The house was bathed in the dying light of sunset when Mugm finally pushed through the door, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the day. Golden hues spilled across the hardwood floors, painting the room in amber and honey, softening the edges of his exhaustion. His eyes found Nezo immediately, curled on the couch with a book open but forgotten in his lap, his face half-lit by the warm glow.
Mugm didn't speak. He shambled forward, his boots thudding dully against the floor before he collapsed gracelessly at Nezo's feet. Without ceremony, he dragged Nezo's legs down, forcing him to sit upright, then plopped his head onto Nezo's thighs like a petulant child seeking comfort, arms crossed over his lap.
Nezo barely glanced up from his book, though his fingers were already carding gently through Mugm's hair, quickly moving to rub slow circles into the tense muscles of his back. The touch was instinctive, practiced, a silent language they'd perfected.
"Long day?" Nezo murmured, his voice quiet with no teasing, no demands, just softness.
Mugm hummed, the sound vibrating against Nezo's thigh. "It's always a long day when I have to deal with Puki's bullshit." His words were muffled, but Nezo heard them anyway, his quiet laughter a ripple beneath Mugm's cheek.
He turned his face further into the fabric of Nezo's pants. The scent of home, of safety, seeped into his bones, loosening the knots in his shoulders one by one.
Nezo's fingers traced the shell of his ear, feather-light. "Do you want to come up?" he asked, thumb brushing the nape of Mugm's neck. "Your knees are gonna bruise if you stay down there."
Mugm didn't answer, just pressed his forehead harder against Nezo's legs in stubborn refusal.
"No?" Nezo's voice was warm with amusement. "Just wanna stay down there?"
"Want you," Mugm grumbled, the words swallowed by fabric.
Nezo's fingers stilled for a moment before resuming their gentle strokes. "Hmm?"
With a sigh, Mugm lifted his head, meeting Nezo's gaze. The sunset caught in his eyes, turning them molten. Mugm nearly lost himself in it. Nezo cupped his jaw, thumb brushing over the sharp line of his cheekbone, his smile tender in the fading light.
Mugm pushed up just enough to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. When he pulled back, they lingered there, breaths mingling, neither willing to break the quiet.
"You're so pretty," Nezo whispered eventually, as if it were a secret between them.
Mugm could have said the same, could have drowned in the way the golden light traced the curve of Nezo's throat, the way his lips parted just slightly, pretty and inviting. But words had never been his strength, so instead he stood abruptly, dragging Nezo's legs with him until he was sprawled lengthwise on the couch. Then he dropped back down, this time settling over Nezo's chest with his ear pressed to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"I said I just want you," Mugm repeated, louder now, filling the space between them.
He didn't need to look up to know Nezo was blushing.
"Well, you have me," Nezo said, fingers threading through Mugm's hair, untangling the knots left by the day's frustrations.
Mugm did have him. He could ask for anything, and Nezo would give it without hesitation. But they weren't there yet.
He lifted his head again, studying Nezo's face, the way his blush deepened under scrutiny.
"And what do you want, pretty boy?" Mugm teased, grinning as Nezo's hips twitched beneath him.
Nezo swallowed. "I want you too."
Mugm tilted his head, echoing Nezo's earlier words with a smirk. "You have me."
Nezo huffed, gripping Mugm's biceps as he tried and failed to shift beneath his weight. Giving up, he rocked his hips upward instead, seeking friction, only for Mugm to pin him down with a firm hand on his waist.
"Mugm," Nezo whined, his name a plea wrapped in velvet.
Mugm relented, shifting up to cage Nezo between his arms. The last embers of sunlight gilded his skin as his chest rose in shallow, anticipatory breaths. Mugm leaned down to kiss him slow and deep, savoring the way Nezo melted into it.
"Let me take care of you," Mugm murmured against his lips.
Nezo nodded, fingers twisting in Mugm's shirt.
Mugm kissed him again, unhurried, as his hands worked Nezo's pants open. He took his time, peeling away layers between lingering kisses. Nezo shivered, his breath hitching when Mugm's fingers finally wrapped around him, stroking slowly.
"So good for me," Mugm murmured, watching the way Nezo's lashes fluttered. He reached for the bottle they kept tucked beside the couch, slicking his fingers before pressing one gently against Nezo's entrance.
Nezo gasped, hips lifting, but Mugm held him down. "Easy," he soothed, working him open with slow, patient circles until Nezo's nails dug into his shoulders.
"Mugm—"
"I know," Mugm whispered, kissing him again. "I've got you."
When he finally pushed inside, it was with agonizing care, sinking inch by inch until their hips met. Nezo arched beneath him, legs locking around Mugm's waist to pull him deeper. For a moment they just breathed, foreheads pressed together, hearts pounding in sync.
Then Mugm moved with slow, deep thrusts that had Nezo gasping. He caught one of Nezo's scrambling hands, threading their fingers together and pinning it gently beside Nezo's head.
"Look at me," Mugm murmured.
Nezo obeyed, his eyes dark with pleasure and hazy with trust.
Mugm bent to kiss his throat, feeling the frantic pulse beneath his lips. "So perfect," he whispered.
Nezo's free hand slid up his back, nails scraping lightly. "Please—"
Mugm shifted his angle and Nezo cried out, his body tightening around him. Mugm reveled in it all, the heat, the sounds, the way Nezo fell apart beneath him. He slowed further, drawing out every movement until Nezo trembled with oversensitivity.
"Mugm—"
"I'm here," Mugm promised, kissing him deeply as Nezo finally let go. Mugm followed soon after, his forehead dropping to Nezo's shoulder as they both came down.
For a long moment they lay tangled together, breathless and sated. Nezo's arms wound around him, holding him close.
"Don't move," Nezo mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Mugm chuckled but obeyed, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The weight of their bodies, the warmth between them,it was everything.
The world outside didn't matter. There was only this. Only them.
Nezo tilted his head up, lips brushing Mugm's jaw. "Stay?"
Mugm kissed him, slow and sweet. "Always."
He held Nezo tighter, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.
my favorite part of this is the dichotomy of queerness as understood by certain cultures in the comments at the end; i.e., “it’s all women so it’s definitely pure and not gross and sexual!” right next to “FUCK IM SO GAY FOR THIS”
sometimes finding aromanticism in media isn’t literally about aromanticism… sometimes it’s about the deconstruction of love as a concept and the subversion of its perception as inherently humanising. it’s about the decentering of romance as a driving force in the narrative. and also sometimes it’s about love being central to the narrative but in a way that defies all traditional categorisations of romantic / platonic / anything else. it is the secret third thing yet so much more and less at once. the point is aromanticism is everywhere for those with eyes to see
after watching several povs, there's something so striking about the way mumbo died.
he dies at home, first of all, which is notable in its own right because so much of his time was spent running about, usually in pursuit of kills. he dies with grian, too— to a thing grian created, no less, but it isn't actually grian's fault for once.
mumbo dies in that tall tower and when lightning strikes, from all across the server, everyone looks. their eyes land on that tower, and everyone is watching. even in grian's perspective, you can see everyone at renwood mound, lined up and staring. those at the bamlands looked on too.
they didn't see mumbo die, but they saw grian's grief. grian, who, throughout this season, has seemed cruel and untouchable to those outside of his circle due to his involvement with and knowledge of the wild cards. they watch grian immediately crumble under the weight of mumbo's death; several of them even explicitly comment, "look at grian, he's grieving, he's in mourning."
i like to that that, until that moment, grian was almost god-like in their minds; now, though, he's the quintessential concept of humanity. grief can be religious if you do it right, after all. even beyond the grian aspect though, isn't this just the most despairing omen of what's to come?
i mean, there's something about this image of a man fallen from grace, crying out as he holds the mangled corpse of his friend in the home they made together, high in the sky, on display for all the world to bear witness to. and the world did bear witness, be it with pity, horror, joy... it doesn't matter, because they saw.
the canary curse has been broken, but this was a fittingly foreboding, tone-setting image that did a stunning job filling its shoes
pixelskylines
dailybridgerton
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
germansingergirl
