♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,110
He watches you laugh at something stupid. Something some idiot said. You think it’s nothing—the kind of casual, harmless exchange anyone could make with anyone. You’re wrong.
He doesn’t blink. He sees your smile. The way your eyes soften. That tilt of your head, your brows relaxed, and for a second, you look… available. Present. Present for someone else.
You don’t even see him. You never do until it’s too late.
And the guy—he sees it. He sees you. He registers that softness in your gaze like it’s a green light. Like he has a fucking chance.
Satoru doesn’t even need to hear what was said. It doesn’t matter. There is no context that could excuse it. The world tilts slightly as the glass of his self-control cracks, and he smiles, too. It’s not warm.
He fixes it later. Quietly. Swiftly. A casual conversation here. A slight social misstep there. Opportunities rerouted. A few snide comments placed just right. Within the week, the guy vanishes from your little social orbit like he never existed. He makes sure of it.
But you? You don’t notice the cleanup. You’re clueless. Sweet little thing, always too lost in your head to realize what’s being taken from you. What he’s doing for you.
To you.
He waits until nightfall.
When your door creaks open, you already know who it is. He never knocks. You pretend to be asleep. It’s not a deterrent. The mattress dips with his weight, breath warm at your nape.
“You like making me mad?”
His voice is low, but it shreds through the dark like a knife through gauze. You feel it in your spine. And even now, the part of you that knows how this will go stays quiet. Like you deserve it.
Like you know you’ve done something wrong.
You open your eyes. Say nothing. Don’t move.
His fingers curl in your hair, and he turns your face to his.
“You were smiling at him. Laughing.”
He leans close. His breath is sweet and cruel.
“Did he make your cunt wet?”
The slap doesn’t land on your cheek, but on your pride. You swallow it, but he sees the flicker of shame, and that’s what he wants. It excites him more than your body ever could.
“I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?” he interrupts sharply, nails scraping down the curve of your throat. “Didn’t mean to? Or didn’t think I’d notice?”
You squirm, and he pins you harder, his thigh between yours now, forcing them apart.
“You’re not smart enough to lie to me. So don’t start.”
He’s not asking. You nod.
He smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Good girl.”
The words sound like filth in his mouth.
His mouth is already on your throat, tongue hot, wet, tasting the fear off your skin like it’s dessert. You know what he’s doing. You know he’s unraveling you with purpose, like he always does. Reminding you that you don’t get to be looked at by anyone else. That your body only exists for him. That your mind—shattered little thing that it is—has been his since the start.
He drags your wrists up and binds them. Rough, firm. The kind of tie that doesn’t budge, no matter how you twist.
“There,” he breathes, satisfied. “Now you’ll listen.”
His hand slides under your shirt, calloused fingers toying with your nipple until it’s hard, raw from the friction.
“You think he could’ve done this to you? Hm?”
He bites it, cruel and deep, and you flinch.
“No,” you whimper.
He grins against your skin. “No. He couldn’t even look at you without my permission.”
His cock grinds against you now, still clothed, but you feel how hard he is.
“But you gave him a smile. Sweet little smile. Like you wanted him to fuck you right there. In front of everyone.”
He rips your panties. Doesn’t even hesitate.
“Slut,” he hisses. “Always pretending you’re innocent. Always acting like you don’t want to be used.”
He spreads your legs wider.
“Bet you’re dripping. Bet that little brain of yours is soaking just thinking about me punishing you.”
His fingers plunge into you without warning. Two. Deep. Unforgiving.
You cry out, but he shushes you.
“Tch. Pathetic.”
The squelch is loud in the room. Shame curdles in your gut, but the ache only gets worse. More unbearable.
“Don’t even deserve prep.”
He pulls his fingers out and smears your slick on your thigh, grinning. He wants you to see it. Wants you to remember how easily your body betrays you.
He undoes his belt slowly. Deliberate. He likes the way your breath catches, the way your bound wrists tug uselessly.
Then he slams into you.
You scream.
He claps a hand over your mouth.
“Shut up. Don’t want the neighbors thinking I’m killing you.”
But he is. Every thrust feels like the end of something. Every snap of his hips is a lesson burned into your bones.
You are not free. You never were.
“You thought you were clever, didn’t you? Thought I wouldn’t notice you slipping away. Fucking fantasizing about some other guy like a dumb little bitch.”
He spits in your mouth. You swallow, like he trained you to.
“Good girl,” he growls.
His hand around your throat now, not tight, just enough to remind you. You’re breakable. And he’s the one who decides when.
He keeps going. Brutal. Deep. Unrelenting. The bed rocks under you.
He pulls your hair, forces your eyes on him.
“Say it,” he snarls.
“I’m yours,” you choke.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours!”
He laughs. “Damn right you are.”
You cum first. Embarrassingly fast. Pathetically. You don’t even know when it started building. It just happens, wet and gushing around him, and he curses under his breath.
“Fuck… you really are a whore for it.”
He doesn’t stop.
Not even when your body starts to shake.
Not even when your eyes roll back.
Not even when you’re sobbing into the sheets.
He cums inside. Of course he does. Deep, possessive, like he’s branding you. Like he can mold his shape into your womb and live there.
When he pulls out, it leaks down your thigh. He watches it.
“Don’t clean it up,” he orders. “Leave it. Let it remind you.”
You lie there, sore, humiliated, used.
He undoes the bindings. Massages your wrists, like he didn’t just destroy you.
“Don’t make me jealous again,” he whispers into your ear, tongue flicking your earlobe.
You nod. He kisses your cheek.
“Good girl.”
You don’t sleep that night.
And the next morning, you find the guy you laughed with blocked you on everything.
No explanation.
He’s gone.
Just like all the others.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
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❤︎ Fang Dokja’s Books.
♡ 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.
♡ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.
♡ Book 8. Malum Consilium (MC): Primordial Hunger.
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