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retrievablememories · 1 year

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cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

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lovezbrownies · 12 days

Text

My actions. (Yandere!F!Med Student x GN!Reader.)

General Masterlist

Synopsis: You meet the infamous Lorelai Marlowe, your med school's sweetheart. And you hate her. Referring to this ask!

Warnings: Mean darling, reader don't gaf! stalking, slow burn obsession, gets kinda creepy at the end, reader yelling at Lorelai.

Lorelai Marlowe x GN!Reader

Lorelai Marlowe had never known true friendship. Born into a family of wealth and prestige, her life was shaped by expectations and status. The Marlowes were not just wealthy, they were a dynasty of accomplished individuals, known for their brilliance and influence. And where there was money, there were people eager to get close. Lorelai learned early that, for most, being her friend meant securing a piece of the Marlowe fortune. Relationships were transactional: "You give, I take." It left her craving something real, an honest friendship, untainted by her last name.

Her idol is her father, Mason Marlowe, a man who embodied success in its purest form. Mason Marlowe was a genius: the youngest person in the country to hold seven degrees, one bachelor’s, two medical degrees, two master’s, and two doctorates. "A bachelor's is barely worth the paper it’s printed on," Isa’s father would say with a dismissive wave of his hand. But his disdain wasn’t reserved for education alone; her father held a similar view on relationships. “You’ll never find true friendship while bearing the Marlowe name, Lorelai,” her father would warn. “People want our money, not you.” When Lorelai was younger, she fought against that idea. She believed in friendship, in the idea that people could care for her beyond the wealth she represented.

But now, after years of watching greed twist every connection, she wasn’t so sure.

Though she yearned to be as indifferent to social interaction as her father, that trait was beyond her reach, something she would never achieve. Lorelai couldn’t help herself. Even with the fakest of friends, she found herself chatting away, always looking for a spark of something real. Despite her privilege and the walls she built, Lorelai was a loving person at heart. She just needed someone to give her a small piece of love in return.

And soon, she would find that glimmer of hope in her medicine class. Lorelai excelled in every course she took, a testament to the Marlowe family’s near-genetic genius. With her eidetic memory, she never had to study as long or as hard as her peers. While others broke their backs studying, Lorelai effortlessly retained every detail. It was a fact that had always set her apart, and isolated her.

She’d never paid much attention to you before. You were just another face in the crowd, one of those students who always seemed perpetually exhausted, always overburdened with books and the stress of academia. And while Lorelai would sit through class texting or working on assignments for other courses, today would be different. Her professor had just partnered her with you, some random student she barely knew, for a project on the effects of diabetic medicine. Naturally, other groups were assigned far more exciting topics, but this? It was just her rotten luck.

Standing tall and poised, her family’s perfect genes in full display, Lorelai surveyed the classroom. She was everything her mother always said she was, tall, gorgeous, smart. Perfect. She scanned the room for you, but she had no idea what you looked like. All she could do was watch for a student who looked as lost as she felt. And then she spotted you.

You approached her slowly, the school's oversized jacket wrapped around you like a shield. Your slouched posture and the disarray of your appearance made you look even more exhausted than usual. Your backpack bulged with books, threatening to spill out at any moment, while your hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in days. Lorelai hesitated for a moment, worried that your messy appearance might signal laziness. But then she reassured herself: the more disheveled you looked, the harder you probably worked. You would be diligent, even if not polished.

With her signature bright smile, Lorelai greeted you as you finally stopped in front of her. She decided to speak first, her tone bubbly, eager to break the ice. “Hello! I’m Lorelai Marlowe! And you must be Y/N! Or are you? Hehe, I’m just kiddin, ”

You cut her off sharply, your voice curt and almost aggressive. “Are you going to take this project seriously, or should I do it alone?”

Lorelai froze, shocked by your bluntness. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. It was… rude. But it was also oddly intriguing, lighting a spark in her that had no business being lit. She chuckled nervously, trying to recover. “I, No! Of course, I’ll take it seriously. I’m so sorry if I made it seem like I wouldn’t! I was just trying to exchange some friendly banter.”

You narrowed your eyes, clearly skeptical. After a moment, you sighed, realizing it wasn’t worth the energy to argue. “Yeah, okay. That’s good. Let’s start by doing our research on diabetes in the library. Better start from there.”

Lorelai smiled nervously again, her eyes darting to the side as she scratched her arm, a telltale sign of her discomfort. “Actually, I-I had something planned with some of my friends after this class… But I promise I’ll still help!”

Before you could respond, she reached for a pen. “Here’s my number, Do you have a pen by, Oh! Heh, thanks!” You handed her the pen that had been stuck behind your ear for half the class, but when she tried to grab your hand to write on, you yanked it away.

“No. Here’s a sticky note. I don’t want to get ink poisoning from some girl’s phone number.”

Some girl? Did you not know who she was? Lorelai stared at you, stunned by your indifference. She wasn’t used to being dismissed like that. You shook the sticky note in front of her face, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“See you later,” she said, still flustered, “Next time you work on the project, p-please invite me.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you muttered as you turned to walk away. “As if you’d come…”

As the days passed, Lorelai found it hard to forget your strange, cold demeanor. Even some of her ‘friends’ began noticing her mind wandering during conversations. It was odd, she thought, how that brief encounter stuck with her. Normally, people came and went in her life without much impact. But you were different. You didn’t seem impressed by her, and that nagged at her, stirring a curiosity she hadn’t expected.

At first, she tried to brush it off. You were just another project partner, someone she’d never thought twice about before. But when you hadn’t texted or reached out in any way, concern started to creep in. What if she’d offended you somehow? Lorelai wasn’t used to people staying angry at her. She was used to charming her way out of any misunderstanding, but something about this situation felt different.

By Tuesday, Lorelai decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She wasn’t one to obsess over things, but this situation, you, felt unresolved. It itched at the back of her mind. She’d skipped the evening medicine class plenty of times, but tonight, she couldn’t bring herself to miss it. If only to clear the air. Maybe, once you two talked, this lingering unease would go away.

She arrived late, of course, distracted by the usual mindless chatter of her friends, but she did show up. That had to count for something.

Sliding into the seat next to you, Lorelai tried to catch your eye, but you seemed utterly absorbed in the lecture. She smiled, a soft, almost shy curve of her lips, something out of character for her. But when you didn’t even acknowledge her presence, that smile faltered.

Tentatively, she reached out, her hand lightly patting your thigh, expecting the usual warmth of recognition. But when you looked at her startled, confused, there was no warmth. Instead, there was an emotion she couldn’t quite place. Disdain? Annoyance?

“Hi! Sorry for scaring you,” she whispered quickly, eager to close the distance that seemed to have opened up between you. “I noticed you didn’t text me after Friday, so I thought I’d check in, make sure you didn’t start working alone. I’m here to help, of course.”

But instead of relief or understanding, your eyes narrowed. “I did text you,” you muttered, voice cold and firm. “Maybe you should check your messages.”

The words cut through her like ice. Had you? Impossible. She would have noticed. She always kept her phone on her, never missing a single message from anyone. She’d know if you had reached out.

Fumbling through her phone, her confidence wavered as she scrolled through countless unread texts. And there, hidden in plain sight, were your messages.

Her stomach dropped.

Saturday, xx, xxxx: Hey, it’s your project partner. I’m going to the library to research insulin for our project. If you’re coming, I can grab you coffee.

Sunday, xx, xxxx: Going to the library again to research more meds. Join if you can.

Monday, xx, xxxx: I finished the project. I included you where I could. Submitting it tonight.

For the first time in a long while, Lorelai felt truly ashamed. You’d been reaching out, offering olive branches, and she had ignored every one of them. You had every reason to be upset. As the weight of her mistake sank in, she looked up at you, her voice small and shaken. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t see them. I swear, I just, ”

Your sharp look cut her off, the anger in your eyes almost startling. “It doesn’t matter. I gave you the credit. Now, leave me alone.”

The coldness in your voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she fell silent. People didn’t speak to her like that. Ever. The weight of your dismissal clung to her long after the lecture ended, and as she walked home that night, her mind kept circling back to the interaction. You weren’t just mad, you had no interest in forgiving her.

Over the next few days, she found herself replaying the scene in her head. At first, it was a matter of guilt. She’d never meant to dismiss you like that, and she told herself she just wanted to apologize properly. But as the days stretched on, something shifted. You really didn’t care, did you? There was no attempt on your end to smooth things over, no effort to reconcile. You weren’t trying to get back into her good graces.

That... intrigued her.

Lorelai had never met someone who could brush her off so completely. She found herself wondering more about you, where you hung out, what your life was like outside of school. You weren’t like the others, the people who fawned over her or sought her attention. You were indifferent, and that indifference bothered her more than it should have.

Tuesday class rolled around again, and she showed up, not for the lecture, but to see if you were there. Her friends noticed the change, making offhand comments about her ‘mysterious project partner.’ Lorelai just smiled, deflecting their questions. She hadn’t told them how strange you made her feel. They wouldn’t understand. No one else ever made her question herself like you did.

This time, when she saw you seated in the hall, she hesitated. You hadn’t forgiven her, she knew that, but there was something about your anger that pulled her in. She took a seat a few rows behind, watching you for a while, studying how you scribbled notes with such focus. You hadn’t looked up once.

How could you act like she didn’t exist?

She told herself it was just curiosity. You were a puzzle to her. She’d find a way to fix this, to make you see her differently. And maybe then, everything would go back to normal.

But things didn’t go back to normal. The more you ignored her, the more she found herself thinking about you outside of class. You were unlike anyone she’d ever met. The anger, the coldness, it wasn’t something she was used to, and it fascinated her in ways she couldn’t quite explain.

Weeks passed, and Lorelai began finding excuses to cross paths with you more frequently, though she made it look casual. A wave in the hallway, a brief, fleeting glance during lectures, little things that seemed insignificant. But she was paying attention to the details. The way you carried yourself, the people you spoke to (which were few), the way you brushed off her presence like it meant nothing.

Slowly, her thoughts began to shift. What had started as guilt for a missed message turned into an obsession with understanding you. You weren’t just another person to her anymore, you were a challenge, someone she needed to figure out. Why didn’t you like her? Why didn’t you care? You weren’t cold to everyone, just to her.

The idea that someone could reject her so fully began to gnaw at her. She needed to fix it. She needed to know why.

But with every rejection, every sharp comment or dismissive glance, Lorelai’s need for your approval grew. It was subtle at first, a passing thought, a lingering glance. But over time, she found herself looking for you in places she knew you’d be, lingering longer than necessary in class just to feel that tension between you.

Each new interaction, no matter how brief, only fueled her need to understand you more. And the more she tried to fix things, the worse it got.

By the time a few months had passed, Lorelai was fully consumed by her need to be acknowledged by you. She had abandoned most of her old friendships, her focus narrowing entirely on you. Every move you made fascinated her, the way you seemed so unaffected by her presence, even as she became more desperate to understand you. It was maddening.

You had no idea how much space you were beginning to take up in her mind. And she would never admit it out loud, but she knew this wasn’t normal. No one had ever gotten under her skin like this before.

It had been months now. Months of you trying to shake her off, but Lorelai clung to you like a shadow, always there, always hovering just close enough to make her presence felt. Her apologies, once so constant, had evolved into something far more unsettling, a desperate, needy devotion that you couldn’t seem to escape.

She never left your side, always lingering just a few steps behind, waiting for any small scrap of attention. Her eyes never left you, watching, waiting, hoping for even the slightest glance. It was as if her entire world now revolved around you, her every thought consumed by how to stay close, how to keep you from drifting away.

You had tried everything to avoid her, changing your routes, ignoring her messages, even switching seats in lecture halls. But Lorelai always found you. Always managed to squeeze herself into your world, her presence pressing in on you like a weight you couldn’t shake off.

Today, it was worse. She had followed you again, walking silently behind you as you made your way to your favorite secluded spot on campus, the far east garden near the cadaver storage. You had come here hoping for some peace, but Lorelai, ever-persistent, had trailed after you like she always did.

“I missed you today,” her voice broke the silence, the tone dripping with an almost pitiful longing. “You didn’t sit in your usual spot… I thought something had happened to you.” Her words were soft, trembling slightly as though the mere idea of you being out of her reach caused her genuine distress.

You clenched your fists, the irritation boiling inside you. She never stopped. Always prying, always looking for something to cling to. “I’m fine,” you snapped, your patience fraying. “And I need to be alone.”

But Lorelai didn’t back away. If anything, she stepped closer, her eyes wide and pleading as though your words hadn’t even registered. “You don’t really mean that,” she murmured, her voice soft and fragile, like a glass about to break. “I know you’re just upset. But I can make it better. Let me help, okay?”

You stiffened, feeling her desperation like a physical force. It was suffocating. “Lorelai,” you hissed, your voice sharp, “I don’t need your help. I need space. You need to leave me alone.”

But instead of retreating, Lorelai’s eyes filled with a sudden intensity, a wild gleam of desperation sparking in them. “No, no, you don’t mean that,” she said quickly, shaking her head as if she could will your words away. “You’re just saying that because you’re stressed. You always say that when you’re upset. But I can fix it. I can make things right, I promise. I just need more time with you, that’s all.” Her voice cracked at the edges, the strain of holding herself together evident in every syllable.

You felt your pulse quicken, panic bubbling beneath the surface. “Are you insane?” you finally shouted, spinning around to face her. “I’ve told you a thousand times to leave me alone! What part of that don’t you get?”

For a moment, Lorelai froze, her eyes wide with shock. But the hurt you expected never came. Instead, her face softened, her lips trembling as she reached for you, her hand stopping just short of touching your arm. “No… you don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You need me. You might not realize it yet, but you do. I can’t leave you. I can’t!” The desperation in her voice hit you like a wave, her neediness palpable, like she couldn’t survive without being near you.

Your frustration exploded. “You’re suffocating me! Do you understand that? You’re obsessed!” You stepped back, putting more distance between the two of you, but Lorelai followed, her movements frantic now, her eyes wild with fear.

“No, please, ” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “I’ll do better, I swear. I can be what you need. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it! Please don’t push me away. I-I need you!” Her words tumbled out, her hands clasped tightly together as though begging for your mercy.

“I don’t want anything from you!” you shouted, your voice laced with frustration and exhaustion. “I want you to leave me the hell alone! Can’t you see how much you’re ruining everything? How much I hate this?”

Lorelai’s breath hitched at the word “hate,” her eyes watering as though the thought of your rejection was more painful than anything she could imagine. But instead of breaking, her lips twisted into a soft, almost adoring smile.

“You’re only saying that because you’re scared,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I know it’s hard for you to let someone in, but I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

You stared at her in disbelief, your stomach churning. Was she serious? Did she not hear a word you just said?

“Lorelai, you’re insane!” you barked, trying one last time to get through to her. “You’re not ‘helping’ me. You’re stalking me. You’re obsessed. I don’t want anything to do with you!”

For a second, you thought maybe, just maybe, your words had finally pierced through. Lorelai stood there, blinking rapidly, her eyes wide and glassy, as if processing what you had just said. But then, slowly, her lips curved into a smile, a needy, fragile thing that looked more like a cry for validation than an actual expression of joy.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered softly. Her voice was laced with an almost pitiful hope, a hope that you would just stop resisting and finally give in. “You’re just… upset. I know you don’t hate me. You couldn’t. I’m the only one who understands you, who can be there for you when everyone else leaves. I won’t leave you. I can’t.”

She took another step closer, her hands trembling as they reached toward you, as if touching you could somehow solidify her place in your life. You stepped back instinctively, but Lorelai didn’t seem to notice, her eyes were locked onto yours, wide and filled with a raw, desperate need for your approval, for your attention.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. “Don’t shut me out. I’ll be better, I promise. I’ll be whatever you need me to be. Just… don’t leave me. I’ll make everything perfect. You’ll see.”

You could hardly breathe. The sheer weight of her obsession, her need for you, was overwhelming, suffocating. You had to make her understand. “I don’t care what you do,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief. “I don’t care if you apologize a million times. I want nothing to do with you, Lorelai. Get that through your head. Just leave me alone.”

But her eyes only softened more, as if your harsh words were nothing but the fleeting tantrums of a child who didn’t know what was good for them. “You’re just confused,” she whispered, “and that’s okay. I’ll help you. I’ll fix this.” She nodded to herself, already convinced of her version of reality. “You’ll understand one day.”

Her voice was soothing, like she was the one comforting you, her needy, obsessive gaze never wavering.

“Lorelai, just, ” you started, but she cut you off, stepping even closer, her voice a pleading, broken whisper.

“Please,” she said again, “just give me one more chance. Just one more, and I’ll make everything better. I promise. You’ll see. You’ll need me, just like I need you.”

It was terrifying. Her obsession had bloomed into something so twisted, so far beyond anything you had anticipated. And now, her desperation was laid bare, her entire sense of self wrapped up in this delusional, obsessive need to be everything for you. She wasn’t just stalking you anymore; she was trying to anchor herself to you, like she’d collapse without your attention.

“I don’t need you,” you said quietly, taking a deep breath. “And I never will.”

But Lorelai only smiled, a broken, fragile thing. “You say that now,” she whispered. “But I know the truth. And you will, too. One day.”

#yandere x reader #gn reader #yandere x darling #oc x reader #tw yandere #gender neutral #yandere oc #x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere #female yandere #female yandere x reader #soft yandere #yandere female #yandere blog #Lorelai Marlowe

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