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He’d be lying if he said he’d never fantasized about having Diluc in his arms. Perhaps not quite in these circumstances. His fantasies usually took place after a particularly good match. Them laying together as he kissed every scar and bruise on Diluc’s body. Whispering into his skin that he’s beautiful. And perfect. And worth more to him than all the mora in the world. Maybe even more than his dreams.
Diluc gets sick and Tartaglia takes it upon himself to take care of him.
Bookmarked by kotella
24 Sep 2026
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“Father, I come to you bearing sinful thoughts,” Aventurine says, careful and even. “These ideas that I have—these feelings I feel—the person that plagues me is someone I’m forbidden to have.”
Sunday's charge comes of age.
Bookmarked by kotella
18 Sep 2026
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This is penance, then, he decides. No matter how his skin prickles and his heart squeezes too tight, this is a pure kind of penance. Aventurine chooses the shape of retribution and if this is it Sunday will accept it. It is only fair.
or: Sunday may or may not be misinterpreting a drunk Aventurine's interest in him.
Bookmarked by kotella
27 Aug 2026
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When Sunday agreed to join the Astral Express crew at the beach, he never thought he'd find himself in such a thoroughly compromising position only a few hours later – completely naked, sticky with soda, and pinned to the dressing table by the high-ranking IPC executive.
All because of one ridiculously tasteless ad.
Bookmarked by kotella
27 Aug 2026
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“I can be good,” Sunday whimpers. “Let me be good. Let me fix it.”
They must be disgusted. Wretched vile ugly thing. Deformed and defiled and-
“Shh,” the voice soothes. “You don’t have to fix anything. Can you hold still for me?”
Day 7: Aftercare
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Bookmarked by kotella
26 Aug 2026
