Big Fan Of Every Single Person At The Tonys Taking Their Chance To Hit On Andrew Garfield

big fan of every single person at the Tonys taking their chance to hit on Andrew Garfield

QUE HOMEM

OSCAR ISAAC THE MAKING OF M🌑 🌔N KNIGHT (2022-)

this is so fucking cute!!!

baby│aaron hotchner x reader│sfw

tags: fluff, bau finds out about your relationship with hotch–– teasing ensues, gn!reader,  trigger warning(s): mentions of victims’ bodies,  word count: 1k 

summary–––– Hotch lets a pet name slip during a case brief as you ask him a question. The team doesn’t let you two live it down. a/n: i love the idea of hotch slipping up around you because of how comfortable he is with you + i also wanted to write a fun lil thing to take a break from some of my longer fics. enjoy <3

Continuar lendo

nick googling bisexuality after watching keira knightley and orlando bloom in pirates of the caribbean is the representation i need and deserve

one morning stand (m)

+ featuring . . . dom nerd!jungkook x gn!reader

+ summary . . . in which you and jungkook have one night stands with roommates and happen to be sneaking out at the same time.

+ genre . . . smut, fluff

+ wordcount . . . 7.9k

+ warnings . . . don't be fooled by the first half being fluff lmao; rough sex, a lot of dirty talk (jk will not shut up), heavy degradation (use of ‘slut’, 'whore', etc.), consensual slut-shaming (reader is into it), exhibitionism, cumplay, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, breeding kink, reader gets tied up at one point

Most mornings arrived like a lover’s gentle touch, beguiling the horizon’s rays to surface with a golden grace; yours, however, often arrived with an acute headache, nausea, and the race to gather your clothes and dip before your one-night stand roused from snore-filled slumber. Though short was the list of things worse than hangovers, the dreaded walk of shame was often far more perilous with its intricacies and social hazards.

Between tossed beer cans and workout gear was a Chewbacca-themed alarm clock ticking away the minutes until it would wake its owner with a recorded growl. You, still in disbelief you had slept with a man with Star Wars paraphernalia, quickened your pace.

Some would call you tactless, but you were simply realistic. What else could come out of meaningless breakfast offers and forced conversations if not minutes wasted on both ends?

By the time you had wiped your face clean and thrown the prior night’s clothes over your head, the sun had arced through the sky with an obstination better suited for the winter months. For it was not the light that had awoken you, but the quiet rumble of steps falling down staircases as those who lived in the party house began their morning clean-up.

This, you’d argue, was the worst part of falling asleep after a hook-up: avoiding the ‘walk of shame’.

And it appeared as if you weren’t the only one facing this conundrum.

You opened the door to see a figure lurked near the hallway’s end, fluffy hair peeking at the crowded living room. The young man stuck close to the wall as if he were one with it, desperate to remain hidden. His coffee-colored eyes scanned the scene as if envisioning a multitude of escape routes and calculating their likelihood of success. His frown said that he wasn’t too pleased with the conclusion.

The sigh was a familiar one – one that had been directed towards you one too many times.

“Jungkook?”

His shoulders jumped as if he were the hare to your fox, fight or flight senses kicking in at your abrupt arrival.

Jeon Jungkook. Captain of the debate team, frequent charity donor, homework answer sharer, your seatmate, and the last person you’d ever expect to encounter on a Sunday morning.

His neck, besmeared with an array of violent hickeys, whipped towards your standing figure. He shushed you with a finger to his pink lips – an image you’d seen whenever you would bother him with useless remarks in the middle of a lecture.

You crept beside him, crouched to copy his pose. Though you nodded, your mind meandered yonder. The Jeon Jungkook you knew from History and the Jeon Jungkook who wore beer-stained Hawaiian polos appeared as two separate entities. One you were familiar with, the other you were unsure of.

He fixed his hands through his hair and buttoned his shirt higher, clearing his throat with a demure smile better suited for school hallways than sticky trash-covered floors. “Hey, you,” his voice cracked, causing the ‘you’ to sound like two words smashed together.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” His brows raised as if the answer hadn’t been right in front you – which it had been, in the form of violet blotches and scratch marks across his sun-blessed skin.

“Did you trip down the stairs and pass out?” You half-joked. It was arduous to imagine how the teacher’s pet who did algebra for fun could find himself in the same spot you were in. ‘It’s relaxing!’ He’d argue, before timing himself on his Samsung’s stopwatch and beginning another worksheet while waiting for the professor. You were more inclined to believe the scratch marks had come from some cat Jungkook had pet-sat than someone he had fucked a room across yours.

His doe eyes grew, as if both offended and bewildered. “Do you seriously not-” The approaching sound of steps slashed his sentence short.

They must’ve been done cleaning the living room – which meant they were heading straight towards you.

Jungkook had always been quick to raise his hand during lectures. It was as if he was in constant competition with himself, as no one else bothered. And his answers were always right.

You weren’t sure if this one was; not when he nearly dislocated your shoulder dragging you up to a stand, and especially not when he shoved the pair of you into the nearest room.

With the precision of a bomb defuser, he closed the oak door as silently as his sweaty palms could.

“Jungkook, what-”

He pressed the rough pad of his fingertip to your lips.

Imprisoned within the cage of your ribs, a nestled heart thud.

This was the closest you’d ever been to him.

In the dim room, light fragments leaked from the doorframe’s gaps and highlighted his face in soft shades. You thought about sunlight: how it travelled at a nearly instantaneous speed, how distant it journeyed if only to linger on him, and how, in its earliest hours, it turned Jungkook’s brown eyes into honey.

This close, you felt more than heard the pace of his breathing; the warm air caressed your forehead as he leant past you to make sure the door was shut.

The silence allowed you to observe the room you had been pulled into, though you found it to be less of a room than you’d given it credit for. While the floor and lower shelves were crammed with an assortment of shoeboxes and house slippers, the upper half was littered with winter coats and gear. In the limited space, you could hardly exhale without your chest touching his.

It was a closet. Jungkook, in his panic, had trapped you both in a closet.

Beyond the door was the loud banter and cacophony of people as they cleaned up the prior night’s apocalyptic aftermath. Crushed plastic cups. Mops against floors. Changed bed sheets.

The two of you waited. A minute passed. Then, another. And another. They continued to clean the area outside where you hid, each too-close step causing him to flinch.

Whether it be his proximity or your ennui, you could no longer take it.

“Okay, you might have a problem with being seen but I don’t.” Your movement stirred a response from his then rigid frame. He had to maintain his golden boy reputation, after all. You, contrarily, had no notoriety of which you were caged by. The general population didn’t care about you the way they did Jungkook. The simple miracle of him attending a party would already be made a spectacle by Monday.

He reached for your wrist as you clutched the doorknob. His pout (which was horrendously endearing) compelled you to pause. “Please.” He kept your gaze, as if it were an insurmountable fact that one didn’t go against his wishes when faced with such a guise. You loathed how he was right.

“Fine, at least entertain me,” you whispered. Already, he looked as if he regretted not letting you go. “I’ve never seen you at a party before. Didn’t think you were the type to hook-up.”

You’d expected him to flush at your confrontational assumption, rather than the raised brow and head tilt you were met with. “And why’s that?”

“Because you’re so… you.” At his look did you shrug, rattled mind settling for the first adjective it thought of. “You’re cute.”

“Cute?”

“What? It’s a compliment.” You pat his head.

“What am I? A dog?” He huffed, blown air inflating his cheeks. He swatted your hands away and crossed his arms. You didn’t think it was a good time to point out how, in that moment, he very much looked like the kicked puppy he tried not to be. “You know, I’m not as innocent as you think I am.”

“Evidently not,” you said. “Or you wouldn’t be here, stuck in a closet with me, sneaking out after a one night stand.”

“Who said anything about a one night stand?”

Your brow raised. “You have a partner?”

The dark did little to conceal the crimson burn of his cheeks and ears. “No, but I’m just saying. I hypothetically could have one. You don’t know me.”

“We’ve been seatmates for five months, Jungkook.”

“And not once have we actually talked.”

“Unless I’ve been talking to your secret twin, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You complaining about our prof everytime she gives out an assignment isn’t a conversation.”

“Only because you’re a teacher’s pet.” You huffed. While he might not have appreciated your circadian quips, you didn’t think it was the worst seatmate bonding time. “Which brings me to my next question: why’d you go last night?”

“I can’t go to parties like a regular college student just because I’m me?”

You sent him a pointed look because, yes, you didn’t think he went to parties like a regular college student. While you might not have known what he got up to during his free time (seeing as he didn’t have social media), you were certain that none of it involved vomiting in his grandmother's antique vase after declining a three-way with his dealer and her boyfriend – something that has totally never happened to you.

“What?” he whined.

“Who’s the lucky person that managed to drag the golden boy away from his studies?” If you were sure of anything, it was this: infatuation led people to the most unexpected of places. For what other reason would you stay entrapped in a closet with a man in a Hawaiian polo?

His hair, as wavy as a stygian sea, bounced as he shook his head.

“If you don’t tell me, I might accidentally start speaking too loudly,” you teased, voice rising in volume.

Panicked, he placed his palm over your lips. “Keep your voice to a whisper.” He sighed, relenting. “I… I came last night because I wanted to see you.”

You blinked.

“To see me?”

His bunny teeth gnawed his lip. “I’ve always thought you were kinda cool.” His hands rose to cover his overheated ears. “C’mon, you definitely know I like you. I always act like such an idiot around you.”

You didn’t know. How could you have possibly known when he never spared you a second glance?

Reading your disbelief, he continued. “You don’t remember the notepad incident?”

The cogs in your brain turned until a memory snapped to the surface; one of him leaving his desk unattended during lecture, and you ruffling through his post-it notes out of boredom (because for reasons unknown to you, he had dozens in numerous colors). What you weren’t expecting to find were short letters—if they could even be called that—written in the backs of them. They talked about infatuation and the art of unrequited passion, thoughts you’d never associated Jungkook to having. So engrossed in their messages, you hadn’t realized when he had come back. “Who’s this about?” you had asked him as he swiped his stationary back from you, face flushed.

“You said it was poetry.”

He groaned. “What about all the times I let you copy off my homework?”

“I thought you were just being nice!”

Jungkook pouted, his foot softly stomping in frustration at your idiocy. “I’m not that nice.”

“Then why didn’t you approach me?” You hadn’t seen him the entire night.

He took a step back. “You were… busy.”

“Oh.” Your stomach dropped. “Jungkook, I-”

“No, no,” he panicked. “You don’t have to explain yourself, you don’t owe me anything. Seriously.”

“But I still feel bad.”

“Well, don’t, it’s not like I didn’t… yeah.”

“Well, the past is the past.” You forced him to meet your eyes with a tug of his chin. “We can always make up for lost time.”

His adam’s apple bobbed. “What?”

Your hands trailed his arms, surprised at the hard muscle. He shivered as you blew on his ear. “I’ve always thought you were cute, too.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” you giggled. “You don’t think I have good taste?”

“If you did, I would’ve fucked you last night.”

You liked this bolder Jungkook. The one who met your gaze rather than shied from it.

“Well, if you had approached me, maybe you would have.” Your hands trailed his chest. “But we can always do it now.”

“What? Now? There are people outside.” His words supposed one thing but the hands resting on your hips said another.

“Should’ve thought of that before you dragged me in here.”

He curled inwards. “Sorry about that, by the way. I panicked.”

“Yeah, I could tell.” You pressed against his chest. The rise of his heartbeat drummed against your skin. “But if you hadn’t then I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

The back of your hand grazed his crotch.

The teasing motion awoke in him something you had yet to see. His eyes darkened as he took a step closer to you, hands spread against the door behind you. He trapped you between his arms, his breath cascading across your skin. So slowly did he lean in that your wrist’s pulse began to tick like clockwork, as if it too were counting the seconds until he closed the gap.

When he did, you were knocked breathless.

His kiss was rough, not at all like the way he pressed against you. It was soft and passionate. Strange yet comfortable. Everything and nothing like you’d expected from this Jungkook.

Your hands ran through his hair, tangled in its softness. He tasted like mouthwash and smelled like baby power. He was the definition of intoxication, and you were content to be engulfed in his waters.

Pushing his hair from his eyes, he used his other hand to drag you closer to the center of his storm, the music of lips against lips a resounding orchestra. His giggles as you touched his neck were just as melodious as he wrapped his arms around your waist as if the closet were a ballroom and you were its guests.

There was no need for violas or harps, not when he pressed against you in harmonic promises. Soft groans fell from his lips faster than wisps of smoke dissipating after a lit candle had been extinguished. More than the fear of getting caught, you thought of the pressure of his hand on your back and his nose touching yours. You’d lost count of the times you had stepped on Jungkook's feet in the dark but his smile never dulled. He was the sun to whom you’d risk lighting yourself ablaze for even just a moment of his warmth.

In the eye of the storm, you were but a bird, flailing about until you could take off with outstretched wings and storm-swept feathers. You had taken care of a bird just like that in your adolescence, young and injured. You nursed it to health until its wings could carry its weight across the ether canvas. The next day, you’d seen a pack of hunting dogs and feathers across the field. You never took care of another wounded bird again.

You wondered if that were you, rising only to fall. It’d been years, yet the memory lingered. Would he only stay for as long as you were risen or would he be the genesis of your undoing?

Jungkook was infamous for all the wrong things yet loved for all the right ones. He was smart, diligent, outgoing – but he was also awkward, arrogant, and obsessive, only caring about his grades even if it meant putting his peers down and eating alone at breaks. He did internships and extracurriculars all day and studied until the break of dawn, but with every second that his rare attention was spent on you, your delusions that he was telling the truth about liking you grew bigger and bigger.

You were aware of all of this and still you fell into the depths of his being so completely that to let go of him would be to drown and never resurface. You didn’t believe that it was his intention to be so beguiling, but it didn’t stop him from entrapping you in the net that you had crafted yourself.

He liked you. Three words, he had said. Three beautiful words. When he looked at you like you were the answer to every question he had been asking the universe all his life, how were you supposed to want to let go? He said it once more against your lips. Then twice. Then thrice, until you no longer cared if you’d wake up the next day and find that only feathers remained. And so, you said those three words back, even if it would be the cause of your ruin.

You had no want for his reaction to your scarce genuinity. So when he inched away to confirm that he hadn’t misheard you, you pressed against him harder. “Did you-”

“Shut up,” you were quick to reply.

His tongue slipped between your lips. He sucked on the muscle as his once shy hands roamed behind you, squeezing your ass. Motivated by your soft groans, he ground his crotch against your front.

“I want you to fuck me,” you panted into his open mouth.

For a second, he stilled, as if shocked by the bluntness in which your words pierced him.

“You want that?” he tested the waters, resuming your kiss.

But you were impatient. “Please, Jungkook.”

“You really want our first time to be in a closet where anyone could hear us?”

“Yes,” you said. You wanted it. Needed it. “You could fuck me anywhere, I just need your cock in me now.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he groaned, unable to stop the jerking of his hips against you.

You smirked against his lips. “Really? Never thought my innocent little seatmate would be into this sort of thing.”

His eyes narrowed. “You really want me to prove it to you, huh?”

You played along. “I really don’t know what you mean.”

“You want me to treat you like the slut you are?” he teased. You shook, putty under his words. “You’re really sure?”

The dark rings in his eyes softened as he waited for your consent. His hands caressed the outside of your arms with a gentleness so sudden it gave you whiplash. Not that you needed his forbearance.

“Please, Jungkook, I want it.”

The heat between you returned at your panted answer. “You like being called what you are, huh?” The tone of his whisper made his voice that much more provocative.

“If I’m a slut, then what are you?” You eyed the marks on his neck with a grin.

He laughed as he dragged against your clothed core. His lips hovered over your own, smirking as you chased it when he pulled away. “You talk too much.” He tapped two fingers against your bottom lip. “Real sluts know what to do when I do this, don’t they?”

He pressed you harder against the door with his hips as you began to suck on his fingers. You had half a mind to tease him as he had teased you, but you had never been a patient person. Your tongue slobbered all over his digits as spit fell down your chin and onto your chest. You sucked and sucked; it rolled in your mouth the way you wanted to do to the cock rubbed against you. You humped him like a bitch in heat as his fingers reached as deep as they could in your mouth, trying to locate the spot that would make you gag.

He smirked at the sound when he found it. “Can’t even take my fingers? How is my cock ever going to fuck your warm throat?” His unoccupied hand applied pressure around your neck. You gasped at the new feeling and the delicious lightheadedness that came with it.

“Filthy slut, fucking some guy you barely know when you know I like you?” He grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to keep eye contact with him. “Had to watch you act like a dumb whore just for some cock when you could’ve had mine so easily, baby. I had to fuck some random chick because of how hard your little outfit made me.” He grabbed your hand and placed it over his clothed crotch. “You feel how hard I am? This is all for you.” He sighed. “Whoring yourself out for some other guy and not even offering me your services? I’m disappointed in you.”

The prior night had been a drunken blur, and you could barely recall how you grinded against the stranger you’d spent the evening with. Apparently, he had seen it all; how that other man had almost fucked you in the middle of the dance floor, lips pressed against your neck, fingers pinching your nipples through your top.

Jungkook grabbed your face. He squished your cheeks together until your mouth opened. His tongue swirled in his mouth to collect his spit. “Say ‘ah’,” he cooed, before dripping his saliva down your throat. He used his thumb to push back the bits of it that leaked from the corner of your lips. “Swallow.”

Your body burned as you swallowed both your pride and his fluids. He pried open your mouth after he watched your throat bob to ensure you had swallowed every last drop. “Messy slut,” he degraded.

His lips collided with yours once more. A nasty, wet kiss, that left your toes curling and lower stomach fluttering. He sucked on the skin all around your face, dragging his tongue back and forth as if claiming ownership over you in the messiest way possible. He suctioned his way to your collarbone, only stopping to help you out of your top.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he groaned. “I’ve jerked off to you so many times – even when I was fucking someone else last night, I thought of you. Do you know how difficult it was not to moan your name? I can’t believe I finally get to taste you.”

“But I wanna taste you first.” You pushed him away to unbutton his shirt.

His defined abs were a surprise in itself, but they weren’t what caused you to gasp.

“Okay, I know now that you’re not my innocent little classmate, but I didn’t expect this.”

‘This’ being the two metal rods pierced through his nipples.

He snorted at your genuine reaction. “Yeah, yeah, geek in the streets, freak in the sheets,” he said. “Now, suck.”

You didn’t need his command to lower your head and place his pierced nipple between your lips. You lapped at the left peak, the cool metal resting on your tongue.

He only bothered to unbutton and lift his pants low enough to free his cock. It bounced against his stomach, rockhard and covered with pre-cum.

Jungkook was huge. And he knew it.

“You’re…” There were millions of words in the dictionary, yet none could describe how wanton he left you feeling. His hands gripped the base and tapped it against his stomach. A droplet of cum leaked down the side, and it took all your mental strength not to drop to your knees right then. “Can I please suck your cock?”

He pet your head. “You’re only an obedient puppy when you want something, hm? Bet you say that to all the other guys you whore yourself out to.”

He pushed on you until you fell to your knees. You kept your gaze on how he licked his lips and looked down on you, though it was difficult when his large cock swang near you like a meal to the starved. He slapped his dick around your cheeks and forehead, his pre-cum rubbing across your closed eyelids to your chin. He avoided your lips.

You thought yourself akin to Tantalus, a man cursed by Zeus to stand in a pool of water beneath a fruit tree with low branches; when he’d go to drink, the water would recede, and when he went to eat, the branch moved out of reach.

“How badly do you want my cock in your dumb whore mouth?”

“More than anything.” Your hands tightened around his thighs. He still wore all his clothes, and the image was as teasing as the cock he continued to slap you with. “Only need you.”

“Oh, I know that, baby,” he said. “The question is whether you’re a good enough whore to deserve it.”

“Please let this whore suck your large cock,” you begged, taking a page from his book and staring up at him with puppy-dog eyes, mewling against his leg. “I’m just a dumb bimbo willing to do anything for cock.”

He, finally, tapped his length against your lips. You waited for his command before you licked the head, scared he’d retreat if you didn’t obey him.

“Open,” he said. A word you’d never been happier to hear.

Prepared now for his length, you held in your need to gag as you slid him down. His brow raised, impressed. “You must’ve taken a lot of cock down this throat, you’re too good at this.”

Deeper and deeper, he went. You winked when your lips met the base of it.

“You’re too fucking good, bet you have a line of guys dreaming about your pretty lips wrapped around them.” His hand pushed and pulled you harder, treating you as nothing more than a toy thats only purpose was to suck cock. “Do you know how my friends talk about you? They think you’re so pretty, baby. I can’t even blame them for talking about how much they wanna fuck you. Turn you into their cockslut. They’re so jealous that I get to see your cute face everyday. Of course, it’s not only your face that I look at.”

With the way your arousal increased with his every thrust, it was as if your mouth was connected to your hole.

The room filled with his heavy breathing. He bit his fist to keep quiet, conscious of the noise that continued to permeate the hallway a door away. You whined when he threw his head back, no longer able to watch how his skin pinked and his pupils widened at your ministrations.

Jungkook was ethereal, using your face as a glorified hole for his pleasure.

“Doesn’t take much to turn you into a cockslut, does it?” He pulled you to your feet, ignoring your complaints of wanting him back in your mouth. “You’re so easy that it’s almost boring.”

Every word out of his mouth made your core clench.

He turned you to face the wall and pulled your bottoms off to have access to your hole. You jumped when he lightly spanked your center.

When he noticed the ceiling hook directly above you, he grinned. “Lift your arms, slut.”

Your back to him, you couldn’t see how he grabbed one of your clothes and used it to tie your wrists to the hook. He adjusted it until he deemed you comfortable enough.

He pinched your ass, spreading your cheeks to reveal your winking hole. “Such a slutty fucking hole, all for me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you said. “All for you, only you.”

“You probably don’t even need to be prepped, huh? Sluts are always ready.”

Still, he sat down on his calves and began to trace you with the rough pads of his fingers. His other hand held onto your hips as you began to buck around, the touch so teasing that it left you desperate for more.

You were no stranger to sex and the pleasure that came with it, yet Jungkook’s touch felt so different from all the others you’ve been with. Even your own hands, hands that knew your body better than anyone else, paled in comparison to his teasing movements. He would give you just enough of what you needed before retreating, leaving your body in a constant tug and pull of ecstasy and wanting.

And then his lips. Plush and soft. He kissed around you before diving in, his tongue making a home for itself in you. The muscle wiggled around to touch your tight walls.

“I knew it,” he groaned, losing himself in you. “You taste so fucking good.”

Wads of his spit were shoved into you with his fingers. He would gather his saliva and finger it as deep as he could, repeating the process until you were overflowing. It wasn’t even that he was prepping you, you realized, he just loved turning you into a messy slut covered in him.

He spat onto your ass once more, massaging it into your skin.

“I’d ask if you were ready for my cock, but I know you are,” he said, pressing his chest onto your back and rubbing his length down your crack.

“I need it.” You rubbed your ass against his crotch, enticing him to fuck you full.

So, he did.

“It slid right in,” he moaned. “Do I have to thank whoever fucked you last night for loosening you up for me?”

You wanted to watch him, but the knots above you were too tight to turn. All you could do was hang pliant, nothing but a body to be used for Jungkook. After all his teasing, he didn’t wait for you to adjust to his ginormous length before bottoming out. His pace was rapid as he jackhammered into you.

Your mouth hung open, brain emptied in pleasure.

“I’m gonna need you to be quiet, baby,” he whispered in your ear. “Wanna be a good slut for me and keep that whore mouth shut, hm?”

You’d been left drunk by his words alone, the consonants and vowels swirled in your mind until all you could think of was the shaft that dragged against your insides. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“Nothing but a dumb little fuckhole for me to breed, isn’t that right?”

It became more difficult with every thrust to hold back your moans without hands to bite on.

“You like that?” He delivered a harsh thrust into you. “Want to be nothing but a cumdump? Gonna make you take all my cum, have it dripping down your thighs as you walk home, forced to think of me fucking you every step of the way there.”

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Feels so good.”

“Did I say you could speak?”

You whined when his cock slipped out, fearful that he might leave you unfinished. Instead, he rustled through your fallen clothes on the floor. When he stood, you had a suspicion of what came next.

He shoved the wad of lace into your parted lips.

“Snap your fingers twice if you want out, okay?”

He slid his cock back into you, moving at a slower pace this time. He would pull out until only his head remained, before violently shoving back in until his balls pounded onto your ass.

“I think I like you better like this,” he smirked as he tugged your chin to face him. He angled your face side-to-side, as one would inspect goods in a market. After a moment, he nodded in approval. You could imagine what he saw: a slut with snot dripping from their nose, tears raining from their eyes, and new marks littering their neck replacing the ones before it. “You know what I’d do if you were mine?” He sniffed your neck, hot breath tickling your skin.

Your head shook.

“I’d fuck your pretty ass until it’s dripping with my cum. Would plug you up and have you walk around and attend class, feeling all of my seed in your belly with every little movement you make. You wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything without my help, hm, baby? I’d turn you into a dumb little bimbo who needs me for even the littlest tasks.” Your eyes rolled at the purr of his tone as he whispered every single thing he’d do to you against the lobe of your ear. “Good sluts take whatever I give them.”

“I need that so bad,” your voice came out muffled from beneath the fabric. You wanted to tug your wrists from where he’d tied them above you and feel his skin beneath your palms.

He caressed your nape with a condescending laugh. “I know you do. I’d train you to be the perfect cumdump. My cumdump. Would have you wearing the shortest clothes and bend you over every surface so that everyone passing by could see your messy hole. And you’d love it, wouldn’t you? Would love everyone watching you, knowing that I’m the only one allowed to touch you… until I ask my friends to play with you, of course. I’m not that selfish.” You tightened around him. “Oh, you’d love to be passed around and gang-banged. You’d be so filled up with cum that your stomach would bloat.”

Clearly, he had an exhibitionist streak (among a plethora of other kinks). Something you should’ve guessed by how quickly his pants tented when you suggested fucking in a closet. Evidently, you had the same streak, if your clenched slit had anything to say for it.

“You’re so fucking tight. I never wanna leave this hole.”

You were thankful he had stuffed your ruined panties in your mouth lest he heard your mindless babbles as you neared your climax.

His hips began to thrust even faster than you would’ve thought possible. Your heart spiked as each motion made noise loud enough for the outside to hear – but you could no longer care, lost in the sensations of his hard cock belitting you into nothing more than a hole to fuck.

“You take my cock so easily. Didn’t even need much prep. You’re just a common whore, aren’t you?”

You feverishly nodded.

He reached around you to remove the wad of cotton from your mouth. “Where do you want my cum?” he groaned, the words rushing from his lips as he chased his climax.

“In me,” you cried into your shoulder, barely conscious enough to not want to get caught. “I need you to fill me with your seed.”

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re so hot, you know that? Could fuck you for the rest of my life.”

In and out. In and out. His hips moved so swiftly that you could no longer think, sufficiently dick-drunk. He no longer cared about pacing, simply using you as a doll to get off.

“I want you to cum with me,” he said. His dominant demeanor faded as he desperately clung onto every inch of your skin, hand roaming your sides as he chased his end. His fingers began tugging at your nipples roughly, urging you to reach the finale with him. His words were breathlessly rushed as if they fell from his lips without thought: “Need you to cum, need to feel you cum around me. Shit. You look so pretty fucked out. Such a good slut for me. You’re doing so good, baby.”

Your orgasm crashed against you like a tidal wave, unexpected and violent. Your body thrashed against your binds, hips jerking back and forth as pleasure overtook you - possessed you, almost. Your hole pulsed against his cock, tightening around the length as fluids overflowed.

He jerked into you once more, his cum painting your insides. Soft expletives fell from his lips between praises as he gently rocked his hips into you to ensure his cum wouldn’t spill.

The sensation of his cock slipping out of you felt like heaven and sin.

You hadn’t orgasmed so destructively in… you couldn’t remember having ever experienced anything that came close to that. You weren’t certain if it was because of the risk of getting caught or because Jungkook was that good. Perhaps, it was a mix of both.

You shook at the binds above you, tired from your orgasm.

He wasn’t quite finished, however.

You waited, confused, until you felt his tongue lap your hole, sucking his cum out of you. Sensitive, your feet kicked at him to stop, but he was relentless in his mission to fill his mouth with his own seed.

Your stomach curled at the mischievous glint in his eyes as he stood. He pried your mouth open with his fingers before depositing all of his saliva-mixed cum onto your tongue. “Don’t swallow yet, baby.”

He leaned on your body with a softness that matched his gaze, his hand resting on your hip, his chest on your back. His fingers played with the fluids in your mouth, swirling it with your spit until it combined into a mess that ran down your chin (which he licked up and spat back in). Content, he finally commanded you to swallow.

The thick concoction ran down your throat slowly, becoming a part of you. You groaned at the heady sensation alongside Jungkook’s pliant kisses around your nape.

He gently untied your wrists from the hook, rubbing the skin from any soreness. When he was done, he rocked your tired body back-and-forth to soothe you. You crumpled onto his figure as if your bones had disintegrated to dust.

“We… We really just did that.” Jungkook had finally come back to himself, doe eyes widened as if he had broken from a spell. “Are you alright?”

You laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, you?”

He nodded, scratching at his nape.

The next few minutes consisted of an awkward dance, the pair of you picking up your clothes, constantly stumbling against each other in the process. Each time, Jungkook would avert his gaze to the ceiling or the floor – whatever he could do to give you privacy in the confined quarters of a storage closet. The silence was so thick that to distort it with words felt unnatural. He only spoke to tell you that the hallway was quiet, no longer occupied by the residents of the house, and that you were both free to leave unnoticed.

Even the goodbye was stilted, as if you had been possessed by beings other than yourselves during the incident and were now left to deal with the consequences.

Under the morning light outside, Jungkook flushed as red as a polluted sunset. He gingerly waved from where he stood, making sure that you got into your Uber safely (only after nagging the driver to escort you with utmost caution). Your lips parted, but the words wouldn’t surface. Instead, you settled for a wave back.

A smile cracked on his lips as he watched your car hug the corner of the street and disappear from view.

The next time you saw Jungkook was during a lecture. His glasses were back on his face, sweater vest tucked into his trousers. He looked nothing like the man who had fucked you dumb the weekend before, back to being the epitome of what you’d expect every nerd who took college too seriously to look like.

You took your usual seat beside him, unsure if bringing it up casually would make him uncomfortable. Already, his cheeks and ears were red, and you could almost feel the heat radiating off of them.

You exchanged shy greetings before returning to your individual tasks: him, pretending to rewrite notes (when really he was doodling on the corners of his notebook), and you, pretending to send a text (when really you were swiping your homescreen back and forth).

He shot you furtive glances when he thought you weren’t looking. His fingers drummed against the table and his knee shook as if he was working up the courage to say anything. Gone was the boy who had had all the words ready in the palm of his hand that morning.

“Hey,” you smiled. “Did you start on the final project already?”

His head whipped towards you, wide eyes and parted lips telling you he hadn’t expected you to make the first move, perhaps content to fester in the ruined classmate relationship after your somewhat strained goodbye post-rendezvous. How does one act after confessing your feelings and subsequently fucking in a closet? You knew how to react to hook-ups, and you knew how to react to confessions, but both? At the same time? Your head spun.

“I- That-” He struggled to gather his words as each consonant slipped through his fingers like fine sand. He, a past valedictorian, had been left dumb. “I did,” he croaked out. “You?”

“Of course, you did.” You laughed, the sound more metallic than you’d intended. “I’m gonna start next week.”

“Cool,” Jungkook replied.

The silence thickened the air between you like smog. The minute stretched on for forever, the pair of you waiting for the other to break the silence first in an unannounced game of chicken.

“I just-” “I don’t-”

Your voices overlapped each other, causing you to exchange awkward grins.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Can I start?”

You told him to go ahead.

“I just wanted you to know that I meant what I said about liking you.” He rubbed his nape. “I didn’t mean for what happened to happen, but I don’t regret it.”

His gaze burned into your own as if he were searching for any clues as to what you felt. It was terrifying, the sincerity in which it pierced you. But you had no want to run from it. Not anymore.

“I don’t regret it, either,” you said. “Plus, that might’ve been one of the hottest hook-ups I’ve ever had.”

He blushed. “And about the ‘me liking you’ part?”

You dragged your chair closer to his. “After the way you treated me, how could I not?”

It took him a moment to compose himself, back ramrod straight as goosebumps ran down his arms at the turn he hadn’t expected the conversation to take. He anxiously glanced at the row behind where you two sat, teeth biting into his bottom lip in a way you found infatuating. You were thankful to every god out there that he had been caught in traffic that first day and forced to sit in the back row beside you. Jungkook, who had been nothing more than a cute, grade-conscious stranger at the time.

The minute it took for him to steel his nerves was worth it, you found out.

Just in time, the professor walked through the door and began taking attendance. You were so focused on waiting that you jumped when Jungkook’s hand began trailing up and down your thigh.

Your eyes widened.

“Did you really like it?” he whispered.

“Like what?”

“The way I treated you.”

There were thousands of ways you could’ve affirmed his statement, but you settled for a nod.

His hand moved up your inner thigh, nearing your crotch. The upward jerk of your hips caused a satisfied smirk to settle on his lips. “If you want to continue being my good pet, then don’t make a sound.”

So enthralled were you in his touch that you hadn’t realized that your professor had called you. Twice.

“Present,” you yelled, embarrassed by the startled shakiness in your tone.

“Good pet,” he praised, rubbing harder through your clothes. “You want more?”

Jungkook licked his fingers with a nymph gaze. With his free hand, he unbuttoned your pants.

Paranoid, you glanced around the lecture hall.

“Don’t kid yourself,” his low tone caused goosebumps to run across your arms. “I know a common whore like you wants to be stared at while being used.”

His hand dipped into your underwear, moving directly to your hole. He rubbed the area around it before inserting a finger into you, deliciously wiggling it around. His spit allowed it to smoothly enter you with a soft ‘squish’.

In front, the lesson had begun. Not that you could pay attention. Your focus zeroed in on the intoxicating slowness in which Jungkook made a toy out of you, hand moving back and forth.

“Can someone please read the first section on page 130?”

You froze as your professor began glancing up and down the rows in search of a prospect, disappointed at the disinterested gazes of her students. This would be the time that, like clockwork, Jungkook’s arm would raise. And yet it stayed, connected to you below the table.

A historical moment: Jungkook not volunteering.

Instead, he did something entirely different.

You gasped when he grabbed your arm and made you raise your hand.

“Great,” the professor acknowledged you, gesturing you to begin.

You quickly flipped through the pages, hands shaking when you realized that Jungkook wouldn’t stop. If anything he began to finger you faster, hitting the area that caused spots to cloud your vision.

Your voice shook as you read out the passage. Scattered letters chased each other on the page; your eyes raced to keep up with them. Had the words always been so small?

Jungkook had fingered you dumb enough to forget how to read.

“Though scholars believed that–” He pushed his fingers directly against your most sensitive spot. “–That, um, though they believed that–”

You accidentally made eye contact with a few of your classmates, their impatience with your slow pace making it hard for you to wring the words into sentences. Your voice came out breathy yet stilted, guttural stops after every few words.

When you finished the section, you leaned against the back of your chair in relief as the class resumed. Jungkook, however, was a stranger to giving you breaks, simply speeding his ministrations.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach heightened the faster he went. Your eyes bounced around the nearby rows to check if anyone noticed the slight creaking sound that came from this new speed, but were reassured to find that everyone was busy analyzing a chart on the projector.

When you turned to face him, you were pleased to find that half of his notes were in scribbles. You’d be quite offended if your tightness around his fingers weren’t at least a bit of a distraction to the star pupil. You had half a mind to joke about fucking one of your classmates to borrow their notes to lend to him just so that he’d jealousy-fuck you the moment class dismissed. You were just about to when you felt it – that tell-tale tightening.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, your legs beginning to shake. “I’m coming.”

His lips brushed against the lobe of your ear. “Cum for me then, slut.”

You breathed so heavily from holding back your moans that you became lightheaded, lost in the euphoria of your danger-filled release. The world was but a blur as you crumpled into your seat exhausted. You hadn’t even realized how Jungkook’s fingers slipped out of you, nor how he buttoned you up and kissed your forehead.

Above, the bell ringing signalled the end of the class, alongside the routine sounds of chairs scraping against hardwood floors and stationary being stuffed into totes and backpacks.

The two of you were left alone in the classroom, eyes finding one another in the solitude.

You grinned, still in a daze. “There isn’t a CCTV in here, right?”

He moved you onto the desk, hands gripping your hips. “Even if there was, would you care?”

And the answer was ‘no’, you didn’t. As long as you were wrapped in your seatmate’s warmth and greeted with his shy yet teasing smiles, you wouldn’t have cared where he touched you. What could’ve been a one morning stand began a series of trysts both public and private, and you both wouldn’t have had it any other way.

thank u for reading!! <3 if u liked it let me know ! : ✉

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