When I Say I Aspire To Be Kim Taehyung , I Mean This Level Of Confidence, Unbotheredness And Zero Fucks

When I say I aspire to be Kim Taehyung , I mean this level of confidence, unbotheredness and zero fucks given out of pockets.

Only self love , care for people who care about you and suave all the way .

TaeTae on Vlive ♡

bonus: 

Baby cow aafhdjhfhkff

hate when men have big beautiful brown eyes like a baby cow . shut the fuck up

we’re so proud of you and we’ll support all 7 of you always ♡

lost in the lights, m | pjm

pairing(s): jimin x reader

summary: Sometimes it is better to feel alive. Park Jimin doesn't want to be in love. He just wants to feel like he is in love, in the dream instead of at a loss. It's going to be a good night.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; complex emotions of two not-lovers having sex; smut (fem reader, slight D/s, choking, handjob, edging, dirty talk, m-receiving oral, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - friends-with-benefits; Jimin's POV

yup, inspired by 'like crazy' by jimin

--

A longing sigh.

“I wish someone would fall in love with me.”

A bored response.

“Lots of people will fall in love with you. If you let them.”

He turned his head. Her fingers encircled his jaw, not yet touching. Hard gaze, but honest.

“You won’t fall in love with me.”

One of her eyebrows raised.

“Is that really on me?”

It wasn’t. He sighed again, not so longing this time. Dreamy, falling.

“You touch me like you’re in love with me.”

Her fingertips hovered, then finally settled, stroking his hair down to his ear. He shivered, closing his eyes. Pretending a little.

“You must love someone very much,” he murmured, feeling her thumb graze over his lower lip, sending shivers all over his body. “When you touch me, you probably imagine I’m them.” He didn’t mind. He was glad for it. The feeling was real, even if the source wasn’t him.

“I don’t love anyone, Jimin,” she replied flatly, continuing to touch him like she loved him. Her other hand was on his shoulder now, caressing.

Park Jimin opened his eyes a little.

It didn’t matter much, in this low light and room covered in shadows.

He looked up at her, and she looked back, unafraid, close to his face already. The memory of her familiar kiss lingered on his lips even though it hadn’t happened yet. Tonight, anyway. She stopped, letting him have the moment. She knew how to read him. Was it only him or lots of people? Jimin liked to pretend it was just him, even though the answer was probably the opposite.

She whispered gently, warm breath on his lips.

“No one will fall in love with you as long as you’re in my bed.”

He didn’t bother to hide his emotions. He wasn’t good at it, and he didn’t want to.

“That’s okay,” he whispered back and he meant it.

There was a little bit of pity in her gaze, some I-don’t-care, and a pensiveness he had been trying to avoid. She was astute. But, then again, he didn’t come here to hide. He came to be discovered.

And to be numb.

“Someone out there is dying to love you,” she murmured, dancing kisses on the edges of his lips, making his breath hitch and his body tremble. “But you don’t want to love them, do you?”

Not right now, no.

He wondered if she was being truthful about what she said before, because her kiss was a whirlwind of tension and lust, so instant that he felt it all over. Inside, in sudden boiling blood. Outside, all over his skin in a wave of goosebumps, his hand twitching and reaching up, gripping her hip and his lids fluttering, roughly thrust into a dream that felt real.

So real.

It helped that she was unbuttoning his shirt with fervor, dragging a nail down his sternum, making him moan at the prickling sensation. This kind of thing was delicate. If it was half-hearted, it felt dishonest. Dirty. Unfulfilling. But it never was when it was with her. She understood. She accepted, him and his flaws. That was a strange feeling. He almost hoped that she would fall in love with him, but he knew that she wouldn’t because there was no chance of him feeling the same way.

He would have, a long time ago, if he could.

She deserved it, putting up with him all the time and taking away his loneliness.

Her fingers tangled in his hair. Pulled his head back roughly, and then it was hot tongue on his throat, dripping saliva. Possessive. Pressing her lips to his pulse and he felt his heart beating, thud-thud-thud, his body aching for more, lips and teeth andthen it was hands gripping his waist, fingernails digging into his back.

Moving up.

She traced his spine, outlining his moon tattoos.

Didn’t have to look.

Memorized the details of his body.

That touched him somehow. Almost made him cry as she kissed his chest, the tears stinging the edges of his vision, but he pushed them away, letting himself feel the touches instead. Soft. Delicate. Insistent, with unmistakable power, and he lost himself in it, in the flashes of light behind his closed eyelids, his own shaking gasps ringing in his ears.

She chuckled darkly, amused at his submissiveness.

“Ah, so it’s like that tonight?”

She could read him so well.

He wondered why she kept giving this to him. She didn’t have to. Could pretend to be a shitty lay and he would never come back. She didn’t have to sink her nails into his shoulder blades and leave lines of pain, causing him to groan wantonly and then cut off his air in deep, hungry kisses, tongue invading his mouth, pinning his torso to hers, hard nipples rubbing against his chest that was still tingling from her kisses. She didn’t have to, but she did, and he wondered why.

She gave it to him, this spotlight, and let him thrive.

Jimin found it as mysterious as it was beautiful.

He loved this noncommittal light, and he felt he should be ashamed about it, but he wasn’t, especially when she rocked her clothed mound into his erection, soft thighs squeezing him. Maybe this was all he could handle. Maybe he wasn’t ready for the real thing. Maybe the last time he loved had burned him harder than he thought.

Maybe he just wanted to feel the feeling of what it was like to be loved.

The roughness softened, her sweet breath drifting into his throat. A fingertip tracing the crescent moon at the nape of his neck, other hand on his cheek. Lips-to-lips, lust drunk.

It wasn’t him, but it felt like it was him when she touched him.

He clutched her sheets, whimpering, and her eyes opened with his, just a little, letting their gazes connect. No lies here. He melted in the heat within those dark orbs, shadowed by lashes.

She must love someone very much.

Or did.

She broke the kiss.

The moment hovered, weighing down the seconds.

“Jimin, you’re beautiful.”

He felt his cheeks warm, and she smirked, amused at his reaction. Wasn’t so much the words as it was the way she said it. Genuine and with desire. Why couldn’t this be like every other time where he was delusional and loved someone just because they cared about him? Why couldn’t he mistake sex for love and spin himself a fairytale with rose-tinted glasses? Life truly was cruel and unfair for showing him love he couldn’t have and making him aware that he didn’t reciprocate.

Emotions on ice.

The corner of her lips ticked higher.

Her head tilted, her lovely hair cascading over her shoulder.

“Stay with me,” she breathed, pushing him down on the bed.

He inhaled sharply as her hand wrapped around his neck and the other slid under the elastic waistband, fingertips gliding across taut skin, moaning as her grip tightened simultaneously. So calm below, slow strokes and restricted by his boxer briefs. Piercing above, choking him while she watched his face with a small, fond smile, as if she wasn’t cruelly edging him while making him lightheaded.

It was unbearable so he yanked his underwear down, cheeks burning, then whining as her hand fully gripped his hard length, rubbing her thumb at the base of the leaking head, smearing pre-cum as she jacked him off.

Didn’t even look down.

Kept watching his face as his back arched, hips bucking, his breathless moans stinging the ceiling.

He asked her once to date him. She flat-out rejected him. To his surprise, he hadn’t been disappointed. Or, rather, he was disappointed that he wasn’t disappointed. She had elaborated without him asking. I’m not an idiot. You have no intention of loving me. You just want to be in love. And she wasn’t wrong. He knew. She knew that he knew. She had smiled at him, in that knowing way of hers, and he admitted that he just didn’t want to be alone.

Okay.

Almost. So close, building up the tension in tight, encompassing strokes, on the edge of true orgasm, and he was begging between thin breath, strong fingertips pressing into the sides of his neck, lightheadedness taking away his eloquence, pleas melding with moans. Couldn’t cum unless it was faster. Steady, thrumming pleasure mixing with the high of erotic asphyxiation but not enough. She tilted her head, indicating that she heard, but still smiling so tenderly, torturing him with kindness and he pressed the crown of his head to the pillows, half-insane from this edging.

You won’t be alone when you’re with me.

“You wanna cum?” she purred, sugary sweet. “All over your legs? How dirty. But you want me to see how dirty you are, don’t you, Jimin?”

Just a little faster, just a little bit more force, and he was losing it, in her words and in his head, heat pooling, core tightening, gasping, couldn’t talk, couldn’t cry out, holding his breath, choking out please, please, I c-can’t.

Her smile became a little smirk, eyes glittering like lights.

“Yeah, you can. Here, I’ll even let you.”

High so high, fuck, she was so good, why was she so good at handjobs, his eyes rolling back, wildfire racing in his veins, delicious friction burning him alive, his lips parting, somewhere between a gurgle and a moan, mind blank, vision flashing white like cameras going off all around him, and he was there, white-hot, knuckles straining from gripping the sheets, hips buckling and feeling his release in waves, hot strings splattering onto the inside of his thighs, dripping down her hand and onto his balls, probably pooling onto the sheets, the strong, heavy scent of cum piercing his inhale, gasping as she let him go.

The rush.

Thundering, immediate, alarming, sending another wave of electric ecstasy that punched the air out of his lungs. He moaned, weak and lightheaded, body collapsing onto the mattress as the tension snapped, sweat breaking out, his hair all over his face. Lines of black clouding his hazy vision, and then he felt it, wet tongue on skin, trickling pleasure stinging his veins.

He looked down.

She was staring at him, grinning, licking the cum off his tense, hard thighs. Graceful hands poised on his hips. Framing them like art. One of them had wet knuckles. Clean of his orgasm, glossy with remaining saliva.

Her name slipping from his lips.

She circled her tongue around his semi-hard cock, quirking an eyebrow.

“P… Please…”

He lost himself in the lights in her eyes.

So bright and so warm.

She smiled and it made his heart flutter, but not in the right way.

“Let me have a taste.”

She swallowed him and the bad feelings disappeared, flattened by hot and heavy lust that suddenly blanketed over it all. Wet, tight, all around, powerful tongue curling along the length and he swelled at the touch, along for the ride and the high, gasping as her grip on him tightened, hands holding down his hips, soft lips gliding against hardness, and it was hard to remember what the ache in his heart was about, just couldn’t remember amongst all this dreamlike bliss, delicious pressure around the base of the swollen, twitching head of his throbbing cock, so good, feels so g-good, was that him, it sounded so far away and so needy, looking down and those glimmering eyes smiled at him in the low light, the head hitting the back of her throat.

He saw stars, moaning as he clawed at the sheets.

Her hand slid up, running her nails along his tense abs, causing him to squirm and whine, intoxicated by the juxtaposition of sensation. Pain alighting the pleasure, lost in her eyes, out of his mind, blindly following this pace. Again and again filling that tight, wet hole, her throat constricting him, and there was a kind of desperation in the lights within her eyes, a want so strong it bled into him, that carnal craving needing to be satisfied.

Her eyes slipped closed, focused on getting him off.

He closed his eyes too.

Dreaming.

He could feel it.

Almost.

And then it spilled out with a choked groan, his eyes snapping open and his hips involuntarily thrusting up, shooting streams of thick cum down that tight throat. She pressed her lips to the base, swallowing sharply, glaring at him, but all he could do was whimper and flinch, sensitivity rippling through the high and amplifying it, oh fuck, the masochistic shame inflaming his core.

She grabbed his hips and shoved them back down, sucking hard.

He couldn’t say out loud how fucking good it felt, but his wet, lewd moan was enough, his hand finding the back of her head and pushing it down, torturing himself more. That tongue obliged, wrapping around him, rubbing the oversensitive head into the roof of her mouth, just like that, y-yes, don’t stop, p-please, sparks flitting up his bones, this ride reaching new heights, wanting it, needing it, craving it like crazy.

The moment suspended.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Her hand on his hip.

Fingertips resting on his lower ribs, her body between his open legs.

Falling.

He

almost

believed.

Her hand flexed, ready to rise, nearly shattering it all.

His free hand shot down and pinned her touch to him, forcing them to stay in this dream.

Those hands embraced him.

He didn’t tell anyone about these nights. No one would understand. They would tell him he was foolish, that it was pointless, that he needed to be saved, but he didn’t want to be saved, there was a point, and if he was a fool then he was a happy fool, slipping into sweet bliss while others in his position were devoured by their tears. Wasting time. No, not him.

She cradled his head with her graceful fingers and kissed him, deeply, forcing him to taste himself.

He did so greedily.

No one understood.

Those hands crowned his jaw, turning him into royalty, appointed by passion.

She understood.

Those eyes full of stars even in the shadows of their faces and Jimin lost himself in the lights.

He understood that she knew love at such a deep level that even he, not the intended recipient, was moved. It made him jealous and appreciative at the same time. Hungry, too, wanting to feel it more, more.

His hands framed her back, staring into her eyes as they kissed, hazy and drunk on a feeling.

She smiled into his lips.

“You’re not alone when you’re with me.”

No, he wasn’t but he wasn’t all there either.

He smiled back.

“Tonight’s a good night.”

Before their bodies joined, he reached down, dipping his fingers into the viscous honey. Tasting it. Moaned despite himself, closing his eyes, the sweet-sour taste spreading over his tongue. The condom wrapper fell from his hand, torn open and empty now. Thighs against his chest, sinking his fingers into the softness, sinking in. Whispering curses under his breath, fuck, so tight but so slick, easy but feeling the pulse of those slick walls as clearly as he felt his own heartbeat. Gasping. She chuckled but he ignored it, running his fingers up and down her legs. Memorizing the shape, the feel, the realness of it all.

Tension in those muscles.

“Jimin.”

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

She was smiling at him, so fondly, and pushing her breasts together, squeezing her hard nipples between her fingers.

He sucked in a breath.

“Stop.”

He didn’t want her to stop, not really, but his cock was throbbing dangerously and her pussy was clenching around him, hugging all around. A warm wet sleeve, complete with a borderline aggravating smirk.

“Make me.”

This was part of the dream too.

He gritted his teeth and leaned down, palms flat on the mattress.

“I will,” he breathed, airy and sharp.

Normally he would be a little kinder, a little more forgiving, but here he was not his normal self. Here he was unafraid and strong and driven by desire, hard, rough, putting all of his power into it. He watched the pleasure ripple over her features, lashes fluttering, needing a beat to catch her breath. Still stubbornly toying with her breasts and creating those teasing mewls, driving him a little more insane, so he kept it steady. Deliberate, strong thrusts, ruthless in the slowness. Building it. Her hands slipped, reaching back to clutch the pillows. Not playing anymore, just lost in the rhythm with him, hips matching hips, and he hit deeper, crotch sticky with sweetness. Bodies vibrating from the sensations, not just smacking hips but also in roaring blood, in airless lungs, in flashing lights under closed eyelids, nerves electric, muscles tense, moans melding. Rise and fall, rise and fall.

The high nearing.

Faster, chasing it together.

Sex clinging to their skin, and he could smell it, pungent and heady.

He had to bite his lip to hold back. Grind his molars and make it last, had to make the last forever, prolonging this beat between bodies, delaying the end, spinning, so good, breathless, wispy purr, that’s it, give it to me, give me your all, and he was losing this battle, wet, tight, hot, his head falling back.

Couldn’t take it anymore.

Exhale.

All at once, a rush and a crash, thrusting deeply and having the breath knocked out of his lungs, succumbing to the swarm of pleasure with every twitch and jerk, spilling into the condom, reckless, but he was relived to hear her breathing catch and feel the spasms close in around him. Hips rocking, thin moan under him, and Jimin opened his eyes to her back arched, fistfuls of pillows between white knuckles, head pushed back so far that all he could see was a mess of hair and an open mouth.

His name drifting out, like smoke swirling around him in a dimly lit nightclub.

He closed his eyes.

“Jimin…”

He almost believed that maybe he could let someone fall in love with him, if only to hear his name said out loud like that, with such fondness. Maybe. A dream almost real.

Almost.

Maybe he just needed to hear it one more time.

ah. alone again. what’s the point?

--

masterpost

No thoughts head empty (only jungkook)🥲🥰.

Rarely I come across fics which are like clear , streaming flow of emotions yet which are built in their own twisted tendrils of situations and complex characters. @ahundredtimesover is a proven great writer but for some reason I keep coming back to this story. Read the last part today and I seriously don't know how the two distinct loses of love were incorporated so beautifully in here. Suffices to say I cried 🥲🥲. Love you bestie , pls keep writing ❤️💜❤️💜❤️

The Love After (Series Masterlist) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex!Yoongi x Reader

Genre/Tags: werewolf au; beta!jungkook x human!reader; angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut

Series Warnings: minor character death, grief and loss, depression, thoughts of one’s own death, animal attack, descriptions of wounds and injuries, heart attack, talk of death, almost fire, use of sex to cope, marking, sexual content (first times; fingering, breast play, oral (f receiving), handjob, unprotected sex) (18+)

Word count: 63,220 (main story)

Status: Completed

Mini-Series summary: Every werewolf has a fate, interpreted by Amma and guided by the Moon. In this world, there are 2 Supreme Fates fully determined by Her - serve in the Wolf Warrior Clan or find your True Mate. You and Jungkook have neither. You both lost the loves of your lives to live out their Supreme Fates and it’s why you both hold resentment towards the mating system. Until the Ceremony happens and you and Jungkook are fated to each other, connected only by heartbreak, pain, and the long lost belief that you could ever love again.

Main story

Part 01 (wc: 21.4)

Part 02 (wc: 16.3k)

Part 03 (wc: 25.5k)

Drabbles

01: You gotta hold on for me, please || Jungkook finds you in danger

02: I know you’re stronger now but maybe a little warning next time? || You go through your first transformation

03: You’re gonna be a mom || Jungkook comes home to a surprise

04: You’re making more noise than she is and you’re not even the one giving birth || You and Jungkook welcome the little ones

05: My fingers are tucked underneath their chins and they won’t let go || You and Jungkook savor your daughters’ first year

Ooooooooooooofffffffff I just love this feeling. Spectacular series , read it in one go and I crave more somehow 💜💜💜💜🥺🥺🥺🥺.

four seven eight

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 12k

glimpse: you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you.

alternatively, jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

[ part one + intermission + part two + intermission 02 + finale ]

[ major angst (pls take a break when necessary!!), no cheating happens here btw, some rlly cute moments i swear, jk’s a cold lover, emotional constipation + breakdowns, allusions to anxiety + anxiety attacks, self-deprication n loathing, miscommunication, based on the moral dilemma of whether or not it’s okay to be friends with ur ex, eventual redemption in the next parts :) ]

notes: it’s finally out and i can’t wait for you to read!! this piece is my baby, the rightful successor to heartburn <3 i’m aware that the last time i wrote a mini-series it was rlly heavy, but please trust me when i say that this would be lighter <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :) | series masterlist

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