#for you ♡

[petaltexturedskies]

I hope you believe that you can still make a beautiful life for yourself even if you lost many years of it to grief, or darkness, depression, or a wound that wouldn't close.

[xiuminscheeks]

@jardinsoleil

[zazrichor]

DANDELION | overcoming hardship, healing, resilience, hope

I had the pleasure of painting the illustrious Dorian for @daflowerzine 🌼 leftover sales are now closed but you can still get a print of Dorian here!

[cameronsbabydoll]

more blunt!simon because he’s hot

he doesn’t even look up from his phone when he says it.

just sprawled across the couch, one arm behind his head, legs spread like he’s on a throne instead of a beat-up cushion that still smells like smoke and sweat.

“ya know, if you’re gonna walk around like that, you oughta be ready to get fucked.”

you freeze. halfway across the living room, wearing nothing but a big t-shirt and the tiniest pair of shorts you forgot you even owned.

“like what?” you ask, already feeling the heat crawl up your throat.

he finally lifts his gaze.

smirks.

“like a mouth-watering little tease,” he says. “jesus. i can see the crease of your pussy from here.”

you make a shocked sound—half gasp, half laugh—and wrap your arms around yourself like that’ll help.

he scoffs.

“don’t act shy. you bent over the fridge earlier like you wanted me to notice. ass all high, thighs squeezin’ together like you were tryna get off on the cold air.”

you open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, lazy and cruel.

“if i pulled your shorts down right now, you’d be wet already. bet your fuckin’ panties are stickin’ to you.”

you stare. breath caught in your chest.

he grins wider.

“c’mon. lemme see. won’t even touch. just wanna take a look. see if i’m right.”

his eyes drop, heavy-lidded and hungry.

“you do like it when i talk like this, huh? your nipples are hard.”

you cross your arms tighter, turn to walk away, but his voice chases after you—

low and amused and absolutely depraved.

“run off if you want. just know the second i hear that shower start, i’m gonna be sittin’ here jerkin’ off with the door open. loud. so you know what you did to me.”

[petaltexturedskies]

You can always start over. You can always catch up. You can still be who you dream of being. It’s not too late for you. You will find your place in the world.

[crowleys-hips]

@our-tiny-universe

[circe69]

“my fuckin’ pussy” simon says as he’s pounding you in a mating press. your heel-clad feet are hung over his burly shoulders, flopping with every thrust.

“mmmn, yer fuckin” pussy” you slurred back.

“oh my, we’ve gotta talker, doing a little repeat after me? fuckin’ simon says, huh?”

he’s such a tease.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

So you've done cock sizes and squirting reactions for the LADS but what about how each of them cum/orgasm? Streams, spurts, a lot, a little? Holding close or gripping tight with hands? Pulling forward? Etc.

.☘︎ ݁˖ . HOW THEY CUM !

✧ paring : sylus, caleb, xavier, zayne, rafayel x reader (separate)

✧ tws : nsfw/smut, creampie, cow-girl, doggy style, sub!rafayel, spanking, hair pulling, gagging, biting, neck kissing and others!

Sylus is the type to cum hard and deep, letting out a low, breathy groan as his muscles tense up. His orgasms are intense but controlled—he doesn’t lose himself completely, but you can feel the power behind each thrust as he pushes in as deep as possible, holding you firmly against him like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together.

He’s a spurter, releasing in thick, strong pulses that hit deep and leave a warmth that lingers. His grip tightens—whether it’s his hands around your waist, one wrapped in your hair, or fingers digging into your thighs as he keeps you in place. If he’s really lost in the moment, he’ll let out a quiet “Fuck—”under his breath, voice husky and slightly shaky.

If you’re riding him, he’ll pull you down flush against his chest at the last second, holding you still as he empties himself inside. He likes to feel every second of it, dragging it out by rolling his hips, making sure nothing goes to waste. Even after he cums, he doesn’t let go immediately—his hands linger, his breathing heavy as he presses lazy, possessive kisses against your skin, still reveling in the aftershocks.

Caleb is a slow builder when it comes to orgasm. He holds back, savoring every second, his breath growing more ragged as he gets closer. When he finally lets go, it’s a long, shuddering release, his body trembling slightly as he pulses inside you. His cum doesn’t spurt out in thick shots—it seeps out in warm, steady waves, spilling deep and coating every inch. It’s messy, unhurried, and almost overwhelming.

His hands aren’t gripping tight like Sylus—Caleb’s more about holding you firm yet gentle, big hands resting heavy on your hips or sliding up your back to pull you close against his chest. If he’s behind you, his fingers will dig into your waist, guiding you slowly through the aftershocks as he catches his breath.

He’s not loud, but you’ll hear him—a sharp inhale, a low groan that vibrates against your skin, maybe even a whispered “That’s it, pipsqueak…” if he’s feeling particularly rough. And he doesn’t pull out immediately—he likes the feeling of being buried inside you, soaking in the heat and wetness, his lips brushing against your neck as he rides out the last waves of pleasure with slow, lazy rolls of his hips.

Xavier’s orgasm hits him like a slow-burning fire, one that builds into a sharp, almost unbearable peak before he goes still for a second—then completely unravels. His release isn’t about spurts or streams—it’s a deep, throbbing pulse, a thick warmth that just keeps flowing out of him, filling you up in heavy waves that seem to last longer than they should. You can feel every tight clench of his abs, every twitch of his cock inside you as he gives in completely.

In doggy style, he loses himself in the control, gripping your hair at the base of your skull and pulling just hard enough to arch your back perfectly for him. The moment he cums, he yanks you up onto your knees, keeping his chest flush against your back while his free hand locks onto your hip, forcing you still as he buries himself deep and stays there, making sure you take every last drop. His breathing is ragged against your ear, a rough growl of your name slipping past his lips, low and strained, like he’s fighting the urge to keep fucking into you through the aftershocks.

Even when he’s finished, he doesn’t let go right away. His hand in your hair loosens, fingers slipping down to cup your throat, thumb stroking your jaw as he lets out a deep, satisfied sigh. And if you so much as try to move before he’s ready? His grip tightens again—a silent demand to stay right where you are.

Zayne’s orgasm is a slow, aching surrender—he tries to hold back, tries to draw it out, but when it hits, it’s unshakable. His release isn’t sharp or sudden; it’s a deep, rolling pleasure that spreads through his body like a slow wave. His cum seeps out thick and heavy, pouring into you in lazy, unhurried pulses that leave a deep warmth behind. He doesn’t tense up completely—instead, his muscles shudder subtly, his breath hitching as he lets out a quiet, gritted groan that melts into a low chuckle.

With you on your knees, ass up, he runs a warm palm over your skin, fingers squeezing possessively before he delivers a slow, deliberate slap to your ass—not rough, but firm enough to make you jolt slightly beneath him. Again. And again. Each time, his touch lingers, soothing over the heat his hand left behind, his other hand pressing into the dip of your lower back to keep you exactly where he wants you.

When he finally cums, his grip tightens just enough to hold you steady, his hips pushing forward in one last deep roll as he sinks inside you to the hilt. A deep, satisfied “Fuck… that’s my girl.” escapes him as he rests his forehead against your spine, catching his breath. His hands stay on you, tracing your curves, squeezing your hips, his fingers drifting lazily over your skin. And before he even thinks about pulling out, you’ll feel one last, lingering smack against your ass, paired with a smug little hum—as if he’s already thinking about the next time.

Rafayel tries to hold back, tries to keep his composure, but the moment he gets too close, his body betrays him. His breathing gets uneven, his thighs tense beneath your touch, and his hands clutch at whatever they can find—your hips, the sheets, his own wrists if you’ve pinned them down. His orgasm isn’t sharp or explosive; it’s messy, drawn out, overwhelming. His cock twitches and throbs, spilling out in slow, leaking pulses that leave him trembling beneath you. He gasps, eyes fluttering shut, a soft whimper slipping from his lips as his body completely melts into your touch.

The moment your teeth sink into his shoulder, his whole body jerks beneath you, a strangled sound escaping his throat as his head tilts back. Too much. Too good. His fingers dig into your skin, desperate for something to ground himself with, but the pain mixed with pleasure only makes him unravel faster. His chest heaves, muscles tensing, before he finally slumps back, completely spent, completely at your mercy.

Even after he’s finished, his body still twitches with aftershocks, his cock giving one last weak throb as he lets out a breathless, needy whine. His hands tremble slightly when they reach for you, still craving your warmth, still needing to be held, to be reassured. If you press another bite into his skin—softer this time—he’ll shiver, let out a breathy little “Please…” before burying his face in your neck, too dazed to do anything but let you have your way with him all over again.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[gh0stinthelake]

@our-tiny-universe

tulips 🌷

[anglbunny]

RIDE

♡. choso letting you ride his fat cock, smut mdni, size difference, riding

“Are you sure?” he asks again, voice low, nervous, even as he lies back with his hands braced behind him, shirt half off and hair messy from how often he’s run his fingers through it tonight. “We can stop. I mean it.”

You straddle him anyway—naked, breath shaky, thighs trembling around his waist. Your hands press against his chest like you’re trying to steady yourself. Or maybe stop yourself from sliding down onto what’s… very clearly going to be a problem.

Because Choso’s huge.

Like, really, actually terrifyingly big. Thick. Heavy. Flushed tip already smearing against your lower stomach just from how it sits.

You glance down between your bodies. Then back up at him. “Holy shit,” you breathe. “That’s not… gonna fit.”

Choso groans, head falling back. “Please don’t say that,” he begs, voice wrecked. “I’m trying to be.. trying not to lose my control.”

You line yourself up anyway—slowly, carefully, shaking. He grips your waist. Not hard. Just enough to keep you steady. “Easy, baby,” he murmurs, breath fanning across your skin. “Take your time. Just the tip first.”

Just the tip burns. Splits you open in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

Choso moans. “F–fuck, you’re tight. You okay?”

You nod—but tears prick your eyes. Your hands scramble for his shoulders, holding on like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “I–it’s so big…”

“I know, I know,” he pants, brushing a thumb along your hip. “You’re doing so good. You’re so good for me, sweetheart. Just go slow, yeah?”

You sink a little deeper—inch by inch—and his jaw locks. The stretch is unbearable. He feels like he’s in your stomach. You swear you can feel his heartbeat from inside.

“I–I can’t—” “You can,” Choso says, firm now, eyes locked on you with a mix of worship and desperation. “You’re taking me so well. You were made for this.”

He groans when your hips drop lower. You’re not even all the way down yet. His hands are gripping the sheets now like if he moves he’ll break you in half.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel like heaven. You’re gonna ruin me.”

You finally bottom out—and freeze. Both of you are shaking. Your legs feel weak. You’re completely full. Stuffed to the brim.

Choso whimpers.

“You okay?” he whispers, hands stroking your thighs, your waist, your back—trying to soothe the ache. “Do you want me to move? Or—”

You roll your hips just a little, testing the friction, and Choso gasps.

“Holy—baby, don’t do that, I’m gonna fucking come—”

You do it again. And suddenly it’s too good to stop. The pain is still there, but it’s pulsing, rhythmic, drowned beneath the stretch and the friction and Choso’s voice in your ear telling you you’re perfect, that you’re his, that no one will ever fuck you like this again.

“I’m never letting you go,” he pants, arms wrapping around you, holding you tight as you start to bounce—slowly, shakily, but desperate. “You were made to ride me.”

You cry out his name, and Choso loses it—thrusting up hard just once, uncontrollably, and you both see stars.

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/N: i want him to impregnate me

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[dollyfetti]

deaf!bakugou likes to feel the vibrations of your body.

to paint a clear picture, he doesn’t have his hearing aids in, and you two are in resting in bed after a few rounds of making love (and consoling your fiancée when he started tearing up and signing about how he was fucking pissed he couldn’t hear you moaning his name)

the sun’s orange glow as it sets just outside your window beams a gorgeous light onto you both, glistening with sweat. it’s a comfortable few minutes before you remember a juicy story you’d overheard earlier that day, and you gently tap the space next to your lover (you didn’t have to though cuz he was already staring at you with cheesy adoration).

you slightly pull yourself away from his beefy chest to begin expressively signing your daily piece of gossip. you always speak out loud when you sign, even though you know he can’t hear you. and as you’re signing with speedily, facial expressions big and enthusiastic, katsuki’s eyes dart to your lips every two seconds, nostalgically remembering the sound of your gorgeous voice before the war.

he huffs, signing wait. you pause with confusion before he shuffles forward so two of his fingers could rest on your throat. he feels you swallow and a little grin writes itself upon his face. he gives you a tiny nod to continue. and he smiles at the heavy buzzing against his digits.

[nanaphrenia]

thinking about yuta seeing your pussy for the first time. ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱

bf!yuta who practically falls to his knees in front of you when you finally peel down those pretty pink panties and show him your wetness.

“g-god.. my baby, so pretty.” he’d murmur as he holds your thighs in his big hands, pressing wet and needy kisses to your ankles all the way up to your inner thighs.

he’d spread your folds with his fingers and practically groan as he sees you dripping, your cunt clenching around nothing. his gaze is searing, and you can feel him picking you apart. when you try to swat him away, his grip on your thighs will just grow tighter and he’d look up at you.

“stop.. ‘m admiring what’s mine..” he’d say with an adorable pout.

bf!yuta who begs you to let him eat you out, to let him make you feel good. and obviously, you can’t deny him for so long. not when he’s practically crying to give you pleasure.

his nervous tongue would lick a long stripe up your slit, and he’d close his eyes and moan as your taste and smell overwhelms his senses. “taste so good, baby..” he’d murmur before diving in and tracing his tongue around the rim of your hole, his nose bumping against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars.

you’d grip his hair tight and pull on the raven strands, trying to get him closer. he’d growl in an almost animalistic way, his tongue darting out to delve into your folds, wriggling inside of you as he scream and moan.

your sounds are music to his ears, and it’s hard to ignore the tightness of his pants and the pre leaking into his boxers. he’d grind his hips down onto the bed while making out with your pussy, long black lashes fluttering under his eyes.

bf!yuta who doesn’t stop tongue fucking you even after you come, your heels hitting against his back and you squirming and crying out in pleasure and pain, begging for mercy. he just can’t get enough of you.

“nnoo.. don’t pull away.. just one more, please babg? i promise just one more. wanna taste you.”

but one more turns into 2, and then 2 turns into 3 and the next thing you know he has you shaking and writhing beneath him, his long, slender fingers pounding into you, stroking your g-spot with each thrust while his tongue laps greedily at your clit.

his jaw and mouth had started hurting a while ago, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop. not when his gorgeous baby was feeling so good all because of him <3

©nanaphrenia on tumblr. do not repost to another platform or translate my works without permission.

[xiuminscheeks]

@englishbunnyrocks

Flowers at windows by Stefan Byrom

[nudjismo]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝅗𝅥 ❤︎ PNGS 𝅗𝅥 ⠀﹡  ֗  ۪ㅤ⠀

[kittycouch]

They did surgery on a pear