#ezra prospect x female reader

[rise-my-angel]

One Last Drink

Pairing: Ezra x Female Reader

Length: 15.8k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, threats of violence, implied threats of abuse, kidnapping, hostage situations, morally ambiguous behavior, possessive behavior, smut, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, rough sex, biting during sex

Notes: This is a bit of a darker Ezra, but most of the trigger warnings are mentioned either in passing, or in implication not directly mentioned. Takes place after the film.

The longer you sat at this bar, the more you felt a growing sense of isolation. Sure not all of your new team members agreed to meet here, but some of them had. Yet it had been an hour and not a word from any of them. Instead it was just you, sitting against the counter mindlessly pulling away the salt decorated at the rim of the glass down onto the napkin it sat on. Occasionally you’d bring it up to take a sip, but the remnants of it still sat too strong in your mouth to enjoy the liquid.

You were starting to think they had invited you out as a joke. The new member of the team, unimportant and even warned most of them would delegate you to grunt work. Keeping inventory, cleaning equipment, only being considered useful when they needed medical attention. You were excited to find a job what took you off world for even a time, but maybe you wished the team you were joining shared your enthusiasm.

The bar was dingy, dark, and very likely not super clean but it also was as good as you get in this kind of area. A docking port nearby, the city centre was usually packed with people coming and going to the point it made you a tad uncomfortable. Even thinking about heading there just to leave for the job made your heart race a tad.

You at first thought they suggested this place because it was quieter and out of the way, a tactic to make you feel welcome, but now you were beginning to wonder if they sent you here, just so they could meet up in the dense sections of the city where you wouldn’t go.

Sure you didn’t know them very well, but it sure felt as if you should know them better then where you stood. Keamy, your team leader had given you the run down of what to expect, what everyone’s jobs were and what to look out for.

Well, who to look out for more specifically.

“Got an easy start, to raiders on this one but if harvest is good enough that I know it, means our competition knows it too.” A few groups were placed in this category, some of which sounded more threatening then others. You were sitting across from his desk, hands together in your lap, back straight while the large man was leaned back in his far more comfortable chair.

One knee over the other and flicking his pen up in the air. “Couple guys give us more grief then others. One dude, ‘bout my size but never shuts the fuck up. Good at tricking people into giving him what he wants, could talk you into bed if you let him.”

You didn’t though, miss the pause as he looked over you with narrowed eyes before glancing away with a disbelieving eye roll. Blood cooling down to a point it send shivers through your limbs, you tried to remember that you needed to cooperate. You didn’t need Keamy to think much of you beyond keeping you on contract.

Flinging his legs onto the ground he stood up, making his way to the makeshift bar sat at one corner of his office. “Usually travels with this big fucker, doesn’t talk. Wouldn’t be surprise if the fucking ogre didn’t know how.”

Watching him round the bar, you saw him flip the cap off some unknown amber liquid before raising it up with an eyebrow as well. Shaking your head no, his already unpleasantly expressed face fell more unimpressed, but relented as he continued. “The others’ll warn you about him but if you ain’t got a gun then most of ‘em will leave you alone. It’s the talkers you got to look out for. Charm a naive little thing like you into an early grave if he can.”

Some of the men he described in appearance, others he had record photos for but it all just melted together in the sea of too much information. Now you were alone and dreading the weeks you would spend alone with those who couldn’t even bother to keep appointment. The rest of the team didn’t appear to be much in the way of enthusiastic either.

Though, you suppose it made sense. Most of you weren’t complete employees of the company hiring you, just individual contractors who need money damned of how. Keamy was the one who had final say and he would set out with the rest of you, but now you already began feeling that dread of wanting to be home. Not one foot set off planet side, yet the dream of coming home already felt heavy in your chest.

Luckily, the bartender seemed to have been content with leaving you alone in your sulking little corner barley making progress on the one drink you slapped your first credits down on. Had it been almost two hours by now? Half an hour? You wouldn’t sleep well tonight, so may as well stick around until you finished the dark green liquid swirling in your glass or you spent so long sulking the bartender kicks you out.

Your communicator in front of you blinking messages that felt too depressing to open. Notifications that of your team confirming when to meet tomorrow evening in the port, another a sad notification from the renters informing you of an interest increase by the time you’d be back. No one wishing you luck, or telling you to be safe or even congratulate you on finding a job that gets you off this dark, dirty rock.

Eyes trained on the foggy liquid, time spent untouched now separating from top to bottom. No doubt needing a mix before attempting even another sip. Seeing no one approach, hearing no one nearby, you only flickered your eyes up briefly to see the bartender nod at someone behind you before turning to make something.

Which was when a warm feeling washed over part of your back and side just as a looming figure obscured your already dim light. A voice drawled deep in your ear, sending another shiver down your spine making you sit up straighter. “Salt’s supposed to take the edge off you know, not get knocked off the edge.”

Not yet turning around, your voice felt heavy with led staring forward. “It’s too much, can’t taste the drink with all that.” Your nerves shivering more as they chuckled deep, just as warm sounding as their close proximity felt.

Moving more into view however, you could see a tall figure slid around to lean his hip against the bar counter, arms crossing his chest. You didn’t look at his face yet, just hiding a little bemused smirk at his tone dropping to something more casual. “Syrup’s all the way at the bottom, jem. Not sure you’re going to taste anything on that next sip leaving it like that.”

Well, he did have a point. Pushing it away with your finger, it nudged barley a centimetre but the liquid sloshed around enough to stir it up slightly. “Probably, yeah.” Your heart beating a tinge fast at the unknown, you braved the move. Turning slightly to the side, you had to look up more to find his face as he stool taller then you.

A broad chest at your biggest sights, shoulders wide with a tee shirt that stretched across his torso up to a thick neck that ended high with scattered facial hair. Some dark, almost black in the lighting, and greys scattered throughout up around plush lips and ending at a coarse moustache beneath a strong well framed nose.

His eyes however, caught you more. Large and wide, the darkness much more prominent swimming in it’s colours then anything else. But flashing behind them was something that felt like intrigue but unsure of whom. Your own, or his. His gaze was intense and unblinking, sending you into a brief worry of how rude you were being.

Moving to stick a hand out, you very quickly felt one hand twitch before forcing the other up. One arm was the same size as the muscular original on the other side, but covered in a smooth metal. Such prosthetic were available, but only the vastly rich usually could afford to have skins artificially grafted onto it and hide it’s origins. Still, it was well made. Certainly someone affording a luxury as that had no normal place in something only the bottom feeders like you could afford.

But regardless, you knew some held offence at shaking with their metal arms so you quickly made sure to not look quite so pathetic so early on top of rude. That plush mouth forming into a delicious smirk he grasped your hand firmly. Trying to appear in control you realized he was not returning the firmness that you were, much unlike Keamy days earlier who all but crushed your hand in his shake.

Nervously you laughed, letting go of him entirely as it slunk back into your lap. Palm resting flat across your thigh as you looked anywhere but those eyes shining with amusement. “Sorry, uhm, force of habit, sorry.”

Oh he chuckled one again, and this time he sounded even closer. His now free hand rested on the counter top right by your glass as he leaned into the top of your head. “Now, now. No need for any of that. I’m not judging someone pretty as you by her lousy grip, we can fix that.”

The deepness in his tone felt like there was something else there but you were in no head space to match words to the dark look penetrating your eyes. “Sorry, did you want something? Or, no, do you want to sit down?”

Smile never quite leaving his lips, he tilted his head in agreement before taking the stool next to you height still intimidating even as he was level with you. “I’d ask if you were around here much, but judging by how long that there,” his hand pointing to the drink, “I’d say you aren’t much of a drinker. So I’ll ask a better question. What’s a pretty jem drinking all alone like this?”

A flush growing inside your chest, you tried to consider he was just a random hoping to pull you into his bed and kick you out just as quick. Wasn’t that what so many novels taught you? If so, why did you still bit your cheek at the word pretty?

Glancing to him and back at nothing once more, you shrugged. “Was supposed to meet some people here, thing’s came up so now I’m-”

“Lying to a new friend about being abandoned.” You whipped over to see his raised brows, almost smug at his assumption. “Little thing like you, probably don’t feel comfortable over in such a bustling city scene so they choose a down trodden locale and ditch you to have far more fun with the other degenerates who crawl about there.”

There was a deep tinge to his accent that you had no clue where it would have come from, but it sounded soothing attached to a slower cadence like his. Your mouth was parted slightly as you swallowed down your embarrassment. “Probably.”

You were not doing a fine job giving as much as you were receiving in conversational skills. But the flutter in your chest might have something to do with that. Not that he seemed to mind. “Well good. Means I get to get nice and close to you instead.”

Just then, the bartender returned with two drinks. One a thin bottle of sorts, the other just a clear liquid that he sat in front of you. Pointing to the green untouched one, “You about done there?”

Mouth opening and closing to find the least offensive way to say yes, the man next to you took the reigns for you. “Not much of a drinker she is, probably not a good way to ease into it either. Just add it onto me.”

Nodding, he turned away with little fuss, you slowly picked the glass up peering into the no smell it gave off. Small sip you deflated at the clear taste of fresh water. Well, more fresh then what normally was available. “Thank you.” Though it did occur to you that not only did you not ask for it, but it was brought over with the man’s own. Turning to him suddenly, you almost jumped in place finding him looking at you still further. “Sorry, I never asked your name.”

“Ezra.”

Smiling somewhat you returned yours, enjoying the sound of it slipping soothingly off his lips before soaking them with a swig of his drink. Just then however, his own communicator went off. Taking a minute to let him check, you quickly put your own into your jacket. A preemptive hope that maybe you indeed found some form of company for the time being.

Turning back, he gave a look of remorse. “Forgive me, just a little bird begging for my attention is all.” A flip switched in your heart at the realization, but it must have shown too clearly on your face as he started to laugh. A metal hand reaching to rest gently on your upper arm. “I do mean little, fear not. Cee’s still getting used to her new school and I’ve gotten nothing but many earfuls about not being around to take her for the weekends.”

Tilting your head genuinely, you could see a fondness in his held back smile that spoke volumes of affection. “Your daughter?”

Another smile, this time attached with it being a long history that was not the time nor place to discuss here. “As good as. She’s under my care now, though I am hesitant to grace such a title onto her without permission. She’s a complicated one.”

For a little bit, you felt like the evening was just as planned. Sitting around at the bar, listening to a stranger open up. Ezra clearly adored the teenager, smiled all the way through the many stories he wove about her person. Apparently he had started her in a school, “Her father hadn’t exactly treated her with the gift of a proper education. So she has a few years of catching up to do.”

She apparently would board for the week, and then go home with Ezra on Friday afternoon to be at home. “Get’s mighty upset when I have to leave for work those days, not that I can blame her. I sure do miss her when she’s gone too.”

Nodding, your fingertips danced along the rim of an empty glass. “It’s probably good for both of you. I don’t mean to overstep anything, I just mean, you said her father was kind of overbearing?”

Ezra’s eyes darkened to something else, but shook away as quick as he could blink. “You could call it that, yes.”

Biting your lip in thought, you treaded slowly. Things unsaid were on the side of painful rather then irritating here but you meant no harm. “Then letting her be at school, have a weekend or two just to hang out be around other kids instead of being dragged along to a job? She probably enjoys herself once she can move past being upset.”

You couldn’t get enough of the gentle smile on his lips thinking about the girl. Claiming not to be her dad, but he sure looked proud like one as he gushed of her accomplishments. “I reckon you’re right, jem.”

Was it hours or mere minutes that passed between then and now? If your sense of time was to be trusted on face value, then it felt as if you went from discussing each other’s little lives like casual strangers to now in seconds.

Ezra’s broad chest pressed up against your back as you stood by the jukebox. The little corner of the building was not well lit, little people coming over for any reason and yet even if they did? The bar was not the kind of place that you suspected looked down on such displays. His hands holding your hips in place just as you went to turn around, the feeling of breath hot on your neck having startled you into a jump.

He chuckled deep into your ear as he ran his nose down the side of your cheek, his metal hand squeezing tighter then the other in a possessive way you couldn’t tell if you liked or not. He certainly seemed to think so. His other one, fingertips rough as they slid just under the bottom of your shirt.

Breath hitching in your throat, eyes fluttering he ran them over the soft skin of your stomach with no shame for the plushness he found. If anything, he only held tighter, pressed closer to the point you could feel his hips press into your ass. The heavy weight of a bulge just enough to boil your blood at how much those jeans must be hiding.

Voice deep and vibrated through your ear down the length of your torso to settle between your legs as it smoothed over you. “We could dance here, but I have it on good authority that my own abode is close by and child free. Could do any kind of dance you and I desire, jem.”

Leaning back into his touch somewhat, you felt him sink his fingertips tracing just over the waist of your pants until you nodded. “Yes, please.”

Inhaling deep through his noise, his jaw clenched at the airy tone of your voice. “I can’t decide if I want to hear you sing with such manners for me more, or fuck it out of you completely.” Shivering in his touch, he seemed to know your answer. “Maybe a bit of both.”

Leaving your stomach to cup your chin, he pulled your head back at an awkward angle, not that he minded. Pressing his lips harshly to yours, your quick gasp had Ezra lick inside your mouth. Forcing you to accept the wet swipe of his tongue against yours as he held you against him as if letting go would send you melting to the floor.

There was a greed in his kiss, a warning that he might not let you go if you grant him more and more of you. But seductive enough to lure you into such a trap willingly. He kissed you like a lover in the dead of night but out for anyone to see. Did he not care, or did he crave others to watch what he had. Sensing your own insecurity however, he pulled away a grin of his lips before pressing a final to your neck.

The city felt nicer with his arm resting on your lower back. Slow strolling to match the paced drawl of an accent you were becoming addicted to. Neither of you in a hurry to get there despite the urgency to leave prior, it was like the calm of night painted something softer in between the frenzy.

He wasn’t wrong, not too far away from the bar was a set of rowed homes, tall stairs leading upwards to the base level ones and off to the side were spiral stairs much higher to the balconies above.

Leading you up such a spiral, Ezra stuck close to you the entire time his hand hovering over your back. Flexing to itself with want to just yank the fabric over your head now, but restrained with a tense jaw. Having to satisfy his eyes just looking over you, planning where to tease you most.

You could feel the gaze, the darkness looming in his eyes behind your sight and forcing your heart to race as you considered what he could have in store. What a tryst like this would be like, one last leap before heading out the next day for who knows when, not knowing if a future even exists once you return.

Not bothering to move you, Ezra just reached around you. Pressing you close to the door as he unlocked it. Eyes looking down your form the entire time. As soon as the lock clicked, he lost the last remaining patience within him. Hand still on the doorknob, he shoved it open and you inside with a noticeable force.

Stepping in, he slammed it behind with another quieter click to trap you both within the heavy bubble between you. He didn’t ambush your lips, but with his hands. Yanking your shirt up, his teeth were gritting, nostrils flared as he looked over your torso, having pulled your bra up as well in his impatience it seemed.

Still not quite at the ready, he next wasted no time in pulling down your pants as well. Almost knocking you over in the process he just took off everything you had throwing it to the side in irritation of it’s very being.

Looking up to you, his dark eyes were nothing but a black you could fall into a trance with. Rising up to his full height, Ezra captured your cheeks in his hands, yanking your mouth back to his and pressing you tight against his chest. His metal one taking advantage of it’s grip, sliding to the back of your neck and keeping you against his mouth, turned to angle you so he loomed over you. Biting hard at your bottom lip, the resulting gasping whine letting him slip his tongue into your mouth once more.

He couldn’t decide it seemed, to taste your mouth with his tongue, or bite at your lips until they pulled and bled. You could already feel the sensitive skin ripping at such a force but you could only hold onto his waist, nails digging into the bare skin his rising shirt granted you access too.

Free arm wrapping around your waist, turning you in place to walk you down the hallway not once letting your lips go free. Skin heating up, you felt as if you were being dragged down into a sauna emminating only from him alone. Hands, as if desperate to cure such temperatures started pulling up on Ezra’s shirt as if his bare skin was your salvation.

In a way it was the complete opposite. The feeling only growing worse and worse, feeding into a hunger that usually didn’t exist with you but here this man was. Biting and licking into your mouth as if to leave his mark for all to see. Hands moving down to grab at his belt, Ezra suddenly yanked you off of him. A trail of saliva trapped between your lips only to snap as he tossed you onto the bed. More like pushed, but the metal arm seemed to hold more strength then one might have assumed.

The bounce and softness underneath almost made you giggle, yet Ezra caught the look in your eye. A raise of his own eyebrow, he slowly moved to undo his belt buckle. Slowly, dark eyes following the path of yours down his chest to a softer stomach that only let you peek at what he had for you underneath.

Swallowing hard, the lump in your throat had you unsure as to where you wanted him first. Sliding up to the foot of the bed you let your legs hand, pressing your palms to the comforter and looking up at him almost innocently. Were it not for the clear lack of clothing.

A grin slowly formed on his face, making sure to take his time pulling his belt open, undoing the zipper millimetre by millimetre. “As much as I’d love this mouth, jem-” his fingers trailed up to pull down at your swollen, and bite littered lips before tilting your chin up to look at him. His other hand pulling his jeans down to reveal the nothing underneath. Not that such a grip on your face let you look down just yet.

“I’d much rather have one last drink.” Leaning down he pushed your knees apart as he settled onto his own. Your heart raced at the broad man moving his head down between your legs, only to flush at how casually he winked at you for such a stare. He focused little on his amusement of you at that point.

Large hands gripping your hips and yanking you to match up to his mouth, it caused you to fall backwards. Bouncing off the mattress with a gasp. He didn’t go right for you. No, he had more to do then taste, he was a biter. And your inner thigh was like leading a harvester to aurelac. No choice, no ability to turn away from such a treasure.

His teeth though, were sharper then on your lips. Crying out instantly, your hands gripped the sheets above you tightly. The sting as he moved from closer to your knee right up before your pussy before running his tongue along the indents. Back arching at the wet trail along such marks only to have no reprieve as he kissed the other knee, and sunk his greedy bite into the fresh thigh. There was no touch, to brushing, no trace along your slit, just a harsh attack on your skin that made him grin into it each time your cries mixed with a whining moan.

You would've felt embarrassed at how wet you were, no hiding the sight from Ezra who kept his eyes trained on every single part between your legs as if a feast were before him. In a way though, of course it was a feast his mouth was watering for it. Finally leaving one last bruising mark so close together, he turned to look at you. His eyes admiring the view before leaning in, pressing his nose against your mound as he inhaled.

Your face burned, covering with your hands at how unashamed he was for such an act. One hand pressing against your clit with his thumb, and his other yanked your hips up to his mouth proper as he licked you from clit to inside of your walls.

There was no preamble with Ezra, no teasing build up for this. No his mouth and tongue licked and tasted as much as he seemed to be physically capable of in a manner that took your breath away. Quite literally, you could feel your lungs shrink, chest tighten and air failing you more and more as he licked inside of you.

The coarse facial hair and moustache rubbed against the highest peak of your inner thighs, scratching red and even leaving such a rough feeling on your cunt itself. He knew what it did, and just as he licked up to your clit, he nuzzled into you like a madman. Burning you more, even on top of two others.

His hands pushing your legs as open as possible and the soreness of bites that would no doubt look like a violent attack to anyone whom would see. Not that anyone but this man would for a long time. His fingertips rubbing and pressing hard and tight circles into your clip had sparks fly inside of you. You may have jumped in his touch were his grip not so iron clad.

A coil inside of you twisted and turned so tightly that you weren’t sure if it was his mouth, or the pain he inflicted before hand. Both was a reasonable answer, yet pain had never been something you could get so worked up from ever before, not even considered. Back arching in pleasure he had the audacity to smirk.

Muffled voice just slow enough to ensure you could hear him, the voice rumbled against you only adding to the sensation. “I said I wanted a drink, jem.” Licking up to your clip you yelped as he nibbled ever so lightly. His movements stopping demanding you look.

Sweating just as you were with his facial hair already covered so much it made you feel ashamed for what he was doing to do. His eyes, were not joking in the slightest. “You don’t get my cock until you cum twice. We’ll be here all night if we have to, but I’m a greed man, jem. You give, I take. Got it?”

It should scare you, such possession should be terrifying and yet you couldn’t fathom the concept. A nod and a pleading, “Yes, anything, anything you want, Ezra. Please,” His eyes didn’t soften, but a smile made it’s way onto his expression in gratitude.

“A good girl with good manners,” leaning back he dove back into your cunt with now both hands holding you tightly at your hips still speaking. But your ears ringing from the pleasure coursing through your veins like wildfire couldn’t hear the words. His mouth was aggressive, if what before was a meal this was a man starving for a will to live found only in the fountain between your legs.

Faster and faster it approached until like a band snapping it hit you straight in the chest how much you needed to cum. Unthinkingly writhing into his face he pulled you into his mouth with another yank but didn’t slow down whatsoever. No, he seemed to want more. He couldn’t be serious about twice you thought.

Oh how you thought, and the impressiveness in how quickly such an idea faded away in his pleasurable touch. The white noise in your brain seemed to overtake you, letting your orgasm flood both your nerves and his mouth but he never let you come up for the air you needed.

No he spoke almost more into your cunt, unable to stop talking to himself singing praise of taste and greed like you were all he required. Did your orgasm stop and rebuild quick, or were you too lost to notice it never stopped until the second one slammed you out of your body.

Two thick fingers rubbing against your clit almost too hard, but he pushed you and took what wetness your orgasm graced his taste buds with. Sweat accumulated on both your bodies, and the blonde streak of his hair stood out as it soaked against the brown curls and clung to his forehead.

You cried out, whines muttering into soft moans until the pant of lungs in need of filling took over what was left. Only then, did his actions slow to gentle licks. Jumping in shock of too much, he ran his hands over your thighs. Letting go of his tight hold and soothing you just above the bites. “Just cleaning you up, jem.”

He pressed a kiss to your clit, making you bite the lip he no doubt tore open and then kissed up your stomach. Ignoring how stilted you became at the location, he pushed on. Up between your breasts only to pause. Eyes glinting like a greedy child, and thus pushing himself up by his palms now on either side of your arms and using such vicious teeth to bite and tug at your nipple. The other breast tightly groped with and dragging out more breathless cries.

Finding any kind of strength to chuckle, you reached down to run your hand through his sweaty hair, nails scratching at his scalp soothingly as you tamed it down. A vibration against your chest came out of him like a growl, pulling his mouth away from your nipple to playfully glare up at you. “You better enjoy that now, jem. ‘Cus I ain’t going to be so generous in a few minutes.”

Your eyes widening as your hand paused mid movement. That glare on his face turned to a sadistic smirk at how innocent your surprise was. Knowing you should be double guessing this encounter, the greed, the roughness, the possessive way he manhandles you, all would be red flags were his voice, touch, skin, mouth, cock all addictive like the substance so many of your profession rely on.

Could you just bring him with you, and there would be every vice you could need. Ezra you suspect, would willingly give it too. Nothing but stinging, sore marks on your body covered by his saliva and the Green would be ever pleasant in comparison to the tole he so pleasurably takes.

And take did he ever. Before you could lose yourself to such thoughts, Ezra had flipped you over onto your stomach. Taking the air out of your lungs as he did so. With his own grunt, he then yanked up your hips pressing you right back up against his cock. You couldn’t even remember at this point if he had always been naked or if you were just falling so deeply out of it.

You couldn’t see from your position, face pressed into the soft sheets as you turned to the side trying to gasp for breath but you sure felt the thickness slide between your legs. Running along your soaked entrance, it felt as if his cock went on forever. Heavy between you, no doubt his size would be intimidating had he let you see it for yourself.

But Ezra was far to preoccupied running his length along you, soaking him while teasing pushing him each time his head barley pushed in before leaving once more. His voice was rough, shattered as if words were being forced through gritted teeth. “Arms above you,” complying, you slid your hands up the sheets until the were stretched just under his pillows. “Hold onto something, jem.”

He gave little warning off anything else, just the right amount of time for your hands to fist the sheets under them before your body jolted forward. His cock sliding inside of you, sinking as deep as he could in one rough thrust as you gasped loudly.

The stretch was something else, a burn that you could be feeling for long after even if things ended right now. Two strong hands at your hips kept you pressed in place for mere seconds before he decided he was unable to wait.

Thrusting with a rough intensity you couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain he was giving you, nor did you know if you truly cared. There was a firestorm in your blood that flowed through your limbs and made everything tighten and constrict inside you. His cock running right along a sensitive wall inside you had you crying out. Barley moans, or even whines, but gasps and shock at how hard his cock both fucked into you and the force of your ass being slammed against his hips.

You could barley hear Ezra over the sound of your skin slapping against one another, something you imagined the entire street must be able to hear along with your cries. His cock slid so deep and barley even tried to pull out much. Little by little Ezra tried pulling back more but just to yank you back onto his cock even harder.

Tears welling up in your eyes, nails digging so hard into his sheets they could have ripped. His metal hand left your hip and ran along the length of your spine until they reached the back of your neck with a bunch of your hair now in his grasp. Pulling it back you definitely whined as he pulled right as he did the same with your hips.

His cock a relentless roughness inside of you, neither of you sure if it was just how wet you were, or a mix with how much precum he already had been leaking that made it so slick. Ezra knew from his own sight that his cock was covered in both, and a pride that he made you so wet that someone of his girth could fit so well inside of you.

Squeezing him tightly, you either just barley could handle him or maybe it was a fit crafted by the powers above. A message that the only place worthy of you, is his cock. Thrusting hard, his hand either pulled your hair or pushed his palm against the back of your head to brace himself as he swore.

He shouldn’t be so close, but you were close and it just drove him towards that creeping edge. You tightened and clenched around him with barley any words capable of coming out of your mouth beyond begs of his name. He had to fuck you harder, just to get as deep.

Like a slap to the face, so did your orgasm hit you from nothing. Creeping up in an instant, a tightening inside you snapped and attacked every inch of your nerves. White noise both in your ears and in your veins had those tears fall freely along with moaning cries that never stopped.

He kept fucking you, no change in pace in fact just a tad faster yet as hard as before. Before the shocks of your orgasm even simmered in your body, Ezra pushed you down into the mattress, his body heavy draped across your back as he moved to leave your hair and wrap it around your lower stomach and press his palm heavy into you.

His cock pounding hard, much more shallow but with a pace that filled the room with such an obscene sound it made Ezra clench his jaw before biting down to your neck with grunts. “All mine, gorgeous cunt made just for me. Right, jem?”

What were you agreeing too? You didn’t know, just nod and let his fucking careen you right back towards another orgasm. The pressure of his cock so deep and his hand pressing at your lower stomach multiplied the electricity stabbing at you.

Ezra kissed and licked your neck up until he took your ear into his teeth. Words panting hot from his mouth, higher in pitch and more breathless the more sporadic his thrusts became. “Let me paint you, jem. Mark you with my name, sign yourself and this beautiful cunt over to me.”

Pressing his head against yours, you nodded barley. “Yes, please.”

Just as your final orgasm flooded your body like water rushing forth, Ezra pulled his cock out as he throbbed inside of your walls. Almost too late, some of his cum spilling inside of you before most of it spreading out on your ass and lower back.

Your own orgasm had you laying in wait, boneless as it took whatever energy was left in you and replaced it with an addictive pleasure that left you foggy. You could feel Ezra press his cock between the cheeks of your ass, almost running through them like he did the walls of your cunt. Spreading his cum as much as he could, hand leaving your hip to run across his work and paint you to his ownership.

It was much later when you properly came back to yourself. Body sore, and covered in cum from your tits to your thighs you weren’t sure how many times Ezra fucked you after that. You dropped pretty hard, all you knew or felt, or saw was Ezra and that’s all you needed.

Now, the nightlife outside was likely dead, and finally creeping your eyes open you saw Ezra also under the sheets, facing you with a hang on your hip gently. Reaching up you tenderly ran your fingers over his facial hair, thumb tracing his cheek as you did so.

He had insisted you sleep tucked warm in his arms, a kiss that you’d only ever read between the words of chaste lovers pressed to your lips as he cradled the side of your face. For everything, you looked at him and smiled. Something about the man left you unwilling to see danger others like him presented, and an affection that begged you to take more of.

You did however, need to use the washroom. Very slowly, at first not to wake him up, but also the only speed the immense ache in your muscles could work past. A dash of luck on your side, instead of reaching out and forcing you with him, Ezra just grumbled. His brows narrowing in annoyance even in sleep. His hand on your hip just sliding to press down on the bed where you just were and scrunching the sheets up in his fist.

You had to leave tomorrow night, but as you left the washroom whatever plans you had about what was to be of you and his man were shattered. It was an accident, honestly. Your hip had accidentally knocked over papers precariously balanced on top of a thin cupboard.

What you felt as you bent down to look at them, was how much of an idiot you truly were. The name, the appearance, both markers you were told but never considered. Not until you saw work permits, forms, and statements of his employs before now.

He was one of the prospectors Keamy specifically had warned you about. One he called dangerous, and unstable willing to do and take whatever he wanted. Your team leader looked you right in the eye and told you that should you encounter him, to leave the confrontation to them. Not to get anywhere near such a snake.

Heart beating much faster the normal in your chest, you felt like a traitor. Ezra didn’t tell you what he did outright but maybe the signs were there and in such a naive state of temptation you were too enamoured with the intensity he doted on you with.

You didn’t pick them up, or even do anything. You knelt there for a moment before whipping your head to look a the man still slumbering. Such a peaceful expression past the tenseness. Soft features that had run over you skin and lips with reverence now mocking you for not recognizing them as what was described to you as the enemy.

Scrambling to gather your clothes, you only put them on as you left the bedroom. Going through the pitch blackness of his home until you reached the front door.

Tinge of guilt hit you, but looking at at the door, you also realized the second way in which you should be embarrassed. He picked you up at a seedy bar. In what world would such a strong, handsome, brazen man want anything to do with the likes of you beyond what you could do for his cock.

He got that, and if what Keamy said about such a person was correct, he wouldn’t even want you here when we wakes up anyways. It was a fight not to let the tears hit you, but once you got home and into the shower, you could pretend such tears were such strands of shower water already hitting your skin.

Letting what remained of your naive stupidity wash down the drain before skipping everything about sleep or routine. You packed for departure, and by the time the rest of the team got to the port you had long since been waiting.

Just the foolish romances of a stupid girl trying to be replaced by the determined tenacity of a member of this team rearing to go. You thought of Ezra as the main ship took off, the muscles on your body ached and the burn between your legs still sparking you with the phantom thickness of his cock.

Even if he wouldn’t remember you past that night, you still thought of him.

The air in this place wasn’t toxic, but it sure wasn’t what you’d refer to as breathable. Oxygen masks covering all of you, it took a few tries to match voice to face. As you predicted, the team mostly knew each other already. Jokes, rough housing in off times, inside comments that you weren’t privy to, but you also sure weren’t welcome to be part of it.

You kept inventory, did their grunt run around work, patched them up when asked but you for the most part were stuck in the back. Watching them engage in their spoils both in harvest and after. Night’s were usually quiet for you but now it was a constant fest of testosterone that felt more braggadocios then it warranted.

“Mutt, you want to get your head out of your ass and re wrap this?” Head whipping up from the notebook in your hands, Faraday stood a few feet away raising his bicep up to you. Your nickname was far from welcoming, having been accidentally tripped on the day landed day and landing in a mud pit leaving you looking like a stray mutt according to the team.

You questioned whether any of them remembered you even had a first name, but silently nodded as you knelt down to stash the notebook away in your pack before swapping it for your field kit. It had been weeks on this little moon and you were starting to get used to it’s heavy air.

Having to stop and refill your oxygen filters more often then not simply due to how much you had to breathe in to keep up. Keamy had assured suits would not be necessary, but you’d take a suit right now over these masks. You couldn’t see through them and half of the men on this team looked like each other.

Faraday didn’t even glance at you while you worked. Uncaring of the slow, gentle movements of your fingers and feather light prodding at the cut to ensure it wasn’t infected before replacing it with a clean one. You asked him to wear long sleeves to make it harder for dirt to get in, but you didn’t have a voice beyond “Yes, sir.”

To your luck however, the current onslaught of behaviours around you had thoroughly distracted you from that night. Keamy had presented himself as stern but reasonable, but now working at his side you see the truth. He is ruthless, emotionless, and comes close to using violence anytime his calm disposition didn’t scare you into silence. You could only imagine what he would do finding out that the weakest link slept with someone whom you know understood was someone he truly hated.

Night’s spent telling stories of past incidents with other prospectors and Keamy had enough about Ezra to fill any normal person with nightmares for years. Though, it did feel on the air of hypocritical, considering on some planets Keamys stories of his own would have him considered a war criminal, but hey he stood behind the title of mercenary. He excused much horror under that title.

Faraday strode off as soon as you were finished, leaving you amongst much of the gear to pack away while he ran over to a few of the others to do whatever they did while you did your job. On the bright side, at least you had time to yourself to look at the beauty of such a planet.

The heat bearing down making your hair accumulate so much sweat it poured down your face, soaking the strands like a shower head as you worked. You considered stopping to put your hair up, but with both your hands encasing the various jems collected in their proper storage it was just something you’d have to live with.

A far cry from weeks ago when you felt such euphoria that time seemed to stop in the dead of night.

What even was there to say about your work? A lack of interaction, feeling constantly out of breathe and covered in grime and each night having to spend an unusual amount of time in the set up shower just to accomodate the marks between your thighs. Washing around the stinging teeth marks unsure if you wanted them to just disappear already or preserve them for the only glint of joy you had in years.

You were a mess, in more then just skin deep. How on earth did one night that meant nothing to the other party leave you scattered and dreaming of that night as if it could or would ever happen again.

If Ezra was anything like Keamy, you were just a commodity to get off with. That’s it. Hell, you had been suspecting none of these men on your team even said or looked at you in such a way because you were just unattractive enough to not be worth the effort.

Ezra must have been in a real dry spell to settle for you. Even those who speak of women like they are nagging flesh lights can’t be bothered to look your way in a gross manner.

Not that you wanted it, but it sure made you feel like a child with a silly fantasy for wishing Ezra’s painful bite marks on your thighs would stay forever.

However many days later it was, you were once again off to the side. Refilling your field kit before heading out for the day as the others already masked up, gathering their plan outside the stuffy air of the tented enclosure. You didn’t even bother putting on your comm yet, it was too early in the day to hear them talk about whatever massacre they enwrathed on others years prior. You could not care less about this group the longer you went.

The world outside muffled as you meticulously organized everything. You took pride in how detailed you were, even if just for personal gratification. If you were so needed, Keamy would just slam his fist on the bar right outside the main entrance and shout at you.

Maybe, you should have paid closer attention just this once. Fluttering back and forth putting your things in your pack, scribbling on your notebook before tossing that in as well and securing your mask all in the span in took for whatever occurred out side the tent walls to escalate.

By the time anything came upon you, it was a shock unprepared for. Stepping out into the sunlight, you saw your team split between two spots. Three of them stood off to the side, hands raised, and one stray laid out many feet ahead of you in the path to a lush grove. Blood pooling by his middle far too much to be helped, but it wasn’t just such a sight that made you gasp.

Pulled back against a large figure and knife pulled up to your throat and a shockingly strong arm wrapped around your front, restricting your arms from rising to high in retaliation. The figure leaned down close to you ear, voice slightly more ting sounding from the shift of a communicator, but not one you had so easily forgotten.

“Now I may ask, what is a fine jem such as this doing with a group of mercs like yourself?” His voice and face so close to your ear, but dark eyes trained on Keamy’s whose blazed back in anger. It was only with the shift of Faraday beside him did you realize a man behind them with a thrower. Tallish with dark hair that was just as sweat filled as most others on this heat ridden rock, but nothing else which stood out.

Keamy was the only one allowed to talk, or perhaps just the only one in a position to talk back. “Just doing my job, Ezra. Like you. Or better I guess. Nice arm.”

It was possible he felt you stiffen uncomfortably in his hold. An odd thing to get offended on someone elses behalf given the situation. His chuckle though, was not the same one you heard many times so playfully in your ear that night. No this was hollow, devoid of feeling leaving just dust and rage in it’s path behind. “Gained a lot worth more than an arm that day. More then this lot has. Hauls not so impressive for how many of you there is. One might think jems aren’t what you’re here for, is it?”

His arm tightened around your front, keeping you close to both his chest and his blade to your neck. It didn’t press, but you felt it graze only when shifting around yourself. Keamy glared at him, “You holding my medic hostage because you think she’s worth that to me, or you just that desperate now that you’ve become a freak?”

In an instant, you tried to hold back a gasp as his hands switched. The blade now pressing between your breasts, placed so perfectly that enough of a good shove would slid it through the fabric and into the skin smoothly. His metal hand, now reached up grasping you by your throat, his head leaning over your shoulder but you stood still, too afraid to look anywhere but forward at the body far off.

Shivers shot down your spine as Ezra pressed the blade just enough that it scraped against your chest. A tiny tear right down the middle exposing the skin visible through the cut. “Now Keamy, I don’t have all day to play with you. I have much more important things to tend to,” the tip of the blade now running up and down the sliver of exposed skin. Only pressured to that of a scratched nail. “But I do find myself eager to indulge in a bit of pay back for the last time. Led to me becoming a freak afterall, didn’t it?”

Keamy, was quick to throw away an accusation you didn’t quite understand. “I didn’t do shit. You fucked up, so we fucked off. Anything that happened after that was your own damn fault.”

The thumb of Ezra’s metal hand traced over the very middle of your neck, unknowingly producing a grin at how hard you swallowed and shook at the motion. His eyes still didn’t go to you though, no you were too well behaved to run and you think he knew it. Just kept you hostage. “If I am to recall, you were the one making an awful fuss over trivial matters and I was unceremoniously kicked away for calling you out on it.”

Not enough of his body moved to have the men see, but Ezra very slightly pressed his hips to your ass with more pressure. His grip on your neck tightening at the whine wanting to come out of your mouth, and how little you understood where it came from. “I did come out on top now didn’t I? Aurelac, a nice new arm, and a life waiting for me out there. What spoils have you engaged in, Keamy? A low brow dancer only giving you the time of day because your stupid enough to let her overcharge you?”

Both eyes looked to him wide, and Keamy’s entire face twitched. Leaving it in a position that resembled a little too much like some wild feral creature. “Get to the fucking point. What do you want?”

If they heard the smile, they said nothing. But you did. “What you owe me, that’s all I want.”

The silence was deafening in the pause it took the man to contemplate. A silence broken by a snap of a bolt landing directly into Faraday’s head coming through the front of an eye. The hand on your throat sliding up to cover the scream no doubt wanting to come out. A deep shush vibrating in your chest as he consoled you like one would an animal. “Fear not, jem.”

How that was even possible you didn’t know. Nor would you tell him. And yet the touch now covering your mouth slid from claustrophobic to calm in a manner of seconds. Sparing such a glance you felt brave enough to peek, and there they were. Brown eyes dark and full of an unreadable danger, only to flicker to you with a different kind of flash not so volatile. A glint in them radiated at your own wide ones, before glancing much more casually up to your team.

“Here is the deal, I’ll be taking my share of the last job as what was owed, then I’ll walk in the other direction and we leave that mess behind us.” The other man glared over to Ezra who paid him no mind.

Keamy’s glare was harder. “What’s to stop me from shooting you the second you turn around?”

Pulling you closer to him, Ezra leaned close to your face. Should a mask not be there, you’d be able to feel his strong nose trace down the length of your cheek, and the bristle of facial hair that burns in it’s scratch. “You shoot me, I gut her. Bad business letting a fellow harvester murk one of your teams medics.”

Heart pounding in your chest, it was impossible to know if that was true. His greedy touch suggested not, but his words laced with venom spoke threat. Keamy, nodded though. Little care for anything which could get in the way of his own success, even if that was a temporary sacrifice.

His hand slid down finally, away from your mouth and back soothingly over your throat with a more gentle grip. “Now, we’ll be going one way. My companion here shall collect the payment and we’ll be on our way.”

Your head jerked to look at him, but he gripped tighter, a single barley audible shush leaving his lips as he did so. “Fellas.”

No speaking was done from any party as Ezra led you away, a knife still pointed at you despite the known truth between both that you would do nothing to tempt his temper. In fact no words were shared until the sight of a much smaller tent enclosure came into view. It felt so near to your own that a coincidence did not sit well in the put of your gut.

As you assumed the team dropped from view, so did the blade to your chest. Instead, sheathing the weapon to the guide you by your hip in quiet. Much like Ezra preferred to speak to your face then through a communicator, at least for you specifically. Like if he couldn’t spill forth temptation what was the point of wasting the difficult breath?

Stopping in front of the entrance, Ezra looked at you firmly. “If I let you go, jem, you going to run?” Once more you heard the smirk on his face at how diligently you shook your head no. “Good girl.”

Leaving your throat he opened it up to you, nudging you inside with a bump of his hip into your ass and one hand closing it behind both your figures.

The room looked much like the one you were in but smaller. A little entrance way serving as prep and storage and just ahead of it two cots one messy, one done neatly. Ahead a little pathway that served as a kitchenette one side and a little table the other with the shoddiest of stools you’ve seen and finally a simple washroom hidden by the end door.

Looking over with an eyebrow raised, Ezra yanked his mask off. Reaching for his belt he undid the filter hold with a grunt and tossed it to the side. Your body doing it’s best to pretend as if him reaching for that area in such a manner did nothing to your insides. He turned to you, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead and his eyes a little more ragged then you once saw.

Pointing to your mask with a smirk, “You’re welcome to remove that.”

Hands hesitantly rising, they paused mid air to watch him move about normal as could be. Resting weapons right out in plain sight you swore to yourself for being such a coward. Worse, a coward who couldn’t hold her own in a fight even if death was the only other outcome. Allowing the journey to continue, you very carefully undid your mask and detached your filter.

Turning back and forth in place seeking a place to rest it, you sat it down beside where Ezra put his own on top of a storage crate much neater then his was thrown about. You wondered briefly if the messy bed was his, and heart chiding you for even caring.

Your hands remained wrung together in front of your chest as you turned to watch him. Like nothing was wrong, he moved about the food supply searching for something as if there was nothing of note about such a situation. Your voice small as it cracked out in the quiet. “What are you going to do with me?”

Turning his head, Ezra’s eyes were narrowed as if offended yet confused. “Right now, I intend on finding us something to drink. Lose a lot of water in this kind of heat, jem.”

He was so normal that it wasn’t normal. And you suspected that he was fully aware of such a fact yet didn’t move to ease your head whatsoever. Just pouring what looked like a filter of water into two cups and moved them both over to the table Sitting one down at the seat across from him and waving you over as he took his own seat.

Baby steps with your nails digging into the other, you eyed his aloof disposition. It reminded you of how casual he was that night at the bar. Just a handsome stranger looking for some company. His eyes squinted in thought as you sat down very slowly. Pulling your cup close and looking into it with a tensity in your veins.

“You watched me pour from the same filter, I assure you I have no intention of drugging myself just to make a point.” Biting your lip at such words, your nails rung against the cheap metal as if pointing to the other possibility.

Ezra, with a bit of a cheeky smirk trying to hide itself, leaned over the small table, taking a sip from your own and putting it back down without breaking eye contact. Deep sigh making it’s way out of your chest, your lips parted as you raised it for yourself. Pausing as you looked to his calm, unblinking expression take a sip from his own barley moving an inch.

The water did indeed, feel soothing on the back of your throat. Your first small sip turned into going back to down half of the drink in one fell swoop before dropping the cup on the table. Sighing much more relieved your eyes slid shut for just a second before reminding yourself of where you were sat.

Jolting in place, you yanked your hands down to your lap away. The absurdity that he could do anything less to you should he be able to what? Touch your hands easier? You knew without a shadow of doubt that he could overpower you so what did you even think was your defence. “Please don’t tell me it’s just a coincidence that you’re here, I don’t uh, don’t really think I could believe that.”

Brown eyes still squinting at you, he relents with a shrug and went for another sip. Twisting his body so he leaned back more comfortably, his legs spread out in front of him with his free arm resting atop the chair back. Hand like yours did, using his nails to tap at the cheap metal of the cup. “Alright, then I won’t.”

You hated that he just played the game. Sat in content quiet, letting you stew in the worst of outcomes or possibilities until you broke first. Which, you did. “Ezra-”

Oh to be such a snake, waiting for you to utter the first words only to interject overtop your voice. Not even looking at you, but around the small room glowed in an orange light. “Would it make you feel better to say I followed you here, or would it sound more poetic should I say I’ve followed you for far longer.”

Blood freezing in your veins you felt the limbs stiffening like a turn to stone. Eyes wide on his profile, you despised that it was his elegant nose and plush lips that you found your own eyes drifting towards unconsciously. Even when you did, still you did not look away and you had no clue what that was saying about you. “Did you?”

The plush lips now forming into a grin, his eyes crinkled with the movement in a manner once endearing to you. Now just filled with an unknown dread. “If you haven’t figure it out, jem. I’m not a man who chases.” Turning his head to look at you, the playful smile was there but a darkness fogging in his eyes that had you continue to form a statue in your body. “I’m one who takes.”

That he was. You had many questions yet none the answers that felt safe to hear. You wanted to just go home, back to your quiet life of nothing, hop from job to job, moon to moon and be forgotten by its faces just as easy. Your nails started to dig deeper into the skin of your hands, pain slowly replacing the sensation of pressure yet you pushed on.

As did Ezra, but for words. “I presume at this point, you understand what kind of person men like Keamy are. I do such things for myself. To survive to claim what belongs to me, not out of some twisted sense of joy.”

You weren’t sure if it was you that was shaking or just your insides. “What about me?”

Ezra however, did not let such a sinister feeling bloom on his face. No, rather the sight of a fallen guilt it seemed came over him. Chucking down the rest of his drink, he stood up. Pacing to the other side of the room before turning back to stare at a nothing on the floor. Hands on his hips, his lips pursed in thought. “Why did you leave that night?”

He still didn’t look at you, but his eyes were felt on you nonetheless. A compelling force wrapping it’s tendrils around the truth and gently pulling them up your throat and into the air rather then a desperate lie. “I didn’t recognize you until I accidentally saw some of your papers.” His eyes peered up at you but didn’t commit to facing you fully. “Keamy gave me the rundown of people that were supposed to be competition, and I just....panicked.”

“Panicked how.”

That roughness in his tone radiated through your heart, like a bar twisted and broken ready to snap at the slightest of provocation. You didn’t quite jump in your seat, but your heart did in your chest. Voice high and quick, defensive without offence to balance. “I thought I’d get in trouble if Keamy found out and-” You cut yourself off, but Ezra didn’t appreciate it.

Pacing over to you, he stood barley two feet from your own looking down as he now crossed his arms over his broad chest. Just a raise of one eyebrow.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you felt your eyes sting like a pathetic child. “And I didn’t think you’d want me around when you woke up anyways.” You didn’t look up to see the flames and anger in his eyes, nor did he speak to show you. So you kept going. “I’m not exactly a catch, and I mean- that’s fine, it’s whatever. Easy night for someone like you, but I didn’t think-”

“Didn’t think what? That I wouldn’t want to wake up with you in my bed to repeat that night all over again?” Eyes wide once again but you dared not look. He knelt very slowly to meet your eye level but had yet to take over your gaze. “I got a girl to take care of, jem. I didn’t bring you to my home just to kick you out the next morning. Not after all we did.”

Face flushing with either embarrassment or something a little warmer, only felt heated that much more as Ezra turned your face to look at him. Two fingers on your cheek firmly before dropping down as you looked at his inquisitive stare. “I just-”

Shaking his head there was a twisted pout present. “No. I don’t care what you were worried about, I care that you ran from me after letting me have all of you. That’s cruelty, jem.””

He was angry and dark, but eyes spoke of a distance that felt much more like longing. “I- I’m sorry.”

He kidnapped you, and you were apologizing. What sense were you truly making here?

Ezra nodded a few times, mostly it appeared, to himself. “Well, I have some things which require my attention. How about you head back there,” nodding over to the back room, “And alleviate yourself of the stink of today’s confrontation?”

Were your nerves not shocked to high alert, you might have smiled at the odd manner which he spoke in. Something that seemed to so hilariously blend between painfully normal, to aggressive and spitting and circle down to enticing and otherworldly. But the world currently spoke to you in anxiety, and your tongue remained stagnant. So your head did the speaking for you.

You didn’t really remember your time under the warmth of the shower. So often your turns were forgotten and there was nothing left in the water heater to sooth you. So your cool showers turned cold halfway through and left you scrambling to finish as quick as could be.

Ezra’s however was warm the whole time. No seconds in between turning from warm to hot even. A small group clearly having some perks over the swiftness of larger ones. Face having water pouring down on it, your thoughts dripped away with the water leaving your heart blank and your head empty.

Perhaps it was the only thing you could do. Let the possibilities die, so that whatever actual future he is holding over you cannot come as the worst case scenario. If there is no scenario then nothing can be worse. It was a long time before you emerged.

If you were thankful for one thing, it was Ezra’s courtesy to allow you however long you needed to pull yourself together. You should feel exposed, bare in this room for anyone to come in and attack, but should you be brave enough to glance down, you’d see between your thighs.

The bite marks still bruised into your skin at his deceleration of possession. He had been worse with you then then now, even though you were willing for those previous. Did you make any sense in your considerations or was that the confusion he was hoping to trick into you? Make you more compliant if you had no idea what to do or feel? Well it was working.

Even as you carefully pulled your clothes back on, nothing about your time in the shower gave you an answer, hope, prayer or even concept of a plan. You just had to hope that should the worst possibility be death, he wasn’t so cruel as to force it to elongate.

Stepping out, you saw Ezra organizing things on the previously neat side of the room. A travel pack with scattered items, used and new as he gently placed everything needed much like one of your own did before departing for such moons like this. He was at ease himself, shoulders light, hair now drying out leaving it thick and fluffy like you recalled. The perfect volume to run your fingers through, and even now the phantom curls raked through your skin like a ghost.

On the bed as well as a few stacks of what looked like basic clothes, and a refilled air filter. Looking up at you, he smiled wide. “Come here,” Nodding you over with a tilt of his head, Ezra continued to pack.

Your steps felt a bit easier knowing he was still not showing you the kind of terse aggression he had been displaying towards the rest of your own crew. If this was a long ploy, you were playing right into it but maybe for the sake of your heart? That was alright for now.

Coming up to a few feet away, Ezra paid no mind to the surprised yelp in your chest as he yanked you to stand pressed right up against his side. His warmth so much more prominent as the cool air hit your still wet skin. “I want you to look everything over, and tell me if there’s anything more you need.”

Eyes now flying up to his face, your lips parted in question and his brows narrowed in confusion towards yours. “For what?”

Looking playfully taken aback for a moment, his voice was once more low and drawled out. “You didn’t think we were going to stay here forever, did you, jem?” When you didn’t move, he leaned in to you, voice a whisper as he pointed over your shoulder. “That ain’t a bed I’m willing to take you on more then a few times. Got a testy back, jem.”

A wink and a hand sliding across your lower back you only froze. “You don’t think I’ll try to run?”

You didn’t dare turn to face him, but he sure was to you. His brown eyes boring into your back and his voice tight as if his jaw was clenched to the point it could snap. “You care about those vultures so much, you’re willing to run back into their arms? Knowing they’d leave you behind with me in a heartbeat? That is if they haven’t left already.”

Don't turn around. Do not let him see the tears welling up with impressive speed. “You kidna-”

He was sharp enough to make you jump at the cut of his tone. “I took what I care about away from what doesn’t. You wouldn’t have gotten naked in my shower if you trusted me so little.”

He sounded offended, and were you to turn around that hurt would also display on his face. Sharp looks now soft and longing with a loneliness. And you were just weak enough to fold should you fall into such a soulful trap.

He sounded a little far away, closer to the direction of the main entrance as shuffling movements added to the mix. “Cry, scream, run away if you want. But when I come back, I’m not letting you go, jem. Know that.”

The sound of the enclosure opening before sealing you inside with it’s quiet hum filled you. He left you alone with what you needed to run. So...why weren’t you? Why did you stand there, unable to find even a thought to focus your efforts on? He wouldn’t let you go when he came back and told you to leave before he does so.

But the bites between your legs stung. Whispered like a creature dangling on your shoulder as a guide, and your eyes fluttered shut at how much you screamed at the worst bites of them and yet how much it also made you gush. You hated that you stood like a fool, reliving the feeling of his cock stretching you to the point it was uncomfortable and yet that memory appealed to you more then running in the Green to a team who didn’t fight for you.

It all happened so fast, before you truly even were awake. At some point you had sat down on the edge of the cot, bag sitting on the ground in front of you as you contemplated what would be your fate either choice. At some point your eyes drew heavy, struggling to keep them open as your body filled it’s space with lead. Weighing you down and dragging you conscious mind into the black depth’s along with it.

You dreamt of nothing, or at least nothing that you’d consider important. Just a sweep of images that acted to distract what could be an impending nightmare, and for that you were thankful. At some point, you heard a voice but your dream gave it no thought.

A darkened whisper that felt hovering over you, and a musky wind drenching your face and forced something from your throat that could overpower it. But nothing came, and the dream felt like a figure blocked it’s sun as the deepest part of your mind struggled to climb out of sleep.

A tightening in your chest and muscles flexing as if a fight stood before you, but nothing connected together in such a state. Your legs, the arms, finally as if a burning grip on your jaw as the wind whirled almost in your mouth you could taste it’s toxicity. That wind spoke to you in words not comprehended, until your mind scurried out of the dream enough for your eyes to flutter.

And the strange ghosts across your standing figure now a jolt of pressure. One that send you flying back into the ground behind you and the insane your head slammed into the hard surface did you find your eyes torn open from such a pressure on your physical form.

Laying down you barley registered a figure on top of you like dead weight, but you did see the blood in your vision and it’s wetness scattered across your face as the sight came into clear. Before you could let out a shout in shock, the weight was pulled off you with a snarling sound.

Scrambling up once freed, you sat up with your palms hoisting your upper body to see Ezra yanking another person onto the ground and kicking him over with a fierce press of his boot.

Your voice felt pained, like dry wall scraped the walls of your throat and choked you from any depth in tone. Your scream was really a scratched gasp, a large chunk of the mans head missing as Ezra stood above with some kind of tool drenched in the red missing from the man.

Looking between them, you recognized it as the partner he travelled with. The one who stayed back to handle your crew as you were whisked away from and to things you didn’t understand. Ezra tossed the object to the side before looking over to you.

His chest heaving, nostrils flared with eyes doused in anger. But just as he found your confused and frightened ones did he lighten his. Coming down to cup your face in his hands, they felt rough in their touch but it soothed you for whatever reason. His body knelt to the ground as he looked over the blood that luckily, was not yours. “I told you to go, jem. Gave you everything you needed to return to your crew, and yet here you are in a mans bed that’s not my own.”

Breath caught in your throat you couldn’t move even if the fear left your frozen position. Ezra’s grip tightened as you tried to look over to the body once more, keeping you nowhere but his own.

“You’re lucky I came upon you when I did, kevva knows what he would have done without me to come across it.” Not letting you go, he kept you still to look over you finding nothing out of place or there which wasn’t put by him. “Stay here.”

Your body flinched only as he let you go, eyes now nowhere to look but the figure on the ground and the sudden parallelization of what might have just occurred, or about to. Before you could move closer to the edge of the bed, Ezra returned, a cloth in hand damp in appearance.

His touch was much more gentle this time, cleaning you of any blood. Breathing harshly in your face, his was not a wind that choked you but a gentle breeze that calmed you out of it’s care. It simmered the twisting in your head that you didn’t understand, even though why it did so also was something you didn’t understand.

Ezra spoke to you low, controlled in a way that spoke of how much effort was being put into his gentle touch to your face and jaw, cleaning without scaring you. “I’m going to get rid of it, then, we’re going to talk.”

No wait for an answer, no room for question. Just cleaned you off, then immediately moved to drag the fresh corpse out before it could rot the sensitive air you breathed. He took a long time. Long enough that once your heart settled back in your chest, you managed to stand on two feet.

It wasn’t so much exploring, as it was familiarizing yourself with the limited surroundings. Glancing at tools, and papers, and the minimal possessions brought with him. On his bed were three things which caught attention.

One you recognized, one you didn’t. The one you didn’t was unlocked. Peeking in a goldish glow flowed out of it’s light. Shining with aurelac in a modest abundance. The other, looked much like his, but larger and it was the one you knew too well.

Mindlessly shutting the smaller case, you pulled the bigger one to where you stood. Turning it on it’s side you looked down at the combination lock yet to be solved. Still in the same numbered order it was in when you closed it previously. Payment he said.

Something about ending a job with them badly and demanding payment, slowly you opened the lock up and suspicions confirmed. The entire lot gathered from your team. Something Keamy would not give up willingly, but it didn’t make sense. Why would he steal you away, then more payment then he needs?

Gently letting the lid of the case fall back down, your brows furrowed as you couldn’t quite put the pieces together of a game you had no hints for. The third object was easily identifiable but the most unusual.

It looked like a notebook. Lovingly worn and torn, you very slowly flipped the pages open to see hand written scribbles. The writing rather pretty for a man such as Ezra, and yet the words were quite good.

An elegant style that shined much personality and emotion. Names and tales of a story you didn’t know, this looked like a novel, or the makings of one. It was long, the early pages more passed over then the latter. Clearly a project long worked towards.

You could hear Ezra approach, but your eyes and brain were trapped. Fingertips gently holding the pages open as you read the lines over. His warmth and even scent something that wasn’t unfamiliar and for once so far, his closeness did not startle you. Nor did his voice, but it also wasn’t the anger or harsh manipulation of before.

“It’s Cee’s favourite book. Well, sort of.” Neither of you looked away from the pages, your eyes of curiosity his of fondness. “Without a copy of her own, she started writing what she remembered of it. Adding new things, characters, conversations what it would be like for her to be there with them along with it. Really made it her own.”

His fingers brushed yours, his torso leaned into you as he placed himself closer to see the words. “She found a copy of the real thing at her school, but they won’t let her have it. Kevva forgive a teenage girl takes something like a book home to cherish more then a dusty shelf.”

Shrugging, he pulled away. Looking at your distant face with his hands on his hips as he kept going. “I told her I’d love to read it, but for now, her own version is doing just fine in my eyes.”

Ask, your brain told you. Ask about the case, why he has all of your crews jems, what is to happen to you. You did none of it. “I never wrote anything near this long when I was her age.”

Moving in front of you, Ezra pushed the cases up against the wall. Sitting on the edge of the cot, arms crossed but without the dark, sharpened glare of suspension. No, his curiosity was again, much like that night in the bar. “You write?”

Shaking your head, you gently closed the notebooks cover. “Nothing good.”

A dimple appearing as Ezra grinned to himself, “So my Cee thought at first too.” The frown slid back though, looking down at nothing as his hands flexed to themselves. “Probably would have stopped all together if her father had anything to do with it.”

Nothing of what he spoke about the man that night told you they had fond memories but the way he himself looks when talking about her is proud above all else. “Does she want to write for a living?”

He huffed a laugh, “She’s fifteen and spent most of her life travelling around backwater moons like this. Girl’s got no clue what she wants to do.” There was no malice or judgment, just a fond smile still. You tentatively sat down beside him, not wanting to disrupt the softness. “It’s why I sent her to some fancy school. Give her the chance to figure out what she wants, even if it’s just for right now. Not many kids in this kind of life get that choice.”

Heart beating wildly, you were as soft spoken as could get. “Ezra, what’s going to happen to me.”

A man with a mind of wonders, he answered your question with a question. “I told you half the truth that night. About myself.” Turning his upper body to face you, he felt so much larger then you did. Like even sitting his broad frame towered over you with his dark eyes. “Me and Cee live over on Lorien. That junk rat planet you call a home is just where my, former partner, was staying.” His hand gesturing out to the unseen planet side beyond the walls.

Lorien was no joke. A planet side of the water, many homes living like their own island with a tunnel system interconnecting them. It was expensive, but quiet. The kind of money to live in a place like that and yet he sat next to you, as run through and grime covered as any other prospector and just as rash and dangerous. “Why-”

“We were going for a Queen’s Lair.” He didn’t look at you, and missed the wide look on your face as well as the twist of confusion once more. “I was hurt, told her to leave me behind. But she’s stubborn, went for the jems, and came back for me. And for whatever reason, decided that half that money was mine even though all I did was get my arm cut off. By her no less, I may add.”

There were details you couldn’t grasp, but if the gist of what he was saying is accurate, then a man such as himself as no reason to interact with someone like you. Let alone sleep with them, hunt them down, take them for himself or whatever this was. “Then why do you still...you know, do stuff like this?”

Smiling to himself there was a shimmer of brightness poking through. “Used to work with him a ton,” once more jutting his chin to the entrance. “Got himself into some trouble, loan sharks and the like. So he calls me up, asking for a favour to help pay them off his backs. Not that sharks matter on the Green.”

You didn’t ask, he didn’t say. Some things you were okay being in the dark on detail.

Inhaling, he leaned back grabbing the case that belonged to your team and tossed it into your lap. “I assume you already know what’s in this.”

Holding it in your hands you pressed your fingertips harsh against the metal. Your eyes narrow and jaw clenched as you contemplated your answer. “Just tell me the truth on one thing and I’ll never ask again. Did you steal it or did he?”

“Technically he did, and it very likely makes me equally as bad for not wanting to return what is rightfully theirs.” You didn’t bother opening it again to look. It was just jems. Stones and the like that would sell for more then you’d ever get paid to harvest even a planet of them. You liked working off world, you didn’t really care about the rush of harvest.

Small voice, you wished you had more confidence to just demand it all make sense. “You don’t need the money.”

Ezra, was firm. And quick. “No, but I do believe in being paid what I am rightfully owned. Keamy marooned me on place not to dissimilar to where we are. And I made it out, orphan in tow and missing my fucking arm. He’s a leader, he has to pay for such mistakes.”

You touched the numbers on the lock, now stationed at it’s opening combination. You could scramble it now. Ruin the opening and force him to give you back in return for the jems. But you didn’t. You sat there, frustrated that the book behind you interested you more then what could be easy extortion to freedom.

Sighing out, you gently placed it down onto the ground between your feet before wringing your hands in your lap together once more. “Can I ask one last question?” You could see Ezra nod in the corner of your eye. “Why me?”

Not looking at him caused you to miss the sinking in his heart. In his eyes, who else but you? How could you spend that night together and not understand that you consumed his soul and plagued his eyes with visions and ears with haunts of your soft cries and tender pleas. In what galaxy would he not feel so possessed by you?

Mimicking your leaned over posture, Ezra looked at you firmly even tough you couldn’t muster your heart to be brave and look back. His voice was low, and a rasp that sent static through your veins.

“Give me one last night, jem. And I’ll show you.”

You should have said no, in fact you should have run while you could have, he was giving you that option earlier. Left you all alone with every chance to escape, so why were you here? Back almost pressed against the wall of the shower, trapped between it and Ezra as your knees begged you for mercy.

All he had done was prompt you to kneel in front of him and you were the one who dropped in an instant. Your mouth already filled with saliva both yours and his from how urgently he kissed you, that and the water still reigning down on you forcing your eyes shut from the constant pressure.

His hand tightly gripped in your hair, he didn’t even need to tap at your swollen lips to open, you seeked his cock with hunger. Both moving down his length and the push of him at the back of your head, Ezra sank deep within your mouth.

Had it been hours since the conversation earlier? Days perhaps? You couldn’t tell, he stripped you down and has kept you naked and either on his cock or attached to his lips at all times. Your neck already sore and burning from the marks he now proudly bit into you, showing a display of teeth and bruises that would draw much attention to them.

Only when you were quite covered did he suggest a shower, but had no patience to do anything but satiate his appetite. You think he might have taken something, his cock always seemed hard no matter how many times he fucked you and took pleasure in being the one to guide you to just take more and more.

Filling your mouth, your nose brushed against the coarse, dark hair surrounding his cock but it too was wet and soaked from the shower water. The pressure screamed at you to gag, but you felt his fist in your hair tense, flexing as if to warn you from moving. Only slowly did he let you come down, hissing over the already loud noises around him. “That’s right, jem. Cock’s made only for you, you and this sweet little mouth- fuck,”

Tone trying to be deep and rasping, but switching to a moan each time he spoke too long. Unable to maintain composure without losing his grip on control. Control that you long had since realized you willingly signed over to him.

Guiding your head slightly faster, your hands tightened on their grip of his thighs. Knees screaming at you to get up, but truly did you want too? He was screwed up, and so was this, but you felt yourself grow needier the closer he was to cumming.

Only, such a need was yanked away from you just as your mouth was his cock. In a second, the rest of your body was pulled up. World spinning as Ezra flipped you and pressed your chest right against the wall, his body hard against your back.

Teeth digging into your neck, jaw and up to your ear you could feel how much he was gritting his teeth as he spoke. “Maybe we’ll never go back. Just stay right here, have you all to myself whenever I want, however I want. Huh, jem? You want that? To belong to me?”

You reached a hand behind you, raking it through his soaking wet hair. Pushing your hips back to press his cock firmly into your ass. Your logical side said no, don’t nod, don’t say yes. Make him let you go, forget this obsession or possession that has bewitched him with you and go back to the quiet, nothing life of your backwater planet.

But you didn’t. You nodded yes, pleading his name as he sunk his cock once more deep inside of you. So wet that there was little need to even thrust hard, and yet he fucked you as he had every time so far, hard and with pounding thrusts that could echo the room.

Throbbing inside of you, Ezra came with only a few minutes of hot water left. Every time unable to decide if he wanted to cum inside of you or all over you. Pulling out half way through, your walls were painted with his cum but now so once again was your cunt and ass.

He’d reach his hand down, smearing it over your skin as he rubbed harshly at your clit, fingers two, three sliding deep to push the rest of it back inside of you.

His voice was low and deep in your ear, dripping with a malicious affection that scared you as much as it dragged you further down the need of addictive. “We belong together, jem. World wouldn’t have brought you to me if we didn’t.”

Tilting your head back, he pressed his lips to yours. Tongue sliding in, much more smooth and gentle then his fingers were inside of you. Tasting one another, and a mix of himself on your own tongue it made you both moan. At the very least, you could spent an eternity kissing him and be content.

It wasn’t until later, much later as the night fell upon the planet with you curled into his chest, did Ezra start thinking. What to tell Cee, what life he wanted to give you, and exactly how he should make sure you are happy, happy with him, with Cee. In their home, in their family.

After all, Ezra didn’t spent over a year stalking you from the shadows, just to make you miserable.

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing: Ezra (pre movie) x afab!reader

Summary: You need more from Ezra, but how much more can you take?

Content Warnings: smut- 18+ ONLY! MDNI. dirty talk, p in v sex, slight f oral if you blink you'll miss it, breast play, use of rope, bondage explored a little, biting, choking, condescending Ezra, sloppy kithes, fingering, mulitple orgasms, overstimulation, crying but Ezra licks your tears up, animalistic undertones perhaps, thigh biting, mentions of your neck bleeding a little but don't panic, cream pie, cockwarming, degrading undertones, praise, pet names (good girl, gem, honey, sir) I think that's everything but tell me if I've missed one.

Authors Note: Hello, sluts! buckle up, this is my submission for @iamasaddie 's writing challenge! I got #24 - Overstim w Ezra. Now I'm gonna be so real, Ezra was fucking terrifying to write for. I love a good challenge though, so here we go! Hope you enjoy & make sure to read everyone else's work who participated! Quick shoutout to my beta's for helping with the looks and contents ( @pedgito & @beskarandblasters ) along with all my hens who held my hand through this. I love you. wc: 2kish dividers by the talented @saradika-graphics !

“Ezra please, c’mon I wanna play some more, please?” You begged, tugging his hand to come lay back down in the cot. 

He’d just finished fucking you and you needed more, you craved more. 

“Sweetheart, I need to sleep, we’ve got a tremendous trip ahead of us tomorrow.” 

You groaned aloud causing him to turn around with a raised eyebrow. Normally attitude wasn’t the first thing you gave to Ezra when you were in a particular mood, but considering how desperate you were for him and all the teasing he had done throughout the day, did he really think only one round was going to suffice?

“There something you need to say to me, little one?” Ezra stands up over the small bed, fingertips dancing over your slightly sweaty skin, trailing up your thigh just above your knee. 

Leaning up on your elbows, you look up at him through your eyelashes and bite your lip. “It’s just, you’ve done nothing but mess with me all day and touch me at the most inopportune times, how can I not want more from you? You drive me crazy.”

It would just be easy for you to dip his hand down and relieve yourself with his fingers inside you, but where was the fun in that? Though you two have explored using each other for your selfish needs, that wasn’t what you wanted from him, not this time. You wanted him to ravage you, to eat you alive and savor the last bite. 

“Tell me what you want, sweet girl. Perhaps I can find it in me to satisfy what you’re needing, but under my conditions.” 

The glimmer from the lantern hanging from the top of the tent catches his eye, showing you the true darkness coming over him. Like a lion looking at its lamb prey, Ezra licks his lips and kneels down beside you on the bed, fingers still dragging ever so slowly on your thigh. Every creak of the cot shifting under the weight of you two makes your breath catch. The anticipation was insufferable and Ezra knew it. He knew it was absolute torture for you to lay there in silence as he thought about his conditions he was going to share with you.

“I’ll indulge in this moment of weakness with you, but in return you will keep your angelic voice down to a low roar, almost as silent as the unknown out there in The Green. Whatever I choose to do is my concern, but feel free to relentlessly use your safe word as you see fit, yes?”

You nod in response which causes Ezra to tut at you. 

“It’s almost too easy to take away your power to speak but I need you to say the word. Say it.” Ezra demands in a low tone, right next to your ear before he licks a small section of your cheek. 

“Yes, I understand, sir.” That always got him alive and feral. Sir. His hand moves to the apex of your thighs and rubs slowly, toying with the aching clit under his fingertips. Your mouth falls agape and already you want to moan out his name like your personal hail mary but this was just the beginning. 

“Sit up for a second, sweetheart.” 

Ezra grabs your arm with his freehand and lifts you forward just enough to get you up and he slinks down behind you on the cot, his back resting against one of the support beams he just finished digging into the ground earlier today. Your skin sticks to his chest as he grabs your shoulders to guide you back down on him, his hand once more making his way between your thighs. 

“You are such a beautiful little thing when you squirm around in my arms like that, I must admit.You should really keep still though if you wish not to have your wrists tied to this beam behind me.” 

His fingers dance around your soaking wet clit, halting any moans you may have and causing them to die in your throat before he tells you you’re being too loud. The burning feeling started in your lower tummy once more and Ezra could feel you tense up, your hips beginning to roll against his touch. Taking note, it was as if a switch flipped and as soon as your eyes rolled back, his freehand comes up your side and pinches your nipple roughly as he bites your neck, layering kisses in between a few times. 

“F-fuck, Sir, please don’t stop-p. Oh m-yy-” You croak out and arch your back off of his chest as his index and middle finger dip into your entrance. A pleased hum erupts from Ezra as he pumps back and forth inside of you. 

“Yes, just like that, baby. Soak my fingers, come on. Atta girl.” His chanting in the crook of your neck was making your back arch deeper with euphoria, whimpering with every dip of his finger hitting your g-spot. 

Ezra was getting you to the edge a lot faster than you anticipated but you weren’t complaining. His fingers toy around your nipple before pinching it once more, your clit thumping against the pad of his finger just anxious to come. 

Your knees jerked to close shut as Ezra cooed in your ear to come for him but he wouldn’t allow them to meet in the middle, to let you take away his enjoyment watching you come unraveled. The smirk plastered over his mouth was loud and clear in his words, only making you want to tip over the edge more. 

“Ezra please, please right there, right-“ you shriek out before his calloused hand that was cupping your breast, comes up to your mouth and squeezes harshly. 

“That feel fulfilling enough to you, gem?” Ezra nibbles on your ear as he groans, making a mess of your cum and rubbing it all throughout your folds. 

“No, that would be fanatical of me to think so little of you, wouldn’t it? Of course you need more.”

Before you’re able to pull his hand away from your mouth, Ezra’s fingers dip inside you once more while his grip on your face loosens, only grab the back of your neck and turn your head towards him, resting along his collarbone comfortably. Crying out his name and begging him to grant you just a second to catch your breath, he squeezes your neck in response and kisses the side of your face messily. 

“No no no no, I believe you didn’t listen to me when I spoke about my conditions. I told you what was to come if you wanted this, and by golly, you did not hesitate to agree, do you recall? Or are you so fucked out of that pretty little mind?” He rasps out before tugging you tighter against him. 

He’d stolen every single last breath from you and any shot you had at speaking. Pussy throbbing, begging to get stuffed, you whine aloud and buck into his hand more. 

Ezra rips his hand away from your dripping hole and slips out from behind you, reaching in his bag for something while you rub your thighs trying to imitate a sliver of what he made you feel. 

Nothing came close to it. 

The frayed rope comes into your view and his devilish smile flashes quickly at you before he starts to tie your wrists together, then to the beam. Licking his lips when he sees how much you squirm and need him back, Ezra holds your face gently before moving to your throat, squeezing just enough to show you he’s there. 

“You are the best one yet, I give you that. Using every last bit of mighty force in that body to keep me happy.” He gets between your legs, sloppy wet kisses trailed down the valley of your breasts and abdomen until he got where you needed him again. The sting in your flesh from his teeth shoots your eyes open and down to him where he was content with nipping at your inner thighs before he really gets to the fun. 

After this you’d have enough anticipation to last a year, maybe more. The black sweaty locks tangle under your grasp on them, eliciting a guttural moan from Ezra. 

“You smell so sweet, you make it hard for a man such as myself to behave.” A flattened tongue presses against your clit and licks forward and back down, the vibration from his groan tickling you softly. 

“Especially when you request things of this nature from me.” 

“I- I need you inside me, Ezra please. Please, I'm begging.” 

He laughs against your clit and looks at you. 

“I know you are, gem, how pathetic, isn’t it?” 

Kneeling between your legs, Ezra grabs onto the tops of your thighs and yanks you closer, the rope tightening around your skin. That’ll probably bruise later, who cares. 

“Would you be a good girl for me and rub your pretty little clit for me, sweet girl? Can you do that for me? Oh wait- you can’t.”

Hearing the condescending tone in his words turns you on even more and with his rough hands squeezing your plush thighs, groaning with every thrust inside you, your mind was in another dimension. Toying with your clit while you try to whine out his name was a new favorite sight for him and he was definitely going to remember this later.

Yet, the fire burning in your tummy from earlier didn’t die down at all. Clawing at his tummy with your freehand, Ezra grunted your name and pounded into you harder. 

“Don’t tell me you’re about to come again. Take it, take it, take my cock so deep like I know you can. Be a good girl, come on.” 

His thumb meets your sensitive bud and rubs circles on your clit way faster than you would’ve. Writhing and gasping for air causes him to keep your legs spread as you once more come under his doing. 

“Again. Come on.” He demands and keeps running despite your squeaks you can’t barely get out. 

“What’s wrong, honey? Is that too much for your pretty little pussy? You can handle it, come on, one more.” 

The tears pricked the corners of your eyes and Ezra leans down, licking them up with your sweat as they drip down your cheek. The animalistic behavior that had taken over him was giving you butterflies in your stomach, maybe even the whole goddamn zoo. 

“I-I- Ez,-fuck-k-k-please-e!” You gasped out and squeezed the rope leading towards your wrists, hoping he’d cut them but that was a stupid thought. 

“Come on, gem. Scream as loud as you please if that’ll make you come harder on me, let me hear that pretty scream you have.” Ezra kisses your neck roughly and bites hard enough to break skin, tasting the metallic liquid on his tongue. 

Your muscles were starting to tighten and cramp up, your mind spinning and the words falling from your mouth before you could even think about them. 

“Just like that, you’re such a good girl for me. The way you squeeze around my cock like that- you’ll make a man go mad. Such pretty sight to watch my cock disappear in that beautiful p-“ 

Before he could grunt out the last of his words your eyes were squeezed shut and seeing stars on the insides of your eyelids. There was never a second you thought your pussy could thump has hard as it was in this moment. 

Ezra’s breath quickens as the squelching from your pussy was sending him over the edge along with your soft jolts from the orgasms hitting you still. 

In a quick moment he was filling you up to the brim with his cum, fucking it as deep as it could go inside you and collapsing on top of you, cock still inside you as he went soft. 

You must’ve been that way for a while before he reached up and untied you, kissing your breasts and nipples slowly. 

“Satisfied, gem?”

[magpiepills]

Bat Presents:

All content below is 18+ and not intended for minors.

Please do not copy, translate, edit, distribute or print my work, in whole or in part. Not for use with AI. This blog is the sole source of my writing. I am not on Wattpad, ao3, or anywhere else. Please read warnings at the beginning of each fic!

Follow @turgid-members and turn on notifications to be alerted when I post new smut!

Joel Miller

Only Teasing

Got It Wrong

Taurus

En El Mar

Into The Deep End

Put It In Coach

Made Me Love You (The Bangfest) complete

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 Pit Stop extra

Plow

Downward Dog,

Butterfly

Another Kind of Hunger

Airtight

Austin, Texas On A Rainy November Saturday, 2002

Doin’ Time

Javier Peña

En La Calle

Escritorio

Hard At Work

Aquarius

I’m Not Really A Waitress

DIY

Sweet Tooth

Promises, Promises

Promises Broken

Frankie Morales

Honor And Obey

Say It

The Run

Once and Future

The Layover

Ezra

Sagittarius

Kill Shot

Not For Nothing

Code Duello

Coming soon ✨

Dieter Bravo

Here Today

For Her Pleasure

Lucky In Kentucky

But Baby, It’s Art

The Oasis

Marcus Pike

Misunderstood

Dave York

Strange Currencies

Gemini

Din Djarin

A Rite

Marcus Moreno

Girl Lunch

Same Time Next Week

Lucien DeLeon

Watercolor

Make Me

Ted Garcia

Vote For Ted

Silva

Divining Rod

Tim Rockford

God Speed

The Late Shift

Overtime

Mario (snl)

Game Over

Bonus thots

Javier Pena

Marcus Acacius + Lucius & Dieter

Under The Weather HCs

Manus Aureum

[bonezone44]

Combustion (18+)

Ezra x F!Reader, spanking, creampie, D/s vibes, 'Ownership' vibes, all consenting adults. Word Count: 985

(inspired by this post and gif)

Ezra's big ass hands sliding down your bare bottom, caressing your cold skin as you lie face down in his lap. Won't be cold for long, though. Not once he starts smacking and slapping and digging his fingers into your flesh. His big hands'll warm up all those nerves and synapses and spindly vessels of blood that'll make your skin hot to the touch. Shit, he'll be spanking you so hard that there'll be waves of heat radiating off your ass cheeks like mirages in the desert. He'll grip each cheek tight in his thick fingers and spread you open, spread you apart. He doesn't care whether your shaved or not, all he wants are those tight, hungry holes of yours. Fuck, he starts drooling as one long finger slides inside your wet pussy.

"Starlette." He grits his teeth and thrusts his hips upwards. "You continue to test my patience." His finger moves in and out, enraptured by the thought of your moist walls around his cock. "I will not be swayed by your taunting, eager split." He hums to himself as he continues to finger you. "It's like the-the-the vaccuum of space the way it sucks me in and begs to devour me--flesh, bone and soul." He breathes through his teeth. "I will not be bested by you again, Starlette. I will not again be hypnotized by-by-by the pleasures of your--" he whimpers. "--plump body." He yanks his finger out and smacks your cheeks hard with each word. "I. WILL. NOT. BE. OUT. DONE." Your yelps and mewls satiate him. He sighs with satisfaction and shakes a bead of sweat from the tip of his now. His hands sting harshly from his aggression and his soothes them on your abused bottom, rubbing gently back and forth. It's as if he's soothing you, as well. He enjoys it, too. He closes his eyes and loses himself in the texture of your skin beneath his wide palms and long fingers. Allows his heart rate to calm and his head to find clarity once more.

He sighs before blinking and returning to the room once more. He eyes your bare ass, and tilts his head back and forth as he weighs his options.

"I suppose there are worse battles to lose," he says to himself as he spreads your cheeks apart again. One long finger traces your wet hole. "And we're certainly not pressed for time in this derelict and decrepit port." He hums. "Perhaps my little woman deserves a reprieve from all those weeks spent asea. No one to stuff her aching pussy full. No one to... oxidize the fuel inside you and initiate combustion." One finger tenderly guides your chin to face him. You look back with pleading, teary eyes. "What say you, Starlette? Hmm?" His brows go high in his forehead. Two fingers from his other hand thrust inside your opening and begin to stroke your walls. "Shall I provide you with release?" He pulls his fingers out of you and grips your asscheek instead. "Or shall I continue to berate your hind quarters?"

You search his eyes. You don't know what to say. You're not sure what you want and he's so spiteful that even if you did know what you wanted, and you did voice it, that didn't necessarily mean he would provide it for you. You close your eyes with a calming breath before meeting his smirking gaze. "It's up to you."

He chuckles adoringly. "Well, if the choice is mine, then I shall use you to my own satisfaction." He tilts his head to the side with a wry grin. "Therefore, whether you find pleasure or not, is no longer my concern."

He means it, too. He positions you to continue to lie face down. He taps your hips and you arch them in the air. He wastes no time in thrusting into you, spearing you apart with his cock, and rutting into you like a mating animal. "I once was blind but now I see, Starlette." He looks down at his cock plunging in and out of you at a rapid pace. "I see how desperate your cunt is to be fucked and filled and stuffed full of my cum," he shouts out through panting breaths. "That's what you want isn't it? My cock inside you endlessly. Eternally. You can't ever get enough of it, can you?" He chuckles as his hips slap your sore ass. "She always comes back. She always comes back," he mutters to himself. "No other soul in this expansive cosmos can satisfy your wanton needs, can they?" He slaps your ass when you don't answer. "Can they?!"

"No, Ezra!" you cry out. "No one else!"

"Oh, Starlette." He laughs, his rutting never stopping. "My filthy wretch. My divine little harlot." He starts fucking into you harder. You fall flat into the mattress and Ezra collapses on top of you, your bodies writhing as one. "I will not allow you to flee me again!" Angry hands grope your breasts as he pulls your body even closer. His hot mouth grazes your ear. "I will not allow you in the Fringe without my cock inside you, Starlette. Do you hear me?" You're a garbling mess of pleasure and he smacks you on the hip to get your focus. "Do you hear me, Starlette?!"

"Yes, yes, yes, Ezra! I won't go without you again," you choke out. "I promise--I promise--I promise--I promise--"

Ezra glows with satisfaction. He knew it. He knew you needed him as much as he needed you. And now it's official. "My sweet Starlette. All mine. All mine," he grins. "Take my cum, baby. Take it. Take it," he murmurs again and again in your ear until bursting inside of you, filling you up with so much of his thick milky spend that it leaks out the edges before he can even pull out.

-------------

[ohforficsake]

Talk Refined

main masterlist

Summary: Orpheus and Eurydice. A Blacksmith and a Warrior. A Lawyer and the Lady He Meets at a Bar. Two souls fated to find each other across lifetimes. Here are just a few of those stories.

Pairing: Ezra x f!Reader. Reader is able-bodied and takes many forms. Described as having hair that can be pinned back in one instance, generally open description in others.

This is my submission for @wannab-urs Hozier Drabble Challenge! My character was Ezra, and my prompt was "Talk" off of Wasteland, Baby!. This was such a fun challenge, thank you so much for organizing it, Gin!

Word Count: ~5.8K (I blew past drabble, I'm so sorry)

Rating: Explicit 18+ / brief fingering / brief handjob / unprotected piv / language / main character death / Minors DNI

A/N: This was so incredibly fun to write and I actually had a huge smile on my face when I finished it that I'm pretty sure is still there. I'm incredibly happy with how this turned out. I've never written for Ezra before, so this was a really interesting exercise in finding the voice of a character that I found quite challenging to get to the heart of. Ezra folks, I really hope I did your boy justice.

Notes on literary references and the source of Orpheus' speech (not written by me) included at the end.

I'm also kind of just launching this super hot off the press, so please forgive any typos you may find and definitely message me about them once you're done reading.

Massive thank you to @beskarandblasters for the beautiful cover art for this story! 💚 Go hit Kel up if you're looking for a lovely header for your work!

Dividers by @cafekitsune!

Part I: The Darkness of the Night

He’s called Orpheus in this lifetime. Blessed with his mother’s tongue. 

No way of knowing he forever will be.  

A twist of phrase. A glint in the eye. 

A white patch at his hairline is the only mark of his father. As if licked there by the rays of Apollo’s creation.

And he is his mother’s boy, plucking at lyre strings and humming low, branches bending to his ambit as he harmonizes with the rush of Zephyrus’ wings through tall grasses.

But you are a rich distraction indeed.

A distraction perhaps of the West Wind’s own making, for the god has always been a soft touch. 

The breeze toys with your chiton as you drift in and out of dreams. 

Molding gossamer to your form.

A promise of something just for him.

Orpheus reaches to run his knuckles down your arm, awaiting your stirring before he takes fingers over your shoulder, up to cup your cheek.

You turn to press against the warmth of his hand. The pad of his thumb softly skimming your bottom lip.

It sends sparks racing across your skin.

He hums a laugh and fits closer to you, warmer now than the midday sun. You slant your eyes up at him, greeted with a smile before he bends to press a long kiss to your mouth.

His lyre is discarded in the grass now, wildflowers poking up through its strings.

The hand on your cheek moves to pull at his red linen handkerchief around your neck. Tied there in the morn to guard the late-hour transgressions of his lips from judgmental stares. 

Again revealed to him now.

He tucks the cloth into his zoster before his fingers dip under the gauze of your robes, cupping one breast before his lips replace fabric.

“The dryads, my darling,” you whisper a warning into the heated hollow of his mouth.

“Fret not, my love,” he chides with a whisper.

And you whimper a wanton, insincere protest as his hand adjusts to move lower still, nimble fingers inching your hemline up until your thighs are bared to him.

“Surely such creatures would sympathize. Look favorably on newlywed dalliance.”

“For they understand pleasures such as these,” he murmurs as his fingers slip over your core.

"The nymphs haven’t our flesh," you gasp against his curls as he bends to nip at the lush of your breast.

"They have our desires."

"The nymphs know fertile things in ways we never shall, my darling Eurydice," ghosts hot against your skin. 

"And surely they know what comes of something flush with want."

The press of his length against you causes your hips to tilt into his hand as your languid knees fall open.

"To deny that nature is to deny the nymphs themselves, little dove."

He tips his face to brush petal-soft lips against your frantic pulse as he shifts over you.

"For you see, they don’t care."

And the breach of him causes your back to arch, nails digging into the corded muscle of his arms.

You bend enough for your eyes to land on the grove of oak trees.

Unsure if begging forgiveness. 

Or reveling in their jealousy.

But there are other eyes on you this day. Watching the deft way your husband wrings pleasure from your form. 

The way he rolls you over on a bed of meadowsweet to press deeper still.

Holding your body to his as he pulls music from your throat.

Other eyes, indiscreet in their desire and relentless in their pursuit.

Other eyes that lead to your journey across the Styx.

Lead to Orpheus’ torment.

They say there are ways to speak with the dead.

But words will not pacify the poet when the possibility exists to feel you beneath him again.

A body that writhes under his own. Skin soft against the way his burns.

The way you welcome the thick weight of him.

All of him.

Into the warm clutch of your wet cunt.

And Orpheus, driven by his desire and blessed with his mother’s gift, marches boldly into the depths of grief.

“You powers divine of the subterranean kingdom, where all of mortal creation must one day sink to our doom, if you will give me permission to tell you the truth unvarnished by shifty pretenses…”

“I’d hoped to be able to bear my loss and confess that I tried.”

And the dance of his fingers over gut string pricks the ears of the damned as he gives verse to his flesh’s torment.

“In the name of these confines of fear, in the name of this vast abyss and your realm of infinite silence, I, Orpheus, implore you, unravel the web of my dear Eurydice’s early passing.”

A prayer for relief.

“This is the place that we all are bound for, our final dwelling, and yours is the longest reign that the human race must endure.”

Through vulpine teeth.

“Eurydice too, when her due of years has been ripely completed, shall own your sway. Till then, I beg you to let me enjoy her.”

And it moves the hound to cease its lashing. 

Moves the one eternally punished to rest upon his stone. 

Moves the dead of Winter to cave to the tender brush of Spring’s hand.

And you are called forth by a voice between what should be your ears. 

And Orpheus begins to move.

Daring to hope for your sweet clutch again as your footsteps grow louder against stone.

As you take the form he knows, more corporeal with every footfall.

The tenderness in your ankle made manifest with flesh.

And his cock throbs with the thought of you.

His wife.

His muse.

But there’s a pause in the lilting cadence of your step.

Where you’ve stopped to grab for the fallen handkerchief that slipped from his belt.

And the panic flooding his breast moves him against all hope.

And he turns.

And you reach for him.

Before disappearing for the final time.

With forgiveness swimming in your eyes.

Part II: Pilgrim, Stranger, Wanderer

He’s called Doran in this lifetime.

A name you learn upon ducking into the blacksmith’s workshop with another man’s name on your lips. 

“Callum!” You call, greeted instead by a shock of white hair where blonde should be.

Round brown eyes where you expected green.

“Apologies,” you offer, “I am looking for the smith.”

“Callum was called away to his family in the north country.”

His answering voice like honey just starting to crystalize. 

“I’m called Doran,” he bends his head in customary greeting.

And you note the broad spread of his hand against his chest.

“I apprenticed under Callum, in what feels like a lifetime ago now, I admit.” He offers a small smirk. “He asked that I mind the forge in his absence.”

And you give him your name but not your full belief in this story.

“May I help you with something, dove?”  

You straighten against the rake of his eyes. “My horse requires particular shoes. She is of a larger breed and nothing standard will suit.”

And you turn your back to him leading the way outside.

Doran whistles low at the sight of your mare, a sturdy Friesian glossed blue in the morning sun.

“She is a stunning creature,” he purrs, gently taking his fingers over her strong neck.

Pausing to thumb the iris stamped into the leather of her bridle.

“She’s no delicate thing,” you watch as he circles the horse. “Her grandsire was a draft who pulled the High King’s carriage.”

He fits one massive hoof between his knees, gently brushing away the feathers at her ankle before she starts fighting his touch. 

He adjusts her gently, inspecting her irons before she protests in earnest.

“It’s apparent,” he says, quickly dropping the horse’s foot and jumping aside before she stamps and shakes her head, “that her blood runs hot.”

“She does not favor the touch of men,” you answer, soothing a hand over her hindquarters. “I should have forewarned you.”

“A fair lady is entitled to her opinions when she is that beautiful,” Doran gives her a wide berth.

And takes his eyes over you instead. 

“You are the nobleman’s daughter.” He squints against the sun. “The warrior?” 

“I am.”

“Now,” he pulls a rag from his pocket and rubs at his hands, “I know well the dangers of feminine beauty but a warrioress is altogether new to me. You are not riding into battle soon, I pray?”

“One in my position exists in a constant state of preparation. But there is no rumble of battle on the horizon.” 

His smirk dimples one cheek now.

“I shall have the shoes for your láir within the week. And I shall pray you need not fly away before then, little dove.”

“May I make half the payment now for your services? This was the custom with the old smith.”

“The only payment for my services I can insist upon is merely the chance to sit in your presence a moment longer. Would a fair lady allow a humble blacksmith that much?”

And you see straight through him. Through to the tools on the wall. 

But the broad set of his shoulders under ash-smudged linen. The way he moves, lithe and light on his feet as he dances between his stock of iron bars and his cache of hammers. The bright wideness of his eyes that betray sincerity or something of its kin.

A humble one no. But this one, perhaps.

You drop a pouch of coins onto his anvil. “Where?”

“Meet me here. In the morrow?”

And you tell him “maybe” in the moment as you climb into your saddle.

But you arrive on foot the next morning. 

_____

You meet him three mornings in the week it takes him to forge your mare’s irons. 

On the first day he tells you of his travels through Spain and France. Of scrambling up the masts of the ship that brought him to your shore. 

On the third, he recites The Bard’s work with such nuance that you’re not entirely sure he isn’t the man himself.  

On the fifth day he leads you out to the ruins of an old monastery, up a winding staircase until you’re forced to stand so close on the crumbling parapet that you can feel the heat of him at your back.

Your head spins from something other than the height.

On the seventh day he places four horseshoes, lovingly wrapped in burlap and bound with hemp cord, into the hand he has cradled in his own. 

Warm and worn.

“Can I see you again?” He murmurs, barely a foot between you.

“Is that wise?”

“I have been mistaken for many things, little dove.” He brushes two knuckles over your cheekbone. “Nary a man has included wise among them.”

And you scoff but press into his touch all the same. 

“Forgive me my boldness,” he takes his fingers under your chin, “but I must pose the question.”

“Your mare does not favor the touch of men.”

“But,” he purrs, “do you?”

And your lips form the word “goodnight” but you don’t dare move.

Your eyes flash with a want that does not go neglected. 

“Must you take your leave?” He thumbs your bottom lip.

“I must.”

“But what of my payment,” he hums.

“As I recall you beseeched me pay with my time,” you tilt your head, reveling in the brush of warm breath against your skin, “I dare say I’ve tendered more than my share.”

“And yet I am in debt every time you take your presence from me,” he smirks. “There is something of you, little dove, that I fear has a hold on—”

You steal the words from his lips with your own.

And the unabashed delight dancing over his features when you part makes you kiss him again.

You fling your arm to rest the irons on the first surface you can find, desperate to wind your hands in his hair as his fit to your waist.

He urges your mouth open with the soft slip of his tongue. Humming when you let him inside.

“Little bird,” he pants when he tears his lips from you, forehead thumping hard against yours. “I confess if you stay past this moment I shall not be able to exercise any measure of restraint.”

“Is restraint what you desire?” You angle heavy-lidded eyes up at him. 

“Not in the slightest,” he swallows hard, fist still gripping at your hair. “But you are a gentle lady with a good name, and I—”

“I want you, Doran,” you murmur. “This.”

And his head falls back on his shoulders with a tight, pained hiss.

“I confess I have given in to the fantasy of hearing that fall from this lush mouth many nights since first we met.”

And he expects heat to rise to your cheeks at his admission. But the hand that cradles your neck finds no such warmth.

“Do you know how it works?” He hums low, running his palm down your sleeve to lace thick fingers with yours. “Pleasure?” He brings your knuckles to his lips, eyes glinting in hearthlight. 

And there is sincerity evident in his gaze.

For you are a gentle lady with a good name. 

“Mmm, have you felt this?” He takes your hand, gliding it over the rough wool of his trousers.

To the hard line of his length underneath them. 

Your breath skips.

You are no stranger to amusement of the flesh. But never before have you felt so—much. 

“Feel me, birdie,” he hums, rolling his forehead against yours, “what you do to me. I fear there isn’t any blood left for the rest of me.” He kisses you again. “Only for you. This. Just for you.”

“Your bed, Doran,” you murmur against his mouth.

The hand over yours encircles your wrist and he leads you through to his chambers.

He pulls you tight to his body again, mouths locked as his hands roam your form, unable to settle upon what features his fingers must traverse first. 

You push the braces from his shoulders and he helps you with the buttons of his shirt, your hands skating up the smooth expanse of tanned skin before tugging at your own shirttails.

Your lips find his neck as he unbuttons his trousers. You’ve already stepped out of yours.

“So eager, birdie,” he wraps you in his arms, and your skin burns with his touch. “Surely you’ve seen it with beasts, yes?” He salts your neck with kisses. “It’s quick with them, you see. It doesn’t have to be. Doesn’t have to—”

A moan cuts off his babbling from where you’ve taken him in hand. 

“Although I may yet need to beg your forgiveness,” his hips buck into your hand, “my stamina may yet waiver, upon this first time.”

His tongue slips into your mouth again and finally he finds himself enough to back you up until your thighs meet his bed. 

“It’s been so long. So long, birdie, since I have held a woman.” He leans you back with his body as your hands fly to his hair. “Longer still since I have held one as soft. Supple and pliant as you.” His lips map your collarbone, nose skimming the valley of your breasts as he takes one in hand.

“Never before is a long time indeed.”

He sucks at tender, pebbled skin, drawing an arch in your spine as he shifts to settle between your legs.

“I give you my word that I will indeed take my time with you but I offer a preemptive apology in the instance that I fail upon this first time.” His fingers slip down to toy with your folds, groaning against your ribs at the wetness that he finds there. “Perhaps we are no different than animals indeed.” 

You hear only half of his babbling. 

The static of anticipation under your skin crackles in your ears as your hips tip into his hand. His thumb slides over your clit and you cry out. 

“You see, sometimes a man just needs to bury himself deep.”

He slings your legs over his hips and sits up on his knees, stroking his length with your borrowed wetness as your hands find his thighs.

There’s a dark edge to his voice now. Heavy-lidded eyes locked on the core of you.

“This need. It’s far stronger than I ever will be.”

“Now, Doran, I need—”

He doesn’t make you wait.

And he keeps his word in the moments it matters. Slowly rocking his hips to stretch you open on his cock before your body begs him deeper.

Large palms settle around your waist as he builds in pace, alternating slow with fast. Tenderness with force that drives the bedframe to knock against the wall. When his thumb winds circles against your clit you cry into the night as pleasure rips through you. Greedy lips crash against yours as his weight blankets your reeling form. Fevered moans in his chest thrum through you as he savors the way your walls pulse around him. 

He buries his face against your neck and you feel the bite of his teeth as he snarls, drawing closer and closer to the edge.

He cants his hips just so at the last minute, pulling himself from your heat a moment before his seed streams hot over your thigh.

You soothe a hand over the nape of his neck as his hips spasm with the last of it, wide hand cradling your jaw and tipping your face to his.

Kisses softer now. 

Grateful.

“You are a rare bird indeed,” he murmurs against your ear, lips ghosting over your neck. 

He finds himself enough to rise from bed and kneel on the floor, searching for his handkerchief amongst the tangle of his clothes. 

Yours peeks from the pocket of your trousers, red against brown wool, and you lazily twirl a corner of it around your finger and draw it out.

Doran catches it from your hand, gently cleaning your thigh of his spend before pressing a kiss there. 

“I shall return this to you clean,” he holds it up briefly before craning to press a kiss to your lips. “Don’t trouble a hair on your head with moving, birdie,” he bids you before disappearing to the kitchen.

You trouble the hair on your head all the same as you pull the jostled pins from it, tousling it out of the style your nurse had so meticulously placed it in this morning. 

Doran returns with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them as you prop yourself up on your side and he settles on the floor. One arm slung up on the mattress.

Adoration in his eyes as he tips his glass against yours.

“You didn’t tell me this was not your first time. Although I do find it rather a pleasant surprise,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your waist with lust-hazed eyes.

“I could scarcely utter a word amidst your chatter,” you tease with a grin as you take another sip of your whiskey.

His smile dimples his cheek. 

“Are you—”

For once he hesitates to speak.

“Are you promised to anyone?”

You catch his hand and bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his palm before he thumbs your cheekbone.

“None but myself. And my duty.”

He hums in acknowledgment. 

You finger the white patch at his hairline, twirling a clinging curl. 

“Angered a horse as a child and she made it known with her hooves,” he offers. “Frightened the color from that spot, I’m afraid.”

“There’s character in it. I’m quite fond.”

He turns in and rests his chin on the bed, hand back to trailing over your curves. 

“Dove?”

And you frown at the nickname.

“I am nothing so delicate, Doran.”

“A shrike then, perhaps,” he smirks, knuckles ghosting over your stomach. 

And something about it makes your heart preen.

“Has a man ever,” his fingers dip lower over your abdomen, “put his mouth on you?” 

It sends a fresh jolt of pleasure racing up your spine. You turn onto your back without thought, basking in his touch as fingers trail over your mound.

“Right here?” The pads of his middle and ring fingers wind softly against your clit.

“No,” you gasp.

“Then may I have the pleasure of being the first?”

And he is the first in a way that has you wishing for him to be the last. 

The only.

_____

Your handmaid was sympathetic to your cause, having been driven from her own house for true love. They share a small cottage on your father’s land now.

Your mother, though she did not know the intricacies of your continued dalliances with the blacksmith, knew the shift in your demeanor was a man’s doing. And she always was a soft touch for love.

Your father.

Was your mother’s concern. 

And so your nurse covers your footsteps with a tickle in her throat that needs clearing.

Ushers you back into your chambers before morning light with a knowing smile.

“I always thought you would make a pass for the stable hand,” she confesses one day as she pours heated water over your hair. “The blacksmith is a surprise.”

“An unpleasant one?”

“Not in the slightest. He’s handsome.”

You can tell there is more to the sentiment. 

“Yes, and?” You ask with a raised brow.

“Rakish.”

“Perhaps rakish is what I need,” as you rub water from your eyes. 

“No lady with sense needs rakish, my darling girl,” she chides as she rubs soap at your scalp. “But a lady with sense should indulge in it from time to time.” 

This draws a smile across your lips.

“He treats you well?”

“He treats me to pleasure the likes of which I have never known. If I offer this kingdom the breath in my breast every time I leave its gates, the least I may be permitted is the choice of a lover.” 

And so she fixes you bitter tea every morning that you return from your rakish man.

_____

The pair of you take to late night meetings at the old groundskeeper’s shack on your parents’ land. 

Where the splashing of the brook over rocks and the churn of the water wheel stifle the way he makes you cry out in pleasure.

And for one so verbose, he does excel at discretion. Raking ashes from the forge through the patch of white in his hair. Bending shadows around himself as he slips from town and into the forest at the edge of the estate. 

The pair of you carry on for months. Until summer sun yields to the darkening blanket of fall. 

A welcome change that lengthens your stolen hours.

“I’d wager that we were lovers in lives past,” he muses one night, lips pressing kisses against a scar on your shoulder. “You know me, little bird. The very depths of me.”

“Perhaps,” you roll over in a luxuriant stretch, “you are easy to know.”

“The Townsfolk would perhaps beg to differ, my darling.” He rests his hand on your cheek as you curl into him.

“Must you go in the morrow?” He asks softly.

“I’m afraid I must. For it is my duty. To ensure the safety—”

“—of the kingdom,” you both finish.

“In that case, I have made you a gift.” He reaches over your form down to the pocket of his cloak, and produces a small canvas pouch.

He sits up with you, pulling your back to his chest, arms around your middle as he watches you. 

A small silver disk threaded on a chain falls into your palm. An iris stamped into the pendant.

“Doran, it’s beautiful. You made this?”

“It is perhaps more crude than a silversmith’s work,” he helps you fasten it around your neck, “but I wanted you to have something to remember my touch in the absence of it.”

You turn towards him such that he can see you in the firelight. Ash on your jaw from where you held him to your neck, perched atop his hips while he ground deep. 

Silver pendant hanging just above the valley of your breasts. 

“Beautiful,” he smiles, pressing a kiss against your lips, thumbing at the smudge on your chin. “I have always thought there to be something undeniably sensual in the furl of iris petals,” he rumbles, “how fitting for them to be your favorite.”

“Your imagination is swift, Doran.”

“You have not beheld what I have, dearheart,” he pulls you down against the bed linens once more.

Holding you against his heart. 

And he is quiet for a long while, fingers running softly over your stomach, nose buried in your hair.

“What of my safety?” He asks. 

A plea to keep you here. 

“What shall I do?”

“I have no doubt you will find another iris that unfurls for you in the meanwhile,” you hum. Eyes slipping closed. 

“There is only one, my love. I shall wait for your return.”

_____

A grand crowd lines the streets as you and the men of your battalion ride towards the village gates the next morning. Full of cheers and blessings.

And you offer the customary wave and nod.

But your heart hammers against chainmail. 

Eyes darting through the crowd.

Willing a shock of white to appear. 

And as you near the gates he greets you.

Warm brown eyes and a grin of pride. He rushes to push through the crowd as you approach on your mare, eyes never leaving each other. 

You slip one foot from your stirrup and he jams one of his into it and stands, briefly.

Long enough to cup the base of your skull and lay a parting kiss against your lips.

You hurriedly pull your red handkerchief from behind your breastplate, pressing it into his palm as he drops away.

Crushing the cloth to his heart as you slip through the gates. 

And it will yield the ire of your father and the warm, joyous tears of your mother.

But they matter not.

For you do not return home under your own power. 

You return home under a shroud. 

Your nurse slips into the night, treading your path with your necklace in hand.

“She was found with her hand over her heart. And this underneath it.”

And the blacksmith. 

Wrought with grief.

Is never seen again.

Part III: The Helper. The Protector.

He’s called Ezra in this lifetime. 

Brought to this bar by a group of associates keen on celebrating his win in federal court this afternoon. 

And he knows it’s an excuse to drink on the firm’s dime.

He was an associate once too. 

But they helped draft the brief that saved their client $44 million. A few drinks is a small thanks. 

Ezra sticks to the corners, entertaining chatter only when approached. Kindly redirecting the advances of a first year who’s too young to realize flirting with a partner is career suicide.

He’s content tonight to sip his bourbon and observe.

“Okay, but I told you that Bismark case was horseshit and the judge was going to see that!” One associate who is two drinks too deep roars.

“That was so fucking risky, I still can’t believe you put so much weight on that,” another chides.

“Fucking WORKED though!” And the first man spreads his arms wide.

Knocking you into the sip of red wine you were about to take from your seat at the bar. 

“Jesus, fuckin’—” you start before taking a deep breath and glancing down at the patch of deep burgundy beginning to spread on your white blouse. 

Fuck.

“Boys, boys, this lovely lady didn’t consent to hearing your opinions on bullshit 4th Circuit rulings, okay?” Ezra appears, stretching an arm between you and the men. “Let’s be a little more careful, take it to a booth, yeah?”

“Miss, I apologize on their behalf,” he starts and you take another centering breath because you really are not here for some hotshot lawyer’s apologies. This is your spot, and they’re fucking with your Thursday night nightcap.

But the brown eyes you’re met with are wide and sincere.

And something at the very core of you thrums momentarily with something you can’t name. 

“Please, allow me to replace your wine and cover your tab for the night.” He’s already calling the barman over before you can assure him that’s really not necessary because they’ve fucked up your night already and you just want to go home. 

“Could you please arrange a fresh glass of wine for this lovely lady, place her tab on the card I gave you, and may I have a shot glass of white wine. I need the white wine as quickly as you can, please. Thanks very much.”

And you’re still staring at those brown eyes.

Bristling and dumbstruck at the same time. 

“Ezra,” he holds out a hand in belated introduction, and you offer a firm shake and your name in exchange.

“Sorry, a shot glass of white wine?” You quip as the bartender places it in front of Ezra.

He slips a red pocket square from his jacket and dips a corner into the shot glass.

“Apologies, may I?”

And inexplicably you turn in towards him on your bar stool as he dabs at the stain on your shirt. 

Just over your heart. 

“White wine will keep the stain from setting,” he proffers.

You crane your neck to the side, trying to settle your focus on cut glass bottles and not the stranger tending to the fine layer of cotton just above your left breast. 

He’s gentle though. Respectful in a way you perhaps didn’t anticipate. 

He smells of hinoki wood and worn leather.

“Right as rain,” he announces and takes half a step back before offering you the handkerchief. “If you want to hold that there to blot some of the excess.”

“Um, yeah, thank you. Thanks,” you hold the cloth over your heart as the bartender returns with your fresh glass of wine. 

Ezra settles on the barstool next to you.

“How…did you know that?” 

“About the wine?” He swallows a sip of bourbon. “Must’ve read it at some point and it just stuck.”

“Seems you’re a good man to have around in a crisis then,” you smile and tip your glass in his direction. He gently touches the side of his against it, before tapping the heavy base against the bar and taking another sip. 

Everything he does is briefly fascinating. 

“I apologize again for these kids,” he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a business card which he slides over to you face-down. “You should be all good with that,” he gestures at the handkerchief, “but I insist on you sending me the dry cleaning bill. If I’ve recalled incorrectly and it does stain, I will procure a replacement for you, you have my word.”

“That’s really not necessary,” you start and yet find yourself unable to stop, “and I’m not even sure it’s possible this is vintage—”

“Alexander McQueen, I know.”

You turn all the way towards him on your barstool now. 

And his eyes glitter with your fascination as he runs his hand through the patch of white at his hairline.

“What are you reading,” he tips his head to the side as if to glimpse the cover of your book but he doesn’t break your gaze. Cheek dimpled with a half smile. 

“Ovid. Metamorphoses.”

“For fun?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice but it’s far from belittling. 

“It’s…” you start before a smile splits your face, “yeah. For fun.”

And he echoes your grin.

“I re-read it for fun last year. I think the passage about Orpheus’ death is my favorite.”

“Fascinating,” you swallow a sip of your tempranillo. “Why that one?” 

“Well, I believe it’s a commentary on both the unbridled rage of passion and a testament to the obstinate nature of true love.”

“Obstinate?” You incline your head incredulously. “That’s quite a choice.”

“And yet it holds true, does it not? Orpheus, arguably one of the most talented figures in Greek mythology,” and he’s gesturing broadly now, “able to enchant the very souls of feral beasts and move trees to bend their limbs just to be nearer his music.”

He jabs his finger into the bartop between you, “he moved Hades, both the realm and the deity himself, let’s not forget, correct?”

And you nod, amusement playing across your features. 

“The earth and the underworld fell at his feet. And he shunned it all out of love for Eurydice.”

“And so what moral value do you place on obstinacy?” You ask.

“Obstinacy in love is the only way to experience it. To feel it so completely that you forsake everything else. Defy the world. For love. Fidelity to the wife that you betrayed by turning back.” Brown eyes are wide with his conviction.

He adds, “even Shakespeare said let it be virtuous to be obstinate.”

“Okay, in a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT context!” Your turn to erupt now, with arms thrown in the air where you’re met by his wide smile. “You cannot cherry pick that out of Coriolanus choosing to abandon his family out of sheer stubbornness, and frankly, contempt for his own people, to extol the virtues of love! Let it be virtuous to FORSAKE that love, is the whole point of that line.”

And this is the moment.

That Ezra falls in love.

And you’re not far behind.

Time slips from this point on. Patrons file in and out. More wine and whiskey is poured. Associates drunkenly clap him on the back as they make their way home, but none of it registers.

The world spins around the pair of you.

Until finally the bartender insists that he close his tab. 

And you both step out onto a city street wet with the aftermath of a brief summer downpour. 

“Thank you,” Ezra starts, “for the absolute pleasure of your company.”

He holds a tentative hand out, which you shake with a heartfelt “likewise.”

“Oh, your handkerchief,” you pull it from your pocket and hold it out to him. 

“Keep it.” He smiles. 

And you both spin on your heels. Proceeding in opposite directions.

But the warp and weft of the red cotton square that you keep rubbing between your fingers forces you to stop in your tracks. 

You turn around.

And look back. 

Meeting Ezra’s gaze from where he hasn’t moved a step.

He thumbs the corner of his lips, brown eyes locked on yours.

And you both move. 

Urgent steps pulled by Fates’ string.

Colliding as you throw your arms around his neck and he locks you against him with biceps around your ribs.

Lips crashing together with the relief of a thousand lifetimes. 

Lifetimes that you’ve known each other.

Lifetimes that you’ve lost each other. 

And this lifetime. Having found each other again.

Taglist of folks who may be interested, as always, please do let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged, or if you'd like to be added!

@morallyinept @iamskyereads @tinytinymenace @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot

@oliveksmoked @nerdieforpedro @julesonrecord

Subpart headings are the meaning of Ezra's name in that section.

Orpheus' monologue included herein in italics is quoted from David Raeburn's 2004 translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, published by Penguin Classics. The text of this translation just felt so Ezra that I had to include it in that form. If you'd like to hear it read by Hozier himself, head on over to his instagram circa summer 2020's Poetry Fridays for this and some other wonderful work.

This story references the version of Eurydice's death as precipitated by Aristaeus.

Láir means mare in Irish Gaelic.

"Let it be virtuous to be obstinate" is quoted from Coriolanus by William Shakespeare.

[joelalorian]

Masterlist

Welcome to the madness that is my medicated mind! Hope you find something you enjoy. 18+ MDNI, warnings/tags included on each individual fic. No use of y/n, ever.

Series

Tides of Desire: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht. Complete.

Fall Into Me: dbf!Joel x f!reader. Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything. Complete.

Petals of Affection: A cozy, floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader. A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time. Complete.

Wonder in Winterland: You, a city girl on a cross-country road trip a week before Christmas, find yourself stranded in a whimsical Christmas town. You soon discover there is more to life than big city dreams. Based on the Hallmark movie Love You Like Christmas. In progress December 2024.

One-Shots

Lost Cause: Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree. Inspired by the song Save Me by Jelly Roll. Some of the lyrics have been woven into the story.

One-Shots

Fevered Flame: Marcus Pike x f!reader. When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Teresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

Series

Lycoris Radiata - Coming Soon!

Stepdad!Dave x f!reader - Coming January 2025!

One-Shots

Blown Away: How were you to know that Dave York blowing you a kiss in a quaint coffee shop one morning would change your life?

Whisked Away: Dave York is full of surprises. A secret getaway leads to the next step in your life with Dave. A follow-up to Blown Away, but could be read as a standalone.

One-Shots

beneath the silent boughs, whispers of danger flow: An adventure planned to impress you goes sideways, leaving Frankie scrambling to get you both out alive. Summer Lovin 2024 challenge fic.

Beacon of Hope: Rough weather leads to a helicopter crash. Is it real or all delirium? Written for @/almostfoxglove's angst challenge.

neighborhood watch: When someone - or something - starts causing mischief around your new neighborhood, you and your neighbor Frankie are paired up for the new neighborhood watch.

my skin in your teeth: Seems like everyone in the house wants to sink their teeth into Frankie in one way or another. A neighborhood watch sequel for #fucktober.

Sweetness in the Stars: While prospecting on a recently colonized moon, Ezra discovered a strawberry patch amidst the lush forests. Knowing how you missed the sweet fruit and longing for a way to get closer to you, he took you back to the grove to harvest the juicy, plump berries. Afterwards, Ezra treats you to an unexpected, sweet treat. Happy Pedro Hours charcuterie challenge fic.

a hero's blessing: The Norse goddess Frith weaves the fabric of destiny for every living being. A Norwegian gift of a thousand thanks unlocks a destiny which Marcus did not see coming. An Offering of Frith challenge fic.

Through Every Lifetime: Two souls find each other through every lifetime when love refuses to give up. A Roll-A-Trope challenge fic.

[tightjeansjavi]

party trick

A/N: this silly little fic is directly inspired by this hilarious post by @pedge-page 😝 this fic is meant to be silly, a little unrealistic, and fun! If that ain’t your thing, no worries! Just scroll on by, gem. Also, big thanks to @itsokbbygrl for betaing and @morallyinept for encouraging me with my shenanigans! hehe.

~word count: 1.9k~

Summary: your boyfriend Dieter wants to show you his new party trick that he learned from a pornstar named Ezra

Pairing | Dieter Bravo x pornstar!Ezra x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, smut, established relationship, mentions of drugs and eating, dieter and the reader are openly bi, implied open relationship (not described) Ezra is a bi male pornstar (definition of bi panic) (very light dubious consent as reader and dieter smoke before fucking but it is not described) male masturbation, self sucking??, reader is able bodied with no physical descriptions, readers nickname is gumdrop, no age gap, +18, minors dni!

Your first date with the ever-so eccentric, Dieter Bravo, was a success! Sure, he was a bit clumsy, and maybe even a bit of a blubbering idiot, but you had an incredible time. Did you kiss? Well—maybe! There’s a tell-tale sign when he admires the color of your lipstick against the heart shaped patch in his beard.

After that first date, he washes his face, but is careful to not remove the residue of your lipstick. Not even a week goes by and he’s asking you out on a second date.

Two dates turns to ten and somewhere down the line…you’re Dieter Bravo’s girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier. (And neither could he)

-

Dieters plan for the evening was to throw a party with some of his friends: not necessarily a rager, per se, just an intimate get-together. Pop a few bottles, skinny dip in his inground pool, and dance under the California night sky.

He canceled his plans last minute because the only person he wanted to spend his evening with was you, his gumdrop.

Hiya, gumdrop baby! 💗

Dee! Hey, baby boy 🥰 having fun at your party?

He cheeses a smile down at his phone, dimples on display, fingers typing fast on the tiny screen, little tap tap taps echoing through the cooling evening air.

Good golly, I’m blushing 🤭 actually…I canceled the party! Just wasn’t feeling the vibes for it! Wanna come over?

Yes! I’d love to! I was just about to order some takeout. Want me to pick something up on the way?

Yes! How about veggie grill? I was just about to smoke, want me to wait up for ya? Oh! Also, I got something I wanna show you later 😉

Being in a relationship with Dieter meant that nothing he could possibly say or do surprised you anymore, but his vibrance, care-free, goofy, eccentric attitude, made him even more attractive to you. That and the fact that he was the literal definition of a trash panda. Your trash panda specifically.

Sounds good to me! 💗 did you want your usual or something different? You don’t have to wait for me, Dee! I’ll have some when I come over. Oh? What is it that you want to show me? 👀

Okie doke! Hey, how about you just order the whole menu? My treat! See ya soon, gumdrop xx. And you’ll see! It’s a surprise. Hehe.

God, Bravo. You sure know how to spoil a gal rotten! Looking forward to the surprise!

He hearted your messages before he reached behind his ear and grabbed his perfectly rolled joint and reached for his lighter that was resting on the table next to the poolside chair he was spread out on.

He couldn’t wait to see you and show you his new party trick.

-

Hours earlier in the day, Dieter found himself in his bed, boxers discarded on the floor and his fist languidly wrapped around his half-hard cock.

His freehand was scrolling through Pornhub, trying to find something to get off to. Usually it didn’t take him very long to settle on a video, but today he was finding it to be a bit of an annoying struggle.

He scrolled and scrolled till he stumbled upon something he had never seen before, self sucking?

He spit into his palm, using his saliva as a natural lubricant because he was too lazy to reach across his nightstand to grab his favorite bottle of lotion (ain’t nobody got time for that!).

Holy shit! He’s sucking himself off??

Christ, his cock is taking up the entire screen!

Dieter's private thoughts ran rabid as he watched the pornstar, Ezra, easily bend over and suck the head of his cock (which was massive, by the way) into his mouth.

“Holy fuck! How is that even possible?!” Dieter announced in disbelief.

He paused the video, and went to Ezra’s page and scrolled till he found the contact button and a direct link to Ezra’s instagram. He sent him a message:

Hey! I hope this doesn’t come off as weird or creepy (feel free to ignore) but I watched one of your videos just now…the self sucking one and DUDE, nice cock! How the hell do I do that? 🫣

Ezra responds seconds later after hearting the message,

HOLY SHIT! THEE DIETER BRAVO GOT OFF TO MY COCK? 🥵 (sorry, huge fan!) anyway, gem, I’d be happy to show you the art of self sucking, and then you too can be a pro like me. xx

Dudeee you’re a fan of me?? I’m blushing! 😉 okay, okay, I have to ask…is it all natural?

I am, indeed! You have quite the eccentric presence, gem. Oh, it’s natural alright. The gods have certainly laid their blessing upon my loins x.

Ohhh, I get it! You’re like Shakespeare? 🤣 damn, you sure know how to swing that thing around! Anyway, I will take you up on that offer! Here’s my number:

Lawl. You’re a funny one huh, gem? I suppose I am a bit like Shakespeare both with my verbiage, and my cock. You free right now?

The funniest guy around! Well, Romeo, got my cock out and everything, let’s boogie?

Boogie we shall.

And so that’s how Dieter ended up FaceTiming with Ezra: who coincidentally, also had his cock out.

“Not to be a total massive fucking flirt, but you’re gorgeous, and my girlfriend would probably eat you right up!” Dieter preened, leaning in close so he could get a better look at Ezra’s third limb, er, cock.

“Oh?” Ezra smirks, “would she now? Well, gem, perhaps the three of us should get together sometime?”

“Yes! You can be like the skunk to my raccoon!” Dieter said with a giggle.

“I beg your finest pardon? Your—what?”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry. Probably should have provided some context, huh?” Dieter blushes.

“Naturally, gem. Go on.” Ezra sits back on his elbows, listening,

“So, my girlfriend calls me a trash panda! It’s endearing, really. And well, you got that blonde streak in your hair…so you can be the skunk?”

Ezra chuckles in pure amusement, eyebrows raising, heavy cock bobbing between his thighs.

“A skunk, huh? You’re lucky I think you’re cute, gem.”

Dieter fanned his face like the little slut that he was, and giggling, “You think I’m cute?”

“Cute as a button, gem. Now, let’s see what we’re working with so that you can show your girlfriend what I taught you.”

“Yes sir.”

Ezra is a wonderful teacher and by the end of it, Dieter is almost able to suck the head of his cock into his mouth. There’s a slight strain in his lower back, but fuck it! You only live once.

“Well, gem, I think you just have to remember to relax your muscles. Pretend you’re floating on a babbling brook, or napping on a fluffy cloud, and then you’ll be sucking yourself off in no time. I gotta run, but let me know how it goes!”

“Ahh! Okay, I think I can manage that! Thanks for all the help, Ezra.”

“Anytime, gem. Anytime.”

-

After passing the joint back and forth together, fucking (a few times) and devouring the veggie grill you brought over, Dieter brings you upstairs to his bedroom, nearly stumbling over his two feet because he’s so excited to show you his new party trick!

“Sit that cute ass on the bed, gumdrop.” He’s not being domineering at all, quite the opposite actually.

You’re both naked, naturally because in Dieter’s home, clothes are always optional!

You wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing his jawline, pecking at the heart patch in his beard. “Are you gonna show me the surprise now, Dieter?”

He leans back into your embrace with a pleasant sigh, “Yes, gumdrop. But c’mon, bed. Now.”

You press one last kiss to his face before detaching yourself from around him, walking over to the bed and plopping down with a soft, oof.

He joins you moments later, laying on his elbow facing you while you reach across and card your fingers through the soft curly hairs on his chest.

“So I was watching this porno earlier, right? I did a deep scroll, and stumbled across this video of this dude…with literally the biggest fucking cock that my two eyes have ever seen!” He speaks animatedly, throwing his hands up as he leans in.

“It literally took up the entire fucking screen, gumdrop! Anyway, that wasn’t the craziest part! His cock was so big, and long, that the motherfucker was able to suck himself off! Dude barely even had to bend over, just popped that sucker right in and got to suckin’!”

You twirl a strand of his chest hair between your fingers, giggling as you listen to his dramatic retelling of the massive cock he saw.

“Shit, it really took up the whole screen? That’s insane, Dee!”

“YEAH! Like…the guy was packing a literal BAZOOKA down there!” He chuckles, leaning in so he can nuzzle his face against yours.

“Anyway, I found the guy's instagram and sent him a message because I thought to myself, ‘Damn! Imagine if I could also suck my own cock?’”

“Let me guess, you asked this pornstar fellow how you can suck your own cock like him?”

“Yes! How did you know?” He chuckled and stole a quick kiss, melting against you like the soft man that he was.

“Lucky guess?” You tease, dragging your finger down lower, skating it across one of his nipples. “So, was it a success? Did he teach you how to properly suck your own cock, Dee?”

“Well, I was actually able to barely get the tip in my mouth! Wanna see, gumdrop? S’gonna be my new party trick!”

“Show me, Dee.” You giggle, encouraging him as he quickly sits up, remembering how Ezra told him the way to curve his spine, and relax his muscles so that he can bend over just enough—

Dieter is hunched over, using one hand to hold the base of his cock, and the other is resting against his lower back for support. He’s so fucking close to wrapping his lips around the head of his cock when–pinch!

He yelps in surprise, immediately rolling over and yowling like a cat.

Ow. Ow. Ow! Fuck! Fuck me! Ow!

You're at his side in an instant, comforting him and reaching for your phone to either call 911, or look up an immediate remedy for his pain.

“Fucking pulled a goddamn muscle!” He whimpers, burying his face into your chest.

“Dee, it’s okay! You’re not dying, baby. Okay? Look! Google says that we have to treat the area with ice and then a heating pad!”

“I’M DYING, GUMDROP! I SEE THE LIGHT!” Your boyfriend dramatically groans, “I'M FADING FAST!”

After icing Dieter’s lower back for a good hour or so, you placed a heating pad against the sore spot while spooning him for extra body heat.

He was typing a message to Ezra, a deep frown set between his eyebrows because he really just wanted to know what it was like to suck himself off! (Who wouldn’t)

Hey, Ez. I pulled a fucking muscle in my back!

☹ gf is spooning me with a heating pad now, but I was really hoping that I would be able to suck myself off!

From Ezra: (Shakespeare-BAZOOKA 🍆)

Aw, I’m terribly broken to hear that, gem. Better luck next time, Birdie!

-

The next time Dieter announced to you that he wanted to try and suck his cock again, you came prepared with two yoga mats and a beginner yoga flow video (thrifted, of course).

He gives you a funny look as you set the yoga mats down in the sunroom.

“What?” You laugh, placing your hands on your hips. “It would be a cool party trick, Dee! Just gotta get you a little more flexible and bendy before we try again.”

Ohhh. He grins, dimples peeking out, “Well, let’s yogi, gumdrop.”

banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💗

Please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic notifications and updates!

[penvisions]

plumage {ezra x reader drabble}

Fandom: Prospect

Pairing: Ezra x F! Reader

Summary: You recall the courtship between you and the man you love.

Word Count: 520

Warnings: allusions to adult content, allusions to smut

A/N: the lovely @morallyinept requested this as part of my follower celebration! i hope it's a good lil blurb for fluffy ezra, he deserves good things. thank you so much for your kind words, ilysm! had a lot of fun writing this ♡

He hadn’t looked like much at first glance. His suit dirty and worn, the glass of it dirty and smudged.

But the second he had opened his plush lips, quirked up in a captivating smirk. You knew you wouldn’t have stood a chance.

He had a way with words, so uncommon for those who subjected themselves to harvesting. He had a grace about him so alluring for someone lacking a vital extremity. He had a yearning in his eyes as he regarded you, lighting up the muddy brown of them every time you found them aimed at you. Facets coming into play as they caught the light, caught the sun, caught the very emotions brimming from him.

The dance of offers, of equal work for equal pay, of time spent together. Letting you see all he had to give, to share, was willing to. Even if the reality of harvesting had been so different before meeting him, a dark spot of brown amidst the lush green of the planet. Time allowed for his colors to show, for his dance to feel intentional and specific to you.

His colors reveal soft lingering gazes, teasing smirks, melodious laughter. His colors reveal intentional touches, a mouth that was capable of winding you around his finger as he showed how his words weren’t empty platitudes. That he craved you in more ways than just one. With burning kisses that lit you up from the inside out, tracing fingers that held you reverently, the rocking of his strong body against your own.

His colors revealed a heart of good intentions, a mind quick and smart, a desire in him to work hard and earn his share of things.

From that endearing patch of blonde amid his dark curls, that smile he flashed, the glitter of his eyes to the admittance of being skilled in this line of work and having been saved previously by a child he had taken in as his own. Cared for and provided for, not allowing her to get into the same life as he had, to ensure she had the opportunity to have a childhood, even if it was a little late.

For all the man’s plumage, he certainly had captured your attention.

And while neither of you had a nest to return to, that didn’t stop you from creating one together.

Equal time and funds and effort from you both that had you opting out of a return to the green that you found each other in. The dangers of which didn’t seem so acceptable now that there was something to be lost…someone to be lost. Opting not to stray too far from each other now that your bond was so complete.

You recalled his first words to you, and you smiled over the twin mugs as you returned to your shared bed to find him sprawled out and tangled within the sheets. His eyes glittered as they spotted you, not yet clear of sleep. A lazy smile taking over his handsome features that were now all yours. He repeated them to you now, bringing forth a smile of your own.

“Well, hey there, pretty bird.”

[something-tofightfor]

Birthday Kiss #5: Ezra

Pairing: Ezra x Female Reader

Word Count: 888

Rating: M.

Summary: A Kiss in the Dark

Author’s note: 9 Pedro Characters. 9 Birthday Smooches. These are very lightly edited because they're supposed to be quick. Wanted to give all of you a gift to celebrate my birthday - Here comes Ezra.

I think there will be a few people that are very happy to see this one.

There were still nights when you woke up, gasping for breath, and expected to hear nothing next to you.

In the moments where you were still coming to, heartbeat racing in your ears, you were reminded of the time he’d been gone - and how much those rotations had hurt. You remembered every night that your eyes had opened and you’d reached for him, only to remember that he wasn’t there, and that your hand would only find smooth, cold sheets, the silence feeling as suffocating as the suit he wore likely was. 

But that night, you weren’t greeted with silence or empty space. You still woke with a start, but almost immediately after opening your eyes, you heard him, the sound of Ezra’s deep, even breaths almost as soothing to you as his words were. And the warmth of him beside you was even more comforting, the scent of his freshly washed hair filling your nose with each breath you took to steady yourself. 

It didn’t take you long to calm down entirely, your eyes adjusting to the almost perfect darkness of your room. When you moved closer, you were careful because you didn’t want to startle him. That was important, because Ezra’s lengthy recovery process and reintegration into everyday life wasn’t as simple as either of you had hoped it would be and you didn't want to reverse any of the progress he'd already made.

But he didn’t move, even when you pressed your lips to the back of his shoulder, his skin warm to the touch. And his breathing didn’t change when you took a deep breath and turned your head toward the pillow, pressing your cheek against it while your forehead made contact with the space between his shoulder blades. 

Ezra did react, though, when you didn’t move to touch him further, the man sighing and inching backwards, closing the space between you. “I’m awake, and I know very well that it is you here with me.” His voice was thick with sleep, but at the sound of it you felt yourself shiver, your right arm immediately rising so that you could wind it around his body. 

You were careful of the still-tender wound on his stomach, but didn’t shy away from trailing your fingertips over it, choosing to do exactly what Ezra had told you that he preferred you do and face his new condition head on. He already felt sorry enough for himself, he’d said, his eyes blazing with anger and shame, and he didn’t need you to pity him, too. 

You showed him that you didn’t as often as you could, your hands and mouth on him, your gaze never dropping, even when he was being difficult, your spoken promises aligning with your behavior. It was slow and it was hard, but as the cycles passed and both of you began to understand that Ezra was home, and that you were too happy about that to care about the parts of him that hadn’t made it back, it became easier. 

“Go back to sleep, Ezra. I just …” You swiped your thumb across his skin in a slow arc, smiling at the sound of your name as it reached your ears, his voice a little stronger than it had been only moments earlier. “I woke up, and I had to make sure that …” 

“What time is it?” He turned slowly, rolling onto his back and then turning his head toward you, clearing his throat. “How long have you -”

“Only a few minutes. And I don’t know. It’s got to be almost morning, but …”

“If it’s morning,” he began, carefully shifting his weight. “Then it means that today is my favorite day.” You sucked in a breath, unable to form words before Ezra continued. “Another rotation. Another trip around the suns. The anniversary of your creation, something that Kevva herself could not have -” 

You felt the tears leaking down your cheeks as he spoke, your hand reaching out again and sliding slowly up and down his side as you inched even closer, though you were mindful of what remained of his arm on the bed between you. “I’m so glad you’re home, Ezra.” 

You choked the words out, the tears coming harder. Somehow, he found you in the dark, his lips kissing the tear tracks on your cheeks before they retreated and then landed against yours briefly.

You tasted salt when you licked them, but didn’t get a chance to speak before you felt his hand on your cheek, the man’s palm warm and welcome, though his fingertips were rough as they circled over the space in front of your ear. “There aren’t adequate words to describe how glad I am to be home with you, Starlight. And that is on a regular day. Today?” He leaned in again, kissing you softly. “Today I have even fewer.” 

You gasped, fighting back another sob. 

That time, you didn’t hesitate to tighten your grip on him, your lips already parted when they met his. He kissed you hard, his fingers sliding over to curl around the back of your head. And when he deepened the kiss, tongue pushing past your lips to meet yours, it was him that reacted first, the man’s sigh turning into a groan. 

“Then show me, Ezra.” Kissing your way over his cheek and then taking his earlobe between your teeth, you tugged on it. “Don’t tell me, show me.” 

— 

[bits-and-babs]

𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐀 — 𝐄𝐙𝐑𝐀 (𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓)

↳ summary: Abandoned by your prospecting crew, you team up with a fellow castaway to survive the hostile environment of Bakhroma.

↳ pairing: ezra (prospect) x f!reader

↳ [6.7k words] content: 18+ MDNI. Violence, injury, use of the name 'Little Bird' (canon), medical scenes. Fingering, riding, p in v sex, unprotected sex (ain't no condoms on a moon, girlie, but you better wrap up!), oral (f receiving). This is a @beskarbabs remaster — original post date 2021.

Ezra masterlist I| main masterlist |I join the taglist here

On your journey to Bakhroma, you'd heard an old wives' tale. Somewhat of a ghost story passed around the three-member crew during drunk nights while the long-haul space freighter floated in endless space. The unit said that other Prospectors that had survived the trip to the moon claimed that anyone who stepped foot in The Green was consumed with greed. How they were overcome with voracity upon the sight of the first Aurelac gem obtained, how Prospectors would literally kill for more of the obscure crystals, for the money that came from selling them, even just to be able to possess them for themselves. You had laughed.

How you wish you had taken them seriously.

Clutching your right arm in distress, you stumble through the foliage surrounding you on shaky legs. There's no denying the agony crawling up your arm in tendrils. You also lack oxygen, food, water and a weapon to protect yourself. Yet, you aren't as afraid of this as you are of the likelihood of other Prospectors wandering the forests. Given the traumatic event you managed to survive only hours ago, you could happily live the rest of your life without seeing another Prospector again, even if that shortened your life by force of circumstance.

Your crew, many of which you had grown up with, had stranded you on a hostile moon, of which its air was unbreathable, with little to no chance of survival. Despite the ache in the soles of your feet and the searing pain that shot through your arm with each step, this irrevocable fact left you numb: there was no accident. They'd abandoned you.

You didn't even observe when the atmosphere amongst the crew changed; it had all happened so fast. Having landed in the Drop Pod without incident and safely navigating The Green without needing to fire a single shot from the two Frontiersman guns you shared between the three of you, it had all gone so smoothly. Even the first Aurelac extraction had been successful.

If you were to pinpoint a moment you could pin the blame on for your fellow prospectors' change in attitude, it was when they first set their eyes on the crystal that they extracted from the hideous organism's membrane.

There was no way around it; everyone had become greedy. Their ridiculous ghost tale had manifested itself. They had harvested as many as was needed and then some more, and some more. The storage cases were overflowing and impossible to close without bursting at the seams. Some Aurelac gems were too big to fit into the case and had to be carried by hand.

When the time for harvesting was up, the group wandered back to the Pod. Maybe if you had been more observant and taken heed of the muted conversation, you could have avoided this mess entirely.

Upon returning to the Pod, the atmosphere had curdled. Stasya and Devi had control of the weapons since the very start of the mission, and you now found the barrels aimed at you. Stasya, the self-appointed leader of this expedition and all-around pretentious air-head, had decided upon leaving you on Bakhroma, initially claiming there wasn't enough weight capacity to take all three of you back home on the Pod.

"That is nonsensical, and you know it!" You'd insisted, wondering whether or not Stasya had secured her helmet correctly. She had to be going insane. Surely the toxic air had seeped into a crack in her armour-

"We have at least 140 pounds in Aurelac gems," she'd replied abruptly, her stance aggressive, "We need to leave you." You were in shock, bewildered by her statement. No matter how hard you tried to interpret her logic, it wasn't making sense...

"But we were cautious that we didn't pack too much equipment to ensure we had capacity for the harvest- I don't see how we could have breached the volume that we can't all make our way back safely," you contend, incredulous at her insinuation. When she didn't respond and instead aimed her Frontiersman Gun up between your eyebrows, your attention flitted to her overly-protective grip of the handle to the storage case in her free hand. Finally putting two and two together, you scoff, looking between Stasya and her power-grabbing number two, Devi.

"You are being ridiculous! We have an even split of the money we'll make from the gems-" You'd tried to plead for your life, well aware that abandonment on The Green was a definite death sentence. Devi interrupted.

"We get a much bigger cut if you're not involved," he pointed out rather callously. These two crew members, your friends, had been tainted by the very same greed they had forewarned in their ghost stories, passed on by other Prospectors, and were willing to sacrifice you for a shot at blood money.

Maybe it was the pressure of the situation, the rising panic in your stomach, but time seemed to slow down as the gravity of their plan for you began to set in. That same alarm sent you into fight mode.

It had all happened in what felt like a microsecond. Charging at Devi, you grabbed the gun in his hand with both of your own in a reckless attempt to foil their plan and turn the tables. You grit your teeth, straining at the exertion it took to try to pry his fingers from the weapon. Devi panicked, the gun slipping from his grip, and he began screaming at Stasya to do something.

She did.

She shot you in the arm, causing you to drop to your knees with a cry as you pawed at your wound with your palm. It burned white-hot, and you almost doubled over at how the pain pulsed from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. Your vision had begun to blacken around the edges through the blurriness of the pained tears that welled in your eyes. Yet, despite your obvious distress, your agonising cries fell on deaf ears. Aiming his now secured gun at your head, Devi breathed heavily as he attempted to ease the shudder that wracked his body.

Adrenaline had coursed through you in your body's subconscious effort to numb the pain, and you rocked your torso backwards and forwards, battling the onset of unconsciousness. Through your astounding agony and the way your jaw throbbed from the strain of gritting your teeth as an anchor to ground you to reality, you'd managed to make sense of Stasya's final address to you.

"You should be grateful. We're allowing you to live. It's up to you whether or not you make an effort." She muses before turning on her heel and leaving you on the muddied floor of The Green, Devi following quickly behind her.

✰

You can't recall how long you've been staggering through the forests by yourself in your endeavour to find water. It's already hot in The Green, and your adrenaline spikes have caused you to sweat even more and edge you further towards dehydration, to the point your throat feels like sandpaper whenever you swallow. Whatever liquids you had drunk before leaving the Pod have now seeped through your pores, making your undersuit stick uncomfortably to your hot skin and your wound burns from the salt of your sweat.

Having lost all sense of direction some time ago, whether that was due to the ever-changing forest line or the pit of emptiness that sat in your stomach that growled in protest at the lack of nutrition in return for your bodies labour to trek across this forsaken moon, you are entirely disoriented.

You can't go on much longer like this. Not only are your vitals appearing utterly grim, but breathing has become much more challenging. You're running out of oxygen, and your lungs are beginning to ache. It begins crossing the threshold of uncomfortable, morphing into something akin to pain. You clutch at the fabric at the chest of your environment suit, struggling to maintain a calm disposition while also supporting the drive of a survival instinct.

You're so tired.

Despite your best efforts, anxiety and dread rip through your body and inundate your logical brain. You can feel your chest heave, the onset of a panic attack. You lurch forward in your hysteria, rushing in your despair to find something that could help. You aren't even sure what you are looking for, only that you're looking for something that would enable you to survive.

You see the fallen tree log at your feet, but the blind panic is so overwhelming that you don't have time to react. Pain racks up your ankle and calf as you trip over the damned thing, falling forward and rolling down a muddy hill. You're falling so fast that the trees and grass look like a green and brown smudge through the glass visor of your helmet, like some arcane painting. You hold your hands out to brace yourself, to stop yourself, but the mud is slippery, and there's nothing to grab onto until you reach the very bottom and come to a stop, groaning weakly at your arm's complaints.

You sit up slowly, hands braced on either side of your hips to keep balanced as you move in the soaking, sticky mud. Checking your oxygen supply, you have enough to last at least another 5 minutes. Then you'd have to rely on the air in The Green's atmosphere. A few hours of that would kill you. By your estimations, you had an hour to find shelter and breathable ai...

The view when you look up and take in your surroundings is breathtaking. Having landed in some kind of wide open valley, you have an uninterrupted view of the horizon the forest had once concealed. You're enclosed from behind with bright yellow wildflowers, the remnants of the flora in the woods you had quite literally tumbled out of, but what lays before you now is a beige-coloured wasteland surrounded by mountains. With no camouflage to hide behind, the skyline is perfectly clear. Suspended in the sky, much to your astonishment, is a colossal moon, similarly toned neutrals to the floor beneath you, but with brilliant splashes of rusty oranges and reds.

You're not sure whether it was the inevitable feeling of your life slipping away with each passing second or whether the sight before you is washing away all of your fear, but when you finally hear the hiss of your oxygen tank running out, you don't feel frightened. Pulling the latch on your helmet, you slowly remove it, noting the sting of the spores in your throat, the tickling in your lungs that reminded you the air on this globe was toxic. If this was how you were to die, at least you had a beautiful view.

So you sit back in the grass and mud, taking in the stunning view, and let time slip away. The absence of hope wasn't as petrifying as you had imagined; it was calming. So serene. In your moment of peace, you can't feel the pain in your arm despite it worsening over the hours of wandering aimlessly. It's a simple resignation, one that doesn't take much thought at all. You would return to the stars here and become a part of this ecosystem. While hostile, it's certainly gorgeous.

You tilt your head back, observing how the celestial bodies twinkle and frame the gargantuan moon in the sky. The breeze picks up slowly, tickling the skin of your exposed face and neck while the sun soothes and warms it.

When you cast your eyes behind you, taking in the expanse of your surroundings over your shoulder, you're jolted from the tranquillity and suddenly reminded of your dire situation. Not only is there an Aurelac cluster nestled in the grass to the left of you that you had narrowly avoided hitting during your fall, but there's also a person beside it dressed in an environment suit. They're staring, Boscelot Frontiersman gun aimed straight at you. Terror rips through your veins as you attempt to scramble to your feet.

"Wait, wait!" You gasp out, eyes wide as you put your hands out to show you aren't a threat. The sun reflects from the glass visor covering their head, preventing you from seeing the person's face. The suit is old. Keeping the gun aimed at you, they point to their radio, asking you to turn it on. You crouch slowly, pointing to your helmet to alert him that you must reach for it. He seems to understand, as he has no quarrel with you picking it up and slipping it onto your head. The rustling of the trees and gentle blow of the breeze cuts out when you're sealed in, and as you connect the radio, their voice echoes in the plastic chasm.

"You won't endure much longer if you persist without oxygen." It's a man. The voice is unexpected. It's low and laced with an attractively smoky tone. So smooth, it almost flows and ebbs with each word. You've never quite heard an accent like his, the twang new to your ears.

"I won't endure if you decide to shoot me either," you point out bitterly, mocking his extravagant phraseology. You've had enough of this planet having it out for you. Your lack of luck today was becoming almost humorous, but your limited patience certainly wasn't. Did it have to torment you like this? Why couldn't it finish you off quickly and not at the hands of another Prospector, considering you had already had enough of them too?

You hear a throaty chuckle at your mocking comment, though there's no humour to that either. The stranger keeps aiming his gun at you, taking a few steps forward. The sun, still reflecting from his visor, causes you to squint when it targets your eyes, hoping to see his face before he kills you.

"It appears that your words hold venom," he begins. You sneer slightly, already past the point of no return as far as you are concerned. He lowers the barrel of his weapon ever so slightly then, and you assume he's studying you.

"It has been quite some time since I heard the sound of a fellow human's voice," he laments, taking another step forward, "How nice it is to exchange utterances with someone who understands me." Had he not stepped out of the sun and revealed his face, you would have made some snotty remark about how you can't understand him anyway, his flamboyant verbiage creating a difficulty of comprehension. However, the sun's rays don't extend this far, and the moment his face is revealed, you find yourself stunned into a shocked silence.

Given the age and weathering his environment suit shows, he's younger than you would have expected. A beige-green colour with notes of black, he had been completely hidden among the leafage. His jaw is square, covered with dark brown stubble and a moustache on his upper lip that he's miraculously maintained well, given his situation. After all, you could safely assume there wasn't an endless supply of razors on the moon.

From what you can gather from his face, his skin tone is honeyed, and his aquiline nose is subtle though the bridge does arch enough to be noticeable from this distance. He's rather handsome.

You're so focused on his face that you almost wholly overlook that his right sleeve is knotted just below his shoulder, indicating he has lost his right arm. So many questions cross your mind, but the predominant query is... How had he survived even a second in this environment with only one arm?

"Though," he continues, disrupting your evident surprise, "It would also appear you have been impaired. What happened, Little Bird?"

Discounting his name for you, you consider your answer carefully. How would he react to knowing that you had come to harvest Aurelac? Is that what he's here for too? The likelihood of him seeing you as a threat to his harvest and killing you was more feasible than letting you go. But you're running out of time, and your lungs are screaming from the intake of a toxic atmosphere. So you decide upon the truth.

"My crew-mates shot me," you admit stiffly, coughing from the strain the spores are putting your body through, "We came to harvest Aurelac, but they left me behind. Wanted to split the harvest between the two of them."

The man standing before you considers your words, his expression unreadable. You're sure he's about to shoot you. A second bout of coughs breaks the tense air, making him relax a little.

"So the other Little Birds flew the nest and left you behind," he muses, watching you struggle with a quirk of his lips. He seems to take a moment to think about something before asking you another question.

"Are you..." A pause. "Are you out of oxygen?" He asks, nodding his head to your helmet. Despite what you think is a pretty obvious answer, you nod weakly. He lowers his gun.

"Will you be able to walk? You took quite the tumble." He fucking saw that?! Just how long had he been watching you?

Again, you nod, wondering where he plans to take you, given his miniature inquisition. He slings his gun over his shoulder and holds his only palm out to you.

"Hand me your oxygen tube," He orders, curling his fingers in and out for emphasis. You stumble awkwardly on your injured ankle, grabbing the tubing and making your way over to him. Despite your better judgement, you are willing to trust him. Your urgency for aid outweighs any wariness you have for him. The man takes the tube from your palm, feeding it into his oxygen tank with ease. The surge of fresh air into your lungs and the instant relief from the burning brings you solace.

"We need to revert to my Pod. Can you make the journey?" He asks of you, commanding the situation flawlessly. You nod again, at a loss for words at this man's generosity. Finally, he turns his back to you, leading the way back up the hill you fell from. It's a struggle, especially given the slickness of the mud, but the stranger manages to help you up with little effort despite his handicap.

"You can't keep the lesion exposed to the air like that. The spores contaminate it," he continues to make conversation. You're not sure if you're thankful for the silence being broken or want him to remain quiet, but you listen to him regardless. "It will make you feel bilious, and then it poisons the tissue in the arm... Resulting in necrosis." He's far too knowledgeable in the effect of Bakhroma's spores on the limbs for you not to think that is what caused the lack of his own. It spills from your lips before you even have the chance to stop it.

"Is that what happened to yours?" You blab. He doesn't stop walking. In fact, he doesn't answer your question at all.

"I'm Ezra," is all he states, his way of an answer, you suppose. The silence following is arduous and highly discomforting, considering Ezra just told you there was a likelihood of your arm turning black and dying due to the exposure to spores. It's now that you make the decision that you wish he hadn't spoken at all.

Without a response, Ezra answers instead, amusement in his tone ringing throughout the tense atmosphere.

"You're innominate? I guess I'll stick to calling you Little Bird then," he muses, once again leaving you stunned by his use of vocabulary. He's like a walking thesaurus, spouting words you've never heard before and blindsiding you with his knowledge of language. You are so blinded that you miss his asking for your name.

At this point, the blissful feeling of reassurance hits you like a tonne of bricks. The Pod is just ahead of you now, and you have to chew on the inside of your cheeks to prevent the sting of tears of consolation from devolving into full-fledged sobs. Not five minutes ago, you had truly convinced yourself that you would die. Now safety is just within your reach.

Ezra moves forward and opens the hatch for you, helping you inside. It's not large, but it's just spacious enough for you not to feel claustrophobic. The first thing you notice is that it has been kept very neat, almost to the detriment of a homely feel, as the steel-grey walls, floor and ceiling give off an almost hospital feel. There are few of his things on display, and you just assume he keeps most of his possessions in storage.

There is one thing that catches your eye, though. Despite the almost solitary cleanliness of the Pod, there are two cot beds. One is neatly made, pillows put into place, and covers smoothed out so there are little to no wrinkles. The other is messy, with pillows askew and covers pushed into a crumpled mess in the left-hand corner of the mattress. You glance back at Ezra, who's entering the Pod from behind you.

"We need to execute the procedure to preclude infection, Little Bird. Sit down. You may remove your helmet in here too." He orders, pointing to the neatly made bed as your seat. You do as he says without question, sitting down cautiously and taking off the crash helmet as he makes his way over to storage, riffling through whatever was in the containers. You need to fight the urge to cry again with the relief of the strain of your body weight on your feet, having been wandering for hours amongst harsh terrain.

Ezra returns to you, med kit in hand. He lays it down next to you on the bed, removing his helmet now that his hand is free. Of course, you had seen his brown hair back in the valley, but you hadn't noticed the little blonde tuft at the front of his hairline. It's cute and gives him somewhat of a boyish charm. He takes this moment to give a weak smile.

"I need you to disrobe from the environment suit. Do you require my assistance?" He asks you, tilting his chin to your arm. You're so taken aback, probably overwhelmed and exhausted from the extremity of the events that had unfolded so quickly that you find yourself at a loss for words. Once again, you merely nod, accepting his offer of help gratefully.

You use the hand of your healthy left arm to pull down the zipper on the front of your environment suit, while Ezra works to pull down the shoulder from your right. He's vigilant in ensuring the collar doesn't catch on your wound on its way down. Then, working together, you unpeel the suit from your torso until it hangs around your hips, your sleeveless body glove exposing the blast to the outside of your bicep.

You decide not to look at it.

"Will it hurt?" You finally speak to him, and Ezra's eyes move to your face momentarily. He seems to consider his answer carefully while he raises his wrist to his mouth, ripping the velcro of his gloves and pulling them off with his teeth. He takes the item of clothing, laying it neatly on the bed beside the med kit.

"I'll do my utmost to keep your discomfort to a minimum," is his reply. While it does nothing to quell your initial fears, you appreciate his honesty and consideration. You look around the room, trying to find something to focus on as Ezra works through the med kit, taking out whatever he needs to start the procedure.

"Remember to breathe," he murmurs, his voice suddenly very soft. It causes chills to break out across your skin, even though the fear of pain is causing you to sweat. Inhaling slowly, you feel your lungs expand in your ribcage to the point it grows tight before exhaling again, fixating on the sensation to distract yourself from the pain.

"Hey," he whispers softly, pulling your focus back. You glance up at him through your lashes and find him gazing back at you. His expression is tense and cautious. He doesn't want to hurt you, yet the inevitability traps a sense of trepidation between you. Deep-rooted panic settles in the pit of your stomach, making your blood rush through your veins quicker.

"Look me in the eyes," he takes your chin now, holding it a little tighter with his fingertips to ground you. Your eyes probably gave away your internal panic.

You nod weakly, looking to catch his eyes and-

And time just stops.

It's humiliating; you know you would be blushing if you said it aloud. His irises are a deep and warm earthy-brown, as though Ezra had spent so much time amidst the rich soils and thick mud here that it had almost become a part of him. Looking into those eyes, you felt like you were orbiting around him. Maybe the spores had left you with irreversible brain damage from the very little time that you had your helmet off in the valley, or perhaps he was quite possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen.

Once he notes that you're holding his gaze and breathing steadily, he sets to work. You hear him pick up something from the kit, a top popping from it. He hesitates for a moment but holds your gaze still.

"This will sting," he admits. There's a splash of a lukewarm liquid before the burning starts. You grit your teeth, straining against the scorching sensation. It prickles, an intense itching following that is so bad you feel your toes curl in your leather boots. Yet, you maintain eye contact. You cling to the empathy that's there and appreciate his understanding.

He lays down the tube, eyes flicking down for just a moment to pick up an item. A Patch Gun. Ezra stares back at you, pulling the stopper with his teeth and lining up the nosel with the wound.

"Breathe in," he commands, and you do. You breathe so hard and fast that your sternum aches with the strain. The sound of medicated foam being released from the Patch Gun reaches your ears before the pain does. When it hits you, you release the air in your lungs with a strained whine, squeezing your eyes shut as the agony rips through you. Like the initial wound, it seers white hot, spiralling down your arm to your fingertips and up your neck muscles. Your jaw is tight, tears springing to your eyes.

"Good girl," Ezra soothes you, pulling the patch gun away from your arm. Leaning back into the searing torment, you moan as he helps you to lay back against the mattress to ride out the peak. It's not long until the intensity slowly ebbs away until you're blinking your eyes open to find he's putting the stuff back into the kit box to lay back into the storage containers. You can see the peripherals of your vision pulsing rapidly, skin buzzing all over as you come down from the tense and excruciating high.

Time seems to both slow and accelerate in this mid-conscious state. What feels like hours passing by is probably only a few seconds, but you're exhausted. That fatigue catches up with you so fast that you barely have the chance to catch it before your eyelids droop. Sheets pull up to your shoulders, and their comfort is enough to finally push you to slumber.

✰.

There's a suspended moment when you ease back into consciousness. You are aware that you're awake, but keep your eyes closed in an attempt to fall back into unconsciousness. A dim thrumming in your bicep pulses with each beat of your heart inside your chest. It's not painful, just unpleasant. You pull your eyebrows together slightly, your other senses finally beginning to awaken with you.

You can hear Ezra moving around in the Pod, searching for something in the storage containers. You blink your eyes open slowly, still curled up on your side. He's just ahead of you. Having shucked his environment suit, he's dressed in a deep camo-green, long-sleeved shirt tied just beneath his amputation and a pair of grey sweatpants. You can't help but feel like you're imposing on his privacy, seeing him dressed so casually and watching him walk around his own space.

"Ezra?" You croak his name. He glances up quickly from what he's doing, eyes settling on you. He looks relieved, eyes crinkling around the edges as he smiles at you.

"You awoke! Do you need liquids?" He asks, pacing his way over to you. He leans over the bed, placing the back of his palm on your forehead to feel your temperature— though you're certain he gets a reasonably inaccurate reading. The moment his honeyed skin touches yours, your cheeks heat up as your heart hammers in your chest. You're not sure why his presence is suddenly so debilitating for you, but when he looks expectantly into your eyes for an answer to his question, you swear your brain short-circuits.

"Yes, please," your voice is raspy from the lack of use, and your throat aches as the words pass your lips. He smiles that same smile again, rendering your heart almost completely useless before he turns on his heel to grab you a glass of water.

You know exactly where this is coming from. Your very sudden attraction to him comes from months of loneliness. While your abandonment by your crew had come as a shock, it certainly wasn't a surprise. They had always been much closer and would go days without acknowledging your existence if you didn't make an effort to talk to them. Maybe this had been the plan all along?

Regardless, despite being in the presence of other people, your isolation had made you utterly starved of touch, needy for attention. Along came Ezra, coming to your aid and focusing all his consideration on you.

Stars above, you were desperate. Shockingly so.

You look up, seeing him stroll over with a cup of water in tow. He settles himself down on the bed, laying the cup on the bedside table to hold your waist as he helps you to sit up in bed. You're almost sure he doesn't mean to, but his fingertips brush the slither of skin exposed between your undershirt and your bottoms. It sends a tremor up your spine. It's so intense you swear you can feel it on the crown of your head.

"You had me concerned, Little Bird," He smiles, passing the water over to you, "But you're out of the woods now." Ezra sounds almost as relieved as you feel. He keeps his gaze on your bicep for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he plans his following few sentences. Nothing acceptable seems to come to mind, so he remains silent, the unspoken words hanging in the air and causing a thick tension between you as you sip at the water.

You cast your own gaze upon his arm, or lack thereof. The questions in the valley swarm your mind again, much louder in the silence than they had been at that moment.

"Did you amputate it yourself?" You work up the courage to break the stillness with a whisper, and once again, he casts his eyes upon your face. You'd known him less than thirty waking minutes, yet you had already reconciled multiple things you admired in him. His smile, his hair, his use of vocabulary.

However, it was how he looked at you when he spoke to you; how he gave his full attention and hung on every word was your favoured attribute. It may be that those spores *had* caused some form of irreversible damage to your brain chemistry...

"No," he chuckles, fingertips moving to brush at the stump of his arm underneath the fabric, "No, it was my companion who dismembered it." You sense almost a fragility hidden deep beneath his extravagant persona. It doesn't take a genius, a person with Ezra's knowledge of dialect, to see that the unspoken words indicated the partner he spoke of was no longer with him.

You try to steer away from what appears to be an emotional subject for him, deciding upon another question to ask.

"What made you decide to help me?" The query falls from your lips so easily. Ezra's own quirk up slightly.

"Your candid account of what you had experienced touched me deeply. Had you told me a differing narrative, I wouldn't have been so lenient," he admits to you, those earthy orbs finding flitting between your own once more. You swear he's doing it on purpose now.

"But I empathise with you. Many moons ago, I found myself in your state of affairs, my own crew deserting me. Words and metal were exchanged, and I found myself alone on this very same celestial body with no help." His hand takes your own, brushing his thumb along your knuckles as he speaks.

"I was hoping I could be of service to you, help you in your moment of need... You might help me in mine." You pause, taking in those words with surprise. Help him? What could a man who had survived an extended time in such a hostile environment, alone and with only one arm, possibly need your help with?

Ezra turns his hand slowly, his knuckles brushing up your forearm absentmindedly as he talks. Yet, for a man so equipped to be savage and cruel, he also managed to maintain a very soft, gentle side.

"I lost my partner," he confirms. There's a tender, mournful look in his gaze. "I met her not unlike I met you in the valley. She was heedful but intrepid. An astonishing companion..." He trails off slowly, that pain finally reaching his expression as he gathers himself.

"I miss having a partner. I'm half the man I once was and can no longer defend myself adequately. I require a confidante and associate." He looks expectantly at you.

"You're asking me to stay?" You question, your surprise reaching your voice. Was he always this trusting? Or was it simply because you were both stuck here regardless?

"Yes. Truth be told, I miss the company. Besides, how could I turn down your companionship when you are as bewitching as you appear?" He muses, a smirk spreading across his lips as you let out a bemused laugh.

"Are you saying I'm pretty?" you grin, unable to hold your overwhelming attraction to his charms. He just nods slowly, tracing his palm up your bicep and over your neck until he's teasing at the skin stretching across your jaw's bone with his thumb. He's methodical in his strokes, almost contemplative.

"After all, it's not as though you could leave without oxygen," he points out teasingly, but the smile slides from his face almost as quickly as it pulls up. The air is charged around you, a pull so strong you're convinced that Ezra can feel it too.

You begin to wonder if Ezra was as desperate, as touch starved and deprived of affection and care as you are.

"How long have you been alone?" You manage to force through the quiet between you. His thumb trails beneath your jaw again, the pad tenderly outlining the column of your throat. You swear your heart is beating hard enough for him to feel it beneath your skin, but you do your best not to draw attention to it.

"Some six to eight months. I lost track after the fourth," he admits his voice a murmur. Those deep globes flick back up to yours, considering the expression they hold, reading your sympathetic gaze. His lips curve into a small, meek smile, very unlike the personality he'd displayed to you. But Ezra was such an open book; you felt you knew everything you needed to know about him already.

In a universe, so advanced and technological, science had been able to explain away every form of mystery and coincidence that humanity had ever thought up. But there was something about Ezra, the way he had stumbled into your life and saved your own, that made you feel like this was some sort of fate. Destiny. He was meant to find you.

You're bold with your next move, moving your unhindered arm up to place your palm over Ezra's wrist, forcing him to take you by the throat. He looks surprised at first, looking between where he held you and your expression. You can see the number of questions running through his mind slip away as you lean forward.

There's this moment of suspense between the two of you, your chest so tight as you find your breath escaping your lungs a little heavier than a moment ago. Your lips are so close, millimetres away. You can taste him on your tongue, can smell a citrusy scent. It's oddly like oranges, sweet and tangy. Those lips you're so needy for tilt upwards, smirking at the drawn-out wait of you psyching yourself up to make a move.

"I wouldn't leave even if I had oxygen," you sound hushedly. It wipes that grin off of Ezra's face, the implication of your words not having time to sink in before you're pressing your lips to his in a desperate kiss, so full of tender and agonising need that wholly consumes the both of you.

He squeezes his palm around your throat, not enough to choke you but enough to apply light pressure, and uses the leverage to pull you into a deeper kiss. His lips are soft, barely exposed to fresh air due to the ventilation in the Pod and the constant covering of his helmet. It's intoxicating, and you find yourself slipping so fast into this heated embrace that you forget to breathe entirely.

Ezra leans you against the mattress slowly, trailing his palm down your side ever so gently despite the heated frenzy of your lips. He's highly aware of the bruising you sustained during your fall in the valley, and in any other moment, you would have been overwhelmed by his consideration, but he tastes so sweet on your tongue that you cannot help but lose yourself to him. You're certain Ezra can feel you melt into his touch as his tongue traces the plush of your lips, groaning softly as he allows his hands to explore the heat of your skin.

He begins with feather-light touches on your hip, squeezing gently to test for sore spots before he adds pressure to his grip. You hum in appreciation into his mouth, your fingers trailing through the dishevelled brunette curls at the side of Ezra's temple before working their way to the nape of his neck and taking root there.

Brushing his palm up your abdomen slowly, Ezra's fingerprints map the ridges and bumps of your muscles and the bones of your ribs. He moulds his lips against yours in a softer kiss before pulling away, smirking as he feels your ribcage expand with a sudden gulp of air.

"You need to respire in order to survive, Little Bird." he mutters, the pad of his thumb brushing the underside of your breast, "Don't say I've restricted your ability to perform a basic human function." You giggle breathlessly, appreciating him trying to break down the intensity of the situation as he presses a delicate kiss to the tip of your nose, between your brows while he waits for you to catch your breath again.

"May I touch?" He asks you, ensuring that it's what you want. You nod feebly, finding yourself at a loss for all words apart from those that sounded like you were pathetically begging. Your skin buzzes as his palm cups your breast, squeezing gently.

"You are just heavenly," he murmurs into your ear as you tilt your head back with a soft moan. It's been so long since you were last touched by someone else that every skim of his skin against yours sparks embers of heat beneath it. He groans softly as he feels your nipples harden under the fabric of your undershirt. Only then do you notice the strain his body is under, having only his elbow to balance.

"I can-" you pause to consider how you want to put this, "I could get on top." There's a break in his purposeful movements, almost as though his brain has buffered at your words. Swallowing a moan that he manages to catch in his throat, Ezra nods quickly and turns to lie on his back.

The dynamic changes almost instantly as you straddle his hips. You can feel the atmosphere change around you, as though the ambience shifts and clicks into place. When Ezra's hand finds your hip, you feel empowered. So you lean over, kissing him with a hunger that allows him to experience your breathlessness.

A soft whine escapes you as you feel his hips shift, the stiff bulge in his sweats brushing against your clit through the pants of your environment suit that he had left on you when you fell asleep. The friction, mixed with the tension in the air, seems to unlock a primal side to Ezra. He leans up suddenly, pressing open and sloppy kisses to your throat. He's nipping and sucking on your skin as you fumble with the waistband of your environment suit to push it over your hips.

Quickly pulling your legs out of your clothes, you're left in only your undershirt and underwear. Ezra pulls you back over his hips, grinding up against you and letting out a groan that almost reverberates in his chest. You're both grabbing at each other in your desperation, months of pent-up frustration and lack of intimacy fuelling the both of you with little thought.

As he continues his ministrations to your neck, you pull down his sweats, easing them over his hips. You can't help but pause as you reveal his cock, Ezra having decided not to wear underwear beneath his sweatpants. He presses another open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, teeth brushing your skin with the smug smirk that spreads across his face.

"What's the hold u- oh fuck-" he chokes out as you brush your clothed cunt over his exposed crotch. He grips your hip hard, pupils expanding until the earthy brown of his iris' are almost entirely swallowed by them at the feeling of your slick leaking through your cotton underwear and streaking across the length of his dick.

"My sweet... Let me..." He trails off, his thumb hooking underneath your underwear and pushing them to the side. You can feel him brush against your pussy lips, your thighs shaking at the heat that settled between them. Then, before you even have the chance to beg for his touch, he's brushing his fingers through your folds and spreading your slick up to your clit.

You jolt at the sudden pleasure that arcs up your spine, head lolling back as the feeling practically liquifies you. Ezra is rubbing your clit with his print in small, tight circles, and you swear you could cum right there. But, almost as quickly as he starts, you must stop him, grabbing his hand and pinning it to his side.

"Little Bird, why can't I touch y-?" He cuts off as you lift yourself, sinking down onto his cock slowly. He squeezes his eyes shut, throwing his head back against the pillows and practically tearing up as he feels your cunt flutter around him at the stretch.

"E-Ezra," you splutter his name, bracing your hand on his chest and digging your nails into the sun-kissed skin to the point pink blooms underneath. He's stretching you so wide it's almost like he's splitting you in half, enough for you to need to spread your legs wider in order for you to feel like you can take him all.

"Good Girl— so good. Just a little more," he coos, kneading the tips of his fingers against your hip to ease you. Sucking in a deep breath, you sink yourself down to the hilt, whimpering at the intense stretch and the delightful sparks of pleasure that come with it. His cockhead is spearing up against something that makes your thighs tremble.

"Hah, ah..." You try to steady yourself against his hips, only rocking them slightly as you adjust to his size. He's gazing up at you like you're the most dazzling gem he'd ever seen, pupils tinged with enough awe and reverence to make you feel like you are some kind of goddess.

You begin to grind into him, a chorus of moans and gasps falling from your mouths as bliss spreads through you. You can already hear your blood rushing in your ears, your heart pounding in your chest so hard you swear you can feel your ribs crack. He's filling you up so well, hitting that spot in you with each bounce of your hips.

"Brighter than the stars, Little Bird- Fuck, you're so beautiful," Ezra growls, using his grip on your hip to rock them harder against his. Meanwhile, you're speechless. Your mouth is agape, panting out with a squeak every time he fills you up to the hilt repeatedly. It's all happening so fast and building so much that you could scream.

That's when Ezra switches his position, hoisting you up slightly as he plants the heels of his feet into the mattress. You sob loudly, tears of excruciating ecstasy slipping down your face. They drip from your chin as he grabs your ass, kneading it and using its leverage to bounce you on his cock. He's pounding into you, his dick hitting your cervix with each thrust.

"Ezra- Ezra, that's hah- that's-!" You wail, eyelids slipping shut as you focus on chasing your pleasure with each sway of your hips, making sure the head of his cock hits that mind-numbing spot inside you that just makes your toes curl.

Your focus is broken when Ezra grabs your chin, dragging your face forward so your noses bump together. Your eyes fly open in surprise.

"You're going to look at me when you cum," he orders, voice indicating this wasn't up for negotiation. You couldn't find it in you to argue anyway, completely cockdumb from the way he fucks you. When he sees that you're pliant, he resumes absolutely destroying you, relying on the relaxation of your body to allow him to thrust his hips into you without using his hand on your hips. He keeps his fingers under your chin but slips his thumb past your kiss-swollen lips and into your mouth, ordering you to suck.

You hollow your cheeks around his digit, running your tongue over the ridges of his thumb print as you keep eye contact with him. He growls out, losing himself in the fervency.

Abandoning that thought, he rushes to remove his hand from your face and press it to your abdomen. He moans out, delighting in feeling his cock slip in and out of your cunt. He can feel the rippling of your muscles and skin with the force he's using to pound into you. Every ridge of his cock adds to the overwhelming feeling as he moves in and out of you, the pressure he's applying to your pubic bone enough to launch you to your orgasm, but then he begins ruinous thrusts that knock your cervix and that sweet spot inside that have your legs turning to jelly with a scream.

You cum so hard that white blooms across your eyes, splitting you down the middle and pulsing devastatingly between your thighs. It sends heat from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head in gentle waves. Tilting your head back, you sob as he continues to thrust in and out, to ruin you completely.

He's babbling, voicing gorgeous and heartwarming compliments, but you're unable to discern them, still in the peak of your orgasm as it just builds and almost reaches a point of rapture that has you in pain. It's when you slam your fist against Ezra's sternum in an attempt to pull yourself from the earth-shattering orgasm that you hear him yell out, painting your fluttering walls with his cum. His thighs tremble, and you fall against his chest, fighting to drag air into your lungs to rid your eyes of the black spotting in your vision.

You lay there for a while, feeling like you're spinning despite your head securely resting on Ezra's shoulder. Your muscles were so tense from your orgasm that it now feels like they're melting into the mattress, seeping through and dripping out of the bottom and onto the floor of the Pod. You feel entirely liquified.

Then he's turning you both over gently, using his hand to brace the back of your head before it hits the mattress and gently laying it down with your body. You whine from the loss of contact, assuming he's getting out of bed or going to redress.

So when he dips his head between your thighs, brushing his tongue through your folds to taste the mix of your cum together, you can't help the moan of shock, overstimulation seeping down your thighs and pools in the base of your spine. He focuses his assault there, swirling the tip of his tongue around your clit until you're sobbing once more.

On your journey to Bakhroma, you'd heard an old wives' tale. Somewhat of a ghost story passed around the three-member crew during drunk nights while the long-haul space freighter floated in endless space. The team said it had been passed down from other Prospectors who had survived the moon trip. They claimed that anyone who stepped foot in The Green was subjugated by greed. While Aurelac gems definitely pleased Ezra, it appeared he found the treasure between your legs much more valuable...

join the taglist here

@xwing-baby , @mybugboy , @pansa-1-san , @pedrosprincess , @cosm1c-babe , @lil-stark , @heart-atttack @crybaby-blue-blog, @ssimelttilgniht @2pacacabra @pauldanosgf @leithatnight @kirsteng42 @dindjarinsmut @s0ftgabby @milly-louise @aynsleywalker @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @uncassettodiricordi @howellatme @mortallyuniquepeach @maviee @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @stvrlights-world @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @girlofchaos @s-u-t @pintsizedsunshine @djarin-dreams @Malici0usPuff1n @solidly-indulgent @bii-aan-ckaa

[writer-darling]

Are You Ever Dreaming of Me?

Chapter 8: Out of the Woods | Read Chapter 7: Style!

I NEVER USE Y/N OR ANYTHING LIKE IT THANK YOU SO MUCH :)

Rating: M - Mature (THE TIME HAS COME) (18+ MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x F!Reader

Warnings: Good old enemies-to-lovers trope. age gap (10 years). Nothing super descriptive for Reader but they are described as having hair. Tension, OF ALL KINDS, reaches an all-time high. Adult language. A LOT of feelings and things of that nature. Banter. Flirting. It’s E-to-L, you know where this is going. Feral Ezra (he starts at an 83.5% but ends up at about a 90.79% in this chapter). Mentions of smoking and cigarettes. Crude language. If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary!: Things are different, changed after last night. As you and Ezra both try to comes to terms with what's happened, there's a disruption.

******

“Are we in the clear yet?

In the clear yet, good

(Are we out of the woods?)”

Ezra sees the change in you instantly. You’ve always been hyperfocused, even when not on the job. It’s one of the first things he ever admired about you… before he admired everything else, of course. But today is not like any other day. No… it most certainly is not. You’re avoiding him, as he suspected, but you don’t seem upset about what happened. No, rather you seem… out of it. Like your mind is miles away… or perhaps more accurately: hours in the past. Your distraction is obvious as you try to go about your day, but your eyes have a dazed, glassiness to them and you curse under your breath repeatedly every time you almost drop the clean laundry you’re trying to remove from the clothesline, which is becoming a frequent occurrence this morning. 

He watches as he sits outside of his tent, spending the morning sitting on a stool shining his boots to perfection, and chainsmoking like he’s never smoked before. He’s meticulously changed the laces, wiped the leather clean, and buffed and conditioned them until he can practically see his reflection. He’s heard your frustrated mumbling all morning and it has worried him. While he wishes to help, his guilt stops him. 

He doesn’t regret what happened, not one damn bit. It was the catalyst of all the fantasies he’s had these last few months. No, he doesn’t regret it at all. The guilt comes from how he handled everything else that happened yesterday. The petty bickering, his stubbornness, how the catalyst started, and the fact that he practically ran out of your tent like a bat out of hell just to fuck his fist before he took things much, much further than either one of you would’ve been comfortable with.

He should’ve stayed. He should’ve finally told you everything he wanted to tell you. He should have held you and apologized for his earlier behavior and then he should have had that amazing dinner with you tonight where he would finally tell you what he really wanted. That catalyst should have come from a place of understanding, of harmony, of love - maybe. But, Kevva-be-damned, he just couldn’t help himself last night. He loved seeing that fire in your eyes, hearing that venom in your voice. It drove him damn near crazy, it always did. Which, admittedly, wasn't the healthiest thing. But, Ezra could admit he wasn’t perfect, and he had never claimed to be. Still, he can’t help the slight anxiety that rises in him each time that crinkle between your brows deepens. Like now,

“Kevvasake!” You whisper angrily to yourself, your gloved palm on your thigh as you yank a particularly stubborn shirt. He can almost picture the whites of your knuckles under the leather of your glove. You sigh once it finally falls, tossing it into the laundry basket with the rest of the clean clothes, which you then lean against your hip. You straighten up and meet his gaze as if you sensed his eyes on you. Your eyes meet his for only a microsecond before you look away and head into your tent, not even giving Ezra a chance to offer you a smile or a wave. 

He sighs as he exhales his latest drag, and debates with himself to call after you, but ultimately makes the decision not to. It’s clear he pushed you too far, and you deserve some modicum of respectful distance from him. Even if it stings like carrom acid in his chest. Denver’s voice interrupts his internal debate, and Ezra realizes he didn’t even hear him walk up. Denver’d also been keeping an eye on you, and on Ezra.

“The hell’s going on with you two?” Ezra cracks a smile, a brief one. His brow furrows as he thinks of how best to word this, throwing the bud on the ground and crushing it with his boot before he answers Denver.

“We had a bit of a situation last night, boss.”

“And I’m guessing you screwed everything up?” It’s not really a question. Ezra sighs before answering, setting his boots aside with a sharp nod,

“...Your assumption would be a fairly adequate estimate.” 

“Hm… how bad?” The question makes Ezra pause for a moment as he meets Denver’s green eyes.

“That remains to be seen.” Both men go silent for a few minutes. Denver looks pensively at the forest floor. Finally, he speaks,

“Fix it.” Ezra raises his eyes to Denver’s, who’s already looking right at him again. Ezra simply salutes and trudges off to find you. When he pauses at the entrance of your tent, he realizes you’re not inside after his call for you goes unanswered. 

You’re not anywhere in the camp. But eventually, he finds you, knowing where you’ve headed.

You sit by the pool's edge, staring into the dark but tranquil water, your gaze unfocused. It’s only upon seeing the area that he remembers. He remembers what you told him about the apprentice camp. Shit. He clears his throat and you turn to face him.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He starts cautiously.

“I’m guessing you’re gonna ask either way.” You respond, but your tone isn’t harsh at all, which floods him with relief.

“Did last night… Did it trigger anythin’ for you?” Your brow furrows at the way he says that. He’s thrown you for a loop with that question.

“What do you mean?” You ask. He sighs, the guilt suddenly back and threatening to swallow him whole. He approaches but keeps his distance, a good ten feet away from you. He removes his helmet and runs a gloved hand through his hair.

“I mean… about your… previous experience with prospectors.” He says. “Is that why you’ve been off all mornin’?” You blink at him a few times. That was not at all what was on your mind. Now Ezra’s really tearing himself up inside. It all spills out in a rush now. “I’m so sorry, rook, I didn’t even think. I was such a goddamn, horned-up fuckmonger that I completely forgot about that and I never meant to cause you any further trauma. If you no longer wish to speak to me, I fully understand, please believe that. I’m such a damned idiot that I-”

“Ezra.” Your voice is firm and clear, but again not as harsh as he expected. He shuts up instantly and focuses all of his attention on what you say next. You wait until his undivided attention is on you before you continue with your response, “No. It didn’t. I reciprocated. I’m only… confused. That’s all.” You say. For a second it seems like he doesn’t believe you, but he nods anyway.

“That’s fair then.” He says. You sigh and run a hand through your hair next.

“Truth is, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But I know what we agreed on, and so I’m gonna let it go.” You conclude.

“Let it go?” He asks. You nod and smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes for long.

“Mhm, just pretend it never happened. Easier that way. I mean that’s what we agreed to do, right?” You ask, your tone far too nonchalant for this conversation. And even as Ezra’s brow furrows and he mumbles a quiet confirmation, you both know that’s the last thing either of you want.

Especially Ezra. It’s like your words have an effect on him. As he averts his eyes, all he can see, hear, feel, and think is last night. The way you looked at him with starry-eyed haziness. The soft whine of your voice as you begged him for more. The heat of you as he touched you over and over again. His trousers are suddenly uncomfortably tight and he turns his body away from you for a full minute as he tries his damned hardest to get himself under control.

“Look, I’m fine.” You insist, making him turn towards you again. “I was just… overreacting. We’re friends.” You say, your lie does little to convince either of you. But you don’t let that stop you. “C’mon,” You brighten up and smile again. “We gotta get back to camp.” You walk ahead without turning to see if he’s followed.

You’re committed to this ‘friends’ bit, Ezra will give you that. He gives you your space but it’s like you insist on proving his concern for you wrong. You smile and joke with him and are suddenly hyperfocused as usual, going from one extreme to another. And Ezra isn’t quite sure how to feel about it, but he plays along. As lunch rolls around, you invite him back to your tent for a round of cards. He agrees, even if his heart skips in his chest and a light flush takes his face. 

You stop by the dining hall and have a difficult time maneuvering your way around. You’re still distracted, painfully so, but you try your best to just power through it. Still, the hall seems stuffier than usual. Like there’s suddenly every prospecter on camp inside it. As you look around for Ezra, you realize it is packed to the brim. Damn, were there always this many men in here? 

“Rook,” Ezra’s voice catches your attention and you notice he has his pack on his shoulders. He smiles and leads you two out with ease. You both make light conversation as you walk back to your tent for the moment, but your mind is still on trying to let last night go. It’s not healthy for you to be so focused on the vents of last night. Ezra’s not acting any different, so why are you? 

That all flies out the window as you two enter the tent and the tension almost threatens to paralyze the both of you as you’re alone now, with not even the distractions of nature as a buffer. But, you smile and walk over to your ice chest, acting like nothing’s off.

“Want anything?” You ask as you grab a water bottle from inside. He grabs a chair and shakes his head.

"I'm absolutely fine, I brought my own snacks from the mess hall." He says with a chuckle, "You got any other fun ideas for today? Other than playin’ cards and me havin’ to serve you once again?" he asks. He’s well aware he’s pushing his luck with that little flirtation at the end, but he wants to know how you’ll react anyway. Hell, he needs to know. He’s tempted to ask if you two are still on for dinner but he has a feeling that if he even remotely brings it up, you’ll go running for the hills. So, for once, he wisely holds his tongue.

“Serve me, huh?” You ask, opening up your bottle and taking a big gulp. You smile a little as you sit on your cot, in front of him. “Now there’s an idea.” You say with a twinkle. “I could use a personal servant.” You laugh softly, clearly joking.

Ezra laughs a bit louder as his eyes light up at your words, and he can't help but smile as you speak. "Is that so?" He asks, taking an apple out from his pack and taking a big bite from it before he tosses you one. "That... actually sounds nice, don’t it? Me as your personal servant..." he says with playful sarcasm, enjoying every second of the teasing between you, even with this added tension from the last 24 hours still looming over your heads. "Just imagine all the fun things I could do for you. You could have me at your beck and call… completely at your mercy…" he suggests with a sly grin.

You can’t help it as you go red as red as the apple in your hands at that. Having him at your beck and call. You clear your throat after a moment, hiding your embarrassment as best you can as you take another sip of your water, suddenly feeling hot. Ezra notices your sudden blush as soon as he makes his joke, and he decides to play into it. 

"Does that sound nice to you?" he asks, and there’s almost a tinge of desperation in his voice, leaning in closer and playing along. He can't help but feel a bit of pride at the little red tinge that comes to your cheeks, and he's enjoying every moment of it. His teasing is obvious, but it's clear he's having a good time being able to be around you and be himself, even with this uncertainty.

You recover quickly with a light scoff, even as your blush deepens again. “Pfft, in your wildest dreams.” You say, pushing his chest playfully.

He leans back in his chair with an amused expression on his face, even as every ounce of his will wants to drop to his knees in front of you. "Well look at that, I almost had you there," he teases, his smile still bright. "I was beginnin’ to think you might enjoy that," he muses. "But, I do have to know... if you could have me at your beck and call, wouldya?" he asks, still playful but wanting to get a legitimate answer. He just needs to hear it from your own lips. He knows the answer already, but goddess above, he’s dying to hear you say it. All he needs is one confirmation and he can finally relax, finally breathe without feeling like he’s got Bakhroma spores in his lungs.

Your mind immediately fills with images that are not at all PG, but you clear your throat again, swallowing hard but you recover quickly, blinking a few times to dispel them from your mind before you answer. “Yeah totally… I could use the forced manual labor to help me carry those damn packs full of gems.” You try to joke but it doesn’t come across as easily as it did before. You’re still feeling very overheated as you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Ezra laughs at your words despite their sarcastic tone. His whole face lights up at your words and he enjoys this little game you're playing. The little slight nervous glance away just makes it all the better for him. 

"Well okay then, let's test it..." he continues, "Tell me somethin’... what do you need me to do right this moment for you? Just give me a task that you feel is worthy of having me at your disposal," he asks, the smirk returning to his face as his voice takes on a slightly playful tone. "Come on. Test me."

You see that he’s serious. He wants you to test him. “Alright, I’m game. If you really want me to ‘test you’,” you make sure to add air quotes to that. “You can um…” You glance around and spot your pack. “Oh, you can count my earnings for yesterday.”

That was... not what Ezra had expected, and he can't help but grin as you speak and give him his task. "You know what? Sure, why not?" he says with a shrug and an approving nod. He reaches under your cot and grabs the pack, bringing it out between you two as he counts the four suitcases full of gems. "I'll count it all up and tell you the final tally," he says with a smile, "let's get this test underway. Ya got a notebook?” You crack a small smile and lay a notebook and pen out in front of him. He removes the button-up he’s wearing, leaving him in a sleeveless shirt, similar to the one from last night. He wants the most freedom available to him to work. 

He gets to counting the earnings, and he's actually quite the little perfectionist when it comes to these things. He takes it seriously, even just a test such as this. He wants to make sure you're impressed.

You 100% are as you watch him work. At first, that’s all it is, you feeling greatly impressed as he suddenly shifts his playful demeanor and hyper focuses on the task before him, his grin dropping into a neutral expression. Only a slight furrow of his dark brows reveals his concentration. It’s sort of endearing how earnestly he’s approaching this. And that makes you unable to tear your eyes away from him. But then… 

You can’t help it as your mind is suddenly elsewhere as you watch him with his head bowed over his task. The way he takes each case and carefully opens it up, counting each gem and making a rough estimate based on size and quality, then recounting them for good measure. Your focus goes from what he’s doing to the way he looks while he’s doing it. There’s that same furrow that creased his brow last night. And then, your eyes focus on the muscles of his arms as they flex and shift when he brings out each case. Reminding you of what those same muscles looked like half-hidden in shadow and moonlight. His long, thick fingers hold each gem he inspects like they’re the most precious material on terra firma. Those same fingers that maintained such a good rhythm that you fell apart faster than you ever have with your own touch. His dark hair hangs in his eyes as he slightly hunches over the cases of aurelac. The same hair you ached to tug on last night.

 Fuckssake. You’re pretty much gawking at him by the end of it.

Ezra's not even realizing that you're watching. He's so focused on his test - in his eyes, every single gem counts. He's very careful and thorough as he lays out all the gems and counts them, making sure to not make even a single mistake as he writes it all down in the notebook in front of him, the pen cap between his teeth. There's just something incredibly attractive about the way he's so focused and determined to do this task. And the fact that you see him this way is just... well, you've just become totally infatuated.

As he finishes, Ezra looks up at you and smiles, "Alright, well the final tally is 142 gems, with the most valuable one bein’ worth 400 hecaton grade. How does that compare to your initial estimate?" He asks, looking over at you with a smile. His eyes are still bright and his tone is warm, the playful nature of your previous interaction having now faded as you two had gotten deep into this little test. His expression is a little confused when you don’t answer right away. "Did I pass?"

You’re very impressed and also suddenly very aroused. He did it. He managed to impress the hell out of you. And Kevvasake, did it all while looking attractive as hell. You clear your throat as what he asks snaps you out of your reverie.

“You-You’re right on the money.” You say.

Ezra smiles and he chuckles as he stands, his eyes sparkling. "Well good," he says with a playful smile, still seemingly unaware of the effect he's having on you. "How's that for a first test?" he says with a wink, and he crosses his arms, giving a little chuckle as his whole face lights up in happiness. "And if you don't want me to be your personal servant... well, how about we just keep bein’ friends?" he suggests with a small smile, "Sound reasonable?"

You nod, your eyes still fixated on his arms and the way they move. Again some very not parent-friendly images come to your mind. You can’t even say anything, just watching the way his shoulders move with each breath he takes.

Ezra finally realizes the full effect that he's having on you, and he seems to just take it all in for a moment before he steps a little closer to you. He's right in front of you and he has what appears to be a gentle, caring expression on his face. He speaks in a whisper when he talks next, his head lowered so he's speaking down slightly towards you, right at eye level. "Hey... can ask you somethin’?" he asks softly, the playfulness completely faded.

You’re taken aback as he approaches and force yourself to focus on what he’s saying. You blink a few times, his dark eyes making you dizzy. “Y-Yeah, what’s uh, what’s up… buddy?” You internally slap yourself for saying that. It sounds so inorganic, just further revealing your nervousness. But he still smiles a little, understanding. You clear your throat, trying very hard to seem nonchalant and failing miserably.

Ezra's face turns soft as you refer to him as your ‘buddy,’ and his whole demeanor becomes more gentle the closer he is to you. He reaches out and brushes your hair away from your face. His eyes lock with yours as he looks down at you. "I really like you, and I want you to be honest with me, yeah?" he says with a soft smile, his voice quiet and gentle. You can see the serious, honest emotion in his eyes and he looks so... peaceful? It's hard to explain. The playful nature is gone from his voice, and you can tell what he's about to say is really important to him.

“I-I like you too, Ezra.” You say, your eyes briefly glancing at the movement of his fingers as he brushes your hair back before meeting his eyes again. You offer him a small smile, still visibly nervous. “Why?”

The sigh he releases sounds troubled and his brows furrow. Your own brow furrows too. “Ezra, tell me.” You add when he hesitates to say what’s on his mind.

“Last night was… fuckin’ incredible.” He breathes suddenly and your heart stutters at the intensity in his eyes. “I just want to make sure I didn’t bring up any bad memories for you. I want to make sure you don’t regret it.”

“Ezra, we-”

“I know what we agreed.” He says firmly, cutting off your attempt to deflect. “But, please… I need to know how you feel about it.” His voice is so desperate. You feel a lump in your throat as you feel frozen in place by his gaze. There’s an electric moment, tense and charged as you think.

“It was amazing.” You finally say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ezra’s smile is like the suns breaking through dark storm clouds. His shoulders almost sag with relief and he holds your gaze for a moment before pulling you into his arms and hugging you. 

It's the most gentle embrace, and you can feel his momentary hesitation, but it's the first time he's actually hugged you. He lets out a content sigh as he holds you tight for a moment before he looks back at you with the same soft, almost... dreamy expression from before. His hands come up to the side of your face before his thumb brushes against your cheek. "You can tell me anythin’, no matter how big or small, and I will be there for you. You got me, rook?"

You’re taken aback by the sudden hug, realizing it is indeed the first time you’ve ever hugged each other. If you’re honest, you were expecting a completely different reaction but you’re not mad about it at all. You hug him back slowly, your arms wrapping around him as you lay your head against his shoulder for a short moment, breathing in the scent of his cigarettes. His sigh makes you melt a little and when he brushes his thumb along your cheekbone you almost want to lean into his touch as soft thrills run down your spine.

You nod, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the shift at the moment. There’s a vulnerability, an intimacy here you weren’t expecting.

“I got you.” You respond, growing a little misty-eyed. “And I hope you know I feel the same way. You can count on me for anything, Ez.” You say softly, sincerely. “I know things between us are… weird right now but I do trust you.”

Ezra's smile grows as you speak, and he puts his forehead against yours for a moment as his other hand rests against your lower back. You never expected this moment to come, but this feeling - this... connection - you two have formed is something special. He can tell you mean what you say... he can see it in your eyes and feel it when he embraces you once again. 

There’s something else in his eyes too, something that wasn’t there moments ago. Something you only saw a glimpse of last night. But then it’s gone as he smiles and lets you go, giving you your space again.

"Well then, partner," he says softly once again, the playfulness returning to his voice, "I guess we're friends now. Official, official friends. How's that sound?"

“Official, official friends.” You say softly, nodding and laughing gently at his cute terminology. But then your mind once again fills with the image of his obsidian eyes as he made you come on his fingers and your chest feels hollow.

It seems he’s about to say something else when suddenly you both notice a commotion outside; there’s the sudden sound of gunfire outside and screaming from your fellow prospectors.

Your eyes flash to Ezra with concern as you both drop immediately to crouched positions, the sounds of combat now in your ears as your adrenaline spikes.

******

Finally after 5 months, here is Chapter 8! Yes it's a cliffhanger BUT I WILL BE UPDATING CHAPTER 9 NEXT WEEK!! Happy holidays AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! <3

Tag List:  @luz-introvertida @castleamc @moralesfish  @december-gal1 @castleamcc @hillarymurray4 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @sherala007 @littlemisspascal @practicalghost @donnaa @scorpio-marionette @kayleezra @amandanik23 @maxpbxtch97 @lowlights @shadesofnerdlygrace @harriedandharassed @carefulnowprincess @amneris21 @horton-hears-a-honk @xdaddysprincessxx @trickstersp8 @mandy-sings @mswarriorbabe80 @permanentlydizzy @teddy2510 @bitchwitch1981 @jedi-in-crocs @theredwritingwitch @thesoftdumbass @readingiskeepingmegoing @pedropascalposting

Links!

Join the Tag List here

Ao3 link here

TikTok here

Story Playlist here

The Masterlist here

Read Chapter 9: The Great War!

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Open When...

FEBRUARY FICLETS #1

A/N: Happy February, everyone! (Yes, it' true, January is finally over!) For me, has historically been a month of writing slumps and creative blocks. In an effort to try to fight that this year, I am choosing a few prompts from this list and writing something short for them. I have no idea how many I’ll get to, but for now here’s a little Ezra to get things started. This is part of the Angelfish universe.

Prompt: love letter

Warnings: brief mention of accident and injury

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Long distance relationships are always tough, especially when the distance spans different planetary systems. But you still find a way to be there for Ezra without ever leaving your post on Lau.

The relentless hum and buzz of life at Bahkroma base was silenced as Ezra reached his bunk and slid the door shut.

What a day. He sighed, bringing his right hand up to the back of his neck. The smallest tilt of his head released an audible pop of tension that he felt beneath his fingers. What a Kevva-fucked day.

Though the potential for danger on the Green Moon was always high, most dig shifts went smoothly. Trek out to the site, fill the day’s aurelac quota, secure the gems and trek back to base. The terrain was rough, the chemicals used to coax the gems from the fleshy roots was caustic, and without a filter the air would kill a person in just a handful of cycles. But when protocol was followed and equipment maintained - as it always was when Ezra was leading an expedition - the job could be done with relative safety.

Of course, there were still plenty of ways that a dig could go awry.

That day, it happened to be an expired vial of chem left behind by some drifter whose body had long since been consumed by the mossy forest floor. Flesh decays, and the Green is always hungry for carrion. But inorganic material remains for far longer - roto scalpels and extraction forceps left to rust, containers of phaser becoming covered by growth, laying in wait like landmines to be struck open by a drill head or pickaxe. Unlike some of the substances used in filtration and cleaning that lost potency over time, phaser solution only became more volatile. More dangerous.

Which was why Frontier Mining Company had invested in top of the line scanning equipment that checked the ground for evidence of abandoned dig sites before crews were cleared to begin.

The scans came up clean, though. Ezra stepped away from the door and crossed the small space that somehow felt smaller since you’d left for your posting on Big Blue. Choosing what had always been your side, he sat on the edge of the bed and gripped the mattress. They were clean. We were cleared, and then-

He screwed his eyes shut against the memory of what happened next - the distinct sound of metal finding glass, the hiss and bubble of the leaked fluid reacting to the water in the plantlife it spilled onto, the stillness in the half second before the explosion, and the anguished screams that came through the comms in his helmet.

In the end, it could have been worse. No one was killed. Everyone had been knocked to the ground, a few people had been banged up a bit. But Danelo, one of the crewmen Ezra had known for as long as he’d known you, had been the unlucky bastard whose ax had hit the vial. He lost a hand to the blast. Ezra had responded quickly, grabbing a field kit and loading the foam gun to cream up the wound as best as he could until the team was able to get the injured man back to base for proper medical treatment, and that had likely saved him from the worst of the infection.

It was still a grizzly sight. He opened his eyes and they landed on the photo he kept tacked up on the wall - one of you in his arms on the covered porch of your floating apartment out on the Skiffs, the shockingly blue water shimmering in the sunlight and your smile directed at him and not the camera. The picture instantly helped to put him at ease if only just a little. I’m glad you weren’t here for that, Angelfish.

He was glad, even though his missing you ran deeper than the ocean you were stationed beneath, that you were no longer at risk of falling prey to any of the Green Moon’s hidden perils. Glad that what happened to Danelo would never happen to you. Glad that your day to day operations on The Dive were far more stable than the wild nature of Aurelac mining. Even though he ached to hold you, especially on days when just a tiny shift in circumstance could have made it impossible for him to hold you ever again, Ezra was beyond relieved that your days on the Green were through. And that my own up here are numbered.

But days like that - and several others - were exactly what you had prepared for the last time you were both on leave together. Because you think of everything, don’t you?

Reaching up to the shelf that was built into the wall above the bed, Ezra pulled down a string-wrapped bundle of letters. There were fifteen in total, each of them meant for different occasions. You’d sealed each letter with a drop of wax and labeled them with their intended purposes. Open when you score a big pull. Open when your stand is halfway through. Open when it’s your birthday. Some of them were still sealed, awaiting the right time as per your instructions. Others were already opened, their pages folded and refolded along creases made by your hands so he could read and reread them as needed. Open when you can’t sleep. Open when you need a laugh. He thumbed through the semi-wrinkled paper, fingers finding the one he was looking for and pulling it from the stack.

Open when it’s been a hard day.

That one was still crisp and unopened. Slipping the shoes from his feet, Ezra swung his legs up onto the bed and leaned back against the wall, and then he slipped his finger between the edges and tore them apart. So far, every single one of your letters had perfectly matched whatever reason he’d had for opening them. Each one was a reminder of exactly what he needed to hear, as though you were right there. And each one only proved what he’d known for years - that you loved him just as much as he loved you. Let’s see what you’ve got to say this time.

Like always, as he read he could hear the words in your voice, as close and clear as though you were there tucked against his chest.

Oh, my Ezra,

A hard day, prospector? I’m sorry, love. These are the days that I wish I was with you the most. Even if just to put my arms around you to give you a few minutes of relief. You make all my worst days more bearable and the fact that I'm so far away on one of yours is something that I would change in a heartbeat if I could. But since I can’t, this will have to do.

Do you remember that day on H4, back at the training facility, when you asked me to partner up with you for the Vezna excursion? I’m sure you do. It was our first experience on a fire planet and we were both nervous about it. What I never told you, though, was that earlier that day I was very seriously considering leaving the Frontier program altogether. I’d blown my Sector Six practice exam that morning and even though the field assessment was still a week away, I could already hear the gossip. I knew most of the other trainees didn’t want me there, didn’t think I could hack it. None of them were eager to be put on a crew with me, and I was really starting to doubt myself. Doubt my dreams. It was my hardest day of the 582 that we spent there.

But then you came along and you had that smile on your face and you said “Angelfish, there’s no one I’d rather walk through the flames with.” And even though you didn’t know it, that was exactly what I needed to hear. That you saw me as someone who was strong enough to do hard things, even things that made you nervous, too. You saw me as someone to depend on, even when I couldn’t see it for myself.

Ezra, I don’t know what happened today to make you open this letter in particular. But I do know that what you said to me that day? I feel the same. There is no one in this or any universe that I would rather walk through flames with, because I know that you can. I know that whatever struggles the day brought you won’t keep you down, because you’re stronger than anything that might try to stop you.

And do you remember what happened after the Vezna excursion? After we got back to H4 and passed Sector Six? Those ten days we spent in The Ephrate during semester break? I do. And I know you do, too.

I love you, Ezra. You’ll get through this hard time, and we’ll be together again soon. So soon.

He read your letter three times that night, running his fingers over the indentations made by your pen, tracing the lines and curves of the letters where you signed your name. You always ended each letter the same way - Your Angelfish - and each time he read those two words they filled him with a warmth he’d only ever felt when you were there beside him. You were his, and he was more yours than his own.

Flattening the letter over the center of his chest, Ezra turned his head to glance at the photo again. “You always know what to say, Angelfish.”

The reassurance that you believed in him - believed that he was capable of doing what was necessary to get through the hard days, whatever they bring - was the reason he was able to fall asleep that night.

But your mention of that long ago trip to The Ephrate? That was the reason for the things he dreamed about. And he couldn’t wait to be back on the Skiffs with you to tell you and show you that yes, he absolutely remembered those ten days.

.

.

.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please feel free to let me know or you can fill out the form on my masterlist.    

Tag list: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @valkblue @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @cannedsoupsucks @tobealostwanderer r @paracosmenthusiast @gracie7209 @dihra-vesa @marauderskeeper @novemberrain221 @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @thescarletfang @trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @Noisynightmarepoetry @Severin-proud

[magpiepills]

Sagittarius

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Ezra x f reader

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: you and Ezra in your pod.

Warnings: SMUT! PIV, helmet riding, slight bondage? Idk what else.

A word from the author: has anyone done riding Ezra’s helmet yet? No matter. Here’s mine. With gratitude to the mutuals and the magic sluts.

Your meeting was an improbability on a largely deserted moon. He had talked so sweet, so flattering, so genteel. Like chloroform on a pretty handkerchief. Lorenzo fell for it, too. Lorenzo always was a sucker.

Ezra says he’s sorry.

Sorry he tried to rob you. Sorry he shot your husband dead. Even if Lorenzo did shoot first, you had really wanted to be the one to dispatch the conniving bastard, and he took that from you. The way he squirmed and huffed now, well, that’s his own doing.

If robbery and murder weren’t great enough offenses, he’d had the gall to track you all the way back to your rented pod and barge right in. He couldn’t just get away with that.

You’d heard him. He rattled the door, forced it open, metal creaking and groaning against rusted metal followed by heavy boots thudding against the corrugated metal floor. You’d already stripped down to your tank top and underwear, a futile attempt at staving off the humid heat of Bakhroma Green. There was no time to get dressed now. You held your thrower in both hands, finger itching at the trigger and your back against the brittle plastic of the pod walls. Fool as he was, he came in head first. When the butt of your Frontiersman didn’t quite connect with the required force, Ezra wheeled around and snatched your weapon away, flinging it clear across the pod.

Incensed, you charged at him. Grabbing him, wrenching his arm back and pulling until he hollered and fell forward. You let his weight drop onto the floor, he groaned and bared his teeth, writhing pathetically at your feet. Good. Serves him right. You watched him for a moment, hands on your hips and head cocked. There wasn’t time to consider the next step in dealing with your intruder. He was on the floor and you had the upper hand. You couldn’t let him get up, that was certain.

No sooner was your mind made than you threw yourself on him, doing your best to pin him down and get him into a headlock or something to incapacitate him long enough for you to toss him back out of the ship and leave him to die. Ezra grunted and panted, bucking and rolling, trying his best to throw you off of his back. You held your own as long as you could, but he was furious and strong. In a flash he grabbed your hair and flipped you both, knocking the wind from your lungs. The ensuing melee saw you tumbling and flailing about the pod, each of you trying hard to get the other to stay still. Panting, sweating, grunting, swearing. You aren’t sure how you end up on his back, holding him with his arms bent. Thankfully, he had no energy left to fight, because neither did you. You needed to tie him up.

It wasn’t ideal. None of this was, really. It was a shit show from the start and you’ve just had to accept that and somehow get through it. You did the only thing you could do under the circumstances and you tied him up with your panties. The fabric was probably cutting off his circulation and the knot may not hold long, but it was good enough. You did your best to put out of your mind the fact that you’re naked from the waist down now. It didn’t matter if he saw, you told yourself. As quickly as possible you were going to be shoving him out the hatch and leaving him far behind.

You flipped your captive onto his back, muzzle of your recovered thrower shoved into his chest. With your adversary bound, you relaxed for a moment, catching your breath before you had to haul him out.

You traced your fingertips over his visor. The glass is thick. Scratched and pitted and heavy over his head. Behind it he’s sweating. Small beads on his forehead, nose and cheeks that gathered together and slid down to his hair. It was your first good look at him. He was pretty. What a waste. With his big, round eyes, shiny, pitch-colored things; with his nose, soft aquiline curve, and lips, pouting open now, as he looked pitifully back at you.

He kept those clever eyes trained on yours as you shuffled up closer, knees on either side of his helmet. You rapped gently on the glass, smiling sweetly down at him. You ran your hands over the cool surface, but still he watched you. You lifted the hem of your sweatshirt, and brought it up, up, up over your bare tits, and tossed it aside. You watched with amusement, tilting your head sympathetically to the side as you squeezed and lifted your tits, letting them fall again before gently pinching your nipples. “Mmmm. Feels so good, Ezra. Touch me, please. I know you can make it even better.” You whined, teasing him. He closed his eyes, brows furrowed, muttering something you couldn’t hear under his helmet. “Oh, I forgot. You’re tied up. Well, I guess if you can’t take care of me I’ll have to just do it myself.” You sighed dramatically and rolled your hips, “I think there’s still a way you can help though. You do want to be good, don’t you, Ezra? You want to keep me happy, isn’t that right?” He wet his lips with his tongue and nodded shallowly, eyelids looking heavier. You circled your nipples with your fingertips, teasing them into firm points, caressing down your stomach and your thighs.

He squirmed below you and whined when you jutted your hips forward, pressing your bare pussy against the glass. Ezra stared, frozen as you repositioned, settling right over his line of sight so he could see exactly what you were about to do.

At first your movements were small and deliberate. Your puffy lips pressed lewdly, not quite wet enough, but enjoying the hard, smooth convex of the helmet between your thighs. You watched Ezra. He was entranced, focused intently on your cunt and the reality of how close you were, and the impossibility of his desires. He wanted to flatten and spread those lips with his lips and tongue and nose and chin. He would have had you thoroughly soaked by now if it was up to him, but you took your time.

One hand abandoned his helmet and came back up to pluck and twist at your nipples. You closed your eyes and thought of Ezra behaving himself well enough to deserve having his cock sucked. It was big, you could see that through his suit. It was immediately evident that all of that grappling had stirred something in him. His environmental suit was snug over his straining erection. The thick bulge curved up and across his hip, accentuated by the straps banded around his upper thighs. It was impressive in thickness and length. Shame that a nice cock is wasted on a bastard like him. You wondered if he was cut or if there’d be foreskin to slip back with your lips. You wondered if he would want to come in your mouth, or if he wanted to paint your face and chest with his spend. You thought of how it would taste. You thought of how good it feels to make a strong man so weak.

“Why can’t you be good?” You complained, breathy and unintentional. You didn’t even register that you’d spoken it aloud until another voice, deep and craggy spoke up. “I can be good. Let me.”

It was the first thing he had spoken that hadn’t been a shouted demand, or a threat. It aggravated you. “Shut up.” You snapped at him, he hitched his hips in protest, teeth bared as he watched your arousal slowly seep onto the glass, aiding your gliding movements. It made his mouth water.

Back and forth, a salacious drag right before his eyes, he watched you use his helmet for your pleasure. The delicate inner folds, the swollen bud of your clit, the tender flesh of your lips. Every quickening movement was like a wet, messy kiss, smearing your slick across the smooth plane. He licked his lips and imagined how he would drink you down. He thought of sucking your clit between his lips to feel it twitch.

He didn’t realize how destroyed he looked. Wet and pathetic and mewling. He couldn’t even feel the way your panties bite into his wrists anymore. He didn’t care. He wanted you to have him like this if you wanted.

You hitched closer and closer to your apex with every grind of your hips. The power alone was a potent aphrodisiac, having Ezra, big as he was, under your thumb made you so very wet. He was your plaything, now. Maybe you’d keep him. Use him how you wanted. You could come on his helmet, his thigh, his cock if you wanted to. He wouldn’t fight. Not with the way he looked now. His eyes were inky black and shining, his warm breath fogged the glass above his parted lips. You rode his helmet unashamedly, caring only for your own demented pleasure.

Your orgasm felt like a slow motion electric shock. His face was obscured by the wet mess you’d made. It bubbled and dripped obscenely.

Your panting breath matched the rise and fall of his chest below you. Slowly you began the return to reason, to the reality of your situation. Reality is changeable, though and yours took a turn before your eyes even adjusted from the post-orgasmic haze.

You were on your back in a flash. Ezra was caging you in and smiling bodefully down at you, triumphant. Your face was still flushed from your orgasm, but your joy quickly soured. Your panties lay in tatters beside your head.

“Have you had your fun now?” He mocked. Your release still clung to his helmet and you licked a defiant stripe through it, never dropping his dark gaze. Ezra chuckled and held both your wrists in one hand while he flung off his helmet and tore at the closures of his suit.

“What was your plan? You use me and then what? Leave me high and dry?” He shook his head, feigning disappointment in your carelessness, all the while fighting his way out of the dirty canvas suit, pulling at buttons and straps until one arm was free and his thin, sweat-damp undershirt clung to his broad chest.

You didn’t notice when you’d stopped struggling in his grip, but Ezra certainly did. He clocked the trail your eyes made from his lips to his neck, to his shoulders and down his torso to where the elastic band of his boxers peeked out. He loosened his grip, shook his other arm from its sleeve, and puffed out his chest. His suit sagged down his narrow hips, as he reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion. What a sight he was. Muscular but soft, rough but tender. The thick swell of his now turgid member pulled at his boxers.

He palmed over it, emphasizing the length with the slow drag of his hand.

He licked his lips. “Go on.” He challenged. “Tell me to be good again.”

The air inside the pod had become thick and heavy, your skin was warm and your joints all felt too loose. The snarl you had intended came out as a ragged plea of his name.

Ezra was gentler than you’d expected. He let go of your wrists with a pointed look meant to keep you from doing anything rash, and began to explore your body. He squeezed your hips, kneading the yielding flesh, then sliding his hands up your sides, letting his fingers follow the shape of your ribs. He caressed over your belly, circling your belly button with his thumb. He watched as your chest rose and fell. He slid his palms up, flat against your skin as he pushed your bare tits together.

You could feel his hips shifting against you, feel the weight of his bulge against your cunt while he dropped to his elbow to bring your nipple to his mouth. His touch was firm. You could feel the hunger and need in the way he licked and sucked at your pointed nipples. He was holding back.

“Tell me.” He repeated. His voice was deeper, gravelly.

Your eyes fluttered closed and for a moment you wondered what came next. You knew what he wanted from you in this moment, but after that? You didn’t have the strength to fight him again. You released the breath you had been holding and asked him once more: “Be good, Ezra.”

There was little resistance when he plunged into you. He watched your face as you took what he gave, the way your mouth fell open and your head tipped back as he buried himself deep in your wet heat.

He hooked his arms under your shoulders, keeping you beneath him, as if you’d dream of leaving now. He grunted with the force of his hips pounding down into you, each heavy stroke forcing breathy cries from you. “Ah! Ah! Ahh! Ezra!”

“Is this good enough?” He asked, slowing his pace and looking down into your unfocused eyes. He looked further, down the planes of your sweat-slick bodies to where he stretched you in his cock. He rolled his hips just so, catching your clit with the wet hair at the base of his cock. You came, and he could feel your pounding pulse through the thin skin of your neck where he nibbled and sucked. When your body settled he redoubled his thrusts, palming your breast and panting into your neck until the moment he pulled out and spilled across your cunt.

The pod was silent, save for your heavy breaths, and you watched Ezra with caution. He was looking around, taking in the blinking lights and muted beeping of the control panel. He looked curious. Maybe resigned. He rubbed your thigh and you lay beside him on the floor, too aware of how your initial plan of escape was now useless. Your brain too scrambled from the force of your orgasm to formulate a new one.

Perhaps fortunately, you didn’t need to. Ezra squeezed your knee and leaned over you. He kissed you slowly and tenderly. Then, quietly, he whispered against your lips “give me the starter.”

[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-

[pedroshotwifey]

Ezra One Shots

Creampie  Ezra x f!reader - You can’t sleep so you decide to occupy yourself with a project in the kitchen. Ezra is quick to distract you ;) (5.4k)

Requested Ezra Fics

One Condition Marcus Pike x fem!reader x Ezra (Prospect) - You and your partner, Marcus Pike, get stranded on an inhabited planet and run into problem after problem. You find yourselves in a compromising position that requires help from a strange man, who comes to you with one condition. (4.9k)

Better Ezra x f!reader - You join Ezra on his unscheduled break, not knowing you're in for the ride of your lifetime. (2k)

Wifey's Christmas Countdown Ezra Fics (Not all Christmas related)

Vulnerable Ezra x vine/tentacle creature thingy? - Ezra falls into a pit and is taken by a pleasurable creature. (1.2k)

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

A forgotten scene

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect) x female reader

Content: 100% pure domestic fluff

Note: I brought the energy from a marathon housecleaning session to my drafts today, found this little abandoned snippet from ages ago and hated to see it go to waste. Lost my taglist. Hope somebody finds this and enjoys it.

---------------------

He’s stretched out in bed when you come back from the kitchen, golden skin burnished by the glow of the lamp perched on his night table.

He has a book propped on his bare chest, practiced fingers deftly turning the page and supporting its weathered spine at the same time. You smile at the concentrated furrow of his brow, the almost imperceptible movement of his lips that he's not even aware of.

Ezra’s eyes stray from the book to find you in the doorway, warming with the spark of unguarded delight that tells you plainly he’s still a little in awe that you’re here, that he’s not going to wake up from a happy dream and find himself in an aurelac pit on some Kevva-forsaken moon.

“My angel of mercy appears.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, crossing to the bed to offer him one of the steaming mugs you carry as he closes the book on the night table.

He only grins, carefully cradling the mug in his hand before sipping the hot tea inside.

Balancing your own cup, you slide between the sheets on the right side of the bed.

Your side.

It had been his only request, the first time you’d shared a narrow, rickety cot in a wretched prospector’s tent, to leave his lone left arm free to reach for you — To lie frustrated in my desire to hold you is a fate too cruel to bear contemplation, dear heart. Now it’s second nature, a steady, silent reminder of your care in the nightly ritual of seeking his embrace.

“How’s the book?” you ask, blowing on your tea.

“Welcoming, as an old friend should be.” His smile is a little sheepish, and you crane your neck to look at the well-worn copy of The Streamer Girl.

You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. “You’re missing her.”

“I do sometimes feel her absence keenly,” he admits. “But her letters, however brief, assure me that my bright little bird is thriving in her studies.” He sets aside the half-empty cup and slouches into the covers, shifting to turn toward you. His warm, calloused hand settles on your thigh with an appreciative stroke. “And I am likewise thriving here in our little haven, with you.”

The apartment isn’t much more spacious than the pod you’d sold to buy it, but no place has ever felt more like home. The cheerful curtains you made from a remnant of fabric Ezra had seen you coveting screen out the city’s glaring lights to shelter you in your cozy cocoon. Ezra’s precious books, annotated in his spidery left-handed script, are stacked neatly on the tiny table in the main room. Clippings of plants from your travels put out delicate roots in recycled jam pots and medicine bottles, and the scent of fresh bread you’d baked that afternoon lingers in the air.

The rich can have their mansions. You only need this warm bed and the man in it.

You smile and comb a silky tuft of blond hair away from his temple with your fingers, watching the corners of his dark eyes crinkle with affection.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” you say, and mean it.