Falling Asleep On Winks

If it weren’t for you, I never would’ve survived my childhood.

Two minutes apart, absolutely beautiful site

— name a more concerned & supportive manager than poch❣️

Don’t ask me why but Ronaldo has and will always look like a wax work to me

John taking you into the club toilet to remind you and everyone else you are his on a night out because you are wearing a tight dress and every guy is staring at you...

you were dancing in the middle of the club, body looking amazing in that dress he loved but he wasn’t watching you. Drink in hand, leaning against the bar, he was watching every other man in the club watch you - and he was angry. He couldn’t blame them, you looked incredible and he knew that and usually he wouldn’t even mind, knowing you were his but with the excess alcohol coursing through his veins he couldn’t stop himself from striding into the middle of the crowd of sweaty bodies, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to the toilets. ‘John what are you-’ and his moth was on yours immediately, guiding you towards the sink. ‘Jump’ was whispered across your face as he made his way to your neck, hands on your hips, pushing up your dress, grip so tight he’d leave bruises. And he uses his fingers to give you pleasure, kissing down your neck, your moans engulfing the dimly lit club toilets sporadically in contrast to the rhythmic movements of his hands. And it’s all about you, not him. He’s showing everyone you’re his - ‘moan for me, baby’ - and he’s holding you close as you reach orgasm, collecting your moans in his mouth, and pulling your dress down again. ‘Now go show everyone that body again, love, now that it’s been marked as mine’ and you slap his shoulder as you notice the marks on your neck in the dirty mirror.

john stones + bernardo silva

do a drunk stonesy one x

and he’s getting handsy at the bar, you and him celebrating with Bernardo after winning the title again. His hands are firm on your waist as he leans from behind you to order two new drinks, nibbling on your ear as you both wait. And you’re laughing at him and his glassy eyes and wandering hands, wide smile plastered over his face and eyes alight with love and triumph as he stumbles forward to retrieve your drinks, pulling you behind him to the table. And it’s a night of laughing so much you’re cheeks hurt by the end of it, John drunkingly dancing about - fortnite dances to your dismay - occasionally tugging you up with him and sloppily kissing your neck.

hi can you write some angry smutty stonesy please xx

Always, anon x

and it’s after a game they should have won but didn’t, a game in which the refs decisions were clearly biased, a game in which John was obviously getting frustrated. So when he came to your house after the game and not his, you weren’t surprised. And when he roughly kissed you as soon as you opened the door you weren’t surprised: you’d been anticipating it. You weren’t shocked when he didn’t guide you to your bedroom but instead sat you on the windowsill, roughly pushing down your leggings as he kissed down your neck. He captured your moans in his mouth, working you with his fingers roughly and fast as you moaned his name into the room. He pushed himself inside you with a growl, one hand roughly on your hip - that’ll bruise - and the other leaving an imprint on the fogged up window. With each thrust he buried himself further inside you, your moans being collected by the air now as his mouth was busy biting and kissing your neck, your hands tugging at his hair. And you both gave into the ecstasy one after the other, his grip tightening on your hips. Then leans in with a cheekily smile, ‘I’m still mad at that ref, baby. Round two?’

Do you write for Dele?x

I do yes!