#Gallagher x sunday

[notarakhae]

I just can't stop thinking about them

[theserpentart]

goodbye and take care, birdie.

[milkyb4t]

COMMISSION - DO NOT USE

[villain-byteniwoha]

I love galladay's potential in the same capacity I love hannigram—it is taking everything away from each other, being stripped down, making mistakes, exploring and exploiting vulnerabilities; it's all the dog and master symbolism, except it's also about being devoured. You rip off my fangs and break my spine, I clip your wings and take your heart. I abhor you, I want to reject you, I trust you with my death because life feels meaningless without you.

I am disgusted by who I am when I am with you, because that is the truth I choose to deny. You see the monster in me and you do not run, for the same monster lies within you.

Are we both not puppets in the end? Are we both not simply selfish in the end?

Let the end come with the fall of us.

[mivkmiv]

Silly’s 🤏

Spoilers for the new thing

[maoriryuuji]

💍

[k3kban]

My first reaction to Wriolette: i can't see them as a couple, they're just colleagues

Later: making arts, mini comics, sketches, "I love this pairing omg"

My first reaction to Neuvizhu: it's... unusual but they look good together

Later: making arts (tbh I have a few nsfw arts with them), mini comics, sketches, animation, I got c3 Baizhu and c1 Neuvi, it's my favourite genshin pairing now, hfdjsidsofkeoijds

My first reaction to Galladay: they're looking like a toxic couple, idk... but I'll try to look at them better

Later: The entire last month all of my drawings are with them... And yep, they are my favourite hsr pairing now, lol

[v4sya]

[aurae-rori]

guys what are your opinions on galladay im curious

[r3ap33rr]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

UGH THEM

Gallagher & Sunday mods by @ parsapuff on tumblr ☆

[tower-arcana]

Close Your Eyes.

a galladay / stellaron hunter sunday oneshot!

link to the ao3 version. . . .

Sunday had admittedly been through quite a lot as of late, so perhaps it was no wonder he’d been having less than savory dreams. He’d wake in the morning or sometimes far before dawn, and he’d be crying uncontrollably, tears blurring his vision to the point of pain. He would have to sit up, grab a pre-prepared box of tissues, and dab at his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. The feeling of immense grief and longing lingered, but he could never pinpoint where it came from.

He couldn’t even remember his dreams, much less why they made him feel the way he did. Bitterness, sadness, and regret were all common themes, as if he’d lost something important to him, but what? Or even who?

Sunday couldn’t waste too much time worrying over things that he didn’t have an answer to, however, and as he wiped away the most recent of his fallen tears, he got dressed and made himself look as presentable as possible; even when aligning himself with the Stellaron Hunters, he had an image to keep, after all.

The deck of the skiff was quiet as Sunday stepped out of his quarters, eyes surveying the area to find only Kafka awake at this hour. Silver Wolf was likely passed out or gaming, Blade was an enigma himself, and Firefly was still recovering from overexertion during Penacony. He felt his heart twist with self-loathing at the words they’d exchanged while he was in his… weaker moments, but at least she was polite enough to co-exist with him now.

As Sunday approached the control board where Kafka was idly watching over their course amongst the stars, he didn’t even have to see her lift her head to know she was aware of his presence. With her ever-amused hum, Kafka finally flicked her gaze to Sunday and gave a coy little wave.

“Hey, sleepy head. Up and at ‘em early today, huh?” Kafka questioned with a slight tease to her tone, and Sunday knew she was perfectly aware of how she often ruffled his feathers, so to speak. Still, he didn’t make a jab back; he’d become far too used to masking his irritation as the former Oak Family Head, and the skill came in handy here, too.

With a passive facial expression and a soft sigh as he sat down in the open seat beside the captain’s chair Kafka was perched on, Sunday crossed his legs and met her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Good morning, Kafka. I suppose it is early, isn’t it?”

Sunday makes sure not to crack, even as Kafka studies him with that unnerving gaze of hers, like she’s read his mind and has studied every bit of him like the back of her hand. His lips, however, purse into a deep frown with her next words.

“You’ve been having those dreams again, haven’t you?” Kafka says it more as a statement than a question, and the way her tone seems almost sympathetic makes Sunday want to vomit. “It’s written all over your face, hon. Especially those puffy red eyes.”

It takes everything in Sunday not to bristle and snap at Kafka then and there, reproached by the idea of being called out so blatantly by the woman – but he holds back, and with a sharp inhale through his nose, he sighs out his frustrations. Perhaps he can let his facade slip, if only slightly, for every lie is rooted in truth, isn’t it?

“...Yes, they’ve been rather persistent, unfortunately,” Sunday concedes, clicking his tongue indignantly as he averts his eyes to the window, even though he knows he can hardly hide from Kafka’s watchful surveillance. “It’s peculiar, really. I don’t even know what could make me react so strongly.”

He can feel Kafka’s weighted gaze on him as she appears to consider his dilemma, and after a few beats of silence, she pipes up once again with an offer he hadn’t even begun to consider. “Perhaps it’s some sort of subconscious blocking of your memories? I could use my spirit whisper and see if I can wrangle a little bit out, I managed to do it once for Bladie.”

“Excuse me?” Sunday can’t help the way he perks up at Kafka’s suggestion, and he quickly schools his expression into one of doubt. Still, he can’t deny the hope that surged forth at her offer, and he wonders just how much merit it had to it. He was beyond curious about what exactly had been plaguing his subconscious, and he at least wanted to resolve it so he could move on with his duties.

Sunday considers it for a moment longer, before hesitantly, he nods his head and turns his body to face Kafka in the seat, his expression wary. “Very well, I suppose there’s nothing to lose in trying. Try anything funny, though, and I assure you I will–”

“Sure, sure, I know the drill. Just sit back and try not to freak yourself out, birdie,” Kafka waved off Sunday’s threat with a nonchalant laugh, and she turned to face him as well. He couldn’t help but notice she was making an effort to be oddly… comforting, and he didn’t know whether he despised it or somewhat appreciated it.

He didn’t get much of a chance to decide which, however, because Kafka’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she purred out the trigger word. “Listen: Sunday, you’ll let yourself remember whoever or whatever you’ve forgotten. You’ll remember and you’ll process whatever you’ve been hiding from, and you’ll do it without self destructing… starting now.”

The whole charade was a bit too glorified for his liking, if Sunday was honest. He raised an eyebrow as he waited for something to magically happen, and despite the sinking feeling in his stomach, he remained skeptical. After a moment, he shook his head and opened his mouth to report his nonexistent findings when he felt his eyes begin to… water?

He was crying. Why was he crying? Why was he–

Sunday remembered when he first met Gallagher at a gathering between the families, and it was as if the man had been there his entire life. He slipped in and took his place at the table, and nobody batted an eye. He was perfectly inconspicuous, even to Sunday. And yet, something felt off when he’d locked gazes with Gallagher, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that this man was out of place. A puzzle piece shoved into the wrong place and forced to fit into the grand picture.

Sunday bided his time until after the meeting had ended, keeping a hawk-like eye on Gallagher the entire time as he approached the taller man, wary, but not intimidated. The Oak heir had long since found that the tallest men can fall with the sweet music of order.

“Gallagher of the Bloodhound family, yes?” Sunday greeted smoothly, putting on a faux smile of warmth as he bowed his head ever so slightly, another empty show of respect. Another thing he’d learned is that you must kiss the asses of these buffoons to earn their trust, and so he would do just that. “My name is Sunday Oak, as I’m sure you're already aware. I’m afraid we haven't had the pleasure of meeting personally yet, though. May we get to know each other a bit, perhaps over dinner?”

Again, kiss their ass and repeat until you have what you want; Sunday may be a devout believer, but he knows the inner orchestrations of life well. What he doesn't expect, however, is for the gruff looking individual to crack an almost wolfish grin and wink at him, of all things!

“Gallagher in the flesh and at your service! It’s an honor to finally meetcha, and you know…” Gallagher pauses, a teasing hint in his tone and his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I’d say it sounds like you’re asking me on a date right now, Mister Oak. Don’t get me mixed up, I’m definitely open to it, just surprised I’ve charmed the pants off of the Family Representative so fast!”

If Sunday was a man with less self control and less patience, he may have bristled and flushed a furious red right then and there; instead of rightfully telling Gallagher off, though, the Halovian just smiles thinly and plays along. He wasn’t exactly one to seduce men for his own benefit, but at least Gallagher was nice to look at all the same.

“I wouldn’t say my pants are charmed off just yet, Mister Gallagher,” Sunday quips back with an easy smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he begins to lead Gallagher out of the meeting hall and to the foyer. “But perhaps I am inviting you to a date, and it seems you’re willing, too. Now, why don’t I have the culinary staff prepare us a nice meal…”

Sunday could tell this would be a long evening already, but he fully planned on getting to the bottom of this admittedly charming man known as ‘Gallagher,’ no matter what.

/ / /

Well, that had escalated far quicker than Sunday had anticipated.

One second, he was begrudgingly enjoying the banter between himself and Gallagher, exchanging jabs and playful snide remarks; in the next moment, Sunday was eagerly pressing himself against Gallagher’s body, pulling the taller man’s hair down so that their lips met in a messy kiss. Sunday was nothing if not coordinated, but he felt almost… desperate to have this enigma closer to him, to feel the heat of this potential threat. What a fool he was.

Tongues and limbs intertwined, the two men barely managed to make it to Sunday’s bed chambers before they were ripping each other’s clothes off, and in a whirlwind of passion and lewd noises, hours passed before they were through with each other. Desire satiated, at least for the moment, Sunday laid in Gallagher’s arms, his head resting on the wolfish man’s chest as he caught his breath, and his nose wrinkled as he smelled the smoke from the other’s cigar.

“Must you rot your lungs in my bed? If you get ash in my sheets, Gallagher…” Sunday’s tone was warning and rather harsh, especially for his usual persona he attempted to portray, but Gallagher hardly seemed to mind. In fact, he just chuckled heartily, the sound sending vibrations through his chest that made Sunday’s traitorous heart flutter in his chest.

“Relax, relax, pretty bird, I won’t make too much of a mess,” Gallagher soothed halfheartedly, though as he paused, a devilish smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, not more of a mess than I’ve already made, of course.”

Sunday felt his face heat up at that, and he scoffed in exasperation, rolling over onto his other side and facing away from Gallagher, almost pouting. He wasn’t one to sulk, he had a reputation to upkeep after all, but something about this man made him feel more vulnerable than he had in a very long time. “You’re far too vulgar for your own good, hound dog.”

“Pfft– Hound dog? I like these animal pet names we’re coming up with, it gives me a chance to get creative,” Gallagher snickered a bit, but he conceded all the same in putting out his cigar and scooting closer to Sunday, putting an arm around the other man and pulling him back against his chest. “Come on, don’t put me in the dog house, Sunday! Geeze, you’re really too cute, you know that?”

Cute? Sunday was far from cute, and yet that comment made his heart skip a beat all the same. Xipe above, what was this Bloodhound doing to him?

/ / /

Sunday was all but seething as he leaned over Gallagher’s desk, his lips pulled back in a sneer as he glared daggers at the smug bastard’s face. He’d barely been able to keep proper track of Gallagher’s dealings that entire month, and the more he looked into it, the stranger the apparent Bloodhound’s employment became. Who the hell was this man?

“You’ve been sneaking around like an alley stray, you know that, yes? You’re hardly as subtle as you seem to think you are!” Sunday hissed in a dangerously low tone, making it clear he wasn’t about to sit down and take these mysteries that Gallagher kept feeding him. It was almost like a betrayal, to invest so much time into this mystery of a man and get so little in return.

Still, Gallagher hardly seemed to be taking this seriously; he even laughed as he leaned back in his chair, a crooked grin on his face as he scanned over Sunday’s fuming face. “Aww, don’t be like that. I’m sure you’ve got secrets of your own, don’t you, pretty bird?”

“Don’t call me that!” Sunday shot back, bristling at the sickly sweet tone Gallagher used, one that had once assuaged him, but one that now made his skin crawl. He hated feeling out of control, this weak, and he was determined to eliminate the source. “I may have my secrets, but they’re for the benefit of others, Mister Gallagher. And I hardly find it convincing that you have any secrets that aren’t only for your own gain!”

A beat of silence follows after that, a tension hanging thick in the air as Gallagher’s smile slowly faded, and he stared Sunday down. The Halovian nearly felt unnerved, but he held his ground, and he watched in outrage as a bitter smirk twisted on the Bloodhound’s lips.

“I won’t deny you there, Mister Oak. I’m a selfish man, and I’m afraid I gave you the wrong impression that you could change that,” Gallagher’s voice was flat, lacking in the usual warmth it held, and Sunday felt a chill run down his spine at the near-deadly glint in the man’s eyes. “Now, why don’t you run along and play with your toys, Mister Oak? I have a job to do, as you have so politely reminded me of.”

Gallagher waved Sunday away then, making it clear the conversation was over. Sunday almost had the impulse to continue chewing the other man out, but he felt… heavy. He decided he would leave with the little dignity he had left, if Gallagher decided it was as he saw fit.

Spinning around on his heel, Sunday stalked off, keeping a mask of fury still on his face, but he felt a brew of conflicting emotions inside. Why did he feel so hurt? Why did he feel used? He was not one of the weak, he was not one of the ones to feel shepherded — so why?

Why did he already miss Gallagher?

/ / /

Sunday had thought he was dead for certain. When Gallagher had practically cornered him in his office, he could practically taste the bitter bile of death in the air. Is this what Robin had felt when Gallagher had taken her life? In a way, the Halovian man felt he was responsible; maybe if he’d exposed this wretched hound sooner, this wouldn’t have all fallen apart.

Then, when Unto Death’s coil struck, Sunday found himself… breathing. Alive. With his sister, Robin.

Sunday didn’t know what to make of it. Even if Gallagher’s intentions were apparently good-natured, even if the Bloodhound had revealed it all in the name of the Trailblazer’s cause… Sunday could not feel content. No, he couldn’t be satisfied knowing he was not only lied to, but used in the grand scheme of this man’s plans, no matter how just.

But it was fine. Sunday would have his time to dish out punishment soon enough; he had his own turn to enact a betrayal, after all. It seemed Gallagher was aware of Sunday’s plans as well, somehow that damn devil had seen through him yet again. But he said nothing, neither of them did. Gallagher just gave him one last forlorn look, as if Sunday was the one in the wrong!

He only hoped, as he turned his back to Gallagher one final time, that this loyal old mutt would be able to witness the dream Sunday had so carefully crafted before vanishing. For he knew that if his deductions were correct, Gallagher had revealed his secrets, and thus, he would meet his own end in due time.

Sunday didn’t need to acknowledge how that very thought made his stomach sick. He only needed to keep his eyes ahead, and he would bring order to this chaotic dreamscape once and for all.

/ / /

Sunday couldn’t stop the tears from falling, from clouding his vision and twisting his heart into painful knots. It had all been for nothing. He had been so sure what he was doing was right, and in the end, he’d had a hand in Gallagher’s death all the same. Maybe if he had realized Gopher Wood was a false prophet sooner, maybe if he wasn’t part of the very same antagonists the Trailblazers had to defeat–

He hadn’t even realized he’d been struggling to breathe until Kafka had reached out to put a steadying grip on Sunday’s shoulder, her voice soothing and almost maternal as she guided him through a few breathing exercises. “In and out, slowly birdie, slowly…”

It took a few minutes before Sunday could think clearly again, his throat hoarse and his eyes stinging from the realization of what had been the source of his grief all along. Gallagher, oh Aeons, how had he forgotten you?

Sunday didn’t need to look at Kafka to know her expression was sympathetic, and he just shook his head, gripping his knees as he made sure not to spike into another lapse of sobs once again. He finally brought his gaze up to look at her, and she just nodded understandingly, patting his shoulder one last time before standing up and leaving him at the control panel without another word.

It was amazing just how far a human’s trust could go. It was a shame he couldn’t show the same trust to Gallagher when he had the chance. He’d been so keen on placing faith in no one but himself, and look where it got him…

Sunday was such a fool. Such a goddamn fool.

With a shaking sigh, he pulled himself into a standing position, intending to wash his face at the least before the other Stellaron Hunters woke up, as well as process the past he’d just realized, when the clatter of metal hitting the ground caught his attention. Blinking, Sunday’s eyes drifted down to see a simple silver lighter, and he picked it up with careful hands, inspecting the familiar item with a small smile.

“Ever the loyal dog, aren’t you, hound?”

Sunday wouldn’t forget Gallagher, not this time, not ever again.

[bernardellinewsagency]

Alright, I'm at ~5k words for this explicit Gallagher/Sunday fic, the "important stuff" still hasn't even happened yet, and I'm probably going to pretty easily reach at least 7-8k words by the time I'm done with this chapter. And I'm looking at making this a six chapter story and not just a oneshot so that could be, what, ~42-48k words in total if I keep at this pace? Maybe I should just make it a oneshot, but fuck it, I'm gonna post a preview of it to try and inspire myself to make it as long as my gay little heart desires.

It doesn't really have a title though. I've just been calling it the dreamjolt au. Or more appropriately, the "what if the Dreamjolt Hostelry is a queer kink club in a modern au" au. I mean, that does give pretty much most of what you'd need to know about it, so...

Anyways, hiding my ramblings about details under the cut, as well as the preview cause I thought I had picked a short snippet that I could use to try and showcase the story and my writing and all that good stuff. Nope. It's a thousand words. What the hell.

Gallagher is, of course, still a bartender within this au. I originally came up with the au, then I had the idea of a six chapter story where all the chapters are named after his eidolons since those are all cocktail names, wherein the plot would primarily focus on interactions between him and Sunday and conversations they'd have while he'd serve Sunday various drinks, which would be the cocktails from the chapter titles. Then I thought hey, what if I combined these, and now I'm looking at pushing myself to not just abandon this story halfway through. The things I do for the sake of hot yet emotional and character driven Galladay fics...

Sunday, of course, is the son of a megachurch leader. Because I thought about it, and realized that oh yeah, Gopher Wood probably would just be a weird megachurch leader who's really more like a cult leader but shh, no one needs to know about that. So, you know, he's a bit fucked up because of that sort of upbringing, but honestly he might be chiller than his canonical self. He's really fun to write though, it's always interesting to try and get into character as him so that his dialogue sounds just like him.

Other details include: Siobhan as the club's owner and lifelong friend of Gallagher's, Mikhail as Gallagher's previous partner before he passed away, Gallagher raising Mikhail's son Misha, and the Astral Express crew and other HSR characters who will eventually be making appearances. So far, only March has, because I desperately needed to include her being the biggest lesbian of all time.

OKAY ONTO THE PREVIEW:

As he’s busy thinking of how to approach the younger man, the situation is taken from his hands by the very target he’s looking for. “Can I help you?” he calls from afar, while Gallagher is still a few tables away from where he’s seated.

Damn, he’s perceptive. His eyes take on a certain soul piercing quality as he gets closer; a shocking gold color that would freeze a lesser man in place, at least until they realized it’s mostly only because of how the light is reflecting. “Yeah, actually, you can,” Gallagher replies once he’s closer and won’t have to raise his voice so much to be heard. “Is this chair taken?”

He can tell what Sunday is thinking of, as those gorgeous eyes rake up and down his figure. He knows that the two of them must seem like polar opposites, he’s never cared about keeping his work clothes presentable while the preacher’s son looks like he’s never had even a hair out of place. His inquiry is met with a raised eyebrow, but Sunday shakes his head after just a moment more. “No, no, go ahead and take it.”

“Great!”

When Sunday shifts to glare at him, he can see that his eyes are more brown than gold, but no less alluring. “Apologies, I assumed you would be taking the chair itself, not sitting down here.”

“Sorry. You’re not waiting for anyone, are ya?” Of course he wouldn’t be, Siobhan definitely didn’t describe the man as the type to be meeting anyone here. “Just wanted to try and talk to one of the most handsome looking men here, nothing more to it if you don’t want there to be.” If Sunday is surprised by what he’s saying at all, he doesn’t show it, just like how he doesn’t immediately shake Gallagher’s hand when he sticks it out. “Gallagher, nice to meet you.”

“Sunday,” comes the eventual reply, stunning Gallagher with the use of his real first name. He doesn’t shake Gallagher’s hand though, leaving him to awkwardly retract it. “You work here, yes?”

It’s a pretty stilted attempt at starting up a conversation, and it sounds like a script to social interaction long since memorized with the way that Sunday says it. Gallagher can picture how those captivating eyes would look reading through a long article on how to converse with someone you wish would go away. He doesn’t go away though, just humors the question. “Bartender, security, whatever the boss lady needs me to do for the night. Not the most cushy job, but it helps to pay the bills.”

“Which is this?” Sunday then asks, confusing Gallagher into silence as he waits for an explanation. “If this is ‘bartending’, then this is just a friendly chat with a patron. Or, are you chatting with me merely as a guise for ‘security’?”

“What the fuck? That’s some weird fucking logic, you know that, right?” He has to resist the urge to laugh. Everything about the situation seems hilarious to him now, right down to whatever the hell Sunday is saying. “Most patrons just talk ‘bout what scenes they want to try, not play mind games or whatever you’re up to.”

Sunday takes a sip from his glass of water, his face remarkably impassive throughout. “I don’t think this is any sort of mind game, Mister Gallagher. I saw you speaking with your boss while looking right at me, and then you came over and attempted to strike up a casual conversation. Perhaps you’re no different than the patrons of this establishment, interested in a pretty face, or perhaps there was no reason for me to introduce myself as all, seeing as you may have already known my name.”

“And if I did?”

Something in Sunday changes, hearing that. His posture slumps, losing some of its rigidity as he visibly frowns for once. “Then I would say that I don’t wish to indulge any questions you may have, so you may as well ask them directly, the response would be the same as if you tried to ask them in some roundabout manner.”

“And what if I really did just come over here ‘cause I wanted you to indulge me in something else?”

Sunday’s posture is back to rigid and ramrod straight, though this time it seems to be because he’s shocked. “Elaborate?” he asks, hisses more like, teeth clenched so tight it’s gotta hurt. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked like that. Actually, Gallagher thinks, it’s likely he’d be met with hostility no matter how he asked.

Leaning back in his seat, he resists the urge to smirk at how out of his depth the younger man looks. “It’s true, I knew your name before I came over here, and yeah, I am pretty curious ‘bout why you, of all people, are frequenting the Dreamjolt. I also ain’t much better than the other patrons here, and I’m definitely interested in a certain pretty face. And if it’s any benefit, I know better than most of the patrons than to ask questions you don’t wanna answer.”

He watches as Sunday worries a lip between his teeth, biting at chapped skin. “You’re…” he trails off, but he relaxes a few scant degrees as he takes in the situation.

“Propositioning you?” Gallagher fills in the blank for him. “Yup. You do know how the Dreamjolt works and what people usually do here, right?”

“I- Of course I do!” Sunday scoffs at him, but it also gets him to slightly grin, the sight of which counts as a win in Gallagher’s books. “I didn’t just blindly pick this place to come to, I’ll have you know.” 

Gallagher thinks for a moment of asking why he picked the Dreamjolt of all places before deciding against it. He won’t press his luck asking questions that Sunday doesn’t want to answer. Maybe he’ll get him to open up in his own time, but certainly not tonight. “So you are aware, that’s good. Look, I dunno your taste or type, but if it changes anything, I’ve been doing this for a long time. While I wouldn’t really call myself professional, if you’re ever looking to spend a night here not just sittin’ all alone, I’d be honored to offer my, uh, services to someone as good looking as you.”

Sunday flushes, yet the way his brows furrow sends rather mixed messages. “Do you really think I need such… company, in my life?” he eventually says.

If it sounds that much like a deflection, that’s probably what it is. Gallagher tries to take it in stride; he did come into this talk thinking that it might take a bit of work, and it’s still at least easier than trying to talk some sense into drunks like he can faintly hear Siobhan trying to accomplish. “Honestly? Yeah. You’ve got this look about you, one that I’ve seen on too many good men deep in their own struggles. And you’re intriguing, what can I say? If I could possibly help ya out, then I’d like to be able to do so.”

ANDDDDDD that is where I'll cut myself off. Not really sure how to end this, but feel free to let me know what you think, and if anyone might be interested in being like, a beta reader or anything, uh, that'd be really cool! Never had one of those before but I'm open to new experiences :)

[maple-keenes]

preview for my contribution to the 18+ galladay bang (which you can find more info on by clicking on that link) posting in september!

sunday is a college student looking to prove to his friends and sister that he's not, in fact, a massive prude who hates fun, so he ends up going to a local bar in order to show them that he can be fun. it... goes differently than he expects.

[anietydriven]

Not So Angelic things! [ Gallagher x Sunday ] (Smut shot)

Sunday was in love, He’s been in love with Gallagher for a very long time now. Over 5 years, although most of the years he’s been watching Gallagher from afar. Was it stalkerish? Yes, Did Sunday care? No. Sunday sat up from his bed, drowsy. This grey haired man turned his head to see that Gallagher wasn’t next to him.

“…Heh.” A crooked smile crept onto his soft lips.

Sunday got up from their bed, he walked towards his nightstand. The blanket slowly fell onto the floor revealing his bare naked features. Sunday was riddled with hickeys around his neck. This man was mentally unstable. Because Sunday had an unhealthy obsession with Gallagher. Sunday praised everything about him. He grazed his soft fingertips against the calendar. The date was circled around today’s date.

That’s because today was a special day for him — For both of them. Today was the day of the anniversary of them dating. This angelic man’s wings that were connected to the back of his neck had fluttered happily. A satisfied expression rested upon his face. This angel tilted his head, thinking of ways to give this man a present. Knowing Gallagher, he should be at the station working.

This grayish-silver haired man walked into his closet and pressed a button. A hidden door opened up. In it was photos of Gallagher, it looked like Gallagher had no idea photos were taken of him. Sunday kissed a photo before changing into some skinny jeans and a fashionable shirt. He was a model after all, he had to make sure he looked appealing. Sunday wasn’t entirely a good person. He had his morals but that’s all.

With him now dressed, he slipped a hoodie on. Now he was on his way to see the love of his life. Sunday walked for what felt like hours — Was actually 15 minutes to get to the police station.

As bad as it sounds, Sunday was a reoccurring visitor to the police station. Not because he committed crimes, but because the whole station knew who Gallagher was dating. After all, who wouldn’t know who Sunday was? He’s a model!

The secretary at the station saw a view of Sunday coming up to the building and gave Sunday a thumbs up.

“You can go right in, Sir.” She spoke giddily.

Sunday, mused by her reaction and decided to flatter her a little bit. Sunday leaned in and leaned against the desk.

“You look absolutely stunning.” He spoke ever-so sultry.

Causing the woman to blush heavily. Sunday waved bye to the secretary before he slipped into the halls of offices. He glanced around until his body subconsciously stopped in front of Gallagher’s office. Sunday stared at his man who was busy, on a call. This angelic man walked into his office with a soft smile.

Gallagher looked up to see Sunday, but what he did next made Sunday pout. What Gallagher did was hold up a finger and ‘shooed’ him away. Sunday pouts as he felt like he being pushed away.

Sunday smirked and quickly hid under the desk. Gallagher had his eyes on the screen while on the phone, he didn’t see Sunday under the desk.

“No, I know this project is needed, considering how much crime has been amped up within this month.” Gallagher spoke to his boss.

Sunday’s wings fluttered a bit. Hes curious now. What was Gallagher talking about? Sunday purposefully let his breath hit Gallagher’s crotch. This police officer winced before his eyes darted down to meet Sunday’s unreadable eyes.

Gallagher mouthed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Sunday smirked deviously while he pressed his cheek against Gallagher’s crotch. As if he’s trying to get any reaction out of his lover’s cock. Gallagher rolled his eyes and focused on the call at hand. While Sunday attempted to turn this hound on. Everyone jokes that Gallagher was a blood hound due to his senses.

Sunday licked Gallagher’s shaft through his jeans. Causing his breath to hitch in his throat. Gallagher coughed a bit due to nearly choking on air.

“Are.. you okay?” Gallagher’s boss asked.

“Y-Yes I’m fine. I think smoking has gotten to me over these years.” He simply mused.

Sunday smirked to himself while he undid Gallagher’s belt and pants. At this point Gallagher’s body was subconsciously moving on its own. Since his legs had spread itself upon Sunday undoing the pants. Gallagher glared down to Sunday.

God that fierce gaze turned Sunday on. Sunday leaned his head down and wrapped his lips around the tip of Gallagher’s cock. He was used to it since this his first time sucking him off. Sunday pushed his own head down and practically swallowed Gallagher’s whole cock. Minus a few inches. Since he was on the brink of gagging.

Sunday groaned, just as Gallagher grunted in pleasure. This working man’s cheeks flushed softly while his stubble chin and jaw clenched. Sunday trailed his golden hues up towards Gallagher’s eyes. They both knew what was about to happen.

Gallagher mouth, “Want me to get off call?”

Sunday had his mouth full so he slightly shook his head.

He agreed and continued talking to his boss while Sunday sucked on his cock. This horny Angel rubbed his thighs together while he felt wetness go onto his underwear. It’s what people would call pussy juices, he’s an intersex angel. He’s got both a dick and a pussy.

Gallagher had tensed up at the feeling of g but he ended up not acknowledging Sunday even though he’s currently do anything to get Gallagher’s attention. After a moment he had groaned in pleasure, just as he hung up.

Gallagher had grabbed Sunday the collar of his shirt and pulled this man into his lap. Gallagher stared at Sunday with his piercing gaze.

“You go my attention, No be a good boy and ride me~” Gallagher practically purred.

Sunday processed the information in his head. That was when a blush appeared on his soft face. His angelic wings fluttered in excitement. His wings have covered his cheeks.

Sunday gave a small nod while he slipped his pants down, enough for his ass to be revealed. Sunday has aligned his boy pussy, then he forced his hips down onto Gallagher’s cock had twitched in pleasure at the sensation of the wet walls clenching around his shaft.

“Ha- Oh fuck..” Gallagher huffed.

He reached his hands out and wrapped his arms around Sunday’s hips. One of his hand’s had trailed up his hips and dug his fingers into the black wings on Sunday’s back.

The feeling of having Gallagher’s calloused fingers grip at the base of his erogenous zone. His Erogenous zone was his wings. Sunday had moaned while he moved his hips up and down this hound’s cock. Gallagher had one hand on Sunday’s rounded ass while his other hand was messing with his wings.

Sunday had decided to ignore the sensation of his wings and focused on moving his hips up and down. Sunday’s hip movements had increased overtime. Sunday moaned each time his hips had gone all the way down, to where Gallagher’s balls was touching his ass.

“Well little birdie, looks like I can just devour you~” Gallagher had purred into his ear.

Sunday didn’t care if they get caught. Because they were in public, his office. Sunday kept on bouncing his hips, feeling the tip hit his cervix each time he forced his hips down.

Gallagher had groaned while he whispered sweet nothings into Sunday’s ear. “Fuck.. I love the way your cute little boy-cunt~”

Sunday had felt chills down his spine while he had drooled in pleasure. “Oh fuck~”

“Tsk Tsk.. That’s not what angels say, Sunny~” Gallagher taunted while he had gently bit down onto his shoulder, leaving a bite mark with his canines.

Sunday’s inner walls to his pussy had clenched around his shaft. “Hng~ I’m gonna cum~” Sunday warned.

Gallagher had gripped onto Sunday’s wings. “Good~”

With that, Gallagher had used his hands and lifted Sunday up with his hands gripping at Sunday’s ass. Gallagher Then had forced Sunday down onto his cock, balls deep. Which caused Sunday to hit his orgasm.

“Ah~!” Was the only sound that escaped from Sunday’s mouth.

“Hn..” Gallagher huffed while he came, shooting load after load into Sunday’s boy pussy.

Sunday held his heart race just from this alone but after they both rode off the orgasm. Sunday had slipped off of Gallagher’s exposed cock before he pulled his pants back up.

“I’ll leave you be, but be home before dinner because I’ll make your favorite meal.” Sunday spoke sweetly before he kissed Gallagher’s head.

“‘Kay, C’ya soon.” Gallagher nodded as he watched Sunday leave

Sunday left the room as he received a call. Sunday walked as he answered. Sunday knew Gallagher was working on a case, a case that Sunday was involved in.

“Boss, We did what you asked.. What now?” One of the minions exclaimed.

“..Good, I’ll deal with the other things. So just sit back and watch the show.” Sunday hummed happily before he hung up.

Sunday pressed his phone up to his lips before muttered. “I’ll make this little game fun for the hound..”

The End~

[spumonibones]

A bunch of memes and vine reference art of Galladay have recruited me. I haven't even finished Penacony. I don't know what's going on.

But damn if I don't wanna try my hand at fulfilling any requests or ideas people may have for those two. Let's gooooooo.

(My fics in other fandoms will be getting an update next week, no worries, I'm not abandoning ships. Just. Sometimes you gotta write about *whatever* those two got going on.)

[ozzy-wozzy-the-iii]

i have... a fic idea

Might be slightly filthy but hear me out

Sunday x Gallagher, yes? But with inappropriate use of wounds–