Part 2 to When another girl tries threatening the relationship between a yandere and his darling
Tw: death, blood and it is described a bit
Part 1
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You could only stare up at him in horror from what he said. You could still hear her. Choking on her blood, her trying to cough it out so she could breathe but you knew no matter what you did there was no hope in saving her. She would soon die from how deep her wounds were and how she was loosing blood.
“N-no.. we can’t..” You started to shake your head as you slowly came out of the shock. You tried pulling away from him but his grip only tightened. Tugging you back to him as he looked at you with faux concern.
“Shh shh.. shh.. it’s okay. No one will find out.” He whispered softly. As if someone finding out was the only concern there was about all of this. His hand on your cheek moved up a bit, wiping at the tears starting to fall.
When did you start crying?
You didn’t even know when the tears started to spill or how shallow your breath was now. You felt yourself now on the verge of a panic attack.
Hearing her gurgles as she stared to drown on her blood. Feeling his blood stain hands on you and the guilt that you could’ve been the cause of this. It was all too much. Just a few hours ago you were laughing about some stupid joke with him. Now you’re here with him like this.
“N-no..! You just killed her!” You suddenly snapped at him, trying once more to push him away but he barely budged. Instead he looked at you as if you were the crazy one, like what he did wasn’t a literal crime. As though taking away a life was nothing to him.
“My love.. she was in the way. Who knows what she might have done if I was no longer around.” He spoke to so softly. Trying to justify his actions, as if something like this could be justified.
“She wasn’t in the way. You just couldn’t keep your temper in!” You exclaimed. Forcing yourself to look up at him with a glare.
His eyes narrowed a little before he softened his expression once more. He didn’t like how you sided with her. After everything she did, how she had hurt you and tried to separate the two of yall.
But you were just a bit emotional. Maybe even tired from work that it was the reason you were now saying nonsense. He could let what you said go for now but his patience was running thin.
“You’re just tired. I’m sure after some sleep you will see what I was doing.” He said calmly, a bit too softly and tried to usher you to the parking lot so yall could leave.
“No! I’m not just tired..! Let me go-!” You yelled once more and tried to pull your arm away from him this time. But that was the final straw. Next thing you know your back was pressed against the wall and pinning you against it.
Harshly grabbing your chin he tilted your head up, forcing you to look up at him.
“No you stop.” He growled and you couldn’t help but freeze. He’s never been this harsh, this mean that you couldn’t help but feel a little afraid.
Though when he saw the scared look in your eyes the anger he felt immediately vanished. He didn’t like that, he didn’t like seeing you scared of him when you should feel protected in his presence.
“Fuck… no im sorry i didn’t mean to scare you. You just aren’t listening..” He said softly this time. His grip on you loosened but you were afraid to try to run. Knowing he could easily catch you and what he would do if you did.
“I’m so sorry, love.. please don’t be scared.” His hand was now cupping your cheek. His touch so gentle as if he was holding something fragile.
A soft gasp left your lips feeling something poke at your skin. You glanced down to see a needle piercing into your thigh. Looking back up at him in disbelief and betrayal.
“I only want what’s best for you. You’ll see, I only want to care for you.” He whispered and immediately caught you as you started to stumble. Barely having any strength to stay standing up. Things were starting to get dizzy and you tried to blink away the darkness that tried to overcome you.
“H-how… could you..?” Your voice was weak and but slurred as you weakly cling onto him before he threw the needle away and effortlessly picked you up. You have no more strength in you to fight back.
Walking straight to the parking lot with you in his arms he knew he would have to figure out a cover story fast. He wasn’t letting you go so easily again. He would make sure that this time, there would be no way yall could be separated. No matter what it takes.
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Please no putting my writing in any AI chat, bot etc. And also no reposting as your own. Thank you for reading (つ˃ᵕ˂)つ⸝♡
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yandere! stalker who first met you in the school library. He accidentally bumped into you, causing him to drop the books in his hands. He apologized profusely, avoiding eye contact as his hands scrambled to gather the books.
yandere! stalker who didn't expect you to help him. He froze, watching you pick them up. Normally, people would ignore him or look at him with disgust. But you didn't. You smiled, apologizing as you handed over his books.
yandere! stalker who never stopped thinking of you after that incident. After that day, he stalked you, figuring what your name was, what food you like, what your username was in social medias, how pretty you were, etc!
yandere! stalker who protects you from bad people! That jock who wouldn't stop bothering you even if you showed signs that you didn't want anything to do with him? Apparently, he drowned!
yandere! stalker who has trouble confessing to you! He's so clumsy and shy that he couldn't bear to talk to you. Instead, he would always send love letters and gifts signed by an anonymous! He would always put them in your locker.
yandere! stalker who notices your frown as he watches you read the letter. Why do you look so afraid? You shouldn't be! Shouldn't you be blushing and wondering who could have given you that note?
"You looked so cute in your pajamas last night! They suit you well! You always look so lovely, and it makes me happy. I couldn't help but sniff your hair. What shampoo do you use? Haha, I already know! You smell amazing. I hope you like the gift I gave you. Please stop throwing away my presents!" -Signed by your husband
Writer's note: I love yandere Batfam (Romantic and platonic), so heres my fic about it, this will be a series idk how long but there will be more parts rest assured. Im also trying to write less than 2k words so that i can upload my fics faster.
Summery: What happens when a blogger, who writes theories and conspiracies about Superheroes (Mostly Gotham vigilantes), makes a theory that poses a threat to the Batfamily?
Warnings: not that many promenant ones, slut shaming ig? (Towards Brucie Wayne), mention of violence
Part1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Gotham. She was place of chaos but was also a home for vigilantes. In her light they lived their lives as normal civilians but under her canopy of darkness they emerged as protectors of the night. Under her shadow many of her residents held secrets that only came out in the night. One such person was you.
Although you weren’t a heroic warrior risking your life every night, you still had your alter ego that surfaced only under the cover of darkness. Every night, like clockwork, under the moon’s silver eyes you rapidly typed away at your keyboard, writing away like you were running out of time. Word after word, theory after theory, message after message, all tying knots between the secrets of Gotham’s vigilantes.
Ghost writer, that was your blog’s name. Over the past year it had immensely grown in popularity on reddit with people across the country reading your blogs analysing the vigilantes of Gotham along with superheroes of other cities as well.
However for the past couple of months, you had been making someone wild theories up about the man behind Batman’s mask along with the rest of the bats. This also happened to be seen by a certain sleep deprived bat, staring at his screen in disbelief.
His mouth slightly agape reading the blog that hit right on the bullseye, it was as if the blogger was retelling Batman’s plan to conceal his and the Batfamily’s identities.
“Has anyone ever wondered why Bruce Wayne acts so... irresponsibly? Bruce Wayne is a billionaire philanthropist, CEO of Wayne Enterprises yet with all this power, still videos of him acting like a playboy fool manage to leak. Wouldn’t he have enough power to hide those videos from the face of the earth or maybe he wants them to leak... Brucie Wayne acts like a playboy slut all the time infront of media with no regard to his reputation, very much unlike most billionaires, perhaps he does that on purpose, to hide his other identity… as Batman.
I know it sounds far fetched because Brucie Wayne and Batman are nothing alike which could also make perfect sense why they are the same person as no one would connect the dots between them. Not to mention Batman has 7 bats working alongside him and Bruce Wayne just so happens to have 7 wards, not to mention a new bat vigilante would emerge almost immediately before or after Bruce Wayne adopted a new ward. All this evidence ties a string between Batman and Bruce Wayne, a string that we, the public have been oblivious to for year. Apart from…...”
Tim kept reading the blog over and over again, not being able to rip his eyes away from the screen along with the staggering amount of attention it was gaining, when a brightly dressed hero arrived in the Batcave.
“Hey wat’ch up to Tim?”, Duked chirped, his figure now peering over Tim to glance at one of the Bat-computer’s screens that Tim was staring at. His eyes skimmed over the blog as well before an expression of shock washed over Duke’s face.
Bruce leaned back in his chair, head hung back, hand over his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh, years of fighting crime and protecting this city and now his entie life was being threatened by an unemployed couch potato blogger.
“Tim, I need you to look into this person, find a way into their life and stop them without... too much violence. Duke your job is already too important to throw another mission on you, so stick to your duties continue patrolling during the day”. He leaned forward now directly making eye contact with Tim then Duke.
“No one else gets to know about this”. He said that more as a command rather than a request, trying to keep this ghost writer ordeal to a minimum.
Duke and Tim nodded in obedience before Duke went back to his patrols. Bruce turned to Tim once again at the door.
“Make sure you keep me up on every single detail”, he remarked before turning to leave.
Tim cracked his knuckles and stretched his back before his hands began working at the speed of light. He hacked into your account until he found your personal details.
(Name) L/n, 18 years old, student on scholarship at Gotham university, parents unknown, only familial relative, grandmother, deceased, lives in Cherry Hill.
“I guess I’ll be taking Pharmacy classes at Gotham university”
tasm! Peter Parker with the diner by billie eilish pleaaseee I just know he would fit the cute stalker boyfriend thing so BAD
anon I fucking LOVED this ask and your mind. Obvious warnings, there's some dubcon vibes and also stalking is never right in real life (duh)
The Diner
Peter Parker x Reader
Peter stalks you from afar, and has been for years. He comes too close and realizes maybe he's getting more than he bargained for. Inspired by The Diner by Billie Eilish
The fresh mug of tea is scaldingly hot as you place it in front of Mr. Watson, the friendly middle-aged man who always tips you at the end of every transaction.
“Here you go, Watson–” You shake your head. “Sorry. Mr. Watson.”
“Thanks, Sherlock.” He winks at you, no harm done.
“Anything else you’d like?” You ask, wiping your hands down the apron of your uniform.
“Not a thing. You’re a great waitress.” Mr. Watson laughs, and you grin at that.
Unbeknownst to you, a man is sitting in the far booth, closest to the door, watching your interaction with this man. Watching your smile.
He sees you trace your hair around your index finger, and bite your lip as you walk away, lost in thought– and something inside him shatters.
He wants you to smile at him like that. Share an inside joke with him like that.
He knows you’re wary of him. Ever since, back at Midtown High, you had the same math class– he offered his calculator to you, because he heard you ask Gwen for one– and you looked at him in confusion, mouth slightly ajar, before accepting it.
He’s never known what he did wrong.
Then there was that time at Empire State University. He watched you climb up the stairs, slightly drunk after a frat party, and offered his hand so you wouldn’t stumble. Instead, you looked fearful– you backed away, gait slightly skewed by how inebriated you were.
Peter Parker knows you don’t have to be afraid of him.
His aunt has always said he’s a good, sweet boy. He’s not a threat, a nobody to everyone– but he wants to be somebody to you.
He’s what you need, he thinks. He sees you walking through your neighbourhood– you’re shy, you’re ducked down, wired headphones jammed in your ears, a wistfully, sad look upon your features. Peter thinks you’re too pretty to be so depressed.
Peter could make you so happy. He could make you a star, a model on all the magazines, eyes tantalizingly gazing at him, the eternal viewer– he has one creep shot he took while you were walking past the park, where he was sitting conveniently at the bench and aimed at the sky, catching your beauty, your bright, soulful eyes, your lips slightly parted.
You shouldn’t be working in a diner as a waitress.
Although you wear the uniform perfectly, with a girlish-yet-womanly cheer that isn’t overly offputting, unlike others who try too hard to be cute. Peter thinks you could really do anything and it would be right.
In the present, you turn slightly to talk to Cindy, the other waitress at the diner– her family owns the joint– and she slumps against you, laughing, and you smirk back, and Peter gets that sensation that tells him he’s been staring for too long, so he looks away before you see him.
He knows your shift ends in half an hour, so Peter reaches out of the seat, out of the booth, his laptop bag around his side.
No one seems to notice him.
/
Peter daydreams as he waits for you to commute home. He knows the bus route you take– he takes that one too, when he has the time to wait around your block.
He hopes you never see him, face to face, ever again, because you’re going to ruin his fantasies by calling the cops. He knows, he utters it everyday under his breath like a little, dirty secret, that no one can ever know how badly he craves you. Least of all you.
As he sits on the park bench, he thinks about you. He thinks you’d be a stunning girlfriend, or when his little daydreams get ahead of themselves– his wife. A perfect bride, shining in an ivory gown, all his to carry into the newlywed’s home, and lay down on the bed right then and there– no time to waste. Kissing you, stripping open that silken corset to reveal lacy lingerie, and the two of you tracing each other’s skin and becoming impossibly close, glowing with pleasure, until he’s kissing up your body, feeling up your chest, waist, hips; entering you as you wrap those firm, soft legs around him, hearing your normally sweet, clear voice in a hazy moan imbued with pleasure.
That’s not the only thing he’s interested in, but it is on his mind. How could it not be? Peter’s never been with anyone, and he’s decided he’s okay with saving himself for you.
He often lays in a sweaty, sticky hot mess in his own apartment at night, his hand tired from jerking off so aggressively. Something Peter is insecure about is just how badly he wants you– a proper man wouldn’t be so excitable, he thinks, and he hopes he would be enough to satisfy you.
He would do anything for you.
Inevitably, as married couples do, you’d argue at some point. Peter isn’t stupid enough to believe everything would be happy– he admires your conviction. He’s seen you stand up for what’s right from afar, whether it be for a customer, a classmate, your friends.
He’d say you’re right, no matter what the issue was. Just to keep you happy. What else could a girl want?
And then you could kiss Peter goodnight. A soft, languid kiss, in which he knows your anger isn’t real for him, that you’ll always forgive him.
Your bus arrives to the stop with a real groan, engine sputtering as it does so, and you exit, in a long coat that covers up your waitress outfit– but Peter knows where you’ve been and it gives him a thrill that he knows more than the average passerby, although he notices you don’t immediately step to your house.
No, if anything, you’re approaching the park bench– and Peter has played this out, so many times, that he’ll say hi, as a former classmate, and you’ll laugh in that nice, pleasant, slightly shocked way that you always do, and he’ll launch into a conversation, and it will end with making plans for a future date.
But you have those headphones jammed in, and Peter doesn’t know what to say, because you don’t seem to notice his presence at all when you sit down.
Until you do. You turn slightly at him, and instead of looking alarmed like he’s expecting, you have a tentative smile.
He flushes a deep pink, and then smiles back. You smile for real, your eyes crinkling as you do so, lips plush and upturned, and Peter doesn’t know what to do with himself, until you get up and leave to walk to your small apartment, and now he’s sweating.
He wonders if you recognize him.
/
Peter waits on the corner until you leave your apartment again, for a midnight bodega run. He knows you do this every Tuesday without fail. He can’t help it, the fantasy is spiralling out of control– he needs to do something more tangible, something more scary.
He hasn’t gotten so close in months. The potential taste of you, the feeling of being physically close to you, it’s a high unlike anything else, and he needs to feel it again. He knows this is dangerous, but he settles for something that will settle his urges– your apartment.
Your daily setting. Where you live your life, carefree, cooking, cleaning, bathing, undressing– he relishes the idea to be the one to see where it happens. He knows you don’t have a boyfriend.
Peter finds it easy to get over the landing of the fire escape, and in through your bedroom window. He lands on his feet, and immediately inhales, feeling his heart pound as he smells your scent floating through the room.
It would be so tempting to lie across your bed, and breathe in everything about you, your peaceful dreams, to your eager awakenings, even terrible nightmares, in which Peter wishes he could comfort you, and perhaps the intimate moments when no one is around and your hand is between your legs, as you cry out in the quiet bliss of your room.
Peter nearly quivers at the thought, and he knows he can’t be here, in this spot, or he’ll never leave.
He approaches the kitchen, feeling his stomach grumble. Perhaps Peter was being a little bad, and he felt like you were starting to form a connection with him, anyways– what would it matter if he took a snack? Soon he’d be feeding you, anyways. The favour would be returned.
He takes a smattering of crackers and cheese, and scarfs them over the garbage bin, feeling compulsive and disgusting, but feeling some visceral pleasure at the whole thing. Peter felt like a rat, like vermin that had no right to be in your presence, to be in this space, to eat your food so you would know someone had been here if you were really focused, and yet that made him feel all the more satisfied.
He doesn’t think pretty girls own the world, by any means– as much as he adores you, he also feels like you owe him. You owe him for seeing you truly as one could, as great as you are, unlike everyone else in the world. Who else has been there for every turn and tribulation, waiting, hoping, and praying that you’d be okay? Who else could love you so deeply, before even really knowing you?
It’s with this notion of ownership that Peter makes his riskiest move, his potential mistake– he left a calling card so you would know it was him.
That first photo of you he took all those months ago. A print that he carries in his wallet, tucked under a post card and magnet on the fridge. Something not easy to find, a surreptitious action that would have an unsteady origin, and be hard to trace back to him in a way– but definitely undeniably weird and would knock you out of the carefree sorrow you seemed to carry.
His ego was getting to him. Peter leaves as quickly as he came.
/
It’s only when Peter’s got to his apartment that he feels an enormous amount of fear, guilt, worries that they’ll trace his fingerprints in your apartment. He knows, he knows he wants you to know it was him, but he misses that photo of you, and he wants you, more than ever– he just fears how your dynamic will change.
But there’s a sick satisfaction as he lies in his bed, picturing you entering your apartment, wearing your big t-shirt as your jammies, eating your midnight ramen.
Maybe you’ll find the picture today. Maybe you won’t. But knowing that he’s been there and left a voyeuristic treasure makes him exhale in bliss.
He doesn’t even mind being arrested. The cops’ll get him this time, the bail will be absurdly high, and all he can think about is you coming to visit him. Not unlike one of those true-crime chicks who get strangely obsessed with serial killers and send adoring letters. Is he Ted Bundy in this fucked up version of events? Not quite, but Peter knows he’s a criminal nevertheless.
Still, he pictures you deep in the throes of a Bonnie and Clyde syndrome-induced obsession, something that he knows would never happen– you’re normal, unlike him– and you’ve arrived to the jail, dressed in a veil as he requested, and you reach through the holding cell that they’ve got him captured in, and you hug him, and hug him, tightly weaving your arms around his neck, whispering that you believe in him and that he’ll get out and he hasn’t done anything wrong, and all he can do is smell you, your sweet, salty scent, and you kiss his neck, his jaw, up his face, and then onto his lips– and Peter shudders in real life, wishing you were here to pin him down and take advantage of his hard-on by riding him.
/
Peter goes back to the diner that morning.
He sees you working, wiping down the ordering counter– and you turn to greet him.
“Hi…” There’s mild recognition on your face, but not the panic he was bracing to see.
Or maybe anticipating. He’s almost disappointed.
But anyways, he gives you a nod, and sits in his usual booth.
Peter can’t even look at you as you ask what he’d like to order. He mumbles out “Small coffee, black.” And is glad that you walk away with ease.
He starts to pen a letter, as he often does, things that he wants to say to you, but leaves unsent. It’s usually panic-driven, confessions of adoration and love that he knows you would understand if you were like him– but also loose rambles of his addled mind, where he voices his concerns about the world, about himself, venting in a way that he knows you would care about legitimately. If he could get close enough, he’d tell you in person what a loser Peter Parker really was– that this nerd grew up not touching a single girl, that he didn’t ever really connect to someone until he talked to you that one time, all those years ago– but he lets himself write it down.
You place the mug of coffee down, a clink of porcelain against the dull vinyl of the table, and Peter takes it, nodding his thanks while focusing on your hand, your wrist, unable to look at your face.
He feels growing shame and anger when you keep staring, as if you see him a bit better now that you’re closer. You walk away a little more quickly, and Peter chugs his coffee down, having an eerie sense about what’s going on.
As he exits the diner, having slammed some change on the table to avoid paying upfront– around the corner, the cops are waiting, and they stop him from continuing to walk.
“Stay down, sir.” The man tells him, but Peter is terrified, now, that you’ll see him, that you know, and some sense of indignation causes him to try and bolt.
They pin him down to the ground, his glasses knocking off onto the pavement, and he sees in blurry eyes that one of the cops has your picture in a plastic bag. That was his gift to you, and that’s how you treated it?
You’re more sly than Peter realized. Acting like everything was fine, and then pulling the rug from under his feet. And if he made the mistake of coming too close, of thinking you’d get it, he wouldn’t make that mistake now, and it’s with this anger that he clenches his teeth, swearing as he enters the back of the cop car. His teeth are gnashing together.
In his blurry, teary vision, Peter thinks he sees your silhouette kneeling by the pavement.
/
You’re only slightly surprised. The mildly cute, brunette nerdy guy had been on your radar for a few months. Always a fleeting glance, a nervous disposition. You’d try and smile at him, but to no avail– you know you know him from high school, but the guy was a scaredy cat.
You wondered if he hated you. Why else would he linger, be around when no one else was?
But the last thing you expected was for the strange energy in your house, that you chalked up to an accidental break-in, to actually be taken seriously by the police, and now the guy was arrested. Yes, there was a photo he took– but you got the vibe that maybe he was waiting to talk to you, maybe he got scared, maybe you’re so lacking in attention that you’re looking for it in the wrong places.
You don’t care. He was probably harmless– and yes, you know you’re attaching a reputation to a guy you don’t know, but you can’t help but feel sorry. Feel worried that you didn’t get to talk to him first, before he bolted.
You call the number of the penitentiary he’s in. You’ve read it so many times online, debating if you should call, you’ve practically got it memorized. The woman on the phone says you may call when you please in a day, as Peter Parker needs to be processed properly before he can take calls.
You feel sick. You know his name, you know him– you never properly bothered to address him, and now look at what you’ve done. More than anything, you wish you could take it back, the call to the police. You would have pushed harder for Peter, asked him what was going on in his life, ignoring the red flags– because what are red flags if not just the cries of help of a poor soul?
God knows you have enough of them. People have never really seemed to like you, not in the way you hoped you would have been noticed as a young girl. Unnoticed, until now.
You see that the letter he wrote is still on the table, forgotten in his haste. His penmanship is difficult to make out, long sprawling loops and scribbles making his words a little incomprehensible. But you understand one thing.
He cares for you. He's seen you, as you are, for so many years– he thinks you're beautiful, he thinks you deserve the world. Peter feels awful about himself, though, and you feel a pang of pity, mixed with some kind of intrigue, upon reading his words.
Cindy tuts from the counter, placing a red velvet cake into the display. “That was scary. You think that guy was out to get you?”
You shake your head, and Cindy raises her eyebrows. “No. I think I gotta help him.”
/
Peter thought about ending it all, the two hours he was in that cell. The guard is sleeping– he can’t even go to the washroom and hang himself there.
He’s back up on his feet now, but he can’t see very well. Without his glasses, all he can do is shut his eyes, and stew in shame and agony.
More than anything, there’s this oppressive urge to come and see you. Or for you to see him. You were the last comfort in his increasingly lonely, isolated lifestyle, and now you were gone too.
Until he hears your voice.
“Peter?” You knock on the bar of the holding cell, and he gets up from the floor, alert– he’s afraid that he’s lost it now, that he’s hallucinating you, and this crack in his psyche is going to make him a madman.
But you’re here, and you’re breathing, and you look real. So he takes a step forward. He sees that you don’t even really look disgusted, just… curious.
“Hey.” He says, staring at the ground, and then the collar of your jacket.
“Hey.” You attempt to smile, but he’s not meeting your eyes, so you drop it. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to, well…”
You trail off, unsure what to say now, because it feels rather heinous to send someone to jail, and just show up and apologize as if this isn’t a serious crime.
“Wait. I can ask them not to press charges–” You turn, but you feel him tug on your wrist through the bars, and you turn back to him.
Peter finally looks into your eyes. There’s deep undereye circles that tell you he’s wrought with anger, terror, but underneath it all– some level of hurt. His mouth is ajar, as he struggles to speak.
“Why? Do you just feel sorry for me? You were supposed to…” Peter shakes his head and then groans. “If you’re thinking your stupid act of goodness is supposed to stop me, supposed to keep me from thinking about you, inspire me into being some… noble, loveable idiot, you’re mistaken. I want you, and I don’t ever want you to think you can do something to stop that.”
Peter expects this to go over poorly with you, but everything hasn’t gone to plan so far– so he doesn’t care. He’s setting it all on fire.
But in your eyes, he sees glee, he sees that same fire, those sick urges reflected in you. You’re smiling sheepishly, even giggling, and Peter wonders if he’s dreaming. You’re just as messed up as he is.
You like this stalker of yours.
“I just… I wanted to talk. I called the people here but they wouldn’t let me talk to you yet.” You swallow, as if you’re saying something difficult, but Peter has never felt more of a kinship with you. He squeezes your hand, compelling you to continue, and you meet his eyes again, feeling reassured.
“I read your letter.” You pull it out of your bag, and Peter stills, but you quickly move to assuage his feelings. “Don’t worry, please– I’m not afraid. I saw what you said, about me, about… yourself–”
You’re trying to be delicate but his face falls. His eyes look to the floor.
“I know how you feel. I’ve felt it my whole life, and it means so much to me that you feel it too.” You smile at him, trying to catch his eyes again– wanting so badly for this sad, mad boy to just trust you.
If you could gain his trust, you could gain anyone’s. And then, maybe, you wouldn’t be so lonely.
But even just one lonely soul by your side– one that apparently saw “the stars in your eyes” – it was worth it to you to be close to Peter.
“And, well, no one’s ever said such kind, sweet things about me. I’m the last thing on anybody’s mind.” You scoff lightly, and then laugh. “I just… Is it all true? Did you really mean it?”
He grabs your hands, both of them, looking into his eyes. “Are you nuts? Of course I meant it. I, I’ve adored you since the ninth grade. I know you’re special. You’re beautiful, and perfect, and best of all– you’re mine. I’m the only one who knows it, and I’m gonna show the world someday.”
Peter’s so excited, he feels maybe double the high he did from sitting next to you. He can hardly contain the smile spreading across his face, he’s in such shock.
You laugh again, giddy with relief, excitement– sudden tears spring to your eyes, happy ones, and Peter wipes them away– and you wordlessly lean into his hands, through the bars, and then you reach into your bag, to take out his glasses.
You place them on his face, smiling at your Peter Parker, and then whisper that you wanted him to be able to see this. And through the bars of the jail, you kiss him, your silly nearly-convicted stalker boyfriend, and you feel him quiver in surprise, blinking before kissing you back.
> TW: This one-shot contains explicit sexual content, including public settings, voyeurism, and obsessive behavior. All characters involved are 22 years old or older. If this kind of content makes you uncomfortable, please refrain from reading further.
> English is not my first language, I’m doing my best with the little bit of knowledge that I have, so, please excuse my grammar mistakes, also, if you would like to leave a correction or any recommendations, I’m willing to hear it, without wasting more of your time, please enjoy.
Pt. 1 / More coming soon (maybe)
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
Pic taken from @樂怡伍 on Pinterest, but I'm not sure if it's theirs since it doesn't have a "signature" or watermark, credits to the respective artist.
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
(I wanted to upload something but I haven’t found the inspiration to write something worthy so I thought “why not just translate one of my old one-shots from my book on Wattpad?” So I did it, please be kind and have in mind that I wrote this when I was like 15 years old, I was younger, dumber, sillier, and pretty hormonal, like any other 15 years old girl with unsupervised access to internet and things like Wattpad and AO3, specially the ones on Wattpad and I mean It, the dirtier things that I have ever read were made by teenagers on that hellish app, but whatever, you get the point, enough with my ramble, please enjoy)
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
Wednesday, 6:30 p.m.
The train was packed—mostly with tired office workers heading home after a long day. A few university students sat here and there.
I had managed to grab a seat, miraculously, in the exact spot I took every afternoon for the past two years. Why that seat? Because she always sat right across from it.
And today, just like always, she was there.
The suffocating heat in the train couldn’t compare to the burning in my body when I saw her. Sitting right in front of me, the girl I’d been in love with since I first met her in art class—on my first day of university. She was 22, same as me. I still remember how she lent me her eraser. Her shy smile. Her soft, pure kindness.
I still have that eraser. I know I should’ve given it back… but her presence, the reminder of her lingered on it. I couldn’t help myself. I had to keep it.
But that wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I needed more.
So, I started following her. Casually at first, then more deliberately. I observed her when I had the chance—her expressions, her gentle ways, her kindness toward others. Every day, I fell more in love. Every new detail I discovered about her only deepened my obsession.
Eventually, I began taking pictures of her when she wasn’t looking. Different places, angles, times of day… but always with her as the subject. Over the weeks, my room’s walls ran out of space to hold them all.
And even that stopped being enough.
I began stealing things from her—nothing valuable, at least not to her. But to me? Her pink pillow soaked with her intoxicating scent. Her warm, delicate lingerie—always in pairs, because one was never enough, why settle when you can be greedy and have the full set?
For months, I admired her from afar. I never had the courage to speak to her. She was perfect, and I was nothing. I couldn’t just walk up to her and start a conversation.
Watching her… that was the only way I could be near her.
So I learned her routine. Her interests. Her dreams. Her passions. Without her realizing it, I became part of her world.
Which brings me to the present. She was sitting across from me on the train, just like every other evening.
The gentle movement of the train made strands of her hair fall across her blushing cheeks. Just watching her like that sent my mind spinning, imagining countless scenarios where I was the reason for that flustered expression—my hands on her skin, my whispers in her ear. The thought alone sent electricity through me.
And then it happened.
Uncomfortable with the way she was sitting, she shifted in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. Her already short university skirt rode up, revealing her deliciously thick thighs, the base of her round, firm ass… and finally, those cute pastel pink panties.
I could feel the blood rush to my face. My heart pounded. My thoughts drowned in the thousands of filthy things I wanted to do to her right then and there.
But then, she stood up.
She walked off the train. And only then did I realize I had lost track of time. More than 20 minutes had passed while I was lost in my fantasies. The train was already at our stop.
I hurried off the train, cursing myself for not using that moment to snap a photo… a perfect, once-in-a-lifetime image she had unknowingly gifted me.
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
Thursday, 6:25 p.m.
One day had passed since I had the luck of witnessing my beloved’s pastel panties on that same train.
Now, here I was again, waiting.
Being late on a Thursday, the station was nearly empty—just a couple of girls with shopping bags, my beloved… and me.
After five minutes, the train finally arrived. The doors opened, letting in its four only passengers that night.
As usual, my princess took her regular seat, and I sat across from her, separated by only a few feet. The atmosphere was silent, except for the occasional giggle of the two girls sitting a few rows away, and the soft hum of the train.
About seven minutes into the ride—our trip usually takes around 45 minutes—the two girls stood up and exited at the first and only stop before our final destination.
Now it was just her and me. Alone in the carriage.
She sat there, distracted, staring out the window. So beautiful. So perfect—just like the first day I saw her.
I didn’t waste time. Discreetly, I pulled out my camera trying to pretend that I was just checking some old photos on it instead of taking new ones. This was my chance to capture her beauty once more.
Photo after photo, I clicked away with fascination. Her serene expression as she watched the passing scenery. Her cute face as she yawned. The way she tucked strands of hair behind her ear. How she slowly turned… more… and more…
Until her eyes locked onto the lens.
Directly.
She saw me.
My heart stopped. My soul left my body. She had caught me—staring. Filming.
She knew.
I expected her to scream. To call me a pervert—which, of course, I am.
But the idea of her pulling away from me, rejecting me, pushing me out of her world… that was unbearable. The thought alone made my skin crawl.
A thousand worst-case scenarios raced through my mind.
And then… she looked away.
Just slightly. Her cheeks turned a soft red from the awkwardness.
She wasn’t angry. Not really. She was… embarrassed?
My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat.
Then she did something that nearly broke me.
Still sitting there, alone with me, she slowly spread her legs, giving me a perfect view of her delicate white lace panties—already beginning to dampen from the tension in the air.
“T-this is what you wanted, right?” she whispered.
“A couple weeks ago, I noticed you were following me… always taking pictures in secret. I didn’t think much of it at first. But today… seeing you do it so naturally—it made me think maybe you actually want those photos, right, Ryan?”
Ryan.
She said my name.
She remembered me.
And there she was, opening herself up to me—completely alone in a train car—for me.
I lifted my camera immediately and began snapping photos of her dampening panties. My erection pressed against my pants, aching with desire. I couldn’t look away.
Seeing that I had taken several shots, she shifted again.
This time, she gripped the waistband of her panties and pulled slightly, making the fabric press tightly into her already wet pussy. It drove me insane.
I couldn’t stop myself. My hand moved to my hard cock, still hidden by my pants, stroking it through the fabric as I kept taking photos with my other hand.
Watching this, her arousal only intensified. She reached for her blouse, unbuttoning it slowly. Her bra slipped free, and then she removed it completely, revealing her bare breasts. Next, she slid off her panties, revealing the dripping wetness of her arousal trickling down her thighs and pooling onto the seat below her.
She left her skirt on, as well as her white thigh-high socks that hugged her legs tightly, making them look irresistibly sexy.
Guided by desire, she began touching herself, her fingers gliding over her soaked folds. I sat there, mesmerized, stroking my cock now fully exposed, watching every movement she made. Every flick of her fingers, every moan, every expression of pleasure… it was all for me.
I grabbed my camera and began recording.
Her soft gasps and moans, the wet sounds of her fingers, the gentle bounce of her breasts as she breathed—it all drove me mad. My hand moved faster over my cock, slick with precum, the other holding the camera steady, capturing every second.
She was close.
She whispered my name between moans. And then—she cried out, her orgasm shaking her body, squirting across her hand, the floor, and the seat beneath her.
Only seconds later, I came too, groaning her name as my cum spilled onto the train floor.
I shut off the recording, overwhelmed.
I couldn’t help it anymore.
I set the camera beside my bag and moved toward her.
She lay there, her head resting against the window, eyes closed, breathing hard. Her legs still open. Her pussy still wet.
I dropped to my knees in front of her, holding her thighs so she couldn’t close them. Then, slowly, I brought my mouth to her sex. I licked her lips gently, tasting her.
With both hands, I parted her open and began eating her out, tongue exploring every inch of her soaked cunt. Her juices mixed with my saliva, dripping down my chin and neck. She reached for my hair and pulled me in deeper, urging me to keep going.
Soft flicks, teasing nibbles, long licks—until her body started to tremble again. She screamed my name, her second orgasm rushing over her.
I sucked her clit hard, intensifying her pleasure. She squeezed my head between her thighs, grinding into my face. I loved it.
My hands reached up to her ass, grabbing her and pushing her further into my mouth. I wanted all of her.
And then it happened—I came again.
Without even touching myself. Just tasting her, hearing her cry my name, feeling her climax against my face—I came. Hard.
Exhausted, I gently bit her thigh and rested my head against it, trying to catch my breath.
I whispered between gasps, “I love you. I love you so much. Please… be my girlfriend.”
Her hand moved through my hair, lovingly, and she whispered back:
“I love you too, Ryan. I’ve loved you since I first caught you watching me months ago. I’ll be your girlfriend… but—can you move? We’ll be at the station soon, and I’d like to get off the train wearing my panties and blouse.”
⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝
Since that day, Ryan keeps his “special” camera in a small altar inside his closet—his room still covered with thousands of photos of his beloved. Even now, three months into their relationship, he would rather die than get rid of them.
Next to the camera sits a delicate pair of white lace panties—the same ones his now girlfriend wore the day they finally shared their love on the train.
Apparently, her wish to step off the train fully dressed didn’t quite go as planned… thanks to a certain obsessive pervert.
And if only the poor girl knew—
that wasn’t going to be the last time.
Not with Ryan’s twisted, devoted mind…
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(Hope that wasn’t too cringey to read, also, back then I wrote a second part of this, kinda similar but with a different scenario and an extra character, which also happens to have its own short, so, If this post gains some attention maybe I’ll post those two too.)
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being depressed, alone and having no friends makes u vulnerable!! ofc who wouldn't take advantage of that?... or not advantage more of 'protection' he just wanted what's best for you
his room filled with pics of you , brushing your teeth , tearing up your own drawings with a cute pout on ur face from how upset u r , oh he loved it
he didn't follow you around often since you mostly sat in ur room so he decided to buy the house next door just so he can look through the window and watch his pretty girl lay on her bed with headphones on
When u did go out ...once in a blue moon ofc , he'd tag along! he saw you as a small bunny, fragile and weak , no one could protect you like he could
He learnt the exact times even made schedules of what you did day to day
eventually he became restless watching u afar , one day when your parents left he came over to introduce himself and acted surprised when he saw you , the way you looked so shy just greeting him made him want to pounce on you
He was hot ofc , so how could u not think of him? He noticed when you tried to look even more prettier than u were for him! Wearing cute clothes and washing your hair more often so it could have a glow
Sitting by your desk nervously looking over to his window to see him staring at you , at first you played it off but it happened so many times that u got embarrassed if u bedrotted for even a day and he saw
He gave his number to your parents which u ofc overheard and added it into ur phone... js for fun! But he saw it as more , a perfect time where he could confess his undying feelings
Texts with attachments of his body for u , he would spam you all the time , not a how r u but more of possesively saying your his
He'd call you his bunny , send cute plushies and clothes , his clothes mostly , he loved you did as told for him.. you were so desperately pathetic for his attention it was adorable!
At one point you could needy urself, humping your pillow wearing one of many shirts he sent while you imgained him holding your thighs and talking you through it
You of course left your curtains open maybe a lil part of you knew he could see in but in that moment u didn't care
After seeing you bascially in heat , he needed to show you how much care he give to ur needs!
random old thing I wrote , I luv obessed x loser trope sm...( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )
a/n : hiii!! this is my first fic ever posted!! light spoiler for season two of animal kingdom but otherwise please enjoy!
cw! : stalker!pope x f!reader, reader has afab anatomy, no use of y/n, cunnilingus, p in v, smut, male masturbation, brief mentions of drugs + alcohol, watching reader through windows, underwear thief/sniffer, slight ooc??, pervert!!!, calls reader Angel/refers to them as Angel, even amounts of plot and porn (maybe??), sex lowkey vanilla but oh well
wc: 4.7k — i just kept writing LMAO meant to be a drabble btw
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵˚₊
You were his and didn’t know it.
Andrew Pope Cody. A rather interesting individual. From his need to have order to having control over everything; From the risky jobs he and his brothers participated in to every waking thought of his. He liked being in control of everything the sun touched and more.
But what happens if there wasn’t something he was in control of?
The day he met you, you have consumed his mind.
He’s driving down towards the next job? His mind is occupied by you.
Rearranging the kitchen cabinets? Pictures of you in that dress from last week's party.
Watching TV? Wishing you were next to him.
Brushing his teeth? Wishing you were in the sink next to him brushing yours as well.
Eating Smurf’s dinner? Wishing it was you who had made it.
It had gotten to the point where if he even caught a whiff of the shampoo you used out in the public, he’d be scanning the area for the trace of you. If someone had the same laugh as yours, he’d be searching for the source of the sound. His heart would get caught in his throat if he saw someone who looked like you from behind, getting the courage to interact before realizing it wasn’t you when they turned around.
Even late at night when he lays on top of his neatly made bed, hands folded on top of his abdomen staring at the blank ceiling. His mind couldn’t help but picture what you were doing at this late hour. Were you even thinking about him? Did you know he existed? Did you know what you were doing to him with that smile of yours?
Last time he was this infatuated with someone was Catherine, Baz’s — His brother’s wife. Now he truly loved her but she ended up choosing Baz. But then Smurf got into his head, saying things like she was working with the cops and they simply couldn’t have that. Resulting in him murdering her in the middle of the night; The feeling of him smothering her face with her pillow in the bed she and Baz shared. He didn’t stop until her body went limp, he remained above her for what felt like an eternity realizing what he had done.
But Andrew kept telling himself it had to be done. For the safety of his family. Besides he planned to never get an angel like you involved into this mess, let alone see that side of him.
That’s what he told himself as he parked in the street outside of your quiet home near the beach, his black jeep blending in with the dark of night as he watched over your home. Watching as you moved through the windows, blissfully unaware of the man outside.
————————
You on the other hand? You noticed Pope at the party two weeks ago and couldn’t stop thinking about those hazel eyes of his. Or how his large calloused hands would feel on your soft skin, especially around your throat. You didn’t know of the Cody family until you caught wind of a large party that had great weed; Amongst other drugs mixed with top shelf alcohol. Not to mention a pool, which was perfect for the hot summer weather.
You had spent the majority of the night on one of the pool lounge chairs, joint between your lips as you took a deep drag. Your gaze looking over the drunken crowd; Some on the water, others dancing to the loud music and the rest? Probably inside having a large orgy — But that was just word that circulated through the party.
But when your gaze got caught onto a man who blended in with the shadows and faint lights of the pool? You. Were. Hooked. There was something about his presence that drew you to him, like a moth to a flame; But of course when his gaze snapped towards you, you had looked away. Was it because you were embarrassed from being caught? Or simply because someone like him looked at you — Not in your direction, but at you.
You had spent the rest of the night stealing glances from him, lingering around corners. What you didn’t know was that he was doing the exact same thing. Following you around the party like some guard, remaining in the quiet shadows — Watching your every move.
The way you would glide through the floor, dancing with strangers — His fists clenching at his sides to keep control whenever someone got a little too close or hands wandering over your form a little too inappropriately. Not to mention the way your dress would ride up slightly exposing more of your legs, it almost was too much for Andrew — He reluctantly looked away to not focus on the fact he could feel his pants growing tight at your exposed skin.
The rest of that night was a blur for you. Next thing you truly remember was doing the walk of shame in the blinding morning light, heels in hand as you descended down the driveway and finding your car parked near the end.
————————
That brings us to today. You were running late for your shift at some coffee shop, you were just happy that it paid your rent — Even if you were living paycheck to paycheck.
You were scrambling to get dressed in jeans and some shirt that was clean; In truth what you wore didn’t matter for you’d end up putting some apron on over it. You were having trouble finding your jacket. Granted the weather didn’t require you to have one, but since that coffee shop resided near the waters it made the air feel much colder than what it was. You sighed running your fingers through your hair as you tied it back, “Guess I left it at..” It dawned on you, “The Cody’s. Must be by the pool? Fuck.” You muttered the last bit as you caught the time, you grabbed your purse and keys bolting out the front door.
You didn’t even notice the familiar black jeep lurking near your home, you told yourself it was a coincidence and that plenty of people owned one. Perhaps a neighbor had a guest? Yeah! That’s what you told yourself as you peeled out of your parking spot.
Once the coast was clear Andrew slipped out of his vehicle, he approached the home he’d been watching for the last few days since he saw you at that party. He easily picked the lock as if it were any other and let himself in through the main door. The scent of your home filled his senses as he closed the door behind him.
‘Is this a good idea? I shouldn’t be here.’
He thought to himself as his body moved through the home, mindlessly cleaning up the messy living room. “Messy Angel..” He murmured to himself as he found himself cleaning the dishes at least twice and wiping the counters down a few times to ensure they were clean. It wouldn’t be long until he was working his way down the hall towards your bedroom; The mere sight of clothes all over the flooring, unmade bedding — Even dishes on the nightstand made his skin crawl. He knows he shouldn’t be moving too much around, let alone even be here. But his body was moving without him thinking, his control was slipping more and more as he made your bed. Took care of the dishes on the nightstand.
Then it came to your clothes scattered on the floor, it started with him simply looking at them to determine whether the items were clean or not. But it didn’t take long until he was doing a smell check, ‘Fuck. If she came home right now to find some man in her bedroom sniffing her laundry…Can’t control it..I can’t tell if it’s her detergent or just her smelling this good. Almost addicting.’
Then he saw them. A pair of crimson red lace panties lazily with the dress he saw you in. ‘Naughty Angel wearing something like this? I suppose they’re considered dirty..But how would I know?’ He thought to himself as he was in a low squat, one knee on the ground as he held the dainty fabric between his calloused fingers. ‘One sniff wouldn’t hurt.’ Is what he told himself mentally as he held the fabric to his nose, taking a deep inhale and letting out a low groan that rumbled from his chest. ‘God I’m such a pervert.’ But that didn’t stop his pants from growing tight, he glanced at the clock; ‘She just went to work..I suppose I can take a small break, just have to be out of here before 4:00pm.’
It only took him seconds to be sat on your neatly made bed, one hand gripping the lace panties holding it to his nose while the other was unbuckling his belt to free his leaking cock! He pushed down just enough for it to spring out against his clothed abdomen, he saw how his tip glistened with pre-cum. “Fuck..” He groaned before spitting on his hand for some kind of lubricant before wrapping it around the base of his cock. He’d lay back on the soft mattress, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to sniff your used panties. Your natural pheromones mixed with little sweat fueled his desire, not to mention the scent of your room making his head spin.
He stroked his cock slowly at first, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a moment to himself where he could touch himself. Low sounds fell from his parted lips as he continued stroking his hand pretending it was you — Or perhaps your mouth? Wondering how much of his thick cock you could take down your throat. Or even the mere idea of your cunt made him speed his hand up. He hadn’t even realized he was bucking his hips upwards into his hand, fucking it as if he were to fuck you. He would groan and moan your name in raspy whispers as images of you flooded behind his eyelids.
The knot in his lower abdomen only grew tighter as he chased his release, he had practically sniffed the panties to the point there was no scent of you left. Within seconds of him pulling the now scentless panties from his nose to toss aside he came harshly into his hand — Keeping the mess contained in his palm. He panted out ragged breath, his post-nut clarity catching up. He cursed to himself as he carefully tucked himself into his pants once more with the empty hand. Being careful with his other hand to not spill his release anywhere — He’d maneuver towards the bathroom to wash his hands, unable to look at himself in the mirror.
Afterwards, he swiped a different pair or two of your dirty panties; Stuffing them into his back pocket before finishing tidying up. Last step being to smooth out the bedding to make it appear untouched, fluffing the pillows just right before leaving the small home. Just as he was pulling away in his jeep he saw your car arriving home after a long day at work, ‘That was close. Too close.’
————————
You entered your home setting your items down, before flicking on the light and freezing in your steps. ‘Did I clean..? I must be going crazy, shit my jacket is still at their place. I’m too tired, I’ll try tomorrow since I’m off.’ You thought to yourself as you ate a leftover dish of pasta while watching whatever show you were into, but it didn’t matter because all you could focus on was the man you saw at that party.
You wondered what he was doing right now. Was he thinking of you? Probably not because you two haven’t even spoken, just played eye tag at a party two weeks ago! To be fair he was rather intimidating to look at, that cold stare of his? The one that made you feel like you were on some form of display only for him? That stare gave you goosebumps, yet your lower abdomen would pool with heat beneath the gaze. You told yourself it was the weed mixed with top shelf vodka messing with you as you cleaned up your dinner dish and made your way into your bedroom.
You paused at the sight. ‘I know for a fact this room wasn’t clean before I left. What the actual fuck is going on? Unless..Unless it was clean? Fuck my goldfish memory. I mean I was leaving in such a rush..’ You thought to yourself as you walked towards your bed, flopping onto it with exhaustion. Planning to just shower in the morning. You laid there kicking your pants off and sprawling out to get comfortable; That’s when you notice it.
A scent.
Not just any scent.
Men’s cologne.
It shot a chill up and down your spine as you laid there frozen. ‘Someone was here.’ You thought to yourself as you inhaled through your nose, as if trying to figure out the scent. It wasn’t strong but not subtle either. Hard to place it — Besides the lingering scent of weed. That smell you knew well. ‘Am I crazy? It smells like..Like that house? What the fuck..’ You though to yourself as you rolled onto your back, ‘Maybe that’s because I passed out here after the party? But it’s been two weeks..Fuck maybe it’s a sign to change my bedding? Whatever, just go to sleep. You’re overthinking.’
————————
Come morning, you woke up groggily to the sunlight filling your room. Reluctantly you pushed yourself out of bed, taking a shower and grabbing a quick bite to eat before getting inside your car. ‘No black jeep today? Must’ve just been a neighbor having a guest? Not my business.’ You thought quietly as you pulled out of the parking space, making your way through the familiar streets towards the Cody residence.
Upon arrival you never noticed the large gate, you pulled up to the speaker box where a man’s voice could be heard.
“Who is it?”
“Umm hello? Sorry to bother but I think I left my jacket here..?”
You felt stupid. It had been two weeks. Why now are you coming to get the jacket? Something was pulling you here. Maybe this was a mistake.
Suddenly the gate slowly swung open and you pulled forward. You parked the car and was greeted by none other than the man himself. The one you couldn’t get out of your head, you awkwardly park your car as he watched with that gaze of his and got out. You fidgeted with your fingers. Too distracted by him to see the exact jeep right in front of your car!
“You say you left a jacket here?” He spoke, voice rough as if he had just woken up — It must’ve been the guy on the speaker box.
“Yeah— I was here two weeks ago for some party? I know it’s weird coming here now to collect the jacket.” You spoke with a light smile.
“No problem. What did it look like?” He spoke already knowing the answer to the question; A black thin jacket with white stars patterned onto it.
“It’s a black jacket with stars on it? It—It’s cool if you guys don’t have it, I get it.”
“Nonsense. Come inside, I think it might be somewhere in the laundry.” He spoke, gesturing to you to follow.
Without a second thought you were following him inside the grand home, it looked different in the daytime and certainly better when not so crowded. It certainly was cleaner than she last saw it. He had you waiting in the kitchen area as he slipped towards where the laundry room was; You waited patiently, fingers tapping along the counter top but you being curious you started to walk through the home. Looking at the paintings or miscellaneous pictures that decorated the walls.
You would find yourself about to re-enter the kitchen space when something caught your eye. It was a bedroom door slightly opened, if that wasn’t tempting enough — You saw a pair of panties slightly hanging out of the dresser drawer, not just any panties. Your panties. You knew they were yours from the limited edition Victoria Secret hot pink panties with the custom gems that spelt your initials! They only sold a hundred of these and you managed to get a pair! Without thinking you were inside the room holding the panties, verifying that they were yours; The size, the gems, the color? “What the..” You murmured as you opened the drawer seeing a second pair of your panties.
You were startled by the bedroom door closing, you whipped your head to see Andrew standing there with your jacket in hand.
“Pope—“ You managed to get out, a name you overheard someone call him at that party.
“Andrew. Please call me Andrew. I didn’t think you’d be brave enough to snoop.” He hummed, stepping forward.
“I—I didn’t mean too..Besides! Why do you have my panties?!” You spoke holding the two pairs up in your hand — Despite the situation you found it hot. Really hot. God there was something wrong with you.
“You’ve infiltrated my thoughts, Angel. I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve been following you for two weeks, watching you sleep — I cleaned your house, hope you didn’t mind.” He spoke, admitting to it all as he now stood closer to you but you didn’t back away despite the voice in your head telling you to run.
That’s when it dawned on you. The black jeep. The fucking scent coming off of him and inside this room. He was into you just as you were into him. This was one way of doing it.
“That..That explains so much. I thought I was going crazy..” You spoke as he set your jacket on the dresser.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you Angel..I just want to keep you safe..I..” He trailed off trying to keep control of his fleeting mind, but suddenly everything went silent for him when he felt one of your hands cupping his cheek.
“You’ve captivated me Andrew. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that party. I suppose I was nervous coming back here for the jacket with the chance of seeing you.” You spoke as you felt his hands migrating onto your waist, thumbs brushing the soft fabric as if to ground himself.
“I need you Angel..Please..” He practically pleaded with those puppy eyes of his.
Granted you two were strangers. But something about living once or whatever silenced the doubt.
“I’m all yours..You made quite the impression. Who am I to deny a reward for your efforts? Hmm?”
“That’s all I need to hear.”
With that his lips were on yours, the stubble on his face felt rough against your skin. Your hands long forgetting the stolen panties as you dropped them, your hands getting lost into his slightly curled hair. His large hands roaming down to your hips, resting on the curve of your ass giving a squeeze before picking you up by the thighs and carrying you over towards the made bed. The only time the kiss broke was when he tossed you onto the bed, looking over your form with that look of needy hunger mixed with desire.
“Are you sure you want this?” He spoke untying your shoes and setting them aside neatly on the ground. Even putting your socks on top of the shoes for convenience.
“Yes..Please.” You hummed letting him slowly undress you, watching how he had a certain order things needed to be.
“Good Angel..Just say the word if you change your mind.”
You nod slightly giving him the green light, his fingers undoing your jeans swiftly and tugging them down; It wasn’t long until they were loosely folded onto the floor. He was settled between your thighs, kissing the soft skin from the side of each knee slowly working his way toward where you craved him most — Leaving a trail of hickies and opened mouthed kisses on the skin. He smiled softly against your skin seeing the slight damp spot on your grey panties.
“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already a mess..~” He hummed as he glanced up at your face, seeing the needy expression — You wanted him just as bad as he did.
“Oh yeah? I bet you like it. Seeing the mess in my panties? You gonna steal these as well?” You teased playfully, he only grinned wickedly.
“Oh I planned on it.” He murmured as he kissed the spot just above the waistband before pulling the panties off in a swift motion, shoving them into his back pocket — He wasn’t kidding! He truly intended on keeping them.
Before you could call him a ‘Pervert’ at the action, a moan fell from your mouth as he licked a stripe from your entrance and up towards your clit — Spreading the arousal with his tongue for a few licks before latching his mouth onto your clit. His circling it finding the right pressure to make you squirm, while his firm hands kept your thighs spread for him. Your hands lost into his hair as nothing but sounds of pleasure fell from your mouth.
“H—Holy shit..!” You moaned out throwing your head back into the pillows as your breathing was growing ragged, suddenly you could feel his tongue pushing inside your entrance to truly taste the source of you. Your gummy walls fluttering around his tongue — Granted you’ve had sex before with others, but nothing was compared to this! Soon he’d adjust your legs to where they’re draped over his shoulder, one hand your lower abdomen as he used the other to slowly pump his fingers inside of you. Starting with one, slowly stretching you around it before slipping in a second one all while his mouth was firmly latched onto that clit of yours.
Meanwhile, you were a gasping and moaning mess! Saying his name like a prayer mixed with scattered curses beneath your breath; Soon you would feel his hand on your lower abdomen start to push up your shirt, to palm your breast through the bra. With that you removed a hand from his hair, pulling your breasts out of your bra for him to properly fondle which he gladly did. His hand alternated between the soft breasts, pinching and lightly tugging at the nipples equally. Mixed in with kneading them as well.
“A—Andrew I’m gonna—Fuck— cum if you keep that up..!” You managed to get out between your lewd sounds of pleasure as he was pumping his fingers in and out of your slick cunt with a ‘come here’ motion being sure to hit that spongy spot as much as possible. All while his tongue doubled its efforts on your clit; It was growing to be all too much for you. Before you could even properly warn him about cumming, your thighs clamped around his head as your juices painted his mouth and chin. Your hips rocking slightly as you rode it out, body trembling with pleasure as you panted. All while he worked you through it. Slowly you relaxed, your thighs easing up and your fingers releasing his hair.
He looked up at your blissed out expression with a soft smile as he officially caught his breath, lips and chin shiny with your juices. He licked his fingers clean of you. “Absolutely beautiful..” He praised lightly as he climbed over your body, kissing you tenderly letting his tongue slip into your mouth and you got a proper taste of yourself. All while his hand undid his own jeans, shimming them off his form not caring about making them neat like the rest of your clothing. Too focused on pleasuring you.
He reluctantly pulled off of you to take off his clothing, giving you the chance to toss off your shirt and bra leaving the both of you exposed to each other. You noticed how his cock shined with pre-cum, the tip lightly pink and clearly aching for some kind of attention. He stares down at your form, for a moment all he sees is Catherine before he killed her. But your voice pulled him from such a trance.
“Everything okay..?” You innocently asked, noticing the falter in his gaze.
“Everything’s perfect..You’re just so beautiful, Angel.” He hummed as he leaned down once again, kissing your lips tenderly before lining his bare tip with your entrance.
Usually he would wear a condom. But with you? No. He wanted to feel all of you. On top of him already building a fantasy in his own mind of marrying you, having you carry his children and becoming the perfect housewife. Or just being his wife, mother of his children. But he was getting ahead of himself.
Slowly he pushed himself inside, keeping himself upright with his forearms on either side of you. His mouth latching onto your neck, already marking you as his. Your nails leaving screen shaped dents in his back as he started to thrust into you; Of course he started out gentle. Making sure he wasn’t hurting you, but once he felt your gummy walls clench around him and sucked him further in? It was over for him. This felt way better than fucking his hand and sniffing your panties. He could get addicted to this. To you.
You could feel yourself being stretched around his surprisingly girthy and fairly weighted cock. At first there was a stinging burning sensation but as you adjusted it turned into nothing but pleasure for you. Your legs wrapped around his waist to encourage him to move, you knew there were risks of no condom — You didn’t care. You were on birth control and this is what you’ve been thinking about for the last two weeks since seeing him at that party.
The room — Even the empty house was being filled with your moans and his groans of pleasure. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin, the way his headboard thumped rhythmically against the wall — You were sure there was gonna be a dent from the sheer force, if not the bed would certainly break beneath you two.
Andrew propped himself up a little bit more, changing the angle to hit the perfect internal spot and to admire his work of love bites that left purplish-reddish stains on your skin. Not to mention the teeth mark indents. He enjoyed watching your face contort in pleasure, “I want you to cum on my cock. I need to feel you clenching around me like a vice, can you do that for me Angel?” He cooed as he peppered kisses over his love bites, soon trailing back to your lips to steal a kiss or two as his thrusts never slowed.
“Yes..Yes!~ I—Mmphh—I’m gonna cum~ Gonna..Fuck, Andrew..” You managed to get out between desperate moans and kisses. Soon your body would arch into his, your nails dragging down his back slightly causing him to hiss in pain — But he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. “Good Angel..That’s it..” He coaxed softly as his hips started to move erratically as if he was chasing his own orgasm, wanting to cum at the exact moment you did. He would soon feel the way your legs locked around him, your walls squeezing and throbbing around his cock as if milking him as you moaned his name one more time. You would soon be painting his cock, ball and even thighs with your slick juices. He wasn’t too far behind, he had a couple more thrusts before he fully slammed himself inside of you. Pumping you full of his warm cum.
“Mine.” He rumbled from his chest but you were too fucked out of your mind to even process what he said. Still coming down from your high, he would slowly pull out leaving you empty and whimpering at the loss. He admired his creampie, pushing the excess back inside with his finger. “Mess Angel..Let’s get you cleaned up.” He hummed softly as he carefully scooped you up and carried you into the bathroom.
a/n: wrote this slop to help me out of my slump. Enjoy
Masterlist
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He loitered around you like a creep. You always felt him watching you and more than once, you caught him staring. A hot coffee would be present on your work desk before you arrive. Your colleagues nudging you and giving you knowing smile. But you just felt uncomfortable. You didn't want any of his hospitality and you certainly didn't want him creeping around you.
He grew bolder as time went by. He'd brush his hands against your breasts and rub his bulge against your ass. He was good at making it as quick as possible, you felt like you were going crazy. You swear you felt a touch but no one's there.
No one would belive that your boss is harassing you at work anyway.
One day he took it too far. He called you to his office after he made you stay till 11pm. You entered his space and stood infront of his desk with your hands clasped in front of you. He asked you a bunch of stupid questions that could've been emailed.
And now, you were bent over on his desk as he pounded in you. He grabbed both your arms in one of his and moaned loudly above you. You feel absolutely disgusting.
His cock was dragging in and out of you, your body involuntarily soaking around him.
"I know you w-want this.. I've seen the way you look at me" he moaned and hollered above you trying to convince himself that all your no's were because you wanted him. How smart.
Looks like he was too caught up in his own brain. "You wore this tight blouse on purpose right?? The way they streched around your tits... your nipples are always poking out" he reached around and grabbed your tits. Did he ever see boobs irl??
"You want this right... say you wanted me to fuck you... because you did right??"
He was going histerical above you. Did no one fuck this man before?
You tried to protest..tried to slip a no between your sobbing but you couldn't. A dreaded coil of heat formed in your gut. You clenched around him and came with your eyes clenched
"You're milking me. Weren't you bitching and crying saying you didn't want his " he mocked
His hips were still relentless and he had every intention to cum inside you. He angled his hips and stilled, burying himself to hilt. He moaned like a bitch when he emptied himself in you and left you there with his hot sticky cum dripping down your thighs. "That was amazing... Same time tomorrow yeah??" He sighed. You knew this wasn't over because no one can stop him
