-likes: cherries ; scene kids ; nails ; music ; my gf ; crop tops ; blue and orange ;
-characters: Hazel Callahan ; Jess Mariano ; Jinx ; Sally Face ; BEN Drowned ; Rodrick Heffley
-musical artists: Frank Ocean ; TV Girl ; boy genius ; SZA ; sign crushes motorist ; Lana del ray ; mitski ; clairo ; duster ; deftones ; radio head ; Tyler, the creator ; Faye Webster ; Julien baker and many more
?Are requests open? Yes! Pls send more I’m so bored
SYNOPSIS: martin wants a late night snack, and you just want him to stop interrupting your sleep. martin edwards x f!reader
CONTENT WARNINGS: none, just fluff and the bitter aftertaste of my loneliness, f!reader is a little mean but it’s fair honestly
WC: 0.9k
NOW PLAYING: stuck in love, café canela (3:41 min)
you’re on the cusp of sleep when martin lifts his head off the pillow.
his arm feels warm, feels safe at its position around your waist. his breath puffs in and out against the back of your neck, but it’s not slow enough, not lazy enough.
he’s awake. you inwardly sigh. martin makes his move.
‘baby. wake up.’
you play dead, banking on the fact that he doesn’t know you well enough to think you’re asleep. but alas, it is martin. the same martin who knows you take your coffee after stirring thrice, or that you love winter but hate the cold, or that you’ll only eat ramen when there’s no spring onions and a healthy scoop of sesame seeds.
that same martin is now removing his warmth from your skin and lifting himself onto his elbows.
‘i know you’re awake, c’mon. i can sense it.’
‘that’s not creepy at all.’ he has the audacity to smirk at that, even though you can’t see. if you weren’t already facing away from him, you would be by now.
‘you are such a little shit. i was just about to fall asleep, tin.’
a sliver of guilt makes its way into martin’s chest at that, though it quickly disappears when you turn around and create a resounding slap! against his chest.
‘hey! what was that for?’ the comment elicits a sleepy giggle from you, enough to pull at the corners of his lips.
now that martin’s got your attention, he wants more of it, quickly dropping back from his elbows down into the crook of your neck.
your arms wrap around his neck, travelling into his hair as he peppers kisses across your collarbone. it’s quiet now, just like how it was before martin decided to wake you up at an ungodly hour.
‘like your hair like this,’ you murmur, ‘feels nice. longer.’
‘yeah?’
‘yeah.’
‘is it nice enough that you could get out of bed and maybe… come get snacks with me?’
’martin.’
‘…yes?’
‘you woke me up so i could babysit you at the convenience store?’
‘well when you put it like that…’
‘it’s exactly how it sounds, tin.’
‘please please please?’ martin’s looking at you now, no, in you, the way he does when his love borders on admiration.
there’s a little whine in his voice, and it tells you he’s a bit embarrassed after asking. nevertheless, his 6’3 self always gets what he wants, so you sigh, audibly this time, long and loud so he can hear clearly.
martin grins at that, easing himself off the bed before reaching for his hoodie laid across the chair. he pulls you up, a little more effort needed to fully convince you to wake properly.
when you’re finally standing, he raises your arms, pulling the hoodie over your head and letting it fall around the top of your thighs.
‘i can dress myself, y’know.’
‘yeah but, baby, you’re just too adorable.’
‘shut up, man.’
the pair of you finally make it out the door after martin takes 15 minutes finding his beanie, claiming that he ‘can’t just walk around looking like a fool’. you retaliated by telling him it’s 2 am, and nobody is judging his outfit at 2 am.
the street is outlined with remnants of snow from a few days ago, wet and a little dirty, but magical nonetheless.
oh, and cold. oh so cold.
‘martin you are a sick freak for dragging me out at this time so you can eat.’
you’re clinging to him, arms clutching his bicep in a death grip as he practically carries you towards the store at the end of the street.
‘m’sorry baby. i really am. i’ll pay for your snacks, yeah?’
‘you already do, stupid.’
and martin being martin, grins at that, because what says i love you more than passive aggressive comments in the dead of night?
the entrance to the convenience store feels like a lifeline, heat rushing to reach your skin as you step in.
he wraps an arm around your shoulders as you detach yourself from him, always in need of your touch.
‘do you know what you want?’
‘um… funny story actually…’
‘martin edwards park.’
‘i’m just playing baby! yeah, i do.’
you mirror his steps as he leads you towards the instant ramen aisle, stopping right in the middle. no one’s there except for the teenage cashier half asleep at the counter, you note, as martin lets go of you in favour of choosing a flavour.
‘ok. m’done. you want anything?’
you shake your head, yawn slipping out as he leads you to the counter.
‘wait,’ that stops martin for a second.
‘i want banana milk.’
‘yeah, sure baby, whatever you want.’ martin leaves you momentarily, slipping past aisles to reach the back, though you can still see his stupid beanie peeking above the shelves.
he swings the plastic bag in the hand that’s not occupied yours, peace settling over the two of you, soft and quiet. when you finally settle on the couch back at home, you punch a straw into your reward (banana milk), and track martin’s figure as he sets about making his ramen.
he joins you, placing the bowl on the coffee table, face burying into your hair as you tuck yourself into his side.
‘thanks for coming with me.’
he only receives a half-hearted hum back, and plucks the carton from your fingers as you finally doze off.
the clock ticks to a rough 3 am. martin knows he has a schedule tomorrow, but for now, there’s nothing he’d rather do than be stuck in love with you.
‘cause you were always in love
you were always hung up’
martin…if you hear me martin…call me…
on a serious note, there have been a few not so nice things happening in coerblr over the past few weeks. lovely cosmiho deleted her account due to excessive hate, which is not tolerated in this community, or any other, for that fact. this should be a positive place where people can gather, connect, and have fun, and this sanctuary of sorts is ruined when not so nice people make disgusting comments. cosmiho is only one example of what can happen when you take it too far, and i really don’t want to see anyone else, especially my (or your) favourite writers, end up in the same situation, period. so, please remember, if you don’t like, don’t read! simple as that.
- ceecee’s contribution ⋆˚࿔♫⋆˚࿔
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! he’s trying to pay attention, he really is. but you’re just too damn sweet!
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fluff, fem!reader, established relationship, second person limited omniscient ( embrys thoughts ), 1.0k words!
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Okay, he knows he’s supposed to be listening right now—the math test is in three days and it’s crunch time.
He knows he should be furiously scribbling down every word that leaves your pretty lips so that he even has a chance at getting a decent grade.
He knows.
But that’s simply an impossible ask of him when you’re sitting right there. His sweet little imprint.
He feels himself begin to smile as he watches you, chin resting in his hand as he leans against the table.
The way your nimble fingers wrap around your pencil, your nails dancing across the page of his math textbook as you explain a particular formula.
You could be doing absolutely nothing and he’d still be obsessed.
“So when you’re looking at right angles and you only have the opposite and hypotenuse, you want to calculate for-”
Your words are flowing in one ear and out the other as he continues to smile. The sound of your voice—so soft and sweet. It’s like a melodic tune singing straight to his heart.
The other guys are always giving him shit for ‘going soft’ but he couldn’t care less.
The way he sees it—the ones with imprints get it, and the ones without imprints wish they could.
He’s so lost in his internal gloating about having you that he almost misses when you stop talking, staring at him expectantly.
Shit.
He chuckles nervously as he slowly sits up a little straighter. “Uh…four?” He asks more than he states, smiling sheepishly.
He allows himself to relax when he sees you shake your head in amusement, knowing he didn’t make you upset.
“Em, I asked if you understood how to calculate sine now.” You chuckle sweetly, and just like that—he’s sucked in all over again.
God, your laugh.
If he could, he would spend forever listening to that sound. There’s nothing that soothes his soul the way your laughter does.
He chuckles along with you, leaning forward and grabbing your hands. His large digits engulf yours as his thumbs gently sweep along your knuckles.
Pulling them up to his mouth, he kisses the back of each hand. “I’m sorry, princess.” He murmurs quietly, lips brushing against your skin. “You’re just too damn sweet right now, baby. Got me all distracted.” He kisses your hand again, smiling when it makes you giggle.
“Not even doing anything, Em.” You murmur softly, and he’s immediately shaking his head in denial.
“Not true, princess.” He refutes, scooting his chair back and pulling you into his lap—uncaring of whether or not his mom walks in on you two like that.
He’s pretty sure she’s not going to say anything against it anyway. His mom loves you.
Not only are you the only reason he even goes to school—the wolf in him not allowing him to spend too long apart from you; but you’ve also been the main motivator in helping him repair his strained relationship with his mother.
And it’s been getting better—it really has. A month ago, he wouldn’t have dared to sit at the kitchen counter to do homework with you like he is right now; worried his mom would just find another issue to start an argument over.
It’s because of you, his sweet girl, that he’s been slowly getting his life back onto track.
He nuzzles into your neck, humming softly as his large hands run up and down your back. “Mm, you smell good, baby. Smell like me.” He mumbles lowly, and you let out a soft snort.
“You and your wolf nose.” You mutter wryly.
His only response is to playfully nip at your ear before chuckling softly, tightening his hold on you. “Smell sweet too.” He continues, lips trailing down your neck.
“Sound sweet, look sweet, feel sweet.” On and on he goes, continuing to breathe you in. Everything about you is just so damn sweet.
Your scent drives him crazy, makes him all fuzzy and fuck- if he runs a little hot because of his shifter genes—then he’s absolutely scorching from within because of you.
He pulls back just enough to take in your sweet expression—cheeks looking as hot as his skin feels, pretty lips parted ever so slightly, and eyes absolutely sparkling.
He groans softly, resting his forehead on your chest. He shakes his head a little as he tightens his hold on you yet again.
“It’s too much, princess. Can’t focus with you being all cute right now. M’sorry.” He mumbles into your skin, continuing to inhale your scent unabashedly.
Your hands fall to his shoulders, fingers gently kneading into the strong muscles as you hum softly.
“That’s okay, honey.” You kiss his head softly, and he feels you smile when he melts into you a little further.
After a moment, he suddenly stands up—lifting you into his arms with ease as he moves you to the living room, laying you out on the couch before turning on the TV and joining you.
He wraps his arms around you from behind, effectively spooning you as he rests his chin on your shoulder.
“Let’s just do this instead, okay? Got Sam helping me study tomorrow at Emily’s.” He says softly, feeling a wave of relief when you nod, sinking back into his arms.
Of course he made back up plans. He knew from the beginning that there was no chance he’d be able to focus with you teaching him—but when you’d offered to help him study, expression so sweet and earnest—how could he say anything but yes?
It’s just downright illegal to tell you no and that’s a fact, so what was he supposed to do?
“As long as you study before the test, we can do this for as long as you like, baby.” You respond as he nuzzles into your neck once more.
“Of course, princess.” He pecks your neck softly. Who is he to argue with his sweet girl?
As you both settle further into the couch to watch the movie, you look up at him, eyes twinkling yet again as you smile mischievously.
“At least you lasted longer than last time.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! fun fact: embrys entire personality just becomes girlfriend™️ after he imprints, true story. i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!
Summary: In which Aerion's short T-shirt causes unrest. Warnings: SMUT.
You remembered the winter well. Aerion Targaryen had let his blond hair grow out, and he'd stalked through the December slush in that striking red coat with the matching red buttons, looking like some fallen prince. He'd been insufferable about it too, preening just enough that you'd wanted to push him into a snowbank, but never quite crossing into outright vanity. That was his talent, you thought. Making extravagance look like effortlessness.
Now it was barely June, and some cruel god had decided to turn the city into an oven.
The heat had been building for days: that thick, dry kind of heat that clung to your skin and made the air feel like breathing through sand. You'd texted Aerion that morning with a single sweaty-faced emoji and nothing else, and he'd replied with a photo of his coffee and the words don't die before I get there.
So when your apartment door clicked open (he had a key, because of course he did, because Aerion Targaryen had bulldozed through every boundary you'd ever tried to set within the first three months of knowing him), you were sprawled on the couch in nothing but a pair of cotton shorts and an old band t-shirt you'd cut the sleeves off of. The oscillating fan was doing absolutely nothing except pushing warm air around the room.
"Tell me you brought ice," you said without opening your eyes.
"I brought me."
His voice was low, familiar, with that particular rasp that always made something in your chest tighten. You heard the jingle of keys being dropped into the bowl by the door, the soft thud of shoes being kicked off, and then footsteps approaching.
You opened your eyes.
Aerion Targaryen stood at the foot of your couch, and he looked like a problem. A very specific, very distracting kind of problem.
The white t-shirt he wore was simple enough at first glance: good fabric, obviously quality, the kind of cotton that was soft rather than stiff, draping rather than clinging. There was something written on it in red, blocky letters you didn't bother to read because your gaze had already slipped lower. The shirt wasn't exactly a crop top, you'd have made fun of him mercilessly if it was, but it was short. Shorter than it should have been. Shorter than any of his other shirts, certainly.
He straightened his back, probably to stretch after the walk from his car, and that was when you saw it.
A portion of his stomach. A sliver of skin just above the waistband of his jean shorts. And below that, a faint trail of pale hair starting just below his navel and disappearing down beneath the denim.
The jeans shorts were also short. Not obscenely so, not high-waisted like a preschooler's as he'd once mockingly described a pair you'd tried on at a vintage store, but short enough that they sat low on his hips. Short enough that they did absolutely nothing to cover the gap of skin his t-shirt had left exposed.
Aerion caught you staring. Of course he did.
There was a moment, just a fraction of a second, where his expression shifted from casual to something sharper and pleased. His lips curved into that lopsided grin you'd grown helplessly addicted to over the past year and a half, the one that made him look less like a rich asshole and more like a very pretty boy who knew exactly what he was doing.
He stepped closer, and his hand came up to your jaw, long fingers cool against your overheated skin, thumb brushing along your cheekbone, and he murmured, "There's my baby."
The kiss was slow. His mouth tasted like the coffee he'd shown you. You leaned into it automatically, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, and you felt him smile against your lips before he pulled back.
His thumb swiped across your lower lip, and he glanced down at the faint smudge of color now staining his skin.
"Ruined," he observed, with absolutely no remorse.
You should have grumbled. You usually did. You usually made some comment about how expensive that lip combo was, how he owed you a new tube, how he was a menace to your makeup collection.
But today you couldn't stop staring at his stomach.
The patch of skin between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his shorts. The way the faint muscles of his abdomen shifted when he breathed. The trail of pale hair that led downward like a road map to somewhere you'd visited many times before but somehow couldn't stop thinking about.
Aerion moved past you toward the kitchen, probably to get water, probably to give you a moment to collect yourself, and as he passed, his hand swatted your backside with casual, proprietary ease.
You didn't complain. You never forgot to complain.
"Aerion."
He paused, turning back with an eyebrow raised. He'd already opened your refrigerator and was leaning down to examine its contents, which meant his shirt rode up even further, which meant you could see more of his lower back now too, and...
"You little slut," you said.
His eyebrow climbed higher.
"Sorry?" But he wasn't sorry. He was grinning.
"Who are you showing this much skin for?" You gestured vaguely at his entire midsection. "It's June second. The heat index is ninety-seven. You look like you're about to film a music video."
Aerion straightened up slowly on purpose, and closed the refrigerator without taking anything out. He turned to face you fully, and then, with the casual grace of someone who had never once felt self-conscious in his entire life, he stretched his arms over his head.
The shirt rode up. Way up.
The hem pulled past his navel, past the trail of hair, past the sharp lines of his hip bones. You could see the bottom of his rib cage. You could see the way his abdominal muscles tensed with the stretch. You could see...
"It's just a T-shirt," he said, dropping his arms and letting the fabric fall back into place. His voice was innocent. His eyes were not. "It's hot outside." He paused, tilting his head. "Just like you're wearing shorts. What's the difference?"
"The difference," you said, proud of how steady your voice came out, "is that my shorts cover my entire ass and go to my thighs."
"Debatable."
"Aerion."
He crossed the room and dropped onto the couch beside you, close enough that his thigh pressed against yours. The heat of him, already running warm, always running warm, seeped through the thin fabric of your shorts.
"Baby," he said, and his voice had dropped an octave, gone velvety in that way that made your stomach flip. "If you keep staring at me there like that, I'll think a miracle has happened."
"What miracle?"
"That you want to blow me."
You swatted his chest, and he caught your wrist before you could pull away, laughing low in his throat. His grip was loose, easy, his thumb rubbing circles against your pulse point.
"I'm serious," he said. "You've been looking at my stomach for approximately four straight minutes. You haven't blinked. I was starting to get concerned for your ocular health."
"I was thinking."
"About my stomach."
"About how you're a slut."
"Mm." He released your wrist and leaned back against the couch cushions, and you thought that would be the end of it, that he'd tease you for a few more minutes and then suggest ordering food or watching something or doing any of the normal things couples did on sweltering June afternoons.
Instead, he lay down.
Right there on your couch, on his back, one arm tucked behind his head. His shirt exposing his stomach completely, the pale expanse of skin, the faint lines of muscle, that trail of hair you couldn't stop thinking about. And then, as if that wasn't enough, he jutted his hips upward slightly. Like a dog awaiting a belly rub.
You stared at him.
He stared back, his expression somewhere between smug and hopeful.
"You're ridiculous," you said.
"You love it."
"I love you. There's a difference."
His face softened at that, just for a moment, just a flicker, before the smugness returned. "Then prove it. Come here."
You should have resisted. You should have made him work for it, made him beg a little, made him regret wearing that godsforsaken shirt that had been designed specifically to destroy your sanity.
Instead, you leaned down.
Your lips brushed the spot just below his navel, the beginning of his happy trail, and you felt his stomach muscles jump beneath your mouth. His skin was warm, slightly salty. You pressed a second kiss there, softer this time, and then a third, trailing down just a fraction of an inch.
You didn't unzip his shorts.
Above you, Aerion made a sound, something between a groan and a laugh, and his hands came up to grip your thighs. His fingers were warm through your cotton shorts, squeezing, kneading, inching upward.
"Come here," he said again, but this time it wasn't a request.
He pulled you down on top of him with enough force that you had to catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head. One of his hands stayed on your thigh. The other slinked down, past the hem of your shorts, past the elastic of your underwear, and his fingers found wetness. Not a little, not just damp. Wet.
Aerion's eyebrows rose. His lips curved. He didn't pull his hand away; instead, he pressed slightly, just enough to feel you through the fabric of your underwear.
"What's this?" he murmured. His thumb brushed against you, light as a whisper. "Playing hard to get when you're this wet already? That's not very nice, princess."
You should have let him believe it. You should have let him think he'd done this to you, that his stupid shirt and his stupid stomach and his stupid smug face had turned you into this: aching, wanting, slick with need.
But you were also honest to a fault, and Aerion knew you too well for lies anyway.
"No," you said, and your voice came out breathier than you wanted it to. "No, babe, it's...that's not..."
"Not what?"
"It's just discharge." You felt your face heat. "From ovulating. It's not...It's just what happens everyday when ovulating."
For a moment, Aerion just looked at you. Then he laughed with genuine, delighted amusement. His hand stayed where it was, fingers still pressed against your damp underwear, and his hips shifted beneath you in a way that you felt everywhere.
"Doesn't ovulation phase mean increased horniness?" he asked, tilting his head. "I read that somewhere. Heightened libido, increased attraction?"
"That's not..." you started.
"I'm just saying. Seems like convenient timing."
You snorted. "That's not how it works. While libido could spike around ovulation due to hormonal shifts, it's not a guarantee, and discharge is not the same thing as arousal. I would know because this week my body..."
"Baby." He cut you off with a gentle squeeze of his fingers. "I love when you talk biology to me. Truly. It's one of my favorite things about you." His hips rolled upward again, and you could feel him now, half-hard beneath his shorts, pressing against your core through layers of fabric. "But I don't care why you're wet. I care that you are."
"Aerion..."
"Sit down." His voice was soft but certain. "Ride me."
"We're on the couch."
"The couch is fine." He pulled at your hips, guiding you more firmly against him. His eyes were bright, almost playful.
"There's no...we don't have any..."
He reached into the back pocket of his shorts and pulled out a condom. Held it up between two fingers like a winning lottery ticket.
"You carry those with you?"
"I carry one with me." He tucked it back into his pocket. "For emergencies."
"You're such a..."
"Ride me," he said again, and his hand slipped out of your shorts just long enough to undo the button, to pull down the zipper, to push the denim down his thighs. "Come on. I'll let you punish me for the slutty top you pretend to hate."
"I don't pretend to..."
"You've been staring at my stomach for five minutes."
"Four."
"Six, now." He grabbed your hips and guided you, shifted you until you were straddling him properly. His cock pressed against the damp cotton of your underwear, hot and heavy, and you couldn't help the way your hips rolled forward.
"There she is," he murmured. "There's my girl."
His hand slipped back into your shorts, into your underwear this time, no fabric barrier between his fingers and your skin. He found you slick and ready and wanting, despite everything you'd said about biology and discharge.
"You feel that?" he asked, and his fingers circled your clit once, twice, watching your face as your breath caught. "You can call it whatever you want. Discharge. Ovulation. Biological imperative." He pressed deeper, one finger sliding inside you with embarrassing ease. "But this? The way you're gripping my fingers? That's not biology. That's me."
You couldn't argue. You couldn't speak. His finger curled inside you and his thumb pressed against your clit and his other hand was unzipping his shorts the rest of the way, pushing them down, kicking them off entirely.
He pulled his fingers out of you, you made a sound of protest that you'd deny later, his fingers were slick, and he brought them to his mouth without thinking, or maybe with too much thinking, and sucked them clean. He reached for the condom in his pocket. Ripped it open with his teeth, which should have been ridiculous but wasn't, wasn't at all.
"Come here," he said for the third time.
You leaned down, and he kissed you, deep and hungry, licking into your mouth like he was trying to taste every part of you at once. His tongue swept against yours, and his hands guided your hips, and beneath you, he nudged the head of his cock against your entrance.
"Atta girl," he breathed against your lips.
And then he pushed inside.
You both groaned, you from the stretch, him from the heat. Your fingers curled into his shoulders.
His shirt had ridden up even further, pressed between your bodies, and you could feel his stomach against yours, warm skin on warm skin, that trail of hair brushing your navel. You looked down at him, at the flush spreading across his cheekbones, at the way his lips had parted, at the blond hair spread across your couch cushions.
"There's my baby," he said again, softer this time.
You started to move.
His hands guided you, showing you the rhythm, the pace, and you let him, because you trusted him, because you wanted this, because despite all your protests about slutty tops and biology and the sweltering June heat, there was nowhere else you'd rather be.
The couch creaked beneath you. The fan whirred uselessly.
"That's it. Just like that. You feel so good. So good, baby."
Your thighs burned. Sweat slicked the back of your neck. His hands moved from your hips to your waist to your breasts, pushing up your shirt, palming your skin.
"You're so beautiful," he said, and he sounded almost surprised by it, even now, even after all this time. "Riding me on your cheap couch in your cheap apartment, and you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"Aerion..."
"I mean it." His hips snapped upward, driving deeper, and you gasped. "I'm going to marry you someday."
"Don't...ah...don't propose to me while you're inside me."
"Fine." He grinned, sharp and lovely. "I'll wait until I'm outside you."
You kissed him to shut him up, or maybe just because you wanted to, because his mouth was warm and familiar and his tongue tasted like coffee and forever. He groaned into the kiss and his hands slid down to grip your ass, helping you move, setting a rhythm that made your vision blur at the edges.
The couch springs protested. The afternoon light slanted through the blinds, painting stripes across his pale skin. His hips snapped up to meet yours, over and over, and his breath came hot against your cheek.
"Close," he muttered. "Baby, I'm close."
You nodded, couldn't speak, could barely think. Your fingers dug into his shoulders and your head fell back and you chased your own release.
He reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, pressing hard, that was all it took.
You came with a sound you'd be embarrassed about later, your body clenching around him, your vision blacking out. He followed a moment after, hips stuttering, a low groan torn from his throat.
For a moment, neither of you moved. Then Aerion laughed breathlessly and pulled you down against his chest. His heart pounded beneath your ear, slowly evening out. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back.
"That was," he said, "a very productive ovulatory phase."
"Shut up."
"The egg didn't go to waste after all."
"I said shut up."
He laughed again, and you hid your smile against his skin, his stomach, where your cheek rested now.
"You're staring again," he said.
"I'm laying."
"You're staring at my stomach while laying on it. I can feel your eyes."
"You can't feel eyes, Aerion."
"I can feel your eyes." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Lucky for you, I wore the slutty top."
"Lucky for you," you mumbled into his skin, "I was ovulating."
His laugh was worth the embarrassment. It always was. He held you against his chest, his too-short shirt rucked up around his ribs, looking at you like he'd won something. Maybe he had. You certainly weren't complaining.
a/n: Liked the fic? You can donate on Ko-fi, your support helps me write more: https://ko-fi.com/catbayunthestoryteller <3
summary: You made friends with the Tripod, learning about their escapades that took place during Prom, awakening Eli’s dream job. Though, never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine being involved with Eli’s risqué career goals.
word count: 5.1k
content warnings: smut, spit kink, oral sex, blowjobs, cum swallowing, cursing, Eli being a perv (like usual), throat-fucking, filming during sex,
A/N: Hiiii!!! Long time no see!!! I wanted to go through my old wattpad account from like three years ago and see if there was anything good on there, and I remember my Paul Dano fics did fairly well there. Not sure if the danonation is still alive and kicking, but maybe someone out there will enjoy ‘em. ㅤꨄ︎
You'd gotten to know Eli right at the end of senior year. He had a love of films—much DIFFERENT films than you rather enjoyed, but nonetheless, you both shared a love for the art of filmmaking.
People were shouting in the hall about having the tape, and waves of students filed into the library, crowding around a small television.
You'd known Eli was up to something, he'd practically been bragging up through graduation about the film he'd produced. And there was going to be a showing of it.
"You said it's a WHAT film!?" You yelled, him immediately clamping his hands over your mouth.
"Stop yelling!" He practically screeched, wide-eyed and pleading. "It's not like that!"
You swatted his hand off and turned to Matt, "You were in charge of this!?" Your arms were crossed over your chest, eyeing down all three of the boys, while Danielle just giggled to herself.
"You don't understand, I had no other option." Matt tried to explain. Danielle stood beside him, biting playfully at her nails.
"Okay... but you let him produce it?" You gestured stupidly to Eli earning a “shut up!” from him.
"You wouldn't get it, we're a tripod." He waved his arms around in front of him like he wasn't hearing out anything you had to say.
"You don't have to come in and watch, but I- we- WE consider you our friend... we'd want you to be there." Klitz piped up.
Matt nodded, and Danielle smiled. Eli still looked slightly pissed.
You went to the showing, quite apprehensively. They hadn't told you anything about the film—but knowing Eli produced it... you had no clue what to expect.
You figured probably Danielle would be in it, but you didn't know how that would work considering Matt basically fought for her freedom from her past work.
You may had been clueless going into it... however, at the end, you were shocked. You looked at Eli with bewilderment. "You really made this?"
He had that typical shit-eating grin on his face. He quite liked to rub in that he was a genius because while insufferable—was true.
"We sold it to schools across the globe for sex-ed. Isn't it fucking genius?!" He gawked at his own work.
You rolled your eyes, leaning a tad closer to Eli, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
His smile faded into an annoyed look, making you smirk triumphantly.
You turned to look at Matt and Danielle who also looked quite proud, and finally, Klitz, who held a more reserved glory on his expression.
You knew why—you definitely wouldn't confront him about it but despite the fencing helmet, you could vaguely see the outline of his round face and wire glasses through the mesh.
At least that's what you convinced yourself, not the fact that you recognized the grooves of his shoulders or the slenderness of his frame. And of course how the 'Fencing Guy' was the same height as him.
And the expression Klitz held from the praise of your classmates gave you all the answers you'd need.
When the showing had ended students filed back out of the library, still talking about what they'd just watched. Everyone left until it was just you five still around.
You thought about saying something to Klitz, some teasing line you always used to watch his cheeks turn bright pink, but shockingly; he approached you first.
"I'm glad you decided to join us." He smiled shyly, still coming down from the praise.
"Well, anything for you, Klitzy." You poked his side teasingly, lightly trailing your finger up as you made contact.
There it was, the pink flush littered across his cheeks. You were slightly relieved the anonymous fame hadn't gotten to his head—well, mostly anonymous.
"So what did you really think?" He asked, shoving his hands anxiously in his pockets.
"If you tell Eli this, I'll absolutely deny it-" You began, pointing a firm finger in his direction.
"Of course." He nodded.
"But I think he didn't do half a bad job. But I think there's credit due to all of you."
He smiled, kicking his foot coyly. "Matt and Eli did the most, I just did the script and some lighting stuff."
You cocked your brow, "Really? Just that?"
He nodded. The pink tinge to his cheeks was fading and you knew just how to pull it into overdrive.
"I dunno..." You began, tracing that same index finger you poked him with up his chest, to the beginning of his neck before slowly drawing it down over his shoulders as you spoke.
"I think the fencing guy seemed quite familiar."
With that you turned on your heel, leaving Klitz behind feeling like he was frozen to the floor.
School was out—finally. You all had graced the stage and received your diplomas, and despite constant bickering with Eli, you still hung out with the four of them. Unless of course, if Matt and Danielle were hanging out themselves, then it was mostly just you, Klitz, and Eli.
You thrived off of flustering Klitz, it was a sick satisfaction you couldn't live without.
How quickly he'd begin to stutter or playing a fun game with yourself of ‘how red will Klitz turn this time?’
You loved it... and he wouldn't admit it but he did too.
You sat on Eli's couch, between him and Klitz unfortunately watching some porn video he forced you both to "experience"—his words— with him.
"It's an addiction, Eli." You groaned trying to escape the graphic imagery flashing right in front of your face—even Klitz seemed to be grimacing.
Every now and then though, despite this corrupted form of torture you'd bump your leg against Klitz's and watch him try to shuffle away from you fearing he'd invaded your space.
"Not an addiction, research. This is what I want to do." Eli pointed firmly to the screen.
You snorted, "Give blowjobs?" making Klitz chuckle, and Eli shoot you a death glare.
"No, dumbass. Film them! This is what I want to do." He practically knelt in front of the screen.
"Eli what if every other... film you made was garbage? What would you do if you were a one-hit wonder?"
Eli fumbled slightly, he'd be stupid to deny that wasn't a fear of his.
"I guess I'll just have to make another movie." He furrowed his brows as he spoke—as if deep in thought... which Eli was not capable of.
"You really think April and Ferrari would come back and film with you? And who would you hire for a male role? I-" Klitz cleared his throat, "Fencing Guy... said it was a one-time thing, remember?" he hissed through clenched teeth, trying to lower his voice in front if you.
You smirked turning away from Klitz, it's been nearing on a month and he still hadn't admitted to you that he was the fencing guy in Eli’s sex-ed film.
Eli's eyes went wide and almost crazed as he turned to face both of you.
"Oh no." Klitz started.
"I really don't like that look." You groaned.
"We don't need Ferrari or April!" He practically shouted.
Klitz began shaking his head, starting slow but quickly gaining in pace, and you thought you were following… but you were still petrified that this was even being suggested.
"You wanna make a movie?" Eli asked with a mischievous glimmer in his eye.
Klitz practically jumped up. "No! No way, Dude. That is NOT happening."
Eli rolled his eyes. "C'mon Klitzy, don't be a pussy."
You were following... perfectly loud and clear—but you felt like this was all an elaborate joke you didn't quite understand.
"Movie of who?" You asked, brows furrowed, eyes wandering to meet Eli's.
"No, don't even entertain him." Klitz put his foot down—and you kinda liked seeing him step up and be in charge for a change. The confidence looks good on him.
"I've got two perfect actors right in front of me." Eli grinned, rather evilly if you were quite honest.
"No, absolutely not, Dude. That's a stupid fucking idea." Klitz continued to stand his ground.
"Oh c'mon Klitz! Amateur stuff is all the rage! And besides, weren't you saying how you wanted to-" Eli was cut off by a blur practically pouncing on him, and Klitz's hand clamping down over his mouth.
He was wide-eyed and looked like he was running off pure adrenaline. "Don't listen to him—he's crazy." He turned to Eli, hand still firmly against his mouth. "You're crazy."
Eli smacked his hand down and glared at him. "We three could be a tripod. Klitzy... dude. C'mon." He pointed between the three of us in a wild and loose circling gesture.
He shook his head.
"Do not make me beg right now, Klitz! I'm already on my knees!" His voice cracked as he yelled, immediately crumbling down to his knees.
Klitz continued shaking his head.
You sat awestricken. God, you wished this was a dream, no—a nightmare you could wake up from.
You even gave yourself a little pinch in hopes that…nope. Real-life. Fuck.
On one hand… you’d had a debilitating crush on Klitz for a few months now, and either he was too oblivious to notice, or worst case scenario—he didn’t feel the same.
"So what? We'd... we’d… and you'd film?! That's a little fucked don't you think?" You finally spoke, startling both boys.
Eli stood, outstretching his hands as if he was a religious figure. "We're all friends here. You wouldn't have to do anything you wouldn't want to."
Were you really considering this? If Eli was insane, then you were completely off the deep end.
Yes, you were all friends but didn't that add to the embarrassment? Eli seeing you and Klitz... intimately, nonetheless filming it—and you being intimate with Klitz.
This was one fucked up nightmare.
"Dude! You were literally just begging us to do it—is that not the same thing as forcing us?!" You'd never seen Klitz so frantic.
You felt a strange twinge in your chest—fear. Fear that he didn't want to do this because it was with you.
After all... "Fencing Guy" seemed quite relaxed in the hands of April.
"What would it contain?" You asked. Considered? Contemplated?
Yep, you were definitely as crazy as Eli, and he knew it from that signature grin that grew across his face.
He almost immediately abandoned Klitz’s side, practically knocking over anything in his path as he scrambled to join your side.
"Whatever you're comfortable with." He remarked—strangely comfortingly, despite him wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
You hadn't made eye contact with Klitz the entire time you'd been thinking about it. You were terrified of some expression he'd hold that would ruin everything if you admitted to considering it.
"Klitzy, dude. She's thinking about it. That means you should too." Eli nudged his best friend.
He looked deep into your expression, and somehow this felt more vulnerable than if you were to fuck Klitz on camera with Eli filming the process.
He looked panicked—probably just as panicked as you felt internally.
Panicked at what you were thinking—were you thinking?
"For god's sake, this silence is killing me… Klitz wants to fuck you anyway so why not just let me film it!" Eli yelled in frustration.
"Fuck you, Dude!" Klitz yelled in desperation, his face redder than a tomato ripening in the California sun.
"What! If you didn't say it no one would and this wouldn't get anywhere!" Eli argued back.
You sat stunned once again on the couch as the boys bickered.
Their overlapping yells got so loud that eventually, their separate voices seemed to fade into one voice.
"Is that true?" You asked rather quietly.
Eli was still yelling but Klitz was hyperaware of you at all times, so you quickly got his attention.
"Huh?" He asked, brows still furrowed from quickly shifting from the argument to you.
"I asked if it was true." You repeated.
Eli scoffed, "Of course it is, why do you think he's always so flustered around you?"
"Eli!" Klitz turned back to him, voice pleading. Eli put his arms up defensively.
"Eli, can I talk to you?" You eventually spat out, tired of the arguing between the two boys.
"Not before I do." Klitz interjected.
You crossed your arms, starting to feel yourself grow annoyed, suffocating beneath the thick tension in the living room. “Fine. Go then."
Klitz took ahold of Eli's elbow and dragged him down the hall, the boy scampering to not trip over his own feet, attempting to keep pace with the long-limbed boy.
They weren't gone long, at least not long enough for you to sincerely think it over on your own without the two's bickering.
All you'd heard throughout their conversation following the slam of a door, was a quick slap of skin and a whiny cry of pain from Eli before another strike landed amongst incoherent conversation—albeit muffled by the closed door.
Klitz returned with an expression on his face you couldn't place, while simultaneously holding his cheek, and Eli looking like he'd just won an Oscar.
Klitz exited from the bathroom, his brows knit tightly, meanwhile Eli held that shit-eating grin on his face as he extended the bathroom door open for you.
"M'lady." He gestured to you, letting you know it was your turn to talk to him.
You passed Klitz who held a wide-eyed, almost pleading expression, avoiding your eye contact as he sat on the couch.
You and Eli stood in the bathroom for a moment in silence, driving him mad as you desperately attempted to collect your thoughts.
"Is what you said true, or just some ruse to get me to agree?" You finally broke the silence.
"It's true—Jesus, I mean if you think I'm sick, you should hear the shit Klitz mumbles about you when he stays over!"
Your cheeks felt warm immediately from his words. "W-What do you mean?"
"Well, I've heard in quite the explicit detail what Klitz would do to you if he ever got the chance—not to be vulgar, and this is his chance!"
You bit at your nails in thought, "If it's his chance, why is he so apprehensive?"
You didn't know what was crazier—the fact you were considering exploiting yourself on film for Eli, or that you were confiding in him.
What you refused to tell Eli was that you'd had your own little daydreams involving Klitz... that was something he didn't need to know.
"He doesn't want to make you do anything you don't want to—and neither do I may I add!" He stuck his hands out before him, waving them frantically. This made you roll your eyes.
"You've known Klitz for a while now, you know how he is. He's shy, and definitely not the type to make the first move. Poor guy's been shut down more times than I can count."
You shoved Eli back by the shoulder making him yelp.
"Okay! Okay! But you know it's true. Klitz is literally in love with you, and again—not to be vulgar—but I'm fairly certain all of his wet dreams are about you."
Eli raised his brows as if this was top secret information and you were a client for hire... you kind of were, when you thought about it in retrospect.
"Eli... if you say anything about this to absolutely anyone I will skin you alive, do you hear me?" You stuck your finger aggressively close to his face, threatening to poke him in the nose.
He nodded fervently. You looked away from him so you could take a deep breath and leaned back against the wall.
"I've- I'm a virgin. I've never done anything like this, and consider me a prude or old fashioned or whatever you could possibly call me for saying so… but I want my first time to be special, no offense to you, but not one of your homemade movies."
He nodded but then cocked his head to the side, "Wait, I thought you were on board but now..." His eyes shifted between yours.
For some reason watching him try to put together the pieces made you nervous.
"What about if it was... other stuff?" Your arms crossed tightly over your chest.
Eli wasn't following.
"Christ sakes, Eli! Like just uh, oral… or something."
The word "oral" was barely above a whisper as it escaped from your lips.
He perked up again, "That's absolutely manageable!" He laughed, lifting up his baseball cap and running his hand through his hair in relief.
"So you're in?" He waited rather impatiently for your response.
"Fuck." You exhaled.
He practically jumped up and down with excitement. "YES! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!!!" He praised like a child just allowed to pick a candy bar from the checkout line of a grocery store.
He kissed his index and middle finger before pointing it up to the sky in triumph.
"Don't make me change my mind by geeking out." you scrutinized, narrowing your eyes as you watched him celebrate.
He nodded and recollected himself, putting on a cool demeanor.
He walked out towards the living room first, you trailing behind him.
He put on the signature Eli smile to Klitz who was eagerly awaiting your response.
"She's in Klitzy." He nodded firmly.
"Really?! I-I mean, are you sure?" Klitz stuttered.
You looked between the two varying emotions on the boys' faces.
"Eli... go get your camera." You muttered, unbelieving you were actually doing this.
“Alright- and... ACTION!" Eli yelled.
"What do we do? You gave no instruction..." You shot him a glare, a light venom lacing your tone.
You felt strangely annoyed to be standing in front of Klitz and Eli in your underwear—not ashamed as you thought you'd be. Though… you supposed Klitz being stripped down to boxers made you feel a little better.
"Sex stuff! Work up to it, you know." Eli brushed it off.
No, you didn't know—and neither did Klitz. Yes, you both had dreamed of it, but this was real, not fantasy.
"Uh... I-I could kiss you?" Klitz suggested. You tried to resist going flush yourself from his suggestion.
You turned back to Eli once more, "Are you rolling?"
He nodded, "Never stopped after saying action. Don't worry we can edit it when we're through."
You sighed, shutting your eyes briefly, and took a deep breath.
This was real, it was happening—don't cower out of it now.
You found it easier to pretend Eli wasn't there. You did that a lot, truth be told, but more so now.
Once you pushed Eli and the camera to the back of your mind, it was practically child's play from there on out.
You looked from Klitz's lips to his eyes as you trailed your hand up his chest, the way you did in the library, before settling your gaze back on his lips.
With a gentle shove to the couch and a small groan that escaped from his throat, you instantly felt that familiar twinge—the good one that settled in your lower tummy, a needy warmth blooming between your thighs.
You straddled his lap, looking deep into his eyes, watching... waiting to see if he'd make a move first.
And just like clockwork, his lips lunged towards yours—bingo.
As soon as your lips collided, his hands flew haphazardly to grip your thighs, desperate to feel even more of you against him.
It was instantly like something awakened inside of him and he needed to feel you—hungry for your touch. This was not like the shy Klitz you'd known... and you didn't know if at that moment it scared you… or excited you.
His hands traced your thighs, rubbing small circles against the flesh making you shiver slightly. You attempted to wrap your arms around his neck but accidentally bumped his glasses with your hand.
You quickly tried to take them off as effortlessly as you could, to make it look like it was purposeful. You pulled away from the kiss coyly checking on Klitz—who you'd noticed—pupils were already dilated.
You realized you'd never seen him without his glasses, and despite it still being him he looked so shockingly different, you could clearly see bright green eyes that weren't hidden behind the thick lenses of glass or the wireframes that split his eyes in half when they slouched down his nose.
You placed your hands flat on his shoulders, cocking your head to the side to litter his neck with light nips and kisses, eliciting another lewd groan from him.
He seemed to be doing a pretty good job of pretending Eli wasn't there either… that, or he was just so completely dazed by you that he truly had forgotten.
You sucked with a decent pressure on the sensitive skin right below his jaw you'd discovered one day when tickling him—you knew you'd leave a mark, but it didn't seem like either of you cared.
You sucked the same spot on his neck, this time rocking your hips gently against his, creating friction against him.
"F-Fuck..." He groaned burying himself in your shoulder.
You swapped back to kissing his lips, feeling his hands travel up your waist before landing on your chest with a light squeeze as you continued grinding against him.
He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, taking you by surprise and making you darkly giggle as you recollided your mouth to his.
His tongue brushed gently across your bitten lip before you opened your mouth a little wider to allow him access.
He happily and rather needily accepted, coaxing your tongue into his mouth, feeling the warmth of the strong, wet muscle against his.
You stayed like this until you physically couldn't handle his hardness prodding into your thigh for any longer.
You pulled yourself away with a smutty string of saliva still connecting you both by the lips. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, separating the spit as you looked into his eyes, slowly crawling off his lap and onto the floor.
While you did this as slowly as you could to draw out his eagerness, you took the opportunity to collect as much slickness in your mouth as possible.
You sat with your hands pressed against his thighs in front of him on your knees, eyeing him cautiously to make sure he was still okay with this, but he truly was dazed.
"You want to feel my tongue against your cock-?" You giggled softly, trying your best at ‘dirty talk’, rubbing your palm lightly against the tent in his boxers.
"Oh my God-" Was all he could muster out as you hooked your fingers around the waistband of his boxers and tugged gently. He sprung up impatiently with a lewd smack against his lower stomach.
You had to control everything within you not to smirk knowing the proof of Klitz being "Fencing guy" was right here- barely inches from your face.
"Fuck, Klitzy, I don't know if I can fit all of you in my mouth." You purred, making him practically whimper at your words.
Talking dirty was a lot easier than it seemed…
You took him in your hand, watching his eyes press shut briefly from sudden contact. You'd barely even touched him and he was already dripping in precum. You gave him a few strokes and peppered kisses down his sensitive flesh before running the flat of your tongue all the way up his length and over the tip.
"S-Shit-" He panted, his hands immediately clinging to your hair, desperate to feel your warm tongue against his dick again, so you complied, licking another wet stripe up his length before sinking just the tip into your mouth.
You looked up at him, and if you thought his pupils were big before—now they were completely and utterly blown. Almost no green of his iris was visible, all from the sight of you with your lips around his cock.
You suctioned your cheeks against his tip, popping him out of your mouth with an obscene noise. His fingers clung deeper to your hair as he moaned.
You took him back into your mouth- more of him this time and hummed, letting the vibrations from your throat hit his cock. His eyes were heavily lidded as he watched you, melting like putty in your hand every time you looked up at him.
You popped him once more from your mouth, running your fingers down his length, coating him and your fingers in the slickness of your spit. He released your hair to trail his fingers along your forehead and down your cheek— attempting to make a mental note of you like this.
You sank your mouth down on as much of him as you could—though it was admittedly difficult to fit his length in your mouth—bobbing your head up and down repeatedly while stroking the rest that didn't fit with your hand.
"Oh f-fuck me." He moaned, brows knit together as he threw his head back, fists latching onto your hair once more and pulling you rather forcefully down towards his cock, fucking deeper into your throat.
You opened wider attempting not to gag from the sudden forceful intrusion at your throat.
He filled up your mouth to the brim and still desperately wanted to go deeper, and it was causing the corners of your mouth to leak with saliva.
You tightened the suction around him, before releasing it and running the flat of your tongue against him, stroking him continuously when your lips weren't wrapped around his dick.
"Do you like seeing me like this?" You hummed. "On my knees just for you?" You questioned with a lewd open-mouth pant.
"F-Fuck yes." He moaned through knit brows, looking down at you without lifting his head.
You imagined if he still had his glasses on, how they'd be sliding off the bridge of his nose, the edges of the lenses foggy from his hot face. Something about that image made you wish you'd left his glasses on him.
You pumped him in your hand, feeling him twitch against your skin, as you swirled your tongue along his cockhead. His cheeks were just as red as his pleading, throbbing cock, threatening at any moment to rush him through his high.
You bobbed your head around his length a few more times as his moans became more erratic and he twitched against your tongue.
"Y-You look so pretty with your lips around m'dick-" He praised through stammers and uneven pants, trying as hard as he could to form actual words.
You moaned against him this time, bringing back that same vibration feeling as you squeezed your thighs together creating pressure against you.
You felt his fingers cling to your hair again and you relaxed your throat knowing he was going to force himself down—which he did quickly and aggressively, but you didn't mind.
You’d been learning as you went how to adjust to the size of his huge dick against your tongue. Something about the way he yearned for the warmth of your mouth on his cock made your cunt throb.
Explictives rolled off his tongue as he fucked as deep into your throat as he could without fear of hurting you but attempting to gain on his release. You could feel the tears from the pressure welling up in your eyes, and as you looked up to him with your own half-lidded eyes, he knew he didn't have much longer.
"F-Fuck! I-" He panted, trying to form words but the pleasure coursing through his nerves had them caught in his throat. "M'gonna c-cum…" he whined. You popped him from your mouth making him whine slightly.
"Where do you wanna cum, Klitzy?" You hummed, not daring to stop building up his ever-threatening orgasm.
Half words and curses were all he could manage. "Th-Thr- fuck..."
"You wanna cum down my throat?" You purred, making him shut his eyes tight and bury his hands in your hair as he whimpered and bucked his hips slightly.
You were a little nervous- but this was the big shot. This was the all or nothing for Eli's film, and you’d be damned if you hadn't gotten this far without the intent to finish it.
You slid your mouth down him, bobbing up and down a few more times, hollowing out your cheeks around him and stroking his pulsing cock, until he groaned from deep within his throat, and came right against your tongue with a long, huffy expletive pouring from his lips.
You watched as he threw his head back a final time, riding out his high. Something about the way he looked all dazed and the way his chest heaved and fell—made you obsessed.
He was a mess—and it was because of you.
His hair clung to his forehead, and across the bridge of his nose, spreading to his cheeks were flushed bright red. His hands fell limply from your hair, gathering his strength again as he leaned forward, smashing his lips with yours as he tasted his own salty release off your lips.
"CUT!" Eli yelled before hopping up and down excitedly. "Jesus, guys! That was fucking insane!"
Eli's interruption brought you both back to reality— the reality where you had just given your first blowjob to Klitz, and he'd just gotten his first blowjob from you...
And Eli filmed it all.
"Do you need a tissue? I-I can get you a tissue." Klitz felt around for his glasses, finally locating them with his fingertips before sliding them on to rest against the bridge of his nose.
"I, uh, swallowed." You admitted rather bashfully, disregarding the rather lewd performance you'd just put on.
Klitz's eyes widened—he hadn't expected you to do that, and rather honestly neither did you.
“Your kiss caught me by surprise." You giggled, coyly attempting to change the subject.
"S-Shit..." Klitz panted between laughs— he was still trying to catch his breath. The way Klitz's glasses fogged from the temperature difference of his cheeks is how you imagined them to look while your lips were around his dick.
"Do- Do you need something? Uh like, w-water or something?" He asked with a concerned expression.
You shook your head, "No, I'm good. Are you, you know, alright?"
He laughed, "Of course I'm alright, I'm more than fucking alright."
You giggled at his satisfied daze, helping to tuck himself back into his boxers before climbing beside him on the couch.
You looked at him for a minute, adoring the way he looked once more as you tangled your arm around his heaving chest.
He looked slightly embarrassed for a moment as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, "Y-You know, I'd pictured that happening a million times before but of course it really happening was loads better than imagining it."
You chuckled at his unknowingly dirty word choice which made him furrow his brows until he buried his face in your neck, laughing softly too, after realizing what he'd said.
Eli had already run the camera to his room to start editing his "New masterpiece!" as he kept yelling from upstairs.
You helped Klitz up from the couch, holding onto his arm for a second until he got the hint and bashfully shoved his glasses up again before leaning down to lock his lips with yours.
You pulled away with a smile, admiring the adorable boy who was surprisingly, incredibly well-endowed. "When you pictured it in your head- was Eli there?"
He laughed and tangled his fingers with yours, dragging you alongside him up the stairs to rewatch the movie the three of you had just made.
“morning cuddles because the day doesn't have to start just yet”
It’s from prompt list A, and can it be Dwayne Hoover pls 👉👈
Dwayne Hoover x Reader
wc: 200
A/N: Thank you for requesting anon! I hope you liked it!!
Hotels always had the knack of making you wake up before you needed to. The morning sun barely peeked through the stark white curtains as you opened your eyes. Every bone in your body cracked as you turned over in the hard bed. Dwyane was already awake, his nose stuck in his book. "I should get back to my room before Olive knows I'm gone," you whisper to him.
He didn't say anything but you could just hear the groan in your head as you watched his face scrunch. Placing his book on his lap, he extended his arm, wanting you to cuddle with him. You shook your head, "Your stepdad's going to be knocking soon, Dwayne. He'll kill us if he finds me here."
The boy frowned and reached for the pad of paper on the bedside table. A prewritten note was already waiting for you. Good morning... just 5 minutes?
You huffed and propped yourself up on your elbow, "3," you compromise as you got closer, letting your head fall on his awaiting chest. You couldn't resist those green eyes and the way he made you feel pressed up against him.
Dwyane grinned in triumph and wrapped you in his long arms, his lips connecting with your forehead.
; summary - dwayne with a partner who’s love language is being overly affectionate. [ dwayne + reader ]
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; dwayne isn’t the most affectionate person. however, he’s only had those types of experiences with his family—so it wasn’t a very reliable source.
; when dwayne got to know you, he actually came to realize he likes it; likes being touched in sweet, gentle gestures (but maybe he’s just touch starved). it clicked in his mind that affection from you felt way different than with his family, and he loved it.
; throughout the start of your relationship, you tried your best to keep touching to a minimum, you didn’t want to make dwayne uncomfortable.
; small little grazes of the hands, playing with fingers, rubbing his back when he got stressed or tired, were really the only things you initiated (you could’ve blown a fuse, it was all too small).
; dwayne was actually very thankful that you had eased him into it at first. like i said, he’s touch starved, but he needed some time to realize he wanted affection. (he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to initiate more at times though)
; one night, a month into your relationship, dwayne had snuck you into his room. his family was asleep and his door was closed. it was just the two of you, alone together. you both lied on his bed, looking up at the ceiling as you talked about random topics.
; dwayne had made a joke about his family, how sometimes he wished he could just… not talk. you giggled, breathily, making him smile. he turned to you, watching your eyes blink and hair gently blowing from his fan.
; it was this mundane moment that unlocked a new level of your relationship. dwayne’s hand was suddenly very close to yours, clammy. in a slow movement, he intertwined his fingers with yours, still staring at your side profile.
; you were surprised, waiting a moment before turning towards dwayne, giving his hand a squeeze. you both smiled, relishing in each other’s presence. and eventually you two were pulled close, his chin resting on your head, bodies flush against one another, and fingers still tightly knit together.
; ever since that experience, you had been a lot more touchy with dwayne, finally relieving yourself from the pent up clinginess. (dwayne, of course, does not mind at all)
; it’s become a norm that you’re basically glued to his side and he picked up some habits from it. unconsciously holding his hand out before crossing a street, spreading his legs for you to sit between while he reads, keeping his eyes out for one of your surprise hugs.
; sometimes he does these habits even while alone before realizing, ‘oh, they aren’t here’. (gets partly upset when you don’t do those things when you are there)
; dwayne won’t admit to it, but he loves that you inch closer to him in public, almost pressed right up to his side, holding onto his arm or hand.
; it might be out of anxiety or just because you unconsciously want to be closer to him when surrounded by people. but either way, it gives him sort of an ego boost that it’s him you’re drawn to, feel the most safe with, even out of the numerous people around. (starts feeling way more protective of you after the first time you do this)
; don’t expect to not be teased though.
; “you’re so clingy.” + “so needy.” being the most common comments you seem to hear. but of course, these are light hearted and he’d be hypocritical if he said he wasn’t the same with you. (maybe not as affectionate but you’ve definitely worn off on him)
; butterfly kisses, cheek kisses, pecks, forehead kisses, he doesn’t mind, he loves all of it. though, his favorite from you are definitely neck or hand kisses. fluttery kisses peppered down his throat or pecks on the back of his hands make a warm blush spread across his face.
; it’s your time to tease him now!
; “hm? what’s wrong, love? your cheeks are burning up.” you cup his face in your hand, rubbing the red. dwayne rolls his eyes, smiling, “you’re so dumb, shut up.” tackles you in a hug.
^ sometimes, if he’s feeling extra mischievous, and you begin to tease, he’ll instead grab your wrist and tug you close, shutting you up with a kiss.
^ it’s your turn to get all flustered because his hand is tilting your chin and his tongue slips in your mouth from your little gasp.
^ the kiss is long and stealing your breath, and when he finally pulls away, you’re panting slightly and a very noticeable blush is coating your cheeks. dwayne swipes your bottom lip with his thumb, “why so red, pretty?” he’s content with his work.
; when dwayne takes his vow of silence, you support him fully. it pains you a little bit that you won’t be able to hear his voice, his laugh, anymore—well, not for a while. but when he scribbles out some words on his notepad, holding it up for you to see, ‘will you be able to live without my sweet voice? :(‘, you laugh, pushing him playfully. it would all be alright.
; maybe his quietness led to more physical affection (if it was even humanly possible), but your touches became more frequent, more lovey—dwayne appreciated it.
; cuddles on the bed, hugging whenever you saw him, hand holding while watching a movie, kisses whenever you saw fit.
^ his mom teased you two one day, calling you both ‘lovebugs’.
; a few months into his vow, you had found your way on his lap, him sitting on his bed. his hands gripped your hips as you peppered his face in little kisses, trailing them down his neck and back up again. dwayne subtly grinned in the middle, stopping your actions to write something in his notepad.
; his writing was always messy and you enjoyed the sound of his pen scratching the paper. he held the note up, cheeks red and his pretty smile on his lips, staring at you.
