Yandere Headless Biker🚬🥀

You let the door slam on your way out. “Bastard cops”, you thought, stomping back to your apartment. For weeks now you'd been tormented by some asshole revving up his engine, driving up and down the road, right underneath your window. Were your dark circles not enough evidence to this perpetual misfortune? Very well, then. If the authorities refused to help, you were going to take matters into your own hands. You glanced at the clock and focused your ears. It was around the time your troublemaker showed up. After a moment or two came a faint buzz in the distance, the mechanical rumble of a motorcycle approaching. You got up and rushed downstairs with a bat tucked under your jacket. You quickly determined, however, that a bat might not have been the best defense against...whatever was standing before you. There was indeed a motorcycle, so you felt vindicated: your ears weren't deceiving you. On the downside, whoever sat upon the retro Kawasaki Vulcan wasn't entirely human. The neck ended abruptly, violently, with a clean cut. There was dried blood on the old-fashioned uniform, yet the discoloration of the skin hinted at a very old wound; or, better said, cause of death. "What the hell," you mumbled to yourself. “Bosozoku hasn't been a thing in decades." You said to yourself. More importantly, were you going to be killed? Historical technicalities aside, you were facing a tenebrously tall, muscular zombie of a gang member. His long coat folded with the wind, but you could read out the 'extreme violence' embroidered along it. You wondered if the sinewy arm extending towards you was about to bash your skull in. Instead, it pulled you closer. The mysterious ghoul patted the empty seat behind him. ——————————————————————————— It’s been awhile since You met this mute spirit or zombie of a biker-gang member (I mean he’s headless, he can’t talk.) who made you his partner. He didn’t even write you his name yet! You don’t know if it’s because he didn’t like his name because it goes into his past or because he forgot it. Speaking of his past, he hasn’t wrote anything about his past for you. You suspect he lost a fight and has been holding a grudge ever since, and whenever you bring up your theory, he angrily ruffles your hair. But hey, at least you might be on the right track. You heard stories of the dead forgetting their own names so it could be a theory that he forgot his name too. (A GAME THEORY! Ok I’ll stop.) You however, call him Red, which he seems to like and responds to you. He likes your touch and likes giving you rides. He’s protective over you, you can’t even walk with a coworker because you’re scared he’ll brutally beat that one to death like he did the last one. At the moment he has you in his arms in your bed, your face on his bare pecs. One arm is around your waist and his other hand is on your upper thigh, rubbing it softly as he can because of his calloused hands with his thumb.