riruraq
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And still, he won’t stop coming back. Like a trained dog, like a child in a candy shop. Like the shell of a man coming back to the shore that had washed him into nothingness. Hands moist with nervousness, flashing his signature smirk in hopes of buying himself time.
And Sunday would lay on the bed, eyes wide opened thinking of his own body. Of his body praising his indulgences to the Gods, the weight of the world on his shoulders. The bedsheets were creased, he was going to die.
They would go back to the other with much resentment, the occasional walk back to one’s room with a piece of cake. Feeding each other with sins, lies and threats only to be met with hysteric pleasures.
Perhaps they were made for each other.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,136
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 3
- Hits:
- 27
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Summary
His patience runs thin and he cannot believe he has to teach basic decency and manners to his lover. Surely, she defies him only to push his buttons. And it works.
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He finds himself wishing he had been there, that he could’ve held her one last time, to see her eyes, to hear her heart beat its last beat.
He wishes they’d grown up on the same advice, grown up to see the same sky.
He wishes that their time would’ve been right, that he could promise her the stars, that he could’ve found peace.
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Pastries, soulmates and needy whispers
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Rafayel meets Xavier and almost cums within 20 minutes
Recent bookmarks
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honey, i was born for the killing by melancholyclover
Fandoms: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game)
22 Sep 2024
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Sex with her is like mourning the loss of himself, of the Aventurine who didn’t know sex could feel good. That it could feel like the hallowed end of a world, transcendent — the death of him in another, in her, in all that she is.
Bookmarked by riruraq
16 Dec 2024
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Maybe Sunday’s nerves really were just that frayed and eager to agree to anything to sooth them, or maybe the mounting tension between himself and Aventurine wasn’t as purely aggravation-motivated as he wanted to believe — hell, maybe he just was desperate for some way to shut Aventurine up for a good hour or so. Whatever it was, it had Sunday going against every rational cell in his brain to allow himself to complicate things with his roommate and allow Aventurine to eat him out.
And yet, as much as Sunday was mentally berating himself for it, he was into this. Yes, just this, and solely the act. Definitely not into Aventurine, as well, though it was hard to keep denying that as he watched with bated breath while the faux blond took his time appraising his prize.
. . .
alternatively, aventurine helping sunday with some after-work stress relief!Series
Bookmarked by riruraq
15 Dec 2024
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behind this voice of self-hatred is the voice of my enemy and yours by raytastic
Fandoms: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game)
10 Dec 2024
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Sunday doesn't like the way his clothes stick to the distortion's skin, or the way his halo hangs above its head. He has abandoned all that made him Sunday Oak, yet they can't seem to abandon him in return.
This is how sins work, he supposes. They follow you. They speak to you, their hands grab at you. He just didn't think they'd be this warm.
Bookmarked by riruraq
11 Dec 2024
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Summary
sunday wakes up with wonweek on him, although he isn't exactly awaken at all.
Bookmarked by riruraq
11 Dec 2024
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this is not your grave by A_Confused_Kitten, stardreamertwo
Fandoms: 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game)
29 Apr 2024
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Pier Point is always too still, always too dim, always too far away, whenever she finds him like this.
Legs dangling over the edge, gazing down towards the street, a lit cigarette dancing between trembling hands. Glamor and mask left in their shared apartment – safe house, really, off the IPCS's books – and, if she were to catch his expression, dead to the world around them.
She doesn't speak, doesn't say a word as she makes herself comfortable. Adjusts her coat so it settles warmly around her body, unclasps the choker around her neck and takes the pin out from her hair, shoving it in a pocket to find later.
This isn't the first time she's found herself here, far from it, and she's certain it won't be the last.
Topaz hates it.
She hates the silence, hates the unusual kind of stillness that lingers, hates the look on Aventurine's face when all the color has slipped away, water down the drain.
Bookmarked by riruraq
09 Dec 2024