This was my entry for the Seven Deadly Sins Contest. It won Judge Cejsmom's Favorite Award. Thank you to the host and all the judges, and congrats to all the authors! Those were some amazing entries!

Thank you to my betas at Project Team Beta: shouvley and thir13enth, and the bestest, estest, pre-reader ever, Ali OMalley Cat. This started out creepy and became even creepier because of them. All. Their. Fault.

Warnings: Stalking, obsession, sexual situations, and squicky actions.

You can't hear me, but I can hear you. Soft moans and whispering fingers. Slosh. Slosh. Slosh. After years of practice, you're so quiet, and your roommates are none the wiser. Except me. I know. I've always known.

Remember those first tentative nights? When everything was still so new? You couldn't relax, but you were so desperate, your body needing relief so badly. So you snuck your hand down, past your perky little tits, across that slender waist, beside those youthful hips, and then…right there. Warm and wet. So slick. So tender.

You were more hush-hush back then. Not quite sure what your roommates could and couldn't hear. So you breathed through your nose, your hips didn't move, and you came so stiffly I thought I could've snapped you in half. Perhaps I could have. Things were so much less satisfying back then.

Now you're relaxed. Your surroundings, the noises, the people sleeping in the room next door are all familiar. The rustle, rustle of the sheets is barely heard over the harsh breaths that leave your lips, and even those disappear into the night.

I know your roommates can't hear, because I wouldn't have been able to tolerate it. Your moans and sighs and that tiny little gasp you always let go when you find just the right spot…all of those are mine. I refuse to share with anyone.

Look at you go. Your body awash in moonlight. Your sleep shirt, so big around your tiny frame, pushed up to underneath your chin, almost chokes you, but you don't care. Nothing matters outside of what you see behind those two fluttering eyelids. What are you thinking about? What's turning you on? What's making you so wet I can see the glistening of your fingers even way over here?

Your hips push and pull, up and down, so fast that your sheets have all tumbled to the side, held precariously to the bed by your tight fist. Tug. So sweet. Tug. So young. Tug. So beautiful.

And then there it is. Your back arched so high. Your legs spread so wide. Your body held up by only your feet and shoulders as you silently scream. First into the air and then into your pillow where you once again begin breathing. Short pants. In and out. In and out. As you relax. Wait…right there. There's that smile. It was a good one, wasn't it?

If I were next to you, lying at your side, feeling the heat come off your body, I would lean over, brush my lips against the sweat in your hair and the cuff of your ear, and whisper, "It's going to be good for me, too."

There it is. I wish you could see me paint the side of your house with my satisfaction.

This is my favorite time of day. You leash up your precious dog and walk the trails along the river. Always dressed in running pants and these skin-tight shirts, you take your leisure exercise away from the prying eyes of the crowd. Unconsciously, I know you do this for me.

There I can watch you without any walls or glass between us. It's all open afternoon air and just a few feet of dirt that separates us. I don't walk the beaten path as you do, and I find I prefer the secret. You're not ready to know of my love, of my obsession with you, of how I hunger to have your sweet, sweet body all to myself. You're so young. Just verging on the line between teenager and adult.

But soon. That day grows closer yet, and then and only then will you know how much you fascinate me. I will admit my actions are also guided just a tiny bit by fear. I am much older than you are. I've been married twice. I have two children, young in comparison to you, but whom I adore.

What if you don't accept me? What if you are afraid of this thing between us? Don't worry, my sweet little girl. You will grow to crave me like I crave you. You will feel this intensity between us. It's as inevitable as the day I first saw you, when my heart stopped, when all else ceased to exist…but you.

Most will not come to accept our relationship, but you just pay them no mind, sweet girl. You're so smart and beautiful. You wouldn't fall prey to society's standards. What we will have? It will be exquisite.

You will be my lover. My wife. The body I use to satisfy my urges and needs and that I will take pleasure in making come countless times. You will be the mother of my children. The one I will grow old with. Die with. When it's time, we will both go together.

That is why she left me. She couldn't handle it. She packed up her things and took our children and moved far away. I hardly see them, let alone talk to them, anymore. She has spared my children of my daily activities, but as a result she limits my time. But don't you worry. When you come to me, when we become a family, I will get my children back, and we will take them to a place where no one can find or disturb us.

You steer your dog along the trail. She happily follows, stopping every now and then to squat, and while she does her business, you wait, briefly looking around. Sometimes I think you see me when your eyes travel past the spot from which I watch you. You never acknowledge me, but that doesn't stop you from fingering the bear spray on your key chain.

"Hurry up, Rose," you say to the dog.

You love her so much. I know this. You bought her when she was just a puppy. She has never taken too kindly to me. Something we will have to change, sweet girl. Consider that a warning. If you have to choose between me or her, you will choose me. I will let nothing come in between us, even your love for this dog.

You chat on your phone as your dog finishes up. She freezes as she comes up from her squat and looks at me, a low growl leaving her. That's when I know I've come too close. You stop talking and look around before reprimanding.

"Be quiet, Rose! There's no one there." If you only knew. You turn back to your phone conversation, saying, "Sorry. My dog is going crazy over nothing."

You finish the walk and make your way back to your house, leaving your dog to run around in the backyard. I see you from the large bay window as you disappear down the hallway. Your bedroom door remains shut, so you must be in the bathroom.

None of your roommates are home yet. They all have jobs, but you, my sweet girl, you're too precious to waste time away at a work place. Your parents pay for everything.

"Take care, little princess. You know we're only a phone call away," your dad said to you on that first day of college.

But soon you will be my little princess. I will be your provider. I will give you what you most desire. You will be sad when you have to say goodbye to everyone and everything you've ever known. I know this. You are too sensitive and sweet not to be affected by the loss you will experience, but I will be there for you. I will be the shoulder you lean on. I will dry your tears. I will make love to you until you forget about all those in your past life and remember only me. Your present. Your future.

You've left the front door unlocked, so it's easy to get into the house. The rooms don't feel unfamiliar to me anymore. I've walked through them so many times in the past that I know exactly where I'm going. That I know exactly what I want.

I am correct in my earlier assumption. The bathroom door is slightly ajar while steam finds its way out, fogging up the picture frames in the hallway. I'm fine with that. Those soulless 2D eyes have no business watching, judging me. What I do is for you and you alone.

You're singing when I slip into the bathroom. How your voice sounds so wonderful echoing across the tile. I'm eager to hear it echo with your moans while I eat your pussy, fuck you from behind, make you feel pleasure like you've never felt it before. One day.

"Every bond you break. Every step you take." That's right. I'll be watching you.

I can see your silhouette against the shower curtain. Your body, so beautiful and alluring, calls to me, and I can't help myself when I tiptoe closer. My fingers have a mind of their own as I run them down your shadowy face and then comb through your shadowy hair. Your neck, so slender, doesn't lose any of its grace, and your breasts are so plump I can practically feel them through the curtain. And then there's that dark V, that special place between your legs. How I ache to rub and thrust my fingers against it as I do against the plastic. You would love it. I'm sure.

My dick is so hard for you, straining against the zipper, trying to break out. How it wishes for your hot, hot cunt to slide against, and not my hand that has kept it company these past few years. But beggars can't be choosers, right? So when I slide my zipper down and pleasure myself while you sing your soft tunes, it—my dick—sprays with joy. Literally. Do you see it? My gratification slipping down the curtain and into the tub?

Your clothes are haphazardly thrown around. I fight the urge to clean your dirty ways. Know this, sweet girl. I expect a clean household, and you will take care of me as much as I take care of you. My urge gives in and I shift through your things, and that's when I see it. The small bloodstain across your cotton panties.

My smile cannot be contained as I pick them up, rubbing the side that sat against your most precious gift, first against my fingers and then my nose and finally my lips. I inhale your special scent, and when my tongue peeks out, I taste the remnants of your life's liquid. So sweet. So tantalizing. I need more. I practically skip to the garbage can. This is my favorite time of the month.

"Anyone home?"

I silently curse. My excitement has made me forget my surroundings. I move quickly and as quietly as possible. I glance out the door and see the shadow of your roommate walking down the hallway. It's too late for that route.

"I'm taking a shower!" you yell back, so I push and shove and hoist over the windowsill. I've just barely made it out in time.

The door slams open. "Yo! What's the window doing open? Any old creeper could see you!"

"Fuck! I didn't realize! Close it for me, will you?"

The glass shuts me out, and then the blinds block my view, but that's okay. I've something even greater than a shadowy body. I wait until I get home to open up my treasure. I can't help when I let out a groan of delight. The blood is still fresh, the scent so tempting.

I lift it to my nose, inhaling the sweetness, accidentally brushing the tip across a blood clot that sits atop the napkin, unable to soak into the absorbing cotton. All the better for me. The clot slithers away from my fingers as if it knows the danger that it's in, and trust me. It is in danger.

It sits on my palm like jell-o, jiggling back and forth, filling my lines and wrinkles with its warm wet redness. When it slides down my wrist, I tilt my hand to the floor, following its scarlet wake with my tongue, until it's safely nestled in my palm again. And when the blood runs dry and the clot is nothing more than a gooey mess, I roll it between my fingers until it's a perfectly formed ball, calling my name, teasing my senses, and I'm weak to its allure.

It's hot on my tongue as I press it against the roof of my mouth, exhilarated in the way its flavor travels across my taste buds. Simultaneously spicy and sweet. It oozes from between my teeth, pockets of secret blood bursting from its middle, painting the inside walls of my cheeks. So much goodness. So much delight.

My pants are falling, trapping my ankles in a tangled hold, and even though I just spent myself only an hour ago on your shower curtain, even though it should be physically impossible at my age, I'm so fucking hard. The pent up desire is too great that I find myself roaring to the ceiling, screaming your name, wrapping your cotton treasure against my dick until it's a murderous mess.

Your blood. Where my flesh is so hard. Where I can taste, feel, see nothing but you. No one has ever called to me the way you do. You're my siren. My temptress. Every part of your body is sweet ambrosia that I can't wait to taste, touch, and explore when you finally become mine. The thought of a mouthful of your sweet blood mixed with your arousal straight from that precious source of yours is too much to bear.

How I ache for you now. I want you so bad. That yearning, that longing, holds me back until I'm unable to keep my desire contained, shooting it forward with a shout, covering your treasure, my hands, the floor, tinged red with you. Like how we will be soon. Mixed together.

That night I can't help myself again. Your sweet, sweet blood has me wanting more. I stare with unblinking eyes as you lift your shirt high and play with your tasty looking nipples, squeezing your fleshy tits until you're nice and worked up. When your hand touches down there, I unzip my pants and pull myself out, watching as you swirl your finger on top of that sensitive little button.

I cup the head of my dick. Already my desire is leaking for you. So hot and sticky just waiting to burst forth. I can't wait until I can plant my seed into your body. I want you to have my child. I want your body to grow thick because of me. I want to fuck you as our baby rests within your womb. Our child, our perfect little baby, will know just how much I love you. How much I hunger for you.

One day, but for now I rub myself up and down, swirling at my head just as you swirl over your clit, breathing hard and moaning when you do.

"Oh my god," you whisper, head thrown back.

I don't dare copy you. I don't want to miss a thing. "That's right, sweet girl. Faster."

"Oh! Yes! God, yes!" Stroke. Stroke. Tug. So sweet and delicious. I pant harder, matching my breaths with yours until we're one.

"Come on. Make yourself come. Let me see you." Your fingers move faster so my hand speeds up as well.

"Almost there! Fuck! Right…There! Yes!" You're so glorious when you come that it sends me over the edge as well. My seed shoots from my body, into my hand, and dripping down to the grass below. I grab at the windowsill as my knees shake, holding myself up, wiping a line of semen along the edge, marking my territory.

After you've fallen asleep, I pry the window open, slipping it up against the soundless wood, and hoist myself into your room. Your soft breath and dewy skin is a treat to my wandering eyes. Your chest still heaves slightly from when you made yourself come just moments ago. I wipe my wet fingers across your upper lip, loving the way my seed looks on you.

Can you smell it, sweet girl? Can you smell what you do to me? When my cum has dried and the sun has risen and you awaken for the day, will you know the white dried streak marking your mouth as mine? Your tongue peeks out as you breathe in your sleep. Licking your bottom lip and then…yes. Licking your top. How do I taste? Do you love it as much as I love your sweetness?

My cell phone is in my hand before I know it, taking a picture. I will be saving this one for later. The click of the camera makes you stir, and I hold my breath as you shift onto your side, but you don't wake up. I sigh in relief, and that's when I see it. Hidden away in the corner of your room, overrun with dirty clothes, with the only article I truly want sitting right on top, as if you were anticipating my actions. You're perfect for me, sweet girl.

I pick up the blue panties on top. They are ripe and crusty from sitting out in the open. Perhaps these are the ones you wore last night. You were so wet and these panties are so dirty. All the better for me. I pick at the seams until a bit of the crust breaks away. You taste as good as you smell but that comes as no surprise.

You dissolve so fast against my tongue that I chase after your dissipating flavor. So intoxicating. So addictive. I dive back in for more until the only bits that remain are those that have soaked and dried in the cotton. So I shove it all into my mouth, soaking the blue with my spit and then chewing it between my teeth. No longer dry, your flavor makes my taste buds come alive. My teeth marks are permanently embedded into the cotton when I'm finally finished. Will you notice it when you do laundry? Have you seen the tiny ways I've marked you as mine?

I watch you well into the night and leave only when the sun begins to rise over the horizon. It's Saturday, so you sleep in. You don't wake up until long after the sun has risen high in the sky, and your alarm clock is the soft scratch, scratch on the door from your dog. You groan your dislike but get up anyway and greet her. She jumps on the bed as you put on sweat pants. Her eyes meet mine where I peek through the open window. She starts growling, but you swat her ass.

"Let me shit, Rose, and then we'll go on a walk."

I run around the side of the house and am delighted to see to the bathroom window cracked open. I can't see. The toilet is right next to the window. But I can smell you. Your odor travels around the bathroom before leaking out into the open air, and I take it all in. First through my nose and then through my mouth where I swear I can taste your aroma on my tongue.

Everything that comes from you is so divine. My stomach rumbles with hunger. I've not eaten anything today, and it reminds me of that. Don't you see? It desires you. You quench my hunger. My thirst.

A knock at the door makes me duck my head. "Hurry up, and I'll go with you," your roommate says.

"Hold on a second!" you yell back. "This one's gonna be a doozy."

Your roommate makes a sound of disgust that I don't understand. The doozier the better. "Make sure you spray in there when you're finished!"

You're finally on the road, walking with your roommate and your dog to the river trails. I follow in your wake, my hands in my pockets. You don't notice me. You never do, but sometimes I think you feel me. Like I feel you. You'll stop and look around with narrowed eyes, fingering the concealed knife in your pocket. But you don't today. Your roommate distracts you with conversation, and so you walk down the trail oblivious to everything else.

"He likes you. You like him. What's the problem?"

"He just got out of a relationship. I don't want to be a rebound," you say, and I balk. Have I been so consumed in my obsession with you that I somehow missed your attention to another man?

"He was dating that Alice girl, and everyone knows she's nuts. It barely lasted a month. That's nothing."

"But still…" That's right. Keep finding excuses. You belong with no man except me.

I should remind you of this. Show myself to you when your thoughts are on him so that you immediately think of me. Condition you to think of only me when any man crosses your mind. I step forward to announce myself, to say hello to you face-to-face. Maybe this will be the time you realize the intensity between us.

The brindle sees me before you do. Her growl stops me in my tracks, her fur rising with her awareness down her back. She looks ready to attack, running a short distance in my direction. She will most definitely have to go when you are mine. Perhaps the time where you realize your unending devotion to me is better without the eyes of witnesses, so I back away, but you stop anyway.

"What is it, Rose?" you ask, tugging on her leash, and then you're lifting your nose to the air. "Do you smell that?"

"What?" your roommate stops, sniffing at the air as well. "I don't smell anything."

You take another whiff and then shrug your shoulders. "It smells familiar."

Your roommate laughs, pointing at your face. "Maybe it's the dried spit on your mouth!"

I laugh internally, my shoulders shaking with my effort to keep silent. If you only knew that spit is my semen. You frantically wipe at your face, rubbing the dry fleck into your skin. Does your face smell like me now? Remember this scent, sweet girl. When I have my way, you will smell like me every second of the day.

You hit at your roommate. I love your aggression. "No, it's not that, you smartass. It's like cologne. From a man or something."

Do you recognize me from your room, sweet girl? Have you etched it into your memories while unconscious? I'm not surprised. You were always so smart. I don't know why I thought that would have stopped when you were dead to this world.

Your roommate, still laughing, shrugs her shoulder. "Whatever. Let's get out of here before a creeper jumps out from the trees."

That night you are no different. When all else is quiet and your roommates lie drunk in their beds, you lie in yours for just a second before your stormy insides take flight, and you reach down to play with that sweet little button over your panties. You press and circle until your hips are pushing into the air, and you are letting loose those soft little moans that drive me crazy.

I can't help myself when I pull my dick out. Stroking along with you. Moaning along with you. Seeing stars along with you. But when I whisper your name into the night, you whisper another's.

"Jasper." And I see red.

I want to hunt this Jasper down and deliver a fate worse than death just because you said his name and not mine. I want to bite each finger off, one digit at a time, just because you thought of him and not me. I want to rip his dick from his body and make him eat it raw just because you've entertained the idea of sex with him.

You are mine. Your soft moans. Your heaving pants. Your warms breaths. Your sweet blood. Your salty sweat. Your precious tears. All of that is mine. Not his. They will never be his. They will never be any other man's. Only me.

If you only knew your place. One day. Soon.

The next morning you awaken early and arm yourself with your weapons and dog. I've been awake since sunrise, waiting for you to emerge from your house. You see me as you step out and give me a big smile. Oh how I adore those smiles. Every day brings us closer to the time where those smiles will all be mine.

"Good morning, Mr. Cullen!" you say as you pass by me.

"Good morning, Bella. Off for another walk today?"

You laugh so sweet. "Every day, Mr. Cullen."

"Well have fun, girls," I say as you continue on down the street, my wave of goodbye matching yours.

"Oh my god!" Your roommate giggles, leaning in toward you, unaware of how close I still am. "He is so hot for a dude in his forties!"

You lean in close too. "I know, right?"

I smirk to myself. Little do you know it's never truly goodbye. I'm always there. Watching. Waiting. Obsessing. Biding my time for that one day.

Not too sure if I'll continue. Maybe one day... ;)

This was originally an entry for the Stranger than Fiction Contest, but when that canceled, I tweaked it a bit to fit this one. STF was based off the River Trails Stalker dude who left creepy notes for some poor unsuspecting woman.