β‘ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; β‘ WC. 2,801
They used to call him a hero.
Before the blood, before the sickness rotted his mind, before the world cracked open its gory teeth and gnawed his soul to splinters.
Before he forgot his own name.
Back then, he smiled. Back then, he saved people.
The world he woke into had been stitched together from desperation: a dying kingdom trapped in the endless loop of war and famine, a world that could be “fixed” β if only the right hand were strong enough to seize it.
The System chose him. A blue glyph burned into the back of his right hand when he turned sixteen: “Chosen.” A single word that decided the rest of his life.
[LEVEL 1: HERO CLASS INITIATED]
The tutorials came next. Simple fetch quests, slaying harmless beasts, helping little girls retrieve lost cats from trees. Laughable things. Things a child could do.
But the world didnβt stay kind. No, the System made sure it wouldn’t.
[NEW QUEST: SLAUGHTER THE INFECTED]
They looked human. Still screamed like humans. Still wept and begged.
He learned to swing a blade into a sobbing face without blinking.
He had to. The System didn’t reward mercy.
[QUEST FAILED: -10% HP PER MINUTE UNTIL OBJECTIVE COMPLETE]
Pain taught faster than any teacher. By the time he was Level 50, mercy was a dead language, and he had become fluent in the one that mattered: violence.
He watched his “friends” die one by one. The party that once cheered around campfires and shared stolen bread was torn apart by scripted betrayals, rigged boss fights, “random” events that smelled too much like traps.
“Unavoidable casualties.”
He should have died too. Should have followed them.
But when the last of them fell, and the system window popped up β
[YOU HAVE LEVELED UP: +10 ATTRIBUTES ACQUIRED]
β he realized something.
Every death made him stronger.
[NEW PERK: SURVIVOR’S GREED – For every ally lost, gain +5% permanent stat increase.]
He didn’t even cry when he buried them.
He barely remembered their faces by the next dungeon.
β¦β§β¦β§
The final boss waited on the other side of a hundred bloodsoaked floors: the Demon King, the Eternal Calamity.
He reached the black throne alone, broken sword in hand, bones jutting from shattered armor, skin peeled from half his face by spellfire and frostbite.
He killed the Demon King. It wasnβt even hard.
The real challenge had been surviving long enough to get there.
He plunged the sword into the Kingβs heart, and the world around him began to break apart. Code unraveling. Graphics warping. Glitches opening up like yawning mouths.
Then β
[SYSTEM ERROR: REBOOT INITIATED]
He woke up. In a bed too small for his body, surrounded by pixel-perfect flowers.
Level 1.
Again.
β¦β§β¦β§
“Regression” was what they called it. A “gift.” A second chance.
But he knew the truth.
It wasn’t a second chance.
It was a second prison.
The System whispered sweet poison in his ears. Promised “happy endings” if only he played “the right way” this time. Help the villagers. Save the princess. Be a “good” hero.
He played along for a time.
Until the betrayals started again.
Until the villagers he saved sold him out for gold coins.
Until the princess he risked everything for smiled sweetly as she drove a dagger between his ribs, trading him to the enemy to “save” her kingdom.
He stopped pretending after that.
He carved through them, every backstabber, every liar, every sniveling “victim” who thought they could use him.
And the System rewarded him for it.
[YOU HAVE LEVELED UP: +25 ATTRIBUTES ACQUIRED]
[NEW SKILL: CULL – Gain double experience for executing those who betrayed your trust.]
He stopped seeing “people.”
All he saw were walking bags of experience points, loot drops waiting to be harvested.
Why bother caring?
They weren’t real.
They were scripted parasites, programmed to test him, torment him, delay his ascent.
The only thing that mattered was growing stronger.
Strength meant freedom.
Strength meant no more betrayals.
Strength meant no one could hurt him ever again.
He became a reaper draped in rusted steel, eyes dead as old coals. Villages became waypoints for easy grinding. Towns became gold farms.
He optimized himself like a machine.
Poison immunity.
Pain resistance.
Sleep stat: deleted. Who needed dreams?
Charisma: deleted. Who needed friends?
He put every point into Strength, Endurance, Perception.
Nothing else mattered.
β¦β§β¦β§
At first, the System tried to punish him.
Sent “rivals” β false heroes, shiny-eyed fools armed with plot armor and rousing speeches.
He broke their skulls open one by one.
The System sent “moral consequences.”
Famine. Disease. Cursed lands.
Didn’t matter.
He consumed it all.
[NEW TITLE UNLOCKED: PLAGUE OF HEROES – Your name is spoken in terror across the world. -20 Reputation Gain. +50% EXP from Elite and Boss-level Targets.]
The world rotted beneath his boots.
The sky blackened with ash and acid rain.
The sun died screaming behind layers of poisoned clouds.
He didn’t care.
He kept moving forward.
Kept grinding.
Kept killing.
Kept leveling.
It was the only thing left that made sense.
β¦β§β¦β§
He doesn’t remember his name anymore.
Just the numbers.
Just the stats.
[LEVEL 856]
[STRENGTH: 999]
[ENDURANCE: 999]
[DEXTERITY: 876]
[PERCEPTION: 920]
[VITALITY: 999]
[LUCK: ???]
He thinks maybe it was “Evan” once.
Or “Lucian.”
Or “Mikael.”
But it doesn’t matter now.
He is the sword that cuts.
The hand that breaks.
The Nameless One.
The eyes that see the world for what it really is: a meat-grinder where weakness is a death sentence.
Sometimes, late at night, when the acid rain scours the flesh from his arms and the howling wind peels voices from the dead cities, he thinks he hears them.
His old party.
Their laughter.
Their songs.
The smell of bread baking in the fire.
He tightens his grip on his blade until blood drips from his palms.
He levels up.
He forgets.
He moves on.
Because that’s all that’s left.
Experience Points. Loot. Leveling up.
That’s all that matters now.
And he will keep grinding, keep killing, keep carving a bloody path through this stitched-together nightmare world β until he reaches the System’s heart.
And rips it out.
β ββββ±ΰΌΊβ―β°β―ΰΌ»β°ββββ
He sees you for the first time in a corpse-strewn village, standing ankle-deep in mud and rot, your tiny white hands glowing as you try to patch together some dying man’s chest with the last shreds of your pitiful magic.
[NEW QUEST ACQUIRED: PROTECT THE CHOSEN ONE]
He almost laughs.
You?
A Level 1 nobody with stats so low they might as well be negative?
You’re trembling, your tattered robe soaked in blood and rain, face pinched with exhaustion. You don’t even notice him lurking beyond the ruined houses, stalking you like a shadow.
He watches you.
He watches the way you smile gently at the broken villagers, even when they spit at your feet. Watches the way you stitch up the dying for free, wasting what little mana you have, when you could be selling your services like a normal, sane person.
You’re so fucking stupid it makes his teeth ache.
You glow, bright and brittle, against the broken world. Some stupid, bleeding-heart angel, convinced you can save a world that’s already been drowned in shit and ash and betrayal.
Itβs disgusting.
He should kill you. It would be merciful.
Instead, he stalks you.
He watches you slog from ruin to ruin, giving and giving until you’re nothing but a hollow shell. He watches you cry when no one’s looking, muffling your sobs into your threadbare cloak. Watches you drag your broken body up again and again, to save people who will sell you out the second gold hits the table.
[NEW SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: THE CHOSEN ONE HAS ENTERED THE GAME]
[NEW OBJECTIVE: PROTECT HER UNTIL THE FINAL BATTLE]
He grinds his teeth so hard he tastes blood.
Protect you?
He’d rather gut you and leave you bleeding in a ditch. Youβre an infection. A reminder of the idiot he used to be. A pathetic, fragile thing still pretending that love matters, that kindness isnβt just weakness wrapped in a prettier dress.
He hates you.
God, he hates you.
But he doesn’t kill you.
Not yet.
Because heβs curious.
Curious how long youβll last.
Curious how many pieces he can peel from you before you break.
β¦β§β¦β§
The ruined cathedral looms behind you, a corpse of a holy place, its broken spires clawing at the blackened sky. Youβre curled against the rubble, a frail, shivering thing, your breath hitching in weak little sobs. The staff you clutched for so long β symbol of hope, of salvation β slips from your trembling fingers, useless.
When he steps from the shadows, you look up at him.
Big eyes. Wide. Naive.
Hope burning there, so foolish it almost makes him laugh.
Almost.
Massive. Towering. Armor stitched together from the corpses of heroes. A blade longer than your body strapped to his back.
Eyes like dead stars.
Mouth like a scar splitting the world.
He crouches before you, slow and deliberate, until your faces are level.
“Get up,” he growls.
You flinch. Your magic sputters weakly in your palms. He swats it away like smoke.
“You’re not dead yet, little healer.”
He says it like an insult. Like “healer” is synonymous with “whore.”
He grips your chin in his gauntleted hand, metal biting into your soft flesh. Forces your face up to his, until you can’t look anywhere but those pitiless, gleaming eyes.
He could snap your neck in the time it takes you to blink.
He doesnβt.
He takes his time.
Grabs you by the throat and slams you into a crumbling wall, watching your legs kick helplessly. Your small, pathetic hands claw at his wrist — your healing magic sparking against his skin, pitiful as fireflies against iron.
“Stupid little bitch,” he snarls.
You whimper. Try to summon a barrier. Try to pray.
He backhands you before the spell finishes, watches you crumple to the ground, white robes blooming crimson where your lip splits open.
“Still hoping?”
He laughs. A terrible sound. Like a sword sliding into something soft.
You don’t pull away. You couldn’t, even if you tried.
He leans close, lips brushing your ear.
“This world doesn’t need your kind,” he hisses. “It doesn’t need bleeding hearts. Doesn’t need martyrs. It needs monsters.”
He kneels, dragging you up by your hair so your battered face is inches from his.
“So why,” he breathes, voice low and dangerous, “does the System love you?”
The System pings.
[NEW TITLE UNLOCKED: CORRUPTOR OF HOPE – Special questline initiated.]
His grin splits his scarred face.
Perfect.
He drags you into the ruins. Chains you by the throat to a broken pillar. Watches you flinch every time he moves, every time his boots crunch closer across the shattered ground.
“You’re disgusting,” he sneers. “You heal scum who’d rape you. You cry for traitors. You pray for a god that isn’t listening.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, whispering desperate prayers.
Your status pings in the System. You barely register it through the fog of terror.
[NEW STATUS ACQUIRED: BOUND]
He rises and crushes your staff under his boot with a sickening snap. The noise rips a ragged sob from your throat, more instinct than thought β like heβs shattered some last, fragile piece of you.
Good.
Pain is the first lesson.
He grabs your hair, jerking you to your knees. Your body obeys numbly, every joint screaming, every muscle trembling.
The system dinged softly in his ear:
[NEW TITLE ACQUIRED: DOMINATOR – Subjugate a fellow player. +5% to Physical Damage Against Player Targets.]
He laughed. A low, broken sound.
His gauntlet drags across your lower lip, slow, mocking.
“You wanted to heal the world, little priestess? Heal this.”
He unfastens his belt with deliberate slowness. You know what’s coming. Horror freezes you, but your body betrays you β breath quickening, heart pounding.
You try to pull away, a last pathetic protest. He yanks harder, making your scalp burn, forcing your face up.
“Open.”
You shake your head weakly, tears spilling down your cheeks. He chuckles darkly, cruelly.
“Still so proud,” he murmurs. “Good. I like it better when you struggle.”
He slaps you. Hard.
Stars burst behind your eyes.
Your mouth falls open on a sob.
He wastes no time.
He shoves himself into your mouth, rough and unyielding, until you gag around him. You try to pull back instinctively, but he holds you there, his gauntlet tight in your hair.
“Take it,” he growls. “Choke on it.”
He fucked you like a punishment, hammering you against the broken stone until the only sounds were your sobs, his ragged breath, the wet slap of skin against skin. Every thrust drove you deeper into the filth, deeper into your humiliation.
“Trash,” he spat. “Pathetic. Look at you. Can’t even take a real man’s cock without crying.”
The degradation is constant, a battering ram against whatever shreds of dignity you still cling to.
“Slut for salvation.”
“Pretty little angel, gagging for redemption.”
“You’re so good at this, aren’t you? Born to be used.”
He laughs when you gag particularly hard, pulling out just enough for you to gasp a shuddering breath before forcing himself back down your throat.
Youβre crying freely now, face a mess of tears, drool, and dirt. Your arms are too weak to fight him off. Your body is too broken to flee.
And you still think, somewhere deep in that crumbling mind, that if you just endure it, he’ll spare you.
He won’t.
A system notification flickered faintly in the blood-tinted air:
[NEW QUEST INITIATED: CLAIMED – Keep your bed warmer alive for 30 days. Reward: +10 Strength, +5 Vitality.]
He laughed, a deep, broken noise.
Of course the System approved.
Of course it fucking did.
You whimpered somethingβa prayer, maybe. A plea.
“Holy little slut,” he spits, voice dripping venom. “Was this what you prayed for? Huh? Was this what you begged your gods for? To be nothing but a filthy cocksleeve for the likes of me?”
Tears flood your eyes, hot and shameful. He thrusts into your mouth with brutal rhythm, each push making you choke and splutter. Your nails dig weakly into his thighs, but it only makes him laugh, a low, savage sound.
“Look at you,” he sneers. “On your knees like a good little altar whore.”
He uses you mercilessly, hips snapping forward with increasing ferocity. The metallic taste of his armor, the copper sting of blood from your split lip, the choking, suffocating heat of him β itβs overwhelming. You can’t breathe, can’t think, can only sob and retch around him.
“My perfect little whore priestess,” he groans, the words dripping with venom and possession. “Good for nothing else.”
You want to scream. You want to disappear.
Instead, you kneel there, tears and spit dripping down your chin, a ruin of a girl.
Your holy robes, torn and stained, offer no dignity. No protection.
He forces himself deeper, holding you there until you convulse, your throat spasming helplessly.
“Swallow,” he orders, voice deadly.
You do, because you have no choice.
You always thought surrender would be like falling.
Itβs more like drowning.
When he finally pulls out, you collapse forward, coughing and gasping, saliva trailing from your bruised lips. Youβre too broken to hide the wreck youβve become.
He watched you for a long moment, breathing hard.
Then he crouched down, fisting your hair and forcing your head back.
“Remember,” he said, voice low and venomous. “You live because I allow it.”
You flinch as he crouches beside you, wiping a thumb across your ruined mouth with mock tenderness.
“So pure,” he murmurs. “Even in the dirt.”
[NEW STATUS EFFECT: BOUND – You are bound to the Nameless One until death.]
His gauntlet catches your jaw again, forcing your head up. Forcing you to look at him.
“Say thank you.”
You sob.
You whisper it.
“Thank you.”
He smiles, and itβs a terrible thing.
[NEW STATUS: CORRUPTED]
[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: BLOODBOUND]
You slump forward, your light flickering, guttering.
He wraps his bloodstained cloak around your naked shoulders like a noose.
Drags you into his chest, an obscene parody of comfort.
“Youβre mine now, little angel,” he whispers into your filthy hair.
“Mine to break.”
“Mine to use.”
“Mine to keep.”
The System dings again, a soft chime of damnation.
[NEW ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: FALLEN ANGEL]
Your soul fractures like stained glass under a hammer.
Youβre still sobbing, but he only holds you tighter, breathing in the scent of your ruin.
Heβs not finished with you.
There are no more gods here.
Only him.
Only the System.
Only survival.
And you?
You’re just another experience point in his endless, bloody climb toward the heart of it all.
βββββββββ β βββββββββ
β‘ List of Fandoms and Characters.
β‘ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.
Ace Attorney: Miles Edgeworth, Godot
Arcane: Silco, Viktor
Blue Lock: Rin Itoshi, Shidou Ryusei
Boku no Hero Academia: Dabi
Brutal: Satsujin Kansatsukan no Kokuhaku: N/A
Death Note: Light Yagami, Teru Mikami
Demon Slayer: Sanemi Shinazugawa
DC: Damian Wayne
Dishonored Series: Corvo Attano, Daud
Genshin Impact: Kaeya, Dainsleif, Scaramouche/Wanderer
Haikyuu!!: Ushijima Wakatoshi
Honkai Star Rail: Blade
How to Live as an Illegal Healer: N/A
Hunter x Hunter: Kurapika, Chrollo Lucilfer
I’m Not That Kind of Talent: N/A
Jujutsu Kaisen: Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna, Megumi Fushiguro
Kill The Hero: Woojin Kim
Love and Deepspace: Caleb
Mobile Legends: Bang Bang: Alucard, Dyrroth
MONSTER: Johan Liebert, Roberto
Naruto Shippuden: Sasuke Uchiha
One Punch Man: Garou
Reverend Insanity: Fang Yuan
TOUCHSTARVED: Mhin
Undertale Multiverse (Human AU): Dust! Sans, Horror! Sans, Killer! Sans, Nightmare! Sans, Ink! Sans
Wuthering Waves: Calcharo
Your Throne: Eros Orna Vasilios
β ββββ±ΰΌΊβ―β°β―ΰΌ»β°ββββ
β‘ A/N. So much video game inspirations…
Official TAG LIST of βThe Red Ledgerβ: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles , @xileonaaaa , @neuvilletteswife4ever , @poopooindamouf , @imnotabot28 , @han11dh , @loserworld , @esthelily
β€οΈ Fang Dokja’s Books.
β‘ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:
β‘ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology
β‘ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.
β‘ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I’d Burn the World.
β‘ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.
β‘ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.
β‘ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarianβs Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.
β‘ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblrβs 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
β‘ Book 6 [you are here]. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.
β‘ 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 yourselfβrepeated 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.
β‘ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.
β‘ Book 8. Malum Consilium (MC): Primordial Hunger.
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