Male Yandere Oneshots

Vampire Pt 2

( For all of those who wanted a pt 2.  More parts will be updated.)

"Do you have it?"

          His voice resonated with a deep, resonant timbre that sent shivers racing up your spine. You felt a gasp claw its way up from your throat, barely contained behind your closed lips before you could muster the courage to meet his gaze. When you finally looked at him, his dark brown eyes bore into yours with an intensity that was both intimidating and exhilarating, making you feel small and exposed under the weight of his heavy stare. The air around you seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken tension that left you breathless.

         "Yes-" You stifled out with a faint tone. A small vial was in your hand, retaining the blood of one of your friends within. Each swirl caused the crimson liquid to stain the glass from the inside. He had demanded you to get it specifically, something about wanting to taste something new yet familiar. If that was the case, why did he always refuse to take your blood? As if you could understand why you were insecure about a vampire not wanting to drink your veins dry... Either way, you weren't the type to deny him, so you got a bit of your friend's blood like you promised.

          A sharp pang of anguish pierced your delicate heart as he seized it from your grasp eagerly, consuming it in mere seconds. Was blood truly this captivating that he couldn't resist? Or was it just your friend's blood that had him rushing to get the smallest taste? How pitiful you were, hurt over the idea of your stalker favoring another.

          It reminded you of that boy, the same one you saw him talking to on the roof. He was still alive and doing well, annoying you with his loud ass voice just like before. How badly you wished he would do the job and kill the guy already was getting ridiculous. What was it that kept him living?

          You clenched your jaw, thinking only about how badly you wanted to be the one to demand him for once—to demand answers to your unspoken questions. He appeared to have heard the clicking of your teeth grinding together, making him turn his head toward you with a thin trail of blood running down the corner of his lips. The pad of his thumb brushed the blood away from his pale skin, and to your shock, he pressed his bloodied finger against your lips.

          "Taste." He demanded. You froze in place, eyes wide and heart beating all over as his demand stayed in the air. Every second that passed where you failed to obey his command made every shaky breath you took feel even more agonizingly painful. Knives stabbing your lungs; painful. Suddenly you flickered your tongue out against the flesh, the strip of blood staining your tastebuds. You suppressed a cringe as his hardened expression analyzed you, the taste of iron forced down your throat.

          A subtle crack of a smile emerged on his lips, revealing a glimmer of both pride and perhaps something more sinister lurking beneath the surface. His expression was one of unsettling satisfaction as if he relished the entertainment of your struggles. "Good job..." he remarked, a playful yet predatory gleam in his eyes. His grin widened, showcasing his bright, pearly teeth, but it was the elongated, sharpened fangs that truly hinted at his darker nature, adding an air of menace to his otherwise charming demeanor.

          Your heart pounded in your chest at the sight of his inhuman beauty. It never stopped hurting after witnessing what you saw when you heard him talking to that boy. You were his; everything you did, he loved. Moments like these seemed to make it feel true.

          His hands were like ice, uncomfortably cold against your warm skin as they glided over your cheeks. You found yourself leaning into his firm touch, surrendering to the soothing sensation as his fingertips expertly worked to ease the tension in your neck. With intensity, his gaze remained locked on your pulse point, as if he were captivated by the rhythm of your heartbeat, drawing him closer to you. For the briskest instant, he inclined in. You could feel those chilly lips press right on your neck, the slick sensation of his tongue dragging against your pulse made your hands shake. It lasted so shortly. He didn't pursue you any further than those couple of seconds, pulling back before you had a chance to hold onto him.

          His eyes held the depth of an abyss, an emptiness that seemed to swallow the light around him. For a fleeting moment, you found yourself longing to decipher the mystery that lay behind them, to understand his thoughts as effortlessly as he had come to understand your own. It was useless, however, not when you couldn't even speak your mind to him without fail. With a tentative reach, your hand moved toward his arm, but it faltered, inches away, suspended in an air thick with unspoken words. He observed you intently, his gaze unwavering, as you strained against the invisible barrier between you. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away. 

          With each step you took away from him, your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic rhythm of longing and sorrow that echoed in the silence—every fierce beat, every pang of yearning, he heard it all.