𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 918

He takes you out like he’s never ruined you. Like his hands haven’t carved bruises into the soft meat of your thighs, like his voice doesn’t exist in the back of your skull, echoing cruel little taunts even in your sleep.

Tonight, he’s your sugar daddy.

Tonight, he’s pretending.

Gojo Satoru grins like he’s never made you cry, arm slung over your shoulders in a possessive curl, guiding you through the upscale mall like you’re a pet project. He dresses you in velvet and pearls, lace and silk—things too expensive for someone like you. Too pretty. Too delicate. He chooses them himself, eyes glittering with a twisted delight as he watches you model them in the changing room, jaw twitching with restraint.

You look good like this, he says. Obedient. Soft. Owned.

The air is sweet with perfume and decadence, and it should feel dreamy—but it doesn’t. The artificial lighting burns your skin. His hand never leaves you. You should run. You won’t.

He kisses you at dinner. Wine glass half full. The restaurant hushes when he feeds you steak from his fork like you’re something precious. His laugh is boyish and bright, dazzling everyone else—but not you. Never you. Because you know the sharpness hidden beneath his smile. You know what that laugh turns into when the doors are locked and no one’s watching.

He fucks like he’s starved. Like you’re his last meal. Always.

The night’s a blur after dessert. He drives fast, hand on your thigh the whole time, thumb rubbing circles over old bruises like they’re love notes. You don’t speak. There’s no point. He knows everything already.

His penthouse swallows you whole—glass walls, blackout curtains, cold expensive furniture that doesn’t look like anyone lives here. Except him. Except you. He bought a cage once. For you. As a joke, he said. He was never laughing.

You’re not surprised when he kisses you the second the door closes. It’s not gentle. His mouth crashes against yours like punishment, tongue forcing its way in. He tastes like wine and lies. His hands grip your face, fingers pressing so hard you’ll bruise by morning. He moans into your mouth like you belong to him—and you do. That’s the horror of it.

Your dress hits the floor fast. His too. He doesn’t waste time.

You should scream.

You should cry.

But you only tremble when he bends you over the dining table.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice low in your ear. “You like being treated like a fuckdoll after I spoil you. Greedy little thing.”

You don’t answer. He slaps your ass hard enough to sting.

“Say it.”

“I like it.”

“Good girl.”

He’s not kind. He never is. He opens your legs with his knee, one hand at the back of your neck to keep your head down on the table. You hear him spit—wet and sudden—and then his fingers smear it between your folds, cruelly slow. Not for your comfort. For his own sadistic pleasure.

He fucks you with his fingers first. Two, then three. No warning. No buildup. He doesn’t care if it hurts. He wants it to hurt.

“That’s what you get,” he pants, dragging his fingers out with a wet squelch. “You let me dress you up like a little doll, and now look at you. Bent over. Dripping. Fucking pathetic.”

You whimper when he presses in, thick cock stretching you wide. Your body remembers him, even if your brain wants to forget. The sting is familiar. The shame is, too.

He starts slow, just to be cruel. Every thrust is deep and deliberate, designed to make you feel everything. He grinds his hips, makes you sob with each drag of his cock against your walls.

“You love it,” he growls. “Don’t lie. I see it. The way you squeeze me. Like your cunt knows who owns it.”

You do cry now. He doesn’t stop.

He calls you names—slut, dumb little thing, cockdrunk whore. Each word sinks into you like a knife, carving you down into nothing. He fucks the tears out of you, body rutting against yours like a man possessed.

There’s no love here. Only possession.

He flips you over without warning, manhandling you like a toy. Your back hits the table, legs spread, and he slaps your cunt hard enough to make you jolt.

“Keep them open,” he snarls.

You try. He ties your wrists above your head with his belt. Uses your ruined panties as a gag. He fucks you with your legs over his shoulders now, deeper, crueler. The table rocks beneath you. You’re not even sure he sees you as human anymore. Just a thing. His thing.

“You pretend you don’t like me,” he groans, thrusting hard. “But you come every time. You want this. You want me to break you.”

You shake your head. He laughs.

“Liar.”

His fingers wrap around your throat, not choking—yet. Just reminding you. You belong to him. Always have.

He slows, pulls out halfway, teases your hole. Watches you twitch and sob, your eyes glassy. Then he slams back in, hard enough to make your body seize.

“There she is,” he breathes, shuddering. “That’s my good girl. My perfect little fucktoy.”

He cums like he’s marking you. Loud, messy, full of groans and curses. He doesn’t pull out. He never does.

You lie there, wrecked. Used. He kisses you afterward. Sweetly. Tenderly. Like he didn’t just ruin you.

You should’ve known better.

You always should’ve known better.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

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.