the perfect boyfriend trigger warnings : dead dove do not eat, yandere, stalking, surveillance, invasion of privacy, voyeurism, upskirt pictures, captivity, restraint, implied noncon (no full smut this time!!! sorry >_<)
you started dating jo about a month ago. he's your classmate in university, and the sweetest, most polite boy that you've ever met in your life. he loved to read, enjoyed drawing and adored cats. you'd never seen him get angry or raise his voice, usually quiet and doesn’t talk much in class. he treated you like a princess, his soft, loving kisses on the top of your head, his warm, large hands gently holding yours. you two shared the same hobbies, and interests, reading and cats. in every sense, he's perfect. but you haven't publicly announced your relationship with him yet, wanting to respect his privacy and reserved, shy nature.
the two of you were on his bed, scrolling through netflix to watch a movie together. he stood up apologetically, having to use the bathroom, so he handed you his laptop, telling you to feel free to browse and pick whatever movie you'd like.
"pick whatever, i trust you. be right back," he smiles brightly at you, gently putting the laptop on your lap, the heat from the bottom of the laptop warming you up. your heart skipped a beat. you always felt so safe and cozy when you're with him.
scrolling through his netflix, you picked out a recently released horror movie. your fingers slipped and accidentally switched browsers, clumsily clicking on an unassuming folder on his desktop. you notice a subfolder with your initials on it. your heart skipped a beat again; but this time, not from affection.
your hand hovered over the trackpad, confused. you shouldn't be snooping around. he hadn't given you any reason to doubt him. for the past year that you've known him, he has been nothing short of a gentleman. reserved, quiet and shy. always polite, and even moreso, loving and sweet to you. but, you suddenly felt your mouth go dry and your pulse quickening. something felt…. off. curiosity got the better of you and you clicked on the folder anyway. jo is a really sweet, good-natured boy. the type of person that couldn't even hurt a fly. in fact, you hadn't even gone past second base with him. he wouldn't mind, right?
2024.2025.2026.
your eyebrows knitted in confusion. what could these be? you clicked the oldest folder.
2024 - your eyes widened at the tiny square icons that suddenly filled the laptop screen. it seemed to be... images of you from when you were in high school. you looked younger in the photos than you were now, your hair slightly shorter. you at your high school graduation, smiling, laughing with your friends. your class photo. pictures of the apartment building that you lived in at that time. your blood ran cold. there was no logical explanation for this. but for some reason... you couldn’t seem to click on the ‘x’ at the corner of the screen. your fingers subconsciously moved to the other folders.
2025 - the year you started university. the year that you had met him and became friends. hundreds of screenshots of your conversations with him. screenshots of your instagram stories. a picture of your student id. a screenshot of your class schedule. endless pictures of you doing mundane tasks, shopping in a grocery store, walking home, sitting in a cafe. the pictures all look like they were stealthily taken, some shaky and out of focus. but, it was without a doubt, pictures of you that were taken without your knowledge. your palms started to sweat, your fingers trembling as it moved over the trackpad. you couldn't stop yourself now.
2026 - this year. the year you started dating him. this time, the pictures of you were more clearer... closer. more intimate. pictures of you in class, deep in thought and concentration. pictures of you while you were in his room, napping innocently on his bed. another of your back while you were on a escalator. even though you couldn't see a face, it was unmistakably you. the same build and hair length.. the familiar black purse and light blue cardigan. who else could it be, if not you? the camera angle got closer, and closer, and lower. until it centered on the hem of your skirt, the edge resting against the back of your thighs. then the angle moved upwards, capturing the image of your inner thighs, slightly parted, and then up your skirt. multiple upskirt photos. your eyes widen. you recognize the pastel blue underwear, trimmed with white lace. you really liked that pair, but recently, it went missing. you remember digging through your drawer, looking through your laundry, but somehow, it seemed like it vanished into thin air. you gasped.
the images in the folder stared back at you. the file names weren’t just a random mix of letters and numbers. each and every image were neatly dated and organized. you noticed the names. “escalator_0410”... “cafe_0219”... “classroom_0407”. the images were categorised by place and date. for months... years… he had been watching you. observing you, cataloguing you as though you were a specimen. like a test subject underneath a microscope.
everything started to click in place. how could you be so incredibly blind and stupid? the way jo somehow knew all of your likes and dislikes. the both of you having so many shared interests. the same taste in food... in movies… similar hobbies… you chalked it up to pure coincidence. meeting him must have been fate. this must be true love, a soulmate put on this earth just for you, you tell yourself. how disgustingly wrong you were. the pastel blue underwear that went missing. you now realized it went missing after the first time he came to your apartment. you recall leaving him alone in the room for a few minutes to brew tea for the both of you. when you returned with the two tea cups, he was sitting in the exact spot as when you’d left, smiling kindly at you. you never suspected him. your naivety in your infatuation was all he needed. everything was a manufactured lie.
you slammed the laptop shut, hyperventilating, face turning pale. you hurled the laptop off your lap like as if it burned. your fingers started to tremble and your stomach started to hurt. you wanted to throw up. the room started to spin around you, making you light headed. a sickening, sinking feeling.
"you found it,"
the room became silent. there's a hint of disappointment in his otherwise monotonous voice. that made you shiver in fear. you slowly turned to look at him, like a child who was caught with her hand in a cookie jar. you didn't notice when he came back to the room. you didn't know how long he had been standing there, silently watching you.
"you weren't supposed to see that..." a quiet admission. he stood at the doorway, his hands by his side, the corners of his lip twitching downwards into a frown. his once-soft features looking at you, but now, a hint of something dark surfacing in his eyes. like a mask that was slowly cracking.
you didn’t respond. your eyes darted around his room, your heart racing in your chest. suddenly, like an epiphany, you noticed things that didn't catch your eye before. things that you noticed too late.
on his desk, a copy of a book that you were reading last year. it had gone missing one day out of the blue, but you didn't think much of it, blaming it on your forgetful nature. you must've left it on a bus or something. you had forgotten all about it. but it's sitting here innocently… on his desk. like it was always meant to be here. a cat sticker that you pasted on the cover, the edges of the book bent. it's your book. you never lent him that book, neither did you ever mention it to him.
the small calendar on his table. initially, you didn't give it too much thought. a calendar on a desk didn't look out of place at all. but you squinted, and then you realized that the barely legible scribbles were all.... your initials. it wasn't his schedule. it was yours. he had been tracking you without you even knowing. leaving the evidence out in the open, it felt like he was mocking you.
"...i just wanted to make sure you're safe," he justifies, noticing that you were looking at the calender. his voice was gentle and coaxing as he patiently explained himself. like as if this was just one small misunderstanding. like as if he is the one being wronged.
he reaches over to the bedside drawer, opening it to pull out a pair of metal handcuffs. the sound of the metal clinking makes a shiver run down your spine. it's a real handcuff, like the ones the police use. not a costume prop. the thought of going through his drawers never crossed your mind before. the sunlight from the setting sun outside catches onto the metal surface of the handcuffs, glinting almost maliciously.
"you'll stay, right...?" he persuades you softly, with wet, pleading eyes. talking to you in his usual gentle voice, as though you were a wounded animal. the heavy weight from the metal of the handcuffs biting into your wrists as he closes it around you. he loops the other end of the handcuff onto the metal bedframe. he looks at you like you're the only person on earth.
an illusion of choice. you try to speak. you try to shake your head, try to push him off, but the words won’t come out, your body won't move. you feel paralyzed. he didn't wait for an answer, closing the metal handcuffs with a click, locking it and putting the key back in the drawer. the sound of the wooden drawer closing sharp and final, almost shrill in the quiet room.
you feel the mattress dip under his weight as he moves closer to you. the warmth radiating from his body burning into you like a fever. the warmth that you once craved, the warmth that once made you feel safe and cozy, like a fireplace on a winter’s day. you recall the first time you held his warm, large hand. you remembered how you blushed like a little school girl. now, it feels like molten lava, claws dragging against your skin. your mind races as you recall every sweet text message, every time he laughed at a joke you told, every "i love you" he said. was it all a lie? the room is filled with the sound of the soft rustle of fabric, the bedsheets, his sweatpants, your skirt being pushed up slowly. inch by inch. it all feels wrong. it is wrong.
your eyes close shut as you brace yourself for what you know will happen next.
inspiration from eroge natsu no kusari ... thank you for reading/liking/reblogging/leaving comments and messages. i appreciate it alot (⸝⸝- ̫ -⸝⸝) although i take a long time to write hhh.... my greatest worry is that my stuff are all repetitive and too focused on the y/n's inner monologue. feel free to discuss dead dove topics with me in my inbox... some ideas i have red light district worker/host club/neighbour/baby trapping...
also some requests i have -> stepbro! fuma.. somno k...