Hey Just Checking That My Asks Are Going Through Sorry Xx

Dear trauma survivors,

It doesn’t matter that somebody else ‘had it worse’.

You deserved to have it better.

Trying swimsuits infront of T?

‘What about this one’ you’re saying, giving a spin and watching his eyes drink you all in as they slowly skirt up and down. ‘Beautiful, love.’ And you’re sighing slightly as you throw him a smile - of course you appreciate it so much but god he’s been saying that about every one and you just want to know which is the best one to buy. So you’re turning around, strutting back into the changing room to change into a final one when he’s appearing behind you, arms sliding around your waist and head in your neck. ‘The red one. Get the red one, love’ is huskily whispered into your neck: ‘now let’s go home and try taking off some clothes’

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.

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like/credits

Okay but dating jordan pickford and you're seeing that video emerge of him fighting and immediately you're worried but he ain't answering your calls and when he finally does he's absolutely fuming ?

Oh my conflicted Newcastle heart x (also if what they said to his girlfriend is true then our boy was rightfully angry. Incredibly stupid though)

so you see it on Twitter, it being on your timeline and you’re scared he’s hurt, scared he’s not going to be alright so you do what any girlfriend would do and call him. And it rings out and you think of how he needs to learn to control his temper because you always told him it would get him in to trouble. And you ring again and think about how it looked violent. And you ring again and think about how he could be hurt. And you ring again and think about how he could’ve gotten arrested. What if he gets kicked off the starting team? Or out of Everton? Or the England squad? And you know you’re overthinking it but could it’s so hard not t- ‘yeah, I’m here’. And you’re so happy he’s answered because at least this means he’s okay. You think. And you’re unsure of which of your worries to express first so you ask if he’s okay and he barely answers, haggered breathing down the line and you know he’s angry and you know you have to calm him down. And he’s suddenly shouting about how they insulted you, called you fat and ugly and worse words and your heart flutters a bit that he’d protect you but my god was he stupid. And you’re shushing him down the phone, whispering about how much you love him and how stupid they were. you know now isn’t the time to scold him for what he did - you’ll do that later - but it is the time for love and understanding and you just want him to be okay and he is when he hears your voice softly telling him to calm down and you love him and now he just can’t wait to get home. So after many assurances that he’s okay he promises to come home ‘provided there’s a brew waiting of course’ and you laugh at him as he hangs up, going to make that tea.

Ayoze Pérez you beautiful man

more smutty stonesy please !! Your amazing love x

aww thank you anon, it’s a longer one x

Running around a football pitch for ninety minutes can be tiring, a fact you came to know because of the aftermath of John’s matches - him falling exhausted into bed the minute he got home, regardless of if you were there or not. So, as much as you loved watching your man run about for ninety minutes, goal line clearances left and right, you relished the games he was a sub or he didn’t play - you loved a riled up John wanting to blow of steam. So when he pulled you hurriedly to his car after the game, hair wet from his post-game shower and adrenaline coursing through his veins from the 20 minutes he played, you didn’t resist one bit, your own car left forgotten. And he drove hurdily through the streets, navigating his way back to his house and you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation, glancing over at John, who’s eyes were firmly fixed in the road. And then you decided to have some fun. It started off innocent. A small brush over his thigh, smirking to yourself at his tightening hands on the steering wheel. And you moved up and across, fingers skimming his bulge, hands on the steering wheel going white, smirk on your face growing as you pushed down his joggers, palming him through his underwear. His moan filled the quiet car and it was enough to get you to place your mouth around him in a state of passion, engulfing his entirety immediately, wanting to waste no time, and he squirmed beneath you, growling into the air, foot letting up on the gas pedal, as you gained rhythm. One white knuckle off the wheel, into your hair, pushing and pulling your head how he wants, and it was lustful and passionate and interrupted by the loud honking of a car horn behind you. And you jumped up in shock, John practically having stopped in the road, and you laughed to yourself as John hurriedly collected himself and drove on, definitely breaking the speed limit and both squirming at the thought of the rest of the night - and it’ll be a long one.

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like ou c @futebolou

Basically I’m Gay