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wife-of-all-dilfs · 2 months

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hungry eyes | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick is a great cook, and a chef must taste-test all his meals, mustn’t he? including you.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), finnick is a munch and a thigh man, praise, swearing, cum swallowing, fingering

notes: i’m so sorry about the long-writing-time-to-short-word-count ratio. i don’t know if i like this ahhh. lmk what y’all think <3

word count: 3.5k

You were passing through the entry room of your house when the front door opened with a slight creak. Stepping through the doorway was Finnick, dressed in a white billowy Henley shirt (he had a few buttons purposely left open and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows) and a pair of dark grey pants.

His hair was a windswept mess of bronze waves with different strands poking out in various directions, but he somehow made it work. He looked…

Wow.

You, on the other hand, were still in your pyjamas, wearing a pair of thin cotton shorts and cosy thigh-high socks.

As soon as he entered the house, you could tell what kind of mood he was in. Drained. That tended to happen whenever he had to spend the day with his prep team and prepare for an upcoming event in the Capitol.

His cheerless eyes found yours and you swore a spark of life flickered in them.

“Hey, Finn,” you said. “Are y—oh!”

Before you could finish, he had wordlessly stepped towards you and collected you in his arms. Your feet left the ground as he picked you up and continued walking further into the house.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Your legs curled around his back, your body leaning into his chest so as not to fall backwards. He smelled really nice, like how you imagined sunlight hitting the sea on a warm summer’s day would smell.

“Making something to eat,” he finally spoke. His eyes briefly flickered to yours. “I’m hungry.”

Well, you did send him off that morning with some of last night’s leftover crab cakes, so he couldn’t have been that hungry. Plus, he was with his prep team. They would’ve had plenty of fancy Capitol-esque food on hand to satiate him.

Weird.

“So that means I don’t get a hello?” you teased.

Finally, a small smile worked its way onto his lips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips sweetly and softly to your own, his hands not-so-sweetly squeezing the plush of your ass as he did.

He pulled back and gave you a mischievous look. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You smiled bashfully in response. “Hi.”

You had passed through the archway into the kitchen, the entire room now being bathed in sunlight from the four o’clock sun. It was the picture of a perfect beach house—driftwood and seashell ornaments, sand-coloured benchtops, and large wooden-framed bay windows.

Finnick set you down on the counter facing the stove, your legs now dangling over the edge.

“You just had to bring me into the kitchen with you?” you asked.

He was already out of your arms, scouring the cupboards for various ingredients for whatever it was he was planning to cook up.

“Gotta have something pretty to look at,” he said, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

Warmth crept into your cheeks. “Right. Obviously.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, apart from the clatter of a metal pot being set on the stove and the splashing of various vegetables and chicken stock being thrown into boiling water. Your legs swung lightly as you watched Finnick in quiet admiration.

Steam wafted into the air, bringing with it a sweet herbaceous smell. You hated to admit it, but Finnick was an unbelievable cook; much better than you were. He was constantly offering to teach you his culinary skills which often led to the two of you spending hours together in the kitchen. Burnt and over-salted meals were a common result. Regardless, you enjoyed the time together.

Sometimes it even led to other things as well… things very unrelated to cooking.

Finnick seemed to hyper-focused on the soup he was stirring; he was being unusually quiet, making you wonder what was going on inside his head. Had something happened during the time he was away?

“How’d you go today?” you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, humming a vague response.

“Mm,” you copied, wearing a teasing smile.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. Then he did something weird.

His head turned again, and he gave you a double-take, eyes falling from your face and to your legs. Your pyjama shorts had ridden up to the crease where your legs and hips connected, and your thighs were squished together on the counter, the cuff of your thigh-high socks digging into the soft flesh. His eyes flickered to yours once more before he turned back around.

Very weird.

An unexpected wave of goosebumps travelled down your entire body. You swallowed nervously and averted your eyes to your lap. It was absurd how a single look from him could cause you to react so strongly. He had so much power over you.

You crossed your legs, palms flat against the bench top on either side of you for support. The entire room was filled with the sweet aroma of the broth Finnick had made, causing your mouth to water from the mere thought of the warm liquid soaking into your tongue.

He lifted the pot from the stove and turned it off, scooping the contents into two bowls. However, when he turned around and walked over to you, he was only holding one.

“Just glad to be home with you,” he said and offered you the bowl.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking it into your hands.

The bowl was hot against your palms and fingertips, almost burning right down into your bloodstream as the golden liquid wafted steam into your face. Finnick’s gaze followed your movements as you lifted the spoon to your lips and finally felt the delicious heat seep into your tastebuds.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed a noise of pleasure, already craving another spoonful. “Tastes really good.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head.

Finnick was gently lifting one of your legs into his hands, massaging your calf through the cotton of your socks. His hand wandered down to your ankle, stroking over it with an affectionate touch before gliding back up to the underside of your knee. You had hardly noticed his affectionate behaviour, too distracted by the vibrant tastes filling your mouth.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked half-heartedly, focused on getting another mouthful in.

“Sure am,” he murmured.

Selfishly, you paid his words no mind even though you really should have. You had just lowered the spoon back into the bowl, watching the soup cover the metal when suddenly, your leg was being lifted over the other.

Now this got your attention.

You swallowed the warm liquid, eyes looking up at him in confusion. He uncrossed your legs, nudging them open with his hands on your inner thighs before he positioned himself between them. Your thighs were now hugging either side of his hips, your grip on the bowl frozen with uncertainty.

“What are you…?” you began, but then he was gently taking the bowl and spoon out of your hands and placing them on the bench beside you.

“Told you I’m hungry, sweetheart,” he said. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “Been waiting all day to see you. And these socks…” he trailed off with a sigh, sliding his fingers just beneath the band digging softly into your thigh before letting it snap back in place. “Well, now I’m practically starving.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. God, you were already breathless.

“Oh,” you whispered.

He bit his bottom lip and kept lowering his gaze to your mouth, looking at you as if you were a grand three-course meal and he was on death row.

“I just need a taste,” he spoke almost pleadingly. “Will you let me?”

Not a single neuron in your brain was firing at that moment. With the way he was staring at you, how gorgeous helooked, and the fact that he was practically begging to be between your thighs, it was almost impossible to say no. It was also impossible for you to verbalise it as well.

“Please, baby. You’ll let me, won’t you?” he pleaded.

The growing desperation in his voice had you sinking your hips into the counter, feeling yourself begin to ache for him. Of course, as you did this your thighs grew expanded even wider from the pressure and Finnick seemed to like that very much. You could tell from the way his cock left a large print across the front of his pants.

You nodded, speechless.

“You will?” His hands found the sides of your thighs. “Good.”

Within seconds, he had dragged your body to the edge and collided your pelvis with his. He felt as hard as he looked. You gasped at his eagerness but were immediately cut off by his lips crushing against your own, leading you into a kiss that mirrored the hunger he must have been feeling inside all day.

His hand moved into your hair, holding you with a firm yet gentle grip. He was leaning into you, moving his lips so assertively that your body had to lean back to get a sliver of respite. You were buzzing with anticipation like electric currents were moving through your veins. If he was kissing you like this, what would it be like when his lips were further below?

He then pulled away to observe you.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, gently smoothing the hair beside your face.

You leaned into his touch, enjoying the brief tender moment. Your hand moved onto his and gently squeezed as you looked up at him, gaze doe-eyed and full of false naivety. You knew you were only spurring him on.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said before pressing another peck to your lips. Then he started to go lower. First, he kissed the length of your neck and then the skin above your breasts exposed by your low-cut shirt. “Perfect eyes, perfect lips, perfect thighs.”

He was crouching now, trailing kisses down your stomach which had your fingers weaving into his hair. The descension halted at your upper thighs. His lips left a warm tingling sensation that spread across your skin with each tender touch. You watched him begin moving higher, entering a dangerous region of your inner thighs with lips that were trademarked for trouble.

The air in your lungs was in short supply now.

“Just so sweet and so…” His fingers slipped into your waistband and pulled your shorts down your legs. The fabric fell from your ankles and there you sat, your glistening cunt bare and reflecting in Finnick’s green eyes. “So wet.”

Feeling nervous due to his penetrative stare, you attempted to conceal yourself and began closing your legs. He tsked and forced them open with two sturdy hands. He continued marvelling at the slick that coated your folds, committing the image to his mind.

“So perfect,” he exhaled.

You were getting impatient now.

“Finnick,” you whined. “Please. Just… Just do some—"

You inhaled sharply. He had rushed forward and finally connected his warm mouth to your cunt.

High-pitched breathless moans were already spilling from your lips as his harsh tongue delved between your folds, lapping up the arousal that had leaked out. Your body was restless, which was evident from the way your fingers pulled at his hair, hips bucked into his mouth, and thighs clenched around his head.

Hunger and starvationwere not the right terms to describe how he was acting. Not at all.

He was insatiable.

Finnick’s shoulders slid beneath your thighs, forcing your legs to dangle over them. His arms were curled around your legs while his hands kept your legs clamped open from the top of your thighs. He suctioned his lips around your clit, the sensitive flesh growing more swollen as the pressure he applied increased.

You placed a hand on the counter behind you to keep yourself steady, keeping the other hand buried in his golden waves. Your head fell back with a loud moan. He was shaking his head side-to-side in a manner that could only be deemed as animalistic. He was eating you out like a fucking animal. Like he was a predator, and this was his kill.

“Oh, my god!” you cried out.

He moaned into your pussy, tongue dragging from your opening and back to your clit, savouring every ounce of sweetness he could pull from you. A dull pain was coming from your upper thighs and you quickly realised Finnick’s fingers were digging into your skin. Each time your thighs tried to shut, his fingers buried deeper into your flesh. And mixed with the feeling of his tongue lapping you up, it felt rapturously overwhelming.

His tongue began flicking your clit at such rapid speeds that you weren’t even sure a vibrator could replicate it. You were now pulling, no, yanking at his hair all the while your hips were moving closer to his face. The pleasure was so devastating even your body wasn’t sure what to do with itself.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his hoarse voice vibrated against your clit, “y’gotta strong grip.”

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him. “Finn, don’t stop.”

And of course, he pulled back an inch to look up at you. The sight of him between your legs was fucking glorious. A mix of your juices and spit was dribbling down his chin, coating his lips in a shine you wanted to taste. His hair was dishevelled in a way you could only describe as a sex-crazed mess. Oh, and the way his blown-wide pupils were looking at you… like he had a whim to devour you whole right then and there.

“Stop? Who said I was ever going to stop?” He smirked.

Then he leaned in and fell back into his previous rhythm. The heels of your feet dug into his back. He was essentially making out your cunt. His tongue was swirling around your clit and kissing it sweetly, as if doing so offered you any reprieve from the exquisite torment he was inducing. Your stomach muscles were aching in the most pleasurable way, sending signals of pure arousal to your brain that made you feel intoxicated.

“Like fucking sugar,” his voice muffled into you.

He tongued your entrance, forcing as much as he could inside you. Your walls fluttered with warmth around him and you let out a needy little whine. He flicked his tongue upwards inside you as he slid in and out, thick eyebrows scrunched together as he moaned at your taste soaking into his tastebuds.

One of his arms unravelled from your thigh and his tongue retracted from inside you. You whimpered in displeasure, only to gasp as something longer immediately replaced his tongue. Finnick’s mouth was entirely focused on suckling your clit, meanwhile, the two fingers he had slid inside you were focused on pushing your body over the edge.

“Fuck,” you breathed heavily. “Fuck. Oh, f—ah!”

The pads of his fingertips pressed into that swollen spot deep inside you, knuckles prodding your walls as he curled his fingers. He was wildly flicking his tongue over your clit with the added help of his head shaking side-to-side.

You were writhing. Your body had never known such powerful sensations before meeting Finnick. Even after all the time you had been together, you were still trying to get accustomed to how intensely he made you feel. Given that information, you could feel your orgasm rocketing from deep within and to the surface. Flames licked at the muscles in your stomach, spreading like wildfire from your clit.

Finnick looked up at you, and you looked down at him. Look how good I make you feel, his cocky eyes spoke. Your parted lips were dark, flushed with heat and arousal, letting each and every debauched sound echo around the ceramic-tiled room. He plunged his fingers inside you again and your head fell back. You knew he was laughing. You could feel it.

The noises filling the room were pure sex. The sound of Finnick’s fingers squelching inside you, of him sucking and lapping at your pussy, and your whiny half-crazed moans—they were all that could be heard. And then suddenly your body started tensing.

“I’m so close,” you panted. “Finn, I’m—I’m—Fuck!”

And there it was.

Finnick didn’t stop. Hell, he somehow even managed to pick up his pace.

Your thighs clamped harshly around his head; this would’ve worried you if your brain actually had a single thought running through it. Shockwaves of bliss crashed over your body; they consumed you. Your moans came out as choked noises and filthy gratified cries of Finnick’s name as he sucked and curled his fingers in and out.

You felt him speaking, most likely words of praise to talk you through your high, but you couldn’t hear. White noise buzzed in your ears. Part of you could feel him collecting your juices with his tongue as the built-up tension gushed from your cunt. The other part of you was gone.

At least for a brief period.

When you came back to reality, Finnick was starting to stand back up. His hands were holding both your thighs, keeping them from violently trembling. You stared at him, waiting for the spots in your vision to disappear and the buzzing in your ears to settle. There was nothing you could do about the liquid seeping onto the bench top.

He surveyed your dazed expression, mild concern etched into his features as his eyes flickered between your own. His hand gently cupped the side of your face.

“You here?” he asked, lightly dragging his thumb down your lower lip.

Sweetness coated the tip of your tongue as you licked your bottom lip. Well, no wonder he enjoyed doing that so much. You tasted really… good.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

He gave you this beautiful dimpled smile, and he dropped his hand once more. His eyes were on yours, gleaming with mischief as he dragged two fingers up your folds, glazing them in a white shine. You were so sensitive that your hips jerked forward at the light contact, causing him to chuckle softly.

You watched as he lifted his fingers to his lips and within milliseconds, you were reaching out to stop him.

His fingers were so thick and long, and with your arousal coating them, it was damn near impossible to deny yourself the pleasure of having a little taste as well. So, with two hands holding his palm, you guided his fingers towards you.

You eyed the liquid for a moment, hesitated, and then licked a long strip from the base of his forefinger and up to his fingertip. Then, closing your eyes, you wrapped your lips around the length and began sucking. It was a potent taste, both overpowering and lingering. Not bad though. You moved onto his middle finger, this time keeping your eyes on Finnick as you sucked it clean.

His expression reflected something of astonishment, letting out a perplexed chuckle as he watched. With a wet pop, his fingers were out of your mouth. You were holding his large palm and pressing a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, a tender and affectionate gesture compared to the act you just pulled.

Finnick shook his head at you, wearing a disbelieving smile.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“What,” he echoed your response under his breath. He grabbed your chin, leaning down until you were face-to-face. “You play a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

Then his lips were on yours and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, all that could be tasted was you. That previous animalistic air about him had dissipated; he was gentler now, kissing you in a way that was adoring rather than bordering primal. Not that you had been complaining.

His pelvis was pressed against yours. More accurately, his cock was pressed against your pelvis. Whoever made his pants must have used strong threading. He was so hard that you were surprised the seams hadn’t ripped apart and exposed him altogether. You were surprised but also thankful because undoing his pants was your job.

Your hands moved to his chest and pushed him backwards. His lips left yours with a displeased grunt.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Finn,” you said, your hands trickling down his torso. “I’ve worked up an appetite myself as well.”

He looked down at you, eyes oozing with seduction. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

You slid off the counter, feeling his erection glide over your body. The fragrant smell of marinated vegetables and chicken still lingered in the room. You should have felt disheartened about not finishing the mouth-watering soup Finnick had made—or perhaps even the entire pot. But as you sank to your knees and began unbuttoning his pants, you realised there was one thing that was a great deal more appetising.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you saw him looking down at you with a lazy smirk.

Your lips stretched into a sinful smile. “My turn.”

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x fem!reader #sam claflin #the hunger games #mockingjay #catching fire #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair drabble #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick x you

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iamasaddie · 7 months

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I wish that I was good enough

paring: Javier Peña x fem!afab!Reader rating: explicit word count: 3k summary: Getting Javier Peña to be your fuck buddy was a win. You had fun, orgasms and absolutely no feelings involved. Right? warnings: oral (m receiving); unprotected PinV (‼️); creampie; light degradation kink; dirty talk; mentioning of cum eating; angst-ish; no use of y/n a/n: just nurtured my Javi brainrot. sorry for maybe bad Spanish? and maybe bad English? not beta-ed, I'm owning all the mistakes MY MASTERLIST

Javier Peña was a fairly simple man and he prided himself in that. He never lied about who he was, never put on a mask; what you saw was what you got, and what you got was a man who'd seen so much shit that not only his edges turned rough, his whole being was hard as stone; not only his hands were calloused from the heavy weight of a gun, his soul was as gentle as sandpaper. His were the first brown eyes you saw that weren't warm. He had trust issues, anger issues, and all them other issues you could think of, and he didn't think about fixing them. He just went on with his life, sometimes alone, sometimes with someone who could handle him for an odd month or two.

You were someone who stayed around the longest. Most likely that was due to you two never actually having a "relationship". That was exactly how Javi phrased it to you the first time you shared a drink in a crowded bar in downtown Bogota.

"I'm not good in all that ‘relationship shit’”, he mimicked quotation marks with his fingers before downing his third whiskey, dry.

You nodded then, you weren't in search of your life partner either, too much shit to deal with after graduation and constant struggle to find a job. Stuff just piled on your plate higher and higher, and you though that your hands would just finally drop under the weight of your fucked-up life, with every decision you made being a wrong one. But at the end of the day, you were just a human, and if you knew one thing it was that pent up frustration lead to eventual big bang in a bloodied bath. So as any other girl you thought of the easy and safe way out. You needed a fuck buddy, a friends with benefits situation. The friends part wasn't that important, though. Any type of relationship would just complicate your life further, and that wasn't something you could handle. But yeah, a fuck buddy didn't sound like such a bad option, and you put on your most flirtatious smile as you mentioned that to your new devilishly handsome acquaintance.

"Ain't I too old to be your fuck buddy?" He barked a laugh holding his drink close to the plush softness of his lips, anything but flustered after your explicit proposition.

"Do you have an expiration date?" You countered cheekily, you were prepared for something like that to leave his inviting mouth.

He shook his head at that, shamelessly taking all of your form in. His glassy eyes were darkened, and you knew it wasn't the lights in the damn place. Javi was practically fucking you, already spreading your legs on top of that bar table, fucking into your throbbing cunt even before he learned your name. And even after finding out there were painful 16 years between you, his dark smile didn't falter, and his eyes didn't stop hungrily roaming over your body.

That night you ended up going to his place and getting fucked so hard you were sore for the next three days. It wasn't a bad thing, even if Javi did give you a concerned look when you crab-walked to his bathroom. The experience made you limp at work and cast your eyes down under the all-too-knowing looks of people oh so worth it.

From that moment you've established an equally beneficial routine: you’d meet two-three times a week, he’d let out all his pent up anger on your poor pussy and you’d free yourself of all the frustration and get the best fuck of your life on top of that. He was calmer, you were more satisfied and focused. The only thing that could ever make you go back on this safe heaven of sexual fulfillment would be someone starting to develop feelings, however impossible that was. However if that was to happen, well… what the other one didn't know wouldn't hurt them, right? The routine would stay put until the truth came out, and God, the hopes were high for it not to happen any time soon.

It was one of your nights. Darkness of the room was filled with wet sounds, the smell of sweat more intense in Colombian humidity. Two completely naked bodies were positioned in the middle of a small bedroom, the dim yellow light from the bedside table made the sweat covered skin look majestic rather than dirty. Though the words spilling in the confines of the night were less than.

"Good girl, sucking my cock like a filthy slut you are. Eres fantástica, cariña." The man above you put his hand around your throat lightly, squeezing to feel his cock pumping in and out of your welcoming heat. Your eyes watered, the image of him getting blurry, but you continued stuffing your throat, anticipating the soreness tomorrow.

You felt saliva wetting the corners of your mouth and dribbling out with a mix of his precum. Javi looked at you, the adoration in his voice was a strange contrast to the violent desire burning in his eyes and the nastiness falling from his lips. He swiped your spit with his thumb and proceeded to pat your cheek gently, not a slap, but close enough.

"Look at you, you're so greedy for my cock it's pathetic." His thrusts became harder, heavy balls slapping your chin with every movement. "Going to leave you here as my personal fucktoy." You moaned, excitement resulting in arousal coating your thighs, you desperately needed him to fill the hole that was clenching around nothing, but you didn't dare pull away. "I know you'd like that, mi puta deliciosa."

When you felt the desperate need for oxygen burning up your lungs, you leaned back a little, earning yourself a gentle slap across your cheek and thick fingers squeezing your jaw.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going? I'm far from being done with you, hermosa."

"Fuck, Javi, just fuck me already. I need your thick cock inside me, please." Your voice sounded fucked out, raspy and pleading. You put your hands on his thighs, breathing heavily as he swiped your drool with two fingers, before shoving them into your mouth unceremoniously. You didn’t mind, swirling your tongue around the digits, and biting them gently.

"Can’t wait until I fucking give it to you. Do you just love begging so much, baby?" He chuckled and shook his head in fake disappointment. You knew it was fake because there was nothing that excited him more than seeing you so desperate for him, needing him splitting you open like only he could. It made his head spin and cock twitch. "Such a needy little slut." You hummed around his fingers, and he took them out, leaving a string of saliva on your bottom lip. "Come on then, hands and knees, baby, let's put that greedy cunt to use."

The speed of you jumping into the position for a good fucking was comical, and Javi did laugh until he saw your puffy glistening lips inviting him to sink his throbbing cock into. The mattress dipped under him, and you felt his hands enveloping your hips, squeezing the skin tightly as he teased you pushing his hips into you, but not actually penetrating.

"Fuck, Javi," you turned your head, whining, "stop playing, just fuck me already!"

You felt the slap before you heard it. His massive hand left a burning imprint on your ass, and then another one right on top of the first. He lowered himself, hugging your middle with his left hand and forcing you to press your back against his broad chest. You whimpered as he left a trail of bites from your shoulder to your neck, stopping at your earlobe. "Don’t fucking tell me what to do, baby. Stop whining. I’ll fuck you when I see fit, and you’re gonna take it and thank me, because that’s how it works. Because that is how you want it. Am I wrong?"

You shook your head desperately, annoyed at how right this is. Your whole deal only worked because he seemed to know you better, that you knew yourself. At first that scared you, but soon you craved it more than a glass of water on the worst hangover morning. His hand left another generous slap on your burning asscheek and this time it made you actually yelp in pain.

"I asked you a fucking question, baby, am I wrong?"

"No, Javi, no you’re not wrong."

"Damn right I’m not wrong." His hand traveled up your sternum, stopping as it found your right tit and Javi pinched your tight with sensitivity and arousal nipple. He was just as gentlemanly as you needed him, which was none. He let go of you and pushed you back in the original position, your elbows meeting the soft mattress.

You knew he needed you as much as you needed him, you had felt him throb on your tongue, his thick cock with its fat round head had been punching bruises into your throat for the last ten minutes, and you knew he was about to bust when you let him go. So you just needed to be a little bit more patient and he’d give it to you. He always did. Quenching your desire for him all up in your guts with little breaths, you lowered your head between your arms.

"That’s it, hermosa, waiting like a good little bitch." You smiled, knowing that he wouldn’t see it, and he caressed your hot ass with a light movement. "Just needed to discipline you first." You honestly didn’t understand the thunder of slaps raining on your asscheeks after those words. There was less than a second between every spank, and while you whined and shivered both in pain and pleasure, begging him to just let you cum, you couldn’t stop your back from arching further, giving him a bigger expanse of your skin to torture.

"Good girl, such a good girl, Hermosa, just taking all I give you."

Slap,

slap,

slap.

The last one made you jerk, his hand already wet with all the slick running down your slit and thighs twitched, making his slap land square on your begging pussy.

"Fuck!" The scream was literally slapped out of you. Javi stopped immediately, pressing his whole palm into your burning lips.

"Okay?"

It was more than okay, the raw sensation seemed to bring you even closer to your long-awaited orgasm than you anticipated, but it was your chance to make Javi stop playing with you. You did have an awful day and you just needed to forget everything being split open on his cock. "It will be if you fuck me already," you gritted through your teeth.

He let his hand gently pat your slick pussy, diving into your throbbing hole with two fingers and sliding in and out easily. "That pretty pussy is just drooling for me, baby. She got my hand all wet, can’t wait to give my dick the same treatment, can she?"

He didn’t wait for you to answer, and you didn’t think you’d be able to anyway. Not when the tip of his cock teased your pulsing clit, and then swiftly opened up your cunt, letting Javi bury all of him inside you in one deep stroke.

"Fuck," you could hear him speaking as he bit his lower lips, words muffled as he placed both of his hands back on your hips. You closed your eyes, feeling the familiar stinging fullness that you came to desire every morning. That you failed to recreate every day you were alone. That you came back to every night your phone buzzed with ‘you should come over tonight, hermosa’. "That fucking cunt ruined me, baby. Can’t fuck anything but your pretty hole. Squeezes me just fucking right." His little sentiments sent a warm feeling down your spine, even though you knew he was just saying it in the heat of the moment. He’d say stuff like that, feeling you cunt clench and more of your arousal seeping down of your stretched opening, making the sounds in the room absurdly vulgar.

It was like Javi just read your mind. He was a great fuck from day one, but what shook you the most, what made you addicted the most was his fucking intuition. It was like he saw all the cues your body was subconsciously giving off: when to slap you, when to go faster or slower, and when to drag his skillful fingers to play with your clit. You even told him once that whatever he did for work now he should quit, because being a male prostitute would get him way more money. He laughed, and then fucked your brains out on the kitchen table, eating your mixed cum out of your overstimulated pussy afterwards while your takeout was getting cold next to you.

Just like every other night you spent tangled in each other, he gave it to you just the way you wanted again. Slow, deep strokes of his cock that you felt from your opening and right to that spot inside you that he punched with every push. With every rugged breath his pace became more rigid, he was close, but you were closer. You lifted one of your hands off the mattress guiding it to your begging clit, but again, Javi read you before you could think. His fingers moved from your hips to the apex of your thighs teasing your bundle of nerves with tight circles. You could feel his balls slapping against you, his sweat mixing with yours, the coarse hair above his cock irritating the raw skin of your ass with every thrust.

"Javi, I’m gonna.."

"I know, hermosa, feel you squeeze me with your pretty cunt," he gritted through his teeth. "Come on, baby, I wanna feel you cry all over my cock, give it to me."

His thrusts became more rapid, the movements of his fingers unforgiving on your clit and you felt your knees almost give out as your mouth opened in a silent scream. You throbbed and pulsed around his still hard cock, and the drag of it inside you made you cry out with oversensitivity.

"Turn around, come on, wanna see you." He manhandled you like a doll, your mind not cooperating with your body as you dropped on your back welcoming him once again between your spread thighs. Javi didn’t wait a moment, crowding you with his arms, and dropping his mouth to suck little hickeys on your tits as he sunk back inside. You shuddered, still coming down from your climax as he chased his. His hips worked like a jackhammer, stuffing you full again, again, again. Wet lips left kisses, bites and licks wherever he could reach, and eventually his head fell into the crook of your neck, only his loud breathing and the lewd sound of skin slapping skin remaining in the quiet room.

You circled your arms around his neck, and tugged on his hair, sweaty strands of it slippery between your fingers. That little pang of pain was what undid Javi, and he let out a wail, like a wounded animal, filling you with rope after rope of his cum. He fell on top of you, your sweaty bodies sticking together.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck. Oh, fuck, I love you so much. Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero." His soft whisper was as loud as a thunderstorm in an empty field. And you felt like you were struck by lightning, mind sobering up from your orgasm in an inhuman past when you pushed his slick body away from yours. You didn’t pay attention to the sticky cum leaking down your wet thighs as he landed on his back, eyes looking at you with more than just physical pain.

"What the fuck did you say, Javi?"

You wanted him to say that it was in the heat of the moment, that he didn't mean it. Or that he thought of someone else while fucking you, so the words just slipped out and weren't meant for you. Anything, any fucking excuse.

"Lo siento, querida." He didn't blink, staying as still as a statue, droplets of liquid salt quickly soaking into the sheets under him.

You shook your head, trying to get his words out of your brain. No, no, no, fucking please. It felt like a betrayal. He was the only constant in your life, the only thing you were sure of, and then he decided to selfishly take that away from you? Fall in love with you? What a fucking prick.

"That's some fucking bullshit, Javi, we had a deal! We had a fucking deal!"

He nodded, closing his eyes, too weak to see the disappointment on your face. "I know, I fucked up, but I just... - "

"No," you were quick to interrupt him, jumping off the bed that had seen so much and pulling your jeans and a t-shirt without even trying to find your underwear. "I can't fucking believe you'd do that." Your eyes watered, angry tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, so you dropped your head lower to pick up your shoes and walked to the door barefoot.

"Hermosa!" You heard him calling for you, and then the sound of his movements. There he was, staring at you in all his naked glory, more desperate for you than ever. The only time you didn't want to satiate his craving. Wasn't ready to.

"Fuck you, Javi."

The loud bang of the door closing was nothing compared to the sound of his newly healed heart shattering into dust.

ummm... yeah. so, comment if you liked it? thanks!

#javier pena x you #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena #pedro pascal fanfiction #iamasaddie fic #javier peña x female reader

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bee-ina-boat · 5 months

Text

heres a collection of concept art for the rest of the entities for the mythos au!! if you're wondering where the eye is, they've been drawn already!

they are all FAR from done. keep in mind these are all just my initial concepts and i plan to do in-depth design sheets as i go to explore their designs more.

IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS ON HOW TO IMPROVE THESE DESIGNS PLEASE THROW EM AT ME- MY ANON IS OPEN AND I READ TAGS I DONT CARE JUST!!!! GIMME!!!!!

(also au context: the magnus mythos is an au where the entities are all gods, similar to various religious mythology, rather than paranormal entities that feed on fear)

design thoughts for each of them under the cut

The Web - God of Fate (she/it): im pretty happy with her design atm, shes meant to be a half spider half woman thing and i love that for her. shes probably the one ive thought the most on so far given her importance to the story. i want her to wear silks and shiny silver jewelry that just sparkles like wet spiderwebs do, not sure if im gonna keep the veil?

The Dark - God of the Dark (she/he/it): probably my weakest concept at the moment. it doesnt do the dark any justice. i mean i like the cloak idea but i want them to be very tendrilly, all consuming, shadowy, but i dont know how to properly portray them :/

The Desolation - God of Destruction and Fire (they/it): i have a neat vision for them! i want them to be made of coal and ash and smoke, to be burning and glowing on the inside, and their body is decorated with melted wax to look like clothes. not quiiiiiite sure about how their melty candle dress is now? i want it to be less constrictive

The Stranger - God of the Unknown and the Whimsical (he/she/they/it): it's meant to be this. weird wirey creature hidden behind masks and a lot of fabrics, like the framework of a poseable plush doll? i like the way the masks look but im not so sure about the body.

The Vast - God of the Above (she/he/they/it): im not so sure about his design at all im gonna be real. i want them to look like the atmosphere and be covered in clouds and have mountains for feet and an ocean cape but i feel like it might be a bit?? idk??? im just not that happy with it :/

The End - God of Death and Time (they/it): ugh i love this concept sm, making death read as less scary and more divine is so fun. theyre based on a seraphim and a sand timer,

The Buried - God of the Underneath (she/he/they/it): ANOTHER OF MY FAVORITES!!!! i love them. theyre inspired by hermit crabs!! and they have silver chains holding their shell to them. they look so endearing with their lil lopsided eyes ;; <3

The Flesh - God of the Body and Meat (she/he/they/it): i have so many ideas for the flesh y'all- im very excited to do a concept sheet for them. theyre meant to have no skin, just exposed bone and muscle, large limbs, hooves, exposed heart underneath a ribcage, teeth that close around their abdomen. white bandages that wrap around like clothes. a teeth/horn crown? i dont quite know whether to go for a more animalistic look or a more human one? like- theres so many ways to go with him idek!!!

The Hunt - God of Predators and Pride (they/it): see, i like this design but i feel like its too werewolf like? yknow? thats cool!! but itreads more monster to me than God :/

The Corruption - God of Nature, Rot, and Disease (she/they/it): i love this weird bug thing. this one i was really inspired for (mostly because. corruption aligned. so obviously im gonna think about this one alot) theyre this weird bug thing, the veil is inspired by the one from the art on the wiki! i want to maybe make them a bit more gross and weird because nature is like that sometimes, a moot on tiktok suggested that i add animal bones!! and i think thats SO smart im absolutely going too

The Spiral - God of the Incomprehensible (it/its): this weirdo is so hard to pin down istg. i imagine them as this spiral thing. body is kindof liquidy, arms are spindly and long, multiple shifting faces, overall just constantly changing and moving and like!!! how am i meant to draw that??? when my brain cant even wrap my head around what its supposed to look like yknow??? bruh jrdbhgfjdldgfh- that being said i think the main problem with the design is that it just gives me too many Michael vibes!!! is it the hair? the arms? its probably both.

The Lonely - God of Solitude and the Self (they/it): i like what this one has going so far! theyve got fog hair, fog tears, their body is meant to be splotchy like turquoise marble, i vibe with it so hard. not so sure what to do with their outfit tho :/

The Slaughter - God of War (he/they/it): another one of my more stronger designs i think! centaur with weapons sticking into them, face concealed, medieval armor and antlers- it vibes

the extinction isnt drawn because i literally have no idea what they should look like aside from color palette-

once again any and all suggestions will be taken!!!! i need ideas!!! plese!!!!

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dreamerwitches · 6 months

Text

Name: Derella

Age: 21

Eye Colour: Teal

Hair Colour: Dark orange

Species: Starfish

Witch type: Crab

Nature: Unsettled

Weapon: Imitation claws

Familiars: Nimue

Rotten Witch: Unknown

Wish: Please let me fit in with my family

An orphaned girl raised in a family of crabs. She always feels like an outlier and is always trying to reassure herself that she deserves to be there. Although as a witch she looks like the real deal, she’s not a crab, and will never be one. Her shell is made of plush fabric and her claws can't really do anything. Her best method of attack is the candles on her headpiece but if she slips they might very well burn her entire costume.

#madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #witch #madoka magica witch #crab witch #magical witch au #magical witch profile #my art #tart magica #puella magi tart magica

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ceruleancattail · 1 year

Text

Shatter, prison of glass.

シャッター・グラス・プリズン

Introducing Ramshackle’s prefect, Cinder Fernway.

Art by the amazing @siphoklansan !!!!

Another lost soul, drawn to Ramshackle dorm. It does lead one to wonder. . .

Just what about that rundown shack is attractive to these poor wanderers?

All he knew was how cold it was.

Darkness engulfed him, shrouding his entire body in shadows. A veil of mourning. Raising a tentative hand, his fingers brush against a wall of sorts. Cushioned, fingertips sinking into the plush. A simple push had the wall shifting ever so slightly.

A shove had the wall ripped off, clattering onto the ground with a deafening crash. Light streamed in, stinging like a thousand needles. Squinting, he raised a hand to block the blinding rays. A sleeve, elaborate gold patterns sewn into the fabric. They rustle, twinkling playfully on the dark cloth. A thousand stars, condensed into his clothes.

A quick glance down revealed a robe, held in place with a silk belt, with a golden buckle in front. It seemed to glow in the light, beaming with pride.

That’s definitely new.

A chamber, lit up with ghostly purple fires, flickering like a thousand tongues. Wagging at him, mocking his very being. Mirrors framed in gold frames of curls and twirls. They hover off the ground, showing him every single angle of his face.

A pair of haunting pale eyes, a ghostly blue of a misty sky. Hair once dyed an ebony black, golden roots peeking out from his scalp. A scar ran through his lips, twitching with every breath.

A souvenir from a particularly crushing defeat. His feet hooked onto the last hurdle, sending both the metal bar and his body tumbling onto the ground. The ground scalped his skin, and carved a particularly nasty gash on his lips.

It wiggled when he laughed.

Fun.

Unfortunately, he didn’t quite feel like smiling now.

“Where… where the hell am I?”

Name: Cinder Fernway

Age: 18

Pronouns: he/him

Dominant hand: Right

About him:

Cinder’s a determined person. Eager to get home, he’ll throw himself into research headfirst. Perhaps it’s a lingering desire from his days as an athlete, but Cinder strives to be first. First in class, first to get a certain topic… He’s slowly trying to rid himself of this habit, so do be patient with him, won’t you?

Cinder tries his best to look nice. He really does. His face is just eternally stuck in that scowl. He’s not mad, he promises.

Although the rare moments someone drags a smile out of him are to die for. Cinder has this wide, cheerful grin that just melts. His lips gently slide into a small smile, warm as the evening sun.

Favourite food: Chili Crab

Backstory: A Star Track runner, Cinder can’t remember a time he wasn’t running. Feet beating against the ground, a flurry of movement. He learnt to dance with the speed, harnessing it as his own. Running for hours on a end, in love with the wind in his hair, the sheer adrenaline flowing through his veins.

He’s never felt more alive.

However, in the pursuit of speed, some things must be sarcrificed. When a candle burns as brightly as he does, its wick crumbles into ashes. Cinder’s body was no exception.

In one particular race, he tore his anterior cruciate ligament. Strings coming undone, final curtains crashing down on his stage. The ball has come to a stop, the Magic’s gone. He’s in rags, legs trapped within a glass prison. Try to run? It’ll shatter entirely, glass splinters digging deep into his shins, cutting into his skin.

Damaging his legs beyond repair.

It hurts. Fate determined to end Cinder’s story. Just when he about to get started.

Please… don’t roll the credits just yet.

He swears that this story will continue on, long after the clock strikes 12

#the mage’s hat 🎩#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Cinder #Cinder Fernway #ramshackle prefect #so here’s my boyyyyy

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theredpelican · 10 months

Text

The first time I was evicted, I was twenty-two.

I packed my suitcases and my toothbrush and my fancy Persian cat

And we ended up on a couch

in a distant friend’s childhood home

In the Chinese quarter of Paris, in a room full of crabs.

My friend’s mother was a cancer who loved to collect plush toys,

Sculptures, paintings, keyrings, toilet paper

Anything with a crab on it.

They would stare at me as I dozed off and

Would greet me in the morning.

That’s how I ended up in the crab room

With thousands of tiny white eyes staring at me in the dark

Two months before I turned twenty-three.

The second time I was evicted, I was twenty-four.

It feels like centuries have passed, but it was only a week ago.

I once again packed my suitcases, but I left my toothbrush

And paintbrushes and mirrors

And books

There’s only so much you can carry in a lifetime

Or on a train.

I did, however, bring my cat.

He had stopped eating three days before we left, as if he could tell

Something terribly wrong was happening.

We ended up on a couch

In a distant friend’s studio apartment in Lille,

A small, rainy city

An hour from Paris.

It seems like every time I keep getting farther away

From Paris

From civilization

From life.

At night I still see the crabs

Sometimes even in the morning, they dance

In front of me, their shell a bleeding red

Their eyes accusatory.

That’s the depressed, lazy bitch who lost her home again,

I imagine them whispering.

My fancy Persian cat had to get surgery because

a hairball was obstructing his intestines.

It cost me two thousand four hundred euros

I did not have,

Sealing my fate for the months to come.

You’ll never get another home,

The crabs say.

Even if you did, what’s the point?

For how long this time?

All you had to do was work harder.

Smarter, faster.

Maybe I’m just not meant to survive

And should leave my cat in better hands

And should leave my body in the ocean

To be discovered on a cloudy morning on a beach

Along the English channel.

Another poor arab immigrant dying in the ocean,

How original,

The crabs snicker.

At least it’s not the Mediterranean.

What a cliché.

I don’t deserve to die in the Mediterranean.

It birthed and coddled me like so many others,

Yet I am not like them, I had every opportunity,

I went to the best Western universities and if I had just

Held on a little longer, I wouldn’t be here, along the English channel

Homeless at twenty-four.

Life is a riddle I can’t figure out.

Maybe I’m not meant to understand anything at all.

Maybe

This is all I can be.

The sea is calling

For a reason

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ubejamjar · 1 month

Note

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers (ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Yay! More happy things! Thank you much 💕 I got carried away talking about fish so 6. is long but the rest are brief!

6. Arapaima

My favorite fish (not for eating). Big ol’ oxbow lake babies who have to come up for air after 5-15 minutes, it’s why they survive in waters with little oxygen. I love them so much.

Imagine—Deep in the rainforest there’s a lake, one of many born of the floodwaters spilling forth from the Amazon River. The water is still, tranquil amongst the chirping, buzzing, rustling of forest life. A black caiman lurks, drifting across the mirrored surface, prowling for any aquatic life unlucky enough to be stranded here when the floodwater receded.

Something breaches. You wait for another glimpse. Your is patience rewarded with the sight of a beast below, a massive thing nearly 3 meters, ten foot. You see giant scales, dragon scales in green and black, glittering gold in the light. There’s a flash of red tail. The creature is gone.

They ARE in FFXIV but the biggest aquarium is not big enough for them and I would just feel sad seeing one floating in place. Same goes for Animal Crossing.

7. Sugar and Coffee

I’m a tea and croissant type of woman but sometimes I’m a little dessert devil fiending for any sweet. Whenever I want to have something like cake, I need to have a cup of coffee to balance it. Usually decaf because I’m not supposed to have much caffeine, but always a dark roast with a little bit of oat milk or heavy cream to take the acidic edge off. It’s bliss

8. Vaccuming

Ok wait, hear me out.

It is a necessity because I’m allergic to cats and I have two whole idiots to my name, but also it’s just satisfying. Usually I’m just mentally making the same sound as vacuum cleaner or making little race car noises when I go around the couch.

9. Crustaceans

It started as a joke. I was playing Civ VI with my siblings and husband, and I started the church of Crab God 🦀. It was all “haha holy war, Catholicism vs. a bunch of crab worshipping idiots” but then it became an inside joke that never died. Now I unironically love the lil guys. My baby baby sister got me a little crab Lego thing for Christmas, my darling got me a crab plush for our anniversary last year. 🤷‍♀️ I just think they’re cute, silly little guys.

10. Eels

I’m just gonna finish this by talking about another aquatic creature I’m fucking obsessed with. I saw ONE documentary about endangered American eels a decade ago and I’ve been obsessed ever since. Freshwater eel, Moray eels, DEFINITELY garden eels. Eels good, man.

Same, brother, same

#we’re living la vida insomnia so I once again did this at 3 am #I will not be checking spelling #I will not be checking grammar #I will not check punctuation #she will be scheduled for a more respectable hour and I will not stress #jamjar

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bucci-cookies · 2 years

Text

Zeppole and Mango Smoothies

Here is another commission I did! Bruno takes the reader on a date to a cute seaside cafe :)

For info on my commissions see this post.

Enjoy!

The radio played softly in the background, slightly hidden by the clinking and chiming from cutlery on plates. The cafe’s volume had fluctuated all day as people gathered in waves, taking breaks from the warm beach just a stone's throw away. Presently, there was only an old man near the front, rustling today's paper, and a group of teenagers sitting by the long table.

It was a cute little place Il Banchiere Pasticceria, what was once a busy bank near the beach, was now renovated into a quaint cafe. It oozed homely energy, from the soft browns and creams on the walls to the comfy furniture one might find in their living room. Potted plants lined the windowsills, giving rise to various plants with luscious green bodies and vibrant petals. Bruno never struck you as the kind of person to be found here. While he never acted like he was “bigger” than places like this, despite the rumours of a lavish lifestyle, you were still surprised when he posed the quiet cafe as your next date. You both sat in the corner by the large window, on a dark brown loveseat with a low oak table between you and the opposite loveseat. You leaned your head on Bruno’s shoulder as he held the small cream-coloured menu for you both to read.

"Do you know what you want to order?" Bruno asked, his thumb grazing your knee gently. "The zeppole is delicious." He pointed to the fried dough delicacy on the menu. You had never had it before and the range of delicious fillings caught your eye.

You hummed to yourself as you gave the menu a second skim read. You eyed the pastries and savoury meals, trying to decide which route to go down. "Not yet. What are you getting?"

"I love their crab cakes," Bruno replied, tapping the option on his menu. “One of the benefits of having a cafe so close to the water is the easy access to fresh fish.” He turned to look out of the window, watching the sea splash lightly against the sandy shore.

Freshly cooked crab did sound lovely, especially since it received the praise of your fishing enthusiast partner. You turned back to the menu, glossing over the wraps, paninis, cakes and coffees, overwhelmed by the magnitude of choices. You and Bruno had always split the bill on dates, either directly in half or paying for what you ate separately. However, along with the surprising date to a small cafe in the suburbs, he had also offered to cover the bill for both of you. While you were grateful for his generosity, you didn’t want to take advantage of his kind offer, you told yourself you would limit the items you got.

“What if we mix it up? Get things from different sections?” Bruno suggested, pinching your cheeks and pulling you out of your thoughts. “In as much as you look so cute trying to pick, I think I should open up the options and let you try as much as you want, after all, it is my treat and I want you to like it here.” Bruno’s hand returned to your knee as his index finger drew small circles on it.

“Are you sure? I know you said you’re happy to pay but-”

“This place means a lot to me, I would rather treat you here.” He cut you off with a soft smile, plush lips pressed together. Why was he so adorable when he made that face? His head cocked to the side making his bangs fall slightly, and his lively blue eyes had a childlike tint to them. You just couldn’t go against him. “Y/n…” He dragged your name out so sweetly that you felt butterflies in your stomach.

When you sighed and sunk into the seat, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. He gave a cheerful, victorious grin before kissing your cheek. He got up to order from the counter, the fact that he took longer than a minute to place the order made you concerned.

With a wide grin, he found himself back by your side, eagerly holding your hand in his. “Don’t worry, I didn’t go overboard.” He bumped his shoulder against yours.

Shortly after, a waitress came to the table with four small plates on a large black tray, one with crab cakes, another with what seemed to be zeppole, the third had a slice of pineapple upside-down cake while the fourth had lobster paninis. Steam rose from the hot dishes with an exquisite aroma you had never experienced before. The rumbling of your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t eaten in a while.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot about drinks! Are you thirsty?” Bruno exclaimed, pressing his cheeks with his hands. He had the cutest puppy dog eyes like he had committed a grave sin by not asking if you needed a drink.

“Don’t worry we can get drinks later.” You held his hands and squeezed them gently. “I’m far more hungry than I am thirsty.” You used the side of your fork to cut open one of the crab cakes and bring a piece to your mouth.

He watched your lips as you chewed on the seafood meal. “What do you think?” Bruno asked with eager eyes.

You let out a loud groan of satisfaction. “I have never tasted crabcakes as good as this!”

“I told you they were good.” He gave a proud smirk before having a taste of it himself. Even though he came to this cafe so often, it seemed like the delectability of these meals still surprised him every time.

The music changed to something more soothing, Arrivederci Roma by Dean Martin. As a new wave of customers approached the front doors, Bruno used this as an opportunity to quickly order drinks.

You watched as a flock of kids rushed in with their parents in tow, fidgeting in a line behind Bruno as he placed his order. Despite the noise from the new guests, you could still make out the song, hidden under the layers of noise, and focussed on its calming aura.

It didn’t take long for Bruno to return with two mango smoothies in hand, placing them both on the table. “How has work been?” Bruno asked, sitting back down. His voice was gentle and laced with a hint of concern. “I hope you’ve had some time to rest.”

Your lack of response, along with the way your eyes darted to the side as you rubbed the back of your neck made his expression turn more serious.

“You should try to get at least some sleep. Are you eating properly?”

“I'm trying.” You shrugged your shoulders artlessly.

He exhaled deeply. “I know you are, but I don’t want you to work yourself to the bone.” His hand slipped to your waist as he shifted closer to you and ducked down to your ear. “But I hope you know how proud I am of you.”

“Bruno…” Your cheeks flared up at his praise. While it's expected for people in relationships to have such respect and love for each other, something about Bruno made getting this compliment to feel even greater than he probably intended. Maybe it was the way he whispered in your ear, or how his hand fit perfectly on your waist, but you just felt so peaceful and joyous at this moment.

“What?” Bruno snickered, noticing how bashful your expression was. “You know how proud I am of you, Bella? Having someone so intelligent and hardworking as my partner?” He pulled you into a tight embrace, nearly forcing the air out of your lungs as he kissed your forehead. “I feel like the luckiest person alive.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes at his enthusiasm. “You're so embarrassing, Bruno!”

You pulled away slowly before sinking into the seat, hands wrapped around Bruno’s arm. “So what about you? How have you been doing?” Bruno’s double life wasn’t unknown to you, and he at least tried to keep you in the loop on things, choosing to spare you from the more grizzly details that you were better off not knowing.

“Come here.” He beamed, tilting your head up for a kiss. Bruno was never the type to take part in public displays of affection, so having him kiss you, surrounded by strangers made your heart race.

“I’ve been okay…as good as I can be.” He shot you a quick smile before kissing your forehead. “I have more time to myself now, which means I can spend more time with you.” The past couple of weeks had been a bit hectic, with Bruno being more secretive than usual. The fact that you lived separately didn’t help with communication.

“Well, I’m very grateful for that.”

The new wave of customers had fully settled down now, taking over the long table and the rest of the seats, the new layer of noise almost completely blocking out the music. You and Bruno tucked into the rest of your meals, sipping happily on your tropical drinks as you talked about anything and everything new that had happened since the last time you properly saw each other. As the crowd began to whittle down, Bruno noticed how most of the beach-goers had started to pack up.

“Bella,” He turned to you, “How about we go for a walk?” He clutched your hand, leading you towards the shore, taking in the fresh air that danced along his skin.

“I love coming down here.” You sighed, watching the footprints you made in the sand. “We’re so lucky to live somewhere near the water.”

Bruno didn’t respond, instead, you found him crouching near a small pile of sand, holding something in his hands. “Here!” He beamed, handing you a seashell.

It was small and white, with pink wisps along its body. “Bruno, this is so cute.” You examined the shell closely, it was slightly chipped, and its colour was fading a little, but it was still so beautiful.

You continued your previous conversations, arm in arm you strolled down the beach. Some children scurried past you, playing with water guns, while their parents shouted from far, telling them to slow down before they hurt themselves. The casino and arcade were still open, and the cheers of winners were heard, along with the spinning of various cash machines.

As much as you were enjoying this pleasant walk down the beach, the heat was beating down on you, you could already feel sweat clinging to your body.

“I think I’ll faint if I stay under this sun anymore.” You laughed, using your hand to shield your eyes from the sun so you could look up at your partner. He paused with a shy expression on his face before responding.

"How would you feel about coming over to mine?" Bruno asked, squeezing your hand slightly. This was not the first time you had gone round to his, so it was quite unusual of him to be so shy.

You giggled before squeezing his hand back. "I would love to."

The ride back to his was quiet, save for the wind blowing gently through the window, cooling down your warm skin. Despite it being well into the evening, the sun still shone as bright as ever. You watched as people cycled down the roads in shorts and tank tops, soaking in the summer heat of Naples, while a line of kids stood by an ice-cream van, waiting impatiently for something to cool them down. Restaurants and shops were open a little later than usual, taking advantage of the masses out enjoying the summer weather, their doors wide open and exuding unique scents and lively music into the streets.

The windows were down, causing a cool breeze to fill the car and soothe your warm skin a little, allowing you to relax into the comfortable seats of Bruno’s car. The drive was short but sweet so you were soon at your next destination.

It was times like this that you were grateful for the air conditioning unit set up in his home; otherwise, the thought of cuddling him on the sofa, like you were now, would be impossible.

You sat across his lap, tucking your head in the crook of his neck as he flicked through the TV channels.

At first, you settled on a cooking show, then a game show, then a sitcom, before eventually giving up after realising that no matter what was on TV you both just ended up conversing and blocking out whatever was on the screen.

"Thank you for coming out with me today," Bruno whispered, tracing circles with his finger on your back. "It means a lot to me that you came." Bruno never told you this, but he had never brought anyone to that cafe before, not friends nor previous girlfriends, this was something he felt he could share with only you.

"Well, I'm glad you invited me." You beamed, snuggling into his torso. Bruno was thankful that you faced away from him, lest you saw the rosiness of his cheeks. "We should go again."

There was a question that had been on your mind throughout the day, nothing serious, but something in your gut told you that it might be very personal to Bruno. “I didn’t know you liked cafes like that, is there any reason you wanted to come here?”

Bruno’s hand stopped caressing your back, you could almost feel his jaw clench.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push anything sensitive!”

“No, Bella…” He exhaled deeply, leaning his head against yours. "My parents used to go there a lot."

"Oh."

Bruno hadn’t told you much about his childhood. All you knew was that his parents separated when he was young, and his father passed away when he was 17. You never pushed him to explain anything more.

"They met there and we would go every weekend.” His hand moved to your thigh, squeezing it gently. “At least you know why I was desperate to make you like it.” He chuckled awkwardly, you could hear the lump in his throat.

Bruno’s mother was still a student, while his father was a trainee fisherman. They came from two different walks of life but were so strongly connected, there were things only the two of them could understand, more than their own families. His mother, Clara, asked out his father, Paolo, knowing fully well that he would be too reserved to confess his crush to her. It became their routine to visit that cafe, no matter how busy, stressed or tired they were. It seemed like all their troubles would melt away the moment they found themselves in each other’s arms.

A heavy silence filled the room as Bruno bit his lip and stared at the television screen.

"I think that’s sweet,” You whispered, trying to lift the mood. “It's such a cute cafe. I love being near the water and the food was amazing.”

He smirked and wrapped his arms around your body. “Did you? I hope I didn’t force you to like it.” In the pit of his stomach, he wished he never said anything about the cafe and his past with it, worried that he was tricking you into liking it.

“Of course, not Bruno. I think we both know that you can’t force me to do anything.” You hugged him back, letting his hands slip down to your hips.

“I guess you’re right.” Your heart warmed at his response, you were glad the tension had weakened slightly.

“Were there other things you did together?”

Bruno hummed to himself, tilting his head to the side as he recalled his childhood memories. "My dad loved golf." He chirped, making you look up from his neck. "I was so awful at it I wondered if he would just abandon me at the range." He face-palmed himself in embarrassment as he remembered how he couldn’t hold the clubs properly, not even considering his weak, poorly coordinated swing.

"I'm sure you weren't that bad!" You laughed, placing a hand on his chest and pushing your body off his so you could face him properly. You knew Bruno’s father was a fisherman, and Bruno grew up learning the tricks of the trade, but you never expected him to have a history of golf.

"No, I was. I was absolutely terrible, but being there with him was so much fun." Bruno adored his father more than anyone else, but for someone who he loved so much, he rarely spoke about him. You didn’t blame him, people deal with loss differently, Bruno fell on the quieter side of the spectrum, keeping those fond memories close to his heart, away from nosy people.

His father spent his Sundays at the range, quietly practising, using the time to clear his mind of any stress obtained during the week. From the moment Bruno was old enough to hold a club, he started begging his father to take him to the range, clutching his shirt and running to hide in the car before he could stop him. Paolo complied and would take Bruno out as often as possible. The only issue was that Bruno, as expected, would get tired and fall asleep quite quickly, waking up back in his bed or sometimes on the car ride home.

When his father’s stitches reopened and got infected, he could barely walk, talk less of going down to the docks to fish or practising at the range. The only thing that Bruno could do was sit by his bed, talk to him, and try to pretend like everything was okay, just enough to get them through this.

Bruno didn’t resent any of his memories, he didn’t feel sad for not staying awake during practices. As he got older and learnt more about how others lived through these situations, he found a certain joy in his heart. He was thankful that he was able to spend so much time with his father, and that even in his last moments, he knew how much Bruno loved him, and vice versa.

You could feel Bruno’s leg bounce lightly. It was like he wanted to open up, but didn’t know how to.

"Did you ever do stuff like that with your mother?" You asked innocently, tucking some of his hair behind his ear as you focused on his eyes.

"Baking, I made my first cake with her, a pineapple upside down cake." He smiled, looking down.

That explains his choice of cake today.

"You have to make it again!" You replied enthusiastically. The cake you had today tasted incredible, you’re a hundred percent sure that making it yourselves would be even better.

Bruno didn’t respond at first, he simply pulled you back into his body with you facing downwards so you couldn’t see his eyes. "Maybe that could be our next date."

"I’d love that." You wish you could have ignored the slight break in his voice, or how his fingers dug into your back as he swallowed uncomfortably. You held the side of his neck, feeling how hot his skin was. "Are you okay Bruno?"

"Yes, I'm fine." His breath was shaky.

"I’m sorry if I’ve made you upset by bringing this up, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, but if you do I’d love to listen.” You pressed soft kisses on his neck, a small gesture of affection.

“Don’t apologise to me, Bella, how could you make me upset?” He scoffed, holding back the tears that threatened to spill out. “I do have one particular memory…my parent’s anniversary, I ended up third-wheeling them at the restaurant because the babysitter cancelled.”

You snickered to yourself as you imagined a little Bruno, wedged between his well-dressed parents in a fancy restaurant. It's as if your light-heartedness made it easier for him to keep talking.

“My mother let me dance with her, I stood on her feet and she let me have the entire song.” A smile crept onto his face as he recalled the memory. His mother wore the most beautiful red dress he had ever seen, while his father wore a casual black suit. Everyone else in the main hall turned to look at the mother and son duo, some gasping at how beautiful his mother looked, while others whispered about how cute Bruno was, jumping around and struggling to move in time with his mother.

The thought of a young Bruno with rosy cheeks and big eyes, tugging his mother’s dress and wrapping his small fist around her fingers as he tried his best to follow the music with her was such a pure image. Your calm, collected, mature partner in such an innocent, playful setting was something you would love to see.

“That sounds adorable, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance before.”

“Good! I’m horrible at it.” His blunt response paired with the pout on his face made you chortle.

“Well, now I have to see it.” You brought your phone out of your pocket and opened YouTube. “What song was playing?”

Bruno knew what you were going to do so he opted to seal his lips. When he refused to answer, you just chose whatever came to mind first. That happened to be the song from the cafe, Arrivederci Roma.

You stood up from Bruno’s lap, holding out your hands in front of him.

Bruno grumbled and rolled his head back. “You really want me to dance with you? You’re so persistent,” He sighed and placed his hands in yours. “Well, how can I turn you down when you look so cute, mi tesora?”

The smile on your face that Bruno loved more than anything made it worth it.

You pressed play and let the music fill the room, allowing it to guide the flow of your bodies. Bruno’s hands found their way to your waist, using it to pull your body closer to his, while your arms hooked around his neck.

His eyes locked on yours in a way that sucked the air out of your lungs and made your heart beat heavier. Your bodies swayed side by side to the music, with Bruno’s thumbs tracing rhythmic circles and tapping beats on your back. He tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, allowing him to cup the side of your face with his thumb grazing your cheekbone.

You had expected that at this point in your relationship, you would be past the typical “crush symptoms”, but that simple contact made your stomach flip as if you were back at square one in your relationship. You could already feel your face heat up and the last thing you wanted was for him to notice and tease you.

Little did you know that Bruno was in the same predicament, he was currently fretting over whether his palms were sweaty and if you would notice.

There was something so…fulfilling at this moment like you had shed all your worries. Right now, it just felt like only you and Bruno existed.

“You’re so beautiful, mi bella, such mesmerising eyes, like they hypnotise me.”

“How can you say that when you have eyes like that, hm?” You stuck out your tongue teasingly. Bruno had the most gorgeous eyes you had ever seen, from the way his long lashes curved, to the highlights that danced around his pupils. To you, having Bruno compliment your eyes was like having Da Vinci tell you the doodle in your notebook was a work of art.

“You should stay the night today.” His words were sharp and direct, taking you back a little.

“I should?”

“Mhm…” Bruno pushed his forehead against yours. “I’m not letting you out of my reach so early, not when today has been so perfect.” While Bruno could argue that every time he gets to see you feels perfect, the fact that he was able to open up with you is something he’ll cherish forever.

“You know I have to get up early for work tomorrow, right?” You groaned. One of your co-workers was off sick, you offered to take part of their shift the next day, meaning you had to go in earlier than usual.

“I’ll cook you breakfast and help you get ready.” He sang, before ducking down to peck your lips.

“And what about my uniform? My supervisor won’t like it if I don’t come in one.”

He rolled his eyes playfully at how you broke the kiss. “I’ll swing by yours while you shower and get it for you.”

The funny thing is, you knew he wasn’t kidding. Bruno would even take your shift for you if it meant he would get extra time to cuddle you in bed.

“Jeez, and you say I’m persistent.” You teased him with a poke to his chest.

“Why wouldn’t I when it comes to you?” His forehead bumped against the top of your head slightly, making you look up before he captured your lips once more. A hand moved up to hold the side of your neck, keeping your face towards him.

His kisses were more desperate than usual like he didn’t want this moment to end as only you could give him the comfort he desired so badly. His ears somehow tuned out the music in the background, the only things he could hear were his strong heartbeat and the gasps from your lips as he begged for them over and over again.

When he pulled away slowly for air, you didn't miss how pink his nose and cheeks were, though you suspected that your face was as warm and flustered as he was.

His arms wrapped around your shoulders, pushing you into his body while you hugged his slim waist. Your eyes were closed as you both listened to the final verse of the song. Dean Martin’s magnificent voice made you feel like you were floating in the air. Bruno's arms tightened around you, holding you like you were a precious vase that would shatter if he even thought to let go. At this moment, he felt that peace that only came when he was around you.

“The song’s nearly over, Bruno.” You whispered into his chest.

“Then let’s play it again.”

#bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #bruno bucellati x reader #bruno bucellati #fluff #seaside #date #cafe date

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skylar-jay · 1 year

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Sky kid OCs!

(I was lazy and didn't make any finished drawings)

This is Rhea!

She's a partially corrupted sky kid (how that happened is linked to another oc)

Here's Akar! A fully corrupted sky kid

He touched the diamond in Eden, that's how it happened. Made Rhea do the same, but she pulled away before the darkness could fully take her.

Kyur!!

He lives in wasteland mainly to help out new kids, but he's also just insane and likes the vibes there.

Bonus extinguished drawings just because :)

Seryll! The youngest of them :)

They used to have a pet crab, but it died during a shard. They got a plush as a replacement

(my thoughts about partial corruption and average sky kids under the cut)

So partial corruption and corruption in turn make a sky kid act different.

A fully corrupted sky kid will appear lit even when you haven't lit them, and can't be extinguished as they are only taking the form of a sky kid. (They can also see other sky kids as lit)

They can shift into a shadow like creature, or other creatures of darkness. Light hurts them, and you're more likely to encounter them alone.

Partially corrupted sky kids can struggle to function right in areas of a lot of light. They may become slower and stiff.

When unlit or extinguished they will be grey, but, unlike average sky kids, you will still be able to see all their features, just not colors.

They can still function easily when extinguished, but due to their lack of stable light, can lose wing light quickly.

When they lose all their wing light they won't die immediately. They'll be able to function as if they were unlit with a few differences.

If they linger too long in light sapping places they will die, but if they get out before death, they can return to an easier to function state through light.

Deep calling by them when they don't have wing light will immobilize them like crabs.

In this state they will not be seen by krill or crabs, much like a fully corrupted sky kid.

The same effect is had when they are extinguished, but occasionally something might see them.

When normal, they can easily avoid krill or crabs as, while they will be noticed, can instantly shake them off by ducking out of sight.

Basically, Partial corruption = crab, and full corruption = krill.

#sky cotl #sky children of the light #sky ocs #I love themmmmmmm

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eobardthawneallen · 1 year

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You're offered sweet apple juice by John and Dave, what do you do? :3

[ID: Drawing of John, Dave and Karkat. the first two are in their God tier clothes, closer in perspective, Dave has one extended arm closer to camera holding a glass bottle with golden yellow liquid with an apple sticker, he is smiling showing his teeth and giving thumb up with his other hand. John is also smiling, but closed mouth, giving a thumb up and a peace sign but towards the bottle. Karkat is standing far in the background frowning looking at the camera swaying his hand one side to the other, his other hand is down in a clenched knuckle.

the background is like Dave's room combined with Karkat stuff. nearer to John is a non recognizable bed, except that there is the sheets with the clubs, diamonds, hearts and spades pattern, there is also a red crab plush, on the ceiling are a bunch of Polaroids hanging near the up the corner of the image near John, the pictures are very poor defined but is one of Dave and Karkat together, other is jade making a peace sign, other is the mayor with a little heart by his side. by Dave side is a music speaker on the ground, farer in the background there is a curtain probably to a dark room, posters of the midnight crew and the felt, a pair of katanas next to a pair of sickles besides a pic of what op swears is a picture of the beta and alpha kids with the trolls on the wall. near to Karkat there is a table with a DJ console with albums below it, next to it is a desk a purple computer which have a paused scene of a troll movie version of serendipity. also there is a green chair in front of the desk.

END ID.]

btw you got 50% chance that is actually apple juice :)

#homestuck #hs #john egbert #karkat vantas #dave strider #my art #:3

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gettatranslations · 9 months

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Introducing What I Ate！Yumigeta Ako (23.08.14)

Good evening🌛

I'm Yumigeta Ako 🛑

Thank you very much for your comments yesterdayー！

Just as you all said even though they performed the same songs they sounded totally different at an outdoor festival compared to a normal LIVE〜！

I wonder why… I guess it's the atmosphere？

It's amazing in a way you can't experience unless you're there in person！

I'm looking forward to Inazuma Rock tooー！

Today I'll talk about yesterday♪

Yesterday I said that I ate a lot of festival food so I'll focus on that today！

First I ate grilled hamー！

This was surprisingly delicious❗️

It was MAX meatiness and it was awesome♪

Then I ate more grilled ham！

Already repeating myself！

It was delicious！

Then I drank Melon Marugoto Cream Soda、and I ate melon fruit with vanilla ice cream！

Then I drank orange juice and blue Hawaiian soda！

Then I ate snow crab croquettes❗️

They were crispy and full of crab and salty and delicious！

Finally I ate grilled ham！

For the 3rd time 笑lol

The grilled ham was reallーy！Really delicious！

They were being char grilled so they smelled good and they were piping hot and addictive💕

I hope I can eat them again next year〜

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Well then it's time for today's 【Gettaa Life】✨

Today a big soft toy was delivered to me from back home in Shizuoka！

It's a plush I use as a pillow！

I'm so happy〜！

I also got sea lettuce miso soup and bath salts and air fresheners and clothes and fabric softener…

I'm so grateful🙏

Being surrounded by familiar things in an unfamiliar place makes me feel more at ease！

Particularly the scent of the air fresheners makes me feel really calm！

I Getted 「Healed」！

Being able to chill out at home is the best〜

That's all！This has been 【Gettaa Life】！

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T/N News and information has not been translated

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Today it was still light at 6pm so I had the curtains open while I was eating snacks、

Then suddenly it was dark outside and I was really surprised〜

I feel like it used to still be light at 7pm just the other day…

Time passes so quickly！

It's already mid August⏰

Summer is ending〜！

🌞🌴🌺✨🌞🌴🌺✨🌞🌴🌺✨

Well then I'll see you tomorrow！

This has been YumiGettaa Ako！Good night🐮🐮🐮

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bloodrosebriars · 2 years

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ringlets | gemini i | mohg, morgott | 1193

tw: graphic eye trauma

How fast do Omen horns grow?

Were they able to see the cycle of day and night within their prison aneath Leyndell, Mohg and Morgott would certainly know. Like parents marking their children’s height on the doorframe with chalk, the two brothers count the growth rings on each other’s horns and keep track of the tallies like birthdays. A gradual but speedy process, they never seem to notice the appendages growing when they are, yet always add three or four lines to the count when they finally tally them up again.

It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Father said. As if they weren’t locked underground.

There came a day, long after their father stopped returning, when Morgott grew sick of counting lines. A trail of blood, thick and hot, sticky and wet, plush as a blanket, led to his frail, sickly body curled against the cold, damp ground at the very end of his shackles’ chain. Crimson pooled as he ached and whined, trying not to cry out for help.

Mohg found his brother surrounded by splintered keratin and cut quicks, shards of bone and a discarded wire saw. His once-grey face was red as a rotting rowa, drenched with ich and streaked with tears. Golden eyes had never looked so bloodshot. He said he was fine. He wasn’t.

It took seven hours and twenty minutes for the bleeding to stop. Woozy and tired, guilty for the panic he’d caused his brother, but not apologetic for the action in of itself, Morgott was asked why he did it, and his only answer was, “Because I hate them.” Mohg was mad on the inside — the first time he thought he couldn’t stand his brother. How could he do something so foolish? Doesn’t he know what the Omenkillers say?

Morgott was silent as Mohg scolded him in tears. He said he was sorry, but he wasn’t. He slept in a nest of black feathers that night, clinging tight to his brother’s dark wings.

Days and nights pass, but neither of them could say how many. Morgott collected six Erdtree petals. Mohg filled three pots with blood. They counted rings, and they counted crabs, and they counted on someone to drop food down the storm drain.

Once, on an uneventful day, Mohg was sitting against the wall with his eyes crossed, and Morgott snickered at his expression. Mohg loved Morgott’s laugh — a seldom-heard sound in this dark, wretched prison — but it irritated him on this day. He frowned, eyes darting gold in the older twin’s direction, before they cross towards his left once more.

Mohg said, “It’s getting closer,” and Morgott knew exactly what he was talking about.

That one curling black horn, now about twenty rings long, ever-approaching his eye, as if targeting the gold of grace within his iris like a hawk surveying a field. He lifted a hand, trying to fit clawed fingers between the pointed tip and his anxious face, but it just wouldn’t fit anymore. He whined.

Morgott still had a wire saw tucked away in their little horde of trinkets. He said, “Thou ought to cut—” and Mohg interrupted, “No.”

“Brother, it is fixing to pierce thine eye,” Morgott had argued as Mohg continued trying to fit his fingers into the space between cornea and keratin, with no luck. Mohg said no. They bickered. They argued. They slept on opposite walls that night.

Morgott had collected yet another petal of the Erdtree by the time Mohg awoke from slumber whining like a lost pup, wheezing shallow breaths and mewling like a babe.

“I can feel it,” Mohg said, horrified as one who’d just witnessed a bloody crime. “On— on my— i-it’s touching—”

Morgott was irritated, if only because of his own fear, but he took a look nonetheless. The sight made him gasp, which didn’t help Mohg’s panic: the horn’s sharp edge pricking like a record’s needle against the blacks and golds of their heritage, threatening a song of agony.

His tone was stricter that time when he said, “We should really cut—” but Mohg still interrupted, “No.”

Morgott knew better than to argue by that point. He plotted to remove the piece while Mohg slept. He suggested his at-the-time smaller brother do just that right then and there. Mohg, for once, did as instructed.

With his eyelid cracked open where the horn touched the surface beneath, Mohg slept curled on his side.

The two’s treasure collection wasn’t terribly far away from where they slept — of course not, chains wouldn’t allow it. But Morgott was still far enough away he had to run when he heard Mohg awaken and scream.

The saw was in his hand, digging into his palm’s flesh with his careless grip, but he had more important things to worry about than another laceration painting his young skin. He called Mohg’s name, voice cracking with panic and the younger twin screeched, “It’s broken!”

Morgott fell to his knees in front of his brother, who was covering his left eye with both hands, blood and clear fluid seeping through his fingers like a dam with cracked concrete. Morgott said, “Look at me,” and when Mohg lifted his gaze, there was a godawful tearing sound as cornea met blade and iris turned red.

Mohg screamed, trying futilely to shut his eye — as if that would make it all stop. Morgott apologised, thinking the wound was his fault. Still, he had to play parent, and he thought quick on his toes. The grey Omen held up one finger and said, “Look here, do not look elsewhere,” and Mohg obeyed with tears and blood and eyestuffs leaking out the hole in his skull.

Morgott grabbed the saw, prepared to do what should have been done long ago, but Mohg pulled away yet again — looked away, and the wound tore deeper. Lens was lanced as iris turned ivory, all the gore of dissection dripping down those same rings they used to so playfully count.

Morgott said, “Mohgwyn, let me cut the Gods damned—!” and Mohg screamed back, “No!”

They argued. They fought. And by the time Morgott had wrangled his sobbing, screaming brother to the ground, what lay within the socket of his skull looked like nothing more than the pulp of a squashed grape — useless jelly, red and pulsing, nerves and veins tangled around those twenty-something ridges. He had somehow ignored the severity of the wound until that moment — an override of brotherly instinct, wishing to help before wanting to avoid seeing the disaster. But once there was nothing left to do, he gagged.

It took seven hours and twenty minutes for Mohg to stop crying. His head was swimming, the panic worse than the pain, his now-empty eye and the uncut horn that pierced through it bandaged gently in a piece of Morgott’s tattered cloak. Morgott cleaned the mess — filthy water washing away vitreous fluid and the stains of once-gold gel.

Mohg was silent as Morgott scolded him in tears. He said he was sorry, but he wasn’t.

He slept in a nest of black fur that night, clinging tight to his brother’s soft tail.

They never counted rings again.

#drabble #[ic]#morgott #hhh #meimun got me thinking of the baby bros so here have some depression #i only proofread once sorry for any mistakes #okay back to work #[drabble]

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