NO ONE, BUT YOU ⋆ 전정국

THE NEIGH AT THE BEGINNING TOOK ME OUT 😭😭😭

a song i’ll totally pull up to the function with 🐎 LMFAOO

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

"I write for my own enjoyment"

And

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

Are two sentences that can coexist!

”and what the hell were we?

tell me we weren’t just friends

this doesn’t make much sense”

— mutual help by @personasintro

would you guys like to read some old lil drabbles of mine (edited ofc cuz my way of writing has changed over the years) while i work on the upcoming fics?

this is my first time ever doing a poll lmfao

requests are also open if u wanna send me some ;)

why tf did i js make an entire crack au rn 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

this shit wild

hmm i kinda like making smaus ngl

feeling like redoing the entire theme of my acc— a constant dilemma 💔

JSJSJS IM EXCITED TOOO

surfer!jk is my next obsession 🤓

. . . . 'Cause people believe that they're gonna get away for the summer . . . .

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼

⎙ He was the still wave among the chaotic ripping tides— one that anchored youduring that unforgettable visit to your grandma's beach house— now on the verge of being sold.

Loaded with the responsibilities and emotions of spending the last week in Jeju, — will the new relationships and memories turn into something more, or will they just turn into bittersweet echoes of that one summer miles away from home.

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼

pairing, surfer!jungkook x f!reader tags/warnings, reader has had strict parents and this is her first time experiencing something alone— fully under her control, he is a surfer and owns a little shop for tourists who wants to explore the beach, a whole summer-beach house-fling kind of setting, fluff, smut, angst— the unavoidable trifecta, the characters do have some base-level lore too, longfic. note, this is the ultimate result of me listening to like a set of 4 songs ON REPEAT like it was a necessity, linking a playlist soon below, this is going to come out only on may but i couldn't wait to share a snippet of this scene i was working on literally at 2 am in the morning because i couldn't sleep. yeah call me productive.

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼

teaser wc: 482

The waves ripple, gently caressing your bare feet, like a timid reminder about what you’re about to get yourself into on a random Saturday morning.

It does not feel all that haphazard though— seeing Jungkook knelt down in front, waxing the surfboard— the coconutty whiff of its scent soothes your senses for at least a moment before going full-on panic mode again.

“I don’t think today’s weather’s the best one for surfing, Matty you agree right?” you caress Matilda’s velvety muzzle as she barked in glee, jumping around the sand.

“She fully disagrees, c’mere” He looks up from the board, patting his upper thigh as you tilt your head in confusion.

“You need some feet gear, I’ll help.” He casually offers as if this happened on a daily— the way it rolled off his tongue so easily as he ran a hand behind his suit to dust it off of extra sand.

Nothing about this situation was routinely.

It was astounding how, in this very beach your grandma once adored so much, you were about to take leaps of faith and courage, experiencing completely new things way out of your comfort zone.

Jungkook crouches down, palms holding your bare feet now about to be clad in literal surfing gear, as he helps you into them with practiced ease.

“All set?” He comes up, a light smile spread across his face, taking a double look at your figure wrapped in the wetsuit rented from his own small beachside shop.

“Yeah, I’m literally about to set records— just me and my little surfboard.” Even the tiniest attempts to lighten the knot in your stomach and breath caught too hard in the middle of your throat, were in vain.

“Sure, set as many as you want, but I’ll deserve partial credit.” He catches a hold of your shoulder, maneuvering towards the board.

“What if I say you get full credit? Can I go back home? Matty might be hungry.” You fret in his arms, but he holds you still.

“Woah what happened to the bravery from minutes ago?” Jungkook’s hands come round your waist and all that you feel are the points of contact between your skin even through the thick material of the suits. He anchors you forth, steadying the surfboard under your feet.

“I’ve given you enough dryland training and you said you swim? You’re fine, __.” 

“But Matty-”

“She’s with Tae, I’m here with you. Let’s go?” Those words did calm you down more than you’d admit.

The humidity gets to your face quickly, gathering up a bright sheen on your skin.

No, you’re not sweating, obviously not.

It definitely has nothing to do with the vast expanse of waters laying free, welcoming you in with a warning. Fear. 

The initial inhibition was gnawing at your insides.

However, you feel his secure stance behind, and that was finally convincing enough for you to take the next step.

“I’m ready, Jungkook.”

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ about me

✩ scorpio ♏︎ + sag ♐︎ cusp. infp-t. 21/11.

✩ bias : all of em, guys it's so hard to choose between 7 fine ass, talented men uGGH.

✩ favs : writing, editing, music, dance, singing & playing the guitar, tea, chocolate ice cream my love, reading, lip gloss, bangtan (duh), learning new languages, lazing around (lmfao), travelling, working out (i try ok), graphics art and aesthetics, studying, my blog and sweethearts, moots, making playlists and acts of service as love languages <3, the color pink, cinamoroll and sanrio in general, blindboxes, cute stationery + clothes.

✩ musicians (apart from tannies) : the marias, lana del ray, radiohead, JENNIE, ateez, doja cat, ariana grande, kendrick lamar, sza, tyler the creator, wave to earth, laufey, daniel caesar, the neighbourhood, billie eilish, chase atlantic, madison beer, tyla, doechii (i could go on w this for ages...)

✩ listens : "next door"— Amelia Moore & ASTN, “Oysters in my pocket”— Royal Otis, "dandelion"— ariana grande, "Seoul City"— JENNIE, "Mona Lisa"— j-hope, "Butterflies"— Tyla, "Champagne Supernova”— Oasis, "Violet"— Daniel Caesar, “DtMF” — Bad Bunny.

✩ songs to play on the guitar : those eyes (new west), lacy (olivia rodrigo), twin (jennie), best part (daniel caesar) and more!

✩ dislikes : antis, solos, hateful words & baseless backlash, avocados, nuts, hot coffee (cold coffee is fine, ok guys pls don't come at me for this JHHJHA), carbonated drinks (any may it be i absolutely despise), salty asf food (i have this huge sweet tooth if u couldn't tell).

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