he sees you! (Patreon)

synopsis: he sees you when you're sleeping, he sees when you're awake - actually, he wants to see you ALL of the time. and once that pesky little husband of yours is out of the way, he'll make sure you finally see him too.

pairing: yandere!stalker x divorced!reader

wc: 3.9k

content: plot + light smut, heavy yandere behavior, fem reader, stalking, voyeurism, (male) masturbation, jerking off + edging, he is OBSESSED, planned meet cute, scheming, manipulation, teasing, oblivious reader (don't get in a stranger's car guys lmfao), ex-husband is also creeping here, kissing, pda

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You looked so pretty spread out in your sheets in the morning. 

Bare-faced and breathing softly, faint sunlight shifting through the window to shine on your face. Of course, he bet you’d be even prettier in-person and not through the grainy camera he usually ended up fucking his fist to at the start of each day. 

Morning wood was natural, wasn’t it?

He couldn’t exactly just walk out of the front door like this, cock hanging heavy and leaking in a way no cold shower could even fix. 

Fuck. 

He hissed as his hand ran over the throbbing veins, overly-sensitive after another long night dreaming of your skin, of your pliant flesh beneath his shuddering body. He’d need to wash his sheets after this. 

Strip them down and pour bleach in with the load just to be safe. 

Sweat stuck to his brow, loose strands of hair falling in his face as his fingers gripped his cock even harder, picturing smaller digits replacing them. Imagining your voice teasing him for being so reactive, giggling in his ear as your mouth brushed against his throat. 

Uneven breaths echoing through his room as his calloused palm stroked his veiny shaft, pre-cum still coating his left hand as he edged himself, imagining the taste of relief and restraining himself before it could wash over him. 

No. 

He could wait. 

Groaning as he released his tight grip, curling wet fingers into an empty fist before he dropped his phone and started towards the bathroom instead. 

He tried to wash you off of his skin. But he couldn’t even scrub you from his thoughts. 

An imprinted image of you stuck to his brain as he forced himself through the motions of getting ready. Carefully selecting the cologne you told your friend more men should wear and squinting at the wardrobe he spent hours online choosing. 

Crafting an image designed around your desires. 

He stared at his reflection as he smoothed out his shirt, sighing as he shoved down his own anticipation. Hid it under the shiny veneer he plastered on jut for you. 

Today was the day. 

He planned it all out. Time stamped and color-coded on his itinerary, all hinging on your morning run to get coffee. 

The start of your love story together. Well, the official one, the one you’d be on the phone telling your friends about tonight and the one you’d tell your kids together ten years from now. 

You were going to be his. 

For someone who always prided himself on meticulously organizing every detail of his life, you were the only thing that had been unplanned. 

He never meant to become so…entranced by a stranger. Utterly enveloped before he’d ever breathed a single word to you. 

All he had ever intended to do was install his own security system, what, almost a year ago? An older woman a few doors down the street from him had experienced a break-in, and he figured it was better than nothing. 

Buying something cheap online and taking an hour to set up a handful of cameras directed towards the windows and doors.

But when he went to set up a login with the credentials provided in the instructions, he somehow ended up connected to yours. 

Someone else would have immediately logged out. Pretended it never happened. 

But your voice carried through his phone, your pretty pout appearing on his screen as you argued with someone he couldn’t see. 

He was nosey, okay? 

It felt like he was back in college, pressing his ear to the shared wall with the dorm next door listening to the guy try to explain to his girlfriend why making out with another dude at a frat party technically wasn’t cheating on her. 

And okay, even then, he still listened to them making up too, jaw clenching as their moans carried through until he convinced himself to put in some earphones. 

A guy had come into frame, some pathetic dark-haired loser who tried to rub your arm and apologize while you recoiled away and told him to get out. 

He missed whatever started the fight, but he kept watching until it finished. 

After you kicked him out and returned to the edge of your bed, your knees pressed to your chest and your arm wrapped around them as you let out broken sobs. 

Something inside of him had cracked at the sound. 

An unfamiliar itch crawling beneath his skin as he stared at the shrinking figure on his phone, the ring glinting in the lamplight as your shoulders shuddered with each strained breath. 

Later, he did try to troubleshoot and realized that you must’ve ordered the same thing and just never changed your login information after you plugged in the cameras. Clueless that someone else could connect to your account from their own devices. 

That was the moment he certainly should’ve logged out. 

But really, it was too late the second he heard you cry. 

He couldn’t stop watching.

It started small. Just checking in on you before he went to bed, or randomly opening it up to see if you were home while he worked. 

He wasn’t sure when exactly you became his new favorite show – filmed live for his viewing pleasure. 

It didn’t take too long to figure out your name. To piece together the details of your life from your environment. The biggest disappointment he discovered was that you really were married to that loser you kicked out.

Even if you were currently living in separate bedrooms in the same place. 

And when he realized you were in the same city, well, wasn’t that fate? 

You were walking the same streets as him. 

Living less than fifteen minutes away. 

Right under his nose this entire time. 

Figuring out how to follow you around without being noticed was harder, but it turned out you were too busy with your own problems to pay too much attention to the people around you. 

He told himself it wasn’t creepy. That he was just protecting you from someone actually malicious since your husband clearly had no interest in your safety. 

If he was your husband-

Well, that was the thought that kept forcing its way up as he got to know you – albeit through a safe distance.

You weren’t a zoo animal. 

But he felt like watching some poor, caged creature waiting for him to break it free, separated by a glass barrier only he could see. 

You were miserable in that sham of a marriage.

Wasn’t he doing the right thing helping you get out of it? 

All the two of you ever did was fight and fuck.

As if that puny dick could even make up for his pathetic arguments over why you should let his parents walk all over you or why he needed to stay up all night playing stupid games. 

The two of you fought over everything. 

Food and friends and furniture and even who finished first.

He didn’t seem to even notice that he couldn’t make you cum half the time. Practically patting your clit instead of paying it proper attention – if he even bothered to touch it at all. 

It was pitifully easy to get him to cheat on you.

He just paid some pretty girl enough to approach him on one of his ‘boys’ nights’ and press her lips against him long enough to snap a photo and send it to you swearing she only found out he had a girlfriend after they made out.

That asshole was too wasted to remember that it ended there. 

Caught completely off-guard when he came home with lipstick stains stuck to his throat to you throwing all his stuff out the front door and telling him to only contact you through a lawyer.

The only good thing that dickhead did was sign the divorce papers the day he was presented with them. 

He wanted to be there to celebrate with you. 

But despite the fact you had proof of your ex-husband cheating, you seemed to be stuck on it. He guessed it was normal. Natural to mourn something even if you didn’t want it anymore. 

So he forced himself to wait. 

To watch you while you healed. 

And now it was about to all be worth it.

He checked his watch, holding his breath as he turned the corner of the street, perfectly timing it to open the door to your favorite coffee shop for you and end up in line behind you. 

You were distracted. You always were. 

Just offering him a murmured thanks as you typed something away on your phone. 

But you looked back over your shoulder when he cleared his throat a minute later, your brows arching up in confusion even when he offered his most disarming smile. 

“Hey, um, not to freak you out, but uh, I think that guy’s staring at you,” he offered, gesturing towards the corner booth where he knew a certain someone would be. 

He didn’t even have to pull any strings to get your ex-husband to show up. He wasn’t the only one watching you after all. 

Not the only one obsessed with you. 

Your ex-husband, on the other hand, was much clumsier about it. Of course, it was only hitting him two months after you left him how hard it was to miss you. How bitter regret tasted. He’d just have to get used to it. 

“Shit,” you muttered, brows creasing together in concern as you shifted on your heels, your eyes shifting towards the door as you silently debated making a run for it. 

“Are you okay?” He feigned curiosity, ready and willing to insert himself as your white knight whether or not you knew it yet. 

“It’s, uh, my ex-husband,” you muttered, confiding in him as if he wasn’t merely a meddler in your eyes. 

“I take it the divorce didn’t go smoothly?” He tried to sound charming, tilting his head to the side as your cute mouth curled up in a bitter laugh. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” you softly replied, reaching up to feel for your hair, self-conscious and utterly adorable as he resisted the urge to reassure you that it was perfect. That you were perfect. 

“If you want, I could pretend to be your new boyfriend,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders as you let out a surprised giggle. 

“What?” You blinked, and he could see you resisting the urge to look around like you were being pranked or some camera crew was hanging around the corner about to jump out at you. 

“If you want to make him jealous or piss him off,” he added, doing his damndest to act like this was nothing to him. As if he couldn’t care less about your answer. 

A stranger would only be interested in playing along with a fun scheme. 

You hesitated for a moment as the line moved forward, and he lightly nudged your arm to get you to take a step. 

“Will you buy me coffee?” You asked, caution still bleeding through your tone as it twisted into almost teasing. Trying to test the footing as you figured out what kind of person he was. 

He grinned. 

“What fake-boyfriend wouldn’t?”

He’d be your real one soon enough. 

Could you feel the spark in the air when your hand brushed against his? Were you watching his side-profile too as you made small talk all the way up to the front counter, exchanging names and jobs and ages as if he didn’t already know all of your answers? 

Adrenaline was bursting in his chest by the time you slid into the booth across from him, fixing him in a skeptical expression as you studied his face. Your husband was still staring, silently fuming on the other side of the cafe, but you hadn’t so much as glanced his way once.

It felt good to occupy all of your attention for once instead of the other way around. 

“Do you do this with random girls in coffee shops a lot?” You hummed, bringing your coffee up to your lips to take a slow sip. 

He liked the way you were contemplating him. 

Attempting to pick apart every detail he laid out in the open for you on the table like you wanted to dissect him. 

Hadn’t he been doing the same to you for months? 

“Nope,” he grinned, mimicking you by lifting his own drink up to his lips. He didn’t like coffee. Or anything they served here. But he’d pretend it was delicious if it meant he could become a staple in your routine too. “You’d be my first.” 

“Y’know, I haven’t seen you here before,” you added, and he chuckled, glancing down at the time ticking on his watch. 

Most people were beings of habit. 

Existed only in their little bubbles, overlooking everything new outside of it.  

“Usually I come later,” he lied, letting his eyes narrow just a little as his stare drifted down to the thick sweater you chose today. He already knew what you looked like underneath it, after all. “But maybe I should wake up earlier.” 

Your eyes lit up a little at the realization he really was flirting with you, a soft smile playing on your lips before you caught yourself. 

“Yeah?” You hummed, like you were debating on calling him on it. 

“Better scenery,” he added, giving you a little wink.

He knew it had been a bit too much when you paused, physically shocked for a second before your glossy lips parted. 

“Are you hitting on me?” You asked point-blank, blinking at him like you were waiting on a no. 

“Yes,” he bluntly answered back, cocking his head to the side as you got that doe-eyed deer-in-headlights look despite putting it out there first. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“I mean, no, but-” You actually stammered, your cute face scrunching up as you chewed your bottom lip. “I just got out of a marriage. Don’t you want someone with, like, less baggage?” 

“So?” He shrugged. “It’s not like you’re still in one. I’d like to get to know you.” 

In-person instead of through a screen. 

You laughed, and it sounded so goddamn gorgeous this close. 

“You’re unreal,” you muttered, and he was almost amused at how perceptive you could be yet so blinded at the same time. 

“I don’t know what you’re doing today, but, uh, I was gonna run to the mall today to pick up some stuff, and if you’re interested-” 

“Like a date?” You were gawking, and he couldn’t wait to devour every single one of your expressions like this, to pick out every line and shape and commit them to memory. 

“Mhm,” he simply answered, amused at your open reaction.
It was nice to be the reason you were smiling. 

To know that he’d never make you break down in sobs over bullshit. 

The only way you’d be crying was beneath his body, clawing at his bare shoulder blades while he split you open on his cock. 

“Why?” 

He used to ask himself that too. 

The real answer was tangled and complicated. A deep-seeded to be a stranger’s savior. A desire to step up and save the beautiful woman he stumbled across. Forbidden desire that only grew stronger the more he denied it. 

But the words that left him weren’t really a lie as he leaned across the table, “Love at first sight?” 

♡‧₊ 

Getting into a random man’s car was the kind of stupid you’d make fun of someone in a horror movie for. 

But he seemed trust-worthy enough. 

What could you say? A pretty face was really enough to disarm you. 

It helped that prettier words kept slipping from his pink lips. 

Besides, he was fun enough for you to forget about the presence pricking at the back of your mind. 

Browsing different stores at the closest malls, chatting about all sorts of stuff from your hobbies to his, eventually divulging a little more than you would’ve liked about the man whose last name you no longer had. 

He didn’t judge you for staying so long though. 

Just told you were strong for leaving in the end. 

Sipping a soda and popping another fry from the basket in front of you, legs manspread underneath the cramped table in the food court. Shopping bags by your feet, a few things he’d purchased for you despite you swearing he really didn’t have to. 

But he just shrugged, said he didn’t really have anyone to spend any money on anyway, that he’d like it to go to you. 

And after spending so long being treated like the burden in a relationship, it was beyond nice to experience getting spoiled. 

It wasn’t like you were getting the princess treatment to the extreme or anything, but he bought a couple shirts you liked, a few trinkets he caught you looking at. Maybe the fact that it wasn’t extravagant made it more intoxicating. 

He was nonchalant about it. 

Indifferent to the price or the amount as he just tapped his card against the screen.

“So, have you dated since the divorce?” He casually asked, holding out a fry for you to take as you shook your head. He insisted on you sitting next to him instead of across from him as he cited the volume of the mallgoers around you, his thigh bumping into yours and his body twisted around for the excuse to be closer to you. 

His excuse might’ve been more believable if the food court wasn’t half-empty. 

“Um, no,” you answered with a shrug, graciously accepting the fry even though it had started to grow cold. 

Truthfully, you barely dated anyone before him either. 

Your ex-husband had been overbearing about his affection at first – only to discard it not long after he slid the wedding band on your finger. 

You tried not to think about the days you wasted on him. The years you spent suffering to be heard. 

Of course, the first person that was actually listening was a stranger. 

A handsome one. 

With twinkling eyes and an easy smirk and a big hand that your stare kept shifting to.

“Oh, shit,” he abruptly said, brows scrunching together as his gaze locked onto something that had you swiveling to follow. 

Shit was right. 

Your ex-husband was walking into the food court. 

Frowning as his stare swept over the tables, your mouth parting as your brain struggled to accept what you were seeing. 

Baffled that the guy who would rather stick his tongue down another woman’s throat would follow you here just because you were with another man. 

“Is this normal for him?” Your date quizzed, and you had to suck in a slow breath to calm yourself down enough before tearing your eyes away from him. 

“No,” you grimaced.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, concern etched into his warm voice. 

If you weren’t internally screaming at the interruption, you would’ve found it endearing. “I could take you home or-” 

“I’m having fun,” you heard yourself say, irritated that it came out as a whine. 

You had a hard time telling what he thought of you. If he was solely interested in a flirting or fucking situation or if he thought there was the potential for something more. You didn’t even know what you wanted. 

“He saw us,” he muttered, leaning in so the words were half-whispered in your ear. He tucked a strand of hair back while he was at it, making it look like he was about to kiss you. 

You couldn’t exactly recall what a kiss even felt like these days. 

How long had it been since you got a sincere one? 

Where his mouth would be soft and warm and welcoming, sucking on your lower lip like he was asking for entry? Where his fingers would gently caress your face instead of sloppily tug at your hair?

“What do you want me to do?” He whispered, and you were tempted to tell him exactly what image your brain had just conjured up. 

Would he judge you? 

Wryly hum that you were awfully trusting for a girl who just got out of divorce? 

No, you wanted to believe that he wouldn’t. That for once, your naivety wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass. 

He looked so earnest and you were so weak and-

“Kiss me?” You heard yourself breathlessly ask, and before you could take it back, he obliged. 

Leaning in to kiss you the way a lover would, even better than your fantasy as his mouth found yours without hesitation. 

You laughed when he said love at first sight. 

But the moment his soft lips captured yours, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t considering marriage number two on the spot. 

He was attentive, tilting his head and properly cupping your cheek, proudly committing to a public display of affection when he had no clue who you were twenty-four hours ago. He didn’t jam his tongue in or try to crash his teeth into yours. 

It was perfect. 

The kind of first kiss you dreamed about as a kid-

“What the fuck?” 

And of course, your ex-husband had to ruin something else for you. 

Your fake boyfriend reluctantly pulled away, his face pinching together in abject disgust as he dragged his stare over your ex-husband. 

It was wrong how much it excited you.

How your stomach churned and coiled tight at them fighting over you. 

“Who the hell is this guy?” Your former lover grunted, chest puffing up like he still had any claim over you. 

He was still wearing his ring. 

A band of gold glimmered as he folded his arms across his chest. 

Instead of scoffing or starting a fight, the guy next to you just grinned and chuckled. 

“Heard a lot about you, man,” he greeted, slinging one arm over your shoulder and extending his other hand. “I’m her new boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend?” 

“You should go,” you murmured, the tension in the air crackling as you reluctantly met the gaze of someone you were supposed to never see again. 

“Don’t worry,” your not-boyfriend taunted, winking at him as he ran his hand over your shoulder soothingly. “I’ll take good care of her.” 

It took everything in you not to stop your jaw from going slack. 

How was he so good at this? 

Did it really come so naturally to him? 

“Listen, you little asshole-” 

“Don’t call him an asshole,” you huffed in his defense, lips pressing together only for him to give you a little apologetic squeeze. 

Your ex just glared more, face turning red as his eyes swiveled back-and-forth between you. 

But your new boyfriend beat him to it. 

“You know, it’s probably a good thing that we ran into you,” he hummed, that smirk curling up as you braced yourself for whatever was about to leave those beautiful lips. “We haven’t shared the news publicly yet, but we’re expecting.” 

He made the lie sound effortless. 

It should’ve scared you more. 

For a split-second, you almost thought asked yourself if you were pregnant, despite the fact you hadn’t even slept with him. Yet.

Your ex-husband’s betrayed stare burned into you, sheer disbelief in his features that you moved on this fast while he was stalking you like a freak for a second chance. 

“You’re-” 

“Yep,” you lied, nodding along with a light shrug as you leaned into him.

How much could one little lie spiral anyway? 

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a/n: i wanna ask you guys what kind of series you would like coming up on here soon. is there a oneshot or other work on here you'd like to see more of? are there any tropes or anything you think would make a series you'd keep up with?