Bullied! Yandere x Bully! Reader
โคท TW: Dark psychological themes, sadistic & dominant reader, masochist & submissive yandere, stalking, harassment, physical violence, murder/homicide, and highly toxic family dynamic.
Everyone at school knew you were dangerous. You ruled the senior corridor with a cold and effortless control. For the past year, your absolute favorite target was the quiet, hollow-eyed boy who sat in the very back row.
Ren was a ghost to everyone else, but to you, he was the perfect outlet.
You didn't target him just because you were mean. At home, your life was a suffocating and clinical prison. Your high-achieving parents treated you like a trophy instead of a daughter. Every single dinner was a harsh interrogation about your grades, your college track, and your ranking. There was no affection in your house, only an agonizing pressure to dominate everyone around you. School became the only place where you actually had control. You believed that if you weren't the predator, you would quickly become the prey.
When your statistics grade started to slip at the beginning of the semester, you noticed him. His test scores were always flawless. You cornered him after class and threw a heavy stack of modules onto his desk, telling him to do them perfectly or he would regret it. He didn't try to fight back. He just took the papers with a lowered head and trembling hands.
But doing your homework quickly turned into carrying your school bag. Then it turned into paying for your lunch. Soon, your friends joined in on the fun, and the exploitation turned into physical humiliation. You started shoving him into lockers, knocking his books to the floor, and whispering cruelties into his ear just to watch him shake.
What you didn't know was that you weren't breaking him at all. You were feeding a monster.
Behind closed doors, Ren didn't hate the bruises or the dirt you left on his uniform. He lived for them. He was a textbook masochist who was completely addicted to your cruelty. Your anger was the only real and intense thing in his empty life.
For Ren, life was absolutely perfect. He didn't care about making friends or fitting in. All he cared about was the fact that your undivided, hyper-focused attention belonged entirely to him every single day. Even when you were yelling at him or pushing him out of your way, your eyes were on him, your hands were touching him, and your thoughts were consumed by him. He was your favorite project, and that was all he ever wanted.
Every night, he sat on his bedroom floor in the absolute dark. His room was a hidden sanctuary dedicated entirely to you. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling in printed photos of you. Some were screenshots he pulled from your social media profiles, but most were candid shots he took himself from the shadows. Photos of you frowning at your locker, tilting your head during quizzes, or laughing coldly with your friends.
He refused to wash the school blazers that your friends threw chalk at. Instead, he would run his fingers over the fabric, tracking the faint scent of your perfume mixed with the dust. He kept a meticulous journal where he logged the exact timestamps of every time you looked at him, the number of insults you used, and the precise force of your hands against his collarbone. He would sit in the quiet room and press his own thumbs into the fresh bruises you gave him, replaying your harsh voice over and over in his head until he was completely breathless.
But his obsession went much deeper. Every single time you forced him to do your homework, Ren secretly made two copies of every essay and worksheet. He kept your actual, handwritten rough drafts locked in a fireproof safe under his bed. He spent his nights staring at the curves of your handwriting, memorizing the exact way you crossed your T's and dotted your I's. He even stole a half-empty plastic water bottle you left behind on your desk, keeping it sealed on his nightstand like a prize. If you wore a hair tie that snapped during the day and threw it in the trash, Ren would wait until the classroom was empty just to fish it out of the bin. He wore that broken elastic band around his left wrist every single night, letting it dig into his skin while he lay awake beneath the rows of your pictures, completely consumed by you. You thought you were controlling him, but he was building an entire universe out of your garbage.
Yes, for Ren, life was absolutely perfect.
The new transfer girl arrived at the start of the month. She was a self-righteous junior who quickly noticed the dynamic between you and Ren. Mistaking Renโs quiet, submissive behavior for pure, unadulterated agony, she developed a protective, bleeding-heart crush on him.
One afternoon, your group forced Ren to scrub the muddy classroom floor on his hands and knees. The transfer girl watched from the doorway, her knuckles turning white. She didn't confront you. Instead, she went straight to the principalโs office with a detailed written report and video evidence she had secretly recorded on her phone.
The fallout ruined everything. Because of the irrefutable proof, the administration had no choice. You and your friends were handed a mandatory, severe two-week suspension.
At home, your parents went completely ballistic. They stripped away your phone, locked you in your room to study, and treated you like an absolute disgrace to the family name. The psychological torment at home was grueling, but for Ren, those two weeks were a literal descent into hell.
The sudden, freezing deprivation of your cruelty drove him completely insane.
By the end of the two weeks, he had sent exactly 1,432 text messages, made 412 phone calls, and left 87 voicemails. At first, the texts seemed normal, almost formal, as if he was just trying to be a dutiful assistant.
> Day 1 (10:15 AM): I completed the statistics modules ahead of schedule. Please let me know where I should deliver them.
> Day 2 (4:30 PM): Your desk was empty today. I kept your notes organized. I hope everything is fine.
But as the days bled together and the silence from your end stretched out, the polite mask completely dissolved. The texts became frantic, unhinged, and desperate for any sign of life.
> Day 6 (2:14 AM): Why aren't you answering me? Did I do something wrong? Please tell me what I did wrong. I'll fix it.
> Day 9 (11:45 PM): I found the blue pen you lost last month. I've been holding it all day. My room is so quiet without your voice. It hurts. Please hurt me instead of staying quiet.
> Day 13 (3:22 AM): I'm outside. I can see your window. It's so dark. Please look out. Just look down at me. Throw something at me. Anything. I'm starving.
The voicemails were a grueling, pathetic display of his withdrawal. In the early ones, he sounded shaky and apologetic. But by the second week, they were recorded at ungodly hours of the night. You could hear the heavy pouring rain in the background and his ragged, hyperventilating breath against the microphone. He would sob quietly into the phone, his voice cracking into a desperate whisper. "Please," he would beg, his teeth literally chattering from the cold outside your building. "Please don't leave me alone. I'll let you do whatever you want. I'll let your friends beat me. Just come back to school. Just look at me. I'm nothing if you aren't looking at me."
While you were trapped at home, the transfer girl tried to comfort Ren at school, genuinely believing she had saved him.
"They're gone," she whispered warmly after class one day, reaching out to touch his arm. "You're safe now."
That touch was the final anchor snapping in Ren's mind. She hadn't saved him. She had stolen his god. She had taken away his pain, his reward, and his only reason for waking up in the morning.
The next evening, Ren followed the transfer girl after her club meeting. He cornered her in the damp, isolated basement of the old science building. The pathetic, cowering victim completely vanished. With a cold, expressionless face, Ren stepped out of the shadows. He didn't yell. He didn't hesitate. He systematically and brutally punished her with a heavy iron pipe, ensuring she was hospitalized in critical condition. When she finally woke up weeks later, she was so profoundly traumatized that she refused to speak a word, her family instantly transferring her to a school across the country out of sheer terror.
When your suspension finally ended, you walked back into the senior corridor with a cold, venomous fury. You assumed Ren was the one who had snitched on you. The second the lunch bell rang, you cornered him behind the sports equipment shed, ready to make him bleed for the hell your parents had put you through.
You slammed his heavy frame against the brick wall, pressing the sole of your shoe hard against his chest, right over his heart.
"You think you're clever, you pathetic piece of trash?" you spat, digging your heel in until he gasped. "You think because you got me suspended, I won't ruin the rest of your miserable life?"
You expected him to cry, to beg, to tremble. But as you looked down, your breath caught.
Ren's eyes were wide, bloodshot, and burning with a dark, glassy glint of absolute euphoria. His lips parted into a faint, trembling, manic smile. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving aggressively against the bottom of your shoe, his hands gripping your ankleโnot to push you away, but to hold your foot securely against his ribs. He was practically vibrating with pleasure, completely intoxicated by the weight of your boot.
The realization hit you like a physical punch to the gut: He loves this. You aren't punishing him; you're rewarding him.
You didn't recoil in disgust. Instead, a slow, dark smirk spread across your face. You leaned in closer, pressure increasing against his ribs, watching his eyes widen even more with manic bliss. So, your little punching bag was a pervert. He was addicted to you. He needed your cruelty to survive.
And that gave you the ultimate power.
"You're disgusting," you whispered, your smirk widening as you intentionally pulled your foot back.
Renโs manic smile instantly dropped into a look of sheer, frantic panic. "No... please," he choked out, dropping to his knees and reaching for the hem of your skirt. "Don't stop. I've been so good. I waited for you."
But you had already figured out how to truly torture him. If he wanted your cruelty, you were going to give him absolute nothingness.
The next morning, you walked right past Ren's desk in the back row. He was sitting up straight, his eyes wide and desperate, practically begging you to knock his papers over. You didn't even blink. You walked right past him and slammed your hand onto the desk of a normal, completely innocent boy named Leo.
"You," you said coldly, looking at the terrified boy. "Do my homework from now on. Give me your lunch money."
You took Leo's notebook. You focused all your intense, terrifying energy on another male student. You shoved Leo against the lockers, completely erasing Ren from your universe.
The sudden, brutal withdrawal of your attention completely fractured Ren's mind. He had to sit in the back row and watch you put your hands on another guy. He had to watch you give his pain, his punishment, and his bruises to someone else.
The jealousy was a violent, suffocating poison. Leo was stealing his girl. Leo was stealing his torment.
A few days later, you arrived early to school, but the atmosphere in the hallway was entirely different. It was dead silent. Police officers were stationed outside the sports equipment shed, and yellow crime scene tape was cordoning off the area.
The whispers hit you immediately. Leo was dead. He had been found early that morning inside the shed, his body completely broken, cold, and pooled in his own blood. It wasn't just a beating; it was an execution.
A cold, thrilling shiver ran down your spine. You didn't panic. Slowly, you turned your head and walked into the quiet classroom.
Ren was sitting there in his usual seat in the back row, surrounded by shadows. His uniform tie was missing, his white collar was stained with a few stray drops of dark, dried blood, and his knuckles were split completely wide open.
When you looked at him, he didn't cower. A wide, terrifyingly starved, unhinged grin split across his face. His bloodshot eyes locked onto yours, trembling with a manic, ecstatic hope. He was practically panting, waiting to see if his grand sacrifice would finally make you look at him again.
You stood by the doorway, looking from his blood-crusted hands up to his manic face. The police sirens wailed outside the window, but inside the classroom, the silence was suffocating.
Slowly, you walked right past Leo's empty, cursed desk. You stepped up to the very back row and stopped directly in front of Ren.
He looked up at you, his chest heaving aggressively. The pathetic, submissive act was completely gone. Before you could even open your mouth, he leaned forward, his voice a frantic, desperate whisper that trembled with a terrifying pride.
"I killed him," Ren confessed, his bloodshot eyes wide and unblinking. "I did it for you. He was taking my place. He was touching your hands, he was taking your anger... he was stealing the only things that belong to me. I had to erase him. I had to make sure you'd only look at me again. Punch me. Break my hands. Do whatever you want to me, please, just tell me I'm yours againโ"
He was hyperventilating, completely spiraling into his unhinged, manic rant, begging for your violence like a starving animal.
You didn't raise your hand. You didn't yell.
Instead, a slow, dark smirk crawled onto your lips. You reached out, grabbed his stained collar, and pulled him up forcefully until his lips crashed against yours.
Ren instantly froze. His entire body went completely rigid, his eyes widening in absolute, paralyzing shock. The violent monster who had just committed an execution was suddenly breathless, completely shattered by the unexpected warmth of your mouth. It wasn't a sweet kiss; it was dominant, bruising, and a reminder of exactly who owned who. You bit his lower lip just hard enough to make him whimper, effectively choking the manic words right out of his throat and shutting him up entirely.
When you finally pulled back, Ren was trembling violently, his face flushed a deep, frantic crimson, a single thread of saliva and blood connecting your lips. He looked completely ruined, entirely brought to his knees by a single touch.
You let go of his collar, pushing him back slightly. You adjusted the strap of your school bag, your cruel smirk never fading as you looked down at him.
"Clean your hands and change your clothes," you commanded coldly, your voice dripping with absolute authority. "Then do my statistics modules. If there's a single mistake, I'll make you bleed."
Ren let out a ragged, whimpering gasp of pure, euphoric submission. He nodded frantically, his eyes tearing up as he gripped the edges of his desk, entirely and helplessly your slave.
