Yandere Supreme

the fuck this flea is happy about he will be next after this cake

well... I don't think he would have raped them, necessarily. that would leave too much behind. they'd be able to tell he did something once they'd woken up. but that doesn't mean he didn't let himself have some fun with you...

first thing he did, was immediately, and unapologetically give your hair a deep sniff. letting himself enjoy the fresh notes of your shampoo, committing your clean scent to memory. he'd watch a few extra movies... "with" you. a few more b-horror flicks from the mid century, your sleeping form against him weighing perfectly against his chest. maybe his hands would have wandered just enough to satiate his desires, but not so far as to compromise your dignity. at least in his mind. he'd run his hand up and down your waist as you lay there asleep, maybe down the backs of your thighs, up to the curve of your ass and *fuck*... he'd better stop himself here before he lets his primitive desires take things too far.

after the third movie finishes, and when he's sure you're entirely out of it... that's when he makes his move.

getting himself up, bringing your sleeping form to the corner of the couch, cheek pressed against the arm... God you look so cute like this... quickly, he ducks into his bedroom to grab his camera. snapping a few Polaroids of you. the first few, quite innocent. ones he could see himself leaving out for you to see. he could imagine the conversation now, 'whyd you take these ones, weirdo!' to which he'd laugh and tell you quite simply, 'aw, c'mon! you looked so adorable like that! of course I'd have to take a photo or two'. surely you'd be endeared by this, right?

then, he'd get a little closer...

nestling the lens of his camera in front of the parts of your body he finds the most beautiful. the crook of you neck getting a good five polaroids on its own... how he'd love to sink his teeth into your gorgeous flesh... your hands look so sweet curled up against your chest, it'd be a shame not to photograph those as well. God, that curve of your waist as you lay on your side, how it connects so perfectly to your little tummy... your thighs, how badly he wants his face between them—

of course, he'd have to stop taking those photos at some point. shutting his camera into his room while he takes care of himself in the bathroom. remembering the scent of your shampoo as he climaxes.

by the time he's finished up in there, he comes back to look over you as you lay asleep. tucking you in with a spare blanket, gently grazing his thumb across your bottom lip... 4:16am.