♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,054
The night stinks of rot and desperation. Shadows coil thick in the alley, broken glass glittering like jagged teeth beneath the dull glow of a flickering streetlamp. The pavement is smeared with oil, piss, and the remnants of someone’s bad night—sour vomit crusted in streaks against the brick walls. The air is heavy with dampness, suffocating, and you shiver involuntarily, the thinness of your clothes doing nothing to stop the bite of the wind.
He drags you by the wrist, grip ironclad, uncaring of the jagged shards that catch your ankles as you stumble behind him. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t ease his pace, just tugs you deeper into the maze of filth and grime. His boots scrape against concrete, a steady cadence that drowns out the distant hum of traffic and the occasional cry of some forgotten soul deeper in the slums. This place is dead. A forgotten pit where the city’s rot festers, hidden away from prying eyes and pretense.
Your legs ache, knees stinging from where you’d fallen before, palms scraped raw. He’d watched you bleed, expression flat and eyes sharp, not saying a word as you bit back the cry that threatened to spill out. You had known better. He hates weakness; it’s a rule branded into your flesh more times than you can count. He rounds the corner and shoves you hard, and you stagger before catching yourself against the brick, palms scraping anew. His eyes are flat, predatory, unyielding.
“Down.”
The command is simple. Utterly unyielding. There is no room for argument, no glimmer of mercy in his gaze. Your knees crack against the pavement as you sink to the ground, the roughness of the concrete biting into your skin. His hand knots in your hair, forcing your head back until your throat is exposed, pulse hammering beneath the thin sheath of flesh. His expression is inscrutable—somewhere between idle curiosity and barely restrained violence.
He watches you for a long, weighted moment, then his grip loosens. Not out of kindness, but calculation. His fingers drop to the belt at his waist, unfastening it with practiced efficiency, the metal clinking in the silence. His gaze never leaves yours, daring you to move, to resist, to do anything other than kneel there on that piss-stained ground like you were meant for it. His boot presses against your chest, and you’re shoved back, sprawled out across the slick pavement. The cold seeps into your bones, the stench of refuse and damp garbage pressing thick in your nostrils. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, even as he steps forward, the weight of his presence smothering. He’s unhurried, controlled, like every action is a step in some twisted choreography that only he understands.
Your breath stutters as he undoes the last button, fabric rustling as he steps closer, the shadows coiling around him like smoke. He grabs you by the jaw, grip bruising, and forces your gaze upward. There’s no softness in his touch, only purpose, only cruelty. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t have to—the unspoken understanding lingers heavy in the air, thick and suffocating.
You’re still, so still you could be stone. He watches you for a moment longer before he steps forward, the warmth of his presence clashing starkly against the chill of the concrete beneath you. His hand is still on your jaw, fingers biting into your cheeks as he tilts your head back further. His other hand drops, and you see him undo the last of his zipper, the noise loud and final in the silence of the alley.
And then he pisses on you.
The warmth is jarring, splattering against your face first, hot and acrid, the stench overwhelming. It soaks through your hair, streaks down your cheeks, pools around you in rivulets that catch the broken shards of glass and cigarette butts. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch, just watches with that dead-eyed stare as you choke, eyes burning from the stench, the humiliation clawing up your throat like bile. His grip tightens when you jerk back instinctively, fingers digging into your scalp until you still, breath coming in ragged, shallow pants.
He finishes slowly, the last of it splattering against your cheek before he lets go, stepping back and watching with the scrutiny of a man inspecting his handiwork. You’re soaked, shivering, the reek of it clinging to your skin, slicking down your neck and pooling at the hollow of your throat. His smile is a flicker of something sharp and cruel as he reaches down, fingers hooking under your chin to force your gaze back to his.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and dripping with disdain. “Fucking pathetic.”
Your vision blurs for a moment, shame and degradation a fire beneath your skin, but you don’t move. Can’t move. He straightens, cracking his neck with a careless roll of his shoulders before he looks down at you again, eyes gleaming with something dark and unyielding.
“We’re not done.”
And you believe him.
He steps forward again, fingers curling around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch, eyes wide and glimmering with fear. His thumb brushes the edge of your jaw, tracing the line of your throat with a mockery of tenderness. His hand slides down, trailing over the slickness of your ruined clothes, pressing against the bruises he left just hours before. He leans in, breath hot against your ear.
“I’m going to fuck you right here. Right where you belong.”
The words are a death sentence. And there is no mercy.
He shoves you onto your back, the dampness of the concrete seeping through your clothes as you hit the ground. His hands are on you—rough, unyielding—yanking at fabric, tearing what he can’t unfasten. The chill of the alley is replaced with the blistering heat of his weight pressing down, his breath mingling with the stink of piss and rot. There is no reprieve, only the crush of him against you, the grind of concrete biting into your skin as he forces you to submit to his will.
There’s nothing left but the sound of flesh on flesh and the crack of bone when he grips too hard. And you, swallowed by the filth and the darkness, caught beneath the weight of him with no promise of escape.
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♡ List of Fandoms and Characters.
♡ 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
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles , @xileonaaaa , @neuvilletteswife4ever , @poopooindamouf , @imnotabot28 , @han11dh , @loserworld , @esthelily
❤︎ 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 