The first time he kissed her in front of you, Gojo didn’t even watch your face.

TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; WC. 1,266

The first time he kissed her in front of you, Gojo didn’t even watch your face.

He already knew what it looked like.

Still. When his tongue slid into the pretty little slut’s mouth, his eyes dragged slow across the room, past his squadmates’ laughter, right to you. Just like always. Just like everything.

And just like always, you stood still. Back straight. Head down. Watching.

Watching everything, but seeing nothing.

His hand on the girl’s neck tightened. The other slid lower, cupping her ass and drawing a breathy moan from her lips, which he ignored completely. Because you weren’t moving. Not flinching. Not frowning. Not even blinking.

He was going to kill her.

Not for kissing him. Not for being easy. He liked easy. But because the whole point was to show you something. To make you feel something. And the thing was, you did feel things. He knew you did. They just didn’t move you.

He’d cut her up later. He’d make you clean it.

✦✧✦✧

He waited.

Waited for the twitch in your lips. The tremble in your eyes. The stupid, fragile outburst he could use to pin you against the wall and say See? You do care.

It never came.

All that came was your quiet voice: “Are we going home now, Satoru?”

He smiled at the girl. She looked dazed. He kissed her forehead like it meant something, then let her go. “Yeah. We are.”

✦✧✦✧

The way you walked behind him. It made him insane.

Like you were being led. Like a dog, like a doll, like a thing he owned. And it should’ve satisfied him. It should have, he told himself. But the silent obedience just… rotted in him.

You never argued. Never cried. Never asked for anything. When he told you to strip, you did it. When he tied you down and made you scream, you took it. When he humiliated you in front of others, you bowed your head and let them laugh.

“You’re disgusting,” he told you once.

You blinked slowly. “Yes.”

He almost lost it then. Almost hit you. Not out of anger. Out of desperation. He wanted to see you fight back. Break. Bite him. Need him.

But you just looked at him. Small, blank, lips parted, waiting for instruction.

✦✧✦✧

Tonight, he made it worse.

He laid you on the table. Not the bed. You didn’t deserve the bed. He tied your wrists above your head, snapped the rope hard enough to burn your skin. He let the marks show. He wanted them to show.

“Look at that,” he purred, dragging his fingers down your chest, your ribs, your stomach. “Not even trembling. What, you like this?”

“I don’t dislike it,” you answered, like you always did. Like it was logical.

He leaned down, mouth brushing your throat. “Stupid little doll. You know I could replace you in a second? I could snap my fingers and have ten prettier, better ones crawling to my feet.”

“Okay.”

His teeth sank into your neck. Hard. You jerked, gasped, breath catching—and he smiled. Because pain still made you react. Pain still belonged to him.

“You’re so pretty like this. All ruined. All quiet.”

He dragged the blindfold over your eyes. Not for your sake. For his. Because your expression drove him mad.

Too calm. Too accepting. It was like fucking a corpse sometimes. A pretty, wet, obedient corpse.

But he needed it worse because of that. Needed to hear the broken moans forced from your throat. The hiccuped breaths when he split you open on his cock, slow and hard, grinding against every resistance in your soft, pliant body until you cried out without meaning to.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. The smack of skin on skin, the creak of the table, the lewd, wet sounds echoing through the room said enough. Said everything.

You gasped when he grabbed your hair and pulled. He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“I bet you’re imagining someone else, huh? Someone kinder. Someone sweeter. You dumb little slut. You’d spread your legs for a murderer if he smiled at you right.”

You didn’t answer. Not even a twitch.

His hand came down on your ass so hard the slap rang through the room.

“Say thank you.”

“…Thank you.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“Thank you, Satoru.”

He pulled out, flipped you over, and forced you face-down against the table. Your arms were still tied, helpless, legs trembling, cunt dripping onto the edge like you liked it.

He hated how much you took.

“You’re nothing without me,” he said. “You think anyone else would want you like this? Broken. Stupid. Quiet. You can’t even look me in the eye when I’m fucking you.”

You whimpered when he shoved back in. It wasn’t a noise of protest. It was a reaction. A real one. He closed his eyes, felt it, chased it.

“This pussy’s the only thing you have. You know that? It’s the only reason I keep you. I could dump you on the street, and you wouldn’t even fight me.”

He reached down, gripped your throat, and pulled you up so your back arched against him.

“Why don’t you fight me, huh?”

“You don’t want me to.”

It floored him.

It floored him.

He let go. Dropped you. Pushed deeper, harder, brutal now. A punishment. He wrapped a belt around your neck and yanked. You choked. Twitched. He watched your back rise and fall like a dying thing.

Then he stopped. Froze.

Because he knew something else.

You wouldn’t leave.

Even if he let you go. Even if he told you to. Even if he burned the house down and kicked you into the street, you would just stand there. Quiet. Beautiful. Obedient.

Waiting to be told what to do next.

✦✧✦✧

He cleaned you roughly. Dragged you to the bath. Sat in the water with you on his lap, limp and marked and silent.

You didn’t even avoid his eyes. You didn’t have to. You just… existed. And let him wrap his arms around you like a fucking psycho.

“You don’t love me, do you.”

Your voice was soft. “No.”

He wanted to drown you.

He wanted to fuck you until you broke. Break your legs so you couldn’t run. Break your mind so you couldn’t think.

He kissed your cheek.

“I’ll make you love me.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. Not affectionate. Not cold. Just resting.

“Okay.”

His nails sank into your thigh.

✦✧✦✧

The next night, he brought home another girl.

Taller. Louder. Softer. The kind that giggled and played with her hair and looked at him like he was god.

He fucked her with the door open.

Loud. Violent. Knowing you could hear it.

When he came out, you were still at the table. Sitting. Back straight. Eyes on the book he gave you earlier, spine uncracked.

He wiped the blood off his hands.

“Did you hear all that?”

“Yes.”

“Did it bother you?”

You looked up at him. Innocent. Void.

“No.”

He laughed.

It was a fucked-up, loud, ugly sound.

“I’ll kill her later.”

“Okay.”

His smile vanished.

He grabbed your face, kissed you like a man starved, dragged you into the bedroom and fucked you like a weapon.

You were sobbing by the end. Ruined. Messy. But your eyes weren’t afraid. Weren’t desperate. Just tired.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“You love me.”

“I don’t.”

He bit your shoulder so hard it bled.

He wanted you to scream. Beg. Plead.

But instead—

You held him tighter.

And that broke him.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

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♡ 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.

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♡ Book 6 [you are here]. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

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♡ Book 7. Corpus Delicti (CD): Donum Mortis.

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