeing and taking in his advice. You hadn't realized that maybe you should be cherishing what you're getting right now, rather than indulging yourself in it so quickly.

Looking down at your hands, you sigh, apologizing to him. "Sorry.. I've just been so hungry. Thank you.. again. I really am grateful." You finish with a small smile at him, continuing to slowly eat your food and taking in the flavors that were satisfying your palette.

The both of you ate in silence, simply enjoying each other's company. As much as you hated to admit it, you liked knowing that you had someone with you, regardless of who it was. And from the few hours you've spent with Ezra, he seemed like the right person to be with.

As the two of you finish eating, you're satisfied, and definitely a lot more happier than you were before. You were just ready to end the day and get a good night's rest, exhausted from the relentless journey you were on.

You yawn softly as you shut your eyes, bringing your hand to your mouth to cover it up. Ezra looks at you attentively, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips once you remove your hand. You didn't notice that, though.

He then chuckles at you and shakes his head, smiling widely, "Ready to go to sleep now, birdie? You can have the bed tonight." He tells you, the kindness in his voice seeping through.

You look at him with soft eyes, eyebrows furrowing, "No, no, it's okay, I can sleep on the floor. You're the one who got this place and took me here.. you deserve the bed." You tell him earnestly, unable to accept his offer. Sure, it's just a bed, but he deserved to sleep well tonight too.

Ezra just shakes his head at you and laughs faintly, "No, you take the bed. I take the floor. Don't you worry, we'll have time to make it work.." He lets out, chuckling.

You aren't too sure what he means by that.

You ignore it though, just giving him a small smile instead. He was just being kind, and you were grateful for it.

Nodding your head, you reluctantly give in and sigh out, "Okay, just tonight though, alright? I'll be out of your hair eventually, anyway." He just grins at you as he takes in your words, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Right.. it's just a couple of days." He murmurs out, glancing around the room, pursing his lips. He looks back to you and nods, getting up from his seat as he gives you a grin, "Alright, time for bed, darlin'. You need some privacy?" He asks.

Getting up from your seat as well, you nod your head, slowly moving towards your bag. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks Ezra. I'll let you know when I'm done." You tell him.

He acknowledges your request and walks out the tent, zipping it up securely. You take your spare clothes out of your bag, beginning to change into the comfortable pajamas; the only ones you had left.

You don't feel the eyes on you, staring at your every move.

Getting ready to go to sleep, Ezra's changed into some comfortable clothes as well. He sets up a small area for him to sleep in, right next to the bed that you'll be taking. As he does so, you sit on the bed, staring at his movements.

Still feeling a bit guilty about the bed, you tell him, "Are.. are you sure you're okay sleeping down there? What if you get cold.. or something?" You ask him, gradually starting to care for him more than you hoped or expected to.

He glances up at you, sitting up on his knees as he lets go of the sleeping bag, shaking his head. "Honey, stop asking. This isn't the first time I've slept on the floor, and besides.. it's much more comfortable than you'd think," He replies to you, grinning at your concerns for him, "Don't you worry about me, alright?"

You sigh and nod your head at him, giving into his request to let it go.

"Alright.. goodnight then, Ezra. Thank you, again." You let out tiredly, giving him a final smile. You moved yourself towards the edge of the bed that was facing the wall of the tent, preferring to sleep where you weren't so exposed to any open part of the bed.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." Ezra says, turning off the lamp in the tent before he gives you a final glance.

You turn to your side to shut your eyes, putting your hands underneath the side of your head as extra support from the pillow. You were comfortable, more comfortable than you've been in the past month.

You hear shuffling down on the floor, Ezra moving around in his sleeping bag as he tries to get comfortable enough to be able to doze off.

A couple of minutes go by as you attempt to fall asleep, failing everytime while your body shivers. You had a blanket over you, but it wasn't enough. There seemed to be a constant drift of wind from the outside coming inside the tent, making the heat in your body gradually fade away.

You sighed frustratingly as you softly whispered to Ezra, hoping he was still awake. "Ezra.. is the tent open?" You asked him, wondering if he forgot to close it all the way.

You hear his rough voice, whispering back to you, "No, honey, it's closed.. You cold?" He asks back, leaning up on his arm to look at you.

Turning your head and body towards him, you nod your head and sigh, "Yeah.. sorry, I can't sleep like this.." You let out, annoyed at yourself. You've already asked for so much from him and you were sure he just wanted to sleep already.

He grins at you and begins to get up slowly, saying, "Don't apologize, birdie.. It's hard to sleep when it's so cold," He breathes out, the silence in the room deafening you besides his course voice, "Why don't I come up there? Keep you warm for the night.. I promise it'll help you fall asleep."

You swallow as you think of it, unsure if you should let him be so close to you that way, so quick into your acquaintance. You were so cold though, as your fatigue ran through your body and all you wanted to do was sleep.

So, you agreed. What else was there to lose?

"Okay.. just for tonight." You murmur out, gesturing for him to come on the bed as he nods at you. You lay back down on your side, facing the wall of the tent as you move the blanket so he can have some too.

You feel him get on the bed, the weight and smell of him consuming you just from being right next to you. His hands move the blanket up to lay it on top of himself, sighing contently as he feels the warmth of the both of you surround his cold body in just a few seconds.

A couple of minutes later, as you're gradually starting to doze off, you feel arms wrap around your body, their strong hold pulling you by your waist. Ezra's chest presses into your back, his crotch just below your rear as you gasp softly, the intrusion of physical contact suddenly waking you up and energizing you.

You turn your head slightly to try to look at him, but before you open your mouth to say anything, he cuts you off. "Shh, honey.. just to make you feel a bit warmer. There's no harm in that. Physical contact creates warmth.. you know that, right?" He mumbles to you, just enough to be coherent as you furrow your eyebrows, conflicted by this.

You had just met the man and he was already holding you this close.

You sigh out and breathe softly, saying, "Okay.. I guess you're right," continuing to let him hold you. It starts to feel kind of nice, the warmth in your body increasing as you're both huddled so close together.

As you start to relax again, you press the side of your head to the pillow, allowing yourself to shut your eyes gently and let the sleep take over you.

Your peace is quickly taken away though, as you feel Ezra's hand on top of your hip begin to caress your stomach, slowly moving it lower to the hem of your pajama shirt as he slips his hand underneath it. His hand begins running across your stomach, feeling you.

Gasping softly, you turn your head to look at him again, asking sharply, "What are you doing, Ezra?"

He just hums and continues, his eyes shut. "Shh, sweetheart, c'mon.. Just gonna make you feel better, alright?" He whispers out, his other hand gripping your body tighter against him as the hand on your stomach lowers itself to your pajama pants, starting to slip it underneath the fabric.

You squirm against him as you groan out harshly, "S-Stop, Ezra, stop!" You protest against him, unsure of what to do. Your eyes move around the room frantically as his arms overpower you, holding you still against his chest.

Ezra's eyes open as you squirm against him, making him laugh out faintly at your struggle. His fingers start to roam across your panties, letting them run over your core. His head moves closer to your ear, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Be quiet, honey.. just let me do this, let me make you feel good. It'll keep you warm.."

His hand slips underneath your underwear, quickly cupping your pussy with his entire hand, making him groan out as you whimper, gasping out, "Ezra, please, stop!"

He ignores your pleas, moaning into your ear as his fingers run across your lips, feeling you grow wetter by the second. "Fuck, birdie.. You feel that? You're wet for me.. you're liking this, aren't you, darlin'? It'll feel good, just trust me.." He sighs into your ear, moving his lips to your neck to kiss it softly.

You continue to shake and squirm against him, trying to kick him off of you, but it's no use. He moves his leg over your own, entrapping you against him as you feel his crotch press into your hips and waist. The hard bulge in his soft pants makes you throb, forcing a moan out of you, both from a mixture of fear and unwanted excitement.

"Don't fight me, baby. Don't fight this. It'd be much better for you if you just gave in.. it'll feel so good, sweetheart, please, let me.." He pleas into your ear, pressing two of his fingers on your cunt to find your clit.

Rubbing small circles around your lips, he hears for your moan, indicating that he's found it. He smirks widely as he continues to rub small circles on your clit, feeling you grow wetter by the second as the pressure of his movements persist.

You whine out as your body grows a bit weak, feeling the pleasure build up in your body. Your heart races as you gulp, shutting your eyes tightly. You've never had anyone in your life do this to you before.

Ezra laughs faintly as he continues his motions, "That's it, sweetheart.." He draws out, "Give in, fuck, I know you want to. Anyone ever touch you like this, baby?" He inquires, moving the hand underneath the side of your body you were laying on. He grips your stomach, right below your breasts, and moves his body to lay on his back, taking you with him. Your back lays just against Ezra's side, his left arm wrapped tightly around you, moaning out as he has more control of you like this. He kicks the thin blanket off of the both of you, giving him a view of his hand down your pants and underwear, the moonlight shining through the tent.

You whine out, shaking your head quickly as you feel the warmth grow in your stomach the more he rubs those circles on your clit. "N-No, never, no one's ever touched me like this.." You moan, gasping and panting a bit heavily as you stare down at his fingers moving furiously against you. You can't help but grow wetter at the sight, knowing that it's him who's doing this to you.. but it feels so wrong.

"What I thought, baby.. Knew this pussy was pure." He chuckles, his teasing and almost mean demeanor running through your body, making you shiver and whimper slightly. You don’t know why you like it.

He stops his movements as he slips a finger through your folds, gathering how wet you became, making him sigh out in satisfaction. He pulls his finger out to look at it, showing it to you as well. "Look at that, honey, you're so wet for me now.. Didn't I tell you how good it'd feel, huh?" He lets out as you look at the glistening finger in front of you.

He moves it to suck it into his mouth, moaning around it. Popping it out from his lips, he laughs wryly, "Tastes good too, baby," making you blush furiously. It's so dirty and makes you feel so fucked up.

He takes no time to waste and moves towards your bottoms, quickly grabbing the hem of both your pants and underwear, "Let's get these off now, honey. Wouldn't want them in the way of our fun," and pulls them quickly off of you, making the cold air hit your core.

You gasp loudly as you clench your legs together, not wanting to have him see you there, much less continue.

He looks up at you with dark eyes and places his hands on the top of your knees, warning you, "Don't you get shy on me now, sweetheart. We've already gotten this far. I don't want to make it hurt for you.. I want to make you feel good, baby.." He tells you, his voice gradually becoming softer as he finishes. His hands proceed to grip at your knees, pushing them away from each other to spread your legs for him.

You reluctantly follow his requests, knowing that it would go a lot smoother if you complied. He groans faintly as his eyes latch onto the sight of your wet cunt in front of him, taking it in completely. "Fuck, honey.. what a pretty fuckin' pussy. Gorgeous.." He tells you, the dirty words filling your ears as you blush again at them. You've never had anyone talk to you like that, nor have you even heard anyone speak in that way til’ now.

Your eyes look around the tent, wanting to look at anything else but him and yourself, the shame starting to flow through you. You feel his fingers gently spread your lips apart, making you whimper softly at the feeling. It makes you look down at him and his hands, and you move your legs to try and clench them together again.

He tuts and shakes his head, gripping your knees harshly this time as he pushes your legs away from each other, spreading you for him completely. "You do what I want, baby, and this all goes smoothly, okay? You don't, and I promise you it'll hurt for you."

His eyes are stern as he looks into your own, seeing the angriest he's been so far towards you. You nod your head gently at him, gulping nervously and not wanting to make him any more upset.

The lips on his face slowly turn upwards, grinning at you brightly, "That's a good girl.. Just be a good girl for me," He encourages you, letting his fingers run around your glistening lips again as he moans out softly. "Gonna give you a finger, okay, darlin'? I'll go slow, if that's what you want.." He proposes to you, seemingly wanting to make this enjoyable for you as well.

You nod quickly and sigh sharply, pleading him, "Y-Yes, Ezra, slow please.. Please don't make it hurt."

His smile grows fonder, knowing that he's got you where he wants you now. "Don't worry, birdie, I'll make it good for you.. Just trust me."

The index finger that's right above your clit then moves into your lips, swiping it down between your folds as you moan. He then finds your entrance, pushing it in slowly and as gently as possible, making him groan out.

You gasp softly as your jaw falls open, looking down at his finger entering you. He sighs, "Fuck, so tight, sweetheart.." as his finger then pushes all the way inside of you, thick and long. You pant as you stare at his hand, clenching around his finger. He looks up at you and smirks, lips curling up into another grin, "S'good for me, honey.. Have you ever even touched yourself?" Ezra prompts you, realizing how shocking this was for you.

You move your head to look up at him and shake your head, gasping out, "Just.. just touched myself a couple of times, but never.. put one inside," and you lick your lips, your throat becoming dry, making you gulp.

He chuckles and slips his finger out, thrusting it back into you to see you gasp again, making him laugh. "Fuck, that's hot, baby.. Pretty pussy taking my finger so well. So tight.. Think you can take more?" He asks you, his finger gradually moving faster as you grow wetter, the squelching sounds filling the space more and more.

You moan out louder as you bite your lip, nodding your head at him. It was starting to feel good, and you couldn't help but give in.. forgetting about ever wanting him to stop.

"Good fuckin' girl, birdie.. My god." He says, taking his finger out just enough for it to be outside of your entrance. He presses his index and middle finger together now, rubbing them in between your folds to gather the slick you've produced for him. He then pushes it into your hole once he feels they're wet enough, making you whine loudly.

You gasp out, "F-Fuck, Ezra!" and grip onto one of the pillows next to you, lifting your head to sit up and watch his movements. You feel your body grow hotter by the second, the overwhelming feeling of his slow, yet deliberate fingers moving deeply inside of you, the mere sight of it making you lightheaded.

Your throat grows dry as you pant heavily, feeling nothing like you've ever experienced before. His eyes wander over your body, taking in the view of your worn out face, moaning for him, and your body that's trembling for him, your baggy shirt lifting up and up as you begin to shake.

His gasp is low and loud as he smirks, his mouth falling open as he looks at you, his need for you increasing more and more. As his fingers continue to move, he adds a third finger, making your face twist in pleasure and a mix of pain, the sudden intrusion shocking you. It feels too good for you to even care at this point.

He praises you filthily, moving his free hand to move your shirt up, exposing your tits for him. "God, you're so pretty, honey.. Such a pretty fuckin' cunt. Can't believe I found you, huh?" He says, making you squirm as butterflies fill your stomach with his dirty words and nick names.

He grasps onto one of your tits, squeezing it harshly, but not harsh enough to hurt you. Just right. He twists one of your nipples gently between his thumb and index finger, watching as it hardens and perks up for him. He groans at the view and brings his face closer to them, taking your other nipple into his mouth as he sucks onto it desperately.

You moan loudly, whimpering against him as the pleasure grows immensely. You've never felt this good in your life and you're in absolute bliss. You're not sure how or if it could get better than this.

"E-Ezra, can't.. can't take it, oh god," You cry out, panting even faster and louder as his fingers hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars for a second. It's too overwhelming, too fucking good. Your hands find their way towards Ezra's hair, tugging on it gently, needing him more than ever. You wouldn't even begin to think that meeting him today would lead to this moment.

He finally removes himself from your tits, chuckling darkly as he looks up at you, bringing his head closer to your face. He looks at you intently, with desire and as if you were the only person in the entire world.

His fingers slow down, making you catch your breath a bit, and he removes them from your entrance, bringing them up to your face. "Taste yourself for me, baby.. Wanna see you take my fingers, can you do that, honey?" He whispers softly to you, his three fingertips resting against your lips, waiting for you to open them up for him.

You oblige, nodding your head as you open your mouth for him, allowing him to slip them in between your lips. You close your mouth shut around them, sucking on them gently as you moan out, looking at him the entire time. Your eyes roll back as he pushes them even further into your mouth, making it a bit harder to breathe, but you continue, wanting to please him.

His fingers were so thick in your mouth, and his scent was driving you insane. "Atta girl.. God, you're so fuckin' sexy. Makin' me go all crazy, you know that, pretty girl?" He groans out, bringing his free hand to grip your chin roughly. It makes you whine against his fingers, making Ezra feel the vibration of it through them.

He laughs lowly and slowly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, looking at them as your saliva connects, providing a string of it as he pulls it away. He just chuckles as he watches it, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. His grip on your chin moves to your cheeks now, squeezing your face a bit tightly as he demands you, "Open your mouth, baby. Open wide for me."

You quickly listen to him, opening your mouth as wide as you can. Before you could even process it, he spits down your throat, making you gasp loudly. "Now, swallow it. Swallow it all, darlin', let me see it." He instructs you, his grip on your face remaining rough and tight.

You nod and close your mouth, swallowing all of it for him. His hand squeezes your cheeks together, making you open your mouth again to let him see that you did what he asked of you. "Dirty, dirty fuckin' girl. Got so lucky, didn't I? Now you're getting it.." He lets out, snickering as you stick your tongue out to prove it.

His words make you feel so filthy, but you can't help but start to love it.. crave it. He's making it harder for you to even breathe right now.

You let out a small laugh, still absolutely worn out and overwhelmed, thanking him as your head feels cloudy. Ezra then grasps onto one of your hands, making you stare at its motion. He brings your palm to his hard bulge, all pent up through his pants, and the way it feels makes you moan. You've heard stories about men and this happening to them, but you never thought you'd be able to feel it like this.

"See how you make me feel, sweetheart? How hard you make me? You know what this means, right?" He says to you, his voice rough and raspy while he palms your hand over his bulge, making him moan lowly. You shake your head, not knowing if what you're thinking is the right answer.

He grins and chuckles, "Means I need your pretty pussy around me, honey. That's the only way I can satiate this.. make it all go away.. You gonna help me with that, baby? Gonna be a good girl for me?" Ezra eggs you on, wanting you to crave this just as much as he does.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you swallow a bit nervously, unsure but curious to know how it'll feel like. You've wondered about this your entire life, and you could finally experience it now.

You open your mouth to speak, hesitating to do so. Ezra softly rubs his other hand towards your inner thigh, attempting to reassure you. "Don't worry, birdie.. I'd never hurt you, if that's what you're concerned about. I'll make it feel real good for you. Make you see stars, honey.. What do you say?" He encourages, leaning in closer to your face.

What else do I have left to lose? You ask yourself, coming to your decision to agree. You pause, nodding your head at his proposals.

"Words, darlin', need you to tell me. Tell me you want this.. that you want me." He tells you, urging it from you as he removes your hand from his bulge to lift his hand to your face, gently caressing your cheek affectionately. It makes you shudder to the touch.

You sigh, inhaling sharply, "I want you, Ezra.. I want this." You admit to him, the arousal running through your body as it reaches your core. You grow wet again, thinking of this actually happening.

He smiles gently at you and leans in closer to your lips, whispering out against them, "That's it.. Atta girl, baby," and presses a gentle, yet firm & long kiss to your lips.

You moan into the kiss, shutting your eyes at the feeling. You've been kissed before, but never like this.. never from a man who's made you feel this good. It leaves you dazed and hazy as he pulls away from you, the need for him growing even more.

Ezra's hands reach for his pants now, grabbing onto the hem as he pulls it down along with his own underwear, revealing his hard cock for you. The sight of it makes your mouth water, wondering how he'll even fit inside of you if you could barely handle a few of his fingers.

Your throat grows dry as you gulp nervously at the thought, making you stammer out, "Ezra.. A-Are you sure it'll be able to fit? I.. I'm not sure if it will.." You confess to him, licking your lips as you finally look up at him.

A soft laugh escapes his throat as he grins at you, stroking his cock gently and slowly, staring at you with a hard gaze, "Don't you worry, honey.. I'll make it fit." He tells you, the nervous tone in your voice all the more spurring him on, aching with need for you. "Now, keep those legs open for me, birdie.. Wanna look at you while I take you."

Your heart races at his words, yet you comply with his requests, knowing that there's no way of getting out of this regardless. Nodding your head and staring at his face intently, you keep your legs spread for him, the cold air hitting your core and making you shiver.

Ezra moves himself in between your legs, grabbing the base of his cock with his right hand as he rubs the tip of it along your wet folds, making him moan out from the feeling. His stare is fixed onto your glistening cunt; the only thing he's been fantasizing about this entire day.

Without warning, he pushes the fat head of his cock into your pussy all while keeping his eyes on your face, wanting to see your reaction to him. Your eyes shoot open from the sudden intrusion, mouth falling open. "E-Ezra!" You gasp out, looking down at his body connecting to yours as you grip the bed to the best of your ability.

He just lets out a sigh of satisfaction, laughing at your reaction, "Sorry, baby.. Couldn't wait any longer. You can take more, can't you?" He pushes you, smirking as he continues to make his way into your cunt more and more, feeling his cock grow deeper inside of you.

Your walls involuntarily clench around him, the stretch of it almost unbearable for you as your shut your eyes, throwing your head back. He wasn't giving you any time to really adjust, and the pain burned while the pleasure slowly made itself apparent with the warmth in your body growing quickly.

Panting, your heart races even faster, unable to stop yourself from opening your eyes. You keep your gaze on the sight of him pushing himself inside of you, making your body feel fuller by the second.

Ezra groans as he continues to push further, gasping out, "Fuck, that's it, baby.. What a tight fuckin' pussy. Fillin' you up nice and good, just like you needed.." The words on his tongue making you throb for him, as he finally buries himself inside of you completely.

Your breath is taken away as his thick cock fills you to the brim, tears beginning to form in the corner of your eyes as your mouth gapes at the feeling and sight of it. He's huge, making it evident that way as you see him bulge out from your stomach.

He chuckles as his eyes follow where yours are, seeing himself in your stomach. He places his hand right there on top of it, pushing onto your stomach so you can feel him right there. "You feel me in you, honey? So deep, I know.. But it feels good, don't it? Takin' every fuckin' inch.." He pants, slowly but adamantly rocking himself against you.

It takes every bit of control in him to not fuck you hard, taking what he wants from you and using you how he wants.

"Gonna move now, baby.. S'gonna feel real good, I promise.." He whispers, reaching for one of your legs to lift it up onto his shoulder, making the angle of his cock push into you even deeper as you groan loudly, the unbearable feeling running through your core.

You just lay there, taking it as the pleasure builds up and up inside of you, his hips pushing and pulling as the speed gradually increases.

He pulls his hips back, his hand pressing harshly onto your stomach to keep you still and full of him, making sure that he pulls his cock out just enough for it to rest at your entrance, wasting no time to shove it back into you.

The burn of his girth and how much it stretches you feels incredible now, making you moan out and shudder at the feeling. With each push of his cock, he fills you completely, pressing his hips to the hilt of your pussy, almost like you're taking him deeper every time.

"F-Fuck.. Ezra— please.. please!" You whine, the tears in your ears now falling down your cheeks at the overwhelming pressure in your pussy. "So.. So good, please, fa-faster.." You plead, your eyes fixed on him completely.

He lets out a filthy laugh, loving how much you're craving for it now. He knew he'd get you right where he wanted you. "That's my girl.. my good girl. Don't you worry, honey, I'll give you more than you need.." Ezra whispers lowly to you, the speed of his thrusts and movements now going at an unbearable pace, making your body shake and move from the force of his hips.

You whine out loudly, choking out as your eyes shut from the rapid change of speed. The noises that your pussy makes from his huge cock hammering inside of you is filthy, making you flush from how it rings in your ears.

"Dirty girl.. You hear yourself? Hear how soaked you are from my fuckin' cock? Can't get enough of this pretty little pussy, honey.. It's too good. Wanna fuck this cunt forever.." He groans out, making your eyes roll back at his words.

His movements suddenly halt as he pulls out of you, grabbing onto your waist roughly to flip you onto your stomach, trapping your legs and hips with his thighs. Ezra quickly grabs hold of his cock, gliding the tip of it through your folds as he shoves it back inside your tight cunt, feeling him deeper than you ever thought you could.

Your back involuntarily arches up, the feeling of him buried inside of you being too much, too deep, as you whale and whine, turning your head to try to look at him. "W-Wait! Too much, please.. slow down!" You choke out, trying to get him to relent.

Ezra just laughs and shoves your head back down onto the bed with his left hand, the other pushing your back down to press your stomach flat. He shushes you, his thrusts quickening as he fills you with each push, "Shh, honey.. Just take it.. You can do it, I know you can, baby.. S'Better like this. Take this fuckin' cock, like the good girl you are.."

Your body convulses at his harsh movements, making your stomach coil in pleasure as you feel yourself grow hotter and hotter, the feeling in your cunt making you sob out. His cock repeatedly hits that spot deep inside of you, making you see stars.. just as he promised you.

His hips continuously collide with your ass, moving his hands to grab handfuls of it, squeezing your cheeks harshly as he spreads your ass for him, watching his cock plunge into you over and over again.

"Fuck, birdie.. Gotta nice ass, too.. So perfect for me." He chuckles out, slapping your ass a few times, making you squirm and groan out from the pleasurable sting. "Mmphf!" You whimper, his hand pushing the side of your face down onto the bed.

You cry out, tears falling down your cheeks as you sob, "T-Too much, Ezra! I.. I can't.."

He shakes his head and tuts his tongue, correcting you, "Yes, you can, you can, sweetheart.. Not gonna stop til' I'm done with you," He says harshly, his tone needy and mean as his movements grow rougher. "Cryin' so pretty for me, baby.. Makin' me so proud.. My girl."

You shake as your body convulses from his thrusts, and Ezra laughs at that, knowing that you're close.. feeling that you're close, as you clench around his huge cock repeatedly, that unrelenting feeling building up in you.

Ezra's arm moves beneath your stomach, grasping onto your waist tightly as he suddenly pulls you up against his chest. He holds you unbelievably close and tight against him, making it impossible for you to move away, keeping you absolutely still for him. His hand at your waist moves to one of your tits, grabbing it hard as he holds you there.

His thrusts hit that spot inside of you repeatedly, pressing into it over and over again as you shake, your body feeling too weak to even hold yourself up. Ezra just does that for you, gripping and taking your body to his liking, as if your body was his.

To be fair, your body already is.

Sobbing out, you scream and shut your eyes tightly, lifting your head up to rest it on his shoulder, his pants and groans filling your ears as you grow lightheaded. "That's it, honey.. Gonna come for me? I feel it.. Feel how close you are. I am too.." He whispers in your ear, moving his free hand down to your cunt, using two of his fingers to rub rapid circles on your clit.

Your eyes shoot up at the feeling, enduring the feeling of your climax increasing as your stomach tightens and coils uncontrollably. "F-Fuck— Ezra! Go-Gonna.. come!" You cry out, your body completely giving out as his cock just takes you.

"That's right, come on my fuckin' cock, baby.. Gonna come too.. fill you up real good, sweetheart.. Make you mine."

Your eyes widen at his words, knowing that he shouldn't.. he can't. "N-No, Ezra, not inside, you can't, I.." You whimper out as your breath hitches in your throat.

He just shakes his head, laughing in your ear, "I can't? I can't? I can do whatever I want, baby. Nothin's stoppin' me.. not you, not your little family.. They're long gone now, honey.."

You whimper and cry out, squirming against him as you try to pull away, knowing that you can't get pregnant. Not in a world like this.

Your pleads just spur him on, all while his fingers on your clit push you further to the edge.

"You know, I was watching you.. following you around all day.. wondering how tight this pretty cunt would feel around me. Fuck.. I was right.. Now, you're mine. Never gonna leave you, baby.. Pussy's too good. Can't let you go.. Can't give this up."

Tears stream down your face as the pressure inside of you builds up with every breath you take, not even processing the words he just said. Your lower body shakes as you try to keep your eyes open, screaming out, "G-God.. M' gonna come!" His fingers apply even more pressure on your clit as he laughs. "Come for me, honey.. Doin' so good for me. Come on my fuckin' cock."

Your ears drown out every single noise in the tent, ringing loudly as your throat tightens, screaming out. Your cunt tightens around his cock, clenching onto him as much as you can as your pussy convulses and writhes against his, seeing stars. He fucks you through it, his pace never faltering as your climax coats his cock with your slick, running down your weak thighs.

He lets go of your body, making you collapse on your stomach as his thrusts go faster, harder. He's close, and you can feel it too, his cock twitching inside of your spent cunt.

His groans fill the room as he hammers into you, gripping onto your ass and waist to keep you still for him. "Gonna fill this pretty pussy so deep, you're gonna feel me for days, honey.. That way, you'll never leave me.. Never gonna feel any other man fuck you this good.. My pretty girl.."

You whine out at his words, knowing how fucked up it is.. but, you can't help but love it.

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling your waist flush against him as he groans loudly, holding you there. His cock is buried inside of you as deep as he can, pulsing streams of his come inside your cunt. You feel him deep inside of you, painting your walls as you sob out at the feeling. "O-Oh, fuck!"

"Fuck, yeah, baby.. All fuckin' mine, Take it. That's a good girl." He sighs out contently, pushing his cock even a fraction of an inch deeper, as far as he can. You whimper at how full you feel, his come running through your pussy, whining at how good it feels for you, even though it shouldn't.

Ezra's body slowly collapses on top of your back, keeping himself inside of you as he finally slows down, beginning to catch his breath, his high deterring.

The tears in your eyes start to dry up and your eyes stay wide open, processing everything that just happened. The shock runs through your body, making you shiver at the thought. You can't help but crave him even more, making you realize that you wanted this.

Ezra moves his hands around your waist to pull you against his chest as he rolls to his side, taking you with him. He pulls you in closer, preventing you from moving, staying flushed against him.

His coarse, gentle voice fills your ears as you shut your eyes, the exhaustion catching up to you, all while his hand runs through your hair, caressing your head affectionately.

"All mine, honey.. Never lettin' you go.."

And he never does.

You never make it back home.

-

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[morallyinept]

The Pit - An Ezra One Shot

^ Sound on 🔊

Summary: 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.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 11.9k 👀 'Issa long one!

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Explicit - DARK-ISH themes/kinks/smut. Possibly an attempt at macabre/gore type horror? Ezra being a roguish douche (but that’s why we love ‘im). Tentacles. Lots of tentacles. Sex/Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!) Oral/insertion/pregnancy/birthing some weird stuff/alien life forms/interspecies intercourse/some mild dubcon/anal/slight hints of cannibalism, because at this point, why not? 🥴 And some other fucked up shit that my brain rot conjured up. Did I mention the abundance of tentacles?

Sci-Fi/Horror-esque. There’s some plot in there somewhere, I swear to Kevva.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

Author’s Note: Had this idea slithering around the ol’ noggin. Figured Ezra would be down because he’s fancy like that.

I am well aware that this won't be for everyone. If it's not for you, that's absolutely fine. Just quietly slip out. No need to make a fuss.

I'll have more Ezra that's coming soon, in different varieties/genres.

I'm pretty happy with the way Ezra talks in a manner befitting for him in this. I took my own advice. But I'll let you guys be the judge of that. Let me know if I captured him.

Enjoy! 🖤

MASTERLIST | EZRA MASTERLIST

“... Blasted, shit-eating things, channel rats. Did I regale you with the time my crew and I were subject to an unfettered infestation?”

Ezra prattles on ahead of you, further up the caverns, the light from his helmet casting an eerie glow about the dark boulder formations.

As far out as he is ahead of you, stepping oafishly over a knuckle of rocks, his voice is sound and droning inside your ear and there is no way to drown him out. Unless you garrotte him, of course.

Now, there’s a thought.

“Yes,” you sigh wearily. “I’ve heard all about the fucking channel rats.” Clubbing him to death with a rock sure sounded like a mighty fine idea about now.

You’re blinded by a small, white light flickering into the back of your retinas when he stops and turns to look back at you.

“Irritation becomes you, Birdie.” Ezra observes with a breathy gruff. It sounds like the crash of the ocean on Lau inside your ear. "Still captivating though."

You're beyond irritated having had the misfortune of listening to him rabble non-stop on this Kevva forsaken journey into the back end of the universe’s rectum it feels like. One that you’re beginning to regret inherently.

“We’re lost, Ezra. We’ve been lost for hours now. I thought you said you knew-”

“-Know these caves like the back of my right paw, yes. That is what I confirmed.” He offers a crooked smile as he waves his stump at you as you catch up to him. "Well, that's not at all disconcerting now is it?" He teases as the place where his right hand should be is filled with an obvious emptiness.

He frowns when you fail to laugh. “I may have offered you a partial truth. But I'm fairly certain I can navigate us to the root of our coveted gain unscathed.” He adds.

“Fairly?”

“It’s a diminutive guarantee.” Ezra affirms with a serious face. “Although, if I’m to be completely notwithstanding, Narilla is a place I’ve not set foot on before myself. But I've conversed greatly with those who have.”

“Fucking great.” You gripe as you reach him.

Your hair sticks to your face with sweat inside your helmet and it irks you that you can’t simply wipe it away as it catches on your lip tiresomely.

Traipsing around this dank, humid cave system on the forgotten moon of Narilla, with the wily and grossly unpredictable prospector as your guide, is not exactly the mission you'd envisioned when he’d lured you in over strong stout on Puggart Bench of such a daunting, yet rewarding charge.

You’d sat bemused, a few tables away with your scuff booted feet up eavesdropping, as you nursed your own beer, at vicarious tales of skulduggery and betrayal - his own included.

His aquiline face was well known around these putrid parts. As much as you’d love to avoid a feculent swamp like this on The Pug, populated with unsavoury characters in their swarms, it was a necessary evil to hear of good places to prospect now they’d closed up the Bakhroma route for good.

Kevva knows that prospectors could pilfer and loot better than anyone in The Fringe, and your own talents attested to this. Ezra too, had garnered himself an erudite reputation, even if marred in deceit, and a small fortune to retire from past ills that haunted the creases around his sullen eyes.

But yet he was still greedy for more as he bewitched you with promises of riches that would weigh down your pockets despite the preposterousness of it all. Such is the nature of a prospector; their greed knows no bounds. Cannot be satiated. And he could certainly talk the alluring talk, that was for sure.

Something more had drawn you in though; something about his Southern loquacious snap in which he weaved the threads of the fable about his eventful escape from the green moon of Bahkroma; an arm lost to it as well as some semblance of sanity it appeared.

He spoke through glassy, dark eyes, wide with tenacity, sluiced with the oncoming inertia from the hops and grains, and his story pulled a crowd of fellow miners and prospectors keen to hear the anecdotes pouring from his foam drenched moustache, as ludicrous as they were.

Most dismissed it as the drunken ramblings of a mad man quacking into his drink; scarred by his time on the haunting moon and her secrets, and perhaps it did drive him crazy to some extent.

However, Ezra rambled on animatedly about plentiful azure diamonds to anyone that would listen that were hidden in the caves under the frozen surface of Narilla. His story was backed up by those who had heard their own quips. Someone who knew someone who had garnered the moon's wealth for themselves, it was all the same spiel.

Like the twinkle in his eye, you simply couldn’t resist the temptation of their siren call and offered yourself up to accompany him on the collection of such rare, precious gems - Kevva knows the fortune was needed on your part - when a scant few turned away unconvinced. Gems that would fetch much more than Aurelac on the black market anyhow.

Whilst some of the gnarly men expressed their keen interest, Ezra denied them, setting his deep eyes on you.

I require a right-hand… woman, Ezra had stated, looking you up and down with something else inside of his vortex gaze as he supped at the foam from his weighty glass.

He’d shooed away the other potential partners in favour of you and your shapely form that he drank in as much as the beer.

You’d discussed with him the terms and your share of the haul, insisted on absolutely no impropriety, (for which you fell short on later that evening) and here you both were now, docked and stationed on the frozen moon and wandering around the intestines of the caves listening to him harp on about everything and nothing, and all that was gassy air in between.

Your teeth ache from all the grinding.

“Can you attach a slurry? I'm irrevocably parched, pet.” Ezra asks you, panting a little. There's condensation frosting around the rim of his helmet and sweat beads glistening on his forehead.

"I'm not your pet."

"Merely a term of endearment. An otherwise befitting compliment may be too fruitful to assume your acceptance into anything more than acquaintance." He shrugs.

"You assume much." Sighing, you busy yourself with the idle task as you attach the pack to the back of his cargo belt and cap it into the feeding tube for him.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” You query, checking your chronometer and scanning the vast dark abyss that presents itself to you.

The green icons and symbols are blurring faintly through the invisible static, fading like emerald apparitions.

Back on the lander, the static interfered with everything as soon as you entered the atmosphere, and it only unnerved you that, if things should go awry, you would be out here by yourselves.

“Shouldn’t be much further ahead, I’d wager.” Ezra breathes around his straw inside his helmet. He licks his lips as he watches your scornful look tossed back at him. He simply offers you a knowing smirk.

“Lead the way,” you instruct with a knitted brow.

You follow him further into the breach of the dark; the strobes from your mutual head lamps making eerie patterns on the rock walls that claw and silently growl as they come to life like shadow puppets.

A while later Ezra stops dead in his tracks, raising his singular left hand. You hadn’t noticed he’d stopped; too occupied with convincing yourself that you weren’t seeing ominous things slithering around in the shadows.

You walk right into the back of him; your helmet bonking against the back of his. You utter some annoyed profanity that fuzzes into his ear piece.

“Kevva! What's that smell?” You question, wrinkling your nose as it seeps through your respirator. It smells like tar, coating the back of your throat in its thickness like amber tobacco as you inhale.

Ezra studies the wall beside him carefully, noticing the ominous sheen and runs his gloved hand through the goop that coats it.

“The stench emanates from this peculiar secretion.” He pries apart his velvet fingers and the sticky substance is stringy between the fibres. He lances you a look with keening eyes.

Your mind is flooded with skewbald images of your cunt slick beading over his lips, making them shine up at you as your thighs cushion either side of his head. Your groans, his lavacious grunts, batter around the back of your skull and leave broken contusions.

The shiny strings snapping on his gloves serve as a harsh reminder, which you're certain he's recalling in all it's sordid vividity too. Your pussy certainly is as it clenches involuntarily.

“Gross.” You declare as he tries to stifle a wolfish grin at your reaction.

“We push on, Birdie.” Ezra announces, wiping the slime down on the thigh of his olive flight suit.

“Stop calling me that.” You mutter, following behind.

“Well, you won’t tell me your name so I have to call you something.”

“No names.” You remind him.

“I recounted mine freely.”

“No names.” You confirm.

"Kevva's sake, you are stubborn as you are loathsome, woman." He mutters.

“That’s not what you said the other night." You smirk.

"I divulged a lot of soundbites that eve." Ezra can still hear the sounds you made around him, not put off by his apparent incapacitation. “As did you. But yet a mere name seems implausible.”

"Do you ever shut up?"

Ezra thought for a moment then smirked brazenly. "Only when a succulent quim takes throne on my face."

You roll your eyes. "Look, we get the diamonds, we leave and I don’t have to suffer your intolerable, repetitive anecdotes ever again. My name is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things." You growl, sucking your bottom lip into your teeth.

You can hear him chuckling away in your ear piece with a wheezy rasp. “Desperate to be rid of me already? I might flirt with the offended.”

“Pfft. You’ll get over it.” You mirth.

Although a shifty flush creeps insidiously into your already overheated cheeks, as uninvited images of him grunting as you sat on his hawkish face invade your mind like knives at a target board.

He could certainly put that mouth to good use. The thoughts your mind still conjures makes the inside of your helmet stifling.

The smell gets stronger as you meander closer to wherever the heck it is that Ezra is leading you into. A wider cavern opens itself up and you climb upon its slope exercising caution at his instruction to follow.

“One slip and the void will take you,” he warns with a simper rolling around his dry lips.

“Don’t tempt me,” you reply sardonically. You both step slowly and carefully along the ledge as the vertigo sways you towards its jaws. Steadying yourself, you push on behind him.

The tar-like smell intensifies when Ezra announces you’ve both arrived. Although you're hardly impressed - it's just another cavern like the million you’ve already hiked through to get here. You watch as he unclips his helmet spokes and the hiss of his respirator sounds snakelike inside your ear.

“Can we breathe down here?” You question warily at his flippancy.

“Assist me, would you?” He asks as he inhales through a toothy grin, nodding.

Once your own helmet is off, the subtle breeze of clean oxygen hits your face, cooling it. It's incredibly warm down here, considering the moon is in the midst of a deep freeze on the surface.

You watch as Ezra steps forward to another ledge and looks down. “There,” he points.

You step forward yourself and shine a light and are aghast at what you see.

A writhing mass of black, wet tentacles, twisting and undulating in an eerie dance. The glistening surface of each tentacle reflecting an otherworldly sheen, while they move with an unsettling fluidity.

Unfathomable thrumming spirals are spilling out around the pit below the ledge, moving in a coordinated, yet unpredictable manner, in various girths and lengths. Slick as they writhe against one another, pulsing like a singular heartbeat.

“What is that?” You mouth incredulously.

Upon closer inspection, faint iridescent patterns shimmer along the length of the tentacles, creating an illusion of ethereal beauty amidst the stark darkness, like they almost glow in places. The patterns shift and change as the tentacles move.

As the mass undulates gently, it seems to emit a low hum, barely audible, but one that can be felt deep within your chest, resonating with a haunting melody. It's a sound that stirs emotions buried in your subconscious, eliciting a mix of awe and wonder, tinged with an underlying sense of unease as you feel prickles shoot down your spine.

“Our entrance. Hmm. Bigger than I was infromed. No bother. We'll go through it.” Ezra pulls down the zipper of his flight suit and begins shaking it off of his only arm clumsily.

“Wait, what? Through it? What the fuck is it?!” You query, wide-eyed.

The enigmatic display of black, wet tentacles in this mysterious mass is a surreal and haunting sight, one that leaves you captivated by its beauty, while your rational mind reminds you of the depths of the unknown that lie within.

All you can envision is teeth. Sharp, piercing teeth.

“Take your suit off, pet.” He instructs calmly.

“Ezra.” You shake your head concerned.

He rolls his suit over his stump and down to his thermals. “It protects the diamonds. We need to go through it. We’ll pass right through, out to the bottom when they see we're not a threat to them. No harm done.”

“Are you fucking insane?”

“That's yet to be determined officially.” Ezra responds nonchalantly. “Although, I’ve been reassured that this is-”

“Wait, you’re basing this off of hearsay? How do you know that thing won’t fucking eat us?” You're sweating again.

Ezra rolls his suit down to his ankles and begins pulling at the lace of his worn boot. “I don’t.” He simply retorts.

“No.” You shake your head adamantly. “You can go and die if you want. I’ll wait here.” You’d encountered many odd alien-like entities in your time prospecting, but this? This is something else entirely.

You peer carefully over the ledge, seemingly unable to look away at the mass of tentacles that are free of suckers. They're just smooth and slick in their perfection. Lost in the horrific beauty and mystique of the scene, you feel a magnetic pull, as if the mass of tentacles beckons you to join its dance.

A part of you yearns to step closer, to unravel the secrets it holds, and yet another part hesitates, fearing the unknown consequences of such a connection. In the midst of this ghastly display, a heavy feeling of dread envelops you, like an invisible hand tightening around your heart that crushes.

“Nu-uh, Birdie." Ezra warns, darkly. "We go together as agreed upon in our oath. You need to play your part and help me to retrieve the diamonds. Can’t embark on this without you, given my infernal impediment.” Ezra turns to look at you with those muddy eyes, and it's beguiling as it is dangerous.

You stare down at the pit unmoving.

"No harm will come to you under my watch." He reassures, but it fails.

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

He simply offers you a small smile. "Can but wait, Birdie. Let's get a leg on."

“I must be fucking insane…” You mutter, shaking your head. Sighing, you take off your own suit and strip down to your undergarments.

“Good girl,” you hear him say.

You catch Ezra glancing at your bare legs as you're dressed in nothing short of flimsy shorts and a thin camisole that barely covers your modesty under your thermals.

His own undergarments are a frayed t-shirt and some fusty long johns that sit awkwardly under the small paunch of his soft belly.

But he seems to pull them off as your own eyes sway towards the memory of his body on the fraying futon as it writhed and shuddered whilst you sucked down the swell of his cock, back in his dingy bunk apartment nestled in the Noki District on The Pug.

For a man of his advancing years, you think him to be attractive in a roguish kind of way; a scummy diamond in the rough. Scummy enough to have let him eat you out, anyway.

Breathing calmly - or at least trying to - you sit beside him on the edge of the pit staring down at the glistening appendages that swam in a hypnotic pulse against one another.

The sounds of their wet slick can be heard as they slide and pass over one another in heaving waves; a wet shine evident on their alien corium that glimmers at you.

You’re not sure why you're doing it, but you reach forward instinctively and feel the skin of one as you run your palm over it gently, awed by the sensation that leaves prickles flooding down your spinal cord.

The electricity creeps up each nodule and into the bottom of your neck. It feels comforting, soothing as the previous hesitation you felt is washed away in a calming opacity that soon melts your eyelids shut.

The tentacle arches up into your palm, bumping it benignly as its secretions coat your skin with a cooling, thin substance that feels miry as it greets you.

As you attempt to retreat, the allure of the scene grips you, holding you in a trance-like state, unable to tear your eyes away from the eldritch horror that unfolds before you. It's as if the entity, sensing your fear, seeks to draw you deeper into its realm, to become a part of its ancient enigma. To whisper it's secrets in your ear.

The luminescence now reveals disturbing images etched into the tentacles' surface - visions of cosmic terrors, nightmarish landscapes, and grotesque creatures. Each tentacle seems to bear the collective knowledge of the horrors of the universe, driving you to the edges of precarious sanity.

A cacophony of unnerving sounds emanates from the mass - the raspy whispers, unnerving wails, and an ominous heartbeat that seems to reverberate through your own veins. The dread within you intensifies, and an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia engulfs you as it reaches its zenith; as if the darkness itself is closing in on you, and it has snapping jaws.

“Birdie,” you can hear Ezra bleed into your ominous tranquillity, but he sounds so far away. Like his voice is at the bottom of a metal wire, sounding tinny and ruptured.

The sudden panic in his voice shakes your foundations leaving you unsteady. But it's not him making you sway as you open your eyes to see yourself falling, face first.

You’re tethered by the tentacles wrapping around your ankles and wrists and pulling you forward into the mass of them.

“Ezra!” You gasp trying to repel them as they reach for you, but the combined strength of the slithering organs is undeniable.

You're both immobilised as you're dragged down into the pit. Ezra disappears first; the whites of his wide eyes are the last thing you see before you're blinded by the black.

The stickiness coats your face, your eyelids. It slicks through your hair; a clear, thin mucus that smells like musky, rich leather and allows you to move freely through the tentacles as you descend further.

"Birdie!" You hear Ezra call out to you and you call back frantically. "Just relax, it will pass you right through."

"Relax?!" You splutter when you feel the prevalent tightening around your waist. It's too tight as it starts to bind and crush against your pelvis.

"Trust me!" He calls again. Oh, if it were that simple, you snarl to yourself.

You try to calm yourself, relax as he so eloquently puts it. But it’s hard; the panic seeds and flowers in you and the coil only tightens under your rib cage in response. It knows your fear.

As it embraces you, tentacles wrapping around every limb and numbing them out, you feel the weightlessness of your body as it travels to the back of your cranium and ignites. You can't see anything, just the never ending void of black that hurts your eyes to try and strain them to reach beyond it.

A sense of foreboding lingers, as if a malevolent entity from the mass of tentacles watches from the shadows; its sinister presence ever-present in the periphery of your senses.

As you sink through the darkness, the very air seems heavy with an oppressive weight, and the pulsing surroundings of the tentacles appear distorted, as if the boundaries between reality and the unknown have blurred.

Each sound in the darkness makes you jump, fearing that some other force might be lurking too close.

A small glimmer fizzes somewhere in the distance, blink and you’d miss it. Purple, maybe blue flashes that spark through a plasma network of neuron pathways that fire and snap ahead. A brain that grows in size and expands. A dying star implodes and blinds you for a moment.

You gasp out in awe and are then fully weightless; floating in the violet nebula that’s haunting in its brilliance, its swirling tendrils stretching across the cosmic canvas like an ethereal tapestry.

As you gaze at the purple nebula, a sense of calm washes over you, momentarily easing the fear and tension that had consumed your senses previously.

The swirling clouds of gas and dust seem to dance with grace, performing an elegant ballet that holds you in rapt attention. You forget everything, you forget it all.

You can't feel your limbs, you can't feel the weight of your bones or the blood in your organs. You can't smell or taste. You're deafened by bubonic silence save for the heavy whooshes of your own breath inside your ear canal.

And then the nebula shrinks, collapsing upon itself into two tiny balls of light that morph and shape into eyeballs with irises the colour of those tasteless Bitz Bars you’d endured on lengthy missions.

The eyes stare at you, they see into you; unblinking and you can feel them rifle around inside the deepest trenches of your mind, picking and rummaging with spidery fingers. And you can only let them as they see all of your sordid secrets and lay them out like sharp medical instruments.

Then thin, wiry nerves root and track from behind them; a skull forms around the eyeballs. Muscles and viscera wrap and coil around a skeleton as the skin grows over it like fungi and tans in colour.

Ezra is before you; naked and plump in his lower belly fat and a thick, flaccid cock hangs between his legs. He’s staring back and floating like you are in this chaotically still space. His stump bears no scars, just perfectly smooth, taut skin around the missing bone like marble.

You can only watch as his cock stiffens and begins to drip mercury. You’re not sure where it comes from, maybe something in the stratosphere, maybe something in your core, but the overwhelming feeling of desire bubbles and courses through your veins making them burn under your skin.

You feel the tentacles again, pulsing and vibrating around you.

There is no other sensation except the feeling of his only arm pulling you towards him and then his lips are crushing against your own, smothering.

You're not repulsed as you taste him; his invading tongue filling your mouth and sliding down your throat that opens willingly for him.

You let him in, you want him to be inside you like this, even though somewhere inside of you, your voice is shrieking and howling at you to resist the ratty bastard. It’s a need that requires satiation.

Any resistance is smothered by the heat between your legs; the wetness that leaks from your swollen cunt lips and mashing into the meat of your thighs as you squeeze them together deliciously to equally appease and chase that desire.

You feel his ever-growing tongue reaching into the back of your oesophagus and expanding; sliding deep down into your guts as you choke and splutter around it as it restricts your airway.

Breathing through your nose is impossible as it fills with the sticky mucus that attaches to the fine cilia suffocating you further.

You try to resist now, to pull away but your limbs still won't work. Your fingers won’t cooperate. You can't feel them. All you can feel is Ezra invading your body through your mouth and licking out every crevice of it with his elongated tongue.

You can feel the cramping in your stomach as he prods around down in there, pushing against your muscles and fat; crushing your offals and lapping at your stomach acids.

You want to scream so badly, but all that comes out around his tongue is moans of abject satisfaction. Your own voice, your own sounds are so alien to your ears. You're enjoying this and you want more, so much more from him.

You feel your mouth fill from your gullet upwards; something warm rising up from the back of your throat from around his tongue as it floods you. Its viscosity bubbles and pools out the side of your lips and down your chin.

Ezra pulls back and you see it; his tongue now black and shiny and no longer pink and fleshy - or human. The flippering tentacle disappears back into his smiling mouth as you gasp for air.

You cough up a thick, white substance that projectiles from you, choking you as you heave it out down your chest.

Somewhere, you know this taste; familiar from your own experiences of swallowing unworthy men’s loads on your knees as they ejaculated into your eager mouth on lonely nights around The Pug.

Somewhere through the heady confusion, you know this is wrong on so many levels as you belch and splutter through bringing up the seminal pearl flow in droves.

A subtle yet unsettling change occurs. The glistening black, wet tentacles from the malevolent mass re-emerge in the scene, twisting and snaking their way into the cosmic display as you splutter.

At first, the juxtaposition of the tentacles against the cosmic backdrop seems incongruous, like an intrusion of darkness into the splendour of the nebula.

However, as you watch, you begin to sense a strange harmony between the two that bleeds into your skin.

The tentacles are back around your body, cinching and curling around your waist, clamping around your wrists. You feel the alluring tickle of something travelling up your thigh and your eyes widen.

“Ezra… It’s-it’s-” you stutter as you feel it snake up your inner thigh and under the hem of your shorts.

“Let us in, Birdie. It’ll feel so good.” Ezra drenches the promise inside your ear, licking and sucking the shell of it. His fingers skim your clit, furrowing inside your shorts and opening your lips for the tentacle to slip fully inside, filling you up. “We’ll make you feel so good.”

You cry out as it slides in, slippery and thick. It stretches you wide, a slight burn from the jarring friction that soon settles into undulating pleasure.

It shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t feel so… good.

You feel a mix of emotions - fascination, fear, and an inexplicable sense of reverence - as you feel it penetrate you deeply. The tentacles, once harbingers of horror, now evoke a different kind of awe.

“Fuck, it feels so good...” You chime falling backwards into the universe.

“Mmm, there you go,” Ezra smiles and you feel his fingers slipping quicker over your engorged clit making you flinch and breathe out dust each time he flicks it. “Let us fuck you, little bird. We’re one now.”

You can hear Ezra; the haunting groans and gasps fill your ears like lead. It’s everywhere around you, echoing and you can’t escape the sounds of his pleasure on loop as you’re fucked by the rogue tentacle stretching you out the further it whelves inside of you.

You can see yourself, devoured by the coils slipping all over your skin; watching yourself get dicked by this entity that knows what you want, knows how to pleasure you like no man could.

Your pussy welcomes the deep thrusts it gives you and you writhe and moan, losing your eyesight. The features on your face dissolve away leaving you a faceless putty for them to remould and sculpt, and you twist and bend to their will.

You’re lost to it; succumbed fully by an invading desire and heat, and the sounds of Ezra’s grunting hammering inside your ears as it rocks through the nebula; a big bang of grunts and heady snarls that rip through the very seam of existence.

But when you finally open your eyes as they grow back into your sockets, he’s no longer there.

All you can see is the nebula again. All you can feel is the fullness between your thighs; the never-ending release it offers as it pumps you full of its seed. The nebula winks back at you and pulses around the edges.

You feel the bunching behind your stomach walls, the fluttering of your pussy spasming and squeezing as you’re pulled apart and smashed back together again, at one with the cosmos.

You cry out; you can see your voice as it shatters into metallic fragments and rains chrome glitter all over you that coats and nicks your throat.

Your gasps birth new stars from your mouth as they find their place in the dust and gases that swirl around your body, completely obliterating it.

And when it’s come and gone, the waves settling as you fall still from the exhausting aftermath, there’s nothing once more; just the never-ending expanse of black.

You breathe out through soaked trembles, and just as he advised, the grip falters and you descend again slowly through the pulsating coils that slide sticky against your face and gums.

You drop and land clumsily onto something solid; the hard, real ground. Your tailbone hits it first and you wince.

Your fingers shakily register the feel of something you recognise and yet it doesn’t seem entirely real as you scrape your brittle nails into the rock beneath your face to be sure.

But your cunt is still contracting; squeezing around a vacant space where you were sure you were penetrated and filled by something thick and binding, and oh so fucking good.

Something that felt indescribable and you mourn its loss irrevocably.

You eye him carefully as he looks back at you with a singular outstretched palm laced with blisters and callouses lanced towards your face.

Ezra helps you up onto jellified legs and above you the tentacles writhe a lowly metre or so above your heads in a hypnotic dance that seems to defy and mock gravity.

Ezra reaches up, his only hand brushing against the swell of the membranes that roll and curl tightly around one another.

"Curious…" He mumbles as the slick glides effortlessly through his calloused fingers; a cosmic ballet of twisting and pulsing.

“What is it?” You ask, dumbfounded and awed.

Your voice doesn't register as your own. You feel like you’ve been swamped in a heavy sleep, plagued by dreams of untold, lucid delights that you can still feel throbbing on your clit.

You’re unsure if it really happened or not and try to shake the delusion, yet you feel yourself pining for it.

You peer at Ezra carefully, looking for any sign that he endured a similar experience, and yet his face is as unreadable in its mischievousness and stoniness as usual.

Your skin feels wet and sticky, your mouth remembers the taste, and his body mirrors your own, coated in the shiny lacquer from passing through the tar coils. His hair is slicked back and darker, almost black, save for the white patch that is stark in its platinum yellow glow; a tiny sun being swallowed in a sea of putrid oily tufts.

The undergarments cling to his skin, saturated and binding and making no attempt to hide the swell of his cock inside of them.

As he glances at you with an astonished smirk, you feel something pull tight in your abdomen; a distant hunger gnawing at the edges of rationality and the sense that you’re unable to get a firm grip on reality anymore.

“A cephalopod of some origin, or many. I've heard tales of Krakens before, but not like this.” Ezra admires bewitchingly as he strokes above him. “It feels…” He closes his eyes and you watch him rise on his tiptoes with a small smile blooming over his mouth. “Sentient.” He concludes through a nasally breath lost inside his thick drawl.

He drops his hand slowly as a lone tentacle feeds down from the others in front of him. You watch rooted as it rubs itself across his broad chest and slithers around him. It runs between his thighs and he moans as it brushes against his cock.

"Uh, this one seems incredibly obliging," Ezra exclaims as he glances at you with astonished mirth bleeding into his ratchet peepers.

You watch it disappear down inside the back of his long johns.

He groans out, his body jars forward but he doesn’t fall; the tentacles have him secured by his arm and back as he becomes weightless in front of you.

“Ezra,” you start forward to assist him, but are stopped when he hisses out, baring his teeth.

He loses his eyes as they roll back into his skull.

“Fuh-uck,” he whines loosely as though his teeth are no longer in his mouth, and you realise you’ve heard this sound before; the sounds of pleasure bursting through the cavity of his chest into your ears.

The same noises he made under you on The Pug with mouthfuls of your seeping cunt.

The tentacle penetrates him and you're drawn into the vortex of his mouth pulling your eyes from their trenches to drink their jelly. You can only watch, body pulsing, skin fraying, as it fucks him right in front of you.

"Kevva, that's deep," he groans, with a blissed out smile.

Then you feel it; it's warm as it glides over your navel and across your skin leaving a moist, sluggish trail. The tentacles bring you together, cocooning you both as Ezra pulls you towards his chest.

And you're not resisting again, instead letting him welcome you into his one-armed embrace.

His body feels good against yours, too good. Like the slats in your rib cages were meant to interlock.

It seems as if he can hear your thoughts and you watch as he opens his chest from the centre; fingers ripping through flesh as he pries open his bony cage and welcomes you into the balloons of his lungs.

Your nose wanders and inhales through his papery bronchioles; they dust into your face like fluffy dandelion seeds and float into the ether.

"Need you inside of me," you groan to him as if in a trance as his sticky heart jostles against your lips as it beats.

You lick across it, sucking on a throbbing ventricle delicately as his blood coays your teeth, and he whines out louder as he ejaculates into his long johns.

“I already am,” Ezra grunts, eyes rolling to the back of his skull again like loose marbles as the crest of his hips buck forward.

You pull back to see him whole once more and glance at the huge, black shape filling you up, fucking into you.

His own cock is hard and weeping pearly globules of come as it rubs against the tentacle with fantastic friction. Your fingers peel him apart; stripping him down to the hard, muscled core of his dick, and he writhes and groans under your touch as you obliterate him.

You look back at his face and he’s swallowing down a thick tentacle inside of his plush mouth before yours is invaded again by the wet velvet.

He fills your holes, all of them. You can feel him stretch out your pussy, sliding in and out with his thick appendage that makes you buck uncontrollably. He feels so plentiful and thick. He slips into the tight crevice of your ass, filling and stretching you wholly and he's inside your mouth; feeling him graze at the back of your throat as he thrusts and chokes you.

He's everywhere, and yet Ezra pulls you close into his scarred chest again whilst he himself is filled in every orifice he possesses and it's still not enough.

He wants to climb inside your skin. You know it, because it's exactly what you want. It’s what you crave. To rest in the sponge of his brain.

You can hear him insipidly rambles to you all the ways in which he wants to devour you for eternity.

His whines set your skin alight; the oil burning you up as it sears and chokes you. That tar-like smell wafting around you both as it smokes you out and leaves you breathless.

“I can see it,” he mutters, but it doesn't come from his mouth, no that’s full of the pulsing thick membrane that fucks him like they fuck you.

Instead, you can see his voice, moving across the nebula as he sings on music scales, lighting up the treble clefs with supernovas.

“Can you see it, Birdie?” He asks you, each red giant twinkling with his din and tone before it dies, and you can. In their dance, the tentacles reveal a deeper truth - that even the most terrifying entities can be transformed by the beauty and wonder of the cosmos.

They are a reminder that in the vastness of the universe, there is a balance between darkness and light, chaos and order, horror and beauty and you understand that now as you approach another climax.

“It’s so fucking beautiful.” You gasp, tears filling your eyes.

You arch your back; your spine cracks through each vertebrae as they pulverise into dust and you collapse in on yourself, boneless and spent once more.

You can feel it and it feels exhilarating to die and be reborn over and over.

You gush around the tentacle and onto Ezra’s soft stomach swell as you come unrestrained, and for what feels like for infinity.

You’ve never fully understood the meaning of the word euphoria until now.

Soon Ezra lets go of you; his own body arching grotesquely and crushing inwardly. His mouth opens as the tentacle ejects, spewing out thick, creamy liquid in a silent scream as he rolls back into the mass of pulsing coils to be devoured all over again.

He twists and turns and you see his left hand come down his shoulder, tugging at the skin below his blade that houses his clipped stump.

Then another hand, and another; more human hands that are his own with the thumb on the left side and all with the tiny bullseye tattoo inked and faded on the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger.

His various left hands are pulling the skin open so you can see his spine through the tears. Small, onyx tendrils move under the bones and he bleeds out that thick, seminal fluid between his contracting muscles.

Ezra removes his skin like removing a sweater and you scream into the void.

Birdie.

You hear him through the sludgy goop inside your ears; a faint rumble of your body as you are gently shaken awake by thick fingers pulling you out of inertia.

You're on the ground again and the pit of writhing tentacles is still a dark swarm threatening to rain upon your heads. You stare at it, watching it pulse and simper. Trying to understand its secrets, its desires.

Trying to detest it with every fibre of your being but not quite managing to.

There's a chasm where that feeling should be.

Ezra's worrisome face pulls your senses towards him and you clutch onto his arm, reassuring yourself that he's real. Real muscle and bone.

You flinch when you think you see something move under his skin, but it’s just his vein as he tenses.

"What did you see?" He asks you darkly. His eyes are as black as the darkest corners of the universe.

"See?" You ponder it dumbly for a moment as it all floods back to you.

“You were screaming.” He explains.

"I... I'm not sure." You mumble.

"I've deduced that this creature can telepathically link itself to our minds in a mere quest of bewitchment. It can show us our wildest, unarmed desires, or toss us into a gully of the most sordid nightmares." His eyes have shifted into something that you’ve never seen on his face since meeting him - fear.

"What did you see?” You prompt him instead, sitting up. Your head feels like it’s been split into two and neither of your brains can comprehend this scenario fully.

His eyes drop to you and he helps you to your feet clamping his singular hand around your elbow as he yanks.

"Felt so real," he utters through a clenched mouth. Or surreal. You're not quite sure what he says as your face draws up to his.

He glances at you and touches your cheek, cupping it gently. You feel the thick pad of his thumb pull on your bottom lip as he admires the wet, pink flesh of your gums with some irreverent hunger.

"So real." He repeats with darker, hooded eyes.

"Ezra," you steer, peeling his fingers delicately from your skin, despite them soldering into your flesh, and he seems to snap out of it.

He recoils back as though he has been stung. "We need to find a way to leverage our exit." He announces flatly.

"What about the diamonds?" You rub at your arms and they don’t feel like they are attached to you anymore. Neither do your legs and it takes you a moment to realise you are standing freely on them.

"They don't appear to be harbouring any gems down here. I fear we may have been taken in by a ruse." He scowls bitterly.

"You mean you were." You mutter. “I just stupidly came along.”

Ezra sighs loudly and sharply and steps forward craning his head up to the tentacles. He mutters something that you don’t quite catch.

"You're expecting them to give us a ride?" You scoff at him.

"Do you have a more eloquent stratagem? I'm all ears."

"Yes. I'm not going in there again." You say with an inherent coldness prickling at your skin. But yet it’s still hot and dense between your legs.

"Tell me woman, what's rattled you with the visions they gave you?"

"It doesn't matter," you say, turning away from him.

Although you’re not entirely sure if they were just visions. You search along the sharp rocky walls and follow them round with your eyes and there is no obvious sign for escape.

The only way out is back up through them. If they will allow you to leave, that is. The thought makes you cold.

“Birdie, I…” Ezra starts and pauses for a moment. “I know this outcome isn’t what we forecast when this expedition matriculated between us.”

“You think?”

“But I must riposte, that we need to find a way out and the only one presented to us is from whence we came. So if you would find it in you to trust me, then I believe I can lead us out of here fully intact.”

“Trust you, you say?” You snort flippantly.

“Yes. A big ask, I am well aware of its weight.” He scowls at you this time.

“We did things.” You breathe. "You and I, we... copulated."

The words roll off your tongue and you want to shove them back into your mouth and suck the fat from them, but he’s already heard them and is mentally clipping them apart in his bank of memories to keep the best of them - the most sordid.

“I remember vividly our foreplay on The Pug, but you insisted on no penetration and I kept my word. I may not be a gentleman, but I'm no cavalier scoundrel."

"Yes, I know-"

"-Was a satisfaction garnered for us both as I recall. No-one has ever... ” His head snaps towards you with intrigue. "Are you keen to indulge the liasion?"

“No. I mean... Here. That’s what I saw. We didn't just play this time. Us. It’s what I-”

“Felt.” Ezra finishes for you and you nod as you realise that’s what he felt too. His cock, still tenting against his undergarments, reassures you of that.

“And then we were apart. Like, pulled apart from the insides. I watched you remove your skin. Was it real or did we dream it or…? Kevva, I have no idea what is fucking real or not right now.” You mutter, running your hand through your damp, disgusting hair.

“Did you hit your peaks of satisfaction?” Ezra asks.

"What?"

"Did you come, pet?"

Your cheeks feel hot and you fold your arms sighing. “Yes.” Your stomach pulls tight and it makes you grit your teeth.

“As did I.” He admits freely. "Felt like I couldn't stop. It was kinda nice. Tingly."

He closes his eyes and you watch as his free hand drifts down his sternum and palms his cock over the wet fabric with a soft squeeze, clearly not deterred by your presence.

“It wasn’t you. I mean you weren’t inside me, but you were all the same. It’s confusing. What does it want?” You ask looking up at the swell that seems to hum again. Your palm is running gentle circles against your gut that feels hot.

“I don’t believe it wants anything insidious. It just feels and thrives like we do. It has cravings.” Ezra explains, wandering closer under the centre of it.

You shudder and ponder the creation of such an organism, that you summarise mentally and agree, is not too dissimilar from yourself or Ezra. It exists in the most basic of forms, to feed, to fornicate, to-

You feel a sharp twinge in your lower belly and groan.

“You creamy?” Ezra asks.

“Yeah just… Aaargh!” You hiss and double over clutching your stomach. Horrific cramping churns inside of you and you watch aghast as watery blood trickles down your thighs and legs.

“Ezra!” You shriek hysterically, but he’s wrenched away from your aid as the tentacles swoop down and grab you up in their clutches.

His frantic voice is drowned out as the black takes you again.

This place is too bright.

It glitters and glares at you in a striking cobalt like you’ve never seen before. It takes a while for your eyes to adjust but when they do, you find yourself sprawled on a never-ending bed of sharp diamond pieces.

Millions of them are scattered over the ground, around your feet; cutting into your buttocks and back as you’re spread over them like you’ve been dumped in here carelessly.

They’re protruding out of the rock walls and you can see them sparkle above you, twinkling like distant stars through a kaleidoscopic blue galaxy.

Your fingers rifle through them and clutch them, squeezing the shards. You watch as your skin is pierced and bleeds, yet you feel no physical pain.

The beauty stuns you for a moment and you forget your predicament for a while as you just marvel in the perplexity.

But you’re soon shoved back into it when you feel the cramps twist up your cervix and you scream out in agony.

“Ssh, it’ll soon be over, dove.” You hear Ezra’s soothing drawl and see a million of his hawkish faces in every facet gleaming at you.

He crunches over the diamonds as he walks, bare feet bleeding and he’s naked. Cock lithe and hard, dripping with a pearly secretion you long to drink from.

He no longer has a stump where his right arm should be, but a long thick tentacle that pulses and squirms excitedly as he strides towards you.

He crouches down at your feet, parting your thighs and runs his tongue up the sweaty streaks of them.

“Ezra, what the fuck is happening?” You gasp and grunt through a fierce contraction. Your insides feel like they’re ripping open and your cervix tightens in a way you’ve never felt before.

“Hush now. You give it what it wants and we can have what we want.” He runs his tongue over the bubbly seam of your dilated cunt and sucks upon your clit hungrily for a beat, pulling a convulsion out of you. “Play your part, Birdie.”

You hum out, head lolling backwards as you can’t help but succumb to the intense sucking on your bud from his lips.

“We knew you’d taste so good.” He whines and the thick black of his arm scales your throat and wraps itself around you, choking you as you gasp.

You cry out as another contraction bears down on your uterus and you can feel a heavy rush followed by a saturated squelch.

Ezra draws back and watches keenly as you birth the pupate azure eggs planted inside you. You scream through it; the agony makes your cunt and womb feel like they’re on fire and he coaxes you through it, lapping up the amniotic fluid each time you disembogue it out.

Sparkling diamonds fall from your hole and Ezra leads you into a jubilant climax as he sucks on your clit and furrows his fingers inside to help pull them out.

The diamonds shatter as the tiny organisms inside birth and slither away into the walls; the glittery shells they leave behind are your trophy.

You watch, astonished and soaked in sweat, as they vacate the discarded diamonds to join the mass of tentacles where they’ll grow and eventually breed another like you who should be so gluttonous as to seek their treasure.

You give it what it wants and we can have what we want.

An exchange. A life cycle. A quid pro quo.

Play your part, Birdie.

“Mmmaaaah!”

Your attention is diverted by Ezra pulling another orgasm from you into his mouth. Then, he’s climbing up your body like an arachnid. His tentacle arm slithers behind you and he spreads you open with his thick cock.

He brutally fucks your spent, stretched hole; his seed soothes the pain, numbs it out almost like a leeches bite.

You cling onto him as he grunts and wheezes inside of your ear.

“You did so good for us, Birdie.” He praises and you can’t help but smile and welcome him in fully as he drills so deep inside of you that you can feel the tip slither out of your mouth between your teeth and into his as he kisses you; becoming an entwined ouroboros of unrelenting pleasure.

It feels like it will never stop as his hips crack and hammer into yours, and you pass out, weighted down by exhaustion of all extremes.

Puggart Bench, 4 cycles ago...

“I feel some convival attraction to you, despite my infructuous emancipation of it.” Ezra says as he sups at his glass of golden suds. "Your pluckiness appeals to my better nature, Birdie."

"That's the beer talking." You smirk.

He eyes you with a slightly arched brow and wet pink lips. The foam of his beer drags along his moustache and you watch him lick it clean with a quick flick of his tongue. "A siren, no doubt... I'll willingly drown in you."

"Stop with the sweet talk, prospector and get to the point." You mirth. Although his carnal wooing leaves sweat beading on your skin.

“You understand the objective?”

You nod. “Seems simple enough.”

You’d discussed it at length despite the slight buzz you’d gotten from the beer intake, and yet the plan came together without as much input from yourself. He knew the route, he knew the place. He knew where the diamonds were.

And he did all the damn talking.

All you had to do was assist him with the manual labour of it all, as he put it. Mine and prospect. Fly you both in and out too. An extra pair of hands where he only had half.

But it seemed a little too good to be true and you went to question him further when you felt someone knock into your chair from behind.

A wayward hand was felt trying to cup your breast and you grabbed it and squeezed it in a tight crush.

“I’d rethink that, friend. Unless you still want this hand to jerk you off tonight?” You spoke over your shoulder to the drunk assailant trying to grab at you.

He dribbled something shy of an apology onto your shoulder and you let him go, not before removing the ring on his middle finger that encased a shiny, expensive looking gem. Might fetch some credits for your inconvenience.

“Fiery one, aren’t you?” Ezra mused as he observed the whole thing.

“Just another night in this squalor. I can hold my own.” You replied, stuffing the ring in your pocket.

"Good. I require you strong. You play your part, Birdie. I'll see that you're rewarded handsomely for it."

"You speak as if mining diamonds is a dangerous art. It isn’t. I’m fairly astute in the work of dirty hands."

"These aren't just ordinary diamonds to cut your teeth on." He leaned in, placing the glass down on the table with a heavy thud.

You could smell the stink of the alcohol on his breath and that putrid musk of sweat wafting from him, mixed in with something else sweet and foreboding.

He smelled like death - sweet, alluring death.

His scruff was oily and scattered across his ageing, tan skin and throat, and his dark brown eyes bore into your own for a few moments, contemplating.

Ezra ran his hand around his grazed chin, rubbing at the stubble there now peppered with scabs and grey whiskers as he mulled over the thoughts about you accompanying him in his mind.

Black gunk was embedded in his nail beds. His hand was large for his frame, like a great big shovel for a palm; one that could crush a human skull with little effort, you thought. Once armed with two, you could only speculate as to what vile menace those hands could have caused.

“Where do you come from?” You ask him curiously as you sup. That stark blonde streak at his hairline catches the light and looks like it shimmers at you with tempting promises and false conviction.

Ezra looks up at you from his position at the table and smirks. “Where do you come from?” He challenges back.

He looks at you with a haggard expression that is unchanging. It begins to creep you out a little bit the more you see it, making prickles rise on the back of your neck. He suddenly has a way of making you feel nervous for no reason at all.

And men usually don’t make you feel nervous.

You draw back with a contemplative hiss. “The less we know about each other, the better.” You taunt. “No names, for instance.”

He's already haunting your blood as you feel it warm under your skin, and the slick bubble of sweat upon the back of your neck makes its presence known.

“Why the ambiguity?” He questions with a glass stare. "My name is Ezra." He casually tosses his name in front of you on the table, expecting you to return.

But you don't.

You're feeling prickles run all over your skin. You just want to wash him away with the grime and murk that coats his breath.

A spooky, amaranthine being regarding you from opposite the table and he smirks crookedly again through those swollen lips, pursed out, yet remains tight-lipped. You wonder what they taste like.

You wonder whether his foreskin his clipped, what his come tastes like.

“Getting cosy isn’t my style, Ezra.” You mutter, gulping back more foam and blinking the wanton haze away.

“Well regardless, what a delightful romp it would be to charter to Narilla with you, pet. I’m in if you’re in.” Ezra says after some time of eyeing you.

“I’m in,” you agree, sealing your fate. “Although, wouldn’t you rather have some strong muscle to offer us some leverage in case things go awry? There’s plenty of dick-for-brains to choose from.” You glance around the bar at the crass prospectors and miners in all their lunkhead glory.

“Nothing will go awry.” Ezra shakes his head. He clears his throat. “You’ll do just fine. You're Kevva sent for it.”

You feel his eyes drink you in as they wander over your body and you consider for a moment if you’ll end up back at his place tonight riding his face.

The idea isn’t as heinous as you’d like.

“A quick expedition then.” You confirm.

“That it is. We needn’t linger on the moon in the throes of a harsh winter.” His eyes dart away as though recalling something execrable as he struggles to swallow his beer. “In and out.” Ezra clarifies. "It'll be over quickly."

You nod once in agreement.

“There is a price for what you seek, prospectors. Especially you, girlie.” A foreign voice comes from beside you on the adjacent table.

A man with one eye glares under the shroud of his hood at you. A horrific scar as deep as a magenta trench replaces his other eye. Encrusted with old yellow skin like scales that were in various decays of flaking.

“Balderdash and frivolous superstition.” Ezra simply rebuts and knocks back the remnants of the amber beer down his throat.

“What do you mean, a price?” You query with a lazy smirk over your own numb lips to the creepy eavesdropper.

“He means nothing. Just trying to rile you, Birdie, is all. Come on now, we’ll drink some more. I insist. Celebrate our impending agreement.”

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" You muse.

"Why? Is it working? Am I attractive enough to you yet that you'll let me…" he looks up and down your body and licks his lips. "Indulge?"

"You're so presumptuous, Ezra" You smirk. "Maybe I'll be the one to indulge."

Ezra sways you up towards the bar with him and you think no more of it.

Later, you do indeed indulge, and ride hard on his hawkish face as he makes you come hard through juddery breaths as he fucks you with his serpent tongue relentlessly.

You can feel that heady pull on your clit as he sucks out your pleasure greedily in droves whilst you fist through his greasy hair in rapture as you grind your cunt against the furry graze of his chin.

As you suspected you would.

But now, that odd stranger is here, in the diamond pit with you; staring you down with his singular ragged eye watching as the glory of Ezra buries himself inside of you, and that man is whispering to you and now you know.

He was right, there was a price for Narilla’s diamonds.

You know everything now.

“You knew, didn’t you?” You question Ezra as his silhouette fuzzes into clarity.

The look on his face tells you all you need to know.

Of course he did. It all makes sense now.

“It’s why you favoured me over the other miners to accompany you; because I have a fucking womb!” You spit. "This was my part to play, wasn't it?"

You throw the diamonds you’d been holding at him, and he flinches as they pelt at his feet; his coveted prize.

“Birdie-” He holds up his palm, open in surrender.

“Don’t. Fucking. Call. Me. That!” You launch yourself at him and you both clatter to the stony ground.

You claw at him, aiming for his bastard face, but his free hand captures your fist. He clamps his legs around you to stop you gaining height over him and rolls, pinning you beneath him with ease.

For a man with one arm, he's still incredibly strong and slippery.

“No harm done.” Ezra sneers as you falter; his grip on your wrist flexing it backward a little until you feel a subtle crack and you hiss. “You fulfilled your part, yes. That is true. You got yourself remunerated. We’re free to depart now. It’s how this arrangement works.” He says, darkly.

“I should kill you, you piece of shit!" You seethe at him.

He looks offended. “Now, now. You weren’t saying that earlier when I was buried deep in the hilt of you.” He smirks sinisterly.

“You weren’t,” you shake him off and he rolls onto his back and snickers though rasps. “It wasn’t real.” You affirm, sitting up and flexing your wrist.

"Are you sure?" He questions you smugly.

"No. It was just-" You shake your head.

“Real enough for you to gestate and birth its offspring in droves.” Ezra reminds you.

“You want to lose your other fucking arm?” You warn through a snarl.

He sighs, the smirk dying. “You can’t simply procure the diamonds; you have to replenish your fill. They won’t let you leave if you just take from them. You have to have something to offer in return.” His eyes fall on your body, hungrily. “As I man, I can’t replenish. But you can.”

“You're not a man, you’re a fucking insect!” You rile.

“If I had delineated you the truth, you would never have accompanied me on this treacherous quest.” Ezra mutters, annoyed with clicked lips. “You were an unwitting comrade in my mournful web of deceit, I admit. I'm the arachnid, and you the fly..."

"Fuck you."

He snickers breathily. "I harbour no ill will towards you. You’re quite amiable despite your folly. I would have never let any permanent detriment come to you, Bir-.” He stops short of the moniker as he witnesses your stony glare.

“That’s fucking noble of you.” You growl.

“You’re still alive, yes? All supple appendages intact?”

You glare at him some more.

“Then we completed our charge fully unscathed and significantly richer for it.” Ezra simply says with a casual shrug of indifference.

You really want to punch him and feel his large nose shatter under your knuckles.

“What we possess now is incredibly rare. So few venture here because of the down payment required. You'll be a queen among mere men. You should think yourself fortunate.” He puts, examining one of the diamond shards carefully.

“Tell that to my insides!" You snap. You can still feel the ache; the rawness from the unexpected birth.

"It's what your glorious body was made for. To bear the fruit of life, is it not?"

"That," you point towards the swarming cluster "is not fucking fruit, Ezra!"

Ezra sighs and reaches for you gingerly. "I am burdened with my part in this. I am a host to belligerent shame. Honesty is a skill I do not possess in its entirety. But you and I, we make a damn hoot of a team."

"The prospector and her pimp!" You scoff.

"I'll make it right, if you’ll permit me?"

His deep, brown eyes bore into you and you feel something wobble inside you.

“I meant it when I said I liked you, pet. That clandestine night on The Pug with you? Kevva, it replays in my mind and won't let me have no peace. Your cunt stink is still all up in my sheets." He licks his lips, sucking on the bottom and recalling your taste for a beat with a satisfied murmur - a groan that your skin ignites to in response.

"Who would desire me like this now aside from the whores on Luxillion who take my credits and don't remember my name? They just remember this..." Ezra glances down at his missing appendage.

"I ponder if it was pity on your part, and I would not linger in offense if it was, but regardless, it was something. To me. And I do not take the pleasure you offered me so freely, and with an inkling of that desire for yours truly returned, lightly and with regret." He finishes.

You sigh and shake your head, unable to ignore fully the fizzing inside your veins as he says it, how earnest he suddenly appears.

Despite yourself, that night with him was indeed... something.

There was something so deliciously unkempt about him. Frivolous around the seedy murk. Something that your better nature repelled against, and yet caved to all the same.

“How the fuck do we get out of here?” You groan, looking up at the swarm of tentacles engulfing the only means of escape.

You're not sure if you can take another mind fucking, or a physical one. But your pussy clenches and it zaps on your clit regardless.

“The way we came in, I have already iterated that escape route to you, despite your reluctance to partake. It seems appeased, I think. Satiated. Might pass us up without further incident.”

"Well, I guess we have no choice." You utter.

Ezra gathers the diamonds and shoves them into his wet pockets until they bulge. He looks at you forlornly. “Thank you,” he notes.

You soften despite yourself. “Hold my hand this time. I don’t want to be separated from you and left behind now you’ve gotten what you wanted. I would expect no less from you.”

You can feel it on your skin. The dread. The desire the pit had for you. The fact that, despite his slimy betrayal, you still feel it burn in your core when he smiles crookedly at you.

"I would gladly leave these treasures here, if it meant not taking you with me." He says through molten brown eyes.

"You're so full of shit." You sigh, smirking.

Ezra reaches out with a timid grin of his own and you step forward, interlocking your fingers tightly in his.

“That's as may be, but I won’t let go.” He promises and you believe him as his thumb strokes over the ridge of your knuckles.

You feel his sincerity crush the bones in your hand.

“Once we get out of here, I think I never want to see your face again.” You warn him, but you can feel that your resolve already has cracks in it as you offer him a small, twinkly smile.

“That might be difficult…” Ezra holds up your interlocked hands and they are no longer hands in a muscled knot.

Instead, they are a singular arm that starts from your shoulder and ends at the ball joint on his. The skin is perfectly smooth and there is no separation on where you begin and Ezra ends.

“What the fuck?” You gasp.

“Embrace it, Birdie. It’s the only way we’re getting out.” Ezra smirks. "One last hurrah." He laughs and his breath suddenly smells like the dead Trogs on Ajaxia, as you inhale it into your stomach where it soils and grows roots.

You feel your toes leave the ground as the tentacles lift you upwards. Your joint appendage with Ezra stretches as you feel them try to separate you both.

Somewhere under the muscles and sinew, you grip onto him and he grips you back just as hard.

The nebula rises above you both and you cover your eyes with your free arm as it swells in intensity and size.

Your hand is pulled out of his from under the skin, like taking off a glove and Ezra desperately pulls you into his lap. You wrap your legs around his waist tightly locking you in and he grunts at the welcome intrusion from the crest of your pelvis crushed against his own.

"Not letting you go," he assures. Or warns. They sound one in the same.

His free fingers now push into your skull, sinking into the soft jellied mass of your brain and your own hands grip onto his shoulders, sinking into the bone beneath his flesh.

They slide in so easily, like fluid and you gasp out as he fills your cunt; that pulsing cock free from his undergarments and pumping his spend liberally into you and doesn’t stop. It floods your pussy, leaking out around his fat shaft and dripping down your thighs in thick globules.

“You taste so good, Birdie.” Ezra rasps and his voice is sulfuric. “We could devour you for eternity.”

He pulls back and his mouth is full of your milky flesh; your blood pooling from the corner of his lips and you hear his molars crunch through your bone fragments.

“Stay,” he wheezes. “Stay with us here and let us live inside you.” He pleads as he takes another bite, consuming you whole; his cock thrusting deeper into you and you groan and wail as he drowns you.

You can feel it filling you, that thick seminal fluid pouring from your ears, your nostrils and your eyes.

You're slipping, fading.

You want to stay but you know you should be somewhere else. Somewhere you’re not sure is real and you only dreamed of it.

But the nebula… it’s so fucking beautiful.

To never see it again wrenches your heart. You pluck it from your chest; a mass of sloppy ventricles and offer it out to the amethyst abyss.

You watch as it disintegrates into ash in your palm. You can still feel Ezra filling you, drowning you and you know this is where you belong.

You belong with them; this mass of tentacles that feeds you everything you could only ever imagine and crave. At one with the universe and home inside of the purple nebula that speaks the same language as you and shares a brainstem and-

“Birdie!”

You’re wrenched and you surface; spluttering as your grapple for the ledge with slippery fingers.

Ezra pulls you over, groaning with the strain as you topple onto him and gasp out. The diamonds spill from his pockets around you both and he pants into your face, his own reddening from the exertion.

“I got you,” he says, his face shiny and wet. "Easy now."

Your shaky fingers around the familiarity of his brackish features as you realise you're back on solid ground and out of the pit.

You can feel his chest heave against yours as you're crushed to him; his arm tight against your back.

“You didn’t leave me in there.” You marvel at him with those pink cheeks around his scruff.

“Do you think me completely unscrupulous, woman?” He frowns.

You lean in and kiss him, planting a deep relieved smooch onto his chapped lips and he’s taken by surprise.

You suck on his tongue and your kiss erupts into something unfinished. He groans back into your mouth as you can still feel how hard he is, how he pulses under you with need and it spreads into you.

“So, I assume by this mere token of affection, you no longer wish to gut me?” He gasps around your mouth.

“No, I still very much wish to,” you smile. “But right now, I just want you inside of me, Ezra. Fuck me.”

His grip on you strengthens. “I can certainly oblige to that,” he gruffs. "Seeing as we almost perished today."

"Almost," you growl.

He pushes his head up to kiss you again. He wastes no time and reaches down as you both fumble around your sticky, cloying undergarments.

He shimmies his long johns down his thighs as best as he can, pulling out his turgid cock that's pulsing with need and slippery with pre-cum.

You pull your shorts to the side as you sit down on him, sinking all the way down to his swollen balls.

“Fuck, Birdie... Better than the visions,” he whines, the cords in his neck straining and pupils blown wide. “So tight..." He gasps as you start rocking on him. "Oh, forgive me, pet. I won't last.”

"I don't care." You grunt wanting him and taking him, as you grind your hips back and forth sloppily.

He feels fucking divine; packing you out and stretching you through this frantic, clumsy fuck you’ve instigated, and you deduce you’re probably still out of your mind on whatever it was that had you feverish and delusional in the pit.

But it's of no matter; you’re too riled up to give a damn about anything else other than your release. And you want nothing more than to soak him.

It’s fast approaching as you grind down harder on him. You can feel him in the places where you’re still raw and tight, but you push through it; the pleasure is your driving force and it bubbles under your abdomen muscles and makes your toes spark.

"In Kevva's name, I swear you're magnificent," he rambles, reaching up with his free hand to grope and palm your breast over your camisole. He watches as you slide up and down on his cock, bewildered and in awe as your slick oils up the dark hairs around the base of him.

"Oh shit," he cants.

You suck on his deceitful tongue as you ride him and milk his cock for all it’s worth. Your peak is so close, quick and bursting like colourful strobes under your eyelids as your clit rubs deliciously against his fuzzy groin curls.

Your walls tighten and flutter around his girthy muscle buried to the hilt in you.

“Mmm fuck, Ezra, I’m going to-” You pant.

“Me too, come for me. All over my cock.” He hisses. “Now! Gah, sweet mother of Kevva,” he groans. “Ohshitohshitohshit… oh-oh shit!"

You tense and shake over him like an earthquake; eyes rolling back into your head and fingers digging into his chest meat.

Your thighs smack against the soft paunch of his stomach as you slow your pace and ride it out until the stars dissipate and that purple nebula fades into the black for good.

A small part of you is sad to see it go.

You feel Ezra pulse and fill you with his own warm heat and it spills out of you as you collapse onto his sternum, your cheek sticking to his wet clothed nipple, satiated and exhausted.

You glance at your discarded flight suits, after what feels like an eternity later of just laying stuck to him and listening to his heartbeat ebb, before you’d entered the creature's pit and realise this was all so very warped and that you actually made it out unscathed, like he had said.

Like he'd promised.

You’re still unsure if it all really happened or if your mind is playing tricks on you. All you can remember is the violet beauty and the feeling of being filled so deeply.

You feel his thick fingers run through the oil of your hair gently rousing your focus. "As much as I'd enjoy staying here with you on this idle precipice, it appears we should make haste to depart before anything else untoward occurs."

You nod and glance up at him, placing a gentle kiss on the scarred skin of his stump poking out under his t-shirt, which makes his eyes glisten at you.

You shuffle off of him and reach for your suit, careful not to eye him and a small part of you wanting to forget it all.

But you can’t forget a man like Ezra so easily - he’s furrowed in too deep already; got those grubby, thick fingers embedded deep into your skin and poisoning you with the dirt that constantly lives under his nails.

He bore witness to your ruining down in the pit, your undoing.

He was there with you as your skin was flayed down to the bone. The complete annihilation of your soul as it tarnished before him. He sought to devour the nerves under your flesh, the depraved delights that the pit drew out of you and into his waiting and willing mouth.

He didn't choke on you like you wanted.

Ezra regards you with a shine in his dark, beady eyes and offers you a small, creeping smile which you can’t help but return as you both dress and reattach your helmets.

The diamonds glitter all around your feet and the euphoria of knowing they’re yours is a little overwhelming.

"I would kill for a shower right now." You say as you follow him back the way you came through the internalised cave systems. Your body stills feels sticky and wet under your flight suit.

You hear him guffaw inside your ear. "Is there not a sanitation pod housed on your lander?"

"No," you frown. "Was too expensive to rent one with luxurious amenities."

"A shame." He concurs. "Although, we can bathe in the waters with the nymphs on Luxillion now if we wish."

"Luxillion?" You snort. "Burning a hole in your pocket already?"

"A man can but dream." Ezra husks inside your ear. "What of your ambition, Birdie?"

You shrug. "Haven't really thought about it."

"You can afford to mull it over some." He crackles.

"Yes I can," you smile, realising that both Ezra and you can simply afford anything you want right now. No matter how ludicrous a thing it is that you desire.

Back in the confines of the lander, you take the controls as Ezra tucks your share of the diamonds into your knapsack.

“If you’ve short changed me, I’ll hunt you down, prospector.” You warn him though a short side glare.

“Perhaps I should recount if you make tempting promises such as those, Birdie.” Ezra quips and smiles at you like a dim light bulb before it runs out of juice.

The thrusters roar into life and the lander pod launches into a frosty orbit. The static still blocks everything out as you fly blind up into the ether. The radio comms crackling and tinny in their off-beat drones.

“Don’t call me that,” you simply say; a small smirk of your own breeding across your lips that you lick away.

“Then what do I call you? I wish to let it roll off my tongue when I fuck you some more back on The Pug.” He simply croons.

You scoff. “You’re so presumptuous, Ezra.” You shake your head with a breathy snuffle of a laugh. “Perhaps, I’ll be the one to fuck you."

And the thought makes your clit throb excitedly, despite it's over-stimulated ache.

"I'll ensure you're held to that bold proposition, pet." Ezra simply clicks his tongue around his teeth, the taste of you still in his gum meat somewhere.

"I would expect no less from you." You quip.

You feel his singular hand creep onto your thigh and give it a good gentle squeeze. Instead of being disgusted, you smile and enjoy the pleasure it evokes through your bloodstream as he warms you.

You then surprise him by caving and finally revealing your name, casually letting it flow from your lips as you release the landing gear.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you." He grins slickly at you in some deft accomplishment. "Wasn't such a hard endeavor now, was it?"

Ezra sits back in the nav seat smirking as you launch fully into The Fringe, leaving the delectable nightmares of Narilla behind you both.

MASTERLIST | EZRA MASTERLIST

I really hope you enjoyed reading this Ezra story of mine. I had a lot of fun writing this and really wanted to challenge myself with this genre. Please let me know your thoughts. I'll be writing more Ezra for sure. 🖤

#ezra prospect #prospect ezra #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra x female reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect smut #ezra x you #ezra x reader #prospect film #prospect 2018 #prospect movie #prospect #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro pascal stories #jett's pedro boys #jett's writing

[bonezone44]

Too Depraved 4 TV (ages 56+)

Joel x afab!Reader x Ezra x Tommy

Word Count: 2500

--I'm not doing my usual set-up for fics, LOL! This is F I L T H. It's "Daddy Joel", "Uncle Tommy" and "Uncle Ezra."

oral (m & f receiving), fingering, p-in-v, creampie

special thanks to : @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the idea and @toxicanonymity for 'Uncle Tommy' and also @iamasaddie for sharing a Tommy photo this morning. We're all going to burn in hell together. 🙏😘

++++++++++++++

“Uncle Tommy and Uncle Ezra are downstairs watchin TV,” says Joel. “Why don’t you go join ‘em and I’ll meet you there in a minute, alright?” He stomps over to the fridge, thoroughly dismissing you.

The two men’s eyes light up as you make your way down into the basement. The room is small and cramped. The walls are wood panels and the floors are cold concrete. There’s a wall of boxes on one side of the room next to a computer desk. The computer is off and the monitor is black. You’ve seen Uncle Ezra use it the most, selling electronics on eBay and watching funny videos. Anytime Uncle Tommy was around, he was lounging on the couch, much like he is now, with a beer in his hand.

“Hey there, sugar,” greets Tommy as he puts his beer down on the coffee table in front of the TV. “How ya been?”

“Fine,” you say, shifting awkwardly. You look at the thick, plush couch, unsure where to sit. The recliner is open, but you know that’s Joel’s. 

Ezra finishes his beer and tosses the can into the trash by the computer desk. It’s close enough to be difficult to miss. “You wanna come sit down, baby?” asks Ezra, patting the space between him and Tommy. “Uncle Tommy and I were just watchin the game.”

“O-okay,” you respond and follow suit. You can feel their hungry eyes watching you. Your skin burns. You keep your legs in close and your arms are crossed protectively over your stomach. You feel your shoulders up by your ears. There’s dampness between your thighs.

“Ain’t seen you in a while,” says Tommy as he shifts closer to you. “Joel been keepin you all to himself, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. 

“Yeah, that’s Joel for you.” Ezra chuckles, his eyes lingering on your body. “I find his possessiveness unnecessary, though Uncle Ezra understands why he would be wary to allow his pretty pet to wander without her leash.” His warm, calloused hand finds the bare skin of your thigh. His thumb rubs back and forth. “She is quite the prize, don’t you think?” he says. “Uncle Tommy?”

Tommy grins. “She’s somethin special,” he murmurs, his body shifting closer.

You feel crowded. The heat from their bodies, the smell of beer on their breath, ‘Uncle’ Ezra’s hand gently stroking your thigh. The ache in your cunt.

“Curious,” Ezra says as he scoots next to you, causing you to gasp for air as his body is now pressed along the entirety of your left side. 

“What’s that?” says Tommy, whose eyes are locked onto your face, studying your every response and expression. His own hand finds your other leg, smoothing up and down your thigh, inching closer and closer to the billowing heat between your legs. 

“Curious as to what or … who–” Ezra traced his nose along your temple. “–could have swayed Joel’s selfish nature.” He hums and it’s as if your entire body vibrates in harmony with his vocal chords. “He is not a man to acquiesce easily.”

“What? You think she asked for it this time?” Tommy eyes you curiously. His hand slides from your thigh, cupping your mound over your shorts. You feel his amusement as you tense and gasp with your eyes closed. “Wasn’t us just beggin for a taste?”

Ezra smiles. “Little pets get hungry, too, Uncle Tommy.” Ezra’s finger glides along the bottom of your chin. You open your eyes to see his, hazy and warm, looking back at you. “This one looks ravenous.”

“Only one way to know for sure,” says Tommy, biting his lower lip. He slips his hand under the waistband of your shorts and you tilt your hips forward instinctively, guiding his searching fingers to their imminent goal. You moan as two fingers graze your entrance before sliding between your folds. Tommy laughs. “Oh yeah,” he says, lightly toying with your clit. “She’s starving.”

“Is she now?” says Ezra. “Methinks Uncle Ezra wants a taste, as well.” His mouth finds your neck as his hand finds your breast. His teeth gnaw into your skin–his tongue laving. His fingers dig into your flesh. You feel his hard cock pressed against your side.

You gasp and moan, overwhelmed by the sensations. By their body heat blanketing your sides. The TV is on low and in the back of your mind, you can hear Joel stomping around upstairs. You don’t know how he’ll react when he finds out the two men have begun without him. You don’t know what to say. You couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to. And you really really don’t want to.

“Let’s get ‘er out of these clothes, Uncle Ez,” says Tommy.

“Don’t know why she bothers wearin anything anyway,” says Ezra.

The two men strip you like a doll. Ready and eager to play with you how they please.

Goosebumps rise on your skin briefly before they’re back on you. Ezra sucks on your nipples, toys with your breasts. Tommy’s hand stays between your legs. He slides a finger inside of you, slowly breaching your entrance and pushing it as deep in as he can. He wriggles it around a couple times then pulls it back out, spreading your slick around your lips. Your skin sticks to the pleather of the couch. You can’t bring yourself to check, but you’re certain there’s a wet spot beneath you, glistening in the bright light of the TV.

“Think he’ll let us fuck ‘er this time?” asks Tommy.

Ezra pulls back from your breast. His lips are plush and wet. He hums. “Let’s see what she wants.” His eyes find yours. “What do you think, baby? Hmm?” His eyebrows are high in his forehead. “You want Uncle Ezra and Uncle Tommy to fuck you? You want us to put our cocks in that tight little hole?”

Tommy laughs and plunges two fingers inside of you, stroking your walls, making you writhe and gasp. “I think she likes the idea.”

Ezra chuckles. “I think so, too,” he says. “I think she wants Uncle Ezra and Uncle Tommy to stuff her full and leave her hurtin.” He grins. “I wonder how long it would take for her muscles to recover from such a pleasurable incident.”

“Weeks, prob’ly,” Tommy groans, pressing his hardness into your side. “If we do it right.”

“How’s that sound, baby?” asks Ezra, his lips pressed against your cheek as his fingers pluck your nipples. “Want Uncle Ezra and Uncle Tommy to tear up your little pussy?”

“HEY!” A loud bellow stops everyone in their tracks.

Your eyes open wide to see Joel stomping down the staircase. He’s wearing the same jeans and denim button-up as earlier, but it looks like he’s combed his hair back and away from his face. 

“What the hell is goin on?”

“Oh, come on, Joel,” moans Tommy, his fingers no longer curling inside of you. “What’d you expect?”

“I expected you to fuckin wait,” he snarls. “Two grown goddamn men can’t keep it together for five fuckin minutes.”

Ezra began. “If you would, please, Joel, give audience to our–”

“Don’t you fuckin start with me.” Joel points at Ezra. “I don’t have time for your fuckin diatribes.”

Ezra rolls his eyes with tight lips.

Joel doesn’t say anything else. He simply kneels in front of you and tugs your hips forward, tossing your legs over his shoulders. His mouth latches onto you. He tongues and sucks your pussy lips, flicking over your clit and diving into your entrance. His tongue is moving so fast and his fingers are bruising your skin.

You stare down at him with your eyelids barely open. Your mouth is open and moaning.

Joel slaps his brother on the leg and gestures at you. 

Tommy sighs. “Oh, thank god,” he murmurs. 

Out of the corner of your vision, you see Tommy stand up and unzip his jeans. He pulls his pants and underwear off completely before climbing back up on the couch, standing haphazardly on the cushions.

“Alright, sugar.” He says with a grin. “Open up for Uncle Tommy.”

You comply, not sure how you’re going to maintain your focus with Joel eating you out so voraciously. 

Tommy slides the tip of his cock back and forth on your tongue, before tapping it a few times. You keep waiting for him to shove the whole thing in–you’re braced for it. Readying your throat. But instead he teases you, teases himself. Tommy holds your head in place and you flick the tip of your tongue onto whatever surface of his cock that he’ll give you. 

Your mouth stays open and you can feel saliva spilling out the edges of your mouth. You’re getting hungry for it. Desperate for him to fill your mouth and throat. You try to push your head forward and suck it in already, but Tommy’s grip is tight.

He laughs. “What’d you say, Uncle Ez?” He taps your tongue with his cock. “Ravenous?”

Ezra chuckles, his hands groping your breasts while Joel is still between your legs. “Downright famished for some cock, isn’t she?”

“It would appear so,” says Tommy, mocking Ezra’s cadence.

You start panting, your body trembling. Heat is building up from between your legs and quickly. Joel’s tongue works against your clit with a wet clocking sound. He’s a silhouette in front of the bright light of the TV. Your orgasm hits you like a punch and you keen loudly–just in time for Tommy to finally fill your mouth.

“Kinda tickles,” says Tommy, laughing at you while you moan on the comedown.

Joel pulls his mouth away from you. “Hurry up and get whatcha can,” he says to the two men. “‘Cause once I start fuckin’ her, you’re not gettin anythin else.”

Ezra’s eyes go wide and he rushes to remove his pants. Tommy’s satisfied enough to glide his cock in and out of your sloppy mouth. 

Ezra settles himself between your thighs. He holds his cock, thick as a can of Coca-Cola, against your entrance. He moves it around in tight circles to help stretch you out. “Uncle Ezra has been dreaming of this day, precious,” he says, licking his lips. “Dreaming of–” he thrusts in a little. “--sinking myself into this–” he thrusts in a little more. “--hot, wet hole.” He pushes himself in deeper and deeper and slowly more deeper until he’s in you, full-hilt. He looks up at Tommy. “So hot and wet,” he grins. “She’s tropical.”

Tommy and Ezra start laughing. You can’t see Joel, but you hear him huff.

Your body is exploding in pleasure from Ezra’s slow strokes against your stretched out walls. It didn’t take long for the hurt to give way to warm goodness. You’ve been so focused on sucking off Tommy that your jaw and neck are sore and aching. Your fingers are braced into the cushion beneath you as you try to maintain some kind of composure, lest you sink into the couch and away from Tommy’s salty member.

You get lost in the haze of Ezra’s thrusts and the taste of Tommy. Fire and sparks dance across your skin and you can feel a second orgasm building up inside of you. For a moment, your breasts feel cold and bare, but Ezra leans forward and begins sucking the skin of your neck. Ezra begins murmuring filth as his thrusts pick up in pace. 

“Uncle Ezra takes good care of you, don’t he?”

“You like Uncle Ezra’s big cock?”

“You want some of Uncle Ezra’s hot seed?”

Your second orgasm hits hard and Ezra has to quickly pull out. He pants and moans as he jerks himself off and finishes on your stomach. He falls to the side of the couch with a dazed look in his eyes.

“My turn,” Tommy grins and pulls himself from your mouth. 

But as he begins to situate himself between your legs, he’s interrupted.

“Too late,” says Joel. 

Tommy curses.

Joel shrugs at his brother. “Y’all took too long.” He stands up from the recliner, still fully clothed but his pants are tented. He walks over to your limp body. “Come on,” he says and pulls you up, guiding you back over to where he was before.

You stand on shaky legs while Joel unzips his pants and pulls them down his thighs. He plops into the recliner and pulls you on top of him. For how thick Ezra is, Joel is thicker. You slide down his length with a whimper. 

“That what you needed, baby?” He coos with soft eyes as he rolls his hips upward. “You needed Daddy Joel?” He asks with a nod.

You nod back, relishing in the feeling of Joel inside of you. Your hands cradle his face, thumbs scraping along his scruff. You lean in and kiss him, hot and heavy. He moans into your mouth. You glide your hips up and down, stroking his length with your wet cunt. His broad hands are your asscheeks, tugging and pulling your flesh apart as you slowly ride him. His mouth tastes so good, you wanna swallow him whole. 

You hear Tommy jerking off behind you. He and Ezra are murmuring low to each other on the couch. You wonder if Ezra is jerking off, too. You like to think he is.

Joel pulls back and stares into your eyes. “Come on, baby. Bounce on Daddy Joel’s cock. Come on.” He punctuates with a smack on your ass. You pick up the pace. “Daddy Joel loves his baby’s sweet little pussy,” he groans and smacks your ass again. “Gonna fill that pussy up,” he grunts. He starts thrusting upwards into you, meeting your bouncing hips. “Gonna make a big ol’ mess o’ that tiny little pussy, baby.” 

“Daddy Joel’s gonna fill you up–gonna fill you up,” he groans and his fingers dig bruises into your ass. 

Your body is a blur of pleasure and movements and hot sparkling heat expanding and billowing out until it’s so so tight and then it SNAPS–your cunt clenching around Joel’s cock as he comes in thick, heavy spurts inside of you.

He groans, long and low as he continues to roll his hips. His come trickling out the edges of your used pussy as you sit in his lap. “Good girl,” he sighs and brings a hand to your breast to pinch and tease your nipple. “Good little pussy.”

You don’t hear the two other men behind you, so you assume they finished, too. You’re briefly disappointed you didn’t get to fully experience Uncle Tommy’s cock, but it was enough to taste it. 

You curl into Joel’s chest as he wraps his arms around you and kisses your crown.

++++

Author's Note: NO ONE LOOK AT ME !!!!!

#joel miller x reader #ezra x reader #tommy miller x reader #uncle!ezra

[beskarandblasters]

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[kedsandtubesocks]

be your hallowed ground

Demon!Ezra x F!Reader

summary: 1700’s. the journey home before you is long, weary, and you are alone… but not for long

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. colonial era inspired AU, inexperienced!reader, religiously raised reader, historical/societal period negative views of women, major supernatural elements, religious discussions along with Christian imagery & mentions of scripture, Ezra’s use of petnames, heavy corruption kink, possessive!Ezra, finger sucking, wound kissing and one small moment of blood consumption, Ezra lifts reader with his demon strength (reader has no physical description), intense kissing & spicy moments, f!oral receiving, light overstimulation, briefest mention of Ezra watching/stalking, sacrilegious themes, dark & spooky vibes

word count: 7.9k

a/n: so this is my first Ezra fic & i blame this AU on my ex catholic school kid roots along with playing too much cult of the lamb bcs here we are lol I wouldn’t be here without the ones who paved the way/inspired me to take the jump to write Ezra so thank you @morallyinept @julesonrecord & @lowlights for being true lovely guides, also to @pastelle-rabbit @haylzcyon & @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream/cry about this lol I love each & every one of y’all - and to you, if you decide to take a peek and read, thank you so much ♡

The forest stretches out far, daunting.

Twilight glimmers on the last of her heels and you hope to return home soon. You can almost hear your father’s anger at your stubbornness for not staying at the inn for another night and for simply being on this journey in the first place. You should’ve saved up for a carriage ride home.

Now, alone in the woods, you fear the tree branches will soon reach down to claw you into their canopy cluster above.

Deeper and further you walk through the forest path. You haven’t prayed much recently. But you faintly remember words urging you to not fear the terror of night, nor the danger that prowls in the darkness, and you’re gently eased. You also think of the early spring blooms scattered among the town waiting for you.

Then a branch cracks behind you, the sound of someone stepping on it, and you stop.

The trek has been silent, eerily so. Not even bird chirps or the wind’s breeze has filled your space. Yet it now sounds like something approaches.

You whip around.

No one stands behind you. Only the dirt and dust linger in the air.

The woods must be clouding you with unnecessary dread. You’ve walked these roads alone before and you will walk them again even though the forest seems darker now.

Determined, and slightly frightened, you spin on your heels to quickly return on your journey.

“There you are, turtle dove.”

The voice startles you so suddenly you almost collapse. Strangely accented, the thick drawl flows heavy with a twang of someone from the wild southern territories.

Your heart beats fast like a petrified rabbit and your eyes snap towards the source of the voice.

Leaning against a large tree is the most exquisite man you ever believe to be crafted.

Dressed in a striking coat, a beautifully sharp nose and dark facial hair, he’s ethereal. You also spot the most interesting tuff of white blonde hair against his dark chestnut locks. What’s startling are his magnetic inky eyes staring at you.

“I don’t know you, good sir.” You politely reply.

The man smiles like a fox creeping around a chicken coop.

“Ezra is my given name, turtle dove. Now we’re no longer strangers.”

His name - Ezra.

Like his name suggests you wonder if maybe he’s here to provide aid, your personal blessing.

Yet his words flutter out duplicitous and heavy like something dangerous chains around them down.

“Then good day to you, sir.” You nod, a polite reply, and decide to withhold your name.

“May I accompany you on your journey?” He suggests surprisingly gentle, his words olive branch-like offers.

You ask him where he is even headed, and for what brings a well speaking, slightly suspicious, man as himself into these woods.

“The same as you, sweet bird,” Ezra replies simply. “We all have our journeys to be upon. Mine just happens to coincide with yours. A rather fortuitous blessing if I do say so myself.”

Your eyes narrow. Something scratches at the back of your mind urging you to keep walking and pay no heed to this man.

But then the wind picks up.

From a soft breeze it quickly transforms into the strangest howl, like a warning of the dangers lurking all around. In a slight panic your eyes survey your surroundings. This man might be a stranger, but having company might not be such a bad choice.

“Come now.” Ezra comments reassuring and steady even among the howling winds. “These woods are wild and deep, ain’t no place for a treasure such as yourself.”

He is handsome, the most stunning man you may ever see. And the glimmer in his eyes seems to beckon you.

After you quietly nod, your journey expands by one.

With a gracious bow of his head, the man from the shadows falls into step beside you.

The wind suddenly, but thankfully, settles. However, tension prickles against your skin and a strange warmth blooms from the center of your chest.

“So, what’s a lovely angel like yourself doing here, a babe in the woods?” Ezra begins.

Your fingers tighten against your cloak while the truth stays sealed tight.

The man chuckles.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweet dove,” he teases.

You huff annoyed. However, seeing as how you will be traveling with him until you return home, you decide to engage with him.

Your dearest friend moved to the next town when you both became fully grown. She fell in love with a married man in a loveless marriage to a cruel woman. Because of that your friend was condemned to banishment. Now, she’s with child. Some even whisper the child was maybe even convinced due to witchcraft.

However, with the recent passing of your town’s relentless head clergyman, you hope this will help improve the situation.

Ezra listens patiently, letting you quietly explain everything.

“And so you traveled to visit your dear friend like a kind emissary.” He notes. “Your town must be in an uproar over you visiting her.”

“They are.” You answer stiffly.

Your father absolutely detests it. Even the governor’s son, who has shown interest in courting you, has made it known that your lenient position doesn’t help towards a marriage possibility. But you won't falter in your loyalty. Especially after your faith has been so shaken from seeing the harsh treatment given to your friend.

“A fair decision.” Ezra agrees. “All those upset are fools anyway. Seems they forgot the good book even mentions how cherished a gift it is to forgive others just as the lord forgives us.”

He quotes scripture so passively it surprises you. He doesn’t seem like a spiritual type. If anything, Ezra seems like a man who slinks around the shadows late at night among the thieves and brothels hidden at the edge of town.

“You’re right,” you agree with him. “Who are we to judge others on simple matters of passion compared to our lord, especially to condemn it?”

“Lust is considered a grave sin though, dear birdie, so I understand why.” He quietly answers while his words scurry over your skin. “After all, look at the predicament it entangled your dear friend in.”

“And don’t passions of the flesh wage war against the solemnity of the soul?” Ezra politely answers lightly referring to scripture and you wonder if he is a man devoted to the good book.

So you reserve your words again.

“Please… do not silence your song, biride.” Ezra coos.

“Now, tell me your thoughts,” he whispers low.

As you swallow hard, your skin feels tight against your bones. But you decide to speak freely, as dangerous as it may be.

“It’s true that my friend committed a terrible sin.” You begin with a shaky sigh. “I understand her punishment. But for others to be so cruel when faith says to forgive and embrace salvation feels hypocritical.”

“True indeed. And as you said, all this for the sake of condemning passion? There are worse commandments to shatter under heaven’s watchful eye.” Ezra drawls out.

“Exactly.” You agree with a firm nod more at ease with your new companion.

“Besides… isn’t the act of creation an offspring of passion?” He challenges and the thought stuns you.

The stranger is correct and his perception moves you.

You’ve never engaged in such discussions like this with anyone before, especially not with a man. You noticed he speaks to you like an equal, never diminishing your ideals or fully trampling on your opinions.

Something greedy urges you to slow down your step and spend as much time with your new companion.

“So, is there a husband of yours waitin’ at home to meet you with passions, dear dove?” Ezra asks with the curl of intrigue in his voice and you almost choke on a gasp.

“A rather forward question to ask a stranger.” You snap back sharply and glare at him.

Ezra keeps his abyss eyes drawn forward and doesn't seem bothering at your reply or the discussion matter he brought up.

“Thought we established we’re no longer strangers?” Your stranger mutters back.

“We’ve discussed religion, the ways of the hearts and their passions. Only good friends touch on such topics, yes?”

He’s unbearably confident, and he knows it. You want to storm off, maybe even demand him to leave. But you can’t do it. You almost can’t endure the thought of him leaving now.

So you reply stiffly. “No. I have no husband at home.”

“Truly?” He now squawks confused.

“Ain’t that a damn shame.” He purrs. “A creature lovely as yourself deserves to be worshiped every minute you’re here among this green earth.”

Your heart thumps erratic against its cage.

“Are you mocking me, good man Ezra, for not being married?” You deflect with a shaky voice.

“Never, turtle dove.” He reassures. “I believe the ultimate sin is to be denied any shade of passion.”

“Especially for a beauty marvelous as yourself.” He exhales and his voice dances devilishly.

An uneasiness settles into your legs, like your body could give out at any moment.

“What you say is blasphemy,” you manage to reply, however your voice wavers. “A heathen's words.”

“I could’ve recounted the same about you moments ago when you spoke your thoughts.” He mutters back.

Your heart drops. He’s correct. This man has your thoughts tied up in so many knots and you cannot find a path within yourself.

“No need to worry.” Ezra says. “Treading into heathen’s territory is never frightful when you have a companion.”

You don’t know how you feel about this conversation or where it seems to be heading towards. Your gaze turns to Ezra. He continues staring ahead composed.

He’s a strange unorthodox man, an anomaly, someone you never believed existed.

“Now tell me… have you tasted desire, my sweet turtle dove?”

His eyes now move to you, catching you staring red handed. Like an exposed thief, your gaze flies away from him.

His question, as if composed of thorns, constricts around your throat refusing to let you answer.

You’ve tasted it on the tips of your tongue. One of your old childhood friends became a courtesan at a brothel. During her nights off, you’d sneak out to visit her. She recounted with giggles about the various sexual escapades she’s experienced. It made your mouth water wishing for the embrace of a lover, to understand what it meant to be truly desired.

You’ve been tempted to fall into bed with the blacksmith’s brother but once you discovered his cruel treatment of the women in town you were soured by the thought. So during the late nights alone your fingers slipped under the quilts and you would find a sticky taste of passion.

Getting caught up in your thoughts keeps you quiet.

“When I was a younger man and lived in France.” Ezra begins with a sudden gentle musing, the voice of a storyteller almost. “Even when I migrated here to the southern territories, I learned of an interesting turn of phrase.”

“La petite mort.” The words flow from him beautifully, rolled with such finessed precision. Hearing him speak sparks a jolt up your spine.

“I’m not quite sure you know of it, but do you know what it means?”

Your eyes that had glazed over are now back on Ezra. His devastatingly beautiful face remains serene.

“The literal translation is ‘a little death.’” Ezra continues. “But what it speaks of is the little moment of feeling as if you’re dying when experiencing true orgasmic release, something that makes us see god.”

His words, hanging with a thinly concealed desire, rip through you and a slickness slowly pools between your legs.

Now his eyes flicker to you.

“A pleasure so rapturous we taste a little death.” He mutters looking so intently at you that you want to scurry and hide away.

But you can’t. You’re drawn into his gaze, a poor moth entrapped by his erratic flame, and you’re not quite sure if this fire is hellfire.

Rationale within you screams this man could be a robber or could be leading you into his sticky web to simply harm you. Yet it seems like he could vanish into smoke.

You also notice you and Eza have both stopped walking. Now staring into his eyes, you discover storms in them.

Until an oncoming storm arrives all around. The wind erupts into howls. It whips around fast and you tug your cloak closer trying to stay warm against the gales.

Your face even scrunches up at the drastic change in the weather.

A firm hand moves to your back pulling you closer until you rest within the shade of a firm body. Ezra has drawn you into his side, lifting his cloak to cover you, and your eyes become full moons.

“To keep you sheltered from this weather. Though, we may need to hunt for some sanctuary soon.” He mutters.

He smells of pine, like the forest itself gave him to you. However you also catch the smallest hint of something smoky, like he slept too close to a campfire.

But, his words confuse you.

“Terrible weather? It’s simply just bad wind.” You yell against the wind and glance around the forest.

That’s when you notice how terrifyingly dark it’s gotten. The tree branches now stretch above like monstrous limbs crawling along the darkness.

How long have you been out along the trail? You haven’t even reached the halfway point to town. The woods now loom incredibly dark like a chasm ready to swallow you whole.

Then the drum of thunder comes, and the skies open up, as if on command by Ezra’s prophetic words. The rain unleashes a downpour. You squawk like a petrified bird at how soaked you’re getting even being covered by his coat.

“Come!” He cries over the storm keeping you close. “I believe there is shelter close by.”

So through the darkness you go, led by him off the path and deeper into the thicket.

How did he know a shelter was nearby? Shouldn’t he have come here earlier and left you on your journey? Or did he maybe sense the storm was coming and wanted to keep accompanying you.

The rush of the rain along with how quickly Ezra moves you and him feels as if you’re flying through the forest like your feet never once touch the ground.

Your body stops and out from the darkness, among the rain, stands the faint shape of a building.

Ezra guides you inside and you exhale relieved you’re out of the storm.

The stale smell of dust greets you first and makes your nose crinkle.

Looking out to your new makeshift shelter, you find yourself standing in a very abandoned church. Dried dead leaves scatter the floor. Vacant pews hold a hollow ghostly emptiness. You didn’t even know this chapel was here.

“How did you know of this place-” you turn to ask Ezra but discover you’re alone.

So focused on soaking in the church you didn’t even notice his departure.

“Ezra?” You call for him and silence replies.

Where could he have gone?

“Worry not.” Ezra’s voice floats out an echo. From the side of the sacristy, beside the main congregation hall, he emerges.

How did he get there without you noticing?

In his grasp is a lit candle. The flames create interesting shadows upon his handsome face as his molten eyes stare at you.

“Apologizes,” he reassured you with the ease of a saint. “Went to scavenge for some light.”

“Seems you were unsuccessful.” You dryly tease, walking towards where Ezra stands at the front of the congregation.

A slight tug of amusement comes over his heavenly face.

“We shall make camp here until the storm quells.”

No better place to find sanctuary than in a chapel, even though this one has seen better days.

Outside the wind continues rattling the windows while the rain creates a soothing melody. Yet, there is an emptiness here, like you can’t sense any sacred spirit within these walls. You wonder if the Lord maybe has even abandoned this space.

“Come rest with me, turtle dove.” Ezra beckons to you as he sits casually on the floor up besides the altar.

“You can’t sit there!” You whisper urgent.

“Why? Who is here to stop me?” Ezra counters with raised eyebrows and amused crinkled eyes.

“This is sacred ground! You can’t simply sit in the sanctuary like it’s some sort of encampment!” You argue.

“Biride,” Ezra begins. “This momentary shelter is merely a building. The same way all buildings are just simple creations of stone and labor.”

“Not buildings like this, especially when our lord resides here.” You reply like a dutifully faithful follower.

Ezra now sits up from his lax position to glance around. His eyes survey every inch of the space.

“You say our Heavenly Father is here. But tell me, turtle dove, do you sense his presence here?”

He noticed it too.

Your tongue becomes metal, heavy and bitter.

“Come,” he urges again, kinder now. “Rest. Your legs need their strength for the rest of your journey. It will be much more comfortable than those stuffy pews.”

You narrow your eyes at him, still hesitant. Defiant, you try sitting in one of the vacant pews only to find clusters of spider webs creating a slightly unnerving barrier. And you didn’t want to check every pew for availability. You were too tired.

Refusing to meet Ezra’s eyes you step past the pews, into the sanctuary, and delicately sit a small space away from your companion.

“See? Not so hard, and you didn’t even combust into flames sitting here.”

You glare at him while Ezra grins triumphant. Silence settles. But with a man who readily embraces the gift and curse of gab, it feels dangerous.

A small gurgle of a noise rumbles out and your face heats up horrified. You didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten this entire journey.

“A bit peckish, dear dove?” Ezra chuckles a smokey thing.

You’re about to grumble under your breath annoyed until he again peers around the abandoned church.

“Rather unfortunate there doesn’t seem to be any source of subsidence here.”

You quietly reassure him as you shift your cloak to reach for your covered satchel. Thankfully, your morsel of a wrapped loaf was spared from the rain.

“I have this for us to share.” You quietly announce.

Ezra gasps small but surprised.

“Divine goddess, you are salvation.” He breathes out.

“I am no goddess. No one person is divine in such a way.” You correct him.

The man hums. “If the maker created man in his image does that not mean we are shades of god in our own ways?”

Midway unfolding the bread out of the paper, you halt.

You never thought of it that way. It made sense. Slowly, it feels as if a wagon wheel is turning in your head leading you towards something you cannot reach.

“Sweet turtle dove,” Ezra calls to you. “Would you be so gracious and let me consecrate our feast?”

You’re stunned by the heartfelt request. This man seems to be a never ending labyrinth confusing you with no end in sight.

You slide closer to sit fully beside him. Readily you hand him the wrapped bread and try not to jump at his hand brushing yours. His skin is soft, warmed, and your knuckles tingle from the simple exchange.

“Thank you kindly.”

Now holding the bread in one hand, Ezra moves the other to lightly hover above the morsel. Closing his eyes in prayer, Ezra begins.

However, he mutters low and so fast that you can’t even catch a word of his prayer. You wonder if he even is saying anything or is simply mocking the form of prayer.

You’re about to chide him until he quickly finishes. Dreamily opening his eyes Ezra then simply breaks the bread into two.

“To break communion with someone lovely as you is an honor.” With a gracious grin, your stranger hands you a piece. You thank him with a soft mutter.

The storm continues its wrath and you arrive at a bleak conclusion. Your night will be spent here in this eerie abandoned church with this strange mysterious handsome man.

Resigning yourself to that, you sigh and take a bite out of the bread.

The bread was a simple one you got from the neighboring town’s bakery. It’s nothing special. You’ve even thought it rather stale at times.

However, the bread you taste now is indescribable.

It melts in your mouth, wonderfully soft and warm. There’s even the sweetest taste like a whisper of a fruit that reminds you of apples. An uncontrollable moan of satisfaction escapes you.

But your eyes widen realizing how you just acted.

Embarrassment floods you fast and you anxiously gaze at Ezra who smirks at you.

Unable to stare at him long, you turn back down to your lap. The bread looks exactly the same as it always does.

Is your mind so exhausted it believes this stale morsel now tastes this heavenly?

You must be imagining things.

Besides you, Ezra shuffles. Out of curiosity your eyes lift towards him and find the man shrugging off his coat.

He even removes his waistcoat to reveal his simple white slipover. Rain still lingers on his skin allowing the pristine white cloth to stick to him. Without the coat you’re given clear sight of his glorious neck.

A thought flutters into your mind.

You imagine sinking your teeth into his beautiful flesh and lapping up all the rain droplets.

Dread fills you.

How could you think such thoughts?

“Turtle dove,” Ezra’s voice shatters the silence almost making you jump.

“If you could create a world of your own, what would it look like?”

The question stumps you, even brings in a twinkle of curiosity. What would bring on such a question? You suppose it must be a way to break the silence and pass the time.

In thought, you hum a small noise.

“I think…” you quietly utter and let your thoughts flow.

You think of a world built on compassion, one without hunger or war, of one filled with peace and justice.

“And without sin, I suppose.” Ezra gently comments and your eyes turn to him.

He stares towards the ground with a peculiar look shadowed over his handsome face.

“Yes of course.” You answer. Sin is the root of all evil and corrupted humanity’s souls.

“What if I told you some sins are not all evil? And that what you long for, dear turtle dove, is not a world void is sin, but one free of guilt from it.”

Your face scrunches up a bit confused over his nebulous words.

“Should we not all live in indulgence?” Ezra adds, clarified in his words.

“Indulgence leads to corruption.” You reply parroting all the countless sermons that discussed this.

“If our creator didn’t want us to indulge, then why did he indulge in creating such a world so lush as this one?” Your stranger offers.

You try gathering a reply, thinking of all the lessons about how this world is meant to be seen in awe and appreciated. Not to indulge in. But now all your arguments seem to fall short, not even sound correct in your head.

Before you can press the discussion further Ezra leans closer towards you. Your thoughts and body become completely petrified.

You should lean away, lean back from his casual intimate movements.

But you can’t. Or, within the deep terror of your heart you know the truth. You don’t want to.

His thumb moves towards the corner of your mouth and you transform completely into stone.

Ezra’s ink eyes haze over while his thumb gently swipes against your skin.

“Crumbs.” He mutters, answering for his actions. Yet, his hand doesn’t leave.

You don’t shove him away or demand him to go. The downpour rattling the windows becomes the church’s only noise while you and this man sit in the stillness.

Ezra’s attention falls to your mouth.

His thumb now strokes the corner of your lips. You believe it’s to wipe more bread crumbs away. Then his thumb swipes across your bottom lip and a sharp inhale escapes you.

His eyes and yours find each other.

“You deserve to live in indulgence,” Ezra whispers deviously rich.

Your skin feels ablazed and your throat dries. Out of instinct or perhaps something darker you wet your lips. In that movement your lips press against his thumb and your tongue manages to swipe at his skin.

You’re rewarded the faintest taste of him, a crumb of his salty golden skin, and it’s like a thread slowly catches fire.

You want more, need it.

Possibly possessed now, your mouth opens up and simply slips more of his thumb into your mouth.

The moment the salty taste of him hits your tongue your eyes close.

Feeling his finger in your mouth against your tongue, against your teeth, is divine. His flesh must be coated with ambrosia because your mouth waters aching for more.

Heaven, or this must be a slice of it.

Until horror strikes you and you realize what you’re doing. Terrified eyes now open, you’re about to pull away and yelp horrified.

Ezra’s hand rapidly moves to cradle your face firm and slide his thumb deeper into your mouth.

“Oh my sweet bird,” he coos now closer to you. “You’ve tasted the pleasure I can give, the magic I can conjure. Don’t deny yourself this.”

His beautiful nose presses into the side of your face nuzzling against your skin and your eyes close. Bliss overtakes you.

“Now” his voice drops a dangerous lulling whisper. “Hollow your cheeks for me, and suck in.”

You do as told and the groan Ezra lets out vibrates deep past your skin. You even let out a whine.

You’ve heard the noises men make in the waves of passion, but this was decadent. You never knew a man could sound this beautiful.

You wanted to hear him even more. And knowing you did this to him? A syrupy drunken pride courses through you intoxicating.

You suck harder, allowing your tongue to caress his skin and Ezra exhales heavenly.

Before you can indulge any further, a creature screeches into the church and shatters the sensual spell. You shriek in terror and scramble. Wings furiously flapping come and out of reflex you cover your head.

Then a solid body collides into you and your world falls over.

You hit the floor of the sanctuary with a soft thud. It would’ve been a harder fall if not for Ezra’s hand cradling your head to soften the impact. Your eyes look up to find Ezra covering you, protecting you from whatever flew in.

Your heart thumps loud in your ears, a horrible drum drowning out your thoughts. His broad shoulders, firm frame, he really is a man crafted out of pure beauty and desire now that you’ve tasted his skin.

“Blasted bats… must’ve been nesting in here.” Ezra comments with a mutter while his eyes stay watching out.

Now you faintly hear the familiar chirps of the creatures. You hope they all leave soon or move to another area within the church.

Slowly the rustling settles. Ezra does not move from his post above you, a shield keeping you safe from the interrupting creatures.

His large hand cradling your head holds you gently but with a firmness that speaks of his control.

The strangest clash of sensations arrives. Like Eve awoken out of her blissful sin, you’re keenly aware of the cold clothes sticking to you. Particularly your wet cloak weighing on you sends a chill crawling up your skin making you squirm.

Ezra’s eyes slip back to you. The candlelight highlights the shadows of his face and his eyes seem deeper than before. Candlelight doesn’t even reflect in their abyss.

Until his obsidian eyes go wide in a slight panic.

“Your wing, turtle dove.”

Now confused you shift to lift your arm up. A small cut has ripped through your cloak and blouse sleeve. You didn’t even notice or feel it. Must have cut yourself on the old wooden floor below.

The church didn’t seem this dilapidated to have rotten wood floors. However, without upkeep, it only makes sense everything begins to splinter and decay. Thankfully the cut isn’t deep but dark crimson does stain the cloth.

“Oh,” you even mutter a bit stunned.

Gently Ezra shifts to help you up while being cautious of your wound.

“Are you in pain?” He asks, concerned.

“No.” You shake your head, truthfully telling him you didn’t even notice the cut.

Ezra delicately moves towards your arm. “May I?”

You nod quietly.

Gingerly, your mysterious stranger places his hands on you to further inspect your wound.

“It doesn’t hurt.” You reassure him.

Surprisingly, Ezra stays silent. His eyes remain on your arm. As if you’re an injured sparrow, he folds up your blouse sleeve delicately.

The faintest touch of his thumb strokes your bare skin and your throat constricts tight. This unknown mystery of a man tenderly touching you clutches at your soul.

“My creator, so heavenly in his wisdom,” he suddenly speaks low, like his voice is dipped in sticky honey. “Taught me this is how we heal wounds.”

Then Ezra draws your arm up and he leans down. And in that swift moment, he presses his lips to your wound.

A tender kiss.

Your breath hitches, tripping over itself. You indeed had his finger in your mouth moments ago. But this opens a chasm in you. Especially as you watch him lick away your blood at his lips

Then his lips return to your skin, on your wound, and it feels like devotion.

There were saints that kissed the wounds of your lord and now how angelic, reverent, Ezra’s face looks, you imagine him as one.

However, his lips start kissing all across your arm, quickly becoming greedy. Like a silent thief, he continues kissing up your arm with deliberate nips.

If he is a robber, this thievery is divine. You even squirm, squeezing your legs together because a slick wetness leaks between them. You wish to quell this burning urge to be touched.

Your mind only focuses on Ezra’s lips that you don’t even notice he unclasped your cloak until the heavy cold weight drops off you like shackles unchained.

However, an awful breeze across your skin makes you shrink back from the cold and snaps you into awareness.

You can’t do this with a man like this, a stranger.

A fanged piece of yourself urges you to simply give in, especially with a man not known in town. The internal struggle vanishes when Ezra’s breath tickles against your exposed neck.

“Do you wish me to stop, my turtle dove?” He coo’s. “I believe you deserve to taste this indulgence.”

“I don’t know you.” You croak out. Yet your voice doesn’t even sound convinced of your own resolve.

“Oh but you do.” Ezra pleads, his voice drenched in gilded desire.

“You know me.” He urges. “This is what you wanted. Your heart summoned me. I heard your call and here I am.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice cracks, an unsteady foundation.

“The hidden truths in your heart,” Ezra whispers and his breath dances upon your skin a ghost’s hymnal.

“The festering jealousy of knowing your dear friend found adoration, even out of sin…you wished to know of such delights. And your anger of this world for damning you to such solitudes, of being so constricting - it all called to me.”

Fear captures your heart. This couldn’t be true.

“Oh but it is,” Ezra answers you.

You don’t even know if you spoke those words aloud or if this man has now slithered into your thoughts.

“All those nights you longed for a lover,” he mourns sympathetically. “All alone with just your fingers in your sweet sex.”

You choke on air, gasping for some sort of relief from this terror drowning you.

“Oh and I’ve watched you for so long, my bird.” He bemoans. “Ached for so long to claim you mine.”

“You…you’ve seen me before?” You stammer.

“Indeed I have. I know you’ve partaken in sin. And the guilt you hold consumes you. Let me be your redemption,” Ezra continues with a pure temptation crawling from his voice.

You should be concerned at how this man has seen you before. Yet…With his mouth simply a breath’s pace away from you nothing seems to matter. Because your mind only wants him to kiss you, ravish you.

“You must say it, my angel.” He mutters.

Do you dare jump off the ledge and plunge into this molten fire?

A light terror runs across your skin, like hearing the hiss of a snake yet not seeing it. Something is afoot with Ezra. You can’t pinpoint it…

But you also wonder if this doubt is born from the chains of your faith holding you back?

“Ezra.” You mumble his name, a choked noise.

“I await your command.” The man reverently responds as if in a mass himself.

“Please….” You whimper out.

“Please what?” He murmurs and his twang clouds his voice even more.

“Please….touch me.” You croak while your voice trails.

It unleashes a monster.

Ezra’s lips dive onto your neck, kissing upon your skin with a possessed fervor. Even while sitting, the sudden rush of his lips, the scrape of his facial hair against you makes your body collapse.

It only allows for Ezra to sweep you into his arms.

Yanking his face away from your neck, you’re about to mourn the loss of him against your skin until his lips swoop in to consume yours.

You’ve kissed others before. In the hidden shadow of buildings after dark, you’ve even recently shared a kiss or two with the blacksmith’s brother a handful of times. They’ve been wonderful but secret encounters.

This however sets your soul on fire.

His tongue swiftly maneuvers into your mouth and now tasting him from the source, you never want to know a day without this, without him.

You moan, yanking at him closer, and try to slide your own tongue against his now. It’s messy, wet, a clash of bone and spirit but it’s delicious.

Sliding his arms under your legs, Ezra lifts you up with ease as he stands. You squeak against his lips, but then your eyes roll back when the man suddenly begins sucking on your tongue.

Your body feels like it will crumble at any moment.

That’s when you notice you’re being laid upon something cold and flat.

Wearily you find you do rest high upon something.

And now, the church is lit.

You panic looking around. The torches lining the walls burn with warm flames and illuminate the space in amber light.

How? Ezra did not leave you for one moment. Was there another here? And if so, how did you not hear them?

A warm calloused hand moves to cradle your face and your eyes snap to Ezra who peers down at you with smoke filled eyes.

“Don’t fret, my dove. We are only here.” He reassures, leaning down to kiss you again and your eyes shut once more.

“And if you’re not simply focused on me, then I’m not doing this correctly.” He mutters against your lips.

A wanton drunkenness comes with how consuming he kisses, especially as his mouth pulls from your lips to lick against your jaw.

He hums a satisfied groan.

“Oh my darling turtle dove, you were born to be worshiped by me weren’t you? And I blessed to simply be your devout disciple.” A revered holiness oozes thick from his voice.

“Let me venerate at your holy temple.” Ezra exhales against your throat kissing your feverish skin.

This is more than you can handle. It’s tremendous. It’s too much, yet not enough. It’s building something just out of your grasp, a flame that can’t be extinguished and scorches so fierce.

Blinking out of the haze, you find instead of being beside you, Ezra, like magic, now stands by your feet.

His hands slide up your legs and yank you closer towards him.

A yelp of surprise squeaks out from you. Any other noise or thoughts get swallowed up when Ezra’s hands snake under your skirt and up your legs.

Your eyes close under the sensation of his calloused warm hands.

“Do you know what true sacrifice cleanses sins?” Ezra asks with gravel in his voice.

“Hm?” You mumble, unable to create a response with how wonderful his fingers feel caressing your thighs.

“It’s to offer up one’s life. That’s the ultimate form of sacrifice.”

His words terrify you. Is he insinuating what you think he is? Are you to be made a lamb to slaughter because of the desire consuming you?

“Shh…” Ezra notices your worry and soothes you, rubbing gentle circles on your skin.

“Fear not, my dove. For I shall bring you redemption just as you’ve brought me mine.”

Slowly, he hoists your leg up and your eyes widen. He shifts to stand between your legs. Keeping his gaze on you, the mysterious man kisses your calf, a calming balm that also ignites a heat brewing in you again.

“Tell me,” Ezra asks, speaking into your skin. “Has anyone tasted you…here?”

Suddenly his fingers graze against your sex and warmth floods your face at just the thought.

You heard of such a thing from your friend at the brothels. However it was a rare occurrence, almost seemed mythical.

“No.” You breathe out.

“Shame.” Ezra mumbles. “All for me I suppose. A wonderfully ripe peach, all mine to consume.”

His inky dazed eyes flicker to yours.

“Will you let me take you to heaven, my lovely? May I swim in your ocean and taste your pearl?” Ezra offers like a man asking for your atonement.

The terminology is not missed on you and lust crashes in a dizzying tidal wave.

Quietly, swallowing thick, you nod yes.

Pride grin tugs at Ezra’s lips and his eyes twinkle like a creature lurking out from the woods.

Softly closing his eyes, he returns to kissing your skin. Except this time he moves up your leg with a purpose -

Like he’s on a holy pilgrimage.

Almost bewitched you watch him kneel down and push up your skirt to reveal your under garment. It’s a sight you want seared into your memory.

Then Ezra presses forward and kisses your covered sex. A gasp rips wild from you and your eyes roll back.

With a fast rip, Ezra takes apart your undergarments. Bare to him, his tongue then licks against your cunt and the most debauched sound you never knew you could even make escapes you.

“Do you enjoy? Wish me to continue?” You don’t know how Ezra’s voice swirls around you, a caress in the whispering wind, but you nod frantically.

“Ezra please… more.” You whimper.

And he does as you command.

Ezra pulls you apart with a wet devotion and frenzy that feels like you’re being devoured. He’s feasting on you.

You whine, even slap a hand over your mouth to silence how loud you’ve become when he sucks hard on the pearl of your sex.

“No.” He mumbles wet within your molten heat. “Let me hear you, my lovely.”

You don’t deny him after that.

The storm now rages outside, violently ramming into the windows. It mixes with the cries of your pleasure ripping through you.

When your climax arrives and knocks you out of this realm, you scream Ezra’s name while your legs shake.

“Beauty divine,” Ezra sighs, devout and borderline drunk.

Breathing down from your high with your back fully now flat against the floor surface, it hits you.

You’ve been lying on the chapel’s altar this entire time.

The offering is you. You indeed are the sacrifice, one of vitality. The throne of ecstasy is a form of life…

And did Ezra not tell you passion is also a tiny death itself as well?

Before you can gather this, Ezra dives back into you again and you squirm unbelieving this man can want more. He’s a man possessed like he’s trying to consume you from the inside out, devouring you until he reaches your marrow.

“Ezra.” You whimper. It borders too much, but you also don’t want this to stop.

“Let me feast, my dove.” He growls back and you catch it.

Ezra’s voice sounds distorted, fluttering between his twang and now a jagged danger sounding monstrous.

Wearily, trying to stay aware among the heat of building rapture, you exhaustedly lean up.

Between your legs Ezra is a sinful sight. His broad shoulders keep your thighs open as his tongue dips into the caverns of your cunt. You melt, unable to keep your eyes open.

But you want to watch him, want to remember this for as long as you can.

Especially now that the storm rages all around. You even wonder if the decaying church’s roof might be ripped off.

So your eyes open.

From between your legs, Ezra glances up.

His mouth stays stuck to your sex, except his eyes are completely hollowed out.

Drenched in darkness, like ink spilled entirely into them, they’re unholy and inhuman.

A scream rips from you but you can’t tell if it’s born of fear or pleasure. Or maybe both have blended together.

Your hips rise galvanized more and more, unable to stop their grind into his lips. Ezra’s grip keeps you secured and grounded.

Yet the sensation of sharpened nails now scrape against your skin.

You discover there are indeed claws, gruesome and monstrous claws, that form Ezra’s hands and arms.

“What- what are you?!” You sob.

Ezra hums and peers up at you.

“Salvation, my lovely. Yours and mine.”

A second orgasmic high hits and from the overwhelming pleasure your vision goes white. You wonder if this is heaven.

Or perhaps it’s hell.

Maybe you have died.

You should scream in terror or pray for absolution. But it’s so hard when this tastes so incredibly intoxicating, a most potent elixir.

As your body crumbles back against the altar, the overstimulated sensations become numbing, fogging your mind. Your eyes flicker up to the ceiling of the chapel.

You cannot find your god anywhere in the shadows.

The back of Ezra’s clawed hand gently strokes your cheek.

So tired, barely able to stay awake, your exhausted gaze flickers to him.

Those eyes of his, dark chasms of hell, should be soulless. But instead he looks at you with utmost tenderness.

The blazing lights of the church cast a warm glow outlined around Ezra, almost like a halo.

It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful in the terrifying way a fire is.

The mystery known as Ezra suddenly whispers out your name and you realize…

You never once gave it to him this entire time.

He is the last sight you see before your vision finally falls into the darkness.

When you awake, you’re among your quilts and bed.

You’re home.

Rapidly you look around so confused. How did you end up here? Was it all a dream?

“You’re awake!” Your father cries relieved and rushes to your side.

He thankfully answers all your questions.

You had arrived the morning after the storm. However, you hadn’t been alone.

“You had fallen ill on the road.” Your father explains. “But, thanks be to God, the new pastor sent to our town discovered you and carried you home.”

Now you’ve been resting ever since.

Had that experience been a fever dream, a temporary temptation conjured from your heart’s dark desires?

That had to be a dream, one brought on by your sudden sickness. So you rest and stay in bed for most of the day. From your window you admire the beautiful clear skies, the wonderful weather, and wildflowers growing so lovely.

You also notice your arm is completely healed, like you were never cut to begin with.

Midafternoon, a knock arrives at the door.

Your father calls your name. “Someone here to visit!”

Your mind sorts through all the possibilities of who is here to see you. You never expected your dearest friend to enter in with tears in her eyes. Overjoyed emotion washes over you as she rushes to embrace you.

“How can this be?” You hiccup, wiping away the tears. She was rarely allowed back home, especially now with her early pregnancy.

“The new pastor,” she smiles wide. “So holy and forgiving, he spoke to the judges and they are all redetermining a new sentence for me.”

You almost whisper out a prayer of thanksgiving. You hoped in your heart this would happen. She doesn’t stay long, wanting you to rest and you urge her to do the same.

By twilight another knock at the door arrives.

“Seems we are quite popular today.” Your father teases out from the main quarters.

Then he exclaims in excitement at seeing who’s arrived.

“Oh we are so blessed to have such a considerate clergyman coming by to visit!”

The new pastor. You’re beyond interested to meet this man and now you will.

When your father enters your room, Ezra waltzes in behind him.

Fear seizes your soul.

No. It couldn’t be.

This must be a man that looks like him down to his beautiful sharp nose and white patch of hair.

“Pleasure to see you again and under better circumstances.” Ezra’s clear twang rings out low and twinkling within your room.

Your heart rages rapidly and wild.

“Don’t look so terrified.” Your father chides soft but you still can’t believe this sight before you.

“Might I have a moment of solitude with your dear offspring?” Ezra asks with all the humility of an apostle.

Your father readily agrees, shutting the door behind him.

Now in the confines of your room Ezra slowly saunters towards your bed, a creature approaching its prey.

He exalts your name on an exhale.

You try to speak, but nothing comes out and Ezra moves to kneel beside your bed. His eyes twinkle with patient and pious understanding.

“Shh…no need for words, my dear turtle dove.” He quietly soothes you.

So many emotions clash in you, a tremulous onslaught you can’t handle.

“Have you come to kill me?” Fear manages to escape your lips and Ezra’s glorious face drops.

“Oh no, my beloved birdie. I’d never lay a hand on you with any violence or killing intent.” He reassures, a tender caress. “I’m here to free you. For us to set everyone free…did you not hear of what I did for your dear friend?”

His hand graciously cradles your cheek.

You should be terrified this man, this creature, is here. But you’re not.

Instead consuming relief and dangerous glee fills you. He is real. It was real.

Your hands clasp onto his and you hate how much you lean into his touch

Ezra leans forward and places a kiss against your forehead.

“What are you?” You ask barely above a whisper.

“The shadow of an angel, perhaps a monster to some.” He replies back. “But yours, nonetheless”

And you want him to be yours.

This is wrong to feel so greedy, to want a creature this dangerous. But were demons not once angels who deserved forgiveness and love?

So shifting your face you turn and place a kiss against Ezra’s palm.

Now when you hear the sermons, when you hear Ezra preach, you will think of Eve with sympathy because you understand.

You too fell for the serpent.

After all, evil never looks so beautiful as it does holding you. And desire never tasted so divine, never felt so holy.

Outside your window, the wildflowers begin to rot and the sudden rumble of a thunderstorm rolls in.

#sorry my ex Catholic school ass jumped out in this one & I need to go bathe in holy water now holy shit #anyway me and demon Ezra love you very much #ezra x reader #demon!ezra #ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect) fic #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra 🤎 #pedrostories

[marisferasiop]

Clearing out wips- I posted my vampire!reader/cryptid!Ezra last night. Enjoy!!

Ao3: link

Rating: mature/explicit- minors DNI

Summary: since being turned as a boy into- whatever liminal state of cryptid he is now- Ezra has walked this earth ageless and alone, never finding his place or a partner for long. He interrupts your meal in the city one evening, and brings you home to strike up a deal; feed from him, alone, and keep one another safe from discovery. The fact that he finds his purpose under the soft graze of your teeth and home between your thighs is a nice side effect.

Warnings: lots of blood, smut, soft yearning sweet boy Ezra, mapuche mythology and monsters, schmoop. Ezra is a subby little sap in this.

Word count: about 2.7k

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“Pleeeease, baby,” he begs, his chin tipping further up, neck curving back, pulse thundering under your slicked lips. His hand pulls at your hip, desperate to have you pressed all along his front. You oblige, your breasts sandwiched between your chest and his as you follow his backward tilt into the sofa backing.

His warmth bleeds into your skin, along with the sharp scent of moss, dirt, wood, life etching its way into the fibers of your soft cotton shirt. He tugs upward at the hem, wanting more skin, and you shift to accommodate.

You’ll always oblige him. You don't know how not to anymore. But he will still always ask.

“Ezra,” you sigh, letting his skin slide out of your wet mouth as he scrabbles for the buttons down your front. A line of that woodsy-scented blood crests over the swell of your full bottom lip, making you suck it between your teeth to swallow it. You can’t spill a drop of him. Even now, watching it pool slowly in the well of his collarbone feels like a sin. You lick over the pinpricks, sealing them, and lap away at the stains.

It would be a crime, wasting what he offers you freely.

He pushes the fabric off your shoulders and, finding you bare beneath, whines anew in his throat as you ease close again. He lets you so close. He wants you that close. Closer, even. Like it’s never enough unless you’re under his skin.

You tuck your nose against the hinge of his jaw, smelling the scent of him clinging to the scraggly beard that grows there. Moss hits the back of your tongue, makes you salivate. Your fangs drop again as you trace the sharp line of his jaw with the tip of your nose back to the bite already slowing on his skin. You lap at it, at the coagulating droplets there, twinned pinpricks.

“The other side, sweet thing. You haven’t had enough. Not yet.”

You hum in the back of your throat, dropping a kiss on his Adam's apple. It bobs under the press of your lips; tender. The pulse of him is still strong, the half cup you’ve taken barely noticed. He’s immortal as well- or as good as. Resilient. You can have much, much more.

“I have. I don’t need it.”

“You haven’t. Take your fill,” he says; pleads, really. You grin, quick and sharp, against his throat.

“Then fill me, Ezra.”

_______________

“Why are you following me?” You had slammed the moss-scented man into the bricks of an alley and pinned him with a hand on his shoulder. He held up his one hand and held your gaze easily.

“I’m not; not like that,” he explained. You wrinkled your nose at his scent again and suppressed a growl. “You’re ah – not human,” he hedged, blinking down the mouth of the alley. The street lamp at the end flickered and gave out. “Neither am I. Not anymore, anyway. Not really. Come somewhere quiet with me? I can explain.”

He had interrupted your meal. Your throat and chest burned and your skin prickled with how cold you were. “Fine.”

He had led you a few blocks away to a truck. Drove you outside of the city to a small farm edged in forest. You had spent the drive alternating between forcing yourself to ignore his pulse and body heat, and trying to pick out the notes of his heady scent.

He smelled like a dense, dark, old forest. Emphasis on the old. He smelled like everything from bright new leaf shoots to dense, herbal decay.

You learned that name was Ezra. He had a kid at home called Cee that isn't his but is now. He led you inside and called out up the staircase that he was home. A call returned, and he ushered you into the kitchen. You leaned against the counter, feeling every bit of how out of place the image was.

“Tell me about yourself. I’ve waited enough.”

“I will tell you anything you wish to know. But first, I interrupted your meal, sweet thing. I wonder if I can amend that?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Explain. And throw in why you smell like you bathe in Pine-Sol.”

Ezra smirks at you, his head tilted to the side, and nods. “Alright.” He slides onto a stool and props his elbow on the table.

“I am. Ah- approximately three- hundred and eighty- four years old. As a boy, I was playing in the woods with my brothers when a – a creature sought to chase us. We ran back for the village, to our family, but the creature caught up to me. It was- ah. A monster. We called them piwuchen. It hypnotized me, and very much intended to eat me, and steal my heart. I was helpless. My brothers ran and got the village’s medicine woman, a machi, and they came back and she killed it before it did more than bite me. The Machi touched me,” he touches the tuft of blonde at his temple and hums. “But the piwuchen had already bit me, and instead of staying under its spell, I was brought back by the Machi’s magic. My arm was amputated in an attempt to stem the spreading venom. And I aged slowly into adulthood, but no further. So I remain the same, and just… move around.”

You whistle low and make a mockingly impressed face at him. “Gonna have to Google that one. You gonna feed me, fae-boy, or am I hitchhiking back to town to drain some other asshole?”

Ezra grins at you and nods. “Fair enough. You’re welcome to try and feed from me. I admit I have never attempted to feed a vampire before.”

“How could you tell what I am?” You ask, watching him slip closer. He shrugs out of a zip-up hoodie, his right arm pinned, and is left in jeans and a tight gray tee shirt. You can smell his blood from here, washed over with the scent of damp earth and intricate root systems. He smells alive like nothing you’ve ever scented before.

“The ah- forest gift, whatever you want to call it, that was imbued upon me from the bite and the Machi’s magic, have left some side effects. My scent, as you have mentioned, is tinged with that of the forest creature’s. I am uncannily handy with direction and luring on a hunt. I can hypnotize, if I need to. And of course, the endless lifespan.”

He comes to stand right in front of you now, the tips of his boots framing your converse as you remain leaning against the counter. “So, I suppose, little bird... That like sees like.”

“Have you tried to die?” You ask, taking his wrist as he offers it up. His arm is toned but not bulky, the skin soft and supple, a beautiful golden- olive. The scent of dew on moss greets you as you bring your lips to his pulse in a kiss. He watches you test his skin, those dark eyes holding mostly curiosity. An odd sort of kinship, this.

One side of his face tics up in a knowing smile. “I have. Nothing takes.”

You hum in agreement, knowing well what the grip of ennui is like, as well as the disappointment when any action taken against it doesn't work.

“And what about the girl?”

“Another child lost in the woods, though fully human. She was fleeing a neglectful father, and got herself quite turned around. I am only ensuring she gets her education with a roof over her head and food in her belly. No nefarious intentions abound. You could no doubt scent it on me if there were.”

He’s not wrong. He smells too pure of intent. Evil sours the blood, and his is… Almost painfully clean.

Carefully, nearly afraid of what you’ll find, you pierce his wrist with one fang. He winces at the breaking skin but doesn't flinch.

His blood tastes– like blood. But gamey, almost. Old. Aged in jungle wood, with all manner of inclusions from the forest floor. You can pick out mushrooms, moss, fresh rain, bark. The drop you suckled out of the pinprick you made dissolves on your tongue. Nothing happens. The empty, aching burn in your chest grows from a single crackling log into a furnace, if anything.

He’s delicious.

Nothing negative seems to happen to you. Aside from the raging burn of your hunger, you feel fine. Your eyes flick up to his, and he nods, tipping his wrist back to your lips.

“Continue, sweet thing. Take your fill.”

_______________

Ezra has spent a long time alone. After his village aged on and he didn't; after the Spanish came and genocide sunk it's claws in. After the strange pox - sickness claimed those survivors. After he learned a new tongue and traveled across the mountains in search of anything- anywhere he could settle into, and only found more of the same. He kept trekking north, slowly and soundly. And never found anything that suited for long.

He has worn many hats. He has been a shaman, a translator, a guide. He has robbed graves and dug them, lived off the forest alone and killed countless Spanish conquistadores. He has been a cowboy, a stagecoach driver, a highwayman, a smuggler. Mostly a con artist. He has aided those he considered friends and killed those that he considered enemies.

And in all those endless lives, he has never felt wanted. Not since his chachay and papay and his brothers passed. He stayed with them, watched them age while he only made it to adulthood and never further. He cared for them, and comforted them when they went on. And every step since has been to find something he can feel in his blood but cannot find with his eyes.

He thinks, now- perhaps too poetically for his own foolish heart - that it has been you.

You like him. You will talk to him for hours, or curl into him on the sofa for a movie. Life has a painful domesticity now, with you and Cee. You don’t live with him, but you come by most days.

Cee likes you, talks to you amicably when you're there and asks after you when you’re not. Ezra likes that you two get along. His girls, and he always grins so wide when he says it.

Ezra wonders, if after a dozen lifetimes of being forgotten, questioned, reviled, exiled, othered– if he can finally have … This.

You, under him, your soft thighs parted around his shifting hips. His weight, on you; your breasts mashed on the rise of his pecs, your mouth, open and panting. He licks into you, thieving over your palate, making your fangs tingle. You pull back and drop them, nipping his lip and then soothing the sting with your wicked tongue. Without both arms to balance, he relies on you for some movement. You undulate against his hips, rising to meet each thrust, skimming your nails down his spine to dig at the meat of his narrow ass.

“Touch yourself, sweet thing. I would gladly bury my face down there for hours, strum that sweet little clit with my fingertips til you break apart if I could.”

“Roll us,” you pant against his mouth, and he is helpless but to comply.

You settle on his hips, his full weight and girth in the vice of your slick cunt. You squeeze him internally and he hisses, grappling with your waist to get you to move.

You have been coming to his little country house for months now. You and Cee still get along well; you often help her or talk to her about her studies, and then in the night, you take your fill of him, in whatever means you see fit.

He is happy to provide. To be of use.

To be wanted.

“You want it, sweet thing?” He pants, arching his neck up into your mouth, rutting his hips up in the tiny space you’ve left him. He’s quite effectively pinned. You have his one hand in your iron grip and the other closing around his throat.

“I want all of you, Ezra. You’re mine, yes?” your throat, lined with his blood, is claggy; your eyes glint like gems in the dark when they meet his.

His eyes dilate, and he goes still and pliant under your hands. Your teeth.

“I am, my sweet. You have me. All of me.”

He explodes moments later, with your hips snapping against his, his cock rooted deep in your core, and your hands still pinning him at wrist and throat. He fills you, at your sucking mouth and your clenching cunt, and you greedily take it all.

Later, when you’ve fed him and he rolls you over and makes you spread your tacky thighs for him, he licks the deep jungle- taste of his spend out of you, luring you steadily into a rolling orgasm that steals your breath.

He’s yours. And you’re his.

_______________

The sun does not kill you, but it is stifling and uncomfortable. You wear layers and hats if you have to go out. Working from home makes your life easier. Ezra often comes if you don't come to his for days. He wants to make sure you are fed, and well.

You catch him snoozing on your couch in a sun spot most of the time. Sometimes you curl against him, take a break from corporate bullshit to breathe in your own personal little forest clearing. Your job is a careful balance of keeping up appearances and giving yourself a task each day so you don’t let the ennui suffocate you again.

He bands his arm around your ribs in his sleep and hums, happy to have you close. It still strikes you at times, how close he allows you to rest. As if you’re not a threat to his very existence. As if you’re not a literal blood-sucking monster.

He has let you know, in brief spurts, how lonely he has been. You suppose that is part of why he has kept Cee. But she will be gone in a year, off to college and her own life. He has already ensured her success by way of a trust with his vast and quiet wealth. And when she is gone, he will only have… you.

You worry, sometimes, that you will be enough. That a few meals and fucks each week will satiate the gaping void in his chest left after eons of walking the earth alone.

But then he holds you tighter, and begs you to drink deeper, and take more from him, and softens into such languid peace when you declare him yours, with his blood on your lips and his cum dripping from you.

He is yours.

You have lived a few lifetimes to his dozens, and you have known him for the blink of an eye by comparison, but you would cheerfully prefer to starve to death, staked out in the sun, than taste anyone else’s blood again.

You are his. He found you, and lured you to his den. And fed you, filled you. He is under your skin, in your very veins, and you only want to crawl inside him and tear him to shreds with your affection. It’s an all-consuming thing, this untapped well of love you have for the first time in decades. You want to drown him in it.

You know he will sink willingly under your waters.

You tuck your nose under his scruffy chin and skirt your arm around the fading sun-spot, and allow sleep to draw you under.

#ezra/reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect #ezra (prospect) #prospect (2018) #prospect movie #prospect film #cee (prospect) #reader insert #afab reader #no y/n #only description is having breasts enough to squeeze

[penvisions]

plumage {ezra x reader drabble}

Fandom: Prospect

Pairing: Ezra x F! Reader

Summary: You recall the courtship between you and the man you love.

Word Count: 520

Warnings: allusions to adult content, allusions to smut

A/N: the lovely @morallyinept requested this as part of my follower celebration! i hope it's a good lil blurb for fluffy ezra, he deserves good things. thank you so much for your kind words, ilysm! had a lot of fun writing this ♡

He hadn’t looked like much at first glance. His suit dirty and worn, the glass of it dirty and smudged.

But the second he had opened his plush lips, quirked up in a captivating smirk. You knew you wouldn’t have stood a chance.

He had a way with words, so uncommon for those who subjected themselves to harvesting. He had a grace about him so alluring for someone lacking a vital extremity. He had a yearning in his eyes as he regarded you, lighting up the muddy brown of them every time you found them aimed at you. Facets coming into play as they caught the light, caught the sun, caught the very emotions brimming from him.

The dance of offers, of equal work for equal pay, of time spent together. Letting you see all he had to give, to share, was willing to. Even if the reality of harvesting had been so different before meeting him, a dark spot of brown amidst the lush green of the planet. Time allowed for his colors to show, for his dance to feel intentional and specific to you.

His colors reveal soft lingering gazes, teasing smirks, melodious laughter. His colors reveal intentional touches, a mouth that was capable of winding you around his finger as he showed how his words weren’t empty platitudes. That he craved you in more ways than just one. With burning kisses that lit you up from the inside out, tracing fingers that held you reverently, the rocking of his strong body against your own.

His colors revealed a heart of good intentions, a mind quick and smart, a desire in him to work hard and earn his share of things.

From that endearing patch of blonde amid his dark curls, that smile he flashed, the glitter of his eyes to the admittance of being skilled in this line of work and having been saved previously by a child he had taken in as his own. Cared for and provided for, not allowing her to get into the same life as he had, to ensure she had the opportunity to have a childhood, even if it was a little late.

For all the man’s plumage, he certainly had captured your attention.

And while neither of you had a nest to return to, that didn’t stop you from creating one together.

Equal time and funds and effort from you both that had you opting out of a return to the green that you found each other in. The dangers of which didn’t seem so acceptable now that there was something to be lost…someone to be lost. Opting not to stray too far from each other now that your bond was so complete.

You recalled his first words to you, and you smiled over the twin mugs as you returned to your shared bed to find him sprawled out and tangled within the sheets. His eyes glittered as they spotted you, not yet clear of sleep. A lazy smile taking over his handsome features that were now all yours. He repeated them to you now, bringing forth a smile of your own.

“Well, hey there, pretty bird.”

#dev writes #fic: plumage #prospect #ezra prospect #prospect 2018 #prospect movie #ezra #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x female reader #fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #ezra fanfiction #ezra fanfic