summary: gregor is desperate for new clients and you have the perfect marketing strategy
tags: MDNI, candaulism (public sex), public masturbation, public sex, creampie, mild spanking, gregor is a diva and a slut
word count: 1.4k
a/n: gregor doesn't get enough attention and i adore him so ofc he's getting kinky sex written about him,, it's basically my love language. that and writing angst
kinktober masterlist
“you don’t understand!” gregor cries, “i’m 22 years old, my life is basically over and i have zero high profile clients!” gregor’s in a state today. he’s been moping around for a few weeks and finally decided to complain to you about his troubles. you watch him pace back and forth, throwing his hands in the air in dramatics as he whines. as you watch him, your eyes lock on his hips, how they jut out as he walks and how his crop top is perfectly cut to leave you wanting more. that gives you an idea.
“gregor,” you say, interrupting his pacing, “i have a way to get you more clients.” he perks up at your words, smiling gleefully.
“do tell,” he says, hopeful. you beckon him over to where you’re sitting, tugging on his feather boa as he stands above you.
“you need to show more skin,” you say, bluntly. gregor glares at you, slightly confused. you pull off his boa and stand up, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.
“are you sure?” gregor asks, unconvinced, “i don’t think that’ll help.” despite his words, he’s letting you pull his shirt up over his head.
“sex sells, baby,” you coo, “just trust me.” gregor nods, holding himself stiffly as you unbutton his jeans. you slip his jeans off, leaving him in his boxers before turning him around. you sit back down in your chair and pull him into your lap. you hook his legs over either side of your knees and hold one hand against his chest. in this position, gregor is completely exposed, his torso and crotch shown off to passerbys on the street. you move your free hand down, rubbing slowly at his crotch.
“wh– nghh,” gregor groans, “what’re you doin’?” you kiss him just below the ear, feeling his dick grow in his boxers.
“i’m getting you clients,” you say, matter-of-factly, taking his cock of his boxers. gregor jerks in your lap as your fingers wrap round his cock. you jerk him off, holding him to your chest as he squirms. he lets out muffled moans as he tries to swat your hand away from his cock.
“mm– please stop,” he groans, “p–people can see.” you look outside the shop’s front window. there’s a few people on the other side of the street. they catch a glance of gregor through the window, quickly turning their heads away in shock.
“no one can see,” you lie, continuing to stroke his cock.
“i’m serious,” gregor snaps, “they can see my– ahh, my dick. please let me turn around.” you oblige, releasing him and watching as he quickly turns around and sits back on your lap. he buries his face in your neck, wrapping his arms round your neck and his legs tight around your waist.
“lo siento, baby,” you say, running your fingers through your hair, “i was just trying to help you.” gregor whines, rocking his hips lightly against your growing bulge. he whimpers into your neck, grinding down onto you harder. he grabs at the nape of your neck, whining desperately.
“gregor?” you say, “¿qué pasa? use your words.” gregor groans, leaning back to face you.
“fuck me,” he breaths, “please.” you cup his face with one of your hands, smirking at him.
“oh, pero, cariño,” you tease, “do you really want all those people out there to see you?” you eyes gesture outside but gregor buries his head back in your neck.
“i don’t care,” he whines, “i just need you.”
“okay, baby,” you say, pulling his head up to yours softly. his eyes flutter closed as you press your lips onto his. he kisses you desperately as you finally grind your crotch against his. you can feel how hard he is against your stomach. you slip your hands into his boxers, massaging his ass as he moans into your mouth. you pull his boxers down off his ass and place a finger at his hole. he whines, trying to push down on your finger. you let it slide in, watching as his face contorts. you slip another in and he jerks away from you.
“t–too much,” he whines.
“how are you ever supposed to fit my cock in you if you can’t fit two fingers?” you ask. gregor drops his head back into your neck and groans.
“fine.” you work your fingers inside of him, stretching him out and pulling sweet moans from him in the process. you can feel his cock forming a wet spot on your shirt as you finger him. as you feel him relax around your fingers, you pull them out. he whines, hitting you softly on the back.
“one second, gregor,” you chuckle, removing your dick from your pants. you tap his ass, lifting him up a little to position him over your cock. you hold his hips, slowly lowering him down. he whines and moans the whole way down, clearly uncaring for anyone passerbys that might hear him.
“you’re a little loud there, baby,” you chuckle, “what if people hear?” you suck kisses onto his neck, making him whine.
“don’t care,” he moans, starting to ride you. as he bounces on your cock, his moans get more and more lewd. you look outside to see a small group of people have accumulated. some have their phones out, others are just watching. you smirk, kissing across gregor’s shoulder and smacking his ass lightly. you grip his hips, bucking yours up into him as you suck hickeys onto his neck. gregor pulls at your hair as he fucks himself on your cock, trying to muffle his moans in your neck. the feeling of his cock rubbing against your shirt and the knowledge that he’s being watched is getting too much for him.
“s–slow,” he whines. you lift your head from his neck and slow your thrusts right down. gregor hums, bringing his head up to kiss you.
“were you getting close, baby?” you ask, looking down at the precum he’s leaked onto your shirt. he nods. “does being on show for all these people get you off?” he nods again, rolling his hips as he pulls at your bottom lip with his teeth. he bites down into your lip as you quicken your pace inside him.
“mierda,” he groans, watching blood form on your lip, “lo siento, i didn’t mean to.”
“i know,” you say, kissing him again, “it’s okay.” you break the kiss, wrapping your arms around him to hold him close to your chest. “you gonna cum from being stared at as i fuck you?” gregor whimpers in your ear as you punctuate your sentence with a deep thrust.
“mhmm,” he moans.
“you‘re gonna cum for me in front of all these people, huh?” you tease, feeling him nod. he grips tightly at your neck, his whines getting louder as his hips jerk. you move your hand in between your bodies, stroking his cock, feeling it twitch and then a warmth fill your hand.
“did you just cum, baby?” you chuckle, nuzzling his head as his body jerks, riding out his orgasm.
“sí,” he groans, falling limp against your body. you continue fucking him, slowly reaching your climax. he whines, pushing at you weakly.
“just a little longer, okay,” you say, “i need to show everyone what you look like with your hole full.” gregor let out a moan at your words that devolves into whimpers as you thrust into him. you moan, dropping your head onto gregor’s shoulder as you fill him with cum. you continue fucking into him, riding out your orgasm before relaxing into your chair.
“well done, baby,” you say, patting him on the ass gently, “you just gotta do one more thing and then everyone is sure to come to your salon.” he groans but lets you pull him off your cock. “hold onto my shoulders and arch your back for me, okay?” he complies, showing his ass to the onlookers outside. you gently pry his asscheeks apart, showing everyone as cum drips out his hole.
“you look beautiful, cariño,” you hum, “they all think so.” he whimpers, smiling into your neck. you lift his chin up and kiss him deeply.
“how about i clean you up, huh?” you say, gregor nodding into your kiss, “do you want them to watch or no?” he shakes his head.
“i just wanna be with you now,” he says.
“of course, hermoso,” you smile, picking him up and taking him to the bathroom to clean him.
A Flamboyant Bloom: The Cockscomb, with its velvet ruffled folds and vibrant pink glow, mirrors Gregor’s fiery personality as a young, ambitious hairdresser. Just as the flower bursts into outrageous shapes and colors, Gregor enters every room with dramatic flair, impatient for the fame he believes he deserves.
A Symbol of Vanity and Daring: Cockscomb has long symbolized eccentric beauty and bold expression. Gregor embodies this through his reckless deal with Morgan le Fay — a choice made not for wisdom, but for recognition and spectacle. Like the flower, he thrives on attention, dazzling and daring in equal measure.
Camp in Bloom: The bright pink Cockscomb feels theatrical, almost excessive, echoing Gregor’s campy, “flaming” charm. He is quick with gestures, flamboyant in style, and refuses subtlety — a human performance piece whose energy teeters between humor and danger.
Drama of Life and Death: Gregor even fakes his own death mid-way through the story, turning mortality itself into theater. Like the Cockscomb — a bloom that dazzles with life yet hints at fragility — he blurs the line between performance and reality, spectacle and survival, swooping back in vivid color just when he’s thought to be gone.
Warnings: Fluff, harmless hauntings, mentions of death
A/N: For those who may be unfamiliar with Gregor, he had a dream of becoming a world renowned hair stylist. His avant-garde taste wasn’t taking off with critics, so he makes a deal with a Morlock (or demon for lack of a better term) and becomes famous. However, as with all deals, there’s a catch, and his praise soon turns to ridicule. After which, he leaves the celebrity hair business to become a barber.
Part of @toomanystoriessolittletime 's December Writing Challenge
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It's a rare weekend off in the Chicago suburb Gregor lives in now. After years of trying to distance himself from the sudden rise and fall of fame, he feels at peace in a new place. New, now that's ironic. Perhaps even his legacy. To be constantly on the cusp and to simultaneously be the first to fall. What luck to have. What a life to live. At least in his new favorite bookstore, he doesn't have to worry about all that. All the books here have been well loved by all who have owned them, and will be by whomever shall choose them next. The store is familiar. The old man who owns it is like family, and Gregor, or Greg rather, is a regular. Even your presence is constant in this facet of Greg's life.
When Greg first found this shop, he was issued this warning:
There is a woman upstairs who likes to sit and read in one corner.
DO NOT DISTURB HER.
She is my granddaughter, and she was taken from our family too soon. Her spirit is here because this was her safe place from all the bullies at school.
Let her read. She will come and go as she pleases.
She means you no harm so long as you don't upset her.
What the old man and Greg hadn't expected however was that you'd get attached to him. It's not that you followed him home or anything. It's that you actually interact with him. Much like you, Greg has created his own little reading nook up on the second floor of the store. It's actually on the same side of the room as yours. The first few times seeing your translucent form was jarring, but after a while his brain seemed to ignore that you weren't solid. Almost filling you in mentally so that his brain wouldn't melt. That's when you started moving around him. He could hear books sliding on and off shelves. The creaking of floor boards from added weight being applied and then removed. After about three or four months, you appeared in front of him. A quiet hello passing his lips. And you've joined at the hip ever since.
Of course you couldn't express yourself vocally. You were using too much energy just manifesting yourself. Instead, every morning you'd leave a note for Greg to answer. You started with names, hometowns, and occupations. You told him how you died. Asked how he lived. He told you he made a deal with a demon-like creature, but was saved. He changed his ways and moved from L.A.. You ask him simple questions and difficult ones. Just a fun trivia session to look forward to. Then you started leaving books. Selections you felt you should recommend to your new friend. Each one read and a review given.
With every passing day, your existence is both filled with joy and dread. You love every moment spent with your grandfather and Greg, but you long to be alive again. You hadn’t meant to fall for him. He’s just been so kind and understanding of your situation. How could you have not fallen? Even your grandfather has picked up on your woeful emotions. Weary of your growing feelings. Greg seems blissfully unaware. You tell yourself that you need to move on. That he can’t be yours. Then he walks in with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You hide from sight to watch him climb the stairs. He walks to your corner of the room and places them on the little table kept there, next to your chair. In the flowers is a card with your name on it. When Greg moves away, you approach to take the card.
Good morning Angel,
Today is the anniversary of your passing. At first I was going to leave these at your grave, but then I thought ‘why should I do that when I’m going to go see you today?’ So I brought them here instead and wrote this card for you. A reminder that even though I can’t hold you in my arms, I hold you in every story you give me. For you are my heroine, my princess, my home between the bookshelves, and I hope I am your man in every story you read. I thank whoever allows you to stay among us because somehow they knew we I still need you.
