♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 948
He barely looks at you as you kneel beneath the table, knees pressed to the cold concrete floor, your mouth stretched wide around the barrel of his gun. It tastes like metal and smoke—sharp and unforgiving against your tongue. He’s leaning back in his chair, legs sprawled out with a kind of lazy arrogance, his hand gripping the hilt just above your lips, fingers tapping rhythmically like it’s some kind of game.
You’re not the focus. You’re not even a consideration. His attention is entirely on the men sitting around the table, a trio of them, all sharp eyes and scarred knuckles, talking business in rough voices that bleed dominance. You catch snippets of it—territory disputes, job offers, blood debts settled with a flick of a wrist. It’s casual, almost domestic, like they’re discussing the weather. And there you are, gagged on his weapon, drool slipping unbidden from the corners of your mouth to pool on the floor between your splayed hands.
One of the men, thick-necked and grinning, nods in your direction. “Didn’t know you got a new toy.”
His eyes slide down to you, finally acknowledging your presence with a flicker of amusement that barely registers as emotion. He lets his thumb press against the trigger—not enough to fire, but enough to make your breath hitch, eyes widening despite yourself. His smile is thin. “She’s good for stress relief,” he says, voice smooth and disinterested. “Quiet, too.”
They laugh, the sound a low rumble that vibrates through the floor and up into your bones. You try not to shift, try not to whimper around the steel, but he catches it anyway. His hand comes down, gripping the back of your head with enough force that your scalp prickles with pain. “Stay still,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something colder, sharper. “I’m not done.”
The conversation resumes, a low thrum of violence and barter, and you’re stuck there, locked in place with his gun pressing deeper against the back of your throat every time he flexes his grip. You gag, throat convulsing around the metal, and he doesn’t even pause, doesn’t even spare you a glance as you choke quietly beneath him.
Time is nothing here. It stretches and warps around the cadence of their speech, the scrape of chairs against concrete, the clink of glasses as deals are made and promises are broken. He’s unyielding, the pressure of the barrel against your tongue a constant reminder of just how replaceable you are in the grand scheme of his power plays. When his hand finally eases up, you gasp around the slick barrel, lungs burning with the rush of stale, dust-choked air.
But it doesn’t stop. He shoves it back in, harder this time, the metal scraping against your teeth with a harsh clack that makes your eyes water. His grip tightens in your hair, jerking you forward until your nose is pressed against the rough fabric of his pants. “What’s the matter?” he asks, voice dripping with mockery. “You look like you’re struggling.”
He shifts his weight, the chair creaking under his bulk, and pushes the barrel deeper, until it’s nudging the back of your throat again, unrelenting. You gag, eyes going wide as your body rebels, but his hand is ironclad, keeping you pinned in place. “Breathe through your nose,” he instructs coolly, his other hand still tapping out that maddening rhythm against the hilt. “You don’t get to make a mess on the floor.”
The men continue to talk, voices threading through the room like static. You can feel the vibration of their laughter through the floorboards, the scrape of chairs as they lean back, as they get comfortable. One of them asks him something—something about a job upstate, a shipment that needs handling—and he responds without missing a beat, his tone measured and even, not a single hitch in his breathing despite the way his fingers are tangled in your hair, forcing your skull to meet the unyielding press of the weapon.
You gag again, convulsively, and this time he finally looks down at you. There’s something vicious in his eyes, something calculating. He doesn’t pull the gun out—instead, he leans back and shoves it further down, until your jaw aches and your vision starts to blur. “Look at you,” he murmurs, voice low enough that it’s almost a whisper, almost something intimate. “All fucked out on metal and spit. You should see yourself.”
There’s a pause—brief, almost nonexistent—and then he twists the barrel, just enough that it scrapes along the roof of your mouth, a dull, grating ache that forces a shudder through your whole body. His thumb teases the trigger again, a featherlight press that sends your heart skittering up into your throat. “Bet you’d make a real pretty mess,” he muses, tapping your cheek with the muzzle. “But I’m not done talking.”
You hear the men laugh, rough and unkind, but your world narrows to the taste of gunmetal and the rhythmic clench of his hand in your hair. He doesn’t let up—not for a second. Not even when you start to shake, muscles cramping from the strain. He holds you there, mouth stretched wide and aching, until the edges of your vision darken and your lungs scream for air.
And just when you think you’ll pass out, he eases the gun back, letting you gasp around it, sucking in breaths that scrape painfully down your throat. His eyes meet yours, sharp and unyielding, and he gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“We’re just getting started,” he says, voice barely more than a whisper. “So you better hold on.”
And you know—deep down, marrow-deep—that he means it.
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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
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
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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 