Adult Content Warning
This work could have adult content. If you continue, you have agreed that you are willing to see such content.
-
Tags
Summary
a disgusting thing, isn't it?
or
Sunday cries so easily.
It stops Aventurine dead in his tracks the moment he notices the glisten of tears on his trembling eyelashes and feels his body shudder, wrecked with a lone quiet sob. The sight sears itself into the tissue of Aventurine's brain — even in crying Sunday still looks so delicate and ethereal like an image of a martyr saint on the stained glass in some desolate church. Fucking him feels almost blasphemous, as if he's desecrating something holy, and maybe he is, but for Aventurine this was always a question of pride.