#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 . . .

[wormdevourer]

does he know he exists

[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.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

cooking………..

[littlefreya]

Oh m gee... just imagined Henry waking you up on a lazy Sunday by kissing your neck and back and both of you just getting wrapped up in each other with slow sensual Sunday sex 😭 I feel like that would really be something H would do in a relationship and fml I want it 🙃

Summery: Morning sex with Henry 

Pairing: Henry x Reader (2nd person POV)

Word Count: 291

Warning: Sex. Fluff to Smut

You look so beautiful sleeping in his arms. It almost feels like a crime to wake you up, but the temptation to taste your delectable skin is far too great, and Henry could never resist any your spells.

Fingers solid around your breasts, his hairy torso press against your spine and his breath hot on your flesh. He nuzzles the back of your neck as his arms squeeze you in his embrace.

You wake to a shower of sweet butterfly kisses, slow, languid, almost distracting from the hand that snakes between your thighs to force your legs apart.

“Spread them for me, my love,” he pleads, voice low and groggy from sleep. His long digits stroke between your succulent petals and it is in that moment when you feel his meaty erection grinding at the cleft of your rump.

Face engulfs with flames, you gasp. The way Henry indulges himself by shifting against you makes your juices drip on his coaxing fingers. There is no need to ask twice, always the obedient wife, you lift one leg back around his muscular thigh.

Hard and heavy, he enters your wet, squeezing cunt, groaning loudly and holding his hand flat against your lower belly. He loves to feel himself move in there, taking pride in the notion of conquering your body, of being buried deep so deep you feel him in your soul.

These lazy Sunday mornings last for hours. Round after round, until both are drenched with sticky sweat and your own skin burns from the constant touch.

And as he comes inside your shuddering womb for the 6th or 7th time, you swear to every living cell within your body: You will do this every Sunday, for the rest of your entire life.

[browneyedperspective]

And although you don’t love yourself right now, I hope someday you could The way you always Wished someone else would.

[jinmukangwrites]

Wild and Warriors with number 76 please!!

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

-o-o-o-o-

Warrior launches himself over a small family of bushes and pushes himself harder, further, faster through the forest after that Hylia forsaken squirrel. All he wanted was a bath. Is that too much to ask?

Apparently. Because the moment he folded his clothes neatly on the ground with his scarf neatly placed on top and lowered himself into the natural hot spring he found, the bushy tailed beastie came out of nowhere, looked him in the eyes, and snatched his scarf like it was some precious treasure the squirrel had been training it's whole life to obtain.

So now, he's half naked, he barely had time to slip on his underwear over his wet body, running barefoot through the forest, after a little monster who thinks his scarf is actually it's scarf. Warrior will proudly prove him wrong.

The squirrel darts through the undergrowth, it has long ago decided that climbing trees was too hard with the fabric in its mouth especially since it's pursuer had no gripes over climbing the tree's to get the treasure back.

Warrior is steadily catching up, even mostly nude, covered in dirt and twigs, and barefoot, nothing will keep him from obtaining his stolen goods back. A bubble of laughter bursts out his chest.

Finally, finally, the squirrel finds a hole and decides to try and dive into it. Warrior jumps down after it, his chest and legs receiving various cuts from the unprotected and fairly unplanned out fall, and his fingers luckily snatch on the squirrel's tail, and he knows this because of the pitiful muffled squeak it makes through the fabric of his scarf. If he hadn't caught it, he would have staked out all night by the hole and made sure there were no unblocked exits. If he had to, he would smoke the beastie out. He's a man of war, he will take war-like measures to take back what's his.

Thankfully though, the squirrel is much to exhausted to do much more than try to bat his fingers away as he holds it in the air by its tail. "I'll take that, thank you," Warrior says triumphantly, tugging his scarf out if the squirrel's mouth. He let's the rodent down and—deciding it isn't worth it—the squirrel runs in the opposite direction and disappears up a tree. Warrior smiles, stands up, and wraps the scarf around his neck, smirking. Or, he was smirking until he caught sight of Wild standing there a few trees back with a smirk of his own.

"Wild!" Warrior yells out, bending down to cover his groin, suddenly feeling very, very naked.

"So, looks like you're not so clean and better-than-thou that you let on."

"Wild, please-"

"You're just a gremlin like the rest of us!"

Warrior groans. "Will you just leave so I can find my clothes! I was robbed you heathen!"

"Truth hurts, doesn't it? That you're as filthy and, what was the word you used yesterday? Rowdy. Rowdy like the rest of us."

"Yeah, it almost hurts as much as it will when I smack the smirk off of you!"

Wild begins to laugh, clutching his stomach and red travels up Warrior's neck and cheeks, though it's unnoticeable because he's caked with dirt.

"Stop it!"

Wild's laughter intensifies.

[no-longer-tainted]

Drabble Sunday [#8]

Partner Costume || Halloween Drabble [4/4]

With a deep sigh, Dazai fell down next to Chuuya on the couch. "Chuuuuuuuuya!", he whined loudly. "I can't decide for a costume."

Uninterest because that was Dazai's complain for weeks, Chuuya looked up. "How can I help you with that?"

Dazai hummed and his lips formed a smirk. "Can I go as your boyfriend?"

"Dazai," Chuuya said and flipped Dazai's forehead, making him rub it in pain. "You already asked me out that way last year that won't work again, you know?"

"Then you have to wear a partner costume with me!"

"Can't you just ask normal for once?"  

[b-radley66]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: Rebellion Era Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: CC-5576-39 | Gregor Additional Tags: Love, Friendship, Families of Choice, Slice of Life, Sunday Drabble, Double Drabble Series: Part 6 of The Laughing Beskad Summary:

A brother looks at gifts for his new family.

[reaperasingrimm-archive]

It was raining. He'd been holed up in the mountains for a few days, hiding from the world and the sound of the drops hitting the warped and rusting tin drew him out of his self-imposed isolation. It was soothing, making him close his eyes and draw in a deep, cleansing breath.

And amazingly, it helped a little with the antsy feeling in his chest. He relaxed a little, mindful not to look skyward, and let the rain soothe his soul a little.

He knew it was crazy, the thoughts that circled his brain. They were like vultures, picking away at his confidence. At his very sanity. He'd ditched his cellphone, all his credit cards and IDs and he'd been moving from place to place using only cash. Cash was archaic, but still used in the less civilized locales.

Like the shithole little town at the bottom of the mountain. It lay nestled in a valley that would make a poet or photographer weep. Beautiful, picturesque, he couldn't imagine them giving up their primitive ways to join with the 'collective.' It was pleasant. The locals treated him with a healthy dose of disdain, but so long as he minded his business and only came down to get supplies or make a little cash, they left him be.

The cabin was a sight, though. Nothing electrical. No computers. No television. Not even a phone. He had a fireplace on one wall and a wood-burning stove in the bedroom. There wasn't even running water. To a survivalist, like John, it was perfection. He chopped wood from the fallen trees that surrounded the cabin and taught himself how to hunt.

He knew how to kill for a living, but killing to survive was another story.

John knew it was just a matter of time before he had to move again. But for the time being, he could hide out in his backwoods paradise. It was peaceful and quiet and it filled his battered and troubled soul with a sense of peace he hadn't otherwise known existed.

[christinejaneanderson]

Immersing myself in Pride and Prejudice today.

[no-longer-tainted]

For the Drabble!Sunday: Ship: Soukoku (Of fucking course) Word: Selcouth

Drabble Sunday [#4]

Selcouth

Chuuya stared at the small box in his hand with the even smaller ring inside. "What-?" He couldn't form a question and his head was spinning.

"It's a pretty selcouth gem-" Dazai scratched the back of his head and shyly smiled at his boyfriend and Chuuya just stared at him. "Though- to be honest, the lady in the shop recommended it after I said I wanted something like your eye color."

Chuuya swallowed. It didn't happen often that Dazai put so much thought into a present for him. "You are an idiot." Pushing himself on his tiptoes, he kissed Dazai.