𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

♡ TW. Dead Dove // Read at Your Own Risk ; ♡ WC. 1,019

The room reeks of sugar.

He did that on purpose.

He always does. You’re not sure when it started—the confectionary obsession, the fixation with watching you gag around fondant and syrup, lips swollen, body trembling, throat stuffed with more than just his cock. But it escalated fast. Now every surface is coated in sweets. There are strawberries in your lap. Melted chocolate smeared along your inner thighs. Macarons, pink and lavender, stacked like poker chips beside the bed.

“Open wider,” he purrs, voice lilting like he hasn’t spent the last hour breaking you down with frosting and spit.

You don’t answer.

Not because you won’t. But because your mouth is already full. Cream. Jelly. His fingers. His fingers, first. Then the other things. And you don’t know how long you’ve been down on your knees, your chin sticky, your breathing shallow, the skin of your cheeks raw from the syrup he rubbed in just to laugh when it stung.

He watches you like he always does. Like a wolf. Like a demon with his smile carved on too wide and teeth too clean to be real.

Gojo Satoru doesn’t touch you like a lover. He consumes you.

He tilts your chin higher. A single sugar cube balanced on your tongue.

“Swallow.”

You obey. Not fast enough.

His palm strikes your cheek with a sweet, brutal slap that sends your ears ringing.

“Tsk,” he murmurs, more amused than angry. “You’re not learning. Slow girls need discipline.”

And he gives it. Mercilessly.

He binds your wrists in ribbons, the expensive kind, thick and satin-soft, pulling so tight the circulation slows and your fingers pulse with pain. He says it’s a reward. You’re too dumb for rope, too clumsy for leather. This way, you look like a present. A pretty, pathetic little offering wrapped just for him.

You gag on something cold.

A popsicle this time.

“Poor thing,” he croons as it melts over your tongue. “You look disgusting.”

He means it. And you know he loves it. Your humiliation, your submission, your mind unraveling like spun sugar in his hands.

Every time he forces you to eat something new—a chocolate truffle, a cherry tart, that sickeningly sweet custard cream—he tells you how useless you are.

“You can’t even eat properly,” he sneers, dragging his thumb down your stained throat. “Maybe I should cut your tongue out. Feed you through a tube.”

You don’t know if he’s joking.

Sometimes he is. Sometimes, not.

You learned the hard way.

Tonight he wants you still.

Laid flat on the bed, arms above your head, wrists crushed beneath the weight of his hand as he straddles your chest. You can’t move. You wouldn’t dare. He already punished you earlier for twitching.

Your body is shaking from sugar, nerves lit up, lips trembling, teeth aching. There are bite marks across your thighs, sticky handprints, bruises blooming like roses.

He feeds you a slice of strawberry shortcake.

No fork. Just his fingers.

He pushes them past your lips, slowly, deliberately, until you nearly choke.

“Swallow.”

You do.

He lets out a low, satisfied breath.

You whimper.

His cock twitches against your ribs. He smiles.

“See? You’re getting better.”

He forces you to chew. Not for digestion—no, Gojo doesn’t care about that. It’s the visuals. The texture. The saliva dribbling down your chin. The way your eyes glaze over as he fills your mouth again and again, your jaw aching, your stomach knotting with every overly sweet thing he drops onto your tongue.

And then he takes.

Takes and takes and takes.

His cock slides between your lips with cake still on your tongue, the sugar stinging your throat as you choke and sputter.

You can’t breathe. You don’t want to.

Not with his hand fisting in your hair like that, holding you in place, using your throat like a warm dessert hole to fuck. You can hear him panting above you, syrup clinging to his skin, sweat and sugar and sex all blending together into something unholy.

He pulls out suddenly, and you gasp, coughing. Your tongue lolls out.

He slaps you again.

“Disgusting girl,” he spits. “Keep your tongue in unless I ask for it.”

Your lip bleeds. You taste iron.

He likes that.

He always likes when it bleeds.

He feeds you again. Ice cream this time. It burns going down. Your stomach twists violently. You’re too full. You’re beyond full. Your body can’t take more, but he doesn’t care. He drips the melting cream down your breasts, licking it off slow, cruel, biting your nipples until you scream.

Then he pushes your thighs apart.

“Open up.”

You shake your head.

His smile sharpens.

You always break so easy.

It starts with a lollipop. Shoved between your folds, sticky and cold.

Then a dollop of honey. Spread with his fingers. He groans when he sees it drip.

“So fucking messy,” he says, voice low. “I should plug you.”

And he does.

Something harder. Thicker. Candy-cane striped and ribbed.

You scream.

He laughs.

He eats you out like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

He laps up every bit of sugar and slick from between your legs, moaning into your cunt like it’s ambrosia, like your pain makes it sweeter. He doesn’t let you come. Not really. He brings you to the edge, then slaps your clit until your thighs tremble and your eyes roll back.

Then he fucks you.

No forewarning. No prep. No mercy.

Just a brutal shove inside your body, tearing you open like wrapping paper.

Your scream is muffled by a cookie shoved in your mouth.

He ruts into you like he’s starving. Like you’re dessert.

You are. To him, you always are.

Your wrists go numb. Your hips bruise. Your mouth is dry and your stomach cramps.

But he doesn’t stop.

Even as you cry. Even as you bite down and sob and beg and choke. He just grabs your face, smears jam across your lips, and kisses you like he’s in love.

“So sweet,” he whispers. “My sweet little slut.”

You pass out halfway through.

And he keeps going.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

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.