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pedroshotwifey · 4 months

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Christmas Countdown Day 22 - Ezra Prospect

Vulnerable

Pairing: Ezra x ...Vine/Tentacle creature?

Word count: 1.2k

Tags/Warnings: smut, dub-con, non-con at first, anal (m), oral (m), urethral sounding, restraints, implied drugging, ball play, subby ezra vibes, getting jerked off ig lmao, monster fucking, aphrodisiac something, wifey clearly being on something tonight, stuff im forgetting

Summary: Ezra falls into a pit and is taken by a pleasurable creature

A/N: Jumped on the vine train lmao. This is filthy y'all, but I kinda love it. I've never written a fic that wasn't x reader before, so this was pretty fun! hope you enjoy!

***

Ezra has no idea how he got into a situation as detrimental as this in such a short time. One second he was digging around an aurelac sac, and the next, the ground was falling out from under him.

He lets out a shout as he prepares for impact against a hard, solid surface. His one hand coming out to soften the fall, if only a little bit. Darkness swallows him quickly, the light from this planet’s three suns growing farther and farther away as he flails uselessly mid-air.

When he finally does meet the bottom of what he can only assume to be an underground cave, the surface surprises him by having a soft, almost bouncy quality. It knocks the breath out of him nevertheless, and leaves him gasping for air as he panics to scan his new surroundings.

The tentacles come quick, slithering out of damp crevices and from the soft ground below him. In the midst of his struggle, he barely even notices until he feels something tugging the hem of his pants from out of his boots.

He kicks his leg out, attempting to shoo the slimy vine away, but it’s persistent. He furrows his brows as he adjusts more to the darkness of the cave, now able to get a better look at the creature.

It’s a deep purple, a slimy substance coating the outside of it, thick, long, and tapering to a dull but pointed tip. There’s some kind of suction at the belly of it, which is helping it pull at the fabric of his pants.

“You quit that!”

He reaches his hand out to grab it, but as soon as he lays a finger on it, he’s submerged once again into the ground. Well, what he thought was the ground.

The tentacles that had been holding him up suddenly give away slightly, just enough to lower him into their grasp to get a better hold on him. They all crowd him at once, crawling up his arm, slithering up his legs, wrapping around his neck.

His body thrashes as he starts to yell again, but he’s quickly silenced by another vine wrapping around his lower face and over his mouth, effectively cutting off any noise. He’s already in a massive panic, but once the tentacles start to creep into his clothes, he goes haywire.

He squirms and kicks as much as humanly possible as the tentacles begin to tear the fabric, leaving him bare within a few seconds. Tears spring to his eyes as he’s suddenly exposed to the creature.

A sob is stifled in his throat as the vines explore his vulnerable body freely. Two of them snake below his armpits to suction onto a nipple apiece. He goans at the intense feeling, which is apparently only a distraction.

He quickly feels another creep lower to his softened cock, and his hips buck as it twirls itself around it, giving more suction as it tugs ever so slightly. Not long after, he feels another at his ass, pushing in and making him wince.

It slips easily with the lube it provides itself, but it’s still a feeling much more foreign than his fingers. It curls up and pushes deeper until it’s filling him as much as it can. His cock twitches in the creatures grasp at all the stimulation he’s receiving, and he can feel his face go hot as he blushes.

He should not be enjoying this, he knows in his mind that he can’t be with the way tears start to slip down his cheeks—but his body disagrees.

He’s spread eagle, unable to move as the vines defile him, sucking and prodding and tugging in all the right places.

His dick is starting to harden as a soaked tentacle pumps him, simulating something akin to a warm cunt. A moan tumbles from him, only to be blocked by the limb covering his lips.

The vibration from his attempted groan prompts the creature to pull back from his mouth, only to stick the tip between his lips, pushing into him to fill him there too. It releases a sweet tasting substance, which immediately makes him feel more relaxed.

His body feels weak but calm as he suddenly surrenders to the monster supporting him. Ezra’s eyes roll to the back of his head despite himself as he gets lost in the pleasure.

The creature toys with his dick, two more tentacles coming out to swirl around the tip of him, and to cup his balls, sucking slightly there too. The one in his mouth swirls around in tandem with the one in his ass, which is currently poking his prostate and making his cock weep.

His hips jut out by accident, but the feeling it creates is so pleasurable that he experiments with it once more, quickly getting addicted to the wet grasp of this monster. He thrusts forward and back, fucking himself on the vine behind him as best he can while simultaneously grinding into the one in front.

He knows so deeply that this is wrong, wants to hate himself for giving in so easily, but how can he not? He feels feral as he allows the tentacles to move as they want, easily submitting to their every move.

He absentmindedly begins to suck on the one in his mouth, not realizing as he chases the feeling of his orgasm coming up. Just when he thinks he can’t feel more full, another slim vine is coming up to prod at the slit of his cock, breaching the hole there and slowly slithering in.

It’s a new feeling, and he tries to get away at first, but it slowly starts to bring him more pleasure. The sounds of him whining desperately are absolutely absurd, especially mixed with the squelching noises coming from various areas of his body.

He chooses to ignore that for now, not wanting to get caught in the shame of his actions right now. It’s as if his brain has shut off for a few minutes, and he’s planning to take full advantage.

He feels a pull in his lower abdomen, a familiar feeling that signals his impending orgasm. He groans and whimpers frantically as his hips pick up speed, the suctions cups around his nipples growing more intense.

He feels the vine in his ass prod against his prostate again, and the one around his balls give a gentle squeeze. At the same time, the vine in his dick pulls itself out, and it’s over. He’s immediately cumming, harder than he ever has in his life. He moans around the creature in his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut as he rides out his ever-lasting high.

When he comes down, it’s literal, as the monster is slowly lowering him back to the soft bed he landed on earlier. His mind is hazy as he starts to come back to himself, confused as to everything that just happened.

He blinks, and he’s halfway back to the surface, being lifted by the vines once again. Blinks again, and he’s being set down. He is left quickly at ground level, dizzy and exposed to the unforgiving planet.

****

Thank you for reading! I would love to know what y'all thought about this fic. Should I write more like this, or stick to x reader?

Lmk if you want to join the countdown taglist!

FOTJC: @arcanefox207 @redhotkitchen @magpiepills @exquisiteserotonin @sparklefarts38 @pink-whiskey-woman @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @beskarandblasters @tightjeansjavi @theywhowriteandknowthings @nerdieforpedro @maggiemayhemnj @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @ghostofaboy @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa

WCC: @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian @yorksgirl

Link to prompt list

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #ezra smut #ezra prospect #tentacles #monster fucking #monster fucker #vines #sex pollen #aphrodisiac

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

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𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌. 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐄𝐳𝐫𝐚

pairing: joel miller x f!reader x ezra (prospect)

genre: smut, filth filth filth, minors dni

word count: 3.9k (this was supposed to be 1k smh)

summary: you, joel and ezra spend the night together in an abandoned cabin during a snowstorm.

warnings: established fwb between reader and joel, dirty talking, voyeurism, male masturbation, undisclosed feelings, underwear being used as a gag, overall just messy smut, piv, rough sex

requested by @doctorliamsr

a/n: this is part of the dark hearted people'verse but it can be read as a standalone. Everything you need to know is in the fic, enjoy 🖤

AO3 | Series Masterlist | Playlist

Ezra smells dust. Nowadays that’s all he can smell. But the deteriorating cabin they had managed to take shelter in certainly wasn’t any help to his poor lungs. He can feel the small specks sticking to the inside of his lungs. He hears you in the kitchen, sounds of plates clicking together, and metal pans scraping as you move them around. Ezra doesn’t concern himself with what you’re doing. At least he tries not to. You’re meant to be nothing more than entertainment, a thing that he would need to turn away from soon enough.

But being on the road for so long, trying to earn their trust— it’s hard to keep the line between caring for and using for nice and fresh.

Joel isn’t much of a problem. He’s easier to push away. Ezra has no complaints with how the older man views him as; untrustworthy, dangerous, a person that should be put down before they attacked first. Ezra can see it in Joel’s eyes. The hatred. But he can also see something else, an anger in the other that is worth investigating. It’s the type of anger that Ezra could use for himself; the type of anger that needs a release. Ezra had no arguments about being on the receiving end of said anger. In fact, it looked like it might be fun.

His fingers skim over the shelves, a thick coat of dust seeping into his fingers. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together, the feeling of it makes his teeth grind.

Lifting his gaze, he skims over the titles. Nothing really that interesting, mostly encyclopedias, some history books…

Ezra’s eyebrows raise when he comes across an old sketchbook. His interest piqued, he picks it up from the shelf. The cover of the book is made of thick, textured leather, worn with age and use. It is a deep, rich brown, almost the color of roasted coffee beans, and is embossed with an intricate design of vines and leaves. The edges of the cover are frayed and soft, as if it has been held and handled many times over the years.

He smooths the pads of his fingers over the surface. He feels every crease, every ripped edge. His pulse quickens, an immediate bond forming between him and this old sketchbook. He doesn’t even know who the owner of it was. With a soft smile, he opens the sketchbook.

The pages creak and crackle beneath his fingertips, revealing a treasure trove of beautiful artwork. The pages are yellowed with age and dotted with small flecks of ink, evidence of an artist's hand. Each page is filled with drawings and sketches that span the entire spectrum of human emotion, from joy to despair.

The sketches themselves are incredibly detailed and lifelike. There are delicate portraits of people, captured in moments of stillness and contemplation, as well as bold landscapes and cityscapes that capture the beauty and chaos of the world before. Some of the sketches are unfinished, with bold, confident strokes of the pen giving way to lighter, hesitant lines that trail off into nothingness.

His thumb traces over the lines that disappear, a sense of familiarity warming his chest. Without showing the others, he sneaks the sketchbook into his inner pocket. He might have some use for it later. At the very least he can stare at it when he’s feeling particularly lost.

The open kitchen area is dominated by a large, rusted stove and a wooden table that has seen better days. Ezra’s eyes move around the wooden exterior, already taking mental notes of what can and can’t be used. The living room is sparsely furnished, with a sagging couch and a few broken chairs placed haphazardly around an unlit fireplace. The atmosphere is heavy with the scent of wood and old smoke. Joel lays on the couch, Ezra can see his boots dangling over the armrest, his body too broad to be contained by such a small and delicate-looking furniture.

Ezra sees a rusted axe leaning against the wall and a pile of old books and tattered clothes lying in the corner. The boarded-up windows are covered in thick layers of dust, and cobwebs stretch across the corners of the ceiling.

Outside, the snow falls heavily, piling up against the cabin's walls. It seems as though time has forgotten this cabin and the surrounding wilderness has reclaimed it.

“Should I light the stove?” you ask from the kitchen, drawing Ezra’s attention. The question isn’t directed at him, but an answer already lays heavy on his tongue.

Before he can say anything, however, Joel beats him to it. A rarity.

“Sure. How else are we suppose’ to eat?”

“I found some cans,” you offer. “Peach and pineapple. Some tuna as well but I’m not sure if we should risk it.”

“Let’s just cook the rabbits.” Joel answers, his voice sounding gruff and heavy with sleep. “I shot them for a reason.”

“We,” Ezra corrects, prompting the twitch of Joel’s left eyebrow. “We shot them for a reason.”

Ezra can’t help but head towards the couch, he stands above Joel’s head, staring down at the man trying to sleep. He gently nudges the couch with the tip of his boot and Joel begrudgingly opens his eyes, a snarl already forming on his lips.

“Wouldn’t lighting a fire put us in danger oh macho man?”

“In this storm, I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to try and get us,” he grunts, closing his eyes once more. Ezra can see the crinkles of his eyes, the crease between his thick brows as he forces his eyes to remain shut.

“Does that mean we can light the fireplace too?” Ezra teases, knowing that Joel probably checked the wood and that it was probably unusable.

Joel doesn’t answer him, and his eyes remain shut.

Rolling his eyes, Ezra turns to you. You seemed to be in a world of your own, struggling with the old stove and poking it with a rusty spatula.

“Need help there little bird?” he coos, his feet bringing him to the kitchen.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” you huff, but smile nonetheless. “But yeah. This thing definitely isn’t cooperating.”

Ezra watches as you make a show of your struggle, as if he doesn’t believe you. Your delicate fingers fumble with the kindling. Something warm and sinister coiling in his stomach, he steps closer. He can almost hear your heartbeat, fluttering like a caged bird.

"Give’em here," he mutters, his voice low as he reaches for the matches. Ezra allows his fingers to brush against yours. He almost groans at the jolt of electricity he feels, a sharp sensation burning him all the way up to his shoulder.

With a flick of his wrist, the kindling ignites, and the flames dance to life.

Your eyes go wide, a brilliant orange flickering in your eyes. He can’t help but lean in, take a closer look. He’s sure you can feel his breath across your cheeks, warming you from the inside out. Sucking a breath, you pull back, your gaze falling to the rabbits on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks.”

“Always a pleasure to be of your assistance,” he answers, lips curling into a cat-like smile. “You two are helping me find my rather precious supplies after all. The least I can do is help prepare dinner.”

Your silence speaks words. Ezra follows your lead, preparing the rabbit and emptying a couple of cans of peas to go along with it. It’s not as chaotic as it would normally be when dinner is being prepared. There isn’t much to do so your movements are more languid, a simple dance as you occupy each other’s spaces. He enjoys the dance. He enjoys the way you try to avoid him by not making eye contact, but he’s more observant than you and Joel give him credit for.

He notices the stolen glances. He notices the way Joel stiffens on the couch, trying to catch on to what was happening, while still keeping his eyes closed.

But by all means, he’s not innocent. Ezra's gaze lingers on your every move, taking in the curve of your neck, the gentle sway of your hips. He wants to grab you by the nape, push you down and fuck you right then and there. Unlike him and Joel, You have an unbridled need to trust others. He likes that about you. He likes that you listen and believe in what he says, despite what your partner in crime might think.

Placing the pieces of rabbit into the pot, you turn to grab a spoon.

Ezra feels it before he sees it— The accidental brush of your ass against his groin, your softness and curves forcing him to hold his breath. A hiss makes its way between clenched teeth. The two of them stay like that, your back to his chest, neither one of you daring to move. Your breathing accelerates slightly, the sound prompting him to further close the distance, his body towering over yours.

Time seems to stand still in that moment, and he’s content to just stay like that forever. Frozen in time. Just like this cabin buried within the snow.

The fabric of his shirt and pants are rough against his skin, and the feeling only serving to heighten the arousal coursing through his veins. He aches to fill you up, to feel the warmth of your body around him, to finally fuck you until you go stupid. His cock stiffens under his pants, eager to follow the path of his twisted mind.

He can’t help himself, his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. You don’t stop, your movements slow as you allow him to hold you. He can hear the blood rush in his ears, his breath comes in shallow gasps.

He can feel Joel’s gaze on them both, but Ezra doesn’t stop.

He’s not a weak man, but he’s not that strong either. That he can fight the temptations

Ezra’s fingers move up your shirt, gently tracing circles on your skin, his touch light, fleeting like every moment in this world was. He wants more than anything to kiss you, to feel your lips on his, to taste your sweetness.

But he can’t.

Some part of Ezra wants Joel to get mad, to march over to the kitchen and bend him over. He wants to hear the older man growl into his ear, telling him to behave. Ezra’s heart races at the thought, his mouth filling with saliva not from the scent of rabbit but from the one that seems to despise him. He lets out a slow breath, his fingers twitching and burrowing themselves further into your body.

Finally, you pull away, your movements a beat too fast, and panicked.

A chill envelopes him without your heat. He ignores the tug at his heart, the ache in his lower stomach. Ezra turns to cook the peas, but in his periphery, he notices Joel still staring at them from the couch. His gaze is blank and unreadable, but there's something about it that makes Ezra's skin crawl.

He turns away, focusing his attention on the food, but the moment has already been broken.

The flickering flames are nothing but small ambers warming the late hours of the night. The cabin is a spacious one, filled with rooms, but Ezra had decided to spend time by the fire, leafing through the sketchbook he’d found before dinner. It’s a pleasantly look through. Ezra had missed seeing other faces beside his and those who he was with. He’d forgotten how different people can look.

He only looks up when the small dots of orange of the ambers also fade away. The cold of the night settles in and he decides to head to bed. They would leave in the early hours of the morning so it’s probably best to sleep early rather than later. Ezra winces at the way his muscles ache, the bottoms of his feet burning with the rough drag of his tattered insoles. He can’t wait to be rid of them.

Walking through the dark hallway, he wonders where you and Joel are asleep at. Ezra, again, had notices that you and Joel are in some kind of situantionship—he suspects there is more to it— but you two never actually slept in the same room together. He presumes it’s part of the deal you two have going on.

Ezra’s fingers graze against the worn walls, all the room doors seem to be wide open, not a soul inside. How peculiar. His lips part and he rubs his jaw, he’s in dire need of a shave.

Once more, he checks the rooms. Nope. There wasn’t a single soul inhabiting these rooms.

His heart races with the sudden thought that you and Joel might’ve ditched him, but then he calms himself. Takes a deep breath. With the snow laying as thickly as it did outside, it would be suicide to leave.

So where the hell are they?

He suddenly catches sight of a faint light in the distance. Intrigued, he quickens his pace and turns the corner to find a covered walkway leading to a small shed.

The walkway is made entirely of glass, with moss and ivy creeping up the walls, the panes reflecting the flickering of the moonlight. Ezra's eyes travel upwards, taking in the sight of the roof, which is covered in a thick layer of snow. The shed itself looks ancient, its wooden walls and door rough and worn.

When he reaches the shed door, he hears heavy breathing and soft moans pouring through the crack of the door. His steps slow. He knows what they’re doing.

He knows that they’re fucking.

His breath caught in his throat, he nears the door until he can peer inside. There’s a lantern dimly illuminating the room and he can see your bodies clearly from where he stands. You’re bare naked, hands hanging on a wooden beam for dear life with your breasts pressed against it. Joel looms behind you. Fully clothed, except for his cock that Ezra can see the base of every time the older man pulls his hips back.

Stupidly, Ezra steps a bit too close, the tip of his boot nudging the wooden door ever so slightly. A creak echoes and Ezra stops breathing. Eyes glued to your moving forms, sweat glistening across your skin, he holds his breath and watches, waiting for one of you to hear him.

Neither you nor Joel notices the uninvited visitor, too lost in the pleasure, in the warmth—in the act of it all.

His cock twitches eagerly, growing under the confinements of his jeans. Licking his lips, he unbuttons himself and sneaks a hand down his pants, cupping his erection. The cold that littered his skin melts away, leaving burning ash and coal in its wake. A soft groan echoes in the back of his throat. His fingers squeezing the base, and moving up to swipe a palm over his weeping head.

He hears your moans, Joel’s grunts. He can’t help it. The other man pounds into you with an intensity and desperation Ezra had only seen in animals. He thinks of the moment in the kitchen, what he thought of when you had your ass pressing against his clothed cock—how desperately he wanted the older man to put Ezra in his palace, how he wanted to feel that anger and hatred being let out against his weaker body.

Heat builds at the end of his spine, he circles his cock with thick fingers, his lips parted as he comes even closer to the door. He can almost smell the sex and sweat clinging to your skin, he wants to get closer, wants to inhale you and burrow you into his lungs. He gives his cock a not-so-gentle tug, hissing as pleasure pricks at his skin.

His fingers move faster, spreading the drops of precum over his length. His breathing becomes shallow and erratic. His balls tight as he watches the two of you. The moans and grunts coming from the two of you become a soft background noise, almost like background music to his own pleasure.

He can hear murmuring but can’t decipher the words. Not that he cares. Ezra’s hips stutter forward, every muscle drawn taut, he slides his hand along his length. Joel grabs at something from the side, underwear—your underwear, to be precise.

His breathing hitches and his heart stops— he watches as Joel brings the fabric to your lips, your moans and words coming only as muffled noises, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Ezra's eyes widen, his body shuddering. He can feel it, he's so close, but he can't bring himself to finish, not yet. He pulls his hand away from his now aching cock and takes a step back, away from the door. His erection still throbbing, he wants to—no, he needs to watch. This is a rarity, something he’s only thought about in the late hours of the night.

He takes a deep breath, his heart still racing and his cock still pulsing. Gathering his thoughts, he takes a step closer to the door, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. He can feel his body heating up, his mouth going dry. Ezra reaches down, feels the weight of his balls, and rolls them over his fingers. He has to bite his bottom lip to not make a noise. His nostrils flare as he breathes heavily, the pleasure burning him from the inside out.

His other hand reaches for his cock, squeezing the head and giving himself hard, slow, strokes.

Ezra continues to watch, mesmerized. Joel shows mercy and reaches for your mouth. The fabric is pulled away, revealing swollen lips and wet, skin. Joel thrusts harder, faster. His hips move with a frantic rhythm, his grunts becoming louder and more frequent.

His chest aches, more precum dripping and making a mess of his pants. He hisses through his teeth.

Ezra’s not sure how much longer he can hold on.

“You realize he’s watchin’ us right?”

He grips your hair and tilts your head back, lips finding a spot over the hallow of your neck. Joel bites into the warm skin, his chest trembling with a growl. Your thighs quiver, your insides desperately clenching around his cock. You do realize but you’re too far gone to care.

And it doesn’t help that your brain purrs at you, telling you how much you’re enjoying Ezra’s hot, heavy gaze on you.

“You like that he’s seein’ you like this? All fucked out barely able to speak.”

“S-Shut up, Joel.”

“You’re a brat.” he clicks his tongue, sharp and loud in your ear. “Takin’ the praise but not takin’ the punishment. That’s not how the world works, honey.”

Joel takes you harder now, pushing you up against the beam, your body trembling as he drives himself into you. His grip tightens around your waist as he pumps into you. You feel the sweat dripping down your skin, your body for him to use. You clench around him, your cunt dripping down his length and wetting your thighs. A soft whimper parts your lips, the burn in your loins a stark reminder that you’re going to be feeling this tomorrow.

“I’m startin’ to think you have a little crush on him, sweetheart. Not sure how I feel ‘bout that.” he grunts. “Or maybe you just wanted to rile me up with that little stunt—grindin’ your ass against him,” Joel presses into you deeper, coaxing a shout trembling in your chest. “You know how I feel about sharin’, especially with someone who’s out to get us.”

“We’ve been on the road for a month. He’s safe. Stop being so paranoid.”

He cups the back of your neck, thick fingers reaching both sides, he squeezes and pulls your head back. His lips touch the side of your cheek, movements slowing to a torturous grind.

“It’s been a month and he’s making us go in circles. How the hell are we supposed to find his equipment after so long? He’s stringing us along for his damn pleasure.”

A grin curls at the corner of your lips. You’re about to say something really stupid, but you can’t help it, you love getting under his skin, pressing his buttons.

“You like him.”

“I don’t.”

Suddenly you feel something dry being shoved between your lips. Your eyes go wide when you realize it’s your underwear, the one Joel had been so eager to rip away from you. Joel clamps a hand over your mouth, his other hand drops to your waist, and blunt nails bite into your skin.

“I’m sick of your yappin’,” he grunts, hips picking up the pace. “Just fuckin’ take it, I don’t need your needless observations.”

You bite into the fabric of your underwear, muffling a moan as Joel drives himself into you. His hips thrust up, pushing him deep inside you, his cock stretching your walls. His grip tightens, drawing a sharp hiss from you. You’re so far gone, barely able to focus on anything besides the pleasure coursing through your veins.

Joel’s breath is hot against your ear, his voice a low, rumbling growl. “He’s probably touchin’ himself. Fuckin’ his fist as he wishes it was your sweet cunt instead.”

Your body quivers, a wave of pleasure crashing over you. The thought of Ezra watching, his eyes hungrily devouring you—another muffled moan seeps into the fabric, spit dripping from the corners of your lips. Joel’s thrusts become more desperate, more primal. His fingers dig into your hips, his grunts turning into a feral snarl as he slams into you.

The pleasure builds, every nerve in your body on fire. Joel’s hand tightens around your throat, his thumb stroking your clit as he continues to drive himself into you. You’re so close, your body trembling. With one final thrust, Joel pushes you over the edge.

He rips the underwear away from your mouth, dropping it to the floor.

You scream, your voice echoing in the night air. All you can think of is Ezra; the darkness of his gaze, the poetic lilt to his tongue—the way he’s probably fucking his fist just like Joel said. You clench, gushing around his cock. His fingers continue to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, lighting your fire again and again as his cock strokes your deepest parts.

“That’s it,” he groans, lips pressed against your heat. You tremble at the rasp in his voice. “You like it, don’t you? Being used by one while being forbidden fruit to the other? My insatiable fuckin’ whore.”

He nuzzles your cheek and it feels like whiplash, but you lean into it, nonetheless. He’s right, you do enjoy it.

Pulling out, Joel follows shortly after, his body going rigid as he spills himself over the curve of your ass. It’s hot and sears your skin, you wish you could feel that warmth inside, feeling it dripping out of you when he pulls away.

You collapse against the beam, your body tingling. You’re sweaty and out of breath, but still, your eyes move to the door. You don’t see him, however, you do hear soft footsteps moving further and further away.

You’re not sure which one of you left the door open, you or Joel.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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