#sunday drabble

[levispersonalslave]

𝔇𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔟𝔩𝔢 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔤𝔢

As I have decided to participate in the 2025 drabble challenge, hosted by @thedrabblecollective, I have put together a series of drabbles following the given prompts. Day two . . . ‘Faceless,’ as a 𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑦 × 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 .

“𝔓ardon?” 

“The little wings under your ears,” you say, gesturing with a lazy wiggle, “they’re really cute.”

Your smile follows——oh, may the Harmony have mercy, that smile——and he’s certain his heart has grown wings of its own and taken flight straight out of his chest.

“Your face is beet-red. . . are you dying?”

He startles——a sinner caught mid-prayer. The wings you’d praised flutter, rising to shield his face, though they do a poor job of it.

You cock your head, watching the once-mighty head of the Oak Family reduced to a faceless wreck of blush and awe. All. . . over a compliment.

⊰༻𝐈༺⊱ @the-traveling-poet , @pinkberryfox ; 𝑑𝑚, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑

⊰༻𝐈𝐈༺⊱ 𝐷𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝒉𝑟𝑒𝑒 . . .

[narumi-gens]

why does life slumber? yandere!sunday x gn!reader

minors, ageless, blank blogs dni

"dove, what are you doing?"

there's something dark in sunday's tone that signals danger. but right now, you're too focused on trying to keep your balance as you crouch on top of the balcony's railing to pick up on it. the metal is narrow enough that it only just fits the width of one foot and so you have them arranged toe to heel.

this high up, the wind is as strong as it is cold. the only thing keeping you from slipping from the railing is the death grip that you have on it.

"dove, come down from there."

you quickly glance over at him to see the cautious hand that he's extending out to you before looking over the balcony's edge, only to immediately feel dizzy. you shut your eyes as your hold on the railing grows tighter.

"it's just a dream. it's just a dream," you tell yourself, forcing yourself to ease your grip and steady your stance.

"dove! this isn't the dreamscape!"

the wind must have carried your voice because there's suddenly a frantic note in his tone that you've never heard before. it's enough to catch you by surprise and make you hesitate, tightening your hold on the railing and opening your eyes.

"this isn't the dreamscape," he repeats, slower this time but no less excited. "you're awake. this is reality."

you look at him from the corner of your eye and see that he's moved a few inches closer, his hand still outstretched towards you. he sounds so sure that it has you doubting yourself.

you're positive that this is a dream. you're positive that you learned the difference between when he puts you under into the dreamscape and when he wakes you up back into reality.

but...what if he took you out of the dreamscape without you regaining consciousness? what if he had woken you up, but then somehow removed the memory? what if the bedroom you awoke in was the real one and not the exact mirror he created for you in the dreamscape?

what if jumping from this balcony doesn't wake you from a dream but instead ends it all in reality?

"n-no. this is a dream," you assure yourself and him, but both your voice and certainty waver. you take a deep breath for courage and force the confidence back into your words. "this is a dream!"

slowly, you let go of the railing and stretch your arms to the sides for balance, wobbling as you carefully begin to stand up. your heart races in your chest. your stomach drops. you can feel how sweaty your palms are.

"dove, you're awake!" his pleas fall on deaf ears. this is a dream. this is a dream.

you repeat the mantra over and over in your head as you carefully turn out toward what you're certain are the glittering streets of the golden hour far, far beneath your cage. you close your eyes, assuring yourself one final time that this is a dream and when you hit the ground, you'll wake up with precious moments to spare to try and escape before sunday wakes to stop you.

you take a single step off the railing, balancing for a moment on the one remaining foot, and then your world spins.

only, instead of falling forward, you've fallen backward into a firm chest and with a heavy arm tightly wound around your middle.

it takes a minute for the realization that he's caught you just as you were about to jump to sink in.

the adrenaline and fear are still pumping through your veins. your pounding heartbeat is loud in your ears, drowning out the relieved murmurings he breathes against your temple as he wraps his other arm around you to hold you close.

you're in such a state of shock, that you only notice you're shivering from the cold after he's carted you inside. once he has you seated, he shrugs off his jacket and gently places his blazer over your shoulders. your trembling fingers wrap it tighter around your frame, instinctively seeking the warmth it holds from his body heat.

"oh, dove," he softly sighs from where he kneels before you. his expression is colored with a mixture of sadness, concern, and relief. you flinch when he brings his hands up and cups your cheeks, but he doesn't let you shake him off. "what were you thinking?"

the question is dripping with condescension and pity, making you feel small. your gaze drops to your lap and when you notice how blurry your vision is, you realize that you're crying.

"I-I wanted to wake from the dream," you whisper, your voice so soft that he only hears you because of how close he keeps you.

there must be something in your words that affects him because he rests his forehead against yours. when your eyes briefly dart up to see him, you find that his own eyes are closed.

"even if this were a dream, it wouldn't matter. you'll always be by my side. haven't you realized that yet?" in response, you can only break down in sobs.

it's only much later that night, in the brief moment that sunday has his back to you, that you're able to quickly peek over the edge of your bed and look at the bottom of the bedside table. and there, so faint that you can see it only because you know to look for it, is the small D that you scratched into the wood weeks ago.

the knowledge that you are in fact in the dreamscape should relieve you as it means that you can still tell the difference between dreams and reality. instead, you find yourself wishing you hadn't looked because there's nothing that you can do about it.

even that small movement has caused the thick chain connecting the collar around your neck to the rung bolted into the wall to softly rattle, drawing sunday's attention back to you. you merely close your eyes and try to make peace with the fact that it doesn't matter if you're dreaming or awake. you're trapped in a nightmare regardless.

[drabblesdear]

It’s in my mind…

Sunday who viewed you as something akin to a god.

Sunday who worshipped you in Robin’s absence.

Sunday who would have done anything at your behest.

Sunday who did anything at your behest.

Sunday who, despite viewing you as such, refused to tell you anything about the inner-workings of Penacony.

Sunday who kept you ignorant for your own safety.

Sunday who acted as the perfect, welcoming head of oak family to you.

Sunday who acted as the kind, patient and innocent lover to you.

Sunday who went along with his plans under your gaze.

Sunday who just smiled and nodded, dismissing your concerns whenever you asked if he was alright.

Sunday, who, as he prepared to be a vessel for the order, wondered what you would think.

Sunday who buried those doubts along with his worries of the future.

Sunday who, as he was falling in Robin’s embrace, hoped with all his heart you wouldn’t be associated with his crimes.

Sunday who’s only request to his assigned guards was to not let you visit him during captivity.

Sunday who knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the disappointment and confusion in your eyes once you confronted him.

Sunday who escaped with a goal in mind: avoid you.

Sunday who didn’t not want to see you. Quite the opposite, actually.

Sunday who wanted to see you with all his heart, but knew your pure soul would try to help him.

Sunday who couldn’t allow even the possibility of you being hurt.

Sunday who carried his sins and burden to the Astral Express.

Sunday who’d secretly change the parlor car’s songs to your favorites when he could.

Sunday who would make your favorite dishes as his meal.

Sunday who did anything he could to try to make his own little pieces of you in his solitude.

Though in the end, Sunday who could never say goodbye.

“Sunday, my love.”

Same procedure: I’m posting a formatted, grammer checked + reread version of this on my main blog later.

Ig if it gets enough attention I’ll put a Sunday fluff idea [kinda like a part two to this] to paper and post it.

Earlier post’s base

[recareels]

thinking about how much of an insufferable know-it-all sunday would be in any of your university classes but especially how much of an insufferable, undeniable know-it-all sunday would be in your piano literature class + your advanced analysis of romantic form class (¬_¬")

it seems it’s physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut during lecture, consistently interrupting the professor with smug corrections thinly veiled as polite questions. he isn’t above ‘debating’ (arguing) with a prof, either, voice kept pleasant and even, never raised but always sharp in his quips and rebuttals, not missing a single beat. even the way he speaks is musical, his words keeping a certain rhythm and cadence to them as they flow effortlessly, seamlessly, from an astute tongue and a perspicacious mind—cherished instruments he tends and tunes with precise perfection.

those sunset eyes glitter with the thrill of the kill any time a professor stumbles over their refutation, makes a mistake, or is caught in the wrong, his lips curling into something superior and sadistic, sunday’s arguments a finely honed dance, each twist and twirl performed flawlessly without a hitch.

so heavens help you when you end up paired with him as your partner for your semester-long final project (*ﾉωﾉ)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

cooking………..

[wormdevourer]

does he know he exists

[anantaru]

HSR + HOT THINGS HE DOES WHILE DOING IT

— ꒰ 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

— ꒰ 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.

— ꒰ 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.

— ꒰ 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.

— ꒰ 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.

© 2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[moonsaver]

Yanderes who don't care how much you cry .... oughh

Oh, he knows it's so hard to adapt to such a situation, he knows how much you miss your family, your friends, everyone. It's alright. He hushes you, kisses your face, wipes your tears with a thumb, tells you you don't need to miss home anymore, it's right here. And when a heavier fit of crying takes over.. oh, dear.

You can scream if you want. Maybe he's so in love with you he doesn't even mind going deaf. It doesn't matter how loudly you scream, the walls are soundproof anyway. Oh, but your lovely throat is going throb with pain. He can't have you losing your voice, hm?

You can be a brat if you want. He thinks it's alright. You can destroy the furniture, break, throw, smash them to pieces. It's not like he can't replace it. If you get too violent.. well, you'll only hurt yourself that way, dear. He'll tie you down nicely. And he does it so tenderly. With silk ropes and always cooing and chiding at your reddened or bruised skin when you try to resist.

And you can pathetically whine, beg, cry, sob and plead all you want. He'll listen to everything. And when he can tell you're burning out, he hushes you with kisses and softly kneads your sides, massaging and coaxing you to sleep as he softly brushes off all your whining. Perhaps he even works his hands to turn them into moans.

And oh, dear. You're going to be the end of him. He has all the patience in the world for you, though. Until your bones are worn out and he can put them back together when you've made a mess of yourself. He'll always be beside you when you wake up with soft names lovers use for each other. Because, well.. you both are now. And another fit of crying is on it's way. He knows just how to take care of you.

– Sunday, Aventurine, Jing Yuan, Argenti, Gepard, Jiaoqiu, Luocha

[seichv]

˖ ࣪⭑ CERTIFIED FREAK !

☆ sum: sunday, gallagher, aventurine, and sampo's kinks.

contents: nsfw (MDNI!!!), f!reader, bdsm, dacryphilia, exhibitionsim, orgasm denial, slight degradation, praise, p in v, fingering, creampie, squirting, daddy kink (gallagher) sampo is subby and whiny, choking, just... freak shit hehe ;)

note: writing slump: 0 ellie: 1 ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

SUNDAY - BDSM

yeah, he can indeed fool someone with those angelic looks, can’t he? he can easily deceive with them. giving you the impression that you could get away with just about anything under his watch, huh? you were simply wrong. little did you know the things he was capable of.

who would’ve thought you’d find yourself tied up, bound, hands clasped together by ropes, ankles tied to the ends of the bed, with sunday looming over you like a tantalizing, impending, dooming shadow, his sharp gaze like daggers, like frosty ice, boring into you, boring deep. 

“should i have brought a gag along with me too, darling?” he teases, inching his face closer and closer to you as your pussy pulsates with a brutal need, drenched in your arousal. he can practically smell it on you. smell your surrender, your submission. 

and oh, how beautiful the sight of your naked form is… trembling, goosebumps tickling your skin. it’s purely art to him. a masterpiece. and it's all for him and him only.

you vigorously shake your head in response, watching him slowly stroke his cock as he aligned it just barely at your weeping entrance, and you impetuously rut your hips up, desiring friction, attention, any sort of contact, as you writhed in agonizing desperation, deprivation. "n-no, please… please, fuck me…”

he hums at the sound of your frail voice, a smile spreading along his face. "such a pretty mouth uttering such filthy words… hm,”

and before you can say anything else, you suck in a deep gasp, the intrusion of his length taking you out in one go. he buries himself to the hilt in one thrust, and slowly, tormentingly begins rolling his hips, watching your expression like a hawk the entire time. he can’t help but hiss, your spongey, melting walls encasing him, sheer blankets of your slippery slick smearing along his cock. this couldn’t be mere pleasure anymore, this was euphoria.

and he’s already lost his sanity,

“o-oh, yes, yes,” you gasp, the thump of your heart skyrocketing in speed, as his pelvis starts smacking into yours faster… and harder… the woody material of the bed frame beneath you creaking, and ramming into the walls. you simply can’t understand how he can possibly feel so good. reaching places inside you you never knew you could feel, as if he were attempting to merge the two you into one.

"i want you to tell me,” sunday whispers breathily, glacially, almost like an eerie rustle of wind, like a whoosh of arctic air blowing right through every inch of your weakened, restrained body. he reaches out, takes your jaw in his slender hand, his penetrating stare not moving an inch from your beady eyes. “how good does it feel, darling?”

your vocal cords are giving up on you, being pulled at with every labored mewl and sob running off from your quivering lips. you can barely form a response, a creeping warmth scratching at your skull, making you feel dumbified. “s-so good! c-can’t… last long…”

and neither can sunday, not with how pretty you look, not with how the sweet, harmonic melody of your sounds makes the ache in his cock escalate overwhelmingly. all the sensations are getting sharper, more vivid, his pulse syncing with his rapid panting.

"cum with me,” he permitted, his tone close to urgent, almost like a plead. “let go for me. together.”

and it all happens quick. sunday grabs onto your waist, tightly as if for leverage or grounding, his eyes going wide as he’s met with his climax, his cock twitching inside your cunt before dumping his load inside, strained groans breaking out his throat as you gush all over him simultaneously.

yeah, he’s addicted. addicted to basking in the blissful pleasure of your body, basking in it with you.

GALLAGHER - EXHIBITIONISM

oh, the things you do to him.

he’s on a shift. but you, being the damn minx that you are, decided to prance on into the drink lounge with your pretty ass, giving him that look, seductively licking the rim of sugar that coated the top of your glass, while looking him dead in the eye.

you little tease,

would it be shocking for you to end up pressed up on the wall in the employee room, that gratuitously short skirt (that you very much wore on purpose) hiked up around your waist, with his thick cock drilling into you? he shouldn’t even be indulging in this, since you’re such a brat. you shouldn’t be getting what you wanted. but he can’t fucking resist, not when you play with him like that.

"showing up to the lounge, teasin’ me like a little slut, huh? while i’m working?” he snarls, his deep, gruff voice snaking up from behind you and right into your ear, making your knees give out. gallagher peers down, before lightly pushing at your ankle with his boot, urging you to spread those pretty little legs wider for him, his hands grabbing at your bubble ass, fondling and spreading the globe-y flesh. he wants a nicer view of that pussy swallowing him whole.

and god, it’s like a fucking glove. a sleeve,

your pussy is crying for him, hugging him, holding on like you can’t bear the thought of letting him go. you’re coating him in that creamy, syrupy slick, and every stroke has the static in your mind playing more and more frenzied. and he’s just so big, that thick head of his cock bullying your cervix with every sloppy, rough smack of his hips against that ass… fuck.

"hngh— n-needed you… so bad…” you’d whimper, choking on every whiny noise that you try to suppress, as you’re still trying to keep in mind that you are indeed in public. not that you’d admit that it turns you on more. you can’t help yourself. not when you’ve got him on your mind all day, his musky scent that engulfs your senses in flames, his perfect body… those muscles that you’re always ogling at.

oh, and speaking of muscles— your eyes suddenly roll right back into your skull the moment his beefy, rock-hard bicep curls around your throat, manhandling you in a chokehold, pulling your head back and making you arch against him, his dazy gaze right up in your fucked-out face, and he chortles. 

"yeah, didn’t you? can’t go a little while without some dick, huh?” gallagher practically growls, his teeth gritting hard with his jaw taut and set in a firm clench. if anyone could get a glance of his expression right now, they’d think he fucking hates your guts, like he’s fuming. with the way his sleeves are pushed up his arms, the veins in his forearm are visible, throbbing and bulging just like the veins of his cock inside you, the veins that your pussy can map out perfectly,

"w-with no haah— panties underneath this fucking shit,” gallagher groans, before his free hand lands a sharp smack to your ass, leaving behind a delicious sting. he’s not even surprised that you like that shit. like the naughty, cock-hungry whore you were. 

“daddyyy…” you whine, your tongue lolling out dumbly as you went limp, every part of you going numb except your pussy, throbbing and aching harder and harder the more he plowed into you with ruining force, as if he was trying to make you crumble apart entirely.

”gonna cum for daddy, huh?” gallagher huffs, his tone of voice nearly mocking. “yeah… how ‘bout you shut the fuck up and take it? k-keep milking my shit dry f’me… f-fuck.’

and that’s when it hits, your orgasm. it’s like a freight train, like a harsh blow, knocking you out in a blink of an eye. there was no way you could hold it anymore, not with the authority in his voice combined with his unmatched fervor and strength—

it’s splattering, your juices squirting out your pussy like a fountain, your mouth agape as your nails claw at his arm that stayed put around your throat. gallagher groans out loud at the sight, his own eyes rolling back as a rushed, ‘fuck, fuck,’ rasps out his strained throat. thick, hot streams of his seed plugs your wet heat up to the very brim, and he stays there, panting hard with you pressed against him.

"f-fuck, sweetheart. made a goddamn mess—"

"gallagher?! whaddya’ doin’ in there, man? you disappear on me, or what?” aaand there’s siobhan… fuck.

you can only glance back at gallagher with a cheeky little giggle. hehe… whoops.

AVENTURINE - DACRYPHILIA

“don't you take those eyes off of me.” aventurine coos, his gaze flickering back and forth from your pussy, then back towards your face. he’s got you prettily sprawled out on the bed, two of his slender fingers pistoning inside your drooling cunt, curling at just the right angle, reaching nice and deep. his vigor is just relentless, you’re desperately trying to clamp your legs together, your face shying away as your eyes squint and your eyebrows curl inward, a squeal escaping from your throat.

“oh, i don’t think so,” aventurine grunts, his free hand roughly spreading your legs back open, his forearm shoving against the back of your thighs so that they stay pushed back. “you are not running from me, darling. take it like a good girl, won't you?” he purrs, and you gasp, dragging out a hoarse whine as he picks up the pace, the wet sloshes that your cunt produces getting progressively louder. even flecks of your juices were flying out with every thrust of his hand at this point, and fuck, was it lewd…

“gonna cum—!” you’d croak out, warm tears flooding your vision and pooling up along the waterline of your eyes as you’re unable to sit still, creaks and rustling ringing out from the bed as you desperately attempt to thrash around, despite aventurine holding you in place. that familiar tingle in your lower tummy was brewing up, and quick.

and oh, were those tears he saw?

the ache and the strain in his pants only hardens at the sight, serving to drive him even crazier. he can’t help it. you look so helpless, so vulnerable, yet so needy, so desperate. and it’s all because of him…  fuck. makes him wanna devour you whole, like he’s lost every train of thought, every bit of composure…

“my, oh my,” he snickers, shaking his head incredulously as he keeps his gaze glued to you, his violet orbs bordering a feral look to them. he loves seeing those crystal streams trickling down those cheeks that are prominently coated in a deep, rosy flush of color. you look like a doll.

his doll,

and he can tell when his doll is close. that adorable look on your face gives it away, eyes wide, gazing up at him, your mouth dangling open, hands grasping at the sheets for dear life. “gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his tone low, almost taunting, so velvety, so smooth, it's practically spine-chilling, and that alone makes your walls clench around his digits once more. as if you hadn’t done that enough already.

"y-yes, gonna— fuck!” you’re cut off as aventurine’s thumb meets your clit, rubbing the swollen nub with skilled precision, causing your pleasure to soar up to insanely imposing heights. its as if he’s trying to coax your pussy into orgasm, trying to lure you into cumming. and fuck, is he doing a good job at it. a good job is an understatement. his hands... it’s like they could cast a damn spell on your pussy,

“cum, pretty. make a mess all over my fingers. go on,” he urges, the smirk on his face flashing brighter as one last whimper rips out from your throat, until you’re squirting all over his hand, and his mouth drops open, his pupils blowing and darkening.

"oh, yess,” he groans, eager to milk every last drop out of your pretty pussy, continuing to finger fuck you through your high, elongating it, even as you’re a shaking mess, trying to pry away from him. 

“mhmm, would you look at that,” he huskily purrs, sliding his creamy, sticky fingers out your pussy with a squelch, licking them clean with a smirk, before your pussy throbs at the contact of his hand meeting it in a mean slap, spanking your pussy and sending a jolt through your body. 

"made my pretty girl cry from both her eyes, and her pussy, hm? poor thing…”

SAMPO - ORGASM DENIAL

sampo is a mouthy one, there’s no doubt about that. roguish, cocky, cheeky. you can't help but feel this itching urge to shut him up. to put him in his place.

hence why you’ve got him in between your legs, his back to your chest, one of your hands pumping his cock while the other is over his mouth, muffling his needy moans.

he’s bucking his hips up as you stroke his cock, fucking up into your hand, his eyes rolled back,

”ohh, baby,” you coo with a sly grin, your warm breath fanning against the shell of his ear before you give it a small nibble. “don’t tell me you wanna cum already, hm? its too early for that, silly boy.”

you lift your hand off of his mouth, only to gently wrap it around his throat, and he lets out a hoarse whimper, shaking his head. “n-no… w-won't cum yet… won’t cum…” he whines, and it practically pains him to say that, as he’s just dying to cum, his angry tip flushed bright red, his balls heavy and aching, desperate for release.

"good boy. you just sit still and take it.” you giggle, your words alone making him even needier by tenfold, his legs shaking, his hands grasping at your legs like lifelines. 

you’re pumping harder now, schlick after schlick, sticky and creamy, his arousal making a mess out of your hand.

he throws his head back against your shoulder with a loud moan, his hips bucking more frantically before you land a soft spank to his balls, earning a sound from his throat that almost sounded close to a shriek. 

“didn’t i just tell you to sit still?” you resume your quick, rough stroking as sampo has to hold back from literally throwing himself around, his consciousness practically out the window at this point. “you were doing so good f’me, sampo. what happened? don’t you wanna cum?”

"yes!” he’s quick to respond, burying his face in your neck as he sniffles, shaking hard like a leaf. “y-yes, please… ‘m sorry, so sorry… w-wanna cum so bad—!” he whines, hearing that buzzing begin to ring in his ears, his vision a bright white light. his limits are being pushed and pushed and pushed, about to burst like a balloon. its too much for him.

"p-please… can i cum for you? n-need to cum for you…” he whimpers, lifting his face to look into your eyes with a pleading, almost teary gaze. his cock is solid, and he needs this release so bad it’s close to paining him. “s-so much… i have s-so much for you…”

"mm, wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you? all for me,” you giggle, pumping especially harder at the tip, making the twitch in his thighs quicken.

"go on, then. cum for me. let me see how bad you need to,” pfft. you didn’t need to tell him twice. like jets, his cum splurts out, shooting straight up and all over your hand as he’s whimpering— whimpering fucking loud. his jaw falls slack, fat beads of sweat running down his temples, his eyes going straight back into his head yet again as he thrashes back against you. you gasp, chuckling softly as you keep your gaze glued to his twitching cock, leaning in to gently pepper kisses along his neck, making him shiver harder. 

”oh, lookkk at that,” you purr, your hand that was around his throat sliding up to brush his hair away from his face. “there you go, easy, baby,” you whisper, and he chuckles breathily, whimpering small little, ‘thank you’s’ before his eyes flicker back open and fall upon your tongue licking his cum off your hand.

yeah. that’ll do it for him. now he’s definitely gonna slurp your pussy off the bone.

[suiana]

yandere! sunday who does asmr to put you in a more relaxed and calm state. you just act out sometimes and he just hates seeing you so out of it :( oh yeah, the tingles feel good don't they? yeah just relax for him... what? no he's not brainwashing you. you're overthinking it.

yandere! sunday who is a complete gentleman and is super duper patient! oh you poor thing, you're clearly on the wrong path but he'll be there to guide you to salvation. just trust him and all will be fine.

yandere! sunday who you probably and most DEFINITELY should not trust but who are you to deny him? he's asking so politely and offering services out of the good of his heart!

yandere! sunday who's now your own personal... bodyguard? yeah he follows you around and uh- yeah your parents don't necessarily approve of him either... but hey he swears he's not a bad guy! even if he was you probably wouldn't care anyway💀

yandere! sunday who lets you play with his wings when you're sad or whatnot. so soft! so fluffy! you just love them don't you? be careful though! they're really sensitive and he'd hate for you to see him get riled up because you touched him a little bit too roughly... :3

[lexirosewrites]

famous rockstar alpha!Eddie has the brilliant idea to purposely get caught hooking up with a male omega— a bold statement against a society who made them outcasts to even be around

omega!Steve was looking for a quiet experimental fling so his parents wouldn’t find out and instead gets thrust into the worldwide spotlight

Eddie is incredibly stupid and young. he didn’t stop to think about how anyone else could be affected by his actions! he just wanted to support his best friend, Gareth (an omega)

needless to say, Steve gets kicked out of his home for the whole spectacle and Eddie ends up accidentally turning him into a live-in sugar baby out of guilt

it was only supposed to be a way to show that his apology was genuine and help get Steve back on his feet, but maybe Eddie likes seeing the omega in his house and having his sweet scent cling to everything

and sure, Steve was really upset with Eddie at first. the guy made some selfish choices that fucked his life

but Eddie has done everything in his power to fix it and maybe part of him doesn’t want to leave

maybe he sabotages his own job interviews and apartment applications so he can stay with Eddie just a little bit longer… secretly longing to be asked to stay forever as his mate instead of a pity guest

[asyliah]

Mindfucked!

𐙚 . sum : You just found out Sunday can do hypnosis, so you took advantage to it and asked for—seggs. Inspo 💌

𐙚 . warnings . Dom sunday .ᐟ Usage of hypnosis in sexual act .ᐟ unprotected sex .ᐟ p in v .ᐟ slight choking .ᐟ consensual .ᐟ cunnillingus .ᐟ not proof read .ᐟ i wrote this at 12 am

Wc . 1.82k

Hypnotist!Sunday who have the power to take control in your body and mind just by using his sweet saccharine voice, dripping honey and lovely tone. His voice drawn you like like a bee, attracted to a flower's bud when it's a venus trap.

Hypnotist!Sunday who's amused in your request, and took you in a neary love motel—an expensive one. In the queen sized bed with silk sheets, your naked body all bare for him to see as his voice worked into your mind and body, taking a control of it. You were so susceptible to it, so obedient for him. His voice just echoed and feel it reaches into the back of your head and tingle making your whole body jolt and your eyes cross from the feeling.

Hypnotist!Sunday listened to your pleas when you have discovered of his secret quirks in one the gathering of few people in the party. You thought it was a good idea to use his quirks for something more inappropriate. How come you not able to resist? Some guy just said if his hypnosis may able to use in sexual way, and the thought of it lingers in tthe back of your mind. So you pull him into a private place and ask him trying to be thick faced for the very first time. Your past hook-ups were never good in bed, as if something lacks in them.

Hypnotist!Sunday who's at your back and nibbling at your ear, whispering his commands to you: "Listen to my voice, as you breathe in and out. Try to feel feel the tingles in your body like an electricity flowing into your veins. Yes, feel it. You should feel it. I want you to feel it. That tingle, that itch inside you that you cant scratch. The chill that runs into your spine. In the count of one, two, three, you will be bound my words and only my words alone." When he snapped his fingers, you almost screamed at the sudden sensation overflowing into you. It felt like hand roamed every inch of your body, even though Sunday didn't touch you. You drool from the immense pleasure and gripped into his wrists for support.

Hypnotist!Sunday who is so mean and conjured up a flashlight and put you into trance once again as he whispers into you so lovingly and controlling, "In the count of One. Two. Three. This flashlight and your cunt shall be connected." Your drowsy state look at him, his hard and big cock positioning infront of you as the fleshlight laid into your abdomen. He tried to rail the fleshlight as if it was your own tight pussy. God—you could feel his cock rearranging you even though he wasnt inside you. You screamed in pleasure, your hands gripping to the pillows above you as the pleasure intensify that feeling of non-existent cock destroy your inside.

Hypnotist!Sunday who came into the fleshlight, and you also feel a hot liquid painting into you, also cumming after him. When he took his still hardened cock from the fleshlight, there were strings of cum dripping into it. You look at him with pleading eyes, your pussy needed him---his cock. You wanted something long and hard into you, and fill you up. Not some kind of feeling trying to project into you. All fours in the bed and reaching out to his cock, you give him a long lick and smiled. "I want it. I want real sex."

Hypnotist!Sunday that's been intoxicated at you, pins you down into the bed once again, asking if you were sure about this because he would contain yourself and just fuck you till you're dumb at his cock.

Hypnotist!Sunday who slowly enters your tight walls, that gummy feeling trying hug his hard cock as your wetness guides him more. Even though he hasnt fully enter, your pussy tingles so much as if it was waiting for it's entire life for Sunday's cock. His whole length suddenly rams, reaching the tip of his cock in your cervix. He didn't stop from ramming it, he gripped your thighs and spread your legs more, seeing his cock in and out into that creamy cunt. Sunday swears he's getting crazy at the sight of you taking his cock, drooling and moaning like a mess.

Hypnotist!Sunday who keeps repeating the same words into your trance state, the word "It feels good" suddenly keeps repeating into your mind like a mantra, while his cock stretches you out and reached into the parts you did not know there were. You keep babbling "it feels good" both in your mind and mouth, you're completely at his mercy.

Hypnotist!Sunday who sees you covering your face when he felt your pussy is cleching him, a sign that you're cumming soon. You felt too good, that you don't know what to do anymore. Your hips jerked from the pleasure, toes curling while Sunday grunted from the ecstacy he felt. It was like a cloud nine, you were like the gates to heaven. Both of your hands were pin into above you, revealing your flushed face reducing into a babble mess. "Dont hide your face..." His hips grind in you, "I wanna see your face when I cum," and Sunday leaned closer and kissed you deeply, his tounge works with yours—both hungry for each other.

Hypnotist!Sunday take a grip into your chin and hold it, his hands wander into you neck as he slightly put a pressure. "Bear with me," he said, while giving a small smile. He then rock his hips, and he could see the base pf his cock forning white ring. When he glanced at you still in trance, he whispered another command into you. "I'm cumming." He grunted, even though he only said one word, your mind was playing tricks to you and his voice keep playing to your mind. He take a one snap in his hips and came into you.

Hypnotist!Sunday who is tempted by you when you still begged for me, asking for more of him and his kisses. How come he say no? You were too cute begging for me, your legs trapped him from getting up. The look in your eye seem so innocent when you begged for his cock to rail you once again.

Hypnotist!Sunday who knew he's in trouble when he felt his cock go hard once again.

🧷 @asyliah

[yearninflowers]

Imagine...

Sunday loving you so much.

Rumours will always surround every renowned person in the world, whether that someone is the nicest person ever or even the opposite of that. But somehow, for your friend, Sunday, whom almost everyone in Penacony City knows, the rumours surrounding him didn't always make a lot of sense. Shouldn't one or two be true, or at least close to a truth, though?

You eventually began to ask him frequently if something stirred in his community.

It was mostly just for fun, however.

“Sunny, is this true?”

And as always, he would smile, reassuring you that none of the rumours surrounding him were true.

Sunday would first laugh at the absurdity of the rumours before patting your head and telling you to always confirm where the rumours even started. If not most, then all of them were always coming from some unknown source and were just following to create even more nonsense, said him. That would shut you up real quick, not that you would start to distrust him if a rumour popped up.

However, one particular rumour shook you off quite a bit.

A rumour about him having relations with a cult. An anonymous sender had thrown out a couple of blurred pictures as ‘evidence’ and uploaded them to a fairly well-known account used to share anonymous messages.

It was absurd, but you still asked.

“Sunny,” you called out his name, your phone hovering open to the account that shared the rumour. Once your friend notices your call, you let him take a look at your phone. “There's a rumour saying you have relations with a cult; is it… uh, true?”

This time, Sunday didn't immediately smile. He didn't reassure you right away. His face looked unlike what you knew of him.

He... he looks scary—

It took at least a few seconds before he did his usual smile and reassured you that none of the rumours surrounding him were true. He began to laugh like always, patting your head like always, telling you to check the source like always.

And like always too, you believed him. After all, it's the usual absurd rumour, right?

Before you eventually swallow the whole rumour as wrong information, Sunday had a hard time keeping up his facade. His smile twitched unusually more, and his hands trembled unknowingly. It felt weird, the feelings inside his heart, but he wasn't too bothered by it. In fact, he even welcomed it.

Truth be told, it wasn't fear that was holding him restricted.

It was excitement.

Sunday is dying to let you know that you are his sole Providence, the only being in the whole world he would pray to. He could go days without stopping—not even a short rest—to bask in his devotion for you. He will gladly do anything to make you happy.

Unfortunately for him, you've yet to know of his faith; you're still so clueless about his blatant favouritism. It's alright, though; Sunday is quite keen on teaching his deity how to receive his love one day.

“It's quite a slander to accuse me of being in a cult," He let out a small laugh. "But I assure you, (Y/n), I would never be a part of something as eerie as that.”

After all, the only being he would ever worship is you.

But for now, he'll play the part of being your very perfect friend, slowly wrapping you into the warm embrace of divinity. You'll know soon enough that you are worth more than just being his 'friend'. You, yourself, are already surrounded by the evidence of his devotion in its truest form:

His love.

[trappolia]

SUNDAY IS FOR REST ── sunday x halovian!reader, 918

"do be careful, my dove," he murmurs as you straighten out the light feathers behind his ear.

"you haven't preened yourself in a while, have you?" your voice is soft, a hint of chiding to it that makes his heart flutter — there's a groggy rasp to your tone as well, having just stirred from your own dreams. sunday dares not look back at you, for there is a sweet domesticity to be found in the impression of rumpled bedsheets against your cheek and the heavy-lidded eyelids that make it known that you would love nothing more than to go back to sleep — proper sleep.

a hum resonates in sunday's chest as he allows himself to be fully immersed in the moment; early morning, messy hair and feathers, the sleepy press of lip against lip. his head tilts to the side, allowing greater access for you to tidy the feathers in question.

"you are correct. there's no need for me to do such preening in the dreamscape, though i prefer it when you offer your generous help," he replies, a mix of contentment and fondness pervading his voice.

"i'll help you only if you stay still," you grumble. your hands, which were straightening out his feathers, are now hovering just above them as sunday tries very hard not to shift in place again.

he cannot help it, truly. it is not just the factor that sunday is unused to, well, anyone touching something as intimate as his halovian wings, but also the fact that the slightest brush of your skin against his is a sensation like no other.

not that he would ever tell you, of course.

sunday nods, a silent affirmation that he will try his best to remain still, although a trace of a smile dances upon his lips. as you resume tending to his wings, each brush of your fingers brings a newfound appreciation for the sensation of your touch. he can feel the slight tingle, akin to electricity, every time your skin makes contact with his wings.

"my apologies," he murmurs, a chuckle slipping past his lips — as if he is not willing his chest to rise and fall rhythmically, having to manually breathe under your intimate ministrations. "i shall endeavour my utmost to be an inanimate statue. your wish is my command."

"haha," you say dryly.

in spite of your tone, sunday cannot help but chuckle at your jest. a cruel man he is, to find amusement in your grumpiness in the early morn. your nimble fingers gently untangle his feathers, and the sensation is a mix of tingles and warmth that spread across his wings. the act of having someone, especially someone he holds in such high esteem, tend to these parts of him that are reserved for only the most intimate moments is endearing, to say the least.

as you work, your movements deliberate and precise, your lover muses softly, "only you could make tending to feathers feel like a luxury."

"it is a luxury when you are not the one doing it yourself," you huff, hands moving around with practiced ease: smoothing a feather here, tugging a broken one out there.

sunday's chest rumbles with barely suppressed laughter at your huff of annoyance, but he remains true to his word and does all he can to keep still. his skin feels electrified with each brush of your touch, even more potent than before, and he wonders idly if it's because he's aware of how much effort you're taking in taking care of him. he is always the one caring and fussing, rather than being cared for and fussed over. it is strange, for the tables to be turnt. strange, had it been anyone else but you.

"perhaps," he manages to say between bouts of laughter, reaching back to catch one of your wrists and presses a chaste kiss upon it. "we could make a habit of this."

"is it truly proper of the head of the oak family to make a habit of keeping himself less than pristine?" you murmur.

how embarrassing; the passing thought occurs to sunday at your words. indeed, it is unbecoming for him, who stands at a position of such power and authority, to be so unkempt, so careless around you. it feels… freeing.

and so his response is a gentle tug upon your wrist, guiding your arms to wrap around his shoulders and link with his fingers. with a smile full of affection and a touch of teasing, he gently brushes his thumb over the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

"i am simply indulging in the pleasure of being cared for," he answers in that same gentle rumble. "and if that means i am a tad bit less than pristine as a result, so be it."

"i suppose so," you hum, and from where sunday sits in between your legs, he feels you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder. your own wings tickle his cheek, like a lover's kiss in the early morning. "preen me next?"

a low rumble resonates somewhere deep in his chest at the feeling of your breath against his neck. the closeness you've allowed between you is not something sunday takes lightly, and he relishes in it with every beat of his heart.

"with pleasure," he answers, unable to help the upwards tug of his lips as he squeezes your palms.

"let me take care of you, my dove — as you do to me."

© trappolia 2024

[wormdevourer]

I GOT HIM I GOT HIM I GOT HIM MY HUSBAND IS HOME 😭😭🫶🫶🫶🫶

RAHHH HES SO GORGEOUS I LOVE HIMMM

I WON THE 50/50 TOO 🤭🤭

ignore his level that was when I just got him, he’s better now,,

[generalsdiary]

Sunday x gn!reader (drabble)

“I just finished a part of the renovation in my room. do you wanna see?” you stated in a simple tone to the man with tired eyes in front of you. there was sweetness in them, you knew it. and, at this time, you know he is probably feeling isolated, lonely, estranged, and perhaps very much like a newbie despite the given status remaining on the trailblazer.

Sunday gave you a small nod and quietly followed you up the stairs to your room. at the entrance, both of you put on slippers and Sunday stayed behind to take off his coat.

walking amongst some boxes and clutter, the whole space is not yet finished, you stop by your bed and sit down. he approached the bed, placing a knee on it, leaning forward; making you lay back down and push up more onto the bed until he fully laid on top of you in a warm embrace.

Sunday exhaled quietly, his eyes were shut and he held you tightly. “finally”

“some peace and quiet?” you questioned in a soft voice. your fingers moved to brush through his blueish-grey hair.

“I have always had peace and quiet. it is you, this space... the comfort your presence offers. it soothes the sore wound, of leaving my home behind.”

the outer space offered a pleasant white noise and being closer to the train's engine provided a quiet humming sound. accompanied by your breathing, in harmony with his, and your heart beating strongly in your chest, it all pulled Sunday into a feeling of hope. and perhaps a possibility of a new home.