♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 990
You didn’t think he would follow you home.
You’d managed to slip away once. Through smoke and blood and sirens, your legs moved on instinct. But you should’ve known better. That a man like Gojo Satoru doesn’t let go of what he deems his. Not when he’s tasted it. Not when it has looked at him with fear so raw, it made him hard.
He watched you stumble down the alley that night, panting, shoes soaked in whatever fluid leaked from the man he split open. Your hands trembled as you fumbled with your keys, but you made it inside. Locked the door. Deadbolted it. Leaned against it and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
But he was already inside.
He had waited in the dark, quietly, so as not to ruin the moment. The lights didn’t flicker. The silence was perfect. And you, too broken to check, too trusting in your locks, walked past him like a lamb. Bare feet. Loose shirt. No bra.
God, he loved how unaware you were. How delicate. How painfully, pathetically mortal.
“Missed me?”
The voice didn’t come from behind you.
It came from your bed.
When you turned, he was already standing.
You flinched so beautifully.
Gojo dragged you by the ankle before you could scream. You hit the floor with a dull, helpless thud. You always landed wrong, didn’t you? Weak little thing. Your elbow scraped hard against the wood, and you hissed like a cornered cat.
He chuckled.
“Still so fragile. It’s cute.”
His hands were warm, far too warm, as he pinned you there. Thumb grinding into the hinge of your jaw as your eyes widened. He wasn’t smiling, not really. It was something hungrier. His mouth curled upward, but the eyes—those blinding, abyssal eyes—never blinked.
“You thought I’d just disappear?” he whispered, mouth brushing your temple. “After everything? After you let me in?”
He laughed. Bitterly.
“You know better than anyone, I don’t do one-time things.”
Your thighs trembled. Not from arousal. Not yet.
Fear.
He could smell it. It curled off you in waves. Salty. Thick. He inhaled, eyes half-lidded. The bulge in his pants pressed between your legs as he caged you down.
“Did you cry when you left?” he murmured, dragging his lips along your jaw. “Did you cry knowing I wasn’t behind you? Did you want me to follow? Hm?”
You didn’t answer. You never did.
He grinned.
“Right. You’re too smart to beg out loud. Too proud. That little brain of yours always spinning—”
He tapped your forehead mockingly.
“—trying to survive. Trying to stay whole.”
But he wouldn’t let you. Not now. Not after the way you ran.
He peeled the shirt from your body like skin. Delicate, reverent almost. His hands didn’t shake. They never did. But his pupils dilated as your chest was exposed to him, nipples already stiff from fear. Not arousal. Never arousal first. He didn’t want it easy.
He wanted to break it into you.
“You’re mine,” he said, more to himself than you, fingers grazing your throat. “Even when you’re not wet, you still open your legs. That’s loyalty.”
He spat on your chest.
The humiliation made your eyes blur, and he moaned at the sight.
“No tears yet? That pride of yours is so stubborn. But don’t worry, sweetheart,” he crooned, unzipping his pants, letting the tension in his body settle into something dangerous, animalistic. “I’ve got time.”
And he did. Hours, in fact.
Because no one was coming.
You had no friends. He made sure of that. No coworkers to notice your absence—he fucked with your schedule weeks ago. Parents? Please. He knew you barely texted them once a month.
You were so perfectly alone. And the irony? You did it to yourself. You liked being alone. Until you weren’t.
Until he crawled into that silence and claimed it for himself.
“Open your mouth.”
You didn’t.
So he backhanded you hard across the face.
Your cheek bloomed red. Your lips split. You gasped.
He grabbed your jaw and pried it open, sliding two fingers in until you gagged.
“You look so good like this,” he hissed. “Choking on me before I’ve even started.”
His hand moved to your throat, tightening as he thrust his fingers deeper.
“I want your body to remember me. I want your organs to remember me.”
You made a strangled sound, and it only spurred him on.
Satoru didn’t fuck like a man. He fucked like he hated you. Like your existence offended him. Like he had to ruin you to justify keeping you.
He liked seeing the bruises. The blood. He liked when your voice cracked from screaming his name like a curse.
And in between thrusts, in between the pressure and the pain, he kissed your forehead. Gentle. Sweet. A mockery.
He nuzzled your hair. Whispered soft things.
“You belong here.”
“I missed you.”
“Don’t leave again. I’ll kill everyone if you do.”
And you believed him.
Because he already had.
Everyone who smiled at you. Gone.
Every man who got too close. Dead.
And your apartment? Bugged. Tracked. Watched.
He never said he was clingy.
He didn’t have to.
His hands said it for him. His cock said it for him. The bruises blooming down your inner thighs, the bite marks blooming across your stomach—they all said it.
He owned you.
And when it was over, when your body was limp and your eyes were red, he pulled you into his lap like it meant something.
He stroked your hair. Hummed.
“You don’t get it yet,” he whispered. “But one day, you will.”
He kissed your temple.
“You were made for this. For me.”
And you didn’t speak.
Didn’t move.
Because the scariest part wasn’t what he did.
It was that a part of you—the small, sick, starved part of you that longed to be held, even by a monster—was starting to believe him.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
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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.
𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭 