♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,002
You were never supposed to be in this room.
That truth sinks into your stomach like a hooked blade as you kneel on the cold concrete floor. You aren’t even sure how you got here this time—he doesn’t like to explain things to you anymore. There are no windows. Only that blinking red light on the tripod camera across the room. Watching. Recording.
You don’t move. You can’t.
He likes it better when you hesitate.
The door creaks open. And then you hear him.
“Tch. Look at you,” he says, voice drenched in a sick kind of amusement. His tone is casual, relaxed, like he isn’t dragging a leash behind him. Like he didn’t just lock the door behind him.
Satoru Gojo is tall. Always taller than you remember. He walks into the room like it belongs to him. Because it does. And so do you. Even if your mind hasn’t caught up to that truth yet. He stops a few feet away, kicks the edge of your thigh lightly with his boot.
“You know what today is, right?”
You say nothing.
“Wrong answer.”
He crouches. White hair messy. Blindfold gone. His six eyes bore into you, unreadable. Cold. Ravenous. There’s something broken in them. A detached kind of joy, like he’s peeling you apart one layer at a time, just to see what color you bleed.
“It’s your performance day.”
Your stomach clenches. You blink. But he grabs your chin and tilts your head up, forcing you to look into the lens across the room.
“Smile for the camera, slut.”
He says it sweetly. Almost kindly. Like a lover. But his grip is too tight. His fingers dig into your jaw until your mouth opens from the pressure alone.
He slaps your cheek lightly. Not enough to bruise. Just enough to feel it.
“Strip.”
He says it like he’s asking you to recite poetry. But it’s not a request. It never is.
Your fingers tremble as they move to your shirt. Your head is spinning. You want to scream, but your voice is locked somewhere inside your ribs. Shame burns along your skin before his fingers ever do.
Gojo doesn’t blink as you undress. His eyes are fixated. Watching. Studying. There’s no lust in his expression. Just ownership.
“Slower,” he murmurs. “Pretend you want me.”
You wish you could disappear. That some god would intervene and strike you dead. But there is no mercy here.
He sits down in the lone metal chair across the room, unbuckling his belt with one hand, still watching. Still filming.
“Lap dance, baby.”
His voice is soft, but the words are venom.
Your legs don’t move. Your feet feel nailed to the ground.
“C’mon. You’ve done worse. Or are you trying to embarrass me on film?” He chuckles, deep and low. “Nah. You’re the one being humiliated here, aren’t you? Little academic freak. What would your classmates think if they saw you like this? If they knew how easy it is to break that cold little mask of yours?”
You walk.
Each step feels like punishment. Each breath scrapes down your throat like glass. You stand between his spread legs, naked, shaking.
He gestures lazily. “Dance.”
You move like you’re marionetted. Arms awkward, chest exposed, trying to grind against a man who looks at you like you’re a street toy.
His belt clinks as he strokes himself beneath his boxers, eyes half-lidded, mouth parted slightly. But he’s not moaning. He doesn’t even look turned on.
He looks entertained.
“You know why I record these, right?”
You say nothing.
He grabs your hip suddenly, yanks you forward so you straddle him. His cock hard and pressing against your thigh now.
“Because I like jerking off to the way you look when you’re trying not to cry.”
Your breath catches.
“Keep going. Grind on me like a whore. Like you know what you are.”
You obey. Because there is no other option. His hands rest on your waist now, heavy, firm, guiding. But not lovingly. No. This is mechanical. Possessive.
His voice lowers. “Bet you thought I liked you for your brains, huh? Sweet little quiet girl. Always reading. Always hiding. I don’t give a fuck about that. I like breaking you. I like owning you.”
His lips brush your ear. “Say thank you.”
You choke the words out.
He smiles.
Then flips you over in one movement.
Your back hits the cold floor. He stands, looms above you, pulling his cock out. Thick, flushed, glistening with pre-cum.
“You wanna be a star, right? Smile pretty.”
He kneels between your legs.
“Hands behind your head.”
You obey. He slaps your inner thigh, sharp.
“Wider.”
And then he pushes inside.
There is no prep. No softness. No gentleness. Just raw, violent possession.
You scream without sound. Your nails dig into your scalp. Your legs tremble.
He fucks you like a means to an end. Not for pleasure. Not for intimacy. But to mark. To ruin. To record.
“Look at the camera, bitch. Let it see how fucked dumb you look.”
You try. But your vision blurs. From pain. From overstimulation. From fear.
He grabs your jaw again, pulls your face toward the lens.
“Smile.”
He slams into you harder.
You cry. You can’t help it. The tears spill like a betrayal.
He laughs.
“That’s the money shot, sweetheart. That’s the one I’ll loop.”
The sound of skin slapping echoes in the room like gunfire. Your body aches. Your mind fractures. He kisses your throat gently, mockingly, as he pounds deeper.
“You think you’re still human? You think anyone would want you now? You’re just my little cum dumpster.”
You shake.
He doesn’t stop. He pulls out, jerks himself fast, finishing on your chest, panting lightly.
Then he picks up the camera and walks toward you, filming the mess he made. The tremble in your legs. The emptiness in your eyes.
He hums.
“Good girl. We’ll do this again next week.”
Click.
The recording ends. But the nightmare doesn’t.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles , @xileonaaaa , @neuvilletteswife4ever , @poopooindamouf , @imnotabot28 , @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 