♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,032
The barracks reeked of sweat, gunpowder, and unwashed bodies—thick, stale air pressing down on you like a second skin. The walls, reinforced steel, felt like a prison, though you supposed prisoners had more rights than you did. You were nothing here. Less than nothing. A hole to be used, a body to be passed around between restless soldiers, desperate to bleed out their tension after missions.
The stomping of boots on concrete sent ice down your spine. A rhythm you had come to fear—predictable, inevitable. Each night blurred into the next, your body marked with the proof of their use—bruises in the shape of fingers, teeth, rope-burned wrists, aching thighs forced too wide for too long.
But none of them scared you like he did.
The leader.
He was built like a war machine—massive, thick with muscle hardened from years of battle. Where they saw you as something to be shared, he saw you as his. His to break. His to ruin. His to keep.
The heavy metal door slammed open, the force rattling the cot beneath you.
Silence.
The moment they saw him, the other men backed away, their gazes dropping. He didn’t need words to command obedience. Even they knew better than to test his patience.
And then his gaze landed on you.
A slow smile curled his lips—wolfish, predatory. Your stomach lurched.
A thick, calloused hand wrapped around your throat before you could flinch away. The sheer size difference was staggering—his fingers easily engulfing your neck, his grip firm, possessive. He wrenched your face upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with a Russian drawl, rough and deep like gravel grinding against metal. “Trembling already, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
The scent of him filled your lungs—leather, gunpowder, sweat, and something darkly masculine. It made you dizzy, made your skin prickle with a primal sense of dread.
He was still in uniform—combat vest strapped tight over broad shoulders, black tactical gear clinking with the weight of ammunition. Every movement controlled. Precise. Unstoppable.
His other hand ghosted over your thigh before gripping it, thick fingers pressing into tender, bruised flesh.
“You were made for this.” He sounded almost admiring, like he was appraising a well-crafted weapon. “Made for my cock.”
You shuddered. It didn’t matter. He liked when you shuddered.
With one brutal motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, pressing your face into the cot. His knee shoved between your thighs, forcing them apart as his belt came undone. The clink of metal, the rustle of fabric—those sounds alone made your pulse hammer.
He chuckled, a low, pleased rumble. “Scared, little one?”
Your body locked up as something hot and heavy pressed against your inner thigh. Even without looking, you could feel the sheer size of it—pulsing with heat, thick, impossible. His fingers wrapped around the base, pumping lazily, smearing precum against your trembling skin.
“Feel that?” His voice was almost teasing. Almost. “Gonna split you open on this.”
You whimpered, and his hand fisted into your hair, yanking your head back until your ear was against his mouth.
“Use your words, fucktoy.” His breath was hot against your skin, his grip tightening when you didn’t respond.
You barely had time to gasp before he pushed in without warning.
Pain exploded through your core, your body forced open, stretched past what should be possible. Your fingers clawed at the sheets, muscles locking up from the sheer, unbearable intrusion. He bottomed out with a deep groan, grinding his hips against yours, forcing you to feel every inch buried inside.
“Fuuuuck,” he exhaled, voice thick with pleasure. “No matter how many times I break you in, you still squeeze like a virgin.”
Tears burned in your eyes. He didn’t care. He never cared.
His massive hand slid under your stomach, fingers pressing against the bulge in your lower abdomen, his bulge. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over it, as if mesmerized.
“Look at that.” He sounded pleased. “So small, yet you take me so well.”
Your throat burned, but no sound escaped as he pulled back and slammed in again. The force rocked your entire body, the cot creaking beneath both of you. He set a brutal pace—relentless, inhuman.
“That’s it,” he grunted. “Take it. Take all of it, little whore.”
Each thrust knocked the air from your lungs, a punishing rhythm that left no room for thought, no chance to resist. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, wrapping around your throat, slapping your ass hard enough to leave fresh welts. He fucked like a soldier—efficient, ruthless, absolute.
His fingers found your jaw, forcing it open. You barely had time to react before he spit directly onto your tongue.
“Swallow.”
You obeyed without thinking, throat convulsing around the thick wetness.
He laughed, deep and dark, then rewarded you with an even harsher thrust, driving you further into the mattress.
“Good little cumdump.” His voice dripped with amusement. “I should keep you chained under my desk—plug you full of my cock all day.”
You whined, and he gripped your chin, forcing your head back against his shoulder.
“No whining.” His teeth grazed your ear, his breath hot, dangerous. “You love this. You were made for this. Made for me.”
Your body shuddered. He could feel it. He always felt it.
His pace grew erratic, his grip bruising, movements sharper, rougher. He was close.
And when he came, he buried himself deep, pressing you flat against the cot as his body shuddered against yours. His grip never loosened, his cock throbbing inside you, filling you past what should have been possible.
A long, low groan rumbled from his chest, his breath uneven against your skin. His hand slid down, pressing against your belly once more, as if savoring the way his seed filled you.
For a moment, he was still. Heavy. Suffocating. His body, a wall of muscle trapping you beneath him.
Then his lips brushed against your temple—almost gentle.
“My little fucktoy,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. “Mine.”
The claim settled over you like chains.
You had no escape.
He was going to break you.
And then he’d keep going.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
♡ List of Fandoms and Characters.
♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.
Ace Attorney: Barok van Zieks
Arcane: Jayce
Blue Lock: Michael Kaiser, Rin Itoshi, Sae Itoshi
Boku no Hero Academia: Endeavor
Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A
Death Note: N/A
Demon Slayer: Sanemi Shinazugawa
DC: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne
Dishonored Series: N/A
Genshin Impact: Childe
Haikyuu!!: Hajime Iwaizumi, Tetsurou Kuroo
Honkai Star Rail: Blade, Boothill, Nanook
How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A
Hunter x Hunter: Uvogin
I’m Not That Kind of Talent: N/A
Jujutsu Kaisen: Ryōmen Sukuna
Kill The Hero: N/A
Love and Deepspace: N/A
Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: N/A
MONSTER: N/A
Naruto Shippuden: Hidan, Zabuza Momochi
One Punch Man: Suiryu
Reverend Insanity: N/A
TOUCHSTARVED: Vere
Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Bill! Sans, Fresh! Sans, Ink! Sans, Killer! Sans, Nightmare! Sans, Shattered Dream! Sans, Undertale Chara
Wuthering Waves: Brant, Scar
Your Throne: N/A
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
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♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:
♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology
♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.
♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I’d Burn the World.
♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.
♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.
♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.
♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you’re searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution
♡ Book 6 [you are here]. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.
♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.
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♡ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.
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