#ezra your brain was so hot for this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chronically-ghosted · 5 months

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vivarium

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: ezra x f!reader word count: 8K summary: you request a vacation for your birthday. With the rain and a few drinks, you get a lot more than you asked for. warnings: alcohol drinking, minor age gap (less than 10 years), oral (f!receiving), fingering, smut, possessive!Ezra, dom!Ezra, one booty smack, dirty talk for real, smut, pining, a bit of angst, referenced/implied orphanhood, made a religious sex pun and i'm so proud of myself a/n: so @morallyinept requested this and it turns out when I write for a boy for the first time, it can’t be less than 7K – whoops. i've gotten ezra requests from some moots before, so i hope this lives up to your expectations! **massive thanks to @toomanytookas for editing and providing the initial validation so i don't post in a mouth-frothy haze. I've never had a beta like you before and I genuinely feel like I've turned over a new chapter in my fic writing. thank you!

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Your feet in the clear blue water, the humidity like a wet tongue on your skin, you scratch a nail under the tab of a mustard yellow can, crack it open, and drink. The bite of alcohol dulled by the carbonation, you take several pulls, drawing out the mid-afternoon buzz from two other cans and whetting your mouth in the heat of the jungle day. You lean back on your elbows into the sponge-soft grass, and let out a massive sigh.

A few feet ahead of you, on a repurposed inflatable reentry tube, your long-time privateer partner chuckles, the sound deep in the back of his throat as he floats by. Thick fingers and exposed heels dragging along in the crystal water, he greets the yellow sun like an old friend – arms wide, chest out, a lazy smile on his face. A damp rag – supposedly clean – sits over what you know to be dark-earth eyes, every other inch of him relishing in the inevitable sun tan.

“I see your aaahhh, pet, and I raise you a mhmm.” The rubber squeaks as he adjusts, tips his scarred chin up to the cloudless sky and rests his head back. “Kevva said there’d be days like this, but I think the old hag mighta left out a thing or two.”

You grin, the wet heat of Banu 8’s lowlands drawing sweat droplets onto your hairline at the back of your neck, settling thick behind your ears where it co-mingles with the drunk haze loping around in your brain. You watch Ezra with his bare arms, hairy legs, and prominent nose turned towards the divinity he’s so fond of invoking and the thought crosses your mind – again:

Shit, he’s so fucking hot.

Oh, bad thought.

You drop your gaze, pressing the cold aluminum lip of the can to your mouth, drinking quicker than you probably should, anything to distract you from your partner as he obliviously floats by.

For our sake, you silently beg the hungry little creature that whines and snaps at the image of a shirtless Ezra, please fuck off.

While Ezra whistles a vaguely familiar tune, terribly off-key, you scoop up the cool lagoon water and dribble it over your hot knees, then your thighs, dampening the rims of your make-shift shorts just enough to cool them without leaving them vulnerable to a permanent state of moisture due to the high humidity. You flick the last drops of the water onto your chest, your white cotton bra choked to your skin. A final effect, you press the cool can to the thrumming pulse on your neck, closing your eyes with a relieved grunt, taking the time to enjoy the sensation of the cold metal against the rapid beat in your throat.

From the water, you hear an unsettled grunt and you open your eyes to find that same shirtless Ezra staring at you, the rag now curled in one hand against the rubber float. He swallows, looks at something past your ear, and again tries to adjust in the sticky rubber float without flipping himself over, his hands falling into his lap.

“Neptune, dear, would you do us the favor of tossing over one of those cans? I’m parched. I think my lovely skin is drying out.”

Neptune. His favorite nickname for you. You never got any real explanation from him as to why you got that name, other than after you’d officially joined his crew, you told him you came from a blue planet in a far off system. But that was often the way of things: Ezra did something and you didn’t question why. From that simple truth, you learned about how to repair and rebuild the entire electrical system from a drop pod. You learned, in excruciating detail, the parts and mechanics of a thrower, so much so that you could almost identify the model number at a glance. You learned about which corporate dig sites to avoid, which made for easy marks, and which would draw the eye and ire of entities hardly worth the trouble.

Being out on your own since you aged up out of the orphanage had not gone the way you hoped and life had not been so kind as to teach you any other way to survive. Ezra had found you in the back of a red spice market, cornered and slurping down the last few of your credits from a muck bowl that you had vastly overpaid for.

For whatever reason, he offered you a job on the spot, despite you having nothing to offer him. and no experience in anything except cleaning prophylaxiams and staying out of the way.

And yet, he has been far kinder than life, or anyone else, had ever been to you.

As a result, loyalty was only a fraction of what you felt for him. What had begun as overwhelming adoration had grown hot to the touch, slippery between your fingers at night, and perhaps – what you feared most of all – obvious.

Yet when Ezra looked at you with a smile on his face, it was only comradery he wished to share with you, certainly not his bed. He shared it with practically every other bi-pedal humanoid you came across, but not you. And this you had to accept. And you did.

But being a little drunk made it that much harder to remember where to keep your hands to avoid being burned.

“Sure, Ez.” You tuck your legs out from the cool water and dig around in the canvas bag at the base of the white nut tree. Most of the ice had melted into the bright green grass around the lagoon, but a few of the cans were still cold. You’d probably tease Ezra later for skimping on the insulation bucket the provisions store the port offered, but he had been so eager to get to the camp ground after spending an “exceedingly exorbitant amount of time stacked up against human drivel on public transportation”. One lopsided grin, and you’d give him the world.

“Ez–,”

He lifts the rag, glancing at you over his shoulder, hands cupped as the can flies through the air. The cold metal presses against the overheated skin on his chest and he hisses. Eyeing the can ruefully, he cracks it open and drinks deep. You busy yourself with sliding to the edge of the pool again to keep from watching his throat move.

Ezra finally pulls back, smacking his lips, with a pleased groan. He wets the rag again and dramatically flops it over his eyes. Hidden from his view, you watch the roll of water down his temples, his neck, his chest.

“Name anything better than this, Neptune, I beg you. Free from obligation or assignment on commission. Where my only moral imperative is to drink as many of these as I can and remind you how beautiful you are. Which . . .” he tilts the bottom of the can towards you, head still tilted back on the raft and dripping rag covering his vision, “fantastic, by the way.”

Having stifled your blush while under his watchful gaze about three or four other times today, without him looking, you flush so hard and fast you go lightheaded. Beautiful, he said. You drink more carbonated alcohol to choke back your rising heart, your eyes skim over the curve of his nose, a drop of sweat as it peaks on his forehead. You can’t linger over him too long; he has a six-sense about you – unable to know what you’re thinking but that you’re overthinking all the same.

“Was this worth the trip on public transportation, Ez?” Your ankles stir the water again.

“I could do this all day,” he sighs contently, bringing a warm smile to your face. “And definitely all night.”

Maybe you’ll both be so sun-drunk later tonight, you’ll fall asleep together on the pallet on the floor. Of course, by nightfall, someone will have to come to their senses and you’ll be tucked back into your separate sleeping bags, but maybe, as a present you couldn’t possibly ask for, you can just nap together.

With the bottom plush of your lip stuck between your teeth, you rim the metallic edge of your can with your nail, ankles spinning slow circles in the water.

“Thank you, Ezra,” you say quietly, “for the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

It began as a sort of joke one night on the volcanic hotspring moon of Wulkan after a twelve hour shift hunting through the black ash in search of fire pearls. The job was rather rushed, and Ezra had his reservations going into it, but fire pearls were a near certainty and you both needed a boost after a jump exchange had gone a little cockeyed. Sweat dripping from his temples, the provided water packs in the harvest suits doing just enough to keep him from passing out from heat exhaustion, he extended the skein of hydro-electric towards you across the narrow lane between your cots and asked you if you could be anywhere right now, any system, where would you be.

“Somewhere so cold I freeze my tits clean off,” you said with a sigh and wiped your own sweat-drenched forehead. You could smell yourself after two days of sweating profusely, but your stench in comparison to the rest of the crew, including Ezra, barely registered any more. You took a sip as Ezra laughed.

“A grievous crime against humanity and all its luscious gifts, but I get your meaning. Anywhere else?”

“Water.” This was said with more conviction, so much so it turned Ezra’s head towards you. “The few memories I have of my home planet and my parents, we were always near or in water. An ocean, maybe. I’m not sure. But I remember being really, really happy and I think being near water . . . it would make me happy again.”

You handed the skein back to Ezra, something unreadable in his gaze. He took it back from you, his fingers dark from the ash that clings to everything. On the other side of the tent, the rest of your crew and other teams mill about, yelling, with cutlery clattering as the camp gets ready to slow for the night, a graveyard shift picking up in just a few hours.

Ezra’s eyes are as dark as the ash you’ve been shifting through the past two days.

“Then you shall have it, Neptune.” He said, quietly. “I’d give you the fucking galaxy if I could.”

Those words often came to you in the crevice between sleep and wakefulness, when your mind was idle and the reins that tightly bound your affection for him loosened without a conscious grip. When you thought you weren’t being watched.

The flat of his foot hooking behind your ankle breaks you from your reverie. Cast into shadow by the wide, rubbery palm leaves above your head, he looks at you curiously.

“That look of deep consternation is giving me a headache. Spill.”

With a faint smile, you gently bump his knee with your own. “Nothing, Ez. I’m just glad we get to take a break from it all. I can’t remember the last time I . . . the last time we’ve just had nothing to do.”

He cocks his head as his gaze crawls up your ankle, your shin, to your knee. You think it might linger on your thigh before it bounces to your face. You tighten your grip on the hot, expansive feeling behind your ribs and stare back at him.

“Then that’s a black mark against me, as the leader of this clan.” His mouth curls, eyebrow arching as he talks, knowing that statement has been a point of playful contention between you two for years. “A good overseer knows when to crack the bullwhip and when to let it rest.”

“Well, a better overseer knows when to demand that her team rests, because sometimes they have no idea what’s good for them.”

His foot rotates behind your ankle, his toes brushing against your calf, bringing your attention to your own body part in the water. Your legs are hairy, nearly as much as Ezra’s, and you haven’t shaved your pits in possibly a decade. Ezra once brought home a professional nightwalker, one from the Upper City, to the derelict flat you’d been sharing for two weeks as you offloaded your haul to the under markets. You never forgot how smooth her skin had been, shaved clean and smelling of moon lilies. That scent permeated the small space for weeks afterward. Even now, just the sight of moon lilies makes you nauseous.

His aversion to you runs much deeper than physical aesthetics, even if you can’t help but wonder sometimes if becoming as smooth and hairless as the nightwalker might change his mind.

“Observational to a fault as always, Neptune.” The ball of his foot rests briefly between your legs before he pushes off from the spongy lip of the lagoon’s edge. He floats back into the sun, his head shaking slightly, a smile drained of amusement on his lips. He inhales as the sun crests over his forehead and he glances up at the blue sky. “I have no idea what’s good for me.”

Something about his tone, the way he turns away from you, scratches a very raw place inside of you – a place that fears and obsesses over abandonment. You wouldn’t survive it if he abandoned you, if he left you to fend for yourself one day. Logically, you know he would never do that – he has sworn up and down to your face that that notion is fundamentally ludicrous to him – but the anguish of him silently rejecting you from his bed again and again and again makes that fragile place inside you bleed red.

You stand up, swipe another can from the bag, and move towards the waterfall.

“I’m taking a hike.”

You feel his eyes on the backs of your thighs as you march towards the gentle incline.

“Be safe, Neptune,” he calls softly.

For a fleeting second, you wish he had made you stay.

The first fat raindrop splashes against your cheek and wakes you from a humid, irritated nap. You’re scowling by the time you open your eyes to several more wet droplets as they splatter against your neck, your forehead and you sit up, even more frustrated than when you fell asleep. The last sticky tendrils of dreams snap and pop as you pull yourself onto your feet, back hunched and arm held high against the steamy sprinkle. A crack of lightning, then a growl of thunder, and the sky splits open, drenching you in seconds. With a snarl of your own, you snatch up the empty can from the grass next to you and make for your camp down the hill. As you crest the top, you see a figure standing outside the tent, back tense and hand raised as if searching through the twilight gray downpour.

Normally, the thought of warming up beside Ezra in your yellow tent fills you with something inexplicable, the grime and load of the day melting from your shoulders, but your buzz from earlier has thickened, made worse by the heat, the emotions in your heart all gummed up and smashed together. The sight of him cranks up your irritation high in your ears. With a huff, you concentrate on a smooth slide down the hill without breaking your ankles and not the fire rising in your gut.

But the rain and the distance apart has only stoked his own outrage.

“Where the hell were you?” He snaps as you yank back the velcroed tent flap. He is dripping from head to toe in jungle rain as he follows closely behind you into your small space. You ring the water from your hair into a corner and scowl up at him.

“I fell asleep. The rain woke me up. I came back as soon as I could.”

His eyes narrow, water rolling off his bare shoulders as if he still stood out in the downpour. The droplets pat pat pat against the tarp floor as he snatches up a fiber towel and dries himself off, scowling all the while.

“I searched for you, calling your name up and down this fuckin’ jungle and I didn’t hear a peep. What if something had gone wrong? What if you’d been hurt?”

“Then I would have fucking dealt with it, Ezra.” You stomp to your feet, neck hot from his patronizing gaze. Hands on his hips, you feel like you’re being scolded. “I can take care of myself.”

One dark eyebrow arches mockingly, the scar on his cheek twisting in his scowl.

“And you expect me to lay about, twiddling my thumbs, while I wait for you to return or until you deem it appropriate for me to fret over your corpse?”

That patch of blonde hair is a shade darker, drenched and pressed flat against his forehead. His bare chest is littered with scars and divots where chunks of flesh had been torn away. His skin is a reflection of the hard life he lives. You doubt you’d look any different if you’d seen yourself in a mirror.

“We are partners, Ez,” you grind out between locked teeth. “Equals, alright? I am not your little sister for you to fuss over and you are not my keeper.”

At that, the indignant swell of his chest deflates and the anger in his eyes flickers before fading out.

“You are beyond capture,” he mutters, eyebrows down but gaze distant. “I’d never dream of keeping you, Neptune.”

Again, it’s his phrasing that hurts most of all. You glance away, the backs of your eyes growing hot and tight, drying out despite the sticky moisture warming the inside of the tent. But then his hand around your elbow startles away the tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“You are the most important thing to me in the entirety of this world and the next,” he says softly, earth eyes searching your face. “I came on too strong, I know that, but the idea that you’d ever be gone from my side for any amount of permanence . . . well, it’s been a lifetime since I’ve felt fear like that.”

His frown goes belly-up, a hopeless smile on his face. “I wasn’t aware I even still could.” His calloused thumb brushes your skin, skin that nearly catches fire from the rough drag of scar tissue, before he lets his hand drop. Your own curls into a fist at your side, a tremor rattling the bones of your wrist in an effort to keep from reaching up and touching that moon-shaped scar you dream about at night.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ez. You taught me enough to survive in a world like this. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

That smile goes wan, sickly. “That’s the problem, dear heart, I trust you with my life.”

He swallows, as if suddenly bashful to make direct eye contact with you. He clears his throat before rummaging around in his canvas bag for dry clothes. He yanks a black, sleeveless shirt on over his head before setting up the materials for a flameless pocket fire.

“Since my dreams of showing you something called a barbeque have been quite literally rained out, we’ll finish off the rest of the dredge pack tonight. But come first light, I’ll fix you breakfast so succulent, the smell alone’ll make your mouth water. How does that sound, Neptune?”

He barely slows to breathe as he seamlessly switches topics from breakfast to another meal made at camp without looking up or stalling in his prep for dinner, hands almost disconnected from the humming of his mouth – one so methodical, the other like a channel rat on fire.

“– and the thing was no one was really sure enough what a squatter egg looked like when it goes bad. But being out in a cramped hold-out for two weeks where it was so dark, your own ass and someone else’s had no demarcation, well, there wasn’t a single peep of dissimilitude . . .”

Words strung together so quick and so melodic, it was always incredibly easy to fall into a sort of easy trance around Ezra. Sounds and syllables just sounded right coming out of his mouth and after a while, that trance became a state of repose, Ezra’s own sense of calm filtered to whoever was also in the room. But not to you, not right now.

After spending immeasurable time with less than half a space between you in cramped tents and in claustrophobic dig sites, you could read the tension on the lines of his body as well as the lines on the palm of your hand.

“Neptune? You with me?”

Ezra glances up at you, always aware of you and your movements like the twinge on a spider’s web, a signature smile that has always seemed to shine a bit brighter for you plastered over his face. The anger was the only thing holding you up and with it gone, you can feel your bruised heart twinge as it folds over itself.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’m gonna switch out of these wet clothes before we eat, okay?”

He hums, nodding, eyes fixating on the steadily boiling water in front of him as you turn away to the other side of the tent, by your pallet and traveler’s pack. As further evidence that he feels nothing but companionship for you, you feel his eyes remain nowhere near you as you strip off your shorts and bra for a sun-warm suit. Then again, you’d like to think it’s kind of scandalous to be changing in front of him, but you’d both seen each other naked more times than you could count – there is no modesty in foxholes. The space between your hips and your thighs feel sticky from sweat and the slick rain, the curve of your spine warm and flushed. The zipper is loud in the silence.

You’re braiding your damp hair away from your face when he sighs and the noise makes you look back at him.

“Answer me honestly, if you’ve ever cared for me a tick. Do you regret it?”

His eyes are sorrowful, worried, brow fixed down. Ezra is not, and never has been, a man prone to melancholy. His wrists rest loosely over his knees, gaze deep in the bubbling bone broth. The rain outside taps insistently at the tarp.

“Regret what?”

“Coming with me and taking on this life. It’s not an easy one,” he says quietly. “I should have offered you another choice, that day in the market. But one look at you and I . . . I was willing to trust you with my life, Neptune – far, far too soon. Even at my best, you make me irrational.”

You watch him, his broad shoulders moving, as he scoops up the hot, dark liquid into two bowls, and joins you by the entrance to the tent. You pin back the flap as he settles, the scent of humid rain immediately flooding your mouth, the pattering sound now twice as loud. Wordlessly, he hands you a spoon before digging into his own bowl.

The heat of the soup burns away all the silly, impossible things sitting on your tongue. You sit in silence, his presence never rushing you to answer before you are ready. As you eat, you stare out at the dark lagoon, where you had both been only hours ago, the clear water murky beneath the downpour.

“No, Ezra, I don’t regret it.” He stills, as if surprised you’re answering him now, mid-meal. He lowers the bowl to his lap, eyes trained on you. “You saved my life, more times than I can count.”

Your words loosen the rigid lock of his shoulders. He grins. “As you’ve said, you would have been just fine without me.”

Your vision goes blurry. You pin him with such a stare, you watch the blood rush from his face.

“But it would have been only half a life.”

“Don’t kid about that, Neptune, it’s not –,”

“I’m serious.” You put your bowl down and rub your eyes with your sleeves. Of all the ways he hasd seen you bare and naked, he’s never seen you this vulnerable. “I don’t wanna do any of this without you. I want you, Ezra.”

“You have me, dear heart, you have me.”

“Not like that and you know it.” You watch as understanding rolls across his face. His lips part, eyes wider. He swallows and you stare at the ceiling, cheeks suddenly wet and hot. He said he’d never leave you, but what if this is the thing that finally does it? Could he work with you, knowing just how deeply you love him, and not feel an ounce of disgust? “You told me once sex is just a way to pass the time, but never, not once, have you ever even tried to pass the time with me.”

He swallows, deeper this time, jaw locked, his eyes fluttering with the force of it. He brings his knees to his chest.

“Because it wouldn’t just be passing time with you.”

In that moment, you’re grateful for the rain, for the sound of something to fill the silence.

You stare at him, cross-legged in front of the open corner of this yellow tent, abandoned bowls growing colder, but he sits with his leg up, knee to his chest, as if to ward you off. Ward off whatever is growing in your gaze, under the flat bone over your heart in your chest. But whatever is stifling the air in your lungs, is warming his eyes past the point of comfort, barrelling towards expletives and the crass, the lewd and depraved. You cannot go back to having him look at you any other way.

That look loosens every line in his face when you crawl into his lap, your knees around his hips. The backs of your thighs go damp, even through the suit, pressing down onto his still-damp shorts, and you think his breathing has quickened.

His massive palm hovers near your cheek, unwilling or unable to pull you forward or push you back, his oak eyes searching your face for signs of discomfort as if he had somehow dragged you across the tarp floor.

“Neptune,” he mumbles as he focuses on the curve of your bottom lip, “this is unwise. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You can feel the hard curve of his shoulders as you follow the lines of his arms and settle them on his collarbone. Nothing has happened that can’t be undone – not yet. Your perfect, vicious Ezra hasn’t pressed you flat on your back like you thought he would at the hint of sex. You could return with your dignity tomorrow morning, this moment never spoken of again, and he’d let you have that. The shake of his elbow with his palm against the tarp is the only indication that something might be unsettling to him.

But it is your birthday after all. Maybe he’d let you have this one thing. He doesn’t know you’ll die without it.

“If you don’t want this . . . if you don’t want m-me, then say something. Push me away and I’ll never bring it up again.” You cup the sides of his neck as your hips shift forward, closer to him. The air in your lungs tightens, breath coming in shallow pants. Only then does he drop your gaze and fixate on your encroaching heat. “At least then I’ll know.”

There. Out loud. It’s been said, heard above the deluge of rain against the tent and the jungle outside.

His palm finally settles on your cheek. It brings a sense of wholeness to you like you’ve never known. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, a breathy exhale pours out of your mouth. His thumb catches the plush curve of your bottom lip and he draws it towards your chin, his own mouth open, enraptured.

“Sweet thing, how have you not always known?”

His mouth is humid against yours, as if he swallowed the jungle while looking for you, his thumb releasing your lip to capture with his own. The tip of his pointer finger massages the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear, and he manipulates your head until your mouth parts like he wants.

His tongue skims your upper lip, a tentative exploration into the unknown rewarded with a low groan that is warmed by the heat coiling low in your hips. You taste his tongue, a hot glide inside your mouth, and you feel his arms slip around your lower back, his inhale of breath sharp across your face as he brings you closer. He bites your lips roughly, the spark of pain and pleasure crackling across your face as if you’d brushed a live wire.

His fingers wrap around your wrist, prying you from the back of his neck, just for a moment, his eyes heat-soaked. You suck your teeth, mouth open and seeking, and the hand around your jaw drops to your collarbone, the breadth of his palm nearly suffocating your throat.

The briefest pressure – the slightest touch – at the pulse at the bottom of your neck and your hips rock forward into him as he flattens his other palm to your ass, clutching you to him and pinning you to the pallet.

His teeth scrape against the curve of your ear, pinching the cartilage between his incisors, while his hands frantically search up and down your waist. His weight smothers you, his stomach breathing into yours, the flat plane of his chest rubbing your nipples raw against your suit, an unfocused lurch to his hips every time you tug on his hair. With every breath, every time you try to savor his touch, the taste of his mouth is like a wave, dragging you forward, wrapping a dizzy chain around your throat and squeezing.

Ezra’s greatest weapon has always been his mouth, that silver string spinning faster the longer he captivates you, spell-bound. Now he uses to decimate you in entirely new ways.

The suck of his lips against the moist flesh below your ear distantly distracts from the afterburn of his unkempt beard against your jaw, your cheek. His lips alternate patterns of reward with a plush kiss and punishment with a stern nip when you try and stifle a moan. The edge of his shirt is damp from resting against his shorts when you slip your fingers underneath to palm the small of his back. He stills when you run your fingers around to the front of his trunks.

His hand curls around a clump of hair at the base of your skull, his eyes darker than volcanic ash. The steady heat of his groin against your thigh is a sensation you’ll chase for the rest of your life.

“You know what happens when you touch a man there, Neptune?” He’s breathing hard, you both are, and the way he snags your hair in his fist has your head twisted at an odd angle, but you’d be damned to a Kevva-forgotten corner of the cosmos before you drop his gaze. You nod and that moon-shaped scar on his cheek twitches. “I know I didn’t teach you that.”

“L-learned it – somewhere else – Ezra.” Your mouth isn’t working properly, your lips swollen from his kisses, the slight pain in your scalp making it difficult to focus, while your cunt tightens hungrily. “Had to.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because you wouldn’t give it to me.”

He leans back, his forearm tense and corded where he has you by the hair, a seemingly disinterested scowl on his face. But by the throbbing length pressed up against you, so far from where you need him the most, he is anything but.

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Without breaking eye contact, his chest raised inches above yours, his fingers snag on the blue zipper by your collar and your breathing nearly stops. He hums to himself, eyes following the path of the zipper as the material separates, click by click by click. When it reaches your belly button, he stops.

“Ezra –,” it’s a whine and you can’t even chastise yourself for it. And neither, it seems, can he.

Head tilted as if curious about the label of a box beneath colorful wrapping, he dips his wide hand beneath the edge of your suit. The heat that radiates from his palm against the curve of your stomach has you writhing underneath him, your knees drawing up to his hips, trying to catch any relief.

But he takes his self-satisfied time. Callouses of a hard-won life snag and drag over the soft paper-thin skin that covers your ribs as he maps you in one hand. When he cups your right breast in his palm, the noise you make is a sob of gratitude.

“You let another man besides me do this to you?”

The snarling pit of your own thoughts slows as some awareness realizes he’s speaking to you.

You swallow, clutching his bicep, begging for forgiveness before even opening your mouth to answer.

“It didn’t mean anything, Ez, it wasn’t you – it meant nothing to me–,”

“But you let someone else touch what’s mine, hm?” That lazy, slightly irritated look on his face, he rotates his hand, squeezing the cup of your tit again, before sharply pinching your nipple.

“Ezra–,” you choke out and his thigh shifts between your legs, just close enough to feel the heat but nowhere near close enough to grind against. His thumb rotates the raised flesh slow enough to capture and catalog every sigh it draws from you, his eyes catching between his hand and your relaxed face.

He wears the same expression he does when sitting in the backs of blackmarket tea shops and smoky alebins. When the prospect of striking gold becomes all he can think about.

“Strip.” He suddenly commands. He lifts off you just enough for you to wrench your arm through the armhole, all the while keeping a rough palm on one breast, and then the other. You watch him massage your flesh and your ribs tremble with an unsteady breath. Only when a slightly cool breeze meanders over your bare shoulders and chest do you realize that the tent flap is still open, your head inches from the edge. A perfect and unimpeded view to anyone who wants to watch him hungrily grope your tits. Embarrassment peaks sharply, despite his hand pressing you into the tarp, you wrench your neck back and look over your shoulder through the window of the open tent as if you need to confirm that you are giving the jungle a floor show.

“Ez– shit, the flap–,”

He finds that the skin beneath your breast had grown sticky and slick from sweat, the humidity still oppressive even with a breeze. He bends his head and licks that same sweaty path and your attention snaps back to him, nails curling against his scalp, his warm breath a high-intensity balm to your roughly-played-with nipples.

“Not a soul in sight, Neptune,” he murmurs lazily into your ribcage, his nose running up and down the valley between your tits. “And if there were, let them learn a thing or two.”

His teeth nip the swell of your stomach as he crawls down your half-naked body. Without his heat and hands, the tenderness from his attention on your breasts ratchets up to an ache, a minor preoccupation before he hooks his fingers around the rest of the jumpsuit and tugs.

You are naked beneath him, swollen chest rising and falling, your knuckles scraping against the pallet as you search for something to grip with all your might. You smell of lagoon water and hot jungle air, of muggy photosynthesis and algae. The smoky scent of the black ash of that distant planet never really left Ezra and the dampness of the rain seems to stir it up. He towers over you, dark and breathing heavy. Smoke and brimstone.

He gropes your ankles, then your calves, hands gliding over the thick hair there – now grown soft in length – as he slowly spreads your legs, with a light you’d never seen before in his eyes.

“Neptune, I revolve around you.”

A wave of anxiety lurches up your throat when he brings his mouth to your cunt, the cloying, imagined scent of moon lilies threatening to tear you out of the moment – he won’t want you wild like this – but it’s forcefully yanked back down with a single stripe of his tongue. His previously casual, authoritative persona cracks when he buries his face into your unkempt curls and lets out a deep, overly pleased moan.

Your back bends and he’s gathering up your limbs in his arms to pin them down, nearly resting his forehead on your pubic bone. A few more licks, some deeper than others into where you drip for him, and your thighs start to shake. His fingers around your thighs squeeze roughly against your flesh and pull you further apart.

Between the flush of slick seeping from you at an embarrassing rate and the wiry hair kept natural out of a certainty no one would see it, he must be drowning or choking, his tongue flicking and sliding, nose prodding your clit just enough to spread the sparks of arousal up through your spine. Feeling as though you’re losing your grip on reality, you sink your hands into his hair, thumb rubbing back that blonde patch, and tug. The moan he shoots into your cunt as he rocks forward into your touch has you whining helplessly. The tarp squeaks where he rubs his hips into it.

His arms curled around your thighs, your hips shake with restraint against every lap of his tongue until he flicks your clit and your hips grind up against his obliging mouth, a sunspot of pleasure flaring brightly. But all too soon, Ezra lifts up onto his elbows, his hands smoothing across your stomach and he pops his mouth up from your wet folds. With an irate gasp, the swell of bliss fading, your gaze snaps down to plead with him, but he shakes his head.

Wordlessly, he takes one hand from your thigh and wipes his mouth clean with a swipe of his fingers. Then, with his eyes wide, the skin around his mouth loose, he crooks two fingers at the top of your mound before sliding them down where his mouth was seconds ago and presses them inside of you. That simmering in your low belly roars back to life and you toss your head against the unforgiving pallet, eyes slamming shut. He growls at the obscene sucking noise your cunt makes as he plucks at you, in and out.

“Oleaginous,” he hums, so quietly, it might have been for him. He tongues your clit lightly, pushing his fingers as deep as they can go, watching you thrash. “Mine. Understand?” You remember that tone of voice from when he had you dissecting throwers on a workbench in front of him. You nod, eyes fluttering open, balancing on the precarious edge of release.

You want to obey his every word.

His thumb twists up, opening your clit to him and within a whispered breath of “good girl” he sucks your bundle of nerves and launches you into orbit.

Your entire body goes stiff from the force of it, only to crash back down into his waiting hands, your voice wavering on a high-pitched, girlish wail that shrieks above the sound of rain. Waves of bliss lap at every nerve ending and your vision goes fuzzy for a minute, the only sound you can register is the pounding of your blood in your ears.

And then you register the steady, wet plunge of his fingers still dragging in and out of your pussy.

“Was that mine?”

Your clit tingles from overstimulation, but you’d rather die than have him stop – you want to answer, if only you could pick up the pieces of your voice. You can only nod, whining. He presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, the skin there smeared with your release.

“You did a bad thing, letting someone else touch what’s mine.” He scolds, rubs that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back in your head, holds his finger to it until it burns. You cry, his punishment evident. “Now you have to apologize, Neptune.”

You nod again, mouth wrenched open as he drags you back and forth across pleasure and pain.

“Y-y-yes, Ezra,” the words are bone dry, cracked between your teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Pure wickedness strikes those earth eyes and scorches them a singed black.

“Unfortunately, atonement is a fickle thing,” Ezra tuts, dragging his lips across your thigh in a mockery of a kiss, “and I’m not quite ready to offer absolution. Despite your offerings,” he wipes his mouth with a stroke of his palm, “this godhead remains rigid.”

You whimper. He grins with a mouthful of teeth.

Ezra pulls back onto his knees and shuts your thighs, his hand palming your ass as he indicates that you should turn. Your entire lower half still feels like jelly – no one has ever made you come that hard with just their mouth before – but you obey. You stagger onto your hands and knees in front of him.

His wide palm appears beneath your chin.

“Spit.”

You do.

That spit-wet hand cups your still wet cunt, middle finger rubbing briefly against your clit, before it disappears. You feel him move closer, hear his slick hand pump himself a few times with a grunt. Hot lips drag up your spine, interspersed with the nip of teeth, and when he lays across your back, his hands overtaking yours and threading your fingers together, his bare chest presses up against the skin of your back and you shudder.

He noses your temple, his throbbing cock coated between your folds. He bites at your jaw and follows your line of sight through the open tent flap.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it? All that moisture, dripping and running over smooth rock and fern. All that heat coagulating in spaces it shouldn’t fit. All that . . . open field, for anyone to just wander into. Take a look around and smell the air. Could they smell you like I can, Neptune? The way you leak for this cock?”

As he hums filth in your ear, his hand settles again at the base of your throat, thick fingers squeezing just enough to threaten, before sliding down to your swinging breasts, rough palms catching your swollen nipples, then arching down your stomach and between your legs.

He plays slowly with your clit; barely enough stimulation and he knows it.

“Ask for forgiveness.” He croons in your ear. The breeze returns for a moment, and between the heat of him mounting you like a feral animal and the hesitant touch of outside air against your sweaty chest, you shudder with a groan.

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I’m so–,” his middle finger increases its pressure slightly and the words shatter in your mouth, “sor-ry.”

“And for what?”

He continues to rub between your folds and the minute hitch in his breath is more intoxicating than anything he’s done so far. This is affecting him just as much as it does you. He kisses your jaw then tugs on the skin with his teeth.

“For letting a-anyone but you t-touch me.”

Ezra presses his damp forehead into your shoulder, panting, your correct answers soaking the neurons in his brain. Your reward is the faster stroke of his finger.

“And why was that a reprehensible thing to do?” His hips rut into yours, the scrape and rub of his cock between your slick lips and thighs almost enough to set you off.

“Because it’s yours – I’m yours – f-fuck, Ezra, I’m yours, I only wanna be yours,” you sob.

He’s suddenly gone from above you and the loud crack of his hand against your ass cheek deafens you for a minute, the sting skittering up your back and down your thigh.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your elbows shudder, the weight of his tone, his hand nearly forcing you onto your chest with your ass still in the air. You wanna be so good for him.

He’s breathing hard and his skin is warm and damp where you feel his thigh press against the back of yours. There’s a measure of restraint he’s showing and it makes your heart pound in anticipation. You swing your hips back at him, as if you could catch yourself on his cock.

“I wanna show you I’m yours,” you cry, nails curling into the pallet. “Please, Ezra, please!”

His broad hand settling on your spine draws a hiccup out of you, a sob.

“Breathe . . . Good girls get what they need.”

On an exhale, his blunt tip spreads you apart and he shuffles closer as he thickens inside you. His loud, unabashed moan overwhelms yours, when you think you might just be devoured by him. His hand, the one at your hip, squeezes you, silent reassurance. You can feel the knuckles on his other hand against your slick lips as he feeds himself into you.

“Neptune, talk to me. How,” your cunt tightens around his girth at the sound of his voice coaching you along and he grunts, as if suddenly dizzy, “h-how do you feel?”

“Amazing, Ez. Please keep going don’t stop I can take it–,”

He obliges; something’s reconnected the wires in his brain enough to tell him to move. He huffs before sinking deeper and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out and waits again, letting you both catch your breath.

“Spent a hundred moons thinking about this.” The puff of breath against your shoulder is the only warning you have before he presses his mouth to your skin. His hand free of your clutch, his thumb softly rubs the muscle of your neck. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, wherever he finds bare flesh. “Would wake up in the night, with you a few feet from me, looking like divinity made sin, made real, but I wasn’t worthy to touch you. You got me all tongue-tied, Neptune, all mucked up in the head. A silly boy,” he purrs.

You glance over your shoulder, unsure which Ezra is going to meet your eyes, but wanting all of them. The man you feel most safe with in this world and the next greets you and you reach back and squeeze his hand. He chuckles softly, and with it, comes a gentle roll of his hips. You gasp, airily, your gaze slipping from his face to his chest, to the steady breathing in his stomach, and then to the growth of hair that fades as it reaches up his low belly. How many times did you sit across the room from him with your fists in tight balls, watching as he regaled exploits of riches and wonder, all the while thinking about how thick his cock is outlined in his suit – you’re so blinded by breathy dreams of what the musky scent of his cock must taste like that you miss that he’s pulled out farther, halfway now, and you are completely knocked senseless when he thrusts back in, a beat faster.

“Later, Neptune. I’ll let you suck my cock later, but right now I’ve gotta ride this pussy to oblivion.”

Your thighs quake at his promise, cunt squeezing him, and he huffs, picking up speed.

“I felt that. You really like sucking cock that much?”

All you can answer him with is a whine. Your knees are starting to ache from the barest cushion the tarp provides, the palms of your hands sore, but you can’t find it in you to remotely care. With every stroke, he fills you up to a breaking point before riding you back out. Moaning gratefully, you finally drop onto your elbows, your cheek scraping against the pallet with every forceful thrust behind you. He tilts your hips up higher, on one knee to fuck down into you; he’s searching with his cock for that spot that made your brain numb.

Like a flood, you feel bliss roll down your spine, his hands on your lower back pulling you up another peak, and you gasp, at the edge of a very, very long drop, the sounds in the tent as sticky and wet as the rain outside.

But Ezra’s sounds are loudest of them all. Grunting. Hissing. Moaning like he’s fucking the best pussy of his life. You open one eye, glancing over your shoulder and the sight drops open your mouth. Hips pumping forward, skin dewy with sweat, he breathes like a freshly broken-in stallion, relieved that something finally bested him. Chest full and tight with muscle, flushed pink with roaring blood. Stomach torqued with tension. His rhythm is caught between his hands pulling you onto him and his cock thrusting into you. A frantic beat that bounces wet and hot, mouth agape and eyes rolling shut, his head drops back between his shoulders. You push back slightly and he stutters, the hand on your hip tightening.

“Not gonna last, Neptune–” he grits, his jaw locked tight. The image of him actively staving off an orgasm for you to finish first has been imprinted on your brain for the rest of your life.

“J-just a little harder, Ez.”

He obeys, submitting as you had for him, sweat curling around his neck and down his chest.

As release barrels down on you, those mahogany eyes catch and hold yours in a second that lasts through infinity. They promise you things that you didn’t know you asked for, those eyes, made vows only your soul could hear. You see, in that instant before you are swallowed whole, that he’d die at your feet, if you asked him to. He’d give up every worldly treasure he won through grit and his teeth if you needed it or wanted it. If it made you happy.

His Neptune – in the crushing grip of your gravity. Willingly caught in the trail of your comet as you fill up his night sky.

“Yeah, that’s it, right there – Ez-ra!”

His face blown out in near ecclesial bliss is the last thing you see before your vision goes white. Your heart pounds in your ears so loudly, it's the only thing that exists for an instant. And then you shatter with a perfectly soft cry, bliss breaking across you like a heavy wave, and you succumb to exhaustion.

Behind you, he groans, fucking you faster through it, snarling something entirely incomprehensible.

You think you might say his name, you don’t know what your mouth is doing, but whatever you say, it breaks him and you are dragged through another low shock, the flood of cum deep into your achy cunt enough to contract your walls again, his harsh groan stuffing your ears just as full.

The rain is barely louder than your desperate attempts to breathe.

The tarp crackles as you slump forward onto your stomach, Ezra dropping to his side with half his body over yours. Panting raggedly, his hand curls up to the base of your neck, a reassurance of his presence and commitment when words have failed him.

You lay like that for a long time.

And then, when feeling starts to return to your limbs, you turn your head, your nose rubbing against his. When you breathe hotly across his face, he grins a satisfied grin that splits into a chuckle. You laugh with him too, curling up into his chest, his forearm is sticky across your spine, and he kisses your forehead.

Staring up at the tarp, together you listen to the rain.

In the long drawn out, buzzy silence, his nails scratch the base of your skull. And then, like he remembered something vital, he picks his head up and looks at you.

“Do you want this to change things for us?”

“Yes.” You cup the muscles of his thick neck. “Yes, Ezra. I want this to change everything between us. Please.”

He smiles, unguarded and open.

“Wild horses never stood a chance . . . especially against these tits.” He nips at the swell of your breast and you laugh. “I had no plans of letting you go in any case . . . but we are bound from this day forward. You know that, don’t you?”

You nod. A stroke of heat passes over his eyes and Ezra leans forward to kiss you, his hand on your cheek pulling you in close, as close as you can be, two sticky bodies, cum-dried and tingling.

“And if we’re going to spend every year of our lives together, I have a question for you.” he pushes away a stray strand of hair stuck to your face, nose tip to nose tip, “did you have a good birthday, Neptune? Are you satisfied?”

With a giggle that has his eyebrow arching playfully, you kiss his cheek.

“I already told you. This was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

278 notes · View notes

xdaddysprincessxx · 5 months

Text

His Pretty Plaything

Uncle Ezra x F reader

Warnings: p in v, unclecest (again not blood related!), uhh this took a soft/sweet turn lol so emotions, some angst, pussy slapping, light edging, fingering, not beta’d, lightly edited, all mistakes are mine

Wc: 2629

As the summer was coming to an end, you found yourself tremendously confused with a dash of desperation. It’s been a couple of weeks since your encounter with Uncle Ezra. You think about him and that quite often. Most times your hands are down your pants in a frantic rush to recreate even an ounce of the pure unadulterated ecstasy he made you feel. But it was never enough. Your own hands failed you as you wished for him to come swooping in to take advantage of you again. You craved his cock, his filthy words, the way he claimed you as his. You got a taste and now you wanted more.

Fortunately for you, your dad was planning his end of summer party that he always throws. And you already know who will be in attendance. A little plan hatched in your brain; you were going to seduce Uncle Ezra and get him to fuck you again. You picked out an extra skimpy bikini to wear with a cute light blue sleeveless cover up dress. Excited for the party but more importantly you were excited to be filled by Uncle Ezra again.

The sun had already set as you stomped up the stairs to your room. Tears threatened to fall as you grind your teeth together in frustration and hurt. He ignored you. He never once looked your way no matter what you did. How could he defile you and then just drop you like hot garbage?!

You close the door behind you as you dive face first on your bed, hugging your pillow to your face as you let yourself cry. Feeling so ugly, so unwanted. You knew it was wrong what he did but you liked it. At first, yea you didn’t want him touching you. Didn’t want his advances but the pleasure he bought you was so indescribably incredible. And now. Now he acts as if you don’t even exist. As if you aren’t even there! Fucking bastard!

You cried yourself to sleep that night. Waking up still in your bikini and coverup from yesterday. You felt so disgusted with yourself. Peeling off what little you had on, you grabbed a towel and went to the bathroom for a much needed hot shower.

The hot water felt so good on your skin. The suds running down your body to the drain as you stood under the water, letting it completely cleanse you. Literally and figuratively. In your mind you imagined every inch touched by him being washed away, down the drain, never to come back and soil your skin again.

You put on an old baggy tshirt and some black cotton shorts before heading downstairs to grab some breakfast. As you round the corner going into the kitchen you look up and see your dad and him sitting at the table. Both men stop talking and look up at you as you enter.

“Good morning sweetie, Uncle Ezra and I were just talking. He’s gonna come stay with us for a few months. He’s gonna take the guest room next to yours while his house is under renovations.”

You huffed, “Oh great. Another man who probably leaves his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor and doesn’t clean up after himself. Joy.” You say dryly as you roll your eyes.

“Woah kiddo. That’s not very nice of you. Now I know damn well your daddy cleans up after himself as do I. No need to be a brat about this.”

“Whatever Ezra.” You say with venom in your voice as you grab a pop tart and walk back upstairs.

His eyes widen as his brows raise up in shock at your response.

“Eh don’t let her get to ya man. She’s just a little cranky in the mornings.”

A couple hours pass. . .

After seeing him in your kitchen and getting the lovely news that he’s gonna be staying with you for awhile really soured your whole day. You were laying in bed, scrolling Twitter when you came across a tweet that said ‘the best treatment for good girls’ with a video attached of a girl on her back getting face fucked by one guy and another fucking her pussy.

You bit your lip as you contemplated pressing play on the video.

‘Oh fuck it.’ You thought before hitting play.

The video itself was only nine seconds but it was more than enough to get you turned on. You exited out of Twitter and went to the internet browser hitting incognito mode and searched up your fave porn site.

Rolling on your back with your phone in one hand and the other softly squeezing a tit as you scrolled down the main page. You find a video of two women fucking each other. You decided to click on the video and start watching it.

Your can feel the tingles in your body as your pussy gets wetter. Pulling your shirt up, your tits fall out as you go to pinch your nipple.

You keep tugging and groping your tits before moving down to your cunt. You barely dip your finger in between your folds-

“What the hell is your problem girl?” Ezra demanded as he opened your door without knocking.

“Oh my god get out!” You shout as you jump up quickly removing your finger and trying to cover yourself.

It takes him a second to fully adjust to what he’s seeing before a smirk crosses his face. Reaching for the door behind him, he closes it before taking a couple steps closer to your bed. He places his hands on his hips as his smirk widens into a sinister smile.

“Ah now I get it. This why you were being a brat this morning kiddo? Huh? Poor little virgin got a taste of a real man and she needs more. Is that it baby? My pussy miss her daddy?”

“Oh fuck you Ezra! Me and my pussy do not miss you nor do we want you!”

That wiped the smile right off his face as he steps into your space, grabbing your face in his big hand, squishing your cheeks together.

“Don’t lie to me girl. You and I both know this cunt drools for me. You gone stop acting like a fucking brat or do I need to fuck it out of ya?”

As much as you want him to fuck you, the anger and betrayal from feeling unwanted at the party kept you from just saying yes. Your eyes start getting glassy as you swallow your spit ,

“Fuck. You.”

The sides of his mouth turn up into a smile as he lowers his face right in front of yours, “Oh kiddo. Acting like a brat is gonna get you punished. You don’t even have a clue what you’ve started.” He says in a low, gravelly voice. He turns his face slightly, nose touching your cheek as he slowly trails up to your temple.

An exaggerated moan comes from your phone and you both pause before looking down at the device.

You had completely forgot what you had been doing before you were interrupted.

“Now what’s this?”

Ezra is quicker than you to grab your phone and sees the video you were watching.

“This what you like kiddo? You get off watching pretty girls lick cunts?”

Shame and embarrassment heat up your face. You don’t know what to say,

“I - I It’s it-it’s not - wh- “ you stutter.

“Shh baby it’s okay.” He whispers as he leans forward, softly kissing your lips, “come here let Uncle Ezra help.”

He lets go of your face as he moves to sit behind you. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you in between his open legs, taking one of his legs and wrapping it over your leg and spreading you open.

“Hold the phone baby so we can watch together.”

You take the phone from him as he kisses the side of your neck. You can already feel his cock hard against your back.

“My hands don’t feel good Uncle Ezra. They don’t feel like yours.” You manage to get out in a whine.

“I know kiddo. I know.” His fingers interlock with yours as he pulls your hand up to his mouth. You watch as he puts two of your fingers in his mouth and sucks. Your mouth drops open as he stares deep into your eyes. Pulling your fingers from his mouth, he moves your hand towards your face as you take your freshly sucked fingers into your mouth, lips closing around the digits.

“There’s my good girl. I know you don’t wanna act like a brat. I know baby. Uncle Ezra’s gonna make his girl feel better.”

He pulls your fingers out of your mouth and places them on your covered mound. He uses his fingers to press yours into your clothed cunt and begin to rub circles right over where your clit is. You can’t help but throb from the friction it’s giving you.

“Watch the pretty girls baby. Watch them lick on each others pretty pussies.”

A soft moan is pulled from your throat as you follow his orders.

Ezra gets to work pulling your shorts down as you watch the porn playing on your phone. Throwing the shorts to the side, he pulls you back with him as he leans against your headboard. His legs wrap back around yours, holding you wide open. His fingers quickly making their way back to your pussy. Taking his time, dragging his thick digits from your entrance up to your little bundle of nerves and back again. You can’t help but buck your hips up, trying to get a little bit more. More touch, more friction, anything he’s willing to give.

The brush of his stubble on your neck, the feeling of his hot breath on your ear, he plunges two fingers in. You throw your head back in ecstasy as you finally get what you’ve been so desperate for. Ezra takes your ear lobe in between his teeth as he nibbles on it. Soft, sweet moans spilling from you as he massages your wet walls.

“Use those pretty fingers o’ yours baby. Rub on that sweet clit, make my pussy cum.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your free hand quickly gets to work rubbing circles furiously on your bundle of nerves as he begins to finger fuck you harder.

You find yourself quickly on the edge, ready to spill over any second.

“U-un- uncle Ez- ‘mgonna cum”

Ezra pulls his fingers out as his other hand grabs your hand, holding it against your chest.

Using his free hand he slaps your pussy in rapid succession.

“No!!! What are you doing!?” You shout as you come back down from your almost high.

“Nuh uh baby you wanna act like a little brat I’m gonna treat you like a brat and brats don’t get to cum.”

You could feel your face heat up with anger and shame. You acted like that because of him. He lead you to this, to act like this.

“You’re my pretty little plaything baby. Mine. I control when this pussy cums. You wanna act like a bitch, I’m gonna treat you like one. You got that?”

Tears threaten to spill over as you bite your lip. Frustrated from not being able to cum, mad and upset from feeling rejected by him. You want to scream so bad.

“I hate you.” You manage to whisper. Scared to speak, knowing your voice would be shaky.

“You. . Ignored me. I- I tried so hard to get you to notice me. At the party,” you gulp in a deep breath, “You ruined me and threw me away.”

Ezra’s face falls. Eyes wide as he takes in your sad face as you reveal your truth. Your words are a sucker punch to his gut.

“Oh kiddo. No. No baby I noticed you. I always do. You made it so hard for me, all I wanted to do was take you, right there in front of everyone.”

With that, Ezra softy leaves a sweet kiss to your forehead before slowly trailing down to your nose.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

His lips press a kiss to the top of your nose.

His lips just barely touching yours as you both look into each others eyes. It feels as though he is looking directly into your soul.

“You’re mine baby. Until I no longer walk this earth and even then, there will be no others ya hear me? Mine. And I’m yours honey. All yours. But we gotta keep this a secret. I know your smart kiddo, if someone found out about us your daddy would kill me. You don’t want that do you?”

You shake your head no ever so slightly. Tears now full on streaming down your face.

Ezra presses his lips on yours, seemingly taking your breath away with a soft, simple kiss.

He moves out from behind you, putting the forgotten phone down on your nightstand.

Pulling his own shorts down, his thick cock hitting his stomach. He lowers his body over yours as he takes both of your hands in one of his.

Lips finding yours again, your own tongue darting out to lick his lip, asking for permission to enter. He opened, allowing you inside. Eagerly you lick into his mouth as he tightens his lips around your tongue and sucks. A deep guttural moan pulled from the very depths of your body. Ezra takes his free hand to rub his cock through your folds before notching himself at your entrance and slowly pushing in.

The stretch making you moan more into his mouth as he continued to kiss you.

This was nothing like the first time he fucked you. Slow, deep strokes making you feel every inch of him. You grab onto the hand that’s holding your hands hostage, just trying to ground yourself. The immense pleasure making you feel as though your about to float away if you aren’t anchored to this earth. After each thrust in, Ezra grinds into you, bringing you back to your peak,

“Please don’t stop oh fuck pp- please!”

“Oh fuck I’m not baby I won’t stop. W- where do you want me kiddo? You want my cum in this tight little snatch honey? That what my little girl wants? Huh?” He starts thrusting into you faster.

Your eyes roll back as you moan like a bitch in heat.

“Yes! Yes Uncle Ezra oh fuck, please cum in me! Please!”

“There’s my good girl nngh oh oh fuck oh fuck”

Hearing his words and moans send you over the edge. Your cunt tightens around him as you cum making his thrusts stutter as he gets closer to his own finish.

The both of you stare deeply into each others eyes. Noses touching, chests heaving as you both come down from your high.

Ezra rolls off, laying down next you.

Holding his arm out to let you curl into his side.

He holds you close to him as he places a kiss on the top of your head,

“I really am sorry baby.”

Your so wore out, all you can do is wrap your arm around him and hold onto him as tight as you can as you squeeze your eyes shut.

No more words are exchanged, just the sound of your breathing as it starts to even out.

Drifting off to sleep you can’t help but wonder how you got here. The fact that this is your dads best friend. A guy you’ve always seen as an uncle. Who’s been a total creep since you’ve hit 18. Now here you are, craving him. Needing him. This isn’t gonna end well.

A/n: I just wanna apologize I know I suck at being consistent. It is what it is. Life’s been rough and I’ve been struggling with writing. But I hope you enjoy this, I love you! I love seeing everyone’s reactions! Please reblog, comment, send me asks, talk to me about my writing lol or about anything! I love to yap lol

#Ezra #uncle Ezra #uncle Ezra x you #pedro pascal #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe

96 notes · View notes

pedros-husband · 1 year

Text

you steal their clothes

pedro pascal characters x male/gn! reader

characters included: Javier Pena, Joel Miller, Javi Gutierrez, Marcus Moreno, Ezra, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, agent whiskey, Silva, Oberyn Martell, Dave York, dieter bravo, Tim Rockford, Dio Morrisey

Javier pena: he thinks you look extremely hot in any of his clothes especially if you wear any of his tight jeans, the way the fabric clings to your ass has him reeling. and if your alone in the office/at home, he'll have you bent over a desk or in the sheets in moments. he doesn't hide how hot he thinks you look in them either, it's a lot of flirty comments and lingering touches. if you aren't in private he might walk up behind you and start trailing kisses down your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist as he whispers what he wishes he could do to you.

Joel miller: he won’t admit it but he thinks you look so handsome/gorgeous in any of his clothes, especially his flannel shirts, so when he catches you wearing one of them his eyes will light up and a small smile will play on his lips-only for a second though. Then he will silently walk over to you and wrap you up in his arms, smiling into your neck. And if it’s your day off he will push you down on to the couch/bed and hold you close in his arms, your face pressed into his chest as he runs his hands over the curves and contours of your body. If you try and mention how clingy he’s being and how he likes you wearing his clothes- he’ll shut you up with kisses and cuddles until you forgot all about what you where saying. (Sometimes it goes a little further and he’ll rip the shirt off you in heated desire, the buttons popping off as you gasp and he just grumbles about how he doesn’t care)

Javi Gutierrez: he smiles so wide like a puppy and sweeps you up in his arms whispering every pet name under the sun, kissing your cheek and trailing them down your arms and to your hands, telling you how he loves the way you look in his clothes. He will immediately propose that the two of you cuddle and watch all his favourite nick cage movies- and who are you to say no to that cute face?

Marcus Moreno: he melts when he sees you cuddled up in one of his hoodies and as long as he’s finished all his work he’ll drop anything he’s doing to wrap you up in his arms mumbling. How he’s so lucky to have you and to be your husband. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you and not necessarily in a sexual way he just needs to be touching you in some way, even if it’s just the pinkies touching on the couch if your working otherwise his whole body will be draped over you in a big bear hug.

Ezra: let’s be real he only really has a couple of undershirts and pants for under his suit so if you wear any of his clothes they’re going to be quite tight fitting (just pretend they would be okay) and so he’ll drool over you and immediately decide that the orlac hunting can wake a couple more minutes whilst he indulges in his favorite treasure…

Din djarin: he doesn’t wear anything other than his Mando armour like Ezra so instead if your a mando like him and you take your top armour off and are left in just your undershirt and trousers, he’ll flip the razor crest into autopilot and drag you back into the bunk room to retrace some tension he’s feeling

Frankie morales: he thinks you look so hot in his clothes even if it’s just his baseball hat (maybe with nothing else at all) and will twirl you around, smiling like an idiot, before swooping you up and putting you down on the couch, wrapped up in his arms. He won’t let you leave his grasp until the image of you in whatever your wearing is permanently engraved into his brain.

Agent whiskey: he thinks it’s the sexiest thing in the world, seeing you all cozy on the couch or doing the dishes in his shirts and shorts, he’ll walk up behind you , wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your neck, inhaling the smell of your cologne/ soap and smile. Sometimes he’ll whisk you off to the bedroom as well

Silva: he loves when you wear his cowboy hat or his old bandana, to him it shows that your his and no one else’s, and anyone who sees you will know that your his as well.

Oberyn martell: he has quite a few of each of his robes as spares and such as he’s the prince so when he catches you wearing his yellow robe his jaw drops to the floor. No matter if he’s attending an important meeting or training, he’ll drop whatever he’s doing and whisk you back to your chambers.

Dave York: he’ll play it off like he’s pissed that you stole his clothes but will secretly steal looks when your not looking, his eyes wandering over your body as he bites his lip. He’ll make a few phone calls to call in late and re arrange some plans so he can have you for a little while longer…

Dieter bravo: this man can already barely keep his hand off you so the second he sees you in something that’s his, he’s tackling you to the nearest bed/couch, looking at you with excited and hungry eyes, mumbling about how much better his clothes look on you but he’d prefer none at all.

Tim Rockford: he catches you wearing his shoulder holster in the mirror at home , and stops in his tracks, taking a couple steps back to leer through the door and admire how it looks on you. He will stare for hours until you’ve walked up to him and tapped him in the shoulder, snapping him out of his daydream with a bright blush on his face as you chuckle to yourself.

Dio morrissey: if you wear any of his necklaces/ leather jackets he’ll go feral. He thinks it’s the hottest thing ever and will pin you to the bed, trailing kisses along your neck and chest whispering curses under his breath as he progressively gets more and more hot and bothered.

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A/n: sorry I haven’t posted any fics recently, I have had a flare up in my back and it’s thrown me off a bit, I’m working on a request that should be out soon hopefully and just a thank you to everyone as well :)

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aurorawritestoescape · 1 year

Text

The Beast Within

Pairing: Dark!Ezra x f!reader

Genre: smut

Tw (dead dove): 18+, mdni, noncon but reader wants him and is ok with it, somnophilia, oral (f and m receiving), squirting, cum eating, tiny bit of ass play, Ezra is rough, overstimulation, pet names.

Summary: trekking the Green with his new partner, Ezra is overtaken by his need to have you. While you sleep in the camping tent, the animal within Ezra pushes him to act on his desires. Little does he know, you’ve wanted him as well.

Word count: 2k

A/n: filthy smut and nothing else. just needed to let it out after watching Prospect for the first time. Hope you enjoy<3

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Ezra wanted you the minute he heard it—your heavy panting in his ear coming through his headset shot straight to his cock. You two were new partners and had been trekking the Green for two days at that point, searching for Aurelac gems. You needed to get to the camping tent before it got dark, so you had to move faster. The warmth of your suit and non-stop walking made you overheat, and you were breathing hard. So as soon as he heard those pretty noises of yours, he knew that he was fucked. From time to time, he adjusted himself as well as he could, which was difficult in the suit, but even that was making matters worse, as any touch to his cock made it ache with need.

You were very pretty—beautiful, in fact—but your breathing right into his ear was a nail in his coffin. A couple of times, still walking forward, Ezra shut his eyes for a moment to imagine you riding his cock. Your accompaniment made it so real in his mind. At one point, you stumbled over a tree root, and your sudden breathy “Fuck!” almost made him come in his pants. The familiar animal within him had woken up and wanted you, and Ezra knew pretty well that it couldn’t be stopped. He had to get his release.

Finally, you two got to the tent and took off your heavy suits, bulky helmets, and headsets. Ezra didn’t hear your breaths as intensely as before, yet the desire had already nestled deep in his abdomen, making his cock strain in the confines of his sweatpants. Ezra and you ate and climbed on the bunks opposite each other. Exhausted from the journey, you immediately fell asleep. Ezra wasn’t that lucky. The images of your naked form huffing and puffing under him were flooding his mind.

He was about to get off in secret next to his sleeping partner, but then you sighed quietly in your sleep and turned on your side, facing him. In the dark, the contour of your slightly opened lips sent electricity to his member, and in his torturous mind, he saw those lips around his throbbing cock. The beast in him took over in a flash and sprang into action. He wasn’t a good man.

Ezra was standing in front of your sleeping body with his weeping cock in hand, just inches from your face. The human in him, albeit overtaken by the predator, questioned his actions, asking, “What the fuck are you doing?” The animal didn’t answer. He nudged your mouth with his cock and traced it with the tip. In the almost-dark he could see the precum glistening on your lips, and his whole body shivered. Ezra carefully slid his cock between your teeth, opening you up more, and a slight pain added to his pleasure. Your tongue was soft and hot, and it felt like heaven. He dropped his head back and moaned silently. He was gentle not to wake you, and when you moved your arm a little, he froze, still holding the tip in your mouth. The gods sent him a gift then. Without waking up, you glided your tongue around his bulbous head like you were dreaming about the tastiest lollipop. But the gift quickly turned into a curse as his cock twitched and a little amount of precum spilled on your tongue. That jerk, plus a salty taste, sent a signal to your brain to awaken. He saw the whites of your eyes in the dark and pulled out hastily. But you could still see him standing there with his cock out in the open.

“What... what are you doing?” you asked quietly, and your innocent tone crushed him. There was no anger, no fear, just confusion in your raspy voice.

Ezra dropped to his knees, sweatpants around his ankles, and cock rock hard, and took your face between his big hands. There were tears in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, dear. Please forgive my horrid actions; I was overpowered by the desire in my obsidian soul. I’m weak for you. So weak.” He put his head on your chest, and you could feel wetness on your skin.

Feeling a surge of sympathy, you lifted his head and looked into his puppy eyes. You saw the need and desire there, and your body quickly mirrored them.

The days you spent together added attraction to your partnership; something raw and carnal was growing in your gut, making you blush and tremble at every sweet nickname he gave you. Throughout your trek, you saw him glancing at you with his dark eyes, and the tingling sensation in your cunt morphed into a constant ache. You weren’t sure if he would reciprocate, but after getting rid of your suits, you saw the tent in his sweatpants and got excited. However, the exhaustion took over, and you could think of nothing else but sleep.

After waking up and finding him consumed with desire for you, to the extent that he would take your unconscious body, the warmth in your abdomen swelled and bloomed. The taste of him on your tongue made your mouth salivate.

“Give it to me,” you asked quietly. He furrowed his brows and stared at you with disbelief. You had to repeat yourself. “Give it to me, your cock. Fuck my mouth. I want it.”

His jaw dropped in disbelief. Still flabbergasted by your reaction to his crudeness, he was quick to oblige. He stood up and took his sweatpants off, keeping his wide and lustful eyes on you. You laid on your back, grabbed his thighs, and pulled him to yourself. Ezra obeyed and got on your bunk, placing his knees at your sides and positioning himself above your head. You lifted yourself on your elbows, reaching the hard cock in his hand. Looking up at him, you licked the tip and gave it a peck. A low rumble escaped Ezra’s chest. Then you enveloped his head with your lips and began swallowing him, swirling your tongue around. He was big, so you shifted your weight on one elbow, spat on your hand, and grabbed the base of his cock. You began bobbing your head up and down, helping with your hand where you couldn’t reach it, and twisting it rhythmically. Ezra couldn’t take his eyes off you, breathing heavily and slightly moving his hips to meet your mouth.

“My little deity. Gifting a brute like myself the warmth of your generous mouth,” his praise made you moan around his cock as your cunt clenched around nothing. You were drooling, and wet slurping sounds filled a small tent. It was hot inside, and his musk was making your head spin with desire and soaking through your underwear. The sweat on his thighs and stomach reflected dimmer light.

His hand gently cupped the side of your moving head. Then his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, collecting your drool, and he raised it to his lips to suck on it. He shut his eyes and dropped his head back. His breathing hitched, and a groan left his open mouth. Sensing that he was near the edge, you gently cupped his balls with your hand.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit,” he murmured and choked on his words. Still working his shaft, you saw his muscles tense, his eyes shut, and warm ropes of cum began painting the insides of your mouth. His spend was salty and bitter, and you didn’t stop sucking, mixing it with your saliva, and glazing his twitching cock with your liquids. Some of it was flowing down your throat, and you swallowed it, contracting around his tip and drawing more moans out of him.

When Ezra stopped coming, he pulled out and saw you completely cock drunk—wet lips and chin, hazy eyes, and sweaty forehead. He quickly covered your body with his, and your back hit the bunk under you. His lips were on yours in a flash, his tongue breaching your lips and tasting his own seed in your whimpering mouth. Ezra’s realise didn’t calm the insatiable beast inside him as he continued groping, kneading, and rubbing your body and limbs. He was everywhere, as your hips shot up to meet his cock. He broke the kiss and looked into your eyes, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb.

“I’m tremendously grateful, my little deity. Let me repay my debt to you.” Something wild flashed in his eyes and scared you for a moment. Without waiting for your answer, Ezra sat up on his knees and peeled your sweatpants off, along with your underwear. Then he grabbed your thighs and yanked them up, placing them on his broad shoulders. You gasped, feeling cool air on your wet, naked cunt, fully exposed to his gaze. With your head on the pillow and your ass in the air, you looked up at him with widened eyes. Ezra scratched your soft inner thigh with his scruffy beard, leering at you with an animalistic grin. “Nice and tight,” he commented, and you blushed.

He didn’t make you wait for long. His mouth darted to your core, and he began kissing your folds with vigour drawing mewls out of you. With one arm holding you up, he moved the other hand to spread your cheeks with his fingers, flattened his tongue, and licked a wet stripe from your tight ring of muscle to the slick entrance reaching your hardened clit. He sucked it in hungrily and then began rubbing and almost abusing your cunt with his tongue. The animal in him was rough and careless, and your pleasure suddenly turned into painful overstimulation. You whined and tried to reach for his forearm, which held you in place. “Hurts... too much,” you managed to mumble, and he stopped for a second, but then he sucked in your clit between his teeth, nipped, and pulled it slightly. Tears glazed your eyes as you cried out in pain. It only made him chuckle. “Shhh… I shall kiss it better, sweetheart,” he cooed at you and returned his mouth back between your thighs.

His skillful tongue began devouring your cunt again, but he was much gentler that time, flicking and sucking your clit, rubbing your thighs with his calloused hands. He was eating you out like his life depended on it, slurping and swallowing your slick. You moaned and he echoed you with a low groan vibrating through your core. “I feel your cunt beating for me; you are so close, my deity. Let’s finish it off.” With those words, he shook his head, making your lips slap, and your pleasure skyrocketed; you were dripping on him, your cream covering his beard and mustache.

Soon you felt your walls contracting, and a wave of heat and ecstasy shot through your core. You cried out his name, gripping the covers and arching your back. Your legs were trembling, and your heart was beating fast. You gushed on his face, and he welcomed your juices, lapping up every last drop. Aftershocks were rippling through your body as Ezra was still holding you in place, resting his wet cheek on your inner thigh, taking in the sight of you unraveling because of him.

When you stilled, he gently lowered your ass back on the bunk and laid down next to you. You were completely spent, the exhaustion of the day coming back in full force as Ezra had squeezed the last drop of your energy. He covered you both with a sheet and draped his heavy arm over your body. He nuzzled your cheek and whispered with a triumphant smile on his face, “As I was searching for treasure, I seemed to be blindly walking alongside it all that time.” You chuckled at his elevated conclusion of the filthy sex the two of you just had. He wasn’t fazed by your reaction and continued cuddling you. “Sleep, sweetheart. I assure you, I won’t bother you again tonight.” You closed your eyes and drifted off, held by your partner, who was finally satiated.

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Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!🩵

Tags: @unfedmind @brywolf13145 @littlegreendove @pedroswife69 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @musesofthenight

#ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #ezra x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #prospect movie #prospect 2018 #ezra prospect smut #tw noncon

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insomniamamma · 6 months

Text

Threefold: Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One half-stand later…

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

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

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

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

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Note

4 is perfect for horse dad joel!!! you could do a blurb of one of their morning phone conversations 🥰

Somethin’ Stupid

horse dad! joel x f! horseback riding instructor reader

A/N: thank you for sending in this request my love 🫶🏻 #4 things you said over the phone. 𓃗

~word count: 565~

Summary: one of horse dad! Joel’s and reader’s many cute ass morning phone calls ♡

Warnings: none, just a whole lotta tooth aching fluff and flirting of course ;) +18 only because my entire blog is not suitable for minors so dni!

“I’m sorry, who the hell actually enjoys putting ketchup on their eggs? I feel like that’s a fucking crime. Ketchup on eggs? That’s blasphemy right there!” You said with a light heartfelt laugh.

“Well, ouch. That hurts my feelings darlin.’ I am one of those people who likes ketchup on their eggs. You’ve gone and broken my heart into a bunch of lil’ pieces!” Joel deeply chuckled through the receiver.

“Gasp. So you actually are not flawless after all? Gotta say, Joel. I think this is gonna make or break it for me.” You let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Oh c’mon now sugar. Don’t go and sayin’ that! Bein’ all dramatic on me. You’re lucky I think you’re cute.” He grumbled.

“I knew this day would come. Whatever will I do? Oh, Joel! You have wounded me so!” Your tone was playfully dramatic and you could picture his little eye roll already.

Joel was in fact rolling his eyes as he took a large sip of his coffee. “Alright, Shakespeare. You’ve had your fun sweetheart. Now tell me I’m handsome.” He was grinning over the rim of his mug.

“Handsome? Now who the hell told you that you were handsome Hm? I don’t remember ever letting those words leave my mouth.”

“Believe you did last night. Or maybe it was some other pretty girl at the bar? Hmm.” He teased.

“Okay, okay. You’re handsome. Very handsome. Ezra’s got you beat though I’m afraid. He’ll always been the #1 man in my life cowboy.”

“Oh geez, now you got me out here competin’ with a damn horse? He’s gorgeous, I’ll give him that.”

“I’m just messing with you Joel! C’mon now. You’re a real cutie. There’s no competition, trust me babe.”

“A real cutie, huh? That’s sweet of ya t’say darlin.’ Now, where were we? Oh, right! What’re you wearin’ sweet cheeks?” He could picture your face, the little glare you would give him before swatting at his shoulder playfully.

“J O E L.”

“That would be me.”

You let out a light sigh, an apparent grin on your face from your Texas tall glass of water being his cheeky self. You pulled the phone away from your ear just so you could talk to your boys, who were all happily eating their morning grain. “Can you believe this guy? He’s such a flirt. Absolutely ridiculous.” You brought the phone back to your ear.

“Riding pants and a Star Wars Tee.” You finally told him.

Joel let out a low wolf whistle through the receiver as he leaned against the countertop in his kitchen. “Goddamn, that’s hot.”

“You sound like a horny teenager right now cowboy.” You giggled.

“You take that back right now.”

“Nah, I’m good.” You grinned.

“What’re your plans later?” He asked.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Oh? Well it’s me. I’m asking.”

“Well, in that case, I’m definitely free.” You didn’t even hesitate to respond.

“‘Atta girl. That’s what I like to hear.” He grinned.

“Uh huh. You’re lucky I think you’re cute. Pick me up at 7?”

“I’ll be there at 6:30.”

“More time for us to makeout.” You felt like a little school girl with a crush.

“Exactly what I was thinkin’ sweetheart. I’ll try and not say somethin’ stupid when I see ya. Although, you make it difficult cus’ my brain goes all fuzzy when I’m near ya.”

“You could never say something stupid Joel.”

“You’d be surprised. I say a lot of stupid shit darlin.’”

“Stupid cute shit you mean.” You corrected him.

“There you go again bein’ a real peach.”

“It’s my specialty.”

“Yeah? Think your other speciality is kissin’ me silly.” He chuckled.

“You’re so cute. Please stop it before the horses start making fun of me.”

“Never. See ya tonight, toots.”

“Catch ya on the flip side, cowboy.”

Tagging people I think would enjoy: @peterhollandkait @chaotic-mystery @korynnekorynne @lovers-liability @dinsdjrn @last-girl @wonder-harley @loquaciousferret @yazsos @death-wife

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #blue jeans n’ texas dreams fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller drabble #horse dad joel #joel miller blurb

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sp00kymulderr · 1 year

Text

embers

Pairing: Ezra x afab reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: 18+, pwp, fingering (f receiving), ezra being ezra, a lot of sweat, reader is nicknamed stardust but no gendered language as far as I am aware, this was originally written with a plus size reader in mind and there is one description of body type (soft stomach) but nothing major beyond that

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: It's too hot to sleep. Ezra helps you with your frustration, but only makes things hotter.

A/N: comments and reblogs forever appreciated! To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates or see taglist details on my masterlist. Credit to gif maker.

It’s hot. Too hot. The kind of sticky hot that fills the air and makes it hard to breath, no cool breeze of comfort as it melts the brain until you can’t think straight.

It sticks to your body. The heat causing discomforting damp across you, in the places where flesh meets flesh. You groan and turn from your side to your back, looking up at the mildewy roof of the tent you’re trying to sleep in.

“Shouldn’t have taken this stupid fuckin’ job” you mutter to yourself quietly, aware of Ezra somehow sleeping beside you.

Ezra; you’re partner in prospecting and crime and a variety of other unsavoury activities. Right now you’re too aware of him and his warm body. He’s always too close but you’d never usually complain. Except for right now when you want nothing more than to kick him out of the tent completely so you can spread your limbs wide and try not to feel so damn sticky.

You move again with a huff, turning your pancake-thin pillow over to the cooler side. It barely helps. You can feel the sweat gather between your breasts and your thighs and on your back. The only thing you can think to thank Kevva for is that you’d at least come to a planet with a breathable atmosphere, because if you’d had to wear your suit all day too you’d have lost your mind days ago.

“Something the matter, stardust?” Ezra asks, voice thick with sleep. Guilt pangs when you realise you woke him with all your movement, but he just gazes at you sleepily with a half-amused smile as his eyes flutter closed then open again adjusting to the low flickering glow of the lamplight.

“Just hot” you sigh turning on your side again to face him, body thrumming with restlessness and a jolt of other when his deep brown eyes flicker down to the loose, thin top that’s pulled up enough to reveal the curve of your body from waist to hip, your soft stomach, and the small shorts riding up the tops of your thighs.

He suddenly seems much more awake.

“Well I certainly won’t disagree with you on that” he practically purrs and chuckles when you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, Ez” you retort slightly more stern than you had intended to sound and he raises an eyebrow at your annoyed tone.

“Sorry” you murmur after.

He smirks at you but doesn’t respond, his eyes darting back down your body then to your lips with very clear intent. You look back at him. He’s shirtless with a pair of shorts slung low on his hips and you always love to see that despite the hard life of drifting he is still soft and comfortable, getting by with just enough food to never be gaunt. The scars from decades of dangerous living are visible on his golden skin which is sheened with sweat. The starlight blonde patch of hair sticks to his forehead.

Perhaps he is another thing to thank the goddess for.

Like magnets drawn together you both shift a little closer, even the heat of his body not able to deter you as your eyes meet again.

He reaches out a hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb making contact with your cheek with a sweet caress. With a barely audible sigh he leans closer and offers his lips to you. You’ve never denied him a kiss, you aren’t going to start now but you do hesitate.

“I’m gross” you mutter against his lips when his hand pushes up the flimsy top and skims the underside of your breast, knowing the moisture of sweat clings there.

“You’re radiant” he responds.

You roll your eyes again.

“It’s sweat”

“Stardust, what exactly makes you conclude I would ever care about that?” He whispers, voice low. “It’s you. That’s all that matters”

He leans in to you more then, his hand gently grasping a breast, thumb swiping over your sensitive nipple as your body reacts to him all on its own. His words make you warmer but this time you don’t curse the heat. Your conscious of how prevalent your perspiration is but the way in which Ezra simply doesn’t care gives you cause to give in too.

“Relax now, I’ll make you forget all about the torridity” He says.

He’s intent to make you stop thinking as he leans towards you and kisses you harder. His tongue welcomely intrudes your mouth and his hand pursues new territory as he drags it down your curves and around to the front of your shorts.

“Ezra..” you whine, bewildered by how you can be so desperate to have him closer now when just moments ago your wanted him far away. His palm presses against you at the apex of your legs and then you feel his fingers slip up the leg of your loose shorts. He huffs out a happy grunt as he finds you slick there from more than the heat.

"You..." He kisses you again, even less restrained than before "...are wanting of this more than you let on, stardust" He groans as his fingers slip up the seam of your cunt, finding their way to your sensitive bundle of nerves as he makes you gasp for it.

Your body is heating up to impossible lengths and you imagine what a state you must look like; dewy skinned and exasperated from lack of sleep and a new desperation for him. Your hair is stuck to your skin, the damp beneath your breasts and between your thighs increases. It's maddening but Ezra is looking at you like you are some unearthly delight that he has happened upon in his own garden of eden. He could never make you feel anything less than desired even when you feel anything less than desirable. It's a talent of his, really.

That quick tongue of his is occupied now with other things, the delicious drag of it from your lips, down your jaw and then your neck. He groans against your skin, his fingers working their way from clit to your entrance so he can gather your slick on them. He pushes one in, and you already feel like you could forget more than just the heat, you could forget where you are entirely if he keeps going.

You whimper and he smiles so delightedly.

He’s soon moving his head to a place further down, sucking in a nipple over the fabric of your shirt. He takes you completely off guard as he pushes in another finger, toying with you when he knows exactly what to do to make you forget your own name.

"I'm all...all...You don't have to...it's not…" you stutter not even a full sentence.

"Take off your shirt" Is all he responds with. No preamble, no flowery wording. A simple instruction.

"I…" You hesitate because you really are so sticky hot and some prevalent part of your brain is still stuck on that undesirability you feel.

"Do it"

You do. The little top comes off in a moment, giving Ezra access to your breasts with that wicked tongue of his. He swipes your pebbled nipples, once on each, with it and then sucks one in to his mouth, using his teeth to ever so gently pull.

Meanwhile those talented fingers do their own work. In...deep, deep, crooking at the place that makes your stomach clench in pleasure. Back out, just a little, playing with you because he knows how much he can make your mind blank if he just makes it a little more difficult for you.

"Teasing me..." You whisper, your own hands playing in his damp hair, grabbing slightly. He knows you know what he's doing to you.

"Making you forget. Making your think about nothing else. Let me" He smirks. He is a devilish man, you decide, and you are glad he is the devil of your own heart and no one elses.

"Mmmh, I- Yeah. You can do that..." You sigh. Finally feeling his thumb barely touch your clit as his fingers work inside of you to bring on something that will make you cry out his name for all the planet to hear.

"Would you like more?"

"Don't you...dare stop"

He laughs, that delightful laugh of his that you fell in love with.

The heat and his hand make you feel kind of like you're in a dream, dizzy with all of the things you feel inside and out. You love him like this, love him to be so intense, so incredibly devious in making you feel exactly the thing he wants you to feel.

"Come kiss me" You whimper and he grins like the cat that got the cream, knowing he has you.

Ezra does exactly as you want kissing your lips once, twice before pulling away. You can taste the sweat on his skin and it only drives you more in to want. You're starting to understand his way of thinking; why should you care about anything but the two of you and what your bodies can do? Perpiration or no, he feels good and makes you feel good.

His fingers work magically in you until your getting breathy and close to the inevitable edge. He's hard against your hip but when you reach to help him with that he pushes your hand away.

"Not now"

"Feels- oh, feels so right" is about all you can give him as he slips another finger in and stretches you so deliciously. You want it again and again and again and he gives it to you as his fingers hook and rub deep inside, and you start to cry desperately for him to never, ever stop “Ez...”

“Shh, stardust. Let it take you, let me help you” He groans feeling your wetness gush around his fingers. His thumb rubs your clit in faster little circles and you arch.

You come in a frenzy of blooming heat, a pleasure that makes you push against him as if begging for even more. Your skin is glistening now not just from the torridity of this unforgiving climate but from the pure fire in your body. How can he make you feel like this every time? It is so unreasonable that he has this power, but it is so right.

Ezra licks a swipe between the valley of your breasts, and then up to your neck where he kisses you gently as you slowly catch your breath. Your eyes are heavy, sleep already taking you in to its arms as you lay your head down and pull him up for a slow, lazy kiss that keeps the fire flickering just a moment longer.

“Mm. Ez” is about all you manage for that moment, fingers playing again in the damp hair at the nape of his neck until your eyes are closing.

“Sleep, my lucent love. You’re welcome” Ezra chuckles letting you fall back as he lays on his side watching you.

You’re asleep in moments, sticky hot but satisfied enough to not be able to think about it any more.

You’ll certainly thank him in the morning.

#ezra prospect x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #pedro pascal character fiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedrostories #gideon writes again maybe #yup 2 in one night i did a ton of editing today

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