My name is Hannah, and Iām 23. Iāve played star rail for a while (although I am taking a break as of about 3.3) and Sunday is my biggest obsession(?) rn.
Donāt be afraid to comment, I like talking to people! Please have your age in your bio or I will block you if you do comment on my things. If anyone wants to be mutuals, all you have to do is ask! I am a tad busy irl, so I may not get back to you right away, but Iām 100% positive that I will make an effort to check my notifs every day!
Also NEVER be afraid to goon over Sunday with me. I will outfreak you.
I canāt write very will and I canāt make any promises, but if you have an idea or request that youād like to hear my opinion on, feel free to send an ask! Iāll admit that I have no clue in the world how to use tumblr tho, so bear with me I beg!
I may mention other characters briefly, but this is mostly a Sunday only blog!
Synopsis: Since leaving Penacony and joining the Express, Sunday has struggled to sleep well at night and upon airing his troubles, you try your best to remedy them.
Notes: (Written pre-2.7) You thought I was joking when I said I only post once in a blue moon? It's been two years, bitches. In that this has been in my drafts for two years and the NSFW part 2 has yet to be completed. I'm never happy with anything I write but the whole point of this is to get over my neurotic perfectionism, right?
cw: SFW but we get a little heated near the end, AFAB!reader, love confession, touch starved bird boy, so much yearning, reader can be perceived as TB, cuddling? whatever.
Word Count: ~3.6k
You werenāt sure how this became a regular occurrence.
Sundayās first few days onboard the Express were restless ones. This, you knew. Dark stamps under his eyes and a steadily increasing habit of losing focus mid-conversation were difficult things to ignore when you saw he was already struggling to connect with the rest of the crew. Worried as you were, with a bit of gentle prodding, Sunday had confided in you the night terrors heād been experiencing since departing Penacony. Having grown so accustomed to delving himself into the fabricated reality of the Land of Dreams, you donāt find it hard to believe that the former head of the Oak family would have difficulty adjusting to a regular sleep cycle so far away from such high concentrations of memoria. He looked tired even then, and when he knocks upon your door one night with a hesitant request for company, the exhaustion rimming his eyes implores you to let him in.
However, what you had assumed to be a one-time petition gradually grew into a near nightly ritual over the months. Casual talks shared over soothing blends of tea and the soft shag carpet of your bedroom evolved to conversations in the same bed, curling up under the same sheets. You started letting Sunday sleep beside you when you noticed him lingering awkwardly in the middle of your doorway one night, after you were meant to have said your goodbyes. He had clearly been enjoying your discussions, fluttering wings and the shyest of pleasant smiles. So much so that when the hour struck, your departure felt about as sudden the droop of his wings. To retreat to the emptiness of his own quarters afterwards would feel... frigid. Pained. Like leaving the warmth of a blanket to sink into an ice bath. And in all honesty, you werenāt too keen on letting Sunday go either. It was nice, seeing him so pleased and content. Like he belonged. So, when he lingers, you offer to let him stay. You had to bite back a laugh with how suddenly he beamed, swearing that his halo radiated the softest glow in that moment.
A silent agreement of personal space was shared contently enough between the two of you every night except one. It was you who had broken it to pull him close when you woke to the sound of shuddering breaths and faint sobs, faced with the sight of tears budding in the corners of tightly shut eyes. Another nightmare. You only knew he was still asleep because he was muttering to himself. Words you couldnāt quite decipher but the tone carried with it a grief that laid heavy in your heart. In your defense, you tried first to loosen the knuckle-white grip he held on the sheets, looking like such a small thing curled into himself as he was. When that didnāt work, you reached for his face, brushing sweat-soaked bangs away, and calling his name to no avail. Itās only when you pulled him close, cradling his head to your chest and whispering quiet words of reassurance that he startles awake in a cold sweat. His grip moves from your sheets to your shirt on instinct, his entire frame shaking like a frightened fawn. You had looked upon him with concern, rubbing soothing circles into his back, your voice barely above a whisper. These nightmares were a common occurrence when you werenāt around, it would seem.
Every night, he expects to wake up back in Dewlight Pavilion, heād told you that night. Standing before his desk, opulent oak wood and concentrated memoria. Penacony would still be under his control, a dark raven fluttering at the very edges of his periphery. His old plans would be set in motion, and the sweet dream would turn sour with the wails of the souls heās shackled. Itās been a difficult habit to shake, the undue anxiety no doubt making it harder for Sunday to achieve a good nightās rest. You had allowed him to sob silently into your blouse without complaint, arms wrapped securely around him, muttering quiet reassurances and gentle hushes as your fingers ran through his hair. All the way until he fell back asleep. You werenāt sure what else to do.
Sundayā¦ seemed a bit different after that.
Of course, he never admitted such a thing to you. Heād knock on your door once curfew was called, sit and chat over your nightly tea, and eventually climb into bed with you at a respectable distance. As he would any other night. Your personal kettle and assortment of sleep-aid teas has seen more use in the past few months than ever before. So much so that youāve had to make a note to restock a little extra of Sundayās preferences the next chance you got. You opt to make a mellower brew tonight in hopes it would relax him a bit and open him up to whatās clearly been bothering him. Sunday was skilled at schooling his emotions over years of diplomatic negotiations, you were sure, but something youāve noticed over the months is that itās harder for his wings to lie. Especially when heās in a more comfortable environment.
He compliments whatever tea you give him, and your conversations usually start with discussing the notes of the blend you had picked before moving onward naturally. Talks of the latest mission and tonightās choice of dinner go by in a comfortable lull. But ever the stubborn man, his troubles remain unspoken. The most you catch is a couple glances at your hands when they move. Tracing the rim of your cup in thought or wrapped comfortably around its handle. You couldāve sworn his gaze would linger on your lips after every sip of tea, and the grip on his own beverage seemed measured. His wings would flinch ever so slightly whenever he catches your gaze, but nothing more. Whatever bout of nerves he had dissolves as your conversation progresses, and you almost forget that he was ever troubled in the first place in favor of enjoying his company. Itās only when the two of you retire to your bed for the night that youāre reminded of the issue. Heās more restless than usual, as if sleep wasnāt calling to him tonight even after such a long discussion. You appreciate how he tries to be subtle about it, remaining as still as he can be at least until he knew youād fallen asleep. But you can feel it in the dip of the bed, hear it in the rustle of the sheets, and your exhausted mind spurs you to speak up.
āSunday.ā
Your voice cuts through the silence of the room, and Sunday practically freezes like a deer in headlights. Caught. An awkward cough greets you. āHah, my sincerest apologies,ā he huffs through a nervous laugh, āI donāt mean to keep you awake.ā Thereās a strain to it that you can no longer ignore. You sigh, shifting closer yourself before he can try to push the issue aside. āYouāve been restless all night. Tell me whatās wrong,ā you offer softly, turning over to meet his gaze and reaching a hand out to pat his gently. Politely. āPromise weāll both sleep better for it.ā That was the whole point of this, wasnāt it? That was the reason Sunday comes back to you every night. The comforting hum of the Expressā inner workings fills the silence in place of your companionās response, remaining as quiet as the stars speckled outside your window. Itās only the two of you. No prying eyes or malicious eavesdroppers. Him, and the warmth of your hand squeezing his fingers. Sunday stares at the miniscule connection, the deepest recesses of his mind telling him itās notā¦ enough. He concedes, though not without a nervous swallow to which you innocently offer your silent encouragement.
ā...Promise?ā He whispers.
You nod. āPromise.ā
You expected him to talk. Years of playing the Oak family mouthpiece no doubt attributed to Sundayās eloquent way of speaking and formal courtesy. Of course, you were happy to help him ease his burdens every other night, but you couldnāt deny that you also took considerable enjoyment in your shared discussions. Without the pretense of bringing forth an entire planetās eternal slumber, Sunday was a rather pleasant conversationalist. He was happy to listen and quick to empathize. Always knew what to say with an air of sincerity, and if you were lucky, youād get to enjoy the spark of joy that returns to otherwise sorrowful eyes when he finds a niche topic to regale you about. Ever the know-it-all. You knew him more to be a speaker, so what he does next comes as a bit of a surprise.
Sundayā¦ reaches out, and breaks your unspoken agreement for the second time. Slender arms slowly wrap themselves around your midriff, the cicatrix woven around his forearms brushing briefly past the exposed flesh of your waist. You suck in a breath, pulled much closer than usual to the halovian ā until your stomachs were flushed together, and he could tuck himself within the crook of your neck. Despite the rather bold act, his movements are clearly uncertain. His hands shake as they secure themselves against your back, his wings flinching with the quiet sound that left you, and his knees only lightly brush with yours, as if unwilling to slot between them fully. The position is reminiscent of the first time you held him. Your body remembers before your mind, and your arms settle on instinct to where they once were.
āApologies, itāsā¦ā he starts, sounding uncharacteristically uneasy, āā¦difficult to describe.ā One hand rests over the back of his head, carding through his hair, while the other rubs slow circles into his back. Knowing how particular Sunday could get about physical touch, youāre uncertain if this is the right move. You had... assumed that the shift in his behavior was the result of you holding him that night. That it had been the wrong thing to do when your agreement felt more for his sake than your own. You expected his visits to dwindle afterwards but if anything, they had increased in frequency despite his odd behavior. The way he melts into you is just enough to keep you where you are, becoming increasingly wary of your own deductions. āLately, Iāve found myselfā¦ thinking of things I shouldnāt.ā Youāre thankful he canāt see the slight downward tug of your lips at the cryptic nature of his words. Thereās an urge to correct him there, reassure him that no one on the Express was going to force him to think a certain way. That his opinion was always valued in discussions. But you bite back your words for a moment longer, coaxing Sunday to keep speaking. āWhen Iām with youā¦ When youāre goneā¦ā Another gentle squeeze to your middle makes you think heās afraid the latter will come true. Youāre not sure how to sooth it. āI think of when you held me. Like this. How soft you were. How safe you felt.ā Ah. So this was about that night. Dull fingers press against your back, as if trying to push past the boundaries of your physical forms. An instinctual remnant of nearly shedding his own, perhaps, because youāre not entirely sure Sunday is aware heās doing it.
āā¦I think of other things, too.ā
āI fear that sleep now eludes me no longer because of these night terrors, but because I cannot stop thinking of you.ā His wings twitch with an urge to curl within themselves ā his entire body does. āIāve never--āA shiver, far too difficult to ignore, travels through his body with your proximity. The warmth of a wavering breath fans gently across your open collar. Knees find the courage to slot between yours, curling against you. āYouāve already done more than enough to assist me. It should be enough.ā His tone holds a harsh edge often reserved for himself, his grip wavering. āI should be back in my own quarters, yetā¦ā Thereās a heavy pause as he tries to regain himself. Or perhaps he was simply committing your form to memory one final time. Savoring your comfort. āI find myselfā¦ wanting.ā Breathing in your scent, burying himself in the softness of your skin, hot shame twisting his stomach. In anticipation of your rejection, his next words waver against your neck.
āTell me I have no right to seek more of you.ā
The request spoken inherently searches for absolution, and Sunday seeks it from you. You, who has been at the center of his mind since all this began. Who let him in when he came to you for help, and who remains with him still in spite of his past transgressions, holding him close when his sins return to haunt him. Such things were precious to Sunday ā more than you could ever know. But nowā¦ Guilt coils itself around his heart as your silence seems to stretch on for millennia, his mind all but solidifying the validity of his worst nightmares. He knows he should let you go. Give you the space to think over the weight of his confession and steel his heart for your subsequent request for distance, dreading returning to the hollow emptiness of his own quarters. But his body does not move. His arms do not loosen their hold, and his head cannot bring itself to pull away from the sanctity of your warmth. It was shameful.
Too weak to even separate himself from your embrace, Sunday braces for the inevitable cold that comes with the loss of your touch... but it never arrives. Instead, he feels the press of gentle lips against his temple, fingers slotting themselves between his silver locks, and itās like his heart had burst from within his chest. āYou-ā Itās Sunday who pulls back first, eyes wide with bewilderment and wings quickly fluttering with a rush of excitement he fails to temper. You canāt help but smile at the sight, your gaze speckled with sympathy as you bring a hand to rest against his cheek. āThatās a bit unfair, donāt you think?ā You reproach his contrite words with easy confidence, a dust of pink blooming under the press of your palm as Sunday briefly glances away, and his wings curl around your hand to hide the lower half of his face. āYou are far too forgiving,ā he mutters, though he canāt deny the way he melts into your hold regardless. āYou indulge me more than I deserve.ā Amber eyes flutter shut and downy feathers cradle the back of your hand as he turns to brush soft lips against your palm. āSundayā¦ā You sigh his name in a way that makes him want to scream, wings twitching minutely. The growing hunger within him seeks more of you the longer you remain by his side, and you werenāt doing a thing to deny him. His heart leaps against his own attempts to moderate his expectations, restraint turning to desire in that brief moment, and before he could think to do something about it, you take the initiative and roll the two of you over.
From your new perch over him, you enjoy the owlish stare Sunday gives you. Itās endearing, the way his face immediately bursts with heat and his wings flap uselessly beside him, far too aware of your soft thighs now bracketing his own, and the weight pressed against his lower half. Sunday stutters your name daftly, his hands having slipped from your back to suspend just above your thighs while his eyes frantically sought purchase somewhere more appropriate. āMaybe the indulgence is mutual,ā you counter, ignoring his cute attempts at modesty. āMaybeā¦ I think of things, too.ā Itās immediate, how quickly Sundayās attention snaps back to you, bewildered. āWhat-ā A sharp intake of breath cuts off his sentence when you rest some of your weight on his hips, replaced with the whisper of a plea instead. āP-please. You donāt-...ā You donāt know what youāre saying. Sunday gasps, strained, the hands suspended just above your thighs curling into tight fists. His discipline wears thin, your presence a feast before the eyes of a starved man who refuses to eat.
āā¦You can, if you want.ā Your encouragement is gentle at the sight of his struggles, head tilted slightly to the side. Sunday swallows thickly, noticing how starlight bounces off the curve of your neck, and another ache washes over him. Unsure lips part in search of a response, yet he finds none, not daring to hope you mean what you say. Your hands come to rest over his own, guiding them to find purchase on your waist once more, and making your intentions known. āSeek more of me.ā Heās trembling like a leaf beneath you. You looked heavenly above him, softly illuminated from behind by the numerous stars the two of you drifted amongst. Like a dream. But he could feel you beneath his palms, solid and tangible. Could follow the gentle back and forth of your thumbs along his knuckles, and see the vulnerability behind your invitation. How the pads of your fingers nudged between the spaces of his own and encouraged him to relax. Slowly, you feel his hands settle against the softness of your flesh. āTell me what you want.ā You lean close so only he can hear you ā hushed and quiet, an offer just for him ā shifting some of your weight to rest along his stomach and propping yourself on your elbows on either side of him, caging him in. Sunday sighs, awestruck, the last remnants of his restraint beginning to crumble. His hands squeeze you, feel you, memorize you, and finally he finds his words.
āYou.ā he breathes, reverent. āI want you.ā
Thereās a desperation in the way he holds you, pulls you, wanting more of you ā closer, closer ā until the void within him sates. He leans up to try and connect your lips only to fall just short, hesitant and flighty despite the weight of such a confession. A fragmented breath brushes your skin, amber eyes trained on the plushness of your lips. You donāt give him the chance to second guess himself, closing the remaining distance before he can shy away once more. Your lips slant against his own, and Sunday nearly groans from the contact alone. You felt so soft, so much softer than he couldāve ever imagined. Warm and pliable, he presses into you for more, inhibitions snuffed like a flame. His wings flutter vainly for leverage, and he swears he feels you smile when you meet his eagerness. It makes his heart leap. The swipe of a tongue along the seam of his flesh makes him gasp, the unfamiliar feel of your tongue sending a thrill down his spine he enjoys perhaps a bit too much. His own welcomes you in with fervor, aching to explore ā to taste and savor you in turn. You taste heavenly. Mellow and sweet with the tea you both shared. He wanted to drink it all, devour you whole, throat bobbing with the accumulation of saliva that wets both your lips. Sunday never partook in addictive substances, but Aeons, he was convinced you must be equivalent such a thing. To want, and want, and want something that felt so sinfully indulgent regardless of how it may ruin you.
The floodgates have opened and Sunday dares to seek more. Tentative fingers begin to trail themselves across your skin, venturing further than just the curve of your hips. You feel them slip beneath the hem of your sleep shirt, one touch trailing after the other. Unsure hands ā guided along the bend of your spine ā trace every arch until they could wrap around your midriff and pull your body flush against his. The added pressure has him preening, and you can practically feel the subtle tremble of satisfaction that runs through him. He likes you close. Wants to feel every part of you he can, and you repay the sentiment in kind. Your own fingers slot on either side of his neck, tucking beneath his wings, and cradling the underside of his jaw to guide him closer, and he sighs as if you were drawing the very air from his lungs.
āComfortable?ā You ask innocently enough, and despite the visible bob of his throat against your palms, he nods ā a little too eager to please beneath you. Heād kiss you until he saw stars if he could, tilting forward in search of your lips despite the uneven breaths that left him. Itās you who has to lean back so he could catch his breath, and even then, his eyes donāt leave you. āI-Is it... your intent to go no further this?ā He pants, a notch in his brow giving way to the hesitance in his words. The thought seems to trouble him. āHmm? Would you like this to go further?ā You canāt help but tease, if not to see the way his wings fluster and flutter, leaning back to drink in the sight of him. Soft panting contributes to the rise and fall of his chest against your palms, and if you pressed just a little bit, you could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath. āSundayā¦ā The sound of his name from your lips is intoxicating. He squirms beneath you helplessly, hips stuttering and feathers fluttering over his lips as if they could hide the hot shame rising to his cheeks.
āPleaseā¦ā he whispers, throat bobbing with a heavy swallow, āDonāt stopā¦ā
SYNOPSIS: Sunday is an interesting man, not because of his past but because of how he treats you differently from the rest of the Astral Express crew; to them, heās open and kind but to you, he acts as though you donāt exist. Though, a perfect opportunity to confront Sunday about his behaviour arises when he accidentally finds you alone in the Party Car.
WORD COUNT: 4.5k
CONTENT WARNING: AE sunday, reader is also part of the AE but is not trailblazer, maybe ooc sunday, very slight angst, slight fluff, sunday doesnāt know how to deal with his feelings, mutual pining, reader thinks sunday hates her, reader is referred to as āmissā (once), p w/o plot, smut (mdni), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, pretty vanilla stuff, petnames (my dearest), not beta read (might have typos since i sped thru this ><)
NOTES: hi!! this is my first time writing for sunday and for hsr so please bear w me if its a little ooc, do note that this piece is very much self indulgent haha >< but nonetheless, enjoy! div: saradika
The Party Car in the Astral Express was quiet, aside from Shushāthe drinksmith robotātidying up the counter, you sat on one of the empty navy stools, nursing a half-full glass of Paper Moonāsweet, strong, and refreshing, just what you needed for the night.
ā . . . Hey Shush, what do you think of . .Ā Sunday?ā Your insides coiled in a tight knot as regret immediately flooded your body.
What an odd question to bring up, so out of the blue and downright strange. You thought but surely, the robot wouldnāt mind such a question, right? There was no one else around to ask anyway, why not turn to the robot? The drinksmith halted its ministrations and turned to youāwho now leaned over the counter with both elbows atop it, eagerly waiting for itās answer.
āSunday? I always see him here at the Party Car, though, he never asks for a drink. Often, heād be sat at the lounge corner writing away in his book.ā
Just as youād expectedāShushās answer more or less mirrored your own. Sunday wasnāt a mysterious individual per se but he piqued your interest, more than ever, from the moment he joined the Astral Express. Not because of his past but something entirely differentāsomething you couldnāt make out even if you wanted to.
But maybe, deep down youĀ knewĀ what had grown in your chestāa bloomed flower that donned a deep shade of crimson, and it was beyond embarrassing because you barely knew the man, and to harbour suchĀ intenseĀ feelings . . was a bit odd.
It had been quite some time now after Sundayās decision to join and since then, you and him had been dancing around one another. Akin to two celestial bodies locked in a gravitational bond, the two of you seemed toĀ pushĀ andĀ pullĀ one anotherānot too much, not too little. Just the ample amount.
But that ābondā was what greatly confused you because despite the gravitational pull, Sunday seemed toĀ limitĀ his interactions with you. Sure, he would engage in a conversation with you if other people were involved butĀ neverĀ a one-to-one. Though, formalities such as mere āGood Morningsā and āGood Nightsā were uttered toward you but that was it.
Sunday never initiated idle conversations the same way he did with the rest of the crew. Even Pom-pom received such privileges. Though, on your end, you didnāt treat the Halovian man differently; most of the time, it was you who initiated talksāwhether it be asking about his opinion over trivial matters or simply getting to know the him.
Although, there were moments where you caught his citrine gaze which lingered for a second or two longer before he ultimately looked away. Other times, his clothed arm would brush against your own during meetings with the crew which would remind you the lack of distance between your bodies. Or how he had hovered over your shoulder close enough to get a whiff of his intoxicating scent when you had asked to save his number on your phone; you swore you felt a subtle brush of his feathered wing against your hair.
But that was itāmere moments that left you wondering what the reason behind his actions meant. Maybe it meant nothing at all but no individual would act that way unless 1. He had no sense of shame (which wasĀ highlyĀ unlikely as Sunday seemed like a refined man) or 2. He simply did not appreciate your presenceāmuch to your dismay.
But surely if it were the latter, Sunday would have a valid reason, right? If anything, youĀ barelyĀ interacted with the man to even justify his odd behaviour.Ā Hm, maybe he had already figured out your naĆÆve feelings for him and his actions were a way to let you know of his disapproval?
It wasĀ likely.
āWhat about you? What doĀ youĀ think of Sunday?āĀ
A second passed as the question hung heavy in the air; you parted your mouth to reply to the drinksmith but before words could slip out, the door to the Party Car slid open which stole your undivided attention from the robot.
Your heart skipped a beat.Ā Speaking of the devil.
Sunday stood at the balcony, the door behind him closed shut. For a brief moment, genuine surprise washed over his face as your gaze met his citrine ones but it was swiftly replaced with a neutral expression. The soles of his shoes stayed rooted against the carpeted floors, from his rigid stance, you were convinced he wanted to turn right around and leave.
āOh . . . I didnāt expectĀ youĀ here.ā
Was that disappointment in his tone? No, it was something you couldnāt decipher. Sundayās voice echoed throughout the walls of the Car, a reminder that you and him were the only individuals present. Well, notĀ entirelyĀ since Shush was here too.
āCanāt sleep?ā You tilted your head, feigning nonchalance as youĀ triedĀ to ignore the way your heart hammered against your ribcage; youāve never been alone with him before, and naturally, you didnāt know how to handle the situation because despite your efforts to befriend him, youĀ didĀ harbour feelings for him. He nodded at your question, ivory wings behind his ears twitching ever so slightly.
āI hope Iām not interrupting?āĀ
Your gaze followed as Sunday descended the stairs, a hint of hesitation in his voice.Ā Huh, if anything, you expected him to bid you aĀ Good NightĀ before turning around to leave you aloneāat leastĀ thatās what youāve concluded from his previous behaviour when it came to you. Perhaps, Sunday had a spontaneous side to him as well, one youāreĀ yetĀ to uncover.Ā
āNot at all,ā An amused chuckle slipped past your Paper Moon stained lips. āItās just me, myself, and I here. And Shush, of course.ā Youāve noticed Sunday had a habit of making himself small as to not cross anyone in the crewānot that any of the members would beāwhich was both interesting and, frankly,Ā quiteĀ amusing.Ā ThisĀ was a clear example of it.
It wasnāt like the Party Car wasĀ yoursĀ to claim and you certainly couldnāt dictate whether he could stay here or not. This Car was a space for everyone on the Express, including him.
āDo continue with your previous matters. I will simply situate myself in the lounge corner.ā Sunday slowly made his way over to the cozy corner of the Car, just beside the stairs to your room. Heat crept up your cheeks at the proximity between you and him; he wasnāt close to where you sat on the bar but he also wasnāt far.
The conversation died thereānot that you had anything else to addābut it left you wantingĀ more. Maybe it was the rush of Paper Moon inside your body that turned you greedy but you deemed it was the best time to address the elephant in the room.
You couldnāt stand the thought of Sunday acting all civil with you tonight when he had beenĀ nothingĀ but strange towards you. There was nothing better for you to do and you didnāt want to continue your conversation with Shush now that theĀ topicĀ was here. Plus, the robot went back to the task it previously tended which left you alone.
After a few minutes or so, you finished what was left in your glass before standing up from the stool. Sunday, who now sat on a vermilion armchair looked up from his book at the sound of your actions. Were you leaving already?Ā What a pity.Ā He thought. Even if the two of you only exchanged a few words, he appreciated your presence. But of course, heād rather swallow a needle than tell you that.
Sunday wasnāt shy or anything of the sort, its just that . . . getting involved with someoneāspecifically, youāwas allĀ toosudden. He had more pressing matters to tend to such as learning from the past and breaking stubborn, old habits, and those wereĀ noĀ easy feat at all. If he were to jump head first into whatever the two of you had going on, it might just lead you and him in a house of flames.
Or worse, Sunday would revert back to his old ways and try to controlĀ anythingĀ andĀ everything, including you. After all, he absolutelyĀ despisedĀ not having control over things.
If anything, limiting his interactions with you was for the better.
āMind if I sit here?ā At your sudden intrusion of his thoughts, Sunday jolted in surprise, he didĀ notĀ expect you to go out of your way and join him. Though, not entirely unpredictable. Pushing down hesitation, he shook his head,Ā
āOf course not.Ā Please, join me.ā Who was he to refuse, anyway? Itād be rude of him to do so.
Despite the uncertainty painted on his face, you noticed the way Sundayās plea almost sounded a little . . .Ā desperate. As if he had been waiting all night for you to join him. Muttering a smallĀ thank you, you sat on the crimson armchair across him, eyes glued to the starry window on your right. You feltĀ awkwardĀ and you were already beginning to regret your irrational actions; if you left now, itād seem rude and you didnāt want to give him that impression.Ā
Sunday, on the other hand, returned to his bookāalbeit a little stiff in action, he feigned nonchalance and scribbled on the blank pages, leaving trails of ebony ink with each thought that came to mind.
ā. . . May I ask you something,Ā Sunday?ā
His breath hitched at how his name rolled of your tongue but he ignored it, āIām all ears.ā He tucked his feathered pen between the pages and rested the closed book on his lap before turning his attention to you.Ā
āWhat doĀ youĀ think of me?ā
Dumbfounded. Sunday was absolutely dumbfounded by your questionācaught off guard, even. In all honesty, he was clueless on how to approach it; was it in a romantic sense or merely general curiosity from his point of view? Sunday sat there for a while, citrine gaze anywhere but your face, he tried to think of an appropriate answer to your question but his mind seemed to draw blank.
āIām not quite sure what you mean by that . .ā He quietly confessed, eyes finally meeting your expectant gaze. The wings behind his ears twitched.
A small sigh escaped your lips, āPardon me if you find my boldness rude but Iāve noticed you treat meĀ differentlyĀ from everyone else. If thereās anything I did to offend you in someway then please let me knāā
āNo, no, youāre wholly mistaken, Miss.ā Sunday abruptly cut you off, desperation now more evident in his tone. He leaned forward a bit, the book on his lap threatening to fall on the floor as he tried to explain himself,
āIĀ should be the one apologising; I didnāt realise my actions offended you. Iām sorry.ā He averted his gaze, ivory wings slightly drooping.
Oh, so heĀ wasĀ aware of his actions.
āThen why . .ā
āItās complicated but I assure you I have nothing against you. Moreso an inner turmoil I am dealing with.ā Sunday met your gaze once more, you still held that expectant look in your eyes and he figured you werenāt going to let this go unless clear answers were given.
With a sigh, he spoke once again, ā. . I think youāre interestingālovely, even. And IĀ knowĀ youāre aware there isĀ somethingĀ between us and I am,Ā too, but I feel as though I am unworthy of such a connection.ā
āI mean, youāre aware of myĀ past, correct? Itās not easy to break free of old habits when it was once routine . . butĀ heavensĀ I cannot bear the thought of being apart from you . .ā Sunday looked away, as if holding your gaze for a second longer would deem him theĀ greediestĀ man in the entire cosmos. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest and into your arms but he swallowed that feeling, he also ignored the way his gloved hands trembled slightly;Ā thisĀ was foreign to him, the concept of baring his heart.
Usually, Sunday was on the receiving end when he wasĀ Bronze MelodiaĀ back in Penacony, heād listen to peopleās vexations and problems but to be on the other end was rather unexpected. He did not like how his emotions were out in the open for prying eyes to judge but somehow it feltĀ okayĀ with you.
āWould it be greedy of me to confess that IĀ deeplyĀ desire to kiss you . . ?ā Sunday whispered lowly, his eyes were on yours once more but this time it carried desperation, as though heĀ pleadedĀ with his gaze for the touch of your velvet lips.
At his sudden confession, your breath hitched and blood rushed to your cheeks, heat spreading a little farther this time, reaching the tips of your ears and the column of your neck. The feeling was akin to a thousand needles poking your skināhot and uncomfortable but you didnāt mind at all.
Trying to find a response, your lips parted and closed several times, mind completely blanking at Sundayās words,Ā
ā. . . Then, beĀ greedyĀ with me, Sunday.ā
That was all he needed to hear before he leaned over the table between your seats to cup your face with both hands and kiss you. The book on his lap fell with a faintĀ thud, long forgotten.
The kiss started off chaste; Sunday didnāt move his lips, he merely pressed it against your own to savour the feel of itāthe softness and warmth, and how it feltĀ right. His gloved hands gently caressed either side of your face, thumbs slowly circling over your smooth skin. There was a bit of rigidness in his actions but it slowly dissipated with each passing second, and soon enough, Sunday melted into the kiss.
Every single worry etched in his mind cleared and all he could think of right now wasĀ you, you, you. Slowly, he parted his lips and darted out his tongue to which you accepted without any hesitation. At your pliancy, Sunday groaned,Ā heavens, you submitted to himĀ soĀ easily it almost felt dangerous.
HeĀ eagerlyĀ explored your mouth akin to a starving man, he could taste the sweet flavour of the beverage you had earlier, it dizzied him. The smack of your wet lips against his own rang in your ears, mixed with yours and Sundayās occasional moans, it wasĀ beyondĀ lewd.
As if holding you in his hands werenāt enough, his wings curled inwards, its ivory feathered tips brushing your face as though to pull you inĀ evenĀ closer; it twitched and shuddered against your soft skin and in the back of your mind, you wondered if it indicated that Sunday was nearing his limit.
The kiss was intoxicatingāhis lips, the taste of his tongue, the shape of his groans inside your mouth,Ā everything. And you wanted more, no,Ā neededĀ more.
Sunday must have guided your body over to him because you found yourself straddling his lap. It was uncomfortable to say the least, the armrests dug at the sides of your thighs but you couldnāt care less. Not when he devoured you with suchĀ sinfulĀ fervour.
A few more seconds went on before Sunday pulled away to catch his breath, a thin, glistening string of saliva connected your kiss-bitten lips to his. You looked down at his flustered state, his cheeks were covered in deep crimson and his citrine eyes were hazed with pure carnal desire.Ā Heavens, Sunday looked devastatingly beautifulāthe man was already handsome enough but paired with such a scandalous state . . . it drove youĀ mad.
Halovians were truly something else.
With his gloved hands still cupping your face, he placed a thumb over your lips, you responded by opening your mouth to fervently suck as he slipped it in. Sunday cursed beneath his breath, teeth biting down on his bottom lip. He wasnāt one to curse freely butĀ ohĀ the emotions you made him feel were simply beyond his vocabulary.Ā Marvelous. You were absolutely marvelousāhow could someone with the face of an angel actĀ thisĀ wicked?
āI need you.Ā Desperately.ā Sunday breathed out.
The next few moments were a complete blurāhasty steps up the stairs, a trail of discarded clothes, and messy kisses where he asked aĀ millionĀ times in between if you were sure you wanted thisābut the two of you ultimately made it to your room. Now, with the door closed and locked behind him, Sunday guided your naked body to the bed.
You fell onto the mattress with a softĀ thud, the bed frame groaning beneath your weight, āIsnāt it a bit unfair how Iām the only one naked?ā With your elbows planted on the mattress to support your torso, you watched as Sunday stood at the foot of the bed. Apart from his scarf and tailcoat, the rest of his outfit remained intact.
He didnāt reply, instead, he stripped offĀ everythingĀ and the sight of his hardened cock against his abdomen had your cuntĀ desperatelyĀ clenching around nothing. It wore the prettiest shade of crimson at the blunt tip and it glistened with pre-cum beneath the warm lights.
Heat pooled at the pit of your stomach as your gaze raked over his physiqueāSunday wasnāt the most muscular guy out there but he also wasnāt scrawny, with his build, you were certain he wouldnāt struggle if hauled your body around. The scarlet that blanketed his cheeks deepened, he could feel your curious, wandering eyes all over his bare form and he couldnāt help but feel a littleĀ shy.
It was unfair. Sunday didnāt even have the chance to explore your body with his eyes yet but that was fine, heād do it with his hands and mouth instead. He climbed on the bed and lowered himself over you just enough for his lips to reach the plush of your right thigh. An experimental kiss, a chaste one, before a trail of open-mouthed kisses slowly made its way up your exposed skināthighs, the spot just below the bellybutton, stomach, and between the valley of your breasts.
With each searing kiss given, a small whimper escaped your lips. Sundayās touch wasĀ beyondĀ addicting and not to mention how the tips of his wings brushed ever so slightly against your sensitive skin which formed goosebumps beneath its feathered ministrations.
āMhm!Ā S-Sunday, right thereāNgh!ā You moaned as his mouth eagerly closed around your left nipple while the other gained attention from his hand. Sunday sucked and used his teeth to lightly tug at the sensitive spot, you hissed at the sharp sensation which he responded by soothing his tongue around it a couple of times.
While Sundayās ministrations continued, all you could do was arch your back and press your bare chest further into his face; your hands unceremoniously wanderedĀ everywhereĀ ātil it found home beneath his wings.
It twitched as the tips of your fingers languidly rubbed the area, hands intertwined with his azure strands. Sunday smelled faintly of vanilla and musk, a scent that drove your senses further into the borders of lust. He whimpered into your skin, a small shudder trailing down the length of his spine as you went on to stroke his wings; they were truly sensitive and pulled the most melodious sounds from him.
Sunday pulled away from your chest, hair mussed and breath uneven; the golden halo behind his head shone underneath the warm lights, from where you laid, it almost seemed like it was glowing.
As though it had a life of its own. Sunday straddled your thighs, he traced every dip and curve of your body, you looked absolutely exquisite laying beneath him like that. If only he could savour the moment for hours.
But alas, desperation gnawed at his very bones and he was certain you shared the situation given how your thighs squeezed together, as though trying to satiate the merciless thirst between them. After untangling his body from yours, Sunday pried your legs open and bent your knees to allow the soles of your feet to be planted on the mattress. He audibly gasped at your wetness; it beckoned him like sinful salvation to which he wholly accepted without an ounce of hesitation.
A trail of wet kisses on your inner thigh slowly ledĀ down, down, downĀ ātil heĀ finallyĀ reached your sopping cunt. Sunday kissed itĀ once, twice, thrice, allowing your essence to blanket his lips before giving it a long experimental lick. With his arms secured around each thigh, the entirety of his wet muscle was pressed flat against your heat, he dragged his tongue upwards, determined to collect your wetness.
A wanton moan slipped past your lips, hands once again buried in his hair as he eagerly lapped at your cunt. Sunday slowly traced his tongue around your sensitive nub before he pressed down and rubbed at it. Lewd sounds that left your throat fuelled his actions further, a sense of pride blooming across his chest.
āY-Yes!Ā Aah!Ā Yes! Right there, Sunāmhm!ā You let out a sharp gasp as Sunday placed his thumb and forefinger on either side of your clit before moving his tongue side-to-side. He couldnāt help but rub his bare cock against the ivory sheets beneath him,Ā heavens, the song you sung engulfed the entirety of his body in pure bliss.
With your orgasm right around the corner, you used all your remaining strength to completely pry Sunday away from your cunt. Through his wet lashes, he looked up at you, dazed and confused, his lips glistened with an abundant amount of saliva and your essence.
āWha-Whatās wrong? Are you okay?ā He panted, a wave of concern washing over his lust-filled face.
You nodded, āEverything is fineāgreat. I just . . need you in me.Ā Badly.ā
At your words, he moved upwards and found your lips once more, allowing you to taste yourself. While Sunday busied your mouth with a kiss, he expertly reached between your bodies to stroke his cock several times before he rubbed it up and down your slit.
āDonātāhaah!ātease . .ā You whimpered in between the kisses. He merely responded by letting out a soft chuckle against your mouth but heeded your words.
The two of you gasped in unison as the bulbous tip slowly inched inside you. Sunday couldnāt remember when the last time he felt such a sweet,Ā sweetĀ sensationāhow your eager walls hugged himĀ oh soĀ tightly, not to mention its addicting heat. The man above you was practically reduced into a mere puddle as you swallowed more of him ātil his hips kissed your own.
He let out a forceful breath, face buried at the junction of your neck, wings curled towards youāas if going for a hug. Sunday lightly trembled,Ā heavens, he was actuallyĀ insideĀ you. He wasnāt dreaming, right? You felt absolutely unreal, like you were madeĀ justĀ for him. The stretch was a pleasurable burn, it had your eyes rolling back and your hands tugging at his hair.
āAre-Are you okay?ā He rasped against your ear, not bothering to lift his head to meet your gaze, he feared heād lose it the moment youād lock eyes with him, and just that thought alone was embarrassing as is. For now, Sunday found comfort at your neck, he was wayĀ tooĀ stimulated for eye contact.
You breathed out, fingers playing with his soft strands, āYes . .Ā PleaseĀ keep going.ā
Without another word, he shakily pulled his hips back ātil only the tip remained before thrusting in. He shamelessly keened at the squeeze of your cunt, spine shuddering as you gripped his cock like a vice. Sunday started with a languid pace which allowed both of you to feel one another, the slow drag of his cock against your walls made your head spin and toes curl.
The shape of his cock allowed an easy reach to your sweet spot and with every thrust, the blunt head repeatedly kissed it. It pulled oxygen from your lungs which left you gasping for air while trying to chant his name like a sacred prayer, one which Sunday only could answer. Breathless sighs of pleasure and the soft creaking of the bed frame beneath your bodies filled the entire room, the atmosphere grew impossibly thick and you felt your skin growing hot with sweat.
Heavens, Sunday fucked you into the mattressĀ soĀ good to the point where you couldnāt think straightāyour mind and body were filled with and himĀ alone. He finally lifted his head, glassy eyes meeting your own lustful ones, his face remained a breath away from yours, wanting to witness your pleasured state.
Sunday brought a shaky hand to caress your cheek while the other dug at the mattress to support his weight, you leaned into his touch, brows furrowed as you lovingly cooed his name.
āI know, my dearest.Ā I know. Youāre doingĀ soĀ well for me.ā He placed an innocent kiss on your forehead before picking up the pace, causing your body to jolt in response. You clung onto him tighter, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to pull him in closer, the sharp sting of your nails against his bare back only fuelled his stamina further.
You were closeāheavens, you were so fucking close you couldnāt even breathe. Sunday could feel the way your body stiffened beneath him, how your cunt grew impossibly greedy by squeezing around him without restraint.
āP-Please donāt stop, Sundayāaah!Ā āM soāmhm!Ā So close!ā
āLet go for me, my dearest. Let me hear it.ā He panted, hot breath fanning over your face.
A broken moan in the shape of his name escaped your lips as you came undone, the tight knot within the depths of your coreĀ violentlyĀ snapping. Sunday eagerly pressed his lips against your own, swallowing your shameless moans in fear of the others potentially hearing your lewd sounds, he claimed them like a prized possession.
At the feel of your hot cum coating his cock, he neared his climax. Sunday didnāt know if youĀ knewĀ he was close but the way your legs pulled him impossibly closer hinted that you didnāt want him cumming elsewhere.Ā
Oh, how wicked of you.
He swallowed thickly, the entirety of his cock fully sheathed inside your walls as he came. Thick, hot ivory ropes of cum painted your cunt and Sunday made sure to firmly press the blunt head of his cock against your sweet spot, shamelessly grinding and fucking his cum deeper into you.
āO-Oh god!Ā Nghāhaah!Ā I love you. I love you.Ā I love you.ā He unceremoniously moaned, the sudden confession that slipped past his lips had you involuntarily clenching around him. Sundayās wings stretched outwards, it twitched and trembled just like his bodyāa sight that wasĀ trulyĀ beautiful.
He collapsed on top of you, face once again buried in the crook of your neck. The two of you stilled for a moment, allowing yourselves to breath and process what had just happened. Surprisingly enough, the feeling of regret never came, instead, four words formed in your throat, eager to be spoken.
āIĀ . . . love you too.āĀ
At your words, Sunday lifted his head, a mix of several expressions painted on his flushed face but you could tell he wasĀ relieved.
In response, he kissed you. It was innocent and sweet, a wordless proclamation of the feelings buried within the cages of his chest.
I'm back because oh my goodness I'm entirely Sunday brained I love this precious angel AIDNEKFNEKND
This time my thoughts are smutty though...
I would love to see some subby AE!Sunday finally finding/regaining his confidence and taking over... But he's still so flustered about it... Like he's doing a great job but is just as noisy as always and it's adorable-
I'm so normal about him...
(GN!AFAB!Reader preferred if it's okay... Goodness I'm nervous about Smut asks still lol)
Sunday smut, let's goooo!! ~\(ā§ā½ā¦)/~ He's so cute when he's needy and loving. I can just picture the whines he'd make.
18+ Only Please
Sunday x AFAB! Reader
You roll your hips against his, placing your hands on his smooth chest. He holds your waist gently and bucks up against your movements.
Slowly, Sunday sits up and rolls over to his side, pushing you lightly until you're now laying on your back. He stares deeply into your eyes with a loving gaze. Sweat drips from his brow and onto your warm skin.
"Dearest, if I may... I will take the lead tonight," he says soothingly, reaching to clasp your soft hand.
You purse your lips in curiosity. "Oh? Feeling bold, honey?"
Chuckling, he leans down to kiss your neck. "Yes. I want to please you, dearest."
You sigh as he presses kisses down your neck and on your collarbone. "Mm, alright. Use me."
With ease, Sunday thrusts back inside your slick walls. Eventually building a nice pace, his grip on your hand becomes tighter.
"Fuuuckk," he groans, giving rapid thrusts inside your throbbing pussy. His back wings give long flaps as he hunkers over your frame. "Ahhhhnnn....L-Love..."
You open your eyes and moan, getting louder as his thick cock hits your g-spot. Your fucked out expression causes him to growl.
"Fuck! How...Uhn!..did I get so lucky? Ahhhn!" Even more sweat forms on his handsome face as his pupils dilate further.
As his face becomes redder, your cunt grasps his cock just right. He gives a long moan and notices you beginning to drool from watching him lose it.
"Gorgeous," he breathes as he fucks your pussy harder. "You love this, don't you? Only I get to have you this way."
You moan and move your neck so he can give it sloppy kisses. He hums with each smooch, while his cock goes even deeper inside your cunt. You gasp and buck your hips against his, mouthing his name.
"I...I hope I'm doing OK," he shyly remarks, his cranial wings slightly covering his blushing face.
"So gooooodd~" you wail, bucking harder and clutching the sheets with a death-grip.
Giving firmer thrusts, you can hear the bed springs begin to creak with each movement. Your trembling hands grasp his back and pull him closer to your chest. He takes a nipple and sucks it before giving love bites. His right hand reaches down to play with your clit as he moves his attention to your other sensitive nipple.
"I'm going to cum inside," he breathes. Then, both sets of his wings flap. "If that's OK?"
You giggle. "Cum in me, Sunday. I want your cum."
His expert fingers rub your swollen bud in quick circles, unleashing a sudden orgasm. Your vision becomes blurry and your barely voice his name as he kisses your neck.
A few more hurried thrusts and Sunday nearly sobs. The Halovian shoots several hot ropes inside your tight walls, panting your name in the process. "F-Fuck," he gasps.
"Mm, I gotta let you take the lead more often," you sigh as you both stare tenderly at each other in the afterglow.
Please don't copy, steal, or feed my work to AI. Thank you!
Weird thought, but have you ever thought that if two Halovians tried to physically push their thoughts/feelings onto the other at the same time during sex, would it create some unending feedback loop until the two of them cum?
Just something that came to my mind ą«®(ā¢Ķāā¢Ķ)į
THIS IS SO FUNNY TO MEEE but yes i 100% that! I bet the sex would go genuinely insane tho. Like i feel like thereād also be some sort of loss over control of powers too so not only would they 1) not be able to control the intensity of it, they would also 2) not be able to mentally resist the power of the other, leading to some pretty insane orgasms :333
warnings: !MDNI! gn!reader, AE!reader, lots of sloppy kisses and dry humping <33
originally posted 11-19-24
Imagine teaching Sunday how to kiss.
Imagine how he overcompensates for his ignorance on the matter by trying to practically eat your mouth. You find it endearing of course, but only because it's Sunday and his breath isn't revolting.
You clasp your hands around his face from where he has you pinned to the couch of the Astral Express, the main car empty due to the late hour and you say to him "Gently."
With careful and soft hands you lead him back to your lips which you use to guide his own, causing him to sink into you, losing himself in the tender interaction, willfully submitting himself to your gentle guidance and affections.
You stray from his lips, earning a pitiful whine as you kiss his nose and cheeks before returning to the fruit of your enjoyment. His sweet lips taste innocent and yet learned at the same time. You think this as he grinds against your thigh unknowingly. The thin shorts he has been wearing to bed (borrowed from you of course,) does little to cover or hide or cover him very much. You continue kissing him as he ruts against your thigh, finding him adorable as he cages you in with his arms, his desperate kisses and his shirt falling off one shoulder.
Your kisses leave his lips once more and they travel down his neck, resting in that little juncture where you nip and bite at his skin. He whines again, followed by a soft moan as you experiment on him.
"If you don't do-" the angel groans as you dodge his lips. "*Something*... I will make you."
One more tease and he's grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head and pressing his lips back to yours, your legs slotted between his snugly, creating a warm friction between the two of you.
Heās clumsy as he takes the lead, but demanding enough that you let him, his hands tightening around your wrists as he loses himself in the contact, warmth from your skin melting into his own. You feel him shake suddenly as his hips still their movement and he looks up at you guiltily, his (your) shorts ruined
Pervert Sunday thoughts, We need it from the Sunday fucker.
Yes yes precisely anon. The Sunday fucker will share her thoughts with you all :3
This will be all over the place btw
Okay so for starters I personally donāt see Sunday as like a dirty panty sniffer type of man, but your clean clothes fresh out of the laundry? Instant boner. Iād say your scent turns him on a little too much sometimes. Otherwise I see him as like a pathetic type of pervert. Like someone who get bricked at stupid things and has to jerk off bc of it.
Small situations will get him going and it could be the most random thing in the world. He folding your laundry? He may get a boner. He walks past you and smells your perfume? Boner. Even like mundane photos of you is enough to get him off.
The only creepy thing I feel like heād do, is watch you sleep. To add on, I do see him as someone whoās into somnophilia (with insane amounts of reassurance that youāre okay with it)
To add on to the somno, I like to think that he really gets off on touching you just to watch your facial expressions change, he likes seeing you get worked up without holding back.
Lowkey I feel like heād have some sort of nipple sucking fetish, and I feel like he gets worked up over it too often.š
He definitely has a photo album of you in his phone, multiple actually. Thereās everything from normal photos to nudes heās received from you. Everything in those albums are enough to get him hard and he will very ashamedly cum on the screen of his phone when jerking off to any of those pictures.
In the event that youāre ever touching yourself, he might just watch you through the crack in the door, even though he knows youād invite him to help out.
Thatās about all I can think of. Once again if yall have anything to share, donāt be afraid to send me an ask! Iāll try to get to it.
hiii everyone im kind of on a roll tonight so here yall go
yall will also unfortunately be able to tell when i write on my phone vs on my laptop, so bear with the typing mistakes please! <3
also just know i am always referring to post-2.2 Sunday!
sfw
his love language is quite literally everything. he mostly expresses it through word of affirmation and quality time, but for the most part, he loves you too much to reduce it all into a few methods.
he fell first and fell harder
the love he holds for you quite frankly hurts him sometimes. bro yearns too hard he needs to chill out
i like to think that sometimes halovians can project what they feel onto others. whether or not he does this intentionally is up to you, but sometimes you can feel his love for you as well.
is respectful about physical touch. he is touchstarved himself but will respect your boundaries if you don't wish to be super touchy. however, if you want the touchiness, just know that he will deliver. not big on pda tho.
will let you preen his wings, both his ear ones and the ones on his lower back.
kissing him is always fun. his kisses are so gentle, too, so soft and delicate. will pepper your entire body with kisses, if you let him.
sometimes his former urges will come out, and you'll have to remind him that you don't need to be protected and guarded, and that you can defend yourself.
i am a firm believer that he has a bad staring problem. he'll stop if you're uncomfortable but Aeons above he'd be lying if he said he doesn't enjoy admiring you at nearly all times.
can get a bit jealous, but not enough to make him look like a jackass. he just loves you so much ):
praise him. please praise him. it'll melt him instantly.
back to the physical touch thing, his favorite place to sleep is in your arms, with his face buried in your chest. he finds the sound of your heartbeat grounding and comforting <33
loves to smell you. not like weirdly but he'll breathe a little deeper when you hug or cuddle, and he really likes smelling your hair. he thinks it makes him a bit of a pervert
nsfw below what i assume is the cut, idk wtf im doing or how to use this website
afab reader in mind
he is the #1 pussy eater like ever. if you let him, he'll be down there for hours. you nearly have to push him away bc he just gets so lost in your taste. he wants you to sit on his face but never knows how to go about asking.
lowkey will cum in his pants when he eats you out.
loves making you squirt. the thought of him making you lose control like that is nearly enough to get him off on the spot
breeding kink also goes insane with him too, it really gets him going. he'll cum even harder if you leglock him
TITTY SUCKER! no one can tell me that he doesn't enjoy popping a nipple into his mouth. this doesn't even have to be during sex ngl he just wants to.
sex with him can either be frantic and messy, or other times he'll make the most slow passionate love to you known to mankind. there may be a midground somewhere in there.
he enjoys being overstimulated and humiliated, so don't be afraid to be mean to him. praise will have the same effect, as well.
pervert sunday truthers unite. i am a firm believer of him being a clothing bandit. will use any articles of your clothing to jerk off with. gods forbid you catch him, tho. he may die of embarrassment.
backpacking off of the pervert thing, i don't think he's a nasty/creepy pervert, i see him as the kind of guy that periodically gets hard while folding your laundry type of shit.
as much as he loves to give head, he also loves it when you suck him off. he'll insist that you don't need to do this for him but all it takes to shut him up is the feeling of your tongue dragging up the length of his cock. it takes the words away from him every time.
touch his wings. instant nut
hear me out guys. sometimes, when he's going down on you, he may get so lost in it that his thorns may subconsciously summon themselves to hold you down. no amount of reassurance will help him not feel horrible and guilty afterwards tho
i see him as a switch, mostly service top. he may get a little more dominant further into the relationship but overall he wants to put your pleasure above his own
his freaky halovian powers carries over to the bedroom. with your permission, he could possibly heighten your senses while he fucks you <33
lowkey i don't think he shuts the fuck up. if he isn't moaning, he is yapping. murmuring about how good you feel, about how good you are for him, how much he loves you. he just doesn't stfu
i think he can be a lil freak nasty ngl. like he isn't above nutting in you and then eating you out afterwards. maybe he outfreaks u who knows
he has a few dirty secrets and fantasies that you couldn't beat out of him if you tried. he likes seeing you covered in his cum. your face, tits, pussy. thighs... the thought of anything is enough to have him pop a near immediate boner.
another dirty fantasy of his is the strange yearning to have anal sex with you. he'll never act on it unless you ask, just know the urge to do you in the butt is deep down in there somewhere.
he so touchy during sex. you swear there's always hands caressing your sides, always a hand softly groping your breast, always a finger or two circling your clit, he just can't help it.
eye contact goes genuinely insane with him. he will stare you tf down
with prior consent, somnophilia would go crazy with him.
okay guys i am cutting this short bc i can genuinely go on for hours about sex with him. i cant help it i just need that cookie
Cw reader is afab, dubcon (somnophilia), brief nipple play, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, sunday is a bit of a pervert, sunday also feels guilty, established relationship
I have no writing skills or experience but like I have to get these things out or I will explode
Thereās some nights where Sunday does nothing but throw himself in your arms and let sleep take him until the morning comes around. Then, thereās other nights. It starts off slowly, usually. He tosses and turns for seemingly no reason, all while you lay beside him, sleeping peacefully.
Heāll turn to you. If he canāt sleep, he may as well admire you. His eyes eventually will wander, they always do. Theyāll drift down the features of your face, down to your chest, which is typically only covered by a thin sleep top. He has always had an oddā¦ infatuation with your chest, and he would always give it extra attention during sex. His mind would wander as his eyes faintly trace out the outline of your nipples through your top.
Heād shake his head, too ashamed to think his thoughts would drift off like that. Turning over, heāll try to get some rest. But the thoughts donāt stop. They never do. Memories of your intimate times together would flash through his mind, and heād soon grow ashamed of the tightening of his boxers.
Heāll rationalize this, claim in his own mind that it would go down. It never did that. A soft sound would rouse him out of his thoughts; a small moan, coming from behind him, not of any nefarious origins, just from you making a small noise while asleep. You did it often, heāll tell himself. Itās nothing to work himself up over.
Except he always does. Eventually, he gives in. Just one small act wouldnāt hurt, and if you donāt wake, he wouldnāt have to go through the embarrassment of it all, he likes to believe.
His touches would be soft and delicate, as to not wake you. His fingers would relish in the feeling of your nipples hardening underneath your shirt, before trailing down to your panties. Slipping them off of you is always easy for him, even though he always feels bad for this. His index finger would trail through your folds, spreading the wetness to prepare you properly. He likes how easy it is to get you wet while you sleep.
He rubs a soft circle or two around your clit before letting a finger sink into your warmth. His cock pulses in impatience. Another finger is added. He notices your breathing start to change. You get worked up, you squirm more, and you let out the cutest noises for him.
āAeons above,ā heāll think to himself.
Some nights heāll get carried away while fingering you, while other nights heāll delve into your folds for a taste, but tonight, his impatience burns within the depths of his soul, and before he knows it, heās pulling his own arousal out of his boxers. Precum beads at the tip, which is slightly swollen and red from need.
Heāll drag himself through your folds, muffling a groan into your collarbone as he struggles to keep himself upright above you. His tip will nudge at your clit, and heāll watch your face distort into bliss at the stimulation. Carefully, he enters you.
He hisses when he bottoms out, as he always does. More often than not, the struggle of trying not to cum at this time plagues him heavily. So warm, and soft, and wet. Once heās gathered his bearings, heāll start to move. His thrusts are a mixture of soft, yet desperate. Heās uncoordinated and sloppy, but he simply just canāt help it. Your warmth is too much for him, he canāt help but feel to relieve the strongest needs and urges while inside of you.
Heāll get so lost within you, matter of fact, that he fails to notice that heās roused you from slumber, and he wonāt notice until heās balls deep, cumming as deep as your pussy will take him. He startles when you wrap your arms around him, and tries to apologize hurriedly for doing this to you.
He doesnāt know why it always surprises him when you flip the both of you over. He doesnāt know why he can never do anything but stare downwards, watching as you sleepily slide back down onto his still sensitive cock. And he surely doesnāt know why heās always surprised when you ride him until morning comes, as youāve always done on nights like these.
Anyways um I hope my fellow sundayfuckers enjoy this, I tried to make it make sense nevertheless
It got to the point where you guys have done it in places where maybe you shouldnāt have lol.
One time when he was done with confessions of the people, you visited him, and well, your mouth was lapping up and down his length with his gloved hands covering his flushed face and stifled moans.
Your drool falls onto the red carpeted floor. Something heāll have to replace later.
As you exited the confessional, you were still wiping his cum from your lips.
Lucky for you, no one saw, but the thrill made your heart pound.
Iām here to request #1 pussy eater Sunday.. He just canāt get enough of eating reader out anf grinds into the mattress while he makes them both a messš š heās pathetic and needs to please his s/o :3
cw: fem anatomy reader, nsfw & 18+ content ahead
itās true, sunday just couldnāt get enough of how amazing you had tasted. he tried to surprise you, take the poor stress off his lovely significant otherās shoulders; you had been hunched over your desk at home for a streak of nowā¦ a week.
it was terrible, the many nights heās just come home to see you barely even staying awake, your signature on the paper getting increasingly smudged,
and it only worsened when on the weekend, when he wanted to shock you by getting home earlier in order to go out on a date together.
itās been god knows how long since either of you had gotten to get out of the house anyway.
āi donāt think i can get up right now, sunnyāmāsorryā¦ā you sighed, rubbing your neck in exhaustion.
he had been completely fine with that, sitting on the couch nearby to simply wait for you before going to bed. but now, the hours that passed only made hum grow more impatient by the minute.
it only irritated him even further when this had become your excuse every single time, and he just couldnāt handle it anymore.
++
āwhaā¦ sunāā p- please slow down i said i was soā sorry!ā you barely managed to let out a moan when your legs betrayed what you said. pulling him closer by his hair as he barely got to remove his mouth from the sweet, dewy taste of your delicious cunt.
his silvery-white head continued to bob lightly as his tongue continued to roam your folds, it was hard to control yourself when the strength in his hands that was built to fight, and now used to pin his gorgeous fucking significant other's perfect body onto the bed.
"mmn, fuckāpretty, don't move," mumbling those words softly into you made your back shudder.
as comfortable as your head was on the pillows below, your thighs keeping him in place whilst he keeps up his pace. your eyes were closed shut while a hand was in his hair, and the other flailing helplessly.
your mind was filled with haze the more he licked, and sucked at your poor, abused clit for... how many hours now? your body filled with both ache for release and lusty pleasure.
time seemed to slow down with the sheer amounts of pleasure he was sending throughout your body, he knows you were exhaustedāhe knows you were tired, but he knew even better that you wouldn't pull away.
his amber yellow eyes glazed over your body every now and then, your noises were barely above whispers; you didn't have to be loud to tell him when his tongue would slowly start to stretch you out below.
the way he could feel you up within such little time would make anyone writhe, the groans that reverberated through everything in your being, his gaze was hazy, and slow, blinking slowly up at you when there was a clear drunkness of flavor in his tone.
his body was still on the bed, he loved the way your gummy walls couldn't resist tightening around his tongue.
"shiiit, s- sun," his pace was slow, and sloppy, and it was painfully giving you so much fucking pleasure. he couldn't hold the smile back from how sensitive your pussy was to his touch, at how you nod feverishly to everything he says and does because you're just so drunk on his mouth.
even when your nails, and fingertips pull and gripe at his hair, "this isāmmn, what you get..." letting out small sniffles in between your moans, he hadn't gotten you this desperate in a while, maybe the side effect of work?
the veins in his arms pop up when he grasps your soft, squishy thighs to get a better angle to eat you out in, subconsciously driving his own cock into the soft mattress. you hadn't even notice the way his fingers moved to insert themselves inside your hole.
and when you finally arch your back, letting it hit you even harder than usualāyour body still shuddering as sunday holds onto your body with both gentleness of a daffodil, yet manages to keep you pinned enough for him to swallow as much as of your juices as he could; coming in unison with you, his moans only overstimulated you even moreso than he was supposed to-
++
"i... woah. i don't think i... i've came that hard before." you state softly, still processing as your wing-headed boyfriend was already carrying you over to your shared bed. closing the curtains to stop the cold breeze from slipping in.
your body shivering a little while he sits beside you, holding you a little closer.
"i think you should be taking breaks more. you know exhaustion kills, sweetheart." ā "you really think so?"
Warnings: MDNI! Smut angst. If you donāt like that then donāt read this!!
AN: this is my first ever fan fic ever so Iām really sorry if theyāre typos or plot inconsistencyās, I am just a little baby writer so please go in this with that in mind!
Plot synopsis: Sunday is found of you but due to his shy nature he can never get the words out. After a while he starts getting Pervy thoughts about you Sunday yearning like a little bitch (me too) Sunday is a pervert (me too) jerking off to readers clothes, Sunday has a potential corruption and purity kink.
Sunday, still being a new member on the express, doesnāt know what to do with himself, often sticking to himself. You saw this almost pitiful display of a once revered man and couldnāt help but feel a sort of affection towards him.Ā
Sunday always looked like a lost kitten, and you were determined to give him a home. Often times, youād let him join in on crew festivities, ask for his opinion in conversations, and try to get him as involved as you could.Ā
The efforts didnāt go unnoticed by Sunday.Ā
In most social gatherings, he was stuck to you like glue. Because of this, the two of you were silently agreed on by Himeko and Mr. Yang as āa formidable duo.ā March even joked once, āYou need to leave some space for me and Dan Heng, [name]!ā to which you always replied with, āJust find another spot; Iām busy discussing things with Sunday,ā before nudging Sunday as he reacted in an embarrassed manner.Ā
The man had grown fond of you. The day he realized that his sentiments towards you were perhaps more than an acquaintance was the day when March invited him to his first tea party with the crew. March wanted it to feel extra special for him, so she enforced a strict dress code; everyone HAD to show up dressed for the occasion. All was well, and everyone who showed up was dressed very fine indeed. But when you showed up? Sunday felt a foreign ache in his chest.Ā [Name] was soā¦cute?
Your outfit made you look like such a pure angelā¦a true rosemary. The moment he caught himself on those silly thoughts, he immediately started beating himself up. Before snapping back to reality, he saw Dan Heng quietly staring at him. āSorry, I wasā¦lost in thought,ā he said, chuckling nervously. To which Dan Heng nodded in acknowledgment.Ā
The entire time he couldnāt look you in the eyes, silently stealing a glance when you were speaking to others. He noticed small things like how youād eat your dessert rather messily, leaving some cream on your face. He silently slid you a handkerchief, which you thanked him for. The way youād look away when telling a joke to prevent yourself from accidentally laughing before finishing really made him meditate upon the sight.
After the tea party, he severely reprimanded and reproached himself for even seeing you in that light. It really was way too soon to see her in that light; theyāve known one another for so little time. He was graciously invited to join the Astral Express, and now he was fawning over one of the crew who theyād call family!
But even then he couldnāt help but think how stunning you looked. Oh, how he wished youād dress like that more often, and maybe one day just for himā¦maybe? It was all so stupid, and he knew it, but he couldnāt help what was going through his mind.
The next time he went to the archives, he accidentally knocked down a log, but when going to pick it up, he accidentally found that you were also there by some grace. He reached out to put the scroll in its rightful place, but his hand met with your warm one rather than the log. He immediately retracted his hand and apologized, āSorry, [Name], I should be more careful,ā to which you waved him off, saying, āAt least you didnāt knock down the whole shelf!ā Before earning a side eye from Dan Heng.
It was all building up for Sunday: the way you joked, the way you laughed, the way you dressed, and the way you would tuck your hair behind your ear when answering a question.
God, even the way youād text. It was getting to be all too much to handle. Was it really that wrong and shameful to feel this? She was perfect.
It was when he was enjoying some leeway with a good book that his thoughts were interrupted by a soft hum from his phone. Who was the text from? None other than the one whoās been giving him conflicting sentiments.
By the end of the interaction Sunday was starting to feel something, something burning inside of him. Maybe evenā¦a want.
He didnāt like how it made him feel. He felt almost dizzyā¦and hotā¦hazyā¦laying in his room he felt something. For the longest time Sunday remained in celibacy due to his duties as the bronze melodia, never once did he indulge is suchā¦things. Touching himself seemed absurd to him thenā¦but nowā¦with his body achingā¦.and his cock throbbingā¦maybeā¦maybe he could finally release andā¦
He carefully unzipped his pants and slipped his boxers down. To which he was met with his erection springing out to meet him. The angry red tip looking at him, he felt somewhat ashamed and embarrassed that he was about to do this. He grabbed some hand cream he had stored and took off his gloves.
He started to slowly ease into it.
āHnng ahā¦[name] haah mmpā he mumbled
ā[name] please wear that dress for meā
āSoā¦cuteā¦hahā¦ouhā¦!ā
He started picking up the pace
āc-cuteā¦.soā¦.cute ahhā¦.! Hnngā¦mmphā
āS-so cuteā¦I want youā¦I want youā¦ā
ā[name] pā¦please wear that dress for meā¦ā
God he was going to hell for jerking off to the thought of you wearing that frilly dress for him, it looked too cute on youā¦so cuteā¦.
He was fisting his poor abused cock when he felt something warm coiling up in his stomach, at this point no guilt could stop him from chasing that release. His poor pathetic wings flapped on his face waving the heat away the closer and closer he got to cumming
Until he felt it, his tip spilt out ropes of cum all over his hand, it was drooling and oozing mess. The kind of mess heād usually clean. But this time he felt some need too look at it. the only thing he wanted was, to see you in that dress absolutely shocked at what he was doing. He felt so embarrassed and guilt over it too. How could a man like him fall from grace like thisā¦
He didnāt dwell on it too long. Due to an unexpected nock
āSunday itās me [name], dinners readyā
He immediately jumped to clean himself immediately and greet you at the door.
āAh could y-you wait a minute I need to get my things sortedā
Oh shit.
You were in that dress againā¦
Sunday spaced out for a few secondsā¦thinking about how youād look defiled wearing the dress how heād kiss you all over and really show you how much he caredā¦before being rung back by your response. āOf course Iāll wait for you outside sunnyā
The same beautiful smile as always remained on your face.
After that day he found himself having an almost insatiable sex drive.
He definitely had a thing for cute mannerisms. The girlish charm you brought him, The cute trinkets youād show off to him.
āHnngā¦ahh g-goodnessā¦ā
He was getting closeā¦.
Thinking about how cute you were how you dressed with frilly cute clothesā¦
Oh what ifā¦what if underneathā¦you had secretly put on frilly cute lingerieā¦with cute bows on itā¦
Just then thinking about you wearing such a thingā¦.he came hard.
āAhh- ahā¦[n-name]! Please justā¦.just l-let me touch you.ā
He was acting like a cat in heat. Every time youād interact with him, especially if you were acting very endearing heād go to the bathroom and rub out a quick one.
he finally finished againā¦in the express bathroom
You had noticed a few things from your room go missing, thinking you misplaced them you simply shrugged it off and went on with your day.
All the while Sunday was having a moment of guilty pleasure jerking off to one of your favorite skirts. He didnāt want you to be disappointed in him so he himself personally cleaned it once he was done with it. In which you caught him in the act.
āSunday?ā
His Heart dropped.
āIs that my skirtā¦?ā
He got up and immediately looked panicked
āI- I found it on the floor somewhere so I thought Iād clean it up!ā
Your face twisted into a frown.
āTheirs no need to lie..I want the truth Sunday. You know I hate lies and half truthsā
To that statement he panicked and let out a flurry of apologies.
āIām so sorry i understand if you want to boot me off the express Iām a brute who-ā
You cut him off by patting his head. It left him utterly perplexed and flustered.
āIā¦I really like you [name]ā he started.
āI justā¦these past few months have been the happiest months of my life.ā Before he knew it he was tearing up.
ā¦he felt patheticā¦so pathetic, the way he collapsed to his knees covering his now tear stained face. āI took your clothes cause I was too scared to speak to you. What would I even sayā¦?ā He choked out.
āI feel like a dirty filthy animal. Plā¦please please forgive meā¦.my littleā¦doveā your expression softened as you heard the man you knew and had grown to cherish and love, break down into a puddle of shame. You moved your hand to gently wipe his tears away and cupped his face.
āItās ok sunnyā¦.its ok.ā
He took this as a sign to cling onto your waist and beg for forgiveness.
before he even got the chance to try you made a playful comment.
āDid all those years in celibacy drive you to become a pervert?ā
His heart dropped.
āH-how did you knowā¦?ā
He said looking up at you cautiously.
To which you responded with a laugh.
āYou werenāt exactly quiet you know.ā
He was so embarrassed he could die.
You continued to pat his head
āYour whimpers are rather cute. Butā¦I do have one question.ā
sunday is such a proper man, swears up and down he's gonna wait until marriage before properly fucking you. and he's determined to hold himself to it. but surely it doesn't count if he rubs himself against your panties, relishing in the warm, sticky feeling of your sweet cunt through the wet fabric. it doesn't count if he pushes just the tip under the fabric, rubbing himself between the folds without pushing in.
Idol!Pervert!Sunday during your surprise visit on tour, he discreetly slips a pair of your worn black lace panties from your bag while you're in the shower, pocketing them with trembling fingers, knowing he could ask but too ashamed of his crude desires to risk tarnishing his perfect image.
Back in Idol!Pervert!Sunday's dressing room after the show, he locks the door, wraps the lace around his throbbing cock, inhales your lingering scent, and strokes himself furiously, imagining your tits bouncing as he cums hard into the fabric, staining it with his release before hiding it away as a filthy secret.
As you unpack in the hotel room, Idol!Pervert!Sunday's gaze lingers on the low neckline of your outfit, fixating on the soft swell of your breasts and the faint outline of your nipples, his cock twitching in his slacks at the thought of palming and sucking them until you're begging, all while maintaining his composed facade.
The sight of your curves fuels Idol!Pervert!Sunday's dark daydreams of finally having you alone after tourāpinning you down, spreading your legs, and fucking you senseless without restraint, his erection straining as he envisions your pussy clenching around him in desperate need.
In the dead of night on the tour bus, Idol!Pervert!Sunday's calls you, coaxing out your drowsy confessions about his body and how good you know he can make you feel, while his hand pumps his leaking dick under the covers, timing his strokes to your soft moans, biting back groans as he spills over his fist when you whimper his name in half-sleep.
The moment tour ends and Idol!Pervert!Sunday's home, he attacks your skin with his mouthāsucking dark purple marks across your neck, collarbone, the tops of your tits, and inner thighs, each bite and pull of his lips marking you as his, his cock hardening further at the way you arch into the pain-pleasure.
As Idol!Pervert!Sunday's eats you out against the wall, he watches your legs squeeze together in arousal, the subtle sign of your own perversion making his balls tighten; he knows you're just as filthy, craving his depravity, but he grinds his hips against nothing to hide how desperately it makes him want to claim you harder.
While you're not around, Idol!Pervert!Sunday's buries his face in one of your forgotten shirts left in his bunk, inhaling deeply the mix of your perfume and skin, his free hand palming his growing bulge through his jeans as stagehands mill about nearby, the risk heightening his twisted thrill.
On off-days when you're crashed out in Idol!Pervert!Sunday's hotel bed, he props his phone to capture the way your chest rises and falls, skirt riding up to tease your panties; later, alone, he jerks off to the footage, zooming in on your parted lips and exposed thighs, cumming with your innocent snores as his soundtrack.
Scrolling through your private posts during late-night flights, Idol!Pervert!Sunday's fixates on innocent selfies that highlight your cleavage or ass, hand slipping into his sweats to stroke slowly, denying his orgasm until he's trembling, only releasing when he imagines sneaking into your room to fuck you awake.
Idol!Pervert!Sunday's pockets a scrunchie you leave behind, stretching it around the base of his dick during solo sessions on the bus, the elastic bite mimicking your tight pussy as he pumps, grunting softly at how it traps his cum, prolonging the ache until he rips it off in ecstasy.
Mid-song, with thousands screaming, Idol!Pervert!Sunday's mind wanders to cornering you backstage, bending you over a speaker and pounding your ass while muffled cheers play, his tailored pants tenting slightlyāblamed on "energy"āas sweat drips and he fights not to touch himself right there.
In the quiet morning light of your shared bed post-tour, Idol!Pervert!Sunday's slides between your legs while you sleep soundly, his thick cock nudging your entrance before pushing in slow and deep, thrusting gently at first to rouse you with the stretch and fullness, groaning as your eyes flutter open and you clench around him in sleepy pleasure, pulling him deeper.
After finally fucking you, instead of cleaning up fully, Idol!Pervert!Sunday's smears a bit of his drying release on your inner wrist or behind your ear like cologne, the secret stickiness a constant reminder throughout the day that you're his dirty little secret, making him smirk whenever you unconsciously touch it.
I wrote smth i wanna read, smd if u don't think he would do this
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