Hi Theme Queen :>

I do my best writing when I’m sleep deprived.

Me when the writing inspiration was just a tiny sprinkle and not a massive wave that drowns me in golden glorious inspiration

"I write for my own enjoyment"

And

"I'm happy when people interact with my writing"

Are two sentences that can coexist!

main page loading . . . legend : f - fluff, a- angst, s- smut

 𐙚˙✧˖° ONESHOTS : [ style - short ]

way back home ; in which ceo husband!jk surprises you [f] shades of you ; in which roommate!jk saves you from cops [f,a] reflection ; in which you graduate together [f] learn you ; in which he learns you, in a way no other can. it's the intimacy of being understood. of having fate bring you together, and you hold on for eternity. [f, a, s]

 𐙚˙✧˖° ONESHOTS : [ style - longer ]

back to you ; teaser drummer!jk x rich f!reader [a, f, s] nin's nuances 🍪 | [uarmygguk's fav moments : tbr after the fic if you'd like !]

once again under the mistletoe ; prince!jk x princess!oc [f,a]

 𐙚˙✧˖° SERIES :

please don’t change | genre : written dental surgeon!jk x intern/med student f!reader, fluff, smut (?), angst (trifecta again), situationship au

miles from home | genre : surfer!jk x f!reader [a,f, s]

 𐙚˙✧˖° tags : #gguk's ficbook, #fic: back to you, #nin’s notes 🗒️, #anon ｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ, #nin's nuances 🍪, #fic: please don’t change, #nin’s musings 🌻

sweetheart’s club! send in asks in the link below! letter box ; be kind <3

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— uarmygguk ‘25

NIN's NUANCES 🍪 FIC : BACK TO YOU

spoilers ahead ! read here before scrolling further !

“Says the one who’s owning that little wooden chair with his name on it like a throne.” — OC

“Too bad, I do own my name. My own name. It’s my only throne.” — Jungkook

note : here, i wanted to bring in an imagery of how Jungkook build his life set on a stone of pure passion, while he sort of hints at how OC is solely living based off of the name her family has upheld since generations.

____

Forget the back and forth and fall face first into the waters from a height to test your limits, when all you loved and have ever experienced was a cozy, elevating and classy cold plunge. — OC's inner monologue

note: i tried to bring in her conflicting feelings about the encounter with Jungkook and the normal (sort of monotonous) experiences she's used to.

____

the strawberry shortcake

note: it's a kind of inner joke (?) not a joke cuz poor kook gets offended on how she had picked on that ONE part of their earlier conversation and how she understood his weakness aka SEOM (and bandmates) and played accordingly. i wanted to portray her selfishness there.

but, he still finds a way to use it on her.

and that, is Jungkook here. he knows how to bring a situation to his own advantage and stand up for himself.

____

“You played it for me, Jungkook.”

“What?”

“Thank you.”

note: as mentioned, Jungkook is just PURELY absolutely proud of his band, UNTIL he understands that OC knows about the deal with her dad, after which he just succumbs basically lmao.

however, i wanted to highlight that's not the ONLY reason he agreed.

he has never been thanked. it was always relentless work, and as much as it's a simple word, i personally think it goes a long way for someone who has worked AS hard as him in this story.

____

the one month deal

js a mask for these idiots who are down bad.

____

the man-bun

lemme js say, i found it hot. periodt.

apart from that, i wanted to show how she kind of domesticated (?) the whole situation (accidentally) which kinda made his soft strings snap (which he regrets as quickly too.)

Jungkook plops down on the couch, hands slowly untying the man bun that knotted his hair tightly, ruffling the now free curls, raking his palms slowly through them.

this is where Jungkook realises he mistook her actions.

____

end note : ik most of these things are quite obvious and could be picked up, but i was bored and you can also consider this as my favorite parts of back to you hehehe

if there's anything else you'd like to ask feel free to do so, or comment ! mwah

<3

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request status : open ! 𖦹 rules here

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 :>

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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

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glitches can't stop a diva 💫

university is like a video game. you can pick up sidequests. Youre gonna neglect the main storyline. youre gonna end up in a guild of sorts. i just looted a bush on campus and found a sticker

so bored (i have a ton of things to do and cannot afford to be)