"when you can tell the smut was written by a virgin" shut UP those 12 year olds with traumatic childhoods that dont properly speak english are the founding fathers of fanfiction
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You awake to a hand gently shaking your shoulder as you rub the sleep out of your eyes to reveal the youngest Gallagher boy standing at your side of you and Lip’s shared bed who right now has you possessively wrapped against his chest. You look at the clock; 4:05 am
“Liam?” your voice was still hoarse from fatigue, “Is everything okay?”
“Uh, yeah… it’s just..” Liam scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. He knew he was nine years old now, much too young to ask in such childish ways, but dammit he had had a nightmare, and there was nothing he wanted more than the comfort of his big brother and his ‘might-as-well-be sister.’ If he was honest though, he was mostly in search of you. From the moment you had stepped into his life, the two of you had shared a bond- a clear understanding of one another. You gave him a soft smile, and he knew by that small gesture alone that he didn’t need to explain himself.
You slowly reached for your boyfriend’s arms that were snuggly wrapped around your waist and eased your way out of his hold.
“Mmmm, stay still.” Lip protested sleepily, his eyes still closed, though his brows furrowed with slight irritation.
You pressed a kiss against his forehead, “Liam wants to come in.” Lip opened an eye to see his baby brother and sighed patting the middle of the mattress. Liam didn’t need to be told twice as he crawled in between the two of you, curling up to your side to which your arms responded by immediately wrapping themselves around the smaller boy.
“Yo, easy there.” Lip reached out for your pinkie finger with a larger one. His plans of cuddling may have been foiled, but at least he had something to hold onto. “I don’t need you stealing my girl.” Liam playfully rolled his eyes as he cuddled deeper against your side.
“Don’t have to, I’m already her favorite.”
You giggle as you wrap your arms tighter around Liam as his eyes begin to droop. You snuggle deeper into your pillow, your amazing boyfriend on the other side of the bed, arm stretched out to run his fingers through your hair and your honorary brother tucked into your side.
“Hmmm, two Gallagher boys fighting over me? I’m flattered!” Lip reached over to pinch your cheek,
“I’ll show you who your favorite is when we get in the shower tomorrow morning.”
Girl, Thinking about reader loving a cowgirl w Lip...
oh my god yes ! anyways cw for smut & kinda switch!lip
lip gallagher is a cocky bastard, but not a picky one. any position where he can see your face contort in pleasure, beads of sweat decorating your face, and jaw go ever-so-slightly slack - because of him - would make him happy.
you could be straddled on top of him, legs on either side, holding in place, palms flat on his toned body, and he’d still take his time in admiring you in all your beauty
he’s not much of a talker - that’s the effect of growing up with 5 siblings, any of whom could walk in at any moment - so the only sounds reverberating off the two of you are the vulgar noises of skin slapping skin; and dazed moans and sighs, that gradually increase in volume, as you both get close to your breaking point
“jesus f’ck,” lip murmurs, struggling to form his words, as another moan slips out of him, “look at you— look at what y’do to me”
and when you do reach that breaking point, the piercing cry you let out is nothing short of carnal; beads of sweat are sliding down your body; and your eyes are glossy with tears as your breath tries to steady itself.
lip loves seeing you like this, loves knowing that it’s him and only him who gets you like this. he is a cocky bastard, after alll.
could i maybe get Carl Gallagher and this prompt after they yk.. “ i can’t find my shirt. ”
title; make it up to you (Carl Gallagher x fem!reader)
prompts; "i can’t find my shirt” — from morning after starters
warnings; fwb arrangements, written as them in their 20s, reader has feelings/wants more than just sex, morning after, allusions to oral, minors do not interact!!! (381 words)
a/n; to say tumblr ate this the first time (so if there is another of this, then that's the original)
one year masterlist | main masterlist
— thank you for celebrating my one year!!! | submissions are now closed
you’d spent the night with Carl, the usual on and off again, making its return in the form of sex.
it wasn’t as if you minded, the sex with Carl was always great, you just wanted a little more than just sex.
but like usual, the sun peaking through his curtains was your sign to leave.
with a reluctant sigh, you climbed out of his bed, rousing him from your movements. Carl lay against his headboard, leaning back on his elbows as he watched you move around the room.
his gaze was always appreciative, watching the way you carried yourself, even in the rush to get dressed and out the door before anyone else in the house seen you.
it was frustrating, the mad dash to get dressed, especially when Carl was always so eager to get you out of your clothes, leaving them scattered around his room with no easy way of finding them again.
“i can’t find my shirt”
you murmured, looking through the discarded clothes around his room.
Carl chuckled from his spot on the bed, making you turn to face him, a smirk plastered firmly on his face.
“and these”
in his hand he held your panties, the lace hanging from his pointer finger, his smirk turning teasing.
“Carl!”
you moved towards him, snatching your underwear back while he chuckled.
as you turned to move away from him, he caught your wrist, tugging you back to him with that smirk you knew all too well.
“c’mon, come back to bed”
he gave you his best pleading look, all but pouting at you to stay.
“i’ll make it up to you”
Carl gave a wag of his eyebrows, the innuendo thick in his words as he pulled you even closer.
little by little he was breaking down your resolve, and you knew you couldn’t say no.
“you owe me”
he hummed, tugging you back down and into bed before settling above you, stealing a kiss that he whispered into.
“oh baby, i’m more than making it up to you”
with that, Carl trailed his kisses lower, lavishing attention to your boobs before continuing his decent.
when he settled between your legs, eyeing your cunt like a man starved, you just knew you were in for a long morning.
not in how he talks, not in how he works, not in how he conducts himself. but with you? he handles you like you’re fine china that could break from a harsh swipe of a finger.
the level of sensitivity he feels for you- it scares him. he’s lived a life requiring self preservation, having a protective wall up at all times. one look from you, and that wall gets broken down like a hit from a sledgehammer. a defensive man left defenseless.
he fought it at first. tried ignoring you, distracting himself with anything he could find. but you entered his mind over and over again, engrained into his psyche like a parasite. he wanted to hate you for it- but who could hate you?
the first time he kissed you, he held himself back, using a level of softness previously unfathomable to him. with other girls he was typically rough, commanding. but with you? he knew he was undeserving of the saccharine taste of your mouth, and conducted himself as such.
even now, his internal conflict still arises; he’s still terrified his bitter nature will eventually drown out your sweetness, but he can’t stop himself from drowning in you, his own designer drug. with time, he’s learned that you can handle him at his roughest- but even as his course hands press into you, he praises you like you’re an angel on earth, one he’s always undeserving of. one that he is always in disbelief that somehow, he has as his own.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hi! Could you write a fanfic where Carl is in his "white boy carl" phase and has that attitude all the time, but since he knows you don't like it, he loses it when you're alone?
link to my masterlist <33
it starts out when you two first get together, you grew up on the same block as one of his boys. so when carl expressed he was looking for a girlfriend he hooked you guys up. not literally of course, you kept a strict program. there was one day, you guys were around 2 weeks of being serious, he came over to your house while your parents were gone. you two sat on your bed for a bit, talking about random stuff until you started arguing. it was some silly little thing — about a movie or a game — but he got so aggressive. you instantly shut him down and let him know you did not play that.
“if you want me as your girl you gotta act like it, im not one of your little friends”. carl got kind of scared when you told it to him straight. and a little turned on to be honest. but ofcourse he listened, because he could tell you cared about him. he only calls you babe, baby, or mama (mommy if your feeling fiesty). anything else and he gets ignored for a week. no jokes. you sort of reminded him of v, and he remembered laughing at how she walked kev around but now he understands, truly. now whenever you’re hanging out, he talks to you sweetly and softly. he drops the act completely and is just his own geeky self. when he gets a phone call in the middle of a date, you hear his ‘gangsta’ and break out laughing. he pouts after, hugging up on you in the comfort of your home with his sadness.
“cmon baby, you gotta take me serious”
“its hard to when you sound like that carl! its so fake”
cw: implied childhood trauma, thoughts about committing murder
The door slams shut, the sound ringing loudly through the apartment and he flinches. For a moment, he's back in that wretched house, anger clouding his parents' eyes as they strike and strike.
The next moment, he sees you furiously wiping your face, tears of anger wetting your cheeks. Immediately, he jumps from the couch he's sprawled on, meeting you halfway in a bone crushing hug.
"Shh, 's okay, 'm right here my sweet one," he cooes, rubbing your back as you fist the fabric of his shirt angrily in your hands.
"She's so fucking mean," you sob bitterly, and he swears that whoever this person is, they will be laying six feet under soon enough.
You stand in the middle of the living room for a few more minutes, your sobs slowly dying down while his voice fills the silence, whispering sweet nothings and words of comfort.
Finally, you let go of him just enough to look at his face, eyes swollen and eyelashes wet from all the crying.
"I'm sorry for slamming the door," you croak, guilt evident in your wobbly lips and hoarse voice.
"Apology accepted," he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead with a small smile.
"How about you go change, I'll make us some snacks and then you can bitch all about what's making you mad over some chick-flicks and off brand sweets?" The prospect of a good venting session in your comfy lounge wear significantly boosts your mood, your entire body just about melting against him.
You grab him by the scruff of his neck, pulling him into a quick yet intense kiss that is tinged with the taste of your salty tears, sighing dreamily against him.
"I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm so grateful you're mine." You declare, finally untangling yourself from his embrace to disappear into your bedroom.
He looks after you fondly, staring at the shut door for a few moments before busying himself with the snack mission, humming the entire time, his mind on track to maximize the comfort you'll be receiving.
For the rest of the night, he holds you and lets you rant all you want, matching your energy at every step and thinks to himself that this must be the life, this is what makes all the years of hardships and pain really worth it.
Hi hi! You could write a fanfic where Carl is in this "white boy carl" phase and, since you don't like his new attitude, you decide to break up with him, and he asks you not to leave him, saying that in private he can be your Carl again.
“Y/N…cmon. Don’t be like that!” Carl argued as you walked into his bedroom, grabbing your stuff. Even the house had seemed different. Everything had changed in so little time, it made your head spin. You were grabbing anything of yours you could find, shoving it into your bag.
I couldn’t help but be pissed. You had every right to be. “No. No. You don’t get to do this to me.” You say to him, turning back to look at him. His cornrows looked a mess, they needed to be taken out. “This whole,” You pointed at him and looked him up and down. “Act, needs to quit.”
You looked at him as if he was someone new. You didn’t like this whole drug dealer, gang member act. You just wanted that awkward, a little pervy Carl back. Not this wannabe. “Get your shit figured out.” You say, grabbing one more thing.
You turn to your door, yet was stopped as he stood in front of you. “Wait, wait,” You could hear it, the slight change in his voice. The Carl you knew. “I…I’ll stop. Around you.” He said quietly, as if afraid of anyone else hearing. “I can be who you want me to be. I can be…just don’t go.”
He begged, looking at you. His eyes seemed soft, like he was truly trying to get to you. And your heart seemed to ache seeing him all sad. You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking for a moment. “You get those cornrows out, come over.”
You tell him, turning around to leave. As you left, you could see that small smile on his face. You were giving him a chance, he still had a way to fix everything.
