♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,107
The room was dark. Not in the way you’d expect—no flickering lights or ominous shadows. It was sterile. Hotel room clean. Air-conditioned and windowless. The silence before it all was almost polite.
You stood by the wall like an idiot.
Bare. Shaking.
The floor chilled the bottoms of your feet. Your knees ached from the earlier position he’d shoved you into. And now, he had you on display like some pathetic trophy—half-dressed, eyes unfocused, too humiliated to speak.
He lounged across the sofa, legs spread, arms draped wide. His friends were scattered around the room, drinks in hand, some smoking, all laughing. You weren’t even the punchline. You were the joke.
Gojo tilted his head lazily toward you, blue eyes gleaming with something far crueler than amusement.
“See? Told you she’d do it. Didn’t even need to threaten her this time. She’s learning.”
They erupted in laughter.
One of the guys—a lower-grade sorcerer, nothing special—whistled low. “Damn. That’s yours? I thought you said she was smart or some shit.”
“She is smart,” Gojo said, grinning, voice laced with mock-affection. “A little too smart. That’s why she breaks so pretty.”
You tried not to flinch. He noticed. Of course he did.
“C’mere, sweetheart,” he said.
The words sounded gentle, like he was calling over a pet. You didn’t move fast enough.
“Did you not hear me?” he asked.
He didn’t yell. He never needed to. But the air shifted. The laughter quieted.
You stepped forward on shaking legs. They watched you move like you were an exhibit, something behind glass. Something disgusting.
Gojo grabbed you by the throat when you got close enough. Not tight enough to bruise—yet—but enough to make you feel the pressure. Enough to make your body react the way it always did when he handled you like this.
“You’re getting wet, aren’t you?” he said casually. “They’re watching, and you’re still getting wet.”
More laughter. One of them groaned like it was too much.
“Man, that’s so fucked. She really likes it?”
“She loves it,” Gojo said. “Don’t you?”
You didn’t answer.
He slapped you.
It wasn’t violent—not in the technical sense. Not enough to knock you back. But it was sharp. Clean. Just enough to sting. To embarrass. To make your ears ring.
“I asked you a question,” he said.
You nodded, slow. Miserable.
“Yes what?”
“…Yes, I love it.”
He smirked. “See?”
There was no dignity left. No illusions.
Gojo shoved you to your knees. The carpet scraped your skin. His fingers tangled in your hair, keeping you there like a dog. Your eyes stayed low, staring at his belt, waiting. Submissive, quiet, humiliated. The perfect show.
He didn’t even look at you as he spoke again.
“Anyone wanna touch? I’m feeling generous. Just don’t mark her.”
You froze. Your stomach flipped.
Someone laughed. “For real?”
“Sure,” Gojo shrugged. “She’s used to it.”
A hand touched your face. Rough fingers smearing tears you didn’t know were still there. Someone crouched, too close.
“Look at her. Not even crying properly. You sure she’s not a dumb little freak?”
Gojo leaned back, stretching. “She is. But she’s my freak.”
You wanted to disappear. Melt into the floor. Vanish into the silence that used to keep you safe.
The guy’s hand slid down your throat, stopped just at your collarbone. Another chuckle. “You think she’d suck for me if I asked nice?”
Gojo turned to look at you now. Smile gone.
“Would you?”
You opened your mouth, but no sound came.
He stood. One second, lounging—next, looming.
“You gonna make me look stupid in front of my friends?” he asked, voice low.
You shook your head quickly, trembling. “No—no, I—”
Too late.
He dragged you up by the hair, fast and violent. Bent you over the coffee table. Your face hit the wood. The impact blurred your vision.
“Open your fucking mouth,” he said.
You obeyed. Instinct. Conditioning. Fear.
He shoved himself into your mouth without warning. No warm-up. No prep. Just the punishing reality of him down your throat, pushing until your nose hit his skin. You gagged hard. He held you there.
“Look at her,” he laughed, breathless. “She chokes on me. I bet her throat’s tighter than her cunt.”
Someone responded, but you couldn’t hear it through the white noise in your skull. Your jaw ached. Your throat burned.
He pulled out, letting you cough and gasp for air. Spit smeared your chin. He wiped it with his thumb, then smeared it across your cheek.
“Good girl,” he said, tone mocking.
You hated how the praise made something twist inside.
“Take your clothes off,” he said. “All of them.”
You stripped. Mechanically. They stared. One guy muttered something about how much of a slut you looked like. Gojo laughed.
“You hear that? They like you. You’re popular now.”
He stepped behind you, shoved you forward. You braced yourself on the edge of the table. The air was too cold. Your skin goosebumped. You could feel him behind you. Heat, pressure, weight.
You expected more teasing. More talking.
But he shoved into you without ceremony.
You bit your lip to keep from screaming. It didn’t help. He was big. He was cruel with it. He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Didn’t care.
One of them whistled. “Damn, she really takes it, huh?”
Gojo grunted. “She’s trained. Had to break her in right.”
You felt everything. Every thrust. Every slap of skin. Every cruel word.
“What are you?” he asked, yanking your hair back.
“…Y-Yours.”
“Louder.”
“Yours.”
He slapped your ass, hard. “Say it like you mean it.”
“I’m yours!”
The others laughed again. Someone clapped mockingly.
Gojo bent down, teeth near your ear.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “You belong to me. You know that, right?”
You nodded.
“I could kill you right now, and no one would stop me. They’d watch. Maybe even help.”
Tears spilled again.
He kissed your cheek like a lover.
“But I won’t,” he whispered. “You’re too much fun.”
The thrusts got faster. Deeper. Ruthless.
You came. Embarrassingly. Pathetically.
He felt it. Of course he did.
“You like this,” he said. “Getting used like a toy in front of strangers. Slut.”
You couldn’t respond. Couldn’t think.
He didn’t stop. Not until he finished inside you.
Silence.
Then, laughter.
He pulled out and slapped your ass again, sharp. You collapsed to the floor, gasping.
He stepped over you like you were trash.
“Clean her up,” he told one of them. “I’m done for now.”
They stared.
You stared at the floor.
No one moved.
Until someone grabbed you again.
And you realized he wasn’t done at all.
None of them were.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
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♡ 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.
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♡ 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.
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