#Yandere cop

[yanderedrabbles]

Two Faced -Yandere Stalker/Cop

Yandere! Cop who pulls you over for a DUI. You're barely under the legal limit and it's clear you can't hold your liquor in the slightest.

Yandere! Cop who feels his cock twitch when you blow into the breathalyser, your eyes flickering up at him all half lidded like he's just fucked you raw, teasing him that most fellas don't say please as nice as you do officer.

Yandere! Cop who says he'll follow you home, just to make sure you're safe. You don't see anything strange about it, he's a cop after all. But now he knows where you live, he knows what car you drive, he knows that your roommates always leave for school at the same time you do.

Yandere! Cop who looks so damn good in his uniform, who has the muscles to fill it out just right.

Yandere! Cop figures out early on that you're a hard-core party girl. Different guys coming home with you every weekend. He doesn't like it, but he understands. You're probably just lonely - filling your bed with strangers to chase away the cold.

Yandere! Cop aims to fix that.

Yandere! Cop who makes sure he gets the weekend off and who makes sure to run into you at the club. You're totally wasted this time, hanging onto his arm and running your fingers up his biceps, giggling about what big muscles you have officer.

Yandere! Cop who takes you home and just let's you sleep it off in his bed. His cock is raging and he wants to fuck you more than anything, but he's a gentleman and you're hammered.

Yandere! Cop who makes you breakfast and a good ol' fashioned hangover cure all the cops swear by. He drives you home and tilts your chin up to kiss you. "How about a proper date, babydoll?"

You giggle and blush and slip away before he can get an answer.

Yandere! Cop who can never get with you in the daylight. You'll kiss him and grind up against him on the dance floor and warm his bed later that night, but you're almost always gone by morning.

Yandere! Cop who doesn't want you as just a fuck buddy. He wants you as his girlfriend, maybe his wife someday.

Yandere! Cop who'll take what you give him. He'll fuck you screaming and when you leave the next morning, he'll bury his head in your pillow and try to catch the remnants of your scent.

It goes on for months. He's becoming a neglected dog, fed on the scraps of attention you give him. He's starving, he's ravenous, he's slowly going rabbid.

Yandere! Cop who does something he didn't think himself capable of - he starts following you. Just a little at first, just so he can learn more about you. He's curious and you don't talk about yourself so it makes perfect sense, right? It's harmless.

Yandere! Cop who breaks into your apartment when you're in class. Just to make sure everything is safe. And if he jacks off into your used panties, it's just a kind of payment. He's going above and beyond for you, doesn't he deserve a little reward?

Yandere! Cop who sees you kissing another man on the walk back from school. You've got your hands on his chest and you're standing on your tip toes under the magnolia trees, like the poster of a sappy fucking romcom.

Yandere! Cop who's never been more angry in his life. And so he sends you a bloody bullet in the mail, your name carved into the steel.

And it works. You call him, terrified that you pissed off the wrong person somehow.

Yandere! Cop who loves being there to comfort you, who feels so masculine and strong when you cling onto his arm and sob about your big, scary stalker.

Yandere! Cop who takes endless pictures of you going about your day and leaves them on your doorstep.

Yandere! Cop who slowly becomes your boyfriend. Who's there the second your stalker gets too close or frightens you too badly. Who makes you feel so safe in his arms.

Yandere! Cop who carefully suggests you move in with him. He's a cop afterall, and no one would be stupid enough to break into his apartment.

Yandere! Cop who'll do something vicious everytime he feels you straying away from him.

Yandere! Stalker who leaves your pet's head in a box on your porch when you refuse to cut off your male friends.

Yandere! Cop who coos over you when you sob, as though he isn't the one scaring you.

Yandere! Cop who is extra careful with everything he does, so that you never suspect that he and your stalker are one and the same.

He's a cop afterall, and he's just keeping you safe. Even if you don't always see it that way.

[fangdokja]

In this prison, there are no rules—except for his.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Prison Warden x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #1

♡ Word Count. 1,016

The iron bars groaned shut, the sound rattling through the damp, suffocating air like a predator’s growl. He made sure you heard it, felt it—the finality in every scrape of metal against metal. This was his world, his domain, and the clang of the locks was nothing short of a declaration: there was no leaving. Not from him.

He stood outside your cell, an immovable shadow in the dim, flickering light. The dark navy of his uniform stretched taut over broad shoulders, the fabric clinging to the sheer power beneath, as though it too was caught in his inescapable grip. His hands rested lightly at his sides, deceptively still, though the veins bulged against his skin, betraying the coiled force lurking beneath the surface. His presence filled the narrow corridor, swallowing the air and pressing against you until your chest tightened.

“You really don’t learn, do you?” His voice was a low rasp, like gravel sliding over steel, rough and cutting. His gaze—obsidian shards glinting with cruel amusement—bore into you, peeling back every layer of defiance you thought you’d managed to cobble together. “I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me again.”

You flinched as he stepped closer, the heavy soles of his boots striking the floor with deliberate finality. Each step sounded like a clock ticking toward your undoing. The fluorescent lights above flickered again, throwing shadows across his face, twisting his features into something monstrous. He reached the bars, and his hand curled around them, the muscles in his forearm flexing as though the iron itself might yield to his touch.

“Come here.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a command, cold and absolute, weighted with the kind of authority that didn’t allow for refusal. You hesitated, your breath catching in your throat, and his lips twisted into something between a smirk and a snarl. The key in his hand glinted as he slid it into the lock, each metallic click punctuating the silence until the door swung open with a low, mournful creak.

You stumbled back, your spine pressing against the cold, damp wall, but there was no escape. There never was. He took his time entering the cell, his frame filling the small space and blotting out the light. The air around him seemed to ripple with heat, suffocating, consuming, as though even the atmosphere obeyed him.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, his voice dipping into something almost soft, mocking. “You should know by now that running won’t save you. Fighting won’t save you. Nothing will.”

He reached for you then, and you jerked away instinctively, though there was nowhere to go. His hand caught your wrist in a vice-like grip, the calloused pads of his fingers digging into your skin. He pulled you forward, the motion so sudden and effortless it felt like your body wasn’t your own. His other hand came up, brushing your hair away from your face, the gesture almost tender if not for the malice glinting in his eyes.

“Look at you,” he murmured, tilting his head. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, the touch light, deliberate. “All that fire, all that fight, and now you’re shaking. Fucking pathetic.”

Your breath hitched as his hand slid to your throat, his fingers wrapping around the fragile column with calculated precision. He didn’t squeeze, not yet, but the threat was there, tangible in the weight of his palm, in the way his thumb pressed against the hollow at the base of your neck, feeling your pulse hammer against his skin.

“Do you know how easily I could break you?” he asked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. “How little effort it would take? You’re so damn fragile. And yet…” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, “you’re mine. That’s the only thing keeping you alive.”

Your knees buckled, and his grip tightened just enough to keep you upright, a cruel imitation of support. The smirk on his lips widened, his teeth glinting in the faint light.

“You hate it, don’t you?” he continued, his tone almost conversational, though the sadistic glee was impossible to miss. “Hate that no matter how hard you try, you’ll always end up right here. At my mercy. Beneath me.”

He released you suddenly, and you stumbled, gasping for breath as the cold air rushed back into your lungs. But he wasn’t done. He never was. His hand moved to his belt, pulling free a length of chain that glinted ominously in the dim light. The metallic clink of the links sent a fresh wave of dread washing over you.

“Rules,” he said, stepping closer again, his voice hardening. “You’ll learn them. Obey them. Or I’ll carve them into that soft little body of yours until you can’t forget.”

The chain wrapped around your wrists before you could react, his movements swift, practiced. He yanked you forward, the force sending you sprawling to your knees at his feet. His hand curled into your hair, dragging your head up until you were forced to meet his gaze.

“There’s nowhere to run,” he said, his voice low, final. “No one to save you. You belong to me. Body, mind, soul. And the sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but he only chuckled, the sound reverberating through your chest like the tolling of a death knell. He released you with a shove, leaving you trembling on the cold, filthy floor as he turned to leave. But before stepping out, he glanced back, his smile sharp enough to draw blood.

“Be good for me, fuckin'' filth,” he said, his tone almost playful. “Or don’t. I’ll enjoy breaking you either way.”

And then he was gone, the clang of the cell door slamming shut behind him echoing in your ears. But the worst part wasn’t the silence that followed. It was the twisted part of you that felt relief knowing he’d come back.

[reareaotaku]

Yandere! Olivia Benson Headcanons

[Have yall seen her replies to the Trump Supporters to her newest post? She's hilarious]

She knew these feelings were wrong better than anyone else, but she couldn't help it

She didn't know when they started, but once they did, they just kept growing until she wasn't able to control it

She tried to avoid you, to maybe lower the feelings, but it's like you're everywhere, even when you're not

How do people deal with such intense emotions? She feels like she's wound like a spring

She tried so hard to fight the feelings off, but how could she when you were so perfect in her eyes?

She's very protective over you. She worries about your safety constantly and worries if you don't answer her texts

Her paranoia is really high, especially with everything that's happened to her. She just wants to protect you and keep you in her life

Would do anything for you. You are literally her world

She can get away with any crime. Do not test her. She's been in the force long enough to know how to bet the system

She's quite literally unbeatable. No one will believe you if you say she's been stalking you or harassing you. Olivia is the best on the force, she dedicates her life to this, so why would she commit a crime?

You might as well get comfortable with her, because you're not going anywhere for a very long time

[fernpetals]

Fragile

An extension of THIS ask

More of Yandere Tom Ludlow and his dollification-kink

Warning: Stalking, manipulation, infantilization, implied restraining and dub-con, manhandling, abuse of authority, power imbalance, dollification(obviously), corruption kink, non-con caretaking, implied age-gap, hints of conditioning and, blackmailing

Credit to the GIF owner.

Unedited Piece.

Soft yet dark Tom, a little rough around the edges maybe. Anyway, enjoy!

In his twenties, Tom had foolishly envisioned his forties— a picture-perfect life with a wife, a dog maybe, even kids–the typical picket fence scenario. He was young, he could dream, he was naive, and he could dare to have a rose-tinted lens for the police department.

Now he truly is in his forties and reality is staring back at him as the paperwork piled on his desk and a cold home to go back to. Tonight, he won’t have to though— he is going to hunt those motherfucking drug dealers responsible for a shootout and he is going to make sure to get them bloody. But of course, Officer Tom Ludlow would be home at the time, as per records.

That pretty much sums up Tom Ludlow in his forties. He is cynical, he is self-loathing and he has nothing to lose, or look forward to. His only purpose, honouring his oath- ‘To Serve and Protect’.

Be it by any means necessary.

Well, that is until you come into the picture. Like the warm sun on a winter morning, he simply wants to bask in your light, in your warmth. Tom never realised that somewhere, he had that craving for warmth and sweetness alive in him until you came into his life.

How can it be selfish to want you all to himself? You have no fucking idea how nasty the world can be. And you sweet little thing alone there? You might have survived until now by some miracle, but Tom cannot risk it anymore. 

He loves seeing you in sundresses. The warmer months are suddenly his favourite. You, in a soft, pretty sundress and a cone of your favourite ice cream? Tom realises that he is not immune to heart eyes after all. He is head over heels for you. Tom is so lucky to have you in his life. 

Though maybe the same can’t be said about you.

Tom sees you as a fragile little thing. Especially if you are a regular civilian, especially if you are younger. You do not understand how ugly the world can be, how dangerous it can be. Of course, he needs to keep track of you twenty-four-seven—what do you mean you are going out all by yourself beyond that convenience store? Even that is forbidden after sundown. He simply loves taking care of you, making you dependent on him, making you need him so that even the thought of leaving him never occurs in your sweet, sweet mind.

Imagine getting frustrated and so disappointed at his behaviour—you yell angrily and he acts like you are throwing a tantrum and need to calm down—the power imbalance is glaring and it is the red flag you had so foolishly ignored in the beginning of the relationship. But if you think you can leave, Tom will only shake his head—you naive little thing. Don’t you see? He is on the top of the chain. He has the means and all the loopholes. He can keep you locked up in his home for a long, long time and no one would even know. Who knew that his other home on the city's outskirts could be of such good use? You can come back to your normal life once the stupid notions of leaving leave your pretty little head—don’t try to pretend and lie to him, he will sniff it out in seconds.

And if you are not in a relationship with him, he is going to patrol the area you live in quite often. Suddenly, you see his car frequently in your neighbourhood. Imagine just getting home late for some reason— work, party, just some quality time with yourself or with friends, maybe even a hook-up and a police car pulls up, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Don’t you know how dangerous it is this late?” 

He is going to interrogate you then and there. Where were you? What were you doing? When do you walk out of your office normally? It is weird, but he towers upon you and has this piercing stare and the kind aura that screams ‘authority’ and you find yourself answering him instead. Much to his pleasure.

If he gets any hint about a possible relationship or hook-up. That guy is royally fucked. In a couple of days, you get the news of him being involved in some case, or crime and now he is behind bars? Or maybe he is sent to the hospital for a while? Either way, you are not seeing him again.

Yandere Tom is the type to insert himself in your life and your personal affairs—you do not like it? You do not know what’s good for you, he knows best, and he will take care of you. If you test his patience though, you will find yourself cornered, literally. 

“Do you even know how the world works? You go skipping around like a little doe, dressed so pretty, without a care. You need me. Now quit it and get into the car before I make you.”

He is not afraid to manhandle you, though he keeps in mind to be unrelenting and firm, while not hurting you. But that’s all. Other than that, you can swear, scream or beg all you want. If he decides that something or somewhere is not good for you, there is no changing his mind. You can only try to hurt him with your cute, bare hands, it amuses him.

He is the type to blackmail you into entering a relationship with him. And if that doesn’t work, he is not above kidnapping you.

So, either way, you are ending up under his roof, under his control so that he can pamper and protect you like he always wanted to. He dresses you up in sweet and bright-coloured clothes—sundresses, especially and pounces at every chance to flip it over and sink his tongue, finger or length into you. And he makes sure that you enjoy it. Every time you come, you are looking into his eyes and mewling his name like the good little doll that you are.

Imagine him using your fear to his advantage—his anger is scary, and while is will never lay a hand on you, there are other people he can beat into a pulp and if you don't want that, better behave. He does not like the fact that you are afraid of him, but if that is what keeps you in line and safe, so be it.

He loves to have his hand all over you, it’s like a need—he has to be touching you all the time he is at home. He is addicted– to you, to your presence, your light, your touch. There is no going back. You are his sweet, fragile doll— so don’t fight him, you will only exhaust and frustrate yourself.

[mint-8]

Yandere Police Officer x GN! Reader

- Yandere Police Officer who works hard everyday to keep the peace in their little hometown everyday. They take daily patrols, give talks in the schools and are seen as a core member of the community.

- Yandere Police Officer who is a tad bit xenophobic and distrustful to any newcomers, tourists and foreigners that arrive to their hometown, including you. But do not fret, for they aren’t completely cold hearted. If you prove to them that you are an upstanding and decent citizen, they’ll treat you like they treat any other townsfolk. If you wish to take it up a notch and get closer to them, maybe volunteering at any public event in the town or perhaps at the older folk’s home, and Yandere Police Officer will humor any small talk or wave at you during their patrols.

- Oh? You wish to get closer to them? Well, lucky you, for the old saying “the fastest way to a man’s heart is through their stomach” applies to them almost perfectly. They will enjoy any sweet treat you might gift them! Cookies, cake, pies, muffins, macarons, you name it, if it’s got enough sugar, they’ll happily eat it! They would also appreciate it if you would accompany them to eat the treats. They aren’t trying to take advantage of you or anything! Why, they could never! You two could eat outside though, like a nice picnic! Just like when they were younger!

- Yandere Police Officer who enjoys the idea of domesticity and having a big family (or small, if that’s what you wish). Why haven’t they adopted already, you ask? They don’t think they would be good as a single parent, even with the entire townsfolk aiding them, they aren’t fully ready to take on such a journey. Now if they had a partner, that would be different. They don’t enjoy being lonely, thus why they make such an effort to be an active player in their community. Having a partner wouldn’t make them feel as alone as they sometimes do, at least that’s what they believe.

- Yandere Police Officer who really wants to be the main breadwinner in the relationship, and with you being their adorable stay at home spouse. They’ll provide you with everything! The freshest of ingredients, the highest quality cleaning and cooking supplies, and tons of gifts! Flowers, clothes, jewelry, anything you ask!

- Yandere Police Officer who would also really love it if you would greet them everyday with a delicious breakfast, their uniform perfectly ironed and a happy smile with a kiss on the cheek and their lunch as a goodbye! For the afternoon, they wish for an equally delicious dinner, a squeaky clean house and perhaps some action in the bedroom for later!

- As you might have noticed, the relationship with Yandere Police Officer seems somewhat subservient in nature. I mean, they would love you regardless, but they are more than willing to “train” you. Unless you keep up a good fight, in which case they might (or not) stop, they’ll do everything in their power to turn you into a meek, submissive and obedient partner! And it would be so easy, as well! The entire townsfolk trusts them with their lives! They’ve known Yandere Police Officer since they were a baby, so of course they’ll take their word over yours.

[hunterssm00n]

Sleepwalking

Yandere! Sheriff OC / part 3 /

Try to lock you out / I feel you in my dreams / You're everywhere, you won't go easily...

*cw include stalking, yandere behavior, abuse of authority, obsession, and dark themes* MDNI - 18+

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

It’s just past ten when I hear the crunching of tires on the ice and gravel coming up my driveway.

I'm laying in my bed, lights off, looking at my phone, when I feel the hair on the back of my neck raise. He’s earlier tonight than usual; normally it’s after eleven or even after midnight before I hear those familiar noises. I'm also in bed earlier than normal tonight, but that’s because I'm super exhausted after a long, grueling week. Tomorrow is Friday, and by the time that fifth day of work rolls around I'm lucky to get up to the sound of my alarm the next morning.

It makes me wonder if he came here earlier than normal tonight with the hopes of catching me while I am awake.

That thought gives me shivers.

And what would happen if he did? If he saw the lights on in my home, would he take that as an invitation to come and knock on the door? Would he try to call me, like he has been? Leave me another very loving sounding, emotionally charged voicemail?

I have played the last few over and over again. I have them all saved in my phone- for multiple reasons. One being that if this situation ever turned deadly, I would have plenty of evidence to build a case against him. The other reason being that I enjoy listening to his voice as he says such soft, loving things to me, and about me.

So what does that make me? As crazy as him? Surely not.

Ray is a handsome man. Maybe not handsome in the traditional sense, but in the way that he’s exactly my type. Well over six feet tall, big and burly, rugged and intimidating looking, a scar on his cheek; physically he’s very appealing to me. And behind the rough exterior, he’s got sky blue eyes that just seem so deep; so knowing.

Am I attracted to my stalker? Maybe. Hard maybe. But does that make what he’s doing in any way right? No. Absolutely not.

He’s abusing his authority as sheriff to look up my address (as I definitely did not give it to him), come to my house, and stake out every night. When he calls, he’s begged me to call him back; he wants to hear my voice, he says. He wants to reassure me that he means no harm.

But can I trust him?

He hasn't done anything to make me think that he intends to do me any harm... yet. In fact, it's been quite the opposite; he's done everything possible to make sure I'm safe . Or... to make sure I'm not going to run. He parks outside of my house every night- god only knows if he ever even sleeps. And every hour on the hour he gets out of his suburban, and walks the perimeter of the house, shining his flashlight and, seemingly, looking for any signs of trouble.

And here I thought I   was paranoid. My paranoia apparently doesn't hold a candle to this man's.

But in a way, this overprotectiveness makes me feel... something. I can't quite put my finger on the thought, or the emotion exactly. But it's surprising. And, of course, he doesn't need to know this.

And despite the fact that what he’s doing is wrong, it doesn’t make him any less appealing to my twisted brain. Quite the opposite. I should be scared; I should want to move states, go into WitSec, something that would get me away from him. But there’s no denying (to myself, at least) that I purposefully am not doing any of that for a reason. Plus, he would find me wherever I went. He’d track me down, just like he’d tracked me to my house.

I can’t help but think about what he would do if he were inside right now- I imagine the scenario; how he would look standing in my doorway, how his big body would take up so much space it would make my house look tiny. The thought makes me shiver unintentionally, but not for bad reasons.

He would stare straight into my soul as I sat up in bed, surprised at his entry into my bedroom, and into my house in general. Wondering how he got inside, but also wondering what was going to happen now that he was.

“Ray?” I would ask, my voice coming out breathless and nervous- as I wouldn’t be expecting him to actually be inside the house, here, with me. At night, in my bedroom.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” He would sound breathless, like he’d been running. Or, doing something else. “I couldn’t- I had to come see you. I had to make sure…”

My other questions would be forgotten momentarily as he would advance towards the bed, and I wouldn’t even realize I’d shrank backwards until I hit the headboard, and it thumped against the wall.

“It’s okay,” He’d pause in his movements, hands outstretched to show that he’s okay, I'm okay, everything is okay. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m so sorry for scaring you, and- and for breaking in here.” He would look down at the floor after he says this, and I would be able to practically sense the shame coming from him. Practically be able to feel it. “I know it’s not right, what I'm doing- I know I shouldn't be here... But I can’t help it. I want you- I need you.”

The thought of this scenario makes my pussy pulse between my thighs, and it’s then that I realize how wet I am. And not for the first time when thinking about him, either.

I hear his footsteps outside, gentle in the freshly fallen snow, and before I can think better of it I slide my right hand down my stomach, and into the waistband of my pajama pants. My fingers slide down the front of my underwear, down, down, until they get to the soft, warm area right above my clit. They pause there for the barest moment before continuing their journey, passing over my clit and to my wet panties, soaked by my pussy lips. A choked moan catches in my throat- surprised by how wet I already am and by how good that simple touch feels.

Working my hand back and forth slowly, I listen to the sound of him walking around the house, his footsteps almost adding to my steadily increasing heartbeat. It feels good- too good. It should not feel this good touching myself to the thought of my stalker breaking into my house; to the sound of him walking around outside. Knowing he’s there, feeling his presence, it’s too much.

Before long I'm cumming by merely touching myself through my panties, my other hand covering my mouth so I don't make any discernable sounds as the pleasure crashes through me. All the while thinking This is wrong, this is so wrong .

Coming down from the high, I relax back against the bed, breathing hard against the comfort of my soft mattress. Still hearing him outside of the house, I decide to chalk this one up to having not been in a relationship for a while; being untouched for so long. Because the fact that I just touched myself to the thought of my stalker is a little too much to come to terms with, at the moment.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

This is an original work of mine, as are the characters.

I do not own the song 'Sleepwalking' by Diamante. The above picture is from pinterest, and there's a link attached to the original post.

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

I decided to rewrite the deleted fanfic from the depths of my memory of it. I doubt I will get into trouble. I will change a few stuff. I am working on it. But tell me your opinion.

You were a wanted criminal. You never murdered or did anything harmful to the community. You came from the poorest and corrupted city in the US and had to steal to survive.

You weren't really a bad person. You used your brain to hack into the system to make the stock market give you money. Like the movie dumb money with Paul dano.

Sadly, someone betrayed you and told the police. You were too smart to get caught and make a mistake.

You were America's most wanted. And on the hide. Sadly, your recent picture got the attention of head of police Seth Green.

He was a normal thinking man but after seeing your beautiful face, he couldn't stop thinking of you.

He began to search for you despite not being assigned to you.

He found you by bribery. And decided to not hand you in as long as you live with him.

Will you trust him? You already got betrayed when your ex friend snitched you to the police.

[m1d-45]

room 11-13

summary: albedo is weird. no, not just weird- disgustingly strange.

word count: ~2.5k

-> warnings: implied stalking [him -> you] ; he is a weird creep!! brief + non described mentioned nudity (of reader, within a drawing)

-> gn reader (you/yours) in a modern au !

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

your roommate was… interesting, to say the least. not that you really had many expectations—unlike apparently everyone else, you didn’t come to university with a plethora of friends packed in your bag. you had no names to list on your housing contract, no familiar faces to look forward to when you came home, just you, a handful of cardboard boxes and a lingering sense that you’d forgotten something.

there was nothing you could pin about him. nothing in specific, no one catalyst you could point to. sure, you don’t see him often, but that isn’t inherently a bad thing. there’s nothing wrong with not going out much, there’s nothing wrong with being a quiet person when you’re living with a stranger. the common room is clean, the sink is (relatively) empty, and none of your things in the fridge have been eaten. he really, by all standards, should be a perfectly fine roommate, but…

albedo was a quiet man. you first met him when you moved in, delicately pouring exact amounts of water into a small tins over the sink without a single sound or stray droplet. he looked up, you exchanged names, and that was that. the rest of your day was spent unpacking in your room, barely hearing the click of his door closing.

you never quite asked what he was doing that first day, but you could put two and two together. he had a habit of leaving pencils or erasers or other supplies on the coffee table, and you often ran into him when he came out of his room to fetch them. you’re not quite sure how you never see him in the living room when you never told him your schedule, but… well, whatever. it didn’t take a genius to know that the guy with charcoal smears across his hands was an artist. and, if you’d somehow missed those, you sometimes ran into half-used palette in the fridge, beads of paint in a myriad of colors sealed neatly in plastic containers, changing every time you checked.

you weren’t sure why they were always there, as you’d definitely seen one when he was in the dorm, but… well, it’s not really your business, is it? maybe he’s busy, maybe he doesn’t want to paint, maybe he’s taking a nap, who cares. you grab what you need and go back to your room; there’s more important things to worry about than a stranger’s hobbies. honestly, you shouldn’t spend so much time thinking about him. you could hardly claim to know someone you never saw.

well, except when you did see him.

you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge as you came back from your chemistry lab, not minding the usual palette of paint beside it. also as usual, you heard his door open as he remembered some random item, not minding the sound of his footsteps as you receded into your own room-

“wait! ah- please…”

you forgotten what his voice sounded like. it’s mostly out of shock, not recognition, that you turn around, seeing him lingering in the entrance to his half of the dorm. his hair is loose around his shoulders, catching the light from the window and glowing gold. his apron is stained with a rainbow of paint, matching the perpetual lines across his hands, and he seems a bit too nervous to be talking with someone he’s been living with for a few months now.

“…i couldn’t make it to the lab today,” he starts, words measured and not at all like his original call, practiced instead of panicked. “could i borrow your notes?”

…you’re in the same chemistry class? you’d never noticed. then again, you’re not sure you could pick him out of a crowd—it’s not like you two were exactly close… but giving him your data was honestly a non-issue. normally you wouldn’t think twice about it, except if he was in your lab section then he should know the rules about missing them.

“you’re going to have to retake the lab anyway, aren’t you? my report won’t help you at all.”

he blinks, like he’d forgotten that fact, and you half hope that’ll be the end of it. you still have your own work to get to, after all.

“still… it would give me something to reference, so when i do it i’ll know if my results are reasonable.” his brows are drawn, genuinely worried, crystal blue carrying a surprising amount of emotion despite the careful cadence of his words. “i’d greatly appreciate your assistance on this matter… i don’t have a reliable way to contact anyone else in the class.”

it only takes you a few moments to weigh the pros and cons. at worst, your partner can back you up if he tries to steal your work. at best, nothing happens and you’ve earned a bit of goodwill.

you shrug, taking off your bag and setting it on the counter, unzipping the main pocket and digging for your lab manual. you find it and flip to today’s lab, mentally wondering what an artist would think of the irritated scribbles down the side of the page. whatever the case, you hold it out toward the hallway he was before, only to find him barely a foot away. he’s stood over your shoulder, letting your manual bump into his chest without a flinch, without an ounce of the worry from before.

without an ounce of anything at all, really. his face is flat, empty, just staring down at the words in front of him without seeming to read them at all.

“…sorry,” you start, “i didn’t hear you-”

“don’t be sorry.” with a blink, he’s back, taking the manual with a gentle smile. “thank you for your help. i’ll return it by tonight.”

“…yeah, take your time.”

you’re not going to question what or why whatever happened did. it’s.. just easier if you don’t. you grab your bag and go to your room, focused on anything else.

you don’t find it in the common area, on the coffee table or by the sink or in any reasonable area. he doesn’t knock on your door to return it. no, instead, you trip over it the next day as you leave your room, squinting in the dark to see it laying on the carpet, a note taped to the front.

yeah, you’re not reading that. not now, at least. you’re certain albedo is a nice guy, if socially awkward, but… you can give him the benefit of the doubt later. you shove the note in a drawer and forget about it, going to class. if you just ignore it, you won’t have to deal with it.

it must not have been anything important, because he doesn’t ever bring it up again. it’s almost as if nothing happened. there’s a new pencil on the common room whenever you walk by, he ducks his head and smiles sheepishly when grabbing it, and nothing is new. you try to look for him in the lab, if only to be courteous, but never find him. it’s not a big class… but whatever, you’re not too familiar with his face anyway. after a week or two, you stop trying.

it’s wishful thinking, really.

you have to do a double take when opening the fridge one day, the paint on the palette looking, from the corner of your eye, like a human hand. it’s just skin-toned paints, delicately mixed into a color that somewhat looks like yours.. by the looks of it, he must have fussed with the tint for a while. normally there’s only small bubbles of paint, but this is excessively fine refinement.. he must just be a perfectionist.

you can’t leave your room without running into him. not just like before, with brief intersections as he grabs what he’s forgotten, but actual interactions. he sits on the couch, drawing in a small notebook, asking you about your classes like he’s not supposed to be in his own classes. sure, he could be taking some online, but it’s like he never leaves the dorm.

he asks as usual, one day, what class you’re going to. when you finally gather your courage and ask why he himself isn’t going to the lab, he startles, like he’d forgotten he was attending. there were plenty of reasons why he wasn’t going—maybe he was in a different section of the class, or he had a car and had reduced travel time, or quite literally anything other than silence. but he sat there, staring at you like you were the one who had mixed up your schedule, with the same painfully empty look as before.

you left soon after that.

if asked to describe albedo in three words or less, you’d fumble for a few moments before landing on “fine, but weird.” if asked to do so with any other level of detail, you’d probably end up saying the exact same thing.

and that’s fine. you didn’t really expect to become best friends with your roommate. but for archons’ sake, he’s just so… uncanny.

you’ve never seen any other food in the fridge but yours. you cannot remember ever seeing or hearing him leave or enter the dorm, or ever remember not seeing some sign of him being there. his door was perpetually closed, the faint sound of scratching coming from behind it, and he’d just… freeze at random. like he recedes into himself, leaving a hollow husk until he returns, eyes left as flat disks set into an unfeeling face. there’s nothing inherently wrong with not showing many expressions, but whatever he’s got going on is far more concerning than that.

so really, who could blame you for being curious? his sketchbook is just there, laying open on the table, only partially masked by the small bag of supplies next to it. the door to the bathroom is closed, you really shouldn’t be invading his privacy like this, but it’s not like he even bothered to close it.

still, it’s wrong.

still, having something solid to point to could really help if you ever need to make a complaint to an RA.

oh archons, this is such a bad idea.

before you can convince yourself not to, you walk over and sit in his usual place on the couch, picking up his sketchbook and gritting your teeth through the fact that there’s no way this is morally justified.

the current spread is plain. it’s entirely in pencil, repeated iterations of different kinds of jewelry. rings, with ornate spirals and diamonds along the sides, leading into a gem of many different cuts. some simple stud earrings, some hoops, a necklace draped around a half-drawn bust, the chain sketched to look like blooming flowers strung together. there’s some notes in another script, but other than that, it’s entirely normal. there’s nothing weird about a guy that draws bracelets in his spare time. but your mind itches to find a justification, searching for proof, and you’re already in too deep. despite your better judgement, you turn the page, doing your best not to drop it when you do.

it’s you.

you, at least six times on two pages alone. smiling, waving, fixing your hair, by the seven you feel faintly sick, fingers digging into the pages as you try to rationalize what you’re seeing.

it could just be a one off. maybe you have a particularly interesting face to draw? except the next page is the same, and so is the next, and you flip through them all with the edge of your thumb and it’s all you.

all of it. every single page that has ink on it has your face. from the very front to the very back, with only a page or two of white left, and it’s clear that the jewelry was an intentional decoy. there’s a spread dedicated to just your hands, one to various outfits he’s seen you in, one- archons, one in various stages of undress, barely granting you the dignity of keeping them from the waist up. the worst part, really, is how accurate they are, clear proof of just how much time he’s spent staring at you.

you recognize his voice now, quiet and measured as he calls your name. that could just be your heart in your ears, though.

he has that same blank expression again, standing in the doorway, looking between you and the book. you’re certain he can see the paled fingertips of your grip on the cover. “do… do you not like them?”

“…what?”

he settles back into himself, sad, shoulders slumping and eyes downturned. “they’re just practices, i promise. the actual painting looks much better…”

bile threatens the back of your throat. “the painting?”

“yes, the painting. the one i mentioned in my note…”

…the note. his note. the one you didn’t read. the one he gave you after a grand total of one significant interactions, before which you all but considered him a ghost. and he decided that making a painting of you was a normal thing to do?

“…it makes sense you forgot it. i can’t imagine i’ve ever come close to properly capturing your beauty… it doesn't matter the medium, i never seem to get it right...”

he crosses his arms, picking idly at his lips with one hand, like he’s discussing a particularly annoying problem on his homework and not the fact that he has drawings of you topless. after a few moments of mumbling, he shakes his head. “i’ll do better. i promise i will. one day i'll draw something that finds even a fraction of your perfection.”

you don’t care. all you want is to get out of here, to lock your doors and try not to call the cops while he’s in earshot. “it’s fine, albedo”

the lie is a poison that seems to sting him upon arrival, a ripple of shock crossing his impassive expression. “it's not fine, not at all. how can i call myself an artist if i fail to impress my muse? please, give me time, i promise i can do better-”

“it’s fine,” you repeat, setting the sketchbook down and realizing with another stab of disgust that he’s written your name on the front cover. you stand, hands buzzing with the echo of what you’ve witnessed, not caring for the crestfallen look on his face. “…you’re a talented artist,” you grit out.

and you’re going to be sick.

[threepandas]

Beautiful Monsters: Yandere AfO

(Absolute GOLD STANDARD AfO art by -> blackberreh-art <- )

He had never stopped to consider his whore of a mother. Not for even an instance. Not to wonder who she had been. Not how she had come to be that way. And CERTAINLY not to wonder if she had, at some point, had siblings of her own. He had fed upon her. Consumed. Then survived where she had not.

Superior.

But now... now he wonders is perhaps he SHOULD have looked into it. Pondered, perhaps, WHERE his Quirk's genetics came from. Maternal or Paternal line? And did they have siblings? Other offspring?

It was certainly possible with the sperm donor. A man of no doubt loose morals, likely to have sired many. Though... how many SURVIVED the coming purges, is another thing entirely. Especially if they were Quirked.

He ponders this? Because he is staring down at his own distorted, yet magnificent, reflection. Through the surveillance screens, a SUPPOSEDLY unassuming public relations manager is shaking the hand of a low ranking hero. It is the seventh hand shake he's observed.

And that's just this sitting.

Just this meeting.

It is... MAGNIFICENT. Underhanded and brilliant. Predicated on the intense social pressures to maintain decorum, he knew if HE greeted in an Western manner, his victims would be forced to play along. What could they do? REFUSE to take his hand? Look RUDE and unreasonable? Even those few who THINK they know his Quirk, can't act.

It would appear bigoted. Quirkist. They have no PROOF.

All For One can only laugh. He is delighted. What a fumbling, audacious, greedy little scheme! How UTTERLY covetous. A "mute and mimic" quirk, was it? The "ability to 'briefly' copy quirks by 'temporarily muting' someone else's Quirk"? Oh, of COURSE! How completely non-threatening! It's TEMPORARY. Not GONE, just MUTED.

No need to VERIFY any of these facts. Why would a child LIE?

To get MORE? To avoid the hostile eyes of the power fearing SHEEP?

And to go into to PUBLIC RELATIONS! The gall! A brazen little monster in the making. He has to wonder... would HE have done the same? Had the world been as settled as it is now, when he was born? Were there no Quirk riots? No wars? Would HE have been content to "play the system"?

It's like looking through time at his younger self. So cocky. Self assured. A pretty, powerful, little thing that thinks it's the biggest fish in the pond. Hair like his brother, smooth to his curls, yet just as bleached bone white. Smug eyes, that dance with the secrets they keep. A vague smile, that gives away nothing.

Promises nothing.

He wants to RUIN him.

Grab him by that pretty little throat and SLAM him to the ground. Crater it. Hard enough to shatter the bones of lesser men. Wants to feel that pretty little thing CHOKE as he looks up at him with such magnificent disdain. As though HE is the insect that does not know it's place. That DARES touch it's better. Oh~

The poor little thing would have NO IDEA.

The sort of MONSTERS that have been lurking in the dark, ready to eat him ALIVE.

He has good taste, for the resources he has on hand. The budget he has to work with. The boy cleans up well, in his pretty little suits and quaint colognes. Decent cuts. Flattering. But All for One could do BETTER.

He keeps his hair long. A vanity and a means to soften their imposing jawline. Kept so neat and tidy. All of him, so very neat. So immaculately dressed. Clean.

He would RUIN IT.

As he holds him down by the throat. Under that furious gaze. He'd make him WATCH as he ruins the appearance he's oh so proud off. Shows him EXACTLY how different they are in strength. No knives, he thinks. Not even Quirks. At least, not directly, no...

Just his HANDS.

Ripping cloth. Shredding it beneath his fingers. Letting him kick and struggle in the DIRT. Insulted and wrathful. As All for One's hands wander. He wonders~ how FAR would the little monster let him get before he snapped?

He's been chained down for so long. So used to HIDING, can he even bring himself to do it? How far would All for One need to PUSH to get him to abandon his little plans, and FIGHT BACK?

Watching him struggle, FIGHT, throw EVERYTHING he has at him. Seeing the realization spark in his eyes that it's not ENOUGH. That it's hopeless. That beautiful despair. That he's pinned down like a butterfly for All for One to devour. A ruined beauty in his trashed remains of a suit.

The little monster would HATE it. Would RAGE. His lovely little mask of civility would come crumbling apart as he WRITHED beneath him. Trying to rip his throat out with his TEETH. Trying to claw out his EYES with that carefully maintained manicure. And All for One would DELIGHT.

Reveal in it.

Drink it all in, like the fine wine it was.

Because, OH~ What a magnificent MONSTER you've held back, little one~ Hateful and ugly. Just like ME~

All for One could out match him. Strength, experience, Quirks. His empire is sprawling while the boy has none. He COULD be a threat, in time. COULD grow to be an equal. But All for One could never allow THAT! The avaricious little thing would kill him!

No.

He's going to eat the boy ALIVE.

And his little monster will HATE it. DISPISE him. Because he his going to love it. And that? That CAN NOT be forgiven. Not by monsters like them. The defeat, the humiliation, the helplessness. It's unforgivable. But the PLEASURE? For THAT All for One will have to BURN. It can end no other way.

Not after he's held him down. Made him WEAK and filthy. Then found every spot that makes him twitch. Dragged open his mouth so he can not escape the NOISES he makes, as AfO swallows him whole. As quirks are combined to squirm, painlessly, easily, at JUST the right angle too...

He'd make him HOWL. Choke on his begging. Thrash and beg and curse.

Like he was DYING. Like he's begging for death.

You can torture a man with more then just pain, after all.

And he'd wants his little his monster OBSESSED. Wants the memory of his cock to HAUNT him. The feeling of being split open. Filled so gloriously, so PERFECTLY. Over and over again. Endlessly. With stamina beyond human limitations. With strength most humans could never dream off.

Combining sensory quirks and attraction quirks, body modification and lust quirks, into something NO ONE else could possibly hope to give him. Everything so sensitive, so pleasurable, it dances the line of pain. He could fry the pleasure center in your brain again and again, then FIX them, little monster. Could make you see GOD.

No one else would ever be able to give him that. The touch of his own hands would forever be ruined for him. Not enough. Never enough. Not after HIM.

And that's why his little monster would have to try and kill him. Would try and hunt him. Obsess. Chase. Rage. But oh, he'd fall in line, in the end. Because he'd LOSE. His cravings crippling him. His NEED to submit.

All for One watchs the security monitors. Lazily palming himself. He wonders... should he keep his little pet by his side? Or tucked away, chained safely to his bed? He supposes it would depend on his mood.

Leaning back, he let's a solid shadow quirk slide over his skin, servicing him. His eyes never stray from the screen. It's twenty-eight handshakes now. Quite the collection he must have. His little monster glances up at the camera and for a moment... it is as though their eyes have met.

Such MAGNIFICENT crimson.

He spills into the greedy, sucking, vice of the shadow he created. Then vanishes the mess. Decadent and relaxed, he orders his spies to gather more information. It's been entirely too long since he's last left the base. Not since killing Shimura. And with her idiot successor off doing... SOMETHING, in America? He has time.

Or at least, time ENOUGH, for a bit of monster hunting~

[nestingdoves]

♡ dexter morgan x sibling reader

♡ incest. implied biological but adopted works.

♡ gender unspecified reader. jealousy, possessiveness (reader towards dexter). anger issues (reader). reader has repressed murder tendencies. manslaughter/murder cover-up (dexter and reader). depictions of gore. sibling kissing. reader is a lil freaky about dexter being bloodied.

♡ don't like? block/scroll and move on, easy peasy

imagine you and your brother dexter getting adopted by the morgan family. you, who always clutched tightly to dexter. you're practically inseparable, though that's mostly on account of your clinginess.

but you're otherwise the perfect child - withdrawn, dutiful, getting along better with your foster mother than your other two new family members. always cleaning up, tidying up beds, getting lunches ready - always stuffing another granola bar in dexter's lunch because that specific flavour is the one he likes.

things with debra are horrible. you're always antagonizing each other, subtly underdoing each other's work, tattling to your mom and dad about every other thing.

only dexter can get you to behave, his brow setting and lips pressed together. "that's not how we're supposed to act."

the conflict with debra is really the only issue you have with your adopted family- that and how venemously protective you are of dexter. going somewhere? you need to sit beside him. he stole debra's food? you'll either own up to it and proclaim that he'd do no such thing. (you watched him eat it.)

but you don't display the same tendencies as your brother; so when harry takes you out, sitting you in a boat and asking if you ever felt urges... you say no. because you haven't. not in the same way that dexter does. but all the same, he knows something is off.

and when dexter comes home with bloodied shoes, you clean it off, scrubbing your fingertips raw. when someone is bothering you, picking on someone, you tell dexter first. ride home, call dexter. want to go to the theatre, call dexter. nightmare, crawling into dexter's bed.

harry is, understandably concerned at how close you are with dexter but doesn't act on it. yet.

but there's a yawning reach inside you, something that demands to snap, a temper short and fists fast. but dexter always takes you back, reminding you how to act. to behave. though he never reprimands you whenever you deck someone for calling your brother "weird".

when he goes to the dance, you sit at home, knuckles tight, breath hot as you think of some girl putting hands on your dexter. but when he comes home, tells you how boring it is, you exhale, breath shuddering in your chest. because he's still yours.

still yours even when he comes home with lipstick stains on his neck, yours when he comes into your room the second you make a distressed noise. he's yours when he catches you staring at your hand once when you cut your palm, watching the blood rain down your wrist (and it haunts like a memory). yours when his calloused hands, strange cuts on his own palms as he wraps your hand up.

he's yours, yours, yours.

and you'll hurt anyone who gets in your way.

but even then he's yours when he's teaching you to drive and he's talking about some girl harry wants him to see. about debra who grabbed his sweater without asking.

you see red, red, red, and hear a woman screaming as your foot hits the metal. only interrupted by dexter's calm "there's a person in the road" moments before you crunch right into them.

neither of you move, sitting their casually in the car, as if you didn't just run someone over. the windows are down, the evening air washing over your skin. you can hear moaning and crying outside your window. can see dexter's eyes watch you through the rearview mirror. he doesn't say anything.

but neither do you.

he doesn't say anything when you reserve the car and rev right back over them, feeling the car jolt beneath you both. you continue to smear guts and entrails over the pavement until the sounds stop.

"stay here." he says, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth, jaw setting as he unclips his belt. you watch him through the rearview window as he opens the trunk, pulling out bags and some cleaning junk that he left inside.

when you climb out, he passes you a pair of gloves. something inside you squirms, hot and sticky, as you look at the gore pressed into the tires. seeing dexter work, muscles flexing under his shirt, mouth drawn into a thin line, pulling intestines from the undercarriage.

an itch started inside you, gnawing at your gut and bones, a presence that demands the harvest. as always, you listen to every word dexter says, every command as he helps you clean up the mess.

washing the asphalt is harder but gallons of water pours the mess down the gutters. cleaning out the front grill is harder but - dexter does it all. telling you quietly as he always does how to take care of things like this.

that yawning hunger doesn't relent. doesn't relent when you two hose down the car and wash off your hands.

"you need to calm down," he says quietly, finally as he sits in the driver's seat. your pulse is beating fast in your chest. he's noticed. he always notices.

reaching over, you brush your fingers over his cheek, smearing the blood over his cheekbone. his eyes dart to you then back towards the road.

when he continues speaking, beginning to talk about rules and guidelines, a code that you don't care to understand for, you unclip your seatbelt and reach over, pulling him towards you and kissing him like a part of you is trying to eat him.

"we're not supposed to do this." dexter says, brow furrowed. he always says things like that to you; like he's memorizing a guidebook. maybe you don't give a fuck.

"we're not supposed to run over a guy, not call the cops and cover it up either," you say. "I think we're past the point of what's allowed."

"oh," he says, as if he hadn't thought of that. and this time, he doesn't stop you when you kiss him again, when you lick the blood spatters off his face, when you all but shove your tongue down his throat and crawl into his lap.

dexter doesn't tell harry about you. but he doesn't go out with girls (or boys) anymore, even though harry sighs and tries to coax him. tries to coax you too.

and if you're a little less angry, a little less ferocious, and that's something.

(later, when the family goes hunting minus doris, harry catches you just watching a fox struggle in a bear trap, doing nothing to put it out of its misery or looking away. and as his heart sinks, he realizes that maybe he should have paid attention to you too.

but when he brings you up to dexter, your poor, sweet brother just shakes his head and says, "no, they're not like me". because as much as you protect him, he protects you, too.)

when harry finally passes, dexter is the one who takes your hand and leads you away. debra laments about how siblings shouldn't share apartments but it doesn't matter. none of it matters when you know, feel it in your bones, that dexter won't leave you.

[yanderedrabbles]

What happens when the Yandere state trooper finds out y/n is pregnant?

(❤️)

Oops, looks like you're stuck with him.

Yandere Cop - Baby Trapped

Yandere! State Trooper might be an asshole, but he's not an idiot. You've been avoiding him.

Yandere! State Trooper who puts an alert out on your plates and is the first one pulling up when they get called in. Who plans to draw this out for as long as possible and think of your pretty lips on his cock the whole goddamn time.

Yandere! State Trooper who sees you flinch when he shows up at your window. Who can't hide his annoyance when you keep avoiding his eyes. Who raps his baton on your car door and snarls at you to look at him when he's talking to you.

Yandere! State Trooper who asks you to kindly step out of the vehicle and when you do, he's grabbing hold of your upper arms, digging his fingers into the flesh and pressing you between him and the car.

Yandere! State Trooper who wedges his knee between your thighs and scraps it across your clothed cunt.

"Why're you avoiding me, hmm?"

Yandere! State Trooper who watches you go pale, trying to shrink into yourself like that will somehow make him go away. You claim it's nothing, you just haven't been out much.

Yandere! State Trooper who shakes you like a ragdoll and snaps that you're the shittiest liar he's ever met. And you spill your secret in a stuttering rush of words.

You've missed your period.

Yandere! State Trooper who carefully presses his hand against your lower belly, his mind going a mile a minute. There aren't any other men in your life, he's made sure of that. So it's his, without a doubt.

Yandere! State Trooper who smiles slow and lazy. Do you have any idea how expensive kids are? Were you really going to manage with a job, a single income and kids?

Yandere! State Trooper who finally has you in a position where you can't possibly say no to him.

Yandere! State Trooper who knows more than anyone how tightly binding the law can be. And when you're his wife...well, the law has and always will be on his side.

"Tell you what dollface, why don't you come over and we can pick out your ring together?"

[reareaotaku]

Detective Chester Lake Headcanons

I can't believe this man was written off because people didn't like him. He's so charming

Sweetest man in the world. Would never lay a hand on you

You met at a bookstore, wanting the same book

He invites you to coffee to talk about all your books [Almost like a bookclub]

The more niche the books, the more excited he gets

He can't sleep, so if you ever are up late at night for whatever reason, you can always depend on him to be up

He's more than willing to talk to you. He'll even come to your home and keep you company if you're lonely. Hell, he knows a great place to get food. Anything you need, he's willing to give/do for you

He worships you and can't believe he lived his life without you

He likes his job, but he's willing to give it up for you

Hell, you want him to be a household husband? Sure!

You want to be a Household wife? Whatever you want dear

He really wants kids

He won't beg like an animal, but he will drop hints

"You know this room would look so good in baby blue walls with a crib."

"Aww, isn't that baby cute?"

"You know, when I was a baby, I was always really good"

"If we had a kid, you wouldn't have to worry about being up all night. I'd do it for you"

He watches you sleep

It brings him ease. Like all his just disappear. There is no crime, there is no evil, there is only you and him

The only time he can sleep is when you're in his arms. He loves cuddling with you, holding you close. He can finally rest his eyes

The thought of losing you or someone hurting you drives him insane. He can't imagine his life without you. It scares him and forces him to work harder at his job

He wants to put all the bad guys away to make the world safer for you

He has the personality of a golden retriever

Always happy and never seems to feel any form of sadness

He wants you to be happy and wants to do anything to make it happen

You met his co-workers/colleagues when he was in the hospital for a concussion

They were probably surprised that the man had a girlfriend

[fernpetals]

Good Cop, Bad Cop VI

Masterlist

Part 1 Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Yandere Tom Ludlow x Reader

Warning: Cynical and sexual musings, stalking, Tom is not a good guy and he knows it

GIF is not mine, credit to the owner of the GIF

Unedited Piece

What is it about you?

Tom has spent night after night, lying awake in his bed. Even the alcohol could not take his mind away from you. At times, he would look at the old pictures—a younger, naive, idealistic him, his wife. Oh wife— the woman who gave him the happiest years of his life until it all came crashing down.

At some point, he wished to have a family together. But the more time he spent solving cases and finally having no other option but to bend the law a little, then some, some more, until it became the norm because no matter what the law believes, he knows that at times, street justice is the way. He knows that he can never give his children a safe, fulfilling life. No child deserves this. Besides, he is far too disillusioned with himself and the world around to be a father.

His ways are frowned upon, but so is his previous unit—those corrupt motherfuckers deserved how they died. He is not one of them, but he is no saint either. His ways are questionable but needed. No wonder Deputy Chief James had put up his name for promotion right after he took office. 

But Tom has never been for the desk, he needs to be in the field. In recent days, however, he does not seem to hate it as much. He almost feels a little bad for toying with you like that, making you sit beside him for hours, had you known better, she should have been a harassment complaint against him. But you clearly don’t know better and as much as it works in his favour, it also alarms him.

How can you be so careless? 

Fortunately, he is looking out for you, though he is not delusional. He knows he does not deserve you the slightest, and if you knew his true intention, you would detest him. Your lovely smile would transform into a scowl. 

But it is so hard to ignore the feelings, to shove away the thoughts that come back each time with vehemence. He wants you to smile at him, make you blush and giggle so his heart feels a little lighter. 

At the same time, he cannot help but imagine pulling you on his lap every time you take a seat beside him in the police station. You would fit right there, straddling him, wrapping your supple thighs around his. Even with the fleeting, innocuous touches, he has felt sparks all over, maybe holding your hand would be electrifying. 

He checks his phone for the nth time, you have been in that stupid little bar for over two hours. At least now he has your live location

Initially, he felt ashamed at how many times he imagined rubbing his thumb over your lips or having his lips on yours—on your lips, on your neck, on the swell of your breasts, between your legs. Or maybe his fingers—will your sweet eye fluter close? Your lips part?

The number of times his pants have felt uncomfortable by these thoughts is embarrassing. He has gotten laid after that, but…nothing truly keeps you out of his mind.

He is not looking for someone to fix him, he is beyond ‘fixing’. But he feels with you, he has a true purpose. He alone cannot wipe off the underworld, it will thrive, like a rat’s nest. People like him keep that under control, that’s the most he can do. His purpose as a detective ends there, unfortunately. 

When it comes to you, however, there’s a certain silver lining, a tinge of light, like he has been trudging through a dark tunnel and has unexpectedly found light. You give him a purpose as a person— a reason to think twice before headbutting with danger.

Maybe, there is something to life after all, and even not to life, at least something to look forward to the next day. 

****

[maleyanderecafe]

Bad/Good Cop (Visual Novel)

Created by: EllyTheHuman

Genre: Mystery

Persona like UI and art, mystery style game and a yandere that is kind of incompetent and likes to get beat up? Sign me up! This is currently a demo, but I am already pretty on board with the protagonist Amako and the yandere that is her sidekick/obsessive stalker, Arashi.

The story starts out with Amako Sakamoto going to a cafe with her coworker, Jessica. After ordering her usual and offering to pay Jessica's half, Jessica seems very impressed that Amako already knows so many of the neighbors here, despite only having transferred about two months ago. Jessica comments that there was another person, Arashi Kamado who transferred in around the same time as a CPS support specialist, with what seems like him having a crush on Amako, at least from Jessica's point of view. After getting their drinks, the two can either wander around near Amako's apartment, go to the park or go back into the office. Going to the apartment will have Amako notice that she's missing her tshirt while going to the park will have Jessica see what looks like Arashi following them, either way, they are called by Jessica's brother, John who nags them to get back into office (unless they go to the office first, in which John will comment that they are early.

Either way, before Amako goes back to work, she realizes that she left her handkerchief in the breakroom and can decide to get it now or later. If she decides to go into the breakroom, she will run into Arashi, who startles her and gives her back her handkerchief. Arashi comments that he was going to grab a snack before Amako going back to work, with Arashi muttering that he still has her shirt.

We then cut to Amako going to the last house to check in on the various people she's helped, specifically Ms. Gabriel and her son Micheal, whom she helped with getting them out of an abusive household. After a cute interaction with Amako where Micheal gives her a nice drawing, she goes back home. Unfortunately, she's out of food and has to either skip dinner or go to the fast food restaurant, which requires her to go through a creepy alleyway.

If she decides to go to bed, she'll find that someone is there, with Arashi knocking her out and kidnapping her to a new location.

If on the other hand, Amako decides to go out, she will be a bit hesitant at first before deciding to look at the drawing Micheal drew for her to cheer her up. While reminiscing, Amako accidentally drops the drawing, causing Arashi who was trying to swing a bat to knock her out to completely miss. Arashi tells Amako to stand still so she can be knocked out, but Amako is able to dodge and threaten to break his arm (which he takes happily to). Arashi then starts going off about how much he loves and adores Amako before outright confessing to her. Arashi attempts to corner Amako before she threatens to call the police, but is interrupted by Mrs. Gabriel who is trying to look for her son. Amako runs towards Mrs. Gabriel's voice, where she explains that Micheal was taken away while he was playing in the backyard. Arashi interrupts to offer and drive the two to Mrs. Gabriel's house. Arashi seems pretty indifferent to the plight of Mrs. Gabriel before Amako explains the situation. It seems that Arashi does remember talking to the ex husband, stating how annoying he was and how he would kill him. An officer asks for the two's identity to get Micheal's case file, to which Amako calls the office to ask Jessica. However, when Jessica goes to look for it, it seems the entire case file is gone before Jessica abruptly stops and hangs up. Amako decides to get the file herself and runs to work, though she and Arashi can't seem to find anything. Despite this, Arashi ends up finding Jessica's nametag in the break room. Arashi gets a call from a stranger, who threatens to get the two to go to a specific location or else something happens to Micheal. Arashi after the call tries to get Amako to forget about Micheal, but Amako refuses, even if she could die, with Arashi promising to tag along, happily going along with the "date" that they will embark on.

Although it is just a start to a mystery, it already is intriguing with a pretty go-getter main character having to also work together with her yandere stalker. I always like main characters in visual novels that are more active in what they want as it leads to more of them driving the story along rather than having someone else drive it for them. Amako is pretty good as a protagonist as she is pretty proactive in her job, something that likely relates to her past in some way, perhaps she too had an abusive father when she was younger, and is determined to find Micheal even if she dies from it. She also is a kind person, already knowing and talking to the people around her despite only being here about two months. I also think it's pretty funny watching her passively brush off Arashi's murderous comments and telling him to maybe don't do that.

Arashi on the other hand, we don't really know too much about, other than he transferred around the same time as Amako and has a rich family. He seems to be pretty antisocial and weird to anyone but Amako and although Amako is kind of oblivious about it, Arashi does eventually spell out that he is in love with her. Other than being kind, we don't know exactly why Arashi is in love with Amako. We do know that he's been stalking and taking things from her, and he does successfully kidnap her if she decides to skip dinner, which makes me wonder where exactly he would have brought her. He seems to know what is going on with the kidnapper as he even warns Amako that she might not be able to come out alive if she agrees. He seems to be a mix of obsessive stalker and slight worshiper given that he praises Amako for what she's done and has been keeping things from him. He doesn't seem to care about anyone but Amako but will take any praise or even insult from her. He also can be a bit clumsy given that he tried to knock out Amako in the alleyway but kept missing, making me laugh a bit.

The UI and artwork is reminiscent of Persona 5, with the use of reds and the textbox looking like something that was very strongly influenced by it, and the idea of justice. I'm wondering just how much the plot will be influenced by Persona 5 as well, but either way I think it would be something fun to be influenced by. I wouldn't mind it, that's for sure. I do hope in the future that there will be sprites for both John and Jessica because it looks really werid

Overall, a good start to a mystery. I have a feeling I'll like Amako and Arashi's story together, considering that Arashi as a yandere is very fun to me and I like Amako's personality. Plus, I am curious about how they'll be able to save Micheal and how Arashi's yandereness will feed into it all.

[hunterssm00n]

Adore

Yandere! Sheriff OC / part 4 /

I'll give you everything...

*cw include stalking, yandere behavior, abuse of authority, obsession, and dark themes* MDNI - 18+

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

I make the short drive to the local coffee shop on my first break, at nine in the am the next day. The whole morning I’d done nothing but think about what transpired last night - what I allowed myself to do. What I thought about while I did it. And why, in gods name, I’m not as disgusted with myself as I should be.

It’s a lot to unpack, and the work day is sure to be long.

I wait in line to order my usual - a white chocolate iced mocha, even through the freezing temperatures outside. Stepping up to the counter, I smile at the woman behind the register, and before I can ask for my usual, she speaks first.

“Your order has already been paid for - I'll get it started for ya.”

I’m taken aback, and for a moment I think she may be talking to someone else. However, looking around, I realize I’m the only one in line at the moment. "W-What?" I'm so confused I barely react when she reaches out to take my coffee card from my outstretched hand, purposely not taking my debit card which was also clutched in my palm, and stamps it before handing it back to me. It can't be, I think. Surely not here.

The nice woman behind the counter, who takes my order every day I come in here, grins at me knowingly, and remarks, “He’s still back there if you wanna say thank you. Lucky girl.”

I already know what, who, I’m going to see.

Sure enough, I see his tall, broad frame clearly from over the bottles of syrup and espresso machines. His imposing figure is enough to make one look twice, and enough to make me melt inside. His dark hair is slicked back atop his head how he normally wears it, and he's laughing and chatting with an elderly couple at a table near him. On anyone else, that particular hairstyle might look weird, like some gangster wannabe. But on him, it looks sexy. Everything about him is sexy, I realize yet again, as my stomach drops. I can't deny my body's reaction to him. I think about what I did last night imagining him - imagining us - and I know my face burns pink; I can feel it.

There's no way out of this situation. If I deny the coffee to the barista, then they'll think I'm rude or ungrateful. Since I come here almost every day, I don't want them to treat me differently because I wouldn't accept a generous free coffee. If I offer to pay, there won't be any point because it's already paid for. I'm not one to make a scene - unless a situation really calls for it - and he probably knows that I won't make a scene over something as simple as someone buying me a coffee. I know it's not drugged or laced with anything because the barista is about to make it fresh for me right now. In my mind, I think: what's the problem here? This man has practically been terrorizing me for the past few weeks - he should at least buy me a coffee. He owes me. But at the same time, I don't want to take anything from him. I don't want to feed into his obsession; don't want to let him think that what he's doing is in any way okay... right?

I don't see any other way out of this. I smile at the barista, hoping it's convincing, and slowly begin my walk towards the back counter. Towards him.

It takes everything in me to keep my head up and not to look down at the floor. I don't want to seem meek, or timid - which is how most people see me, until they piss me off. But that takes a lot. I'm not angry now, but I am annoyed. Annoyed at him for putting me in this situation in the first place - but also annoyed at myself for enjoying his attention. I don't want to enjoy it. If this was any guy other than Ray Donnovan, I would have gone up to them by now to tell them that I wasn't interested, and to buzz off. I would have made my disinterest very clear. So why can't I do that with him? Why do I secretly enjoy what he is doing to me, in the most depraved, twisted parts of my mind?

Ray has his back turned to me for the moment, still talking to the elderly couple, but I know he'll notice me soon. At this point he can probably damn near sense me. And if he knows what my perfume smells like (which, let's be honest, he probably does!), then he'll definitely know it's me. Swallowing hard, I walk behind him as lightly as possible, trying not to draw any attention to myself. I don't know what I'll do if and when he turns around; I don't know what I'll say. I don't want to be meek and timid, but I'm thinking maybe I can get my coffee as quick as possible and escape out of here before he sees me. Maybe a bit cowardly, but I don't really feel like facing him at the moment; I don't know what I'll say or do.

His voice is so deep it travels through my whole body, practically quaking me in my steps. My knees feel weak and unsteady, and I hope I don't collapse onto the floor behind him; being this close to him is making me feel anxious and... something else. Even though he is not currently talking to me, I can't help but hang onto every word I can make out from him over the normal sounds of coffee being made, people talking across tables, and the local pop radio station blaring from the speakers somewhere above my head. I hope the barista makes my drink fast today as I stop a few feet away from Ray; not too close so as hopefully not to have him notice me (or god forbid, smell me).

He is so much larger than I am; a fact I hadn’t really realized until just now, when I’m practically right beside him. He has to be at least six-two, though I would actually bet that he may be even taller than that. He smells good too; a hint of cologne, mixed with the sweet and spicy aroma of pure masculine musk. Purely the scent of a man. It damn near has my mouth watering.

I try not to look at him, fearing that the weight of my gaze will have him feeling someone watching him; feeling my presence close by, knowing that I'm near. It all sounds so dramatic in my head. But if I didn't see him everywhere I went, or always seem to have him show up when I least expect it, I would probably think the same. Instead, I keep my eyes focused on what the barista is doing, knowing that as soon as she's done with my drink I can hopefully bolt out of here unnoticed.

But right at that moment, I feel immense heat at my left side, and my heart rate spikes as the smell of him increases tenfold. Fuck.

"Kelli."

At that exact moment, as soon as his deep voice breathes out my name in what sounds like reverence, the barista brings my coffee to the counter. "White chocolate mocha," she announces, catching my eye and winking not-so-subtly. My face is still hot, and now burns even more as I walk up to the counter on shaky legs to grab my drink. I realize that I'm not sure I even need the caffeine anymore; I feel like a live wire.

Feeling his eyes on me the whole time, I thank her and bid her a good day, my cheerful voice not relaying the butterflies of both anxiety and anticipation fluttering madly in my gut. His eyes burning into my back, I put the lid on my drink, carefully so my trembling hands don't knock the cup over, and reach for a straw. I feel footsteps on the floor behind me, heavy ones, and I know there's no quick escape from him now. However, I still attempt one.

Not even looking back at him, I begin walking towards the door, stirring my drink to blend all the milk and syrups together with the coffee. I hear him behind me saying goodbye to the older couple he'd been talking to before he follows me - and I don't even have to look back at him to know that he's following. I can feel his heavy footsteps pounding on the wood floor underneath my feet, harder the closer he gets. It gives me shivers, knowing that he's coming after me; knowing about the inevitable interaction that will follow.

I pull the door open and cold air from outside rushes into the warm coffee shop. I'm not fast enough to yank the door closed behind me before one of his massive hands catches it and prevents me from shutting it. The thought of those hands and the things they could be capable of makes me shiver, and not from the freezing temperatures outside. I stamp down the thoughts of what I'd done last night the moment it comes to the surface of my brain. Now is a really bad time to be rehashing that.

"Kelli," He says my name again as I walk down the stairs, gripping onto the railing for dear life so my legs don't give out on me. I don't stop; just keep walking to my car, not sure of what else to do that doesn't involve dumping my mocha over his head. But I would never do that - the waste of coffee would be a catastrophe.

Speaking of coffee, I take a sip of the cold drink despite the equally cold air. Delicious.

Ray suddenly appears beside me, nearly making me jump out of my skin. "Did I get it right?"

It's after a moment that I realize he's referring to the coffee. I blame my slow thoughts on exhaustion and anxiety, both of which he's partly to blame for.

I look up at him for the first time, and the eye contact sends a jolt of electricity through me despite the situation. He's looking down at me so earnestly, sincerely wanting to know if he got my order right. If he wasn't stalking me, I would feel like the luckiest girl in the world for landing such a man. I mean, part of me still- No, I do not feel lucky. Absolutely not.

I speak to him for the first time ever, I realize, and I simply say, "You know you did."

A slow, almost sheepish smile crosses his lips, as if he's embarrassed for knowing my coffee order without ever asking me what it was. "I guess I do, huh?"

I roll my eyes, because I don't know what else to do, and reach into my pocket for my key fob to unlock my car. Even though the air is chilly, my cheeks are hot. I really need my body to stop reacting to him in such a way - it's not helping my case. "I have to get back to work. Thanks for the surprise." I don't really know why I thank him, other than because technically, what he did was an act of kindness. I just wonder what his ulterior motives are.

"Wait," He steps in front of me now and I almost walk into him. I stop dead in my tracks, and there's barely any space between us. My eyes are level with his vest clad chest, and it's wider than the width of my shoulders. My heart feels like it's about to burst out of my chest as I slowly raise my eyes to look up at him, and I have to crane my head back far because he's so tall. He's looking at me like he wants to say something, lips parted, but he doesn't speak. It's almost like he's afraid to say what he's thinking because he knows it will scare me away. However, I find myself disappointed that he doesn't talk; doesn't he at least owe me that?

Finding my courage, I ask him, "What do you want from me?"

For a moment he looks at me, just looks at me, and it's almost to the point where it starts to make me uncomfortable. I'm in my work clothes, covered in dust and dirt from working in the warehouse, but it's like none of that matters to him. He looks at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen; like I'm his most cherished person. Like I'm his lover. It's like in this moment I have a glimpse into his soul, and he's laying bare all of the things he's unable to voice; all of the words he's afraid to say out loud. His vulnerability makes me feel equally exposed, and I don't really know what to think about it.

He looks like there's a lot that he wants to say, but he seems to realize the time and place that we're in at the moment: on the sidewalk of a busy street, during the morning rush at all the local coffee shops and cafes, while I'm on a mere fifteen minute break from my soul sucking job. So instead of saying all that he wants to say, he simply answers: "A chance."

I blink up at him, because that's all I can do. If all he wants is a chance, why then doesn't he just ask me out on a date like a normal person? But strangely, his admission has me feeling something like compassion towards him. He could have said anything he wanted, but he chose to say that. Why? My inexperience in the dating and flirting field is probably painfully showing at the moment, because I don't have a response for him. It will probably take the rest of the day for me to even properly digest this first real interaction, and to maybe come up with an afterthought of a response. Even then, I don't know if I'll be able to think of one.

Plus, who the fuck wants to flirt with their stalker? Not me. Certainly not me.

He sighs, a crease between his eyebrows where there wasn't one before. "You should get back, I don't want you to be late."

With that he walks around to the drivers side of my car and opens my door for me, and I guess the conversation is over. As I slide into my car seat, I look up at him once again, wondering if he's going to say anything else, but he remains silent. He waits until I'm buckled in before he leans down into the still open car door. Looking me in the eye, he says seriously, "I hope you have a good day." and I can tell he really means it. With one last look at me, he shuts my car door for me, and then he disappears from my window, walking around to the back of my car so I'm free to drive away.

As I pull out of the parking spot and into the street, I look in my rearview mirror to see that he's still standing in the same spot he was in behind my car, watching me go.

Driving back to my workplace, I know I'll be thinking about this interaction for the rest of the day, whether I want to or not. And the worst part is: I do.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

This is an original work of mine, as are the characters.

I do not own the song 'Adore' by Cashmere Cat and Ariana Grande. The above picture is from pinterest, and there's a link attached to the original post.

[lipglossanon]

Hey You, Would You Help Me To Carry The Stone?

꧁ ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*`*•.•꧁꧂•.•*`*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ ꧂

Corrupt Cop!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

This is part ii for Mr. Sinister ☽☪︎⋆ Remix

Warnings: 18+ so minors DNI, dark!leon, yandere!leon, threats of bodily harm, vomiting, obsessive!leon, stalker!leon, just Leon being absolutely bonkers insane 👌

Kinda looked over but not really proofread 😅

Title from Hey You by Pink Floyd (really fits Leon in this part)

꧁ ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*`*•.•꧁꧂•.•*`*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ ꧂

It feels like you’re swimming in molasses; your consciousness is fighting to the surface in fits and starts. The first thing you notice is a slight ringing in your ears followed by the realization that you passed out. You open your eyes and squint at the low light saturating the room.

Trying to move your body leads to nowhere. You’re sitting in a chair with your legs tied together at the ankles and thighs; you can feel the constriction of rope wrapped around your middle, pinning your upper arms in place. You look down at your wrists and see them tied together in front of you with what looks like cloth, almost like a handkerchief.

“Oh good! You’re awake.”

Your attention snaps to the cheery voice on the other side of the room; you didn’t see the door before when looking around, but to be fair you’re still slowly coming to grips with where you are and what has happened to you.

The officer walks into the room until his boots are inches away from your own flats. Crouching down to be at a more even level with you, his lips tick up into that charming grin that tricked you in the first place.

“Sweetheart, don’t look so down. You don’t know how lucky you are,” he chastises, nudging your chin up with the knuckles on his thumb and forefinger.

“If you hadn’t have run, why we wouldn’t be here right now,” his full mouth turns down with faux sympathy, “such a shame you got caught so easily though.”

“Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone—“

He laughs, “I know you’re not. And I’m not letting you go just yet. Want to make sure we’re clear about some things first.”

You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to stave off the tears threatening to spill.

“Please, officer. I just want to go home.”

“Aww,” he coos, running a thumb underneath your eye to catch what tears fall. He sucks the thumb into his mouth and hums at the salty taste, eyes hungry and dark.

“Don’t cry, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he leans forward and nuzzles your cheek before giving it a soft kiss. “Gonna take care of my sweet girl, give her all the love she deserves.”

At that admission more tears fall from your eyes. You can feel a panic attack hovering, ready to sweep over your senses. Your fingers feel numb and your chest’s tight.

“Baby,” his voice low and soothing, “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I just want to go home,” you tiredly whisper, voice clogged with tears.

“For now you are home,” he kisses your cheek again, tongue darting out to lick the tears dripping from your eyes.

Your vision goes woozy, bile rising in your throat so fast it makes your nose run. 

“‘m gonna be sick,” you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth, “really, I-I’m—“

You gag and thankfully Leon pulls away from you with soft words of sympathy. He pulls a knife from the holster on his side and quickly slices through the rope binding your chest and arms then the one circling your thighs. 

“I’m going to pick you up and bring you to the toilet,” he slips the knife back to his side, and eases you from the chair. 

He picks you up bridal style and carries you out of the room; stepping into a short hallway, he takes you into the door directly across from you. 

He eases you down onto the floor next to the toilet, ankles and wrists still tied limiting your movement. Quickly, you flip the toilet lid up and retch into the bowl. 

“There, there,” he rubs your back, making you flinch and gag harder, “you’ll feel better once it’s all out.”

Tears splash into the dirty water, snot running freely down your face as you retch again, stomach acid coating the back of your throat leaving a sour and bitter tang on your tongue. 

He continues touching you, petting your hair or rubbing your back while you puke up what little dinner is in your stomach. After you dry heave a few times, your body slumps back in exhaustion. 

“I hate that my pretty girl isn’t feeling good,” he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss on your head. 

You’re so wrung out that you can only feel despair at the situation, no tears left to shed. Leon leans past you to flush the contents down the toilet. 

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” he stands then bends down to scoop you up in his arms bridal style again. 

He takes a few steps to set you down on the sink countertop. You watch in numb dissonance as he wets a cloth under the tap. 

“Close your eyes for me, sweet girl,” his lips curl up in a facsimile of warmth.

Not really having a choice, your eyes shut bathing your thoughts in darkness. You feel as Leon gently wipes your eyelids with the warm damp cloth. He diligently cleans up your face, making sure to clean off any traces of snot and vomit. 

You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see his crazed eyes anymore.. not wanting to deal with the reality of this situation. A few small tears drip from your closed eyelids making Leon tsk at you. 

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his low voice humming in your ears. 

Eyelashes fluttering open, you watch as that crooked smile slides over his face. 

“There she is,” he coos, “just one last thing, okay?”

You flinch at the sound of plastic cracking open and look down at his hands. He pulls out a new toothbrush from its package. Reaching around you, he runs it under the hot tap again. He pulls it back and after squeezing toothpaste across the damp bristles does he offer it to you. 

You stare at it, mind blissfully empty for a moment before Leon’s sigh jerks your attention back up to him. 

“Well I guess it would be awkward for you,” he pushes closer, titling your head up and holding your jaw, “open up for me, sweetheart.”

Keeping your mouth shut, you press your lips together more firmly. His eyes narrow down at you, a mean pinched expression coming into his face. 

“Don’t be a brat,” his thumb presses on the pressure point in your jaw making you open your mouth to stop the pain.

He slips the toothbrush past your parted lips, “See? Behave for me and everything will be just fine.”

As the minty flavor hits your tongue, humiliation bubbles up in your chest paired with white hot indignation; in this moment, you hate Leon with every atom of your body. You’ve never felt like this about anything or anyone, but you hope you convey how you feel with your eyes as you watch Leon focus on brushing your teeth. 

He lets go of your jaw to grab your chin and open your mouth wider. 

“Gotta make sure we don’t miss any spots. Don’t want my pretty girl getting cavities now, do we?” 

Before you can even think about it, you’re spitting in Leon’s face. You watch with slow dawning horror as toothpaste and spittle slide down the straight line of his nose. His pouty mouth thins, eyes darkening instantly. 

He sets the toothbrush on the counter and takes the cloth from earlier to quickly wipe down his face. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” his deep baritone makes you draw in on yourself, “apologize. Now.”

“S-s-sorry,” you finally stumble out, lips clumsy, “I-I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me.”

His demeanor softens, but his face stays unreadable, “If you keep up the attitude, I’ll be forced to fix it. Do you understand?”

Fear seizes you by the throat so you nod jerkily, tears pricking at your waterline again. 

“Good girl,” he pets your hair back, “I’m going to finish what I started, but if you act up again I’ll backhand that pretty mouth, okay?”

Hands shaking in your lap, you wilt under his intense gaze, “I understand,” whisper sounding loud in the small bathroom. 

“Good,” he picks up the toothbrush and rinses it off before reapplying toothpaste. 

He holds it in front of your lips and you open your mouth without any prompting. 

His lips tick up into a mean smile, “Good girl.”

You stare at the wall just past his shoulder and let him brush your teeth. He tilts your jaw as needed, the silence so loud you can hear your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. 

You start when you feel cool plastic touch your bottom lip. Your eyes jump to his face, his own darkened gaze watching you. 

“Need you to rinse, pretty girl,” he raises an eyebrow, “not going to have any repeats, right?”

You softly shake your head no, mouth too full of foamy toothpaste to answer. He angles the cup up, water trickling slowly into your mouth. You swirl it in your mouth and angle your head to the sink and spit it out. 

“Good girl,” he praises, hand stroking your side.

You stiffen as he picks you up again, quickly carrying you back into the bedroom where you woke up. This time he sets you down gently on the bed, bypassing the chair he had you tied in earlier. He kneels in front of you, similar to earlier, and checks the bindings on your wrists and ankles. 

“Why are you doing this?” hands twisting in your lap, you bring your gaze up from them to look in his face. 

He frowns at you, “Do you really not know?”

Anxiety spiking in your chest, you frown back at him, “No, I don’t. I just want to go home. Please.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “You know I can’t do that. You really don’t know why? Or recognize me?”

That draws you up short. Your lips part to ask, but you pause, trying to think past the horror of what’s happening to you, to think back on any time you may have run into this crazed man. 

He watches the emotions flit over your face with rapt attention. 

“I-I don’t rem—“

“Sure you do,” he gently massages your calves, “there’s that one time at the grocery store.”

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Unbeknownst to you, Leon’s been stalking you around town for a long time.

His shifts at work fluctuate, but he’s always clocking out in time to tail you. This past week, in particular, you haven’t really gone out much after getting home from class. Once to the grocery store, where he discreetly followed you inside.

However, this isn’t the incident he’s referring to; the first time he ever caught a glimpse of you was after a grueling sixteen hour shift. He was burnt out. Completely dead on his feet, he’s just standing in the canned food aisle blankly staring at rows of green beans. 

Laughter snaps him out of it. It feels like his soul slams back down in his body. Blinking rapidly, he turns his attention to the end of the aisle and sees... 

You.

God, he sees you. 

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

You’re not really paying attention to him, on the phone with someone as you laugh and smile at whatever they say, but it’s enough.

It’s. 

Enough. 

He feels lighter than he has in months, in years. Just seeing your face soothes that horrible nothingness that has started to blanket his life. Everyday the same gray monotony. And now?

You’re beautiful and sweet.. perfect, you’re perfect.

He watches you now, as you shuffle along pulling cans off the shelf to drop in your basket. He stands in the same spot, hoping you’ll look at him, notice him. 

Please. 

He knows he looks like death warmed over; he’s been in the shit all day today, helping this backwater town tread water a little while longer. But he has hope. 

The little thing with wings. 

His breath catches in his chest when you walk past him. You glance over at him as you’re passing and smile. At him. 

You smile at him. 

You keep walking, attention going back to your phone call and he watches you the entire time until you’re out of sight, leaving the aisle to finish your own shopping. 

From there, it’s simple to memorize your tag and get your information. It’s simple to figure out your schedule and follow you home (for you own safety of course). 

It’s simple to see that you need someone to take care of you; you’re far too trusting— too nice to people who don’t deserve it. Don’t deserve to even breathe the same air as you. But Leon’s got it. He’s got you even though you don’t know it yet, but one day, you will. 

He’s saving you from those plebeians. Like that annoying library aide who didn’t get the hint you weren’t interested, who suddenly resigned and moved away; kinda odd how he favored that left side pretty severely as he avoided you on his last day. 

Or the guy at the coffee shop who slipped you his number and later found himself severely beaten by an unknown assailant; funny how the cops never found any suspects for that case. The guy stopped showing up at the coffee shop and last you heard he moved back home to be with his parents. 

This last guy who invited you out to Lovers Lane is in for a fun surprise once Leon is comfortable in leaving you here alone for a long period of time. He has lots of plans for him that he’s excited to test out. 

There’s a hungry, dark part of Leon that he doesn’t let out very often; oh it helps with his job, being around the vilest scum of the earth always brings out that nasty part of his psyche, but it helps keep the trash in check. 

It’s always boiling under the surface, lurking and waiting, but now that he’s seen you—has you— it’s like a shark scenting blood. All of his senses amplify, wanting to protect you, keep you safe from the awful reality that is the everyday in this shithole town. 

He’s prepared to do everything and anything to keep you here, to himself, and show you that only he truly knows what’s best for you. 

That stupid boy you went out with doesn’t stand a chance once Leon gets his hands on him. He touched you, had the audacity to toss you to the side— Leon pushes that from his mind before he spirals.

The chase you gave him earlier in the night ignited his blood, brought him alive like nothing has in quite some time. He felt disappointment when you were so easily caught, but you at least tried to get away, tried to fight him off; that alone sent elation and arousal buzzing through his body to the point he was afraid you would slip from his grasp in his excitement.

The fear in your eyes made his heart race, although there’s no real reason to be scared of him. Leon will never hurt you in a way that matters. Correcting your behavior isn’t hurting you, it’s only teaching you how to treat yourself better. 

Leon feels like Lady Luck is finally shining a light on his life. You’re so perfect for him. He wants to sink his teeth in your body again and again— mark you where everyone can see you’re off limits. That you belong to him. 

Your quiet voice pulls his attention back to you—back to the present. 

“I think I saw you once,” your eyes are so earnest, so lovely, “I was on the phone with my mom. I remember seeing a cop at some point while shopping.”

He smiles at you all sugar sweet, “There we go. See? You do remember me.”

“B-but I know we’ve never even talked to each other. I don’t really even know you,” tears fill your eyes, making Leon ache to take you apart with his mouth but he refrains from doing so—even though it’s so hard not to. 

“Well, now you’ll have plenty of time,” he takes your bound wrists in hand and kisses your fingertips, “you’ll get to know me and see how much you belong here.” 

His chest feels full while he watches your eyes widen, anxiousness pinching your features as you fold in on yourself. Sorrow and fear enhances your beauty to the point Leon almost feels suffocated. 

Almost. 

He smiles tenderly at you, kissing your fingertips again, “Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’m here to take care of you.”

Your shoulders hitch as you sob quietly in front of him, face turned down but he can still see those glittering trails of saline caress your cheeks. That hungry want rises in him again, but he keeps it in check. 

He ticks your chin up with his knuckles and coos at your distress. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs, indulging himself again by lapping up your tears, “my sweet, pretty girl.”

Your eyes cut to his once he pulls back and it makes his cock throb and kick in his boxers. So hateful. He can see how much you want to rip into him, how you’d love to take him apart with your bare hands. He tamps down the urge to let you go, to really see what you would do to him. 

He smiles widely, gleefully, at you, but your eyes are still smoldering with hate and anguish. 

“There she is,” he purrs, voice smoky, “the perfect girl for me.”

He drags a thumb from the apple of your cheek down to your bottom lip. He sees the instant you think about lashing out, biting his thumb, but you reel it in. 

He’s dizzy at your restraint. The utter lack of action makes him want to push you further, see how far he can go, but he also reigns it in; he wants you to be on the same page. He needs you to see things his way—the right way, the only way. He’s so hard now that it hurts. 

Leon glances at his watch and frowns in distaste. 

“I hate to cut this short, but I’ve gotta go.”

He stands to his full height making you crane your head up to keep looking at him. Looking down at you, he wants you so much he’s sick with it. 

“Won’t be gone too long, sweetheart,” he slips his hands under your arms and places you back in the chair. 

“No, no, please,” you tremble, “I’ll be good, officer. Please don’t tie me up again, please.”

He watches you, sea dark eyes roving over your lovely features. 

“Promise to behave until I get back? I won’t be gone long,” he narrows his eyes at you, “and if you try anything. Anything. It’s going to be bad for you.”

You nod your head quickly, “Promise. Thank you.”

That makes him pause. He smiles at you again, brushing wisps of your hair away from your face. 

“You’re very welcome, sweetheart. Such a good girl I have. Let’s keep it that way, hmm?”

You nod again, eyes wide in your face. 

He caresses your cheek with the palm of his hand and then steps completely away. 

“Like I said, I’ll be back soon. Don’t try anything silly while I’m gone,” he laughs, a spark of excitement warming his chest, “or do. I guess I wouldn’t mind either way.”

He gives you one last lingering look as he closes the bedroom door. He locks the door lock along with the padlock he has bolted on the outside. Always better safe than sorry he thinks. 

He listens at the door for a moment and after not hearing anything except your soft crying, he steps away. Following the short hallway that opens out into the living space, he easily makes his way to the front door. 

Leon steps outside and takes his time securing the front door with a padlock on the outside as well. This place is isolated, but he’s not wanting to take any chances. Even if you did make it out of the bedroom, all of the windows have bars on them. There is no back door and the front door is made of heavy oak so there’s no way you’re kicking it down easily. 

He’s truly only worried that if you do make your way out his little hunting shack that you’re going to be set upon by a wild animal. He’s seen things like it before; careless hunters or drunk idiots coming into the precinct spouting off about the wild coyotes they stumbled across or a lone wolf, even the occasional badger or snack attack. 

You’re much too precious for him to lose in such an awful, and preventive, way. Leon tugs on the door harshly and is satisfied to see that it doesn’t budge. He pockets his keys and turns away. He whistles a jaunty little tune to himself as he takes the barely visible trail away from the shack. 

The tree trunks eventually narrow as he leaves the small clearing surrounding the place, pushing past brush and thorn bushes. Leon grins to himself as he makes his way out to the hidden area he parked his car. He’s so excited to get back to you, but first he has to make sure you’re not missed elsewhere. After all, you’re perfectly safe and content where you’re at now, he guarantees it.