#sunday yandere

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 [𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

If you want to support me and read my other works that won't be on Tumblr, you can always do it on my Boosty~

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: yandere!Sunday x fem!reader

Warnings: a bit of obsession and Sunday is the obvious stalker here, but no more triggers.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Loluet - I beg you

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

It's so mean to eavesdrop on your thoughts*, but Sunday just can't stop.

You think he's pretty cute when he gives you another gift. You think his appearance is quite attractive for your taste. You think that the smell coming from Sunday, when he accepts your grateful embrace, is so exquisite, to match a man of his position. You think you'd probably feel safe near him.

You think Sunday is a little intrusive. You think he probably has a lot of fans, because he's so handsome. You think that the attention of a man with such a high position on Penacony is burdensome, because you are clearly not his match, so why does he continue to behave as if he is in love with you? You think that you are anxious near him, even though you cannot find any explanation for this feeling that suddenly arises in his presence.

Your thoughts warm Sunday's soul, and they also wound him to a nagging pain in his chest.

He really would like to stop doing this, but he's ready to give you the whole world. Even the dreams in which you are so happy, he'll bring that to life, if you only wish. It's probably corny to mentally promise a star from the sky just for you, but Sunday's ready to make the sky itself fall at your feet if this is the price for your smile. But you don't want any of this. You don't want him.

Why?

It's really so damn hard for Sunday. Helplessness, such disgusting helplessness torments him day by day, while he listens to your voice all day long, wanting to hear what you remember about him. But, as soon as the farewell separates the two of you, such useless thoughts fill your head, in which he has no place. And it's cruel. You're so cruel, but Sunday can't be mad at you.

How pathetic he must look, covering his own face with wings to hide the way his cheeks turn red and the corners of his lips lift in a gentle smile at the mere memory of how your honey voice pronounces his name. But this is not enough. Why not color your voice with brighter colors? Maybe… Red notes that give your tone of adoration and passion? You'll want him, and you'll get him if you just call. Playful pink notes will desire him with airy tenderness. Oh, how beautifully his name will shimmer on your tongue.

«It seems like I've been on Penacony for so long… It's worth coming home»

No, no, honey. Why go back to a place where he's not?

«He's looking at me so strangely again, as if he can read my mind…»

You have a great intuition, that's commendable. Sunday admires you even when his honor as a man and family member is at stake.

«Will Sunday be upset if he finds out that I'm leaving this place soon? Probably not»

Oh, darling, where did you get such thoughts in your lovely head? You're breaking Sunday's heart. How can he let you go? Dreams will lose their magic without you, this beautiful little world will lose light without your smile, the whole universe will lose its voice without the sound of your laughter.

«I guess I should just thank him for everything»

Don't mention it. Sunday would do anything for you. Tell him to rip the heart out of his chest, and he will present you with a bloody pulsating muscle in his palm.

— Y/N, — again this charming smile adorns the already perfect face of a man when he stretches out his hand bending over your figure. — Your hair is disheveled.

He can touch your hair, right? Of course he can. He hears a voice in your head, and you want the same thing, you just can't admit it even to yourself. It's an attraction between you and him… You have to feel it the same way Sunday feels it. He'll help you again, he just need to tweak your memories a little. You'll share with him all the feelings that Sunday experienced all the time spent with you. Desire him, love him, be there for him. That's all he can ask of you. It only takes his palm to touch your cheek…

The heat penetrates into the pores, permeates the skin, flows into the veins, spreading throughout the body until it captures the mind with rainbow waves blurring the eyes. And only the image of Sunday is so clear. You look into golden eyes that meet you with piercing gaze, and you see in them so much pain, torment, from which an unpleasant bitterness knits on the tongue. And then the sweetness. A cloying but airy sweetness. Every piece of sugar that gets into your mouth melts on your tongue, and for some reason an unfamiliar taste evokes so many memories that you seemed to be cruelly deprived of, and now they have returned to you, responding with a tremor in your chest.

«Y/N… listen to my voice»

You know him. This tenderness with which a man pronounces your name is so painfully familiar.

«You're happy here next to me, Y/N»

He's right, but why do his words seem so wrong to you…

«Touch me, Y/N, put your hand on my chest and feel my heart pounding. Just like yours… Aren't we made for each other?»

Of course. Of course, you're made. You can feel it. Soft pulsations touch the fingertips, beating off a sweet melody, so lulling and causing an irresistible desire… But what do you want?

«You're mine, Y/N. And I'm yours, forever»

Exactly. And how could you forget?..

It is so warm and cozy, as if beloved hands are pressing you to your heart, rocking you to an alluring lullaby, involving you in a sweet dream. And it doesn't matter at all if this dream is viscous and sticky, like a spider's web woven just for you. He'll take care of you if you just give up.

— That's better, isn't it?

«Has Sunday always been so… beautiful?» — what kind of strange thoughts are going through your head? Of course, always. The hours spent remembering how pleasant his wings are to the touch, how soft his skin is under your fingers, how pleasant the sound of your name escaping from his lips is, flash before your eyes, like a living reminder of the truth that lurks somewhere so deep, but lying on the surface, if you only dare say it.

You love him. You love him with all your heart, so long ago and so unconditionally that you feel ashamed that you dared to doubt the perfection of his face, the very sight of which is enough to make a muscle in your chest tremble.

The man notices your slight confusion, and grins melodiously.

— I mean the hair, — long eyelashes hang over the irises, shimmering with gold, when Sunday tilts his head to one side, not taking his eyes off you and continuing to smile charmingly.

— Oh, yes … thank you, — you awkwardly look away, and your cheeks involuntarily blush. — You know, I wanted to ask you something.…

The gold is covered with an icy crust, sharp and tingling skin, over which Sunday's gaze slides while you shift from foot to foot, trying to find words.

— Can I… stay here? — you hesitantly look up at the man with an innocent look, quietly uttering the last words. — With you…

«If only he didn't say no… I won't survive this…»

Oh, you're so lovely. Charming, charming, charming.

The ice is cracking, defeated by the vibrations of your sweet voice, which appeals so imploringly to Sunday. Isn't this happiness?

The tips of elegant long gloved fingers rest on your chin, lifting your head before a kiss touches your lips. So needy, oozing with obsession and love, with insane awe, which now seem so familiar to you, as if these feelings were always somewhere nearby, but burst into your heart only now, blooming like forget-me-nots somewhere deep in your chest.

«Don't ever ask again… My love», — it was never said out loud, but you managed to hear Sunday's velvety voice shamelessly invading your consciousness while his lips greedily but slowly devour yours. And you don't mind at all.

Your thoughts, one way or another, from now on will be filled only with him.

*Sunday is a representative of the Halovian species, one of the features of which is reading the thoughts of others, however, the ability to rewrite memories and, in principle, somehow influence the consciousness of another living being is not It is one of the abilities of this species. This ability of Sunday in this work is based on a completely plausible theory that he, like his sister, are Emanators of the Aeon of Harmony, because if we recall our first meeting with Family in the World of Dreams, then we can see how Robin is doing something similar, helping us with the "side effects" of the first immersion in a dream.

#headcanons #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai:star rail #honkai:star rail x reader #hsr drabbles #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday yandere #yandere #yandere sunday #sunday hsr #hsr x you

[flokali]

Boothill and a corrupt USB with a “love virus”… and you’re the poor, unfortunate engineer forced to deal with him in this state, except his little metal heart has gotten too attached to you and the feeling of overbearing longing that you make him feel… on the bright side, your wanted posters look lovely together ♥︎

#yandere honkai #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere boothill #boothill #yandere male #yandere concept #yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #boothill x reader #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #i’ll elaborate on this i promise #my hsr brainrot is too strong rn - and sunday… sunday i have plans for you my boy #send star rail requests - i have a sparkle one that’s eating my brain but i can handle more please please please #๋࣭. ancient scrolls

[dearemilia]

I have so many thoughts about the new characters in 2.0 (yes, this is sorta yandere ish??)

Note | There are no spoilers btw!! :p

Sunday, who loves dressing you up in personally tailored outfits that match his so everyone will know that you are his.

Sunday, who tells you that reality is harsh and that the only way for you to regain your happiness is to stay in the dreamscape with him.

Aventurine, who says that the only way for you to clean your family's debt is to be his.

Aventurine, who tells you to look into his eyes when you ever think of leaving him.

Robin, who sings you to sleep whenever you try to leave her.

Robin, who loves doing duets with you and if anyone thinks about doing a collab with you, she'll make sure to tell her brother about it.

#ideas! 📬 #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #sunday x reader #aventurine x reader #sunday hsr #aventurine

[yandere-romanticaa]

Yandere! Sunday, who forces you to act like the picture perfect spouse in each and every public gathering you attend with him. He has a public reputation to maintain and he will not allow you to squander it. He watches over you like a hawk, his golden gaze piercing the very fabric of your soul and the people around you are none the wiser.

Sunday has perfected the act of a kind and caring husband. People often mistake his gaze as fondness. My my, he's so smitten with you that he can't help but to look at you without fail, even if he's married to you and sees you every day. People across the universe swoon over this romance, dreaming about finding such a doting spouse such as Sunday.

However, there are times when he is not acting.

Despite his calculative nature, Yandere! Sunday truly does love you.

Oh yes, most earnestly so...

He likes to indulge himself in the sweet presence of your company. While he is the type of man who likes to have everything under his control, even he is not immune to some simple pleasures in life. Please, be a dear and indulge your husband a little. Ease his worries, talk to him , tell him all about your day. Even if you think it's nothing worth sharing, Sunday begs to differ. Even if he hears you say the same exact words hundreds of times, he will never grow tired of them.

Your voice, to him, is like cold dew on a warm summer day. It refreshes him, soothes him beyond belief.

Yandere! Sunday, who secretly likes it when he gets to hold your hand. Public displays of affection are not allowed but in private, he can be real damn shameless.

If he is so inclined, he will wrap his gloved hand in your own, fingers tightly intertwined with yours as he steals countless kisses from your darling lips.

The wedding ring on your hand is proof enough that you belong to each other. It's only natural for him to want to kiss you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #sunday #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #yandere sunday #hsr yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader

[jymwahuwu]

cw: non-con, forced orgasm, yandere, discipline, control

Sunday doesn't like this.

This is not at all suitable for the Family's harmonious style of doing things.

So, before that, Sunday expressed to you that he and they (all members of the Family) were sad about this. It hurt him (and all of their feelings).

But... if you hadn't joined the Family and ran away, and tried to say some irrational things, things wouldn't have developed like this.

He looked at you tenderly, your whole body filled with vibrators. Several suspicious lines flowed out of your watery place, making a low buzzing sound.

His gloved hands politely look at your private parts, fingering them gently as if he were playing a musical instrument or inspecting a fragile item. Your vision was completely blurred by tears.

Then... one of the fingers poked, rubbed, and finally slid into your warm wall without any hindrance, which was convulsing during the previous orgasm.

That finger was thrusting skillfully and deeply, without any adaptation at all, but immediately forcing a new orgasm to form quickly.

"Stop-Stop!!!!"

A violent, humiliating orgasm complete with lustful wetness and a taut body. Sunday always looks at you without a trace of pride or annoyance, just like that’s what he should do. He slowly pulled his fingers out and wiped the gloves dry.

He kissed your forehead, not turning off any of the vibrators.

But adding a few new ones.

"Shh, it's almost over. Then we'll welcome you into the Family again."

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail x you #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #honkai x reader

[moonsaver]

Thinking ab Yan!Dr. Ratio in arranged marriage.. in whichever setting, I dont know

He doesn't like the idea of it at all. He opposes it until he can't. It would have to be a painstakingly limiting situation for him to even marry anyone, especially someone that's arranged.

When it comes to actually talking with him and setting out boundaries – he's not interested at all. He doesn't want to know you, he doesn't care, and he thinks it most likely won't change, and he'll remain uninterested..

If it weren't for the fact he's so damn touch starved.

He finds out by a lazy morning in the kitchen, your hands accidentally brushing each others as both of you carry on your routines in your own world. He doesn't realise ‐its just a brief feeling of nice. And his hand subconsciously tilts a bit to touch yours again, to emptiness. Your hand already moved away. And Aeons, he just can't get the feeling out of his head. He loved that brief moment where you both touched and he hates it.

And neither of you actually realises just how clingy he is, because he builds up to it so slowly. He pulls you along to some of his lectures, and sometimes you protest. He grabs your hand, and secretly relishes just how good the contact feels. He says there's something on your face with an annoyed tone, and brushes it off, his fingers lingering near your lips a little longer than they should. Whenever you walk by him, your scent practically intoxicates him, his head whips up from whichever book he fancied that day just to find the source of the scent, which he knows deep down, very well, it has always been you.

And it infuriates him. You have such a grip on him that it drives him up a wall.

And Aeons, he loves the feeling so so much.

He forces you to take a bath with him, telling you to keep the bathrobe on if you want to but it is a must that you join him. He tells you to move closer with a stern voice, impatience bubbling inside of him, all covered up with his signature scowl. The water sloshes as you move and his hand almost eagerly snakes around your waist, holding you snug against him. He fills the noise by asking you all sorts of things, calling you an idiot, and going on a ramble about some or the other complicated topic, trying so hard to not just hold you and bite into your shoulder, arm, neck, wherever his eyes can see your skin. You're practically driving him feral.

Oh dear, he swears he doesn't care about you. He cares even less about your personal life and whatever daily affairs you carry on. It's none of his business and he doesn't want it. But seeing you talk and become so chummy with another man boils a kind of anger he's never experienced before. As if to prove him wrong, Veritas tells you to sleep beside him at night, not answering your "why"s and shutting you up in an instant with something or the other. The summer heat is bad, but it's even worse with Veritas practically sticking himself to you, the direct skin-to-skin contact creating an absurd amount of sweat and humidity under the covers. His arms just tighten their grip around you if you ask him to get off. He won't. He needs to prove to himself, that bumbling buffoon won't ever get as close to you as he can. He will make sure of it.

And suddenly, he starts presenting just how possessive he is behind doors. He always keeps an eye on what you're up to from behind you, telling you to stop overthinking and to just come to him, that it'll take you months to understand this concept, and to just let him help you instead. Who else would tolerate you as well as him? Just let his hand keep it's deathly grip on your thigh, or arm, maybe even your waist. Its a fair exchange, and he's being generous, when it really comes down to it. Ugh, you're testing his patience too much. Just.. let him shut you up with a harsh kiss, don't ask, and let him continue. Keep listening, or he'll test you, and he won't go easy on you if you get those questions wrong. He has a lot of pent up frustration about you, anyway. You'll only give him a reason to take it out on you.

Don't bother going outside. Just invite your friends here, instead. You'll waste more than half your break-time just travelling alone. Maybe your idiot friends can join in on the study sessions, so Veritas knows what kind of people you enjoy surrounding yourself with. Of course, he isn't amused at all. Idiots, the lot of them. Is this who entertains you? He scoffs. Perhaps letting you talk to them in the first place was a mistake. Yes, of course.. just talk to him, instead. He's much better than them. You'll only waste your time around them.

#moonink #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr ratio #hsr veritas #honkai star rail dr ratio #hsr dr ratio #yandere hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader #yandere hsr sunday #yandere hsr x you #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere dr ratio #yandere veritas ratio #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you

[draconic-desire]

Gosh i just loved your Sunday fic.. 😫

Im wondering what about a naive type darling? With so much isolation, it has made darling insecure. Darling thinks Sunday deserves a better woman and just ups and leaves Sunday when he isnt home. But ofc is soon found not long after 😋

ohhhh so personally i imagine this happening after sunday uses the harmony one too many times on poor reader…you never saw it coming, never would have thought sunday would hurt you despite being isolated for so long. any thoughts you had about escaping, even going outside to see friends, are obliterated. sunday becomes your whole world.

Yan!Sunday x Naive!Gn!Reader

You’ve been standing in front of Sunday’s door, fist raised and poised to knock, for twenty minutes now.

For what feels like the millionth time, you lower your hand, worrying your lip.

He’s been in there all day. Sunday is a busy man, his schedule constantly filled with meetings and Family affairs, but never too occupied that he would ignore you for an entire day.

Your mind fears the worst; even those initial days of being drowned in the Harmony, before you realized Sunday was trying to help you adjust to your life with him, is preferable to this. Did you do something wrong? Who is he in there with? Is he ignoring you?

Has he…grown tired of you?

The mere thought chills your heart and fills your veins with ice as you take a step back, inhaling sharply.

The wooden door before you is polished to a fault, bright enough that you can see your faint outline. It bitterly reminds you of how inferior you are compared to him, a mere speck of dust, a fleeting shadow on the wall.

You start to spiral. Surely Sunday, the most handsome and sought after man in Penacony, could have his pick of anyone—so why would he settle on you? Why did he bring you here, trap you in this mansion, keep you by his side, if only to throw you away in the end?

Did he never love you?

Why does that thought hurt you so much?

Heart pounding and tears blurring your vision, you quickly turn and flee, your knock forgotten.

~*~

It has long grown dark on the streets of the Golden Hour.

The normally bustling city is slumbering, the only light provided by the plethora of flashing billboards that never sleep. The few individuals you have passed are either drunks stumbling home or the stray Intellitron. You’ve been walking aimlessly for hours, wiping away tears and fruitlessly searching for a way to escape to reality.

After all your time mulling in your sadness and insecurities, you have come to the conclusion that you should relieve Sunday of his care of you. He’s much better off without you, or rather with a better individual than you. He should be dating royalty, a celebrity, an angel. The type of person who would have knocked on that door, would have strutted confidently into his office and sat directly into his lap to—

Another pair of footsteps echo behind you.

You almost don’t hear them at first, but you most definitely see the haloed shadow on the wall in front of you.

“And where do you think you’re going, (Y/n)?”

You immediately freeze, your breathing becoming erratic and shallow. His voice sends little butterflies pounding against your chest, begging to fly to him.

“Do you really think this pathetic attempt to escape would succeed?” A hand wraps around your waist, spinning you around to meet golden eyes rimmed in violet. You expect them to be filled with anger, perhaps even loathing, but you’re shocked to discover they are brimming with nothing but thinly veiled panic.

His grip tightens when you don’t respond immediately. “Answer me, (Y/n).” His voice cracks as he says your name again. “Where have you been?”

Words clog in your throat. “I—I thought—you were—you didn’t want—”

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you. You weren’t thinking. I believed we had moved beyond your futile attempts to leave, that you understood that you are mine—”

“But what if I don’t deserve to be yours!”

The two of you freeze in the wake of your outburst. His breath hitches as you lower your head and whisper softly, “I thought you stopped loving me the same as I love you.”

For once, you’ve caught Sunday off guard. His beautiful gaze widens in shock as he truly takes in your form—shivering, tears rolling down your cheeks, nails digging into your palms—and realizes his mistake.

You left because you thought he didn’t want you.

The mere idea baffles him. Standing before him is the most beautiful individual he has ever seen. Every fiber of his being screams for him to lock you in a birdcage and throw away the key—you are a precious treasure, meant to sing only for him. He has created you to be the perfect devotee in his very image.

And all of his efforts have succeeded, because you said you loved him.

His anger and fear immediately melt into softness as he holds your face between both hands, his forehead lowered to press against yours. “Oh, darling, no. You cannot fathom the adoration I harbor for you, the multitude of praises I wish to preach each day in your name.”

His voice takes on a nearly holy reverence, but his eyes shine with an untamed desire. “There is nowhere you belong except for by my side. Finding you missing this evening nearly tore my heart out. You must never venture out again, do you understand, my precious dove?”

You sniff and lean into his touch, a smile parting the river of your tears. Yes, that’s right. That’s what the Harmony said before, too: your purpose is to please Sunday, to serve Sunday, to live for Sunday.

Why would you ever doubt his love?

Why would you ever want to leave him? What a silly idea.

You think you feel a tiny pull at the back of your mind, a hook that wants to tether you to reality. But a quick slash of a knife severs the line, leaving you floating in a sea of multicolored bliss.

“I’ll never doubt you again, Sunday. I love you.”

Sunday’s lips curl into a smirk as he lifts your chin and examines the rainbows dancing in your eyes. “I love you, too, (Y/n).”

#yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #yandere sunday x you #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere #yandere headcanons #yanderecore #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere imagines #yandere male #honkai star rail imagines #honkai x reader #honkai star rail #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #sunday

[cloudshuffle]

cuteness aggression. yan!penacony

Sunday

"This feels... dumb. I'm not a Halovian."

Sunday looks up from last-minute paperwork, pausing. Something unfamiliar stirs in his chest. He tugs on his gloves.

"It's not dumb," he replies smoothly. "You look... wonderful."

A small pair of wings sits just behind your ears, like his own. They're not real, of course, but they function just fine - letting everyone know who you belonged to.

He rises from his seat, moving toward you. You step back until your back hits the door, shrinking away from his hand.

But Sunday simply tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, rubbing a thumb gently over the inside of your wrist with his other hand. He leans into you slightly, radiating heat like a small star, blowing sweet breath across your face.

"Adorable..." he mutters, half to himself.

"Sunday," you say, voice weak, though you aren't sure what you need to tell him. You feel very much like a small thing being cornered by a predator, his eyes dark, pupils blown.

Then he pinches your cheek, so swiftly and out of character for him you blink.

Before you can protest, he massages your face lightly with both hands.

This must be what street cats feel whenever you accost them with your affection.

He releases you just as suddenly, patting you on the head as he passes. "Prepare yourself. The guests will be arriving anytime soon."

Well, you suppose there's a first time for everything.

Aventurine

"Good evening, my sickly angel."

You scowl at him from under blankets, a cold compress on your head. "You're not funny."

"On the contrary." He lifts your medicine. "I think I am very funny."

You complain audibly, but that's about as much as you can do with your energy drained by the fever. Aventurine feeds you as patiently as a mother with a small child, though perhaps with twice as much condescension.

"Stop staring," you grumble. "It's weird."

The bed sinks as Aventurine leans over, gathering you up in his arms. "You're like a kitten when you're sick. All angry and no claws."

You hiss when he squeezes you, only belatedly realising that you're proving his point. "Kittens have very sharp claws, excuse me."

"A declawed kitten, then." He rubs his cheek onto the top of your head. "You smell different, too."

"That's weird!"

#honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail #hsr #yandere aventurine #yandere sunday #aventurine #sunday #aventurine hsr #sunday hsr #yandere #yandere hsr #cloud writes

[harmonysanreads]

Sunday, my guy, you're not even trying to escape the Yandere allegations. Living in an extravagant maze-like prison of a mansion? Having a miniature dreamscape-esque sandpit where a person can shrink in size? Your strange fixation with nightingales? Your weird voodoo powers that make you look more like a cult leader? People are calling you a control-obsessed maniac who lives off of manipulation to your face and you're just... standing there, blinking? Really, dude, are you just begging to be adopted by the fic writers?

#you have come with me far enough to witness me become a sunday slanderer amen #sunday brainrot #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #sunday #hsr spoilers

[beloved-blaiddyd]

WARNING: HSR 2.1 SPOILERS

Prompt: Yandere!Gallagher who based most of his current personality on (Y/n)'s dead husband.

i love this man so much like can you imagine hoyo just dropped us a playable character with facial hair like HELL YEAH let's gooooo

#yandere hsr #Out of context this sht won't make sense lol #yandere honkai star rail #As many can tell: i love my dilfs in their midlife crisis (/jjj) #yandere honkai star rail x reader #honkai: star rail #honkai star rail #gallagher #yandere gallagher x reader #gallagher x reader #gallagher x you #hsr #honkai star rail fanart #yandere honkai #honkai #honkai spoilers #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #hsr fanart #hsr spoilers #hsr x gallagher #hsr gallagher #hsr penacony #sunday hsr #hsr sunday

[nvuy]

to invoke perjury (and to love no one else) — sunday

summary. an old telltale whisper of a confession leaves sunday defenceless, and all the more paranoid of your loyalty to him.

notes. omg this is so epic i say as i hold up this work that nobody asked for. i finally finished the penacony tb quest everybody clap it up for me. my sunday obsession is so so bad somebody save me from the trenches.

warnings. mdni. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is (unsurprisingly) very controlling, sunday is also tremendously paranoid of everything, yandere themes, he makes you cry, sunday uses that weird lying curse on you, but worry not he does love you. i think. let me know if ive missed anything!

“You are breaking my heart.”

You glanced up from the model of the city, growing tired of picking at the corner of one of the buildings. A nervous habit, if you will. When Sunday noticed the damage later, he’d scold you for it.

For now, his eyes were elsewhere. He, too, was staring down at the miniature pinball machine, spinning it with a gloved finger.

You fidgeted, uncertain. “What?”

“You’re lying to me,” Sunday accused. His tone was soft.

Your hands pressed to the sides of the table. “I haven’t lied to you.”

“Not recently, no,” he agreed. He agreed, and you almost sprang from your seat. “But you have. And you still are.”

To that, you gripped the edge of the table tighter. Uncertainty wrought heavy in your bones like lead.

It suddenly felt cold. As if he’d slid ice along your spine. A chill wracked through you. You realised the feeling was his gaze.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

But he was still slowly twisting the pinball machine around and around. He then sighed.

And then he leaned back and traced a finger along the edge of the table, not at all mindful of the small animated figurines occupying the city.

He gave one of their heads a small push, and the small figure’s body sank into the floor.

You took it as a warning.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

Of course you did.

It was a swirl of colour and muted hushed whispers now, but you could recall taking his hand, promising him the world, and kissing along his fingers to the swell of his wrist.

You nodded meekly.

Sunday hummed, clearly lost in thought. “I never forgot what you said to me.” Oh, you knew that look. That distant, faraway look. Like he’s trapping himself in his own head again. He was good at that. Acting, pretending. Putting on a show. “I’d never felt the same again.”

He was still tracing the edge of the table.

There was a small grin on his face.

Such a pleasant expression, paired with that a gorgeous light-hearted tone. His voice sounded like a lullaby echoing in the back of your mind.

His halo was glowing in the light.

“You said to me you’d be my everything. You offered a piece of your very own soul to me.” He gloved finger flitted from the polished wood, and then stopped short of your hand resting on the table. “You have such a lovely heart.”

The muscle raced in your chest.

You weren’t sure if it was out of flattery or fear. You weren’t able to tell the difference anymore.

“Such a shame you continue to spit poison at me. I used to love talking to you.” His gloved finger followed the curvature of your knuckles. “You’ve changed. You’re so different from when I met you.”

Your hands curled into fists as he traced the bone-white colour as you squeezed. Your nails dug into your palms.

He’d changed, too. He’s different too. He’s more watchful now. He barely makes time for himself anymore. He’s always either working or watching you like a hawk.

It’s unnerving. The unsettling brush of his lashes against your skin, and that unbreaking stare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all you said. “I haven’t changed at all.”

Sunday hummed. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” You found the courage to glance up at him. That same unbreaking stare. When you met his gaze, he smiled. “I still care about you.”

“But, you don’t.” There was a light hearted ring in his voice.

You stopped. “What?”

“You don’t love me anymore.”

And there it was.

He was paranoid. He always had been, since the day you shedded a glove from his hand to kiss the skin wrapped around bone white knuckles. He’d been so busy pressing his nails into his palm, so preoccupied in what you were doing, why you were doing this, what you gained from it.

He’s paranoid now. He’s never stopped. He’s always been anxious. He’s always been overthinking your every move like you’re an opponent in a game of chess; always on his toes, always watching, either with his own eyes that more often than not, glared daggers into you, or through the nightingales that swarmed the mansion.

You were shaking. You tried to stop yourself.

He noticed. “You’re upset.”

“Of course, I’m upset.” Your nails dug into the underside of the table. You felt them strain as your jaw clenched.

“Is it wrong to think you’re dishonest?”

“Yes,” you answered. “Yes, it’s wrong. You’re wrong.”

“Perhaps I am, then, for falling in love with a liar.” His fingers chased up your arm slowly. “I always valued honesty above all. How rich.”

“But I’m–” You didn’t even know how to defend yourself.

Instead, you fell completely silent, face burning in humiliation.

The scent of him was intoxicating. Orange blossoms and sandalwood. You had memorised the scents of his favourite fragrances, the shampoo he used, down to his toothpaste. You knew all of it. The way he brushed his hair, the temperature of the water he preferred for his baths, to the chronological order of steps on how he got ready in the morning.

It was all order; a set of stagnant unchanging steps. Like he was following a recipe to its very word.

He was particular.

And he hated change.

He took your silence as an invitation to pry further. “You were so enchanting that night.” He was telling the truth. You could read it on his expression–and his expression. That same expression he held on that night you offered him your heart to take. “And I know now, that you are most enchanting when you lie.”

“What’s–” You interlocked your fingers. His own were tracing the bone of your shoulder now. “What have I done? Why’re you–”

“You, of all people, must understand my uncertainty,” he spoke. He sounded as if you were supposed to know the answer.

Maybe there was no answer at all. No spark to his flame. He’s just doing all of this, because he can. Because he’s paranoid, and he’s hiding his churning stomach and the anxiety that fills his throat with this stage play he’s put on.

“You willingly took in a perfect home, much different from where you came from.” He gestured to the room around him. Pillars that intricately curled into the ceiling, floor polished, the scaled model of Penacony tended to and dusted, and the walls featuring thousands of commissioned pieces from artists all over the galaxy. “No sorrows, no disorder, no dishonesty. Certainly not here.

His eyes shift to you again. “And certainly not now.”

You shrank down into your seat.

“And, under the light of the Harmony–” He raises his hands to gesture to the ceiling, as if THEY’RE watching over him. “–All wickedness is revealed. That is precisely why you're so radiant in the sunlight.”

What the fuck is he talking about?

He must have noticed your expression. You must have appeared distressed. Fidgeting nervously, your blood running cold beneath your skin.

Perhaps your apprehension, the clear anxiousness drawn over your face, egged him further.

He did not dwell on it. Instead, he simply narrowed his eyes. “It is as I suspected.” When your eyebrows raised in surprise, he continued, “you’ve been lying.”

“You don’t trust me anymore?” You frantically wiped a stray tear that had fallen. You hoped he didn’t notice the waver in your tone.

Sunday merely nodded, blinking slowly. “You understand now.”

You stared at the floor. His eyes were burning into your skull.

Your brows knitted together.

A bell tolled nearby.

You don’t recall any sort of church close by.

“I cannot excuse, nor house, nor bed, a liar. It is beyond THEIR natural order. Liars have no place in an assimilated, perfect world.”

You looked elsewhere. You picked nervously at the hem of your shirt, suddenly feeling like you were drowning in hot water.

Your nose filled and clogged with a horrible earthy scent much unlike his shampoo. This was different, real and raw, like there was somebody else in the room.

When you looked around, there was nobody else.

Just the two of you.

“Stand up,” he ordered softly.

You did so, hesitantly, still shaking.

You must have looked pathetic.

Sunday offered you his hand.

Desperate, you took it, and kissed his knuckles.

He let out a faint laugh. “That will not work. Not this time, I’m afraid.” He looked up towards the ceiling for a brief moment, before he closed his eyes. “O Triple-Faced Soul, let fire brand flesh and bone with the mark of honesty–”

Something was wrong, and his face was changing.

For a moment, you saw tracks like golden water flow down his cheeks.

His halo was glowing, but there was something else behind his head. A clouded and muted swirl of colours, mismatched and ever changing.

You tried to pull your hand from his grip, but there was a weight pressed to your limbs.

“–And ensure that every vow is etched in the fervour of undeniable truth.”

“What’re you–” He let go of your hand and you stumbled. The bell toll was only just louder by a margin, and there was now a searing heat in your head. “What’re you doing?!”

Your hands desperately rested on his shoulders, trying to keep yourself upright.

You tried again to wrench yourself from his touch. It was sickening how gentle he was being.

Slowly, he guided you back to the love seat, tutting and scolding you as you fought in his hold. How could somebody so horrible be so gentle?

You felt the urge to throw up all over his clothes. Sweat beaded down your neck and pooled at your collarbone like a necklace.

“What did you do to me?” You were panicking. “What have you done?” You pressed the pads of your fingers to your temples to try and soothe the burning. “You cursed me?”

“I’ve blessed you,” he whispered. “This way, you will be rectified.”

Something was whispering to you. Almost inaudible, indiscernible, like the banging of a death knell in your ears.

What is it? What is that?

You looked to him for an answer, but words caught heavy on your tongue like lead.

“All you have to do is tell the truth.”

You shook your head. “I’m not speaking to you like this,” you tried. Your voice came out strained.

“You don’t have a choice,” he snapped. “You are not in control.”

“You’ll hurt me for the sake of your precious pride?” Your hands coiled into fists at your sides. Thank the Lords he’d seated you, for you were sure you would’ve fallen over by now. Your feet had since gone numb.

The whispering was right in your ear. When you turned your head to confront the noise, there was nothing there.

“It will not hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday explained gently. “I hope that doesn’t come as a challenge to you.”

Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head–

“I’m not answering anything you ask,” you forced out through gritted teeth.

Sunday only let out a breathy, exasperated sigh. “Then don’t. We’ll see what happens to you.”

You said nothing.

Instead, you tried to stand up to leave. Screw this curse he’s put on your head because he’s retreated into his own insecurities. He wasn’t winning this time.

You were so sick of this paranoia.

When you stood, a dizziness hit you like a wave. You desperately reached for anything, and your hands found his. He did not guide you back down into the seat, but his gloved hands remained encased in yours.

Such a perfect, warm fit.

Sunday offered you a gentle, yet peculiar smile.

“Question: have you ever lied to me?”

You didn’t answer.

Your flesh felt as though it was set alight. As if the halovian had personally poured gasoline over you and held a match to the tip of your nose and watched you burn alive.

The whispering was loud. The voices was indiscernible. You couldn’t place a finger to its source, nor a face, nor a name. Three voices, all repeating the same thing. You could tell from its tone, its pitch modulation, and yet you couldn’t understand what was being spoken.

It didn’t sound like any language you knew.

“Answer the question, angel.”

Hot tears bubbled over your lashes.

“Yes.” You fought to keep the word lodged in the back of your throat, but when you forced it out, the lava on your tongue cooled significantly. The whispers grew softer.

He noticed the look of relief cross over your face. “See?” A gloved hand came down to gently touch the crown of your head. “Just answer truthfully, and it will all be okay.”

Then, the white material of his gloves came forward to swipe gently at the tears below your eyes. Salt soaked the soft cotton.

Your hand reached up shakily to hold onto his wrist.

“Did you lie to me the night we met?”

The swirls of colour around his halo were returning.

Your thumb traced the ring on his finger. Gold, with a blue gem on its interior.

Instead of answering, you tried to press your lips to his.

Sunday stopped you, though it took restraint. He held your face still, lips just barely brushing against your own. He tasted salt. Salt and sweet lies, and Aeons above was it addicting.

He sighed. “Don’t tempt me.” He watched you flinch, and rang a simple reminder, “answer.”

“Yes,” you said.

As he expected.

You were so beautiful like this. Raw, and honest.

His heart squeezed with disgust. “Did you lie when you said you loved me?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “No.”

He smiled.

“Did you lie when you said you’d die for me?” He tilted his head.

Your lips pressed together. Your fingers curled tight in the loose curls of his hair. Your nails brushed softly against his feathers.

Your chest heaved when he finally sat beside you on the couch. His skin was so warm pressed against yours, and the contact made you feel dizzy.

“Yes,” you responded.

He accepted it. His finger softly petted your cheek.

Oh, you were crying.

You felt so pathetic and weak, and bubbled words caught in your throat like fish on a hook. You felt trapped, and the colours behind his head were growing more vibrant, brighter, accompanying and drowning out that awful halo.

He’s horrible. He’s so horrible.

You wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him that you needed him to leave. You needed him gone.

He beat you to it. “Do you hate me?”

You heaved a sob. “No.” And you didn’t. You didn’t hate him, despite his obsessive control and unjustified possessiveness. His hubris, and his inability to see past his own paranoia and fear. “Please stop.”

You pressed your lips to the small, poniard-shaped jewel on his chest.

Your sign of devotion did not deter him, though, he was sure you would always have some sort of effect on him.

“It shouldn’t hurt if you tell the truth,” Sunday reminded you. There was a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeated, this time as firmly as you could—albeit your voice shook with fervour. “I never hated you.”

“I’m relieved.” His hand petted your hair. “So, so relieved.”

You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed.

You prayed it was over. You prayed and prayed for the voices to dissipate from your mind. You tried to will them away, to squeeze your eyes shut and beg for the whispers to fade into the background of white noise and static.

The kaleidoscope of colours crept below your eyelids.

Sunday held you securely, and as warm as he was, and as firm and yet so gently his arms sat snugly against you, you felt so cold. So cold and alone and so afraid.

He could fix that.

He hadn’t said a word for a moment.

The burning feeling of your skin returned, and you let out another drawn out noise of distress.

He shushed you. “One final question.”

You shook your head.

Your hands were trembling, fingers weakly pressing to your temples to rid the pounding that made your stomach churn. Your vision was swamped in swirls and patterns of colours you couldn’t put a name to.

His face, too, warped into something evil.

This wasn’t the man whose knuckles you’d kissed, whose wings gently fluttered against your skin, who’d plucked a small feather from them and handed it to you as a symbol of his devotion.

His halo dimmed for a moment.

You felt his lips brush against your ear and the tickle of a feather.

“Do you still love me?”

#$. after hours #$. the macrocosmos #sunday x you #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

[mothtral]

the family notices immediately that their aeon has their benevolent eye on you. how could they not? their aeon’s gaze is a weight they’ve known like the back of their hand since childhood, and it’s always noticeable when xipe… lingers on someone. especially an outsider.

one by one, members of the family approach you. asking if you need any help, if you’re enjoying your stay, do you need help getting back to your room. oh, don’t worry about it, it's no trouble, here, let us carry your bags.

sunday personally shows you around the forbidden zones, a gloved finger held to his lips to quiet your excited giggles. at first, he wondered just what drew xipe to you, but after spending night after night at your side… the picture becomes clear, with you are the main subject.

the family must be doing something right, because sunday shares with them the dream he had. xipe visited him and shared how pleased they were that the family has treated you so kindly. but they want all of them to do more. do anything that would tie you to penacony permanently.

xipe is saddened that they can’t claim you, another aeon having laid their filthy claws on you prior to your visit to penacony. no matter. things like this can break. it just takes a little time. thankfully, the dreamscape is a wonderful place where reality and time are things of the past.

(second part in another post.)

#xipe x reader #sunday x reader #xipe #sunday #hsr xipe #yandere sunday #sunday hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #mothposts #there’s a plot here. somewhere #cw for: #kidnapping #manipulation #cult #<—maybe for the last one

[elatedfool]

yandere behavior, jerking off, mention of kidnapping.

i read in someone's tweet that the birds thingy in dream's edge area are some sort of drones that might belong to sunday, so what if he's just chuckling in amusement as you use them to connect the different levels of grounds in the area? frolicking around without realizing that the family's spokesperson is keeping tabs on you?

ah, and imagine if all of the recordings are saved into his device—which means he could use those clips as a reference for penacony's best painters and sculptors, commissioning them to immortalize your beauty and keeping the results in the hidden corner of his chambers.

one more thing—sunday can and will pleasure himself using your sweet voice, stroking himself and shamelessly releasing thick blobs of cum into the screen, right when the drone's camera zooms into your face.

oh just you wait until he takes advantage of his power and authority to keep you in a special dreamscape he has created just for you and himself to live together forever.

#restricted section．．． #reusing the concept of sunday caging his darling in the dreamscape #becase why not #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr #sunday x reader #sunday x you

[jymwahuwu]

cw: yandere, arranged marriage, controlling behavior, implied brainwashing, forced marriage

Hmm, how do you feel about being Sunday's fiancée? Referring to Robin's experience, Sunday actually allowed his family to leave Penacony. You and Sunday had an arranged marriage. Before leaving the planet, your fiancé told you to write to him regularly, report on the situation, and pick up video calls. If you don't want to send him your positioning every day, he can also send you a cosmic positioning system. You refused, but you weren't too disgusted, thinking that he might just be a bit of a control freak (?)

Over the past few years, you have followed his instructions and reported on situations and written letters. No problem. Then, you return to Penacony to get married as promised. Having witnessed the grandeur of the universe, you hesitate. Is Sunday really the suitable spouse you should spend your life with? He's a little too tough and wants everything to be perfect. He also doesn’t like your friends and social life…

After careful consideration, you proposed to Sunday to terminate the engagement. This was already expected by him… You are really polluted by this universe and brainwashed by those so-called individualistic thoughts. He will take good care of you. The wedding will go ahead as scheduled, everything is arranged.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail x you #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #honkai x reader

[moonsaver]

Finished penacony. Sunday. Oh dear oh dear.

Yan!Sunday who seems obsessively off with you for the early start of something like a relationship. Calm, but underlying warning tones. One wrong word and you might tip him off too much. You've learned one way to decode his emotions are his wings. They tense up whenever you mention something.. unpleasant. Its a warning. You cut yourself off in the middle of your sentence. The silence passes, and his wings relax. He turns to you with a calm smile on his face. You barely squeezed through, this time.

Yan!Sunday who's just a bit delusional. He deludes himself into thinking about righteousness, and you're some sort of reward for him, for him to keep, and shelter, and nurture, like a christmas gift pet, but something more tender. Tender like a bruise, anyway.

Yan!Sunday, who seems.. to be slipping indisputably. In the corners of your eyes, in private, where he meticulously plans everything, every second where you breathe. He helps you dress and laces up your clothing just as he normally does, but huffs, and insists on doing it again. The first few times, he redid it only twice. His frustration would bleed through his fingers the more things proceeded in time, tightening the lace so much, your limbs almost went blue. He apologizes through gritted teeth, and you forgive him. It doesn't help the fact he practically suffocates you with the way he kisses you, though. His lips land on yours a bit too harshly, and you wonder if he actually hates you. Those thoughts dissipate when he relaxes more into it, though.

Yan!Sunday, who stares at you unblinking, waiting for you in the dreamscape, in the reverie, anywhere. Robin's.. departure has put him under more strain, so just for his sake.. ignore the way he tightly grips your arm, fearing it'll snap.

Yan!Sunday – you can't leave his watchful gaze. The last time you did it, he practically forced you to walk through the real dreamscape, deathly shivering as the atmosphere almost froze you, being forced to walk through unyieldingly harsh and twisted paths, doors never staying in the same place, being forced to use rough traversing methods, the dizziness of the memoria almost feverish. He waits for you at the end, a much gentler version of him. You fall into his arms, sobbing and weeping, and for once he handles you with care. Gently wiping your tears, stroking your hair, his hand guiding the back of your head to his shoulder, burying your nose into the crook of his neck. You notice just how much more warmer he feels in the dreamscape, not just due to the cold atmosphere. His wings gently flutter on your face. Let's leave now, he says. I trust you've learnt, my dear.

Yan!Sunday, who decides that maybe keeping you in the alternate dreamscape, Golden Hour, would be much more preferable. He seethes watching you be eyed by everyone – officials, businessmen, representatives, whoever it may be. He gently lulls you into the dream fluid, kissing your hands, up to your arms, neck, til your cheek, until you finally fall asleep. He places you down and gets to work in a second. When you panic, not being able to wake up, he's right beside you in a heartbeat, telling you there's just been a slight error.

Yan!Sunday, who would even go as far as to construct an entirely new dream for you and you alone. No one would be allowed to visit except him. He tells you it's for the better. Everyone lies in Penacony. Stay put and let him take care of this. Let him take care of you. Of everything. You dont miss the way his hands harden their grip around your waist. His gaze settles gently on yours. It's a harsh contrast to his eerily peering one, in reality. If you even remember what it's like being there, of course.

#moonink #hsr #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr sunday x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #sunday x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr

[draconic-desire]

Yan!Aventurine who is willing to risk it all to make you his. Don’t underestimate the scope of his reach; with his connections and money, you’ll never be out of his hands for long, no matter how far you may run. He won’t take you immediately—no, he plays the long game and makes you sweat until you have no choice but to take the gamble and face him yourself. How much does it take for you to go all in, sweetheart?

Yan!Dr. Ratio who subtly gets in your head, wearing you down bit by bit. He’s part of the Intelligentsia Guild for good reason; this man knows exactly how to calculate every scenario and predict every outcome. Coaxing you closer and closer under his wing is like an experiment—how far can he push you before you realize him for what he is, before it’s too late for you to ever escape? Only the next test will tell.

Yan!Sunday who constantly manipulates everything about your life, down to the very last detail, behind the scenes. This man is the very definition of gaslight gatekeep (girlboss). If you rebel one too many times, you best believe he’ll whisk you away to his dreamscape manor, locked in never ending puzzles until you’re begging for him and his company.

Yan!Gallagher who is anything but what he appears. It’s child’s play for him to get close to you. Need someone to talk to over a stiff drink? How about someone to carry walk you home after you’ve had one too many (or did it taste a bit sweeter than the usual drinks he mixes for you?). Little do you know he’s been accumulating tidbits of all the things you like in a partner—he can be everything you’ve ever wanted, after all. Even if you have no choice.

——————————————————————————

My personal vote is for Sunday. After seeing his (spoiler alert) huge mansion and the miniature Penacony park in the 2.1 patch, I immediately (like many others) thought about how he’s used that dreamscape to his advantage. Gallagher is a close second…for obvious reasons if you’ve played 2.1.

#honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere #yanderecore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere aventurine x reader #yandere aventurine #hsr aventurine #yandere dr ratio #yandere veritas ratio #hsr dr ratio #yandere sunday #hsr sunday #yandere gallagher #hsr gallagher #hsr drabbles #hsr imagines