Trying Swimsuits Infront Of T?

John asking you look after his daughter by yourself for the first time as he was ment to have her coz Mille is going on a girls weekend but he’s been called into training for a extra teasing sesh and he doesn’t want to let them down

And you’re petrified, expressing your concerns at how you’re even going to manage - ‘what do you mean, I’ve never looked after her by myself before, John, how am I meant to do that?!’ - and he’s having to reassure you you’ll be fine, because he knows you will be - ‘You’ll do fine, love, you’re great with her when you’re with me, it’s exactly the same’ and you’re questions whether Millie is fine with this because you wouldn’t want to upset her and of course she is, John said she trusts you to do it and he’s looking at you with pleading eyes, saying he wouldn’t leave you alone with her if he had another option, because he knows you’re apprehensive and you’re giving in because how could you let him down. And you’re having the best day with her, and he’s coming back to you with her sat on your lap at the kitchen table, finger painting flowers, and she’s giggling at everything you say and he adores the sight.

Any ideas for a multi-chapter story?

The John Stones that played against Panama in the World Cup is the John Stones I want ok.

He always looks sad, Harry Kane.

can we please get John eating you out... especially with that stubble 😍😍

that stubble my god

and he’s kissing up your thighs, nearing where you want him, stubble scratching at your skin as you lace your fingers through his hair, trying to pull him to the place he’s needed. And he’s smirking against your skin as his blue eyes connect straight with yours, head immediately dipping, licking and sucking on your clit, and you’re moaning, head thrown back in pleasure.

HUBBY ON POINT

Can you write something about John showing you off on social media whenever you hit a milestone in your career and he's always posting photos of you talking about how proud of you he is

he barely uses Instagram, but you can bet everytime you achieve even the smallest thing there’s a story of you both celebrating it, nothing direct or big - John’s not about that - it’s just a subtle show of how proud he is of you. And in interviews it’s always ‘the missus is good at that’, ‘yeah, my missus is incredible’, ‘it’s nice that both me and her can achieve by ourselves and be so supportive of each other’. And everyone finds it adorable, the lads find it annoying, and you feel lavished in love always.

imagine if the avengers had actually discussed the plan for more than an hour, and found out from nebula that you have to sacrifice what you love most to get the soul stone (basically a soul for a soul), and steve volunteered himself for the mission. face to face with the red skull, he’s asked if he’s willing to make the sacrifice, to lose what’s important to him. steve replies, “go ahead and try. i’ve already lost everything else.” after its done, steve just laughs and says, “that’s all?”

& steve makes it back alive with the stone. he makes it back to the avengers compound. they don’t recognize him at first, but once they see past the change in structure and size, its obvious. they ask what happened, and he replies “a soul for a soul”. he gave up captain america, let him go once and for all, and that was enough.  

Finished all my exams, so I can get back to writing!

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.