remersgf

[remersgf]

“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 🅿️

[remersgf]

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.

[remersgf]

MATT STONE X READER: "AN UNEXPECTED ASSIST" PART 4!

Read Parts 1  2  3 

Find the entire work on Archive Of Our Own

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: college!matt/reader, matthew stone/reader, matthew stone/you, 

𝗥𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴: explicit

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.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4,689

𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲: approx. 36 minutes

𝗧𝗮𝗴𝘀/𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: She/Her/Hers implied reader, Frenemies to FWB, college!matt, pleasuredom!matt, tw: fluff, tw: emotions, smut that makes you smile, smut that makes your chin tremble

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: Well, good evening. I’m going to kiss all of you immediately. I started writing this update 10 hours ago. I hope you’re satisfied by the end of it. Thank you for showing so much love and turning this into a multi-chap. You’ve all been so sweet. If you want to see more from me, spare a follow, and find my full list of works here. Many kisses, bizous. 

pov matthew being normal

You lay quietly in Matthew’s bed, so quietly in fact, that the only two noises in the scape were the adjacent apartment tenants shuffling and moving about faintly in the distance, and the other was Matthews’s careful, quiet breath passing over the space behind your ear. 

You didn’t lay awake in discomfort, necessarily, while this may have been some small layer of the case. You blinked, watching his ceiling, considering that long forgotten mantra of “30 minutes, one time, 30 minutes, one time.” 

But, here the both of you were, on the very last day of the first semester, having fallen asleep with him still inside you. (After quite the perfect orgasm, but you expected nothing less from him at this point.) What was worse, was that, he had pulled out of you, cleaning you up, and gently pulling your shorts back up over your ankles, and up your thighs, securing them in place and sliding his hand up over your bare stomach while he collected himself beneath the covers with you. 

Now that, … well. A good “weekday lay” doesn’t do that. 

You peered down at said shorts this morning. furrowing your brows when you-

Worse. Those were his shorts. 

You settled your gaze against his shoulder, taking a minute to watch him like this…

The domesticity of this image quietly, MOMENTARILY, washing away the well acknowledged loathe in your chest for the man who lay beside you. You loved him like this, lumbering and heavy-limbed, face half-caved against the pillow… You watched him breathe and shift in his sleep, his soft new muscles that hadn’t yet been graced with adrenaline twitching as they held against you. He breathed heavily and sparsely, this visual of him so docile and gentle, the warmth of his skin becoming an aura that reluctantly drew to yours. The masculinity of him softened here into something so palatable, so gentle and warm. The ever volatile Matthew Stone couldn’t fight with you now, not when he was grumbling and heaving softly against a pillow. 

You inhaled deeply, returning your gaze to the ceiling, basking the in the air of his delectable warmth, linen and heavy limbs, scathed honey skin and bathed cedar, oh, fuck. 

You rolled your eyes at this delight, the “morning Matthew” this fucking Friday. The last day of the semester. And fuck, is he warm. Fuck, he smells so good.

And fuck! He left his glasses on.

You shifted your head a bit, nagging already at yourself for what you were going to do next, bringing yourself a little closer to his careful warmth, quietly drawing his glasses from his face and folding them, setting them atop the overhead table. Careful to move at this, and promptly rolling your eyes at your necessity to not wake him. 

When in his somnolence he huffed, dragging his arm tighter around your waist , you grit your teeth as he pulled you flat to his chest, burying your head in the space below his chin, promptly cursing yourself for the sickening drips of warmth and delight that collected inside your chest at this little sleepy gesture.

“Mm. Thanks.”

It didn’t startle you as much as you were anticipating, just humming back a small “Mhm.”

He hummed in response, only quietly, but enough for you to hear the baritone rumble quietly in his chest. You tilted your head up, dipping your tongue into the hollow of his throat, wanting so badly to feel the vocal cords resonate there. 

He hummed again, differently this time, fingers curling a little tighter around your waist, tilting his head up. 

“Mm. Careful.”

You only understood the reasoning for this phrase when you felt his cock twitch to life against your stomach, nudging against you once as you brought your tongue out again, dragging it freely across his neck now, just below his ear. 

The heavy arm that was since tucked below his pillow now drew out, coming up between your chests and meeting your throat, fingers holding gently around it as you worked your tongue against him, softly squeezing your neck in time with the gentle twitches of his livening cock. 

“What is it? Want me to touch you?” 

His voice was so heavy with sleep, it encouraged more saliva to collect in your mouth as you continued to lathe your tongue.

While you were suppressing your body’s thundering shouts for him to touch you, please, all you could do was bring your lips around his neck and suck gently, enough to break the capillaries though, licking over the mark once when your lips departed. Of course his hips rut into you, (he really loved when you did that.)

Finally, god, his palm drew down your chest, stopping to soothe small circles into your stomach, before sliding through the hem of your-his-shorts, leading you to let out a shuddery whimper when his fingers slid gently through your warm folds, your cheeks flushing, feeling him easily glide through your morning-untouched fresh wetness, your sex only growing in warmth when he moaned aloud at what he found there, fingers gliding so easy through your labia and over your clit. 

You shuddered as all the sensitive parts tingled with buzzing pleasure at his warm fingers, working gently against your clit, while he softly chuckled against your head. “Mm. Bet that feels so nice.”

You nodded against him, moaning as he continued, your hips shifting at his too-slow-for-satisfaction pace, whining against his neck. His hands left your throat, leaning closer to you as they traced down your side again, latching one arm to bar behind your back to keep you still, the other continuing to work slowly against your clit. “Mm, don’t move, let me touch you..”

You obeyed, just relaxing your body against him as your eyes screwed shut in pleasure, your clit aching with each gentle, intentionally slow circle, while you swallowed every moan that was fighting its way to your throat. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked this morning,” he started with a grunt of his own, “Need me this bad, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, your walls fluttering around nothingness while he slowly worked your clit. “Yesss you do.. You want my fingers inside, hm?”

You nodded furiously against his neck, panting into it. “Say please, honey.” You ignored the little name for now, his tone too saccharine to pass it, while you uttered out the barest “please..”

You felt him chuckle again quietly against your head. “What’s that?” He said, so softly, barely above a whisper. 

“Please,” you said again, gasping in delight as he failed to deny you any further, two thick fingers plunging into you and working slowly, just how you liked them, perfectly attuned to your body after all this time. You quietly whimpered into his neck, with him letting your hips rock freely into his fingers now, the grip behind your back having loosened. Warmth glittered in your stomach while his fingers pumped, his palm rocking gently against your clit, allowing you to shift over it, throbbing an urging warmth through your abdomen and up through your chest- “Gonna cum for me already?”

Your cheeks flamed at his words, not willing to admit that he was right, just letting your hips work themselves into his fingers, chest heaving at the euphoric sensation. He always knew just how to touch you, just how good it made you feel…

Worse, he brought his hand out from behind your back, moving it between the two of you now, drawing your shirt up over your stomach and over your chest, taking a shaky palm to catch at your breast, squeezing it gently as his thumb traced over your nipple and rubbed against it just the way he knew you liked-

You whined again, walls tensing around his fingers, a warning-

He shifted, nesting his head onto your shoulder while he did both of these things, breathing pants into your ear as he worked you. He cooed, “Tell me you wanna cum..”

You did, it was a whimpery, whiny admission, your chest heaving with every thrust of his fingers inside you, only to feel him shake his head softly on your shoulder. “Mm-mm, Say my name..”

His fucking name..

You whimpered again, feeling him place an encouraging kiss to the outside of your ear, “C’mon..”

Oh God, his name..

There was a foreign, jittery feeling present at the base of your belly- 

Your eyes threatened to roll as you urged it out, the inside of your thighs twitching wildly at the sound of it leaving your mouth: “Please, Matthew..”

With not another second, you came at your own words, while he let your hips jerk against his fingers, his other hand locking around your waist  sharply, rubbing your back in support, as you let out a series of delighted whimpers, then a small gasp as he let out a stuttered groan of his own, his hips shifting sharply for a moment, heaving into your body while you had pushed through the final shudders of your own orgasm. 

You panted through the comedown, half of your brain confused about his noises- While he always would echo your sounds of pleasure, sympathetically, gratefully, yes, but the noise he had just shared was different, one that you typically only heard when he was inside of you, or when your lips were wrapped around his length. 

You blinked into him, a mix of euphoria and confusion tugging inside of you, feeling him still against you, only breathing quietly against your shoulder, the both of you laying in breathy silence. 

Did he just…

…

His continued silence told you that he did NOT want to talk about it, and you weren’t going to push it, the both of you dressing quietly for the day, with you, quietly swimming through the questions in your mind of how exactly you were going to show up to class at the same exact time as him without raising any suspicion. 

..

He hummed quietly as he kneeled to tie your shoes, with you shifting on your weight, blinking down at him, while he patted your calf once for you to lift your foot, the shoelace having been caught beneath it. 

“Last day.”

“Mhm.”

You twitched your lips when he stood, brows raised, offering a hand out for yours. 

You pursed your lips now as you took it, following him out of the door to his apartment, not letting his hand free of yours as he locked the door, turning with a cock of his head to walk down the hallway with you.

“Hey,- Matt? And…..?”

The two of you turned around sharply, your eyes widening as you wrangled your hand out of his, slapping it to your side with haste, quickly throwing a scowl to him. “Uhh- don’t fucking, don’t forget your fucking. Don’t um,”

You desperately met his eyes, flitting between him and what seemed to be your other classmate from across the hallway. 

“As if I’d want to see you again on purpose.” He finished confidently, letting his head shake at you, eyes wide and still, gesturing a small dismissive wave behind him while you went to turn quickly on your heels. 

Looks like you’re taking the other way out this morning. 

You heard him utter brief pleasantries with your other classmate as you descended the steps, heart still surging with adrenaline. 

You still weren’t positive what it was you were trying to hide, and if it was more from your peers than yourself. 

…

Your final class in Intro was quiet, satisfying, lacking any unpleasant remarks from the entirety of the class, or from your professor. 

Your final project was one you had been anticipating in glee from the very first day. You were to create a feature-less short film of your own, stills and montages, whatever it was that you were drawn to creating, the only criteria being a few elements listed on a rubric from which you had learned throughout the semester.  

You remember your pools of ideas about this project from the first reading of the syllabus, tapping your feet in excitement about all that you could do. 

You swallowed as you approached the front of your class, having scratched all of your original ideas heretofore, for something else, still piecing together your reasoning for this change as you tentatively introduced your film to the class, training your eyes anywhere but on Matthew as you gestured for your professor to play the file. 

“Um, right so. Enjoy.”

You retreated back to your seat, chewing your lip as you watched it come up. 

A stacky, vibrantly colored montage of clips from Megaforce flashed on the projector, your gaze flitting between your professor and the smoky, caliginous flashes of color in the sharp cylindrical shot from the projector to the wall, keeping your eyes strictly averse from your piece, fearing that if you would come face to face with it, you would melt in mortification about its implications, the dedication it took to get through editing the short, your hands themselves having typed out “Hal Needham” proudly, but not really, in a thick, era-fitting beveled font. 

You grit your teeth when the short film closed, keeping your eyes trained on your notebook, not willing to look up to meet Matt’s gaze from across the lecture hall, only hearing his name (fuck, his name) being called out by your professor after she had praised your work with raised, unexpecting brows, moving onto his final, now.

You still didn’t bother raising your head to him, even through his brief introduction, where he had begun with what you heard as a chuckle and a low draw, introducing the piece only briefly and with little context. 

Your head only raised as the audio came up, the ostensibly foul material to the untrained ear, a profound sequence of lines that were sexual, divine, introspectively filthy, that could only come from Ingmar Bergman’s Persona. 

You blinked as you watched the screen, a still image with text, some digitally glowing yellow, some in white…

You gaped, blinking, stills from the film shifting in and out of frame, the Swedish dialogue echoing through the speakers as text followed, leading you to turn to look at Matt, who was tilting his head at the screen idly, a thumb coming up to his mouth, blinking while his chin rested atop his palm.

…“You know what I thought after I saw a film of yours one night? When I got home and looked in the mirror, I thought, ‘We look alike.’ Don't get me wrong. You're much more beautiful. But we're alike somehow. I think I could turn into you if I really tried…”

…

When the video had faded, the teacher had praised him with a furrow of her brows, “That was beautiful, Matthew.”

He nodded absentmindedly, shrugging his shoulders. “I know.”

You wanted to scoff but you could only sit blinking, shifting your feet and quelling your rising breath.

…

The professor had thanked your class, delivering her final departure before falling the class out, leading you to rise with heavy legs, delivering passing departs beneath your breath to your classmates, arms feeling cement-like as you gathered your things, chewing your lip when you felt that now-familiar presence behind you. 

You swallowed when you felt his hand at your shoulder.

“You stole my idea.”

“You stole mine!”

“I loved-“

“I loved it,”

“Sorry-“

“No, you go ahead.”

“It was. Not… bad.” You corrected, reeling your appreciation in a bit, blinking at him while your chest rose. It swelled, really. 

“I’m glad you…” he started, jaw shifting in thought. “Came to your senses.” 

You laughed, shaking your head, bringing a palm to the back of your head, smoothing your hair. “Right.”

It didn’t feel awkward, necessarily, just foreign, looking at him without feeling the word “hate!” rise to the front display of your neurons, letting it swathe around your forehead before it disappeared entirely, just for a moment. “I’m, look, are you going home for break?” 

He nodded slowly, brows raised. “Mm. Tomorrow.” 

You nodded back, swallowing. “Me too.”

He tucked his lips, looking to his feet as he shuffled with his hands. Before uttering, “Later, do you,” he started, raising his head to yours. “You could come over before I leave.”

You nodded before you realized you were making the gesture, clearing your throat before you spoke, letting the waiver in your voice fade, first. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Okay. I’m, uh. I will see you later.” 

You nodded again, letting him maintain his brevity, cocking his head with a small: “My place is open to you.” Before he departed, leaving your cheeks raw and rosed, twitching your lips before they let out a sigh, raising your backpack-which now felt so much heavier- over your shoulder..

…

You had packed your things, but you sat cross-legged on the floor of your apartment, looking to your bag, chocked with just enough to get you home for the brief break, this momentary departure feeling oddly permanent, just because it was in the general direction away from Matthew.

You knew you would see him again, in the next semester, but it felt so different this… some unspoken framework of understanding between the two of you. That you were going to see each other, and on purpose, and this time with a distinct lack of contempt, some appreciation for your likeness to one another. 

You figured. Perhaps, the dissonance between the both of you held a rationale that went like this: he was similar to you, and you didn’t like it. Ergo, you were similar to him, and he didn’t like that. Holding a mirror to your brilliance would duplicate it, thus invalidating yours or his respectively, or so the two of you thought. 

…

And now, when you stood face to face with him, once again, in the doorway of his apartment, meeting his gentle gaze, sensitive, you blinked again with this corresponding nuance, the final seams of your hatred for him seeming to darn into a verdict. His confidence, his arrogance, an artifact you lacked outwardly, but reflected on the inside, perhaps now letting it bubble to a palatable envy. A respect.

You swallowed as you kept his gaze, letting him blink back at you with raised brows, offering a quiet smile, and a brief, “Hi, pretty.”

You shook your head, pushing past him into his apartment, feeling him approach quietly behind you after shutting his door.

“What?”

You slumped onto his bed, letting your arms follow above your head, looking down to see him plant his feet in front of you, his palms coming idly over your bare thighs. (You did not return the shorts- and you scoffed at yourself at the fact that you were even wearing them, the owner aside, the simple fact that the biting cold of December had crept goosebumps onto your legs…)

“It’s break.”

“So?” He drew, palms still working over your thighs.

“We’re going home, and shit.”

“Mhm.” He continued, inquisitively, another palm coming up to bring your hair flat on either sides of you, fingers working at the zipper of your sweater, peeling it down-

You toyed briefly with the thought before you bit the bullet, letting it urge out of you, bringing your gaze hastily to the ceiling. “Are you gonna fuck somebody else?”

He stilled, then he laughed, retreating his hands from your body. This led you to sit up on your elbows, blinking as you met his amused gaze.

“Are you?”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you parroted. “Areee… you?”

“It’s two weeks, kid.”

You nodded, brusque. “‘Lot can happen in two weeks.” You tucked your lips, gesturing between the both of you. 

He shook his head with pursed lips, bringing his glasses from his face to squeeze at the bridge of his nose gently. “What, are you gonna miss me, or something?”

You spat a forced laugh, shrugging your shoulders with haste. “I don’t know.”

“You like when I fuck you.” He enunciated, bringing a palm to his chest. “Me.”

“Well, I’m not gonna like. Go to your house.”

“‘Course not.”

You shared an idle silence, swinging your foot over his bed with an empty beat. 

“You wanna have phone sex?”

You spat another laugh, genuine this time. “What year is it?!”

He shrugged, shaking his head with a smile. 

“So fuckin’ needy,” he dragged it, approaching you now with a grin, “Can’t go two weeks without fucking me?” 

He dragged his hands over your torso, tugging at your sweater before you leaned up, letting him pull it off of you, right-side-out, draping it over an adjacent chair as he retreated, palms coming to push your shirt up. You used your elbows to crawl back and oblige, letting half of his body onto the bed, crawling atop you, laying his head across your neck with his two hands still beneath your shirt.

“Dunno. Maybe I’ll find a substitute.”

He lifted his head sharply, his glasses knocking into your face at the motion, brows furrowed wildly before they fell, his eyes threateningly narrowing at you. “What?” 

The seethe with which this was spat made your breath catch, the letter “T” a thick, angry staccato. 

“I’m just, like, kidding…” You spoke it softly, your brows faltering at his genuine concern. He looked, like, authentically hurt.

You were kidding, I mean, you hadn’t cum better in your life, certainly not by the hands of another.

“You can’t, fucking…” He lowered his head, adjusting it to peer at the adjacent wall. “Do that.”

You blinked. “Why?”

You knew “why”, but you bit, anyway, this side of him, one you were yet to see. Matthew? Jealous? You gulped it down, headily as you watched it come over him.

You watched his jaw tense, bringing himself fully onto the bed, shifting so his back was against the wall, legs falling to bow, tucking his lips as he regarded you, head tilting. He let out a little dry chuckle, very dry, so dry that it actually stung. “You like me.” He squinted, more of a statement than a question. Perhaps a demand. 

You blinked, coming to sit as well, folding your hands in your lap. 

Your autonomy dissolved when he gestured for you, crawling on your knees to mount him, pulling both of your legs on either side of him, his hands skating up your back, dragging your shirt up and off of you in their wake, gritting his teeth as he lay his head across your bare chest. “You like me.”

His voice was a wavering, guileless and pitiful mantra, more to himself than to you. 

You rolled your eyes, hands coming over his head, holding it there while he spoke. 

He let his chin come up against your chest, looking up at you. “You fucking… like me.”

It was a prompt, perhaps, that you ignored, instead letting him divert, fingers catching at the hem of your shorts, one hand moving to tear them down your thighs, the other working your underwear as you raised to your knees, letting him withdraw them in desperation. When you went for the hem of his shorts, he clasped his palm up around your throat, squeezing a little harder than he had previously, perhaps unintentionally, bringing your face to meet close to his, his lips ghosting over yours as he spoke again. His throat was caught so deeply, he sounded inebriated with anger, maybe, urgency. “I know you like me,” he started, throat bobbing with a single swallow, “‘Cause you could cum just like this.. Huh?” You swallowed when he squeezed again. “Huh?”

You nodded your defeated reply, before he tsked, finally lifting his hips to pull his shorts down, eyes on you the entire time. He only dropped his grip on your neck to look down, lining your hips up over him. 

Typically, he would spend a delicious amount of time working you up, wettening you to get ready for that familiar sting, but he failed at such a task this time, you were, wet of course, the equilibrium of arousal that pooled every time you were in his presence, but his invasion still stung, while he shushed your whimpered cry, two hands coming to sooth into your sides apologetically, keeping himself still inside of you to let you adapt to the entrance. “I know, shh, I’m sorry…”

He let your arms stagger against him with the intrusion, coming to clasp around both of his hands, holding them at your sides while you let the mix of pain and pleasure wash through you, finally moving against him slowly when the pain had eased away, with him, letting you set your own pace. You leaned your body down a bit to kiss him, meeting his lips gently as you rocked along him, brows furrowing against his forehead as your lips moved together, only departed with a quiet wet smack when you realized the both of you had stopped moving altogether. He huffed, releasing his hold on your hands and moving it around your waist instead, holding your weight as he fucked up into you himself now, the tiniest shake of his head before he leaned in this time, pressing his lips against you, introducing his tongue freely into your mouth, letting it gently lathe with yours. You moaned into his mouth as he fucked up into you, his pace slowing a bit, drawing out a different… delicate moan from him in response. Your lips departed yet again, and you startled at his cutting grunt. It was frustrating, this, enough to let you flinch, with his expression falling into sympathy, delivering two soft kisses to your cheeks in apology before he changed his pace abruptly, fucking into you with such force, it agitated your body, knocking your head back. You inhaled sharply, your hands finding his again, squeezing at his palms to please still him, and he complied with a quiet whimper, hands stilling in yours while you continued to set the pace, the two of you sharing soft pants now, increasing in speed as you slowed your rocks against him, leaning into kiss him while he squeezed your palms in a gentle urge, departing your lips as your pressed your forehead to his, nodding quietly while you kept your lips against his cheek, sharing utters of each other’s names just quietly. 

You were blind-drunk on ecstasy with him inside you, sharing heaved, nearly mute admissions to one another, gently introducing them with every thrust, mixed polarized with lustful obscenities at the sensations of the other-

You shifted back while he let his head fall back against the wall, chest heaving with fatigued euphoria, while he wordlessly came, the delicate series of moans that came from him ripping you now, quickly to follow, just watching him like this, panting his moans while his lips parted, palms fighting with yours to pull you closer, with you just wanting to watch him come undone before you, cheeks wildly reddened and watered, the last of his sob-like moans being cut as your walls fluttered around him, obliging to his pulling grasp finally, falling to meet his sharply moving chest, beads of sweat from his brow flattening against your cheek as you lie there, sweaty, jittery palms still held in his.

You both adjusted your heads, one of you sharing the barest chuckle before the other responded with the same, whispered praises being shared in the same way, sympathetic and in worn-out acclamation. 

…

You acknowledged only one simple fact in the back of your fatigued, pleasure-filled rationale: you would devote everything, anything you had- to getting Matthew to deliver this profound expression of desire, this devotion again- You would do anything to give him that honest, esoteric to no one but the two of you, sacred level of pleasure, so long as his hands never left the grasp of your own.

…

A/N: OKAY I DID IT WAIT NO STOP I HAVE LIKE TEN MINUTES TO SPARE IT’S DONE HOLY FUCK MY CHEEKS ARE RED HERE YOU GO 

give me notes thoughts feelings concerns critiques any other pls i love you

ps the shorts in question

they keep appearing on my pinterest and they’re so canon he would wear 5inch inseams because he is a sloot

[remersgf]

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!!!!!

[remersgf]

that damn tracksuit

[remersgf]

idk how you guys can send anon hate, like i can’t even send a nice anon without being scared that i didn’t hit anon and now they know

[remersgf]

saw this vid of matt on my twt tl and im actually going insane

[remersgf]

seeing that gif of matt’s back has me shaking crying screaming creaming sobbing into my pillow WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIMMMMM

[remersgf]

The interviewer asks Matt and Trey to swirl and Phil Collins turns up out of the blue.

(IG: fartoons_productions)

[remersgf]

i can't stop thinking about size kink stuff... like being so fucking tiny compared to matt or trey, like they could literally wrap their whole hands around my wrists or ankles. idk dude it makes me lightheaded to think about, especially sitting in their lap or something

[remersgf]

literally i love my boyfriend

[remersgf]

matt stone x shy reader head canons pls? also i love your writing girl it's like you read my mind 🫶🏼

OOOH I BEEN WAITIN’ FOR THIS ONE!!!

okay omg so first of all. thank you 😋😚

and i don’t know if this ask was meant to be nsfw or not, but it’s my page so it’s gonna be anyway

second, let me start off by saying

he like, most definitely, and i’ve seen this mentioned here before- has a corruption thing?

and… while i could sit here and tell you all day how much i can imagine him being sweet to a shy reader and tease a little, but still in all be gentle about it, i’d literally be lying

i totally see remer being like that

but matt?

nuh uh

so if he like, is able to tell that you’re embarrassed around him (and you totally are, face hot, fists tight as hell, violently blushing any time his hands are on you or if he talks down to you [which, even if he’s not trying to, it comes off like this because he’s got this sort of penchant for being patronizing as is]) then he’s going to fucking play on that until you break basically

he’d try out pet names to see which ones make you shove your face into your hand and violently blush

(it’s ‘honey’)

(it’s also puppy, and he’ll figure that out in part 3 of unexpected assist)

so he’d dip his voice, kind of to a mock? more to a low draw for emphasis, using the name to tease you all the while just making you more coy

saying shit like,

“Your face is so red, honey, did I embarrass you?”

“You like when I touch you? Make you feel all shy?”

“Wanna feel what you do to me?”

AND oh my god

ESPECIALLY

when you’re in public

he’d just like, lean down, in passing or, briefly at some point

whisper the most filthy thing he can think of at the moment

“M’Gonna pump my fingers so nice and slow inside you, get you all wet for me..”

To which you grab his wrist, looking up at him with the pinkest cheeks known to man

then he’d pat your head once dismissively, simply walking away, tongue in cheek, sometimes brows in fake sympathy when he looks back at you

cuz he’s a dick

also WOW here’s my excuse to write briefly about you and he in front of a mirror because he would SO make you look at yourself completely break for him

so it’s kinda like this:

“Look at yourself."

"Mm-mm."

Lowering himself to the ground behind you, he pulls your back to his chest. Wrapping his right hand gently first around your throat, and forcing you to face the mirror.

You’d try to turn your chin away but his hand would struggle with your movements from your neck and he would tighten his hand on your chin instead, jerking it back to the mirror: "No-no, come on, look"

So you would, and your face would get even fucking hotter than it already was, seeing how close he was to your body, and just how much bigger than you he is (HELP)

"Look at your face when I touch you." His voice is more breath than tone, his free hand coming to rest on your thigh

"Just look at you."

He’d be so perverted about it, how shy he makes you, having a fucking field day with watching you tremble in front of him--but he’d be more interested in teasing you, in making you anticipate him touching you sexually-

"You’re so wet already. I’ve barely even touched you.."

but yeah he would notice how shy and red-faced you get around him and toy with you for like 3 months before he finally fucks it out of you

i have lots more to say about this but it’s the first thing i saw when i woke up this morning and i needed to get it out of my system

[remersgf]

baseketball but only the gay parts 🏳️‍🌈

[remersgf]

not even gonna say what i’m thinking

[remersgf]

this is so fucking sick and twisted

originally clipped by @matts-slut (from sp season 1 commentary)

when i write his voice in my fics as “lethargic, drawn” etc this is what i mean

i’m going to start breaking shit why would he do this

[remersgf]

Everyone and their mother:

What. He’s a loser

ME: Ok? I want to watch his dorky himbo afro bounce with every thrust and ride his face so hard I break his glasses clean in half.

Sorry.

Also the slow mo hair movement gifs is like the girl version of Vine twerk compilation

[remersgf]

Matt in a tight t-shirt again when?

He seems to only ever wear one when caught unexpected, usually by fans or a random paparazzi. Matt, why?