wave— your weekly anonymous psychoanalysis on cute boys with broad shoulders and pretty girls in tiny skirts. make sure to not miss any updates from campus’ favorite emotionally invasive blog!
jeon jungkook is a notorious lady pleaser with a weak spot for pretty girls with big vocabularies. so when he unexpectedly meets you, a journalism major who happens to be the prettiest girl he has ever seen, he terribly, miserably folds.
PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x journalist!reader
GENRE: college au, fluff, smut, angst
WC: 12.5k (for part 1)
WARNINGS/DETAILS: fem!reader, ie major!jk, secret identity reader, jk thinks she’s soo pretty :( forced proximity?, reader’s kinda selfish sometimes, jk’s so horny the entire time, jk briefly kisses another girl, very cheesy college vibes, jealousy, alcohol consumption, smut wise: titty sucking, he hits it from the back, cowgirl, fingering, big d jk always
NOTES: okay you see, i write everything with the entirety of my heart and soul but this one carries details that are a bit too special to me compared to anything i’ve shared with you before. of course it’s just another silly little fanfiction but i got a bit absorbed into the characters and world building. also it feels like i’ve been working on this for ages so i wanted to share it in two parts bcs i was gonna lose my mind if i didn’t post at least parts of it soon enough. i hope you guys feel and enjoy this the same way i did while writing <3
𑣲 banner by 𑣲 divider by
There's a specific kind of loneliness that exists exclusively in university boys who project their fear of intimacy onto women and ruin their perceptions of love solely to keep their fragile egos away from slipping through their fingertips and breaking down like blades of glass.
Not because they're incapable of being loved. I'd say the situation is quite the opposite, actually. People like them are usually loved too loudly, too quickly. They become socially unavoidable before they become emotionally available— having mastered the art of making people feel personally seen while remaining uniquely difficult to access in return.
And maybe, that's where the actual problem begins.
Charm is easier to preform than vulnerability, attention is more addicting when you've never experienced a form of raw intimacy, and a real conversation probably feels worse than a pair of red, glossy lips.
Every generation repackages the same socially gifted boy with commitment issues and calls him different names, swearing this one is different than the last.
But surprise, it's not.
This year's version just happens to wear leather jackets and lip rings to nine a.m lectures while also somehow possessing actual analytical skills in addition to social ones— perhaps the most alarming thing about Jeon Jungkook is that he isn't a business major.
Because boys like Jeon Jungkook learn early that if they remain entertaining enough, nobody will notice how carefully they avoid stillness; as though silence might physically harm them. Does an engineering major make him interesting? Maybe. But does it fuel his hedonistic lifestyle? Not exactly.
The bass is thudding loud enough to make the kitchen cabinets tremble with every beat, pulsing through the frat house in uneven waves that settle through your body like a second heartbeat. Alcohol that's cheap enough to poison you on an empty stomach spills over sticky counter tops, and the room reeks with the smell of warm beer mixed with something disgustingly similar to your ex boyfriend's cologne— you're going to throw up.
But you don't. Because, well, you can't.
So you keep holding a cup of cranberry vodka in your hand despite accommodating a strong dislike for the drink, you keep your smile warm and flirty even though deeply missing the comfort of your bed and wanting nothing more than to rewatch Mamma Mia for the third time this month. And you keep bobbing your head along to the music even though you swear any house beat without proper lyrics would be enough to kill a fly.
You keep your chin high and your posture straight because you need this. You need something tangible. A reaction, anything capable of sitting inside your palm until you can carry it home and pour into words later. Because you've already wasted at least three hours of your precious friday night here and you are not leaving unless you find something worth pocketing.
Luckily for you, said Jeon Jungkook is standing at the center of it all.
His back is pressed against the kitchen counter as a girl keeps on kissing him as if the birth and death of her universe lies somewhere between his lips. Her fists are tangled in the collar of his leather jacket, tugging his body closer and closer into her smaller frame like distance is completely unnecessary, like she needs his body to melt and mold with hers to embody the entirety of proximity itself.
A familiar voice shouts his name from the living room, but Jungkook doesn't budge until someone else reaches over to steal the drink straight out of his hand, laughing into her mouth unapologetically.
He pulls away just enough to see whoever it is that's calling him, hands firming up on the girl's waist to stabilize himself. "Give me thirty seconds!" He shouts back casually.
The response is immediate. "You said that twenty minutes ago!"
"Then clearly I'm busy."
The girl in front of him rolls her eyes, hands loosening on his collar before dropping down to his chest. "You're an asshole."
"Mhm, you think?" He asks with a smirk playing on his lips, looking down at her.
"Do you ever take a break or is your case of over sexuality a medical condition?" Mingyu complains, drinking the beer he has just taken from Jungkook's hand as their shoulders bump into each other.
Jungkook finally pulls away fully, shifting closer to Mingyu. "You're obsessed with me."
Mingyu scoffs. "Unfortunate for Seoul's female population."
"Guys," Yugyeom interrupts, looking up from his phone with a sudden delight on his face, as if the light from his phone's screen has traveled and bloomed again behind his pupils. "Wave posted."
The reaction arrives in less than a second, because Wave had long stopped being just another anonymous campus blog sometime during sophomore year. It became something students enthusiastically refreshed during lectures, sent feverish screenshots to group chats at ungodly hours. Because everyone somehow grew to love Wave— until they became the subject of it.
Jungkook closes his eyes briefly, sparing a fraction of a second to recollect the exasperation in his heartbeat, inhaling slowly. "I swear if this psychopath wrote about me again—"
Yugyeom's grin widens. "Bad news, superstar."
"For fuck's sake." Jungkook mutters, snatching the phone away from Yugyeom's hand while Mingyu's laugh echos loudly from besides.
The familiar layout of wave flashes straight into his eyes, light blue and dreamy and so fucking pretty for a blog this cruel. Well, cruel would be an exaggeration, if you weren't Jeon Jungkook.
"Oh my god." Mingyu gasps. "Second paragraph is crazy."
"Crazy accurate." Jaehyun corrects, reaching over Jungkook's shoulder to keep reading.
"This person needs psychiatric help." He says flatly.
"Mhm." Jaehyun hums, taking a sip of his drink. "You say that because you secretly agree with everything."
Okay, you see, that's the problem with Wave.
The issue had never really been the concept itself, because Wave has always been undeniably good. Jungkook can survive a day or two of public embarrassment. God knows he has spent the last two years of university building an almost concerning amount of immunity to people's uncalled opinions. The problem is that whoever it is that's sitting behind that stupid light blue website is unsettlingly gifted at noticing things they absolutely shouldn't. The tiny, quiet things people lock somewhere safe beneath their hearts and reveal only when they trust someone with their lives.
It suffocates him sometimes, not that he'd ever say it like that.
"I'd rather die than agree with this hypocrite." He says instead.
Jaehyun nods dismissively. "Right."
The girl beside Jungkook leans over his shoulder, eyes laced with curiosity. "Wait, keep reading."
"Use your damn phone." He shuts her off immediately, handing the phone back to Yugyeom.
Yugyeom grabs his phone in one hand while he shakes Jungkook's shoulder dramatically with the other. "Did you do something to this writer we don't know of?"
"Why are you acting like i personally asked to be publicly humiliated?"
Mingyu shrugs. "Because you clearly enjoy it a little.
"I actually don't." Jungkook argues.
Majority of the people around him dissolve slowly, disappearing into the crowd to find their own group of friends to gossip on the article that just got posted, leaving Jungkook with his own group of friends who unfortunately do not make up the IQ of a normal person even when merged together.
"Hey," Jungkook says like he suddenly remembered something so crucial, angling his body towards Jaehyun. "Have you seen Mark?"
Jaehyun's brows pull together. "Thought he was coming later."
"He texted me like an hour ago."
"Your secret little rendezvous?" Yugyeom asks knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows.
Jungkook scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes. "Shut the fuck up."
Mingyu gasps dramatically. "You're cheating on us with the music major?"
"None of you are funny." Jungkook says, shaking his head once before letting his gaze drift around the kitchen while Mingyu and Yugyeom start arguing about something else entirely.
Then he spots you.
Oh.
Jungkook knows you. Okay, he doesn't exactly know you, but he knows of you. Through Mark, through Yugyeom, through this and through that but never truly by heart.
You, with a face carefully designed by gods, standing there mindlessly as if you aren't the textbook definition of beauty itself. You, who'd without a doubt get his cock rock solid in mere seconds by rolling your eyes and laughing at how dumb he is. You, who'd pretend to not be fazed by him while very obviously blessing him with flirty smiles and inviting eyes.
You would be…mildly inconvenient for him.
"Why are you staring at her like that?" Jaehyun asks from besides him.
Jungkook tears his eyes away immediately. "You're seeing things."
Mingyu laughs loudly, chiming in a beat later. "You literally are."
"Shut up."
"You don't even know her like that." Yugyeom adds, grinning.
"I know enough."
Jaehyun lifts his brows accusingly. "That is?"
Jungkook opens his mouth, but closes it again in no time. Because somehow saying prettiest girl on campus who'd drop him to his knees by casually using words he has to mentally spell twice feels a little excessive for a girl he's never had a proper conversation with in his life.
"Mark's friends with her, right?" He asks instead.
Jaehyun nods slowly, a little suspicious. "Yeah."
"Cool." Jungkook replies. And before any of his friends can say another word, he's pushing himself away from the counter and walking towards you.
Mingyu gasps dramatically behind him. "Oh my god, he's approaching."
"Act natural!" Yugyeom shouts over the music.
Jungkook scoffs in exasperation, but he doesn't turn around, walking towards you as he flips them off by waving a hand behind.
You notice him coming over almost immediately. Because Jeon Jungkook isn't exactly one to go unnoticed by many, and that sadly seems to cover you too. There is something annoyingly conspicuous about him, visible even in places that are so crowded you lose your friend within the bare minute of getting there.
Maybe it's the broad shoulders, maybe it's the tattoos and the lip rings that usually wink at you before even he gets the chance to, or maybe it's the fact that everybody seems to orbit around him with a push and pull so heavy it feels like he's the center of gravity itself.
It's probably the shoulders.
Miyeon, your gorgeous best friend, notices him too as his steps get closer and closer to where you are standing. Her lips twitch knowingly around the rim of her cup. "Well," She murmurs into her drink. "This should be interesting."
Jungkook stops right in front of you before you can reply to your friend. "Hey." He greets easily. And annoyingly enough, his voice sounds exactly the way the rest of him looks.
You tilt your head slightly, half empty cup swaying between your fingers. "Hey yourself."
Jungkook blinks once before letting out a breathy laugh. "Oh, this is already going badly for me."
Miyeon snorts into her drink, but you quickly nudge her arm before she says something she shouldn't. "I'm looking for Mark." Jungkook continues, gaze shifting back towards you. "Have you seen him?"
"You're looking for Mark?" You repeat, cocking a brow.
And for some reason, Jungkook's smile widens. "We were supposed to meet."
The answer catches you a little off-guard. Not because Jungkook knowing Mark is strange. It's not, everybody knows Mark. But because there is something in the way he says it. He's saying it seriously, with intention. Like whatever they're meeting about actually matters to him and that's not something you can coherently place somewhere solid in your head.
"You sound committed to that." You say before you can stop yourself.
Jungkook squints his eyes. "I can commit to things."
You take a sip of your drink, taking your time with the action as your brows raise with something laced with accusation. "You sure?"
Jungkook's eyes widen just slightly as Miyeon turns away, trying to hide her laughter. But she cackles anyway. "That's crazy." He says, a loose grin forming on his face. "You know absolutely nothing about me."
"You don't exactly strike me as somebody mysterious."
"Yeah?" He breathes. "What do i strike you as?"
You roll your eyes, poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. And whatever that happens in Jungkook's chest— it's deeply unfortunate.
This is exactly his type, horrifically so. Pretty has never been an issue for Jungkook, he has been surrounded with pretty all his life. Pretty and mean, on the other hand, is apparently where the problem in his pants begin.
But before either of you can continue, Jungkook's name is yelled from across the room. "There you are!" Mingyu shouts, throwing an arm around Jungkook's shoulders after he makes his way towards you. "Some girl is throwing up on Jaehyun's shoes because you disappeared."
Jungkook closes eyes briefly, inhaling a long breath. "See? What's commitment if not that?"
You laugh despite yourself, loud and real and so fucking pretty Jungkook thinks he might've forgotten how to breathe properly.
"I'll tell Mark you were looking for him." You say.
"Appreciate it." He says before stepping backward towards the kitchen, then pauses suddenly. "By the way," He starts, causing you to raise a brow. "You're prettier than your articles sound."
Your expression freezes for a beat, lips parted and head still tilted. A lazy smirk dances on Jungkook's features before disappearing back into the crowd behind Mingyu, leaving you standing there with your drink still halfway raised.
Miyeon slowly turns towards you. "What the fuck was that about?"
Your eyes linger on the hallway Jungkook disappeared into, gaze floating like you've just wandered into an ocean with no trace of the start and end. Because no, you don't have an idea on whatever the fuck that was either.
Your phone buzzes before your thoughts can swallow you up any further.
namjoon: still awake?
Your eyes flick between the small digital clock on the corner and the text in the middle of your screen before your fingers move over the keyboard.
you: i'm at yugyeom's party
namjoon: you posted during a frat party?
You roll your eyes even though he can't see you, though you're sure he feels it behind the screen.
you: it was queued
namjoon: ah
namjoon: coffee at mine?
namjoon: you can sleep over
You lift your head at something Miyeon says, nodding your head without really listening to what she's talking about. You tuck your bottom lip into your teeth, weighting your options before deciding to give in.
you: wow, the honor
you: on my way
The city feels different after midnight.
Maybe not quieter, because noise never really dies down on friday nights. People like to laugh, dance, live. Because modern time doesn't really allow love anymore. Because people spare friday nights for themselves and keep it tucked somewhere they know it belongs. Because people yearn to belong and time doesn't like to stretch and bend around desire. It just moves.
The city feels softer, as if somebody reached over and mellowed the space so that everyone could find a place for themselves. At least, that's exactly the way you feel when your uber drops you off outside of Namjoon's apartment building twenty minutes after you leave Yugyeom's place. The clock is ticking past two in the morning, and by the time you make your way upstairs, your feet are aching and your social battery has officially ran out.
When the door opens, Namjoon greets you with that same old warmth you've had memorized for nearly four years— almost the entirety of your college years. He gives you a hug before disappearing back into the hallway, informing you of how the coffee is almost done.
His place is dim except for the kitchen, where a warm light spills in and drapes over the entire apartment in a yellow hue. It always smells the same here. Not in a weird way, not at all. Just very…specific. It smells like books that have already been read at least twice and expensive coffee beans that are too niche for you to have any understanding of— because to the normal person, they all just taste the same.
Definitely not to Namjoon.
You slip your heels off by the door, following him into the kitchen after dropping your purse somewhere on the couch. "Do you want to lose all the sleep left in your system?" You ask, gaze dragging over the empty coffee mugs on the counter.
Namjoon stands in the kitchen with his back turned to you, dressed comfortably in some gray sweatpants and a dark colored hoodie. His glasses sit low on his nose, hair falling onto his forehead in messy strands. "I'm writing something." He says, a soft smile forming on his face as he pours in the hot liquid carefully. "How was the party?"
You climb onto the counter, plopping your body onto the marble as your legs dangle above the height. You unashamedly stare at him for a moment, taking in the sweats and the glasses and the fact that he somehow still looks put together despite the hour. Because Namjoon looks a little unfair like this— annoyingly intelligent and completely at home.
"It was loud."
Namjoon hums, handing you the mug. "The alcohol was terrible, i spent the whole night trying to keep Miyeon away from Yugyeom, and someone cried in the bathroom after throwing up on the floor."
"Sounds typical to me."
You take a sip of the coffee, then groan immediately because it's still too hot to drink, before setting it down with exaggerated annoyance dancing on your face. You trail behind him into the living room, pulling your legs beneath yourself as you sink into the couch while he settles right next to you with his laptop balanced over one knee.
"You're actually writing." You say, eyeing him over the rim of your mug.
"I told you." Namjoon says, giving you a brief glance before he turns his attention back onto the screen.
Your eyes absentmindedly drift towards the screen of his laptop, floating over the margins that are filled with notes, sections that are highlighted, pages filled with comments and edits that are all very Namjoon. And for a second, for the entirety of a thousand milliseconds that feel way longer than it actually is, your own laptop sitting abandoned inside the void of your apartment suddenly feels eccentrically heavier.
"My advisor hates me."
Namjoon doesn't look up. "Did he say that?"
You sink lower into the couch, sipping your coffee slowly without forgetting to blow onto it. You can not burn your mouth again, not a chance. "No, but he looked disappointed."
Namjoon sighs. "I know it sucks and you want to strangle him to the depths of death, but he just has high expectations from you."
You groan dramatically. "It's so annoying."
Namjoon hums, nodding along as his eyes scan through the screen. "How's the thesis going?"
That's when you gift him the pleasure of absolute silence. Because unfortunately, deeply unfortunately, somewhere along the way, your thesis and Wave started bleeding a little too much into each other and now everything feels way too personal and disgustingly intimate.
Not entirely, of course. Wave is still just a tool for you to learn and observe without tracing everything back to yourself. But lately, it has started to feel a little less objective and a little more on the edge.
You didn't lose the hang of it, not really. You're still the same girl writing with the same devotion for the same purpose. Just…there has been small slips here and there, noticeable only to people who know you well enough to search for them.
You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. "It's progressing."
Namjoon's eyes drift towards you, and your gaze lifts until it catches his own in the air. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask when he stares at you for a second too long.
"You don't sound too truthful."
You scoff, then roll your eyes before grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it in his face. But being the man he is, Namjoon catches it without looking. Damn him.
"You write about Jungkook a lot." He says suddenly.
You shrug. "He's easy material."
"You've written about him four times by now."
You pause, squinting your eyes as every piece of writing you've ever published in the last two years flashes through your eyes. Because there is no fucking way you've written about that tattooed excuse of sex on legs for four entire times. "Four?"
"Four." He repeats.
You drop your shoulders in defeat. "You're very unlikeable tonight."
"I'm just providing you with my opinions." He says, typing while speaking. "You can't ask for help if you aren't going to take my advice."
You pull your knees closer against your chest. "I don't ask for your opinions."
"You called me crying over an econ elective last year."
You sit up immediately, placing the mug onto the coffee table. "Okay, first of all, it wasn't entirely like that—"
"I distinctly remember you saying, and i quote, what do i do now, Joon, my future is over." He states dramatically, voice disgustingly sweet and high pitched as he mocks you.
You stare at him, frozen and absolutely horrified. "I was vulnerable."
Namjoon hums, and you let yourself fall backwards dramatically against the couch cushions, throwing an arm over your face as if that's enough to physically protect yourself from embarrassment and humiliation.
It doesn't, of course. Because nothing ever really preserves you from embarrassment when it's Kim Namjoon you're talking about.
A comfortable silence settles into the living room, allowing you drown yourself inside the small indicators of life around you. You can hear his keyboard clicking softly as he keeps working on something you have no idea about, the occasional scratch of the ceramic mug against the wood table, the faint jazz pieces playing from the speakers hidden somewhere further inside the apartment. And just as you were about to part your lips and make a comment on how his furniture is so outdated, he beats you to it.
"Oh."
Your arm slowly lowers from your face, eyes squinting and peaking above it. "What?"
"Are you still helping Mark with that project?"
Oh yourself.
Everything in you physically stills, slowly and painfully, like dread is begging to be felt properly until your bones ache and sizzle with the weight of it. Because you— catastrophically, miserably, terribly; had forgotten all about it. Not in a small, oops, i should probably text him back way either. No, you had forgotten in a way that bordered on a severe case of friendship betrayal and negligence.
You close your eyes, inhaling a long breath. "Hypothetically speaking…"
You did, and of course he notices. Because if Kim Namjoon has spent four years studying journalism, he has spent six studying you.
Namjoon had become one of those people that had entered your life quietly yet stayed just as loudly, making himself impossible to imagine a life without in absolutely no time. Just like wine or Wave or the concerning amount of mediocre sex you've been having since your last boyfriend.
You had met him during the first few weeks of your freshman year when he was already a junior and head editor of the university journal. Back then, he existed in your head less as a person and more as a terrifying academic urban legend you'd never admit looking up to. But you didn't have to admit it out loud, because even the older students spoke about him with an obnoxious amount of respect.
You hated him.
But obviously, that didn't last long. As you kept sharing nights filled with stories, words and worlds no one knew existed besides the two of you, he started to matter. He'd remembered your exam dates, bought you coffee during finals, edited your essays at three in the morning. He'd answer your phone calls involving emotional breakdowns over electives and boys and broken sink pipes, then solve whatever crisis you were having in little to no time.
So naturally, somewhere along the way, your editor had turned into an older brother and became annoyingly good at reading you— so much that you're sure he keeps a version of you that's all bare and vulnerable somewhere hidden in his furthest drawers.
Because he knows you. Good enough to notice the tiny moments where Wave feels a little too personal. To notice the way that sometimes, your thesis blurs into the rest of your life and you get caught up in the gravity of it all, so much that the project you'd promised to help with weeks ago somehow slips away from your mind despite Mark being one of your dearest friends.
Because Namjoon doesn't forget, and Mark will definitely kill you if you don't show up at his studio with breakfast and two cups coffee by tomorrow morning.
Musicians who are brave enough to lay their souls open between rhymes and harmonies have always felt intimate.
Music is vulnerable, always has been. Everyone knows that. But there is something utterly naked and personal beyond the in reach vulnerability of it all.
It's the little things.
The version of them that existed on a random Tuesday in October, the argument they never really recovered from yet still shaped them into whoever they are today. The person they almost loved, the one they did love…They leave pieces of themselves behind between late nights and early mornings, and it never matters whether it's accidental or not. Because everything they touch transitions into something that carries their traces and that's enough to feel their souls on top of your own.
And, i think, that truly sums up Mark Lee as a person.
Because Mark has always felt like someone composed of the little things. He'd attach songs to memories you won't realize matters until months later, respond to texts even if it wakes him up from his sweetest dreams. He'd turn feelings into poems and records then archive them in anything that's permanent.
In college, people tend to think popularity belongs to the loudest person in the room. But despite being loved through the depths of the ocean until the very end of Milky Way, Mark Lee has never really been loud.
Just unforgettable.
Three days later, you find yourself standing outside of Mark's studio with two iced coffees in one hand and a kind of resentment that's loud yet entirely unserious in the other. Because Mark has spent the last forty eight hours guilt tripping you through frantic phone calls and dramatic text messages. And you, for some reason, can not for the life of you bring yourself accept the fact that you've forgotten your promise and properly apologize.
At least you got the coffees.
You push the studio door open without knocking, because Mark has never once respected your privacy and therefore doesn't exactly deserve it in return. As the door falls unleashed and sunlight spills until it drapes over you in a golden glow, there are a few things you expect. A Justin Bieber song Justin Bieber himself has probably forgotten about, unfinished coffees and half empty beer bottles scattered around the room, maybe even his ex girlfriend lounging somewhere in the corner because you're almost entirely certain Mark would slip straight back into her heart if she ever left it even slightly open.
But Jeon Jungkook is not one of them.
He's sitting besides the mixing desk, leaned back comfortably in his chair wearing a black hoodie with headphones hanging around his neck, one leg bouncing lazily beneath the table while he scrolls through something on his phone.
He looks up from the screen when the weight of your presence becomes impossible to ignore. He blinks once, twice, then smiles.
Shit, he has dimples.
"Well," Jungkook says slowly, leaning back further into the chair as he drags his eyes over you. "This just got better than i expected."
Your reply comes immediately. "No."
Jungkook blinks, eyes widening just slightly. "I…didn't even say anything."
"You thought of it."
He cocks a brow. "Thought of what?"
You roll your eyes, dropping your purse onto the table before leaning your hip against it. "You know what." You say, and he silently stares at you for a second longer before the corner of his mouth starts twitching.
This doesn't make sense. Not at all.
Because certain people feel attached to certain places long before they step into them. Mark belongs in studios and beneath the stars and somewhere right in the middle of your heart. Namjoon belongs beneath the warmth of yellow kitchen lights and homes that silence everything else until it's quieter than the rest of the world. Miyeon belongs anywhere between flowers and pretty cafes that somehow never match up to her beauty.
And Jungkook…Jungkook belongs beneath flashing lights that paint his features in colors that would look good on nobody but him. He belongs in crowded spaces and with girls who lean in a little too close whenever he speaks. He belongs anywhere loud and alive.
Just not here. Because music feels too intimate for him somehow.
"You know." He says after a moment, still smiling. "I thought there was a chance i imagined you."
You let out a low chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest after placing the coffees onto the table. "That's a little dramatic."
"I'm being dead serious."
"Well, you approached me." You say, tilting your head slightly, letting your eyes drift over him before they return back to his face. "And you don't seem to have that strong of an imagination."
"You're mean."
You groan playfully, leaning your hip against the armrest of his chair. "That's so not true."
A small smirk plays out on his lips. "Good thing i like my girls with a little attitude."
Pardon? Your girls?
"You're being very brave today."
Jungkook stares at you for a second, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in a way that's not rude, just playful enough to carry traces of something cocky beneath it. He lets the silence melt and sit right in the middle of your bodies for a beat too long, then speaks.
"You're flirting with me right now."
Your head snaps towards him immediately, and you almost choke on your own saliva. Not because you're shocked. How can you be when he has built a whole persona on candied words and pretty girls and an ego that's definitely bigger than what's between his legs. It's because he says it so easily, and you hate that.
So no, absolutely not. You, flirting with Jungkook? No way in hell.
You narrow your eyes. "No, I'm not."
"Mhm." He hums, swinging left and right in his seat with a growing grin on his face.
Okay, no. That's enough. You're not doing this any longer. You don't want Jeon fucking Jungkook to think he has a chance at having you naked and open and wide on his stupid iron man mattress. You don't want to demonstrate the size of his cock with your hands when Miyeon asks on girls night, and you most definitely don't want Mark walking in on you bickering like two horny teenagers with the self control of fucking rabbits in heat.
So you change the subject.
"You sing?" Brilliant.
And peculiarly, his smile softens a little at your question. Not drastically, not enough for the entire room to shift and bend around him until it's his breath only you're drowning inside. But it's enough. Enough for you to notice the way something gentler briefly peeks through before hiding again. And you, for some reason, find yourself reaching over and folding it carefully to hide somewhere safe amongst all the other precious details people accidentally leave behind. Somewhere only you carry the map of and know how to find again.
Jungkook glances up. "Sometimes."
Sometimes.
It's funny how he says it, like it matters too much that his tongue can not carry the weight of it, so he just shrugs it off like it's anything. Sometimes, he says. As if Mark would ever involve someone who does it just whenever. As if Mark would ever reach for something that's sitting right in middle of his soul and hand out a piece of it to just anyone.
"You look judgemental." He adds.
You shrug. "I'm just surprised."
Jungkook's eyebrows lift at your answer, like he knows there is another thought sitting beneath it, quietly waiting for the permission to exit. But before he can get the chance to ask about it further, the studio door suddenly swings open.
Mark walks into the room with an amount of rush that should be concerning for this time of the morning. His hair is messy, bag is tucked beneath his arm and an iced americano is trying to balance clumsily between his fingers as he tries finding a place to squeeze himself in.
"Okay, first of all. Traffic should be considered the worse case of masochism the human kind has done to itself." Mark rambles, barely waiting for the door to close behind him before speaking, words tumbling out of his mouth in consecutive complaints.
"And you," He kicks the door shut with his foot before continuing, pointing a finger at you. "After forty eight hours of emotional neglect, show up with iced lattes? I don't drink lattes. That's for pussies who don't understand coffee."
You roll your eyes. "I do something nice and you still complain."
"You completely forgot me and brought coffee out of guilt."
You pause, looking down at the table before speaking again. "It's still coffee."
Jungkook laughs quietly besides you before Mark cuts in again. "Okay, so basically," He breathes, gesturing around the room. "This is my senior project, the one I told you about three weeks ago and you forgot because you apparently don't care about me anymore. It's a short film of my album with a narrative concept." He turns to Jungkook. "He's singing."
Your eyes drift around in silence, taking in the headphones and the sheets filled with lyrics and the fucking sometimes he threw at you as if it meant nothing.
"And you," Mark angles his body towards you. "Are helping with the writing."
"Mark," You argue, because what can you possibly be writing? Music? You don't do music. You write people, you write anything between stories and analysis but not music.
"Don't Mark me right now. You agreed to this weeks ago." He says as he rolls his eyes, chugging down his coffee. "The story. You're writing the narrative and the emotional structure, obviously."
Oh. Right.
Because of course Mark wouldn't just make music. No, he has always been incapable of touching one art form without dragging five others to it. Because Mark Lee is a man of passion and he won't do anything without making it entirely his.
"Apparently you said music without context feels lonely to Yoongi's trap arrangement last week." Jungkook says without really looking at you, swinging mindlessly in his chair.
Your head snaps towards him. "How do you know that?"
Jungkook blinks once, like he hadn't expected to say that out loud yet did anyway. His eyes flicker between you and Mark before he collects himself back together and shrugs casually. "Mark talks about you."
That's…annoyingly sweet of him.
"You talk about me?" You coo with a voice disgustingly candied, head tilted as you reach for Mark's arm.
"Oh my god." Mark groans dramatically, but he doesn't pull his arm away. "No, because Jungkook, don't let her fool you. She acts all nice and sweet then suddenly you're buying her food and driving her to places."
You open your mouth immediately, ready to defend yourself. You turn towards Jungkook, response already on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spilled— only to stop.
Because Jungkook is already looking at you. Not in a weird way, not in the way boys usually look at pretty girls when they think nobody is noticing. Just…gentle. His smile is still there, only now it has grown and molded into something smaller. The kind that doesn't really ask for attention, the kind that simply stays there because it wants to. His eyes feel softer too, like's he's really listening, sitting through the spaces of your presence until he feels it permanently engraved into his mind.
It feels a little precarious.
And perhaps the most annoying thing about Jungkook is that the disappointment never really arrives.
Because eventually, the conversation shifts and folds itself until time starts passing in a kind of haziness where it melts into something thinner. Mark disappears into one of his passionate spirals regarding symbolism and the basics of music theory and you somehow find a way to contribute just as passionately despite not exactly having the qualifications to do so.
That's normal. That doesn't surprise you, it has happened enough times to not be the slightest of a deal. But Jungkook, Jungkook surprises you.
Maybe not dramatically, maybe not in ways worth writing Wave articles about. It's the little things, tiny things that somehow fill in the entire space and make their way into the dearest corners of your heart.
Like how he listens with his entire body, the way he turns towards whoever it is that's speaking and stays there, like he genuinely thinks people deserve to be heard all the way through. The way he never interrupts Mark despite the fact that Mark tends to over explain things as if he himself personally invented art and human emotion. The way he nods along quietly, asks questions at exactly the right moments without ever interjecting anyone and reaches over to hand you your drink when you start looking for it.
And somewhere in the middle of the complexity of it all, Jungkook sings.
Mark points towards the recording booth in the middle of his nth rant today, and Jungkook pushes himself up from the couch besides you with a small sigh before disappearing behind the glass doors of the booth. And for some reason, your eyes follow him through each passing second, because simply standing behind a microphone with overhead headphones should not look this different on somebody.
Because suddenly, he's stripped out of everything you've subconsciously built for him. And for some stupid, sick, twisted reason, Jungkook looks ridiculously hot like this.
He adjusts the headphones over his ears before leaning towards the microphone slightly, eyes lowering as Mark presses something on the screen.
His voice happens a beat of two after the music starts, and it happens big. Like waves crashing into rocks, like starts falling down the sky, like spring melting into summer and summer clashing against fall.
It's stupid.
He's not bad, god, you wish he was bad. No, not at all. Because Jungkook sings exactly the way the listens. Softly, fully, like he throws himself into it before realizing he's doing it. Like somewhere in the middle of every rhyme and every note and every breath, there are pieces of him patiently waiting to be discovered.
You understand why Mark chose him.
Jungkook drops beside you onto the couch with a tired groan after Mark decides he's poured enough of his soul for today, and you find your eyes grazing over him as he scrolls through something on his phone.
"You're staring." Jungkook says, not even looking up from his phone.
You blink. Fuck. "Excuse me?"
He hums, lips twitching beyond his control. "Mhm."
You angle your body a little more towards him. "I literally wasn't."
He nods, still not looking at you, but he's still smiling.
You stare at his profile for a little longer as Mark works over the keyboard in silence, then find the words escaping your mouth before you can hold them in. "You sound different when you sing." You say quietly.
Jungkook stills a little. Just a tiny, little falter that happens in his body. His eyes lift slowly from the screen, then catch yours before speaking. "Different?" He asks.
You shrug immediately, trying to fold the conversation into something drastically more casual. "Just less annoying."
You roll your eyes immediately. "Don't let it get to your head."
"You know," He says after letting a beat pass, and you turn your head back towards him. "You say very mean things for someone who can't seem to stop staring."
Your brows lift in offense. "I do not stare."
He blinks. "You do."
You scoff. "You're delusional."
Jungkook hums softly. "Earlier, when Mark was talking—"
You don't let him speak. At least, you try. "No."
"And then when i was recording—"
"Jeon."
He's fully smiling now, like he's getting the most ridiculous amount enjoyment he possibly can get from this. You stare at him in silence, lips parted and expression faltered. Jungkook stares right back at you, that stupid smile never really leaving from his lips. And for some sick and twisted reason, your stomach does a tiny little flip that irritates you through the entirety of your skin and bones.
Then, as if god has finally acknowledged the depths of your suffering, Mark cuts in exactly at the right time. "Oh my god." He gasps.
Jungkook blinks from next to you, gaze drifting onto him. "What?"
Mark doesn't respond for a moment, and that's deeply concerning for a man who'd speak even at the verge of death.
You slowly sit up. "Mark?"
His frozen state continues for a beat longer before he suddenly springs up from his chair. "No no no."
"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks as his brows pull together, leaning onto his knees.
"I," Mark starts, looking down at his feet before he slowly, dreadfully searches for your eyes. "I'm late."
Jungkook scrunches his nose. "You're late for what?"
Your eyes widen when the realization slowly stretches then breaks through you. "Oh my god." You breathe dramatically.
"Stop saying oh my god!" Jungkook snaps, thoroughly lost.
Mark closes his eyes, taking in a long, guilty breath. "I'm supposed to be meeting up with Yerin."
Jungkook's phone falls onto the couch. "You're meeting your ex?"
"You're late to meeting your ex." You correct. "And you're wearing that?"
Mark looks down, eyes taking in the gray sweatpants and the black hoodie he has worn so much it's practically another color now. "Oh my god."
He quickly gathers up his belongings, then slings his bag over his shoulder before making his way to the door. He's able to take approximately three steps before he suddenly stops, and slowly, very slowly, turns to you.
"Can i take your car?"
You blink a few times before responding. "Absolutely not."
"Please," He begs, bending above his knees with impatience. "Please, I'll do anything. Imagine if she thinks i stood her up. She's going to leave me for good this time and I'll be left to crumble and die in my own sorrow."
After two or five separate sequences of long inhales and deep consideration, you give in. "If you scratch it, I'll kill you."
He runs over to you fast. "Thank you, thank you. Oh my god, i love you."
"Okay, okay. Stop." Before you even get the chance to return his hug, he's already grabbing your keys and shoving it into his bag. Jungkook stares from besides you silently until the very last second of Mark's departure, then bursts into laughter the moment the door closes shut.
"Stop."
"I'm trying." Jungkook says between fractions of laughter.
You sigh. "No you're not."
"I'm literally trying my hardest."
Liar.
Because now, he's laughing properly and somehow it's the prettiest thing you've heard all week, minus his singing— which is a whole another problem of its own— and you feel yourself physically falter at the sound of it.
You stare at him for a minute longer before eventually drifting your eyes towards the studio doors instead. It's irritating how you're now painfully aware of everything else all over again. Spring air brushing softly against your skin through the window, the distant sound of laughter and conversation somewhere across campus, the way Jungkook is seated close enough that if you shift half an inch closer your shoulders would probably brush.
"So," Jungkook has finally, and thankfully, stopped laughing. Though the smile is still sitting there loosely. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys, swinging them around his finger. "Guess I'm driving you home."
You were about to mindlessly give into defeat when suddenly, you remember one, tiny little detail.
Jungkook doesn't have a car.
You breathe slowly. "You ride that stupid motorcycle."
His brows lift immediately. "That stupid motorcycle?"
Your lips part, then close again when he cuts you off, lips twitching cockily. "You remember."
You scoff loudly. "You spent like twenty minutes talking about it."
"Mhm."
"And your personality is unfortunately very loud."
"Mhm." He hums, tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans as he mindlessly collects his things. "You remember." He repeats with a growing grin.
"Stop saying that." You complain, following him behind through the door.
And ten minutes later, you hate yourself.
Genuinely.
Because now, you're standing outside beneath spring air and bright streetlights while Jungkook straddles his motorcycle like this isn't singlehandedly the worst thing that has ever happened to you.
Because suddenly you're surrounded by things you've never considered before. Like leather jackets and silver rings and tattooed biceps you want to suffocate and die inside.
You don't tell him that, of course.
He glances at you over his shoulder before slipping on his helmet. "You coming?"
There is a moment where he is met with a complete, utter silence. Because, first of all, you've never been on a motorcycle before. And second of all, there is a very physical, very obvious problem with motorcycles.
Where the fuck are your hands supposed to go?
Jungkook watches the way something between conflict and irritation flashes across your features, expression faltering slowly. He pauses along with you, then smiles knowingly. "You've never been on one."
And the way he says it is absolutely stupid. Because he doesn't ask, it's not a question. He has somehow read you devastatingly well and has made a statement about it. One that is entirely correct.
"I have not."
"And you're scared."
Excuse you?
You blink. "Scared?"
Jungkook says nothing, then places both of his legs on the sides of the vehicle as he patiently waits for you. You stare at him for long enough, then with the amount of dignity one can preserve in situations involving pussy clenching tattoos and massive biceps, you walk over.
"Need help?" Jungkook asks as you struggle deciding how to position yourself.
You shake your head immediately. "No."
Lies.
Because an entire thirty seconds later, you're still trying to figure out how people get on these things without publicly humiliating themselves.
"You know," He starts carefully, voice softer now." "I can help."
You look up slowly. "How?"
"Come here."
Your eyebrows pull together. "What kind of instruction is that?"
He sighs softly, calling your name. And for some stupid reason, the way your name rolls and falls out of his mouth does something irritating to your nervous system.
You hate that.
Because suddenly, the air feels warmer than it did thirty minutes ago. Because suddenly, he is patiently looking at you with those pretty brown eyes of his and the space between you feels so small that the lack of distance physically blows your breath away.
He holds a hand out towards you. "Come here." He repeats.
You stare at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. And for reasons you will absolutely be denying later, you place your hand in his.
Jungkook's fingers close around yours immediately. Warm, firm and unreasonably effortless, as if he doesn't even think about the action twice.
He gently guides you forward and suddenly you're standing between his arms for one devastating second too long as he explains something about where to place your foot and how to balance and honestly—
Honestly, you don't hear a single fucking word.
Because Jungkook is standing too close. Because his voice is low and his presence is warm. Because somewhere above you, he quietly lets out that sweet laugh again and you think that's the exact moment you realize this might be becoming a bigger problem than you ever thought.
"You listening?" He asks.
No, you're not. Not even a little.
Some men are just plain irritating.
The kind of men who make you think you're special after two dates. The kind of men who act as if their love and desire for you is past the lethal dose, long sitting far away from what's acceptable after taking you out for one drink.
They start remembering your birthday, then your coffee order, and then the stories you tell absentmindedly. They pay attention in all the ways that matter until suddenly, they don't.
They start disappearing slowly. Late responses transition into cancelled dates and cancelled dates drag over white lies and empty promises. And before you know it— they're gone.
Some people become memories and some people insist on staying as habits. Unfortunately for Kim Yugyeom, habits are significantly harder to quit.
Campus looks a little prettier at night, with string lights tangled carelessly around trees to soften the sharp corners of concrete sidewalks and buildings that usually look painfully monotone and disgustingly gray beneath daylight. Music that's floating around blends into laughter and conversations until everything feels like it's dipped into something warmer, casting the green scenery in a dimly golden hue.
People become prettier at night too. Like darkness reaches over to soften and hide all the sharp edges daylight stubbornly insists on exposing. You think it has something to do with poor lighting and the desire to dress each other up in a way that's aligned with our own fucked up fantasies, but that doesn't change the fact that you'd much rather time stops at nine in the evening instead of morning.
Miyeon walks beside you with a cup of vodka and something fruity in her hand, complaining passionately about one of her professors as if he has something personal against her and is failing her out of spite. When, in reality, she has been way too caught up in toxic ex boyfriend drama and seasonal depression.
Anyone who says spring depression is not real is lying. Because your best friend has been going through one for the entirety of march and april and may and you're not sure if it'll pass by july.
But it's fine. You love her and Mark loves her and you're sure she will be fine. Yeah, maybe Yugyeom is six feet tall with a face carefully structured by the higher powers above us. But he's utterly stupid and completely undeserving of the crazy stupid love provided by your gorgeous best friend.
"No because explain to me why participation counts in my grade." Miyeon complains beside you, taking another sip of her drink as if she has the attendance and exam results to cover up the mess caused by her miserable participation grade.
You blink. "Because participating matters?"
Miyeon stops walking like you've offended her beyond all measure, then turns to you very slowly. "The institution has corrupted you."
You let out a laugh immediately, shoulder bumping against hers as the crowd thickens around you. "Maybe your GPA is a little important and passing isn't always enough." You add with a playful smile.
"You've changed."
"Okay." You drag out the word until she physically can not hear anything after the o.
"Namjoon did this to you. You were fun and sexy until junior year and now you're a disgusting hard copy of that man."
You scoff. "Leave Namjoon out of this."
Instead of responding to you, Miyeon narrows her eyes through the crowd before you can properly defend both yourself and Namjoon's imaginary honor. Your eyes follow her line of sight without thinking too much of it, and you still just a second after Miyeon does.
Because standing near one of the food trucks with drinks sat carelessly in their hands are Mingyu and Jaehyun. But that's not the point, Mingyu and Jaehyun are fine, you've actually shared that infamous econ elective with Jaehyun during junior year and he surprisingly turned out to be sweet and worth a couple hours of your precious time.
Jungkook, on the other hand, is not ideal. But not ideal is also fine, you can bear with non ideal to an extent. What's thoroughly, completely, utterly impossible, is Yugyeom.
God truly does not love you.
Miyeon physically freezes besides you. And, I repeat, she doesn't subtly falter. She stills.
Then, Jungkook looks up at exactly the wrong moment, finding your eyes and catching them in air before anyone else gets the chance to steal them away. His eyebrows lift slightly in amusement before a smile slowly spreads across his face, and it feels a little concerning the way he does it. Because Jungkook smiles like he means it. Like the smile happens to him before he can realize and reconsider.
His line of sight is followed before any of you can do anything about it. It starts with Mingyu, then Jaehyun. Which is fine, because we've already established that Mingyu and Jaehyun are harmless.
But Yugyeom? Not even close.
"Oh no." Mingyu says the moment he spots you. And honestly? Very fair reaction.
Because unfortunately, Kim Yugyeom has always had an exceptional talent for creating versions of Miyeon you hate.
Jaehyun lifts his drink awkwardly. "Hi?" Very brave of him. Very brave.
Miyeon smiles immediately, too animated and too polite, before you can even think of interfering and softening the impact of it all.
"Hi Jaehyun." She says, tone too normal despite the situation.
"Miyeon," Yugyeom greets, voice casual and light like her name belongs naturally inside his mouth. Fucking hypocrite.
"You cut your hair."
No.
No, you're not doing this right now. Absolutely not. Because, okay, first of all, what kind of thing is that to say to your ex girlfriend of two whole years? And the worse part of it all? Miyeon cut her hair three months ago. Three, entire, months.
Yugyeom blinks one whole minute after the words leave his mouth when no one responds to him, like the sentence leaves his mouth and arrives back to him sixty seconds later. But it's already late for realization. Too fucking late.
A long silence passes, and you feel it physically sizzle and slice right through the surface of your skin. "Right." Miyeon mutters a beat later, and you close your eyes with a long, suffering inhale.
Somewhere in the middle of the discomfort settling over everybody like a layer of second skin, you catch movement from the corner of your eye as if the situation isn't terrible enough.
Jungkook, of course, is already looking at you. Because he seems to have made it into a habit.
Miyeon laughs beside you. "Three months, by the way."
Yugyeom falters. "What?"
"My hair," She starts, letting her eyes drag over him. "I cut it three months ago."
It's a little funny now. You know, the entirety of the situation. You do everything in your power to not stare at the two of them, gaze drifting around your surroundings instead. And it turns out that you, as of right now, are not the smartest person in the room. Because across from you, Mingyu suddenly becomes deeply interested in the swirl of his drink, and Jaehyun seems to be counting the birds in the sky. Jungkook? That, you don't know. Because you're sure he's still looking at you and that's the second thing your eyes are trying to avoid.
"Right." Yugyeom says again, like saying right enough times might eventually make the situation right, even though it won't. Because none of you are stupid— well, except for Yugyeom himself, it seems.
Then, Mingyu suddenly claps his hands once, and the sound echoes so much louder than he intended it to. "Okay!" He exclaims with an amount of enthusiasm that should genuinely award him an Emmy. "Amazing! Love this energy. It's so deeply casual."
Miyeon laughs again, a little softer than the one she let escape minutes ago. It's not enough to bounce and spill and take over the atmosphere the way it usually does. But for now, it's enough to let you breathe.
"Sorry," She says through another laugh, shaking her head. "No because, you're unbelievable."
Yugyeom squints. "What did i even do?"
You scoff. Obviously, that's not surprising. Kim Yugyeom deserves a hundred more of those. But Mingyu and Jaehyun scoff along with you. And, oh, Jungkook too.
Maybe society has hope after all.
That's when you stop keeping up with their conversation, because their steps slowly get closer and closer to each other and farther and farther away from you until the volume of their voices lower down enough and exist only for the two of them.
Not that you're complaining. Not at all. You're thoroughly relieved and you do not want to hear another word of this pointless conversation.
Mingyu leans over and lowers his height next to you. "How traumatized are we?"
You laugh, relaxing a little. "A solid eight out of ten."
He places a hand over his chest dramatically. "Thank god." He exhales. "For a second i thought i was alone in this."
You laugh again, and peculiarly, somewhere in the middle of cheap drinks and Mingyu defending his dignity like his life depends on it, your shoulders begin dropping one by one.
Everything softens after that.
Mingyu gets distracted after spotting somebody from one of his classes and suddenly starts passionately discussing basketball statistics with Jaehyun. Miyeon and Yugyeom slowly become figurines in your peripheral vision— still there, still existing, but further now. And somehow, Jungkook ends up right besides you.
Maybe not intentionally, maybe not obviously— but he does. It happens in that natural way he seems to be very adamant on keeping recently.
You become aware of him in pieces. The warmth of his shoulder besides yours, the sound of his laugh whenever Mingyu says something ridiculous, the traces of alcohol and masculine cologne in his scent whenever wind shifts in your direction…Tiny, stupid things people leave behind accidentally.
And unfortunately, you've spent your entire life collecting them.
"You're less guarded tonight."
You blink, then turn around slowly, eyes locking with Jungkook who is looking at you over the rim of his drink, a smile sitting loosely against his mouth.
"I'm always like this."
Jungkook lets something between a breathy laugh and a scoff through his lips. "Liar."
You roll your eyes. "You think you've got me all figured out."
He shrugs. "I just pay attention to you sometimes."
Fucking flirt.
You're only half listening to Mingyu's latest spiral on getting cheated on with a girl when Jungkook's phone vibrates against the grass. Jungkook glances down, picks the phone up, then groans when he reads whatever text that has been sent to him.
"What?" You ask.
"Mark,"
Your brows pull together in confusion. "What did he do?"
Jungkook lets his head fall back slightly. "He forgot the hard drive at the studio."
Jungkook stares at his phone for a beat longer, exhales, then turns towards you. "Come with me."
And he is met with silence. Because for a moment, for a long, dreadful sixty seconds, silence surrounds you too. Music still continues behind you but it feels distant now. People laugh, lights glow, but all of it feels very far away. Solely because of the way he says it.
Because Jungkook doesn't ask. No do you want to come? No you can if you want. He just tells you to come with him as if he already knows the answer.
You narrow your eyes, trying to play it off. "Is that confidence i'm seizing?"
"No." He says, smile growing into something gentler. "I think it's hope."
Oh.
Jungkook pushes himself up from the grass, then extends his hand towards you. Not dramatically, not enough to create a whole deal out of it, but enough for your eyes to drop down to it automatically then back to him as if a hundred different scenarios have just flashed across your mind.
You take his hand.
By the time you reach the studio, you're a little warm. Not because of walking, not because of the weather, but because of something you absolutely can not say out loud.
Jungkook pushes the door open, then lets you walk in first. Warm light spills through the room and reaches straight into your pupils the moment you step in, and you physically have to tap your thigh twice to recollect yourself back together.
Space feels a little different when it's just the two of you.
Jungkook walks ahead towards the mixing desk, still looking through his phone. "Mark said he left his hard drive somewhere."
You hum, eyes drifting around. But it all feels absent, a little pointless. Because you're painfully aware of the tiny things all over again. Jungkook pushing his sleeves up, the way strands of hair falls into his eyes, how the sound of his voice fills in the empty room…
Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's exhaustion, or maybe it's the way spring nights make people a little delirious. Stupid pollens.
You let a quiet breath escape and turn away before your brain decides to become any more humiliating than it already has tonight. "How does a music major forget a hard drive?" You ask, voice bouncing a little too loudly through the empty studio.
Jungkook shrugs. "It's Mark."
Fair.
You snort quietly and drift towards the couch instead, letting yourself drop against the cushions while Jungkook continues opening drawers and moving papers around an unnecessary amount of concentration.
For a minute, for the short time being, neither of you says anything. And maybe that's your first mistake. Because lately, silence with Jungkook has become as dangerous as vodka on an empty stomach.
Your eyes lift before you can stop them. That's definitely your second mistake.
Because Jungkook had pushed his sleeves higher at some point and now his forearms are exposed beneath the dim lights of the studio and you miserably need those long, tattooed fingers curling inside your pussy.
He crouches beside the desk, pushing his hair back before another strand immediately falls over his forehead again. "Found it." He says, and your head snaps back up.
Jungkook, unfortunately, is already looking at you. Not at the hard drive, not at the desk, just you. And for a second, neither of you says anything. Because maybe this is one of those moments where silence becomes too delicate for words. Moments that sit so carefully between people that speaking feels like touching glass with bare hands.
Your stomach tightens embarrassingly beneath your ribs as Jungkook's eyes drag all over you before they settle and stay on your face. He takes a step closer, then another, and then speaks softly. "What?"
Your brows pull together despite yourself. "What what?"
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You keep staring." He says, voice lower now.
"And you don't?" You reply, voice barely above a whisper as you rise up to your feet.
"I do." Jungkook replies. There is barely an inch between your bodies now, his breath hot and heavy on your skin. "But i don't lie about it, pretty girl."
Your entire body stiffens at that. But it's not the pretty girl, not at all. It's the way he says it. Because Jungkook doesn't rush you, he never does. He doesn't smirk, doesn't tease. Just stays there looking and waiting. Like he is giving you room, like stepping away is still an option.
And the worst part is, you don't want to step away.
Silence stretches and stretches until it begins feeling alive. His eyes drop down to your lips, then lifts back up. For one devastating second, Jungkook looks at you like he is trying to memorize something. Like he's collecting little things too.
His hand lifts, thumb softly tracing over the line of your jaw. "I've been patient for so long." He speaks over your lips. "And i know you feel it too. But i need to hear your words if you really want this to happen."
Your breath catches and flips over halfway through your throat, chest rising and falling in a slow, heavy rhythm. "Jungkook,"
"Tell me," He starts, thumb stopping by the bottom of your lip. "If you want me as bad as i want you. Because— fuck, I've been good, i've been patient but i'm terribly desperate and i need to know if you are too."
"Please," You try, but you've already stopped thinking altogether.
"Please what, baby? I need you to use your words."
"Kiss me." You fit the entire weight of those words in a tiny little breath and Jungkook's lips are on yours in an instant.
The kiss starts out slow, his lips moving against yours gently as if he is savoring every ounce of its taste on the farthest corners of his tongue. Your hands find the nape of his neck, pulling and pressing him closer until distance can't bear existing anymore.
Jungkook's hands drop down to your waist, tugging you closer so that your hips clash against his. You whimper into his mouth, and he swallows it without wasting a single second.
Because Jungkook has been waiting.
This isn't what the does, not at all. Jungkook has never been a patient man. Not with desire, not with girls. He takes and gets taken in blinks and fractions and seconds— easy, casual, weightless.
But you, you've turned into something devastatingly different. Because for weeks now Jungkook has been wanting without touching, looking without taking— ever since you laughed and rolled your eyes prettily at Yugyeom's party that night. He has spent nights thinking about your lips, mornings replaying the sound of your laugh and entire conversations searching for traces of hidden meanings beneath your words like a man slowly losing his goddamn mind.
Jungkook doesn't wait. He doesn't ache over girls. He doesn't sit awake late at night remembering the way they looked at him beneath dim studio lights or think about the possibility of their hands touching his. But with you— fuck.
With you, he has become unbearably aware of himself. You've made him patient in the cruelest way possible. Because now he notices everything and god, the pretending has been killing him.
And now you're kissing him back as if you've been just as gone. And that thought alone is enough to fold and mold his brain into something disgustingly mushy and achingly dizzy.
"More," You moan between kisses, body practically begging for his touch.
Jungkook's stomach flips upside down. "Yeah? Want more, pretty? Want me to touch you?" He squeezes the plump meat of your ass through your jeans, and your hips jerk into his with the feeling.
His hands roam all over your body before stopping right at the hem of your top. His fingers fiddle with the fabric before he pulls away to look at you properly, and you give him your consent dressed up as a weak nod.
Jungkook pulls your tank top over your head, eyes stuck on the way your boobs bounce beneath the lace of your bra with the movement. He physically, loudly, groans at the sight before plastering wet, open mouthed kisses on the soft skin. Your head falls back in pleasure, hands tangling in his soft locks. Jungkook pushes his head further into your tits before he reaches over your back and unclasps your bra in one swift motion.
Your ass hits the armrest of the leather couch when he lowers himself to take a nipple into his mouth, fingers toying with the other. You moan in short, consecutive whimpers as his tongue laps and flickers over the hardened nub, the wetness in your panties growing and growing.
His cups your pussy over the your jeans, fingers pressing into your core over the fabric. The pressure is utterly mind blowing because the course denim stretches and digs into you further, causing you to cry out in pleasure.
"Touch me properly, Jungkook." You force out, desperate to feel him on your bare skin.
Jungkook scoffs between kisses. "Greedy, aren't you?"
He unbuttons your jeans, fondling with the zipper for a beat too long before he can unzip and get you out of it.
He pushes your panties aside with two fingers before sliding them into you. Your cunt sucks him in immediately, already way too wet and way too impatient for any form of foreplay.
Jungkook tilts his head to look at the way his fingers are slipping in and out of you. "Shit, pretty. Look at that. You're gripping me."
"Jungkook," You cry out, hands curling around his biceps for support. "Need— need your cock, please."
He lifts his eyes up to look at your face properly, then sketches and carves every line of your expression onto the deepest corners of his heart.
He slowly pulls out his fingers, then draws circles on your swollen clit before pulling away to take off his own clothes. His shirt flies away first, and you can't help but gawk at the bare sight of his chest. Arms, shoulders, abs— you're lucky if you don't cum right then and there.
He gives you a small, knowing chuckle before unbuckling his belt, tossing the jeans somewhere across the room along with his boxers. Your lips are parted beyond your knowledge, eyes stuck on the hardened sight of his length.
You've never seen a cock as pretty as that.
You're not sure if you'd ever even thought a cock was pretty— because usually, to you, they're far from that. But Jungkook, god, Jungkook is so fucking pretty with a tip so pink you think you want to suckle on it like a lollipop and a length so massive you desperately want it to choke you.
You wouldn't be mad if your cause of death had suffocated on cock written on it all uppercase in bold letters.
And Jungkook just laughs. He fucking laughs.
"Don't worry, pretty. It's all yours." He says, kissing your lips once more before motioning to turn over. "Now turn around and bend over for me." He adds, pushing your back lightly so that you're completely bent over with both hands gripping on the armrest of the couch.
Jungkook drags his tip across your folds, spreading your slick all over your cunt before he slowly pushes it in. You feel his tip first, letting you adjust to the stretch as he sucks in a sharp breath at the warmth of your walls. You moan loudly when he presses half of his cock into you, fingers firming around the cushion.
"Oh god," You breathe, uncontrollably pushing your ass higher into the air. He slams in the rest of his length at your movement, and your back arches even deeper. "Fuck, Jungkook. You're so— so big. I can't."
"You can, princess. I know you can. You'll take every inch like a good girl. Gonna make me proud, aren't you?"
He completely slides out out slowly, and before you can whine at the emptiness Jungkook slams himself back in. You moan loudly, head empty and thoroughly dizzy.
Jungkook starts fucking into you, one had gripping firmly onto your waist as the other toys with your nipple from the back. He is filling you up so good you're going to lose your goddamn mind. You feel so full, stretched and stuffed to the fucking brim. Your walls suck him in desperately, walls clenching and tightening around his fat cock as he pounds into you recklessly.
"Yes, fuck. Wanna be good for you." You mutter messily as his thrusts get deeper and deeper, cock twitching inside your wetness.
"I'm close." You breathe.
"I've got you." He says, and you hate how assuring the words sound.
You let yourself go just as he starts playing with your clit from behind, stimulating you as you milk your juices around his cock. He helps you ride out your high, chest pressing onto your back as he plasters small, reassuring kisses on your shoulder.
You feel physically nauseous at the domesticity.
"Switch with me." You say after coming down from your orgasm, straightening as his cock slides out of you.
Jungkook's body falters, brows pulling together. "What?"
You roll your eyes, pulling away. "Sit, Jungkook."
Jungkook somehow obeys without another word, dropping his body onto the couch beneath you. You hold his shoulders from above, placing your legs at both sides of his hips before reaching for his cock.
Jungkook's breath stutters when you take him into your hand, pumping him a few times before aligning him with your entrance. You slowly sink down onto his length, and you both moan simultaneously when you take every inch of his dick into your pussy.
"Shit," He moans, your name dancing prettily on his tongue. "You're so hot."
His fingertips dig into the soft skin of your hips, head thrown back lazily as he moans through parted lips. You bounce on his dick with every ounce of energy that's left in you, thighs aching as he twitches inside your walls.
Jungkook lifts his head a little to properly take in the sight of your bouncing tits, nearing his high.
"Where do you want me?" He asks, voice low and breathy. Your stomach churns at the question, nails scratching his broad shoulders.
"You can cum inside."
He's going to die. He is going to fucking die but at least he'll die a proud man with his cum stuffed inside you.
And just as Jungkook was about to close his eyes and release inside you, your phone rings.
His lips part to say something, but you beat him to it. "Just shut it off."
Jungkook's hand weakly finds your phone, pressing the close button twice without looking at it. Of course he doesn't look, he'd be insane to drift his eyes away from the way your soft, perky tits are bouncing up and down in his own hold. But the ecstasy lasts so long as fifteen seconds until your phone rings again.
Jungkook flips it over this time. The name on your phone's screen flashes right through his eyes and he feels his heart stumble and drop straight into the rock bottom of his stomach
STOP WITH THE PRINCESS X MALE KNIGHT BULLSHIT IM SO TIRED OF IT!!!!
i'm being completely honest with y'all i feel like we need to get the roles reversed after all of this. What about a prince WITH a female knight who he creepily obsessed over and would literally kill anyone for??? like what about that??? isn't that so romantic, so lovely? like the epitome of true love ..
( don't ask how my sanity is, i'm doing just fine ♡ i think )
I can't be the only one (I might be the only one) but like I lowkey NEED more goth/alt reader representation, like oh girly reader this feminine reader that, and like no shade lowkey love those, but where as a goth is some alt representation I KNOW some of those fictional men would love an alt girl *cough* Leo Valdez *cough* (who said that the wind be crazy) or lowkey even just be written with all types of people in mind cause wdym I just put on a bright pink shirt and white miniskirt? Like when I describe reader outfits I keep it minimal so you can like have whatever, but that's just me. Also with like pjo ones reader don't always need to be a Hades or Nyx kid to be alt (thoughts like that keep people like me in small boxes......... you picked the right box though) or like Harry Potter ones like why do I got to be a Slytherin and/or Sirius' daughter to be some sorta alt, like where my alt Hufflepuffs at (once again thoughts like those keep people like me in small boxes, but you picked the right box) Besides that I love when people have a like specific theme for the reader cause I like reading diverse type readers, I just think people should write more goth/alt ones
Anyway I did not mean to type this much I think I need my tumblr taken away after midnight.............................its 4 in the fucking morning and I haven't slept since the bubonic plague, I'm so gonna forget I typed this so ya, anyway night cool people cause there is no shame in reading x reader fics, nighty night night, although you may be reading this at like 4 in the afternoon for all I know................ so good timezones?
♱ I have seen my overflowing inbox, I know the children yearn for more Mana content, and I promise you all I’m currently writing two pieces right now and I should be finished with them very soon!
♱ Thank you to my loyal friends on here who are so patient with me. Sorry for the inactivity guys, I’m currently balancing a full time job, while attending college, and enjoying my hobbies and social life.
♱ Once again sorry for the inactivity, I will be back soon I promise! Stay spooky!
Hi, Dear!
First of all: I love your pfp. Anyone who's a fan of Coppola's Dracula is a friend of mine.
Second: Your works with Malice Mizer are an absolute treasure. Could I please ask you for Mana x female reader, who is from Europe? (Doesn't have to be a specific country, so other people can immerse as well )
Regardless of an answer, thank you very much. Drink plenty of water and stay safe
𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (あなたに目を向けています)
♱ Mana Sama x fem!European reader ♱
Living in Europe isn’t as glamorous as most people expect. There’s not always an aesthetic café just around the corner, or some ancient civilization ruins every couple of miles. It depends on the country anyways, but that’s besides the point. Your small town was starting to feel suffocating, and you’ve always known you were meant for something greater than yourself.
Leaving home felt like the only way to escape the chokehold that your past held on you. The feeling of yearning for the taste of adventure was becoming too much to handle. Your mind was decided, it was time to leave the place you called home. The next question was where to now?
America, South Korea, Mexico, somewhere where the music is good and you could truly feel like yourself. “How about Japan?” you thought to yourself. It hadn’t even crossed your mind in the first place, not until you were listening to your Visual Kei playlist while cleaning out your room. It was crazy to think about how your entire life was about to be packed into a couple of suitcases and duffel bags.
Japan was a country known for many things, one, being the food, two, the culture, three, the music, and four, the people. You had a couple of university friends that decided to move there after graduating, and one of them was even letting you rent the spare room in their flat. If that wasn’t the biggest sign from the universe for you to make the move then I don’t know what was.
Upon arriving in Japan you were automatically greeted by your old classmate Adrina, who was so nicely letting you rent her spare room. She graduated with a degree in Musical composition, and has been playing cello for 15 years, but she knows how to play virtually all stringed instruments. She’s worked with bands such as Versailles, X-Japan, Buck Tick, and has even done tracks for Kamijo’s solo work, but of course she’s worked with Kamijo they both have the biggest crushes on each other from what I’ve heard.
Adrina and you arrived at her (and your) home. You began to unpack your suitcases as fast as you could after she mentioned that you both were going to some party later that night. She mentioned that there would be a lot of famous visual kei band men there and she lent you one of her prettiest, and frilly black dresses so that you could make sure to leave a lasting impression on them. Who were you to say no to a beautiful dress and a party full of Japan’s most talented musicians?
Later that night when you were arriving at this club named “Yoru No Kage” (iykyk) , a goth club where the event was held, you felt a bit out of place. Yes you were dressed according to the dresscode, and yes you liked the music being played, but you didn’t know any people there besides Adrina. Plus, as soon as Kamijo saw Adrina enter the building he dragged her away and they’re probably off making out somewhere. You’re alone now, lucky you. You dragged your dolled up self to the bar and ordered a whiskey on the rocks, letting your sadness get the best of you. You didn’t even notice the person who slid into the seat next to you.
“That’s a pretty strong drink you’ve got there” said the mystery person.
“Thanks, I think I need something stronger” you muttered without giving the person next to you a single glance.
“Rough day?” they ask.
You finally turn and look at the mystery person, “you don’t even know the half of it” you reply. You come face to face with one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. They look familiar.
“I’m here to listen if you need an ear, little crow” they reply with a slight smile gracing their gorgeous painted lips.
“Little crow?” you say out loud, trying to understand the name the handsome stranger just gave you.
“Little crow, it seems like it suits you” their eyes are eyeing you up and down as if they want to devour you, you might be a crow but right now you’re in front of a vulture.
“So what's your name stranger?” asking the stranger while giving them the flirtiest eyes you could give.
“Mana, what about you?” they ask.
“Mhmmm, I think I prefer a little crow for now” giving them a wink.
“Well little crow, what do you say we leave this place” they wait for your response.
“What do you have in mind?” you ask curiously.
“How about we find a place to eat then maybe go on a walk?” mana asks for your approval, looking at you nervously.
“I think that sounds lovely” you state as you get up from your once sad seat at the bar, you reach your hand out for Mana’s before leaving.
They take your hand in theirs, “Something tells me that we’re gonna get along very well, you and I”
You both begin to walk out of the club together, with all eyes on you both “I think so too mana”, then you give a slight laugh to yourself as you both leave the chaotic scene around you…
Authors Note: I just wrote 875 words at work because I wanted to. Anyways, thank you so much for your request even though it is MONTHS overdue. I'm so sorry it took so long anon, I'm trying to do better when it comes to responding to my asks. Please come back some time soon lovely!
I forgot to put it's Vampire!Mana x FEMreader hehehehehe my bad🗿 and advance thx
♱ Yoru No Kage (夜の影)
“shadow of the night”- Vampire!Mana x afab!Reader
You were offered an exclusive opportunity to study abroad your final year of university with one of the most elite universities in Japan and intern with a prestigious media company in the heart of Osaka. You found that this was the perfect time to branch off from your family and lay down your roots somewhere besides your small town where everyone knows everyone. You had saved up money every summer planning for an opportunity like this, finally you could live the life you had always wanted, pursuing your dreams and living life to the fullest.
Without a second glance, you packed your bags and headed to Japan ready to begin the adventure of a lifetime, or so you thought. Your move was very smooth to say the least; you were settling in nicely into your new studio apartment and had managed to make friends with several other students who attended the university and we’re pursuing your same major.
Since everyone in the friend group was alternative to some extent, including yourself, you all took it upon yourselves to explore the local alternative scene by going to goth clubs, attending local metal and rock shows, and meeting other people in the scene. This of course was when you all weren’t studying for exams, or meeting deadlines for your internships.
Every dimly lit club your friend group managed to find themselves in on the weekends had one thing in common, the gorgeous stranger with the offputting aura who’s eyes never seemed to loose yours. There was something there, something dangerous, and you didn’t know if you had the courage to explore it, no matter how much alcohol your friends forced down your throat. One second you both were having the most intense trance-like staring contest, then the next they were gone with the blink of an eye. Strange. Intriguing. Dangerous.
If curiosity hadn’t killed the cat, the cat would’ve never satiated its need to know. Know whether they were alive or dead. God, when the gorgeous strangers' eyes met yours one fateful night at your favorite goth club Yoru No Kage you knew that their gaze was simply one worth dying for. After your trance was broken, they were once again gone. Without any trace. You knew you had to find this ethereal being, even if it meant losing yourself to this growing infatuation with a stranger.
After hours of extensive research and digging, gathering any bit of information you could on them, you came to know several things. One, their name was Mana although they preferred the seniority title Sama being added when addressed in any context. Two, no one knew how old they were, no one asked and no one knew; simple as that. Three, they played guitar in several bands in the local Visual-Kei scene hence the Gothic Lolita appearance, but the one that stuck out the most was their founding project Malice Mizer.
Your friends had played some of their stuff for you before and the name was familiar, you remembered that every time you listened you were enamored by their catchy riffs and powerful vocals. Fourth, no one really knew Mana Sama on a personal level, nor did they know how he arrived there. One day he randomly showed up and had been there ever since. What an intriguing individual indeed.
You did manage to talk to one person at a bar who had quite a lot to say about Mana Sama, though their credibility was tarnished in the scene due to a falling out with Malice Mizer. Tetsu his name was. He was an ex-vocalist for them and some say he was driven crazy by the heartbreak of his band kicking him out even though they had every reason to when it was exposed that he was stealing lyrics from bands smaller than them.
He claimed that they were all wolves in sheep's clothing, especially Mana Sama. One thing Tetsu said about Mana happened to stick with you though was his ability to lure anyone to their demise with just a look. “Beware the leeching creature of the night who lives in darkness plotting for the next glimpse of sunlight to steal selfishly for themselves, draining life from the very source.” Yikes, maybe you should stay away from people you’ve been warned about. Friday night rolls around like clock-work, and you and your friends are yet again enjoying a weekend of fun and relaxation after another week of stressful midterms and grueling internships.
It seems that recently Mana Sama has been popping up everywhere. The media company you’re currently interning at is set to shoot the latest Malice Mizer promotion for their latest album, and somehow you’ve been appointed Creative Director of the entire thing. This means you’ll be working closely alongside the band to bring their vision of the album alive. On top of that, there was a huge V-Kei showcase happening at Yoru No Kage where one of the bands performing was Malice Mizer themselves.
This exclusive showcase was invite only and how convenient was it that one day when you got home from school there was a perfectly and elegantly wrapped black invitation to the event with your name on it. You weren't one to turn down a party, especially when someone deliberately went out of their way to invite you. When the night came to attend, you put on your sexiest attire, did your makeup better than you ever had done in your life, and you made your way to the club to have the night of your life.
The bands performing throughout the night would be Dir En Grey, Buck-Tick, Plastic Tree, X Japan, Luna Sea, L’Arc-en-Ciel, Sito Magus, and then finally Malice Mizer as a guest appearance. You watched the entirety of the show yet malice hadn't gone on yet. You were even approached by several of the different bands’ members asking for your number and to take you out on dates, you declined of course. A certain pair of golden siren eyes lingered making sure that you knew who you belonged to. You looked good, you felt even better with all the attention you were getting, but you only wanted one persons. Mana Sama's.
You prayed and hoped that tonight would be the night Mana would make themselves known to you. You wanted so badly to properly meet them and hear their voice, feel their touch, your head was spinning with thoughts of Mana. Were your feelings reciprocated? Did they feel the same thing you felt when your eyes met? Did they think of you at night too when the loneliness got to be too much for a person to handle?
Every thought had been consumed by Mana and you really hope they experienced the same as well. The lights dim, the room going dark until a single blue light shone on a beautiful lolita guitarist with golden eyes. Malice Mizer had just began their set with their latest song “Aegen” and a beautifully haunting melody flooded the room around you. Mana’s eyes were on you and they watched you through the entirety of their performance.
After their set you decided to sit at the bar and have a couple of drinks before turning in for the night. The best part was that after this you could go home and sleep all day tomorrow if you wanted. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted as a certain guitarist slid into the seat next to yours.
“heard you’ve been asking about me” they leaned over and whispered quietly into your ear sending goosebumps racing down your spine. Being aware of the fact that they’ve noticed your growing interest in them you’re quick to spew a nonchalant rebuttal.
“took you longer than expected to notice honestly” you shrug playing it off cool even thought you were a mess of nerves on the inside.
“is that so? what did you expect from me then darling?” they muttered with their blue lips curling into a mischievous smile, almost as if hyperaware of the facade you were trying to hard toupee around them.
“I expected you to make the first move” you trail off, seductively leaning closer and finding your way to their neck to whisper in their ear “word around town is that you make yourself known when you find something you want”
“You’ve done quite a bit of extensive research darling” they look at you with a glint of playfulness in their dolly eyes, almost like they were taunting you to partake in a danse macabre, a dance of death. You pull away from them to compose yourself before continuing.
“Indeed I have, so tell me Mana Sama” turning to look them directly in their eyes challenging them “Am I something you want?” Mana’s mask slips for just a second before continuing.
“If I told you I not only wanted you, but I wanted to devour your entire existence in the most romantic form of cannibalism imaginable, how likely are you to think that I don’t?” Mana takes a strand of your stray locks to push them behind your ear as you flush blood red under your makeup. How does someone even recover from something like that?
“Your gaze lingers longer than necessary and you look like you want to eat my heart out every time I walk into a room” you allow a slight giggle to slip past your delicate lips and try to find a glimpse of ulterior motives in the gorgeous guitar players eyes, unsuccessfully finding none. “I just needed to hear you say it to confirm to myself that it wasn’t a sick delusion I’ve created in my head out of loneliness. If we both feel the same way where do we go from here?”
“where do you want to go from here? I have no intention of letting you go yet, for I have just managed to grasp your heart. what happens next is up to you” Mana brings their hand to their lips to lands a kiss on your knuckles before leaving butterfly kisses on the rest of your hands. “i’m content with just keeping you for and hiding you from the rest of the world but only if you ask me to do so. the future is in your hands darling” kissing up your hands to your arm.
“I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. Simple as that, we figure out the rest as we go. Is that okay with you? I want to know what it feels like to be loved by you” you search for a hint of uncomfortable energy in Mana’s current demeanor and Mana lifts their hand to cup your cheek.
“It shall be done. I wouldn’t have it any other way darling. That sounds like a plan and a perfect one at that.” leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. Mana’s golden eyes although softened still screamed danger. Who knew what the future had in store for you both together, only time would tell. Mana leans into you before placing a kiss on your lips, which you quickly reciprocate.
As the kiss intensifies and your bruising kiss turns into teeth clashing session of passion and yearning, mana begins to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, not caring who’s looking at you two. Mana hovers over your jugular before leaving an aggressive kiss, followed by an oddly painful love bite, WERE THOSE FANGS?!??
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Authors Note: Hello lovely! I hope you enjoyed this fic, I decided to take a more modern approach than nosferatu since I’m still new to writing and would rather give you quality since I knew I’d mess up anything with a historical element! I know I turned it into a whole work instead of a simple imagine but I was very excited for this request and wanted to give it a shot of turning it into a full work with room for a sequel. Hope you like it love!!! 🖤
Can you do Vampire!Mana x reader with nosferatu elements?🙏🗿
hello anon! I’m so excited for this req but could you pretty please specify this a bit more for me reader wise? Would you like me to take a gender neutral or fem approach? I just want to make sure I’m giving you the highest quality work!!! Let me know love!! 🖤
Hello! Please write mana-sama×fem!introvert! neko hybrid! reader.thank you in advance for fulfilling the request
note: hello lovely! I’ve never written for any type of hybrid before so I hope I did your request justice! I took a bit more of an omegaverse approach, let me know if you like it! come back anytime! 🖤
mana sama x fem!neko! reader
♱ Taking the omegaverse into account, I believe mana would be an alpha and you would be an omega and that’s how you and mana met. In this omegaverse, mates know they’re mates to each other by smell, and everyone is smell sensitive.
♱ Knowing this, Mana never really gave any thought to the concept of love while growing up. They thought it was just something you read about in books. Everywhere they went the world smelled sterile, like a disinfectant of sorts, clean like a hospital.
♱ That was until one day at a party and promotional event for the new Malice Mizer album he suddenly smelled the faintest hint of cinnamon. Mana was suddenly taken aback by the scent, there was no way he was smelling something other than cleanliness.
♱ They leave their band mates alone at the party to quickly follow the smell, they’re looking everywhere for the culprit of the smell. The closer they get to the source, the more concentrated it gets. Cinnamon, cloves, hot chocolate, fall, pumpkin spice, freshly baked cookies, it smells like home. Mana traces the smell to a corner of the bustling party, where he finds you.
♱ You’re alone, breathtakingly beautiful, ignoring the crowd of people around you, lost in your thoughts, lost in your head. Mana couldn’t help but notice your ears, matching tail, and slender catlike hands that they wanted wrapped around them. Their inner alpha screaming to claim you like no tomorrow
♱ You were one of the most distinguished producers in the Japanese Visual-Kei scene at the time having worked with bands Like Dir En Grey, Buck-Tick, Plastic Tree, X Japan, Luna Sea, L’Arc-en-Ciel, Sito Magus and more. You had a reputation of being an introvert and never leaving your studio. Mana knew there was a reason why you two met that night, you were home.
♱ Earlier that day your company told you that you had to attend the Malice Mizer promotional party because you were set to work with them on their next album. You went to show support for them on behalf of your company, and maybe because you had a slight crush on the pretty guitar player with gorgeous style and dolly eyes.
♱ You had seen the pretty guitar player, who you later found out was named Mana Sama, while backstage at a Plastic Tree concert. You didn’t know who they were, but as soon as you smelled the comforting scent of vanilla, cashmere, jasmine, amber, sandalwood, and sugar cookies you knew that destiny was at play. Their smell alone sent you into a frenzy, your ears fluttering and tail curling in pure bliss. Your inner omega begging to be set free.
♱ You never get a chance to meet them face to face, you simply admired from afar, wondering when the next time you would see the gorgeous individual would be. It was fate that brought you both together at the Malice Mizer promotional party. You knew Mana would be there, but since it was the Malice Mizer party you had no hopes of seeing them. You knew they would be talking to every producer, ceo, and well known music industry representative across Japan.
♱ Knowing this, you curled yourself into the furthest corner in the room comforting yourself with the scent of Mana’s sweet and soft scent to dull the ache in your chest. Your heart hurt knowing that you might never get a chance to meet the guitarist. Wallowing in self pity, and sadness, nursing the strongest drink that the bartender could offer, you suddenly smelled vanilla, cashmere, sugar cookies growing closer.
♱ When you turned, you were face to face with the dolly looking guitar player. Their scent completely engulfing your existence, suddenly your mind when blank filled with only thoughts of them. Without even thinking Mana pulled you into a tight hug and of course you reciprocated pulling them even closer, your tail wrapping around their waist as your ears fluttered in a frenzy. The rest from there was history.
♱ After the party Mana began officially courting you and asked you to be their significant other two weeks later by writing you your own song. Your time together was filled with dates at home because you both were huge introverts, they would rather spend nights in with you than party with Japans elites and they were okay with that. Nothing in the world felt better than being embraced in your arms knowing that the outside world couldn’t touch them as long as they were with you.
♱ You both brought out the best in each other, you were the calm to their storm, the rain to their drought, the omega to their alpha, their muse, their purpose, and their best friend. You inspired them to be better everyday, and Mana would give you the world on a silver platter is you so much as asked. It took Mana so long to find you and you could confidently say that they would never let you go. Till death do you part 🖤
Matching your freak is beautiful and all but what you really need is a boy who's infatuated with your freak. Down bad for your freak. Deeply intrigued by your freak. Eager to see more of your freak. Supportive of your freak. Gets bricked up witnessing your freak, even.
Ok I had a crazy idea while I was listening Babymetal and reading Malice Mizer Interview. can you do Yu~ki x Vocalist! Reader.The reader is Mana-Sama's Twin the reader's band is vkei but the music is similar to Babymetal!
note: oh my god I’m so bad at checking my inbox I’m so sorry PLEASE DON’T HATE ME!!! I know it’s months late but here’s a little something to make up for it. I hope you enjoy it love! I tried to make it as gn as possible, although I did lean for a more femme band for the story plot. Let me know if you enjoy (please don’t hate me)!!!
Yu~ki x Vocalist!Reader 🖤
☆ Being Mana’s twin hasn’t always been easy. You don’t resent your twin at all for being so popular and creative, but instead you yearned to find your own individuality apart from just being “Mana’s twin”. You wanted to make a name for yourself, so you did just that. With help from Mana’s musical knowledge, vocal lessons, and the support from the people you loved the most, you were able to create and front one of the most successful female V-kei bands Japan had ever seen.
☆ You had the drop dead gorgeous looks, you were a powerhouse of a vocalist who could do any technique from death metal gutturals, brutal fry screams, to elegant opera technique, and you turned out to be more musically gifted that your twin who was in the music industry themself. It wasn’t always your dream to be a musician, that was Mana’s dream, it was one beautiful individual with a heart of gold that changed everything for you, yu~ki.
☆ Mana befriended Yu~ki in ‘92 when Malice Mizer was simply just an idea. Yu~ki’s last band Ze:ro had just disbanded and Mana was already a fan of his work so they approached him, had him listen to a couple of demo’s and then the rest was history. Mana and Yu~ki hit it off instantly and this led to Yu~ki coming over to your house every other day. He was your twin’s best friend, his band mate, and he was forbidden, off limits. But god he was so damn tempting, and we all know that people don’t sin unless it looks tempting enough.
☆ You always loved to sing, Mana even joked that you were born singing since your mother said that when you both were born, you had the most beautiful cry. It was a talent you were indeed born with but It was something you never wanted other people to see. It wasn’t out of fear of judgement no, you could care less about what people thought of you, it was out of fear that you would outshine your twin and since it was always their dream to make it big in the industry you couldn’t do that to Mana.
☆ Yu~ki heard you singing your lungs out one random day and asked why you had hidden such a talent. After several tears and a mental breakdown later, you told him about your fears of outshining and ruining Mana’s dream. Unbeknownst to you, Mana was standing right outside the door and they walked in and gave you the biggest hug to console your crying form. Yu~ki left you two to work things out and eventually you did. Mana said they didn’t want to do music without you, and would only continue if you pursued your vocal talents as well. You did just that.
☆ As Mana began to recruit members for Malice Mizer, you began to make friends with girls in your local V-kei scene. Once you both had your respective groups, you began to share musical knowledge and such. You got to do backup vocals on several Malice Mizer tracks, and even helped co-write some of their most popular tracks. Mana hates to tell people, but you wrote the opening riff for Aegen while Tetsu was their vocalist, which they even reused when Gackt came in because it was so well written.
☆ Throughout the time that both of your bands were beginning to take off, Yu~ki felt his feelings for you begin to grow. He felt upset whenever the other Malice Mizer members tried to make advances at you. Gackt was the worst one, he was a ladies man through and through and he was a handsome talented vocalist. Yu~ki had known you since before you were even in a band, so he refrained from ever making his feelings for you known out of fear that he would ruin your friendship with him if you didn’t feel the same.
☆ Longing glances, feelings of yearning, thoughts of you, Yu~ki was being haunted by your absolute existence. He yearned to know what your hand would feel like in his, was it rough or soft? did your hands get clammy when you were nervous? He wanted to know what your skin felt like on his, and wanted to feel the sparks of electricity when he was finally able to hold you like his lover. His very existence was consumed by you.
☆ After some time when your band began to take off, you moved out of your shared house with Mana and began living with your band mates. This made Yu~ki frightened that not only will seeing you, and working with you be extremely limited, but the thought of never being able to see you again crept into the back of his mind like a virus. Things only began to worsen from here since a couple weeks later there was a dating rumor between you and Atsushi Sakurai from Buck-Tick
☆ Yu~ki took it upon himself to ask you if the rumor was true which of course he felt the biggest sense of relief when you told him you had never even met the guy. This made Yu~ki very hyper aware of the fact that you were a very beautiful and talented individual taking the music industry by storm, and you were bound to get even more romantic attention as your popularity continued to skyrocket. This is finally when he decided to properly court you.
☆ You had been in love with Yu~ki since the first time Mana brought him over to your shared house to work on music. His beautiful hazel brown eyes, his long dark raven hair, the gleam in his eye when he was composing a new bass riff, and his long slender fingers that were so articulate when he played bass. What was there not to fall in love with when it came to this rockstar. The thought of him seeing you as your own individual outside of just being “Mana’s twin” excited you because most people never did, except him.
☆ He had never made any advances towards you in your earlier days, except for a gaze that lingered longer than it was supposed to, and a look of confliction every time your hands happened to brush each others on the sound board of the sound mixing room. You thought your one sided feelings for him ended there, they were just one sided weren’t they? That was until a rival band’s fandom started spreading false dating rumors about you which you ended up being thankful for because Yu~ki made a move in you which you would’ve never in a million years expected from him.
☆ You had gone back to Mana’s house for safety while the paparazzi swarmed yours and your bandmates house amidst the false dating rumors, and that when Yu~ki showed up in the soaking rain to ask you if it was true. You were home alone in Mana’s home and you pulled him into the house afraid he would catch a cold. You grabbed a towel for him and sat him down on the couch so you could explain that everything was false. His eyes lit up when you told him so and that’s when Yu~ki claimed he didn’t want to hear your name in anymore dating rumors unless it was with him.
☆ From there the rest was history. He began to court you and you both began to make more public appearances with each other, sparking lots of dating rumors as Yu~ki wanted. Then on one beautiful night under the moon where you both were lying in each others embrace he asked you to officially be his significant other which of course you said yes and began the happiest time of your life. When you both went official, both of your groups saw an increase in popularity and your bands started seeing more success than before.
☆ It would have never happened if your twin hadn’t brought home a handsome mysterious stranger who happened to have heard your singing one night. I think we’re all in agreement that Mana get’s a super special seat at the wedding that says “Matchmaker” which will feed his ego like no tomorrow. It’s okay though because at the end of the day you owe meeting the love of your life to your twin. Till death do You and Yu~ki apart 🖤
✧༺ ♡ ༻∞
Note: AHHHH I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT AS MUCH AS I DID WRITING IT! Sorry it took so long I feel like an old person trying to navigate an iPhone every time I open fucking tumblr like why does it have to be so hard sometimes. Anyways, sorry for the wait! Come back again sometime (I swear you won’t have to wait as long next time)!!!! Thank you!!!
HELLO, this is my first request and I'm nervous, I don't know if you accept orders either, but I have nothing to lose by trying. Can I request mana sama for a reader whose style is pink? I mean cutecore clothing or similar styles. Sorry if it looks poorly written, English is not my language
Note: Hello my love! I just realized that I never got a chance to see your request but here it is even if it is very, and I mean VERY LATE! so sorry about that but hopefully I made up for it with this!! Since Mana is known more for their gothic color palette I decided to make this more of an opposite aesthetic type of couple, hope you enjoy lovely!!!
Mana Sama x cutesy!Reader
♱ Mana definitely seems like the type of significant other to be obsessed with every single aspect of you and I see that happening a lot with your stylistic choices. They’re obsessed with the fact that you two never look like you’re going to the same places together, EVER! They dress in a more gothic Lolita fashion, and you in a more cutesy, cute core, kawaii style (possibly even Lolita) which mana finds hilarious when you stand next to each other.
♱ Mana is a fashion lover through and through, and their knowledge and impeccable clothing taste make for some killer couples outfits. I definitely see them deciding on a random Tuesday to take you both on a shopping spree for some new clothes and matching couple outfits (in both of your respective color choices of course). They most definitely know of some hidden gem boutiques hidden in the depths of Japan somewhere. They’re the type to drag you into a random alleyway in pursuit of the “perfect outfit” which of course you both found.
♱ Mana also uses their more gothic looking appearance as scary dog privilege. It brings them a sense of relief knowing that no scary men or people will approach your cute self when they’re around because normies won’t approach anyone who looks different from them. Even if you were approached by a man when out with Mana, I see them being a no-tolerance type of person so they’re so quick to shut down any unwanted advances from people. No one can approach their sweet little significant other, they just wants you all to themselves ;(
♱ You’re their cute little significant other and Mana can’t live without you by their side for even a second so they definitely take any chance they get to take you with them on tour or press appearances. Of course at any event you’re at with them, or even when out in public together you’ll be matching with them in your own cutesy pink color scheme and completely styled by Mana from head to toe.
♱ Mana is a romantic and they definitely worship the ground you walk on, they want to be the only person to style you from your clothing, to your hair, and to your makeup. This can definitely blur into yandere behavior due to their fear of losing such a cutie like you to another person, but with enough reassurance and kisses, they will be sure to calm down with the obsessive behavior.
♱ Mana loves being your protector and your other half. You’re the light to their dark, the sun to their moon, the golden retriever to their black cat, the cute to their spooky, and you guys make it work so very well. Every time you guys go out together whether it be to go run mundane errands like buying milk or shopping for clothes, you both always get stopped on the streets for compliments and people can’t get enough of how cute you look together.
♱ You already know that this feeds Mana’s ego beyond belief. They love being your significant other with the opposite aesthetic, it awakens some type of primal instinct within them and they love to flaunt how beautiful you are other people. They love to show you off, and even though I see Mana not being too big on PDA or just public affection, they definitely love to have your cute self on their arm all the time. They know how lucky they are to have you in all your pink glory and that brings out the most romantic parts of Mana.
♱ Mana’s imagine is a stoic, tsundere to anyone they meet, but they kind of have to be since it’s their image, their brand if you will. This totally dissolves and disappears when they’re with you; you manage to flip the switch and bring their walls down when you’re both together. Mana definitely knows where home is, and it’s in the comfort of your arms. Their life used to be so cold before you, so sad and lonely. You came in like a ray of sunshine after a rainy day and you restored their hope for love. You taught them that they were capable of feeling love, and being loved in general.
♱ Mana and You and the most iconic couple ever, and you bother make a powerful dynamic duo. I get main character energy from your opposing aesthetics that fit so well with each other. You guys manage to make people’s heads turn anywhere you go, you both electrify any room you’re put in. You know that jojo’s meme that’s like “the stand user could be anyone!” and then it’s literally a clip of you and Mana standing next to each other…… YOU BOTH ARE SO ICONIC TOGETHER!
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Note: I just went down a Mana Sama rabbit hole and I love them so much they’re so pretty and perfect GOOD LORD I LOVE MANA SAMA! Anyways, I hope you liked your request! I know it wasn’t much and I know it was a couple months ago (I’m so bad at checking my inbox I apologize) but I enjoyed writing this!! Have a great one and feel free to come back anytime!!!!
I wouldn’t be locked in that castle with him, he would be locked in that castle WITH ME! He’d never catch a break from me that’s for sure. From dawn till dusk, back shots, reverse cowgirl, no lube, no protection, I know the count WOULD HATE TO SEE ME COMING!
Warnings: dub-con, count orlok is his own warning, blood kink, penis in vagina sex, sexual tension, creampie, oral (f receiving), death is mentioned, no aftercare, reader probably has stock-holm syndrome.
Fourteen days, that's how long you've been here. That's how long you've been left on your own every daybreak and then expected to entertain death itself every evening. As the sunset on the snowy horizon, you made your way back into the castle, dragging your tattered dress by what remained left of it through the snow. Upon entry, you were shocked to see that the fireplace was still lit. Occasionally, it would flicker out during sunset as if the castle consciously knew a force of darkness would be awakening.
With a sigh, you lifted your dress and dropped down by the fireplace suddenly out of breath. Maybe it was the consistent blood loss or the freezing temperatures of the European mountains that you were succumbing to. As far as you knew, he hadn't given you any reason to believe that you'd have an extended stay at the castle. At the end of the day, your chances of reaching the next morning relied solely on the temperament of a man. Your mother had taught you well enough about men to know that when they get bored, they tend to move on.
You felt the presence of tears threatening to depart from your eyes as you thought of your poor mother. She must be so worried and heartbroken. Ever since the two of you arrived in Europe after leaving America, her overprotectiveness of you has grown enormously. When you told her of a Count from a neighboring country requesting your services for painting a self-portrait of him within his own castle, she warned you against going and you decided to shelve away her concerns as mere fairytales. You gripped the silver locket necklace hanging around your neck for security and sighed. Your mother had gifted you this locket on your most recent birthday, and holding it helped you think of all your fondest memories with her.
Now, here you sit, sleep deprived and undernourished. He left you only bread, some grapes, wine, and a bucket of water. You were thankful for the water as you refused to be inebriated in your current situation. It was almost shocking to see he had the decency to have the water refilled each day, but you knew it was only because he'd hate to let his food source run dry.
Suddenly, you were startled when you heard the pouring of wine into a goblet behind you. You hadn't even heard him ascend up the stairs of the castle, and yet there he was in his full glory at the head of the dining table. Now, whether he did ascend the stairs and walk right past you or he simply just appeared at the table was something only god himself would know.
"You have been crying." The Count's thick accent hung heavy in the air, his voice sending a rippling wave of goosebumps over your skin. The tone of his voice was accusatory and not at all sympathetic. Even with English clearly not being his first language, you could hear his overwhelming disappointment. Over the two weeks he's kept you here his English had somewhat improved either by hearing you speak it whether you were asking to excuse yourself to find somewhere to use the bathroom in the empty bucket he gave you. Or from your begging and pleading for him to just let you go home.
Your cold hands desperately wiped the tears from your eyes, and you stood to your feet. He watched you approach the elegant dining table, and you took your seat as far as you could away from him. It was painfully obvious that this night would go just about the same as every other night. You two would intensely stare at eachother while you'd ate your bread for dinner, he'd make you get up and walk to the guest bedroom where he'd make you strip naked and feed from you and then you'd pass out from the pain and awake in the morning to the Count missing and nowhere to be found.
It wasn't even like he needed to feed from you. From your understanding, as he explained it, he'd go into the nearby village and 'have his fill' after he had siphoned a small amount from you. It made you feel like some kind of appetizer or twisted desert for him to be keeping you alive this long. Even with his figure shrouded in darkness, you could still tell by his posture that he was growing impatient with waiting for you to finish your 'dinner'. It was almost like the flickering flame of every candle avoided his very figure as if the fire itself was scared of this entity.
When you finally finished, you stood up from the table and waited till he rose from his seat before you allowed him to lead you to the guest room. You had gotten so used to his grotesque heavy breathing that when he suddenly stopped, the silence was deafening.
"You are crying again." At least when he said it this time, he sounded somewhat amused. It was like he knew that you've accepted your fate and that there wasn't anything you or god could do about it. The door to the guest room opened slowly without him having to touch the handle, and you stepped inside, fingers already loosening the ties of your corseted dress. "Forgive my tears, my Lord." You cringed at the title you gave him. Of course, an entity this dark would be so egotistical to have you address him as a Lordship. You had wondered if this kind of evil was something that would come from inside someone or from the beyond.
"Why would I need to forgive such fragility? You are a human girl. It is in your nature to be weak and fragile." A vein could have popped in your forehead, and you wouldn't have even known it. His words made you seethe and boil with anger, you had to bite your tongue so hard not to say anything that would get him to eviscerate you on the spot.
"Ah, there she is, my cochetă, my minx, be angry so that all your blood may flow freely." Your body winced at the nickname he gave you. He had called you it frequently rather than your real name. Even when you had unknowingly signed away yourself to him in a contract, he addressed you only by 'cochetă' which he explained was romanian for Minx since you weren't at all fluent with the language yet. You dropped your dress and undergarments off in a chair away from that bed so that you may spare it from any more trauma. After taking your seat on the bed, you draped the blood-stained blanket over your shoulders in an attempt at making you feel like you haven't soiled your modesty.
"I have seen all you have to offer. You will not hide from my eyes." With in an instant, you removed the blanket, not from your own will but because he compelled you to do so. Another tear fell down the side of your face, and this one he wiped away with the side of one of his long pointed nails. Your head fell back onto the mattress, and the Count leaned over you and dropped his face to below your exposed left breast. His breath against your skin felt like ice, and you shut your eyes in order to brace for the pain that never came.
Instead of the feeling of two fanged teeth penetrating your heart, you felt the knuckle of one of his fingers brush against your clit and your back arched. Your eyes widened, and you sat up to meet his stare. There he stood, completely unafflicted by your reaction. In fact, it was almost as if you were the one who did something wrong. Impulsively, a heat pooled in your lower abdomen, it's warmth radiating down your legs. You squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to catch your breath and calm yourself down. What he did to you was only causing a natural response from your body, and you had no control over such responses.
Nonetheless, you still felt the urge to mentally shame yourself for being a such sinful whore who's body responds like that to the touch of something - someone so heinous. It was almost as if the devil himself had cursed you with such blasphemy with the way your nipples hardened to a peak and your thighs squeezed together, trying to prevent you losing yourself to sin any further.
You didn't even open your eyes back up when you felt his cold hand grab a hold of one of your thighs, you were then pulled further down the mattress closer to the edge of the bed and to him. A hand that was so cold that it felt like it was devoid of any life and any warmth worked it way up your chest and grabbed one of your breasts. You bit your lip to hold back a gasp when the peak of your nipple was rubbed back and forth by his thumb. It wasn't until you felt the contact of his mouth around one of your nipples that your eyes shot wide open.
You looked down to see that he had your left breast peaked in his mouth while he suckled on your nipple. Your body betrayed you once again, and that heat you were feeling at your core seemed to grow much hotter. A swipe of his cold tongue against your nipple made you look down again, and you got a good look at the head of the man doing this to you. He had since discarded his hat in the dining room, and now you have a much closer look at the spirit you were dealing with. The back of his head was rotten and decayed even under the several thin tufts of brown hair on his head. It felt like you were looking at a corpse of a man that should have been locked far away in a coffin in the depths of hell.
You weren't even paying attention when a hand parted your thighs and brought attention back to your clit, he pulled back the hood and started rubbing slow deliberate circles around it, being mindful of his claws. He switched to your right breast, and at this point, there was no use controlling your gasps and whimpers anymore. He was so gentle with you. Maybe this was foreshadowing that tonight would be the night he'd finally get rid of you, and this was just him rubbing salt in the wounds and making the evening last as long as possible. He'd never touched your nether regions before, but when he fed from the blood of your heart, he'd often rub his hands around your waist as if he was mockingly consoling you the way a lover would.
The hairs of his thick mustache tickled your nipple and you weren't ready for when he dragged downward a long lick from your breast, to over your stomach and then finally stopping at the mound between your legs. You exhaled deeply when he resumed and dragged his blackened tongue down your slit, getting a taste of your wetness in his mouth. This wasn't something you should be enjoying, just the symphony of approving noises that left your lips made you feel appalled with yourself. It wasn't until you felt his lips lock around your clit that you became heavy lidded and utterly defeated.
You settled with the idea that he's being so cautious with you because he's going to make you reap what you sowed when it was time for him to experience his own pleasure. And regardless of how good he made you feel in this very moment, you still hated him. He tricked and imprisoned you in this hellish imitation of a castle. He left you alone and unattended during the day, allowing a pack of wolves to ensure you never take your leave. It was because of him that your mother was a several weeks journey away, worried sick about you, and you weren't even sure if you'd ever see her again.
You were on the verge of crying again until he rose to his feet, his figure demanding your full attention. His clawed hands fiddled with the buttons of his trousers, and your breath hitched. The hefty fur cape he wore would frequently would drape over his frame and seculde him in almost total darkness. You never knew what his daily wear looked like since he seemed content in hiding in the shadows of your vision only to reveal slightly more of himself to you when he fed from your body. What came to your vision when he glanced back at you was the erect bulbous head of his cock. It was engorged and jutted upward toward the ceiling as if it demanded your gaze on it.
He crept closer to you, staring intensely as if trying to gauge your state of mind, trying to see whether you were going to fight or flee. Instead, you just allowed your head to fall back onto the mattress. It was pointless to do either of those, and deep down in the darker realms of your subconscious, this behavior from him was welcomed. When the head of his thick member prodded at your entrance, your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes tightly.
Instead of thrusting inside, he thrusted his shaft upward, dragging it along your slit to coat himself in your wetness. When the shaft slid up against your clit you couldn't help but mewl out, still feeling that knot in your lower belly that was just waiting to be undone. When he finally seized the moment to thrust inside you, your eyes shot open, burning and stinging with tears. The Count let out what sounded like an inhuman hiss as his length seeped into your heat, inch by inch. The stretch was almost unbearable. It felt like you were being split right down the middle into two halves of yourself, and you weren't sure what half you pitied more. Your mouth opened to make a noise, but nothing came out. Such an intrusion of this nature left your throat speechless and strained. He pulled his hips back, and a clawed hand shot up to your face and held you in place upon his re-entry.
Those pointed nails of his were so sharp it felt like you had needles digging into your skin. Beads of red came into your vision dripping down your face from how much pressure those thick claws of his put into your flesh. When you tried to snatch your face away from his hand, he only pulled out and thrust into you more harshly. The squelching noise your cunt made around his length felt nothing short of sinful. To your disbelief, you learned he still had more of his shaft left to give you when he pushed himself further inward to the hilt. The thick head of his cock struck your cervix like hammer and a painful cramping sensation followed behind it. He hummed a noise of satisfaction as if he was he was impressed you were able to take all of him to the hilt.
Your breasts bounced on your chest when he roughly pulled out entirely only to shove himself back in. You gave a whine in response, and it was only then that he had seemingly guaged a fine line of pleasure and pain for you. Adjusting himself, he started up a pace of feverent rutting that made your legs tremble pitifully around his waist. The pressure of his hand on your face left when he leaned over to get a taste of the clotted blood that dotted across your forehead. His body was so much larger than your own that he had to contort himself over you to be able to taste the crimson he created and be able to continue his rutting.
The frequent movement of your body from the impact of his hips against yours was beginning to loosen that knot you felt in your belly. Your moans grew louder, and so did the beating of your heart against your rib cage. Inducing this creature to feed from you because your heart enticed him was the last thing you needed right now. The pace of his thrusts harshened, and so did the primal look he had in his eyes. Having him over you and staring at you like this, as if he were a lion and you were a weak gazelle soon to be eaten. For such an entity of darkness, he had such expressive eyes, sometimes they were so black you could see your reflection. Sometimes, they were so white and cloudy, you'd wonder where he had come from, heaven, hell, or neither.
"Please..." You weren't quite sure what you were begging for, but in your heart, it felt like it was for release. Release from the built-up pressure in your belly, release from the castle, or even release from life itself. Your hand reached up, and you cupped the flesh of his face. His skin was so cold, so rotten, and yet there was a feeling of life as if there was perhaps a soul present, but you knew better. There wasn't any life within him, as he was death itself. There was no soul within him, as he claimed the souls of others.
The closer his body, his cock, brought you to this peak of of pleasure that you pleaded for, the wider the smile grew on your face. A smile that didn't go unnoticed as his lips claimed the skin of your neck in what felt like possessive kisses. Perhaps this union of flesh solidified the extent of your stay at the castle through your own submission and your yield to the power he had over you. Those kisses trailed up to your own lips, and you tasted death from his mouth to yours. You tasted your own blood from him, and you tasted his hatred and his darkness, and yet you no longer had fear for it. With a painful clench of your walls, you came undone, your release washing over you in thick waves.
The spasming, clenching, and squeezing of your canal made the already deep and ragged breaths he took erratic, as did his rutting a few quick snaps of his hips and you felt a spurt of cold fluid inside you. The chill of it rose up your spine as it felt as if death itself had released into you. A deep animalistic growl vibrated off of the stone walls around you and bounced around in your skull. When he removed himself from you, you felt the remainder of his spent coat your inner thighs.
You looked away as you sat up on your own elbows, trying to balance yourself, and when you looked up, expecting to meet the eyes of a starving beast, you were met with an empty room. He had left you, spared you even. You couldn't imagine the type of carnage and havoc he'd wreak upon those villagers tonight. Reaching up to clutch your necklace for security and your hands found nothing but skin. He was gone and had taken your necklace with him. He took it as if you had bestowed upon him the honor of having a maiden's token.
Went to go see Nosferatu with two of my friends and to say that I enjoyed it would be an understatement. Nick and Bill were the highlight for me. Lily did better than I expected but with Aaron I felt like he was performing an SNL skit with the way he was pronouncing his dialogue. The cinematography to me is exactly what I picture a gothic horror film to look like. It has some subtle humor here and there which I enjoyed and my theater was packed so we all got a giggle. They're not lying when they say Bill is nowhere to be seen. He completely transformed himself in this role and gave it his all - no wonder Stellan gave him that kiss after watching it. Nick also deserves his flowers because the acting he was doing with his eyes was magnificent! I'll let it linger for a few days before I go see it again on new year's day. 5/5 movie for me!
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