𓂁 ☼♒︎ Moodboard 𓇼 MILES FROM HOME 𓇼 Lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı Tides— Blacktop Ver.

on my daily roll of doing this ☝🏻

editing banners for fics that i haven't even started shouldn't be real

soon ig 🤭

BACK TO YOU ⋆ JJK

TEASER ; brief.

˖ ࿐ two souls, one storm to weather—need.

the yearning to turn on the tip of pointed heels, with much urgency, and go back into the same cycle that once made the both of your timbers shiver. resolve crackle.

he, who never wished to serve whatever you craved on a platter.

you, who knew how to bring him back every single time.

back to you.

gguk's ficbook

category : ONESHOT word count : 5k+ [edits yet to be made] starring : drummer!jk, trust fund baby!oc tags/warnings : smut. dry humping [more will be specified in the fic], reader and jungkook are emotionally very wrecked individuals— oc more [lmao she's kind of an ass, but he's not any better], not quite friends with benefits (basically js benefits), oc is a rich spoilt brat who thinks she has the world at her feet. kook's in a band— jimin and hyunjin cameo. it's my drummer!jk fantasies that led to this. so he's a walking warning.

snippet wc : 164

You briefly look around the dingy room with dim lights and concrete walls, unpainted— fit to be a green room.

Fairly enough, it was an embarrassing accident you wouldn’t admit. The yacht was genuinely too sophisticated and you lost your way to the ladies’ room.

Coincidentally enough, you hear your favorite song being played live on the drums from a nearby room titled “Staff Only.” No one could stop you from entering anywhere around on the yacht your dad booked for the big day. 21st birthday bash. And you knew you had everyone wrapped around a pinky.

With him, though? You don’t know.

Don’t know why a look at his face, seconds ago screamed “Not today.” 

His smirk yelling at your senses to keep your power to yourself.

And his unfiltered comment at the beginning? Perfect starter. 

You, nonetheless, took pride in your ability to bring what you craved for, at your fucking feet. Only, this one would take a lot more solo effort.

Consider it done because— goddamn was he a man. Sleeveless tank-top hugging his miniature waist ever so tightly, projecting whatever toned muscle that hid beneath, tattoos twirling around his left arm.

Main course coming right up.

hi diva 😼

hi to you too diva 🤭🤭🤭

(first meme stolen from u)

hii thank you for the tag !! @ggukivrse <3

favourite colour • pink

currently reading • icebreaker— by hannah grace, lady midnight— by cassandra clare

last song • Oysters in My Pocket— Royal Otis

currently craving • pizza (it's been too long 💔)

currently watching • When Life Gives You Tangerines (i'm a bit late </3)

coffee or tea • i highly prefer tea

no pressure tags: @luvismenu @kookiesncreamri @kooverses @redcherrykook

Thank you for tagging me @moontabi & @szonyix6277 🩷🌸🫶

Get to know your moots tag game!

Answer the questions, then tag six people

favorite color ● black & pink🖤🩷

currently reading ● All Choi Seunghyun and Thanos stories from everyone on wattapd and trumblr😍

last song ● LAST DANCE - BIGBANG

currently craving ● SEE T.O.P ON THE TUDUM SHOW FINALLY🌸

currently watching ● Never Have I Ever & squide game season 2 again🤭 (I'm obsessed, sorry...🤣🤭)

coffee or tea ● ice tea🤭

No pressure tags: @arbitrarykiwi @thanosscross @wcnderlnds @nerdydoll-com @angel-writes-here @bettelaboure & others🩷🌸🫶

WAIT i js saw this what i made it to a recs page?? tysm for recommending,, i hope i can serve well when it drops  😌

my obsession for drummer!jk will be forever.

BACK TO YOU ⋆ JJK

TEASER ; brief.

˖ ࿐ two souls, one storm to weather—need.

the yearning to turn on the tip of pointed heels, with much urgency, and go back into the same cycle that once made the both of your timbers shiver. resolve crackle.

he, who never wished to serve whatever you craved on a platter.

you, who knew how to bring him back every single time.

back to you.

gguk's ficbook

category : ONESHOT word count : 5k+ [edits yet to be made] starring : drummer!jk, trust fund baby!oc tags/warnings : smut. dry humping [more will be specified in the fic], reader and jungkook are emotionally very wrecked individuals— oc more [lmao she's kind of an ass, but he's not any better], not quite friends with benefits (basically js benefits), oc is a rich spoilt brat who thinks she has the world at her feet. kook's in a band— jimin and hyunjin cameo. it's my drummer!jk fantasies that led to this. so he's a walking warning.

snippet wc : 164

You briefly look around the dingy room with dim lights and concrete walls, unpainted— fit to be a green room.

Fairly enough, it was an embarrassing accident you wouldn’t admit. The yacht was genuinely too sophisticated and you lost your way to the ladies’ room.

Coincidentally enough, you hear your favorite song being played live on the drums from a nearby room titled “Staff Only.” No one could stop you from entering anywhere around on the yacht your dad booked for the big day. 21st birthday bash. And you knew you had everyone wrapped around a pinky.

With him, though? You don’t know.

Don’t know why a look at his face, seconds ago screamed “Not today.” 

His smirk yelling at your senses to keep your power to yourself.

And his unfiltered comment at the beginning? Perfect starter. 

You, nonetheless, took pride in your ability to bring what you craved for, at your fucking feet. Only, this one would take a lot more solo effort.

Consider it done because— goddamn was he a man. Sleeveless tank-top hugging his miniature waist ever so tightly, projecting whatever toned muscle that hid beneath, tattoos twirling around his left arm.

Main course coming right up.

drummer!jk is doing things to me as i write him (going feral) 😊

we need more drummer!jk as a society.

— Khalil Gibran

Block @joonwater, the person who's harassing authors by accusing them of using chat gpt and cheating. I dont want your this acc flooded with hate too.

i do not want to accuse anyone here without solid proof, but if i ever get such a whiplash of hateful and baseless anons in my inbox, (if you’ve been w me in koofleur you know what happened)— it will be undoubtedly blocked. (as you might know, anons can be blocked without their usernames being revealed).

i will continue to keep my internet space healthy and safe for all, and expect the same in return.

thank you for looking out for my acc though <3

lemme officially be your 1000th note, april.

didnt think i’d get this privilege but oh how tumblr decides to put study break on my feed again !!

study break - part one | jjk

summary. in which you’re all distraction and no remorse, and jungkook keeps coming back for more

pairing: jungkook x f!reader

genre: college au, established relationship, smut (?)

word count: 1.4k

warnings: jk wears glasses (yes that is a warning), oc and jk are both menaces, kissing, making out, allusions to sex

note: this is result of me listening to house of cards on repeat while ovulating. if you guys like it, i might do a part two with proper smut :>

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

Jungkook’s apartment is dimly lit, warm in that comfortable, lived-in way you’ve come to crave more than you probably should. A soft playlist hums from the speaker in the corner, barely louder than the sound of your breathing.

His living room looks the same as always — chaotic in the most him way. Hoodies thrown over chairs, open notebooks stacked beside the couch, a half-empty bag of chips spilling onto the ground.

You’re both on the floor, backs against the couch, knees almost brushing. Your laptop’s abandoned by your side, dark screen catching the glow from the window. His is still open, cursor blinking like it’s mocking your lack of productivity. 

It’s supposed to be a study night. Like the five others you’ve had in the last two weeks.

But Jungkook’s wearing that loose white t-shirt again — the one that clings to his skin just a little when he stretches — and those damn grey sweatpants that should be illegal.

His hair is messy, dark strands falling across his forehead in that careless way that looks intentional even though you know it isn’t. His glasses are slipping down his nose again, and he keeps pushing them up without looking away from the flashcards in his hand.

The sight of him — relaxed, comfortable, stupidly hot — should be background noise by now.

But it isn’t.

Your gaze drops. to his jaw, to the slope of his neck, to the curve of his thigh under those sweatpants, to the way his arm flexes when he flips a card.

And suddenly, studying the notes in front of you feels like the least important thing in the world.

You let out a dramatic sigh, dragging your fingers through your hair and flopping your head back against the couch.

“I’m so bored I might actually combust,” you mumble.

Jungkook barely glances over. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time.”

His mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. he flips another card. “Then stop texting me to come over.”

You roll your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “You could say no.”

He finally looks at you, eyes dark and unreadable behind his glasses. “Have you met you?”

Your stomach flips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says, slow and deliberate, “You say ‘wanna study?’ and I stop thinking about anything else. That’s not normal, by the way.”

You blink. He’s back to looking at his cards like he didn’t just casually say something that made your heart punch your ribs.

You watch him for another beat, then let your hand drift — casual, like it’s nothing — to the edge of his sweatpants. You toy with the drawstring, looping it around your finger. Not pulling, just... touching.

“You’re not really helping me focus, you know,” you say softly.

“Funny,” he says without looking up, “I was about to say the same thing.”

You smile. Not sweet — sharp. “You could kick me out.”

He turns his head slowly, meets your eyes again. There’s a flicker there — of something teasing yet dark. “You think I don’t want to?”

Your breath catches.

But you don’t back down. Instead, you tilt your chin slightly and close the small distance between you, your knees knocking together now. “You never do.”

Jungkook huffs out a laugh — low and breathless — and leans his head back against the couch. His eyes close for a second like he’s trying to pull himself together.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

You shrug one shoulder. “Maybe I do. Maybe I just like seeing how long you’ll last.”

He doesn’t answer right away, just turns his head to face you again. He looks at you in a way that makes your whole body feel too warm. Then, slowly, he shifts. His thigh brushes against yours, firmer this time, and his hand — the one that was holding the flashcards — drops to his lap.

“I’m not made of stone, you know,” he says, voice low.

“No,” you murmur, eyes dropping to his mouth. “You’re not.”

Neither of you move. Not really.

But the space between you shrinks anyway. Electrified. Waiting.

His gaze drops to your mouth. Yours does the same.

“You’re evil,” he mutters.

You smile. “You love it.”

He brings his hand up to cradle your cheek. “I really fucking do,” he says, not even trying to hide it.

His lips meet yours before you can think of a snarky comeback.

Jungkook kisses you like a starved man — like he’s been holding back for too long and now that he’s had a taste, he’s not letting go.

It steals your breath. Literally. Your lungs forget how to work for a moment as your mouth parts for his, the soft slide of his lips over yours turning quickly into something more intense. Hungrier. You can feel the warmth of it spread instantly — through your chest, down your arms, pooling in your stomach.

You don’t think. You just move.

Shifting up onto your knees, you climb into his lap and straddle him with ease, hands coming up to cup his jaw. He makes a soft sound against your mouth as your fingers slide into his hair, nails grazing lightly at the roots. his hands find your waist immediately, fingers squeezing — grounding, claiming, maybe both.

Your hips settle against his, the stretch of fabric between you suddenly way too noticeable. You can feel the tension in his thighs, in the way his fingers flex against your waist, how his chest rises and falls just a little too fast under you.

You tug gently at his hair and he lets out a low sound, something between a gasp and a groan, muffled against your lips. It makes your stomach flip, sharp and electric, heat blooming between your legs.

He kisses you harder.

His hands roam — sliding up your sides, over your ribs, skimming the underside of your shirt. Every touch is deliberate, slow but unrestrained, like he wants to memorise every inch of you with his palms. When his thumbs brush just beneath your bra, you inhale sharply, your lips breaking from his.

You lean back, taking in his form: glasses askew on his face, tilted enough to look ridiculous, your tinted lip gloss smeared across his lips, flushed and shiny from kissing, painting the corners of his mouth like you’d marked him.

Something about the sight makes your heart thud faster.

“Here,” you murmur, breath catching, as you reach up and gently pull the glasses off his face.

He blinks, eyes slightly unfocused, lashes fluttering as he tries to reorient himself — like he forgot where he was the second your lips left his.

You set the glasses aside carefully, then glance back down at him. “Better,” you whisper.

Before he can say anything, you dive back in — mouths colliding again, your fingers back in his hair like you can’t stand to not be touching him. His hands move too, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, spreading warmth across your skin.

His hands settle at your lower back, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel him now — cock hard beneath you, obvious and impossible to ignore. You rock forward slightly, not to tease, not intentionally — just to get closer — and he groans into your mouth again, the sound deep and low.

You bite back a smile, pulling back just enough to look at him again. His cheeks are flushed, lips pink and swollen, eyes heavy-lidded and focused only on you. He looks drunk — drunk on your lips, drunk on your taste, drunk on your touch.

“You’re really bad at studying,” you whisper.

“So are you,” he shoots back, breathless, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

His hands slide up under your shirt before he connects your lips again, fingertips dragging gently along your spine. You shiver, leaning into him, your nose brushing his as you kiss and kiss and kiss until the world feels far away — until the only things that exist are his hands, his mouth, the heat of his body under yours.

And fuck, if this is what procrastination always feels like?

You never want to study again.

→ read part two here

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

a single typo literally has the explosive power of a nuclear bomb like i just read back possibly the most beautiful scene ive ever created feeling so proud of myself ready to start thinking about the nobel prize in literature etc. etc. and then suddenly

“It’s oaky,” he whispered.

it’s oaky. what is this. a wine tasting