#sunday

[steamedtuofu]

boothill in a teacup! (ignore sunday)

[freyzrc]

# 113

Pretty happy with how my first Sunday turned out! Hope you guys like it! ♥

[elchingay]

Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

[reikiwie-art]

rewards for this month on my patpat ! ♡♡

[azullumi]

“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.

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.

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.

[karkacho-wha]

lille

[b1adie]

their pickup lines could use some work

[madamofthestars]

"Sweet-tooth"| Sunday headcanon

Author note-A small but self indulgent fic that came into my head.

🖤Sunday is often your taste tester when you bake new recipes and any of your baked goods.

🖤he often appreciates having them after a stressful day or even a busy day.

🖤Sunday appreciate when you often visit him and drop of the sweet treats.

🖤His favorite sweet treat that you baked is your mini apple tart.

🖤Sunday often help you buy ingredients if needed even making sure to buy double of the ingredients if needed.

🖤He does enjoy baking with you even enjoy the soft domestic nature of the moment.

🖤Sunday has a sweet tooth and often really appreciate your baking skills.

[aeonophagic]

DOMAIN EXPANSION [PENACONY POLYCULE]

[heartlyrins]

sorry for the second ask lord Sunday is seeping into my brain like a parasite rn but 😭😭😭 imagine being the second sister of Sunday. After the passing of robin he slowly started getting more obsessive and controlling over poor sister readers life due to his paranoia growing.

Oh you want to go out? Too bad. You can’t. It’s too dangerous for you he’ll insist. At first it was reasonable as you both harbored your grief together. You were scared for him too but it slowly started growing worse as the days dragged on. Your friends grew concerned as you started being distant; not answering their messages and calls and always excusing yourself from hangouts.

But since Sunday is usually admired and respected, none of your friends questioned him when he stated you were having mental issues due to your sisters passing.

Slowly his feelings of obsession lead into dangerous territory, suddenly talking about having a family with you. He insisted it would save you both and eventually poor reader fell to his demands, being brainwashed into thinking he was right.

(Also aaa if you don’t mind could I be 🪽 anon? :3 I’m the one that sent sensitive reader with Sunday)

HELLOOO, of course you can be the 🪽 Anon! Sorry this took awhile to respond.. Also I love the idea of possessive!Sunday.. I want this man to obliterate me.

Tw:Incest, Incest, Incest, suggestive, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, brainwashing, implied noncon at the end, DLDR under the keep reading

After the death of Robin, you noticeably notice the change in your big brother.. As the head of the family, he's always been calm, calculating yet after her death you can slightly see the twitch in his eyes. Nowadays, it's becoming more recent.

Especially when you're in his sights.

At first, it starts slow. He starts limiting you from going out or into the dream world without a guard or him. You still could accept the reason that it's dangerous outside, it's understandable that he's worried since what happened to Robin.

But then he starts going further, he doesn't let you visit your friends or talk with your friends under the reason that it could be an impostor or something.. It makes you laugh the first time he said it, but then you realize he was serious.

At that point you were already fed up with his antics, but the final strings were him not allowing you to go out of his room or go into the dream world.. Like at all. You're forced to stay inside his room which you couldn't understand, why can't you stay in your own room?

You pinpointed it all to him—who else could it be? He would be the only one terrifyingly powerful enough to scare your friends away—or even threaten them!

You would go and meet him up yourself.. But the problem is that you're too scared, scared of your big brother and how much more terrifying he could be.

So you kept silent the first few days and you can see that he's pleased with that, he starts to let you out of his room and inside the dream world once again.

But then— you notice that your friends started to distance yourself from you, they didn't want to reply to your messages or when they coincidentally meet with you in the dream world they seem scared out of their wits and excused themselves of being busy.

And that's where you snap, you stormed into wherever he's at and yell at him to stop messing with your life! He mostly kept a calm composure but you can the little twitch in his eye that he does once again—

Suddenly your head feels dizzy and you feel like everything around you is warping.. There's strange purple trails in your vision, your inner being is telling you—no, commanding you to follow his every saying.

You don't remember how you ended up in this position;in his bed, naked while he's stroking your back, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and how he wants a family with you.

You can't move—you can't think for yourself, but somehow your mind deluded yourself into thinking that this is where you belong.

And right here is where you'll stay, beside your big brother.

[fshbonemercatus]

Jackpot!!

[coffibuni]

Twitter | Instagram | Ko-Fi | VGen

[viiciousdeliicious]

My take on baby Sunday...... kinda late but my friends hate him so I'll share anyway ❤️ just some shitposty doodles because I have NOT been fanartin' recently

[psychopomparia]

Never ask a Sunday fan what happened on April 24, 2024 at 12 AM

[thatoneneuvichiliauthor]

One thing I love about my Harmony! Aventurine lives, saves Sunday and falls in love with him AU is that if Harmony! Aventurine were to see the original Aventurine making out with Ratio, his thought process would probably be something along the lines of "Understandable, that def could have been me in another life."

Meanwhile if Aventurine stumbled upon Harmony! Aventurine and Sunday kissing each other, his reaction would be closer to: "Wtf, how can you be me and somehow have such terrible taste in men?"

Like, that contrast is everything to me.

[supiika]

Family knows what's best for you