#prospect fanfic

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋.

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

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

pairing: priest!ezra x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, dark content

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

word count: 3.4k

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

Comfort is what leads you to your local church.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This might sound dumb—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You visit his office almost every night. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get on your knees.” 

You snort, “Excuse me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you repeat your sins?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Father.” 

[fake-bleach]

fallen star | darkish!ezra x reader

summary: You're lost, alone, and looking for your family in the middle of a planet you know absolutely nothing about. That's until you encounter a man who offers to help you, giving you more than you bargained for.

word count: 9k (crazy i know oops)

warnings: (18+ only!) fem!afab!reader (no use of y/n), bit of a slow burn but not rly, dub-con smut (ezra convinces reader to give in), kinda manipulative/creepy ezra, unprotected sex, virgin!reader & is innocent as hell so.. innocence kink?, age gap (but reader is of legal age & an adult ofc), piv (pls use protection), fingering, foreplay, nipple play, crying from pleasure, slight spit kink, size kink, breeding kink, praise, degrading, dirty talk, all that good, filthy shit - lmk if i missed anything!

author's note: hi all! this is the first official writing i've ever done so please feel free to give me any suggestions, notes, etc! i've been so inspired by the incredible writers on this app, such as @mypoisonedvine & @toxicanonymity's fics & wanted to give it a try for myself! i'd appreciate it so much if you could let me know if you'd like more from me as well! hope you all enjoy <3

ao3 link | masterlist

The heat and humidity sticks to your skin while you run, desperation seething through your teeth as you take a deep breath. You inhale sharply as you finally take a break to sit on the ground. The bright, green scenery around you consumes you as you look around frantically, having seen the same trees and leaves over and over again. You're practically running in circles at this point.

You're stuck, and quite frankly, losing hope.

You've lost your family amidst this strange, new planet, as your father convinced you and the rest of your family that there would be hope to discover new materials and minerals that you'd be able to sell. You all would be rich and finally 'comfortable', not having to live off of the things you'd be feeding off on day by day, as your father said..

What a load of shit.

You're unsure of where exactly your family had gone, as you woke up two mornings ago to an empty tent; the "home" that provided you no privacy for the past few weeks, whatsoever. Since then, you've been on the search for them. They're all you've ever known, and despite the immense pressure and burden you've had on your shoulders for being the eldest sibling, you needed them.

You've never been out in the real world on your own. At least, not without your father to help guide you and provide reassurance in what you were taught to do.. what you had to do. You were completely dumbfounded and unsure of what you'd do next in this planet you hardly knew of, and to your knowledge, barely had any population.

The solitude you've experienced the past 48 hours has been torturous to say the least, and the scraps of food you were luckily able to find were running low already. You were getting tired already. How could you survive if you could barely last a day?

As you catch your breath, you begin to stand back up, prepared to continue on your journey and in hopes of finding more food and water. To your advantage and luck, this planet was breathable, giving you one less problem to worry about. As you lift yourself up back on your feet, you hear the crunch of a branch around you.

You quickly turn your head towards the sound as your breath hitches, your heart racing a bit faster. Your mind wanders to the worst case scenario, unsure of what might be out there. You weren't even sure if there were any creatures or other dangerous species out here.

The one thing you did know was that there were dangerous people out there. There was that constant reminder in the back of your mind, engrained from the repeated lectures that your dad gave you as you grew up.

"Sure, there are monsters out there, honey.. but it's the humans that'll get ya for good. They're the real monsters."

With his words roaming around in your head, you slowly take a step back as you continue to frantically look around, seeing nothing but the same leaves, trees, and branches filled in your eyes. You lick your lips nervously, clearing your throat to prepare yourself to sound tougher than you look.

"Who's there?" You yell out harshly, showing that you're no one to mess with. But to the unknown force watching you, it's not convincing one bit.

Silence fills your ears as nothing responds to you. No voice, no steps.. not a single sound. You take a long pause before you start to open your mouth again, until you see something out the corner of your eye move closer, yet subtly towards you.

Quickly whipping your head around to look towards that direction, you gasp faintly as you see a man approach you slowly. His hands are up, almost in a surrender. "Hey, hey, now.. no need to be afraid.." he says softly to you. The accent that his voice lets out consumes your ears as you take a step back, your eyes looking over him, taking in his presence. He's the first person you've seen in the past 48 hours and you're shocked, and more notably, afraid.

"Step back.. Stay away." You let out sternly, grabbing your small switchblade from your pocket to aim it towards him, trying to prevent him from getting any closer.

He was a tall man with messy, black hair, and a patch of white leaking towards the front. He seemed exhausted, looking at you with hazy eyes and on the brink of passing out. "P-Please, girl.. just need some help, I swear," He says as he licks his dry lips, breathing in harshly, "Been out on my own for a couple of days now.. and I'd assume.. you've been on your own, too."

You scoff as you shake your head quickly, denying the fact of the matter, "N-No, sir, you'd be wrong. I'm just getting back to my family, that's all. I can't.. I can't help you." You tell him as you glance around, a small brink of hope in your chest telling you that your family would be right there. But, you knew deep down, that would never be the case.

You look back at the man in front of you as his hand reaches towards yours, gesturing you to put the switchblade down, "Come on now, no need to do that. We can stick together, huh? I can help you get back to your family, you can help me get some food and supplies.. How's that sound? Keep each other some company, yeah? Then I'll be out of your way.." He tells you with a soft chuckle, a small grin forming on his lips in hopes of you to agree.

You back up a bit more before feeling your back hit a tree, making you sigh harshly as you lick your lips, thinking of what you should do. Your mind races as you think of all the possibilities that can come out of this. If this man was genuine and just needed some company and a bit of help.. he might be able to help you get back to your family.

As long as you kept your distance from him, you'd be okay.. and you would be able to finally find them. You wouldn't have to worry about being on your own anymore.

You look at him with stern eyes as you begin to reply, the grip of your hand on the switchblade tightening, "I don't even know you. You're a stranger. What makes you think I could trust you?" Your voice is a bit shaky as you speak, unsure on what decision you should make.

"That's right, birdie.. I'm a stranger, I know, but I guarantee you that I'm only tryin' to help you. You help me out too, and we'd be doing each other a favor. Killing two birds with one stone, if you will.." He proposes to you, his voice a bit gentle and soft as he tries to persuade you into joining him, giving you a small smile. "You just.. gotta put a bit of faith in me, that's all. I'm sure a pretty girl like you's got a nice heart, hm? We can help each other."

He nods at you as he finishes, taking a step towards you with his hand reaching closer to your switchblade. You breathe out faintly as you nod back at him, slowly bringing your hand back down to the side of your body. You flip the switchblade back and insert it into your pocket, your eyes never leaving his.

You bite your lip nervously as your heart begins to relax a bit, relenting, "I.. Okay, let's say I say yes.. What's in it for me? What makes you reliable in helping me? You said you needed my help too.. what would I be doing for you?"

The shakiness in your voice is evident as he stares at you intently, his eyes focused on you. He chuckles softly, explaining himself to you, "Well, birdie, I know this entire planet like the back of my hand. At least this entire area, that's for sure. More importantly, I know where we can stay for the night. I can give you some food.. a nice, warm place to sleep in.." He lets on, his grin widening as he notices your eyes soften at his words.

He can tell that you're exhausted, the hunger in your stomach increasing as every second passes. He knows what you need.

"Seems to me like you want that, don't you, honey? I can give you that.." He continues as he smiles at you. He seems genuine, even if you can't sense the obscure tone in it. "Just asking for your company, that's all.. that's all I want from you."

You breathe out through your nose, taking in the words he was saying. You're conflicted as your mind races with your fathers' words flooding through your head. But, you know you won't make it out here alone, especially not through another night of wandering on your own without any food or water.

Desperation is getting the best of you.

You gulp and reluctantly nod your head at him, ultimately agreeing to his offer. "Alright, fine, but we're keeping to ourselves, okay? There's no need for us to.. get to know each other or anything like that. You're helping me get back to my family, I'm giving you the 'company' you want: That's it." You establish the ground rules, letting him know that you want nothing else from him.

The man slightly shakes his head at you, poking his tongue against his cheek for a second. He laughs softly and nods, saying, "Alright, birdie. You got yourself a deal. But the least you could do is tell me your name, right? Here, I'll go first.. I'm Ezra."

Putting a name to the face, your eyes soften a bit as you stare at him. Ezra. You acknowledge it and nod your head, taking a pause before telling him your own name.

His mouth forms a bright smile, presenting his nice teeth to you, repeating your name on his tongue. "Lovely to meet you, sweetheart. Now, let me lead the way. Shouldn't take too long." He tells you enthusiastically, looking over at you while he proceeds his way east.

The sun's down by the time you reach the destination that Ezra's led you to. By the time you get there, your mind is hazy, the exhaustion and hunger getting to you with each step you take. Your eyes widen as they lay on the site in front of you; a decent sized tent that seemed much more impressive than the "home" you had with your family for the past few weeks.

Ezra's voice fills your ears, breaking the silence around you outside as he approaches the front of the tent, looking over at you with a grin. "Here we are, honey. Home sweet home." He tells you, licking his lips as he makes his way into it, beckoning you to follow him.

And you do. You follow behind him eagerly, impatiently expecting everything he's promised you: food and a nice, warm place to sleep in. Once you enter the tent, he turns on a lamp that fills the space with light. You're immediately looking around, taking in and cherishing the fact that you're actually somewhere that's remotely cozy and comfortable, just how a home should be.

"Do you like it?" He asks you softly, making his way behind you as you look around with curious eyes. You nod your head, giving him a small smile despite your inability to trust him too much. "It's.. really nice. Thanks, Ezra." You tell him, licking your lips as you pull your eyes away from him to set your bag of things in one of the corners.

The tent has almost everything you'd need in a basic home and it's impressive, to say the least. A small table for you to sit and eat at, a tiny kitchen area, and a decent sized bed that fit perfectly in the corner of it.

You turn your head back towards him, his eyes already wandering over you in curiosity. You ask him eagerly, yet collected, "So.. I was promised food? Can I get that now.. please?" You're trying not to have an attitude, seemingly as this man was kind enough to take you in, but you're starving.

Ezra smiles at you and nods, waving his hand towards his direction to gesture you to come over to him. While he walks towards a decently sized bin, he speaks to you, saying, "Don't got too much here, but it should be more than enough for the both of us the next few days. We'll go out looking for more soon."

You nod and follow him, eagerly looking over his shoulder as he kneels down to open up the bin. It's filled with packs of little food that are meant to get you through a tough journey or for you to get by, but it's definitely not anything special. By all means, food is food and you were more than happy to get what you could.

"Thank you, Ezra, I appreciate it," You say to him kindly as he grabs two bags for you, looking up at you while he places them in your eager hands. He nods at you and gives you that kind smile again, making you grin back at him.

As he grabs his own bags, he closes the bin and stands back up, motioning you to sit with him at the table.

When the two of you sit, you immediately open up the bags and nearly devour your food, your stomach growling in the process of your meal.

You hear a small chuckle as you eat and you look back up at him, mouth full of food. "Slow down, sweetheart. It's not goin' anywhere, don't you worry," He tells you, all while he calmly takes bites of his food, clearly cherishing it more than you are. "The faster you eat, the less you'll enjoy it, you know? Better to eat slow so it fills you up real good." He finishes.

You sigh as you nod at him, agreeing and taking in his advice. You hadn't realized that maybe you should be cherishing what you're getting right now, rather than indulging yourself in it so quickly.

Looking down at your hands, you sigh, apologizing to him. "Sorry.. I've just been so hungry. Thank you.. again. I really am grateful." You finish with a small smile at him, continuing to slowly eat your food and taking in the flavors that were satisfying your palette.

The both of you ate in silence, simply enjoying each other's company. As much as you hated to admit it, you liked knowing that you had someone with you, regardless of who it was. And from the few hours you've spent with Ezra, he seemed like the right person to be with.

As the two of you finish eating, you're satisfied, and definitely a lot more happier than you were before. You were just ready to end the day and get a good night's rest, exhausted from the relentless journey you were on.

You yawn softly as you shut your eyes, bringing your hand to your mouth to cover it up. Ezra looks at you attentively, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips once you remove your hand. You didn't notice that, though.

He then chuckles at you and shakes his head, smiling widely, "Ready to go to sleep now, birdie? You can have the bed tonight." He tells you, the kindness in his voice seeping through.

You look at him with soft eyes, eyebrows furrowing, "No, no, it's okay, I can sleep on the floor. You're the one who got this place and took me here.. you deserve the bed." You tell him earnestly, unable to accept his offer. Sure, it's just a bed, but he deserved to sleep well tonight too.

Ezra just shakes his head at you and laughs faintly, "No, you take the bed. I take the floor. Don't you worry, we'll have time to make it work.." He lets out, chuckling.

You aren't too sure what he means by that.

You ignore it though, just giving him a small smile instead. He was just being kind, and you were grateful for it.

Nodding your head, you reluctantly give in and sigh out, "Okay, just tonight though, alright? I'll be out of your hair eventually, anyway." He just grins at you as he takes in your words, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Right.. it's just a couple of days." He murmurs out, glancing around the room, pursing his lips. He looks back to you and nods, getting up from his seat as he gives you a grin, "Alright, time for bed, darlin'. You need some privacy?" He asks.

Getting up from your seat as well, you nod your head, slowly moving towards your bag. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks Ezra. I'll let you know when I'm done." You tell him.

He acknowledges your request and walks out the tent, zipping it up securely. You take your spare clothes out of your bag, beginning to change into the comfortable pajamas; the only ones you had left.

You don't feel the eyes on you, staring at your every move.

Getting ready to go to sleep, Ezra's changed into some comfortable clothes as well. He sets up a small area for him to sleep in, right next to the bed that you'll be taking. As he does so, you sit on the bed, staring at his movements.

Still feeling a bit guilty about the bed, you tell him, "Are.. are you sure you're okay sleeping down there? What if you get cold.. or something?" You ask him, gradually starting to care for him more than you hoped or expected to.

He glances up at you, sitting up on his knees as he lets go of the sleeping bag, shaking his head. "Honey, stop asking. This isn't the first time I've slept on the floor, and besides.. it's much more comfortable than you'd think," He replies to you, grinning at your concerns for him, "Don't you worry about me, alright?"

You sigh and nod your head at him, giving into his request to let it go.

"Alright.. goodnight then, Ezra. Thank you, again." You let out tiredly, giving him a final smile. You moved yourself towards the edge of the bed that was facing the wall of the tent, preferring to sleep where you weren't so exposed to any open part of the bed.

"Goodnight, sweetheart." Ezra says, turning off the lamp in the tent before he gives you a final glance.

You turn to your side to shut your eyes, putting your hands underneath the side of your head as extra support from the pillow. You were comfortable, more comfortable than you've been in the past month.

You hear shuffling down on the floor, Ezra moving around in his sleeping bag as he tries to get comfortable enough to be able to doze off.

A couple of minutes go by as you attempt to fall asleep, failing everytime while your body shivers. You had a blanket over you, but it wasn't enough. There seemed to be a constant drift of wind from the outside coming inside the tent, making the heat in your body gradually fade away.

You sighed frustratingly as you softly whispered to Ezra, hoping he was still awake. "Ezra.. is the tent open?" You asked him, wondering if he forgot to close it all the way.

You hear his rough voice, whispering back to you, "No, honey, it's closed.. You cold?" He asks back, leaning up on his arm to look at you.

Turning your head and body towards him, you nod your head and sigh, "Yeah.. sorry, I can't sleep like this.." You let out, annoyed at yourself. You've already asked for so much from him and you were sure he just wanted to sleep already.

He grins at you and begins to get up slowly, saying, "Don't apologize, birdie.. It's hard to sleep when it's so cold," He breathes out, the silence in the room deafening you besides his course voice, "Why don't I come up there? Keep you warm for the night.. I promise it'll help you fall asleep."

You swallow as you think of it, unsure if you should let him be so close to you that way, so quick into your acquaintance. You were so cold though, as your fatigue ran through your body and all you wanted to do was sleep.

So, you agreed. What else was there to lose?

"Okay.. just for tonight." You murmur out, gesturing for him to come on the bed as he nods at you. You lay back down on your side, facing the wall of the tent as you move the blanket so he can have some too.

You feel him get on the bed, the weight and smell of him consuming you just from being right next to you. His hands move the blanket up to lay it on top of himself, sighing contently as he feels the warmth of the both of you surround his cold body in just a few seconds.

A couple of minutes later, as you're gradually starting to doze off, you feel arms wrap around your body, their strong hold pulling you by your waist. Ezra's chest presses into your back, his crotch just below your rear as you gasp softly, the intrusion of physical contact suddenly waking you up and energizing you.

You turn your head slightly to try to look at him, but before you open your mouth to say anything, he cuts you off. "Shh, honey.. just to make you feel a bit warmer. There's no harm in that. Physical contact creates warmth.. you know that, right?" He mumbles to you, just enough to be coherent as you furrow your eyebrows, conflicted by this.

You had just met the man and he was already holding you this close.

You sigh out and breathe softly, saying, "Okay.. I guess you're right," continuing to let him hold you. It starts to feel kind of nice, the warmth in your body increasing as you're both huddled so close together.

As you start to relax again, you press the side of your head to the pillow, allowing yourself to shut your eyes gently and let the sleep take over you.

Your peace is quickly taken away though, as you feel Ezra's hand on top of your hip begin to caress your stomach, slowly moving it lower to the hem of your pajama shirt as he slips his hand underneath it. His hand begins running across your stomach, feeling you.

Gasping softly, you turn your head to look at him again, asking sharply, "What are you doing, Ezra?"

He just hums and continues, his eyes shut. "Shh, sweetheart, c'mon.. Just gonna make you feel better, alright?" He whispers out, his other hand gripping your body tighter against him as the hand on your stomach lowers itself to your pajama pants, starting to slip it underneath the fabric.

You squirm against him as you groan out harshly, "S-Stop, Ezra, stop!" You protest against him, unsure of what to do. Your eyes move around the room frantically as his arms overpower you, holding you still against his chest.

Ezra's eyes open as you squirm against him, making him laugh out faintly at your struggle. His fingers start to roam across your panties, letting them run over your core. His head moves closer to your ear, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Be quiet, honey.. just let me do this, let me make you feel good. It'll keep you warm.."

His hand slips underneath your underwear, quickly cupping your pussy with his entire hand, making him groan out as you whimper, gasping out, "Ezra, please, stop!"

He ignores your pleas, moaning into your ear as his fingers run across your lips, feeling you grow wetter by the second. "Fuck, birdie.. You feel that? You're wet for me.. you're liking this, aren't you, darlin'? It'll feel good, just trust me.." He sighs into your ear, moving his lips to your neck to kiss it softly.

You continue to shake and squirm against him, trying to kick him off of you, but it's no use. He moves his leg over your own, entrapping you against him as you feel his crotch press into your hips and waist. The hard bulge in his soft pants makes you throb, forcing a moan out of you, both from a mixture of fear and unwanted excitement.

"Don't fight me, baby. Don't fight this. It'd be much better for you if you just gave in.. it'll feel so good, sweetheart, please, let me.." He pleas into your ear, pressing two of his fingers on your cunt to find your clit.

Rubbing small circles around your lips, he hears for your moan, indicating that he's found it. He smirks widely as he continues to rub small circles on your clit, feeling you grow wetter by the second as the pressure of his movements persist.

You whine out as your body grows a bit weak, feeling the pleasure build up in your body. Your heart races as you gulp, shutting your eyes tightly. You've never had anyone in your life do this to you before.

Ezra laughs faintly as he continues his motions, "That's it, sweetheart.." He draws out, "Give in, fuck, I know you want to. Anyone ever touch you like this, baby?" He inquires, moving the hand underneath the side of your body you were laying on. He grips your stomach, right below your breasts, and moves his body to lay on his back, taking you with him. Your back lays just against Ezra's side, his left arm wrapped tightly around you, moaning out as he has more control of you like this. He kicks the thin blanket off of the both of you, giving him a view of his hand down your pants and underwear, the moonlight shining through the tent.

You whine out, shaking your head quickly as you feel the warmth grow in your stomach the more he rubs those circles on your clit. "N-No, never, no one's ever touched me like this.." You moan, gasping and panting a bit heavily as you stare down at his fingers moving furiously against you. You can't help but grow wetter at the sight, knowing that it's him who's doing this to you.. but it feels so wrong.

"What I thought, baby.. Knew this pussy was pure." He chuckles, his teasing and almost mean demeanor running through your body, making you shiver and whimper slightly. You don’t know why you like it.

He stops his movements as he slips a finger through your folds, gathering how wet you became, making him sigh out in satisfaction. He pulls his finger out to look at it, showing it to you as well. "Look at that, honey, you're so wet for me now.. Didn't I tell you how good it'd feel, huh?" He lets out as you look at the glistening finger in front of you.

He moves it to suck it into his mouth, moaning around it. Popping it out from his lips, he laughs wryly, "Tastes good too, baby," making you blush furiously. It's so dirty and makes you feel so fucked up.

He takes no time to waste and moves towards your bottoms, quickly grabbing the hem of both your pants and underwear, "Let's get these off now, honey. Wouldn't want them in the way of our fun," and pulls them quickly off of you, making the cold air hit your core.

You gasp loudly as you clench your legs together, not wanting to have him see you there, much less continue.

He looks up at you with dark eyes and places his hands on the top of your knees, warning you, "Don't you get shy on me now, sweetheart. We've already gotten this far. I don't want to make it hurt for you.. I want to make you feel good, baby.." He tells you, his voice gradually becoming softer as he finishes. His hands proceed to grip at your knees, pushing them away from each other to spread your legs for him.

You reluctantly follow his requests, knowing that it would go a lot smoother if you complied. He groans faintly as his eyes latch onto the sight of your wet cunt in front of him, taking it in completely. "Fuck, honey.. what a pretty fuckin' pussy. Gorgeous.." He tells you, the dirty words filling your ears as you blush again at them. You've never had anyone talk to you like that, nor have you even heard anyone speak in that way til’ now.

Your eyes look around the tent, wanting to look at anything else but him and yourself, the shame starting to flow through you. You feel his fingers gently spread your lips apart, making you whimper softly at the feeling. It makes you look down at him and his hands, and you move your legs to try and clench them together again.

He tuts and shakes his head, gripping your knees harshly this time as he pushes your legs away from each other, spreading you for him completely. "You do what I want, baby, and this all goes smoothly, okay? You don't, and I promise you it'll hurt for you."

His eyes are stern as he looks into your own, seeing the angriest he's been so far towards you. You nod your head gently at him, gulping nervously and not wanting to make him any more upset.

The lips on his face slowly turn upwards, grinning at you brightly, "That's a good girl.. Just be a good girl for me," He encourages you, letting his fingers run around your glistening lips again as he moans out softly. "Gonna give you a finger, okay, darlin'? I'll go slow, if that's what you want.." He proposes to you, seemingly wanting to make this enjoyable for you as well.

You nod quickly and sigh sharply, pleading him, "Y-Yes, Ezra, slow please.. Please don't make it hurt."

His smile grows fonder, knowing that he's got you where he wants you now. "Don't worry, birdie, I'll make it good for you.. Just trust me."

The index finger that's right above your clit then moves into your lips, swiping it down between your folds as you moan. He then finds your entrance, pushing it in slowly and as gently as possible, making him groan out.

You gasp softly as your jaw falls open, looking down at his finger entering you. He sighs, "Fuck, so tight, sweetheart.." as his finger then pushes all the way inside of you, thick and long. You pant as you stare at his hand, clenching around his finger. He looks up at you and smirks, lips curling up into another grin, "S'good for me, honey.. Have you ever even touched yourself?" Ezra prompts you, realizing how shocking this was for you.

You move your head to look up at him and shake your head, gasping out, "Just.. just touched myself a couple of times, but never.. put one inside," and you lick your lips, your throat becoming dry, making you gulp.

He chuckles and slips his finger out, thrusting it back into you to see you gasp again, making him laugh. "Fuck, that's hot, baby.. Pretty pussy taking my finger so well. So tight.. Think you can take more?" He asks you, his finger gradually moving faster as you grow wetter, the squelching sounds filling the space more and more.

You moan out louder as you bite your lip, nodding your head at him. It was starting to feel good, and you couldn't help but give in.. forgetting about ever wanting him to stop.

"Good fuckin' girl, birdie.. My god." He says, taking his finger out just enough for it to be outside of your entrance. He presses his index and middle finger together now, rubbing them in between your folds to gather the slick you've produced for him. He then pushes it into your hole once he feels they're wet enough, making you whine loudly.

You gasp out, "F-Fuck, Ezra!" and grip onto one of the pillows next to you, lifting your head to sit up and watch his movements. You feel your body grow hotter by the second, the overwhelming feeling of his slow, yet deliberate fingers moving deeply inside of you, the mere sight of it making you lightheaded.

Your throat grows dry as you pant heavily, feeling nothing like you've ever experienced before. His eyes wander over your body, taking in the view of your worn out face, moaning for him, and your body that's trembling for him, your baggy shirt lifting up and up as you begin to shake.

His gasp is low and loud as he smirks, his mouth falling open as he looks at you, his need for you increasing more and more. As his fingers continue to move, he adds a third finger, making your face twist in pleasure and a mix of pain, the sudden intrusion shocking you. It feels too good for you to even care at this point.

He praises you filthily, moving his free hand to move your shirt up, exposing your tits for him. "God, you're so pretty, honey.. Such a pretty fuckin' cunt. Can't believe I found you, huh?" He says, making you squirm as butterflies fill your stomach with his dirty words and nick names.

He grasps onto one of your tits, squeezing it harshly, but not harsh enough to hurt you. Just right. He twists one of your nipples gently between his thumb and index finger, watching as it hardens and perks up for him. He groans at the view and brings his face closer to them, taking your other nipple into his mouth as he sucks onto it desperately.

You moan loudly, whimpering against him as the pleasure grows immensely. You've never felt this good in your life and you're in absolute bliss. You're not sure how or if it could get better than this.

"E-Ezra, can't.. can't take it, oh god," You cry out, panting even faster and louder as his fingers hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars for a second. It's too overwhelming, too fucking good. Your hands find their way towards Ezra's hair, tugging on it gently, needing him more than ever. You wouldn't even begin to think that meeting him today would lead to this moment.

He finally removes himself from your tits, chuckling darkly as he looks up at you, bringing his head closer to your face. He looks at you intently, with desire and as if you were the only person in the entire world.

His fingers slow down, making you catch your breath a bit, and he removes them from your entrance, bringing them up to your face. "Taste yourself for me, baby.. Wanna see you take my fingers, can you do that, honey?" He whispers softly to you, his three fingertips resting against your lips, waiting for you to open them up for him.

You oblige, nodding your head as you open your mouth for him, allowing him to slip them in between your lips. You close your mouth shut around them, sucking on them gently as you moan out, looking at him the entire time. Your eyes roll back as he pushes them even further into your mouth, making it a bit harder to breathe, but you continue, wanting to please him.

His fingers were so thick in your mouth, and his scent was driving you insane. "Atta girl.. God, you're so fuckin' sexy. Makin' me go all crazy, you know that, pretty girl?" He groans out, bringing his free hand to grip your chin roughly. It makes you whine against his fingers, making Ezra feel the vibration of it through them.

He laughs lowly and slowly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, looking at them as your saliva connects, providing a string of it as he pulls it away. He just chuckles as he watches it, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. His grip on your chin moves to your cheeks now, squeezing your face a bit tightly as he demands you, "Open your mouth, baby. Open wide for me."

You quickly listen to him, opening your mouth as wide as you can. Before you could even process it, he spits down your throat, making you gasp loudly. "Now, swallow it. Swallow it all, darlin', let me see it." He instructs you, his grip on your face remaining rough and tight.

You nod and close your mouth, swallowing all of it for him. His hand squeezes your cheeks together, making you open your mouth again to let him see that you did what he asked of you. "Dirty, dirty fuckin' girl. Got so lucky, didn't I? Now you're getting it.." He lets out, snickering as you stick your tongue out to prove it.

His words make you feel so filthy, but you can't help but start to love it.. crave it. He's making it harder for you to even breathe right now.

You let out a small laugh, still absolutely worn out and overwhelmed, thanking him as your head feels cloudy. Ezra then grasps onto one of your hands, making you stare at its motion. He brings your palm to his hard bulge, all pent up through his pants, and the way it feels makes you moan. You've heard stories about men and this happening to them, but you never thought you'd be able to feel it like this.

"See how you make me feel, sweetheart? How hard you make me? You know what this means, right?" He says to you, his voice rough and raspy while he palms your hand over his bulge, making him moan lowly. You shake your head, not knowing if what you're thinking is the right answer.

He grins and chuckles, "Means I need your pretty pussy around me, honey. That's the only way I can satiate this.. make it all go away.. You gonna help me with that, baby? Gonna be a good girl for me?" Ezra eggs you on, wanting you to crave this just as much as he does.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you swallow a bit nervously, unsure but curious to know how it'll feel like. You've wondered about this your entire life, and you could finally experience it now.

You open your mouth to speak, hesitating to do so. Ezra softly rubs his other hand towards your inner thigh, attempting to reassure you. "Don't worry, birdie.. I'd never hurt you, if that's what you're concerned about. I'll make it feel real good for you. Make you see stars, honey.. What do you say?" He encourages, leaning in closer to your face.

What else do I have left to lose? You ask yourself, coming to your decision to agree. You pause, nodding your head at his proposals.

"Words, darlin', need you to tell me. Tell me you want this.. that you want me." He tells you, urging it from you as he removes your hand from his bulge to lift his hand to your face, gently caressing your cheek affectionately. It makes you shudder to the touch.

You sigh, inhaling sharply, "I want you, Ezra.. I want this." You admit to him, the arousal running through your body as it reaches your core. You grow wet again, thinking of this actually happening.

He smiles gently at you and leans in closer to your lips, whispering out against them, "That's it.. Atta girl, baby," and presses a gentle, yet firm & long kiss to your lips.

You moan into the kiss, shutting your eyes at the feeling. You've been kissed before, but never like this.. never from a man who's made you feel this good. It leaves you dazed and hazy as he pulls away from you, the need for him growing even more.

Ezra's hands reach for his pants now, grabbing onto the hem as he pulls it down along with his own underwear, revealing his hard cock for you. The sight of it makes your mouth water, wondering how he'll even fit inside of you if you could barely handle a few of his fingers.

Your throat grows dry as you gulp nervously at the thought, making you stammer out, "Ezra.. A-Are you sure it'll be able to fit? I.. I'm not sure if it will.." You confess to him, licking your lips as you finally look up at him.

A soft laugh escapes his throat as he grins at you, stroking his cock gently and slowly, staring at you with a hard gaze, "Don't you worry, honey.. I'll make it fit." He tells you, the nervous tone in your voice all the more spurring him on, aching with need for you. "Now, keep those legs open for me, birdie.. Wanna look at you while I take you."

Your heart races at his words, yet you comply with his requests, knowing that there's no way of getting out of this regardless. Nodding your head and staring at his face intently, you keep your legs spread for him, the cold air hitting your core and making you shiver.

Ezra moves himself in between your legs, grabbing the base of his cock with his right hand as he rubs the tip of it along your wet folds, making him moan out from the feeling. His stare is fixed onto your glistening cunt; the only thing he's been fantasizing about this entire day.

Without warning, he pushes the fat head of his cock into your pussy all while keeping his eyes on your face, wanting to see your reaction to him. Your eyes shoot open from the sudden intrusion, mouth falling open. "E-Ezra!" You gasp out, looking down at his body connecting to yours as you grip the bed to the best of your ability.

He just lets out a sigh of satisfaction, laughing at your reaction, "Sorry, baby.. Couldn't wait any longer. You can take more, can't you?" He pushes you, smirking as he continues to make his way into your cunt more and more, feeling his cock grow deeper inside of you.

Your walls involuntarily clench around him, the stretch of it almost unbearable for you as your shut your eyes, throwing your head back. He wasn't giving you any time to really adjust, and the pain burned while the pleasure slowly made itself apparent with the warmth in your body growing quickly.

Panting, your heart races even faster, unable to stop yourself from opening your eyes. You keep your gaze on the sight of him pushing himself inside of you, making your body feel fuller by the second.

Ezra groans as he continues to push further, gasping out, "Fuck, that's it, baby.. What a tight fuckin' pussy. Fillin' you up nice and good, just like you needed.." The words on his tongue making you throb for him, as he finally buries himself inside of you completely.

Your breath is taken away as his thick cock fills you to the brim, tears beginning to form in the corner of your eyes as your mouth gapes at the feeling and sight of it. He's huge, making it evident that way as you see him bulge out from your stomach.

He chuckles as his eyes follow where yours are, seeing himself in your stomach. He places his hand right there on top of it, pushing onto your stomach so you can feel him right there. "You feel me in you, honey? So deep, I know.. But it feels good, don't it? Takin' every fuckin' inch.." He pants, slowly but adamantly rocking himself against you.

It takes every bit of control in him to not fuck you hard, taking what he wants from you and using you how he wants.

"Gonna move now, baby.. S'gonna feel real good, I promise.." He whispers, reaching for one of your legs to lift it up onto his shoulder, making the angle of his cock push into you even deeper as you groan loudly, the unbearable feeling running through your core.

You just lay there, taking it as the pleasure builds up and up inside of you, his hips pushing and pulling as the speed gradually increases.

He pulls his hips back, his hand pressing harshly onto your stomach to keep you still and full of him, making sure that he pulls his cock out just enough for it to rest at your entrance, wasting no time to shove it back into you.

The burn of his girth and how much it stretches you feels incredible now, making you moan out and shudder at the feeling. With each push of his cock, he fills you completely, pressing his hips to the hilt of your pussy, almost like you're taking him deeper every time.

"F-Fuck.. Ezra— please.. please!" You whine, the tears in your ears now falling down your cheeks at the overwhelming pressure in your pussy. "So.. So good, please, fa-faster.." You plead, your eyes fixed on him completely.

He lets out a filthy laugh, loving how much you're craving for it now. He knew he'd get you right where he wanted you. "That's my girl.. my good girl. Don't you worry, honey, I'll give you more than you need.." Ezra whispers lowly to you, the speed of his thrusts and movements now going at an unbearable pace, making your body shake and move from the force of his hips.

You whine out loudly, choking out as your eyes shut from the rapid change of speed. The noises that your pussy makes from his huge cock hammering inside of you is filthy, making you flush from how it rings in your ears.

"Dirty girl.. You hear yourself? Hear how soaked you are from my fuckin' cock? Can't get enough of this pretty little pussy, honey.. It's too good. Wanna fuck this cunt forever.." He groans out, making your eyes roll back at his words.

His movements suddenly halt as he pulls out of you, grabbing onto your waist roughly to flip you onto your stomach, trapping your legs and hips with his thighs. Ezra quickly grabs hold of his cock, gliding the tip of it through your folds as he shoves it back inside your tight cunt, feeling him deeper than you ever thought you could.

Your back involuntarily arches up, the feeling of him buried inside of you being too much, too deep, as you whale and whine, turning your head to try to look at him. "W-Wait! Too much, please.. slow down!" You choke out, trying to get him to relent.

Ezra just laughs and shoves your head back down onto the bed with his left hand, the other pushing your back down to press your stomach flat. He shushes you, his thrusts quickening as he fills you with each push, "Shh, honey.. Just take it.. You can do it, I know you can, baby.. S'Better like this. Take this fuckin' cock, like the good girl you are.."

Your body convulses at his harsh movements, making your stomach coil in pleasure as you feel yourself grow hotter and hotter, the feeling in your cunt making you sob out. His cock repeatedly hits that spot deep inside of you, making you see stars.. just as he promised you.

His hips continuously collide with your ass, moving his hands to grab handfuls of it, squeezing your cheeks harshly as he spreads your ass for him, watching his cock plunge into you over and over again.

"Fuck, birdie.. Gotta nice ass, too.. So perfect for me." He chuckles out, slapping your ass a few times, making you squirm and groan out from the pleasurable sting. "Mmphf!" You whimper, his hand pushing the side of your face down onto the bed.

You cry out, tears falling down your cheeks as you sob, "T-Too much, Ezra! I.. I can't.."

He shakes his head and tuts his tongue, correcting you, "Yes, you can, you can, sweetheart.. Not gonna stop til' I'm done with you," He says harshly, his tone needy and mean as his movements grow rougher. "Cryin' so pretty for me, baby.. Makin' me so proud.. My girl."

You shake as your body convulses from his thrusts, and Ezra laughs at that, knowing that you're close.. feeling that you're close, as you clench around his huge cock repeatedly, that unrelenting feeling building up in you.

Ezra's arm moves beneath your stomach, grasping onto your waist tightly as he suddenly pulls you up against his chest. He holds you unbelievably close and tight against him, making it impossible for you to move away, keeping you absolutely still for him. His hand at your waist moves to one of your tits, grabbing it hard as he holds you there.

His thrusts hit that spot inside of you repeatedly, pressing into it over and over again as you shake, your body feeling too weak to even hold yourself up. Ezra just does that for you, gripping and taking your body to his liking, as if your body was his.

To be fair, your body already is.

Sobbing out, you scream and shut your eyes tightly, lifting your head up to rest it on his shoulder, his pants and groans filling your ears as you grow lightheaded. "That's it, honey.. Gonna come for me? I feel it.. Feel how close you are. I am too.." He whispers in your ear, moving his free hand down to your cunt, using two of his fingers to rub rapid circles on your clit.

Your eyes shoot up at the feeling, enduring the feeling of your climax increasing as your stomach tightens and coils uncontrollably. "F-Fuck— Ezra! Go-Gonna.. come!" You cry out, your body completely giving out as his cock just takes you.

"That's right, come on my fuckin' cock, baby.. Gonna come too.. fill you up real good, sweetheart.. Make you mine."

Your eyes widen at his words, knowing that he shouldn't.. he can't. "N-No, Ezra, not inside, you can't, I.." You whimper out as your breath hitches in your throat.

He just shakes his head, laughing in your ear, "I can't? I can't? I can do whatever I want, baby. Nothin's stoppin' me.. not you, not your little family.. They're long gone now, honey.."

You whimper and cry out, squirming against him as you try to pull away, knowing that you can't get pregnant. Not in a world like this.

Your pleads just spur him on, all while his fingers on your clit push you further to the edge.

"You know, I was watching you.. following you around all day.. wondering how tight this pretty cunt would feel around me. Fuck.. I was right.. Now, you're mine. Never gonna leave you, baby.. Pussy's too good. Can't let you go.. Can't give this up."

Tears stream down your face as the pressure inside of you builds up with every breath you take, not even processing the words he just said. Your lower body shakes as you try to keep your eyes open, screaming out, "G-God.. M' gonna come!" His fingers apply even more pressure on your clit as he laughs. "Come for me, honey.. Doin' so good for me. Come on my fuckin' cock."

Your ears drown out every single noise in the tent, ringing loudly as your throat tightens, screaming out. Your cunt tightens around his cock, clenching onto him as much as you can as your pussy convulses and writhes against his, seeing stars. He fucks you through it, his pace never faltering as your climax coats his cock with your slick, running down your weak thighs.

He lets go of your body, making you collapse on your stomach as his thrusts go faster, harder. He's close, and you can feel it too, his cock twitching inside of your spent cunt.

His groans fill the room as he hammers into you, gripping onto your ass and waist to keep you still for him. "Gonna fill this pretty pussy so deep, you're gonna feel me for days, honey.. That way, you'll never leave me.. Never gonna feel any other man fuck you this good.. My pretty girl.."

You whine out at his words, knowing how fucked up it is.. but, you can't help but love it.

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling your waist flush against him as he groans loudly, holding you there. His cock is buried inside of you as deep as he can, pulsing streams of his come inside your cunt. You feel him deep inside of you, painting your walls as you sob out at the feeling. "O-Oh, fuck!"

"Fuck, yeah, baby.. All fuckin' mine, Take it. That's a good girl." He sighs out contently, pushing his cock even a fraction of an inch deeper, as far as he can. You whimper at how full you feel, his come running through your pussy, whining at how good it feels for you, even though it shouldn't.

Ezra's body slowly collapses on top of your back, keeping himself inside of you as he finally slows down, beginning to catch his breath, his high deterring.

The tears in your eyes start to dry up and your eyes stay wide open, processing everything that just happened. The shock runs through your body, making you shiver at the thought. You can't help but crave him even more, making you realize that you wanted this.

Ezra moves his hands around your waist to pull you against his chest as he rolls to his side, taking you with him. He pulls you in closer, preventing you from moving, staying flushed against him.

His coarse, gentle voice fills your ears as you shut your eyes, the exhaustion catching up to you, all while his hand runs through your hair, caressing your head affectionately.

"All mine, honey.. Never lettin' you go.."

And he never does.

You never make it back home.

-

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[oonajaeadira]

FLUFFBRUARY 8: shower | blessed | layer (Ezra)

ADIRA'S SELF-IMPOSED FLUFFBRUARY RULES:

Six sentences.

Must be fluffy.

All 29 ficlets must feature a different Pedro.

All three words must be used (Fluffbruary prompt list here).

Use the words in order.

I reserve the right to break rules and/or cheat.

Something tingles in the quiet air of the drop pod, like the atmosphere was just hit with static, and you're about to turn back to your book when the hatch opens and Ezra's top half appears.

"There is a confluence, Trinket--!" his hand reaching, flipping like a fish as it beckons you to follow, "oi, hitch up; let's not miss the shower!"

Once he has you, he refuses to allow you to climb out with dignity, half dragging you down the hatch with a chuckle and a kiss to the cheek as you curse at him under your breath.

But even playful frustration comes to a halt as he takes you by the shoulders and points you toward the wayward horizon...to witness a mega-event micro-meteor shower against the arc of the neighboring gas giant, like a sleeping infant being blessed by a million angels at once.

"Kevva," you breathe, unable to look away as Ezra twines his fingers in yours, leading you forward toward the little lake you are camped beside, "it's astounding."

He agrees, content to let you watch as he undresses by the side of the water before unclothing you, layer by layer, so that you may float with him, hand in hand, within the mirror of the stars, under a glittering veil of beauty, "a pool fit for a queen and her fool," he says.

___

@fluffbruary

FLUFFBRUARY MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

[prolix-yuy]

HELLO I'm here I've made it, don't mind me running in with my little pocket watch like the White Rabbit. Ahem! For the position, I got missionary with a pillow. For the man, I'd like to request Ezra. And for you, I have many kisses for your cheeks.<3 Ok love you byyeeeeee

Birdieeeee I will accept all of the cheek kisses and oh so many nights with Ezra. I hope it's filthy enough for my favorite Ezra writer.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Position: Missionary with a Pillow

Word Count: 1584 (hELp)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, unprotected PiV sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), little bit of oral (f receiving), fingering, allusions to sex toy use, mentions of bad past sexual experiences, Ezra's filthy fucking mouth.

Notes: This has gotta be one of my favorite positions and I love it for Ezra because there's a kind of care that comes from this that gets me all swoony.

Ezra’s expression blooms from curiosity to confusion.

“You would like me to…take you to bed?” he asks, bionic and flesh arms folded over his broad chest. The henley he’s wearing stretches over his biceps, tapering to loose work trousers cinched at his waist. His tongue peeks out to wet his lower lip, confusion beginning to morph to contemplation, all while you try not to wring your hands too nervously. 

“It’s just…I um,” you try to say, the sudden mortification of how you’ve come to this conclusion weighting your tongue. “I’ve…heard about you. With others. They’re always, uh, very satisfied.” You don’t dare to extrapolate on that, or touch on how his voice carries across the hall and into your small room on the Pug. The few times you ventured to listen at his door, you burned over how expertly he took his partners apart. But beyond all that, you hated to admit why you wanted to ask him. 

“And you would like to be satisfied?” Ezra says, just a little smirk at the corner of his mouth as he tilts his head down at you. Face burning, you nod. He uncrosses his arms and braces them on his modest desk, giving you a full view of his muscled body and soft stomach. “And what would you offer me for that gift?”

Your stomach drops, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep tears from coming to the surface. Bad enough that you had to humble yourself for this request, but to be so bluntly asked what he’d get out of it only amplifies your anxieties.

“I, ah…I can…I could…shit, I’m…I think I’ve been stupid about this, I’m sorry, I’ll…” you stammer, backing towards the door. Quick as electricity Ezra pushes off and closes the gap between you, hand coming up to cup your chin. You still as he studies your face, deep lines etched between his brows and under his dark eyes.

“Have you never laid with another before?” he asks in a soft voice he only reserves for speaking to his ward. It makes your throat clench.

“I have, but it’s never been…good.” You hold his gaze, willing your boldness to return. “And it sounds like it’s always….good…with you.” Ezra’s eyes dance over your face, thumb stroking along your cheek. “I’d like to see what it’s like when it’s good, if you’ll have me.”

Ezra purrs darkly, the cool plastic of his prosthetic hand drifting to your hip.

“That is quite a gift you’re offering me. Are you sure there’s no other who would want to share in your first taste of ecstasy?” Before you answer he tugs at your waist and you follow his lead, swaying steps leading you to his bed. 

“I’d like a sure thing,” you reply, giving him a smirk of your own that he greedily enjoys. His thumb swipes over your lips before pushing inside, scraping the pad over your teeth to press your tongue. Saliva floods your mouth. 

“Take off your clothes,” he says firmly, stepping back to pull his henley over his head. The lines and planes of his chest are littered with scars and faded pink burns, noticeable redness where his prosthetic attaches. You rid yourself of your tunic and slide your pants to the floor, shedding your underwear in one fell swoop. This pleases Ezra, who groans and palms his crotch at your nude form.

“Lie down, I’m going to stretch you out on my fingers first,” he husks, stalking towards you as you sit on the edge of the bed. 

“You don’t…have to, I made sure I was ready before I came,” you said quickly, making Ezra’s head cock and eyebrows pull together.

“You…prepared yourself? Without me?” he says slowly, sinking to a crouch and parting your knees with broad, hot palms. Your core is puffy from the toy you worked yourself up with, shiny with the lube you generously used in case Ezra was larger than you were used to. His eyes flick up to your face, now anxious.

“You did not need to do this. I take great pleasure in making you cum on my fingers and in my mouth before finding myself in your tight heat.” You try to shut your knees, embarrassed that your forethought seems to be in bad taste, but he slots his hips between yours and pushes you back on the bed. The sudden intimacy of his body so close makes your heart flutter. “Did you even make yourself cum?”

You shake your head, which he follows with one of his own. “Next time you’ll let me take my time with you, pull two screaming peaks from this sweet pussy before I bed you.” The promise of next time rushes blood to your head so quickly you fear you’ll faint, but Ezra’s thick fingers sliding through your folds to press inside makes you snap into sharp focus. As he coats his fingers, pressing a spongy spot that zings pleasure down your spine, he deftly unbuttons and shucks his pants to join you nude and scorching hot.

“Since you wish to get to the main event so efficiently, I’ll do my best to make it worth your while,” he says, and one hand urges your hips to lift as he tucks a pillow under your bottom. The height tilts your hips, your cunt suddenly empty as he pulls his fingers out to wrap around his cock. “I find if the act is not as pleasurable for you, this position helps.” 

“Thank you,” you blurt out, his motions stilling as he looks down at your pliant body. There’s a flicker of something hungry on his face, the harsh squeeze he gives his cock echoing your observation. 

“You may thank me when you’re cumming on my cock,” he plays it off, circling the tip of his cock at your entrance. A deep breath, then he presses in inch by sumptuous inch. Throwing your head back, you clutch at his biceps as he leans over you, harsh little pants blowing out of his nose. He stops in his journey to shallowly fuck, tiny movements that pinch your brow and drop your mouth open. Finally, after what feels like whole minutes, he’s seated deep and full inside. 

“Oh, wow, Ezra, that feels…” you pant, opening your eyes to find him inches from your face. He’s draped down over your body, elbows planted on either side of your head, watching you so closely it makes you want to close your eyes again. The veins in his neck bulge, lips parted with his teeth clenched behind them.

“How many men have had you and not satisfied you?” he asks, strain in his voice as he drags back out.

“All of them. Never…fuck, never knew how to tell them,” you gasp, fisting Ezra’s close-cropped hair. It’s softer than you expect, sweat curling the strands at the base of his neck. 

“Tell me everything,” he rasps out, then snaps back into your cunt.

Ezra’s pace and power curls your toes and rolls your hips against the mounting pressure. The angle is perfect, cock pressing into a place that makes stars explode on the edges of your vision. He watches your face for pain, revels in your pleasure, and when he begins cursing colorfully he drops his forehead to your shoulder. The rough pants and drag of his lips and teeth drive you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him flush with you.

“Is it good? Is it what you needed?” he asks, arching over you and shifting his weight to find your clit between your sweaty bodies. Fanning his fingers over your abdomen, he strums his thumb over it. Your cunt clenches, legs trembling as the telltale signs of your orgasm rumble into your body.

“Yes, Ezra, thank Kevva it’s so good, please…” you beg, clamping your body around him as he speeds up, humid mouth finding your ear. 

“I would fuck you like this and any other way you desired. Every night. Would have done it every night before this, since you told me your name. To think you’ve been suffering so long and I could end your torture. Cum for me, and you’ll never want again.” 

You let go with a ragged shout, the profound ecstasy of cumming full of Ezra and surrounded by him thrashing you through the best orgasm you’ve had of late. He pins you down with his hips and hands, arms above your head as he mouths at your jaw and throat. Finally your body relaxes, sticky sweet with endorphins and dumb with pleasure. When you can peel your eyes open enough to watch him, the smugness you expected is well tamped by an affection that catches in your lungs. 

“Can you move?” he asks, your agreement preceding his gentle movements to roll you on your stomach. Pillowing your hands under your head, you sigh and prepare to thank him even more properly. You’re beaten by his large hands tilting your hips, and his hot tongue sliding into your pussy from behind. The gasps you choke out elicits a chuckle from Ezra’s throat.

“I’m going to take my reward now,” he teases, kneading his fingers into your generous ass. 

“What’s that?” you manage to get out before he slaps one cheek enough to spike arousal back in your cunt.

“Every orgasm I can pull from your body before the sunrise.”

Night cycles on the Pug last 16 hours, and Ezra uses every minute.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[insomniamamma]

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.     

[morallyinept]

A list of all my favourite EZRA Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

Ezra Fic Recs - Part 1

Ezra Fic Recs - Part 2

Ezra Fic Recs - Part 3

Ezra Fic Recs - Part 4

Ezra Fic Recs - Part 5

Ezra Fic Recs - Part 6

Ezra Fic Recs - Part 7

Ezra Fic Recs - Part 8

Will be added to as I find more...

Jett's Pedro Character Favourite Fic Recs

[penvisions]

dev's drabbles {masterlist}

been dabbling in letting the words flow lately as a way to exercise mood and thots, so i decided to collect them all on one neat little post for y'all

Joel Miller:

joel's morning wood

out of date (set in the {garnish} universe)

early morning filth

wristwatch

Frankie Morales:

anticipation with frankie

slow and then fast with frankie

once more, with feeling (frankie morales)

coffee and candor (commission)

Ezra:

it takes two to dance with ezra

Javi G:

from grief to grace

[pix-writes]

The Storm

Ezra x F!Reader | Ezra (Prospect 2018) x AFAB Reader

AO3

Rating: E | Explicit (MDNI) 

Tags/warnings: Porn without Plot, edgeplay, implied size kink & somnophilia, Ezra’s love of endearments and being an absolute tease. (Pre-movie)

Words: 1.3k

A/N: This was supposed to be a piece for kinktober, which was ages ago 😅 but my work has been insanely busy this year! I’ve had a lot to do for life in general too which has sapped time for writing away, but I’m making moves to tackle Rising Tides (my Ezra HG AU series!) next! Though I wouldnt be opposed to making a continuation of this, perhaps... enjoy!

You panted, chest rising and falling as you leaned back against his solid, broad body, head lolling onto his shoulder. He shifted so that your legs spread wider over his knees as he reached down once again to your aching cunt, beginning with only the slightest touch.

It's devastating.

A tiny circling movement, slow but with enough pressure to stoke the thrumming, gentle arousal that you felt into something more wanting and you whined despite yourself.

You can feel Ezra's exhale against the side of your neck and can tell of the slight amusement he feels at your desperation, even if you can't see his expression properly in this position.

This had been going on since early morning, pulled out of the cozy bubble of sleep from the wind hitting up against the pod - your temporary home on this unpopulated rock.

As you had predicted in the preceding days, a storm was raging outside and wasn't likely to let up for at least one cycle, if not more. You were grounded. Though you'd been working your asses off for several weeks, enough to be ahead of schedule.

The long working days usually melted into exhausted sleep, but the lack of recreation time started to cause tension a month into your dig.

Becoming distracted by Ezra's presence, watching him drink, parched in the sun whilst prospecting and feeling unable to do anything about it - not wanting to delay any further than you had to.

Ezra's lingering touches that should be innocent, if it weren't for the heated, longing look in his dark eyes, the promise of 'later' unspoken but clearly communicated to you.

Ever the early bird - likely purely by habit rather than anything else, you theorised, as he was usually a little quieter and grumpy in the mornings - Ezra was awake before you. And he wasted no time in starting. Dragging out the foreplay between you both.

It was something you both revelled in, the pleasure of it. Of course, when your lives are busy there are the occasional rough, frantic quickies, but like Ezra it always leaves you slightly dissatisfied, craving for more…

Now your focus wandered, your increased pants slowing Ezra's fingers against your slick cunt, until his hand stopped completely, cupping your mound. You hadn't even reached the edge this time and you wiggled a little in his lap, earning a small groan from him as the curve of your ass rubbed up against his clothed erection. "Please, Ezra!"

"Already?" He tsked. "This was your idea, little dove."

You could've protested- he was the one who had woken you up fully by eating you out and not letting you cum, after all. But you had definitely raised the stakes of his plans.

One of the things you had delighted about when you first started to be intimate with Ezra, was that you had similar minds when it came to sex and pleasure. Wanting to take your time, wanting to see exactly how far you could go - if that's something you wanted out of it.

It wasn't a pushing of boundaries, like so many, less worthy people have tried to do in the past, merely an exploration into how much you could both take.

And so, you had thrown the gauntlet down. Claiming you could handle being edged and teased, that you could likely last longer than him.

"Is that so?"

"I know myself." You had replied, smiling coyly in return to his own salacious, challenging smirk.

It had been hours since then, surely? Though you couldn't be sure, the shutters tightly closed on the pod's viewing ports.

Looking up at him you saw his blown pupils, little trace of the warmer brown irises left as he sucked his wet fingers, humming at the taste.

He leant down to kiss you, it was sloppy given the awkward angle, even with his fingers lifting and holding your chin in place. But it brought you back to the present.

Back to his spit-slick hand snaking down to circle your entrance, a small warning before pushing one of his fingers into your core making you cry out. His other hand teased you, circling your nipples, grasping at your breasts underneath your shirt in turn as he worked you open to fit another thick finger.

Unable to stay still any longer you moaned, canting your hips into his hand, palm coming to rest against your clit.

"I know, I know." He cooed. "You like my fingers don't you, dove?"

"Yes! So good - feels so good." You could feel every nerve alight at his fingertips as they hit that spot within you in a steady motion. "Please, ah, don't stop!"

In an attempt to coax him on, you ground down against him in earnest.

A bit-off groan came from behind you, Ezra bringing an arm over your chest, pinning you in place against him though you struggled in his grip.

"Ez, you're n-not playing fair."

"No? I guess I am not. But you can tap out, you know what to say." You did know, Ezra would play fair - give you the release you craved if you asked for it, or stop altogether and you could snuggle up together whilst the storm ran its course, instead. But you shook your head and he tightened his hold on you.

"You underestimated me, darlin', you may have better patience than me when it comes to harvesting… but I also know you are so good at keeping your smart, stubborn little brain of yours focused on a task, too…" he said, voice rumbling through you, moving at the perfect pace for you to come undone, feeling the heat rise along your skin. "... I know how much you can get lost in this, caught up in the sensations you feel… that you'll forget this was a competition." His teeth grazed the side of your neck and you gasped, hand coming to grip onto his arm, as something to anchor yourself to.

"Baby, I'm close!"

Ezra moved and you slid off of his lap and onto the floor. Tears sprung to your eyes as you tried not to fall over the edge which had already started to crumble, clenching around nothing as your body shook.

"Okay?" His warm palm was at your back.  

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes. Ezra reached out to smooth a hand over your forehead, damp with perspiration.

"You're doing so well, stardust." He said, his low cadence making you melt, tears falling as you screwed your eyes shut to the tender praise.  

"Just a little bit more. Then I'll make sure you are fully satiated and then some."

Turning around you saw him stand to remove his pants and you rushed to do the same with your top. He looked magnificent, naked before you. Resting his weight on one hip, the soft swell of his stomach, leg muscles flexing, and…

…From your kneeled position you were at the perfect height for your face to be level with his hips, cock flushed, hard and glistening.  

Looking up at his face you realised he had been watching your unabashed ogling of him, evidently preening under the attention.

You swallowed. "Can I?"

He hummed low in his throat, lowering himself down to your level. "Another day, I could be tempted into indulging in that desire, sweet thing… but right now I want you facing me and sitting on my lap."

Shuffling over to the bed and rearranging yourselves, both of you moaned as you eased down onto his cock. All the teasing had made the stretch easier, but you still rolled your hips a little to adjust.

(And to tease him back, just a little…)

He cursed; voice thin. “Dove, you have to stay still.”

With a sigh you relaxed back into his arms, praying to Kevva that Ezra wouldn't make you wait too long…

[jessahmewren]

Trial

4.6k / Ezra x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni. Dystopian society, noncon/dubcon, rape, forced breeding, breeding kink, innocence kink, inexperienced reader, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, come play, oral (f receiving), pussy slapping, sexual slavery/bondage, brief mention of su*cidal thoughts, implied squirting, nicknames (darlin', pretty girl, sweet girl, sweetheart, etc), no use of y/n.

Summary: You are one of the last fertile women on a desolate world, subjected to an endless cycle of abuse in the name of the greater good. All of the men are nameless, faceless brutes. Until you meet Ezra.

Also on AO3

All thanks to @two-birds-alone-together for the excellent beta!

You crane your neck up to look toward the door. A tall, broad man in blue scrubs walks toward you. He is tan, his eyes a deep brown. There’s a curious white patch at the front of his hair, and it’s brushed downward, making him appear boyish. But he is no boy. He has strong shoulders and large hands…a well-defined nose. He approaches your head where you lay against the table and looks down at you.

-0-0-0-

You’re little more than breeding stock. You know that now. On this planet, to this endless parade of doctors and scientists, your entire worth has dwindled down to your fertility…what you can grow in your womb to repopulate a planet devastated by civil war.

You never thought you would long for the mining colony you’d been kidnapped from…for the hardships of your life before. You’d spent cycles in the mines without rest or food, scrabbling to make points from what you could unearth from the gas-ridden caves. But you were free. Your body was your own, until one day a routine blood test changed your life forever.

You’ve been in the same room for so many cycles you’ve lost count. You’re intimately familiar with the tiles on the ceiling, the harsh fluorescent lighting, the low couch by the window that looks comfortable, but that you’ve never been allowed to sit on. You’re strapped to a table, legs spread and cunt on display. It horrified you at first…the clinical exams, the blatant disregard for your comfort. Your cheeks burn with the memory of your first “trial.” You had kicked and screamed until they’d sedated you. You woke up sore with cum dripping out of you, no question as to what had happened.

Now they don’t bother with sedatives. You no longer fight. The punishing march of cycles has sapped your will. You’re never getting out, not unless you give them what they want. Unless your belly becomes round with new life, your life, as far as you can see, is over.

Tears are dried on your face from the last trial. It’s your fertile time, they’ve informed you, so the trials are daily now. The next man, one of the institute’s finest specimens of virility, no doubt, fucks you with a bored expression on his face. You look at the ceiling. You can feel his cock twitch after about a minute, feel his precious seed fill you to overflowing. He snarls as he comes, digging his blunt nails into your thigh.

The only mercy is that it never lasts long.

He backs up from where you are laid bare to him and puts himself away. “Did you come?” he asks perfunctorily. “The doctors say it’s more likely to take if you do.”

You say nothing. Of course you didn’t come. You never have. You were a virgin when they brought you here. You’ve never even touched yourself. Daily rape is not going to change that.

He shakes his head at your silence. You can feel his seed running out of you. A single tear tracks down your face, and you hear the door shut behind him.

A nurse comes in once a day to clean you up. It’s not enough. You have at least three trials a day, different men each time, and multiple blood tests. Your menses comes when you’re due, without fail. No pregnancy. No hope of ever escaping this hell you’re trapped in.

You’ve thought about killing yourself, but there’s no way to do it. Your arms are tied down away from your body. Your feet are secured and your legs forced apart. You’re never given sharp objects; your meals are liquid. Every cycle the sun rises and you wish again that you were dead.

It’s another early morning when you hear a soft knock at the door. That’s new, you think. No one ever knocks. They come in, use your body for tests or trials, and leave, usually without a word. If you don’t die from the abuse they are putting you through, then maybe you will die from loneliness. It would be a mercy.

Another knock on the door, and it piques your interest like nothing has in a long time. “Come in,” you say in a raspy voice. It’s been so many cycles since last you spoke, your lips can barely find the words. The door opens, and you brace yourself for what comes next.

You crane your neck up to look toward the door. A tall, broad man in blue scrubs walks toward you. He is tan, his eyes a deep brown. There’s a curious white patch at the front of his hair, and it’s brushed downward, making him appear boyish.

But he is no boy. He has strong shoulders and large hands…a well-defined nose. He approaches your head where you lay against the table and looks down at you.

That also, is new. Most men who come in go straight between your legs. You almost never see them up close. Sometimes you never see them at all.

“Hi darlin’,” he says, his peculiar drawl thick and syrupy. He’s smiling down at you a little lopsided, his head cocked slightly. “Let’s get you all undone, now. Let you stretch your legs a bit.”

You blink up at him, trying to comprehend this radical change in protocol. He’s already working on the restraints binding your arms, then the large one across your middle. He moves down to your feet, and your gaze immediately finds the ceiling, expecting the worst.

Instead, he loosens those restraints as well. When he sees the reddened skin around your ankles, he tuts, taking one of your feet and gently massaging it. You say nothing, wondering if this is some sort of cruel joke. You’ve never been unrestrained during a fertile time before, not since you first arrived.

The man returns to your head. He takes one of your hands in his, thumb making little sweeps over your skin. It’s the first time someone has touched you with any sort of kindness in a long time, and tears spring to your eyes. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he says softly. “My name’s Ezra.”

You look up at him and reflexively draw your hand away. You marvel at being able to move your arms. They’re stiff and tingly from being bound, but you relish the sensation. You whisper your name and he smiles.

“That’s beautiful darlin’,” he says pleasantly. He holds out his hand again while his other hovers near your shoulder. “Need some help sitting up?”

The first thing you do is close your legs, wincing at the pain in your atrophied muscles. Your modesty intact for the first time in a long time, you let Ezra gently pull you to a sitting position. The hospital gown covers you, finally, and you let your legs dangle over the side of the table.

You still avoid his gaze, though you can feel it burn you where it lands. You chance a glance at him and his eyes are soft, thoughtful.

“I bet a shower would do you a world of good,” he says, still congenial…still seemingly kind. You’re unused to it. It makes you immediately suspicious.

“Are you…are you a nurse?” You ask him. The only time you’ve been cleaned up (and those were hasty wipe downs with a cold basin of water) was by nurses during your scant few bathroom breaks. A shower, as unbelievable as that sounds, still feels like a trick.

He chuckles at that. “Not a nurse, sweetheart. Here to take care of you, though. Here to make you feel good.”

You frown. How could you possibly feel good in a place like this? After all that’s been done to you? You shake your head in refusal.

He sighs, leaving you sitting on the side of the table. “Let me start the shower for you, darlin’. You think you can manage by yourself?” His brow is furrowed, his eyes sympathetic. “I know it’s been a while since you stood.”

Suddenly you see the adjacent bathroom. You watch Ezra as he walks into it; you listen as the water turns on. Hot steam wafts from the open door, and you close your eyes.

Then you remember…the door to your room. It’s probably open. You can get away, or try to. This is the first time you’ve had any actual hope of escape, and you’re drunk off of it.

You bolt toward the door, but your numb legs betray you. You fall on your face, crying out, the hard floor jarring your bones. Ezra is by your side in moments.

“Ah, now,” he soothes, taking you up by your shoulders. “Can’t be running off like that. I’m trying to help ya honey. Nothing more.”

You look up at him where he holds you in his arms. He’s handsome, you think distantly, but the realization has no physical effect on you. You lost any sexual desire you had a long time ago, when these people weaponized reproductive organs as a means to an end, a tool to be used for the greater good.

Ezra helps you to your feet. His hands are big and calloused, but they’re warm. You’re not used to gentleness. It makes you wary, but you find yourself craving it all the same.

He leads you into the bathroom…stands you up by the sink. He offers you his arm, looking away as you step out of your hospital gown.

The steam feels so good on your skin; you’ve been cold for so long that your very pores starve for warmth. Ezra leaves you and you step under the hot spray. A wanton little sound of relief, the nearest sound you’ve ever made to pleasure escapes your lips, and you snap your mouth shut.

You spend the next few minutes washing your body, your hair, letting the suds run over your skin and down the drain. You clean the dried semen from your folds, scrubbing just a little too roughly. You stand there swaying under the water. You haven’t had a hot shower since your youth, since before you were sent to the mines. You huff a disbelieving laugh at how good it feels. You forget about Ezra and stay there until the water runs cold.

When you step out of the bathroom, there’s a fresh gown waiting for you on the counter. You towel off, slipping it on over your head. Feeling the cool, threadbare cotton against you just reminds you of where you are, what your purpose is, and the previous contentment from the shower, scant as it was, immediately evaporates.

You pad out of the bathroom and onto the cold tile. Your legs are still wobbly. You’re lightheaded from the hot shower, and before you know it the entire room tilts.

But you never hit the floor. Ezra catches you under the arms, sweeping you up to cradle against his chest like you weigh nothing. He murmurs something, his voice a low and pleasant rumble, but your ears are still ringing. He sits you down beside him…not on the cruel examination table, but on the couch.

You come back to yourself, and Ezra is tucking your wet hair behind your ear. He lets his hand linger by your cheek in a soft caress. You blink up at him, not understanding.

“Why am I on the couch?” you ask. Ezra looks confused, then his face transforms into a wide smile.

“Well, it seemed a mite more comfortable than where you were,” he says softly. He ducks his head, trying to catch your furtive gaze. “You feel better?”

The question catches you off guard. You do a quick, basic self-assessment and realize that you do feel a tiny bit better. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Thank you for the shower.”

Ezra preens, seemingly pleased by your gratitude. He tracks his thumb back and forth across the soft skin of your cheek, humming to himself. After a moment, he leans forward, pressing his lips to your forehead.

You instantly recoil, pressing your back to the end of the couch. He scoots forward, crowding you a bit. Your heart picks up.

“Mmm,” he hums, that low rumble coming from deep in his chest. “Y’ smell good.”

You bite your lip, refusing to meet his eyes. “I smell like hospital body wash,” you say, still trying to parse what’s actually going on.

He drags his knuckles up your bare leg, and you look at him. His eyes are dark, his strong nose scenting the air. “Wasn’t talking about the soap,” he says, grin lopsided, and then you realize.

He’s here for a trial.

You swallow hard. He’s got his arms braced on either side of you; it unfurls a strange warmth in your belly. It feels like fear…anticipation, but you’re not really afraid of him.

“If you’re gonna fuck me then just fuck me.” You look up, your mouth a firm line. “Why play all of these games?”

He tuts again, eyes bright and looking at you softly. He floats his hand down the column of your neck, settling at your shoulder.

“Such harsh words, sweet thing.” He gives your shoulder a little squeeze, and your skin burns with his touch. “I’m going to make it so good for you. You have my word.”

A little thrill goes through you, and you shiver. Without a word he pulls you to him, wrapping you up in a warm embrace. He’s speaking, but you don’t register much of it. It’s soft nonsense, words you would use to calm a frightened child or animal. You close your eyes against the white noise, and your nose catches his scent.

It’s uniquely masculine, something earthy and rich. Saliva pools in your mouth.

He holds you there for a long time, whispering soothing words into the shell of your ear. He trails his hands down your arms, smoothing the gooseflesh he finds there.

“You cold baby? You need a blanket?”

He leaves you on the couch, going to a closet and withdrawing a blanket. In all your cycles here, it’s a comfort you’ve never been offered. He wraps it around your shoulders, rubbing his hands over it like he can stoke warmth into your bones.

“Th-thanks,” you say, your teeth chattering. You realize it’s not entirely from cold.

Once you’re wrapped up, Ezra leans in again and you stiffen but do not pull away. You realize this is a foregone conclusion. Ezra is here for a trial, and nothing you do is going to change that.

He noses the skin beneath your ear, and you exhale. He presses his lips in a trail down your neck, gentle little pecks. When he reaches the fluttering pulse there, he seals his mouth over it and sucks.

You gasp softly and arch against him, feeling the warmth in your belly from before travel lower and settle between your legs. You feel your heartbeat throb in your center. That’s never happened before, and it makes you want to squeeze your thighs together to make it stop.

You reach up between you and press a hand against his chest.

“I won’t fight you,” you say. Your voice is thready and soft, and you hate how demure it sounds. “Just do what you have to do.”

He ignores you, letting his tongue wet your skin where his mouth is still sealed over your neck, then he teases it with his teeth. You tremble again, from nerves or cold you know not. “Ezra,” you whisper breathily, and he groans.

“You got me so worked up, darlin’,” he breathes against your neck. He kisses down to where your collarbone juts out of the wide neck of the hospital gown and closes his lips over it. He pulls away, observing the flush of your cheek, your shallow breath.

“Gonna take care of you,” he murmurs. “Gonna put a baby in you. Maybe two. Right here.”

You look down and he has his large hand splayed over your stomach. Your pulse quickens. Your gown is hitched up, and your legs are on display.

You shake your head. “Can’t get pregnant,” you say, “no matter what the blood tests say.” You turn your head, cheeks blooming red. “Been through many trials. Nothing’s ever worked.”

Ezra pouts, pecking at the line of your jaw. “Bet no one’s ever made you feel good though,” he says, his hand sliding from your stomach down your thigh to catch the edge of your gown. “Bet no one’s ever fingered this pretty little pussy before.”

Your mouth pops open, and he uses it as an excuse to claim your lips. His are full and soft, and your eyes slip shut. You’ve never kissed anyone before, so you have no comparison, but you like the way it makes you feel…warm, wanted. His whiskers tickle your chin. He slips his tongue in your mouth and your eyes fly open, a little noise purring deep in your throat.

He moans into the kiss, probing your mouth with his slick tongue. Tentatively you kiss him back, unsure of exactly how, so you simply touch your tongue to his and hope it’s enough.

His hand slips up your thigh and you feel a gush of liquid between your legs. You pull away, mortified, and move to stand. “I think I need to go to the bathroom,” you stammer. You feel strangely off balance. Your skin’s on fire, and there’s a steady ache between your legs.

You’ve never felt this way before. Something’s wrong…Ezra has done something to you and you don’t understand what.

Your legs are shaking, and you look down at the wet spot on the couch. “Oh no,” you murmur, face red. You feel the sudden need to hide, but there’s nowhere to go, and Ezra has both hands on your arms.

“Sit down, sweet girl.” There’s color to his cheeks, too, and you can see his hard cock tenting the front of his scrub pants. He pulls you back down and gently kisses your cheek. “It’s normal, honey,” he says sweetly. “It’s what’s ‘sposed to happen. That little pussy just needs a cock is all. It’s crying for one.”

Your core throbs, and you feel even wetter at his crass words. The dull pulsating sensation is now more urgent, sharp and unceasing. You want to touch, thinking that would make it go away, but you’re not sure how or where.

Ezra places his hand back on the inside of your leg, slowly dragging it upwards. He kisses you again, gentler this time. His hand reaches the humid juncture of your leg and pelvis, and he pets through your damp curls with the back of his hand.

“Unngh,” he moans into your mouth, then pulls away. He withdraws his hand, and his knuckles shine in the sunlight coming through the window. “Haven’t even got my hands on you properly and you’re already soaked. Kevva’s sake, girl.”

You’re trembling again, gripping Ezra’s upper arms. He slips beneath your gown once more, parting your seam with two big fingers.

“Oh shit,” he breathes, scooting up some on the couch. “You’re dripping, babygirl.” He locks eyes with you, and his are impossibly dark. “This all for me?”

You bite your lip and tell him the truth. “I don’t understand,” you say, trying to keep the tremor from your voice. “This has never happened before.”

He smiles, his eyes sparkling. “Good,” he says around a smirk. “You mean you’ve never touched this pretty thing, not once?”

He pulls your gown up, exposing your soaked cunt to the cold air. You shiver. “Kevva be damned, you’re beautiful darlin’.”

He drags through your folds with those same two fingers, groaning at the wet heat. He finds your clit, giving it an experimental little tap, then circling it with his thumb. Your legs quiver and your head falls back.

Your panting now, chest heaving, arms braced against the couch. You unconsciously widen your legs and feel yourself leak onto the cushion.

“Goddamn,” Ezra groans. “You’re unbelievable baby.” He makes another gentle circle over your clit, and you can scarcely believe the sound you make.

You can feel your body tightening. Your muscles go rigid and your toes curl. The warmth in your belly returns, spreading out to your limbs. “Ezra…,” you say, tears in your eyes. He continues his ministrations, shushing you gently. “You’re just aroused, sweet girl.” He dips into your folds, bringing more of your essence to your swollen clit. Something’s about to happen…you can feel it. Your heart beats faster…your skin feels tight. Ezra presses one of his fingers against your entrance and locks eyes with you. “Gonna give you one finger, my good girl. Just one. Give you something to clench around.”

You nod, not sure what you’re agreeing too. It’s all so much so quickly. Ezra smiles and looks down to where his finger enters your body.

You cry out, and he’s barely a knuckle deep when your walls close around him. He pumps his finger in an out, hooking it just so. You see stars. Your vision goes black at the edges, and your legs shake. He coos, laying you back onto the couch. He’s still working you through it until you start to whine, overstimulated.

He’s showering your face with kisses when he finally stops circling your clit. He withdraws his finger, giving your pussy a slap. His palm falls wetly against your folds, causing a pleasurable little sting.

You’re still catching your breath when he’s opening your thighs again. “You were so good for me, sweet girl, taking that finger. Did I hurt your little clit, rubbing it so hard?” He’s trailing his hand over your abdomen. It tickles, and the skin there quivers. You shake your head.

“Uh huh.” His hand slips down between your legs, cupping your pussy. You groan, arousal stirring again. “I’m gonna kiss it better all the same.”

He slides down the couch, kissing his way over your belly, to the top of your mound. “Ezra,” you moan, and he has to palm himself. “Ezra, please.”

He noses your curls, chin bumping against your folds. You groan louder, feeling the pressure build inside of you. He seals his lips over that tender bud and sucks.

You arch off the couch, crying out. Your heels dig into the cushions and your hands drop to his hair. He nips your clit with his teeth, stealing your breath, and still travels lower.

He looks up at you, eyes hooded. Your slick paints his mustache and patchy beard. You feel a fresh gush of it coat your thighs at the sight.

He probes your entrance with his tongue, and you twist under him. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. There’s pain in the pleasure, but you also need more. He licks a stripe up your seam, and it makes you shake. “You taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs against you, and the vibrations of his voice against you almost send you spiraling. “Could stay here all cycle.”

His lips return to your clit, swirling his tongue around the little bundle of nerves. Two fingers probe your entrance, and he slides them in without warning. It’s a stretch; your walls flutter around him to accommodate the intrusion. Then he starts to move.

“Goddamn pretty girl. I think you can take another.” He slides in his ring finger aside the other two after just two pumps, and you groan at the stretch.

“So full,” you murmur, already cock drunk and you haven’t even had it yet. He pumps his fingers in and out of you while eating you out, feeling your cunt tighten and clench around him.

“Gonna give me another sweet girl? One more before you take this cock?”

You find yourself nodding…anything just so he doesn’t stop. He crooks his fingers and presses into that spongey spot inside you, and you keen.

It hits you like a lightning bolt. The tension in your belly unspools, and before you can stop yourself you’re riding his face, hands clenched in his hair. You know it must hurt, but you can’t be bothered to care.

He coaxes you back down with soothing words, his soaked hand rubbing little circles on your inner thigh. “That’s my good girl,” he says to you over and over. “Gonna take this cock so well.”

When you finally come down he’s holding himself, languidly stroking your juices over his shaft.

Your eyes immediately go to the cock in his hand. It’s big…you’re not entirely sure it will fit. Your mouth goes dry as you notice the little bead of precum clinging to the tip.

“It’ll fit, darlin,” he says, reading your mind. “Gonna fill you up good. Like nobody else.”

His cock twitches, and he gives it a squeeze. “Gonna put a baby in me,” you murmur, and he smiles, cock lined up at your entrance. “That’s right, sweetheart. That’s what I said.”

The fat head of his cock breaches your entrance and you gasp. It’s a stretch, and once you’ve adjusted he eases a few inches inside you.

You both groan in unison. You can feel yourself relaxing around him, the initial twinge and stretch all but gone. It’s always hurt before. It’s never felt like this.

He’s got both elbows planted on either side of your head. He bends down to kiss you, and sinks his cock to the hilt.

You moan into the kiss. For a few moments neither of you move. His breath is coming in warm puffs. His hips are moving in little thrusts; he’s not fully fucking you yet…it’s like he’s settling in.

“Knew this pussy would take me,” he grits out. “So perfect. So tight.” He pulls out and then slams back in. It takes your breath. He finds a rhythm, pulling all the way out before thrusting back into your tight heat. His pelvis grinds against your clit. He balances on one arm, pulling up your hospital gown and exposing your chest.

You blush. He looks at you in awe, then bends and licks a stripe up your sternum. “Knew these tits would be perfect, too,” he says before taking one his mouth.

Your mouth drops open. He’s fucking you hard, and you’re so full you wonder briefly if they’ll be any room for his seed. You wrap your legs around him, the wet squelch of your bodies joining and your harsh breathing the only sounds in the room.

He pulls off your breast, a string of saliva dragging from his lips. “I’d come on these pretty titties if it wouldn’t be a waste of seed,” he stammers out. His hips are stuttering…there’s high color to his cheeks, and his hair is soaked in sweat. He flicks one of your hard nipples and it goes white at the sting. “Maybe next time.”

You clench around him at the thought of a next time. He pulls out suddenly and flips you on your belly. He slaps your thigh. “On your knees for me, sweet girl. Gonna pound you deep.” You’ve barely processed what he’s saying before he’s slipped inside you again, fucking you at a furious pace. He is hitting you deeper at this angle, you marvel, and a blooming warmth starts unfurling in your body even more rapidly than before.

Ezra reaches for your clit with his free hand, and it sends you over the edge. You soak his cock, and he groans, pulling you up and grabbing your hips in a bruising grip. A few more thrusts and he’s spilling inside you; his hot release branding your insides.

He collapses against you. You’re both breathing heavily, your body slicked in sweat. Ezra stays there for a long time, pressing sloppy kisses into your shoulder.

You feel sleepy, fucked out. Your eyes slip closed as Ezra slips out of you. He presses what seed escapes back into your loose hole, holding it inside with his fingers.

“Gonna take, pretty girl. We’re gonna populate the new world, you and me. Gonna be a regular Adam and Eve.”

You moan into the couch cushion. You’re pleasantly sore, and your mind is blissfully blank. Ezra’s fingers wiggle within, and you clench around him, trying to keep him inside.

You never wanted to help repopulate the world, you can’t help but think. But if Ezra was by your side, maybe a baby wouldn’t be so bad.

-0-0-0-

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑰 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝑨𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆

pairing: ezra x fem!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, modern au

word count: 1.8k

summary: you cook for ezra's guests, and seeing the sight of you being so domestic awakens something in him.

warnings: established relationship (dating), housewife kink, creampie, mild breeding kink, use of vaginal plugs, cum play, oral (receiving), piv, kitchen sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talking, a promise of somnophilia at the end but not delved into

a/n: I miss autumn and had this idea right before bed.

You're in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and apron tied tight around your waist. The oven is on, the smell of pumpkin and cinnamon wafting through the air. Ezra's colleagues and boss have already arrived, their chatter filling the living room, but you're content to be here, cooking. The dips, crackers, and other finger food had already been set up so you’re sure they’re doing fine along with Ezra’s company.

You glance over at the spread on the counter, taking in the autumnal hues of the dishes. The roasted root vegetables are a deep orange, the sage stuffing a warm brown. The dessert is still baking in the oven, the scent of warm apples and nutmeg promising something sweet and comforting. 

“Why aren’t you the perfect little housewife.” the voice is soft, deep, the southern drawl reminding you of the gentle caress of the sun. You turn to him, smiling. He’s quick to make his way to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. “You’re a vision, birdie. My pretty shining jewel.” 

He drags his nose up your neck, the soft hair tickling and sending shivers up your spine. Briefly, your eyes linger over the kitchen door, it’s wide open. If anyone decides to head to the bathroom, the two of you would be in full view. You attempt to shimmy away but he only holds you tighter. 

“Ezra, you shouldn’t be doing this when your boss is literally in the next room.” 

“I’m sure he’d enjoy the show.” 

“Hey,” you playfully nudge him in the ribs, he grins into your burning skin. 

“Just joking. I would never share you with anyone, not even the image of you.”

He’s ravenous. He always was but this time is different. He pulls up your dress, his hands moving up your bare thighs. Ezra smooths his palms over your ass teasing the seams of your panties.

“For someone who doesn’t want others to see, you’re sure are taking an awful lot of risk,” you tease. “You should go. Entertain them.” 

“You look gorgeous, my little bird. I apologize but I don’t think I can hold myself back when you’ve donned such a cute apron and beautiful dress.” his lips touch your ear, you shudder. “I’ll be quick. Promise.” 

Two fingers slip inside you. Ezra hums at how wet you already are, and you shudder as he thrusts them deeper. The strokes of his fingers feel long and thick, the way he can take you apart so easily sends a rush of pleasurable fear crackle along your skin. Your head falls over his shoulder, his lips and tongue moving over your pulse. He feels your heartbeat, kisses it, hoping it’ll provide comfort. Your clench around him, more slick dripping down his knuckles. He pulls them, out tasting them.

“Delicious.” he groans, the vibrations of his chest seeping into your person. “Best darn thing I tasted all day.” 

“I’m going to try and not take offense to that.”

“Your cooking is lovely little bird but your essence is truly divine.”  He slips his fingers into you once more, your body responding but forcing a moan from your lips. This time when he pulls them back out, he offers them to you. “Have a taste and you’ll see.” 

Despite your apprehensions, you’re not above doing what he tells you to do. Obediently, you part your lips, he pushes them between your lips, and your swirl your tongue. You have a sweet, tangy taste. You don’t think it’s better than your cooking per se, but maybe it is. Ezra has a way of changing your mind. 

He diligently slides your panties to the side, cock moving between the lips of your cunt. You swallow down your moans, shaking as you brace yourself up by pressing your hands into the edge of the kitchen counter. Your skin prickles every time the head catches along your clit, he continues to grind himself between your thighs until he pushes in. The girth of him forces you to spread your legs further open, you feel the way he pulses inside. 

“E-Ezra,” you moan, eyes already rolling back. “Shit—” 

“Now, birdie, we need to be silent don’t we.” he cups your mouth, pulling you flush against his chest. “I love the way you lose yourself. You’re too eager to scream my name aren’t you?” 

You nod, tears flooding your lashlines. He smiles. “My sweet wife.” 

Your walls flutter at that, clamping around him and wetting his cock. A loud groan slips from his lips, it seems your body’s reaction was just as surprise to him as it was to you. Neither of you talked about marriage or the future, not that you were avoiding it, but being with him was simple, fun. No need to plan every detail. But something about him calling you his wife, or how pretty you looked as a housewife, it ignites something inside you. 

“You like that?” he teases. “You enjoy being nothing but a hole for me to use? For me to fuck as you cook for our guests? How naughty of you, birdie.” 

Your eyes to snap to the door again, you can hear the soft chatter and the sound of glasses clinking from the living room. His fingers press into your jaw, nails biting into your skin. 

“Don’t focus on them, focus on me,” he growls. “This is how it’s going to play out—I’m going to fill you up, then plug you. And if you’re good, I’m going to eat you out and make you come until you’re a mess for me. Understood?” 

Heat pools between your legs, your thighs shaking from the thought alone. As soon as you nod, Ezra sets the pace. His thrusts are forceful, needy, hungry. You feel him everywhere, all at once. You hold back your moans as he sucks a patch of skin, his teeth digging into the sensitive flesh right after. He feels so good, so hot. He jackhammers into you, his free hand cupping and squeezing your breast. Your clit aches with the need to be touched but he chases his own release only. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he groans, swallowing after every swear. “Gonna—Gonna fill you up good, birdie. You’re gonna drip for me all night, my wife—My gorgeous, stunning, naughty wife—”

You’re glad he’s covering your mouth because even the heat of his palm can barely stop the noises slipping from your lips. He ruts into you like a dream, a delusion. God, you love it. The skin of your ass stings with him. His cock throbs and twitches, you’re almost there but not quite. You want him to touch you, to make you drip all over the floor. You lick his palm. 

“‘Want a kiss, birdie?” he asks, sounding almost deluded. “Just—fuck—I’m so close, wait a bit more.” 

He rocks into you once, twice—you hiss as his teeth sink into your shoulder, cock twitching as he spills into you. You shudder, his seed spilling from where your entrance is stretched around him. Suddenly, you feel his lips on yours, tongue hungrily licking into you. You finally moan freely into his mouth and he swallows the noises you make. It’s such a dizzying feeling that you don’t notice him pulling out and replacing it with something much smaller and soft plastic. 

“Keep it all in,” he groans, voice deep and scratchy. “God, the thought of you being filled with me,” he shivers, he traces a pattern of soft kisses down your neck and smooths his lips over the bite mark. “walking around like this while serving our food. Fuck—it’s going to be hard to make conversation, birdie.” 

The rest of the evening was absolute, undeniable, torture. Everyone seemed to enjoy the food you made, which was good, but every time Ezra touched you, you flinched, the warmness of his seed spilling from the outline of the plug. He seemed to know because he grinned every moment of it. It was somewhat hilarious because the touches were actually quite innocent. A palm resting on the small of your back, his fingers squeezing your thigh from underneath the table. Nothing extravagant. 

But all you could think of was his promise. 

And Ezra is nothing but a man eager to keep his word. 

As soon as everyone leaves, he pulls you into the bedroom. Stripping you and laying you down on to the comfort of your bed. He spreads your legs, looking wistfully at the mess the plug is struggling to keep contained. You gasp when he pulls it out, your legs left trembling due to the way he gazes at you. Two fingers trace the seam of your cunt, he slowly pushes them in, a soft growl echoing from the back of his throat. He swirls his fingers, shoves them deeper, and then out. Your back arches at the building pleasure, your fingers curl into the sheets, needing more of him. 

“So gorgeous,” he says. “Tell me what you want.” 

“Your mouth,” you whimper. “Please—I’ve…I’ve been good haven’t I?” 

“Very much so, birdie, yes.” your eyes follow the trace of his smile, his eyes grow soft. “You’ve been good. You’re always so good, immaculate even.” 

Ezra drags his lips up the inside of your thighs, closing his lips around your clit. Your fingers immediately fly to the back of his head, your fingers play with the soft locks, pulling him closer. He groans into you. Licking you clean, tasting himself and you. The tip of his tongue traces your entrance, he slips a finger and gently bites the skin right below your pelvis. You gasp his name, your eyes dropping to him between your legs. He meets your gaze, holding it as his tongue delves deeper, moves hungrier. 

He devours you. Swallows you whole. You feel as if you’re falling, the coil tightening in your stomach. You can barely breathe from the way his tongue moves, the gulps loud, his lips kissing you as if he would your mouth. 

Your hips stutter. The final thing to push you over the edge his the way he curls his fingers, thrusting them deep and stroking you most untouched, sensitive part. Ezra doesn’t stop as you come, gushing around his fingers and drenching his lips. He drinks like a man dying of thirst. Your eyes roll back, your chest heaves. It’s too much. 

“That’s it,” he encourages. “So fuckin’ sweet for me always. Such a beautiful sight. I love it when you fall for me.” 

Your orgasm slowly fades and he lays next to you, pulling you close. His hard cock rests over the curve of your ass, precum beading at the tip. 

“Ezra…” 

“Rest, little bird,” he mutters, lips brushing the back of your neck. You let out a soft sigh as he slips into you, the feeling of him makes you drowsy. A yawn parts your lips. “Sleep, I’ll still be here when you wake up. Filling you, making you mine.” 

You nod and smile. 

The last thing you feel is the warmth of his lips as they tenderly brush against your temple. 

[skoulsons]

Eye To Eye Is All We Can See

• gif by @azertyrobaz

Pairing: Ezra & Cee (Prospect 2018)

Word count: ~2900

Summary: Ezra says something stupid and Cee tries to convince him that he’s wrong

A/N: Nothing except I wrote this until sunrise , so I apologize if it is absolutely terrible, downright ooc, or horribly grammatically. I have not rewatched the movie quite yet 💀 Just a bit of fluff and a tiny hurt/comfort?? Don’t ship them!!

Tagging my favorite people who I get to talk about this movie with: @sotvtaughtmehowtofeel @not-so-mundane-after-all @orangechickenpillow @jessahmewren @alternatewriter @starchild0985

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you,” she said.

They’ve been together a few cycles, the Green Moon left far behind them.

The cycles have been nothing short of eventful in a small spacecraft and two strangers in a very complicated relationship. Cee has had to keep an extra keen eye on Ezra. Not because of distrust, but to make sure his arm is healing well. Or, as well as a cut-off limb could heal with limited medical supplies and a kid, though capable, having done the operation.

Also because Ezra keeps forgetting he’s lost an arm and continuously reaches out for support along the walls of the ship when he moved from their sleeping quarters to the cockpit and he has fallen every single time. He fell out of his bed the first night they were in it; Cee spent five minutes trying to pull him back into the bed and then another fifteen having a verbal battle with him to try and convince him to get back in bed.

There have been moments of frustration where things catch up with Cee, her irritations coming out verbally to Ezra. He never fights back. He always sits, patient and understanding as Cee rehashes the things she’s kept bottled up and taped down for years with all the strength of scotch tape that’s lost all its grip.

They were also navigating their route off the Green to somewhere safe and figuring out… what exactly they were. Strangers? Partners? Friends? Family? Ezra has treated Cee as a real person, a girl with agency and deserving of a fruitful life since the second he met her; it’d be difficult to walk away from someone who gave you something you missed out on all your life. In that same way, it’d be hard to walk away from a kid that saved your life—twice.

Cee also had nightmares about the Green. The Saters, the mercs, the music, even her own father. Ones of Ezra, too. Him dying, abandoning her. Him using her, just like Damon seemed to do. On the worst night, the night when Damon and Ezra’s lifeless eyes were all she could see and their cold, torn open skin were all she could feel, she woke up crying.

Ezra was at her side before she even woke, unsure what exactly to do. He waited, and when she finally did wake, with a tear-stained face and a burning throat, Ezra’s compassion was overwhelming. His eyes were gentle, concerned. He kept his only arm hovering over her shoulder, waiting for permission. She let him hold it, for both their sakes, wishing she’d hugged him instead. Wishing she met him on the floor, their legs a conglomeration of limbs as he held her tight against his side. Instead, he stayed beside her until she calmed, quiet and reserved affirmations in It’s okay, little bird and You’re safe, Cee. Damon's cold, almost robotic responses to her harsher dreams were always Quit your crying or It’s a dream, calm down, so when Ezra keeps a firm, reassuring hold on her shoulder, talks her through it, and wears a soft smile Cee thinks she got to see even before Kevva knew of it—one that is only heightened when the stars of the Black shine enough light in to highlight his strands, making him look less intimidating than he makes himself out to be—Cee relaxes. How a stranger, of all people, can sit beside her and walk her through something so small compared to what all the Black has to offer is beyond her. How Ezra, literally, stooped down to her level to comfort her.

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing that has happened the last seven cycles makes sense. The Green and the people, if they could even be called such a thing, that the pair encountered still seemed so far away from Cee. That they were things that seemed only to be written in fictional novels and included in stories of old.

Except for one thing. One thing that makes sense. One thing that Cee is becoming more clear on with each passing cycle. Perhaps the clearest thing to come out of their time together.

He cares.

She cares, too.

And now they were in the Black, and had been for six cycles. The vastness and eternity of the growing darkness offered a strange comfort to both of them. Despite their care for each other, freedom was out there. Freedom awaited the both of them out there. Separate freedom.

Cee was always confined to Damon. She was always just another pair of hands to mine or hold something Damon couldn’t. An extra pair of eyes to search for Aurelac or an extra pair of ears to listen for any harm or to protect him, completely selfishly. Damon never acted selflessly, not even for his own daughter.

She hadn’t much freedom apart from him. She was always tied to him and his work. She was never given opportunities away from him. No chances for her to explore on her own. To see what was so great about this life that Kevva gifted her. She never had the chance to meet other people and form lasting friendships. She wasn’t given time to… live.

The Black offered that to her—Opportunities. Planets to stop at, to lay low on. Places to settle down. A life to live.

Ezra had freedom ever since he was a kid. He was free, encouraged even, to explore. To get to know the world around him. The vastness of the growing creation. He had the freedom, the opportunities, to explore all of it. But as he grew, there was a hunger for earning. A hunger for points and mining. Anything that could offer him a more than satisfactory life. Aurelac, specifically. An attachment to the work, the hunt, also selfishly. He did what he had to to get what he wanted, similar to Damon. Only Ezra, despite being on his own for most of his adulthood and being separated from his family for longer, cared. He cared enough to listen and pay attention to a little girl he didn’t even know.

He cared enough to be fair. Even split.

Being free from his work wasn’t too far-fetched for Ezra, but it happening because of a child was definitely not his expectation.

Especially someone like Cee. She had a fire in her. She was capable, he knew first hand she was. She was strong, threatening when she needed to be. She was skilled, intelligent, able.

But she was just a kid. He saw how scared she was, even with Damon. But in their time on the Green, he’s gotten to know her. Cee was kind, careful. Ezra noticed the way the inflection in her voice changed when she got excited about Streamer Girl. She cared and she protected. Her heart was big, willing to risk her life to go back for him, even after he specifically told her to go.

Cee was good. All she did was help. Love. She wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t selfish. She wasn’t ruthless or hungry for points. She wasn’t bad.

Ezra believed himself to be. He killed. He was willing, ready, to kill. Someone who has that reputation isn’t good, especially when killing a little girl’s dad gets added to the list, despite what he thought of the man.

He doesn’t believe he’s worthy to be thanked. That anything he’s done, especially to her, is any reason for thanks.

“Oh, no, nothing to thank me for, birdie. I have left you barren and deem your gratitude inappropriate for such a time. Ever since you touched down on the Green Moon, your conditions have been less than unacceptable…”

“Ezra…”

“...and I have been present in all the things that have troubled you so greatly these last few cycles. You have been burdened with dragging my weakened bag of bones across the Green.” “Even as we venture into the Black, you have continually endured my long-winded communication and idle, though I believe fascinating, narrative.”

“Ezra-”

“I am a bit crestfallen that you’ve been subjected to a multitude of predicaments in the time we’ve been together and that I have imparted insignificant salutary to your current expedition.”

“Ezra.”

“The Saters, the mercenaries… I’ve only brought you hindrance after hindrance, little bird. Allow me to implement points in to your care so that you may persevere in your journey and-”

“Ezra!” she shouted, grabbing at his face. Her hands reached his neck first, fingers stretching to the back of his neck, tickling his hairline.

She doesn’t know what this is like. Damon was never really gentle with her. Not physically, at least. She thinks, maybe, he was gentle with her when she was born. Holding her in the crook of his arm, her small, fragile head resting in the safety of his hold. Her skin held against his, breathing in tune with his, eyes fluttering open to catch her first glimpse of the world; her father, a tight-lipped smile strung across his face as tears well in his eyes, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth over the blanket she’s wrapped tightly in, occasionally bringing his thumb up to her red cheeks, a quiet hi to greet her.

Something she thinks Ezra could’ve done.

Something she suspects Damon didn’t do.

Something she knows Ezra would’ve done.

Cee pulled her hands away from his neck and brought them to his face instead, her palms too small to hold him the way she wanted to. She tried, letting them rest against his cheeks and feeling the scratch of his beard beneath her fingers. She kept her fingers outstretched, her pointer and middle threading lightly through the hair above his ears as her last two sit beneath his ear. She kept her thumbs in place on both his cheeks.

If there’s something to say, Cee can't say it.

She’s used to apologizing. She’s used to apologizing over taking up too much space. She’s used to apologizing over getting excited over Streamer Girl. She’s used to apologizing for eating too much of their rations, even when it was the amount she and Damon agreed on. She’s used to apologizing over resting, even when there was nothing to do. She’s used to apologizing over… being around him. Her breath was enough to apologize for.

But this wasn’t for apologizing. Ezra said something stupid and she needs to convince him that he’s wrong.

But the words can’t come to her. They don't. A contrast to how Ezra seemingly has an eleven page research paper of words on hand at all times, no matter the situation, Cee comes up short on correcting him. On affirming him that he’s wrong. On reassuring him that he has helped her.

He���s a grown man. A grown man who killed her father doesn’t need affirmation. Doesn’t need reassurance. And he surely does not need his face held because some kid thought he said something stupid.

Definitely not.

She holds his face firmly, the skin of his cheeks forming at her hold. “Don’t… say that, please. You’ve…” she pauses, inhaling and exhaling through her nose, forcing herself to catch his eyes and to make sure he hears her. “You’ve done a lot. You have. I know it’s… it’s only been a few cycles, but…”

You saved me. You protected me. You kept me. You came after me. You encouraged me. You made me feel safe. You tried to sacrifice yourself for me. You killed for me, more than once.

You loved me. You love me.

Her mind races with all of it, every word holding an unimaginable weight she had never experienced prior. Every word holding truth and passion behind them. Honesty covered every single one, Cee knowing in her soul that that was the man Ezra is. Those things he has done for her, how he’s treated her—that is who he is.

She watches him, wondering if, somehow, the look in her eyes could say the words for her. And if the glimmer in his eye is any indication, she thinks the burning it has left in her heart has found its way to his, too.

She could never say any of that about Damon. He wasn’t an encouragement and any dreams she had and wanted to pursue were shut down by him. She didn’t feel safe with him—not the kind of safe where she’d hide behind him if they were approached. There wasn’t any confidence that he’d care to protect her with his life. And if it came down to the Saters, Damon wouldn’t have kept her.

Ezra was different. Ezra was new, fresh. Real. He showed her more in seven cycles than Damon showed her in sixteen years.

That, to Cee, was enough.

She was wanted now. She could tell. Ezra’s attempt at telling her he was no good for her and saying he offered her nothing was the furthest thing from the truth.

Cee has sought connections all her life and was always denied or taken too soon to form a new one. It was always just Damon. Ezra went through so many partners in his life that he became numb to anyone who would stick around permanently. Numb to anyone who would ever be with him—his other half. And when a child entered his life and created and filled the hole in his heart that wasn’t there before, it became something supernatural. A longing he had immediately, and also a resisting. He was dangerous and he managed to put Cee in some of the most risky situations in under a day.

But Cee didn’t focus on that. She saw through that. She saw his passion and interest in the things he talked about. While it has only been with her, she’s seen the way he cares. The way he went to walk her through the operation on his arm. How he smiled at her and had an immediate pet name off hand to call her by, which, surprisingly, has stuck around—not that she would ask for him to stop using it. How he indulged her interest in Streamer Girl, saying he must now read it after hearing her praise it so well. She’s seen his gentleness in how he’s treated her, spoken to her, but also his violence in how he’d protected her from the mercenaries.

He’s done more than enough, as much as he may try and convince her, or himself, that he has not.

She smiles at him, her hands still on the sides of his face. Before she has a moment to really think, she brought her hands around his neck more, tilting his head down and his forehead towards her. She goes to the side a bit, kissing the skin right at the hairline of his blonde section of hair. She takes a moment to breathe in while her lips are still pressed to his forehead and her fingers lay by his ears, gently holding his head in place.

If she can’t find words, she hopes this works in their place.

She pulls away from him, keeping her hands still on his face as she settles their glances back. Ezra smiles as he shyly drops his head, breathing out a light laugh. Cee smiles, too. A wide, happy smile. One almost unfit after all she’s been dealt.

Cee drops her left hand to his shoulder and takes her right hand away from his face and brings it to the blonde section of his hair. “So…” she starts, rubbing some strands back and forth between her thumb and pointer finger, “how did this even happen?”

Ezra lifts his head, trying to move his head out of Cee’s grasp, but she just laughs, continuing to rub the strands together. He stops moving his head and looks back at her, a more serious expression on his face. “Quite the story there, little bird.”

She makes a face. “...And? We’re not in a rush.”

“That we aren’t, birdie. That we aren’t. Still, it’s a bit of a lengthy tale that I don’t believe to be worthwhile taking up any cherished time we have on our trek-”

“Ezra.”

“Yes?”

“Are you avoiding my question because it’s an embarrassing story?”

Ezra looks offended and starts backing up his claim with no’s and some long and winding explanation as to how, after inhaling alarming amounts of Dust in the Green, he was brought to Central to be fixed up. A few cycles in, Ezra, prematurely, got out of bed and tripped over himself, hitting the small guard rail on the other side of the bed, knocking himself unconscious. The incident gave him nine extra cycles at medical bay and, within a few weeks, after his wound had healed, his hair was growing back blonde.

They laugh together in the ship, the joyous noise echoing off the walls as they continue to pile on jokes and more stories as the conversation flows. By the end of it, Cee’s face is red and Ezra is breathing heavily, both of them slumped against separate walls, holding their stomachs.

It’s true, there are opportunities out there in the Black. Places to settle down and figure things out. And with each new passing cycle, their decision becomes more clear: they’re figuring it out together.

~~~~~~~~~

post-fic note: I can’t remember exactly, but Ezra’s hair growing back blonde after an incident I think comes from another prospect fic out there, I think we violent ones, but I’m 100% sure if it was that one or another one. All that to say it is not an original idea and I don’t take credit for using it for Ezra’s character. I liked the idea of it when I first read it and wanted to use it similarly

[oonajaeadira]

For the Love of Fic: November 20

Heyo! I've been just parking read fic here for a while and didn't realize how long it was getting! And then I used my wait times in Disney to read a bunch more.... anyway. I've got a long list of fun for you!

Also, I'm really sorry, this is the dumbest header I've ever made but it made me laugh so here we are.

🪐 = Year of Themed Creation Fics!

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DIETER BRAVO

Dieter, Dieter, Pumpkin Eater by @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist I can't decide what I love more: Dieter getting frisky in a bouncy castle or his gleeful exclamations when the goats take to him. I want this. I want all of it. Sign me up. Crocs and all.

Tip Your Server by @nothoughtsjustmeds I love love love this fic. I love Dieter needing to get reader all hot and bothered while wearing fancy clothes, I love the banter, I love the obvious love these two have, the cavalier throw-away of a precious object, every gesture of affection and its tie to absolute, loving sass. And the prose is so great. This is a masterclass fic.

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JOEL MILLER

Strong Enough To Stand by @the-blind-assassin-12 Oof. This both hurt and was satisfying. Joel has a habit of holding onto love and hurt. It's definitely detrimental at times. But damn if it doesn't illustrate how fiercely he loves. Alyssa's lead up story to this--It Pours From Your Eyes--nearly destroyed me, but this one thankfully helped to soothe.

Surrender Chapter 13 and Chapter 14 by @ezrasbirdie Birdie gave us a beautiful reunion and ending for Daisy and Joel and I'm just so proud of her for putting her heart into a wonderful OC. There's so much in this series about learning to love and--even more interesting--learning to BE loved, and both Joel and Daisy are wonderful for that. I know there's an epilogue coming and I will patiently wait for my desert while this meal of a fic settles in my heart.

Saying I love you through an accidental kiss by @songsformonkeys Listen. Joel Miller's got a lot going on today and it's chaotic and you made him food and took care of Sarah and you...you reached for him first. SOFT! CUTENESS!

Spend All Your Love Making Time by @haylzcyon Sub!Joel is my new favorite obsession. He's just so in LOVE with reader, so in thrall and this is hot hot hot.... Those baby browns are certainly made for puppydog wants....

Something Soft by @keldabe-kriff 🪐 Everyone knows what you do with dandelions, right? Until an apocalypse wipes off even the tiniest things from human culture. Then kids like Ellie may not understand the simple joy of making a wish on one. Good thing there's folks like Joel who remember and help her out.

Joel, Interrupted by @iamskyereads This is both melancholy and warm, and that is such a welcome taste. It is quiet and lovely and the last line gave me so many feelings. If Joel was a ghost in his own house, this is exactly how he'd be. <3

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MARCUS MORENO

Not All Heroes Wear Capes by @all-the-things-2020 🪐 I love "fandom crossovers" as a year of tropes offering. ST:TNG was one of my big fandom obsessions, so it's nice to return to some of those characters. Putting a Pedro boy in there is inspired, and this was handled so well!!!

If It Wasn't For The Nights by @simpingcowboy 🪐 Marcus is just made for angst, isn't he. It's obvious how much he loved his wife and how much he loves their daughter. Going inside to examine that is just asking for a heart twist....

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JAVI GUTIERREZ

The Last Blockbuster: Bump in the Night by @blueeyesatnight I love these two slacker filmophiles and am always happy to see them return to my dash. This time it's a test of readers' spine, to see if she can handle the scary movies like she says she can. I appreciate the appearance of another movie memorabilia piece...🦇🦇🦇

IRL part 1 @ nickcage_numerouno and part 2: of festivals and food by @grogusmum I love that both these dopes are so insecure about meeting one another. Javi is sweet and wonderful like always, and it's nice to get his POV here and there as our plus-size reader deals with her own assumptions. But oh my gosh he's smitten and if there's gonna be a part 3 I'll lose my mind.

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COMANDANTE VERACRUZ

When it Comes to You... by @flightlessangelwings 🪐 I mean, if anyone's gonna get violently protective over his girl, it just might be Veracruz. I mean, to make you his priority during an ambush? To come back victorious and rail the crap out of you afterward? That's the dream....

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DAVE YORK

First Kill by @hopeamarsu 🪐 Holy balls, this is a beautiful little character study on Dave. Hope goes inside his head during a therapists' session where he's asked about his first kill, and it is menacing AF. Take a look at this piece, because it is bomb.

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EZRA

Gravity by @insomniamamma 🪐 J has a way with Ezra that I'm just addicted to. I know she loves him deeply, always takes so much care with him, gets his soft side just right. She makes me yearn so very hard for this man...his physical gracelessness a grand contrast to the gracefulness of his devotion. My goodness, I love this fic.

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PERO TOVAR

untitled by @writeforfandoms Listen. It's a little mixed trope drabble about Pero as your bodyguard that might not mind being mistaken for your boyfriend and I could take 10K of this thanks.

Bangathon fics Cowgirl and Missionary by @prolix-yuy I may be a broken record, but I just cannot get enough of a solem and sour protector who only shows his vulnerability behind closed doors. I knew better than to read LJ's take on him and expect to remain unmelted.

Grumpy Pumpkin by @sirowsky This is just the very cutest. Of course Pero knows his way around knives, but pumpkin carving doesn't go exactly as you planned. In fact, it goes much sweeter.

Seed by @perotovar I love a Pero that is hot for his wife whether or not she can concieve. And that the want for a baby that hasn't come yet doesn't make them sad...it just makes them want to try harder! Soft and sweet and spicy all at once. Just like I like him.

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FRANKIE MORALES

Ring Toss by @morallyinept Look. It's a simple concept. Frankie brings you donuts because Frankie loves you. You're resisting because you're on some silly diet. Donuts have holes. Frankie's got something that will fit in that hole. One temptation is bad enough, but two sticky treats together? Resistance is futile.

Questions and Stories part 1 and part 2 by @never--doubt 🪐 I love this concept of Frankie and reader's daughter asking them how they met and functioned as soulmates, how love takes work, and the mechanic of not being able to see one particular color until your aoulmate finds you....

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EDDIE THE VAMPIRE (WITH MAX PHILLIPS)

An Act of Kindness by @missredherring This is a very sweet intro to a really lovely dynamic between a vampire reader and a fledgling. Oh my balls, Eddie needs help and she's such a good teacher. And he's so smitten with her in the cutest way... And of course, Max being Max, which is to say, Max being a douche.

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JAVIER PEÑA

Summer Kiss Prompt - Apology Kiss by @something-tofightfor I cannot deal when strong men recognize thier trauma and try to do better. It's clear here that Javi hasn't learned how to let someone else take the lead with him yet, but the growth that's comes is beautiful.

Summer Kiss Prompt - Lazy Kiss by @something-tofightfor Rachael does slice of life so well. There's something very wonderful about Javi's focus on his work to the point where he forgets to take care of himself, and maybe even lovlier about the woman who makes sure he eats something and has himself a break now and then...

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TIM ROCKFORD

Rockford and Roan 4 by @littlemisspascal I am so in love with Rae's soft soulmate stories, she always knows how to warm my heart. This one has some darker elements what with Tim investigating crimes....BUT THERE'S ALSO A DOG THIS TIME.

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DIN DJARIN

Ambrosial by @spacecowboyhotch A soft and lovely story staring a black reader, wherein Din learns about the ritual and culture of her hair, how it links her to her family, how much a part of her it is...and therefore how much a part of himself. I just wanna curl up in this, it's so cozy.

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SPECIAL GUEST CORNER

FENNEC SHAND

A Different Way of Life by @ghostofskywalker 🪐 Yes. Yes this is what I want. To run away for adventure only to find I really ran away with the love of my life...who just happens to be a bounty hunter and a ton of fun.

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DICK GRAYSON

Seasons of Love by @captainsophiestark 🪐 I don't know much about this character, but he seems very sweet and loving. A jump through time in a relationship involving ties to the Wayne family.

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[prolix-yuy]

I got honey bear and I think it would perfectly fit our underrated hedonistic feral trashpanda of a man, Ezra 👀

Thank you, LJ! 🥰

Darling Fanna, you know I had to give you the best I could possibly fathom. You are always so supportive and kind, and the best way I could think of to thank you was to make Ezra get absolutely WRECKED.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Position: Honey Bear

Word Count: 1917 (a big sendoff for a wonderful bangathon!)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, bisexual reader, Dom!Reader, bratty switch!Ezra, mentions of wlw, allusions to oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), anal play, rimming (m receiving), fingering (m receiving), biting, brief noncon thought (not acted on), cum play, cum eating/swapping, everyone is filthy and having a great time.

Notes: Here it is! The final Bangathon request! And I tried my hardest to make it as filthy, as bangable, as explosive as possible for an excellent finish! (how many more sex jokes can I cram in here?) Thank you for giving me the perfect final request, and thank everyone for reading and coming on this sexy month-long sleepover with me!

The moment you rise to the challenge, you know you’ve made a mistake. 

The other prospectors in your group had been drinking, something strong and sour-sweet they must have brewed from the plant life. Algora had many mysterious treasures hidden amongst its flora, including the delicate stamens from an indigo-gold flower you were collecting. You’d taken a few too many swigs of the hooch yourself, chasing the rotten flavor with faux chocolate ration bars. The slow unclenching of your muscles must have also unfurled your tongue when they began bragging of conquests.

“So much talk for a bunch of men who’ve never made a woman cum,” you drawl out, the boisterous negations rising as you slide your eyes to your target. Ezra - loquacious, boastful, self-assured survivor of the Green - doesn’t add to the noise. Instead he traces the inseam of his pants, and flickers his eyes up to catch yours. You hold them, challenging, but he only lets a secret smile curl his lip.

“And how many have you made crash against the rocks of pleasure, Quick?” he says, voice carrying over the din even though he barely raises it. The men simmer at the stare-down. Ezra had given them all cutting nicknames, but your own - quicklime, caustic, harsh, explosive - gave you a thrill you’d never admit.

“Many more than you,” you shoot back, peeling your fingers into a V and flicking your tongue lewdly between them. The men shout and jeer, but their voices fade into obscurity as you stand against the man who’d been haunting your nights. Stalking outside your tent, sometimes lingering too long, his shadow stretched across the canvas. More than once you’d admired his silhouette jerking off as quietly as possible, prideful lust burning through your veins. Let him look on and desire, you’d think before indulging yourself. 

“Maybe so,” Ezra says nonchalantly, tossing back the last of the foul liquor and licking the pad of his thumb. Your cunt aches, too long without a satisfying partner, and too much alcohol pulsing in your intimate flesh.

“Don’t be sore, Ez, I could ruin you just as well,” you toss out, throat closing up the moment you say it. The challenge is too bold in such company, but it’s too late to take it back. Ezra’s eyes blaze, the sharp flash of teeth catching the light before smoothing into a bored eyebrow raise.

“Maybe so.”

You excuse yourself soon after, whoops and promises of mind-blowing nights following. You wave them off dismissively, knowing not a single man would dare try and test your patience. Rickel still has trouble kneeling from the slash you gave the inside of his thigh. Stripping down in your tent, you scrub the sweat and grime from your body. As the mud joins the rest on your dirt floor, the zip of your tent opens. Fury burns quick and hot in your chest, snatching at a knife by the bucket and spinning around.

“Your offer intrigued me.”

Ezra steps inside the tent flap, zipping it shut behind him. Lowering the knife, you stand in naked glory, preening while his dark eyes roam your wet skin. He lingers by your throat, and the thatch of curls framing your sex. 

“I wondered when you might gather up the courage to come inside,” you say, toweling yourself dry as he steps closer. 

“Does it not make your heart race, standing just on the precipice of something?” Ezra reaches for your skin, but you toss the sopping rag at him instead.

“You're filthy. If you want to know my touch, clean yourself first.”

You actually prefer it that way, musky and sweaty when you indulge, but delight in Ezra following orders. He strips free of his sweat-stained clothing, squeezing water over the hard planes of his back. Even reaching for your soap, lathering it in his armpits, scrubbing his fingernails, and then sudsing his cock. His eyes hood with desire as he strokes himself, letting you watch him grow generously. Another squeeze of water leaves bubbles to pop in the dirt, and Ezra drying himself with your towel.

“Lie down,” you order, and he obeys with amusement in his eyes. You suspect he’s often the one in charge, but his flushed cock twitches at your tone. “Arms up,” you add, and while he raises his eyebrows he lifts his hands above his head, resting them on the pillow under it.

By Kevva he looks gorgeous like this, a feast to be devoured. You hurry to straddle him, sliding your fingers up his arm to press his hands into the bed.

“You promised ruin,” he teases, lifting his jaw to steal a kiss, but you raise just out of reach. The distraction is perfect, because just as he pouts you close the restraints around his wrists. 

The change is electric; his face hardens, eyes turning flinty and indignant with the start of anger, but you grip his chin and hold him to your gaze.

“You’ll have to trust me,” you say. The moment crackles between you, waiting for him to refuse. Instead he lays back and chuckles.

“You know, with this right hand I can easily escape these bonds,” he says, and you catch him trying to gain advantage. Sliding off his lap, you slip between his thighs instead. 

“Does it feel pain?” you ask, dragging your nails slowly down his chest. He arches, a strangled noise in his throat. A pearly drop of precum beads at the tip of his cock, and you spread it across his silky head. 

“Not a lick,” he chokes out. Leaning forward, your hips pressing into the cradle of his, you sink your teeth into his bicep just below the pink line of his true flesh. Fisting his cock, you rut your hips into him, a firm stroke up and down punching a groan from Ezra’s slack lips. The prosthetic flesh feels realistic, and something primal, animal, roars forward. You bite as hard as you can, past the point where you would have drawn blood, and let the adrenaline rush through. Humping into Ezra’s taut body, you jerk his cock in time with your panted breaths, feral with his body finally at your will.

“Quick, fuck, vicious little thing,” Ezra snarls, pulling against the restraints but not breaking free. You release, sitting back on your heels and admiring the ring of teeth you’ve left on his faux skin.

“You’ll have ruin, Ez,” you say, voice thick with promise as you shuffle down to your elbows. He watches you with hazy curiosity as you lift his legs over your shoulders, knees hinging to grip your back. He keens out, and you’re suddenly very aware of how empty and dripping your cunt is. 

“If your sharp mouth has anything to do with it, I will not have the resolve to resist for long,” he hisses, hips canting as he tries to reach your lips. You reward him with a kiss to the tip and a swirl of your tongue, but dip lower instead.

“You’ll just have to try harder,” you challenge before pushing his thighs up and pressing your tongue to his tender asshole. There’s no gentle warm-up; you roll and flutter the muscle hard against his tight ring. Ezra’s hips shoot up off the bed, the rattle of the restraints loud and frantic.

“Fuck, Quick, fuck, fuck, by Kevva, you’re…never…I’ve…stop, please, I can’t…you’re…” Ezra can barely make a thought, which brings more pride than you thought you could gain from wrecking his perspective on pleasure. You continue your onslaught, easing back enough to let him catch his breath before forcefully fucking him with your clever tongue. You’d eaten out women who writhed and begged less, and every plea and racking sob you pull from his battered throat goes straight to your cunt. Wishing you’d fitted one of your toys in your neglected pussy, you settle for rocking against the worn mattress, just enough pressure to ease some of your mounting need.

Once you set a steady rhythm of stroking his weeping cock and breaching his greedy ass, you know he’s done for. He roars through clenched teeth, half-formed promises of how he’ll fuck you until you can’t speak, the debauched things he wants to do to you. You reward the ones you like with a scrape of your teeth, jolting his hips under your mouth. 

“Quick, please,” he groans, the edge of his sanity lost in his voice. You finally relent, lifting your head and glowing at his flushed body, shaking with unshed tears. 

“Tell me,” you order, and everything stops. That’s worse for him, his hips punching up as he struggles to focus. 

“Can you be…inside me?” he asks, voice raw from overuse. You smirk at him, wiggling your free fingers.

“How many?” 

Ezra’s head lolls back as he heaves in a breath. “Two. Please, two.”

Slicking your fingers with spit, you circle his rim. “Deep breath, then let it out.” Ezra complies, and at the top of his sigh you slide your fingers in. The rest of his breath whooshes out, clamping down on the tips. 

“Relax,” you soothe, giving him a few strokes up and down his cock to redirect his attention. When he’s still tight and shuddering you scold, “Ez, if you don’t relax I’m gonna have to force them in.” 

“Fuck!” he curses, and a new wave of slick gathers in your folds. Would he like that? You taking what you want from him, pleasure be damned? Or would that only make it better for him? You lower your voice, huskier, sultrier.

“Take them, Ez.” 

Just like that he relaxes around you, letting you slide in to your knuckles. 

“See? Isn’t that good?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to fuck you now, Ez?”

“Please, Quick. Want it so bad.”

You rock your fingers inside him, finding the soft spot that rolls his eyes back and lengthens his neck. He’s close, cock impossibly hard in your hand and toes curling against your back. Grinding against the bed you chase your own pleasure, waiting for his body to tense up hard before wrapping your lips around his head and flooding your mouth. He snaps his hips up sharply, spilling his seed with frantic shouts and gasps. 

You work him through the aftershocks, holding his cum on your tongue until he’s beginning to soften in your mouth. Lifting off, you slip his legs back to the bed and lean over his chest, lips pursed. Before you can dribble his own spend back on his overheated skin, he opens his mouth and lays out his tongue. Your cunt clenches, crawling up his body as he waits patiently. Opening your mouth, you let his cum slide from your tongue to his, finally sealing your lips together. He licks greedily in, swallowing down his taste. You groan, tangling your fingers in his hair and smearing your neglected cunt against his stomach. When you finally come up for air, his eyes are glassy and ravenous.

“Now yours,” he says, a weak order but one you’re willing to follow. 

“Let me take these off you,” you say, fingers circling his chafed wrists. He shakes his head, lifting his chin with that wicked smile returning to his sinful lips.

“Once I get my hands on you, Quick, you’ll truly be done for.”

Straddling his face, you put a firm hand in his short hair. “Maybe so.”

Unfortunately for your productivity the following day, he’s right.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[kayleezra]

Nobody // (Ezra x GN!Reader)

Word Count: 3, 907 Warnings: just my god-awful writing  Summary: It takes losing you for Ezra to realize that your love is one of a kind.  A/N: I’m not dead! (much to many's dismay) just couldn’t write for the life of me and did I download a copy of the symposium to reference directly? yes, yes I did Also, my wife @writer-darling was kind enough to edit this (per usual since she's an angel sent from the heavens I believe) SO EVERYONE GO LOVE HER!!

(ft. a pic my wife sent me with Ezra vibes)

PRESENT

Waking up alone in a tepid bed wasn’t unknown to Ezra but now, it certainly felt foreign. Turning in the sheets felt eerily familiar, not a familiarity you can’t place but one you can; a familiarity that creates fear. It felt as though the past was pulling him away from the present that he worked so desperately hard to get to, and yet he didn’t move. He didn’t stand from the bed and try to fight the void that was the empty space beside him, the one pulling him into a space he no longer felt comfortable in. Perhaps it was the dull throbbing in his head that turned sharp when he moved too much too fast, a lingering gift from a night of overindulgence. Maybe the heavy regret that sat on his chest kept him pinned to the bed. What if he just didn’t see a reason to fight back, that all hope had been expelled from his body?

No, it wasn’t the last one. It couldn’t be because when he thought of you his heart warmed. When he thought of you he thought of your smile and laugh, particularly the ones he was graced with after fending off any insecurities you had voiced to him. Ezra was no knight in shining armour or brave warrior for keeping your insecurities at bay because it wasn’t something he had to fight or struggle for. His sword was his truth seen by adorning eyes that admired you. 

Ezra is ashamed to admit how it is that he came to these conclusions. It’s been over a week and a half now and he tried to convince himself that his love for you was something that he could replicate elsewhere. Even more outrageously, he tried to find the love that you gave him elsewhere, which he found was like looking for a lion in the jungle. Since last seeing you, Ezra feels like he’s been living a lie like the Lion’s title of King of the Jungle. 

The day after you walked out the door of his place, he went to a small market, proving to himself that light still shone upon him even when his sun was gone. And to be fair, he did find and see a lot of light. He loved the low hum of the crowd that all gathered to collect some local goods. He loved the smell that stemmed from the small family-run kitchens. He loved how lively everyone was, to all be enjoying this space away from the normal mundane of everyday life. 

The second day after you had voiced your concern, he went out for breakfast to his favourite place. Despite having taken you there on multiple occasions he believed your ghost wouldn’t haunt the small cafe located in an apathetic hotel. The familiar smell welcomed him when he walked into the hotel but so did the ghost of you. He felt like he was following the steps of the tender past. Inside the cafe sat couples, mostly seniors, also known as the regulars, each of them living a future he envisioned with you. It certainly didn’t help when the wait staff asked where you were.

Reading in his well-worn chair with his favourite tea wasn’t even safe from your ghost. As he read he’d find a quote he liked or thought you might and would read it aloud, only to look up from the words to an empty room. You weren’t there, you weren’t seated nearby absorbing and mulling over the words he spoke to you, developing words of your own to express enjoyment.

By the fourth day following his failed attempt at democratic discussion, he found comfort in the warmth of the bottle. He never allowed himself to overindulge to the point of incapacitation or becoming the messy drunk but just enough to have your haunting figure disappear and to silence your disembodied voice. However, the warmth could only comfort him for so long. 

So by the fifth day, Ezra found himself in crowds he’d normally never be caught dead in. Crowds that thought he spoke weird instead of eloquent, crowds that didn’t give themselves to their loves and passions in fear of the unknown, crowds that felt all too claustrophobic and dishonest. The one thing he did like about these crowds was that they were so loud and busy, that you couldn’t follow him in and he couldn’t hear the aching voice in his head. He kept this process up for days, numbing his senses and then overloading them when the numbing wore off. 

Which brought him to the soberingly cold bed he lays in now. He was exhausted, his head hurt and his mind yelled at him for being so childish and running from something that was within him. Ezra could no longer find the energy in himself to run, and while the agonizing void continued to pull at him, his newly sobered and angry mind lugged him toward the land of rationale. 

BEFORE

"Ezra, I need to talk to you,"

"Mmm?" he responded distractedly.

Inside you sigh, given this was exactly why you wanted to talk to him. He'd become… nonchalant. He wasn't quite distant but you'd felt like he was taking you for granted, like no matter how little he cared you'd always be dutifully waiting for him. It was almost like he had checked out of the relationship & while you'd brought it up multiple times, he assured you nothing had changed. But you felt forgotten, like a ghost in your own relationship.

"Ezra... I," you sigh, "I'm feeling... forgotten about,” this makes him look up with furrowed brows,

"What'd' ya mean?" he asks

"I just feel like you've become... disinterested in us.” He sighs frustratedly, 

"Not this again, babe, I told you-"

"No, I know," you interrupt, "but I need you to understand that this isn't about what is or isn't but about how I'm feeling. You could be 100 % right: that you haven't & nothing between us has changed but maybe I have, which is making me feel the way I am," you explain calmly despite your bubbling frustration. Ezra sighs and approaches you, placing his hands on your shoulders to be reassuring, 

“We are fine. Ain’t nothing changed. We’re together and in love, okay? I love you,” he says but it feels forced. 

Ezra’s ‘I love you’s’ have felt like an apology from a toddler forced out by a parent; like it’s an annoyance rather than a statement of love. You sigh, seemingly unable to get him to understand, leaving you feeling more alone and forgotten. 

The decline of your relationship happened so slowly that you thought you were imagining it. But then, when that voice of doubt in your head got too loud to ignore, you started initiating things and bringing it up with him, all of which he shot down nonchalantly. 

You even did things that he could never seem to resist, like making his favourite meal whilst dancing and singing to whatever playlist you’d chosen for the day. Whenever he came home to see you enjoying yourself while doing a menial task he couldn’t help but smile and join you. Even if he had the worst day when he saw you, love and joy filled his heart and he’d completely forget about what had happened that day or that there was a world outside the kitchen walls you remained within. His favourite was when he’d get into the house without you knowing so that he could watch you without you realizing. It was like seeing the rawest version of you. Ezra loved scaring you by creeping behind you slowly before trapping you in a bear hug. But in recent weeks, even when you purposely set yourself up for it, Ezra didn’t scare you; he didn’t even join you or make any innuendos with his classic smirk. He’d say a quick hello while walking past you with a peck to your forehead before leaving to shower, relax, or do anything else that he wanted to do. But maybe it’s just a small thing that you’re blowing up.

But then there was also how he started acting in bed, not just in regards to sex but all other forms of intimacy. Or rather it was the lack of intimacy he’d initiate and reciprocate. Normally he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, he’d want to cuddle or hold you, hell even just have a leg intertwined with yours. Recently he’s slept strictly on his side of the bed, often facing away from you.

FLASHBACK

You gain consciousness and feel the morning sun shining into your bedroom and rudely your closed eyelids. You haven’t even opened your eyes and you already think it’s too bright. You roll over, with a groan, into a warm body whose chest rumbles with a low chuckle. To which you groan in annoyance, causing further chuckling. You blindly reach for his face and push it away from you to show your disapproval. Ezra lightly nibbles on your fingers, still laughing at you. You take your hand away and finally open your eyes to look up at Ezra. You try to look serious but can’t help but smile when you see his warm smile and big grin.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” you accuse through giggles.

“Not at all, but my bedbug sure is,” he says while pulling you against him. You give in and nuzzle into him, unable to resist his love. So the two of you cuddle and enjoy each other's company and warmth. Slowly, you become more awake and shuffle to get up. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Ezra says while holding you tighter.

“Gotta start the day,” you explain while trying to escape.

“Nothing is waiting on you, I on the other hand am in need of you and your arms around me,” he says, still holding onto you. 

You sigh, “but I'll be guilty about being lazy and not doing anything.”

“You’re not being lazy, you’re enjoying your day off and recharging. Plus you are doing something.”

You smile, “and what is it that I’m doing?” you ask humorously.

“You’re fulfilling the very important task of keeping me warm.” Despite how cheesy he’s being you can’t help but smile.

“But,” you start.

“Nope, shush, shush, shush,” he says before kissing you to stop you from arguing with him.

PRESENT 

Despite the little time spent apart from Ezra, it feels as though it’s been months. You were hoping this time apart would help you clear your head and give yourself a solid answer as to where you stood with Ezra and your relationship. You wanted to feel free while away from him but you just yearned for him more and missed him… which left you with a bigger problem; how can you guys fix your relationship? You’ve tried a handful of times in the past and it seemingly fell on deaf ears, up to this point in time where you are now, if Ezra isn’t willing to listen there isn’t anything that can be done and you’ll have to mourn a relationship and love that you not only had but continue to crave.

You refrained from reaching out to him earlier; it was so premature that it felt like you were crawling back to him. But now you feel more confident in the midst of questions you stand in and hope that talking with him can clear that fog and reveal what is left of the village the two of you built together. Maybe the village will be fine, some broken branches and puddles, but fine. Or maybe the storm was a little stronger and entire trees have fallen and windows have broken. Or maybe the entire village is gone, no foundations left standing and nothing but raw torn-up soil remains.

You made yourself clear, you’d trusted him and he blew you off. The cold bed he lies in now is what he deserves. His anger simmers and begins bubbling over, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Looking back, things had in fact changed, he changed. Ezra took you, and your love, for granted. He thought that no matter what, he’d have your love, that you’d always be there. It wasn’t that Ezra got comfortable, he was already very comfortable with you; Ezra had never felt more comfortable with someone. No, Ezra got lazy. Any and all relationships take some work, like a lawn, even if you only do the bare minimum you still need to do regular maintenance and Ezra stopped doing the maintenance, he let his lawn grow into the jungle and it swallowed you whole. 

The reality was that your love was one of a kind, it was the final piece to his puzzle. He’s spent the last few days going everywhere and doing everything and all he could think about was you. 

Ezra loves love. He loves watching couples laugh and smile together. He loves seeing someone sit in a cafe that they frequent, taking their usual spot. He falls in love with the sun twice a day, with every sunrise and every sunset. He loves seeing a child light up when they receive something they want. On the flip side, he loves watching couples argue, watching someone change their usual order due to a blue demeanour, seeing dark clouds hide the sun’s beauty, and seeing a child cry when heartbroken over a toy. 

Ezra loves seeing these human emotions and connections. Ezra sees love everywhere within almost everything and yet… he’s never seen or experienced a love like yours. Ezra fights with the idea of messaging or calling you. He wants to crawl back to you and tell you how idiotic he was, is! To tell you about what he’s learnt and seen. Ezra sighs and rolls over, still feeling lost and uneasy. He looks around the room as if a resolution will miraculously present itself on the walls. And while Ezra has long struggled with the idea of God, he’s the closest he’s ever been to believing when he sees The Symposium on his nightstand. 

It’s been nearly a week since you walked out of Ezra’s place, unsure if you’d ever want to return. Your mind is playing a cruel game of pong, you’re the poor ball bounding between ‘something changed, I felt ignored,’ and ‘we’ve had such amazing times, maybe this is just a rough patch,’ and you’re left to float in a desolate empty space in between these bounces. At least it felt that way until you saw that you got a missed call from Ezra and that he left you a voicemail. Your heart sings, even if you want to be unbothered and not interested. But, if you’re honest, you’ve been checking your phone obsessively for days. You begin to call your voicemail and your heart rate increases in excitement while a small part of your brain voices its disappointment. 

“Hello, my flower, I’m sure you don’t wish to hear from me but I fear I couldn’t help myself. I’d like you to do something for me, and I know that you owe me nothing, that you’re not obliged to do anything for me,” Ezra then explains what he wants you to do and that he wants to meet with you at a local cafe this coming Sunday,  “I just hope… I hope to see you soon, my flower,” Ezra ends the voicemail.  

Despite your brain’s rationale you’re excited to have heard from Ezra and are excited to complete the task he bestowed upon you, so that's exactly what you begin to do. 

TIME JUMP - SUNDAY

Ezra is nervous, the kind of nervous that makes his palms sweaty and stomach churn. The cafe is busy, with people coming in and out and many others sitting with friends and family, catching up in the cozy atmosphere. He watches some adolescent girls talk quietly amongst themselves with coy smiles and many giggles, talking about who likes who and giving advice to one another. There’s a mother and son keeping their mugs in cupped hands, the mother's eyes are soft, filled with love and hold a hint of pain. Ezra gathers, from the son's demeanour and the bits of conversation he overhears, that the son is back visiting, having taken an amazing career opportunity overseas. The mother is trying to keep her composure and not leap over the table and embrace her grown son and tell him how much she misses him. Two men sit at a table with their laptops discussing their workload and most recent project, it is clear they’re work friends but it doesn’t extend much farther than that. 

Even a larger group of 6 seniors, 3 couples, sitting together having lunch and catching up and making little quips about each other. It's clear many of them have known each other for decades. It’s not all positive though, a couple appears to be discussing their issues, one of them having trouble trusting the other and the other blowing it off. Many of the people coming in to grab beverages and snacks seem to be in a rush, irritated by having to wait. 

But everyone in the cafe ceases to exist when you walk in. If Ezra is honest with himself, he didn’t think you’d show but there you stand, scanning the room for him. You wear some comfy staples from your closet but have added some pieces to dress it up a bit. Ezra’s heart flutters, and he stands so you can spot him, which you do almost instantly. 

You carefully make your way over to him, dodging tables and ignorant patrons. You sit opposite of him, placing your bag on the table, before pulling out Ezra’s personal ichthys symbol; The Symposium. Ezra takes a deep breath, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I wasn’t sure I was going to either,” you say softly. 

“Did you read it?” he asks hopefully. 

You nod, “I did.” You keep your answers short, not wanting to reveal too much of yourself to him just yet, you want him to explain himself first. He nods shyly, unable to process that you’ve given him this opportunity. 

“Ezra, I-” you begin, sure you know what he’s going to say, given the message of the text. 

“Page 23 to 25,” he swallows. You don’t seem convinced, not yet opening your text or softening your gaze. “Please just, humour me yeah?” he pleads. 

You do as he says and open your text to the pages and see a rainbow of highlighted mess, having annotated the shit out of it. You tilt the book towards you, trying to shield it from Ezra, not wanting him to see how seriously you took this.

Ezra notices but doesn’t say anything instead, his chest tightens, not because you did something you asked but because no matter what you do, you give it your all. 

“190d, After much hard thought Zeus delivered his conclusion. ‘I think I have a plan’, he said, ‘that will allow humans to exist but at the same time put an end to their outrageous behaviour by making them weaker. For the present I shall split each one of them in half, and that will make them weaker, and at the same time they will be more useful to us by being greater in number. Then, 191b, after the original nature of every human being had been severed in this way, the two parts longed for each other and tried to come together again. They threw their arms around one another in close embrace, desiring to be reunited, and they began to die of hunger and general inactivity because they refused to do anything at all as separate beings. And lastly, 191d, for each of us is a mere tally of a person, one of two sides of a filleted fish, one half of an original whole. We are all continually searching for our other half.”

You follow along as he reads, the bustling world around you disappearing. You’re taken back to when he’d read aloud to you, all because he used to whisper to himself every once and again while reading and you asked him to read it aloud, to which he always obliged. Of course, the quotes he reads from the book are highlighted and annotated. It spoke to you, and without having read it together the two of you found great beauty and importance. It felt like an invisible string was pulling the two of you together. The words break down the fragile walls you put up in defence of him, you look up to him with soft eyes and the smallest of smiles. 

“Plato wrote that according to Greek Mythology, Zeus separated humans into two halves because he couldn’t control us. And he left us to search for our other half our entire lives, many of us dying in the process… That’s exactly how I felt this last week, my flower. I wanted to convince myself otherwise, I went around this entire damned city, trying to fill the void you left and nothing, nothing even compared to the love I felt for and from you. You are the destined other half, you’re the one I’m meant to find and be with. I was the most foolish man to ever walk this rock because I didn’t realize that sooner, and only when you left I realized that I was and am nothing without you, that no love, despite the plethora of it in this world, even compares to the love you give not only me but everything. I’m in awe of you, my flower. And I vow to ensure you know this every day and to never ever be the ignorant ass I was,” Ezra finishes with a small smirk. 

“You were an ignorant ass,” you confirm. 

“I was,” he agrees, grabbing your hands over the table.

  “Please allow me to worship you as the deity you are,”

“You’re not going to play Zeus and do whatever you want for your own benefit despite any and all rationale?” you ask teasingly, digging at Zeus. 

“I promise, I’ll be the Orpheus to your Eurydice.” You sigh because you know he’s won you over. You wordlessly stand from your chair, readying to leave. Ezra's heart drops and he swears he’s moments away from vomiting. 

“Will you walk me out?” you ask him coldly.

“Of course,” Ezra says, gulping down the bile that’s risen in his throat. 

When the two of you step out of the cafe you turn around and kiss Ezra. Ezra is shocked but quickly embraces you, scared to let you go and lose you. When the two of you separate, Ezra’s eyes are glossy with hope and you have a devilish smile on your face.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you say.

“Trust me, I know that, I’ve the luckiest formation of atoms to have ever been formed in the galaxy.” You can’t help but scoff as you walk away, preparing to move back in.

“Remember, Orpheus, not Zeus!” you yell back at Ezra before you disappear from his sight, leaving him giddy and high. He feels warm and whole again knowing you’ll be at his side again and that he’ll get to wake next to you and come home to you. Ezra is the only man to ever get to receive the one-of-a-kind love that you have to offer. 

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @littlemisspascal @writer-darling @avengetheunnatural @louderfortheback @currentobsessionrabbithole @harriedandharassed @kirsteng42

[actual-changeling]

so uhhhh lissa made me join the prospect brainrot and you can consider this my first small attempt at writing (hopefully in character) cee and ezra. (i also have a joel and ellie fic almost ready to be published)

[sotvtaughtmehowtofeel]

By Midnight Time

Fandom: Prospect (2018) Relationship: Cee and Ezra

Cee is kidnapped. Ezra has to fight his way back to her.