all4ston3

[all4ston3]

“Get Well, Soon!” 

(DOUG REMER X READER NSFW ONE SHOT)

Find the entire work on Archive Of Our Own

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Doug Remer/You, Doug Remer/Reader

𝗥𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴: explicit

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: When you visit the hospital for what you think is the worst anxiety attack of your life, a very kind, curly headed nurse, demonstrates particularly acceptable bedside manner.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5,713

𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲: approx. 44 minutes

𝗧𝗮𝗴𝘀/𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: She/Her/Hers implied reader, nurse!Remer, it won’t be as bad as you think, medical kink, caretaker kink, remer is a sweetheart, mentions of xanax, use of sedatives, health anxiety, anxiety attack, medical uhh malpractice, pov i reveal my medical kink, in this world anxiety symptoms=horny, digital penetration, cunnilingus, sq– s-s-.. I can’t say it. Female ejaculation, watch me try to remember any medical training i’ve had and make it sex-related.

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: Hi wow lol while this was previously a “you and bf!Remer play “doctor”, but @coops-jacket-sleeve promptly gave me the idea to just make him an actual nurse because it’s kind of in his nature anyway. He so sweet he so cute. Anyway here’s what I think about that. I feel like my oneshots keep getting longer and longer. What does this say about me. Comment below. Enjoy!

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DR: “You’re lookin’ a little flushed. Do you have a temperature?”

JR: “No, I’m fine-”

DR: “Here– open your blouse and say ‘Ah.’”

JC: “Remer!!!”

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Well, today was finally the fucking day. 

You were positive you had done it this time.

You heard echoes from your friends of “you’re going to give yourself a heart attack, freak” as you approached the steps of the hospital, limbs tensing, every swallow feeling like a ball of iron, arms folded into your stomach like a wounded animal- You could feel the sensation of your heartbeat all the way in your throat, palpations beneath your ribs at a level which you were yet to experience thus far, ungodly heat thwanging in your stomach, and god FUCK, you could not stop fucking shaking. 

…

The tremor started when you woke up, and you swore it had never been this bad, promptly swallowing a xanax as you stood in your kitchen, doing anything and everything you could do to quell your heart slamming in your chest. 

You were partial to using medication, but in this case, you didn’t know where else to turn.

When the breaths you were swallowing just weren’t fucking enough, spots of black making your vision more like a shaded vignette, you decided, this is fucking it, man. I’ve fucking done it. 

…

You tried to reel in the amount of pants when you stood at the front desk, the woman behind the counter already shifting to stand at your demeanor, your shoulders bunched, “shallow” not even beginning to cover the measure of breaths you were taking in, fingers squeezing your own sides as you stood, heartbeat so loud that you could hardly hear her ask you what the matter was. 

“I- think, that, I’m having a heart attack.”

…

“Remer, triage, bay 2 if you could.”

“Sure! Where’s- oh! Hey, hey,-“

The man approached you with such haste that you could hardly make out any of his features, your head tucked into your chest, line of sight only on your folded arms, a foreign hand coming to wrap gently around your wrist, guiding you in some general direction. 

You approached the bed nearly unable to see it. You were so lightheaded that everything in your vision started to decrease in opacity, eyes gaping at the overhead fluorescent light, cobalts and pale, anxiety-inducing blues being the only general color behind a curtain that was now shucking closed. 

“Hi, oh, it’s okay- try to take a deep breath, okay?”

The voice was careful, but you could hardly focus on its source, just hearing feet patter around different directions from the bed, a calm series of breaths from the voice, and then a cool press of maybe a stethoscope onto the fabric of your shirt. 

“What’s your name, honey?”

Apparently you had given it, because the voice cooed back soothingly, “Oh, perfect, thank you. Are you allergic to anything?”

You shook your head, sucking in another series of breaths. It was too hot, too fucking hot. 

“Very good, that’s good. I’ll be right back, okay?”

You didn’t answer, just squeezed your eyes shut, still holding one arm over your chest, feeling your heartbeat flick against your chest rapidly, the other arm at your side, palm squeezing intermittently at some juvenile attempt to assuage the physical sensations. 

When the sound of feet returned, you heard the voice again. If you weren’t in fucking shambles, you might remark the voice as quite nice. Soothing. 

“Have you taken something today, honey? Any medication?” 

The adrenaline in your blood was peaking, sending pins and needles through your wrist and straight down your calves- You irked it out beneath eyes that were screwed shut: “Xanax, ten- hhh- ten milligrams.”

“Okay-“

The shrill sliding of the curtain again, before a different voice was heard. “Alright, go for 5 Valium, q-3 hr drip, page me again when she’s up.”

“Alright, okay-“

You felt warm hands at your forearm, squeezing gently, then pressing with two fingers, before you felt the uncomfortable sting of a tourniquet squeezing around the top of the crease in your arm. You squirmed, craning your body away from the sensation. “Oh, I know, I’m sorry. Can you make a fist for me? I’ll make it so easy, I’m sorry, honey.”

You tried, palms already saturated with sweat, feeling the swell of blood in your jugular, hardly feeling the slight prick of a needle against your arm. “Good girl, all done. Gonna feel better in a second, okay?”

You heard a series of beeps, the shuffle of plastic, and then felt the warm pressure of a hand squeezing in yours. “You’re gonna feel sleepy real soon, that’s the medicine working, just try to take deep breaths for me, okay?”

You sucked one in, finally letting your eyes unlid, almost flinching when you met the eyes of the voice’s owner, a small smile painted over his lips. You gauged his features: A full halo of praline curls, deep, gentle green eyes, his nose sloping aquiline- how beautiful. 

It was soothing this, a drift wave catching in your erratic brain, but not before you felt heavy, thick black drowsiness swathe through your neurons. You felt something cool physically run through your veins, then another overwhelming wash of heat. Your breaths shallowed again, your heart clamoring to cling to consciousness, the unfamiliarity of sedation sending instinctive panics once again through your bloodstream. Your torso led you to shirk your body upwards, feet shifting to sit yourself up-

The man’s brows raised at your panic, leaning forward with an earnest look of sympathy, letting his hands come gently to your shoulders, leading you to lay again, shaking his head sharply- “Oh, no, don’t worry-“

His palm met yours again, a thumb swiping over it gently while you struggled with it- half in twilight- half in reality, “Just relax, let me help you-“

You did, releasing the grip on his palm, embarrassed by the fact that you were probably covering it in sweat, letting your breaths sheath a bit inside your rib cage, willing yourself into submission against the sedative. “There you go, feeling sleepy, huh?”

You inhaled sharply, swathes of black at your vision, just hardly hearing the voice again before there was only black, nothing else. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

…

You awoke to the voice again, this time sharing verbalisations with another one, only stopping when you shifted against the bed, an intake of your own breath sharp enough to quiet them. 

“There she is, hi-“

The man approached the bed, palms folded behind his back, one arm retreating to gesture to the doctor standing beside him. He introduced him, but you could only keep your eyes on what seemed to be his nurse, your eyes flitting to his name tag, squinting as you played the name within your mind. “Remer, Doug- RN.”

The doctor spoke, but you still failed to meet eyes with him. “Nurse Remer here is going to give you your EKG. Now, I’m absolutely positive that this isn’t the case, but we’re going to rule out an arrhythmia for you, alright?”

You nodded, having felt the doctor’s own stethoscope press against your shirt, remarking something like, “Fine ticker you’ve got, here, missy. Just wanna be sure.”

When the doctor had left through the curtain, the nurse remained, moving closer to the side of your bed and cocking his head at you. “I know it’s a bummer, but, we’ve gotta get you to another room for the EKG. Think you can walk okay?”

You looked to him, nodding before he smiled in response, fingers meeting your arm again while he touched the clip of your IV, squeezing against your skin as he began to pull it out. “Just a little pressure, I’m sorry-“

You winced as you watched it come out of your skin, one of his hands pressing the tiniest ball of cotton against the minuscule wound, flattening a bandaid over the ball, and retreating his hands to his sides, crinkling some small piece of plastic in them and beckoning for your hand. 

You stood, swaying for a moment in your post-diazepam induced dizziness, letting his arm catch around your back in the approach. “Woah, there. Just hang on.”

…

You walked arm in arm with him, somewhere in your brain taking quiet note of how warm his arm was, how delicate he carried some of your weight, leading you into a hall of doors, one wooded and open, a bench and a small folded swathe of fabric sat upon it. He smiled as he retreated from your grip, pointing to it and adjusting his stance. “I’ll just need you to undress for this, the EKG has some sticky bits that we put on your chest. Since you’re wearing long sleeves and a higher collar like that,  it’s- we’ve gotta get at the good stuff.” He laughed at the end of his sentence, politely folding his hands and telling you to come out when you’re done. 

You frowned at the papery, thin fabric, but deciding it was for the better, you undressed, donning it, feeling your nipples harden against it in the typical too-cold air of a medical center. 

You stuck your head out the door, feeling awkward in your lack of clothes, feeling out of sorts as your bare feet pattered quietly along the tile, seeing the man stick a thumbs up at you, beckoning for you to follow him into another room with his head.

It was quiet and yes, clinical, and you inhaled, the small room smelling sterile and of latex, watching the nurse shift with a machine, wheeling it quietly over to you as you sat atop an examination table, letting your head fall against the wall behind it with a deep, satisfied breath. “That valium really works.”

As he pressed a series of buttons on the machine, his eyes remained on it, letting out a little chuckle. “Oh yeah, for sure, that’s the good stuff.”

His hands moved to a drawer below the machine, plucking wires from it, moving closer to you with about four of them, small circular white plates at the end of each one. “You feeling better, then? Feel good?”

You heard the peel of plastic from one of the plates as he looked at you, holding one of them in his hands. You nodded, letting him smile quietly at you before he spoke again. “Can you unbutton that for me?”

You blinked, looking to the buttons on your chest on the little gown, not realizing you were starting to feel shy before your hands raised to tentatively touch one. “Um- just like… all of them?”

He nodded, still smiling gently. “Yup, all three.”

You swallowed, unbuttoning them as you looked in another direction, pulling open the front of the gown, feeling your still-hard nipples meet the cool air. “Thank you,” he spoke, first sticking one plate against your chest, then another, then feeling his fingers touch the bareness of your sternum to secure them in place, goosebumps threading over your chest- “Aw, little cold?” He chuckled, retreating his hands back to the machine. 

Yes. Let’s go with that.

He hummed idly as the machine began to function, small jagged lines running across the screen, numbers and symbols that you couldn’t understand, watching him cock his head back and forth in an empty cadence of idleness. 

“Oh-“ He turned to you again, pointing a finger in thought. “While we do that, let’s get you settled in again.”

You frowned when he reached into a drawer to reveal another wire, gesturing for you to lay back so he could connect something to a few of the monitors. “Oh, I know. No more needles this time, though. Stole some of your blood while you were out.”

You smiled at his phrase, feeling a little more relaxed when he picked your hand up, sliding a pulse-oximeter over your finger before letting your hand go again. “Which looked fantastic by the way. Panel was perfect.”

He shifted his head in a little celebration, standing back again as he watched the monitors come up, the soft beeping of your pulse being measured by the meter. He nodded his head at it. “Awesome.” 

“So what’s… wrong with me?”

“Aw.” He laughed at your quiet tone, letting his palms behind his back again. “Well, the doctor will give you the lo-down, but,” he leaned forward, a palm awning the side of his mouth, “I’ll tell you what I think.” He stood back again, smiling brightly. “I think you worked yourself all up, sweetheart! Classic anxiety attack.”

You blew out a sigh of perhaps embarrassment, rolling your eyes at yourself. “God, I’m so dumb.”

He laughed again, shaking his head ‘no’. “No way! You were smart to be careful. It’s good that you came for help.” 

You still flushed with embarrassment, unwilling to accept that you took the time of any medical staff for a fucking panic attack. You really did think you were going to die, though.

 “And anyway, you’re a sight for sore eyes. ‘Lot prettier than my usual patients.”

Your cheeks flushed once again, rolling your head to him, swallowing at his giddy smile, letting your hands fold in your lap. 

He hummed again, looking at the machine- “Oh! All done.” He pressed a few buttons on it, before he approached you again, peeling open the fabric once again, and of course, sending goosebumps over your chest and picking your heart rate up a bit. 

But this time, the idle beeping of the monitor on your pulse picked up, pretty heavy actually, enough for Doug to raise his head, brows raising at the numbers rising at the screen. “What’s goin’ on, you still okay?” 

You grit your teeth, swallowing at the fact that, yes you were okay, but, his gentle touch was severely making you blush. You nodded though, craning your neck against the back of the examination table at his touch, peeling one the little plates off of you gently. When his hands retreated, they accidentally brushed gently against the peak of your hardened nipple, leading you to let out an audible mewl. 

“Ah- I’m sorry, are your breasts feeling particularly sensitive?”

You blink, a small surge of discomfort, similar to the one you were feeling the moment you came into this place- washing over your chest again, and there was that unbelievable heat. You whimpered aloud, and he retreated with raised brows- “You okay? Talk to me.”

You blew out a breath, squeezing your palms in on themselves. “I’m just- feeling it again.”

The urgent, incessant soft beeping of the heart rate monitor was only increasing now, clicking away with your every rising breath. 

He nodded, “Okay, just take a deep breath. I’m gonna take these off, though, can you sit up for me?”

You did, letting out a shaky sigh, when he approached, one hand laying across your collarbone for leverage the other palm half on your breast, half on the expanse of your chest, his fingers pulling at the little sticker until it came off. You felt an unwavering wash of heat down your neck when he touched you again, shooting straight down around your stomach and settling low in your belly. You swallowed, letting out another small whimper at the sensation. “Feel really hot.”

His tone was high, assuring, “Okay, don’t worry- oh you do look really flushed.” He held the back of his palm to your head with one arm as he twisted his body to reach for something beside the table. It was a thermometer. He held it out for you, and you just leaned forward, letting him place it beneath your tongue. He retreated, just holding it there while his mouth shifted in thought. 

After a moment, it beeped, and he pulled it from your mouth, gauging the numbers on it before he blinked, brows furrowing, and then quickly relaxing. He seemed to have come to a conclusion about the reading, but he paused, putting the thermometer back in its position on the wall, discarding the sterile plastic cover as he scratched his head. “Hmm.”

“Hhh-what?”

He crossed his arms, bringing one of them up below his chin, tapping it a couple of times. “That’s strange.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry. The doctor’ll be in soon.” He paused, patting the outside of your bare thigh twice in assurance, but retreating quickly when you let out another shaky whimper at his touch, this time clutching your stomach.

Your stomach, ached, but. Not like, when you eat too much, or when you’ve got cramps. A dull sort of ache. A warm one. One that you felt when you- 

Oh. 

“Oh.!”

There was a click of the door handle, to which the both of you flinched, and the doctor entered with a sigh, greeting the both of you before he looked over the EKG machine, humming at it in approval. He looked to you, then to Doug. “Looks normal. Panel’s good. Vitals?”

“She’s- it’s–they’re stable, but-“

The doctor tucked his lips in a little smile, nodding his head. “So,” he turned to you, folding his palms in front of himself. “You, young lady, seem to have had quite the anxiety attack today. Do you find yourself anxious often?” 

You shrugged, lacing your palms in your lap. “I, yes but, never this um, bad.”

“Are you on anxiety medication?”

You shook your head. “Well, I’ve got Xanax, as needed but. It’s really only for emergencies.”

The doctor nodded back to you. “Well, I’ll tell you what. I can write you a prescription for an SSRI, but I’m not a psychiatrist. If you’d like, I can refer you to a few.”

You swallowed, feeling shifty at his impersonal demeanor, quite wishing the well mannered nurse was your doctor at this point in time. You shook your head, looking down at your hands. “That could help, thanks.”

“Um, doctor, I actually think-“

The doctor was quick to cut your nurse off, muttering to him about discharge papers and looking to you with a brief, “Sit tight, kid, discharge takes forever around here, so. I apologize.” With that, he left, the door closing behind him with a curt click, leaving you seated on the examination table, and Nurse Remer folding his hands in front of him.

“He’s kind of a dick.”

Remer laughed, bringing a hand behind his head to yank idly at his curls. “Just doctors.”

“I’m sorry.” 

You weren’t sure what exactly you were apologizing for, your day having been quite a mess, feeling guilty for wasting the time of medical staff, feeling emotionally and physically winded from the terror of an anxiety attack, still feeling physically overwhelmed in this room in particular. 

“Don’t be,” The nurse shook his head, before speaking again, his palms coming to his side. “I think, actually, I know what’s going on.”

You looked up at him, brows furrowed, eyes wide and imploring.

He palmed his mouth, stifling a smile, before he righted himself, gesturing a hand to you. “Can you describe your symptoms in detail for me?”

You swallowed. 

“Well, um. My heart was, beating really fast and. I felt really hot, like, I was going to pass out and. It was hard to breathe.”

He nodded. “What were you doing before this had all started?”

You shrugged. “Just, I woke up feeling like that.”

“Hm- Okay. And, so, there was no trigger?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t think so.”

He paused, moving closer to the side of the table. Bringing his body even a little closer to it, now. 

Beep, beep, beep, beep,

“Do you mind if I test something?”

You shook your head, chest rising, 

“Okay, lay back for me?”

You did, scooting down, laying your head on the pillow that was sheathed in thin paper, hearing it crinkle softly behind your head.

“I’m just gonna touch your stomach for a second.”

You inhaled sharply when his hands touched your clothed stomach, they were warm and large, palpating it softly, sliding over it and pressing down on certain parts. 

BeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepBEEP

His eyes flit between you and the monitor beside you, nodding and retreating his hands. “Any pain?”

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head, but feeling another dull ache just below your navel. “Feel something here, though.” You pat to the location, and he nodded, placing his palm on it, pressing down a bit. “Mhm.”

He retreated his hands, palms tucking behind his back. Tucking his lips in a little smile, raising his brows again. 

“See what I’m gettin’ at?”

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. He cut another quiet chuckle, dipping his head for a moment. “I’m gonna ask you to do something, feel free to tell me no, but I think it might help you understand.” 

You nodded, blinking up at him. 

“Touch me for a minute.”

“H-touch-do what?”

“Put your hands on my body for a minute.”

You swallowed, raising both open palms, pressing them at his torso, and he tilted his head, bringing his hands over yours and letting them stay there. Your heartbeat rose incessantly, and your face flushed, feeling the insides of your thighs heat immensely.

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP

“See? Mhm?”

You lowered your hands, this time bringing them over your face, groaning into them. You grumbled, feeling incredibly stupid. “Oh my god, I’m such an idiot.”

You groaned again, unwilling to believe that you had dragged yourself to a hospital for, or worse, worked yourself into an anxiety attack over the simple bodily sensations of being just genuinely, very, horny. God damn fucking health anxiety.

The nurse laughed, placing a palm at your wrist, shaking his head when he retreated your hands from your face. “You’re not, it’s natural.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at yourself. “It’s just, feels like- so much.”

He furrowed his brows, letting his hands at his side again. “I don’t understand why it made you so anxious. Are you on- well- are you on any hormonal medication? A contraceptive, even?”

“Just got off birth control, maybe a month ago.”

“Ahhhh,” he started, “You know, we call that the ‘bounce-back’ around here,” he was speaking so clinically, so professionally about a topic so personal, it made your cheeks flush still. “Your libido has this drop-off with the change in hormones. So when it comes back, sometimes it’s stronger or weaker than before,” he gestured with his hands to show the difference, “in your case, looks like it’s obviously, stronger.” He finished, folding his arms again, idly. 

“Oh. So what do I do?”

He smiled, “Are you sexually active?”

“Um. Not for– it’s been awhile.”

“Okay,” He nodded again, “How often do you masturbate?”

You were a little taken, but it was privy to the topic at hand. He was just trying to help you. You tried your best not to feel awkward. And otherwise, aroused at his causality on the subject.

“I’m not like-“ he started, “I’m getting at something here, I promise.” He laughed.

“Not… so often.”

He nodded, “From a medical standpoint, I think it’d help.” He pointed his tone brightly, tucking his hands with a smile. 

You nodded. “That— makes sense to me.”

“Mhm!”

“I’m sorry that I, like, you know, when you touched me-“

He shook his head fervently, “No, no! Please, I think it’s adorable, really.” 

You swallowed. “I wasn’t trying to like, seduce you.“

“Oh, pfbtt, I should be so lucky.” He grinned, cocking his head. 

You swallowed again thickly, letting out a heavy breath. 

“Orgasms,” he gestured, “female orgasms in particular— are fantastic for anxiety. You get a really big release of oxytocin.” He nodded proudly, folding his arms again. 

“I feel silly. I guess it makes sense, I feel, um. I feel really, wet.”

“Wet?” He started, cocking his head. “You didn’t notice feeling that earlier?”

You shifted, still feeling so flustered at his causality when speaking about such topics. It really was such a clinical thing. 

He shook his head, brows furrowing at your demeanor. “You don’t have to be so shy,” he chuckled, “It’s just anatomy, right?”

You nodded, letting out another shaky sigh yet again. “I guess I didn’t notice it.”

“Are you feeling particularly, sensitive, there as well?”

You nodded meekly.

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

The beeping again, from the monitor, and he chuckled. “It’s okay, relax, I’m curious about your levels of production.”

Production?

“Oh, uhm, sure, you can um-“

He was already turning to find a nearby stool, wheeling over on it and pulling out the extender on the examination table. 

He furrows his brows, nodding to you, making sure that it was alright. “It’s okay if I look?”

It would be okay if he did anything to your body at this point, he was being so helpful, you wanted nothing more than to lace your fingers through his curls and, and, well—  but you refrain, just whispering a quiet “Yes” as your hands wring softly in your lap. He holds his fingers at the hem of your gown, lifting it to lay it up and around your waist. “Will you hold that for up for me, please?”

You swallowed, collecting it in your fingers, holding it around your waist, watching him carefully draw your underwear down your legs, laying them flat on the examination table politely before he continued. “Open up?” He begins, eyes looking up at you so delicately. 

You scoot down the tiniest bit, bringing your legs open and softly planting your feet on either side. The noise that followed from this movement was first a throated whine and then an attempted stifle at that whine, all being muted towards its end with the shift of a palm to his mouth. “Hm.” He began, when he had collected himself. “You have a very healthy level of natural,” he cleared his throat, “production here.”

You shifted again, your hips canting a bit at his delicate examination. “Sorry, it’s um- it feels like… A lot.” 

“It’s okay, don’t worry.”

“Okay—“

“Are you always this wet?”

He looked up at you with expectant brows. 

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head quietly.

“Just for me, then?”

You inhaled quietly at his candor, lips parting, his brows raised and idle, cocking his head with a spreading grin.

You blinked, letting him quietly utter that he was just kidding, continuing to look over your wetness, which seemed to be glistening beneath the light. He was so close to it, in fact, that you could feel his steady breaths against it as you examined you. You shifted at the sensation, arms tensing against your body, palms furled. “Sensitive?”

“Mh-mm.”

“Is it okay if I do a physical examination?”

You grit your teeth hard, feeling your chest squeeze in anticipation of his next touch. “Yes, it’s okay.”

You felt his bare fingers find both of your lips, parting them gently, the cool air an intense contrast with your very heated skin. Your fingers bit wildly against your inner palm, your forearms were spasming at the fatigue of your self-grip. “Oh, it’s alright, you can relax, you’re holding a lot of tension—“ you let out a little yelp when his fingers held against your wetness, not moving in any particular rhythm, but he did seem to be actively examining you. He chuckled at your noise. “Feel good?”

You panted, your calves trembling. 

“Please…”

He looked up to you, brows furrowed. “Hm?”

“Just, hhh— please, touch me..”

You were in disbelief that you had urged it out, one palm coming to cover your reddening face. 

“Oh, you want me to—“

“Yes! Please,”

He cocked his head, releasing his touch on you before he rolled back a bit, taking your ankles in his hands. “Are you suggesting I… stimulate you?”

You nodded against your palms.

“I could get into a lot of trouble for that.” He started, brows furrowing, looking along your body, legs spread for him, body dewy with sweat, delicate breaths panting out from you. “But, I’m happy to help.”

You lowered your hands from your face when you heard a roll again, then you watched him turn the lock on the door.

“Um,” He retreated to his previous position, returning his gentle grasp around your ankles before he spoke again, lowly but carefully. “I really wouldn’t normally do this but, you seem so worked up, and—“

Your hips canted gently toward him again, another mewl from you in desperate anticipation. “I’d like to make you feel better…”

You nodded fervently, your eyes pleading with him. “We’ll just keep it between us, okay?” You nodded again, watching him share a quiet smile before his face disappeared between your thighs again, only a garden of curls visible from between your thighs. 

When his fingers dragged smoothly now down your wetness, you jerked again, thighs closing instinctively at the overwhelming sensation, and he stilled a bit holding your knees gently, before you let him part them again. “Just relax, honey, do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head sharply, letting him ease your legs open– “You can put them over my shoulders if it’s easier.” He gave, quietly beneath you. You obliged, gently draping them there before he began again, dragging his fingers along you too slowly, earning a sharp mewl from you. He chuckled, “I’m sorry, you’re just so responsive to me.” He continued, finally drawing his fingers around your clit, smoothing your wetness all over the inside of your labia. He really did know the human body, wow. You whined again, your hands kneading incessantly at your sides. It was so, so much. “Shh, s’my job to help you, honey. Let me make it better.”

“Is it okay if I put my fingers inside?” He offered quietly, lips parted, maybe in awe at your body. “That way, I’ll be able to reach your–”

“Please..”

“Okay,” he chuckled, twisting his hand to face his palm up, leading his index and ring finger inside of you, to which you arched, letting out a little cry of delight. He let out the sweetest sigh of approval to your noises, only sitting up slightly to watch you respond to his touch. He began to pump his fingers, his other hand coming up between your knees to tug gently at your gown– which was halfway on, still– “Can you pull that up, a little?”

You obliged with shaky hands, pulling it up and over your chest, letting it bunch around your collarbones, letting the cool air meet your breasts, and then his warm hand, palming it gently as he worked you with his other. “Does that feel better?”

You whined the quietest: “Mhm.” As he palmed you, letting your hips rock into his hand freely, feeling his fingers start to deftly move inside you along with the pumps of his hand. It felt so different. You didn’t expect the warm, languid feeling of his wet tongue around your clit, though, lapping at it gently and slowly, in time with his fingers’ delicate thrusts. This was just all too much, you panted, letting out the most graphic moan imaginable, to which he raised his head, cocking his head again at you. “Feels good? Mhm?”

You nodded through your whimpers, heard the noises of your lewd wetness fill the room. He sped his pace a bit with his fingers before asking his next question, his voice gently stuttered by the movement of his arm and his fingers, consequentially. “Have- you ever– ejaculated?”

You raised your head, shaking it… “What do you mean?”

With a grin, he sped his fingers even more, letting his fingers lance against a very particular spot inside of you, and you felt an involuntary pressure grow inside of you before it released all on its own, feeling his fingers work through a release of fluid slip out of you, and then onto his shirt. He laughed quietly, retreating the palm from your breast and back over your clit, both of his hands working you deftly. “Good girl, bet you didn’t know you could do that, huh?”

The noises that had been leaving you were absolutely obscene, and he sighed at every one, still petting over your clit until he sped up, irking a sharp warning from you– “I’m, I–”

He nodded at you in approval, “That’s good, it’s okay–”

And thus, you came, feeling him fail to stop stroking his fingers against you through your orgasm, level-toned phrases of approval leaving his mouth, slowing his hands at perfect timing with the end of your release, the last few pumps of his fingers a deliciously timed appraisal, gently retreating them with a jerk of your hips, letting them come up to his mouth, suckling at them before he pulled them out with a quiet smack. 

You heaved, letting your arms relax, feeling quite relieved in fact, probably uttering bare thank you’s and sighs of truly relieved delight. 

“Absolutely. I’m glad you trusted me to do that. Also, I think I have a new favorite set of scrubs.”

He laughed as he gestured to them, a small, but, visible wet spot along the top of it. You palmed your mouth, letting your legs close before he drew your gown back down your body. “I’m so sorry!”

“Oh, my god, don’t be, that was fuckin’ great!”

You gazed at each other in satisfied silence before he flinched at the beep of an electronic in his pocket, revealing it with raised brows. “Shit, you’re ready for discharge. Another one, anyway.” He laughed, mainly to himself and you tucked your lips, still in disbelief at your entire experience here. 

You watched him turn to the side, donning his stethoscope again and pathetically fail at a discreet attempt to adjust himself, reaching through his waistband and tucking himself into it, letting his shirt fall and adjust over it again. “Woops.”

…

When you had worked through the quite tedious process of discharge paperwork, your nurse handed you a series of slips of paper. 

“So, here’s your prescription, and a few of those psych recs. And, something else.”

You smiled, going in for a hug, feeling him offer his arms out gently, soothing a palm down your back and uttering lowly in your ear before he retreated with a grin, “Don’t open it until you’re off the premises.”

…

It was a small blue slip of paper, with a phone number, and a small note beneath it reading: 

Call for further treatment.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A/N: YIPPEEEEE! So much fun! Little Remer nursey boy. I had so much fun silly fun writing this oneshot woops it turned out to be really long and it’s actually kind of freakish but hey man, maybe I gave you a new kink, or whatever. Also it’s in character he has a caretaker personality what the hell do you want me to say, okay! I hope you liked. Leave me asks, notes, etc etc, and leave me a damn hug!!! 

𝗘𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮:thanks to my wife @sqiblet for her continued involvement in the editing of my fics the world wouldn’t be horny enough without you 🅿️

[all4ston3]

look at his FACE he’s cocky as hell he KNOWS he looks good ….. SLUT !!!!!

MATT SIGHTING???? I FELL TO MY KNEES RN

[all4ston3]

MATT STONE X READER (META ONESHOT): “NON(FICTION)” 

HERE'S THE WORK ON ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: matt stone/reader, matt stone/you

𝗥𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴: explicit

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: “On a throwaway account, Matt Stone finds your NSFW reader-insert fanfictions about him, and I’m not gonna beat around the bush here. He fucks you right out.” 

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7,300

𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲: approx. 56 minutes

𝗧𝗮𝗴𝘀/𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: against-the-wall-fuck, throat-fuck, lack of condom (do not worry), if you haven’t read my other stuff some of this won’t make sense to you, sort of emotional and/or introspective, chat and response, reader lives in NYC, matt is single AU lol, Era of matt is up to reader, fanfiction, meta

-

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: Hello sickos, to my surprise you actually really wanted this. I still have 7 asks in my inbox speaking specifically about this fic. Here it is my loves. If you’re a fic writer hiiii this is for you, perv. Not? a canon interpretation but maybe? like if morals were all aside and in a parallel universe. But here we are. Enjoy. 

𝗘𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮: big thanks to my bbg @sqiblet for helping me with setting the scene for some of the smut on this fic. i love how our brains work together. we should kiss.  also, if matt were to find any of my fics, this would be the one i would want him to read. probably. but if you have found it, please avert your eyes. love you.

Here’s one last look at his face before you’re ruined forever 😔

Genuine personal canons here boys. Lawd forgive me.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You blinked at your phone, half in the dead of sleep, trying to make something, anything, of the notification that lay before you.

You typically knew what to make of your asks, typically gleaming in delight at your readers’ responses, and even if awoken from sleep by the notification, you were happy to respond. 

But your fingers stilled, hovering over the “answer Anon” button, eyes still squinting as you tilted your head. 

Anon asked!

                    “It’s thick, but not quite belly button.”

Answer!

You furrowed your brows, tapping ‘answer’, promptly typing out your reply with a grin.

———— i’m positive it’s belly button. u can see it on his face 

You scrolled through your camera roll, choosing the perfect photo in response, 

and you laughed to yourself as you pressed “post”, laying your phone back down on the bed as you sunk your head back onto the pillow. 

When you heard another notification, you took your lips inside of your mouth with a smile, expecting a: “nvm ur right”, but instead finding an equally puzzling ask.

Anon asked!

                       “I’d say if I’m hard enough. Maybe after I’d read this.”

Answer!

Your brows furrowed harder, assuming your reader had gotten the wrong impression at your response. 

———— is ur ask about matt? i’m confused 😢

Adding a few tags before you hit “post.”

     #didmyficmakeyouhard

     #blushingatmymaleaudience

You blinked, still trying to piece together this oddly directed conversation before yet another ask was delivered to your inbox. 

Anon asked!

                            “Flattered, intrigued.”

#maybe

Answer!

You chewed the inside of your lip, fingers tapping in thought on either side of your phone. You started to piece together the possibility of a Matt Stone role-play account, but this quickly died in your brain, instead collecting the possibility of an older reader, one attempting at offering a critique. You had dealt with your fair share of south-park-watching-exclusively haters in regards to particularly vile fics about him, and you considered this possibly being in a similar vein. 

You posted your reply with haste. 

———— so confused, dm me 😔

You were open to criticism, but partial to them being in front of an audience. 

user: sting2988383048 sent you a message!

sting: Evening

you: hi⭐️, sorryy i’m confused about ur asks, did u have a HC that my fic didn’t satisfy or smthg

sting: HC?

you: a headcanon? like a personal interpretation of the character that you assume ab them

sting: Oh, no. It was great

sting: I was just saying, it’s not quite belly button length. I mean it can be. For example, after I read your little story 

Your brow quirked, pursing your lips at “little story”, choosing to ignore that for now.

you: oh lol so you’ve seen it then? his cock?

You giggled to yourself, bringing a thumb up to your mouth idly.

sting: I sure have. 

You let out a snort, making the executive decision to play along. 

you: oh, do tell

sting: I’ll tell, but I have a question first.

you: oh, ask away 

sting: Are these all things that

sting: You want me to do to you? Or, whatever 

you: ?? they’re things that i want matt to do to me

sting: Really?

you: ummm unfortunately yes lol

sting: This is great. But you’ve never met me 

sting: Matt, I mean

you: (i’m totally gonna play along, but is this a rp account i’m genuinely so confused)

sting: RP? I’ve never read so many acronyms in one place

you: roleplay 

sting: No, I’m not a roleplay account

you: ok lol well anyway . 

you: yes, it’s stuff i want matt to do to me, that’s the general audience i’m going for lol

sting: No, I got that

sting: But, so

sting: You want him to eat you out while you’re hanging halfway out a moving car 

you: i do, yeah 😶‍🌫️

sting: Love it. I’m intrigued, honestly

you: glad to hear it? ..

sting: How old are you?

you: it’s in my intro. i’m 19

sting: You ready for me to “tell?”

you: tell what 

sting: I told you, I’ve seen it

you: oh yeah def. do tell

From sting2988383048: One Attachment 

Now, your account was NSFW, so it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen an unsolicited dick pic or two, but this one was next level. You quietly gasped at your phone, mouth hanging open at the image. It was a very picturesque cock, but an unsolicited dick pic nonetheless, leading you to begin typing wildly in response. 

you: UMMMMMM???????????? why?????

sting: ?

you: that is a penis 

sting: That’s correct?

you: why?????

You were so appalled, you genuinely considered blocking the account, opening it only to find a distinct lack of content.

sting: For accurate reference. 

you: i’m so confused

you: first of all, i’ve seen le petite package

sting: How? LPP wasn’t released 

sting: Also, not fair. It was hidden behind my bush

you: i’m gonna go out on a limb here 

you: if this is matty rich himself

you: prove it 

sting: Fuck you, I will 

you: fuck YOU! do it then 

From sting2988383048: One Attachment 

It was definitely a photo of Matt Stone. You chuckled, mumbling “slut ” under your breath at the image, him, appearing directly in front of a camera, brows raised and middle finger on full display. You quickly saved it, having never seen it before. 

you: need him dastardly 

sting: This is your response to a photo of me, but not of my cock?

you: there’s no way that’s his, it’s too perfect, plus i feel like he MIGHT be uncut ?

sting: First, I’m flattered, second, you know I’m cut. Shema’yisrael, remember? 

you: lol. did you like that fic? 

sting: Made me wish I had a twin brother. 

you: oh yeah? 

sting: Always wanted to have sex with someone who looks like me.

you: okay, mr. stone, if it’s you, send me a selfie then

sting: Mr. Stone 

sting: Won’t lie, something moved down there 

From sting2988383048: One Attachment

Yet again, a photo of Matt stone, in the exact same setting, he was outside, appearing to be sat somewhere on a street, but you couldn’t quite place the era, saving it quickly once again, his brows flat this time, looking at the camera with something of a pout.

you: okay, mr. stone 🥶 where are you right now? 

sting: “Somewhere in New York”.

you: you’re freaking me out lol 

sting: And why? 

you: cuz me too 

sting: Oh yeah? What borough? 

You sat up, staring at the end of your bed for a minute. You could give the user a general idea without putting yourself in any danger, too thrilled with this little encounter to pass.

you: r you gonna dox me 

sting: Nope

you: fuck it then 

you: Brooklyn 

you: You? 

sting: Brooklyn Heights 

you: well of course 

you: fuckin sellout 

sting: Don’t start 

sting: I’ll get on the A train right now

you: you WOULDN’T

you: also, it’s like a 30min trip 

sting: Where in Brooklyn 

From sting2988383048: One Attachment 

It was what seemed to be Matt Stone in front of a set of subway stairs. Your eyes widened at the image, the figure being the exact same as the last two photos. Wait- the fuck?

You swallowed, your adrenaline beginning to pick up a bit. Your fingers were already typing out your response before you could- 

you: greenpoint 

sting: Oh, you poor thing 

sting: What block 

you: what the fuck is going on

sting: What’s going on is, I’m getting on the A train, and I’m about to make you read your little stories out loud to me 

you: you’re freaking me out 

you: i need some kind of conf that it’s actually you

you: do some shit like, do the remer tongue thing 

From sting2988383048: One Attachment 

Your heart stopped in your chest at the photo. The same man from the last three, tongue pointed over his teeth, eyes seeming disappointed, brusque. 

you: there’s no way in hell 

sting: Where in Greenpoint 

Well, it wasn’t like you were going to turn him away, now. It’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?

You gave your address before you could reconsider-

sting: Got it 

..

sting: 5 stops away 

you: i still don’t believe you 

sting: Believe it 

sting: There’s a babbling schizophrenic in the seat across from me

sting: Don’t make me regret this

you: i’m legit scared 

sting: Good 

You climbed out of your bed, teeth boring into themselves while you physically heard your heartbeat in your ears, near hyperventilating as you opened your phone’s messages, tapping on the first person you could think of. 

——

you: you’re not gonna believe this but Matt Stone is coming to my apartment. 

sqiblet: lol same 

you: i’m dead serious

sqiblet: fs, give the tip a kiss 4 me

——

You let out a breath at her response, near laughing to yourself about exactly how that sounded, instead settling on pacing around your room, your nails finding the back of your head to scratch with anxiety, or squeezing at the inside of your wrist to affirm consciousness, or lack of genuine psychosis.

…

sting: Here 

You stilled, taking three heavy steps to your windowsill, opening it slowly with your arms a fluttering jello, letting your head just barely over the ledge. 

Well there he FUCKING was. 

You could see the head of loose curls from your window, sunglasses? it’s the middle of the who the fuck wears, well…. a black canvasy denim jacket and… his head shifted for a moment, only being lit in the lamp lit darkness by the screen of his phone, before you watch his head start to rise.

You crouched, nearly slamming your head against the windowsill, sliding your body to kneel as you raised your phone, shaking wildly as you typed-

you: holy fuck 

sting: Pop your head out again

you: i’m SCARED

You rose, slowly leading your head out once more, your hair hanging around your face as you met his shaded gaze. 

You retreated again, eyes boring into your phone. 

sting: Pretty 

You popped your head out again, as you froze, blinking, watching a fucking smug look shift over his face, sunglasses hiding his eyes, gesturing his arms open, opening in a motion comparable to Jesus Christ.

Okay, fuck, this is actually happening. 

You swallowed, scampering around your apartment, shucking your sweatpants off and pulling on the first thing you could find, bodysuit, black, skirt, tripping over yourself as you glanced over the mirror, thinking if you spent too long looking one of two things would happen. One, Stone would grow weary of the wait and quickly walk away, or two, you would deem yourself not presentable enough to appear before him. Physically gesturing two hands at yourself in the mirror,(uh??! fuck!?) you scampered past it, huffing a single breath before letting open the door, descending the steps with your legs feeling like cement. 

Another breath, again, before you pushed open the door to your complex, watching his gaze raise up to you from his phone, bringing a hand to his face to remove his sunglasses. 

“Hi.”

“Holy fuck. Hello.”

You spoke it in a single breath, gaze not moving from his as your cheeks flamed with the immensity of Earth’s sun. 

His movements stuttered, letting a tongue under his lip, cocking his head, once. “You- uh, Walk with me?”

You grit your teeth immensely, nodding at him as his pace began. 

You might’ve been studying him at this moment. But regardless, the first thing you took note of was the way he smelled. It was more earthy or herbal than you had imagined, sliding around him, his scent, smelling like a candle would only seconds after it had been blown out. It was natural. A grounded scent, like an aromatic, saturated terrain. You quickly burned this into your brain. The second thing you took note of was his walk. You wanted to think powerful, but it was a general masculine stride, some gait to it, as if in all of his life- he still hadn’t grown accustomed to his height, or the length of his legs. It made your cheeks heat, and you almost stifled a giggle.

“You hungry?”

You swallowed, trying to soothe the violent slamming of your heart in its cage. Chewing on the inside of your lips so hard that you could feel tiny blood vessels opening. 

“Uhh.. Are you?” 

He nodded, beckoning with his head to you.

“Public place, or, whatever.”

You gaped, keeping your head to the cement, tongue being thoroughly bit now. 

“The way you write, I expected a depraved like- I don’t know. Not the way you look.”

You looked up to him, who had his head cocked at you while you both walked in the lit night. 

Teeth, gritting again, you urged it out shakier than you had intended. “Do you- uh- read… often?” 

You rolled your eyes internally at yourself, feeling your nails bite into your palms, hard.

He chuckled. “What, the fanfiction shit? I do, yeah. Mostly for a laugh.”

You tucked your lips. 

“No, really. Sometimes I get drunk, find that hashtag or whatever.” 

Your brows raised, looking back at him tentatively. 

He had asked your name, apparently, at some point from the last thing he had said, and you gave it, watching him smile as he tried it out on his tongue. 

When you nodded at his pronunciation, he gave his own name back. “Well, I’m Matt.”

“I know.”

At this, he shared a throaty chuckle. 

“Why did you, sorry, why did you come here?”

“I told you.”

You gave a lip-stifle, coy and dismissive, before looking up over his body. 

The fucker was in fact tall. 

“You’re, uhhh, of large presence.”

He chuckled, brows furrowing for a moment, before nodding his head, arm gesturing to a doorway you had evidently arrived at.

You blinked as you came to terms with reality, having forgotten entirely about your surroundings. You were being beckoned into a diner, lit and occupied surprisingly for the late hour. You entered beneath Matt’s outstretched arm, which was propping the door open, ducking beneath its height as you walked in.

..

“You’re- sure you’re not hungry?”

You sat, blinking at him across from you. His face was almost smug, mainly just expectant, eyes blinking a few times back at you, letting his head cock idly at your frozen gaze. 

“You’re actually like, here.”

He nodded. “I was hungry.”

You shook your head, not even able to acknowledge the waiter arriving beside the both of you, who had set down food in front of Matt. He thanked him, as you couldn’t remove your line of sight, not even having acknowledged he was eating when he spoke again.

“So-“

You startled at his voice, your jaw shifting as you righted yourself, letting your posture drop a bit, teeth still gritted together.

“Relax,” he laughed, “S’all good.”

You blinked, swallowing once before you righted yourself, dropping your shoulders a bit. 

“You’re actually a pretty good writer.” This was said between chews, still not removing his gaze from you. 

How the fuck was he so composed? 

“Thank- uhhh. Thanks?”

“It’s so weird,” he started, hand coming to brush his mouth for a moment, “-like, reading what people think about you. How much you turn them on, or whatever.”

You swallowed. “Why did you- come… here?”

“Like I said, I get a little drunk and go out-“

You worked the nerve to interject. “My stuff is like- vile. How did you not get like, freaked out?”

“Actually-“ He nodded, letting a tongue run below his teeth. “Got turned on.” 

You raised your brows, head cocking at him. Shoving the sputter that was trying to unearth itself from your throat violently back down into your chest. “Yeah?”

“Yup.”

One hand still eating, nodding idly, the other brought out his phone, letting it sit on the table, scrolling until he stopped for a minute, before he turned the phone to you, sliding it forward.

It was your Tumblr. 

“Read. I wanna hear.”

You gaped, looking between him and the phone. “What?? No!”

No fucking WAY-

He chuckled, mouth full. Gesturing his head again towards the phone. “No please, read.” 

Your gaze was still, eyes wide, looking down at your most recent post. It proudly read: slut, get him out of my sight or i’m busting twenty-seven times on his nose. 

Your face exploded in heat as you read it, at this point trying to dissociate from the fact that the words had come typed out by your hands. 

You looked to him again, whose brows were raised, shifting his head again at you. 

His hands had come to settle on the table. “Say it.” It was pointed, tone up, his head still. 

“No way!” 

“You wrote it!”

“So??”

“Say it to my face.”

Your brows were still thrown, gaze flitting between his eyes. “I-,man,I can’t just-“

“I’m right here. Say it to my face.” His tone settled, chin dipping to adjust directly to your gaze. “Say- it-“

You shook your head, sliding his phone back to him. 

“Alright.” His hands settled, one finger scrolling further down, twisting the phone around again to you. 

Post: i hope he ambers in my energy 

He chuckled beyond his phone. “Go on.”

“I.” You cleared your throat, before breaking into a laugh. “I hope- he ambers in my energy.” You asserted, turning the phone promptly back to him. 

“What-“ he broke into a laugh too, “What does this even mean?”

Your nerves rained a bit with your collective laughter, shaking your head with a shrug of your shoulders. “I don’t even know, dude.”

He took another bite, “I get the general idea but-“ he shook his head, another chuckle. 

“Ooh, and what’s this? Not suitable for all audiences?” He tapped two buttons on the screen, before sliding the phone to you once again. “Read that one.”

It was a filthy, matt x reader, opening confidently with you speaking frankly about how cocky and insufferable he was.

“It’s kind of accurate, actually, go on.”

You looked up at him before beginning, his hands had come to rest folded on the table, intently.

You started, gaze eyeing the phone first. “Matthew, the repugnant, unfortunately tall- bumbling asshole was good for about two things.” You looked back up to him, brows raised, nodding. 

“S’what you think of me? An asshole?”

You chewed your lip, shaking your head, “I- just thought that,”

He touched the screen, scrolling further to the dialogue. “Here- You be you. I’ll read my part.”

You sputtered- “No way!”

“Oh c’mon, you have to have wanted to hear this, huh?”

He sniffed. “C‘mon, read that part.”

It read: I need to fuck you, do you wanna fuck?

“Go on.”

You looked up at him, gaze returning tentatively back down to the phone, before you spoke, quietly. “I need to- to fuck you. Do you, do you wanna fuck?” You let your eyes gaze back up to him, who was smiling brazenly, amused. 

He cleared his throat, looking down over the phone. “Fuck?”

He looked back up to you, expectantly. 

You played along, nodding. 

“Uhh- oh!, first of all, how juvenile, fuck.”

He looked back up to you, adjusting his posture with the phrase.

“No, more in your throat like, ‘ck, more ‘ck” 

He nodded, “ah,” repeating the phrase again. “Fuck.”

You played along, shaking your head dismissively and shifting your body, feeling his hand catch at your shoulder. 

“Just- hold on.”

You froze, feeling out of such character, letting your eyes lock for a second, cheeks warming at his gaze with this, feeling a rush of the same emotion you got when you wrote the stupid thing. 

“What?”

You blinked. 

He shifted again. “Well?”

“I, this is humiliating, dude-“

“One more, just one more.”

He let go of your shoulder, gaze returning back to the phone, letting his finger scroll down a bit further. You swallowed. 

“I’ll go first.” He cleared his throat, gaze caught on yours before regarding his phone briefly. “Don’t you want me to just touch you for a bit? That’d feel..- nice?”

Your throat caught, teeth gritting, stilling when his brows dipped to you, a prompt. Strangled, you let out your line. “Mhm.”

His grin spread, letting his head tip a bit.

Your cheeks scathed, seeing his smile split, the gap was there and all. You weren’t sure why this visual had taken you so much, blinking at it like a fool. It was really there. He was.

“You’re so red. You embarrassed?”

“Yes, man, of course.”

He only laughed at this, resting his back against the seat comfortably. “S’cute.”

You scoffed in disbelief, still, and even further at the fact that he had just called you cute. 

“This is insane.”

“Ehh!” He drew, with a cock of his head. “Little.”

You shared another brief laugh collectively. 

…

The walk back to your apartment alongside him was hasty, on your part, while his was a relaxed stride, watching you dig for your keys in your pocket with jittered arms, dropping them as you came to the complex. “Relax, kid.”

You pursed your lips as you let open the door, ascending the steps with him close behind, feet stopping at your unit’s door while you turned around to pause at him, standing idly behind you. “This is my- um- apartment, so.”

You opened the door, feeling shadows and ghosts of yourself swim around the room, each having something to say about the man standing behind you, completely unbeknownst to his literal presence there. You dizzied at this notion, hearing him take idle steps in behind you, letting his jacket off and onto the back of a nearby chair. 

Welp. Matt Stone’s jacket is resting on a chair in your apartment. 

He approached your bed, sitting on it as if he owned it, and in your head he did, letting his palms relax on either side, pushing the mattress down once before beckoning you with a pat to it, next to him. 

You approached, taking a comfortable distance from him, curling your legs upon it, peering around at your apartment, mentally dis-considering it as “Matt Stone prepared.” His voice broke you out of such thoughts-

“So, why do you write that shit?”

You blinked, palming the back of your head. “I like, I don’t know, I’m very fond of you. And such.”

His lips quirked when his head tilted again. “You’re fond of me?”

You irked a chuckle, looking around your room. “I, I’m sorry, I always thought about what it was I would say to you if I ever met you.”

He gestured with a palm. “Yes?”

“I always thought I would talk to you about that essay you did in college, or whatever-”

“My essay?”

“Mhm,” you shifted, bringing your knees a little closer to you, “Why I Like Math.”

He shared a chuckle now, coming to rest his chin on your bent knees. You bit your tongue, feeling a palpation in your heart pang like an anvil. 

“What of it?”

You took in a breath, running over in your head what you had always thought you were going to say anyway. “Um,” you started, as he adjusted his chin again on your knees, “It’s like, the only piece of media I know that only you created. That I’ve read anyway. It's just like, I identified with it, or something.”

“I’m listening.”

You sat for a moment, quietly, letting figurative fingers delve through your brain. “You write about this, sort of like, naive idea that people follow with religion like, and I’m just drabbling here,” You gestured, to which he shook his head ‘no’ to your self-dismissal, “It’s kind of like that for you? There’s this thing that- is palatable. That I understand that I want. Even if I don’t, you know, know you, it’s all of these things, that I feel, when. Fuck, I don’t know, I’m sorry, just, I’m fascinated by you.”

“You’re fascinated by me? I’m fascinated by you.”

“You’re fascinated by me?”

He laughed, nodding his head. “I am, I am. I’m all screwed up over the idea that, somebody could oscillate through an obsession with me, like,” he let his chin fall again to your knees, “That it’d drive you to want to have sex with me.”

“I think I just have some unresolved problems.” You laughed, to which he drew an aww, “First of all, I still don’t believe you’re in front of me right now, because any sane person would be nauseated by the shit I write.”

He shook his head. “Was like, moved? By the way you write me… Made me want to come here, show you the real thing.”

You scoffed, brows raised and a gape on your lips. “I don’t believe it. You’re, like, astoundingly sexy. For some reason.”

“I appreciate that. But you still haven’t told me why you write what you do.”

“What is this, therapy?”

He hummed, “I don’t know, it might be.”

“You know,” You tilted your head at him, “I actually have no idea. I’m still yet to figure it out- but there’s something so sexual about you.”

“Something sexual about me?” He gestured to himself, “Like, how I look, or?”

“Well, absolutely,” you dipped, “You are, fucking,” you trailed, “But it’s like- this whole other thing.”

He hummed, a prompt for you to go on. 

“Well, sex is like. The closest you can be with somebody.”

He hummed for a minute in thought, before resting his gaze back on you. “You touch yourself thinking about me?”

Both your brows raised, and you dug your fingers into both of your thighs. You sputtered it, “I mean, I-”

“Do you?”

You breathed. “I, sometimes, yes.”

You watched him palm his side for his phone, eyes still on you as he brought it out, gesturing with this head to it. “Sometimes?- All this, and just, sometimes?”

“Well,”

“Seems to me, you think about me fucking you nonstop.”

You offered a little shrug. 

He grinned, a little shake of his head. The way his teeth were drawn was biting a squirm between your thighs, his canines drawn and tucked when he said it: “You’re such a little pervert.”

You tucked your lips, letting your head roll back a minute. 

Mother FUCK.

You shifted forward to lower his phone, and he politely obliged, sliding it away. “Alright, alright.”

A beat.

“So… you want all of this?”

You blinked, nodding tentatively.

When he spoke his next sentence, it was definitive, lacking any deject. So confident that you couldn’t even tremble. 

“I’d like to fuck you.” He spoke, mainly to himself it seemed, nodding idly. 

“You, do, you would?”

“I am yet to fuck a fan.” He joked, a single bob of his throat present as he swallowed.  

“But you, want to?”

“I do, very much.” His brows were raised, nodding to you, only passing a twitch of his lips. 

“That’s—that’s cool,” you whisper, testing the waters, something unfamiliar, who were you kidding, of course it was familiar. You’d pictured this man fucking the soul out of you for an embarrassingly long amount of time- the feeling no the less was stirring in your gut. “Kind of hot, actually.”

Now, he looks at you.

“Hot?” he asks, a smidge incredulous, using one hand to palm the bridge of his glasses, removing them just slowly, setting them on your bedside table. 

Matt Stone’s glasses are-

“I want you to keep reading.”

You laughed, looking down at your knees. “That’s so embarrassing.”

“Seriously, it’s fantastic literature.”

You swallowed at the way he said the word ‘fantastic’, drawn, careful. 

You rolled your eyes, bartering with yourself internally- 

Are you really about to tell Matt Stone “no?”

You chewed your lip, bringing your own phone from your pocket this time, sighing as you brought up the work of your choice. A smutty one shot. Intimate, plotless, lust-dripping. You prayed it would suffice. 

As you drew over the text, your hands shaking against the phone, the apprehension crept up once again in your throat. 

You read the excerpt on the screen internally, wincing as your eyes passed over the words, looking back up at his face when only one sentence was complete. “I can’t say it.” 

He rolled his head, stopping it with a disappointed gaze at you, reaching for his phone again, adjusting his shoulders. “Then I will. His palm skated up your-“ 

You palmed the phone, grip a little too tight on it- “No!- Okay, Okay, I’ll do it.”

He spread a satisfied smile, a palm resting patiently on his lap with a nod to you. 

You blew a breath. “Okay. He-um. His palm, uh- skated up your torso, settling splayed-“

“Little louder.”

“M’kay, uh,” you cleared your throat, “-Settling splayed over your abdomen-“ 

You felt his hand, big, no, really big, very warm, fuck, place gently over your stomach- “Like that?”

You swallowed, thickly, “Um- yup.”

“Go on.”

“Um. While he, he- dragged two fingers down your- uh…” you looked up to him, feeling his hand already starting to tighten around your side, “Are you- uh-“

Was he going to…

“Keep reading.” His voice was stern, confirmational. 

“He dragged two fingers down your-“

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was-

“Slit, was it?” He drew a dizzying emphasis on the “t.”

You nodded, feeling his fingers deftly move to the hem of your skirt, peeling it up gently. “You-“

“S’what you wanted right? Spent all that time writing about? Keep reading.” 

You swallowed, his hands on your bare thigh drawing a tingle of angst all the way down your spine. 

“C’mon, what do I say next?”

You blinked, legs tensing at his hands on you.

“Oh, come on, play with me.”

Another beat of breathy, shaky silence from you, just from his hands having been briefly on your body. 

He tsked in annoyance, grabbing the phone from your shaking hands with his free one, holding the phone himself now. 

You flinched for it, only stilling when rose from your bed at your sudden movement, shifting to stand and level his weight while he held your phone. 

“Let’s see…”

NO-

You watched him leave whatever page he was on, laughing as you stumbled off of the bed in terror, his hands catching at your wrists when you fought him for it- “Don’t!”

His laugh broke through his next words, still wrangling with your wrist as he held the phone higher and higher from your grasp. 

“Oooh, drafts? What’s this?”

“DON’T!” 

You shrieked, clamoring at his arms. He spat another chuckle, holding the phone now far above your ahead, waving it in the air, gesturing it away from your reach. “Come on, you can get it-“

You jumped once, missing it, only to feel his arm clasp around your waist, with you making small kicks, at him wrangling your body against the wall, your cheek flattening against it, feeling his body immediately flush against yours. 

You felt him sag against you, his own chest shifting against your back with your every rising breath, either with exertion from trying to reach your phone or from the sudden contact, arousal fleeting through your every nerve. Fuck, fuck he’s big. 

“You wanted this, huh?”

He shifted his chin over your shoulder, mockingly, his breath passing harder now-

“Read.”

You panted when the phone was shoved in front of you, Matt pulling your waist back the smallest bit, just to let you hold it in front of yourself against the wall, his foot shifting between yours to keep you in place. 

You were certainly not going to contradict.

You had already felt him drag his free hand up your skirt, having pulled it up and over your hips, just enough for him to access the swell of your ass, tracing around, down the front of your body- 

Your voice was a shaky whimper, no more than two decibels above a complete whisper. 

“He- he dragged two fingers down your slit”

He did, fingers pushing beneath the hem of your underwear, you sunk against him, knees feeling very weak now, your heartbeat picking up even faster than it was, drawing exactly that, two fingers between your folds. “—Feeling your wetness let them glide so,” you mewled at his touch sharply, “nicely.” He hummed against your shoulder. “Mhm. It does.” 

Your hips jerked against him, feeling the overwhelming sensation of his warm fingers tracing too delicately over your bud. 

His brows raised at your movement, “Jesus, you are wet.” As you continued, “Before he pushed them in,” he did, letting his two fingers sink into you in one go, to which you gasped, your free hand grasping behind you sharply at his wrist, before he chuckled lowly at your little flails: “Ohh, there she is, huh?—“ You mewled, shifting your hips back once to fuck yourself all the way down onto them. 

“C’mon,” He warned, “Keep going.”

You sobbed a whimper, holding your phone up so shakily as your eyes skated over the text. Your voice was a trembling whimper as you continued, his hand coming just far enough over your mouth for you to read aloud to him, the humility of your words coming to life on the page as he acted them out onto your body. “Go ahead, tell me.”

“Pulling your- my- legs apart before letting his length-“

Your heat lost his fingers, painfully, while you felt him relax his one arm’s grip around you, his chin retreating from your shoulder for a moment- you heard the hasty sound of a belt being unbuckled, a sigh leaving him as he returned his body against yours, the arm coming the same around your waist, tightly, while his other shifted your skirt farther up your hips, deftly pulling the center seam of your underwear to the side. 

“Don’t stop-, you’re doing good.”

You nodded, eyes back on the text, “He- um- lined himself up, dragging along your wetness for leverage-“ 

You felt him shift your body forward, your chest craning against the wall now- 

And he did, his hand coming to shakily grab your free palm, bringing it behind you a moment, letting it draw over his thick length, livening quickly against your warm palm, one half of your palm on it and the other half feeling at his torso, no more than half an inch below his belly button. “See? Mhm?”

You nodded, burning the sensation on your palm to be soldered into your memory, before he had followed his length along your dripping slit, the head prodding momentarily around your clit, while one of his hands threaded through the back of your hair, leveraging you for his entrance. 

You ripped your eyes back to the phone, starting again, too on edge to face him, really him, “He-”

The moan tore out from within you, the sheer force of his first thrust knocking you forward gently, his palm coming up in front of your forehead to protect it from meeting with the wall, while all of your limbs vacated autonomous ability, dropping the phone all together- the sound of its clatter on the floor ripping out another whimper from you. He cooed softly at your noises, the delectable breach from his length marking your back arch all on its very own. “Shh-shh, Oh, I know, I know…. It’s okay..”

His palm remained against your forehead, the other coming to hold at the front of your waist, drawing along while he drew another thrust into you. You felt it lance against your walls, his length so perfectly thick and warm, nudging against the furthest possible point inside of you. You cried out a moan, feeling his hands move from your stomach to your clit now, drawing careful circles around it when he spoke again. “S’okay, I know you can’t help how bad you want me.”

You whined at his words, shifting your hips back to meet his thrusts, letting his fingers work over your clit, almost embarrassingly quickly approaching orgasm at his continued touch. When you whimpers grew, he slowed, still fucking into you but keeping his palm over your clit, for now. 

“You fucking love this, don’t you?” He spoke against your ear, delivering soft grunts of his own with each thrust. You nodded fervently against him, one arm coming to wrap low around your waist so he could fuck into you with more control, still delivering breath remarks to you while you shuddered against him- “This all you wanted? Huh?” He was panting his words, his own control over the tryst falter as much as yours was. It seemed the both of you were bordering orgasm, especially you at his delicate phrases of your own body’s admission, knowingly, just bringing you to your peak. He slowed though, bringing his thrusts to a gentle stop, retreating his arm from around your waist, and palming it gently around your throat now, an offer, “You wanna feel me in your throat?”

He hardly had to ask, you righted yourself, thighs, trembling, sliding to face him, letting him bring his lips to yours briefly before you sunk to your knees- he panted a quiet gasp at your quiet dedication, “Oh, you’re suuuch a sweet girl…” 

Without further hesitation, you slid his length into your mouth, lathing its underside with your tongue, your own denied clit aching at the taste of him. The ache was short lived when he spoke again- “Show me how you touch yourself for me, honey..” You understood, continuing to let his length take advantage of the warmth in your throat, bringing one hand beneath yourself, pumping your own fingers into yourself in time with the thrusts of his into your mouth, working yourself and him closer and closer to the edge, rocking against your own palm as he did- into your face…

His tone was higher, his hand drawing over your hair as his hips stuttered, letting his release saturate your throat- you needed nothing more than the taste of this to cum, yourself, hearing him deliver a string of praises at your followed orgasm, his thumb stroking your cheek in sympathy to your pleasure, slowing the movement of his own against your face as you moaned around him, letting the muscles in your throat swallow the combination of saliva and of cum…

He cooed the barest, fatigued chuckle as your mouth’s warmth departing his length, sliding back to sit, and then.. fall onto your back, while at some point along this, he had descended to his knees beside you, offering another kiss of sympathy, letting his tongue roll into your mouth, sliding the back of his palm over your forehead, and your neck, freeing it of dewy sweat from exertion. He cooed, again- “All done?”

You nodded through a whine, palm reaching shakily to stroke his face, your neurons buzzing with taxed overuse, begging with the last of your consciousness- as you would fight with anything for this moment not to be over- not without him. 

..

..

..

You weren’t sure how the two of you had ended up back on your bed, but no part of you fucking cared, you were just delighted that you were still awake, sentient enough to share your moments with him. Your half-witted mind almost prayed that… hopefully, perhaps- he had fucked some measure of his brilliance into you this night. That his talent was glittered broadly somewhere in your stomach or in your heart. Maybe.

He lay along your back, one hand moving to draw through your arm and over your waist, head settling quietly atop your shoulder. “You wanna lay for a bit, still?”

You nodded, still shaking, bringing your hand to tentatively palm over his, “Mhm.”

“Gonna write all about this?”

“Mhm.”

He hummed. “Good. You better.”

…

When you woke, light had shone into your apartment heavily, leading you to palm over your eyes in discomfort, sitting up and swathing over yourself with your blanket, still piecing together your awakeness. 

Your heart lurched when you remembered-

Matt !

You stood, hands fumbling with the blanket as you shifted around your apartment. 

You walked with quite the jittery gait to your door, testing the knob once. 

Okay, unlocked.

You shifted around again, walking into your kitchen- empty. Into your bathroom- empty. Back into your bedroom- fucking, still empty. 

You moved to your bed, huffing as you sat back down on it, eyes peering at the wall idly, still clamoring at the events of the night previous. Did it happen? Did that. Fucking. Happen?

You waded fearfully through the possibility of it being a dream. 

Thus, you scampered for your phone, fingers flitting quickly to Tumblr, to your messages, refreshing the page as your inbox came up. 

The user was no longer available.

You gaped, eyes boring into your phone as this unspeakable sorrow and confusion sank into your heart and through to your stomach. You seriously considered checking yourself in, due to the seriously real, painful ache between your thighs, and the slight foreign scent that still resided on your pillow. 

…

You were amidst a phone call later in the day, when your phone buzzed against your ear. 

“Hang on a sec-”

You spoke, bringing it away to tap on the notification. 

It was from Tumblr, from a certain: @whyilike-math

You scoffed with a grin, opening it.

whyilike-math: You’re lovely. Glad we met. 

You squinted, quickly typing your response.

you: when did we meet?

You brought the phone back up to your ear just before it buzzed again. 

“Hang on, sorry-”

whyilike-math: Gonna need that jacket back. 

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A/N: Hi. That was a lot. Um. This is my longest one-shot. Or the most amount of words in one sitting. There are over 25 pages in this document. Um. Oh my god. Well, leave me some sweet words so I can recover, as you guys know this was hard for me to write and took me a couple weeks+. It, uh. Look man, like it or not. I’m just so happy that I’m able to share my love for this kosher boy with all of you. I feel like it’s a sisterhood. What’s the gender-neutral version of a sorority/fraternity? I don’t know. Let me be sappy here when I say we’re all a gay freakish dysfunctional family with at least one common appreciation. Thank you guys gals theys and xeys, I’m so happy you’re here. Kisses and bizous until ever, Cinq.

[all4ston3]

country clubbing (pt. 1)

cw // legal age gap, DILF REMER DILF REMER DILF REMER, gender neutral reader, but terminology leans towards some more masc terms, afab anatomy, remer has NOT outgrown being cocky like at all, remer is like 40 in this, degradation, humiliation, some exhibition, "sir" kink, the setup for the plot is probably way too long but i rlly did try to have a realistic scenario and liza kind of just was invented out of nowhere, which is my bad, and THERE WILL BE A PART TWO! PINKY PROMISE!

"it's really not as snobby as you think it is, i promise" liza desperately tries to convince you, tugging at your sleeve gently. initially, you had no idea that liza's mom was loaded, and nobody else really did either. in her own words, she didn't want to be pigeonholed as a spoiled white girl. you've kept it a secret, knowing she leans more towards being modest, and is independent without her parents' money. "i'm not necessarily saying it's snobby, i promise.. i just feel like i’d be throwing your mom’s money around." liza's reassured you multiple times that this isn't a big deal. that her mother offered to let you go with her. "it's not like that y/n, i promise!! plus, you never know, this could be a really good oppurtunity for you to meet a guy.. maybe even a future boyfriend!" she smiles widely at this. she's always encouraged you to be more social, taking steps with you to help, since she's a little shy sometimes as well. she looks at you with brown eyes that are basically pleading you to come with. "okay, okay, i'll go, but i'm gonna keep the spending to a minimalist level.."

***

eventually, the day came. you loaded your bags into liza's car, and you both drive up to the country club. what you're not expecting, is loading your luggage into a small speedboat, and boating up to the club. you can't help but smile a little bit. it's warm, but not hot. the breeze blows through your hair, and you can feel the sun beaming on your back gently. the water is almost completely clear, a beautiful shade of blue. maybe this trip won't be too bad after all? you make sure to tip the boat driver with you own money once the ride is over, waving and giving a polite 'thank you!' before moving your baggage out. once you get a really good look of the country club, you have to steel yourself a little. it almost looks like an old castle-like structure, with a beautiful sparkling blue pool, and a hottub. not to mention the open bar, lounging chars, side tables, and the huge building where your room is. "oh my god, liza, this place is so fucking cool" you say almost breathlessly, which causes her to giggle a little bit. "see, i told you that you'd like it! this is why i'm always right.. but we can't stand here for too long, we have an itenerary." you roll your suitcase, keeping your backpack on, following liza and continuing to talk. you raise an eyebrow. "and what does the intenerary entail?" liza grins and has a playful look on her face. "we're gonna unpack, get into swimsuits, and then scope out the selection here if you know what i mean.." she winks at you, and you can't help but laugh softly with her. "i'll just have to follow your lead then, i guess"

"you definitely will"

***

you both spend about twenty minutes in your room, unpacking toiletries, clothes, chargers, makeup, and everything else the both of you have brought. "alright y/n, you get changed in the bathroom, i'll change and pull the curtains closed, but when you come out of the bathroom, you have to do a 360 so i can hype you up" at this, you laugh again, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't appreciate liza for everything she did for you, especially how often she tries to help boost your self-esteem. you nod, and rush to the bathroom. you discard your shirt and pants, leaving you in just boxers. you stop to look at yourself for a bit, before sliding off your boxers and slipping the swim trunks on. of course, liza had helped you pick them out, telling you that the light pink contrasted against the white hibiscus flowers was 'totally you'. the way they're styled is slightly tighter than most swim trunks are, and a little shorter in the thighs, but what's the harm in showing off a little? you exit the bathroom, seeing liza in a dark green bikini, and she smiles widely when she sees you. "do the spin!" you give a small spin, and she smiles and claps her hands together. "oh my god, y/n. i mean this 100% platonically, but you look so handsome. and those trunks make your ass look good, too." you smile, looking at her.

"alright, alright.. no more 'best friend ass-talk', we gotta get to the pool."

***

you're both back outside, and you can't help but feel a little self-conscious at first, but liza just gives you a warm and knowing look, before giving some advice. "just remember y/n. be yourself, be assertive, and do NOT undermine yourself. and don't get too crazy without me!" she says, before heading into the pool. she confidently moves to a group of girls and starts talking to them, seemingly instantly hitting it off with them. you smile, hoping she finds a nice girl to talk to, before deciding to just sit out on one of the lounger chairs and tan for a little bit. you're out for about twenty minutes, and no one's really caught your eye. there were some cute guys at the bar, but when they turn around you see some greek symbols on their shirts, and immediately put them out of your mind.

you might be a college student, but you're sure as hell not gonna fuck around with frat boys. you let yourself rest, closing your eyes for what you said would only be about five minutes, but it turns into dozing off in the sun. eventually you wake up, feeling a little sweaty, but not uncomfortable. you decide to order a fruity little margarita, sipping on it lazily. and finally, someone does catch your eye. he looks quite a bit older, maybe in his 40s or somewhere close, but you can't help but stare at him anyways he's tall, with very curly hair, that's slightly cropped and dusted with grey in certain areas. his eyes are a dark shade of green, and he's built too. lean, but you have a lingering feeling that he could probably fold you in half. he's got a multitude of rings on, some of them seem to be engraved, and pretty elaborate. he's decently clean-shaven, but has a little bit of stubble.

you have to use every fiber of your body to prevent from gawking at him. you finally look away, hoping he hadn't caught you staring somehow. by some awful stroke of fate, he sits only two chairs away from you. once you get a better look at him, you know it's game over. it's been forever since you've been with anyone, and you can feel a familiar pit growing in your lower stomach. the inner monologue in your head is a mess, thoughts of this guy running his hands all over you, making you whine, as well as that inner voice saying 'shame on you, you're getting all worked up over some random guy who probably has fucking kids'. you squeeze your thighs together discreetly in a desperate attempt to make it fade away. luckily, you don't have to work too hard. a blond woman, about the same age as him saunters over in a pair of designer glasses, and a gold-looking swimsuit. you can only assume this is his wife, especially when she sits down next to him, and they start talking.

you're a lot of things, but a homewrecker isn't one. but it can't hurt to look, right? your eyes are once again fixed on him as he converses with her. you can't help but notice the sharp angle of his jaw, and the way you can see a visible tooth gap when he smiles once again makes it difficult not to stare. after a minute of observing, you absentmindedly scroll through your phone, before a shadow seems to cover you. you look up, and there he is. you can feel your breath hitch slightly. "um, can i help you or something" you ask, sounding a bit defensive.

"woah, don't worry, i'm not creeping or anything" he finally says, putting his hands up in an attempt to seem less intimidating. "i just saw you looking, you know.. and i was wondering if you wanted to get a drink? no pressure though" he says this sincerely, and for a moment you're about to accept his offer, but you pause. "no thanks. i'm not a homewrecker" you say, a skeptical expression crossing your face, but he just laughs softly. "yvette? oh god, she's not my wife. just a friend. she's waiting for her wife jenna to get here after a charity event." you double-check his hands, looking for any sign of a wedding ring, but his ring finger has no wedding band on it. you almost let out a sigh of relief, and you can feel that feeling coming back to you as you try your best to stay nonchalant. "alright.. i'll go to the bar with you. this margarita is almost gone anyways.."

you try to sound cool and collected, but you have a feeling that you're failing miserably as heat rises to your face. and you know you're probably blushing. he just nods, holding a hand out to help you up, and you take his hand. you know this is gonna be interesting.

***

a/n: this whole thing was hard to post bc tumblr is a dogshit website, i hope this was decent because ik it was very exposition-heavy and maybe boring, but the next chapter will be better i promise ya'll! i listened to i was made for lovin you by kiss the WHOLE time i wrote this so take that as u will

[all4ston3]

u have the mind of a mastermind

i just.. i need to rant about puppyboy matt. (nsfw under tab)

this is just too much for me. he’s just an obedient, eager-to-please little guy. the type to get on his knees for you with a grin and a wagging tail. always following you, right on your heels. just a sweet little thing that can get too excited sometimes and nips or scratches.

way too much energy. goes hiking at least twice a week and runs daily only to come back home with enough fuel to work out a bit. you get him little puzzles and sudoku books so he can have more mental stimulation, only for him to get bored and start doing random calculus worksheets he finds online. actually finished all the free worksheets and started paying for workbooks for him to do in his free time.

sometimes he asks you to check his work knowing damn well you have no idea if what he’s doing is right or wrong. you grade his papers with the help of mathway and he always gets 100%. you put little stickers and notes like good job! or keep up the good work!

total service top who constantly asks if he’s being good. always puts you first, even if it means he isn’t allowed to cum. probably whines and begs like no other and has no shame in how desperate he can get. the type that has to get tied down cuz he gets overly excited and accidentally overpowers you (even though he isn’t trying). has pinned you down one too many times so now restraints are a requirment.

will just lay there and take it but whenever he’s given the opportunity to fuck you, he goes all in. desperately thrusts into you while whimpering and moaning about how good you feel. wraps his arms around you and constantly asks if he’s a good boy or begs you to tell him how good it feels.

very spoiled. all he has to do is look up at you with those puppydog eyes and pout. he knows he’s spoiled, too. he gets to indulge in all of his desires and gets to have you all to himself. what more could he want?

so needy and loving. very ken energy where he desperately seeks your approval and needs you around him constantly. he would do anything for you, no matter what. he’d let you finger him as long as you got some type of pleasure out of it. probably squirms around and mumbles about it feeling weird until you find where he’s most sensitive. almost instantly cums and begs for forgiveness since he didn’t ask permission.

always tries to give you aftercare but it usually turns into him stressing himself out about if you’re relaxed enough or had enough care. you take a bath with him, giving him little scritches while washing his hair. kinda random but while on the topic of bathing, he probably bites at the water while showering.

keeps you all wrapped up while cuddling but secretly loves being little spoon. his tail thudding against the mattress whenever you hold him or let him rest his head on your chest. even though it’s annoying hearing a constant bump bump bump while trying to sleep, it’s nice when it slowly fades out while he finally falls asleep.

[all4ston3]

MATT STONE X READER: "AN UNEXPECTED ASSIST" PART 3!

READ PART ONE, PART TWO

Here it is now with all 3 chapters on Archive of Our Own! Go show love <3

Summary Recap: Newly single, you find yourself to be exceedingly starved of touch. You look for relief in an interesting place, your cocky, near intolerably sure-of-himself Intro to Film classmate. Turns out, it’s exactly what you needed. 

Tags: She/Her/Hers implied reader, Frenemies to FWB, college!matt, yes, somehow, gentledom!matt, pleasuredom!matt, tw: fluff, actual cw: brief physical violence, exhibitionism/voyeurism, smut heavy!, find the fluff, something’s blooming and it might be fluff, c****warming LOL, cunnilingus, etc etc 

A/N: Hi! WOW! I feel like I’ve been neglecting you sweet little sweethearts. So here’s almost four thousand words of dirty, vile tomfoolery. Thank you for all the love and the indulging this dynamic, which is incredibly fun to write. Like I said, I’m estimating at least one-two other updates to this. I’m so glad you guys loved this and are asking for more. Thank you, always. Read on <3

—-

While you knew what was coming next, nothing could stop the soft beating of your blood in your toes against your shoes, and then into the carpet, the tiny pangs of noise in your ears in time with the distant faint ticking of a clock, the intermittent blinking of your eyes, as you watch Matt sit across the office, this, waiting room for faulted demise, his arms crossed and face idle, sometimes shifting his lips in contemptuous thought, sometimes shifting forward with his elbows on his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him, cocking his head at you.

All of this, and you still startled at the voice of the dean, his baritone rolling a shudder through your neck for you both to turn and look at him. 

You uttered something of a mantra in your mind as you recalled the childish reasoning for being in this office, anyway.

He’s just a good fuck. He’s an asshole. Brutally self-involved. Cynical. Asshole. Who lays you over his lap. Just about every Wednesday. He’s just a good fuck. Otherwise. Completely. Unwarranted. Asshole. 

You firmed, rising to stand and follow the dean into his office, feeling Matt saunter in calmly behind you, the carpet softly shifting in sound with the three of your steps, until you were sat beyond a grand wooden desk, the chairs beneath you and Matt softly creaking when you sat into them, pulling them forward- and he, jerking the chair once, twice, three times, until he was but three inches from yours. 

“I have never in my career been put in a position to pose a question like this, to students of higher education. I have never had to even consider removing a student from any class, for any reason.”

You blinked, brows flattened. 

You didn’t even look to your left. You weren’t interested in seeing the look on his face. 

“Please, first, explain to me the situation, as I’ve been taken from my day to entertain whatever this is.”

…

Monday. 

Not unusual, a heated “debate”. 

This one was particularly bad, the two of you already have risen in front of everyone, both making throat bobbing, finger-pointed, cheek reddening remarks.

“Oh, surprise everyone,” he had gestured theatrically, to himself mostly, the entire class having grown gravely weary of both your continued outbursts, “She’s not our brightest. If this wasn't an intro to film already, I would have recommended something more elementary.”

“Bless your heart, Matthew. Really. I expect nothing more from someone so fucking sure of himself!”

You staggered, your professor already having moved to approach the center steps of the lecture hall, muttering pleads with the two of you, threatening an escort from class-

When you were just in front of him though, just ten inches away, you knew had bitten off more than you could chew this time. Almost, retreating with your final word. Almost. 

The dry, asinine chuckle that he spat was enough to turn you around. 

“Keep mouthing off. Fuck, are you stupid.”

“I’M FUCKING-”

The noise and the gesture he made next was enough to quiet you in utter shock, floored at his willingness to speak his next sentence in front of so many of your peers, but you shouldn’t have been surprised at what followed.

He sputtered something like an: “Ah-!” With his index finger coming to hover between you, “I said, keep mouthing off. If I wanted you to mouth off to me,” he shook his head, slowly, brows as still as can be, “I would’ve just rattled my fucking zipper.”

Before you even knew you had hit him, his own smack, immediately reflexive, came back with an equally thundering crack, not as hard as how you had delivered it, but, hard enough, leading your mouth to hang open and bring a palm to clutch your stinging, reddening cheek, your vision dizzying for the barest second as you let out the tiniest, barely noticeable mewl. Your eyes gaped at him, his hand stilling to catch on your shoulder while you watch a single flash of apologetic sympathy flash over his face, brows melting to furrow- “Fuck, I’m s-“

“Excuse me! Out, NOW!”

You swallowed, jaw tensing while you lowered the hand that was palmed against your burning cheek, your jaw coming to stutter and tremor in the faintest embarrassment.  

You bore your teeth, articulating a final scowl to Matt before you turned around, muttering the tiniest of seething apologies to your professor before you swung your backpack over your shoulder and paced out of the lecture hall, letting the slam of the door reverberate behind you long enough for it to be stuttered by Matt’s opening of it, feet slamming quickly to catch up behind you. 

You promptly raised a middle finger behind you, changing the pace in your steps to a heady gait, not willing to entertain whatever he would have to follow. 

…

You lay in bed, feet kicking now and again at the sheets, thrashing literally with your body and figuratively in your mind.

Why am I offended? 

We’ve established he’s an asshole.

He’s just a good lay. 

Why hasn’t he said something?

And as if on command, a, buzz? Well, yes, a buzz but, not a text. A string of buzzes. He was calling you?

That was new. 

You stared at the caller ID between your hands, uttering in a mock to, perhaps yourself, “Meh-meh-meh- I’m a cocksucker- meh meh meh.” face coming into a now well known scowl, swiping it once to answer.

“Matthew.” You hissed it, seething the name through your tongue. 

The barest of chuckles on the other line, followed by a little hum of amusement. 

“Mm. Say it again, but moan it this time.”

“Fuck off. Why are you calling me?”

“Um, dunno. Because it’s Wednesday. And my tongue’s thinkin’ about you.”

You bore your eyes back onto themselves, promptly hitting the “end call” button.

Within seconds it rang again.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Are- are you fucking kidding?” You sputtered it, eyes gaping at your other hand, which was busy digging a finger into your cuticle.

“Um, I am not.”

“You fucking, like, hit me.”

A single scoff.

“You hit me!”

“So?”

“So..” He mocked, “Hypocrisy!”

It was evident that you weren’t going to get anywhere with this, especially because you knew that you liked it, and you knew that he knew that you liked it. 

A quick sigh from the other line. “I tried to apologize.”

“I know.”

“Then, what is it, really?”

You sighed, picking your head up just to let it fall back onto your pillow. 

“You didn’t, like, try to text or anything.”

“Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to.”

You pursed your lips, affirming in your mind that he was, unfortunately right. The two of you didn’t share such an obligation. But you just thought that, perhaps, he’d find the desire to at the very least. 

“I’m sorry.” It swam through the static quietly, from him.

“I really didn’t like being talked to that way.”

“I know.”

He sounded earnest enough for your gaze to lower from the ceiling, blinking in silence now, just quietly listening to the static that was shared for at least 45 seconds. 

“Come over. Please.”

Your brows raised. “Please?”

“Mhmmm. C’mon.”

You grumbled, shuffling your feet beneath the sheets again. “Are you gonna be nice to me?”

“Hmmmm..” He hummed, you could hear his mouth ticking in thought, “I’ll spell ‘I’m sorry’ with my tongue if it makes you feel any better.”

You puffed a lip, a single brow raised. “‘Kay. Sold.”

He shirked an “ah!” of celebration. “Thank fuck.”

“Mkay.”

You lowered your phone to hang up before his voice was heard again-

“Oh! Hey-”

“What.”

“I have my calculus finals,” he started, “In a couple of weeks.”

“Okay?”

“So, I’ll have to study, and I won’t be able to make time for you.” He spoke, lowly. “For, us.”

You whined. “Two weeks?!”

A long hum of affirmation. “I know.”

“Can I just… you know. Sit on it. While you, uh, study?”

A long groan from him followed such a request. “Oh, god, so fuckin’ tempting. But. After, I think, honey.”

“Mkay.”

“Okay. Get here. Gettin’ harder by the minute.”

“Mkay, bye.”

…

He had delivered his apology that night, and then some. 

With you, tumbling over your second orgasm on his 50th something “I’m sorry”, which was written slowly and languidly all over your aching clit. 

He held your legs gently as you came down, only raising his head to place a few more chaste kisses to the insides of your thighs after your body uttered its last few whines of brief overstimulation. 

You lay back with your eyes closed, breathing a heavy sigh of satisfaction as both of your hands reached down to gently palm either side of his jaw, fingers shifting into the tendons there in sympathy to his grand effort. I mean really, you try spelling out “I’m sorry” with your tongue inside of your mouth. What a trooper. 

“Feel better?” 

He offered it quietly between your thighs, his hands coming up to palm your sides, buzzes of affection coming off of them in glowy, wispy waves. 

“Mhm.”

“Mm. Good.”

You sighed again, your fingers coming to coil through his curls, feeling his head shift into your abdomen, laying his cheek flat upon it. You whined. “You really can’t see me for two weeks?”

“Well, I’ll see you in class.”

You spat a laugh. “IF, we haven’t been promptly disenrolled.”

“Mm-mm. But we gotta be good.”

“Don’t say mean shit to me, then.”

“I won’t if you’re good.”

“Maybe.”

“You know what you get if you’re good.”

You shifted your hips in excitement at the notion, followed by a little squeal. 

His head raised, a little worn-out smile on his face. 

“Want a reminder?”

“Please?”

He drew the briefest “mhm” before descending between your thighs for a third time, tongue introducing itself again, this time adding two, gentle, but warm, insistent fingers into your entrance, drawing a tingling arch up your back with every stroke of them inside you.

..

Matt had let you visit, still, the following Wednesday, to his educational future’s demise, with him, sat at his desk in front of his textbook, and you sat atop his bed, huffing in impatience approximately every five minutes. 

It was nearing the end of the semester, and your exams were already finished, but you grew exceedingly annoyed at his business with calculus exam cycles. He was far busier than he had ever been in the semester for this week, and the week that followed was going to be the unfortunate same.

You were not having it.

It went something like:

“Please?”

“Don’t ‘please’ me, please. You know how I get when you beg.”

“I feel like you don’t have time for me anymore.”

“Oh, my god.”

A beat.

“Okay, but, seriously we cannot fuck. I need to fucking study for this shit. I’m so, so serious.”

“I swear.”

..

But alas, here you were, huffing impatiently on his bed before he rolled his head back with a groan, patting twice on his lap before you leapt up within seconds, mounting him in his chair, shoving your feet behind his back as you wrapped your legs around him, with him bringing your arms around his waist and letting his shoulders and arms free through yours so he could still write, dropping his neck over your shoulder and tucking it there. 

And because it was you and him, his cock was inside of you within minutes in this position, him gritting his teeth at the sudden entrance, hips jerking only once when you sunk him in. “God damn it.”

He continued writing, squeezing your hips with his outstretched arms on the desk, barring you from any movement. “Mm-mm, stay still.”

You whined.

“I’m sorry, I genuinely can’t right now. I’m focused. You can stay there, but do not fucking move.”

You huffed into his shoulder, feeling his length twitch inside of you intermittently, urging him about the evident tight, hot, wetness he was entrenched in but paying little mind to.

He continued to still you every time you would shudder, try to move your hips over him. “Stop it.”

He continued to write, even when he was muttering quiet phrases past you, chin still rested on your shoulder. “So hard to sit still, huh? Just wanna fuck me.”

You whined at his words, still unmoving, just letting his length soak inside you. 

“Can’t help it, hm?” He would note, letting his chin adjust on your shoulder to lean his head on yours, pencil still moving idly along his notebook. 

His self control in this moment was fucking impeccable, your heat tightening around him at his filthy words, dripping with patronization at your desperation. 

“I love this. Bet you feel so full of me. Can’t get away from it, huh?”

When you jerked once against him at his words, he faltered a bit, head tilting to the other side to rest on your arm, the other tensing harder against you.

You mewled, arms tensing around him as you pulsed again, feeling a throb in response from his length inside of you.

“I hate you so much.”

“Mhm.” He stuttered, “Tell-- tell me you like me and I’ll move for you.”

Tell him you-?!?-You shook your head against him quickly. “No fuckin- way.”

“Mhm.”

You nearly considered it, telling him such words, the notion of the word so dizzying and full of syrupy bodily confusions that you actually.. literally ..came around him, even in the stillness, the first jerks of your body taking you by surprise at first, arms tightening around him as you let out a whimper, more like a yelp?,, to which he acknowledged what was happening, first letting out a surprised chuckle at your untimely release before it stuttered into a gasp, and his desk nearly slammed forward with his movement, his since still length now letting liquid warmth come from it, his hands dropping from the desk to wrap around you, letting you finish out your releases before you both relaxed. 

He held your shoulders, pushing you back a bit atop him, both of your brows furrowing in sharp confusion before you both burst out laughing, eyes flitting between each other's in stupor. 

“Did you just-?”

“Did you?”

“Did I-”

“I have no idea-”

…

The week that followed that was seven agonizing days of touchless torture. Having to see him walk into class, your knuckles whitening while you curled your fist when he passed, you were fucking dizzyingly pent up at this point, the both of you knowing he couldn’t lay his hands on you for another four days.

And today. 

You knew you had to see him after this class, regardless of his ability, because lo and behold, your professor had reported the two of you to the dean, recommending you both for a session of dual counseling, and if you two “can’t work it out” you’d be “disenrolled from the course for distracting your peers.”

You were particularly bothered this day, and Matt fucking knew it, passing by your desk with the barest draw of the tip of his fingers across your outstretched knee, failing to look behind him at your tensing jaw, your reddening face. 

He adjusted into his desk, slumping gently over it as his phone came to rest in his lap.

A buzz.

Matt: You look so fucking worked up

You looked up. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, down at his phone, other hand reaching into his bag to retrieve his textbook without mind.

Matt: Aren’t you? 

The texts came one after another, leading you to  quickly draw your knees together, your eyes not blinking as they looked over the screen on your phone. 

Matt: Want me to tell you what I’m gonna do to you? 

You picked up your phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen.

You: please don’t 

You looked up again, he was idly typing, one hand beneath his chin while the other moved quietly on his phone. 

Matt: Oh, what?

Matt: Don't you wanna feel my hands all over you? Don’t you wanna be held while you cum?

Your gaze flitted back up to him, heat growing heavy low in your stomach. He was looking back this time, tongue in cheek, brows raised. 

You shook your head with haste.

And of course, he nodded his head back, mouthing: “Yes you fucking do”

He looked down before another buzz was felt from your phone. 

Matt: Gonna pump my fingers so nice and slow inside you 

Matt: Gonna get you so wet 

Matt: After this 

Matt: Can I hear you beg for me?

You: we have dean’s shit

You: thanks to ur attitude

Matt: So? 

Matt: Tell him how much you “hate” me while I fuck you on my fingers 

Matt: Right in front of him 

You: you’re fucked 

Matt: You fucking love it 

Matt: Look at me 

You did, eyes raised to meet his gaze, he was mouthing again: “You love it”

You mouthed back, succinct. “I hate you.”

He cocked his head back at you, brows furrowing with a little pout, shaking his head condescendingly, mockingly: “Oh I knoww.”

You rolled your eyes, slumping back in your seat.

Matt: You don’t say that when you’re cumming while I’m inside of you 

This visual left a stinging, tingling hot numbness over your feet, and up your calves, into your thighs-

You: pls stop 

A few messages, right after another-

Matt: ?

Matt: What’s the matter?

Matt: I like feeling you grab at my shirt when my fingers are inside you 

Matt: So needy

Matt: Like a puppy 

You absolutely gaped, eyes coming up just to your desk, before they settled equally as wide over to Matt. 

The cocksucker, a grin over his face, brows furrowed as he mouthed: “Poor puppy”

You sunk your face to the top of your desk, letting your phone fall onto it with an audible, echoing smack.

You heard a quiet chuckle from across the lecture hall.

…

But alas, here you were, sat directly in front of the dean, who was blinking expectantly at the two of you, before you righted your posture, beginning to speak of course when Matthew had decided to as well. 

“She’s a fucking-”

“He thinks he-”

“You, stop.” To Stone. “Please, go ahead.” The dean gestured gently to you.

“He continually undermines me in class,” the softest of fingers first at your thigh, causing you to halt your speech, blinking at the dean for a moment. 

“Go on.”

“He-um.” The fingers broke the hem of your skirt, tapping twice. At this point, he owned your autonomy, so your thighs opened for him as if on command. “Yes, hhhee. Does not treat me with- uh. Kindness.”

“And have you expressed this to your classmate?”

Your hips jerked forward as said classmate’s fingers broke the hem of your underwear, drawing two careful fingers up your slit as you looked over at him, your fists coming to rest ahead of you on the dean’s desk. 

Matt looked like the picture of “composed”, lips flat, brows the same, looking expectantly at you to continue.

“Yess.” You urged it out, eyes flitting back to the dean. You nearly spat a laugh at such a gesture, your fists had come down with the urgency of a gavel.

“And?”

“And!,” you jerked again as his fingers plunged inside of you, leading you to huff and slump forward more, hanging your head for a moment in faux ‘deep-thought’, bringing a hardly-noticeable breath of amusement from beside you. “And I’m sorry that I hit him, but, I was just- hh- -frustrated!” His fingers reached the farthest they could be inside of you at this angle. 

“Has he shared an apology of his own?”

“Yeah.” It was cut halfway in your throat, this, with a single careful curl of his fingers upward.

“Did it suffice?”

“It did.”

“Fantastic. And you.” His head turned to Stone’s.

“Mhm?”

“Do I have to disenroll you from this course?”

“Nope.”

“Then, do you have anything to add?”

“I don’t. I think she pretty much covered it.” Finalized by a sweep of his fingers, drawing them out of you and back onto his lap in one swoop.

The dean folded his hands on his desk in satisfaction, looking between the two of you. 

“Fantastic. Get out of my sight.”

The two of you rose quickly, not before Matt reached his hand- no, fucking no way- out to curtly shake the deans, nodding to him civilly before retreating his hand after the interaction, turning to walk out of the room, looking back at you following, your eyes gaping at him, and his face, with the most drawn out grin of satisfaction painted all along his lips. 

—

A/N: WOw! Holy fuck. Okay, as promised here it is. I swore it was gonna still be night when I finished this. But it’s 5am. Okay that’s all I got. For now. Love you!!!!!

[all4ston3]

this was the best doug smut i’ve seen in a hot minute i love you for this

DOUG REMER X READER ONE SHOT (SMUT) - (That Chick from the Hostel)

"Comme ça, Doug Remer?[Like that, Doug Remer?]"

Summary: Remember that one time in France, in that hostel (hospital?) where Doug got together with that totally hot chick? Well, that was you. Let’s look back on how that happened. 

See the clip! ⬇️

DR: Hey, I’ll come by, I like hospitals!

JC: No you don’t, you like Taco Bell.

DR: No really, I went to this hospital this one time in France and got together with this really hot chick!

JC: Dude, that was a hostel.

DR: Oh, yeah. 🤨

Tags: size difference, real BASEketball canons, french, language barrier (hot), doug remer does NOT speak french, penetration, dirty talk, OP is bilingual, reader is french-speaking, female reader, sexcapade

Author’s Preface: If you haven’t figure this out already, as the (seemingly) only french-second language Matt stan on this site, I willingly take the authority to write this fic.Also, reader’s internal/external dialogue is in french, but I’ll have the translations beside it. Get ready for some multilingual filthy smut. And implications from the approximate two (2) total hostels I’ve set foot in. Also, watch me write out how his name is pronounced in French because I find it exceedingly funny. 

Find this work on Archive of Our Own, which also has the second chapter fully in the french version, (j'ai trouvé qu'il y a quelques autres matt stans français et je suis là pour toi).

______________________________________________________________

“Nous en avons deux de plus ce soir. [We’ve got two more, tonight.]”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at your friend as she entered the kitchen, holding her phone out to reveal an annoyingly brief email from a certain: supercooper392@hotmail.com. 

“Pouvons-nous avoir une nuit tranquille? [Can we have one quiet night?]”

She tilted her head sympathetically at you, offering a single pat to your head.

“Allégez-vous, c'est l'été. [Lighten up, it’s summer.]”

You twisted a frown accompanied by a whine, as she walked away. Not before adding behind her (with a chuckle): “Deux Américains! [Two Americans!]”

You blew out another long groan, stamping a foot beneath you. “Bahhh!”

…

Before you saw them, you heard the two trample in through the wooded door, hearing it slam loudly behind them and shuffle of loud hearty laughter. You rolled your eyes heavily, looking to your friend who was already rising to meet them. 

“I swear to god, Remer, I’ve never seen so much beige in my fucking life.”

“The fuck is ‘beige’?”

You rose with your friend, meeting your gaze on a particularly tall man and his bleached-blonde companion, watching them still as they looked between the two of you. 

The tall one had already swung his bag freely onto your bed, and you frowned. 

“Aw, cool, dude, check it out. French chicks.”

You turned your head to your friend and watched her chuckle, raising an eyebrow to you and gesturing with her head.

“J'aime le blond. [I like the blonde one.]”

You blew a scoff at her, before pointing your finger incessantly at the tall one, and towards his bag.

“Vous ne pouvez pas mettre ça là. C'est mon lit. [You can’t put that there. That’s my bed.]”

You looked into the face of the man, whose eyes were just a little wide, blinking at you for a second, before looking to the man beside him. “ Uhh…yes? ”

The blonde one, spoke, adjusting his stance with his arms folded. “Don’t worry dude, I got this. Nous sommes des athlètes[We’re athletes],” he nodded to you, gesturing between he and the curly one. Again, “Athlètes.”

A chuckle from your friend again, bringing her hand to stifle the laughter at the way he said nous sommes des, like ‘ news sums dez’.

You shook your head, throwing up your hands. You dipped your voice to a mock: “ OK? Bouge ta merde. [Move your shit.]”

You watched the blonde one tuck his lips, looking back to the man beside him. “I don’t know, man, it’s the only thing I learned on the plane.”

You tsked and rolled your head back, before looking to your friend and gesturing at her wildly. 

“She says to please move your things. It’s on her bed.”

The one with the chestnut afro finally moved, shuffling towards it with raised brows and picking it up again. 

“You are there.” Your friend gestured down the hall, pointing to a door at the end of it. “And…” She pointed to the room beside that door, “ You are there. ”

The curly one adjusted his bag over his shoulders, scratching his head. “ Uhh, sorry,” He looked to your friend, “Can you tell her sorry?”

She laughed aloud, looking to you, then to him. “No, but you can. Say, euh, “ J'ai ..une.. bite ..énorme. [I have a humongous cock.] ’

You spat a laugh, bringing a palm to smack over your mouth. 

He nodded, eyes wide before letting his eyes on yours. It came out like this: “J’ai une ‘beat a-norm.’” 

Your laughter grew as you shook your head, letting your palm rest on his shoulder, eyes feigning earnestly on his. “Je le crois. [I believe it.]” 

Your friend’s laughter now, grand. “Moi aussi! [Me too!]”

He tucked a smile, nodding cordially. “Great!”

Both of your laughter was erupting now, to which he blinked, smiling between the both of you, laughter awkwardly irking out of him now, too. “Was that good?”

“Perfect.” From your friend, gesturing her hands in an “OK” trying intensely to quell her laughter. 

His grin grew as he nodded, letting his palm back to scratch at his head. He had the sweetest tooth gap.

Mignon, peut-être. [Cute, maybe.]

“Do you speak any English? Or, uh, wait, I know this one. Par-lee-voo-awn-glay ?”

You furrowed your brows, nostrils nearly flaring while you shoved your laughter back down into your stomach.

Aw, si mignon, dacc. [Aw, so cute, ok.]

You raised two pinched fingers to him, cocking your head with a draw, “Little.”

“Cool!” He nodded, with one palm flat over his chest. “Doug. Remer.” He drew a point to you now, with his head tilted. 

“Ah, Doug,” (It came out like, doog ) “Remer? ( like, rumeh )”

You laid out his name again on your tongue, letting it come together in one string, the way it made the most sense to you. “ Dougremer ?”

It was his turn to laugh, repeating your single phrase back to you, before uttering it again the way he had said it. “S’right.”

He gestured to you again, to which you gave your name, watching him flatten his lips at the sound. “Mm, sorry,” with the shake of his head, “I’m just gonna go with hot French chick. ”

You blinked, looking to your friend, who was already beginning to walk away with a laugh. 

“ Il te veut. [He wants you.]”

You raised your brows back to him. “Ah, ouai? [ Oh , yeah?]”

He nodded his head, blinking with a smile. “Uh-huh!”

You tilted your head, gesturing him down the hall to the last room, to which he followed. 

…

The four of you sat quietly in the center of the small home, the espace commun [common area], mainly you and your friend speaking idly while they did they same amongst themselves. It was quite the eclectic soundscape, this, he and Coop, you had come to learn, shaking with laughter and bantering as you and your friend would do a similar thing. 

“Je veux totalement le blond. [I totally want the blond one.]”

“Ah-, meuf..[Oh- girl.]”

You shucked, letting your head sag to her, gesturing at Doug, beside him. You let out a faux series of moans, raising your hips from the seat to thrust your arms, bouncing your head theatrically. “Ah, yes yes, yes!” You laughed, seeing her head fall onto the table with a series of snorts.

Her laughter trailed, letting her face into her palms. “Non vraiment, vraiment.[No, really, really], haa.”

The two men looked up at this, tilting their heads to one another. “Um, I understood that one I think.”

You raised your brows, gesturing to her and then to Coop. “Ne me laisse pas t'arrêter. [Don’t let me stop you.]”

She smiled knowingly, letting a grin spread as the two of you looked over them. 

They quieted when they saw this shared gaze, Doug clearing his throat and gesturing for Coop’s phone. 

“Do the thing.”

Coop typed on his phone quickly before presenting it between the two of you, causing your friend to shift back in her seat with a throaty giggle. 

Il pense que tu es sexy.

[He thinks you’re sexy.]

You raised your head to Doug, who was grinning, amused, expectant to your response. 

You flattened a palm to your chest with raised brows. 

He nodded furiously, gesturing between he and you, quirking his brows once, twice. 

“Ah yes, yes we uh-” You nodded, giving a chin to him before pointing to Coop, then at your friend. “You will-”

Your friend stood, to which Coop followed suit, shrugging to Doug before he was collected in arms by your friend, moving quickly out of the door of the home-

“Dude, wait , I can’t fuckin’ speak French !”

“ Me neither-!”

“Meuf, attends!! Qu'en est-il de-?! [Girl, wait!! Wait about-?!]”

“Comprenez-le! [Figure it out!]”

You fell back into your seat, silently cursing her, not putting together exactly what it was she could do to help anyway, looking at Doug who was blinking idly, scratching his head. 

“So, uh-”

You gestured your pinkie and thumb out one on hand, “Le portable? Le téléphone? [Your cellphone? The phone-?]”

“Oh! Phone! He uh- he’s got it. No, um- no phone.” Doug gestured, a shake of his head, one arm pointed out the door. 

Super. Maintenant quoi? [Great. Now what?]

You pursed your lips, looking around the room, feeling a bit awkward. Regardless of your attraction to him, this was going to be difficult. 

“Ehhhh….Dougremer” You started, watching him lean froward on the table. “You… Es-tu un athlète? [You’re an athlete?] A-thlete?”

“Athlete! Yes.” He nodded. 

“And, … what? You…”

“Oh! Uhh-” he stood, gesturing with his arms wildly, leading you to chuckle at him, holding an invisible large circle in the air and throwing it. 

“Ah! Ah yes. Basket-ball!”

He laughed, placing a flat palm in the air, tilting it back and forth. “Sort of, sort of.”

You gestured two hands, both far from each other on either side. “Tu es grand. [You are tall.]”

“Big–?”

You shrugged, changed the direction of your hands, vertically, to which he slapped both palms against his sides in defeat. “I’m- I don’t know, sorry.”

You laughed, coming to stand as well, putting both hands on either sides of his arms, shifting to stand chest to chest with you. You brought a flat palm horizontally at the top of your head, raising it until it got to his. “Grand. [Tall.]”

He laughed at this, “ Ahh-tall, yes, I’m very tall. Grand .” He repeated. 

“ Tall?” You repeated back, nodding. 

“I thought grand was big. Big. ”

“C'est le même. [It’s the same.]” You shrugged, placing two palms in front of you, gesturing them. 

“Même! The same!” He smiled, proudly, brows raised affirmatively. 

“Ah, oui, same . Yes, ce. [this.] ”

You both laughed quietly for a minute, with you, shifting your weight in angst at this proximity to him. He was much bigger than you. His laughter quieted as you looked up to him, blinking. 

“Athlete, so… Strong? Strong?” You looked to him, a questioning nod.

He tilted his head, nodding tentatively, offering out his index and thumb to gesture “Just a little.”

You smiled, brows raised, gesturing to yourself with two open palms. “ Montre-moi. [Show me.]”

He smiled again, amused at all of this, giving a shrug while he shook his head. “You-?”

You laughed, bringing your hands below the hem of his shirt, tugging it once, looking up to him for affirmation. “Oh! You- yes,” he nodded, placing his palms on yours, moving his shirt up with you to pull it off of him. 

You let out a little playful gasp at his bare top-half, his hands, big, still around yours while you drew them over his chest. “ Toi , tu es putain de chaud! [ You, you are fucking hot!]" You assured it with a smile, palms dragging over him, and up over his shoulders. 

“That’s- it’s good?” He laughed.

“Yes, good ,” You affirmed, while his hands let go of yours, fingers finding the hem of your shirt now. “Mhm?” He offered, to which you nodded, letting go of him and lifting your arms to let him take it off of you. 

He let out the same playful gasp, head tilting as his palms covered the entirety of each breast, hardly letting his gaze meet yours as he looked over them, palming them softly. 

Not having the wherewithal to find the words to ask him to find a different room, you held his forearms while you lowered yourself, gesturing for him to follow down with you. “ Oh, we just, okay-”

He followed as you came to lay, his palms still moving across your chest, with you, leading your hand down to tug at the hem of his pants, now. 

“ Yeah?” He nodded, his hand coming over the button of his pants now. You nodded back, “ Remove?” He laughed at this, unbuttoning them and pulling them off of himself. 

Immediately you palmed over him, his erection growing apparent through his boxers, as he looked between the two of you, two fingers tugging at your pants now. 

You obliged, letting him strip them off, leaving the two of you in just your underwear. 

He dropped his head, letting his warm lips meet yours, pressing against you tentatively first, then soon with effort, letting his tongue meet with yours inside your mouth, feeling them draw around each other, slowly. You let out a noise of satisfaction while one of his hands came over your head. He let another hand draw down your body, coming to palm over the front of your underwear. You broke the kiss to let out a little laugh at his touch, “Je suis mouillé parce que tu m'embrasses-[I’m wet already, from you kissing me-]”

You knew he wouldn’t understand, but at this point, it didn’t matter. He didn’t feign confusion at your speech, seeming to interpret from your small laughter that had an undertone of embarrassment what it is that you meant. 

He spoke, with a similar tone, while he pressed your hand into his erection, a little more firm. “Got me all hard, just from that-”

The next time your lips were separated, you looked down between your bodies, hooking your finger over the hem of his boxers, while he took another side of the hem, easing them down while his erection was released from it, eagerly, and you both watched it twitch once, gently.

Your brows raised heavily, looking back up to him. You scoffed, lowly: “ Grand.”

He breathed a small chuckle, nodding back to you. “Yes, grand. ”

When he pressed his lips into you again, you moaned against them, feeling his bare length draw over the thin cloth of your underwear, feeling the wetness of yourself let it cling to you. 

Your hips canted up into him, to which he cut a moan of his own, while the desperation in your breath could no longer be quelled, feeling it drag along you like this. The tone in your voice was that of a whimpery plea, the inside of your thighs trembling with angst. “Ah, s'il te plait, baise moi [please, fuck me]”

He let out a small groan, while you looked all over his face, his brows furrowing before he spoke, “ Don’t even know what that means, but it sounded fuckin’ hot,” Before you pouted, letting out another whimper when your fingers came up to the back of his curls, tugging on them twice before he finally understood. “ Ah-” His hand hooked over your underwear, pulling them down your thighs and leading his fingers between your folds- “ Are you wet enough?” He questioned, before drawing his head back at his discovery, “Oh, yes, you are,” he drew, nodding, as your hand came down to grab his wrist, tightening around it, “ S'il te plaît..[Please..]” It was with enough desperation in your face for him to understand, he nodded, looking down to guide his length through your folds, then around your entrance, then pushing himself all the way inside in one thrust, the both of you gasping as he did, both eyes on the slow movement of him entering you. 

“ Fuckk-” 

“Merde-[Fuck-]”

As he began to thrust, the two of you muttered respective obscenities, both seeming to be spurred on by this when each of you spoke- 

You looked over his face, both of your hands on either side of his arms as he thrust, “C'est si grand [You feel so big..]” Your voice was winded, drawn with long heaving pants, eyes lidding beneath him at the sensation of his cock, pushing so far into you that it massaged your walls at all angles…

He groaned, “Ah, keep talking..”

The barrier of language between you seemed to falter altogether, some nonverbal understanding phonetically and between tones of what the other was trying to convey.

Your body moved with every thrust he laid into you, and he put one hand on the floor, keeping the other around your waist to stabilize you, his head leaning down against your chest in fatigue, “You feel so fucking good”

His lethargic, sex-drunk tone itself made you tighten around him, feeling him cut another groan at this, moving to slow his pumps inside you. The sensation of his change in pace made you whine, feeling tingles flit up the back of your calves, pushing your back up to arch closer to him. He let a little gasp at this, panting as he nodded at you, “ Yeah? You like it slow like that?”

You could only breathe another continuous string of stuttered moans at his pace, letting your fingers tighten around his biceps. 

“Hold on,” he panted, bringing his hands around your side and pulling your body closer to him, before he changed your position to be atop him, with him laying on the ground instead, his head falling back and his curls draping out around him on the floor. His head was back, letting you adjust to bring your knees on either side of him. You watched his chin come up to keep his eyes on you, panting as his throat moved with the breaths from this angle, hands drawing up your legs to rest around both hips, guiding them back and forth over his length, “Ah, slow, slow down- ”

“ Hhh- comme ça? [like that]?” 

“ Yess” he panted, as you let his hands guide your hips, keeping both of your palms splayed across his bare abdomen, mewling because the change in position had angled his length to hit the perfect spot, you whined at this, body canting forward until your chest was pressed against his, his breaths lewd and audible in your ear. “ There you go, take it, ” he panted, lips coming over to kiss the shell of you ear. 

You busied your lips with his neck, sucking on it hard enough to draw marks, to which his head shifted up more, letting out a moan at the sensation. He dug his hands into your hips further, lifting them a bit to fuck up into you now, his strokes speeding up as your body jerked with the force of his thrusts. 

His hands moved, one to come up to the back of your head, keeping your face into his neck, the other coming tightly around your lower back as he fucked into you, feeling your tightness squeeze around him when you were brought closer to your release at this new touch, panting in his ear and mewling again. 

Without much warning, the both of you came, his grip still in two parts around you as he did this, letting your body jerk against him as you did, sobbing your moans at the release. 

He relaxed his hold on you, only letting go to pick up your head in two palms, uttering a panty laughter as he held you there, before your head collapsed on his chest again, and his head collapsed back on the floor, chest rising into yours with every dying labored breath. 

“Putain de merde. [Holy fucking shit.]”

He smacked another fatigued breath, “ Yeah.”

The door swung open with full force, your friend and Coop barreling inside in collective laughter while you watched Doug’s head come up lazily to look, before falling back down again. 

“Hey Remer, wanna know why they call it a french ki- What the hell, dude!”

The two of you laid, unmoving, just blinking as you both let out a series of small laughs.

“On the floor, dude?”

“Sur le plancher?!?”

From Coop, and your friend respectively. 

Doug let out a shaky laugh, before uttering, “ Ne pouvais pas m'en empêcher.[Couldn’t help it.]” 

While you let out a fatigued, “ Couldn’t help it.”

The two of you lifted your heads up sharply, brows furrowing at each other.

“What the fuck- dude?”

He let out a smacking laughter, letting his head fall back down again.

“I fucking love this place.”

A/N:

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE!!

Hope you laughed with me.

Bizous! But really this time- bizous!

Cinq

[all4ston3]

my perfect girl

summary; you’re having a bad body image day, and matt comforts you

cw!!; talk of bad body image, not liking yourself, matt praises you, kissing

774 words, 5 min read time

note!! ;; this might suck so beware,, but i guess i wrote this as a way to comfort myself. im battling with an ed at the moment and my body image has really deteriorated, and i’ve been wanting comfort for a long time, but i have nobody to provide such comfort, especially so intimately. so thank god for writing. if anyone else id struggling with body image, you’re perfect the way you are. i know its cheesy but we’re just human. ur body is so uniquely your own, and that’s what makes it perfect. sorry for getting all sappy but dealing with this type of shit sucks ASS and i hate that other people have to deal with it 2.

————————————————

you were upset with yourself. you were having one of many bad body images days, where you wish you could just change your body to how you see fit. it was late, around 10:24pm. matt was at the south park studios, and you didn’t expect him to come home until around 5 in the morning. he texted you a few times that day, informing you on how “it was just one of those days,” and how they couldn’t come up with any ideas.

you were imperfect. of course you knew everybody was imperfect, but you thought you had too many imperfections. especially compared to your sweet, compassionate, tall, handsome, your perfect boyfriend. you found yourself staring in the bathroom mirror after finishing your night time routine. the longer you stared, the bigger the lump in your throat got.

you didn’t like your body, not one bit. you let the feeling build up, trying to battle it in your head. you burst into tears eventually, still staring into the mirror while feeling your body with your hands, feeling all of those imperfections and thinking of all the things you could do to quickly fix it. how to make yourself more loveable, more desirable for your boyfriend, who you thought deserved better.

you decided to just go to sleep, not wanting to be awake to think about your body anymore. you got comfortable in bed, reaching over and turning the lamp off.

you couldn’t fall asleep, your brain plaguing you with negative thoughts. you cried, constantly wiping your tears and sniffling. your bedroom door opened after 20 minutes and you froze. matt came home early and you hadn’t noticed. you hadn’t heard the front door of your apartment shut. you didn’t want matt to see you crying, quickly wiping your tears off of your face. matt never saw you cry before, you didn’t want this to be the first encounter either.

you felt the side of your bed dip as matt sat down, and a hand caress your side as he sighed, surely exhausted from working. you unintentionally sniffled again, and the hand froze. “y/n? baby? are you okay?” the sweet voice of your boyfriend broke the silence. his voice was a sigh of relief for you, the soft, low voice that you love. you sighed and rolled over to face him, your eyes still puffy from crying.

“oh, my poor baby, what’s the matter?” he was quick to pull you up and to hug you, gently rocking you back and forth. matt knew something was off the moment he entered the bedroom. he felt the negativity radiate off your body and it hurt him. he wanted nothing more than his woman to be happy. “matt, i’m not good enough for you.. you deserve someone prettier than me. you deserve somebody with a perfect body, someone that is perfect in every way. that’s what you deserve.” you spoke into his chest, new tears prickling at your eyes. you loved being held by him, you loved his smell, how secure you felt in his arms.

he immediately pulled you back by your shoulders, the light from the hallway illuminating his face. he looked genuinely offended before scoffing and shaking his head. he was hurt his pretty girl was feeling that way. matt thought you were the most gorgeous, sexy, and lovely girl. you were his charming girl. matt squeezed your shoulders, “what on earth are you talking about, y/n? are you kidding me? when i tell you that i love you, i mean i love every single part of you. from your mind, to your pretty face, your body.. every part. you’re fucking perfect for me. you were born to be with me. it’s okay to be insecure, i am too, but to think you don’t deserve me? that’s fucking outrageous, baby.. your body turns me on so much, to me you have a perfect fucking body.”

you stared at matt. you couldn’t believe this handsome man was saying those things about you. you were absolutely flattered, grabbing his arms so you felt closer to him. he was still rambling on about his love for your beauty, and how he couldn’t imagine a person more perfect than you.

you felt loved. you felt secure. you felt pretty, even. you leaned forward and kissed matt, quick to wrap your arms around his neck. matt grabbed your waist, gently rubbing your sides before hugging you. matt didn’t let you pull away from the kiss for a few minutes. he wanted you to know just how much you meant to him. how pretty you are to him. that you’re perfect.

[all4ston3]

real mozzarella sticks r the best food to exist

i wish i had a mozzarella stick dispenser

[all4ston3]

loup-garou

content warnings

// matt stone x fem reader , werewolf!matt , fear play , biting , predator/prey dynamic , lots of spit and drool , blood , breath play ,

the few days before the full moon was a rough time for both of you. matt tries to be normal, just as caring and loving as before, but he often struggled the closer it got to transformation. it wasn’t all bad, usually being pretty harmless. some of his most common habits was stalking. he’d keep an eye on you all day, every day. you didn’t mind, getting used to the feeling of being watched, but sometimes he was more intense in his stalking.

he’d watch from afar, peeking around a corner as you watched tv or scrolled through your timeline. every so often, he’d feel the urge to pounce. he held himself back pretty well. he brought up his thoughts and you told him he could, but it still made him anxious. instead, he opted for watching you from a cracked door.

sex was also a bit different. he’d start marking you, biting down harder than usual and digging his nails into your hips. after he came, he’d always apologize, licking over the marks as a peace offering. he even cried once when he made you bleed on accident. you always assured him you were okay, but he still felt ashamed.

he had good self-control in every other aspect of life, holding a fairly strict workout routine for most of his life and never overdoing any substances he got his hands on, but he couldn’t help himself. you understood, always holding him and comforting him as he whimpered out i’m sorry over and over.

the mental side of tranformation was always the hardest. he hated the lack of control and he hated that he hurt you. there wasn’t much you could say to make him feel better. the lead up always made him much more emotional and less rational, so even if he agreed after the fact that he’d do anything he needed, he would regress back into a shameful and embarassed mindset.

he especially felt ashamed when you started preparing for the day before, covering any sitting area in plastic protectors before you went to bed. after one too many incidents where cum, drool and blood would soak into the mattress or couch, you decided to invest. he was visibly embarassed as he watched you set up.

“there’s nothing to be ashamed about,” you assured him. he never listened though, still overwhelmed by guilt for what was to come.

the night before and the day leading up was a completely different beast. he didn’t feel shame anymore and would indulge in any of his instincts. he’d pounce on you while you were reading, biting down on your shoulder and growling into the skin. he’d pant as you squirmed and whined, which only made him more interested. he loved a good struggle.

his teeth would dig in with no remorse, drooling over the wound and onto whatever you were laying on. he’d straddle you, hands gripping your wrist and holding you down roughly. they would usually bruise under the pressure, but the biting sensation always overpowered the intense hold. you’d tear up, even cry from his piercing teeth.

“matt,” you whimpered. he bit down harder with a grumble, making you gasp. his hands adjusted themselves until both of your wrists were held together by one hand. his other hand would pull down your pants and underwear, letting go of your shoulder for a moment. he drooled, slobber covering your shoulder and neck as he tried to find a new spot. he looked at your trapezius.

you kicked your legs a bit, trying to help with removing your clothes, but he assumed you were struggling. he bit down again, just bordering on your neck and shoulder. you wailed, trying to pull away but was held still by his teeth. he huffed against the skin, cooling over the spit. as he removed everything, he adjusted his position, now sat between your legs. he lifted your hips, knees hooked over his shoulder as he positioned himself.

you gritted your teeth as he thrusted in, bottoming out in one smooth stroke. you grunted, whimpering soon after because of the stretch. he licked over your bite mark again as he started fucking you with little regard of how you felt. you loved it, though. your back arched as he panted against your skin, his fingers gripping your hip and wrist harder. his nails dug in, leaving little crescent moons ingraved. he bit down again, this time closer to your arm. another whimper escaped as he pressed his hand against your stomach, feeling himself inside of you.

you tried to beg, but it wasn’t much use. a part of you thought he couldn’t hear during these moments. he didn’t register a single word and would often forget the whole thing happened after his transformation was over. he grunted with each thrust, biting harder and harder as he did so. you tried to move your wrist, but he pressed harder against you. another deep growl escaped as you submitted.

his hips stuttered, biting and gripping harder as he got closer and closer. you felt it coming too, throbbing around him every so often. he licked over your wound briefly before letting out a moan, quickly followed by him biting down on your neck. you gasped, breath suddenly taken away as he bit down on your esophagus.

you let out strangled whimpers as he came inside of you, painting the inside of your walls. you tried to moan, lightheaded as you came on his cock as well. his grip loosened, you gasping as you could breathe again. he panted against your skin, still throbbing inside of you before slowly pulling out with a whimper.

he licked over the wound as he collapsed next to you, holding you tightly. you sighed, feeling his cum slowly drip out of you as he fell asleep next to you. looking down at your shoulder, you saw a couple of open wounds where blood dripped onto the protector. you sighed, thankful you made that investment sooner rather than later.

[all4ston3]

i have plans that i can not share with you because the haters will sabotage me

[all4ston3]

i want matt stone to throw me around and treat me like a rag doll like i’m so sad fuck me until i can’t even think about how im sad anymore

[all4ston3]

PREACH🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

yo i don’t want to be rude but if ur an nsfw southpark writer pls don’t follow me lmao i don’t care if they’re aged up that shit makes me so uncomfortable

[all4ston3]

i got carried away with this LOL

so like…. you’re apart of the south park team and you end up in matt’s hands a lot, most of the times because he found something you did wrong. more often than not are you in matt’s office being interrogated by him. you never know what you’ve done wrong until he actually gets to the point. he likes to build suspense and see you grow nervous. he finds it so cute how you have no idea what you’ve done wrong!

“hi y/n. sit down, please.” he’ll mumble, just motioning to the chair across his desk while not even looking at you, his eyes locked on his monitor.

“i have better things to be doing right now, y/n. but you’ve done something wrong, again. do you know what you’ve done?” he’d ask, finally looking at you and putting his hands down on his desk, crossing his fingers and staring at you so intensely he could burn holes through your body.

“again? god i don’t know matt.” you huffed, getting frustrated with him doing this multiple times a week. but, you liked it. it turned you on. the way he degraded you and humiliated you multiple times a week had your mind stirring. he was getting fed up with it, though. he was pissed.

“y/n, how do you handle the network asking us to remove scenes or to censor things?” he began to glare at you, rather than stare. and then, you remembered. earlier the network had called the studio and you were the only staff member around to answer it. you said that they’d get rid of the stuff they wanted gone entirely, not even considering asking matt or trey. you were silent.

“y/n. why didn’t you come to me or trey? do you know how much of a commotion this has caused all of us? you’ve been working here way too long to not know how to handle that situation.” he sighed, sitting back in his chair before standing up and walking over to you. he stood next to the chair you were sitting in. he began playing with your hair, looking around his office. you were flustered, your face was hot and red. you didn’t know what to say to him. you felt humiliated. “m.. m sorry, matt.” was all you could muster up.

“all you have to say to me is sorry?” he hissed, pulling your head back by your hair, forced to look at him. “really? are you really that stupid?” he was seething, his eyebrows furrowed and his grip on your hair was harsh. your entire body felt hot, feeling even more humiliated now that you were getting turned on.

“y/n, do you know anything about how things work here? do you think you were worth hiring? do you bring anything to the company other than more hardships for us?” he pursed his lips. “tell me. or did you only come here for money? or for the free trips? for me? for trey?” you were totally silent, looking up at him wide eyed before whining and covering your face with your hands, totally humiliated. you knew he had you all figured out now, only trying at the job to be around him.

he ripped your hands off of your face and gripped your face with such force you thought your jaw would break. “answer me. now.” he had this stern face, one that honestly scared you. but it only turned you on more. he squeezed your thighs together and answered, “i tried at the job for you, but i enjoy working here so much!” he chuckled before nodding slowly. “okay. beg to keep your job. i’ll fucking fire you if you don’t beg.”

you were shocked, you didn’t even process his words until he shook your face a bit. “fuck! okay.. matt, please let me keep this job. i get to be around you but this is such a good job matt! i’m going to get better for you, i’ll do anything to keep this job! i’m gonna do such a good job for you n trey!” you were desperate. you couldn’t imagine having job where you weren’t around matt stone almost everyday. you needed this job. you needed to be around him.

“do a good fucking job then.” he grunted, throwing your face off to the side before walking back over to his desk, slowly sitting in his chair before motioning for you to leave. “go. and i swear to god y/n, if i have to call you in here one more fucking time, your job is gone.”

brb adding these pictures to the “pics that make me feel like matt is interrogating me or some shit like that”

[all4ston3]

u just gave me an idea….

brb adding these pictures to the “pics that make me feel like matt is interrogating me or some shit like that”

[all4ston3]

trey's corruption kink has be running in circles

and i’m running in circles with it chasing after it!!! thank you for fueling the fires that further destroy the pillars of my morals!!!

based on absolutely nothing other than The Vibes i get from stuff he’s done, i’m a firm believer in corruption kink trey. his favorite is hearing you say filthy things, typically things of his choice. we’ve all seen the “when you get a good girl like that to say ‘cock’” video and i can’t ignore it. forget making you beg, he’s crazy about hearing that pretty little mouth say dirty stuff. always saying “sounds so cute when you say it,” “come on, one more time for me,” stuff like that.

low key into watching you get so horny it’s embarrassing? like so turned on you can’t control yourself, such a far cry from the innocent thing that you usually are etc etc. watching you hump his thigh, or even just seeing you kneel in front of him scratches that sick itch. always says little things to make you flustered nd squirmy 🫣😵‍💫

[all4ston3]

i’m so sad i need matt stone to comfort me