#♱ ask

[sai-int]

return to sender simon making reader sit on his face despite her lack of experience and fear she'll suffocate him

this one got a little lengthy I fear...

cw: oral (f), face sitting, mdni below the cut

“you sure?”

you’re perched on top of him, straddling his chest as his hands wander along the expansive of your thighs

“i mean—are you seriously sure?”

the overhead light is off, the bedroom dim, lit only by the amber glow of the bedside lamp . simon blinks up at you like you’ve asked him something utterly ridiculous.

“am i sure?” he repeats. sis voice is low and amused, rough at the edges like gravel and thunder. “sweetheart, m’fuckin’ starvin’.”

you let out a nervous little laugh, trying to brush off the fluttering panic in your belly. “i just… i don’t know what im doing, babe.”

his brow furrows—not in frustration, but something gentler. he sits up just enough to brace one arm behind him, the other reaching for you, hand warm on your hip. “y’don’t have to do a thing,” he murmurs. “let me take care of it.”

“i’m not trying to chicken out, i swear—”

“i know, love,” he cuts in. not unkindly. his voice softens, lips brushing your knee as you softly shift. “you’re overthinkin’ again.”

you drop your gaze, fingers fidgeting in the hem of your sleep shirt. “i just… what if i hurt you? i mean—you’re big, si, but i don’t wanna suffocate you or something.”

he blinks, and then—laughs. a deep, hearty sound from his chest that makes your whole face heat up.

“if i die,” he says between chuckles, gripping your waist to draw you closer, “that’s the way i wanna go.”

“simon.”

“‘s true, girl. buried ‘tween these thighs?” he sighs, mock-dreamy, and presses a kiss to the inside of your leg. “hell of a way to go out.”

he’s being sweet, trying to lighten you up—but you’re still hovering there on your knees, skin hot, breath shaky. you know what he’s offering, and you want it, want him, but the vulnerability of it all feels damning.

he sees it. reads you like a map he’s memorized front to back (he has).

“hey.” his voice dips, quieter now, lower. “y’trust me baby?”

you look into those eyes—dark, steady, safe. and you nod.

“then come here, love.” he lies back again, mouth tilted in the smallest, cockiest smile. “sit that pretty cunt on my face like a good girl, yeah?”

your breath catches.

he doesn’t grab. doesn’t yank you down. he waits—patient, confident. like he knows you’ll do it. because he knows you want to. that all your hesitation is just nerves, not refusal.

you ease up toward his shoulders on shaky legs, and his big, calloused hands scrape up your thighs, then under your shirt—palms searing and slow as they spread over your hips and waist.

“c’mon, sweets,” he murmurs, voice like a dark promise. “right here. let me have you.”

you settle just above his mouth, barely letting your weight rest on him, and he growls.

“uh-uh. full weight, y’hear me?” one hand leaves your hip to land a sharp smack to your ass. “sit.”

—as if you’re a dog.

you gasp, lowering until you feel the heat of his mouth on you. his tongue—god. long, wide, confident—sweeps up your folds with a guttural sound like he’s been waiting for this since he first ate you out on your dresser months ago.

it’s overwhelming. wet and messy and so fucking good you forget your own name.

you try to lift off, try to relieve some pressure, but his grip tightens.

“nah” he grunts against you, the vibration making you tremble. “stay down. y’not goin’ anywhere.”

he eats you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. like you’re dinner, dessert, salvation. tongue fucking into your weeping hole, nose brushing your clit, hands bruising on your hips. you’re moaning, writhing like a pornstar as your thighs tremble, but he just keeps going, like a man possessed. like he needs it more than air.

“si—,” you gasp, overwhelmed. “si, baby, i—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growls, finally pulling back just enough to speak clearly, chin glistening, eyes wild. “y’ gonna sit pretty and come for me , pup. c’mon, love. come in m’mouth.”

he doesn’t give you time to argue. mouth back on you, rougher now, greedy, tongue circling your clit until your hips stutter and grind and shake—until you're crying out and your whole body goes tight and hot and shattering.

and even then—even then—he doesn’t stop. licks you through it, holds you steady as you fall apart above him, as you drip and leak into his mouth, savoring the sweet, tangy taste of you.

when you finally slump forward, completely spent, he coaxes you off with care—arms wrapping around you as you collapse alongside him. he shifts, flips you onto your back so he’s the one holding you, protective and proud, one hand stroking your hair.

you’re panting. blinking up at the ceiling, dazed and fucked-out and utterly wrecked.

he kisses your temple. his voice is quiet. smug.

“still worried about killing me, sweets?”

[edenspoem]

i wanna ride ellie’s little nose :((

hearing her soft whimpers as I fuck her nose up

note: alright, since this little post i made sparked up some conversation, i will tap some actual content out of it! mdni. college au. loser!ellie. join the discord! | kofi

𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬: 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞

ellie isn't so practiced to being in this position; her heart is fucking pounding. not a lithe beat, or a pitter-pattering across the flesh—you can feel it through your thighs curled around her arms. you can see it in her blown eyes, trembling, and thickened with those pupils staring up at you. the indents of her fingertips sharpening into your legs, tattooed wrist constricted—restless. she hates this little interlude you subject her to. you're fondling her fragile trigger when you're sat a mere inch above her pretty lips, wet and glistening; who could blame her for getting so riled up?

impatience drags her fingers over your ass. it gets gripped gently. “thought you weren't being serious,” she states through a laugh—a breathless one. “but, i should know better, right?” her laughs hit that damned sweet spot in you that gets you going.

you tug a couple more out with a tip-tap on that precious nose. “mhm.” and then, those fingers end their frolic in her hair, forming a firm grip. it tugs a different sound out of her. a captured whimper. she is starving, and cannot mouth an actual word to soothe or substantiate it. ellie—two steps ahead of her motions—is already thinking about her lips on your cunt.

you position your slit on her available tongue, and she moans like she met heaven. a long, loose-lipped moan of satisfaction. something of a curving, “mmhhh..” and a brow-pull to go along with it; your scent, taste, and pushing of her face into your grinding hips hit all the right wires. now, she cannot let go. you shift your hip one route, and she follows with hungered licks. groping her breasts, you encourage that wanton behaviour.

“good fuckin girl, el.”

she gives your ass a delicate slap in admission. subconscious admission.

all that movement creates a cathedral of pornographics sounds. ellie, whoring her face out for you, lets nothing go to waste past her chin. she bobs her head, attempting to steal more laps of you, but ends up with the head of her nose prodding your clit each time. it sends a coiling through your pelvis, agreements up your throat, “fuck—such a pretty little nose your parents gave you..” and gives you the idea to continue. “you like it when i fuck it, huh?” fucking the tip of it, until it folds up and pre-cum begins to line it. inside, outside. it's perfect position is a practical beg for you to spread your legs and sit on it. ride it like she doesn't know what she's doing (which—contrary to what bigots in her college circulate online—she knows how to fuckin' eat pussy; don't get her wrong.) she knows now—she won't be able to rid it from her mind for weeks; the poor girl has to dangle from memories considering how little she sees you. what, with astrophysics and all? it's pitiful enough watching her touch herself to it—touch herself to the feeling of eating you out.

you chew your resting lip and almost draw blood noticing: the bulge of a free hand in her jeans, gentle touching below the seam. then, on it comes. the repeated whining—moaning like she's the one getting fucked. all it takes is for you to tilt her head, tug her eyes out from under you—and it blows out. the sight of her red, fucked-out, rubbed-against and wet face makes you cum.

how could it not?

“that was.. actually pretty hot,” ellie would blurt, after it had happened. after she had tugged herself enough to cum. regardless, she still had a couple laughs left in her system, and urged against her ribs to get them out while the patron of her affection was still in her presence—still on her doorstep. she would rather you be more than just a hookup. “i'm so fuckin' stupid about you, it's a little embarassing.” the door frame quietly settled with her leaning on it. “uh, you free tomorrow?”

[ovaryacted]

baby girl looking for pope (and reader) out in the crowd during some school event where she's on stage. she's searching so hard and almost starts crying until she finally sees pope being held back by reader because he saw the tears in his baby's eyes and needs to make sure she's okay.

then he turns back around to see her smiling and waving and so freaking happy that he's there. and yeah :)

─ Girl Dad! Pope Cody x fem! reader || WC: 735

CW: FLUFF. Pope being an emotional & dedicated dad. Daughter is graduating kindergarten & 5 years old. Daughter is unnamed. Daughter has Pope's hair, freckles, & eyes (carbon copy). Reader & Pope are married.

Aww, this is such a cute idea, please. Thank you for the little message Simone bae, thinking about Pope who's a little older now being such a dedicated dad makes me super emotional. I hope you like this little blurb. <3

The little girl is nervous, dark auburn curls pinned in a half-up half down hairstyle per her request. Her lavender dress flows down her small body, cutting off right at her knees in lace trim, a pair of fluffy socks and mary janes adorn on her feet. She remembers when she went on a shopping trip with her mom last week for this particular outfit, beaming the minute she grabbed it off the rack and threw it in the cart with dignified confidence.

It was the youngest Cody's kindergarten graduation, lined up on stage with several other kids for an award she doesn't fully understand she got. Her head turns over the crowd of people in the audience, trying her absolute hardest to find her parents amongst the sea of unfamiliar moving faces. Her brain works overtime to track down the head that shares the same hair as her, to see the familiar scowl that nobody other than her father wears.

She tries so hard, even squints as she tirelessly looks and looks and looks. To no avail, she hasn't seen the faces of her parents, of the people who came to this event with her, the people that would bring the moon and stars closer to Earth just so she could see them better. Before she realizes it, the corner of her eyes begin to sting as tears threaten to pour down her cheeks. She wrings her hands together, the anxiety bubbling in her body making her knees tremble as she swallows a cry, fully convinced her caregivers had disappeared into thin air and forgotten all about her.

She was close to wailing until she heard a familiar voice, the voice of her mother, warm and welcoming as it always was from the second she was born. The 5 year old's wet eyes gravitate towards the noise, finally spotting the face of her father who wore furrowed eyebrows and was halfway from rising from his seat.

"Andrew, you can't." You had one hand on his broad chest in a feeble attempt to calm him down. He only huffed a shaky breath, a growl settling in the back of his throat.

"She's crying up there. She can't see us." Pope mutters sharply, looking at you with worry in his eyes.

"She'll find us. She's a smart girl, she knows Andy. Trust her, okay?"

Andrew eases back down in his seat, focusing on trying to get his daughter's attention. He'd want nothing more than to bring his little miracle into his strong arms where she belongs, to wipe her tears away from her freckled face and tell her everything was going to be alright, that her father was here and had no plans of leaving her behind. But he knew the last thing he needed to do was lash out on such a special occasion.

He bounces his leg a few times, his knuckles turning white from gripping the armrest of his seat too tight, close to splitting the wood when his gaze is mirrored with his twin up on the stage, hazel meeting hazel.

In an instant, the little girl calms down, her frown flipping into a bright smile. Her round cheeks perk up at the sight of her parents at her first graduation, bringing her hand to swipe the remaining tears that ran down her face. She waves at her father then, and he waves back, the corner of his lips flexing upwards and nodding towards her, the love in his eyes consuming the remaining space in that room.

You reach down to squeeze Andrew's hand in reassurance, giving the calloused flesh an affectionate squeeze. His thumb runs over your wedding band, aimlessly playing with the gold as you both watch your baby girl walk the stage once her name was called, bursting in light shouts of claps of acknowledgement that got her attention and widened her toothy smile.

Andrew's eyes refuse to leave his daughter's face until she's sitting down with the rest of her classmates, exhaling in relief, antsy to hear his baby's voice again and hold her once more after all of this was done. But for now, he’ll sit and patiently wait until she’s running up to him, holding her certificate in her hands to show him. And he’ll shower her with all the praise she needs to remind her he’s here to stay, and his heart belongs to her.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[dollsciples]

Hi! Do you have more icon frames like this one? (Image)

Thank you :D

heres some i found / use !

completely f2u , found on picsart !

[concretejunglefm]

thot confession ˚˖ ࣪

I cannot get the thot of Noah (wolfcut!noah to be exact!!) being your piercer, hear me out - going to get both your nipples done and being nervous and he’s all sweet talking and flirty and constantly dancing around the line of professionalism, maybe you need to be talked through an orgasm to calm down for the piercing? 😌 and afterwards he cannot get enough of how good they look ??? idk sorry this is my brainrot and I didn’t know where to share it, I just need wolfcut Noah to slut me out 😩

Hi, anon, do you have any idea how much I love this? It has completely taken over my brain!!!

Honestly, you needed your friends to hype you up and talk you into it, because maybe you were just a teeny bit nervous, especially with how sensitive your nipples already are. Plus, you’d heard about the possibility of losing sensitivity and all that.

When you showed up, the last person you expected to see was this young guy. Not only did he have this playfully charming smile, but he was so flirty that it definitely helped put you at ease a little.

CW: fingering, light nipple play, praising, use of ‘good girl’, semi-public, kinda dirty talk(?).

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

“Come, take a seat right here.” He gestures you over, a tattooed hand patting the padded table. Surprisingly, your legs feel like jelly as you approach, nerves starting to creep back in. “First time?” he asks, brow slightly cocked.

You nod slowly. “Uh… yeah.”

“Ah, a virgin.” He grins, something cheeky in his tone, and for a second, you almost want to be offended by the remark, until he adds, “My favorite.” There’s a flicker in the way he says it that suggests he doesn’t just mean it in relation to piercings.

When you hop up onto the table and make yourself comfortable, he instructs, “Shirt off.”

You manage to find your voice, and a flicker of confidence, as you quickly quip, “What? You’re not going to help?”

That catches his attention. His gaze locks onto yours, and a faint heat rises to your cheeks. Not regret, exactly, just a hint of skepticism about whether you should’ve said that.

To your surprise, he approaches you, large hands settling on the bed on either side of your thighs. Even with the height difference, his frame manages to crowd you, keeping him just that little bit above you.

“If you think it’ll help you relax…” he murmurs, raising a brow again. There’s a small tug of a smirk at the corner of his mouth, and then you feel the daring brush of his hands—fingers grazing your thighs, then your hips, curling into the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you let out a breathless, “Yes.”

His fingers slide higher, grazing along your sides as he lifts your shirt slowly over your head.

“Your bra,” he says, gesturing. You nod, silently inviting him to help with that, too, and he does, his hands slipping behind you, stepping in even closer so you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

You’re tempted to reach out and touch him, especially as your eyes follow the ink trailing up his arms, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt and peeking from the V at his collar. It makes you wonder how far the tattoos go.

“Now lie down for me,” he orders, and you comply without hesitation.

His hand brushes along your sternum as he continues upward, pausing at the valley between your breasts. “I’ll try to be as gentle as possible.”

“Do you make that promise to all your clients?” you ask, your tone soft and teasing.

“Only the really pretty ones.” He winks down at you, and a wave of heat stirs low in your stomach, especially as his hand hasn’t moved.

“Are you sensitive?” he asks.

You hum in response, just as his hand slides over one breast, thumb brushing faintly across your already hardened nipple. The light contact draws out the faintest moan—unintentional, but impossible to hold back.

“Oh, very sensitive,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, though the sly smirk at his lips makes it clear he’s enjoying every second. “You know,” he adds, “if you need help relaxing… I may have another solution.”

You turn your head, brow raised in silent question.

“I hear an orgasm really helps,” he says thoughtfully, his fingers still toying with your nipple—twisting, tugging gently before moving to the other, offering it the same soft attention. “I can talk you through it. Just enough to help you unwind.”

As his hand begins to lower again, gliding down your stomach and over the front of your jeans, your legs part instinctively, welcoming the idea.

“Please…?” you whisper softly, batting your lashes up at him.

You hear the soft jingle of your zipper as he tugs your jeans down. Your hips arch, wriggling just enough for him to slip his hand into the front of your panties. The moment his fingers brush over your slit, your hips buck—desperately craving the contact.

“Just tell me where it feels good,” he says, catching your gaze. His free hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading beneath your hair to hold you close as he dips a finger between your folds.

Instantly, you push against him, gasping when he finds your clit and begins to draw slow, smooth circles. The slickness gathering between your thighs makes every stroke more intense, your body already responding.

When he moves a little deeper, your breath catches. “Right there.”

The full connection against your clit sends a ripple of pleasure through you.

“Here?” he asks, pressing more firmly. You nod, biting down on your lower lip to stifle the moans threatening to spill out.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the praise soft and low. Your hands reach up, grasping at his arm for grounding. “Are you gonna… oh, that’s it,” he coaxes. “Just grind yourself against my fingers. Make yourself feel good.”

His voice shifts, thick with heat, as he watches you begin to roll your hips—grinding into his hand. You feel the addition of a second finger pressing to your clit, both working in tandem, coaxing you closer and closer as the tension builds low in your stomach.

You know it shouldn’t be turning you on this much, being touched like this by a complete stranger, but you can’t help it. Every part of this moment is overwhelmingly arousing. The thrill of potentially being caught. The way he charmed his way into your space, into your body. The way his eyes stay locked on you, hungry.

When you glance up at him, you catch that look of lust. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip as he watches you, like he wants nothing more than to devour you right then and there.

“Let me hear your moans, baby,” he urges gently.

You start to whimper, holding back with a harsh bite to your lip—hard enough to taste copper on your tongue.

“That’s it—let go for me. You know you want to cum.”

His voice is coaxing, low and encouraging as he listens to the sound of your growing moans, and god, you do. You can feel the wave rising, building higher with every second. Your hips buck faster as his fingers press harder, rubbing relentless, perfect circles.

Your nails dig into his arm, scratching along the skin as you ride his fingers to your climax. You hold on tight, shuddering around him when you finally careen over the edge. The pleasure crashes through you, overwhelming and all consuming.

He doesn’t let go. One hand strokes your scalp gently, keeping you grounded, and you barely catch the sound of his murmured praise through the buzzing in your ears.

When he finally pulls away, his fingers slip from your panties, and you watch as he brings them up to his lips. Your cum coats them, glistening. His eyes are slightly hooded as he runs his tongue along one long, slender finger, humming approvingly at the taste of you.

“You should feel nice and relaxed now,” he says with a smirk.

And he’s right. You do. You feel blissful—floaty, even, as you lie back on the bed, practically seeing hearts in your eyes and already craving more of him.

[minasiphone]

ASK GAME ; 𖧧 . spring break

୭ !?

🌿 - FRESH BASIL – in your dr, what small but essential things bring freshness to your life? maybe a morning ritual, a signature scent, or a habit that keeps things exciting

🥥 - COCO SWEETNESS – create a moodboard inspired by the soft and love filled energy of your dr. is it picnics in the sun, cute outfits, or fresh-baked treats?

🍃 - CALMING EUCALYPTUS – what helps you clear your mind in your dr? is there a specific location, routine, or person that always brings you peace?

🥨 - TWISTY PRETZEL – what twists and surprises happen in your dr? are there unexpected friendships, plot twists, or new adventures waiting for you?

🥖 - RUSTIC BAGUETTE – what does a typical day look like in your dr? is it a simple, peaceful routine or a busy, adventure-filled schedule?

🌱 - HOPEFUL SPROUT – what personal growth do you go through in your dr? is there a skill, mindset, or dream version of yourself that you develop over time?

🐚 - SAFE SHELL – who or what is always there for you in your dr, wrapping around your life like ivy on a wall? a best friend, a mentor, or a deep connection?

.　　　 ♱　　　⁺ 　　 　🪽　　⏖

made by ﹙ minasiphone ﹚ kisses !

[melanchoire]

did you see megan on her live earlier she looked so yummy i need her

the quality was crap but she still looked gorgeous

[seraphronos]

Vol with worm on a string giratina

he has been given the worm ‼️

he's a bit confused... (but loves it really 🙏)

[doggiedoll]

im so so sorry ppl r misconstruing you LITERALLY just trying to help protect people 😭

i wish people would just read the post instead of believing whatever the fuck people say about me. i obviously never said that shit.

[sai-int]

How would rts!simon act when it comes to pregnant reader’s hormones? Like she gets super clingy randomly or will just start crying over a cute dog reel on instagram?

combining this with the ask about reader getting super horny from pregnancy hormones too!

—so, simon can handle horny. no problem.

you climb into his lap, needy and squirmy, whining that you “just want to feel full, si, please—” and he’s already palming your belly like it’s the most precious thing in the world, lips against your temple, growling into your skin:

“y’can have it, sweet’art. whatever y’need. y’know i’ll fuck y’through anythin’”

the way you grind down on him, teary and frustrated because your body’s so sensitive—that makes him gentle in the filthiest way. slow, deep thrusts. endless praise. letting you cry it out on his cock if you have to, soothing you with soft “that’s it, atta girl, ride it out, i got ya.”

he’s obsessed with how your body changes. how much warmer you feel, your growing bump and the plush of your hips, how tight you still are. he has zero complaints—if anything, he’s addicted.

—he can also handle clingy; he actually loves when you need doting on or when you want more of his attention. he’s happy to oblige.

when you shuffle into the room in one of his shirts, lip wobbly, just wanting to be held—he drops everything. doesn’t care what he was doing. he’ll sit on the couch with you curled up on his chest for hours, rubbing your back, murmuring soft little nothings into your hair.

“you’re alright, girl. ’m not goin’ anywhere.”

likes that he can soothe you, that you trust him enough to let him be your anchor. and when you whine, apologizing for “being too much” or “annoying,” he just pulls you closer.

“y’nevertoo much, dafty. not for me.”

even if he wakes up to you sobbing at your phone screen at 3 am, he’s still there for you. he just hands you a tissue and kisses your forehead.

“y’ cryin’ over a pug wearin’ a sweater, sweet’art.”

*“i know, simon, it’s just so—“ hiccup “—small—”

he bites back a smile and holds you while you cry. rubs your belly. rubs your back. and then when you start laughing at yourself five minutes later, he kisses you again and calls you a “mental little thing.”

regardless he loves all of it. it overwhelms him sometimes, how much emotion you carry in comparison to him, how vulnerable you let yourself be with him. but he wouldn’t trade it for anything. not even the sobbing over tiktok edits of golden retrievers.

because it’s you. and every piece of you is his to protect, to love, to hold. even when you’re hormonal and feral and snotty-faced crying into his hoodie at in the dead of night.

especially then.

[edenspoem]

Um so wolves go into heat around winter an it got me thinking. Werewolf!ellie in heat absolutely RAILING reader

Im talking absolutely DESTROYING reader

She turn up at the door like "scissor tongitj?? Scissor tonight queen??? ✂️✂️"

♱|. . a/n: i'm supposed to be writing vampire smut.. but here we are! just need to get something out even if it's shitty (i'm also just sick and dgaf about perfectly writing a blurb).. i've also been listening to juno a lot so all i can think about is BREEDING. mdni.

werewolf!ellie panting at the corner of your cracked door—dark, ripped jeans, a crucible of sweat that clumps hairs to her forehead, shine to her skin—and she rushes a near nothing from her lips before the desperation could crawl out and eat you whole. if she quietened her own heart, she could catch yours pounding. “hey babe, fuckin' missed you. c'mere.” each syllable is accompanied by gusts of her gutsy—and almost visible to the cold—breath. its scent and heat bled through quickly. it poured over, into, and under her swooping fingertips, which had the back of your head snared and pulled into her mouth, eating your response with a whine she never intended to release.

the nature of your girlfriend isn't occultic to you; she drags you into her midnight realm and makes you feel like the worshipped moon. at this point, your brain tends to forget that she's even a werewolf to begin with, and eases in the penchant way she has with you: chasing you, loving hard, owning handfuls of your flesh that she lets spill and manipulate her senses. but, in the epicenter of this brutal winter—your first one together—you least expect a shirt to be shredded from your torso in one, hungry rip, tossed like ribbons on the floor and abandoned as you licked the nectary words dripping off her tongue. “wanna have a fuckin' baby with you.. ahah—shit, can i give you one?” she stumbled in giggles, so sweetly, and fumbled so pitifully with the rest of your clothes, you had to assist before something else was torn.

yeah, she can wear you out giving you 'one' any fuckin' day.

“miss me?” ellie clings, with nails that long to be sharp, into the small of your back. deep enough to bleed. it stung with a soft whimper inside your chest, “mhh—yes, ellie.” teeth collecting the sighed words from your lower lip.

she would rub her pussy against yours until it was throbbing raw, and her hips gave out. it did most times; from the wanton, the sheer letch to let loose, to give you something special—but if you whispered into a safekeeping, it would be about how she lets her hormones get the best of her. more so when your touch is involved. when your tired fingers trace the bushed mess that leads up her stomach in a thin, waning tornado-line, wrap your hand around and soothe her pelvis with pressure—she loses it.

“can't handle it at all, huh?” you pant, smiling at the fucked-out, glistening and red look on her face. her scarred brows tighten when your sticky thighs come into contact with an audible slap. it's her juices that coat you. “poor thing.”

ellie cups her own tit and rolls deeper into her straddle, you're not even sure she heard you; too lost in that midnight realm. but, if you're being honest, you're the one that can't handle it. human endurance has you beat for miles—she has to place your limp leg on her shoulder. “f-fuck..” she trembles. soon enough, the hairs covering her cunt are shining wet with her cum, and she can only hope that it takes. “thats it.. oh my god..” she leans into her nape, voice vibrating deep and hoarse in her chest. she looked like golden heaven, with her head hanging like that. though, her stamina will be the death of you: she lifts her head and starts hovering over you for more, hot breaths that felt cold in your used state fanning over your cheek. “gonna be a goddamn mama, babe. got more in me—if ya' wanna go again, hm?”

[ovaryacted]

moreee about jack abbott and aftercare please 🚬🐤

─ Jack Abbot x fem! reader || WC: 1.1k

CW: Mentions of past smut. Soft dom! Jack Abbot. Post-coitus aftercare. Subspace if you squint. Loving affection. Use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, kid). Mentions of Jack Abbot's leg stump. Jack Abbot being the best partner ever.

I meant to post this the other day but I waited a little bit. I absolutely LOVE how you're using the duck emoji combos, please keep using it! (even though that's a chick, I'm sure, but idgaf!). But yes god I think Jack would be soooo good with aftercare no matter what he does. He definitely gives me pleasure dom vibes, he gets off on your pleasure, and really knows how to drag it out and give you a run for your money. This also turned into an analysis of aftercare on both ends, because Jack deserves to know he's being cared for & loved too.

He's the kinda man that will give you exactly what you need, the right pressure, the right force, the right touch. Thing is, he's consistent, patient, steady...he keeps you close to him and talks you through your climaxes every single time, and yes he always tends to give you more than one orgasm if your body can handle it. That becomes a standard in your relationship very early on, and he won’t let you take anything less than that. Whether it be from his mouth, his fingers, his cock, or even your toys, you always come first, and he'll fill you up in any way you need and ask.

As for the aftercare, Jack grounds you, brings you back down to Earth after turning your mind and body to mush. His large hands caress over your shaking legs, rubbing into your skin and skimming over the new bruises and marks that will bloom in the morning. He doesn't pull out just yet, he keeps himself inside your cunt until your body is done flexing around him, until you’re finally relaxed enough for him to give your body a proper break. He hovers over you, gently kissing your jaw and cheek, lightly pecking the corner of your mouth as he wraps his big arms around you and keeps you close.

"Cmon, sweetheart. Come back to me, I'm right here."

He's so good, so patient. Jack watches your face carefully for any signs of discomfort, attentive to the way your eyes are still rolling to the back of your head. He cups your hand to rub his thumb over your jaw in a swiping motion, brushing your hair out of your sweaty face. You lean into the touch, humming lowly as you swim through the residual high of your climaxes, your body melting into the mattress, trying to steady your breathing through your nose with every pass of Jack's hands on your cheekbone.

"Don't fall asleep on me just yet, baby. Need to get you cleaned up."

A whine punches out of you then, limp legs wrapping tighter around Jack's waist in defiance. He knows you can fall asleep like this, with his cock still nestled inside you. You actually prefer it sometimes, but he knows how uncomfortable you'll be if you were sticky and covered with sweat. 

"You gotta let me go so we can head to bed. C'mon, kid. The sooner you let me pull out, the faster you'll be asleep, yeah?"

You reluctantly peel your legs off of him, reciprocating his soft kiss and whimpering when Jack moves to pull his softening cock out of you, sighing in relief from the change in pressure. He doesn't mention how his spend dribbles out of you, your slick walls flexing to keep most of it inside.

Sometimes if you really don't have the energy to move or get up, he'll use the wipes specifically for your post-coitus sessions in the bedside drawer and clean you up that way, carefully making sure your lower body was all taken care of.

Other times, he'll bring you to your feet and guide you over to the bathroom and use a crutch to keep himself steady, letting you pee while he starts the shower at the temperature you liked. Jack will join you under the warm spray, running his hands over your body with reverent affection and starts rinsing you off, using the calming lavender body wash to put you at ease. You don't mind him sitting on the built-in shower stool, laughing at the ticklish sensation of his hands rubbing down your waist and your twitching legs. With some of the remaining energy you had left, you also rinse Jack off with your body wash, running your hands through his hair and washing his scalp for the night, making sure he’s all cleaned up just like you.

Afterwards, you help each other wind down for the night, Jack sitting on the toilet seat and massaging body oil and lotion into your sore limbs, making sure to really knead into your body and release any knots and remaining tension. He doesn't miss an inch of skin, moisturizing your thighs, breasts, your back, and down your arms. Jack dresses you in one of his baggy t-shirts, not bothering to bring you panties, figuring it would be more comfortable to just let your body breathe with no restricting material.

He throws on some boxers after you mimic his previous action and moisturize his body, placing light kisses here and there, giggling to yourself in between every smooch. You also help massage Jack’s stump if he absolutely needs it, putting whatever necessary skin care he used to protect the skin where it was the most sensitive. You’ll do it with a smile and without question, and his kiss after you’re done is all the thanks you needed to hear from him.

If you were hungry, he'd whip you a snack to eat really quick before you went to sleep for either the full night or just a nap. But if all you wanted to do was close your eyes, he'd simply tell you to brush your teeth as he gets the bed all prepped for you. You flop into the mattress, now with clean fresh sheets thanks to Jack changing them. Your eyes flutter closed instantly, bringing the covers up to your waist and sleeping on your stomach, digging your face into your pillow.

You only mumble a curt "love you" before you doze off, your breathing even and deep as you go to the land of dreams. And Jack? He smiles in the dim lighting of your shared bedroom, kissing your forehead and your nose, whispering those three words back to you, silently hoping they would follow you wherever your happy place was. He stays up a little longer just looking at you, admiring you, thanking whatever prayer he said to have you in his life. He brings you into his arms and positions your head against his chest, feeling you nuzzle closer into him and chase his warmth.

He falls asleep like that with your body against his, cradling the back of your neck and caressing your nape over and over again. With one more kiss to your temple, he breathes you in, answering the call of sleep and keeping in mind to make breakfast for you in the morning.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[concretejunglefm]

Hi Lexi🤍 I have just one question, how's enchanted!Noah doing?🥺👉🏼👈🏼

I miss my husband

hi bb, your husbandenchanted!noah is doing great and being the supportive hubbyboyfriend he always is 💕

CW: nothing but absolute fluff with reader feeling a little overwhelmed and nonverbal.

It’s been days since you last spoke to Noah, and honestly, it wasn’t intentional. You have a habit of overwhelming yourself to the point that you shut down—hiding away, trying to block out the noise, but how do you tell the one person who loves spending every free moment with you that you wouldn’t be good company right now?

The spoon analogy comes to mind. You’re juggling too many, and they’re all on the verge of clattering to the floor—if they haven’t already.

When the doorbell rings, it’s almost the final straw. You weren’t expecting anyone, and truthfully, you don’t feel like seeing anyone either. Your friends wouldn’t understand—or worse, they’d take it personally. So, it’s been easier to go quiet for a few days. Send the occasional message here and there, just enough to let them know you’re thinking of them, even while you’re fighting a war inside your own head.

With a deep, heaving sigh, you open the door, only to find yourself face to face with a broad chest and a familiar shirt. Your eyes travel upward, closing the height gap until they settle on Noah’s face. Your mouth opens, ready to say something—maybe an apology, but nothing comes out. You’re speechless as he looks down at you, something soft and unreadable in his expression.

“Hey,” he says gently. He leans into the doorframe, reaching out to idly tug at the string of your pyjama pants. You hadn’t bothered changing into real clothes, just swapped one set of pajamas for another after your shower. It’s not like you had plans to go anywhere.

“Noah.” You breathe his name, and suddenly you’re flooded with the urge to hand him a barrage of excuses, one after the other, but nothing comes. Instead, you watch as he dips his head slightly, leaning in closer.

“I came to see if you knew where my girlfriend was,” he says, voice light but laced with concern. “It’s been a few days, and, well… she’s about yay high.” He lifts a hand to mimic your height. “Prettiest eyes, terrible sense of humor—but amazing taste in food.”

You look at him, frozen for a beat, before you throw yourself toward him, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. His own arms engulf you easily, pressing you against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble against his shirt, feeling the nuzzle of his nose against the top of your head.

“Why?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused.

Maybe it was your own doing. Being stuck in your head, caught in the spiral that convinced you that needing time alone—without explanation or contact—somehow made you a bad person. It made you stretch yourself beyond your limits, again and again. Or maybe you’d just spent too much time around people who demanded more than you could ever give.

“Because I haven’t seen you or spoken to you,” you mumble, face pressed to his chest. Your breath staggers as the emotion rises, eyes burning with the press of unshed tears.

“Baby, it’s okay,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head as his arms tighten, keeping you close.

“Shall we go and help you relax a little?”

You nod without a word, still refusing to pull away. He shuffles you back through the door before scooping you into his arms. Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist, arms looping around his neck as you nestle into the crook of it, grounding yourself in his warmth.

“I can’t promise I’ll be much fun,” you mumble against his neck, your nose brushing his skin as you breathe in the familiar scent of him. It envelopes you instantly, grounding you, soothing you—like being pulled back under a warm blanket of safety.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he assures you, and it feels like a weight slowly lifting.

“Really?” You pull back slightly to look at him just as he reaches the couch and gently lays you down on it.

“Yeah.”

“Even if it means not wanting to talk?”

“Even then.”

He leans in, his lips brushing your forehead before pressing a tender kiss there. Your eyes flutter shut, and the heaviness that clung to you just moments ago lifts—just enough for you to breathe again.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt like a security blanket, like you need to keep him close.

Noah doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. Instead, he shifts beside you on the couch, gathering you into his arms and resting you against his chest. One large hand cradles the back of your head, his fingers gently rubbing your scalp, slow and comforting. The warmth of him, the rhythm of his touch, the quiet—all of it begins to blur, the fuzzy feeling pulling you under until sleep takes hold.

When you wake, it’s definitely not a pretty sight. You can feel the dry drool at the corner of your mouth, and you blink sluggishly as you try to push yourself upright. Noah’s long limbs are no longer wrapped around you, but you hear the distinct sound of his voice singing in the kitchen, accompanied by the soft hum of a radio in the background.

Your vision blurs as you come to, but once you’re awake enough to focus, a smile slowly spreads across your face. He’s moving around your kitchen with a familiar grace and ease—something he’s done more and more since he started coming over. He knows the layout well enough to plate something up without even thinking about it, and that’s exactly what he’s doing now.

“Oh, you’re awake!” he calls out, licking a bit of sauce from the pad of his thumb before flashing you a playful grin. “Someone had a good sleep, I see.” He nods toward you—specifically your hair, which is standing up, messy and wild.

“Yeah, well…” you mumble, huffing softly as you try to pat it down. Whether or not it helps, you’re not sure, but all thoughts of bedhead vanish when he walks over, bearing two plates.

“I got you some food for sustenance,” he says, setting them down on the coffee table in front of you. “Looked like you were living off those leftovers longer than you should’ve.”

You duck your head, guilty as charged, eyes falling to the food in front of you. “Thank you,” you murmur, a tired smile pulling at your lips. Then you pucker them slightly, wordlessly asking for a kiss.

Naturally, he obliges the moment he sees you. He leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips before sinking down onto the couch beside you. “It’s from your favourite place,” he adds, balancing his plate in one hand as he leans back against the cushions. “And maybe after, I can run you a bath—or a hot shower?”

“Are you trying to say I smell?” you ask, turning your head to raise a brow at him.

Noah just laughs, shaking his head. “Well…”

You scoff and nudge him with your shoulder, but the smallest smile tugs at your lips at the thought. A small, sweet gesture. One you didn’t realize you needed.

“I’d like that,” you say softly.

As promised, Noah runs you a hot shower, and to your surprise, even when he steps in behind you to join, there’s no funny business—no ulterior motive to his gesture. Just sweetness and him. He leaves the gentlest kisses along your shoulders and the back of your neck as he lathers you up, his touch tender and unhurried.

His fingers glide across your skin, caressing every dip and curve with reverence, taking in every inch he passes. It’s soft and worshipful, a kind of care that makes you feel deeply loved. You easily melt back into his chest, letting yourself sink into the solid feel of him and the warmth of his body against yours.

When he lathers your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp, it sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps rising across your skin. Your head tilts back instinctively, and he dips forward—pressing one kiss, then another, trailing along your neck and up to your jaw until you turn and meet his mouth with yours. All the while, his fingers continue working through your hair, still massaging, still gentle.

“How does that feel?” he whispers.

A soft, pleased sound escapes you. “Good,” you nod, your hands pressing to his stomach as you steady yourself, leaning into him while he guides you back under the stream of water.

He takes his time—rinsing the bubbles out, working in the conditioner, then rinsing that out too, and when he finally turns off the water, he steps out with you, reaching immediately for a towel and wrapping it snugly around your body.

You slip your arms around his waist, pressing your face to his still wet chest. You breathe him in—the faint scent of your shared body wash mixed with that distinct scent that’s just him. It makes you melt, makes butterflies stir in your stomach, fluttering in a way you don’t think could ever stop, especially not when he scoops you up bridal style and carries you off to the bedroom.

There, he picks out another set of pyjamas for you to slip into, something soft and comfortable, and once you’re dressed, he climbs into bed beside you, pulling you into his chest like you belong there, because you do.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami-gami@floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens  @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @swissy23 @i-love-the-smell-of-your-blood @kenjipepsi1 @birdie-in-arcadia @blackcherrywhiskey @saythatuwill @stardustsirenmelody @concretenoah @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @limerinseme @lilgarbitch @pipidoll @heyyoplayer @iconic-taurus @flowery-mess @jesuisunchaton @bluestdai @respectfulrebel @dravenskye

[melanchoire]

megara recent live….. megan throwing it back on lara….. backshots from lara…. GIVE ME THAT STRAP GIVE ME THAT DIH GIVE IT TO ME NEOW THEY WERE BOTH SO MMMM

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSkSfEj5M/

also congrats on meiyok for coming out 🥹🥹 im so proud of my baby, but i’m upset with the eyekons that keep speculating and whatever about the girls’ sexuality… ITS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!!

dynamic is obvious

[seraphronos]

Volo with togekiss wings

togekiss volo with togepi!!

+ a little doodle :3

[doggiedoll]

Hii I remember once you got t worded but got your account back after , can you tell how you did it please :<

i sent in an appeal ! they deleted my blog that was the "offending" one that got me termed but otherwise i got the rest of my account back. if your main is what got termed idk if you can do the same thing i did.

you can send appeals here