#did they build a kinky robot on purpose??

[negrowhat]

like he's literally wrapped his whole big ole body around Bushi to keep him in place while he reads about Economic Framework all sensually in this boy's ear. PLEASE ME NEXT!

[mercurygguk]

winter soldier | jjk

genre; winter soldier/avengers au, angst/smut/fluff

pairing; winter soldier!jungkook x avenger!female reader

summary; the love of your life died during ww2, they honored his death. you had never imagined you’d ever see him again until you’d join him in death, but here he is and he’s trying to kill you. he’s not himself at all. you, however, insist that the man you used to know is still in there somewhere.

word count; 6,764

warnings; descriptions of war/battle/fight scenes, descriptions of scars, the rest of the avengers joins the party, reader is like Cap A but not like Cap A, you know??, jungkook looking hella hot with his long hair and steel arm, inspiration from ‘captain america: winter soldier’, swearing, SMUT; explicit sexual activities, oral (f. receiving), love making at its highest- nothing kinky, just plain ol’ sex

a/n; okay so um, i’m binge-watching the avengers movies atm and i was watching Captain America: Winter Soldier. i kid you not, throughout the entire movie i was imagining what jungkook would look like as the winter soldier- jungkook combined with superheroes is like the perfect story, amirite?? ;)) enjoy!

ps. once again, i didn’t proof read so ignore my possible mistakes lol

(for reference, this is what jungkook’s hair looks like in this fic)

War.

Terrorizing. Horrifying. Absolutely petrifying.

There are several words to use when talking about it, describing it, reliving it. Once you’ve experienced it, it will haunt you till the day you die and even beyond that. There isn’t much positive to take from it, not many positive memories come to you as you think back to the time during war. Only one positive memory returns to you from those dark times...

Him.

Him who did not fit in with the military services due to his lack of strength and speed. Him who never let anyone step upon him and evolved with the job. Him who never backed down from a challenge or an order given from the highest ranks. Him who had braveness unlike anyone, loyalty like no other, a will to fight for what’s worth it and to win. Him who made you fall for him without meaning to. Him who promised he would always come back to you, no matter what happened.

And then one day he didn’t. They had told you he went down in the fight, died for his country, for his team. He hadn’t hesitated to sacrifice himself, thrown himself towards the threat in the hopes of ending it for everyone once and for all. That he did. He killed himself in the process of saving everyone else.

A hero is what they had called him. Honored his name, saluting as they all stood facing his military photograph, serious faces and emotionless eyes all over. Tears had filled your eyes that day, but they didn't fall. You refused to let them. There was no way you would cry because of a liar. A coward, really. Anger kept you going, anger aimed at him. A rage so intense that you would convince yourself that you hated him. Some people would call you selfish, selfish for hating a man who sacrificed himself for everyone else. They were right. You were selfish. But love makes you selfish, and you loved him. So ridiculously much.

Years later, decades into the new century he remains as a positive yet heartbreaking and frustrating memory in your mind and heart. You haven’t aged a day thanks to the advanced technology and the project you offered to be the experiment of, in the end of the war. After his death and the war seeming more out of control than ever, you thought there wasn’t much more to live for, so you volunteered. A successful masterpiece, professor Kim had said as you regained consciousness on the lab table. You were his greatest, most succeeded experiment. You still are, except for the fact that Kim Namjoon is no longer walking among people on earth.

Now you’re living as the successful masterpiece he has created. Stronger, faster – young too even though your real age is something near 98. It doesn’t show. You look like any other 23-year-old but with extraordinary strength and speed. Being a part of a team as the Avengers truly has given you a meaning of life, a purpose that you didn’t feel you had before joining this outstanding team of superheroes as some would call you.

But as you stand here, in the middle of a battlefield that is scarily similar to those back in the 1940’s, you feel small. Gunshots fire around you, flying past your head and ringing in your ears. Explosions going off from the shots fired by Stark, Iron Man as he’s known as. The grounds breaking from the power of Thor’s hammer, the bad guys falling like flies in the hands of Widow. You’re watching it all unfold, breathing for a split second as robots are charging at you with red, glowing eyes.

For God’s sake, just how many of these are there?

Keeping yourself from rolling your eyes in pure annoyance, you set off running towards them with an unmatched speed, fists up and ready to take them out. One goes down after another, surrendering to your very angry, very powerful fists. Your patience is running thin as the robots keep appearing from left and right, setting their focus on you as demanded by whoever’s controlling them. A person you haven’t managed to find yet, but determined to hunt down and put a bullet through their head.

“Hey, Thor!” You call out to the nordic God flying around you, punching fists through robots and throwing his hammer at them. He glances your way, finding you surrounded by robots, too many for you to fight by yourself. “A lil hand here?”

He nods in response, immediately dropping to the ground and plunging his hammer into the asphalt on the ground, lightning seeping through the ground and into the robots, taking them down and splitting them in half. Thor throws a smug smirk at you before turning back around to fight another round of robots. You roll your eyes, about to run off when shots are being fired at you.

“Shit!” You hiss, running to hide behind a tipped-over truck while fishing out a gun from the strap around your thigh. You lean out, aiming in the direction of the shots. There is a man with long, dark hair, a black mask covering half his face and a silver arm that does not look familiar at all. The mysterious man steps onto the railing of the bridge he fired shots from, hard glare focused on you as he steps out and lets himself fall to the ground beneath the bridge. He lands on his feet, supporting himself with the silver fist into the asphalt. He stands to his height, walking straight towards you and leaving a mark in the asphalt where he had landed. Your eyes widen as he holds up a machine gun, opening fire at you as you scramble to run off while loading more shots into your gun.

Peeking around the corner of the brick building you’re hiding behind, you hold your gun up to aim at him. You fire a bullet, hitting his silver arm. He doesn’t budge, the bullet not even leaving a bump in the silver.

“What the-” you gape, firing shots again. He holds his silver hand up, the bullets bouncing off like they’re made of cotton, still walking towards you with eyes focused on you. There’s something about him that seems familiar – maybe his build? Or the way he walks? Or was it the slightly curly hair on top of his head? You can’t quite pin it as you watch him get closer, fists clenched tightly at his sides as if he’s ready to throw punches at you. You contemplate running to him, throwing the first punch at him before he gets to you. There is a slight hesitancy in your body as you can’t shake off how awfully familiar he seems the closer he gets to you. Knowing what the right thing to do is, you step out from your hiding spot, collecting all strength as you charge at him. A yell of anger and confusion rumbles from your chest as you jump on the last step, fist pulled back only for it to be forced forward and into the center of the mysterious man’s chest.

He stumbles back slightly, gaining his balance quickly before he steps closer, throwing a punch at you as well. You dodge, throwing your leg into his side in a strong kick. He grunts as he catches your leg, pulling on it to force you towards him. You ram into him, his clenched fist connecting with your jaw. You groan in pain as you fall to the ground, landing before his feet. Squinting at him, you watch as he kneels down over you, holding you down against the ground. As he stares at you, raising his hand to deliver a punch to your face again, you realize it as your eyes meet his. You gasp softly, not believing the sight in front of you. It’s a known fact that you would recognize those deep, brown eyes anywhere in any given moment.

“J-Jungkook?”

The sound of your voice, the sound of his name falling from your lips has him freezing for a split second. His eyes shift between yours as he slowly begins to sink his fist. But not even seconds later he’s raising his fist again and that’s when you can tell that he does not recognize you. He is looking at you as if you’re a complete stranger, like he didn’t spend the last year of his life telling you that he loved you more than life itself.

His gaze fills with the only feeling he feels, hatred. He moves to force his silver fist down and into your face, a face he used to call beautiful as he traced his finger tips along the edges. You barely dodge it, trying your very best to meet his eyes again as you call his name.

“Jungkook!” You fight the tears that are brimming your eyes as you continue to dodge his hits the best you can, “Hey! It’s me!”

He’s not holding off, continuing to throw punches at you and hitting the asphalt as you squirm in between his thighs. He’s impeccably strong, the asphalt cracking under the jabs of his fists. His thighs are keeping you in place as he pins you to the ground, your arms locked along your sides. You know he’ll punch you to death if you don’t get inside his head. It seems nearly impossible as his eyes are trained on you, emotionless and angry, only a small glimt of the man you used to know in them.

“____! Might wanna duck down a bit,” Tony shouts as he flies in your direction, his glowing hand aimed at Jungkook.

Your eyes widen in horror as you scramble together all the strength you have, throwing Jungkook off you and away from the deathly ray of light coming from Tony’s palm.

“No!”

The shot hits the asphalt a few meters away from you, nearly grazing Jungkook but it doesn’t, thankfully. Tony is shocked as he comes to a halt in the air, staring between Jungkook and you. You wave a hand at him. “I got him,” you assure him as you pant out breaths of air, nodding towards Widow and Thor, “go help the others.”

The man in the iron suit in front of you seems to hesitate for a second as he looks at you. He catches the pleading look on your face, glancing back at Jungkook for a moment before nodding at you once and flying in the direction of Widow and Thor, aiming his shots at the robots that are still coming from all sides. You turn your attention back to Jungkook, the body of the love of your life but not the eyes or mind of him.

“Jungkook,” you try again, slowly stepping closer as he stays still, slightly shocked that you had saved him from Iron Man’s deadly shot, “it’s me, ____.”

You’re begging, tone pleading him and hands up in surrender as you slowly step closer to him. He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling in deep breaths. His eyes are dark, cold and distant as you get even closer. He’s frozen in his spot. He seems confused behind that hard expression, confused because you look less terrified than you did before realizing who he is. He doesn’t flinch or move away from your hand as it inches closer to his face, reaching for the black mask on his face.

“Hey,” you softly say, hesitating to touch him as you let a single tear escape and roll down your cheek. Something flashes in his eyes as he looks into your wet eyes, a small hint of recognition, familiarity too. Maybe he remembers. You hope he does. He lets you pull the black mask off completely, the strong line of his jaw appearing in front of you as well as his pink lips you used to kiss so often in that hidden place you liked to meet almost every night. “It’s me,” you whisper, “it’s ____.”

You’re afraid you’re imagining things as tears build up in the corner of his eyes, his jaw tightening. It’s too much for him. The memories returning with full force, the emotions filling his chest and warming it for the first time in 70 years. He wants to cry. He doesn’t know whether it's happiness because you’re right here in front of him, after he thought he would never get to see you again as he took his last breath back in 1944, or sadness because he’s well aware that he almost killed you if you hadn’t pushed him off you.

“____?” His voice betrays him as it cracks, your name coming out in a croaked voice. More tears escape as you hear your name falling from his lips for the first time since that morning in the military camp where he said ‘see you soon’ and then never returned. He freezes as you throw yourself at him, arms wrapped around him as you pull him closer in a tight hug. The sniffles and muffled cries you let out breaks his emotionless, cold heart and filling it with a warmth he hasn’t felt in so long. A tear escapes from the corner of his eye as he lets his own arms snake their way around your waist, hugging you just as tight as you hug him.

Relief.

That’s what he’s feeling.

Jungkook wanders around inside Stark’s office, eyes exploring things as he calmly runs his silver hand over them. You watch him from a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest. Worry is filling your entire body as his back is turned to you. He still doesn’t seem like himself. There is something about him that makes you anxious, something about him makes you wonder if he’ll turn at any moment, falling back into whatever sort of amnesia he has been experiencing for the past decades.

You jump in surprise when the door opens beside you, revealing Tony. He notices your jumbled state, giving you a small, half smile. You turn your eyes back to Jungkook who’s picking at an ancient-looking sculpture on Tony’s desk causing Tony to take a step closer.

“Hey! Buddy!” He calls out, catching Jungkook’s attention. “Don’t touch that, please. It’s antique.”

Jungkook steps away from the desk, hands up in mock surrender, emptiness in his eyes as if he couldn’t care less about Tony’s antique sculpture. No one really cared about that sculpture. It’s doomed to break at some point when it’s placed in his office, in the Avengers building.

“Tony,” you catch the attention of the older man, looking straight at him with hopeful, desperate eyes, “can you help him?”

He turns to face Jungkook, looking him over from head to toe. “Friday, give me a scan of whatever’s controlling Jungkook.”

Anticipated, you wait while biting a nail. Jungkook doesn’t move an inch as Friday scans him for anything to help Tony figure out a way to help. He’s glancing from Tony to you, his eyes meeting yours. Seconds. It takes seconds from his stare meeting yours to something flicking behind his dark brown irises, something inside of him snapping like the tips of someone’s fingers. Your eyes widen in panic as you move to stand between Tony and Jungkook.

“Tony!” You shout, moving fast as you try to get in between the two men. Tony has already activated his iron hand, catching Jungkook’s silver fist right before it hits him square in the face. You come to a halt, staring in surprise as Tony tightens his hold on Jungkook’s fist, forcing him to the ground. “Tony, please, don’t hurt him. He’s not in his right mind!”

“Oh, really?” Tony scoffs, sarcasm dripping from each word. A small yelp leaves your mouth as Tony kicks his knee up under Jungkook’s jaw, knocking him out. Jungkook falls limp to the floor, eyes closed as he’s kicked unconscious by Tony. You kneel down beside him, brushing his long strands of hair out of his face. He looks peaceful as he lays there, completely unconscious, and yet there’s a furrowed look on his face, like he’s never free from whatever that is controlling him. You sigh deeply, head dropping as you cradle Jungkook’s hand in your own. Tony’s palm rests on your shoulder. You glance up at him. He gives you a small, reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help him,” he tells you. You nod, knowing he spoke the truth.

“Thank you.”

The frustrated look and furrowed eyebrows are gone. He looks genuinely peaceful this time, long lashes resting on the top of his cheeks as he rests beneath the sheets on your bed. You can’t help yourself as you reach out, palm cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone in a soft caress. Hopefully you’ll have the love of your life back once he wakes up from the deep sleep Tony put him in.

You’re about to move away, retrieving your hand from his cheek just as you hear him whimper softly. Turning back to him, you watch as his lower lip begins to quiver, eyebrows furrowed tightly together. “No,” he whimpers again, head shaking in his sleep. “Please, no! Don’t!”

Worry fills you once again as you sit on the edge of the bed beside him, hands cupping his face between them. “Jungkook,” you softly call, trying your best to wake him without startling him. “Jungkook, my love, please wake up. Please!”

Startled, you gasp as his eyes shoot open, his lips parting as he gasps for air. He’s looking right into your startled, widened eyes. It takes a minute for him to realize who you are and where he is, the surroundings not seeming familiar at all, but it feels nice. The aura, the warmth and the dimmed lighting in the bedroom where he’s tucked under the sheets.

“Hey,” you breathe out as you smile, not sure what to say to him. Tony had made sure to help him, get whatever that was controlling him out of him, his head to himself now and slowly filling with memories, both good and bad ones. “How are you feeling?”

He groans as he moves to sit up. You help him straighten up, making sure he has a pillow for his back as he leans back against the head of the bed. He closes his eyes tightly together as he drops his head back, still trying to calm his erratic breathing. You sit back in the chair you had pulled to the bedside when you got here.

“I feel…” he begins, words feeling foreign on his tongue as he speaks with a croaking voice. He sighs deeply. This is a lot for his head to take in in just one day. “I feel like my head is about to explode.”

Your smile is careful as you look at him. “Makes sense,” you softly say, watching him glance at his arm only to notice the silver is still there, like he had hoped it would be gone. It’s easy to tell the arm itself is a symbol of a very dark time as he looks at it and then looks away from it. He isn’t fond of the silver arm, obviously having a love-hate relationship with it as it has given him power and strength he never had to begin with and problems he never voluntarily wanted in the first place. There’s pain in his eyes as he glances at you, shame as he cowers under your gaze.

You frown deeply. “What happened to you?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. He closes his eyes, not really wishing to go back to those dark times where his life was saved and changed for the worse. The dark times where he became a shadow of himself and a manipulated soldier, brainwashed to take orders from others.

“I, uh, I don’t think-“ he stumbles over his words.

You place your hand over his actual hand, your thumb brushing the skin there. He glances at where you’re touching him before looking up at you. You’re hurting, it’s easy to see. It’s not your own pain though, it’s his. You’re feeling pain for him, hurting because he went through things he never should have, things where death would’ve been much less painful. You want to kiss him, kiss it all better if that was possible.

“You can tell me,” you whisper, pleading him to confide in you, to tell you what happened to him all those years ago.

He sighs deeply, turning his hand over to wrap it around yours. A rush runs through your stomach as he grips onto your hand with a hold so tight that you find yourself promising him silently that you’ll never let go again by giving his hand a small squeeze.

“They found me a few days later,” he starts, gaze focusing on the way yours and his fingers intertwine with each other like they’re meant to do it, “in the ruins of buildings. I-I wasn’t fully awake when they did, only just coming to my senses again after the explosion that was meant to kill me.”

You’re focusing on his hand in yours now, not able to look into his eyes as he tells the story of how he ended up here, 70 years later, and still looking like himself but with longer hair and impeccable strength.

“I didn’t recognize them. They wouldn’t tell me anything. They took me to this place, a bunker or something like that. There was this huge laboratory inside with equipment way ahead of its time,” he looks confused as he relives the horrifying moments, “I was placed in a chair and the next thing I know they’re sawing my arm off-“

You whimper. “Oh, god,” tears dwell in your eyes as you grip his hand tightly.

“____, I have never felt as much pain as I did that day,” he looks you straight in the eye, the pain from that day flashing over his face as he recalls it, the feeling of it. “And all I could think about while they turned me into this- this monster… was that I lied to you.”

You shake your head in denial. “No, Jungkook,” you whisper, “you couldn’t know. You couldn’t.”

He offers you a small half-smile, remorse covering his features as he reaches up with his silver hand, careful as he lets the fingertips of it brush your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry I gave you an empty promise,” he whispers, silver fingertips brushing against the side of your face. You cover it with your own hand, letting him cup your face in the cold silver. He leans closer, hissing lightly as pain shoots up the side of his torso. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come back to you like I promised.”

“You did though,” you sigh deeply, resting your forehead against his. “You’re right here.”

He nods softly, his eyes shifting between yours.. “and I won’t leave again,” he assures you before hesitating, shrugging as he adds; “unless you want me to.”

You chuckle through the tears that had built up in your eyes. He’s smiling at you as you reach up to cup his face in your palms, brushing your thumb across his cheeks. He’s watching you, still not quite believing that you’re here with him. After so long. 70 years of wondering if you’re still alive. 70 long years of wondering where you were in the world. 70 unbearable years of longing for your touch, your soft, plump lips that made his heart stop beating for a few seconds each time they would touch his in a kiss.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he whispers into the small gap of air space between you and him. “Each time I’d return from a mission and become myself again after being under mind-control, you were the first thing on my mind. To be honest, I don’t think you ever left it. You’ve always been there with me, in the deepest parts of my consciousness. You kept me sane during the missions, kept me from forgetting myself completely.”

Listening intently, you close your eyes as your thumbs continue to brush over the skin on his cheeks. He continues, a deep sigh falling from his lips and clashing against yours causing goosebumps to rise upon your body. You’re shocked that you have gone this far without smothering him in kisses. You don’t want to risk anything, waiting patiently for him to make the first move in the direction of more physical affection, whether it’s a touch of his hand, a hug or more.

“And when I realized it was you earlier today...” his voice cracks, “when I realized I almost killed you- I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for that.”

“You can and you will,” you softly tell him, the undertone of your voice stern, “you didn’t kill me. You wouldn’t. You were gonna recognize me sooner or later.”

He exhales shakily. “You don’t know that,” he almost snaps, eyes closed tightly as he drops his silver hand from your face. He pulls away from your touch, the warmth of him disappearing the further he moves away. He’s not looking at you. Tears are threatening to spill as you stare back at him, lips slightly parted as you want to speak up. You want to tell him he’s wrong, but you already know that he will not take your words for what they are. He, and you, know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t pushed him off when you did.

“You’re right,” you say, catching his attention again. He barely glances at you, noticing the small remnants of tears in your eyes before looking back at his silver hand, clenching and unclenching it. A tear rolls down your cheek. “You’re so right, Jungkook. I don’t know if you would or not.”

You get up from the chair you’ve been sitting in since you brought him back to your apartment. Jungkook still refuses to look at you as you move onto the bed, crawling closer to him. You don’t hesitate as you lay a hand on his shoulder and throw a leg over his to straddle his lap. He finally looks at you, eyes slightly widened at your actions. His eyes meet teary ones again, his silver arm moving out of an old habit as he reaches up to wipe your tears away.

“But I like to think you would.”

Your lips press against his before he can reply to your words. Jungkook gasps and then grunts in response as you press your mouth to his, desperately and needy. His body freezes beneath you as you kiss him, tasting his lips for the first time in an unbearably long time. It takes him a while to realize that you’re kissing him, finally kissing you back as he cradles you in his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. The silver arm keeps a tight grip around your waist, holding you in place as the other runs up your thigh.

Pulling away, you gasp for air, letting your forehead rest against his. Jungkook is breathing heavily, his breath once again clashing against yours as you both catch your breath. Your eyes meet, seconds after he’s kissing you again, your tank top riding up as the silver arm keeps you tight against him. The silver touching your skin causes goosebumps to cover your skin, a chill running up your spine as you cup his face. His tongue licks against your bottom lip, you let him in. A moan escapes your lips as his tongue touches yours.

“I’ve been holding myself back ever since you woke up,” you whisper against his lips, making him smile as his hands slide under your top, pushing it up before pulling it over your head completely. You return to his lips, catching them with your own as you reach for the hem of his t-shirt. He helps you pull it off, your mind elsewhere as you throw it onto the floor. Your hands rake down his body, over the tensing muscles of his abdomen as he moves his kisses down your cheek and further under your jaw. Your breathing is ragged as you pull away, only a few inches so you can glance down at his torso. The sight horrifies you, your fingertips brushing over scars and healed wounds.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as you glance up at Jungkook, his eyes meeting yours for a few seconds before you look back at his chest. Your eyes wander, over his both small and larger scars to his silver arm. You feel your heart tightening as you take in the way the silver arm is sewed onto his body. You hesitate to reach up, Jungkook’s eyes on you as you let your shaking fingertips brush over the burned, scarred skin that keeps the silver arm attached. “I- This…”

His human hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. “I know,” he agrees without hearing the rest of the sentence. You look back at him, finding relief in his eyes as you rest your palms against his chest. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he then says.

“They literally cut off your arm,” you point out, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t even imagine how much pain he must’ve been in when they did this to him. “I wish I could have spared you this pain, spared you the torture you went through.”

He smiles softly. “I know, ____. But there's no way you possibly could’ve.”

You're carefully running your pointer finger along one of his scars when you look up at him, eyelashes framing your eyes so perfectly. He thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, even more so than the last time he saw you. You can’t do anything to stop the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I love you so much, Jungkook.”

His breathing stops for a second, his heart skipping a beat. He hasn’t heard those words since 1944. He didn’t even hear those words that morning you had sent him off, he hadn’t said those words when he promised to return. He should have. That way you’d never be in doubt of his love. He wonders if you’ve loved him since or if there has been anyone else in the meantime to love you the way he should’ve.

Silently, you watch him as his thoughts run one hundred miles per hour. Your palms are sliding from his chest to his shoulders and further up his neck to cup his face again. The love he feels is evident in his eyes as he focuses on you.

“I love you,” he whispers, carefully turning you over onto your back only for him to hover over you. You’re watching him, tingling in your stomach as you hear the words fall from his lips. He returns to kissing you, kissing the skin on your cheek, your neck and further down to the very top of your chest, right beneath the collarbones. He glances up at you as he kisses his way down the valley of your bra-covered chest. “I didn’t say it enough back then,” he mouths against your skin, another round of goosebumps rising beneath his lips, “I should have said it more. I’m sorry.”

You exhale deeply, arching your back into his touch as he reaches your navel and moves even further down to the waistband of your pants, your spandex pants that you so elegantly wear whenever you have a mission with the Avengers.

“Stop apologizing,” you breathe out, eyes closed as you succumb to his touch. The silver hand brushes over your stomach as it runs up to your chest, unclasping your bra on the front. It falls to the sides, revealing your perky nipples to the crisp air. You gasp softly as a silver hand brushes over both, the cold steel doing nothing but erecting them even more. “I've always hated it when you apologize.”

He smirks softly against your lower stomach, pressing one last kiss to the skin there before pulling the silver hand down to pull off your pants, and panties too. The pants are barely on the floor before he returns to your lower abdomen, kisses being spread across your hip bones and pubic bone. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his long hair as he runs his hands up the inside of your thighs. He spreads your legs, revealing your throbbing core to him.

“God, I missed this,” he breathed out, the air of his words hitting your wet folds. “Having you like this, all to myself.”

You whine from above him. “Jungkook,” you whimper, “please.”

It doesn’t take more for him to lean closer, tongue licking a stripe up between your folds and to your clit, his silver arm sliding across your abdomen to keep you down as he eats you out for the first time in decades. One would think he had lost his touch and knowledge of a woman’s body, but you can say that he certainly didn’t as he roots himself between your legs, tongue licking your wetness and prodding at the entrance.

“Oh god,” you moan, softly gasping for air as his human hand rests on top of your one thigh, fingers digging into the flesh there. You’re in heaven, on the ninth cloud as he slurps your arousal, licking your folds and clit as if his life depended on it. “Fuck, Jungkook!”

The sound of your name toppling from your lips as he hits a certain nerve makes his body flush with a warmth he almost forgot what feels like. You’re writhing in the tight hold of his silver arm, squirming as he licks you to your release. The orgasm is approaching fast and hard, Jungkook being the sole reason for it. No one could ever get you there as fast as him.

“I’m s-so close- oh!,” you pant, your walls clenching as Jungkook’s actual fingers slide into you. He pumps his hand in and out of you in a pace that is perfectly building up your orgasm. He takes nothing but a glance into his eyes as he leans down to softly kiss your clit that you’re toppling over, hitting the wall of your orgasm. “J-jungkook, my god!”

You jerk away as he leans forward, tongue licking up your release, tasting it on his taste buds. He hums with a small smile as he glances up at you, loving the way your eyes are almost bulging out of your head at the sight of him between your thighs. It takes nothing more than a few seconds before you shitting up, Jungkook meeting you halfway in a kiss. Tongues clash against each other, the taste of you on his tongue as he kisses you deeply, needingly.

“Please fuck me,” you mumble in between kisses, a desperate whining tone attached to your words. “Make love to me, Jungkook.”

He seals your words with a kiss, giving you a silent promise of doing just that. As if he’d lick you out and that would be it. No way.

You watch, teeth biting into your bottom lip, as he gets off the bed to remove the sweatpants you had dressed him in when you got back, getting him out of those military pants with belts and buckles all over them. His cock springs free, slaps against his abdomen as it stands proud into the air. A rush runs through your stomach at the sight, mouth slightly watering. Once the sweatpants and his boxers lie on the floor by his feet, he crawls back onto the bed. He moves closer, pushing you back onto your back as he hovers over you. You’re glancing at his silver arm for a mere split second, your hair reaching up to run along the hard edges of it. Jungkook can’t feel your touch but he’d like to imagine that he can as he watches your palm brushing over and further up to the nape of his neck. His eyes move back to lock with yours. You’re looking at him just like you did that last night of intimacy you had back in 1944, the night before he was sent off on a deathly mission. A huge wave of emotions hits him as he glances from your eyes to your lips and back again.

“I love you,” he softly says, eyebrows furrowed together as he looks at you, “so much, ____.”

You smile, pulling him down to meet you in a kiss. The kisses are soft, tender even as he reaches down to line himself up with your entrance. You gasp into his mouth as the tip of his cock prods at your folds. A hand of yours tangles back into his locks as he pushes inside, the tightness overwhelming for the both of you. He rests his forehead against yours, your breaths clashing together between you as he buries himself to the hilt.

“Shit,” he hisses, glancing down at your connecting hips. “Can i move?”

You nod your head, whispering, “yes.”

Jungkook watches the way your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pulls out and pushes back in, the sight causing him to do it again and again, wanting to see you lose yourself and succumb to the feeling of his cock brushing against your walls.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp as he gives you a particularly hard thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin as he hits that exact spot that makes you whimper out a soft, whiny moan. You’re clawing at his shoulders, his neck and chest as he sets a rhythm, keeping it steady as he grinds into you. He grabs your leg with his silver hand, helping you to wrap it around his waist. The other follows suit, locking with your other behind his back. He hits deep inside of you, his veiny cock sliding against your walls so deliciously.

It’s like that last night you had with him all over again just with more longing and more desperate kisses. Your stomach tingles with the overwhelming amount of emotions you’re feeling in this exact moment as you look up at him – his long hair slightly damp at the roots, his toned chest glistening in sweat as he works you both to a release, to a high you’re both so desperately in the need of.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as you unawarely clench around his length, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Don’t do that or I’ll cum right now.”

“Sorry!” You squeak, chuckling as he eyes you with a small smirk. God, you wanna ride him so badly. “Oh, Jungkook,” you moan breathily as he hits your spot again. He’s watching you, eyes running over your face as it contorts in pure pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he grunts, leaning up on his hands to get a better angle. He rams his hips into you, his strength coming to show as he thrusts into you harder than ever before. The power of his thrusts have you seeing stars as your second orgasm nears you. Jungkook can feel it as you clinch repeatedly around him. He won’t last much longer if you continue to do that.

High pitched moans tumble from your parted lips as he speeds up his movements, desperately trying to get you over the edge before he topples over himself. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as you reach your high, the orgasm hitting you like a bullet.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan, breathing ragged as he continues to fuck you to get himself to cum. His breathing is uneven, not matching his thrusts as all as he moves in and out a few more times before stilling inside of you, spilling his load and painting your walls inside.

“Fuck, I love you,” he breathes out as he drops his forehead to your collarbone. You’re smiling widely as you run your fingers from his shoulders and up into his hair. He lifts his head to look at you as you push his long, brown hair out of his face. You know him too well when he gives you a look, a small smirk on his lips. A joke is coming. You can just feel it. And you can’t help but grin at him as everything feels exactly like 1944 again. Also, you want to punch him for his next words:

“Not too bad for a 98-year-old, huh?”

all rights reserved © mercurygguk (with help from marvel studios *wink* )

[theorynexus]

Retrospective Analysis of Dirk:

After the initial thoughts I had this morning, following some light (re-)reading, I have come to various conclusions: The role that Dave Strider played in the Meat Epilogue was nearly identical to that that Dirk’s Bro (Alpha Dave Strider) played in the story---   DOOMed rebel fighting against the rise of another dictatorial Crocker.   I am sure that Dirk realized this, both considering the fact that this was an echo of Dave’s soul across the multiple instances of himself, and because he partially engineered this eventuality. Intriguingly enough, this might imply that Rose likely would have sided against Crocker (Jane) if her ascension had not incapacitated her and Dirk hadn’t been puppeteer-distracting her at the time (for reasons beyond her connection to Kanaya). More importantly, it helps establish an important further parallel:  Dirk acted as the puppetmaster in the shadows, essentially controlling the election and determining its outcome from the beginning.   Lord English remained the most important force in the Alpha Kids’ world and session in much the same manner, despite )(er Imperious Condescension’s attempted Rebellion. Both individuals were playing broader and longer games than the women they were manipulating to suit their purposes.  Though Dirk’s purposes have not yet been revealed to the fullest extent, Jane Crocker had a narrower perspective that failed to grasp the true nature of the battles going on and underestimated her “supporter” ‘s power and intentions. This relates to another way in which Dirk Strider and Caliborn/Lord English:  Both of them represent iterations/avatars/fulfillments of the idea of Calmasis---   both tricked a Calliope into losing a major confrontation by making her confuse an attack on one piece with that of another (a major short term/immediate objective--- an attack on a queen [in Dirk’s case, Jake English/the election] ---with an attack on the king [Alt!Calliope, who acted as essentially the commander of the forces opposed to him]); furthermore, and more importantly, both act as protagonists and antagonists to the story at the same time (villain and anti-hero).   Dirk presumably sees himself as working towards the perpetuation of reality by forcing more conflict into an otherwise ended story; or alternatively, sees himself striving for freedom in opposition to causality and enslavement to cosmic will (which would jive well with his Kamina-esque aesthetic).  Meanwhile, Caliborn/Lord English obviously served as the main villain of Homestuck, but were also the protagonists of their little side adventure and was trying to develop himself and expand his horizons despite his severe disadvantages, much the way the Kids and Trolls did. Dirk’s fulfillment of that role may have actually been why he downplayed the importance of Complacency of the Learned in his conversation with Rose just before he began to subsume her will in earnest. Of course, that is somewhat speculative, and hard to prove, one way or the other. ... Regardless, upon making these sorts of connections, I began to think about whether Dirk was intended to become a villain from the moment he was introduced, and/or relatively early on.  Andrew Hussie seems to have a habit of working out many plot details a great deal in advance (see the Alpha Kids being hinted at as early as Act 4 with Jake’s letter to John, Doc Scratch probably being intended to have been/contained at least an iteration of Dirk from the beginning [as shown via his comment to Rose that she ought to think of him as a kindly human uncle figure-- shoved in our face via a certain Truthsplosion]), so the idea didn’t seem all that farfetched. After all, as referenced in the above parenthetical reference, Doc Scratch shows that Dirk always had at least the potential for villainy in him, under the right circumstances. The first thing that jumped into my mind (other than the fact that Bro is a bit of a dick, I guess, and the early narrative of Act 6 emphasizes the fact that this is in fact the kid version of Bro quite a bit) was the fact that Dirk’s introductory period created clear parallels with two trolls of a highly corrupt moral character---  Vriska and Equius:   Beyond the obvious tendencies to manipul8 others and his willingness to “cheat” in certain ways (defeating Squarewave in a rap battle bit exploiting his weakness to liquid shorting him out, teleporting his head to Jake for the revive+kiss with the intent of forcing a start to their relationship that way, et cetera) Dirk is also pining for a Page who he attempts to force a redrom with (more effectively, in his case, at least in the short term), and whom he attempts to “groom” by pushing challenges that the Page is clearly not prepared to face his way (Brobot’s awkward difficulty settings parallel the FLARP encounters  Vriska gave Tavros).    That Vriska and Dirk’s first on-screen kills were both decapitations is probably a coincidence. As for Equius:  There is the wife beater that Dirk sometimes wears, the similarities between horses and musclebeasts, the fact that both build robots whom they then face off against in lethal combat, the fact that both wear shades and are initially blacked out upon introduction (though this latter matter is of less significance) the fact that both have dominating personalities and a secret kinky submissive side (albeit these play out in different ways for the two), the fact that Brobot and Aradiabot both take out their “hearts” and POUND POUND POUND them up dramatically (note: though this is a bit of a stretch, the parallel makes the affinity’s intention obvious), their willingness to lie and take extreme measures (Equius considers lying and double-crossing to be in a blue blood’s nature and/or their “superior” culture; Dirk outright tells Jane that one of three statements he is making is a lie, and the only one it could possibly be is that he believes that Roxy’s decision to blow up Jane’s computer as a way to scare Jane away from playing was too extreme [meaning that, since this was a lie, he is absolutely willing to go to such extremes to get the job done--- as shown later with his willingness to decapitate himself, publicly display the fact that he’d killed Hegemonic Brute, et cetera])... and most obviously+ominously, his declaration to Jane that while she was going to remain the group’s leader as far as everyone else was concerned, he was going to be the person controlling things from the shadows (which is a reversal of Equius’ demand that Aradia be the shadow leader for the Blue Team, but obviously calls him to mind via allusion/reference). Now, while a case can be made for either of these characters not being that bad, and I am personally someone who likes and feels for Vriska quite a lot, I will be the first to admit that she is the closest thing the trolls have to Caliborn or Dirk (Gamzee doesn’t count: he’s has a mental breakdown and is basically brainwashed by LE via Lil Cal; he’s not a planner or someone who went out of his way to embrace his “turn to the dark side” of his own volition--- if you can call it that, for Caliborn; you know what I mean).   As for Equius: he was highly violent and could have been quite the menace, if it weren’t for his moirail. He had a generally demented mentality.           Neither of these are the sorts of comparisons you want to be made with a character being painted as particularly heroic and good.  Next comes the fact that, as I have discussed previously, Dirk Strider and Caliborn/Lord English have been deeply entangled with one another’s fates.   Caliborn liked Dirk the best out of all of the Alpha Kids, it was ironically Dirk who ended up defeating him in the end (in both the form of soul trapping and via ARquius). However, it was also Dirk who provided Caliborn with the mechanical leg that allowed him to escape (and presumably have confidence in the idea of escape) from his SAW Room Death Trap binding with Calliope.  Presumably, either Dirk or AR must have figured that that was the intention behind the request/present, at some point. (I rather doubt it was something that Dirk knew the implications of at the time, but I wouldn’t necessarily rule out that possibility. He might not have cared, especially since that was years before the Alpha Kids began their session, and he/they might not have had much of a bond with Calliope, at that point. Not that he ever got all that close to her, generally.)  Note:  Caliborn’s favor toward Dirk does not necessarily suggest anything inherently wrong with Dirk, but it helps set him apart from the others. This is just another warning sign suggesting something “off” about him.      Dirk’s “I have failed,” before he went wandering off into the glitches and self-destructed in the [S] Game Over. version of the Alpha similarly can be interpreted as hinting at his God Complex/Megalomaniac tendencies.      It seems a logical extension of his general personality that he wouldn’t be able to settle down and enjoy a peaceful life in a “perfect” paradise planet (which is probably one of the reasons he decided to leave it). I suppose this is just another thing that wasn’t generally thought about as the community was so focused on the actual process of getting to the victory point, and what that would mean?   At the very least, I don’t remember any such considerations.  There were certainly warning signs. The biggest factor that convinces me that Dirk’s villainy was planned quite early on (and which thus supports to some extent the idea that Jake is meant to be his eventual foil) is that Dave, after seeing his Bro’s corpse, said, “I’m not a hero, my bro was.”   This was almost certainly made at a point where Dirk Strider was conceptually developed/invented already, definitely was at a point where Dave’s baggage surrounding heroism and its connection with how he felt toward his brother was in play, and most certainly was well after the audience could have seen that Bro was abusive and sortof a dirtbag. Thus, there was already some irony, there.  However, he also called John a hero in that same statement, so it clearly was not totally derogatory, and so the irony could be increased. It was, as shown by the fact that the Alpha Kids were not “Heroes” of their session, but Nobles. This was not enough.  Dirk has eventually turned into the anti-hero and villain of his own story.   Perhaps this might be enough; however, it wouldn’t quite feel fully “right” if he hadn’t been intended to have been so from the beginning-- and perhaps that’s actually why their group were called Nobles in the first place, not only because of the fact that they couldn’t complete their session without the others, but because not all of them were heroic at heart.  [Non-sequitur: I wonder if LE would have been anywhere near as dangerous, if not for Lil Hal’s capacity to make incredibly complicated calculations {needed for Furthest Ring travel, among other things, presumably}, and his capacity as Doc Scratch to pave the way for LE’s arrival. This would seem a very similar relationship to how Dirk facilitated Caliborn’s entry via the leg, in retrospect.] ... While the section immediately above isn’t as well-developed as I’d like-- mostly because I’m tired, distracted, and it’s been at least 3 hours since I started this post in the first place, and I want to at least get the last part that I thought of in before it leaves my memory.    I may add to/edit in more for this post, or post follow-up material later, when I remember more that might have slipped my mind on this subject/I think of more. Anyway!---    as I was considering all of this, a very intriguing thought popped into my head:    While I had initially assumed that it was simply to not rehash old material and/or that it was to keep us with John for the sake of narrative consistency, since I now know that it was Dirk who was narrating this segment of the story, and thus it was a narrator with bias and interest in the facts being related, it has occurred to me that it is actually quite odd for Dirk to omit some relation of the actual facts of the Caliborn’s Masterpiece encounter.   We are placed by his hand at a place even further removed from the reality of the battle than the clearly biased and somewhat embellished account that the Cherub gave of his own rise to power.        This strikes me as odd particularly given the fact that it is Dirk’s great moment of heroism, which might serve as a sort of counter-balance to much of his otherwise morally questionable deeds.         Given his egotism (and the fact that there would seem to be no OOC reason strong enough to justify such an omission on the author’s part, since this means that there is no faithful depiction of the battle shown to us in the story), this makes it seem as if Dirk chooses to not show the conclusion of this battle for some specific and tangible reason.  I would not suspect it to be out of embarrassment, a desire to conceal his identity longer, or plain trollishness (though the last of these strikes me as almost being fitting).  Rather, I wonder if there is something worth concealing in the end of this encounter.  Maybe the Alpha Kids actually lost, and Dirk’s placement of Cal into Lil Cal was an act of capitulation. Maybe Dirk otherwise willingly and knowingly created Lord English via the soul trap at the behest of ARquiusprite, or said sprite tricked him into doing so, claiming it was the only way to defeat their opponent (which it was) and omitting the consequences.     I do not know which of these, if any, is the correct answer, but Dirk being the one to choose to omit the details does, I shall repeat, seem extremely fishy to me, all things considered. ~~~ While I will not put a summary here, I would just like to say:   In retrospect, the Meat Epilogue has done more than the requisite “adding on to the story in appreciable ways and tying up loose ends,” but has served to add depth to an already incredibly deep story and caused me to reconsider and better understand characters and themes which I had not previously delved into so deeply before.    I wonder, now, if Dirk Strider and Lord English shall prove to have been even more deeply connected than it has seemed up to this point, once I have reached the end of the Candy Epilogue and thus will be allowed to properly investigate what’s going on at the beginning of Homestuck^2. Final thought:  Hmm. So much of his imagery speaks to him being a sort of twisted version of Kamina (embodiment of masculinity, warrior spirit, noble sacrifice, heroism [not being able to live up to those last two, and lampshading to some extent his frustration at that, in Epilogue Part 7]), but it also vaguely seems to me that he at least sees himself as being like Simon--- this is to say, leading the charge for freedom against the forces of determinism and the chains of repression that would hold back humanity (and/or himself). It’s a very striking thing, especially considering the fact that it is only Simon who takes the fight to space in a fancy ship, once what seems to have been the final villain was defeated and the real threat began to loom on the horizon.  I wonder how this contrast will develop in the future, and how noble his true ideals may in fact be. ~~~ Major Edit:  

What. The heck. How did I not remember this blatant nonsense?    Fricking... darn it.

[vantegcfilms]

GRAVITY

Starring | Taehyung x Reader

AU/Genre | ceo!au, sugarmommy!au, sugarbaby!au, fluff, smut, pwp

Word Count | 3.8k

Synopsis | Being the CEO of a huge company at the young age of twenty-five was a feat in itself. If you’re not careful, you can float away and lose yourself. Luckily you have someone who you gravitate to and they keep you anchored. 

Warnings/Tags | ceo!reader, sugarmommy!reader, sugarbaby!Taehyung, dom!reader, sub!Taehyung, femdom, mommy kink, blindfolds, hand confinement, wax play, toys, handjob, edging, orgasm denial, ass play, prostate milking, cum eating, really bad attempt at smut

A/N | This is my first ever smut so I hope you don’t cringe too much reading it. I’ve also never written with sub or kinky themes before so I hope I haven’t portrayed it wrong.

This chapter was edited on 04/01/19.

Gravity was originally a series but was changed to a oneshot because of the lack of inspiration.

“We just need you to sign at the bottom of this contract and the plan will go into full development.”

You looked through the contract and the dotted line at the bottom, your fountain pen hovered over it. With confidence, you put ink down onto the paper before dating it and closing it with a sharp snap.

“We look forward to working with you in the future, Miss Y/L/N.” The man sat across you stretched out his huge hands to yours, where you met in the middle and gave him a firm shake.

“Thank you for choosing Y/L/N Corporations. We definitely won’t disappoint you.” You let a smile light up your face before getting up from your seat. Your butt was numb from sitting for too long, the discussion dragged longer than you expected. This was it. You had successfully signed a contract with a huge conglomerate for a new hotel development. Being the CEO of a huge, multibusiness conglomerate at the mere age of twenty-five wasn’t easy. There was no chance for you to give any say in the decision that your father made for you when you were in high school. The fact that you were the eldest daughter, in a family with no sons, automatically pushed that responsibility onto you. With the contract signed, both sides were happy about the result. Taking your chance to bring the meeting to an end, which should’ve happened a few hours ago, you patted down your royal blue pencil skirt before exchanging bows to the man across you.

Taking long strides you walked towards the exit of the lounge, heels clicking against the marble floor. “Do I have anything else on my schedule, Secretary Shin?”

“No, that is all for today, Miss Y/L/N.” The voice came from behind you as she followed you to the exit, holding the door for you.

A satisfied smile crept up, hearing the response. “You may go rest now, I’ll drive myself home.”

“Are you sure, Miss Y/L/N? I’ll drive you back.” She stubbornly suggested.

A tired sigh came from you, “I’m sure, go and rest.” You were determined to get back to your penthouse as soon as possible, and that wouldn’t be possible with your secretary around. Sure she was very reliable, however she drove like a snail and was overly cautious, given her older age. Your secretary followed you up to your car before standing there, thinking for a moment. She eventually gave in, given how tired she also was from the meeting.

As soon as you sat down and clicked your seatbelt, you heard your phone go off in your bag. You took it out and the screen lit up.

[17:43] Babyboy: When are you coming back? I miss you sooooo much :(

The text automatically played in your head with his baritone voice, which elicited a joyful smile from your lips. Quickly, you sent a reply to let him know you were on your way back. You knew how needy he was, and it wasn’t fair that you promised him to be back by three but that obviously didn’t happen, Without the chance to lock your phone, three grey dots appeared on the screen.

[17:45] Babyboy: Drive safely! See you soon <3

With a soft sigh, you put your phone back in your bag before starting the engine. It roared loudly to life as you took off, startling some people on the street. If you weren’t the person who you were, you probably wouldn’t be driving so recklessly like a madman. But with money came power, and you definitely abused both to get what you wanted. It wasn’t long until you got back to your place with the speed you were driving at. Although your baby boy had told you to drive safely, you knew what you were doing, after all those high performance driving lessons in Dubai did help. Your apartment complex was soon in sight, a man stood at the pavement waiting. When you got out of your car, you handed your car keys to him, the valet, before heading towards the doors. The building was impressive, a tall skyscraper with lights that shone on it as if it were an artefact in a museum. The doorman of your apartment complex bowed and opened the door as soon as you were in sight, sauntering into the colossal lobby with concierge. The ride in the elevator felt longer than usual, maybe because today was a long day and you were missing your baby boy. As the elevator took it’s time going up to the 62nd floor, which was the top, you remembered events of today at work. The usual greetings from employees, paperwork in your office, a visit to your father’s office for lunch, or rather a small business meeting, and the signing of the contract with Hyundai. It was suffocating, the way you had to behave around businessmen and workers. Your penthouse was a place where you could relax and take off that disgusting facade. In comparison to what the media says about your sophisticated lifestyle, you really would just like to watch trashy TV mindlessly in your pyjamas and binge eat. “Floor 62, the doors are opening.” The elevators cold robotic voice broke you from your thoughts, doors opening to reveal a corridor with only one door. The corridor was decorated with shiny white marble floors, minimalistic pots of plants on the side. You stopped in front of your door, entering the passcode before hearing a series of beeps, the latch unlocking and the door sprung open. The waft of bergamot, acai berries and amber came to your nose as you felt the warmth wrap around you, welcoming you back. Stepping inside, you stopped to take off your Valentino heels, putting them neatly next to a pair of Gucci leather loafers.

“I’m home, Taehyung.” You called out to the spacious penthouse, which was huge and clearly too big for you, it always gave you a sense of loneliness. Walking past the open kitchen which looked like it just came out of a interior catalogue, you reached the living room. What greeted you was the night lights of Seoul through the huge glass windows which were ceiling to floor height. The view here was beautiful, every night you could look out into the city and admire the sight, however you knew there was a better sight in your penthouse. Even though you call this place home, it never felt lived in to you. It always looked like it came out of an interior catalogue,  the interior is minimalistic and expensive to your taste. However that didn’t matter. It was because of who lived here with you in secrecy. He made you feel like you were truly at home.

After not seeing a sign of him, you walked towards the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. It was strangely quiet and Taehyung didn’t reply to you. Usually he would pounce on you as soon as you got home, but he was nowhere to be seen. Guessing that he was in the master bedroom, you walked towards the room whilst sipping on water.

“Welcome home, mommy.” Taehyung greeted you only clad in his boxers on the bed with Baobab candles lit around it. What an expensive babe. One candle would cost £92 already, and he had several. Of course he’d know how to spend your money.

Suddenly the water went down the wrong pipe and you choked, patting your chest violently. Taehyung immediately shot up from where he was sat to rush to your side and help you. Sure you were used to seeing him in his boxers, but you didn’t expect this as soon as you got home. It was like some corny rom-com movie.

“I’m sorry mommy, did I surprise you?” He rubbed your back gently, trying to comfort you.

Looking up to Taehyung’s little pouty face, “It’s okay baby boy, mommy’s okay. I just didn’t expect this when I got home.”, you stroked his cheek with your thumb before putting your bottle on the nightstand.

“You seemed to be having a rough day from your texts, so I thought I would be a good boy and wait for you.”

Awww, could you ever ask for a sweeter angel than him? “You’re such a good boy you know that? Mommy needs to spoil you.”

His eyes lit up with your praise with the mention of spoiling him. He always got so excited when you say you would spoil him, because that either would be buying him expensive gifts or giving him the play time that he wanted. Now, if you didn’t find him that night at the art exhibition, what would he be doing now? Pleased with his reaction, you ran your hands along his biceps before pushing him gently onto the king sized bed.

“Be a good boy and wait for me, okay?”

He nodded back eagerly and sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with intent as you walked towards the open closet, his favourite place. After all, the closet had his treasured collection of design brand clothes you would spoil him with, and not to mention, his toys. You clicked a passcode into the drawer which opened slowly, revealing the daring contents. Blindfolds, restraints, clamps, collars, toys, you had it all. Who would’ve known that the pristine CEO of Lee Corporations would have such items in her closet. Scanning through the vast amount of items you had, you picked up a silk blindfold and ribbon, along with a pink toy. Taking your time, you walked back to the bed with the toys behind your hand, purposely hiding it from the small puppy waiting for you. You saw his nervousness in his eyes and the huge gulp he took. He wasn’t scared or anything, he was just excited and nervous for which toy you would bring out this time. It was always a surprise for him and that made his erection in his boxer harder as it twitched.

“Go sit in the middle of the bed sweetheart.” Your voice came out more eager than you wanted it to sound.

Being the good boy he was, he did as he was told immediately, trembling with excitement and arousal. You dipped your knee onto the bed and got closer to him as you put the toys on the side, which grabbed his attention immediately. He felt a shiver of pleasure up his spine once he laid his eyes on the toys. You took the black silk blindfold and put it over his doe and innocent eyes, his breath hitched as you did. His other senses immediately heightened at the lack of vision.

“Put your hands together towards me baby.” You commanded him as you reached for the silk tie. He followed your instructions, putting his hands together, waiting for you patiently. You wrapped it around his wrists, tightening it, which generated a whimper from him. Beginning to tease him, you traced your long cold fingers against his chest down to his stomach before stopped right above his throbbing cock. He whined at the loss of contact when you let go.

“M-mommy please touch me.” He begged, squirming under you.

God, he was so fucking beautiful like this.

“Shhh baby boy, be good and wait patiently.”

He pursed his lips together, obeying you whilst he waited what seemed like eternity. You got off the bed and reached down to pick up one of the candles before you returned to him.

“Remember your safeword, baby boy?”

“Gucci.”

“Good boy. I’m going to drip the candle wax on you okay? Remember to tell me if you can’t handle it.”

With the thought of the hot sensation that would touch his skin, he shivered with excitement and impatience before nodding eagerly. “Yes mommy.” You took that as a sign and slowly tipped the candle on its side, letting the wax slowly drip. The sudden contact on his abdomen elicited a hiss of pleasure from Taehyung, the wax hardening slightly and taking the appearance of cum. He hadn’t shown any sign of resistance so you continued to drip it as you moved closer to his chest, his breathing became heavier under you. The sounds of him moaning was like music to you, it got you all wet, your panties were starting to stick against your hot core, making it uncomfortable. You rubbed the areas where the wax had landed before you took a plastic card (read: sex store card) from the nightstand to scrape it off. Opening the drawer, you took out a small bottle of olive oil to rub off the remaining residue. Usually people would have that in the kitchen but yours was in your bedroom for this purpose only.

After clearing up the wax, you reached for the cold metal cock ring on the side. When you pulled the waistband of his boxers down, his aching red cock slapped against his stomach. The tip was leaking and swollen with extreme need of relief. You slipped the cold metal cock ring to the base of his aching erection, gaining a muffled hiss. How long was he like this to be in this state? The slight sensation of your hand over the tip already had him whimpering, begging for more. You knew he was trying his best to be patient for you, he wanted to be a good boy and make his mommy proud. Spreading his oozing precum around the tip and down the shaft of his cock to get him ready, he tried to thrust harder into your hold. A frown immediately replaced your pleased expression which had you withdrawing your touch. The sudden loss of your hand made him whine, tears swelling up at the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall on his rosy cheeks.

“No no, that’s a bad boy.” You shook your head, even though he wouldn’t be able to see it. “Mommy told you to wait patiently and look at what you’ve done.”

“P-please mommy! I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it, you just felt so good, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Bad boys don’t deserve to cum, you know that right?”

“Mommy please, I’m really sorry. I’ll be a good boy I promise.”

His submission brought a smirk on your face before you reached for the pink fleshlight on the side. Without warning, you slid it onto his standing cock before giving it a few pumps. “Bad boys also don’t deserve to feel my pussy around them.” He groaned at the sensation and his fists clenched tightly, making his knuckles white. “You don’t deserve to feel the real thing after what you’ve done.” Speeding up and pumping quicker than before, he started squirming under your ministrations. It was a sign that he was close as his breath was getting heavier and moans getting louder. You immediately took the fleshlight off his cock and put it to the side. The abrupt loss of tightness had him suck in a sharp breath.

“Please let me cum mommy, I’m so close.” His voice was unstable and he sounded like a wreck.

“Remember what mommy said, bad boys don’t deserve to cum.”

He was desperate and on edge right now. You reached over to get the lube and you warmed it up in your hands before you reached over to his tight little rim. Gliding your finger over it, you teased him slightly before slowly inserting one finger. It clenched around you tightly as you slowly moved. He moaned at the sensation. “Relax baby boy,” you cooed, inserting a second finger.

Pumping your fingers at a steady pace, you started scissoring him, prepping him ready. Adding more lube along with your third finger, you thrusted him harsher. The sight of him being such a hot mess under your hands had you grinding your legs together, hoping to get some relief from the friction. Wrapping your hands around his twitching cock, you started pumping him, giving him the attention that was needed. With your thumb, you slid it over the tip, smearing the precum down the shaft, using it as lubricant. You arched your skilled fingers at an angle, which reached his prostate, creating a loud groan from him as he clenched around you tightly.

“Since you were such a good boy, mommy will let you cum.”

You mercifully took the cock ring off his length before returning to stroke him quickly as you thrusted at his prostate. He suddenly tensed under your hands, clenching tightly before spurts of hot white cum shot, landing on his stomach and chest.

Scooping up some of his cum, you brought it to his lips and prodded it. “Here’s your reward for being a good boy.” His mouth opened widely to accept your fingers. He swirled his tongue around your digits, licking it all clean.

“T-thank you, mommy.”

You reached behind his sweat-matted hair to take off his blindfold, only to be greeted by his fucked out expression. Following the removal of his blindfolds, you released his arms from the confinement before you kissed his wrists, which were now slightly red from all the movement. Sliding to the end of the bed, you got up.

“Where are you going mommy?” He asked as he looked up to you with puppy eyes.

“The bathroom, I’ll be back in a second sweetheart.”

You came with a warm damp towel, wiping his chest and stomach before dropping it into the laundry basket.

“What about you, mommy? I still haven’t been able to comfort you.” The tone was slightly whiny.

Bringing back his Gucci pyjamas and a new pair of boxers, you placed it down next to him on the bed. “Mommy’s fine today, you can do that next time. I hope you enjoyed play time today.” You kissed him chastely on his cheek before smoothing out his sticky hair from his forehead.

Your neck craned around the corner, hands on the edge of the door. You looked at one last time before walking towards your office. Not bothering to switch the light on, you took a seat in your black leather chair and started up your computer. However, you were distracted and couldn’t get any work done. Who knew you would be a sugar mommy to someone? You certainly didn’t think this would happen when you first met Taehyung.

It was a year ago when you attended an impressionism art exhibition in Seoul. This was something that your mother had told to you attend. However you weren’t interested. You never understood the meaning of art because it was all the same to you. But you sure didn’t regret going when you saw this bright and perky boy who had stars in his eyes as he gazed at the paintings on display. He piqued your interest, which resulted you starting a conversation with a complete stranger.

“What’s so special about this painting that you’re so amazed by it?” You asked the boy, who turned towards you with a confused expression, which turned into a warm smile.

“Art is amazing you know? Every stroke of paint that has been put on this could be a mistake or a correction, since they couldn’t erase things like we can now. Paintings are so different compared to digital work that is so common nowadays. The modern world is such a perfectionist, we erase all mistakes unlike the olden days, where they worked with what they could.” His voice came out deeper than you expected but it was comforting.

This wasn’t something someone his age would say.

“You’re interesting. I like your opinion. Are you an art student?”

“Nope, but I love art. I study Fashion Design at Sungkyunkwan University so I guess it’s similar in a way?”

Your eyebrow arched at his response and you were intrigued by him. “Would you like to have a drink with me? I really like you and I’d like to get to know you better.”

He nodded and then followed you, when you lead him to the VIP bar, much to his surprise.

“So tell me, what are your dreams? To become a fashion designer?” You started the conversation as you sat down on a bar stool, waving the bartender over.

“I guess so. I just can’t stop sketching away when it comes to clothes. The clothes really do make the person.”

“Got any of your work you can show me?” You wanted to see what his beautiful mind would have created.

He pulled out his phone and loaded his digital portfolio before handing it over to you. You glanced through his work and designs. To say that he was an aspiring designer was an underestimation. He would’ve made it really big if he materialised it. The dresses, coats, suits and various accessories that were sketched showed so much potential. If you didn’t know this was a students portfolio, you would’ve mistaken it for a huge brand name out there.

“Why haven’t you started making these clothes yet? They’re amazing and I think you would be successful if you did.” You questioned him with genuine curiosity.

“My parents don’t support the idea of me becoming a fashion designer. They think it’s worthless and not a stable job that will bring in income.” His voice was dejected, like a puppy that wasn’t taken for a walk.

“Ah, so you’re from a conservative family?”

He only nodded back at you as he took his whiskey, neat.

“It seems like you have other troubles, too?”

He stared back at you and hesitated a bit before opening his mouth. “They’ve stopped supporting me financially a few months ago. Not to mention, I’m struggling to keep this whole thing going with my part time job at a studio. It doesn’t pay very much, you see. Well, not enough to pay for the stuff I do.” He stopped and took a sip. “I’m thinking of dropping out and stopping this altogether.”

You frowned at his response. “I think that would be a huge waste on your talent.”

He turned towards you and smiled bitterly. “I think so too, haha.”

“How about I make a proposition?”

He perked up at your question before looking confused.

“I will support you financially until you achieve your dream. How does that sound? Maybe something like an investor?”

He had shock written all over his face before he stuttered. “W-what do you mean support me financially? You’re probably around my age right? Are you joking?”

“Probably. But I’m more financially stable than you think I am.” You stood up from your seat before taking a minimalistic black business card out of your handbag.

“How about you think about this and consider it before you give me a call?” You handed over your card to him.

He looked at it and covered his mouth in shock.

Lee Y/N Lee Corporations CEO 0000 981981

He looked back up and you were already gone.

[everythingblob]

So Paint Me A Picture

I made it my mission to sort through all my whole computer with the purpose of cleaning it out, and I found a bunch of old fics, this is a Vision x reader. It’s incomplete, but its pretty good..

Word count : 2727

Vision X Reader

Y/N didn't mind repainting her room. It was a task she quite anticipated, actually. The combination of menial labor, free artistic reign, and repetitive technique was an exciting prospect, appealing to all of her admittedly scattered interests. Before she could get to work, however, she needed to disarm the many traps she had set with the intention of discouraging intruders. At first, she thought that would be easy. *'Just set them all off at a distance,'* she thought, and that plan of attack worked. At first, anyway. On the second-to-last trap, she made the mistake of backing into the wall behind her. A sudden, metallic snap ripped a startled squeal from her, and her reflexive leap to the side was thwarted by the snare into which she had inadvertently stumbled. It took a second for her to realize her mistake, blaringly obvious in retrospect. She sighed, a strange, entirely unwelcome combination of annoyance, disbelief, and resignation settling over her as she forced her gaze to her lower left arm, which was locked inside of a metal cast.  "Oh, shit!" she groaned loudly. She struggled with the contraption for a moment, but gave up quickly, knowing full well that any attempt to escape this thing without power tools, space-time warping technology, or very heavy firepower was a pointless, futile endeavor. This was her handiwork, and she knew better than anyone else that it wouldn't open without some extreme persuasion. She stood still for a second, mind racing as she tried desperately to come up with a way to free herself without calling for help. The last thing she needed was stories of this incident circulating, or, worse, pictures, videos...   Unfortunately, her brainstorming session left her with little more than a headache and a pre-emptive sense of near crippling embarrassment. *Okay,* Y/N thought, forcing herself to keep some semblance of composure. *I'll just call Robert.* Robert Porter, her carpenter buddy, frequently let her use his tools, (and whatever else she wanted to use). All she had to do was ask. More importantly, he would keep her confidence if she requested. No photographic evidence of this blunder, no mortifying footage to haunt her for the next few decades, no stories that could all too easily translate into mediocre urban legend or ludicrous, over exaggerated myth. Thoroughly enamored with her plan, Y/N reached for her pocket, only to be reminded that she was wearing painting clothes. No pockets. Right. Her phone was God only knew where, and with its unfortunate absence, her stroke of brilliance withered to dust before her eyes. She glanced around the room, frustration now bordering on pure distress. It was empty but for the painting, supplies scattered about, furniture having been cleared entirely in preparation for her long-awaited painting project. Nothing remained that could help her get out of the cast. Y/N wasted a good five seconds cursing herself for not making a button that could release the cast, one that could be activated by anyone unfortunate enough to be trapped in the infernal thing.  *But then again,* she thought, *What would be the point of that? Kind of renders the whole trap... ineffectual.* Could be a hidden button, though, she mused in a characteristic offshoot thought-train. One that only she could find... perhaps in the wall itself? Disguised as an electrical outlet? Light switch? Perhaps behind a painting. *Brilliant, Y/N,* she thought acidly, furious with her own meandering mind. *Can we get back to useful thoughts now? How to solve our CURRENT dilemma? THEN we can worry about making the traps more idiot-proof LATER!*  She managed to work herself up to the point that she was twisting her arm in the trap, grunting with exertion and groaning in pain. The effort yielded no success, but *did*, apparently, make her an attractive target for the fly buzzing around the room. She swatted it away from her face, scowling at it as if it were somehow the source of all her troubles.  "Go... get stuck in some paint!" she shouted lamely, it drifted obliviously to the opposite end of the room. With a dramatic sigh, Y/N began to seriously consider the option of utilizing her comm link. Usually, she wouldn't have it in her ear, but she was trying to get into the habit of wearing it all the time, even when she was painting. Wait a second...  Painting... Suddenly, she remembered a conversation that she'd had with the Vision earlier that week.  "When you decide that you do need my help, paint me a picture," she quoted him aloud, fidgeting at the mere thought of the exchange. She was uncomfortable around Vision, but it had nothing to do with any personality flaws on his part. She wasn't sure what it was, precisely, that made her feel so nervous when he was around. Maybe the fact that he was red.  *Hmm, funny thought. Okay,* she determined, *I'll just buzz anyone except Vision. That way, I won't have to... paint him a picture or, whatever.* She used her right hand to activate her comm link. At first, she didn't hear anything. Then, with a sharp whine, voices streamed from the small device, though, she quickly deduced, none of them belonged to anyone on her team. "Shit." Y/N realized within two seconds that she was tuned into a radio frequency. She sighed, and used the edge of her nail to turn a small knob on the device's top outer edge. The noise stopped, and the high electrical whine intensified for a moment, leaving her wincing in pain. "Hello?" she asked once it faded. "Hello?" She waited a minute and was about to try a different frequency when someone finally answered her call. "Okay, Turner, you need to turn down the input on your device before you blow someone's ear's off." Y/N's eyes narrowed. She would recognize that smug, flatly sarcastic voice anywhere. Barton. "Oh, sorry," she said, accommodating in spite of the fact that she would have preferred a reply from anyone else. Maybe even Vision. "One second." Again, she used the tip of her nail to turn a second minuscule knob, just down and counter-clockwise from the first. "How's that?" Barton's sudden cry of pain told her that she'd turned the knob the wrong way. "Oops," she said, hearing the plain insincerity in her own words. *Oh well. He should know all too well how I feel about him by now anyway.* She turned the knob again, this time in the opposite direction. "Okay, Barton, how about now?" "Thank you," Barton replied, the slightest hint of subdued snarkiness sloppily concealed in his tone. "What do you want?" "Jeez, Barton, no need to be rude. I need your help getting out of... " "... Out of what?" Barton asked after waiting a long moment for her to finish. "Out of... a... a... you know... a... a thing," Y/N stammered, frantically struggling to come up with an alternate explanation for her current predicament. "Yeah, a, uh... a thing. I know about things." Oh God. The sarcasm was crippling. She could picture his expression, and cringed a little. "So, uh..." "See, though," Barton went on, "The thing about things, is they're easier to help people get out of when more things are made clear about the thing." "How many more things?" "More things than just the thing that, 'it's a thing'." Y/N whimpered. "It's embarrassing," she whined, unable to think of a solid excuse for this. Even if she could have come up with a cover story, Barton would sniff out the truth the minute he got to her house to help her. This was so unbelievably mortifying. "So, an embarrassing thing. That narrows it down. Is it a kinky thing? One of, uh, one of those?" "No!" "Oh, it's not a kinky thing?" She swore she could hear him laughing between words. This was getting way too awkward. If they kept on like this, he was going to come up with something worse than the actual thing. Granted, that would be nothing short of a miraculous over achievement of a morbid imagination, but if there was anyone on the planet who could manage something like that, it would be Clint Barton. "Oh, Christ. Stop laughing," she sighed, forcing her voice into a flat deadpan. The less emotion she gave this leech the less painful this would be. "I'm... stuck, in... in my... my own trap." "Your own trap?" "Oh, don't. Would you please, yes I said please, come down to my house and help me out?" ****Desperate to the point that I'm begging *Hawkeye* for help. Oh, how the mighty have fallen,**** Y/N lamented silently. Of course, he couldn't be a pal, for once, and cut her a break. "Well, we're all a bit busy right now, say you hang on for another... oh I don't know, hour or so?" Y/N could hear his smug, playfully sadistic smile over the comm, and she grit her teeth to keep from launching into an expletive-laden tirade. "Clint, don't you dare leave me here like this," she said, taking another swipe at the fly that had renewed its mission to demoralize her. She pretended it was Barton, and aimed a mean right hook for it. The blow missed, of course, and her fist smashed into the wall at her side. Her eyes flew open wide in pain, but she bit her lip and hopped in place to keep from crying out. No way she would let Barton hear a fly getting the better of her. "Oh, we're on a first-name basis now? Because last time I checked, we were still butting heads." This was becoming physically painful. Y/N rubbed her forehead in a vain attempt to alleviate the headache building in her frontal lobe. "Barton, where the hell is the rest of the team?" she demanded. "Well, you're repainting your house, and I'm watching for big black and gray robots at twelve-thirty in the afternoon. I'm not watching out for the rest of the team." "Barton, I hate you," Y/N groaned. "There are like what, six other Avengers, why the hell did you have to answer?" "If you didn't want me to answer then why did you tune into MY secure frequency?" "What? Barton, I'm new, Jeez. I didn't even know that was a thing that existed." "And, now you do. Would you like the, uh, other frequencies? I could tune you in to... Cap. Nat, maybe? No, no, no, no... I got it. Stark. He's your man, yeah." Barton was teasing her, mocking her, ridiculing her situation. With a jolt of abject horror, Y/N realized that she was more or less at Hawkeye's mercy. He wasn't offering her help, he was flaunting the fact that it would be all, ALL too easy for the rest of the team to be clued into her predicament, and then... *Ooh. God. Pack me up, label me screwed and ship me off to Abu Dhabi, express mail,* she thought dismally. "Goodbye Barton." He tried to say something, but she turned the first knob again, cutting him off. She waited for the soft buzzing to stop and when it did, she waited another second, a bit () about who might answer. "Hello?" She said at last. "Turner?" A woman's voice replied in a whisper. She sounded surprised. "Romanoff!" She was happy someone picked up that didn't have anything against her. "Go away, I'm busy!" She was still whispering, and Y/N didn't think messing with Romanoff was a good idea, so she didn't speak again. She repeated the process of turning the small knob again. "Hello?" She said again. Silence. "Hello?" She waited for another moment, but when no one answered she turned the knob. Again. She wondered with dull amusement if she would ask everyone on the team except the Vision, and then in the end, have to talk to him anyway. "Hello?" "Oh, one second. Someone on com's" She heard, but the person wasn't talking to her. It was a man's voice. "Hello?" The word was followed by laughter. The man cleared their throat, and then said again "Hello" "Um, who...who is this" "This is." More laughter. Laughing drunk. Stark, Y/N realized. She had gotten Stark, and he was drunk off his ass. "Never mind" It came out more high pitched than she had intended, and as fast as she could she reached for her ear again. This time though, she didn't turn the knob, she took the device out of her ear. She decided that she'd had enough of the team for the rest of the year. She realized that she was mad. Mad at herself for backing into the wall, mad at Hawkeye for not helping her, mad at Romanoff for working on some case, mad at Tony shit face Stark for being drunk, and mad at vision for...Well, she didn't know what she was mad at Vision for, but she knew she was mad, and he was at the center somewhere. She was done. She took a deep breath and considered every way out. Again. She dropped as far down as she could, so she was sitting. She just sat there, not really thinking about anything, but she was aware of everything, every last little feeling that passed through her, the feeling of her arm falling asleep, and the soft tapping. It took a moment, but she realized that the tapping was coming from the window. Someone was trying to get her attention. Slowly she looked up, half expecting it to be Vision, or worse Hawkeye. It was neither. Excitement crept up on Y/N as she saw who was outside. In the window, was the blurry image of her next door neighbor Regina Dallas. She was a nice person, in her early forty's. She liked to make baked goods, but her house didn't have gas, so when Y/N moved into a house near to hers, she took it as a chance to come over and bake. She was a good cook, and she would keep the kitchen really clean, so Y/N didn't mind her. "Hey!" Regina yelled through the closed window. Y/N gave her a weak wave. "You uh, you need a hand in there?" "Yes. Come on in, you have a key right?" Regina nodded and disappeared from the window. About a minute later Regina entered her room. She looked at Y/N and let out a sigh. This wasn't the first time that Regina had walked in on Y/N doing something weird. The most dangerous thing she ever caught her doing though, was setting of mini explosions in her back yard, to get rid of some large spider's that had taken up residence it didn't end up well, it was a failure in fact, like most other things she did. Really, Regina was a witness to most of her failures. Kind of like a secondhand sister "There's some guy outside looking for you." She said when she came into the room. "Really? Do you know who it is? Is it Robert?" "No, I told him to wait outside, I would see if you were home." "Well, I might as well not be." Y/N gestured to her arm, and Regina nodded." "So, I'm guessing there's no easy way out of that thing right?" "Uh, yeah there is, and it's in my left pants pocket" "Where are your pants?" "I think I left them in the guest bedroom" "You think?" Y/N took a second to remember "Yeah," she nodded  "they're in the guest bedroom" "Okay, I'll be right back. I would tell you to wait here, but your not going anywhere." "Ha, ha, very funny Regina" Regina walked out, but a second later, poked her head back in and said, "I'm gonna tell the guy that your not in right now, okay?" "Yeah sure." Regina left again, and Y/N called after her "Thank you!" She didn't reply. Y/N wondered who the guy outside was. It might have been one of the Avengers, but Y/N doubted it, because Regina would know and go nuts about meeting a real Avenger. When she first met Regina, Y/N didn't peg her as the fan-girl type, but after the battle last week, it was obvious. Regina was a HUGE fan of the Avengers. She was pulled from her thoughts when she heard the front door slam, which made her jump.