Ezra Prospect X Reader - Tumblr Posts
so fun fact for everyone. i read Helianthus a while back and went nuts and decided to draw ezra with a chunky lil space baby. i intended to make this my first post, but i got shy. but now i have already started posting my art and Jett is continuing that story so!!! here’s daddy ezra!! 💚🌻
also,
irl, i am a doll artist. i specialize with realistic babies (reborns) and used one of mine for a reference for that chunker lol
I fear…. I will never be able to get a massage again without being reminded of this fic 😳
🫠🫠🫠
I WANT EZRA TO GIVE ME THAT SORT OF MASSAGE!!!!
Lavender
You receive a pleasurable massage from Ezra. (4.1k)
Tags - smut, massages, unethical!ezra, softest of soft!dom, wax play, hands in places hands shouldn't be, teasing, fingering, oral (f! receiving) masturbation, ezra creams his pants #creamernation, slight dom vibes from ezra, chamomille tea, ezra is a silvertongued menace Fic help - @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal thank you both for holding my hand through this!!! and for hyping me up, and for being the best part of my day!!! LOVE YOU!!! A/N - hey hey motherfuckers 😛 I hope you enjoy! First time writing Ezra and it’s for my beautiful @noxturnalpascal’s birthday that was a couple weeks ago 🩷 patti i'm not sorry for what i've done. also i love you.
FYI, I’m having tumblr trouble. Notifications aren’t showing in activity in tumblr, so I’m missing out on seeing your likes/rb’s/comments and I’m also having some difficulty replying to comments on my own posts. They just disappear ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I if i don't reply to your kind words, you know what’s up 😵💫🫠 not intentionally ignoring anyone!!
After a sixteen hour drive back home from visiting your family, you’re in nothing but pain. There’s an awful, pinching feeling at your lower back, your hips and knees ache, and your neck is sore. Even laying down in your bed hurts.
You try a couple of different solutions to remedy yourself. Ice pack, heating pad - you never know when you’re supposed to use one or the other. You try stretching, yoga, and increasing your water intake. But after four days of agony, you’ve had it.
There’s a light-purple colored piece of cardstock that’s been hung up on your fridge by a magnet for the last few months. It’s a gift certificate to a spa called Lavender, you won it in a raffle at a charity drag show.
Call (212) 929-5804 to schedule a 90 minute massage of your choice, and please bring this voucher with you to your appointment.
I look forward to pleasuring you.
-Ezra
You feel a flutter in your gut as you read those words: pleasuring you. Fuck, you’re so touch starved, and you begin to imagine what this Ezra could look like. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before you get lost in your dirty thoughts about a massage therapist you’ve never even met before, you need to book an appointment. When you flip the card over, you see a list of services offered by Ezra. Massages of all kinds - chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for, but you schedule your appointment anyway.
-
Friday at 6:40pm, you leave your apartment and begin walking to Lavender. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk away, which you don’t mind because the weather is cooling down and the leaves are beginning to change color. You enjoy the scenery. At 6:57, you walk into the small office for your appointment, a bell jingling as you push open the door. The shades are drawn over the windows, blocking out what little light is cast by the setting sun in the overcast sky. It smells smokey, like incense. Gentle music plays as you wait at the front desk for someone to help you.
After a moment, a man comes out through a door behind the desk. He’s taller, his face is handsome under the low light. His hair is dark apart from a very prominent streak of white in his hairline, his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and graying. And as he makes his way closer to you, you make out a peculiar curved scar on his cheek, right next to a sharp, aquiline nose. The man smiles warmly at you and you silently pray to any god that’ll listen that he’s your massage therapist, and not just the person working the front desk.
“I believe you must be my 7 o’clock, yes?”
Hallelujah.
“Yes, that’s my appointment.”
“Your name, my dove?”
You’re going weak in the knees. He speaks in a low voice, a syrupy thick southern accent pouring from his pouty voice. You tell him your name, tripping over your syllables. The man chuckles, “I’m Ezra. Pleased to meet you,” he says, taking your hand in his before pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling knuckles. “I sense anxiety, my dove. Would I be correct in that assumption?”
You nod. “A little, yeah. Sorry. It’s my first massage.” Ezra’s warm, chocolatey eyes roam your body and you feel flustered, “I uh - I have this…” you dig out the gift certificate from your purse, slightly crumpled now. “From the raffle at that drag show.”
“Ah, yes,” Ezra smiles, taking the certificate from you. “Thank you,” he says, smoothing out the crinkles in the paper. He notices you tapping your fingers rhythmically on his desk, and covers your hand with his own. “There’s no need for anxiety, darlin’. You’re in good hands with me. Perhaps a cup of tea to soothe those nerves of yours before I get started with you?”
“That’d be great, yeah,” you reply.
Ezra opens a nearby cabinet. “What are you in the mood for this evening?”
“Not really sure,” you answer, humming as you think. “Do you have suggestions?”
“That I do,” he says. “I’d suggest somethin’ herbal, no need for caffeine so late. I’ve got peach, I’ve got chamomile vanilla…” Ezra trails off, moving various boxes in the cabinet. “Hot chocolate too, f’ya want.”
“The vanilla one. Please.”
“The vanilla one it shall be, then.”
Ezra makes you a small cup of tea, sweetening it with a bit of honey per your request. He sits you down in a comfortable chair and carefully places the warm mug on an end table next to you, then hands you a clipboard.
“Just some routine paperwork I’d appreciate if you’d fill out for me as I get your room situated. Hope that’s not an issue.”
“Not at all.”
Ezra thanks you and exits the room, leaving you to fill out the paperwork. It’s all the usual questions: Name, date of birth, email, phone number, emergency contact. After that it asks of any allergies, medical conditions, or major surgeries to be aware of. You answer each question accordingly, and then the last section is made up of questions about your massage preferences.
Massage type? (Chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue) - Unsure.
Any areas of the body that need to be focused on or avoided? - Unsure.
Preferred pressure? (light, medium, hard) - Unsure.
Any other preferences or details you’d like to add? - Unsure.
You click the pen and lay it on the completed paperwork, then sip your steaming tea. You wiggle your foot as you anxiously await Ezra’s return.
“I’m ready for you, sweet dove.”
Ezra’s waiting by the door behind the front desk. You drink the last of your tea and follow Ezra into the room, where he takes his clipboard back from you. The room is dark, darker than the waiting area. It’s lit by a couple of plain candles, warm light flickering against the walls as soft piano music plays from a speaker. “Your purse,” Ezra motions for you to remove your bag, then hangs it over a hook on the door. “And your jacket, if I may,” he murmurs from behind you, hooking his fingers between the collar of your jacket and your body, waiting for you to unzip it before he pulls it off of your shoulders and hangs it up. Your skin tingles as his fingers brush over you, just a taste of what’s to come.
“Undress for me as I go over your paperwork outside. I’ll knock on the door and wait for your word before re-entering.”
“How much? How…” you trail off, bashful as you try to complete the sentence. Ezra knows what you’re trying to ask, though. “To your leisure, darlin’, though my suggestion would be to the nude, jewelry and all. The choice is yours. And once you’re done, lie on the table for me. You may protect your modesty with the towel I’ve provided for you right here.” Ezra pats a white towel that sits folded on the counter, next to a little crystal jewelry dish.
Ezra leaves, gently shutting the door behind himself. He examines your paperwork behind the closed door as he hears rustling on the other side, the sound of you undressing. You leave your clothes in a pile on a chair, then cover your body with the towel. You lay on the massage table, pleasantly surprised that Ezra’s been warming it for you. You’re still a little nervous, so you focus on breathing deeply and calming yourself down as you wait to hear Ezra’s knock. You listen to the gentle piano playing, trying to place where you’ve heard this song before.
Knock knock.
“Come in,” you call out, and Ezra opens the door. He closes it again softly and stands by the counter, readying some supplies. “What’s this song?”
“S’a piano cover of The Cure,” Ezra answers. “Last Day of Summer.”
“Mmm. I never really liked them,” you admit.
Ezra chuckles softly. “To each their own, I ‘spose. But I must inform you that you’re missin’ out, my dove.”
You’re grateful Ezra can’t see your smile or your bashful expression at the pet name as you rest your face in the cradle of the table. “I do like this,” you tell him. “The piano cover.”
“I do too. Relaxing, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, it is. Very.”
“Indeed. Now, I’d like to go over a couple of items on your paperwork before we commence. I believe you had stated that you’ve never received a massage before, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“And you’re unsure of your preferences or areas of your body I should pay special attention to or avoid.”
“That’s right, yeah.” Ezra hums in response, then goes quiet. “...I hope that’s not a problem?”
“Worry not, dove, s’not a problem at all. Jus’ means I’ll be takin’ a more…experimental approach to massagin’ your body, s’all.”
“Oh. Uh…experimental how?”
“Your massage will entail the utilization of a variety of techniques, to thoroughly explore all parts of your body. By my listenin’ to both your verbal and nonverbal cues, and by checkin’ in, askin’ you questions about how you’re feelin’,” Ezra explains, “I’ll get to know your body and how best to please you. It’ll make things run nice an’ creamy for us both.”
“O-okay. That sounds good.”
You’re in trouble. Each of Ezra’s words, spoken through a honey-sweet tone, goes straight to your core. You wonder how slick you are between your thighs, if Ezra’ll notice.
“I believe we’re ready to begin, then, dove.”
Ezra lights some dragon’s blood scented incense, then washes his hands with hot water. Best not to startle you with cold hands. He approaches you on the massage table, you can smell him even through the smokey scent of the incense. He’s clean and citrusy, you wonder what cologne he wears. He places something on a rolling table and then reaches for your towel, gently tugging the tucked in ends from beneath your body. “Lift up a little for me, my dove. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
You hoist yourself up, lifting your torso into the air so Ezra can pull the ends of the towel from under you. Cool air hits the skin of your exposed breasts, though your nipples are already hardened by your arousal. Once you lie back down, Ezra folds the towel down your torso so that only your ass and legs remain covered. “And I’ll be talkin’ you through my process, so nothin’ comes as a surprise.”
“Mm.”
“Gonna begin by drizzling some oil over your back, to keep your skin nice and properly lubricated as I massage you. Ready?”
“Ready,” you mumble.
“It seems you’ve forgotten to remove your jewelry,” he whispers, unclasping the necklace you wear. You lift slightly so that he can carefully remove the chain and pendant, then sets it down. Ezra takes the item he set on the rolling table, a massage candle that’s been burning for a while, the oil completely liquified. He holds it a couple inches above your back and then tilts it, hot oil dripping down your skin and surprising you. “My apologies, dove. I didn’t intend to startle you. You’ll get used to the warmth, I promise.”
Ezra drips a bit more oil on your body, then sets it back down on the rolling table. “Gonna touch you, now,” he whispers. You sigh as you feel his hands finally touch your skin, calloused palms rubbing the oil from your shoulders down to your lower back. He begins by massaging your neck, thumbs sliding down your skin, over and over and over before traveling lower, massaging your traps and shoulders, the backs of your arms a little bit. His hands travel back up your shoulders where the skin meets your neck and massages with a firm pressure, causing you to wince. “Ohh, I know, I know. You’re quite tender, there, my dove. If you’d so kindly allow me to work out this tightness, I think it’d benefit you tremendously.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Ezra massages you by pressing firmly into your skin, thumbs moving in circles, back and forth. “Relax,” he whispers. “Soften yourself. I’ve got you. Breathe in…”
You draw in a deep breath, Ezra’s movements momentarily pausing.
“...And out.”
On your exhale, he massages the tense part of your neck, satisfied at how you’ve relaxed your body for him. He works out the tension, “Good, attagirl,” he praises, hands sliding down the rest of your back. He uses long strokes to massage up and down your spine, then your sides. You let out soft noises, noises indicating pleasure, not pain. Ezra notices how you quiet yourself, voiceless exhales instead of moans. “You don’t have to quiet yourself on my account, dove. I encourage any vocal or physical manifestation of your pleasure.”
Ezra’s hands feel like magic as they travel up and down your back, squeezing and sliding over your oiled skin. He walks his hands down your arms, down your palms, pausing when he reaches your fingers, “I believe you’ve forgotten to remove some more jewelry, darlin’. May I take these rings off of your fingers?”
“Yeah, please.”
Ezra wiggles your rings off of the fingers of your right hand, then the left. They make soft, metallic noises as they clink against each other in Ezra’s palm. “Beautiful rings, my dear,” he murmurs before setting them down on the rolling cart, next to the necklace he’d taken off for you. Ezra massages your forearms, your wrists, your palms and fingers, first one hand and then the other. When he’s done, you hear the soft shuffle of fabric as he moves to the end of the massage table, rolling his cart with him. “I’d like to ask for consent before massaging your feet, my dove, as I’ve been kicked before by some rather ticklish clients.”
“I’m a little ticklish, too” you admit shyly. “I can never get pedicures because of it. Have to do my toes at home.”
Ezra chuckles. “I find that firm pressure is most effective in preventing that sensation. May I try?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
Ezra pours a bit of oil in his hands and rubs them together before reaching for one of your feet, your toes wiggling and curling at his touch. “Shh, jus’ relax,” he coos softly, smirking at your sensitivity. With a steady, hard pressure, Ezra massages your foot. “Focus on your breathin’. It’s ‘sposed to feel good, I ain’t tryin’ to play a dirty trick on you.”
The tickling sensation is there, but with steady, deep breaths, you’re able to control it and allow yourself the pleasure of having your feet massaged. You stretch out the way a cat does when it relaxes, and Ezra smiles in satisfaction. “There it is. Feel good?”
“S’good,” you sigh.
Ezra massages from your feet to your ankles, then folds the towel up and over your ass to expose your legs fully. He massages from your ankles up your calves, and oh - it feels incredible. You moan freely, feeling more confident to do so after his kind encouragement. You melt under his touch, arching into it as he works up your thighs, drizzling more oil before rubbing your skin. His hands are kneading the plump flesh of your ass now, one hand on each cheek, his thumbs close to your pussy. He admires that pretty diamond shape of your ass and thighs framing your bare pussy, and he notices how you drip for him. “Ezra,” his name slips from your lips in a whimper as he spreads your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt.
“You seem quite enthused, little dove,” Ezra smirks.
“Yeah…feel - feels good. So good, s-so…”
“I’m pleased to hear it, my darlin’.”
“Ezra,” you whine in betrayal when you feel Ezra’s hands leave your body, the pressure of his touch lingering on your skin.
“My, such an ardent complaint,” Ezra remarks. “I hate to disappoint, but I implore you to trust my process. I won’t leave you dissatisfied, sweetheart.” Ezra unfolds the towel back over your body, then lifts it slightly, “Now, on your back for me.”
You flip yourself onto your back, and once settled, Ezra folds the towel down to cover your lower half, leaving your breasts exposed. He keeps the temperature of the air in the room warm, but your nipples are hardened anyway, hardened by your arousal. Your heart pounds as you watch him, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. You turn your head to watch him reach for his massage oil candle, your breath hitching when you see his pants visibly tented by his erection. He doesn’t bother hiding it.
Ezra watches you with dark, sparkling eyes as he drips the oil on your body, the candlelight flickering, illuminating his handsome features with a warm glow. He massages your shoulders and your chest, hands gliding over your breasts and abdomen, then back up again. You gasp when his thumb catches your nipple, and Ezra raises an eyebrow. He circles your areola with his thumb, pinching and twisting your other nipple gently, teasing you. “Fuck,” you cry out, raising your hand to hold Ezra’s strong, muscular, veiny forearm.
“You’re doin’ so good,” he whispers, then places your hand down at your side. He pulls the towel down your body some more as he massages down your sides and your hips, lifting one of your legs so he can massage both sides of your thigh. Your legs are spread for him, pussy on display and glistening with your arousal. “Oh, little dove. Such a mess you’re makin’ of my table.”
You bite your lip and whine as Ezra’s fingers just barely touch your lips, achingly close to where you need his touch the most. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.
“I don’t wanna hear you apologizin’, sweetheart. I won’t stand for it,” Ezra lays your bent leg back down, then rounds the table and lifts your other leg. “‘Sides,” he says, “S’only natural, how your body reacts to my touch. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”
You smile shyly as Ezra massages up and down your thigh, teasing you just how he did before. You tilt yourself into his touch, moaning as he approaches your wet cunt, waiting to feel his fingers between your folds. But you never do.
“We’re comin’ up on the end of our appointment,” Ezra warns. “If there’s an area of your body that you feel needs special attention before we conclude, let me know.”
“Ezra–” You reach for his wrist and urge him to touch you between your thighs.
“Something that still needs tending to, my dove?”
You nod frantically. “Please–”
“Use your words,” he interrupts, his voice low. “You have to ask me for what you want. I’m unable to alleviate your discomfort if you don’t tell me what you need, sweetheart.” Ezra’s fingers hover over your core, feeling the heat radiating from you. You stutter out something incoherent, and Ezra dips his fingers lower, ever so gently touching you. He traces your folds, waiting for your answer. “Ask me.”
“I want you to make me come, Ezra,” you beg, “Please.”
“I can do that in many ways. Tell me how, little dove. Tell me where you need me to touch you.”
Ezra wears a crooked smile. This, this is his loophole. He knows that technically, as a professional, this is a line he shouldn’t cross. But he can’t help himself, you moan so sweetly for him even without his fingers buried in your cunt. Sensation is subjective, so you can’t say his teasing is intentional, deliberate. It’s your own reaction, and not Ezra’s fault if you feel aroused during massage - after all, it’s a completely natural response to physical stimulation. By making you ask - beg - for what he’s coaxed you to want from him, Ezra evades responsibility. This is on you.
“I want your fingers in my pussy,” you breathe, pressing his thick fingers against your slick center. “Please.”
Ezra inserts his middle and ring fingers into your dripping hole, feeling your muscles tense around his digits as he gathers your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out and then traces up and down your pussy, loving the way his fingers slip and slide through your slick folds. He circles your clit once, twice, then explores the feeling of your lips again. “Check in with me, darlin’, how are you feeling?”
You answer Ezra’s question with a mess of breathy moans, and he chuckles at that. He paints steady circles around your clit and glides his other hand over your oiled body, fingers catching your pebbled nipples. Ezra leans over and keeps his face close to yours, grinning proudly when you gasp as he pushes those two fingers of his back inside you. Your legs clamp shut around his arm as he curls his fingers rhythmically, stroking that spongy, sweet spot inside of you that makes you squirm. “Ezra, Ezra,” you cry.
“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “Open up for me.” Ezra traces your face with his sharp nose, his hot, minty breath fanning over your skin. As you spread your legs, he bites your earlobe gently. “Stay like this now, little dove. Let me please you.”
Ezra stands up straight again, his warm, masculine hand sliding down your sternum and your stomach, fingers reaching for that tight bundle of nerves between your thighs. As he works his fingers inside you, he circles your clit, using both hands to pleasure you. You’re close, and it’s taken no time at all. Arching your back, you tilt your head and close your eyes as you lean into his touch, focusing on your impending release. “Look at me when you come,” he commands. “Eyes on me.”
“Fuck, Ezra–”
“I know, little dove, I know,” he coos.
He replaces his fingers with his tongue, knees cracking as he kneels before you. By pressing a button beneath the table he lowers it, bringing you to a comfortable height for himself. You don’t notice him dipping his fingers into the candle, then shoving his hand beneath the waistband of his linen pants. He toys with his hard cock, stiff member aching, leaking just for you.
All you can focus on is the pleasure building deep in your gut. You watch Ezra, he’s gazing upon you with hooded eyes. He seems entranced by it all, the sensation of your pulsing cunt, the slick noises his fingers make while inside you. He hums at your taste, that sweet, musky flavor of your pussy. You tug his dark hair as he circles your clit with his tongue, “Fuck, right there,” you gasp. “Right there, Ezra, please.”
As Ezra’s tongue slides over your clit, fingers steadily curling inside you, he pumps himself. His big hand slides up and down his shaft, he can feel each of his swollen, prominent veins under his palm. He grips himself tightly, fucking his fist with fervor.
“I’m there, I’m there,” you cry. You come on his tongue with loud, frantic moans, maintaining eye contact, just like he told you to do. He works you through it, your pussy soaking his fingers, his nose, arousal dripping all the way down into his palm. Moans of pleasure shifting to noises of overstimulation, Ezra continuing to fuck you on his fingers as he fucks his fist. He groans against your cunt as he comes, painting his own hand with hot, milky ropes of his come. He drags his release out, teasing both himself and you as he comes down.
Gently, Ezra pulls his fingers from your core, then pulls his own hand out of his pants. He turns to wash his hands at the sink but you stop him, reaching for his wrist. “N-need to taste you,” you breathe. “Let me taste you, Ezra.”
Ezra smiles warmly. “I’m flattered by your enthusiasm to reciprocate the pleasure, little dove, but I must confess I’ve taken care of my arousal already. This is your time to relax and to immerse yourself in pleasure, dove, not mine.”
You pout.
“But if you desire to taste me…”
Ezra holds his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with silky ribbons of his come. You bring his palm to your lips, then lick and suck his fingers clean of his spend, humming at the salty, heady taste.
When done, Ezra helps you sit up. “I’ll wait out front for you to get dressed, and then we can schedule a follow-up appointment,” he says, a mischievous look in his eye. “Don’t forget your jewelry on my cart, little dove.”
Comments, reblogs, and asks are so very appreciated!! I love to hear your kind words about my work, they keep me motivated to write for you all <3
Lavender
You receive a pleasurable massage from Ezra. (4.1k)
Tags - smut, massages, unethical!ezra, softest of soft!dom, wax play, hands in places hands shouldn't be, teasing, fingering, oral (f! receiving) masturbation, ezra creams his pants #creamernation, slight dom vibes from ezra, chamomille tea, ezra is a silvertongued menace, light foot action - assume reader has clean tootsies. Fic help - @endlessthxxghts and @beefrobeefcal thank you both for holding my hand through this!!! and for hyping me up, and for being the best part of my day!!! LOVE YOU!!! A/N - hey hey motherfuckers 😛 I hope you enjoy! First time writing Ezra and it’s for my beautiful @noxturnalpascal’s birthday that was a couple weeks ago 🩷 patti i'm not sorry for what i've done. also i love you.
FYI, I’m having tumblr trouble. Notifications aren’t showing in activity in tumblr, so I’m missing out on seeing your likes/rb’s/comments and I’m also having some difficulty replying to comments on my own posts. They just disappear ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I if i don't reply to your kind words, you know what’s up 😵💫🫠 not intentionally ignoring anyone!!
After a sixteen hour drive back home from visiting your family, you’re in nothing but pain. There’s an awful, pinching feeling at your lower back, your hips and knees ache, and your neck is sore. Even laying down in your bed hurts.
You try a couple of different solutions to remedy yourself. Ice pack, heating pad - you never know when you’re supposed to use one or the other. You try stretching, yoga, and increasing your water intake. But after four days of agony, you’ve had it.
There’s a light-purple colored piece of cardstock that’s been hung up on your fridge by a magnet for the last few months. It’s a gift certificate to a spa called Lavender, you won it in a raffle at a charity drag show.
Call (212) 929-5804 to schedule a 90 minute massage of your choice, and please bring this voucher with you to your appointment.
I look forward to pleasuring you.
-Ezra
You feel a flutter in your gut as you read those words: pleasuring you. Fuck, you’re so touch starved, and you begin to imagine what this Ezra could look like. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Before you get lost in your dirty thoughts about a massage therapist you’ve never even met before, you need to book an appointment. When you flip the card over, you see a list of services offered by Ezra. Massages of all kinds - chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for, but you schedule your appointment anyway.
-
Friday at 6:40pm, you leave your apartment and begin walking to Lavender. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk away, which you don’t mind because the weather is cooling down and the leaves are beginning to change color. You enjoy the scenery. At 6:57, you walk into the small office for your appointment, a bell jingling as you push open the door. The shades are drawn over the windows, blocking out what little light is cast by the setting sun in the overcast sky. It smells smokey, like incense. Gentle music plays as you wait at the front desk for someone to help you.
After a moment, a man comes out through a door behind the desk. He’s taller, his face is handsome under the low light. His hair is dark apart from a very prominent streak of white in his hairline, his beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and graying. And as he makes his way closer to you, you make out a peculiar curved scar on his cheek, right next to a sharp, aquiline nose. The man smiles warmly at you and you silently pray to any god that’ll listen that he’s your massage therapist, and not just the person working the front desk.
“I believe you must be my 7 o’clock, yes?”
Hallelujah.
“Yes, that’s my appointment.”
“Your name, my dove?”
You’re going weak in the knees. He speaks in a low voice, a syrupy thick southern accent pouring from his pouty lips. You tell him your name, tripping over your syllables. The man chuckles, “I’m Ezra. Pleased to meet you,” he says, taking your hand in his before pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling knuckles. “I sense anxiety, my dove. Would I be correct in that assumption?”
You nod. “A little, yeah. Sorry. It’s my first massage.” Ezra’s warm, chocolatey eyes roam your body and you feel flustered, “I uh - I have this…” you dig out the gift certificate from your purse, slightly crumpled now. “From the raffle at that drag show.”
“Ah, yes,” Ezra smiles, taking the certificate from you. “Thank you,” he says, smoothing out the crinkles in the paper. He notices you tapping your fingers rhythmically on his desk, and covers your hand with his own. “There’s no need for anxiety, darlin’. You’re in good hands with me. Perhaps a cup of tea to soothe those nerves of yours before I get started with you?”
“That’d be great, yeah,” you reply.
Ezra opens a nearby cabinet. “What are you in the mood for this evening?”
“Not really sure,” you answer, humming as you think. “Do you have suggestions?”
“That I do,” he says. “I’d suggest somethin’ herbal, no need for caffeine so late. I’ve got peach, I’ve got chamomile vanilla…” Ezra trails off, moving various boxes in the cabinet. “Hot chocolate too, f’ya want.”
“The vanilla one. Please.”
“The vanilla one it shall be, then.”
Ezra makes you a small cup of tea, sweetening it with a bit of honey per your request. He sits you down in a comfortable chair and carefully places the warm mug on an end table next to you, then hands you a clipboard.
“Just some routine paperwork I’d appreciate if you’d fill out for me as I get your room situated. Hope that’s not an issue.”
“Not at all.”
Ezra thanks you and exits the room, leaving you to fill out the paperwork. It’s all the usual questions: Name, date of birth, email, phone number, emergency contact. After that it asks of any allergies, medical conditions, or major surgeries to be aware of. You answer each question accordingly, and then the last section is made up of questions about your massage preferences.
Massage type? (Chakra balancing, prenatal, PMS, stress-relief, hot stone, cupping, deep tissue) - Unsure.
Any areas of the body that need to be focused on or avoided? - Unsure.
Preferred pressure? (light, medium, hard) - Unsure.
Any other preferences or details you’d like to add? - Unsure.
You click the pen and lay it on the completed paperwork, then sip your steaming tea. You wiggle your foot as you anxiously await Ezra’s return.
“I’m ready for you, sweet dove.”
Ezra’s waiting by the door behind the front desk. You drink the last of your tea and follow Ezra into the room, where he takes his clipboard back from you. The room is dark, darker than the waiting area. It’s lit by a couple of plain candles, warm light flickering against the walls as soft piano music plays from a speaker. “Your purse,” Ezra motions for you to remove your bag, then hangs it over a hook on the door. “And your jacket, if I may,” he murmurs from behind you, hooking his fingers between the collar of your jacket and your body, waiting for you to unzip it before he pulls it off of your shoulders and hangs it up. Your skin tingles as his fingers brush over you, just a taste of what’s to come.
“Undress for me as I go over your paperwork outside. I’ll knock on the door and wait for your word before re-entering.”
“How much? How…” you trail off, bashful as you try to complete the sentence. Ezra knows what you’re trying to ask, though. “To your leisure, darlin’, though my suggestion would be to the nude, jewelry and all. The choice is yours. And once you’re done, lie on the table for me. You may protect your modesty with the towel I’ve provided for you right here.” Ezra pats a white towel that sits folded on the counter, next to a little crystal jewelry dish.
Ezra leaves, gently shutting the door behind himself. He examines your paperwork behind the closed door as he hears rustling on the other side, the sound of you undressing. You leave your clothes in a pile on a chair, then cover your body with the towel. You lay on the massage table, pleasantly surprised that Ezra’s been warming it for you. You’re still a little nervous, so you focus on breathing deeply and calming yourself down as you wait to hear Ezra’s knock. You listen to the gentle piano playing, trying to place where you’ve heard this song before.
Knock knock.
“Come in,” you call out, and Ezra opens the door. He closes it again softly and stands by the counter, readying some supplies. “What’s this song?”
“S’a piano cover of The Cure,” Ezra answers. “Last Day of Summer.”
“Mmm. I never really liked them,” you admit.
Ezra chuckles softly. “To each their own, I ‘spose. But I must inform you that you’re missin’ out, my dove.”
You’re grateful Ezra can’t see your smile or your bashful expression at the pet name as you rest your face in the cradle of the table. “I do like this,” you tell him. “The piano cover.”
“I do too. Relaxing, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, it is. Very.”
“Indeed. Now, I’d like to go over a couple of items on your paperwork before we commence. I believe you had stated that you’ve never received a massage before, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“And you’re unsure of your preferences or areas of your body I should pay special attention to or avoid.”
“That’s right, yeah.” Ezra hums in response, then goes quiet. “...I hope that’s not a problem?”
“Worry not, dove, s’not a problem at all. Jus’ means I’ll be takin’ a more…experimental approach to massagin’ your body, s’all.”
“Oh. Uh…experimental how?”
“Your massage will entail the utilization of a variety of techniques, to thoroughly explore all parts of your body. By my listenin’ to both your verbal and nonverbal cues, and by checkin’ in, askin’ you questions about how you’re feelin’,” Ezra explains, “I’ll get to know your body and how best to please you. It’ll make things run nice an’ creamy for us both.”
“O-okay. That sounds good.”
You’re in trouble. Each of Ezra’s words, spoken through a honey-sweet tone, goes straight to your core. You wonder how slick you are between your thighs, if Ezra’ll notice.
“I believe we’re ready to begin, then, dove.”
Ezra lights some dragon’s blood scented incense, then washes his hands with hot water. Best not to startle you with cold hands. He approaches you on the massage table, you can smell him even through the smokey scent of the incense. He’s clean and citrusy, you wonder what cologne he wears. He places something on a rolling table and then reaches for your towel, gently tugging the tucked in ends from beneath your body. “Lift up a little for me, my dove. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
You hoist yourself up, lifting your torso into the air so Ezra can pull the ends of the towel from under you. Cool air hits the skin of your exposed breasts, though your nipples are already hardened by your arousal. Once you lie back down, Ezra folds the towel down your torso so that only your ass and legs remain covered. “And I’ll be talkin’ you through my process, so nothin’ comes as a surprise.”
“Mm.”
“Gonna begin by drizzling some oil over your back, to keep your skin nice and properly lubricated as I massage you. Ready?”
“Ready,” you mumble.
“It seems you’ve forgotten to remove your jewelry,” he whispers, unclasping the necklace you wear. You lift slightly so that he can carefully remove the chain and pendant, then sets it down. Ezra takes the item he set on the rolling table, a massage candle that’s been burning for a while, the oil completely liquified. He holds it a couple inches above your back and then tilts it, hot oil dripping down your skin and surprising you. “My apologies, dove. I didn’t intend to startle you. You’ll get used to the warmth, I promise.”
Ezra drips a bit more oil on your body, then sets it back down on the rolling table. “Gonna touch you, now,” he whispers. You sigh as you feel his hands finally touch your skin, calloused palms rubbing the oil from your shoulders down to your lower back. He begins by massaging your neck, thumbs sliding down your skin, over and over and over before traveling lower, massaging your traps and shoulders, the backs of your arms a little bit. His hands travel back up your shoulders where the skin meets your neck and massages with a firm pressure, causing you to wince. “Ohh, I know, I know. You’re quite tender, there, my dove. If you’d so kindly allow me to work out this tightness, I think it’d benefit you tremendously.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Ezra massages you by pressing firmly into your skin, thumbs moving in circles, back and forth. “Relax,” he whispers. “Soften yourself. I’ve got you. Breathe in…”
You draw in a deep breath, Ezra’s movements momentarily pausing.
“...And out.”
On your exhale, he massages the tense part of your neck, satisfied at how you’ve relaxed your body for him. He works out the tension, “Good, attagirl,” he praises, hands sliding down the rest of your back. He uses long strokes to massage up and down your spine, then your sides. You let out soft noises, noises indicating pleasure, not pain. Ezra notices how you quiet yourself, voiceless exhales instead of moans. “You don’t have to quiet yourself on my account, dove. I encourage any vocal or physical manifestation of your pleasure.”
Ezra’s hands feel like magic as they travel up and down your back, squeezing and sliding over your oiled skin. He walks his hands down your arms, down your palms, pausing when he reaches your fingers, “I believe you’ve forgotten to remove some more jewelry, darlin’. May I take these rings off of your fingers?”
“Yeah, please.”
Ezra wiggles your rings off of the fingers of your right hand, then the left. They make soft, metallic noises as they clink against each other in Ezra’s palm. “Beautiful rings, my dear,” he murmurs before setting them down on the rolling cart, next to the necklace he’d taken off for you. Ezra massages your forearms, your wrists, your palms and fingers, first one hand and then the other. When he’s done, you hear the soft shuffle of fabric as he moves to the end of the massage table, rolling his cart with him. “I’d like to ask for consent before massaging your feet, my dove, as I’ve been kicked before by some rather ticklish clients.”
“I’m a little ticklish, too” you admit shyly. “I can never get pedicures because of it. Have to do my toes at home.”
Ezra chuckles. “I find that firm pressure is most effective in preventing that sensation. May I try?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
Ezra pours a bit of oil in his hands and rubs them together before reaching for one of your feet, your toes wiggling and curling at his touch. “Shh, jus’ relax,” he coos softly, smirking at your sensitivity. With a steady, hard pressure, Ezra massages your foot. “Focus on your breathin’. It’s ‘sposed to feel good, I ain’t tryin’ to play a dirty trick on you.”
The tickling sensation is there, but with steady, deep breaths, you’re able to control it and allow yourself the pleasure of having your feet massaged. You stretch out the way a cat does when it relaxes, and Ezra smiles in satisfaction. “There it is. Feel good?”
“S’good,” you sigh.
Ezra massages from your feet to your ankles, then folds the towel up and over your ass to expose your legs fully. He massages from your ankles up your calves, and oh - it feels incredible. You moan freely, feeling more confident to do so after his kind encouragement. You melt under his touch, arching into it as he works up your thighs, drizzling more oil before rubbing your skin. His hands are kneading the plump flesh of your ass now, one hand on each cheek, his thumbs close to your pussy. He admires that pretty diamond shape of your ass and thighs framing your bare pussy, and he notices how you drip for him. “Ezra,” his name slips from your lips in a whimper as he spreads your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the coarse hair that surrounds your cunt.
“You seem quite enthused, little dove,” Ezra smirks.
“Yeah…feel - feels good. So good, s-so…”
“I’m pleased to hear it, my darlin’.”
“Ezra,” you whine in betrayal when you feel Ezra’s hands leave your body, the pressure of his touch lingering on your skin.
“My, such an ardent complaint,” Ezra remarks. “I hate to disappoint, but I implore you to trust my process. I won’t leave you dissatisfied, sweetheart.” Ezra unfolds the towel back over your body, then lifts it slightly, “Now, on your back for me.”
You flip yourself onto your back, and once settled, Ezra folds the towel down to cover your lower half, leaving your breasts exposed. He keeps the temperature of the air in the room warm, but your nipples are hardened anyway, hardened by your arousal. Your heart pounds as you watch him, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. You turn your head to watch him reach for his massage oil candle, your breath hitching when you see his pants visibly tented by his erection. He doesn’t bother hiding it.
Ezra watches you with dark, sparkling eyes as he drips the oil on your body, the candlelight flickering, illuminating his handsome features with a warm glow. He massages your shoulders and your chest, hands gliding over your breasts and abdomen, then back up again. You gasp when his thumb catches your nipple, and Ezra raises an eyebrow. He circles your areola with his thumb, pinching and twisting your other nipple gently, teasing you. “Fuck,” you cry out, raising your hand to hold Ezra’s strong, muscular, veiny forearm.
“You’re doin’ so good,” he whispers, then places your hand down at your side. He pulls the towel down your body some more as he massages down your sides and your hips, lifting one of your legs so he can massage both sides of your thigh. Your legs are spread for him, pussy on display and glistening with your arousal. “Oh, little dove. Such a mess you’re makin’ of my table.”
You bite your lip and whine as Ezra’s fingers just barely touch your lips, achingly close to where you need his touch the most. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.
“I don’t wanna hear you apologizin’, sweetheart. I won’t stand for it,” Ezra lays your bent leg back down, then rounds the table and lifts your other leg. “‘Sides,” he says, “S’only natural, how your body reacts to my touch. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”
You smile shyly as Ezra massages up and down your thigh, teasing you just how he did before. You tilt yourself into his touch, moaning as he approaches your wet cunt, waiting to feel his fingers between your folds. But you never do.
“We’re comin’ up on the end of our appointment,” Ezra warns. “If there’s an area of your body that you feel needs special attention before we conclude, let me know.”
“Ezra–” You reach for his wrist and urge him to touch you between your thighs.
“Something that still needs tending to, my dove?”
You nod frantically. “Please–”
“Use your words,” he interrupts, his voice low. “You have to ask me for what you want. I’m unable to alleviate your discomfort if you don’t tell me what you need, sweetheart.” Ezra’s fingers hover over your core, feeling the heat radiating from you. You stutter out something incoherent, and Ezra dips his fingers lower, ever so gently touching you. He traces your folds, waiting for your answer. “Ask me.”
“I want you to make me come, Ezra,” you beg, “Please.”
“I can do that in many ways. Tell me how, little dove. Tell me where you need me to touch you.”
Ezra wears a crooked smile. This, this is his loophole. He knows that technically, as a professional, this is a line he shouldn’t cross. But he can’t help himself, you moan so sweetly for him even without his fingers buried in your cunt. Sensation is subjective, so you can’t say his teasing is intentional, deliberate. It’s your own reaction, and not Ezra’s fault if you feel aroused during massage - after all, it’s a completely natural response to physical stimulation. By making you ask - beg - for what he’s coaxed you to want from him, Ezra evades responsibility. This is on you.
“I want your fingers in my pussy,” you breathe, pressing his thick fingers against your slick center. “Please.”
Ezra inserts his middle and ring fingers into your dripping hole, feeling your muscles tense around his digits as he gathers your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out and then traces up and down your pussy, loving the way his fingers slip and slide through your slick folds. He circles your clit once, twice, then explores the feeling of your lips again. “Check in with me, darlin’, how are you feeling?”
You answer Ezra’s question with a mess of breathy moans, and he chuckles at that. He paints steady circles around your clit and glides his other hand over your oiled body, fingers catching your pebbled nipples. Ezra leans over and keeps his face close to yours, grinning proudly when you gasp as he pushes those two fingers of his back inside you. Your legs clamp shut around his arm as he curls his fingers rhythmically, stroking that spongy, sweet spot inside of you that makes you squirm. “Ezra, Ezra,” you cry.
“Shhhh,” he hushes you, “Open up for me.” Ezra traces your face with his sharp nose, his hot, minty breath fanning over your skin. As you spread your legs, he bites your earlobe gently. “Stay like this now, little dove. Let me please you.”
Ezra stands up straight again, his warm, masculine hand sliding down your sternum and your stomach, fingers reaching for that tight bundle of nerves between your thighs. As he works his fingers inside you, he circles your clit, using both hands to pleasure you. You’re close, and it’s taken no time at all. Arching your back, you tilt your head and close your eyes as you lean into his touch, focusing on your impending release. “Look at me when you come,” he commands. “Eyes on me.”
“Fuck, Ezra–”
“I know, little dove, I know,” he coos.
He replaces his fingers with his tongue, knees cracking as he kneels before you. By pressing a button beneath the table he lowers it, bringing you to a comfortable height for himself. You don’t notice him dipping his fingers into the candle, then shoving his hand beneath the waistband of his linen pants. He toys with his hard cock, stiff member aching, leaking just for you.
All you can focus on is the pleasure building deep in your gut. You watch Ezra, he’s gazing upon you with hooded eyes. He seems entranced by it all, the sensation of your pulsing cunt, the slick noises his fingers make while inside you. He hums at your taste, that sweet, musky flavor of your pussy. You tug his dark hair as he circles your clit with his tongue, “Fuck, right there,” you gasp. “Right there, Ezra, please.”
As Ezra’s tongue slides over your clit, fingers steadily curling inside you, he pumps himself. His big hand slides up and down his shaft, he can feel each of his swollen, prominent veins under his palm. He grips himself tightly, fucking his fist with fervor.
“I’m there, I’m there,” you cry. You come on his tongue with loud, frantic moans, maintaining eye contact, just like he told you to do. He works you through it, your pussy soaking his fingers, his nose, arousal dripping all the way down into his palm. Moans of pleasure shifting to noises of overstimulation, Ezra continuing to fuck you on his fingers as he fucks his fist. He groans against your cunt as he comes, painting his own hand with hot, milky ropes of his come. He drags his release out, teasing both himself and you as he comes down.
Gently, Ezra pulls his fingers from your core, then pulls his own hand out of his pants. He turns to wash his hands at the sink but you stop him, reaching for his wrist. “N-need to taste you,” you breathe. “Let me taste you, Ezra.”
Ezra smiles warmly. “I’m flattered by your enthusiasm to reciprocate the pleasure, little dove, but I must confess I’ve taken care of my arousal already. This is your time to relax and to immerse yourself in pleasure, not mine.”
You pout.
“But if you desire to taste me…”
Ezra holds his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with silky ribbons of his come. You bring his palm to your lips, then lick and suck his fingers clean of his spend, humming at the salty, heady taste.
When done, Ezra helps you sit up. “I’ll wait out front for you to get dressed, and then we can schedule a follow-up appointment,” he says, a mischievous look in his eye. “Don’t forget your jewelry on my cart, little dove.”
Comments, reblogs, and asks are so very appreciated!! I love to hear your kind words about my work, they keep me motivated to write for you all <3
when he’s sick headcanons
note — can you tell i was in a francisco morales mood when i wrote this? also, i’m incredibly soft. i just wanna hold them :’( also also send me your own headcanons!! i wanna hear ‘em!! big love <3 - nat
MANDO
- he doesn’t know how he survived all those bouts of sickness alone when you step in to help him for the first time
- his body aches, and not the usual after-bounty-capture either
- his head is foggy, he can feel the sweat in his helmet, and his breathing is hard
- he can’t tell if it’s coming through the modulator, but when you bring soup up to the cockpit for him, he knows you know
- he takes it gratefully, knowing that if there was nobody else here he would have just gone to bed to sleep it off, dinner vetoed for the night
- your cold fingers wrap around the back of his neck, moving his cape as you do so, and he melts into you
- he doesn’t know that he lets out the smallest whimper when you do this, and it makes you want to tear off his helmet, pull him into your arms, and hold him until he’s better
- but you can’t, so you settle for a hand on his neck, and the tilt of a helmet when he drinks the soup in front of you, as requested
- he definitely has a fever, and maker knows what else
- so you tell him to get some rest, that you’d watch the ship and get him if anything went wrong
- you supervise him down the ladder, just in case, which he finds funny and sweet
- you wish you could squish into his bunk with him, but you don’t want to invade on his personal space, especially while he’s hot and sick
- you you settle into the cockpit, the ship on cruise control, and you check on him every once in a while, keeping grogu occupied and quiet while he gets some well deserved rest
EZRA
- you knew he would get it
- right after you recovered from your illness, he started displaying symptoms of the same one you had just gotten over
- shortness of breath, fever, aches, lethargy
- he had taken such good care of you, so it was only fair that you’d do the same in return
- resources were sparse and quarters were cramped on the green, but you did what you could to make him as comfortable as possible
- his feverish back was pressed up against your chest in a cot designed for one after he’d stripped down to his underwear to avoid overheating
- he really enjoyed you being the big spoon sometimes, and now was one of those times
- when he got too hot from your shared body heat though, you would sit on the floor next to the cot and stroke right behind his ear to get him to fall asleep
- you made sure he ate as much as he could keep down, and you gave him all the fluids you could spare for his speedy recovery
- it broke your heart to see your usually verbose boy so quiet and in pain
- he muttered fever nonsense to no one and whimpered in his sleep
- you moved your cot directly next to his in order to keep a close eye on him
- but you knew that with time he would heal, and that as soon as he started talking to you again he was getting better
FRANKIE
- he sweats through the sheets next to you in the early hours of the night
- you’re the one who wakes up first, and you honestly thought one of you had wet the bed because of how much liquid there was
- but you realize that it’s frankie, back drenched and sweating out whatever flu he had acquired from whoever he had gotten it from
- you wake him from what seemed to be a not great dream anyway, and when he realizes what happened, he apologizes, groggy from sleep and illness
- “no, no! i’m not mad, frankie, you just can’t sleep in this sweetheart. you’ll get more sick. how are you feeling?”
- he curls up deeper under the covers and you get out of bed to kneel next to him
- your hands card through his matted, sweat soaked hair, and you wipe the drops from his jaw
- “do you want a cool shower, baby? you’re soaked.” you suggest, but frankie is so out of it
- he was fine last night, you remember
- sure he didn’t eat dinner, and went to bed early, but you thought maybe he had a late lunch and a long day
- now, helping him out of bed to the shower, you understand that it was early onset symptoms of whatever he was battling
- he pressed heavily to your side and you’re nervous as you strip him down and get him into the tub
- he sways, and you’re not sure what you’ll do if he passes out, or hits his head, so you sit him down, take off the shower head, make sure the water coming out is room temperature, and you run she showerhead over his overheating body
- you’re careful not to get any water in his face and ears, and you don’t wash his hair, just his body with a gentle soap
- you figure this is one of the only times frankie will let you take care of him like this, so you milk it for all it’s worth
- you blow dry his hair on a low setting, just in case he has a headache, you change the sheets of your bed, you lay him down on his side and you bring him close to your chest
- which is how he falls asleep for the next few nights until his illness eventually subsides
WHISKEY
- he curls up in your lap on the couch as soon as he gets home from work, which is how you know something’s wrong
- but you ask him anyway
- “i don’t feel so great, sugar,”
- which scares you, because did he get drugged? is this just a regular illness? is this like a biowarfare mission gone wrong?
- you leave him to get the thermometer, and when you come back, he’s got sad eyes looking up at you that just break your heart
- turns out, it’s not biowarfare. just a fever of 100.4
- you slip your hands up the back of his shirt and it’s so warm, along with his forehead
- he moans weakly at your touch, worn and tired from his extensive mission that day
- he’s definitely been overexerting himself
- as you settle back onto the couch, he settles into your lap again
- you let him rest for a while, but not after long, you realize he’s fallen asleep, and you’re stuck there for god knows how long
- you turn the volume down on the tv just in case, and you stroke behind his ears and you play with his fingers
- it’s best to just let him sleep it off, and you're not opposed to letting him do it on your lap
- you imagine there are statesman resources you can use to help him, but if he’s feeling better after he’s slept it off, then maybe you won’t need to misuse them
JAVIER PEÑA
- you scared the shit out of him, knocking on his door like that
- in your blinding rage, filled with thoughts like “how dare he take the day off to bang hookers, to recover from his hangover, to generally be a hindrance to the fucking DEA,” you had not pondered the possibility that THE javier peña, was sick
- he’s pulling on a t-shirt just as he opens the door, wearing pajama pants, and it startles you to see him so disarmed and casual
- his eyes and nose are red, his hair is disheveled, and he looks... exhausted
- “wow, you look like shit."
- “i feel like shit,” he says, walking away from the door, sniffling
- you take this as an invitation in, and close the door behind you
- he collapses back onto his couch, where you assume he’s been all day, and wraps himself up in a thick afghan blanket
- his hands shake the slightest bit as he opens his lighter to ignite his cigarette
- you take a seat next to him and help him with his lighter, and he nods his thanks to you
- “you’re gonna be late,” he mutters, taking the cigarette from his mouth and blowing out smoke into his apartment, coughing it out halfway
- “i’ll call out,” you offer, eyes wandering up his blanket clad body
- he closes his eyes and lets his head rest on the back of the couch
- “go in. i’m just gonna sleep it off anyway,”
- you lean in close to him and press your hand against his forehead and he freezes, staring at you
- you run your hand down his neck and feel his warmth, and he melts into your touch just a little bit
- you offer to only call out for a few hours to get him settled and make sure he doesn’t die or something, and he lets you, simply because he knows his illness will only get worse
- when your time is up and you have to go back to work, javi’s eaten, gotten some fluids in him, and taken some pain meds
- you let him know that he can call you if he needs anything, and before you even walk out the door is sleeping contently on the couch
MARCUS MORENO
- you find out he’s sick when he calls you, and asks for a favor
- “hey, can you do me the biggest favor ever?”
- he’s super congested. at first you think it might not be him because of how grainy his voice is
- “i hate to do this to you on such short notice, but would you be able to pick up missy? i’m not feeling too hot right now.”
- when you make it back to their home, it's very clear why he thought he wouldn't be able to make it
- he's curled up in bed, tissues piled on his nightstand, trying to get some sleep, but clearly failing
- he notices the two of you come in, and you quietly usher missy away to her own room to entertain herself while her dad tries to get some rest
- he thanks you for picking up missy, and you tell him you'd be there for him whenever he needed you to be
- you make a special phone call as you care for marcus, keeping his curtains closed and running your cool hands up and down his back and shoulders until he felt like he could fall asleep
- you let him know that you'll be right back, that you were going to pick up a few things for him and that if he needed anything at all, just call
- knowing your chicken noodle soup skills were rusty, your special phone call had been to marcus' mother's house, where she had tupperware containers full of soup waiting for you to pick up for him
- when you get back to his house with pain meds, gatorade, and the soup, marcus is passed out in bed
- you don't want to wake him up, but you have a hunch that he hasn't eaten all day, so you whisper his name softly and lightly shake him awake
- he's so grateful and only eats a portion of what he normally does, but anything is better than nothing
- and you don't want him feeling even more sick as a result
- you end up eating the incredibly nostalgic and rich soup with missy at the table and talk to her about your day while marcus gets some sleep
MARCUS PIKE
- it's only when you get home from work that you realize something's wrong with marcus
- he's asleep on the couch
- which would have been fine, if you had worked overtime, or had gotten out late, but it was only four thirty
- plus, you two had planned on going to see a movie you he was excited about tonight in theatres and maybe grab dinner after
- the tv plays lowly in the background, and he hasn’t changed out of his work clothes yet
- he startles when you close and lock the door, and rubs his temples, eyes squeezed shut in pain
- "marcus, are you okay?"
- "yeah, i'm fine." he tells you, and when you mention the date, he looks shocked that he forgot about it
- "oh my god, you're right. i can’t believe i forgot, i’m so sorry babe, i'll get ready right now."
- you tell him it's no biggie, but he insists
- after you've taken off your work clothes and showered quickly for your date, you realize the two of you are most definitely staying in
- he's promptly fallen back asleep on the couch, and he looks adorable
- you put on your pajamas and he does too, and you settle into the couch behind marcus, flipping through channels with him
- he says he doesn't care what you watch, as long as it's not too bright or loud
- so you choose some old black and white movie with the subtitles on
- normally you're the one between his legs, as he rubs your shoulders and plays with your hair
- but this time, he's curled up into you, his back pressed up against your chest, his head tucked into your shoulder using it as a pillow
- you figure you didn't really want to see the new movie anyway, and decide takeout and casablanca was a better way to spend your time with your sick boyfriend
MAX PHILLIPS
- a big baby
- but he IS a vampire and DOES NOT get sick, which slips your mind completely when you come home after some overtime and find him paler than usual on the couch, his head in his hands
- you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, and he refuses, but he caves when you sit down next to him and start stroking his head, and playing with the hair at the base of his neck
- he tells you that after the whole vampire fiasco with the company, he was set for a while, and has been feeling great, but he hasn’t had human blood in so long that it’s made him weak
- he gives you a sad puppy dog look, and you know he’s being an asshole about it, but you hate to see the dark circles under his eyes or the color his skin turns when he’s like this
- so you oblige, but you give him STRICT instructions to follow, otherwise you won’t do it again
- don’t take more than a pint, don’t leave unnecessary bruises, if you use your safe word he has to stop immediately, and he has to make it as quick and painless as he possibly can
- he nods enthusiastically, and pulls you into his lap
- he nuzzles into your neck, and grabs your chin, anchoring himself to you
- he blows softly on your skin, and presses hard kisses to the area to get your blood flowing and disarm you
- which isn’t fair because he knows your neck is so sensitive
- it’s a sharp prick when he ejects his fangs into your body and you stop moving completely, your hand fisting at his shirt, just listening to your breathing and his soft moans echoed against your skin
- out of habit your rub soothing circles into his back, more to sooth yourself then anything
- minutes pass, and you start to feel light headed and are about to tell him to stop when he pulls away, grinning ear to ear at you
- he’s back on your neck in seconds though, licking and sucking the leaking blood from the small holes he’s left in your skin
- now that, that feels much better than the bloodsucking that was going on originally
- you jump when he presses soft kisses to the sensitive area along your throat and dives a hand between your legs
- looks like someone’s feeling better already
MAX LORD
- tries to power through it as much as he can with pain killers and cough syrups, but after he almost passes out at dinner after a week of symptoms, you beg him to take at least a day off to recover
- that morning, his hair is a mess, he missed a button on his shirt, and his tie was uneven
- he was about to put on two different colored socks when he begrudgingly obliges
- you unbutton his shirt and help him take off his tie
- it’s easy to bring him back to bed after that, and you let him hold you from behind like a teddy bear, no matter how uncomfortable his arm is shoved under your neck
- usually he likes to be held, but he can feel his own back burning up, so he decides to hold you instead
- he whimpers in his sleep, plagued by fever dreams and his traumatic past
- so when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, something he so very rarely does, you’re concerned
- “i’m sorry, for waking you, i just... i just need... you... i want—“
- it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he needs a hug
- you hold him and rub his back until he falls back asleep again, in your arms
- when he wakes up with a killer headache, you fight to keep him in bed again, rubbing his temples and pressing kisses to his forehead
- he falls back asleep in less than five minutes
- needless to say, one more day off couldn’t hurt
OBERYN MARTELL
- it’s not often than he gets sick, surprisingly, considering how close he gets to so many different people
- when you arrive at his chambers that morning, the guards seem keen on not letting you in
- you argue with them, but they insist oberyn didn’t want anyone in there
- you call them out, obviously upset and visibly frustrated when his doors creak open and you see him, in a robe, hair messy and pressed down to his forehead
- he quietly tells the guard to let you in, and you’re a little confused
- he sits down on his bed and looks up at you with guilty eyes
- “apologies, my love, but I don't want you to see me like this”
- you scoff and roll your eyes at him, moving in front of him
- you take his head in your hands, and he stares up at you
- “apology accepted, but i’m offended, my prince.”
- he scrunches his eyebrows and presses his chin to your stomach
- you run your hands through his hair and he brings his hands to your waist
- “you think mere illness could keep me away? keep me away from you?”
- his confusion melts into a small smile, and he lets his head rest against your belly as you pull him into you
- “can i get you anything, oberyn? wine, medicine?”
- “no, my love. just you is enough for me.”
PERO TOVAR
- wants to be left alone for the most part
- grumpy in general, and it doesn't get better when he's sick
- he'll let you wipe a cool cloth over his forehead and neck, and doesn't complain
- he says he doesn’t want you there because he doesn’t want you to catch what he has
- you know, survival rates are low for things like this at this point in history
- but really, like oberyn, he doesn’t want you to see him weak
- he’s afraid it’ll ruin your image of him in your mind
- william asks you to get some rest, as they can’t afford to risk more days at the campsite with sick travelers
- so you oblige, keeping your distance from pero, but you stay vigilant
- you stand guard for him for most of the night, listening to him breathe, watching his chest rise and fall, until you eventually fall asleep too
- but you’re up early, with the rest of the men, except pero, who sleeps well into daylight
- the rest of them take off, desperate to find something for dinner, but you stay back with him, stroking his forehead, a gentleness that’s rarely ever been afforded to him, listening to him ramble half in english, half in spanish, but he has your full attention
- it would be a rough few days until he recovered, but his muttered thanks and appreciation for you was more than enough for you to do it all over again if he ever needed you to
when you sleep with him for the first time headcanons
note—it gets a little suggestive during oberyn's part, but nothing too crazy. i use sleep here in it's purest form by the way, so enjoy! let me know if you have any ideas for the next one! me and the boys are open to suggestions ;)
MANDO
- mando has always allowed you his bunk to sleep, whenever you like
- when you stayed with him on the razor crest and watched the kid, he was always more than willing to give it up anytime you needed sleep
- he didn't sleep much anyway, and usually your sleeping schedules didn't overlap
- but boba fett's ship doesn't have much space to begin with, let alone enough space for all of the crew mates he's happened to find recently
- which mean's you and mando, having already been living together and already know each other, were sleeping together, in the same small bunk, at the same time
- he offered to sleep on the floor, or pressed up against the wall
- but you got mad at him for even suggesting such a thing
- there was more than enough space for the two of you to sleep, you argued, though there was barely enough room for one
- it was comical, trying to press up against him, and find a spot comfortable enough for the both of you to lay
- it was jarring to you when he removed a single pauldron for you to rest your head on his clothed shoulder
- you felt like you had violated him in some way, seeing him just the lightest bit more bare than usual
- though you were slightly uncomfortable from the rest of the beskar pressing up into your body, you were lulled to sleep in minutes from the sound of his steady heartbeat
EZRA
- the cots had never been a long term solution
- that you knew
- so when the morning comes around, and your cot drops your ass on the floor, you wish you gotten new sleeping arrangements the last time you were in town
- you were just wishing it had taken longer for them to fall apart the way they had
- there wasn't much on the green, in terms of furnishing markets
- the cots had been the only barrier between you and the floor, and now, there was nothing protecting you from the frigid, uninsulated ground of your broken down ship
- it was ezra who offered up the idea: put one blanket down on the floor, and use the other one to cover the both of you with
- you took a second to ponder it, thinking of any idea, any reason that could be used to save you from having to sleep next to ezra, the man who had been so warm and kind to you, but you had frozen him out, because of your ridiculous crush on him
- you offered up the idea of just disassembling the cots and using the cloths as protection from the cold
- but this wiseass pulls out the cloth from the cot and his blanket and compares the two, and there's no way the cloth is going to have any integrity making contact with the ground
- so you agree, and when nightfall comes, you're too exhausted from harvesting all day to fight with him
- he puts his blanket down as protection, and you all but collapse on top of in
- ezra does you the service of tucking you in, before climbing in next to you, and you're soothed by his warmth
- not soothed enough that you fall asleep immediately, still unnerved by the idea of sleeping so close to him, hearing him breathe, feeling him move
- but he throws his good arm over your body and pulls you into him, muttering something about the cold
- and your heart melts just a little bit as you fall asleep, pressed up against his chest
FRANKIE
- frankie had been upset for weeks after his divorce, which was to be expected
- but everything had been so stressful on him, and you were getting worried for his mental health
- he hadn't been answering calls, he'd cancelled plans with you last minute, which is something he never did, and he hadn't been doing anything for himself, just living in a rut of paperwork, sleeping, eating, and going to work
- so when he calls you up to ask you to go camping with him, you obviously say yes
- it's almost a two hour drive to the campsite, and frankie is fairly quite, which isn't usual, but you get some good music going and some good conversation going, and soon enough, you and frankie are laughing and singing your heads off on your way there
- it's getting dark when you arrive, and you make quick work of getting everything out of his car when he realizes something is off
- "oh no" he exclaims, and you fear the worst
- "what? what's wrong?"
- "I brought the small tent."
- "how small is the small tent?"
- "i brought the four-person tent, not the ten person tent."
- "are you kidding frankie? i'm sure we'll fit in a four-person—“
- "i'm telling you, it's not as big as you think it is, trust me."
- when the tent is complete, four-person is an exaggeration
- it's a four-person tent if the four-people were sardine packed and the size of children
- it's going to be just enough room for both you and frankie to lie down in with your sleeping bags
- but that's for a later time, because frankie has marshmallows to roast and lots of things to tell you after he's been ignoring you for a whole week
- he apologizes and you sit next to him at the firepit on your site, and you listen to him talk, and give him advice, and rest your head on his shoulder
- and when it's late into the night and you two go to retreat to bed, you have to squish up against his broad shoulders that seem so much broader in the small tent
- and when he wakes with nightmares of his fighting buddies and far too many sleepless nights, he pulls you close to him, and falls asleep again, until the sunlight streams through the front flap of the tent far too early in the morning
WHISKEY
- that day’s mission was harsh
- it had you spent, not only physically, but mentally as well
- as you lie awake in your bed, you realize you’re not getting to sleep tonight, whether or not you had another important mission that morning
- the hotel bed was creaky and entirely not your bed from home and the air conditioner was broken so it was freezing
- you figure there’s no better time than the present, and you’re well aware whiskey is right next door
- if he’s awake, you’ll ask him to have a drink with you, and if he’s asleep, you can just hop into bed with him
- he’s a deep sleeper anyway
- you’re careful turning the knob into his room, just in case he’s asleep, and you spot him in his bed, on his side, breathing softly, room cloaked in darkness
- you come around on his side of the bed and you whisper his name
- he stirs a little
- you debate going back to your room and just toughing it out, but he doesn’t give you the chance
- he’s up, groggy and hair tousled and in just a plain t-shirt
- “sweetheart? what are you doin’ here? what’s goin’ on?”
- you tell him you didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, and he wipes the sleep from his eyes and squints at you, using only the moonlight to help him see
- “what kind of gentleman would i be if i refused you my bed?”
- this makes you smile, and he lifts the covers for you to get in with him
- you plant your head on his shoulder and drape an arm over his chest, cozying up to him as close as possible
- his hand rests comfortably on your back, and he breathes rhythmically
- and you’re silently grateful he doesn’t ask questions, just lets you curl up into his side ands lets you fall asleep with him there
JAVIER PEÑA
- it happened in a flurry of passion and kisses, hands roaming his body and yours after a far too close dance with death
- if it had not been for his bulletproof vest, he'd be lying in a hospital or a morgue
- but he wasn't
- his body was warm and so was yours and the ride to his apartment was far too quiet for your liking and his
- it was only appropriate you accompanied him for a drink after such a great victory for the DEA, but it had taken a toll on both of you, mentally
- you more so than him, which is why you ended up drinking much more than you normally would have when you drank with javi
- he tried to laugh away the stress, complaining about his sore and bruised ribs, but the room was still tense
- emotions ran rampant through your body, and when he brings it up, tears start to pool in your eyes at the thought seeing him for the last time, in a suit, at his own funeral he wouldn't attend if he had the choice
- he sets his drink down and pulls you into his arms, holding your waist and cupping the back of your neck, stroking behind your ear as he listens to you cry softly in his shoulder
- he reassures you he's fine, nothing happened to him, and you pull away from him, grab his face, and stare into his eyes
- he smiles kindly at your own red ringed eyes, irritated from crying, as you try to memorize each streak of brown in his own
- it's too much for the both of you, and you pull him into a kiss
- his mouth is surprisingly soft compared to your own drunk passion, and as much as he'd love to take you right then and there on his couch, he knows he'd regret it if you woke up the next morning and regretted it too
- so he entertains the kiss, not that he minds, and leads you to his bedroom
- where the silk sheets and heavy comforter that smell so strongly of javier peña pull you to sleep next to him, faster than you'd like to admit
MARCUS MORENO
- missy and your daughter had always gotten along very well
- you were very familiar with marcus, and could even call yourselves friends to an extent
- your daughters were very intelligent little girls, and knew that if they got the two of you talking when you came to pick your daughter from his house, they would have at least another hour to play while you two chatted endlessly about boring adult things
- for missy's birthday party, she had wanted all of her friends over for a huge sleepover, and of course her father caved
- he couldn't say no to her no matter how much he tried
- marcus, the genius he was, figured that if the kids were all under one roof having fun, why not let the adults have fun too?
- everyone was invited
- the kids would have lots of different fun activities to choose from, from swimming, to games in the backyard, and a movie night under the stars outside
- and the adults were welcome to stay, chat, drink, and play adult card games marcus had saved for special occasions
- the night of the sleepover, a dozen children and adults were packed into his backyard, watching some new movie he had rented the missy was excited about
- but it was freezing, and you hadn't expected to be outside for so long
- marcus realizes this and he leans over quietly, so not to disturb the movie
- "are you cold?"
- "oh! no, it's okay, i'll be fine—“ you try to excuse yourself, but he gets up without a word, and returns with a sweatshirt of his
- it fits snugly over your head, and completely eliminated the chill in your bones
- it doesn't take long for your eyes to start getting heavy, and soon enough, you're passed out on marcus' shoulder
- "what if we camp out here for the night?" he suggests, and the kids are more than excited
- the adults know what he's up to
- but they let him anyway
- it'll be great to tease him about later, and besides, you guys are adorable together
MARCUS PIKE
- working together with marcus was always a joy
- he was always very respectful and funny
- you knew he had his heart broken more than once in the past, so even though you dropped hints that you'd want something more with marcus, you let him take it at his own pace
- when you dropped by his place that night, with important new documents you had received right before you left work and chinese food, you're ecstatic when he lets you in
- you spend hours pouring over the documents, making sure every single detail was covered and examined, when you realize how tired you are, and how loud the rain is coming down outside his window
- "it's getting really late. i should leave," you say, but marcus stops you
- "you could always, y'know, stay the night if you wanted. i'd let you have my bed."
- you smiled at him, but politely decline, as you wouldn't want to kick him out of his bed, but you yawn again
- "look, you're exhausted, and it's pouring" he points out, "you know most accidents happen by people falling asleep behind the wheel when it's raining?"
- you laugh at him
- "you just made that up,"
- "i did, but you should stay. if you don't want to i totally understand, but you'd be missing out. my bed is really comfortable."
- "is that why you're always late to work?" you quip, and close the files
- he gasps in mock shock
- "that was one time, and my alarm didn't go off," he claims, smiling at you
- he lends you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and you pretend to not see a slight blush on his face when you walk out into his bedroom with them on
- marcus was right when he said his bed was really comfortable
- somehow, in the middle of the night, you two find each other, his face pressed into your shoulder, your arms wrapped around him, and the rain comes down even harder
MAX PHILLIPS
- "i just need some space from him, is all."
- that's all you had to tell him for max phillips to be on your side, rubbing your shoulder and telling you that all men suck anyway, you didn't need that jerk of a boyfriend to be happy
- well, now ex-boyfriend
- of course he had ulterior motives, and you knew this, but you didn’t care
- your heart wanted someone to watch movies with and eat a pint of ice cream out of the tub with you, and if max was the one who would do that, you’d settle with him for the night
- the way he pulled you into his arms, and pressed his body up against yours, was more than comforting
- he made funny jokes, tried tickling you, anything he could think of to get you to smile for him
- and for the most part, you did
- you were sick of your ex bringing the mood down the way he did, no matter how much you missed him
- the movie has gotten boring a long time ago, but you listened to max’s breathing, and felt his chest rise and fall behind you, and it was enough to lull you to sleep
- and he would’ve woken you up, to take you to his bed, but he was scared you’d leave to go home if he did
- so he took his couch throw, pulled it over the two of you, turned off the television, and settled back as you got comfortable on his chest
- this was a side of max phillips you’d never seen before, and you didn’t expect to see any time soon
- so you relished in it, and let sleep pull you in
MAXWELL LORD
- his head aches, and his eye is still bleeding on the plane back to washington d.c.
- the ride back is silent, save for the rumbling of the engine
- he rests his head against the wall of the airplane for most of the ride there, and you take comfort in knowing while he’s asleep, he’s not in pain
- when he starts getting restless, having what you think is a nightmare, you start holding his hand, stroking your thumb up and down his soft skin
- it takes him a minute, but he calms down, and you don’t let go of his hand
- with nothing to do but watch him sleep, you decide taking a nap too would be your best option
- which is when the plane hits a particularly rough patch of turbulence
- he bounces awake, nervous and alert, and you tell him it’s just the plane, everything’s fine
- when you pull him into your shoulder, he takes the opportunity to fall back asleep
- you can feel the tension in his neck just by having him rest his head on your shoulder
- you keep a firm grip on his hand, when your own eyes start to get heavy
- your head rests on his, and the rest of the ride there is smooth and painless
OBERYN MARTELL
- he had been pursuing you for quite some time
- as the second son of a king, he was more than accustomed to people saying yes to appease him
- he was forward with you, and you were forward back with him, and he liked that
- it was your words that told him you weren't looking for anything long term, that if he were to pleasure you, and you him, he would be nothing more than a simple one night stand
- boy did he prove you wrong
- your legs were so weak afterward, you couldn't bare to get up
- he took incredibly good care of you, squeezing your sore thighs and rubbing your aching muscles, pressing kisses up and down your back, brushing the hair out of your face
- it only increased your attraction to him when he brought in more people, caring for them and having them care for you, and by the time you had finished, you felt as though you couldn't physically go another round that night
- he purred in your ear that every night with him would be a night like this, and you whined back, making him grin and capture your mouth in a passionate kiss
- you didn't mean to fall sleep with him, but all the nibbling bites at your ear and the serotonin coursing through your veins had you spent for the night
- he let you sleep, and even stayed for a while before being summoned for an important meeting
- you made a mental note that eventually, you two would need to do that again, because you slept like a baby the whole night through
PERO TOVAR
- it's below freezing when you settle down for sleep that night
- no matter how much wind the tent tried to keep out, it just wasn't enough
- you're bundled up in all the clothes you had brought with you, the only blanket that could be spared, anything that could try to keep you warm, but nothing’s working
- the cold just bleeds through the blanket and your clothes, into your legs and chest and bones so that you can’t fall asleep if you tried
- you figure the only way you’ll be able to get any rest to be ready for the next day, is to go find a warmer place to sleep
- if the fire’s still going, you’ll rest there
- you shiver as you pick up your things, but your interrupted by tovar, who comes in with a thick fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders
- “where are you going?”
- “i was just going to sleep next to the fire,” you say, trying to keep the chill out of your voice
- “it’s going to be cold tonight. lay down.” he instructs, and you oblige
- he lays the blanket down over you and climbs underneath it next to you, so that your shoulders touch and watch him for a second before he turns over and tries to go to sleep without a word
- you pull the blanket up to your shoulders and you feel ten times warmer already, but it’s the heat from tovar that really entices you
- so you push back against him, your back against his, and fall asleep with the warmth of his muscles against yours
when you want him to choke you headcanons
note — NSFW. this bitch is kinky. obviously. lost of choking references, a little breathplay at the end there. all of the boys are willing in one way or another because pedro plays them, alright?? i believe in my heart that that man is kinky as hell. good morning and good night. happy superbowl. fuck you tom brady. big love to every one else besides tom brady <3
warnings: choking, penetrative sex, breathplay
MANDO
- is stunned
- you want him... to do what??
- excuse me??
- choke you?? like, with his hands??
- in the heat of the moment you guide his huge, bare hand to the softness of your throat
- he can feel the vibrations of your whimpers against the webbing of his hand and he almost blows his load right then and there
- the idea that he can wreck you like that gets him excited
- the first few times it gets his adrenaline pumping, but then he really starts to want to get closer to you, pull you in closer, fuck you on his lap in the cockpit while the baby naps in the pod
- he finds it interesting, all of these kinks, and never gets bored of them, but he's a simple man
- he's just glad you want to share these experiences with him and provide such a stable source of pleasure for him in his life that used to be so devoid of it
EZRA
- finds it quite hard to choke you with one hand, but willing to oblige you
- he's afraid of putting too much weight on your neck, so he refuses to do it in any position where he doesn't have much control
- but he ends up getting really into it
- he finds it so arousing, the dubious nature of it
- he likes the idea of being so in control of you, being able to control your breaths, your breathing
- he quite literally has your life in his hands, and it gets him rock hard
- he likes to control your moans, cut them off with his hand while you're riding him, pretending like you two have to be quiet
- will definitely ask you to let him do it again sometime
FRANKIE
- frankie is a little taken aback when you ask
- but you're so needy, mewling and whimpering underneath him
- he squeezes your jaw hard, and presses his mouth to it
- his husky voice reverberates against your nerves, and his lips move passionately across your skin before his hand moves to tilt your head up for better access
- it's like he can read your mind
- just the right pressure, just the right grasp, and can easily read when it starts to become uncomfortable
- he loves the way you anchor yourself to him by grabbing his wrist, pushing him in closer and pulling him back when it becomes too much
- communication is super important for him, so being able to gauge when he's getting too into it and what kinds of pressure you like are vital
- he loves the way you moan when he does it, so eventually, he's going to ask you to do it to him as well
WHISKEY
- a bit more vanilla than you'd expect from someone so forward, but is interested in this particular kink you have
- he'll trace the shell of your ear with his fingers, brush the side of your jaw, play with you lower lip, before cupping his hand lightly to your throat
- he likes to see how you fit so well in his hand, the way you gasp and shudder for him when he forces your chin up to look him in the eye
- the way his lip curls up when he realizes how smitten you are for him, the way he could tell you to do anything and you'd probably do it with the heat of his hand flush against your neck
- you have to show him how to do it properly, in order to not crush your windpipe, but he gets the hang of it swiftly enough
- is very possessive, and WILL allude to it in public
- he'll wrap his arm around your shoulders, and brush his fingers up against your neck
- he'll say you have something on your neck and go to wipe it away, his fingers splayed down the side of it
- he smiles when he sees your goosebumps, and you know you're in for it when you get home
JAVIER PEÑA
- he likes to kiss you with his hand wrapped around your neck
- to feel your heartbeat through your throat
- if it speeds up when he does it, he knows he's doing something right
- when he takes you from behind, he likes tugging on your hair, wrapping a hand securely around your throat so you know you're not going anywhere
- he really likes it, actually
- he loves the feeling of pressing you impossibly closer into him
- he likes to admire your beautiful throat, when your chest is pressed up against his and he's fucking up into you
- he'll grab your hair at the roots, and pull back on it, to wrap his fingers securely around the base of your throat, keeping you there
- his hands find every erogenous part of you they can, so to have one more spot he knows he can get you off with, that's all the more pleasure from javi
MARCUS MORENO
- he laughs mischievously when you ask him to do it
- he likes to get your blood rushing to all the hottest parts of you first
- he plants wet kisses to your neck, his nose pressing hard into your skin
- the way you heat up for him, and get so excited when he does it
- his free hand finds a way between your thighs and the other one curls around your throat
- it's great for when you're getting too loud and he's afraid you'll wake missy or alert the neighbors, even
- he loves listening to you pant heavily after you're done
- he also loves feeling you dig your nails into his back when you orgasm and his hand is wrapped around your throat
- those scratches aren't terribly difficult to hide, and the idea that you've marked him up as yours is reward enough for indulging in your requests
MARCUS PIKE
- will be the most reluctant, as nobody has ever asked this of him before
- he's scared of hurting you, but you seem to get really into it
- he's in awe of you when you push his hand harder and harder into your neck, moaning and whimpering soft and broken from underneath his grip
- he's not actually the one in charge here, but with his hand wrapped around your windpipe, her certainly feels like he is
- he doesn't want to leave bruises, and definitely checks up on you after the sex or the make out session
- you tell him that he doesn't have to worry as much, but that doesn't give him peace of mind
- it's only when you gently introduce him to the receiving end of it does he understand
- he doesn't like it as much as when you're writing and moaning underneath him, but he figures that if you like it, and he's really not hurting you, he doesn't mind you wrapping his fingers around your neck sometimes
MAX PHILLIPS
- max has always loved your neck, nipping at it, leaving hickeys, pressing his fingers into the pliable skin there
- so when you beg him to choke you, to force all the air out of your chest, to wrap his long fingers around your throat
- he doesn't need to be told twice
- he loves it so much, he starts doing it without needing to be asked
- he presses you up against a wall, or pins you to the bed, and squeezes just enough for you to just barely be able to breathe
- he fucks hard when he chokes you
- you swear you almost pass out when he does it, but he allows you to pull his hands back if he's getting too rough
- he likes to feel your hands wrapped around his throat too, mainly because he doesn't need to breathe, so seeing you fall apart on top of him, seeing your hands wrapped around such a delicate piece of him, squeezing as hard as you can as you ride out your orgasm
- he loves nothing more than orgasms, necks, and good business. and two out of three isn't bad
MAXWELL LORD
- he frames your face with his hands, thumbs tracing your cheeks, and you almost melt at his soft touch
- maxwell is usually quite eager, but gentle in the best ways
- the best part about when he chokes you and fucks you at the same time, is that he subconsciously squeezes in time with each of his thrusts
- his arm frames your head and his face is so close you yours and you just can't help trying to moan around his hand
- he loves loves loves hearing you moan, so usually he'll let up to allow them to escape your mouth
- but then he's right back on it, because he knows that the more he does it, the closer you'll get, and the louder you'll be
- his rings dig marks into your neck, but you love the cold contrast to the warmth of his fingers
OBERYN MARTELL
- will most definitely choke you if you ask him to
- he likes to have you demonstrate for him just exactly how you like it
- your breath hinges in your throat when he takes your hand in his, and presses it underneath his jaw, right above his adams apple
- and you press into his neck and his eyes narrow before he take you and pushes you down onto whatever surface is closest so he can fuck you
- he lights a fire in your core that's impossible to extinguish without him
- he likes to come up from behind you, wrap his hand around your throat, and shove his hand into your pants or up your dress or around whatever you're wearing
- and he loves to feel you push back against him when he does it
- he knows he's got you right where he wants you in that case
- his fingers flex around your throat and he tries to cover as much area at once
- he believes in allowing you to be as loud as you want, since he wants all of dorne to know how good of a lover he is
- but if his fingers are wrapped around your throat, he doesn't mind swallowing all of your moans in a kiss
PERO TOVAR
- tries to choke you out with two hands at first
- you really gotta slow him down and show him the ropes
- sometimes he gets excited about it, other times he's less enthusiastic
- but he loves pleasing you, deep down inside that cold heart of his
- which is why he obliges the request
- once he gets the hang of it, its over for you bitches
- he's up in your ear, panting and whispering dirty things, downright filthy things
- and he squeezes your neck tightly, his fingers wrapped snugly around your throat
- you swear his one hand almost wraps the entire way around, his fingers are so long
- he prefers fast and dirty sex, so this kind of kink is right up his alley
- especially because of how rough he can be with you
- when you two get close, he starts squeezing tighter and tighter, until you almost cant breathe, and your release, when he finally lets go, is one of the best orgasms you've ever had
- which is how pero accidentally discovers his breathplay kink