May 27
For those interested (and 18+), I do have more artwork over ink Bsky and Twitter @NilOhNo - here’s a preview🤍
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For those interested (and 18+), I do have more artwork over ink Bsky and Twitter @NilOhNo - here’s a preview🤍
Summer Indulgance
A Harry Castillo Fan Fic
How dare he look this good. Like how dare he however it got the creative writing juices flowing. So here we are with a new fic for Harry
Synopsis:- Harry takes you away to paradise for a spontaneous holiday but unfortunately work is taking his attention away from you, so you need to remind him of why he is here.
Word count:-2900
Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV swc, oral sex, cowgirl, teasing, swearing, spoiling, teasing, jealousy, over indulgence. If you read my Harry fics at Christmas this could be an earlier chapter to it.
Thanks for reading peoples. It’s always appreciated
JOHN BERNTHAL P!LINKS
must be logged into Twitter/X
𑣲 - he fuck’s me so hard after a long day at work
𑣲 - i love how he makes me squirt
𑣲 - he love’s fingering me
𑣲 - riding his sexy face
𑣲 - face fucking me in the car
𑣲 - missionary is our favorite
𑣲 - thumb in butt
𑣲 - just the tip
N - something small for my John Berntal girlies 💋.
i'm very high and sleepy. can barely even keep my eyes open. would be a shame if someone groped me in my sleep. maybe even feeling how wet I get and watching my tdick get bigger. sticking a couple fingers in and seeing how far they can go before I wake up?
anyways, good night <3
₊˚⊹⋆SECOND CHANCES₊˚⊹⋆
CAMERON!CADE X READER
18+. Explicit rough sex, possessive talk, very detailed smut
After Cam and his girl break up over a photo, he can’t function and shows up at her door.
The rain was coming down in sheets, the kind that made the whole city feel like it was crying with him. Cameron stood on her doorstep in a soaked black hoodie clinging to every cut of his chest and arms, buzz cut dripping, eyes bloodshot from too many sleepless nights and too much Henny trying to fill the hole she left. In one hand he clutched a bouquet of blush-pink roses wrapped in brown paper her exact favorite shade, The petals were soaked, but he didn’t give a damn. He’d driven through the storm just to have something in his hands that proved he still remembered every little thing about her.
Three weeks. Twenty-one nights of pure torture since that picture from the club blew everything up. One drunk half-second, one stranger’s hand on his waist, one flash that cost him the only woman he’d ever truly loved.
He knocked like a man possessed.
The door cracked open.
And there she was.
Wrapped in a black lace short nightgown that looked like lingerie. The hem barely kissed mid-thigh, sheer panels showing off the curve of her hips, nipples just barely hidden behind delicate floral patterns. hair wild and frizzy from tossing in her sleep, one strap sliding off her shoulder, eyes narrowed into slits.
She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed under her chest, pushing everything up like a threat.
“Cameron Amir Cade,” she drawled, thick in every syllable, “you got some big-ass balls showing up here at two in the morning looking like a wet dog holding flowers like that’s supposed to erase the fact you had some girl all up on you .
He swallowed rainwater and pride.
“These are for you,” he said, voice rough, holding out the soaked roses like a peace offering. “I know you hate when they get wet, but I couldn’t come empty-handed.”
She stared at the roses, then at him, mean-mugging so hard her lip curled.
“Clock starts now Cameron “
She spun, nightgown swishing against her thighs as she spun on her bare feet.
He followed, shutting the door, dripping all over her hardwood floor.
The apartment smelled like her peach candles half-burned, vanilla-brown-sugar body butter, faint weed smoke. The living room was evidence fuzzy blanket balled up on the couch, empty Häagen-Dazs with the spoon still in it, his hoodie draped over the armrest like she couldn’t decide whether to burn it or sleep in it.
She flopped onto the couch, legs tucked, nightgown riding high.
“Talk.”
Cam peeled off the soaked hoodie, white beater clinging to every muscle, and dropped to his knees in front of her, laying the roses gently on the coffee table.
“I smiled for half a second because I was drunk and stupid and didn’t see the phone. I pushed her off right after. I swear on my life, on my mama, on these roses—nothing happened. But I know that don’t fix how it made you feel. And I hate myself for that more than you hate me right now.”
She sucked her teeth, looked away, arms folded tight.
“You looked real comfortable letting her touch what’s mine, Cam.”
“You are mine,” he said instantly, voice cracking. “And I’m yours. That’s never changed. Not for one second.”
“You don’t get to claim me after you let the whole internet think you were single and you didnt even attempt to clear it up.”
He reached for her hands; this time she let him take them, even if her grip was ice.
“I’m on my knees, baby. I haven’t slept, haven’t eaten right, haven’t smiled for real since you left. I’m sick without you. Literally sick.”
Her lip trembled, but she bit it bloody.
He brought her hands to his mouth, kissed her knuckles like they were sacred.
“ I see you everywhere. In my passenger seat. In my bed. On my lock screen. I’m lost without you.”
She broke then—ugly, angry tears, launching herself at him. He caught her mid-air, roses forgotten, her legs wrapping his waist, nightgown riding all the way up as she kissed him like punishment and forgiveness at once. He kissed back like a drowning man finally getting air, hands sliding under lace, gripping her ass hard enough to leave prints.
She ripped his beater off, nails raking down his chest.
“ fuck me like you miss me,” she hissed against his lips.
He growled, carried her to the bedroom, kicked the door shut so hard it rattled.
Clothes hit the floor in a trail his beater, his sweats , her nightgown torn clean off because patience was dead tonight.
He threw her on the bed, climbed over her, eyes black with need.
“Spread your legs. Let me see what I’ve been missing.”
She did—slow, defiant, lace scraps still clinging to one wrist.
He dove in lmouth on her before she could blink, licking slow, filthy stripes, sucking her clit until her thighs shook around his ears. She screamed, back bowing, hands fisting the sheets.
He didn’t stop until she came on his tongue twice.
Then he flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up, spread her open with both thumbs.
Watched his cum from the first round drip slow and thick out of her.
Dragged his tongue through the mess, licking it all up, pushing it back inside her with his tongue, over and over until she was sobbing into the pillow, begging.
When he finally came up for air, lips glossy, chin dripping, he flipped her again, folded her in half knees to her shoulders and slid in raw with one brutal thrust that punched the air out of both of them.
“Look at me,” he demanded, hand gentle around her throat, thumb stroking her pulse.
She locked eyes with him, tears streaking her temples, mascara ruined.
He fucked her slow at firstlong, deep strokes that dragged against every nerve, grinding when he was balls-deep so she felt every inch owning her.
“I missed this so much,” he whispered, voice breaking, kissing her sloppy. “Missed how you clench when I say your name. Missed how you cry for me. Missed you—fuck—missed you every second.”
She was crying harder now, nails carving half-moons into his back.
He sped up—hard, punishing, bed slamming the wall, her moans turning into broken sobs.
He reached down, thumb on her clit, rubbing tight circles while he pounded into her.
“Come for me again, baby. I need to feel you take everything I got.”
She shattered squirting so hard it soaked his stomach, the sheets, the mattress. He growled, pace stuttering, then slammed deep and came with her—ropes and ropes, pulsing inside her, filling her so full it leaked out around him while he was still coming.
He collapsed, still inside her, arms sliding under her to crush her against his chest.
Kissed every tear off her face.
“I love you,” he rasped into her skin. “I love you so much it scares me. Never again. Never.”
She wrapped her legs tighter, keeping him buried, voice wrecked and soft.
“I love you too, fool. But if you ever make me cry like that again, you’re disqualified from my program.”
He laughed, shaky and wet, kissed her slow.
“Understood, ma’am.”
He finally pulled out, both of them hissing, then watched his cum spill out of her.
Immediately pushed three fingers back in, plugging her, curling slow.
“You keep that inside you tonight,” he murmured, kissing her deep. “So you wake up tomorrow still full of me.”
She moaned into his mouth, nodding, legs still trembling around his wrist.
They fell asleep like that his fingers inside her, her arms and legs locked around him, pink roses on the nightstand watching over them, rain finally quiet outside.
Okay, since they asked me...
The final whistle hit like a punch straight to the chest: England had lost the final against Argentina. He stood frozen for a few seconds, watching the opponents celebrate while his teammates crumbled around him. He walked aimlessly, not lifting his eyes from the pitch, his jersey soaked through and his gaze distant and empty. He didn’t see the cameras, didn’t hear the shouts… he was only looking for you.
You were waiting right at the edge of the tunnel, eyes filled with tears for him, caring about absolutely nothing else in that moment but how he felt. The second he saw you, all the strength he’d been forcing himself to hold up collapsed at once. He ran the last few metres and buried himself in your arms, pressing his face into your shoulder, trembling uncontrollably.
—We lost it… I failed… —he whispered, his voice broken, holding you so tight it almost hurt, as if he was afraid to let go and lose you too.
You held him with all your strength, running your fingers through his damp hair and pressing soft kisses to his temple.
—Don’t say that, my love. You gave everything, right until your last breath. I’m here, with you, no matter what happens. You’re not alone, Jude.
He stayed there for a long time, not caring who was watching. With you he didn’t have to pretend to be the strong player or set an example: he could just be himself, letting himself hurt and finding comfort in you.
When he finally had to pull away for the interviews, he gripped your hand as hard as he could before letting go, as if taking a piece of your warmth with him to get through it. He stood tall, but his voice still shook a little as he spoke. He said what he had to say, thanked everyone, and accepted the result… but his eyes kept finding yours again and again through the crowd. The second he finished, he didn’t stop to talk to anyone else: he came back to you in silence and squeezed your hand once more, no words needed, so you knew you were still his only safe place.
Back at the hotel, he knew it was all over: the World Cup, the dream he’d chased since he was a little boy… but he also realised all that weight and stress that had consumed him match after match was finally lifting.
—My love… are you okay? —you step closer and wrap your arms around him from behind.
He stays perfectly still for a few seconds, not moving or saying a word. Then he turns around slowly, looks you deep in the eyes, and kisses you with all the passion and everything he’d held back all night.
The kiss stretched on, slow and tender, as if you both needed to wash away all the pain of the night and remember what truly mattered. His hands moved gently over your back, pulling you close against him as if he wanted to merge with you. You pulled back just a little, only to look him in the eyes, and brushed your thumb softly over his cheek.
"I want to show you that you are the best there is… and you always will be, in every single way. Let me remind you of that, okay? Will you let me?"
NSFW ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙
christmas morning devotion ❅*
ship: husband! clark kent x wife! f! reader (established relationship, marriage)
content warnings: (sfw) implied past implied past sexual intimacy, soft, non-explicit, past tense, emotional intensity, love, devotion, awe, quiet tears, minor domestic accidents burnt hand, flour— very mild, pregnancy & pregnancy reveal
word count: 2.5k
author's note: merry x-mas, loves! 🎄💛
happy finale day of kinkmas 2025! i’m so sorry for the delay in posting today—i got completely sucked into the stranger things finale and, well… time got away from me. but here we are, and i wanted to make sure this last piece was extra special for you.
now playing: last christmas (pudding mix) by wham! ❅*
(photo credits to pinterest and editing and colouring by me)
the morning started before the sun. the snow had fallen overnight, thick, white steady flakes that blanketed the world in white. softening every noise and turning the small kansas town into something dreamy and untouched. in the early dawn, your bedroom still belonged to the shadows. a faint spill of pale blue filtered through the curtains.