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jiminiecrickets · 7 months

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jeon jungkook ♡ series masterlist

wc. 3.9k

tags. smut | dom top!m!reader, doggystyle + mating press, multiple orgasms, sir kink, crying, belly bulge, degradation

it is the last day of jungkook's super-special week. his skin tingles every time you glance over at him and anticipation makes his heart leap in roller-coaster loops when your teasing fingers glide down the zipper of his jeans, the ache in his muscles brought to the forefront of his mind.

he doesn't know if he can shake his new behaviour. the change is too abrupt to go unnoticed – at brunch, jimin squints at him and asks what's wrong with him. apparently, a very chipper 'nothing's wrong' is the incorrect answer, because jimin only looks more suspicious than ever.

but jungkook doesn't care. you're out with your friends for a few hours and he busies himself around the house with unnecessary tasks – wiping down spotless countertops, re-folding the clothes already put away, reorganising the kitchen cupboards so that all the mug handles face the same way and all the plates are stacked by pattern.

you come home to find him tucked up against the seat edge of the couch, playing portal with his headphones on. you creep forward, waiting until he takes his hands off of the keyboard, and grab his shoulders hard and fast. he whirls around with a squeak, fists tightening close to protect his throat. when he notices you, he sighs in annoyance, lowering his fists and pulling off his headphones.

"you asshole! i was waiting so patiently for you and you give me a heart attack? ugh, i almost punched you..."

you scoff, grinning down at him. "it'd feel like bumping into a butterfly."

"i box on the side, babe! i could take you out with one hit, i bet. jerk..."

"i would eat your fists like an mma champion."

he jumps to his feet and immediately assumes a tight stance, arms tight to his chest. "try me."

you just chuckle, sauntering forward. you touch your fingers to his knuckles, lowering his fists, and lean in, capturing his lips in a slow, ardent kiss. you tilt your head to deepen it and he moans softly, gripping the front of your shirt as he melts into your arms like chocolate.

he chases your lips when you pull away, whining softly and lifting his arms to drape over your shoulders. he drags you in when you attempt to move away.

"stop trying to escape," he huffs, pushing his lips to yours in a hungry daze. "stop it... tryin' to kiss you, jackass."

"and here i thought you were trying to knock me out," you murmur, grinning against his lips. he traces your lower lip with his tongue and you groan softly, one hand trailing up his chest to wrap loosely around his throat.

"playing the long con," he whispers, nibbling on your lower lip. he tugs it lightly, letting it snap back against your teeth. you let out a soft hum, resting your forehead against his. "come to bed with me and i'll rob you blind."

"and knock me out?"

"and knock you out," he confirms. you grab his hand with a grin and drag him to the bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere over your shoulder. it lands in the hallway and he laughs as you wrap your fingers around his ribs, manhandling him into the bedroom.

he tugs at your belt, licking his lips with a hungry darkness swirling in his eyes. you work at his and press your lips to his jaw and neck as you press him backwards. somewhere in the journey from the door to the bed your clothes come off, and jungkook falls back on the mattress and soft blankets, lifting his ankles to allow you to slide his pants off. he pulls you on top of him, spreading his knees to allow you to slide between them, and grabs your face in his palms to kiss you breathless.

it works – almost. you're lightheaded when he finally lets you go and he pants hotly against your slick lips as he brings your hand between his legs, guiding it to the cold metal knob there. your breath catches.

"don't worry about prepping me," he whispers, groaning softly in the back of his throat when you latch onto it, pulling and pushing gently – innocently, as if you're figuring out what it does. he glides his hands over your stomach, learning the planes of your body, and wraps his slim fingers around your cock. he pumps it slowly, relishing in your low groan. "mm – fuck me stupid, baby. i can tell you wanna."

already, he looks fucked out, eyes half-lidded and red lips slick and kiss-swollen. a primal hunger simmers in the depths of your gut.

"it feels like you want this more than i do," you muse, pressing your thumb against the plug. leaning back and glancing down tells you that it's a cute little thing, jewelled and pretty as it sits nestled between his ass. "even getting yourself all ready for me like this? how long have you been waiting?"

"a while," he whispers shyly, whining softly as you play with it. his half-hard cock jumps on his stomach. he aligns yours on top of his and bites his lip at the warmth and weight that he's brought to you with each eager pump of his wrist. "come on, you're always stalling – jus' give me your cock, been waiting all day for you to come home..."

"my pretty cockslut's a little impatient, is he?" you chuckle, making him gasp softly. he nods, and it becomes more fervent as you rub your palm over the tip of his dick almost absently.

"yeah, mhm, your cockslut," he breathes, thick thighs tightening around your hips. his fist quickens around your cock and he swipes his thumb over the slit, rubbing the glans in quick repetitive motions. you grunt softly and a breath shudders through him as your dick twitches against his palm. he moans, "love your cock so much, love how it fills me up like nothing else can. makes me feel so full – so fuckin' full..."

you growl softly and chase his lips, devouring their sweet softness, pink like a rosebud and pillowy. he moans wantonly into it, parting his lips as your tongue slips between his teeth.

he tastes oh-so sweet – like iced tea and fruit jellies. you hunger for him, deep and animal, and he lets you in beneath his skin with sweetness in his eyes and sugar on his tongue, staring up at you as if you're the best thing he's ever stumbled across.

when jungkook tries to lean away for air, you don't let him – you let him taste his own medicine. he whimpers, mouth trapped against the firm paradise of yours, and his nails dig into your biceps as he gasps, short and needy and back-of-the-breath, as if he's too hungry to pause for even the length of a soft gulp of air.

his ass tightens as you tug on the plug, gently easing it out. his pink rim, dripping with lube, clenches around nothing and he turns hurriedly onto his front, arching his back and pressing his cheek into the pillows. he reaches down, guiding your cock to his hole. you grunt as his ass sucks you in, slick and hot.

"please," he whimpers as you ease yourself in, inch by inch. his head falls back against the pillows and his eyes flutter shut. "fuck, yes..."

he hisses it out, soft and drawled. his asshole scrapes against your shaft, dragging against the veins, and you place a hand on the nape of his neck to pin him down. he's squirming too much.

"hush, pretty boy... shit, you take my cock so goddamn well," you groan, rolling your hips into his ass. with every thrust, he moans a little louder, a little filthier. his walls are soft and gummy, hugging your cock tightly as you carve your way through him. your dick throbs as he tightens around you. you slap his ass with a chuckle, pulling him into you by the thigh. "fucked you all week and you're still tight as a virgin. still even needed that cute toy to keep you open and ready for my cock."

"y-yes," he squeaks, spine arching as his lashes flutter. he grips your wrist braced by his waist, whimpering like a puppy as he feels your cock drag hotly against his tight walls, pumping slow and steady into him. "i'm your cockslut, sir, always gotta be ready f'you – 'cause i'm a g-good boy...!"

"mm, are you? you've been a big tease, love." you aim a thrust directly into his prostate and he whines, hot walls pulsing against your shaft. "playing with your ass, prepping yourself while i'm out with friends, waiting so pretty for me to come home to you – i'd say you're more than a slut, baby. maybe... you're a little bit of a perv?"

he chokes out a whine as your hips speed up. he shakes his head as best he can and lets out a cry as you hover your chest over him, pressing gently into him. he scrabbles at your thigh, your cock sinking into his ass like it belongs there. "no – no, promise i'm not! i-i'm good, always—"

he cuts himself off with a whorish cry as you yank his ass into your thrusts. his eyes are wide with shock, a little teary and a little hazy, as you skip past everything he thought he knew about the way you love. you don't tease him today – you don't glance your fingers over his dick or ghost your lips over his hard nipples. no – this time, your fingers are grabbing, your hands pushing, your cock drilling into his ass as if you haven't fucked him in weeks.

it upsets everything. he thought he'd found a nice rhythm in the way you touched him. he thought he'd managed to build a nice defence against your sly dark glances and cherry kisses to make sure he doesn't do anything too embarrassing or out of pocket. but he is so fucking sensitive already from that stupid jewelled silver plug and he's been terribly horny from the moment he woke up and your cock is slamming into his prostate and he just wants to cry.

"good boys don't finger themselves while their boyfriends are in the shower," you hum. "good boys wait for their touches. they don't get greedy."

jungkook's eyes widen further and his head tips back with a high-pitched whine as your spongy tip punches into his sensitive prostate. his dark hair splays across the white pillow, some gorgeous fallen angel come down to let you a taste of heaven. his cock jerks as you smack his thigh to elicit a response, grinding your cock roughly into his ass.

"i-i'm sorry," he whimpers, the sting making him throb in all the wrong places. he shouldn't like the pain. "jus' couldn't wait, wanted to come, wanted something inside me so bad! sir, please," he chokes out, the sounds he makes rising higher and higher in volume. it's the loveliest melody you've ever heard. "please!"

"you wanted me to catch you, then?" you hiss in pleasure. "you wanted to be caught moaning my name, fucking yourself on your fingers. you broke my one rule to be punished. you can't call yourself a good boy when you're hoping i fuck you dumb."

he can't reply, too caught up in his bliss. a cry rips from his throat as you press your warm lips to his nape and shift closer to him, burying your cock deep inside him – his nails dig stinging crescents into your wrists as he grips them to ground himself.

you're so big, your skin so hot. little jewelled tears well on his lashline. the slap of skin on skin is obscene and his face is hot with embarrassment and his tears, and the bulk of your chest is warm and comforting against his back. it's a cruel mixture of wildness and civility, leaving his skin too tight and his animal brain poring over your cock: how thick it feels, how deep it is.

your cock kisses his sweet spot. his eyes roll back. he comes.

the pleasure rams through him with the weight of a freight train. it leaves a burning trail in its wake, and your hips quicken, intensifying his orgasm tenfold. he cries out for you so sweetly and you hush him, dragging light butterfly kisses along his neck and shoulder. your fingers trace his waist delicately, so contradictory to the power behind your hips.

he whines shakily when you don't stop, even after his cock stops spurting onto his slim stomach. his eyes widen in surprise. it's not like he can do anything about it. his limbs are jelly, bound to crumble if he moves an inch, and the sheer intensity in the way you handle his body melts every protest in his head the moment it appears.

"s-sir," he sniffles weakly, the burning stretch of being around you still sending tingles up his spine. your hand shifts down to his hips, bordering his ass, and your fingers dig into his flesh just hard enough to sting. his voice cracks as you snap your hips against his with a soft groan – any sound you make is drowned out by his, loud and sharp and needy. "sir—! fuh – f-fuck, p-please – please, i can't! can't come again, please, i'm sorry for t-touching myself...!"

"oh, this is bigger than that, love," you chuckle, stroking his thighs. they tighten around you and the muscles flex, making you groan softly – heat coils in your stomach. you slow down to make sure he can focus on your words, focus on taking everything in.

"you've always been a bit of a brat, and i'm far too lenient with you because i love the way you smile at me, like you've won the world." your voice is getting too soft, too sentimental. it hardens. "i'm not stopping until you can't remember how to talk. i'm gonna fuck you, baby, 'til you're empty."

jungkook's cock jumps at the thick burn of your voice. it sets fire to his will; it goes up in flames. he's a pretty thing, lowering his teary eyes in submission, and he sinks his soft quick pants into the pillow. he moans into it as you lift his hips, palms firm around his apollo's belt. he takes the edge of it between his teeth as his eyes flutter and roll, your cock slamming wetly into his tight hole, and the world melts away.

it's just him, and you, and the bed. his hips quiver as you fuck him mercilessly. everything is so much that it's almost nothing instead – just a constant stream of pleasure. no discernible origin – no cause, no direction. just there, everywhere.

he comes. he thinks so, at least. maybe a few times from how hard his thighs tremble. he's loud – he knows this for certain because you hook two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. he sucks messily on them as if it's your dick, tongue gliding along the warmth of them, and spit trickles down his chin as he runs his tongue obsessively over your joints and knuckles.

his legs fail him. you grunt, pulling your fingers from his mouth and receiving a distressed whine for it, and grab his waist. you flip him over onto his back. he spreads his shaking legs as if it comes naturally to him, and you shove your cock back into him, watching as he mewls and cries, head thrown back against the pillows.

he's not crying hard enough, you decide, even though his chest is flushed pink and his tummy is smeared with an absurd amount of his cum. your swollen cock throbs against his walls and he whimpers, new tears springing to his eyes as you hook his thighs over your elbows and press forward, burying your cock deep inside him – his nails rake down your chest and shoulders, leaving a sting in their wake.

"i know, baby," you coo over his cries, "i know. too much? you can't come anymore? that's cute. you couldn't get enough of it earlier. my baby always gets what he wants."

you press a chaste kiss to his warm cheek before hiking his legs over the bulk of your shoulders, as if it could be a salve to the aching euphoria that blankets his mind. you brace your palms against the mattress next to jungkook's head and your cock reaches new depths, abusing his puffy asshole with each quick harsh plunge.

the new angle has him sobbing, spine arching as his walls clamp down around you – you loose a soft, breathless chuckle as you sink in until the base. you place a hand against his stomach. sweat drips down his forehead.

"baby," you whisper, teeth bared in a dangerous grin. "hey, baby. can you feel me here?"

it takes another whisper of his name to hook his attention around your little finger. lifting his head and glancing down with dazed, teary eyes, he only sees the mess he's made of himself.

then, you shift your hand lower, thumb and forefinger framing a bump in his tummy. you drag your hips back. the bump vanishes. you sheathe yourself inside him again with a hungry grin and he whimpers as he watches the bump reappear, gliding along the heat of his insides.

"nngh..." his cock pulses. a thin stream of cum splatters his belly.

"cutie," you coo through a laugh. you admire him – his full-body blush, his clouded and lust-blown eyes. his skin shines with a thin layer of sweat, and the ends of his hair stick to his temples. you won't pretend that you aren't as affected; your muscles twitch with the strength to hold your high back as you fuck him deep and messy. every moan that passes through those spit-slick lips, every drag of his nails down your chest – he's got you wrapped up in him, enthralled like a worshipper to his god. you want more of it – more of him, more of his sweet and broken cries.

"ple-e-ease," he sobs, hiccupping, "s-slow down...! f-feels so good, i can't, i can't – so full, so full'f your big fucking cock – nnh—!"

the wet smack of your balls against his ass makes him cry harder. he's so open like this, knees pinned to his chest, your hot groans and gasps directly in his ear and into his brain. he's come so many times he can't even get it up any longer – it's just your cock abusing his swollen prostate, sending hot blinding thrills through his body, that brings him to another trembling high.

he doesn't know how long it continues for. what snaps him out of the thick cloud of pleasure is the way your groans deepen; the way you fuck the wet lube and precum harder and harder into him; the way you press your chest to his, heartbeats thudding into each other's ribs.

you're telling him something, the low timbre of your breathless murmurs melting his core. he grips your shoulders and squeezes his eyes shut.

"can you come for me one more time, baby?" you grunt. "one more time f'me, love. just one more. oh, f-fuck..."

he gasps out a whiny cry and drags you tighter to him, hooking his arms under yours and over the warm, slick bulk of your shoulders. he buries a punched moan in your shoulder as your cock angles further into him, fucking him in places he didn't know he had. he scrabbles at your shoulders, toes curling, as you thrust in one last time and burst inside of him, filling him up – he sobs softly as his head blanks, heavy with cotton. you wrench another high from deep in his gut, a pitiful throb and a mostly-clear rope of cum all that's left in him.

your high lasts a while, your cock aching as you finally let go. you grind your dick lazily into his ass, panting against the side of his soft throat, and gently let his legs down, feeling them quiver like leaves in a storm.

you slip out of him, softened, and pull him to your chest, letting him sniffle and whimper quietly against you. his whole body is wracked with a subtle tremor, muscles tensing and untensing as he slowly grounds himself in your warmth and bulk.

when you tilt away slightly, his grip tightens, as if afraid you'll leave him. you hush him and kiss his forehead, wrapping an arm under his ribs and taking him with you as you roll onto your side. letting out a soft, pleased sigh, you cradle him in your arms, wiping the remnants of his tears from his cheeks with the pad of your thumb.

you sit in silence for a while, your heartbeats slowing, as jungkook learns his way around words once more. slowly, he lifts his head from your chest, his eyes dry and sated.

"baby," he whispers hoarsely. you open your eyes with a soft hum, stroking his shoulder. "do that again."

"do what again?"

"all of it," he mumbles, glancing away shyly. "it was... good."

"just good?" you ask dryly.

he slaps your chest without much force. his muscles are still jelly. "shut – shut up. you know what i mean."

with a grin, you pull him into your chest and he rests his cheek against your collar, tucking himself beneath your chin. "mm. glad you liked it. would you give it a star rating?"

he giggles softly, rubbing his cheek into your shoulder. "three."

you glance down at him, taken aback. "three? out of five?"

"michelin star ratings, actually. three stars. worth a special trip."

you slump back with a quiet groan, loosely tucking one knee up. "fuck, i was gonna throw a big tantrum if i got a three-out-of-five for this. hate you."

he bites back a soft smile and traces shapes into your chest. "hate you, too. you made me all messy..."

"ah – i'm sorry. let's go clean up, then. you don't have to worry about a thing." you move, as if to get up.

he grabs your shoulder and pushes you back down, settling back into his place on top of you. "no."

"no?"

"i kinda like it," he whispers, kissing your skin. he hums. "baby, i like feeling like a whore."

you scoff, twisting your hand through his hair and pressing a kiss to his crown. "mm, is that right? then i think you should challenge me to another mario kart race. it'll be good."

"that was a fluke," he argues with a glare that doesn't mean a thing. he pouts and scowls, turning his face into your chest. "i'll win next time. promise. you're dead meat."

"uh-huh, i betcha."

he just huffs, wrapping his arms loosely around your middle. "jerk. suck my dick."

you bite your tongue to stop the retort about to slip out. you bury your smirk in his hair, cuddling him closer, and he sighs contentedly.

you're definitely losing the next round. he can't wait to thrash you – and then you'll be all his to tease and play with for a whole week.

whenever, wherever. he smiles. you'll be begging for mercy when he's done with you.

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wntrsnat · 8 months

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Was Natasha a kid when she met Bucky?

It’s a widespread misconception outside of winterwidow fandom that Bucky and Natasha have known each other since she was a kid. I’ve seen a handful of people object to their relationship for this reason or (sometimes in a humorous manner) comment on how weird it is. And I'd have to agree with them. Bucky dating Natasha despite having trained her since she was a child would have been utterly inappropriate, if not immoral and disgusting. However, the assumption is not only incorrect but also fundamentally impossible.

Let’s go back to the beginning to clarify why that assumption is fundamentally impossible. Different universes equal different realities, and different realities equal different characters. Sometimes characters' counterparts across multiple realities only differ in details, not the basics. MCU characters have a similar correlation with their What If counterparts but not comics’ ones, which is a grave mistake cinematic fans make. I believe that’s why we have this absurd assumption as well, from someone thinking that 616 Black Widow and Winter Soldier are the same age as their more famous counterparts.

MCU’s Natasha Romanoff was born in 1984, and Bucky – 1917. Thus, an adult-kid dynamic is plausible. If we consider cryostasis, Bucky was still pushing 30 when Natasha was born. The situation, however, is significantly different for their 616 counterparts. Let’s start with Earth 616’s Bucky Barnes, who was born in 1925, making him nearly a decade younger than the cinematic one. But that isn’t what disproves the aforementioned belief. What disproves it is that Earth 616’s Natasha Romanoff was born around 1928, making her 56 years older than her cinematic counterpart and just 3 years younger than 616 Bucky. You will find this information on the following page from Black Widow: Deadly Origin, a 2009–2010 graphic novel (which I will be using as a basis today):

This alone debunks the adult/child misconception, but I want to go one step further and discuss the timeline of Natasha's time in the Red Room and the early years of the Winter Soldier.

At the young age of 20, Bucky Barnes "died" alongside Captain America in late 1945, in last days of the war. The Russian submarine discovered Bucky's preserved body after the war while hoping to retrieve Captain America’s remains. And with that, the Winter Soldier story began, along with his role as a super soldier trainer at the Red Room for Department X.

Now, one might say, "Ana, if he was 20, Natasha was 17, which is still kind of wrong, no?". My answer is yes; it would’ve been rather inappropriate. "Would’ve been" because there’s a catch: Natasha wasn’t part of the Red Room when he joined.

I know what you’re thinking: What the fuck, wasn’t she...? Didn’t she…? So let me explain that one from the beginning.

Natasha Romanoff, then 10 years old, was brought to the Red Room in 1938 by her father figure, Ivan Petrovich (a terrible piece of shit about whom I'll write a blog), Taras Romanov, and Joseph Stalin himself. After her trainer, Wolverine, killed Taras in 1940, she let Wolverine go, fled into the woods, and was found three months later by Ivan, possibly going back under his care, which can be seen below:

She returned to the Red Room only at the age of 28, ironically enough, becauseof Ivan, which is depicted on the following page:

There, we find a collapsed building with a bleeding Ivan and a sobbing Natasha, who have been approached by …. *DRUM ROLL* …. the Winter Soldier, who has been sent by his superiors. They were both offered the super soldier serum that would save Ivan in exchange for their newfound loyalty, which Natasha accepted despite Ivan's protests.

Here we are, then: Natasha, 28, meets the Winter Soldier, roughly 31, who’ll soon be her lover and her trainer. Two adult people who met when they were both adults. And with that, we conclude our blog, disproving the infamous “she was a kid when they met!” argument.

Thanks for reading my blog. If you have questions or have found a mistake, let me know. I'll be happy to answer and discuss <3

#winterwidow #buckynat #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #marvel comics #earth 616 #616 #MCU #marvel cinematic universe #anti winterwidow #anti buckynat #nerd talks #blog #explore #tumblr #lore

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