𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,032

You didn’t even hear the door open.

But you felt the pressure.

A heavy, mocking kind of presence that sucked the air out of your lungs before he even touched you. You were already trembling, already crawling back into yourself, before the first crinkle of a bill landed on your bare stomach.

“Poor little thing,” he murmured. “You’re still breathing. That surprises me.”

Your wrists ached, tied behind your back, tight enough that your fingers were numb. You hadn’t moved from the floor since he’d dropped you here, nude and shaking and humiliated—because he told you not to. And you knew better than to disobey. Not with the way he watched you. Not with the way he smiled when you flinched.

He stepped over you, his boots deliberate, calculated, expensive. You knew the brand, because he’d made you memorize them. Kicked you with them. Forced you to clean them with your tongue until you learned to recognize them on sight.

The room was warm. You were still cold.

“You know why I like you like this?” he asked, casually tossing another bill onto your skin. A blue thousand-yen note fluttered against your ribs. You flinched. “Because you look so damn cheap.”

His hand landed on the back of your neck. Not gentle. Never gentle. The weight of his palm was a promise. You swallowed the urge to cry out as he pushed your face down into the floor.

“A thing like you shouldn’t cost more than this,” he said, dragging another crisp note across your cheek, slow and taunting. It caught on the corner of your mouth, damp with saliva. “But here I am, wasting all this fucking cash on you. That’s love, baby. That’s devotion.”

You twitched as he straddled your back, grinding the bulge in his pants against the curve of your spine. Your breath hitched. His chuckle rasped against your ear.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Daddy knows you’re not worth it.”

The sting of paper across your thighs was almost gentle, compared to him. But every slap of a bill against your skin made you flinch like a struck dog. Because that was the game: the contrast. The teasing softness. The way he turned things sweet so they’d rot in your mouth.

He slapped your ass with a thick roll of yen.

“How’s that for stimulus?”

You let out a choked breath. Your back arched involuntarily, a pathetic, humiliated gesture that he caught instantly.

He leaned down. Close. His voice wrapped around your ear like a silk noose.

“See? You’re the economy, baby. You only open up when I throw cash at you.”

A sound escaped you—not a moan, not a word, but a cracked, shamed noise that sent him reeling with laughter. He grabbed your jaw and forced you up, forced you to look at him.

Those ice-blue eyes. That grin like a weapon. That hair, too white to be human, falling over a face too beautiful to ever be kind.

“What are you worth?” he asked. The bills rustled. You couldn’t tell how many were there, or if he was bluffing. “Hmm? One fuck? Ten thousand yen? A blow job? Fifty? God, I should start charging people to see you cry. I’d be a billionaire.”

He threw the wad of cash at your face. You didn’t move.

He slapped you for that.

“Did I say you could ignore me?”

You shook your head fast, your lips trembling, your voice long gone.

“Didn’t think so.”

The bindings burned as he dragged you up by your arms. Your legs folded awkwardly under you, a trembling mess of obedience. He tilted your chin up again.

“Look at you. You used to be proud, didn’t you? All that intellectual bullshit. That cold little distance. Thought you were better than everyone else.”

He leaned closer.

“Now look at you. Can’t even close your thighs without my permission.”

You whimpered.

He dragged you across the room, slow, letting your knees scrape on the wood. He dumped you in front of the mirror, the one he always made you kneel in front of. He stood behind you, stripping his shirt off with lazy ease.

“Watch.”

You didn’t want to. He grabbed your face and made you. The light was too bright. Your own face was a stranger’s: red, wet, pathetic. Marks on your neck. Bite prints. Fingers. A collar tight around your throat with a bell that jingled when you breathed too hard.

His voice dropped into your ear.

“Smile. You’re on camera.”

You couldn’t. But your lips twitched.

He grinned. He loved when you tried. Loved when you failed.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low with heat, “I used to pay people like you to leave. Now I pay to keep you. Isn’t that romantic?”

The zip came down. Loud. Deliberate. His cock hard, heavy, proud behind you.

“No begging. I’m not that generous.”

He pushed you down. Your mouth met the floor. The rest of you followed.

You heard the snap of a glove.

And then the bills again—sliding under your hips, propping you up. Crinkling as he adjusted you just so.

“Let’s see if you can earn this tip.”

The rest didn’t come with warning.

Just heat. Pressure. Pain.

The brutal grip on your hips. The way your body split around him, stretched, ruined, forced.

And the laughter.

Always the laughter.

He whispered filthy things, awful things, horrible truths and worse lies. Called you a whore, a thing, a fleshlight with opinions. Said you looked better with his wallet stuffed in your mouth. Said he could pay for prettier, but he liked watching you break.

He made you say thank you. Again and again. For every thrust. Every slap. Every cruel, agonizing, humiliating push.

And when you collapsed, raw and silent and ruined, he patted your cheek with a thick wad of cash and said:

“Don’t spend it all in one place.”

He left the money inside you. Stuffed between your legs like tissue in a used box.

He left you there, too.

On the floor. On display.

Because the camera was still rolling.

And someone was going to pay a lot to watch this later.

You didn’t cry.

Not anymore.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

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.