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#sunday x reader
azullumi · 2 days
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“of impermanence and devotion to your sacred withering bones” ; sunday
premise — he’ll take pieces out of his flesh to mold into your wounds, bandaging you with his skin; he never liked seeing you hurt.
tags — established relationship, religious themes and metaphors, soft and loving sunday (i advocate), mix of the lovely trio (the fluff, the slight angst, and the comfort), reassurance from him, gender-neutral reader, never proofread, 1.1k ; one-shot
note — my parents chose thought daughter so now i’m writing fanfics on a thursday afternoon.
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he’ll love you like religion.
needlessly, tirelessly, with bruised knees and bleeding palms, with blood-shot eyes and clasped fingers, worshiping, devoting, yearning, calling to whoever will listen—to you who will listen. it suffocates him yet he’ll clench at his chest and utter your name even if there’s no voice in his being and he is left like a pathetic, whimpering dog that was made to be abandoned. he’ll dig his own grave with broken nails and wounded hands, a coffin of tender touches, and the earth will fill his lungs and he’ll hope for flowers to sprout from his mouth when he plants his confession into the dirt. can you hear him? do you hear him?
“please take care of yourself more.” sunday says as he reaches for the bottle of disinfectant, pouring enough of it over the cloth he was holding to drench it before gently dabbing the fabric on the area of your wound. it stings and you hissed, clenching the sheets beneath your fingers as you watch him work.
“i only fell and scraped my knee, i don’t think it’s anything that bad.” you say in defense to your clumsiness. sunday was all gentle and careful in cleaning and treating the wound on your knee as if you were a child and he was the nurse tending to your ‘big’ wound.
(a god does not bleed but you do.)
he sighs, “it could have been worse.” and dresses your wound with a gauze, the material pristine white as no blood taints the material.
“but it wasn’t.” you rebut quite quickly, your gaze firm at his yet he doesn’t meet yours. he is kneeled in front of you, an open kit by his side and a chair on his other—and he chooses to be on the cold ground, his clothing slightly wrinkled and its appearance similar to spilled water on the floor beneath him. he never dares let himself appear as indecent with his disordered clothes and unkempt appearance in the form of an unsymmetrical coat and creased pants but here he is, in all his glory and messiness, laid out like the map of a devotee’s heart before you.
(he’ll beg even for a moment of your gaze but his cowardice will hold his head down to the ground—he is never like this, he was never his own when you look at him.)
“what could have happened if i wasn’t there to immediately help you? you’re too careless.” he scolds yet there’s no hint of harshness in his voice, just gentle and sweet worry lacing into his tone. something lies, seemingly dormant, in the still air that embraces you and he finds himself waiting for something to happen.
“sunday, it’s just a small wound. you don’t have to worry, i’m fine.” you assure him, hand cupping the side of his cheek and brushing your thumb over his cheekbone—it’s soft and slow, you feel warm, he feels warm. he leans into your touch, your hand soothing the tension that lies in his bones and his expression softens. silence settles in the room as he basks in the gentle affection that is bestowed on him. he holds your hand he turns his head to kiss the palm of it; his eyes are close and his lips lingered on your skin, comforting, relishing, soft, you.
“i have a question but before that, can you look at me, please?”
“i am,” he whispers, his lips beginning to trace your palm down to your pulse, all the while he keeps his gaze away and shut, “and my love, you never have to beg or plead for anything.” you know he’ll give you everything.
(sometimes—always, he feels like he is undeserving of the divine grace of your attention, of your affection, of your adoration, and you feel like your love is just a meager offering, unable to fulfill him. can you see him each other?)
finally, he looks at you—golden eyes born from the sun meets yours. his halo is situated just right on his head, pierced wings behind his ears, and his hair reminds you of the sky above you that you once gazed into when you were a child playing in the fields, before you were deemed as his, and now your gaze is held on the ground right where he is kneeling down. stray strands of your hair fall over your eyes and the way the light kisses your skin makes you look delicate, ethereal.
“do i love you enough?” you ask. have you ever been enough? have you done enough? is your mere and bare existence enough for someone like him?
“since when have you not?” he answers, filled with gentle affection. his tone is akin of a devout preacher, reassuring like a verse from a scripture.
(sunday never thought of you as lacking, not with the broken and missing pieces of your skin, tainted and muddled by blood and dirt, left to rot in your wake like a sin unrepented.)
“you’re the wine that overflows my cup,” he says, each syllable of his words carrying the weight of his utter and suffocating devotion, “and i’ll continue to consume you even in death.” no grave will ever hold his body down.
you cup his cheeks with both of your hands, his lips leaving your skin yet the warmth of his kisses remains. “you’re too good with your words,” you say, a small smile drawing on your lips, “perhaps you’re only telling lies to please me.” 
“my dearest,” he murmurs, lightly grazing his hand against your ear as he pushes your hair aside, “i’ll lay down my life for you, but i will never deceive you.”
(an unyielding faith of a martyr, his commitment is steadfast and his love is a fervent prayer, uttered and spoken only by him. his thoughts are spilled on the carpet, his confession ringing and echoing back to him as he repents like a sinner for loving you too much.)
“i’m a burden.” you whisper, longing for the feeling of his lips on yours. “i’m afraid i’m too much or too little for you to have.”
“i’m okay with that,” it’s a litany of devotion, his words a sacred vow he’ll keep for eternity that will come, “i love you.”
forever become a burden, become human in a fragile and delicate way as if your heart is made to break, so he’ll get to hold you in his hands.
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also tagging, the one and only @toorurs !! i am dedicating this to u because u LOVE last day of the week guy A LOT and i’m also too lazy to make another section but yeah this is for you my boo, hi beloved you’re the greatest of the greatest, you’re the sweetest of all (i feel like im singing a song wadahell) and i hope you know that you’re very very cool and very very funny and i’m not the type to laugh while texting but i always do it when talking to you. i try not to do a backflip when u like and reblog my posts (i cant even do a headstand dafuq) !! i hope you know that you’re not loser, maybe a hater, but definitely not a user and you have me as a friend always no matter what questionable and weird things you say 🙏 like okay alpha sigma you’re the boss. this feels like the dedication page on a book or the acknowledgment part in research where you say thank you to whoever you want like damn. i’ll do the remaining words for dedication on upcoming works so that you’re always reminded that you’re somewhat involved in my life even if you’re like 1826725276 fucking miles away
© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.
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gay-dorito-dust · 3 days
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How would HSR men calm reader down when they get angry from their workplace.
Jing Yuan would probably make you take meditation classes with him in order to destress and clear your mind, rid it of any and all grievances you may have carried home with you; only to end up falling asleep with you cuddled up against his chest and him slowly stroking your sides with a small smile on his face.
Aventurine would let you cuddle up against him as you let him in on all the shit that’s going down in your workplace.
He lives for the workplace gossip but not if it was causing you such stress and grief. He’d even kiss the bags forming underneath your eyes and whisper sweet nothings about how he’d spoil you rotten with anything you’d like to make up for a shit week.
It was entirely up to you but he wasn’t against a cuddle session at home should you find that more up your alley. He just wants to be happy.
Sunday/Welt/Ratio would let you air out your anger to them and offer advice should you require it.
It was obvious you had something troubling you deeply and don’t like you haven’t, they’re way too observant to know that you were far from it. They would want you to know that they were here to listen to you as they held your hand, rubbing it soothingly as they gave you their full attention.
Sometimes you just wanted to be listened to and know that your emotions weren’t taken seriously, and know that you were well within your right to feel that way, and that’s what they are there for as your partner.
Blade would probably have you letting out all your anger and stress in the form of a sparing match against him.
He find it best to just let everything out in a flurry of fists or the clashing of swords and found that it had some therapeutic benefits. So he saw no reason as to why you shouldn’t be allowed to channel that inner anger and bring it forth in the art of combat.
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faetima · 1 day
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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 . .
. . he's just had a little taste of infatuation. or is it obsession?
// tws ; stalking, taking photos w/o knowledge of other person ; gn reader ; yandere au 
a/n: i swear i'll start writing the aventurine exes hanahaki au after i post this
click!
a soft flash of white light, akin to the color of the small wings that adorned him, appeared before sunday as the camera went off. it encased you in a photo, forever embedding your beauty into a polaroid.
you were so pretty.
too pretty.
even a photo couldn’t capture your full beauty — you were just too beautiful.
too pretty.
too heavenly.
too ethereal.
all sunday wanted was you. all he needed was you. he just loved you so, so much — a little too much, if you were to ask robin or aventurine or anyone other than him about it.
sunday was meant to be yours. you had ripped his heart out, claiming it as your own (well, not that he minded too much. you could have him as well for all he cared!).
you couldn’t just leave him like this after you had yanked and twisted and pulled his heart out of his body, leaving him only to bleed out.
sunday felt as if he would die without you.
you were oxygen, the only thing breathing life into him.
an oasis in a desert, which he would die without.
sunday wanted you. no, wait — scratch that. he needed you.
he.
needed.
you.
well, that would have to wait. for now he would have to settle with having only a minimal amount of photos and polaroids of you.
well, if "few" meant having walls and walls and walls of his mansion covered and plastered with only photographs of you.
he just needed you so bad. so, so bad.
if only you noticed him. if only you were bewitched with his heavenly and ethereal appearance like he was with yours. if only his words, strung together carefully and ever-so-delicately so he could tie you up defenseless, worked on you. if only his cunning yellow eyes — just like the chesire cat's — enchanted you, leaving you in a trance, as your eyes did to him.
every time you were around him, his heart raced, as if it would leap out of his chest at any moment. but, unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same about you, which was a tragedy indeed.
his need for you was more than desire or a craving. it was as a human needed water. if they didn’t have it for a prolonged amount of time, they would perish.
as would he if he didn’t have you.
though, it would only be but a matter of time before he had you tied up with his strings of words too, just like he had done to everyone else. even if it meant following you everywhere you went, unbeknownst to you. perhaps one would call it stalking, but it wasn’t his fault he had such an unhealthy obsession with you.
you would be his, akin to how he was yours.
you will be his.
another click.
another photo.
another step closer to having you.
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lowkeyren · 16 hours
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iridescent engravings!
in which — during the annual ball that was held with the sole purpose of finding a suitable candidate to be sunday’s future spouse, you (reluctantly) attended with no intention of winning his heart yet you were the only one he laid his eyes on the whole night.
pairing — sunday x gn!reader
༊*·˚✧.* — wc: 1k, unestablished relationship, love at first sight is real guys, idk why this took so long for me to write but it's finally here!!! likes and reblogs r appreciated, please enjoy <3
elegant crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling; with a hesitant sigh, you stepped on the polished marble floors, making your way into the ballroom. having received an invitation from the family around a week ago, and though you had initially baulked at the invitation, the prospect of declining without causing offense had left you with little choice but to attend.
it's just for a few hours, right… i'll be fine.
the sounds of violins accompanied by pianos filled the air as guests engaged in light conversations with each other. there was an obvious crowd surrounding the main star of the night. sunday was dressed in a refined and elegant suit, exuding effortless grace that seemed to radiate from every movement. you glanced at him, poor guy you think, he's surrounded by endless hordes of guests trying to make a good impression, seemingly never getting a moment to himself, he barely even has space to breathe! 
you were too busy staring and you almost dropped your glass of wine as he happened to look over and lock eyes with you. 
those mesmerizing eyes of his.
you quickly regained your composure and took a sip of your wine, silently praying that the night would end quicker. yet throughout the whole night, you couldn't help but feel eyes boring into your back, it felt like someone was watching you, but when you looked around, everyone was minding their own business. perhaps you’re just getting self-conscious here.
you kept to yourself mostly, except for a few occasions where some of your acquaintances had come up to you, you guys chatted for a bit and they left as quickly as they came. but still, you can't shake off that ominous feeling, it felt unsettling. 
as the night wore on, you walked through the crowd, twirling the wine glass in your hands, the liquid swaying around, threatening to spill out. scanning the area, you spotted sunday across the room, seemed like this time you caught him staring instead. though neither of you broke eye contact, the weight of sunday's gaze bore down on you as you navigated through the crowd, the silent exchange of glances speaking volumes without a single word being uttered. 
he thinks you’re lovely, truly. the most gorgeous one he ever laid his eyes on, and frankly, he ever will. he never wants to take his eyes off of you, not even for a moment.
despite the distance between you, the intensity of his stare drew you in like a magnet. the tension in the air seemed to thicken, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves dancing in your stomach, his eyes pierced through the air and stayed firmly locked onto yours. 
with each step he took, the distance between you shrunk, until finally, he stood before you, his sole presence left you breathless. (he is the most handsome man in penacony after all) his voice, smooth and angelic, broke through the silence as he greeted you with a charming smile, his words washed over you like a gentle breeze on a warm summer's night.
you tried your best to maintain your composure, subconsciously smoothing out your attire, you could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks. you could particularly smell the jealousy from the people around you. but none of that mattered. you allowed yourself to be swept away by sunday’s hypnotising eyes and alluring words. 
“may i?”, he extends his hand, and a surge of anticipation courses through you. before you could fully comprehend the implications, your instinctive response slips past your lips.
"of course," the words escaping before your brain could catch up with your heart. you place your hand in his. with a gentle squeeze of your hand, you think he's going to lead you to the dance floor, what you didn't expect was for him to deftly slide a ring onto your index finger. a gasp escapes your lips and many others too. the delicate ring adorns your finger, it seems like it was made just for you, fitting perfectly. 
the soft strains of music enveloping you like a warm embrace as he gently leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss onto your fingers. around you, the murmurs of the other guests fade into the background, leaving only the two of you suspended in time, lost in the moment.
“mr sunday, a moment please… it's urgent!”, the interruption jolts you back to reality, sunday's gaze flickers briefly in the direction of the voice, the servant shrinks in fear as he gives you an apologetic smile. prominent annoyance crossing sunday’s features before he turns his attention back to you, his expression softening once more.
"stay here, wait for me." he whispers, his voice tingling with regret as he reluctantly releases your hand. with one last glance, he stepped away, leaving you standing alone amidst the murmurs of the other guests, the sensation of his touch still raw on your skin.
you touch the ring on your finger, feeling your heart thump loudly. this wasn't how you had envisioned the night unfolding—your intention had never been to win his heart, yet somehow, he had given it to you anyway.
sunday wasn’t paying attention to whatever the servant was saying, his focus was solely fixed on you, admiring you, captivated by how adorable you looked as you inspected the ring with faint blush painting your cheeks. sunday's eyes trace the curve of your lips, with you standing there amidst the grandeur of the ballroom, he thinks you look far more majestic than any shall ever compare.
a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his chest swelling with a warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. an infatuation that seems to grow stronger with each passing heartbeat. and the ring, a promise of something more to come, you just need to wait for him.
masterlist
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OK, after my finals, I'll start writing these, but I've been on a classics binge. I can't get these out of my head.
I think for angst/power couple shit, Aventurine with a character who's got a Count of Monte Cristo story arc would be so good.
Like, you're at the height of your life, and a bunch of people frame you for something you didn't do. They're jealous and want to steal your shit or you see them commit a crime or something. Then, you escape from prison, change your name, get a huge fortune, and get your revenge.
Each drabble that I've written, you and Aventurine plot and scheme together. I feel like Aventurine would be down for helping you get your revenge, depending on what your revenge is.
For Ratio, and this is kind of fluffy (like post-angst?? Recovering reader?), I think Reader coming from a place that's like 1984 or Fahrenheit 451 where things like books are banned and there's all this hyper-surveillance and public punishment. Then, suddenly you find yourself staying with Ratio (Or maybe the IPC takes over the planet and repeals these laws idk), and now everything is quiet, private, and you're allowed to learn.
And it doesn't even have to be that dramatic. Like, Ratio's s/o coming from a place where they don't have the opportunity to formally learn or are constantly surveilled, only to stay at Ratio's where you're free to do what you want, experience all of this new stuff, and hear these ideas you've never heard of before.
And with Sunday, I could really see something with the reader I mentioned for Ratio, but they go the complete opposite direction. Like, they go in a Captain Beatty character arc of "I’ve read all of these books and ideas but they just cause pain and confusion. Instant gratification is so much easier and better." It's heavily implied that on Penacony, you're not supposed to talk about bad things, so this reader could be an antagonist to Ratio/Aventurine/Trailblazer.
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ashyllum · 2 days
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-> Horny Thought~
Sunday would be against you masterbating because, how dare your filthy hands touch something that belongs to him, that too with sinful intentions.
So, he locks you in chastity, the key hanging on a string, he wears proudly under his coat.
૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა
Your body is his temple, he wouldn't allow you to dishonour it! Now get on your knees and repent.
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yasemei · 11 hours
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father!sunday headcanons
🌸 Platonic + Found family or Familial
🪷 spoilers for penacony quest / slight manipulation (?) / overprotectiveness / written during 2.1
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Definitely played peekaboo with his wings when you were an infant
Hums songs for you to sleep, or to comfort you
He usually helps you get ready; brushing and doing your hair, fixing your clothing before you go out etc.
Loves to spoil and dote on you, he doesnt have much free time due to his job so he mostly spoils you with a lot of gifts
you will grow up very sheltered, he tells you that no one can take care of you better than he can, and you idolize him in return, he wants to make sure you will never leave his side so that he can protect you
He only really trusts Robin around you, she would babysit you at the time you couldnt stay alone, Sunday would always try his best to get a break to watch over you, but if he couldnt and Robin was busy, he would bring you to work with him
when you could finally stay alone, he would always have some bloodhounds watching over you while he is not there to ensure your safety
if someone ever hurt you, then Sunday would be their worst nightmare
his overprotectiveness gets tenfold because of the events happening before charmony festival
he wouldnt want you to leave dewlight estate after hearing about his dear sisters fate
he would bring anything you want to your room, and spend time with you so you dont feel alone, all he is asking of you is to not leave
overall, a very doting but overprotective father
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itsataraxiaa · 24 hours
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Do you think you could write smt about Sunday or argenti with a partner that plays violin.. I've had this idea in my head for a couple days I just want to play them a nice song
of course love!! I love this idea btw- calm and romantic
thank you for your request <3
General Carnation
sypnosis: your boyfriend loves nothing more than to watch you play your instrument pairings: Argenti, Sunday x reader (separate) wordcount: 700 (Argenti), 636 (Sunday)
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ARGENTI
"Remember when you said you wanted me to express my hobbies more with you?" you asked, currently sitting in one of the many armchairs in your lover's spaceship. He averted his attention from one of his many roses to you as he thought for a little time. "I do believe I remember. Why are you asking?" Argentine plucked one of said roses before bringing one to your hair, smiling gently. "I used to play the violin when I was younger, but after some time I kind of neglected that hobby and have been unable to play," you brought a hand up to your hair and felt the softness of the rose petals on your fingertips. It was smooth and glazed over your skin, unlike the other roses on the ship- of course he gave you the best rose he currently had. "I wanted to play again, all of a sudden, and I wanted to ask if you wanted to, I don't know, maybe listen to it?" it's true that it has been a few years since you last played, mostly due to the fact that work and free time weren't the best companions and after meeting Argenti- well, let's say you didn't have to worry about work anymore but were instead bombarded with his love. Not that you minded.
"Why, of course, my love. Listening to you play would make my entire day." he took your hand in his and held it gently, only squeezing a little. You smiled at the gesture but worried about one small detail: "I don't have a violin anymore though. And I know that there isn't one on the sh-" "We'll go somewhere and get you one then," he interrupted, smiling brightly at you. "Are you sure?" you held his hand equally gentle and he nodded his head, before walking to the cockpit and entering a new destination.
The feeling of a violin was all too familiar for you. Even after years of abandoning your hobby, your muscle memory did not betray you. Before you got into position though, you took a good look at the violin Argenti bought for you: it was hand-made crafted with the best quality wood, no cracks, the fingerboard was made out of ebony and the strings were easy to press down- Argenti truly sought after the best violin for you. You smiled at the thought before placing the violin on your left shoulder, your bow in your right hand. Your fingertips rested on the strings and you took a deep breath, trying to remember the songs you used to play, while your lover sat on one of the armchairs, waiting patiently. "If you're in need of some time to prepare you're freely to say so, my love." your cheeks reddened at his remark and you shook your head, "No need, I think I got it."
Your body seemed to be working on its own as you moved the bow over the strings, and a harmonic melody was played. Argentinischer watched pleasantly as you played and a smile was upon his lips as you two made eye-contact. He never said a word as you played the violin, silently amusing himself with his view of you and during the refrains of the melody, he sometimes even hummed a little, making you smile softly. As you played, Argenti relished in the sight. You were beautiful. Another kind of beautiful that he never thought he'd find in his lifetime.
Once you began to slow down and eventually end did he get up from his seat to hold your face in his palms before kissing you softly on the lips, which you reciprocated. "I assume you liked it?" you asked, only above a whisper. He chuckled as he nodded, "Of course I did. You were wonderful, love. Would you mind playing more, whenever you can?" you merely placed the violin on the ground before you hugged him tightly, trying to ignore his armour though which seemed impossible, after letting out a small "yes" at his question.
Now, whenever he was navigating to a new planet or universe, you stood a few metres away from him, playing the melodies both of you liked the most.
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SUNDAY
The amount of workload he currently had was almost impossible to count. Piles and piles of documents messily stacked on his desk, and he himself wasn't any better. You offered to take some of the workload but he declined, saying that he can handle it by himself. He mentally gave himself a punch in the face as he realized how long he would have to sit at his desk before spending some time with you again. As he grumbled to himself, the doors to his office opened slightly, with you in the frame after, a violin in your hand.
"Ah, Angel, what are you doing here? I thought you wanted to meet up with my sister at Oti Mall." he said after lifting his head, his wings fluttering a little as he saw your figure. "I did say that, but Robin had to cancel due to some... complications with her next concert." as you entered his office, you closed the doors behind you before noticing the documents on his desk. "I'm assuming those are the ones you still need to finish?" you asked and he merely nodded his head slowly. "I apologize, but it seems I have no time to spare with you, Angel." Sunday placed one finished document on a neatly piled stack before grabbing another from the messily piled one. You shook your head as you walked towards his desk, standing in front of him. "Darling, have you even looked at yourself in the mirror? You're not Sunday anymore- you're every other day of the week that isn't meant for resting." Sunday held back a chuckle at your use of his name which surprised you. Normally he would glare a few seconds at you before you apologized- but, to be honest, nicknames like chicken wing weren't exactly names he liked.
"What's with the violin, by the way? I noticed it when you entered." he inquired. "Oh, that's-" you brought up the violin for him to see before you elaborated, "Remember when I used to play the violin for Robin after he music lessons? She said it calmed her mind so I thought it could maybe work for you." Sunday tilted his head, a finger on his chin, "I see. In other words, you want to play for me?" he gave his usual charming smile at you as you nodded. "If you don't mind, of course." Sunday shook his head before you placed the body of the violin on your shoulder. "Any specific song you want to hear?"
As you played, Sunday's mind really calmed down and the responsibilities that laid on his desk seemed to vanish in a blink of an eye, his focus entirely on you. The calm, and soothing melody that you played made his head feel like it's on clouds and he smiled half-present at you. For a second, you thought he fell asleep when you noticed his eyes closed, but he hummed softly after. Sunday knew that you were good with instruments, mostly with string instruments, but he could've never imagined that you were able to play such angelic tones that could surpass even The Harmony's tunes.
As you began to stop, Sunday groaned with a small "please continue", making you smile to yourself. "Angel, it does calm me down, why are you stopping?" you sighed as you pointed to his documents. "I'm distracting you, too." Sunday shook his head, taking a deep breath before focusing on a paper again. "Please, continue. I can work and listen to you." he said and you simply giggled before placing the violin on your shoulder again, the bow on the strings.
"Fine, fine. I'll continue if it helps." you say before playing again and Sunday smiled as he began to work again, more pleases and more efficient, as well as faster, than before.
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A/N: Btw I don't know how to play the violin but still tried my best
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one4shio · 22 hours
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"There's no point of trying my angel... just tell who was that."
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He glared you down, "you wouldn't want me to use my ability, wouldn't you?
A/n: I thought I give up on drawing, it look so bad. I don't even try to draw his halo, it's a pain in the ass...
Headcannon: i think when halovian(?) angry, their wings puffs up.
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eternity-death · 7 hours
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Sunday and his weird infatuation with your thorax.
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fire-lizard-ro · 7 hours
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Smol snippet because the angst hit me all of a sudden.
CW: mentions of death, mental fucking breakdown djxkd-, grief, angst, Sunday is sad :’’’’)), 2.0-2.1 spoilers.
(Disclaimer with a 2.2 trailer/livestream spoiler: I’m aware that she isn’t actually dead, but this is made in mind with Sunday who doesn’t know that.)
No mentioned gender for reader.
Writing under the cut (SFW):
“My baby, my baby. You’re my baby say it to me.”
Cradled in your arms he cannot even cry. He feels empty and lost. Sunday… what use is the name Sunday if there is no Robin to call after him? He failed her. Her, the one who shone so brightly in his life.
He can remember every birthday, every scrape, every “good morning” and “good night”. He can remember every “I love you”. Thinking about these memories, holding that light cone with a moment in time held so dear trapped within it’s frame- It fills the emptiness with something.
Sunday tightens his grip on you, fingers twisting in the back of your shirt as a silent sob wracks his body.
Anguish.
That is the name of the emotion that colors his empty insides with dark and dreary hues of blues and blacks; his heart with the color of life as it bleeds in her absence.
You pet the back of his head, holding him back just as tightly as he finally allows himself to fall apart in only the company of solitude and you. The seraph finally allows his wings to rest. The figurehead finally takes off the perfect mask.
“Why did it have to be her?” He can’t understand how this happened. How could his lovely, perfect sister be gone?
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Sunday,” is all you can say. But that much is enough. He lets his tears wet your shoulder as he hides away from the reality of her death and the world. He’s grateful you’re here at least. In the back of his mind that’s fracturing and breaking to pieces, he wonders what he’d do if he didn’t even have you to hold him together. Would he fall apart? Lose himself entirely?
A dash of gratitude and love colors his bleakness in a splash of warm pinks and oranges- Like the sunset he watched with you in the dreamscape not too long ago.
She was everything before he met you. Being the older brother, she was like his first child. He can remember looking at her tiny, chubby face when she was still too young to talk, and thinking- “This is my baby sister.” He was supposed to take care of her- protect her.
Thinking of how someone killed her in cold blood and made those starlight eyes close forever… Deep reds formed.
Anger.
He would force the criminal into the light and bring about retribution for their evil.
“Will you help me?”
He asked, eyes almost manic and wings spread; looking almost like an angry, vengeful fallen angel in that moment.
You took his hand and he smiled, leaning down to kiss the hand that accepted his.
“Thank you, my love.”
I wanted to include how every older sibling’s first child is their baby sibling, lololol. And just. I can’t imagine how much grief he had to have been going through. OTL
I might edit this or add to it later this was just a blurb I wrote in like five minutes-
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sharkiethrts · 6 hours
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sunday canonically sings robin to sleep?!!!
@thelilyyy_ on tiktok
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faetima · 2 days
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guys pls send me requests 😢😢
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sugarwavelove · 3 hours
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Dearest older brother...?
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Notes: woke up from my nap and wrote this off the top of my head. Some of this is based off my own personal experiences. Not proofread.
Content to be found: 100% PLATONIC, implied bpd and ocd if you squint, unhealthy sibling dynamics (lmk if there's more I should add)
You remember asking Sunday that question all too well. And boy, how did you regret it. 
“Is it ok if I call you… big brother now?”
You so desperately wanted to have a caring family, siblings, but younger naive you clung to the wrong brotherly figure. 
He and Robin had such a tight bond, and you, being an only child, envied them. So when you were invited to playdates, you enjoyed every second being with them. 
The fond memories of you and Sunday supporting Robin's dreams. Sneaking into the kitchen to grab snacks without getting caught. You three grew so close, you practically were their third sibling. 
But happiness doesn't last long. The more you all grew up and followed different paths, the more distant you guys became. Of course, there are still attempts to meet up, but it was difficult. Most of the time, you were left behind with Sunday, the man you called big brother. 
Could you really call him that anymore though? He made little effort to keep ties with you. Check in on you. You understand that him and Robin obviously had a closer bond. Therefore, he'd pay more attention to her, but you? It's like he was trying to erase you from his life. 
No. That's not right. He distances himself from you and lets you fall into loneliness. Yes, that's true. But then why does he keep coming back every time you're at your breaking point? 
“What's wrong? You can always tell me anything. I am your big brother, after all.” 
It's the same thing every time. 
He asks you what's wrong. You break down. He consoles you. Then leaves and the cycle repeats. And every time you refuse to talk, he'll manipulate your emotions to speak and cause you to break down even more. 
Why would a big brother do this to his younger sibling? 
You couldn't take the emotional hurt anymore. It's like he just sees this as a game. He always uses the big brother card on you knowing it's your weakness. 
Things get worse though. Of course they do. 
You caught news that Robin has been found dead. That can't be right. It can't. You loved Robin as if she were your actual sister. Why did she die?? 
So here you are. Walking to the estate where Sunday should be. Why are you even going to him? You should be distancing yourself and be grieving alone. As much as he emotionally hurts you, you still care about him. As much as he abandons you, you always come back. 
As soon as you make it through his office doors, someone aggressively grabs you by the shoulders and backs you up to the nearest wall. 
It's Sunday. 
He's shaking, breathing hard, clearly angry, but hurt above all. He rests his head on your shoulder, still holding you but with less force. 
You've never seen him like this before. In the past, you'd occasionally see tiny outbursts when he couldn't get things the way he wanted, but he never displayed this much emotion near you. 
“...Don't leave me too” he said in a shaky voice, but you couldn't catch that. All you could hear was your heartbeat from the adrenaline of suddenly being forced against a wall. 
Out of genuine care you still held for him, you embraced him. He stiffened up but soon accepted it. 
No matter how much you regretted ever calling him big brother, no matter how much it hurt when he abandoned you, you couldn't find it within your heart to leave and move on. 
Comforting him was clearly a mistake. For out of fear he'd lose his only other sibling, he imprisoned you in a spare room in his estate. 
He still had to keep up appearances so you'd constantly be left alone repeatedly. The cycle repeats itself again. He'll come back home and comfort you for leaving you alone for so long, then leave again for a long period of time. 
You'd never escape. You had so many insecurities and were so emotionally constipated. Sunday made things worse. He just had to keep you somewhere where he knew he couldn't lose track of you and possibly lose you just like Robin.
You still loved him. You always would. And he in return would offer you the type of love you never got from your actual family, even if it was just for a bit. 
To you, he was your beloved older brother no matter what.
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vvanisshedd · 26 days
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stop making fanfics about characters raping and sexually assaulting y/n, you are fucking disgusting people who romanticize a serious crime that happens every day to children and women
"but that's just reading dark romance" that's not a dark romance, that's just the stuff of a horrible fetish, IF YOU HAVE A RAPE FETISH, GO SEEK FOR FUCKING PSYCHIATRIST HELP!!!!!!!!!!
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anantaru · 27 days
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HSR + HOT THINGS HE DOES WHILE DOING IT
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— ꒰ including ꒱ — aventurine, dr ratio, sunday, boothill x fem! reader
— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, dom hsr characters, oral (fem! receiving) & fingering, established relationship, hitting it raw, dirty talk, tit play + biting & marking, prone bone ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ
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— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱ + shamelessly moans into your ears
his moans have that kind of power that attack you with the lightest bit of touch but rumble inside your nerves with an utmost generosity that continued to burn an everlasting need into the rigid twist of your belly. he flips you over to your stomach and kneads the handful of flesh on your ass, greedily as his hands retreat— now, he uses his hand to keep your hips sealed against his aching half, while the other was positioned next to your head to refrain his weight from leaning and crushing against you.
aventurine's mouth was hot against your ear, too hot, in fact, that your body manifests swells of electric jumps on your limbs and muscles, your blood thrumming as you're audibly hissing out petulant sobs through your slacked jaw.
"tell me how it feels, yeah?" he sighs between gritted teeth, savoring the anticipation as his eyes squeeze shut, hips aligned and drawing his oozy tip against your entrance before pressing into your hole.
"ugh, fuck—" he grunts, "you'll mess me up today, hm?" as he moans deeply into your ear, so grateful to you as you shakily exhale through your mouth, your hole melting around his thick shaft before he inches further through your plushy walls.
aventurine was unashamed of gasping out those lecherous noises for you, brazen to the point where he's telling you how you feel as you squeeze him and cloud his mind with your milking compression indulging in him, "aah— you feel so nice, so soft, i'm losing my mind," he cheekily laughs between his whines, feeling elevated.
he kisses your neck as you sob, your walls feeling all of him inside as you exhale between a shaken embrace— but it's telling how much it turned you on when your boyfriend was this vocal with the pleasure you caused on him, his tongue darting across your neck before he loudly groans into the skin, your hole tensing and letting go, tensing and letting go, adding pressure again.
your eyes roll back as he grinds himself in you, always holding against your ass to fondle with the skin as he repeatedly pressures and pulls his cock through your creamy hole, entering all his inches inside an eager cuddle.
the sensation of having him claim your body in such way made your stomach do flips and tumbles, and the hums into your ear only multiplied the ways you responded to him with fizzy tears pulling at your lashes. right there, aventurine spills his brazen moans right against your ear, shamelessly between affectionate words of love, sending your inmost nerves into hard overdrive.
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— ꒰ DR RATIO ꒱ + pulls your face to him before you climax
before he advances forward to his original plan, veritas will make you feel like you're mounting off pleasure and ah, your silhouette was charming to look at, no? you're so sweet when you hide your face from him. yet he doesn't understand why you're so embarrassed to show your flustered state? regardless, he loves when you do that, hiding the real taste, doesn't matter if he's suckling on your clit or watching how you suck him off, you're always warding off his enticing gaze.
the tantalizing signs of your embarrassment were enough for dr ratio to focus on all the different regions of your body— not only that, but he inspects your breathing and how it shudders through you, not to mention how it hitches when he grinds into your cunt.
with that, he can determine that you prefer it faster, although mixed in with a couple slow grinds once he's sheathed himself fully inside. a combination of both can do a lot more, and channeling it into one was his speciality. you're making it just that easy for him.
you wonder why? well, it's because you make everything look so sexy that it's so easy to figure you out.
after finding the perfect tempo for the both of you, your warmth clamps around him before losing yourself in each precise, calculated push of his hips overloading from the feeling of being close to you, or ah, being one with you, correct? it's how you're throbbing and creaming his entire base full that he realizes you're right there, feeling an upcoming wave of pleasure making itself visible.
"i'm cumming, i'm, aah, fuck," you moan beneath his hypnotizing pair of eyes as his hips rush through you, spreading your poor, little cunt apart as your hole flexes around his shaft. veritas knew he had to be quick with it, so after hearing you sob and wince, he draws himself off your neck and cups your face roughly, casting his eyes on you.
the man was gorgeous and he knew it, much to your dismay— he could also be a total idiot about how annoyingly handsome he was and that he always knew how to use it to his benefit— although in this moment, his face was soused in his sweat, messed up around his forehead and covered with fizzling lust for you.
a strangled cry rips from your throat and vibrates through his eardrums as your body vividly shakes under him. you're whimpering at the embarrassment of having him look at you while he's forcing the eye contact with his hand bending around the softness of your cheek.
you had no idea how much of a difference it made to look at him and become so, vulnerable.
you squirm under his searing silhouette, crying out the most beautiful sounds as your sore hole twitching around the base, utterly spent as veritas only admires the glow in your eyes, nothing more and nothing else.
the two of you exhale shakily in your afterglow, wet skin clinging to the sheet and relishing in its dirtiness.
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— ꒰ SUNDAY ꒱ + kisses your clit before going down on you
he holds himself back, he needs to, because fighting the urge to bury his face where you needed him the most was always worth it— before he latches on your clit, he uses his rough thumbs to push the plushy skin protecting your clit aside to plant his plump lips over it, ghosting his mouth on top as he's almost successful enough to distract you from two digits bumping against your weeping hole.
sunday adjusts his face on your pussy before planting a wet kiss on your clit, his lusting eyes turning dark in the dark light as he roams two fingers inside your cloying hole, "give it to me, i know you can do it," he takes each necessary step to make you arch your back and gush all over him— your bothered silhouette making his cock ache and balls throb in his boxers.
his digits ascend over the slopes of your velvet walls as he presses delirious sensations on your cunt before spitting on your pussy repeatedly, messily grinning against your folds when you wince to every single droplet of his saliva hitting your cunt.
what doesn't come as a surprise is that sunday likes being messy with it— he needs to feel the wetness, the sheer contact of a hot tongue on your throbbing skin that he asks himself, can you feel it too? oh silly, of course you can, there was no room for debate by how you're reacting to it.
he swallows your arousal pooling on his tongue as he laps at your clit while his fingers graze along the sponginess of your walls, your pussy holding and clenching around the two digits. your eyes were half lidded, almost closed, your body so responsive that your cunt pulses at nothing but the tip of his tongue nudging into your clit.
"so obedient you are, my dear," he rasps before your fingers slope around the loose strands of his hair to press him into your heat, your back arching and your cunt spasming as you ride his face.
sunday hums happily, satiated, "what a good girl you are," he praises you enlaced in a wanton voice, thrusting his fingers roughly as you cum inside a silent cry.
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— ꒰ BOOTHILL ꒱ + teases you with his teeth
your saccharine alike face prompts a menacing grin from him as he settles you on his lap before tilting your head a little— his eyes drizzling into the space on your neck and how he could feel your heart beat from that precious spot. boothill tests the waters, his insatiable hunger for you being so painful as he sighs out excitedly. he grazes into your neck and drags the sharp edges through your sensitive skin— always holding you on his waist with one hand wrapped around while the other toyed with your soft tits.
boothill has everything under his control, okay? you needn't worry— in fact, he always tells you to not torment yourself when all you had to do was trust him with your pleasure.
a smile stretches across his face as he brazenly flattens his tongue against your neck, feeling your pulse thud on the wet muscle before squeezing your tits to mess up your focus. you cling to his strong shoulders as you arch your back when he rolls a nipple between his digits, "you like that, don't you?" he drawls, your moan bending when he pinches your tit again.
your eyes roll back, and ugh, it feels so good, his rough yet precise touches were capable to induce waves of sparks from your breasts to all the way down, hitting your aching pussy. you're humping against his thigh and drool, more so stain your panties with your slick. the swell of his bulge was heavily pressing against your clothed folds, and boothill knew it wouldn't take long until you'll beg him to fuck you.
alongside those mesmerizing touches that marked up your breasts, the man took his time and acted unhurriedly as he sucks on your neck, shielding his eyes as he dips his head right above your collarbones. your skin mists with drops of his saliva as you find his hair beneath your hands, tugging slightly at his strands.
boothill moans into your neck, the vibrations setting a fire on your wet core, "let me consume you..." you hear him murmur playfully, his sharp fangs tauntingly pressing into your neck as you arch your back, "pretty, mh, you're so good, so lovely, so pretty, and ugh," as he stammers, his tongue blazing wildly across the pulsing spot that he's bitten, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he calls your name.
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