#stalker k!nk

[myperfectvictim]

Oh baby I know it hurts

That’s the fucking point.

[s0ftcr33p]

I don’t want fantasy, I want to stalk someone fr. I want to hack their phone and watch them 24/7 and read all their messages, I want to know everything and collect all the treasures they leave behind, I want to spend hours waiting in front of their house just to see them walk out, I want to spam them all day with every thought I have, I want to follow them through the mall and pay attention to anything they seem to like, I want to take notes about every little detail they tell me, I want to stalk all their accounts (even the ones that aren’t meant to be found), I want to spend days to prepare little gifts and letters for them and place them everywhere, I want to hear their nervous voice when they pick up the phone just for me to stay quiet and die of blushing <33 I want to know where they are always, I want to know who they‘re talking to and observe everything, i will only interfere if someone treats them badly. I would never hurt them. I want to heal them and give them nothing but pure love but fuck I want to control and scare them so bad..I would give anything to hear their shaky breathing and see their tears just so I can take them into my arms and never let go <33

[lil-bow-princ3ss]

Thought I would bless the TL w this fat ass, give yall a reason to love me even more 😘

I am craving back shots so bad, react to this post if you’d bend me over and destroy me so you can get hypnotized by the recoil off this ass 🥰

[brainz4sale]

I will fall for you if you just…

SHOW ME YOUR OUTFITS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR FOOD ♡

SHOW ME YOUR ROOM ♡

SHOW ME YOUR PLAYLISTS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR FAV MOVIES ♡

SHOW ME YOUR SEARCH HISTORY ♡

SHOW ME YOUR SCARS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR UNDIES ♡

SHOW ME YOUR PHONE ♡

SHOW ME YOUR CHATS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR PORN ♡

SHOW ME YOUR CLOSET ♡

SHOW ME YOUR JEWELLERY ♡

SHOW ME YOUR FAV ARTISTS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR FACE ♡

SHOW ME YOUR BODY ♡

SHOW ME YOUR SMILE ♡

SHOW ME YOUR EYES ♡

SHOW ME YOUR TOYS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR TEARS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR SLEEP ♡

SHOW ME YOUR COLORS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR THOUGHTS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR NEEDS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR WANTS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR IMPERFECTIONS ♡

SHOW ME YOUR FUCKED UP PARTS ♡

SHOW ME ALL OF YOU ♡

in return I promise to dedicate my life to you. /srs

[lurkofyourlife]

Oh look. It's the basement story. [m/f, captor/captive, whumper-as-caretaker, kidnapping, dark romance stuff, all that fun violent drugging and torture business, you know how it goes 🩷] Even the opening got a bit of an edit, but if you want to skip what's already been posted, just click the read more to get to the new stuff.

⛓️1️⃣

Her limbs are leaden. Her head feels full of cotton, wrapped in it, muffled and foggy. Drifting back to consciousness, but still dozing. Finally, bleary eyes blink open, only half aware of strangely pale surroundings and a single black-clad figure beside her before falling closed again.

Wait.

Quickly they open once more, sluggish heartbeat gradually lurching to life, bewildered as she tries to clear her foggy vision. Grey walls, white mattress, man in black. Shit— who— why…

She doesn’t think to be scared at first, confusion overpowering fear, but when she shifts to sit up there’s a drag on her leg, a noise like—

She stares at the chain for a moment. It’s a shock, like she’s been drenched in ice cold water. She knows the difference between reality and dreams— or she thought she did. But this can’t be real. Her stomach drops, gradually taking in what’s at her feet. There’s a shackle around her ankle. A chain, thick and silver, linking her to a pipe that bridges dusty concrete floor to unfinished wood-beamed ceiling. It can’t be real. This isn’t a thing that happens. And— she’s shaking a little as she returns her attention to the man whose presence had jarred her into wakefulness, sitting on the far side of the bare mattress. 

He’s familiar, and she’s not sure why. No— as her brain clumsily tries to piece it all together, she registers that she does know him. Knew him. Spent one long night with him, at least, what feels like ages ago. Tall dark and handsome, the guy from the concert. Big bad wolf to her little red. Her head is spinning, overwhelmed. The look in her eyes is helpless, confused. Lips open, but she isn’t even sure what to say. What’s happening? Why is— what is— who—

She blinks, a short croak choked in her throat as it tightens. It’s a dream. She’s dreaming. 

Go back to sleep. Close your eyes. 

She slumps back to the mattress, trying not to look at it, at him, at anything. Numbly, she pulls her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie and rolls over, curling up even as it tugs the chain on her ankle. The heat of sleep gradually leeches away the longer her mind keeps working. The gap of practically bare skin between her skirt at the top of her long knit socks is suddenly very chilly. She tries not to think about how vulnerable that chill makes her feel. 

Dream. It’s a dream. Sleep.

She’ll close her eyes, set her mind to fix her current situation, and steer her dream back in the right direction. Her thudding heart only obeys when she holds her breath, slowing its rush, eyes stubbornly closed. She can fix this.

The eerie empty echo of the room is broken by a soft chuckle rumbling in her companion’s - her captor’s - chest. A sound of fabric on fabric, heat nearing her side in a way that makes her skin feel tight and nausea bubble in her gut. She flinches as a hand comes to rest so sickeningly gently on her shoulder. 

“Nuh-uh, c’mon now, Sammy,” he coos at her, pulling her rigid body toward him, a frustratingly warm solidity in the cold room. “I know you’re tired, sweetheart, but you gotta wake up.”

A new wave of shock hits as he calls her that. Sammy. It feels like a punch to the stomach, and the shaking is back. He knows her. She could swear— she barely remembers his name, and she could swear she remembers the stress over maintaining a false identity to match her fake license that night, giving him a fake name— but he knows her.

Panic is hungrily chewing up her attention, biting at the back of her mind, and tears prick the corners of her eyes as she wrestles herself out of his hold, shifting herself closer to the wall. She won’t fucking cry. Not going to happen. Never, especially not around whoever this fucker thinks he is. A mattress on a concrete floor. Shackled to a pipe. It has to be just a dream. 

Then he’s hushing her gently, and a hand - too big, too heavy - strokes at her hair, as if he could somehow calm this panic. “Hey, hey, you’re ok. Breathe, puppy. Just breathe, relax. You’ll be ok.”

She hates that— hates the name, the too-smooth tone, the way he thinks he can just touch her. 

She jerks away, movements stiff as she tugs her hood up and the drawstrings tight, anything to avoid seeing reality, curling up and retreating further toward the wall until her knees are pressed against it. The chain isn’t taut, but she can feel the cold metal through her socks, and hear the soft metallic noise as she jostles it. A cold sweat dampens her forehead, jaw clenched in determined denial.

Go away. Leave me alone. This isn’t real.

He sighs, holding her shoulder with a bit more force than before. “Don’t pout, Sammy.” It’s edging on an order. “Sit up. Don’t make me repeat myself.” His previously soft tone turns harsher by the second, a grim discipline that expects to be obeyed. 

She jerks her shoulders again, forcing him off. Her hands come up behind her head, tucking herself into a ball, nails digging into the back of her hoodie like she can claw right through to her skull.

Go away go away go away go away.

“Are you really gonna make me count?” he grumbles, and she can sense the challenge in that tone. He hasn’t snapped yet, but… 

“Fine,” he states, pulling his hand back. The sudden chill of that loss doesn’t feel any better than the burn of its presence. “If I get to ten and you’re still being a petulant brat, we’re gonna have a problem. One… two… three…”

She’s shaking— a disorienting combination of fear, anger, and anxiety. Her heart rate is too fast, breath quick, trying to resist hyperventilating.

Fuck you. Go away. I hate this, I hate you, this isn’t real, this isn’t real, go away go away go away-

Her grip tightens enough that she can feel her fingers digging into her own muscles through the fabric. Focus on that. Focus on the pain. Let the rest disappear. Let it stop. Go to sleep- wake up- whatever it is she has to do to be back in reality. 

“...Seven… eight… nine…” He pauses. She waits, feeling the glare he’s sending her even if she refuses to see him. He practically growls: “Ten.”

Without mercy, he grabs the back of her hoodie, harshly gripping the fabric and anything underneath it to yank her upright. Not hard enough to pull out any hair, but hard enough for it to hurt like a bitch. 

She yelps, and hands clawing into his, prying at his grip even as he hauls her up and shoves her face into the wall. All she can do is try to push herself away from it, her cheekbone ground against the concrete as tears once more spring to her eyes, threatening to finally breach her defenses. She keeps eyes screwed shut, lips pulled back in a snarl. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His tone is acidic and sarcastic. “Well too bad, you don’t get to hide from me. Not here.” With that, he jerks her back towards him to grab her jaw with his free hand, yanking the hood away from her face. “Now, sweetheart, are we gonna behave, or will you continue pushing my buttons?”

He may have a hold on her chin, but she’s got arms and legs (or at least one– one and a half?) to fight with. No more simply retreating; he’s too close, and she wants him off. Sharp elbows jab behind her. Her adrenaline has finally arrived, stampeding through her with the urge to fight. Her legs had been busy trying to keep her upright, but now she doesn’t care about that— she kicks, and stumbles, forcing him to hold her up if he wants to keep her on her feet, or to let her drop back onto the mattress if he can’t hold her up. She doesn’t have words, just frustrated snarls and thrashing limbs. Hot tears have finally started to fall, streaking black down her cheeks, but she refuses to sob. Just anger— so much anger.

He lets her drop, coming down to the mattress over her. The hand on her chin moves down to her throat as he changes position, kneeling and holding his captive to his chest. His grip tightens until she’s just barely getting enough oxygen to breathe. 

“I’m a little tempted to rip off your fingernails for scratching me up,” he growls into her ear. “Apologize, and I’ll let it slide.”

She’s practically feral— hissing, snarling, doing all she can to fight him— even with his hand on her throat. Wheeze as she might, she refuses to reply. The threat of losing her nails gives her unpleasant goosebumps all over, a shock of fear trying to break through the raging thrashing thing she’s become. She leans into his hand, spitefully. 

Choke me out, bitch, do it. Send me away from here. Make it stop.

He ignores her fists, her elbows, every hard bone jabbing back at anything she can reach. He stays calm, collected, seemingly unbothered, but she bitterly hopes he’ll feel them tomorrow. Today. She hopes he’ll never stop feeling every strike she lands, the bastard. 

Rising to his feet, he holds her with one hand on her neck, the other around her waist. A few steps forward and she’s pressed into the wall, the furnace of heat that is his chest engulfing her back, while the concrete’s chill sinks through her hoodie.

Pinned between a rock and a hard place, she still doesn’t stop her fight. The closeness, the contact, the confined space all has alarms ringing in her head, but she’s not in her right mind to panic. There’s more energy to go, more fight left in her. She hasn’t hit her limit yet. There’s so much rage left to vent.

Her vision swims, and part of her is twistedly delighted at that. That’s a win condition in her head, now. Unconsciousness is a win condition. 

Staying close - too close for her to get leverage for a strike - his pressure on her throat lessens, ragged breath returning to her. His sigh whispers down her neck, tone beleaguered: a tired owner dealing with a rowdy pet. “Are you done with your little tantrum?”

She growls hoarsely, bucking her body back against his, angrily. Still no words. Still just animal rage. 

No. Never. Fuck off or kill me. Better make it fucking count. 

Even without the space to really hit him, her struggle hasn’t flagged entirely, hands still clawing at anything she can reach, legs refusing to touch the ground, forcing him to use his strength to hold her up. 

His little growling grumbling noises at her back seem to point to her fight having some kind of effect, even if he never lets go. Until he does. The hand that had been around her throat disappears as he simply forces his body against her, sandwiching her against the wall instead of holding her there. For a second she thinks she might be getting somewhere– only to spot a flash of glass - metal? - and then there’s a pinching jab at the side of her neck. 

No. 

It’s all she gets a chance to think before the drug rushes her system. It makes quick work of her energy, limbs crumpling, letting him hush her gently back onto the mattress as she’s swallowed by sleep once more.

(also thanks to @hypno-mccroquette for the beta!)

[dinosaurchickennuggie]

A dom sneaking into ur closet to watch how u move. To watch as u decide to not put on anything underneath the oversized tshirt and pajama pants. Watch as u charge a vibe and watch the way ur hair drips from the shower.

Hiding under the bead like the demons u made up as a child, only adoring u and planning on how they will…..”show their love 😏” to u instead of aiming to kill u. They aim to kill ur fight. To drain all the fire from u till u are a simmering pot of honey and spacey thoughts. Dripping with slick and floating in a never ending subspace.

Imagine them discovering everything about u. Them knowing how u take ur coffee and ur tea. Knowing what clothing materials give u the icks. Knowing everything that makes u tick and breathe and move so that they can use that knowledge to their advantage.

Imagine them having watched u touch ur self so many times that they know how to make u tremble and what face u make when u release. They know what words u whisper over and over to yourself because there’s no one there to tell them too. How u beg an imaginary daddy for more and more when ur screwing yourself as good as u can, but it’s not them. It’s not them so it could be better.

[leckmeinestiefel]

I’m really high, someone break into my apartment and take advantage of me and become obsessed with me

[alonewithwinnie]

recently have been thinking about the phantom of the opera… a lot… now why do we think that is…

[bunnys-dad]

I'm gonna perform a love spell on you, just to make sure you never fucking leave.

[s0ftcr33p]

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO STALK ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO CLAIM ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO SPAM ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO FOLLOW ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO KISS ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO HACK ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO OWN ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO HUG ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO WATCH ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO COLLAR ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO CONTROL ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO THINK OF ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO HOLD ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO LOVE ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO BE WITH ME

YOU LOVE ME ♡ YOU WANT TO WORSHIP ME

[lil-bow-princ3ss]

Kinda disappointed that none of these deranged horny men aren’t sending me anon asks telling me in detail how they’ll r@pe my pathetic little slutty cunt and kidnap me and make me their pretty little house slut. Then I’ll spend my days being trained to be the best slut possible, learning my true place in life as a woman is beneath a man, to be subservient and pretty.

VERY disappointing.

[s0ftcr33p]

that type of stalking is my love language fr <33

Yandere stalker x Shy Anxious Reader headcanons Pt 2

Pt 1

Content: yandere, stalking, some nsfw, insinuated kidnapping if you squint, pet play if you squint 

Yandere stalker who reads every social media post you've ever published, relishing in every picture or stray video that comes his way. He takes notes on every aspect of you, everything you want people to know at least. 

Yandere stalker who clicks reset my password  so he can get your email. Once he has it, he scours the internet for every trace of your existence, addicted to the idea of being the only one in the world who could know you fully. Such a shy dear you are, truly a perfect pet. 

Yandere stalker who is delighted to find your password leaks online, immediately logging onto your accounts though a VPN and downloading everything you keep private. 

Yandere stalker who reads your diary, your poetry, anything you've ever written. What luck that “the cloud” kept all of this safe for him to enjoy!

Yandere stalker who finds some of the books you're reading online and stops cold in his tracks. Is this… stalker porn? He was shocked, delighted, overcome with himself. His perfect nervous darling had been waiting for someone like him all along. He got goosebumps as he read the stories you kept on your digital bookshelf,  kidnappers, stalkers, the mob? He smirked. 

Yandere stalker who knows that he could fulfill your every wish, every fantasy, it's as if you were made for him. You belong to him. Your cravings, your wishes, he could be everything you need. He could make you happier than anyone ever could. It just may take a bit of effort at first to get you to comply with what's good for you. 

Yandere stalker who poses as a maintenance worker as he breaks into your apartment. No one notices as he swiftly picks the lock to get himself inside. While he’s there, he makes a copy of your key, and grabs himself a souvenir. 

Yandere stalker who sets up a small camera outside of your bedroom window, watching as you try to find your favorite pair of underwear. He strokes himself with that very pair, moaning as you change into pajamas on his screen. 

Yandere stalker who wants to make all of your dreams come true… he sees how you crave a dominant, guiding energy! He knows you desire nothing more than to be pampered and used, to be his perfect little pet. You were made for each other and the more he learns about you the more he needs you. 

[lurkofyourlife]

Have a preview of the basement story! The real thing is just an excerpt of a larger work and it’s already 5k words soooooo… :)

Tw: kidnapping, suicidal ideation, toxic romance etc

-*-

She lets out a heavy breath. This isn’t working. She lets her head loll sideways, looking at her captor.

After a moment of pause, she finally speaks.

“I’m mad at you.” It’s stated calmly, without fear or anger or desperation. It’s a fact. “I hate you. You understand that, right?” It’s not said maliciously, there’s no bite or sass. She cannot summon emotions. Sheer apathy is all she can offer at the moment.

Her motion drew his attention to her face, his eyes focusing as a sort of cynical smile forms on his lips. “I know you’re upset,” he affirms her statement, “and I know you think you hate me. You’ll understand why I do the things I do soon enough.”

He leans forward, smile only growing: “Your life will be so much easier here. All you have to do is listen and love me.”

She turns her face to the ceiling again, eyes dull. All she has to do.

Can she bring herself to do that? She doesn’t want to move. She doesn’t want to care about anything, and she’s far from capable of love, particularly for him.

The words cycle in her head, not yet making it to her lips. I would rather die. I want to die. Opt out of this whole messy situation.

Another weary sigh.

Her eyes drift closed. “What will it take for you to kill me?” It’s the one thing on her mind, during a crash like this. If he knows her as well as he claims, he must know she’s been on antidepressants for years. It’s because of crashes like this, at far less understandable times. She can’t get herself to care, and can’t get herself to move. No more desperation, even; her stores of caring are depleted for now.

His voice is smooth in the dark of her mind. “Some sort of incurable terminal illness,” he responds, his sarcasm subtle. “Or, in other words: nothing you could control. Act out as much as you want, fight me as much as you want. I’ll never let you go, puppy.”

[myperfectvictim]

I don’t want to drug your drinks behind your back— for you to peacefully fade into unconsciousness. Confused and unaware as to what’s happening to you.

I want to drug you knowingly. I want you to fight with all of your strength, kicking, swinging and thrashing against my hold. Slowly growing weaker and weaker until you’ve drained yourself completely. The back of your head forced upon my shoulder, your fatigued whimpers slipping through my fingers— as you look up to me, petrified and helpless. Your lashes flicker, the last burst of energy before your eyes roll back.

And for the next few hours— you’re fucking mine.

[fr34kfr0mh3ll]

Love me a stalker but I’ll only love you for the first 2 months. After that your gonna have to deal with my avoidant style attachment

[s0ftcr33p]

. ݁₊ ⊹ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ ݁˖ . ݁ the dream . ݁₊ ⊹ ⋆｡♡˚. ݁˖ . ݁