♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,026
He always laughs before he ruins you.
Gojo Satoru, with all that pretty white hair and grating, cocksure smile, treats you like you’re a living punchline to a joke only he understands. He walks the halls like a god bored of his own omnipotence, but it’s you he keeps chained to the altar. Not literally—he’s smarter than that. Smarter than you. Smarter than anyone. That’s what makes him dangerous.
He doesn’t even need to try.
You see the way he looks at you. Like you’re nothing but a toy he’s worn down over time, molded until you respond just the way he likes. That twitch in your eye. The way your legs stiffen when he breathes too close. He feeds off it. Feeds off the anxiety you drag behind you like a broken limb.
“Slut,” he murmurs behind you in the hallway, brushing past with the ghost of a grin, loud enough for no one else to hear. Just you. You flinch like he hit you. He didn’t. Yet. He never needs to when words work better.
He knows your type. Cold little thing. Distant. Analytical. One of those smart girls who thinks she can logic her way out of trauma. He likes that. Likes breaking it.
The worst part is how good he is at it.
You didn’t even know you liked being degraded until he started doing it. Or maybe you don’t like it. Maybe it’s just chemical conditioning, a Pavlovian response burned into your nervous system by too many nights pinned beneath his weight and that mocking tone: “Come on, use your words. Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”
He watches you now, slouched in his chair like a king over his spoils. You’re kneeling. Where else would you be?
The room is dark, only the blue city glow spilling in through the windows. It stains your skin like shame. Your knees hurt. Your pride hurts worse.
“What are you?” he asks lazily, tilting his head like he might forget your name otherwise.
Your lips part, dry. Humiliation eats at your lungs. You’re not crying, but only because he’d laugh harder.
“Say it,” he commands, and the amusement drops from his voice like a blade.
“Your… whore.”
He smiles. Slow and cruel.
“Wrong.” He kicks a foot out lazily, nudging your chin with the tip of his shoe. “You’re my fucktoy. Whores get paid.”
You drop your head. Swallow. You should hate this. You do hate this. You hate the part of yourself that’s wet already, the part of yourself that flinches in anticipation instead of fear. Or maybe it’s both. Maybe there’s no difference anymore.
Gojo stands, unhurried. He tugs you up by the hair like a leash and drags you toward the bed. Not because he wants to be gentle. Because he wants you to know he can do it however he wants. He throws you forward. You sprawl like trash, limbs scrambling.
He watches.
“Take it off,” he says.
Your fingers fumble. The hesitation is your only resistance now, and it burns you to know it makes him harder.
Clothes drop. One by one. He doesn’t help. Doesn’t touch. Just watches. Like a man inspecting meat before he tears into it.
“Slower,” he mutters. “Pretend you’re trying to seduce me. Make it pathetic.”
And you do. Because when you don’t, it’s worse. Because he likes obedience in the same way a cat likes a twitching mouse.
When you’re naked and shivering, he takes his time. Sits back down on the bed and gestures with a curl of his fingers.
“Crawl.”
You do.
Your skin prickles with shame, belly dragging across the sheets, hair falling in your eyes. You crawl into his lap like a pet who doesn’t know better. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you forgot who you were the third or fourth time he ruined you so thoroughly you couldn’t walk the next morning.
His hands find your hips. Grip tight. His nails dig in.
“Do you remember what you looked like the first time I fucked you?” he whispers against your ear. “Like a little virgin bitch pretending she wasn’t into it. Now look at you. Cockdrunk before I even put it in.”
You want to argue. But the shame makes your thighs clench. He knows that. Of course he does.
His hand slides up your spine. Then back down. And then he slaps you. Sharp. Loud. You yelp.
“What was that?” he sneers. “You like being hit now too? Fucking easy, aren’t you?”
You nod. Because it’s easier.
Because he won.
He flips you over. Rough. You gasp, and he laughs like it’s hilarious, like your helplessness is the best joke he’s ever heard.
When he enters you, he doesn’t warn you. He doesn’t prep you. He doesn’t ask. He just does it. Because he can.
Because he owns you.
You bite your lip until it bleeds. He notices. Presses two fingers against your mouth and forces them in.
“Bite,” he dares.
You don’t.
You take it.
He fucks you like a weapon. Like he’s punishing you for something you forgot to apologize for. You can barely breathe. Your wrists are pinned, your thighs shaking.
He keeps saying things. Awful things. Things that make you want to sob. Things that make your body tighten despite yourself.
“You’re so fucking disgusting.”
“This is all you’re good for, huh?”
“If I let anyone else see you like this, they’d think you were born for it.”
He says your name like it’s a curse. And when you finally break—when your body gives up fighting and goes limp beneath him—he laughs, low and thrilled.
He doesn’t stop until he wants to.
And when he finally pulls out, leaving you ruined and shaking, he doesn’t say anything for a while. Just runs his hand through your hair like he might be petting a corpse.
“Still breathing?” he asks casually.
You don’t respond.
He snorts. “Guess so.”
He leaves you there. On the bed. Legs spread. Leaking. Shaking.
And you hate how badly you want him to come back.
Because he always does.
Because you belong to him.
Because he made sure of it.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles , @xileonaaaa , @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 