𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ✧ 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐎 ✧

The silk sheets are cool against your burning skin, but they do nothing to soothe the raw ache between your legs. You’re drowning in the heady scent of incense, crushed flowers, and something far richer—Sunday himself, pressing his weight against you like a prayer whispered against trembling lips.

“Shh, shh…” his voice is honeyed, soothing, dripping with the pretense of comfort. His gloved fingers stroke the side of your cheek, the golden cross-shaped cutouts in the fabric grazing your skin. His touch is so gentle, so reverent, yet you know better. The memory of what came before—the rough, brutal thrusts, the way he’d held you down as though pinning a sacrificial offering—burns itself into your mind.

“You’re trembling, sweet thing.” His golden eyes glimmer with something unreadable, though the dark pupils dilated against molten irises tell you enough. “Still overwhelmed? Mm, that’s alright. I know you can take it.”

You can’t stop shaking, wrists raw from where he’d bound them in silk only moments before, where his fingers had dug in deep enough to bruise. The evidence of him is inside you, leaking down your thighs, warm and unwelcome. Your body betrays you in its exhaustion, melting into the mattress despite the frantic alarms ringing in your skull.

Sunday smiles, serene as a deity carved from marble. “I don’t like seeing you so distressed.” His gloved hand smooths over your stomach, pausing where he knows you’re sore, and you flinch. He exhales, shaking his head as if you’ve wounded him instead. “I gave you everything, didn’t I? My love, my time, my patience… even my body. And you still look at me like that?”

The bed dips as he shifts, hands bracketing either side of your head. The halo behind him glows faintly, casting an ethereal light over his silver hair, his fair skin. A saintly image—if not for the hunger in his gaze, the way his pupils devour you whole.

“You need more.” It isn’t a question. It’s a declaration, a promise wrapped in velvet. He dips his head, breath warm against your ear. “That’s alright, love. I’ll give you more.”

You whimper, legs instinctively trying to close, but he catches your knees and pulls them apart effortlessly. His strength is deceptive beneath the tailored suit, the refined posture. He presses forward, slotting himself between your thighs once more, and your body, traitorous in its exhaustion, gives way.

“See?” His lips brush your temple, a mockery of tenderness. “You were made for this. For me.”

His fingers find your overstimulated core, parting swollen folds slick with remnants of his previous violations. Your stomach tightens, a plea rising in your throat—but he hushes you before the words can form.

“You’ll thank me later,” he murmurs, guiding himself to your entrance, where you’re still raw, still too sensitive, still stretched from the last time. “Let me love you properly.”

Then, he pushes in, slow and deep, and the bed creaks beneath the weight of his devotion.

And you—trapped beneath his halo—can do nothing but endure.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles

Character Tag List for HSR Sunday: @yandere-romanticaa