#soft!sunday

[sharkiethrts]

prompt: meeting highschool sweetheart! sunday for the first time. oh, just how charming he tried to be

relations: sunday x reader

notes: this is modern au! with little relation to the actual story. There are NO YANDERE THEMES in this particular work, I'm more focused on picturing the human side of Sunday (without the detrimental effects of the dream master's manipulations).

warnings: none.

He talks a lot. Though you find that every word he says tend to fill with immense knowledge that seemed to peruse all the right places that clicked all the content your teacher had tried to impart upon the class. At this point, he made the teachers' comments seem more like an add on to his lessons. A rendition, almost.

He doesn't seem to have ever possessed a single vacuous thought in his life.

He's resplendent, too. Which added onto the charm, even if the classmate had found the subject particularly boring, they'd have to focus their gaze on him at least. If his charms hadn't worked (how, even), then his commanding presence should do the trick. Even when he wasn't speaking, you found that your gaze often found their way so incredibly naturally to him.

You think he knows of his charm. Otherwise, why would he be so confident in offering to relay the summary of Kafka's 'metamorphosis' so eagerly to you as an accompaniment to your reading.

"Kafka's self esteem has essentially pledged itself upon the approval of his family, which led to the derelict condition of his heart at the post-climax of the story..."

His voice is nice too. If the noises of the library are a cacophony of miserable sounds, his seems to have conducted all of it into an irie melody. You find yourself wondering whether his interactions with you have been a combination of polite passes and a shackled formality to maintain with another. You aren't an idiot, though you can be rather forgiving to details, you certainly haven't missed the unctuous smile and words he gifts to another.

You'd like to think that you'd be able to catch it when his facade starts showing but with the way his golden eyes introduce you to a drowning reverie, you start to doubt it.

It's not your first interaction, since his eager summarisation of Great Expectations two months ago, he hasn't stopped approaching you.

A part of you start to suspect that he had planned this. Every Friday, twelve forty-five, at the fiction corner.

You'd once change your schedule, moving it an hour later and happened upon Sunday impatiently waiting by the non-fiction corner, just two steps away from the fiction corner. When your eyes met, you think you saw a hint of splendor relief. You had quickly turned away. So you missed the rest.

"Are you perhaps tired?" His questions brings you back to reality, your eyes blinking furiously from how dry it had gotten by the past minute of you completing gazing off, "I understand that you had biology just prior to this, so I'd understand if you'd prefer to talk about something... easier to swallow... Macbeth, perhaps?"

There it is again. His not-so-subtle-now-that-you've-caught-on way of leading your time together to become a plethora of unending adventures. He doesn't offer to walk away but rather, a simple remedy of a new book. Sometimes a longer one, he had tried to sneak Harry Potter in once. Sneaky boy.

Seriously though? Macbeth for an 'easier-to-swallow' alternative? Now he's getting sloppy.

You test him.

"How about we part ways for now?" His eyes turned cautious. You decide to push it further, "I don't wish to burden your... already crowded responsibilities," you're certainly aware of his role as the golden boy of the Oak family, "Nor do I wish to force more ingratiating words out of you," You're certainly aware of his hidden affections for you by now, "Now that I think of it, haven't this been going on for... three months? That doesn't sound too fair to you-"

"-Two months," He cuts you off, his eyes now looking slightly strained. His posture taut, "You shouldn't be worrying of anything of the sorts, I'm completely happy to revise any type of stories you're interested in..."

That reminds you, your lie of being interested in Metamorphosis. You're sure that he hasn't read of it, yet, with his superb recounting of it to you? He must have spent his week revising.

"You don't need to be so... genteel," You smile, knowing exactly what a fool you're making of him, "I'm not exactly the most exciting conversation partner."

"Nonsense!" He cuts you off again, suddenly forgetting his manners, "You make me feel excitable things, I can assure you-" His cheeks suddenly turn red. His mouth closes. Then opens. And shuts again.

You let out the cheekiest smile you can possibly muster, "... Excitable, you say?"

You watch his neatly folded collar wrinkle for the first time.

"Nothing scandalous!"

You weren't thinking of such but now you're certainly curious, "I'm not quite sure I believe you."

Oh, did his tie loosen? A new sight to behold indeed.

Best to come at twelve forty-five sharp next week then.

[peachsukii]

— emergency contact

it’s been two years since you’ve seen your ex-boyfriend, and didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. a nasty villain fight lands you in the hospital during an overnight patrol and leaves you unable to tell the doctors who to call in your dazed state.

✮ content. late 20s. ex-boyfriend bakugo, hospitalization, sappy confessions & second chances. distance makes the heart grow fonder kind of deal.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

Sharp, shooting pain down your back and a desperate cry from your partner ⎯ that was the only thing you remember from the last…four hours? Time is becoming illusive at this point, blending together with how fast everything unraveled around you.

Were you injured on patrol? Did that villain slip through your fingers and escape? Where was your partner in all this chaos?

“Doctor, she’s waking up,” you hear in the distance, muffled but clear enough to understand. A nurse walks into your blurred vision, a soft smile on her lips. “Hi hon, you’re in the hospital. We’re taking you to your room now, hang tight.”

All you can manage to do is nod in acknowledgement, the world spinning on its axis and making you extremely dizzy. Your eyes fall closed, a hazy sleep welcoming you in seconds.

When you wake next, you're not quite sure how much time has passed. The room sits in darkness, the only sources of light coming from the moon outside the window and the various machines chirping around you. There's a static in your head, as if you're stuck on a radio frequency that hasn't been adjusted to the correct channel. Even with all the noise in your head, a familiar voice can be heard outside in the hallway, one you'd never mistake for anyone else.

"It's late," a nurse says, presumably trying to convince him to go home. "Are you sure you want to stay? We can try her other contacts again in a few hours."

"M'sure. Do I need'ta sign in or whatever?"

"No, that's alright. I'll notate it on her chart and let the front desk know. I'll be back in a bit and we can talk more about treatment."

The door slides open to prove you're not imagining things ⎯ your ex isn't a manifestation of your delirious state. Bakugo's standing in the dim light of the hallway, tip toeing inside and shutting the door as quietly as possible. When his eyes fall upon your hospital bed, he notices that you're awake and sighs. "Been awhile."

You don't have the energy to do this dance with him, to go back and forth with lightheartedness like old times. "Why are you here?"

His lips press into a straight line, jaw clenched tight as he seems to silently ask himself the same question. He makes his way over to the bed, taking a seat at the edge by your feet. "I'm still one of your emergency contacts in your hero file."

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There's no way you haven't updated your database profile in two years...right? Bakugo catches onto your confusion and explains before you have a chance to press him further on the matter. "M'the only one who answered."

What time was it, anyways? Your eyes bounce around the room swiftly to find a wall clock. You squint a bit to read it, finally making out the numbers. 4:30...am?

"What did they call you for?" you yawn, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. "I don't even know what happened."

He takes a deep breath as a large hand finds your thigh, resting atop the thin blanket. His touch makes you want to melt into a puddle, memories of your past relationship coming back in waves.

"They didn't tell me much, only that it was life or death. Thankfully, your ass chose life." He shakes his head, a quiet huff escaping him. "Somethin' about a villain's poison quirk. Ya got hit in the spine and it paralyzed you temporarily, an' you fell from someplace high up. Your partner caught ya and the paramedics got to you just in time."

Oh. Well, that explains the pain from earlier.

"But why did you answer their call, Baku⎯" you cut yourself off to correct his name as it leaves your lips. "Katsuki?"

"I'm not heartless, just 'cause we haven't talked in ages doesn't mean I don't care about ya."

You shift in your bed a bit, eyes gravitating toward the window to avoid his gaze. Truth be told, you two ended on decent terms and not maliciously. Wrong place, wrong time...at least, that's what you two chalked it up to. You were both too busy with hero work, too absent from each other's lives to properly be a couple. After a year, you convinced yourself that you were satisfied watching him from afar, catching brief glimpses of his life through interviews and news reports. That was your excuse, a cowardly way to keep him out of reach and prevent you, and him, from getting distracted.

"Hey." Bakugo's fingers squeeze your thigh to recollect your attention, the blanket crumpling under his palm. You're terrified to look at him, knowing full well that in your battered state, you'll crumble like stone if he says anything remotely sweet. Those vermillion eyes of his always had a way of making you weak ⎯ soft. "I was thinkin' on my way over here that I should'a called ya, reached out to keep in touch. M'sorry for not doin' that."

"It's...fine," you stammer out, a shaky hand coming up to wave off his concern. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"I don't wanna only talk to you when you're hurt, or worse..." he trails off, screwing his eyes shut to avoid the dread lingering in his chest. "Look. What m'gettin' at is you scared the shit outta me, and it made me realize that I've got a lot to say after all these years."

Oh boy, you brace yourself for impact, expecting the explosive nature to come pouring out any second. But, it never comes.

Before you could stop him, Bakugo's on his feet and leaning over the bed, arms slung around your shoulders to pull you close. A strange but familiar veil of comfort drapes over you in the moment, pulling on your heartstrings. Your eyes begin to sting when the words he whispers finally reach your ears. "M'done usin' hero work as an excuse to avoid you. I wanna talk this shit out...when you're ready. I'd love to make ya dinner again."

You can't help but let out a breathless laugh, arms finally coming up to return his hug. "Only if you promise to make your special katsudon. I've been craving it for weeks."

He chuckles over your shoulder, squeezing you a bit tighter in response. "Deal."

Who knew that a villain was what you two needed to face your fears, to finally admit that the spark was never smothered into nothingness. And this time, something tells you that you'll both make damn sure it stays ablaze.

happy softie sunday!! I know it's been awhile since I've written one. hope you don't mind some baku-sap :)

✮ network. @pixelcafe-network

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[saydesole]

My Sunday 🫶🏽🤎

IG:saydesole

How is your Sunday going?

I'm catching up on season six Love is Blind

[aventurineswife]

Prompt No. 31 with Aven, Ratio and Sunday plz 👀

(If u have time of course)

The iconic “Spiderman Kiss”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Fluff, Romance, Established Relationship, Playful Teasing, Soft Moments, Intimate Scenes, Spiderman Kiss, Emotional Vulnerability, Mutual Attraction, Tender, Subtle Tension.

A/N: EHHEHE 🤭💖😍

Aventurine

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the balcony where you and Aventurine stood. He leaned against the railing, his eyes glimmering with playful confidence, the gentle breeze tugging at his fur-lined coat. You had been joking around with him, your laughter floating in the air like music. But as the night deepened, something in the air shifted. You could feel it - the palpable tension, the electric charge between you two.

Aventurine's eyes locked onto yours, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "You look like you have something on your mind." he teased, his voice dripping with charm.

You narrowed your eyes at him, a mischievous grin forming. Without a word, you shifted your stance, silently closing the distance between you two. Aventurine raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but before he could say anything, you gently pushed him backward, guiding him down onto the soft cushions of a chaise lounge near the balcony edge.

His startled expression quickly gave way to amusement as he relaxed into the position. "Now, this is an interesting turn of events." he mused, hands resting behind his head as he looked up at you with a playful smirk.

You couldn't resist any longer. Leaning over him, you pressed your lips to his in a daring, upside-down kiss the "Spiderman kiss" you'd always joked about. Aventurine's eyes fluttered shut as he pulled you closer, his hands resting at the back of your neck, guiding you as he deepened the kiss.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your lips curling into a teasing smile. "I think I want to kiss you more..." you murmured.

His grin only widened, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Well, I certainly wouldn't mind that."

Sunday

The evening was calm, and you lay sprawled out on a plush couch, trying to unwind from the day's chaos. Sunlight filtered through the window, casting soft golden hues that matched the warmth of Sunday’s gaze as he entered the room. You watched as he moved with his usual dignified composure, his halo faintly glowing just behind his head, creating an almost angelic silhouette.

Sunday stopped beside you, a serene smile curving on his lips. “Resting, are we?” he asked softly, brushing a hand over your cheek with tenderness that sent a flutter through your heart.

“Trying to.” you murmured with a smile, closing your eyes.

Then, unexpectedly, Sunday shifted his position, leaning forward. The next moment, you felt him twist gracefully, lowering himself upside down until his face hovered just inches above yours. His hair cascaded downward, framing his face like a silvery waterfall. His eyes sparkled with a touch of playfulness, a rare expression for him.

“Ever seen the world from this angle?” he whispered, his voice carrying a hint of mischief that made your heart race. Before you could answer, he tilted his head and, in one smooth, deliberate motion, pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was soft but thorough, his lips warm against yours as he lingered, savoring the moment as if it were eternal.

You felt a surge of emotions as he kissed you, his usual reserve melting away as he held you there, suspended in that upside-down kiss, just like the Spiderman scene. It was as if he’d peeled back all his walls, his desire to protect and care for you wrapped up in every touch, every lingering moment.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes studied you with an intensity that took your breath away. “Perhaps a bit indulgent of me,” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smile dancing on his lips, “but worth it, I think.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, fingers tracing the faint glimmer of his halo as it flickered behind him. “More than worth it.” you whispered, pulling him back down for one more kiss.

Dr. Veritas Ratio

It was late, and the soft hum of your surroundings was the only sound in the room. Ratio, ever the scholar, had been engrossed in his studies, his wavy hair falling across his face as he examined some ancient texts. The moment was calm, but there was an undeniable connection between you two, a tension that had been building for some time.

His voice broke the silence, sharp yet soft, as he asked, "Have you read this passage? It's crucial for understanding the core concept of-"

You weren't paying attention to the words; only to him. You couldn't help it. The way his eyes shone with passion, the way his mind worked in overdrive, it all captivated you. But in this moment, you knew exactly what you wanted.

Before he could finish his sentence, you had swiftly moved, gently pushing him back onto the plush cushions of the chair he had been sitting in. Ratio's startled expression quickly melted into something more intrigued. You hovered above him, your breath catching in the air, and he looked up at you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"You're quite bold." he remarked, his voice still sharp but softer now, his eyes glittering with something deeper.

You smirked, leaning in close. "Sometimes, boldness is the best kind of knowledge." you said, just before planting a kiss on his lips. The position was perfect upside down, the "Spiderman kiss" as you kissed him softly, pulling away just enough to see the flash of surprise in his eyes.

His lips curled into a smile. "I find your theories fascinating," he said, voice rich with affection. "Perhaps you should continue testing them."

You leaned in once more, your lips meeting his with a new sense of passion. "I think I want to kiss you more, Doctor." you whispered.

His hands, which had been resting beside him, moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer. "And I am eager to see where your theories lead." he murmured, deepening the kiss.

[kirbyfigure]

“i’m a top” “i’m a bottom” okay? is darkness equal to daylight?? are sinners equal to the righteous??? if you are born weak, which god should you turn to for solace?????

[dragon-spaghetti]

So @albobeati7 made huskerdust twins and to say we've been going mental in DMs is an understatement, have a family photo 🥹💖

(Please click for better quality!!)

[annqer]

show of admiration for the most handsome man in penacony~

[ceruark]

opening sequence

synopsis: you escaped to dreamflux reef thinking your captor wouldn’t be able to reach you, but your so-called savior lied to you. notes: yan! sunday x gn! reader. words: 1,424 cw: general yandere themes - brainwashing, and implied obsession, possessiveness, and abduction. disclaimer: major 2.2 story quest spoilers.

You spent nearly a year planning, making connections, figuring out who would keep quiet and who would tell on you in a heartbeat— nearly a year biding your time.

There was a booth in the corner of Dreamjolt Holstery that often went forgotten, so it was quite easy for messengers from the Dreamflux to overlook you when reporting to Gallagher. It wasn't hard to figure out what he was planning, and it was even easier to blackmail him using what you knew.

Take me to the Dreamflux, you demanded, or I'll damn us both.

He commanded Death to take you then and there. You disappeared without a trace, a few weeks before Robin did.

It was damn near impossible. But you'd done it. You'd gotten out.

The two months you've spent in Dreamflux Reef have been some of the best in recent memory. You spoke to strangers without worrying if you appeared too friendly with them. You roamed aimlessly, unconcerned with making it back to Dewlight Pavilion before a certain hour, or feeling the weight of a nightingale's unwavering gaze on your back.

For the first time since you met Sunday, you lived freely.

Hearing of the Astral Express's arrival only heightened your hopes. They never turned down a passenger, and if you asked to travel with them at the end of the Charmony Festival, you could get out of Penacony. You could escape his grasp for good.

The final step of your escape seemed all the more reachable when you heard through the grapevine that Gallagher was planning to lead the Express Crew to Dreamflux Reef. When you asked him if it was true, he confirmed it. When you begged him, for the umpteenth time, not to bring Sunday, he swore he wouldn't.

He lied.

The thing about being subjected to the gaze of the Harmony countless times is that, eventually, you become bound to it. In the Dreamscape, there was a constant tugging pressure in your head that reminded you your mind wasn't solely your own anymore, that reminded you of the person who had done this to you. The pressure would become more taught the further you wandered from him, a mental leash that ensured you stayed at his side.

The pressure dissipated completely once you arrived in the Dreamflux. You almost forgot what it felt like.

Almost.

You're sitting in a bar when it happens. You and the bartender watch, entertained, as a drunken Pepeshi guest attempts to play a game of Egyptian Ratscrew with other patrons who get him worked up just so he can bet higher and fatten the pot. He's just ran out of cards and is furiously yelling at the winner, a damning finger thrust in their face. You and the bartender laugh, and when you make eye contact with her, she winks at you.

You open your mouth to make a sly comment about the situation, but you choke on your words when a sharp pain stabs through your head. You double over, tumbling out of the barstool and onto the floor. The bartender and a few other guests run over to you, clamoring above you. Their words are static in your ears until the pain subsides.

Left in its wake is a familiar tugging sensation, far too loose for your liking.

Fear and adrenaline flood your veins. You shoot to your feet and push past them, your urgency enough to prevent them from trying to stop you. You rush toward the back of the building and shove at the back door that leads out into an alleyway.

You run for what feels like an eternity, but you don't feel the cord getting any tighter. If anything, it feels like it's getting even looser, and the mere thought terrifies you. You’ve changed directions several times now. How can he possibly be advancing on you?

In your frightened haze, you fail to recognize that there's a figure in your path, a figure that brightens at the sight of you.

You crash into them, sending you both tumbling to the ground.

"Sorry," you mumble, already getting to your feet. You don't have time to feel bad or make sure they're uninjured. You're ready to take off into a sprint again when a hand wraps around your wrist, and a melodic voice calls your name.

Your blood runs cold, and you slowly turn to face the woman sitting on the floor. Robin stares up at you in a mix of relief and worry.

"So you are here!" She exclaims excitedly, using her hold on you to bring herself to her feet. "I figured, after my own experience, that the same thing must have happened to you. Are you alright?"

Your throat goes dry. She doesn't know— she has no idea. Even if left unsaid, Sunday made it clear through implications that the worst of the Harmony would be reserved for if you ever said anything to Robin, so you never tried to. You don't have the heart to tarnish the adoration she has for him, anyways.

You force a smile. The thread unravels, growing slacker by the second. "I'm fine," you say, and you sound anything but it. You gently remove her hand from your wrist. "I have to go."

"Wait!" She catches you again by the shoulder, and urgency flares up in your stomach. You don't have much time left. "Can we talk? I could use a familiar face right now."

Your stomach sinks, and you place a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Later," you lie, "I promise."

Your hand drops to your side. You turn away from her, unable to look at her crestfallen expression.

The tension releases. A chill runs down your spine, and your mind feels fuzzy.

It's too late.

Only Robin's voice could make the devil's name sound beautiful to your ears. You turn just in time to watch him return her hug, one hand coming up to hold the back of her head gently, the other rubbing soothing circles into her back as she starts to cry.

His golden eyes pierce you, pinning you in place.

You tear your gaze away from him and look at your feet. The ground swims beneath them, swirls of pink, orange, and yellow contaminating the edges of your vision. The bone-deep terror grows muted as the Harmony hums in your head. You're euphoric, nearly hysterical.

Sunday releases his sister and pulls at the thread connecting you. Drunkenly, you stumble toward him, closing the few feet of distance between you. Your arms come up around his neck, and his arms snake around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him. He presses a kiss to the side of your face. His lips tickle your ear when he speaks.

"Tell me," he whispers. "Was your disappearance planned by Gallagher?"

You know better than to try and lie in this state. "No."

He hums. His hold on you tightens. You can hardly breathe. "Did you ask him to bring you here?"

"Yes," you choke out. You bury your face in his shoulder. You can't bear facing him right now.

He sighs and presses another kiss to your cheek. "Dearest, you know I only want what's best for you."

You do know, and that's what hurts the most. No matter what he does to you, and no matter how much you suffer, you know he only has good intentions. You know, undoubtedly, that he loves you. Somewhere, beneath the meticulousness and the paranoia, is the charming, sweet man you fell for.

A sob escapes you. Behind you, Robin coos, moved by what she believes to be a heartfelt reunion between her brother and his lover. Sunday shushes you and brings one hand up to your head. Gloved fingers card through your hair, a comforting gesture.

"It's alright, dove." He gently takes your head between his hands and removes it from his shoulder, looking you in the eyes. "You and I will have all eternity to make up for the lost time."

There's not a hint of cruelty in his face, but something fervent— almost manic— gleams in his eyes. Your voice trembles. "What?"

He closes his eyes and presses a tender kiss to your lips. When his eyelids flutter open, rings of pink and orange surround his pupils.

"Rest now." He says against your lips, and your limbs grow heavy. You lean into him, and one of his arms comes up to support your back. His fingers dig into your spine.

"When you wake, we shall be one."

[retracexcviii]

Sunday Moon

Hi there dear fellows and Luna lovers. Sunday is here.

Don't edit this drawing and don't post it anywhere.

This really lovely Luna was made by an artist that is active on the fandom to support Palestine.

The artist is @/cinnajer on Twitter.

[thinkpink212]

[sharkiethrts]

hi! speaking of ur modern sunday…i’d like to request sunday x reader, where reader is absent because they’re sick and sunday just spends the entire day trying not to mope before he visits them. just smth rlly silly where he’s on student council etc having to try to subtly text his s/o.

robin is kind of over him but who cares‼️

prompt: highschool!au reader is sick and responsibility ridden Sunday must ensure that the assembly goes on without a hitch, despite his worries for her.

warning: none.

relationships: modern!sunday x gender neutral!reader (highschool!au)

author’s note: so sorry for the late response! I was eagerly awaiting for the day when I can finally work on this! :) (Two more exams to go, exams should end by Friday. Wish me luck!)

This is also not reread and is posted late at night, so do forgive me for any type of grammatical or spelling mistakes or if the pacing of the story is too rushed!

- Highschool au! Sunday is so obviously the president of the student council

- He is popular among everyone and when it was announced that he was running for president, everyone accepted defeat and simply resorted for vice presidents and secretaries roles instead (the surplus of people that signed up for vice presidents that year were daunting, hoping for a chance to work closely alongside him)

- Prior to his appointment as president (which he was rightfully confident in winning), he had always made sure to spend time with you after school (even going as far as to not sign up to any clubs for the michaelmas term after you jokingly chastised him for ‘prioritising Mrs Burns, TA of the reading club’ instead of you)

- However, post appointment Sunday found it difficult to make compromises like so, much to his chagrin- with the added rewards, the necessary expectations would naturally accompany and hence his dilemma:

- Oh, how the thought of you ailed with a cold squeezes his heart so, his hand itching towards his phone every second

- He’s sure that his composure will fall soon and that it’d only be a matter of time

“Please ensure that the seventh up until the twentieth seats are marked, it’s reserved for the parents visiting today,” Sunday reminds the flushed boy, clearly not used to the responsibility he is expected to conform to and although Sunday attempts to maintain a composed facade throughout, it’d be a lie to say that he isn’t positively frustrated by how incredibly slow he is. Seriously, the drink aisle should clearly be placed inside the auditorium, not outside. It’s summer for goodness sake, by the time the guests arrive, the drinks will be diluted with ice and the honey would have been completely dissipated.

Speaking of honey, perhaps he should consider saving some for you. The Manuka honey booked specially for this occasion is known for doing wonders for your throat. Perhaps he should ask kitchen staff to pack a bottle or two for him? They quite adore him so, it shouldn’t be difficult for him to ask for a favour or two of this size. Interrupting his train of thought, it seems that the incompetent boy couldn’t stand having a supervising eye off him for even a second. Sunday watched in controlled horror as he dropped a tray or two, effectively denting the sides of the perfect sliver.

“Miss Amelie,” Sunday calls, his hand reaching for the back of the boy’s waist, helping him up, “Help him with relocating the treats, we can’t have dented sliver wares front and centre in the room.”

The said girl quickly arrives, her head down and stressed, “I’ll tell him what to do, don’t worry-“

“-I should hope that this predicament ends soon, I do have quite a few appointments to attend to,” Sunday cuts her off coldly, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. It’s not uncommon for Sunday to become cold at times, if not outright off putting. With uneducated rumours of his OCD and what not. However, it seems that this doesn’t seem to be one of his tangents, rather, he seems… occupied.

Sunday mulls over the thought of your upset face, further dampening his mood. How incredibly horrible of him, despite his previous talks of marriage with you during your late night calls- he only feels more incompetent and ineligible for the title of husband. He’s not only inattentive but outright unsupportive. What type of boyfriend who asks for your hand in marriage would leave you all alone in your bed fighting a cold alone? His frown deepens and he catches a few of the volunteers flinch due to it, clearly worried that they may have triggered him somehow.

He flashes them a friendly smile, to which he sees them relax slightly to before tending to their duties quickly.

While making haste with the decorations and reading over the script he had prepared for the following speech (god forbid he reads off a script, it’s one his many pet peeves and he is not willing to entertain the thought of slacking off in his chase for perfection), he thinks of your voice when you had greeted him this morning via phone call. Despite your obviously tired disposition, you had taken the initiative to call him to motivate him for the following day, you seem to know him well enough to realise his unending infatuation with your voice (how embarrassing for him but he’s far too touched to care for it for now).

Despite your well wishes and intentions, the phone call left him with more guilt and worries than assurance.

‘I’m fine’, you had insisted, saying that you had managed to snack on cut apples for breakfast.

By the moment Sunday snaps out of his thoughts, he notices a crinkle at the side of the paper where his thumb laid.

He’s not composed at all.

“ Sunday?”

By the time the clock struck ten and the assembly had concluded, Sunday took it upon himself to rent a bike at a nearby bus stop rather than waiting for his driver, hoping to make a quick detour to your house instead (his adoptive father would never have allowed him to do so). He had recognised your address from your first date, where he dropped you off by your neighbour’s house to prevent you from getting teased by your parents (you had insisted and he obliged). Your mother was there to greet him by the door, clearly whiplashed by the sight of a disconcerted, red faced handsome boy standing at her front door. She quickly flashes him a look of familiarity, to which he feels happy at (you must have shown your mother pictures of him, his ears redden at the thought).

He could only hope that you showed her the good ones and that despite your mischievous peculiarity, you’d care enough to help him make a good impression.

“You look much handsome in real life,” Your mother comments when he enters.

Never-mind. You definitely took it upon yourself to show her the worst ones. He could only pray that they don’t include his baby features, where his bangs were chopped short, “I apologise for coming so late, I came as soon as the assembly had finished-“

“- I understand,” Your mother chuckles, “I’m more impressed that a teenage boy would make so much effort to care for a partner with a flu when it’s so close to midnight,” She hands him a glass of warm water, urging him to walk up the stairs to your room, “They’d heal in no time after all.”

He shakes his head decisively, “That’d be an unfitting behaviour for a husband.”

The once vibrant mood turned quiet in no time and realising what he had said, his cheeks flushed a vibrant red and his ears burned incessantly.

Your mother watches him with shell shocked expression, thankfully the glass had been on Sunday’s hand at this point, judging by how her hand had loosened immediately he had blurted the words out, the glass would have been on the floor otherwise. Which would have been unsightly for a first impression.

“SUNDAY!”

He hears your familiar yell, clearly happening upon his arrival and his words.

He had planned to scold you for your misdemeanours (showing your mother terrible pictures of him) but it seems that he had committed a far graver crime than you did: an impromptu proposal at hours so close to midnight.

“… I sincerely apologise. Please pretend you didn’t hear anything.”

Sunday wishes for the concrete floors to eat him alive.

[peachsukii]

content // fluff! slightly suggestive if you squint.

note // fighting the worst headache but thinking about bakugo helps. 💕 @pixelcafe-network

『 rei’s softie sundays 』

It’s 3AM by the time Bakugo begrudgingly walks back through the door of your shared home, heavy boots finding their place in the closet and keys tossed onto the counter with a clink. He’s moves in silence, careful not to wake you as he rummages around the kitchen for something to quiet the rumbling in his stomach. Not long after, he sneaks into the shower to scrub the grime from his skin, a mixture of sweat, dirt and anything else he picked up on patrol. By the time he’s ready for bed, it’s quarter to four in the morning.

You hear the creak of the floorboards under Bakugo’s feet and stir awake, stretching like a cat under the covers with a soft groan.

“Hey Kats,” you yawn, turning to face him. “What time is it?”

“Didn’t mean to wake ya, sweetheart. S’almost four.”

Even though you can’t quite see him, you know Bakugo’s exhausted by the sound of his voice. He crawls into the bed, slipping under the comforter before you feel his palm finding your cheek through the darkness to pull your face toward his. Soft, slightly minty, lips collide with yours, his chest pressing your back into the mattress as he hovers above you.

“I love you,” Bakugo mumbles against your lips between gentle pecks, each one a moment longer than the last. He always gets lovey dovey after a night shift, too exhausted to have any sort of filter for himself. Normally, he’ll press a kiss to your shoulder, neck, cheek or forehead after he settles into bed, a small way for you to know he’s home without fully waking you. But tonight? There’s a spark in his touch, that large hand traveling from your cheek to your waist, his thumb drawing circles against your hip. Bakugo breaks away from your lips after a deeper, longer kiss, his forehead resting against yours.

“I love you too,” you finally whisper in response, nuzzling his nose with your own. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not tired enough to sleep?”

Bakugo lets out a breathless laugh, the hand on your hip slowly moving down to squeeze your thigh. “Fuckin’ exhausted. Could pass out any second unless you keep kissin’ me like that.” He pauses to lightly nip at your bottom lip, grinning to himself when he feels your thigh tremble under his fingers. “What’s ten more minutes if I get to spend it wrapped up in you?”

[rainbow-rebellion]

You put your arms around me and I’m home

Inspired by X

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

I’m just sayin. If Monty wasn’t made of metal, I’d definitely use his titties as a pillow on the reg

(This is a set of doodles I like to call, “Moon has a teenaged girl moment when he realizes that he is toothpick shaped”)

[aventurineswife]

Pathetic Sunday is the Best!

Summary: In the tranquil gardens, you share a heartwarming stroll with Sunday. As he nervously admires your exposed ankles, you playfully tease him.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Soft Romance, Slightly Suggestive.

Warnings: Exposed Ankles.

A/N: I TRIED MY BEST!! 😇🤭 I'll probably write more of him being a pathetic simp of yours (and to improve my writings) lol

Inspired by

Tags: @moonlix14-blog

The air in the Oak Family’s quarters was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, a stark contrast to the chaos that often surrounded them. You found yourself wandering through the vibrant gardens, enchanted by the colorful blossoms swaying gently in the warm breeze. It was a realm unlike any other, a sanctuary that Sunday had crafted for those weary of the world.

As you admired the petals glistening in the sunlight, you heard the soft crunch of gravel behind you. Turning, you saw Sunday approaching, his signature tailcoat billowing slightly with each step. His hair caught the light, and for a moment, you were captivated by how the halo behind him glimmered like a gentle beacon.

“Ah, [Name],” he said, his eyes brightening as they locked onto yours. There was an unmistakable warmth in his gaze, one that made your heart flutter. “What brings you to the garden today?”

“I just needed some fresh air,” you replied, a smile gracing your lips. “It’s beautiful here.”

“It truly is.” he agreed, stepping closer. The soft sound of his boots against the gravel was nearly drowned out by the rustling leaves and distant laughter of others enjoying the paradise he had created.

As he drew nearer, you could see the faint blush on his cheeks. “I, um, wanted to ask if you’d like to join me for a stroll.” he offered, a nervous edge to his voice. It was a side of Sunday you rarely saw—the dignified leader who often seemed so composed and in control now looked slightly flustered, shifting on his feet (like a school girl asking her crush out) as he awaited your response.

“I’d love that.” you said, feeling your own cheeks warm slightly.

As you began to walk side by side, a comfortable silence enveloped you. Sunday pointed out various flowers, sharing their meanings and tales of how they came to bloom in this paradise. But it wasn’t the stories that captured your attention; it was the way he spoke, his passion evident in every word.

Suddenly, a soft breeze rustled your clothing, drawing your attention to your exposed ankles—something you hadn’t even considered until now. Glancing down, you realized Sunday had caught a glimpse, and in that instant, you felt his eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and something deeper flickering across his face.

“Your… ankles.” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. The way he blushed made you suppress a giggle. This was the Sunday everyone revered, yet here he was, flustered over something as simple as exposed skin.

“Do you like them?” you teased playfully, taking a step closer to him, intentionally drawing his gaze lower.

“I—uh,” he stuttered, his usual eloquence slipping away. “I mean, it’s just… you look lovely, as always.” His eyes darted away, trying to regain his composure, and his wings instinctively shifted to cover his face, hiding the flustered look that betrayed his dignified demeanor.

The sight of him, usually so confident, now struggling with a light blush on his cheeks was endearing. “Thank you, Sunday. You’re always so kind.”

His gaze returned to yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded. The soft glow of the garden, the sounds of laughter, everything ceased to exist as he looked at you with a mix of admiration and something more profound.

“Being kind is easy when it comes to you.” he admitted softly, a shy smile breaking through his initial fluster.

Feeling a sudden rush of courage, you took his hand in yours, your fingers entwining with his. The touch sent a shiver up your spine, and you could see his breath hitch slightly, a flicker of surprise lighting up his golden eyes.

“Let’s make a promise,” you said, your heart racing. “Let’s always find a way to be happy, even in the midst of chaos.”

He squeezed your hand gently, his expression softening. “I promise. Together, we’ll create a world where happiness isn’t just an escape, but a reality.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the world in hues of orange and pink, you walked through the gardens hand in hand, lost in your own paradise, where dreams mingled with reality, and the future felt infinitely bright.

In that moment, with Sunday by your side, you knew you had found something precious—a love that transcended the pain of the world, rooted in kindness and dreams yet to be fulfilled.

[brewed-pangolin]

Soap Cuddling Headcanons

This was an ask I received forever ago, then tumblr decided to eat it because I don't know. Apologies for this taking soooo long.

18+ MDNI Sexual Themes

SFW and NFSW below the cut because why the hell not.

Soap loves to cuddle for one reason and one reason only: touch

He's touch starved. He craves it. Begs for it. Yearns for it when he's half a world away with you always creeping around in the back of his mind

And when he's home, he can barely think of letting you out of arms reach

It was a bit overwhelming st first, to have him always so close and needing so much physical affection

You didn't push him away, but you did have to maintain some personal space at the beginnings of your relationship

But that all changed after his first lengthy deployment

On those long, lonely nights. Reaching out to him and feeling nothing but cold emptiness beside you in the bed

That's where you fell into his spell and began to yearn and ache for his touch just as desperately as he did

SFW

It doesn't matter what you're doing, if you're within arms reach, your going to be wrapped up by him

Cooking? Yup. He'll have his hands on your hips while comfortably resting his chin on your shoulder

He'll whisper soft, culinary praises into your ear while he watches intently, following your fingers as they diligently move across the cutting board

"Smellin' good, hen. Be a shame if ya had t'waste any, yeah?" And you fell for it. Every single time

Don't be surprised if those hands on your hips begin to wander. It's nearly impossible for them to stay in one place for too long

Loves to wrap his arms around you during the weekend late movie nights

Will intentionally put on horror or suspense movies just so you'll scoot closer, and he can hold you tightly against him while you tremble in his arms

But where this cuddle monster truly shines is in bed (and not just after a romp)

He'll cling to you in the morning, arms wrapped around your torso and his face nestled unto the curve of your shoulders

Big spoon. Little spoon. He doesn't care. As long as his skin is touching yours, he's happy

Will prolong mornings the first few days back home, willing to push aside responsibilities and spend the entire day in bed

Netflix and Chill Extraordinaire

But Cuddling isn't only sanctioned for the bedroom

Soap is a romantic at heart, and he'll whisk you away to his favorite outlook up in the mountains in his 4Runner

Just to build a fort of blankets and pillows in the back and watch the sunset like a true Casanova

And movie nights are best under the stars at your local drive-in

Nestled deep within in his arms as you leave the world behind to enjoy each other's comforting embrace (and loads of overly butterd popcorn)

NSFW

Soap MacTavish is the absolute KING of aftercare, especially after your more vigorous and enthusiastic sessions

He'll keep you close, wrapped within his muscular arms, and pressed against his sweat drenched torso as you ride out the last waves of your climax

"So good f'me, lass. Ya did so good." He'll whisper, voice muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck

He's in no rush after a lengthy romp. You need 15 minutes? 30 minutes? Two hours? Soap's not going anywhere

Except to get the towels. He knows he makes a mess, and your legs are currently jelly after your umpteenth orgasm

But if you already planned on having an earth-shattering sexcapade, the towels are already on the nightstand because...

Cockwarming

Soap can't help it. He loves being buried to the hilt deep inside you

Especially when he softens and your walls continually pulse and milk every last drop of him

And you pull the most beautifully pornographic whimpers from his lips

"Fuckin' hell, bonnie. You an' that greedy lil cunt a'yers.."

And as previously stated, he's in no rush to pull out.

In fact, he may just fall asleep.

His arms caging you tightly against him as he drifts into a restful slumber with his cock sheathed snuggly within your silkened heat

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @obligatoryghoststare @jynxmirage @mykneeshurt @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @writeforfandoms @thetrashpossum @simpingoverquestionablemen @kkaaaagt @designateddeadend