#. reqs open

[nationalhammerleague]

the penguins with everything you’ve got

hitting pittsburgh penguins with hammer

[mustainegf]

i feel like this works w James or Dave but like they cum inside and then like eat their cum out of you....

idk just something that seems super hot

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ²⁰²²

Lying in bed, with the moon a silver behind us, James rolled over and stared into my eyes. "Fuck, I need you," he whispered, sending shivers down my spine.

Not surprisingly, I could already feel the anticipation. James was one of those men who knew exactly how to make me feel wanted and desired. As we started to undress each other, I couldn't help but notice how his eyes glued onto mine, devouring me with his gaze.

Once we were both naked, James positioned himself right over me, his swollen erection pressing against my slick entrance. "You ready for me?" he asked in a deep tone that was filled with pure lust.

I nodded, unable to say anything, and felt him push inside me. The feel of him filling me was just too much, a soft moan escaped my lips the moment he started moving. Our bodies were perfectly in sync.

James never took his eyes from mine as we fucked, he swallowed me whole. I loved it. It was all about being his and his mine and nothing more would be the case.

The more and more we fucked, an orgasm was rising up in me that I had never felt before so strongly. I knew it was because of James; he knew exactly how to touch me, exactly how to make me feel.

Suddenly, James's face contorted in pleasure, and I knew he was going to cum. "I'm going to fill you so deep..." he growled.

With one final thrust, he spurted inside of me, his warm cum spilling into my fluttering walls. I felt him pulse inside of me, and I was overcome with a feeling of euphoria.

When James collapsed onto me, he languidly started to kiss me, his tongue probing my mouth for the taste of his own arousal. I groaned into his mouth as he deepened it, feeling his tongue swirl around mine as though he tried to absorb me even more.

After a few moments, James leaned back and looked at me, his eyes shining with passion and satisfaction in near equal measure. "I want to taste you now," he whispered.

I shivered at the thought of his mouth on me as he began to kiss down my body, licking, sucking, his tongue circling my nipples before traveling farther south.

As he reached my pussy, he looks up at me and his eyes were just ablaze with passion. "I want to taste my own cum inside you..." he said roughly.

I felt the excitement at his words, and I could feel my pussy clench around him. James took a deep breath then his head went down again, his tongue darting out to lick at my pussy.

His tongue on my ultra sensitive skin was like an electric shock. I softly moaned as he started to lick and suck his cum, which was oozing from my entrance. This weird and erotic feeling of his made me get more and more turned on by the second.

James continued to lick and suck at me, his tongue probing deep within my heat. I could feel him savoring the taste of his own arousal, and I knew that he was getting off on the fact that he was tasting himself inside me.

He continued eating me out and I could feel my orgasm build again. Suddenly, I felt James' tongue circle my clit, and I blew to a thousand pieces. Realistically, it felt like being lifted out of my body.

As I floated down from my orgasm, I felt James move up my body, his erection still hard and ready. He pushed inside me once more, and I could feel him stretching me, filling me with his warmth.

We were at it for the next few minutes, our bodies moving and slapping. And finally with one last thrust, James covered my insides in his seed, collapsing on top of me.

[haveateadude]

hi again ems!! (hope its okay if i call you that 😭) im the one who sent the last req, you wrote it so wonderfully. thanks for your concerns, wishing you the best !!

no pressure once again!! could you possibly write fluff about els taking you on a lil picnic to a flower field ? thank you once again!! 💗💗

picnic date

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ picnic day with your lover

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ none, this is pure fluff i think

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ hey!! omg your welcome to the person who sent this!!! i love uuu. i hope you like this one :)) also it's totally okay to call me em!! please feel free to send more request if you'd like!!!

and i'm so fucking sorry this took too long and it's too short. i've been busy lately but i have a week of online classes bc of some weird shit going on in my country so i hope i'll be able to write more.

have a good day everyone❤️

Ellie takes you on a date. A picnic date, precisely. She knows you've been stressed lately, and she thought taking you out might help take your mind off things—at least for a while. You knew it would be lovely, but not like this. This is beautiful. Going to a flower field has always been on your bucket list, let alone having a picnic with the person you love most.

"Ellie!" you exclaim. "Why did you—I mean… Shit. This is beautiful."

Ellie leaves the basket of food on the blanket, then stands behind you, wrapping her arms around you and placing a kiss on your neck.

"You deserve this," she says, resting her chin on your shoulder as you look out at the flower field. It feels like a dream—dating her has always felt this way. "I hope you enjoy it. It took me a while to find a place like this."

You turn around, and her hands never leave your body; they settle on your hips now. "I love this."

The sun peeks through the clouds and shines directly into her eyes and along the curve of her nose. You’ve always thought she’s pretty—but in moments like this, when it’s just the two of you with nothing to do but enjoy each other’s presence, she looks ethereal. You kiss her, both of your hands on her cheeks.

"Thank you for bringing me here," you say as you both sit down. "Really, you didn't have to."

"I wanted to." She shrugs, smiling. "I thought we should do something nice; it's been a while since we've had time for ourselves."

You lean in for another kiss, which Ellie returns happily.

"God," you say, letting your head rest on her shoulder, "What did I do to deserve you?"

"You're asking me that?" she says, incredulous. "You're the prettiest, smartest, sweetest, and coolest girl I've ever met… How could I not love you? That's the real question."

You feel your cheeks flush, a warm pink spreading across your face as you look up at her. You’ve always thought Ellie was prettier than you—hell, you’ve always thought she was better at everything. She’s smart, beautiful, and always knows what to say. But the way she talks about you always makes you feel like she’s put you on a pedestal, for better or worse.

You chuckle, eyes bright with devotion. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Ellie’s the one to kiss you now, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I really can't believe I'm dating you."

After you finish eating, you eventually end up with your head resting on her lap. The sun has faded a bit, leaving blue and orange streaks scattered across the sky. It looks beautiful, you think, as Ellie tucks daisies into your hair, braiding a strand every now and then. It feels nice, her fingers brushing against your scalp.

"You look so sleepy, baby," Ellie chuckles, finishing with a kiss on your forehead. "Are you sure you don't want to head back?"

You shake your head and sit up. "Can we stay a while longer?"

Ellie doesn’t answer; she leans in for a kiss and gently guides you both to lie down until your back hits the ground, with her next to you, propped up on one elbow. One of her hands rests on your cheek, her thumb gently caressing your skin as you keep on kissing.

When you pull away, Ellie rests her head on your chest. You wrap your arms around her.

"I think we can stay here a little while longer."

[farbexx]

Phillip and Alexander, maybe?? AND SOMETHING CUTE PLS i have daddy issues

matching lil vro>w<

[tevaalidrawz]

Old art

[beompercar]

⠀⠀peach ⠀⠀eyes ⠀⠀and ⠀⠀blue ⠀⠀skies ㅤ♡ ₊ ⊹

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Mine friendo, one, I dunno why it reblogged three times and I do not take any of that back, and two, I need your take on a Nikto kitter cause I wanna, with permission, write a piece with your au 🙏 if it's okay

Okay so, I had to wait until I got home for this but PLEASE IT'S OKAY TO WRITE FOR THIS OH MY GOSH PLEASE DO. All I ask is a tag as credit please. I mean, it's not really my au, it's just appreciated. It's not necessary. What is necessary is tagging me so I can read it! I want to read this!!!

TW: mentions of torture, violence, recovering from grievous wounds

However, your other part of your ask might lead to a bit of a tragedy. See, when Kortac created their task force of cat hybrids, they were trying to use the parts of cats that make perfect hunters to make their soldiers. Silent, fast, agile, strong, excellent eyesight under low light conditions, enhanced smell and hearing, capable of mimicry, able to endure hot and cold environments. Above all, they were to be loyal. So, they used the domestic cat to keep their soldiers domesticated enough to keep them under their thumb.

Nikto was among the first used. He was the first successful prototype. He was perfect! He was loved for his skills as a soldier, and he was loved as being an affectionate domesticated cat. Nikto was adored.

Unfortunately, KorTac had funding cuts and all the perfect soldiers they made had two choices: be let free, or be euthanized. The head of the lab was a soft-hearted man, and he insisted that the cats were to be set free. When the order went through that the cats were to be euthanized regardless, he panicked and smuggled the cats out to a city where he let them free. He begged them to forgive him as he let them go.

The cats all gathered together to face the harshness of city life. Not all of them made it, but most managed. They were homeless cats, homeless humans. They were lost and scared, but they persevered.

Eventually, some of the cats started to get adopted. Nikto watched as his brothers and sisters in arms managed to find places to stay and hide in their cat forms. He saw how wonderfully things worked out for them. Surely, he could find a happy home too, right?

So Nikto let himself be adopted by someone. He was picked up by a teenager with his friend and brought back to a shed. There, Nikto was forced to endure the worst of human behaviour.

The teens learned of a way to make money online. A strange way, but an easy way. It made good money, so they heard. It was easy, as long as you could do it.

Nikto was tortured for hours and hours in that shed. Being a stray for so long, he was too hungry and weak to be able to shift and defend himself. Instead, he was forced to endure horrors I hate to repeat.

When the teens figured that Nikto was dead, they put him in a can and kicked it over into a puddle of some leftover household acid, remains of what they'd used on him previous. Too weak to move, Nikto accepted his fate and closed his eyes.

He was woken up later by an animal trying to nibble at him. Parts of his body fell off as he heaved himself out of the puddle. He felt himself shake, he thought this was the end. But, he needed to warn the others. He couldn't let them suffer a fate like this.

Nikto hauled himself through the streets. He pushed through back alleys to get back to the city, and back to where his squad mates lived. When he arrived back, they did their best to care for him, but they didn't think Nikto would make it through the night.

But he did.

Nikto lived the next day, and then the next day, then the next and then the next day. Every day he lived was a miracle. Hutch, Roze and Askel poured their heart and souls into Nikto, and too their amazement, Nikto began to recover.

His skin started to grow back, his eyes fluttered open. His breathign relaxed, he started to talk.

And talk he did! He told them all about the humans. He warned them all. He made them all swear to protect themselves, to never let themselves fall into the wrong hands again. He made them swear to be strong, to always be healthy enough to shift into human forms. They promised, and they followed his word.

To this day, Nikto feels his heart drop when he hears someone has been adopted. He's made an initiative where each time one of their kin are adopted, another will follow them home to ensure they go to a safe home. They always make sure.

Nikto is still afraid of humans. It doesn't help that nobody really wants to adopt a cat like him... He's covered in scars now, scars that transfer to his human form. Despite how horrible he looks in his cat form, he'll stay in that form to avoid showing his human face. He's never forgotten the fear he felt when he saw his own eye staring back at him from within a fleshy socket, surrounded by redness and folds of scar tissue. He won't ever let anyone see his human face again, he swears by this.

Sometimes, someone will be foolish enough to ask Nikto if he'd consider trying to get adopted again. Nikto never says anything. He never has to. The way the whole room goes silent speaks volumes.

When he leaves them to stew in their own pity and misery, he'll think about what they said. He'll consider their words. A part of him wants to be adopted. He wants a warm, happy home. One like back at KorTac. He's been told KorTac was horrible, but when he was in the cage he had a roof over his head and three meals a day. He didn't go hungry, he didn't shiver at night. He was always safe.

Nikto, despite it all, still wants a home. Is he ready yet to find a human to trust? He doesn't know. He doesn't think he'll ever be ready, but he reminds himself that nobody is ever ready for change. It just happens. One day, a human will find him and love him for who he is, he holds onto that hope dearly.

Here's a quick ref of Nikto for you guys at home. Sadly, he can't really wear a mask in cat form, but at least he has a mask in human form. Still, despite how rough he looks, he still prefers living as a scarred cat than having to face his human form in the mirror again.

Oh, and as for the video? The one those teens made to make hundreds of thousands of dollars? The one that would make them filthy rich?

It made $97 USD.

[sparrowrye]

Archivist's Oath || Alastor x Reader, Chapter 1

Synopsis: A man dowsed in red stumbles upon my Old World bunker with a gaping chest wound. Luckily for me, I know how to restrain a man.

Master List

Chapter 1: stop the bleeding

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor's vision was darkening. One hand remained clasped to his bleeding chest while the other leaned on his cane for support, the metal tip bent from the force of his grasp. His eyes were wild with panic as he hurried through the dark forest.

Stop the bleeding. I need to stop the bleeding.

His legs gave out, slamming his knees into the cold, wet ground. The pain went all the way through his chest and vibrated through his head. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself back onto his aching feet.

He could still feel the dangerous magic crawling after him, searching for his black soul. The old buildings loomed miles overhead and the trees provided a thick canopy to hide his bright red coat—which was thoroughly stained with mud.

It wouldn't matter if they found him. He was likely going to bleed out first.

The ground gave way. His teeth jutted shut as his chin slammed into the ground. Gravity took his body sideways over an edge, his claws digging into the wet earth. He left only lines in his wake as he failed to grab anything solid.

His injured chest hit a rock sticking up and it was sheer dumb luck that his face missed it. He scrambled at the smooth stone but, like before, he left little lines as his weight dragged him down.

It wasn't a straight drop -- his feet hit stone, dirt, and roots on the way. He grabbed for the root but the angle pulled on his finger awkwardly, merely prolonging his fall.

When he finally hit the bottom, he found his limbs unresponsive to his demands. His breathing came in short gasps and his injury was like a knife, gradually opening further and further. His skin burned from the slide, as did his face. His finger throbbed with every beat of his heart and his chin felt like it was on fire. Where had he dropped his cane?

His last sigh was shaky. His limbs, heavy with fatigue, remained motionless in whatever tangle they had fallen in. His eyes didn't even react to the occasional patter of rain on his cheeks. So he closed his eyes.

This was a far more peaceful death than anything he could've imagined.

****

My wings sliced through the wind as I beat towards home. I knew the difference between abnormal lightning and magic-induced lightning. There were mages near my home.

The sand turned to dry grass then to a lush green. Trees spotted the flat landscape until it turned into a tall, proud forest. Massive buildings from the Old World towered in a semi circle with a thick forest nestled in the middle. The greenery stretched upwards in cracks of the concrete, providing stability for the crumbling towers.

My hands clung to my bags as I flew closer to the ground along the edge of the oasis. I couldn't see anyone but that meant they were hiding somewhere in the forest. I didn't want them to see me coming up.

I tilted my wings upward and perched myself on one of the upper levels of an old building. I pushed my hair out of my face with one arm while the other dug into my satchel for the scope. I ran across the empty floor and peered down at the forest through the glass. I scanned the area until I saw quick movements of bright clothes. They were white.

Shit.

I watched them move closer and closer to home. My limbs itched to move, my instincts urging me to draw blood in defense of my home, but my training told me to sit still until I knew they had discovered its location. If I confronted them then they would have reason to believe my home was nearby. If I stayed hidden, they might continue on.

I switched to my other eye as they threaded through the forest. They were getting dangerously close. I ran through the same phrases my mother used to tell me but they were having little effect.

It's protected. It's guarded. It's hidden. It will not be found unless they scowl the oasis with a team of a hundred.

My scope squeaked under the pressure of my hand. My view jerked left and right as they stopped appearing in pockets of the greenery. Where were they? Had they found it?

Relief filled my chest when I saw their white coats further ahead. I lowered the scope and scanned the area with my naked eye. No one else. Then I looked up at the buildings, scolding myself for not checking them first.

More white.

The person wasn't watching me. They were hanging off the edge of the building, agitated and ready to fly down at a moments notice. I waited a while longer to see if they would leave. When they didn't, I ran backwards to the other end of the floor and nosedived to the ground, spreading my wings when I came close. The air cupped under my feathers and practically ziplined me the rest of the way down.

I stumbled my landing and ran straight into the woods. My dark colored wings would keep me hidden under the watchman's eyes. I knew this forest and gauged it would take me four minutes to reach home. I would feel much better when I was safely tucked away and ready to defend it.

Branches that I usually avoided were smacking me in the face and catching my sleeves. I could care less so long as I stayed up on my two feet.

I came upon my opponents' track, noting the broken branches, flattened grass, muddy bootprints, and the faint buzz of the magic trail they were leaving behind. I tucked my wings away in my back tattoo so I could move even faster through the shrubbery. The air resistance lessened considerably.

A gunshot made me drop to the ground, hands covering my head. My chest rose and fell as I tried to catch my breath while also listening for signs of someone nearby. They had guns. That was a problem.

When danger didn't present itself in my vicinity, I started forward again. My face was soaked with sweat and rainwater from branches. I noticed my usual trail marks and came upon my alcove. Well, it didn't look like an alcove. A large collection of shrubs, linked by roots, stretched over the opening to make it look like normal forest flooring.

But there was an opening.

A bush had been removed.

I creeped over, footpaws never once making a noise, and peered through the opening. The red immediately caught my eye and I thought the man was covered in blood. No, he was dressed in red, black, and trails of white. His eyes were closed and his body lifeless. Was he dead? Or just pretending?

My eyes saw the lines, ruined moss, and upturned roots. He had fallen. Regardless if he was searching for my home or not, he had stumbled upon it by accident. I withdrew my knife and readied myself to climb down when another gunshot went off. My whole body flinched, as if expecting it to make its mark on me, and looked around for the bright white. Were they looking for me or for him?

I sneaked into the alcove to grab the shrub that had been torn from its placeholder. I used my peripherals to find it so my eyes never left the red still body in the center. I crawled back up, slipping once on the mud, and put it back in place. I used magic to make the roots tangle and the little branches lengthen to cover the lost space.

Another gunshot.

Then another.

They were getting closer, making their way back around.

I drew near the unconscious man and scanned his whole body, taking in every little detail. His black boots were coated in mud and...was that his blood or just normal red on the tip? His black pants were torn and equally streaked with dirt. I could see more cuts on his fair skin where the material had been ripped. He wore a burgundy colored shirt underneath a long coat that matched his blood.

This guy likes red, huh?

His face was the most interesting part. Putting scratches and bruises aside, he had sharp cheekbones, streaked red makeup on his eyelids, red hair with black ends that framed his sharp face, and two little antlers that looked like they were once much taller before his fall. I glanced around the mossy carpet, quickly noting the small antler pieces that had broken off and lay scattered about.

The most concerning part of his appearance was the large gash in the center of his chest. His red coat was an even darker red from soaking up his blood. It was a huge cut, as if by an axe or a similar weapon.

I thought he might be dead until his fingers twitched. They were long, boney red tipped claws. I kept my knife near my chest as I leaned closer, putting my ear close to his mouth to listen for breathing. He was indeed breathing, however uneven and ragged they were.

Another gunshot.

Now I could hear yelling in the distance. They had to be looking for him. If he was this battered and cut up—and I had a collection of White Angels in my forest—then he had to be their target. I couldn't enjoy the relief it brought me because now I had a moral and ethical dilemma sitting at my feet...quite literally.

I could attempt to save this stranger, who's clearly being hunted, or I could pull him back up to the surface and let the White Angels find him. If I saved him, I would be breaching my personal safety and the location of my home. I had no idea who he was or why he was being hunted in the first place. It would be easier to leave him on the surface. It would be easier to let the White Angels finish what they had come here to do instead of continuing to hunt in my territory.

But I didn't.

I found myself dragging him to the entrance of my home. This wasn't the first time I had involved myself in something I didn't understand for the sake of keeping someone alive, and it obviously wouldn't be the last. I chalked it up to my mother and grandmother's fault. They had been the ones to instill my moral compass since I was old enough to speak.

The man, being as slim as he looked, was heavier than I had expected. I dragged him through the thick curtain of vines until his feet were out of view. The talking had gotten louder and I sat with my hand covering my mouth.

They were uncomfortably close now. My hand gripped the handle of my knife until my knuckles were as white as the hunters. Sweat dripped down my neck and dampened my shirt, my heart pounding in my ears as if they were knocking on my door.

Their chatter, overlapping each other and in a language I didn't understand, gradually quieted. They moved further and further away until I couldn't hear them anymore. I removed my hand and let out a sigh of relief.

I took the opportunity to open the heavy metal door and struggled to drag the man inside. The door didn't stay open so I had to shuffle him in awkwardly. He had ridiculously long legs.

The door slammed shut and I collapsed to the ground, completely spent. I took a moment to catch my breath then reached for a lantern. It had been left exactly where I put it, along with the fire steel. The small light adorned nearly half my home in a pale yellow glow. I brought it over to the kitchen where I lit another lantern, one that hang from the ceiling. I took it off the hook and placed both lanterns on the open space between my floor and the kitchen.

The bunker dated well before the Great Downfall. A couch, patched throughout the years with mismatched leather, took up one side of the bunker. Small wooden tables stood on either side with lamps that no longer worked and served a decorative purpose. Two similar chairs sat adjacent to the couch, surrounding a short coffee table that had been replaced once between my great grandmother's generation and mine.

The carpet underneath the living room was ancient. It was gently cleaned once a year, but I had failed to do that since my mother's death five years ago. Thinner carpets that my grandmother had bought from nearby communities lined the rest of the cold, metal floor. Once my mother was old enough to complete chores and put my grandmother in a seat for hours, the older woman started to rethread and fix up the carpets from our short footclaws. That, too, hadn't been touched since my mother's death.

The kitchen was nearly just as metal as the rest of it. Old humans thought metal would last mother nature for generations to come. They were right to an extent. The surfaces stayed pretty intact but the hinges for doors rusted and fell apart well before my generation.

So, my predecessors tore the metal off and replaced them with wood ones. The only metal door that remained was the entrance and the hidden staircase. Both had to be oiled frequently. It was one of the few tasks I had managed to maintain since it greatly affected my every day life. Lastly, the bedrooms were off in a separate, smaller section.

I grabbed towels and the healer's kit and went back to the center of the room. The only thing that 'separated' the two rooms aside from the open space was a shelf of books, rare artifacts, and other family collectables.

I dragged the man to the center of the room in between the two lanterns I had placed. I listened for his breathing again and when I confirmed that he was still alive, I began to underdress his top half. I unbuttoned the coat and pushed the fabric to the side. I did the same with his long sleeve and discovered the gash to be longer than I thought. I managed to get his arms through both layers of clothes and tossed them to the side, careful not to hit the lantern.

I used the towels to press against the wound to stop the bleeding. His body twitched, then a second later he grabbed both my arms, eyes wide open. I screamed and pushed against his chest. I could feel the static of magic prickling along my skin. He was a mage.

In the next moment, he let go and flopped on his back. Then his hands fell limply at his sides. He was unconscious.

Standing on shaky knees, I scrambled to the sink. I used the fire steel to start the stove and placed a kettle on the top, all the while trying to calm my racing heart. As I waited for it to boil, I filled a bowl of water and started cleaning the area around his wound. I was shocked to see the wound stretched from his left collarbone and nearly all the way to his belt. The deepest part was right over his sternum.

The water still hadn't boiled yet. I decided to move him onto a blanket and wrap it around his arms and hips. I used his belt on top of the blanket to further secure my makeshift restraint. I could remember doing this to my brother when he broke his knee. I wondered if he still had a limp to this day.

Finally, the water had boiled. I dropped some chamomile herbs into the water, then using a cloth so as not to burn myself, lowered the bowl into the sink so the bottom of it touched the cold water. I counted two minutes then tested the temperature. I did it one more time until I felt it was cool enough to use.

I set it on the coffee table then dragged him to the wall where I propped him against the shelf so it would keep him upright. I placed another towel--bless my ancestors for always collecting towels--in his lap then poured half the water on his chest. He stirred but didn't open his eyes. I then used a small cloth to dab closer to the wound. I repeated the process but with a new towel to dry the area. Through it all, I had come to discover that his torso was covered in short fur.

Now, the hard part.

I pulled out the healer's kit from the shelf, noting the small amount of silk in the case. I would need to buy more from a community to replenish the supply. For now, I threaded the line through the needle then carried both items to the stove. I withdrew a half burning plank and held the needle over the flame. Once the tip had darkened, I threw the wood back in the stove and knelt beside the man's torso.

Please don't wake up, I prayed. I found a sleeping cream from the shelf and put a layer under his nose.

I took a deep breath. I had practiced stitching on dead animals but I had yet to actually do it on a person. I swallowed then started at the top of the wound. I had to double up on each line because of the size of the injury. He woke once, striking red eyes looking over me lazily, then dropped his head against the wall again.

I continued my work for awhile. I shifted several times to better thread the needle as well as for my aching back. Every now and then I would hear a nearby gunshot and paused my work to listen. My home was hidden but it wasn't impossible to stumble upon either, just as this man had done.

Eventually, I finished. I knotted the end, leaned back to examine my work, then promptly fell on my back. I felt little cracks and pops in my neck as it realigned with my spine. I flexed my fingers too, feeling the edges of stiffness creep in. Once I had rested enough, I sat up to finish the procedure. I removed the blanket then wrapped the wound in fresh cloths. These were specifically cleaned and set aside for medical conditions.

I leaned in close to his face to listen for breathing and to check his pulse. Once I felt he was steady enough, I carefully lowered him down to the floor. I used the last puddle of warm water to dab at the cuts along his neck, shoulders, and arms. I faced another moral dilemma when I noted the cuts on his legs.

I let out a short exhale then removed his pants, leaving him in just his undergarments. I hoped he didn't have injuries underneath that portion of clothing and examined the dark bruises and other cuts. There was only one really bad cut on his thigh but that was a simple one to disinfect and wrap in fresh cloths. 

When I was done, the towels I didn't use were put back in the floor cabinets. I moved all the cushions from the couch and chairs to the floor, covered it with a blanket, then pulled him onto it. There was no way I could lift him onto the couch so this was the next best thing.

I grabbed a blanket but, before laying it on top of him, I examined his whole body with an appreciative eye. As discovered before, his chest was covered in short fur that matched most of his skin, which was neither dark nor light. It turned to a smokey gray then a pitch black from his elbows to his fingertips, and respectively from his knees to his red tipped hooves.

He was finely toned and his arms revealed a lean but sturdy set of muscles. His legs, too, seemed of a sturdy build despite all that leg room. My eyes found his face which was by far the prettiest part of him. His lips rested in a pained smile, his eyes gently closed with smeared makeup, and his eyebrows rested rather high on his face.

I laid the blanket over him, making sure to lift his feet up on the chair to help with blood flow, then shuffled close to his face. I used the last traces of remaining water and gently wiped away the red makeup. His hair was sticking to the sides of his face so I tried to dry them with the front of my shirt. I didn't need more towels to clean and dry.

Resting my hand on the ground on the other side of his neck, I used my other hand to thread my fingers through his bright hair. I had met two, maybe three, people with exotic hair like this. They were usually travelers and never stayed put for very long. I could remember begging my mother to find a dye so I could do the same thing to my hair. I quickly grew out of that phase when I realized how expensive certain dyes were.

His hair was grainy but I credited that to the dirt and mud he had picked up. I then gently touched his antlers, thumb rubbing over the cracked edges. Would he be upset when he discovered they had broken? Were they important to him?

Eventually I pulled my hand away and gathered the dirty towels in the entrance outside the door. I washed my hands then went into my room to change my clothes. The bedroom of the bunker had been originally been made for four, but there were more of us as years went by, forcing us to dig into the earth to make more beds. They were dug into the wall so the ground could provide a kind of stability. Leaves and moss separated us from the cold dirt and harsh metal. It was the perfect place to cool down.

I changed, rested briefly, checked his pulse, then started making dinner. Since I couldn't go out to the chicken coop until I was certain the White Angels were gone, I resorted to a vegetable soup. Working through the stored ingredients helped give my mind something to focus on, with an occasional glance in his direction. My anxiety was still high about the predators parading up top but steadied the longer I went without incident.

I checked his pulse every few minutes. At one point he started shivering and I wrapped his legs and torso with another blanket. I had a feeling that he might wake up when he smelled the food so I kept a knife within reach at all times.

My eyes checked him more than I checked his pulse.

I really hoped he wasn't some terrible, murderous person that would try to kill me. All that hard work on his chest would have been for nothing.

I cranked the radio and kept the volume low while I cooked. By the time I finished, there wasn't even a crackle of the Radio Demon's voice. I glanced out the door to check the time of day. Usually he made his ridiculous, threatening broadcasts around this time of day. I had actually been looking forward to hearing what other stupidity he spewed about Humanity's false past. It would've helped me distract myself from the potential threat on the surface.

And yet, he made no presence.

I cranked it again, guessing that maybe he was late, but let it run out of energy once I had finished eating my dinner. He was likely busy doing his evil things to some poor unfortunate community.

The Radio Demon was part of--or likely in charge of--the Collectors, a fleet of floating ships in search of a poor community to take over. They kidnap the residents, take what resources they want from their homes, then take them back to Pentagram City. I had no idea where this city was but I had heard the Radio Demon mention it numerous times.

His broadcasts usually covered who the unfortunate souls were, how they were integrated into the city population, then rambled on about Humanity's past or shortcomings. He did all this in between music which was the primary reason I even started listening to him. Well, and because I enjoyed yelling my arguments back at the one-way communication. It made me feel like I was having a conversation with someone. It made me feel like I wasn't alone.

The man groaned and I snatched up my knife in an instant. His arm shifted under the blanket as he touched his chest. I noted the claws moving slightly as he felt the stitches. His eyes opened and he peeled his head off the ground to look at himself. He pulled back the blankets to get a better look, gently touching the injury as he examined my work.

"I'm alive?" he croaked, his voice was dry and rough. He cleared his throat then traced his eyes around the small bunker, eventually coming to settle on me in the kitchen. I made an obvious show of my knife.

"You probably wouldn't be if I hadn't found you," I said.

"Where am I?" His voice sounded like it hurt to speak. He tried to sit up but hissed at the pain in his chest. He looked over the bunker a second time.

"In my home."

"Where...where's my staff?"

"Your what?" I didn't remember seeing anything else around him.

He dropped his head against the cushion and covered his eyes with his hand. "My staff. It's...it has sentimental value."

I didn't believe him but I didn't know why else he would want it. Trying to keep him as calm as possible, I offered, "I can look for it tomorrow. Your friends are still up there looking for you."

I heard him mumble a curse. "That would be kind of you."

He speaks really formal, I noted. I stuck the knife in my waistband as I crossed the room to him. I offered to help him sit up and he accepted, gritting his teeth through the pain as he pulled on my entire torso to sit up. I leaned him against the couch and brought a glass pitcher of water while he positioned the blanket over his legs. I could tell how disoriented he felt.

Once he had drank most of the water, I finally pressed a warm bowl of soup into his hands. His breathing was shallow and a slight whine at the end of every breath. I could only imagine the pain he was pushing through. So while he ate, I boiled another pot of water to make tea that would help manage the pain.

"What's your name?" I asked.

There was a long moment of silence. "Al." He took a spoonful of the soup. "What is yours?"

I revealed my name as I put some of the cushions back on the furniture. I found myself compelled to sit beside him on the floor and listened, my legs stretching under the table and leaning my back against the couch.

"Why were you running from the White Angels?" I asked, subtly removing the knife from my waistband so it could rest on the floor beside me for easy reach.

His lips turned upward in a long smile. "I insulted them without speaking their language."

"How did you insult them?"

A red eye found me. "I beat them at their own game. How did you find this place?" His eyes briefly looked around before falling to the meal again.

"I was raised here," I admitted, seeing no harm in slipping that truth. "What were you fighting the White Angels for?"

"They've harbored a hatred for me for a long time," he answered. Then returned a question, "How far back does your home date to?"

"Before the Great Downfall. Why did they follow you all the way out here? Their colonies aren't this far out."

"I had an old artifact they wanted. I separated from my group to give them time to run. Unfortunately for me, the angels caught up." He took another bite while I thought of another question, but he beat me to it. "Why did you save me?"

I shrugged. "It was the right thing to do." My eyes were watching the way his jaw moved, permitting my rude way of staring since he kept his eyes closed or on the warm meal.

"Well, I will have to find a way to repay you then."

"Heal faster so I can get rid of you faster." I was relieved when he accepted the joke, humming a small laugh so as not to injure himself further.

"That all depends on how well you fixed me up." He touched a red finger to his stitches.

"Well, what do you think?" 

He pretended to examine them longer before pinching the spoon. "I suppose it'll do."

I chuckled at the response and pulled my legs up to wrap my arms around them. I continued to stare at his face while his eyes were closed.

"Are you alone?" he suddenly asked.

My eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Merely trying to understand you more," he replied. "You don't need to answer if you don't want." I opted not to answer but it likely was an answer in itself. So he asked another question, "What animal are you?"

"A Griffon." I flexed my footpaw even though I knew he wasn't looking. "What are you?"

"A stag."

"What's that?"

"A large deer," he simplified. I chose not to tell him about his broken antlers yet.

"Did you dye your claws like your hair?"

"No. These are natural," he tapped his claws on the bowl, "but the hair is not."

"You must like red."

He cracked open an eye to look at me. "Why do you say that?"

"Because of the red claws, the hair, the coat? Lots of red."

"Well, I do enjoy bringing brighter things to this dull world."

Our conversation continued for several minutes until his yawns broke it up too much. I took the bowl from his hands, slide the knife under the chair with my foot, and helped him move to the couch. His massive hands covered my entire shoulder as he leaned on me for support. Upon his request, I went into the bedroom to find an old shirt that my brother used. It was a pass down from other male family members.

Al let me pull it over his head and carefully over the injury. Finally, he laid down and fell asleep within seconds.

----------------

Alastor woke drenched in sweat. He tried to put himself back to sleep, unable to know what time it was except that you remained asleep. He had been surprised to see you sleeping on the floor in an entrance to another room.

You had been watching him.

He had noticed the knife you carried around, no matter how short a distance, but chalked it up to you being cautious. The sleeping on the floor to keep an eye on him seemed...out of the ordinary.

He groaned and shifted for the umpteenth time. His tail was sore, likely from your unconscious neglect, but was relieved that you didn't seem to have noticed. His stitches itched, his skin prickly, his muscles sore, and his hair kept scratching his face. He was just plain tichy.

Unable to go back asleep, he forced himself up to a sitting position. He kept a claw on his chest and his back as straight as possible. He took a minute to catch his breath, eyes scanning the near pitch black space. A single lantern on the coffee table was the only source of light and his animal gene didn't seem to want to help adjust him to the darkness beyond it.

He knew about bunkers dating centuries old--well before the Great Downfall of Humanity--but he had never seen one in person. Most were ancient and forgotten, mere time capsules to Humanity's last desperate attempts at salvation. He had yet to see someone occupying it and occupying it well.

He noted the sink with a pump, the lanterns about, the Old World furniture, and the little artifacts on the shelf. You had revealed that you had lived your whole life here, so why were you alone? He suspected a graveyard of family members to be somewhere nearby.

He decided to tire himself out with difficult walking. He used a small bit of magic to keep his stumbles quiet so as not to waken you. He found himself lost in the soft features of your sleeping face until his tight chest pulled him back to reality.

He walked over to the shelf to examine the artifacts. All the objects were ones he had never seen nor knew what they were. Some were metal and rusting to bits while others were plastic with mold sprouting on the corners. There was a small collection of poorly strung books and discovered them to be journals written in a language he didn't know.

He walked around the kitchen, using the center table to keep his balance, then finally padded back over to the couch. On his way, however, he caught sight of something under one of the chairs. He carefully lowered himself to his knees then sat completely on the ground. He snuck his foot underneath to push it out so he didn't have to bend to retrieve it. He got back up on his haunches to alleviate the stress on his chest from trying to sit up.

This book was much older and properly binded. The glue on the hinges was yellow and the edges of the paper had been lost to time. Inside he found the same language he didn't know but in printed text. He flipped through the pages in search of images to tell him what it was about. Alas, there were none.

He flipped to the last page and small sheets of paper floated out. He stacked them together and went to put them back in the book when he noticed the handwriting. This time it was in the language he knew. His eyes scanned the lines with such intensity that he might've actually burned them. These were summaries of each page, complete with the exact page number.

He looked over his shoulder at your sleeping figure on the ground. The hidden bunker, proper amenities, Old World furniture, basic first-aid skills, high suspicion of a stranger, a woman who lived alone with a translation of an ancient textbook.

You weren't an ordinary person.

You were an Archivist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

And so it begins...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@sirens-and-moonflowers

[adabird]

Jealous Katsuki is the best Katsuki.. He wraps his hands around your waist, kissing at your ear, before pushing you deeper into his chest.. He moves his hands up the side of your body, keeping you in place before his whisky breath started to fan across your cheek.. “You wanna tell me why that man had his hand on your arm earlier?”.. “I hated the way you giggled.. I thought that giggle was reserved for me”. He said, before his bottom lip jutted out, giving you a cute pout. You rolled your eyes before saying “Kats, that was my cousin”. He paused, watching the image from the corner of your eye as he stared at you bewildered, pout still prominent on his face before replying. “You still love me right?”

[floruga]

           𝗣𝗡𝗚𝗌 by  @ me

 

 ♡     ♥️🎵  ✦ ✧͏

[nationalhammerleague]

mitch marner but with a squeaky hammer if possible.....

hitting mitch marner with squeaky hammer

[mustainegf]

reader is insecure about her appearance and Jase comforts her :')

FIRST JASON FICCCC!!!!!

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ¹⁹⁸⁷

I watched him across the room, his back to me, scribbling down notes on a scrap of paper he'd found on the coffee table. Jason was lost in his own head, humming a bit to himself, tapping his fingers on his knee. That was Jason for you, dedicated. I loved it so much, but a part of me couldn't help but sometimes wonder how someone like that could have ever fallen for someone like me.

I turned away from him to look at my reflection in the mirror, and I caught sight of the small curve of my stomach, the way my thighs touched, how I never seemed to look like the girls in magazines.

The rational part of my mind could recognize that I was being too hard on myself, but at that moment, another voice inside me had almost grown comfortable to tearing myself apart. I let out a sigh that was a little too loud, and he must have heard it, because the next thing I knew, there Jason was right beside me, his hand on my back.

"What're you thinking?" he asked, his voice low and soft, as it was only when it was just us. His calloused fingers slid along my arm, warm and comforting.

"Nothing. Just…" I replied, though my voice cracked, belying me. He narrowed his eyes slightly, seeming to see through me. Jason would sometimes have this weird feeling for things, like he could tell the storm brewing in my head when I hadn't even said anything.

He spun me round to face him properly, his hands coming to rest on my arms. "I don't buy that for a second," he said, his lips twitching in a little smile. But his eyes held that softness that always melted my heart. "C'mon, what's bothering you?

I bit my lip, looking down. "I just...I don't know. I was looking at myself, and I guess I just don't feel good about how I look right now. It sounds stupid I know, but it gets to me."

Jason was silent for a moment, just easing his hands down to take mine. His thumbs circled over my palms in gentle arcs, soothing me, anchoring me. "Hey," he whispered, leaning his head down to look at me. "Listen, it's not stupid. It's real and I get it. But it's also not true. Not even close... you know that right?"

I shrugged, feeling my throat well up into a lump. "You're just saying that because you're nice, Jase. I mean look at the girls around you all of the time, the ones at your shows, the ones in the magazines. They're perfect. I just… I don't measure up."

He shook his head, and I could almost see the sad tinge in his eyes. "Those girls?" He waved his hand like he was shooing the very idea away. "They're not even real, babe. Half of 'em are pretending, the other half don't even know what they're getting into. And anyway, that's not what I want. You're what I want.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he leaned in closer, his forehead pressing softly against mine. "I know you're not seeing what I'm seeing," he said softly. "You're kind, and funny, and smart, and you're beautiful. And when I'm with you, that's what matters."

My face grew hot, and I couldn't force away the tiniest smile, though I knew I wanted to stick to my skepticism. "You make it sound so easy, Jason."

"That's 'cause it is." He chuckled, his thumb brushing over my cheek. "I'm not saying this 'cause I think it's what you need to hear. I'm saying it because it's the truth. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and that's the first thing I think every time I wake up next to you."

My cheeks flamed red, but his words picked at the lump in my chest until it slowly unwound. "I wouldn't trade you for anyone. Not those girls, not anything in the world."

Jason wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close and I buried my face in his chest, letting myself just feel his heartbeat steady and strong against me.

He leaned back just far enough to cradle my face between his palms, his eyes delving into mine. "You're perfect to me. Every fuckin' inch, every curve, every part of you that you think is to big or too small. And even if you can't see it yet, I'm here to remind you, every single day if that's what it takes."

My throat constricted, but this time it wasn't from the insecurity. It was something else altogether, something warm. I nodded, burrowing my head against his shoulder as the words soaked into me like a sponge.

Jason didn't let go. He just kept holding me, and for a long time, we stood there wrapped up in each other.

[gigi-loveless]

summary - loser!roommate!ellie gets you a special new toy.

warnings - smut (duh), use of vibrator, very very light degradation

authors note - this has been sitting in my drafts for like two months 😭 anyways!! requests are open!

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

loser!roommate!ellie who is obsessed with toys. and i mean obsessed.

new packages are always on your doorstep from some sketchy ass website, triple wrapped with duct tape. curiously, you peer over her shoulder while she flips out her pocket knife and digs it into the box, breaking the seal with ease.

"what is it, els?" you ponder, brushing your hand over her shoulder sensually.

"shh. you'll see..." she nearly whispers, plucking the small, purple toy out of the box. thighs rubbing together in anticipation, you tilt your head at the oddly shaped item, as ellie smirks at you.

“so this….is a phone controlled vibrator."

oh.

~

“els…..” you mewl out, reaching your fourth orgasm of the night. the knot in your stomach pulsed, the aching becoming unbearable, vision going fuzzy.

“hold it.” she answers nonchalantly, not even bothering to look up from her phone to see the pathetic mess you’ve made before her. scrolling just to flip back to the app for a moment to turn the vibrator up to an agonizing high, pretending to wipe her mouth to cover her shit eating smirk.

“this was just to test it out….i’m supposed to take you out when you can barely behave yourself here?” she chuckles, her fingers drumming against her thigh.

the moans you were suppressing were absolutely sinful to keep to yourself, though ellie urged you to be quiet. just to make things interesting, you let out a pornographic whine, throwing your head back in pleasure. the room goes quiet for a moment, besides the trill of the tv.

“mm…..” ellie hums out, running her fingers through her auburn locks, gesturing her head towards the tv. “js’ watch your show, princess.”

suddenly, the steady, reliable trill of the toy began to pulse erratically against your puffy, throbbing clit, your back arching into it involuntarily. chanting her name like a prayer, your high is approaching quickly, guttural whines finally escaping the confines of your throat.

“thought you were better than that angel….” ellie tuts, taunting you as she strips of her boxers, her favorite light blue strap sitting snugly on her hips.

pt. 2….? this was supposed to just be a drabble but i got carried away oops!

join my taglist!

@ellies2missingfingers @ellieslob @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrr

[versocanibal]

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ᅟ

[savannahsdeath]

Ellie and reader having sex, but Ellie starts to talk dirty and reader gets embarrassed so she hides her face in ellies neck. But Ellie teases and tells her not to hide bc she's so pretty. (Imagining this w/ strap in missionary position if u could do that'd be wonderful😍)

shes so awhzjxbag ok i cant . also i got really carried away but uhh hushh warnings: just strap on smut, everything said in the ask;)))

: ̗̀➛ "you hear that?" ellie asked, smiling proudly as she looked down at you. you closed your eyes and tried to focus on whatever she meant, but the only sound entering your used, tired brain was your own moans. you strained your hearing and slowly drifted off to more distant things, like the strap pumping in and out of your desperate cunt, messily and noisily. "such a mess..." ellie chuckled, listening to the sloppy act. "but it's not my fault you're so wet for me."

: ̗̀➛ you gulped, losing a hold of your concentration. your foggy mind couldn't think of an answer - did you do something wrong? should you apologise? or was it some kind of a praise? "els—" you started, but the long s turned into a melodious moan.

: ̗̀➛ "speak up, sweetie." ellie whispered, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. you used the moment of closeness to hold the back of her neck, not letting her pull away. she cocked her head to the side, your gaping lips brushing her earlobe as another whine escaped your throat. you quickly pursed your lips, letting yourself make only muffled sounds. but you didn't last long, as every thrust and every inaudible whimper seemed to forcefully open your mouth from the inside. "don't hold back, i want to hear you." ellie reassured, but much to your surprise she didn't wait with her ear next to your face to hear your response. she tilted her head to face you, making you feel her piercing, but not judgemental, gaze.

: ̗̀➛ you honored her with another moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, to the point your eyelids uncontrollably closed. "mh— fuck." you groaned, your fists clenching around the bed sheets as your chest raised in a deep breath.

: ̗̀➛ "i can make you feel way better." ellie bit her bottom lip, holding back a proud smile. "i can make you be way louder. do you want that?" you huffed, way too dumb to speak up. she could as well start talking about the weather now, and you wouldn't have any idea how hilarious it is. "tell me, doll."

: ̗̀➛ you swallowed up another pornographic sound which wanted to sneak out of your throat. ellie's questions were usually easy to answer, so you thought a simple, weak "yes" will satisfy her.

: ̗̀➛ yet, her only response was an amused "yes... what?" as she brushed your messy hair out of your face.

: ̗̀➛ your face flushed, almost burnt with heat. your hands tightened their grip, bringing her closer, making your face find a spot to hide in - the crook of her neck. "i—" your lips parted again, brushing against her skin. she let out a sound similiar to your whine, as if to mock you, yet there was a loving undertone to it. "want you to make me feel good, els." you quickly murmured, finding a one second break.

: ̗̀➛ "well, i want to see your pretty face as i do." she whispered in a gentle tone, but didn't move away. "you have no idea how beautiful you look under me, with half lidded and watery eyes." she continued and your body slowly got rid of the previous tension, your grip on her also relaxing. she finally withdrew, glaring down at you. "just don't move and look pretty for me, yeah?"

✧˖°

[maybanksprincess]

face sitting with munch!jj

warnings: smut and face sitting obviously, pussywhipped!jj, dom! jj, ass slapping, squirting, pet names, and dirty talk.

pairings: gf!reader x bf!jj

requested by this ask! (thank you anon!🤍)

jj had tried convincing you all day to sit on his face, you were afraid of suffocating him, or even more so you were afraid he wouldn't like it, and would regret asking.

you'd think after three hours of asking, he would drop it already. but of course he didn't because he always gets what he wants, especially from you.

after a while you finally had enough of his begging and pleading, all of his "please mama"'s and "ill do anything you want"'s, you had enough of it and just gave in.

following the pleads that comes out of his mouth, you sigh and agree. "okay jayj, fine. ill do it"

he looks at you with surprise, raising his head up to look at you from your chest. "yeah?" a smirk suddenly spreads across his face.

"yeah." you echo. his smirk grows wider and he sits up, laying on his back, arms behind his head, his blonde hair messy and all over the place.

"cmere mama." he beckons you over with one of his hands, that mischievous smirk still plastered on his face.

you can see the way his eyes go up and down you body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, as his dimples poke thru his left and right cheek.

you can feel the pool between your legs getting wetter by the second, and as much as you were scared to sit on his face, you knew he would do a good job at it.

you sit on his lap, and he moves a pillow behind his head, peeling your pink laced panties off. he watches as your pussy and your panties connect with a string of wetness from your arousal.

he lets out a soft groan at he sound, you can feel his length pressing up against you in his boxers, then suddenly he pulls you up by your thighs using his strong arms.

your now hovering over his face, your pussy so close to his pink and plump lips. you slowly sink down onto his face uncomfortably, not putting your full weight on him.

he grunts disapprovingly, he gives your ass a warning slap, pulling you all the way down.

he moans as he feels all of your pussy on his mouth. "mm good girl" he mumbles against your heat. his tongue flattening against your core.

his tongue does fast figure eights on your clit, then licks long stripes up and down your pussy.

you relax against his face, and your hands fly down to pull at his hair, your hands tugging at the blondes unruly strands. "yeah. jus' like that jay." you were enjoying this a lot more than you thought you would. you were starting to think maybe you should've agreed to it the first time he asked

he buries his face inside, his strong arms flexing around your ass, he feels like his cock could explode at any moment from how hard it was. it was literally painful at this point.

you look back and see his cock strained against his boxers, and that only adds to the moans flying out of your mouth. you didnt know if it was the way his cock was jumping or the way his tongue was rapidly flicking at your folds. but all it once, the pleasure hits you, and your cumming. tugging at his hair, your head thrown back, and eyes rolled to the back of your eye socket.

your moaning pathetically, trying to prolong your orgasm as much as possible, riding his tongue, his nose nudging your clit. and before you know it your cumming again, except this time you feel liquid flowing out of your hole. and the orgasm feels much more powerful this time.

your legs are shaking and your body falls limp against his, you move off his face, and down to lay on top of him.

after a few minutes coming down from your high, he breaks the comfortable silence.

"so your letting me do that again sometime, yeah?"

"yeah."