Enclosed Perimeters (Yandere M. x F. Reader)

A Name's Price

"Such a cute little doe," he chuckled out, as he glanced at her like she was a naïve child. "Are you trying to get me to answer your question about what I am? If I told you that information, it would give you more insight into what I am. Still, the idea is indulging, but I don't harbor such feelings for that man. All I can recognize now is that he is attractive."

He proceeded to move closer to her, and (f/n) continued to position herself some distance away from him. Soon, he leaned over to her and grabbed her wrists. With seemingly little effort, he pulled her off the bed and back onto her feet. His right arm wrapped around her waist, while his left fingers glided under her chin.

Lifting her chin upwards, he continued, "Granted, there is an idea much more pleasing than that. After all I have a little doe, who doesn't understand how intoxicating she is." He began to lower his lips to hers, and (f/n) desperately sought a way out of sharing another kiss with the man/being. It was extremely confusing as to what to classify him as.

"Wait a moment, I thought that you were going to tell me your name," she quickly voiced, as she shifted her head away from him to avoid the approaching kiss.

Thankfully, he did stop. "Ah, having you call out my name would be more satisfying. So, thank you for reminding me, little doe. Do you have any guesses?" he asked with a playful grin.

"I don't think that you want to hear the names that I have you," she answered bluntly. "I'll oblige you, however, if you insist on me doing so."

Grin widening, he released her and took a few steps back. "You truly bring me entertaining answers, little doe. A doe playing with her hunter isn't common. Despite my past actions, you're not cowering in a corner; you're not attempting to hide from me. Perhaps, it's because you understand that you can't hide from me. Regardless, let me give you my name."

Before she could react, she was hoisted up and onto his left shoulder. His left arm secured itself around her waist, as he exited the room and headed towards the front section of the home. "What do you think you're doing now? I asked you about your name! I didn't ask you to carry me like a sack of vegetables!"

"You didn't, but I'm under no condition to take commands from you. I will give you my name, but in a more delightful fashion. Your use of the word vegetables, though, is fitting for what I plan," he commented, and she could catch a smirk on his lips.

Hearing this, however, caused the blood to slightly drain from her face. Ahead of them was the kitchen. If they were going there, the word vegetables would apply to that room. Granted, she doubted that he would spell out his name with produce. Rather, she had a very clear idea of what he had in store for her. Then again, maybe she would get lucky, and her theory would be far off. Once she was set on the kitchen counter, though, her suspicion was becoming increasingly likely.

"You see, little doe, the kitchen is a place for creativity, the place for experimentation and the place to bring flavor to chemistry. It's a place of multiple sciences. So, a kitchen counter isn't only a counter," he uttered, as he grabbed a kitchen knife from the cutlery box.

(F/n) instantly went to get off the counter; she didn't need any more injuries from the man. Before even one of her feet could touch the ground, he grabbed her and forced to lie down on the counter. She struggled, trying to get his left arm off of her waist. All she ended up doing was injuring Otis more, while the being just looked at her amused.

"I like to refer to the kitchen counter as an operating table. Each vegetable, or any food item, is examined until a solution is found. Of course, there are the mishaps that occur every now and then. Today, however, I don't intend to mess up. I will, though, if you continue to resist me in such a fashion."

"I thought that you liked my fighting spirit," she snapped back, her eyes locking onto the approaching blade in his right hand.

"Oh, I do little doe. The question is whether or not you want to have serious injuries or minor cuts? The choice is yours." Without anymore hesitation he brought the blade close to her left eye. Not wishing to incur an unfortunate wound, she halted her struggling. She closed her eyes and felt the blade press against the skin close to and under her left eye.

Each stroke she paid attention to, as she spelled out the name in her head. She hoped that it wouldn't scar, though. Otherwise, it would seem like she belonged to him, like she was his property. Still, she could distinguish between the straight and curved strokes, as she tried to ignore the pain. The first letter was a D, the second an R, the third an E and the last an M.

After the M she didn't feel anything being carved into her skin. So, her tormentor was called Drem. She could think of a lot more d words that fitted him better and was half-tempted to call him one of those instead, pretending like she had felt the cuts wrong.

"Well, what do you think of the name, little doe?" he asked, tossing the knife effortlessly into the sink behind him.

"I like the name, but I still hate you. You're a jerk, and a name won't change that," she responded, as she felt his arm loosen its hold on her. So, she quickly pushed it aside and got off of the counter. A few seconds away from her was the front door, and she was debating on running to it and out. Of course, she knew that actually reaching the door was another story.

"Maybe, that will change in the future," he declared, walking around her and towards the front door. His left hand rested on the doorknob, while his right hand was on the belt of Otis's uniform. "Now, why don't you give me a parting gift?"