Paul Dummett, Fabian Schär, Martin Dúbravka, Bernardo Silva and John Stones are my loves
223 posts
Latest Posts by stonseymylove - Page 7
How old are you? ❤️
Ooo my first actual question ask!
I’m always interested in knowing people’s ages to see if they seem the age they actually are!
And I’m 17 x
goalies with shit defenders are braver than any us marine and deserve financial compensation
HES ALIVE AND LOOKING FINE AS HELL
Okay but can you write something about John calling you the missus for the first time? Like say you're out with the England lads and he's just goes "right boys, I'll see you soon, gotta get the missus home she's falling asleep"
John Stones saying missus. You’re killing me
He spent all day trying to convince you to come out with them, ‘come on, love, get glammed up, it’ll be fun’ and of course you couldn’t resist his northern charms so you did just that. And John almost decided against going out when he saw you in that outfit - ‘you’re killing me, love’ - but you laughed and pulled him behind you, down to meet the lads and their girlfriends and going wherever they take you. And you have a great time like John promised, dancing with him, laughing with the lads, gossiping with the girls and it’s not long before you’re collapsing into the booth, head on John’s shoulder, eyes falling shut and he’s smiling down at you, announcing, ‘right boys, I’ll see you soon. Got to get the missus home, she’s falling asleep on me’ with a laugh. But even in your almost asleep state you picked up on it, him calling you that name in front of all the lads, full of love. And you make a mental note to remind him to say that again after you’ve slept. Which you did, and he called you it everyday after, over and over and it did things to you everytime. It had seemed impossible for anything to top ‘love’ in that Barnsley accent, but, god, it’s just completely been obliterated.
Harry Winks. Dele comes over to spend time with Harry and Harry's girlfriend. When she was reaching for something from kitchen cupboard Dele saw bruises uppon her hips and he teases Harry.
‘What’s that on your hip?’ is the question that ruins Harry’s day. The second your shirt lifted up and dele got a closer look at them bruises the smirk that emerged upon his face made both you and Harry burn bright with redness, dele immediately taking that as an answer to his unasked question: you and Harry got a bit rough. ‘So you’re telling me, Harry gave you them? Puppy eyes over there.’ And you wanted to say how even though Harry plays all innocent he definitely wasn’t, he loved to roughly grab you in bed (and out of bed. Wherever it happened to take place), but instead you just stood and listened to dele’s comments: ‘didn’t know you were into that Harry’, ‘at least you’re getting some’. And of course dele laughed and of course he told every person in the Spurs dressing room and of course they all teased Harry too - ‘didn’t know he had it in him’ - but god was the sex good.
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?’
Idea for imagine (player: Federico Bernardeschi) : him coming dead tired from training(or match) and his girlfriend giving him massage. If you want you can make it smutty. I'll be glad if you would haha.
he’s flinging himself on the sofa, hair still wet from the post-training shower and immediately pushing himself into your side, mumbling about his calf hurting. You know it must be fine: it would’ve been checked over and dealt with at training if there was a problem but you wanted to make him feel better anyway, so you got up, motioned him to lie flat on his back and sat on the arm of the chair, getting to work on his calf. Small moans would escape his mouth as you hit the right spots on his muscle and if you were being honest it was doing things to you, so you did what any woman in the company of a good looking Italian would do: forgot about his injury and let him take care of you.
this bitch here recorded the whole thing
Didn’t even play badly, just gave away a stupid penalty like always with the stupid mistakes and I fucking hate Newcastle
Hey can you write fight imagine with Harry Winks. Summary: He accidentally ruins girlfriend's Louboutin heels (for which she worked hard and saved her money). And him coldly saying to her ''So what now, I'll buy you new ones.''. When he said that it took her by surprise because he is humble and usually he doesn't act like rich snob like most of footballers do. In the end they make up. You can change some things if you want in imagine.
You don’t even know how he managed it but he did, a heel off your favourite - very expensive - pair of shoes and it hurts because you saved for them, you bought them with your own hard earned money and it’s not like you have a lot to throw away. So when you complained at Harry about how he ‘should’ve been more careful - how did you even manage this?!’, the last thing you expected was a throwaway ‘So what, I’ll buy you new ones’. Because Harry wasn’t like that. Harry was down to earth, and humble - rarely showing off his wealth in anyway. Sure you knew he had it but he was rarely so flippant about it, knowing you earned less, knowing things you saved up for meant something to you because of it, in a different way to what they’d mean to him. And that’s how you ended up in a big argument. You screaming at him - ‘oh yeah because you have all the money in the fucking world’ - him screaming at you - ‘right sorry I was just trying to fix it didn’t think you’d get so sensitive about it’ - and you walking out. After a couple hours - enough time for both of you to calm down - you return, apologies in hand, explaining how it just meant a lot to you and he’s saying he knows and he’s sorry he was so flippant with it, and you couldn’t resist those puppy dog eyes so you let him pull you in for a hug - ‘When you buy a new pair, babe, I’ll take you out someplace nice’ mumbled into your hair.
Mr too cool for the camera.
The thing is if spurs aren’t gonna win the league I want city to win the league but on the other hand Jordan Henderson scored and it means so much to him and he wanted it so much and he was so happy so I’m happy.
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.
smut!! (for anyone🤪)
I decided to leave it nameless so it can be with anyone. also not 100% happy with this one but it needed done x
So you’re in a club, he took you, you didn’t particularly want to go but he begged and so you put on your finest outfit, looking absolutely stunning because if he’s making you go you’re going to make him wish he’d have you in private. And it has the desired effect, him putting his hands on you the moment he sees you, you swatting away his hands and insisting you need to get going, smirking as you walk off. And he’s distracted all night, hands on you if you’re close enough, eyes on you if you’re not, all his mates smirking and winking at him and it’s 11 when he decides fuck it, and takes you home with the announcement ‘got to tend to the missus, lads’. And he’s all over you in the taxi home, hands up your dress, caressing your thigh, dress too tight to your skin for him to get any further up but god he loves that dress. Then when you’re in the house he’s pulling you to the sofa, not even bothering with the bedroom, unzipping your dress and staring at you in awe, muttering how beautiful you are. So he lifts you firmly by your hips, legs hooking around his waist, his hands grabbing your arse, tongue in your mouth and you’re moaning his name as he slips inside you, creating a steady rhythm, his breath staggering from holding you up, so he puts you on the counter and continues. And it’s sensual and lustful all at once, his groans and your moans mixing together in the late night silence. His pace slowing as he reaches his high, and he pulls out, finishing you off with his hand, moving it against you, kissing down your neck as he goes. After you finish you stay still a while, heads resting together, collecting yourselves and smiling.
okay being in a relationship with John but you had a huge fight and drifted apart and haven’t had much contact for weeks but one day you decided to show up to his game wearing a jersey with his name on it and the cameraman randomly shows you on the screen and John sees it during the game and is all distracted and gets subbed off and as soon as he leaves the pitch he texts you to meet him after the game
I actually really liked this idea, anon
so you hadn’t spoken to John in weeks, but it was a big derby match and you’d be damned if you missed it because of him, so you got ready, throwing on your Man City jersey and go to the game with your friend. And it was a good game. And intense game. You were telling your friend that City are playing well - but John was starting and playing well was what you really meant. And it’s after a goal, everyone celebrating, showing the gleeful fans that he sees you, up on the screen, screaming and hugging your friend and he notices it, of course he does. STONES written across your back and it looks right to him, and he keeps thinking about it, looking at were he thinks you are in the crowd, searching, hoping to get a chance to see you - his girl - with his name on your back. Like it should be. And it’s this distraction that ends with him getting subbed off, commentators agreeing with the decision - ‘Stones has slipped in quality this second half’ - but he doesn’t care. He’s getting his phone out as soon as he’s off, finding your undeleted contact name and sending you a message.
Meet me after the game x
And you see it at full time, high off the win, high off the thought of him. So of course you do.
Fluffy Winks! Maybe something where his girl is stressed because of job and overworking herself. Then it's finally friday and weekend. And he makes sure she gets a rest; maybe some cuddling, bath or something.
Ugh I love him he’s like a puppy x
And you’d wander into his house, collapse on the sofa, hearing him pattering about upstairs but you’re too tired to go see what he’s doing, too stressed to even think about him and you’re thinking about work, pulling out your laptop and finishing things off - despite it being Friday. And he’s coming downstairs with a cheery ‘hi’, closing your laptop and talking you by the hand, ignoring your protests of having to finish your work. And he’s shushing you with ‘you can’t do good work if you’re stressed, like I can’t play good football when I’m stressed’ and he’s pulling you into the bathroom, a bubble bath inside and lit with candles. Then he starts undressing you, and you climb in, with Harry sat on the floor by the side, kissing you occasionally, listening, letting you get it all out and hugging your top half lightly - ‘I don’t want to get too wet’ he’d laugh. And you’d think about all the work you have to do for a split second second, but one look into his puppy dog eyes and it all melts away, the only thought now: ‘babe, are you not getting a dead leg?’. And of course he is. For you.
He always looks sad, Harry Kane.
*chanting* Smutty Lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard Smutty Lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard Smutty Lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard Smutty Lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard
YES, chant it
So he’s subbed off after 70 minutes, sending you a wink and a subtle flick of the head to follow as he goes for his post-match shower. And you follow, cheeks heating up despite no one seeing, hurriedly finding the dressing room. Jesse is immediately on you, pushing you against the door, closing it as he does and locking it. Tongue in your mouth, hand in your hair, sweaty body pressed against yours and you moan into his mouth and he loves it. And he’s pushing you and his shorts down, head falling backwards and a string of moans pouring out of his mouth as you work on him. Tip first, teasing him, stroking him, head going further and further down, gaining a rhythm. And his moans are getting more loud and intense as he’s pulling you back up, mouth on yours again, pushing down your trousers, hand under the shirt with his name on the back, resting on your waist as he lowers you onto the cold bench, head between your legs. And then it’s you moaning, and your knuckles going white as his tongue and his fingers do their work, moving perfectly with his expertise (and you make a mental note to mention that later). And it’s when he comes back up, ready to kiss you again that there’s a knock on the door and the two of you pull up your clothes, Jesse unlocking the door to find Marcus at the front of a large group of footballers clad in red and you walk past sheepishly, all of them smirking at you and you laugh as you hear Rashford speak, ‘couldn’t even watch us win could ya?’
‘Well I had other business, beansprouts’.
do jealous stonesy!!
jealous stonsey my god
And it’s when you meet dele that it happens but of course you don’t notice it because you’re sat laughing along to everything he says, leaning forwards into his space, making him smile and laugh and gush about ‘John’s charming missus’. And John can’t hear what you’re saying, so he doesn’t know that you’re sat trading stories about him - not that it should matter. So when you leave you’re confused at the way he refuses to look at you as he drives home and the way he goes straight upstairs for a shower as you get in. And you’re making a cuppa downstairs when he comes back down, towel hung loosely around his waist, hair damp to his forehead and chest glistening so you take the opportunity to speak, ‘I had a good day today’. And he snaps back an angry ‘yeah I know’, and you’re shocked, holding his tea in your hands, feeling lost and not knowing what to do with it. ‘So you got along with dele. Like everyone else. That’s understandable. Of course you would’. And it makes you laugh. Your John. Being jealous of dele? How could he compare. So you wander up to him, stroking his huffing face, smiling at his decelerations of ‘oh so this is funny to you’ and mumbling assurances of love. Because of course you love him. And his face softens. Because of course he knows this, he’s just being irrational. And he’s pulling you into his chest, and you’re squirming and laughing, ‘no you’re wet’, and he smirks cheekily ‘I don’t mind when you’re wet, love’ and you’re laughing together and you hand him his tea and you spend the rest of the night showing him how much you love him - never anyone else.
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.
Okay but riding John's thigh and you won't let him touch you and you're just going "till you get her face off your body you ain't touching me again babe, you'll just have to watch me get my self off"
and it started when your friend showed you some stupid article that mentioned he still had his tattoo and what it might suggest for the future of their relationship, and not that you have a problem with Millie but that rubbed you the wrong way so you sit at work, waiting to get home to him and show him who his girl is. And it seems like forever before you’re pulling into the driveway and walking into the living room, seeing him back from training sat on the sofa and flicking through Netflix. And god he looks good, of course he does, so you stride over to him, sit straddeling his thigh, his hands making immediate movements to your hips but you push him away and he’s shocked, mumblings of ‘love’ and ‘babe’ falling from his mouth as he desperately tries to grasp any part of your body. But you push him off every time, ‘till you get your face off her body you don’t get to touch me, babe’ and he’s groaning, sinking back into the cushion as he watches you through dark eyes, rocking back and forth on his thigh, small moans emitting from your mouth and he can barely contain himself, hands still trying to grasp, still being rejected, ‘you’ll just have to watch me get myself off’ and he hates it but god he loves it. The tattoo is gone within a week.
anon you’re killing me x
Yooo some rashford stuff maybe?? :-D I had a dream he kisses all of my operation scars on my tummy and I :-((((
You’re stood in front of a mirror, staring at your scars, tracing them, thinking about how much he might prefer you without them. Lost in thought, you don’t notice him entering the room until his arms slip around your waist and he’s kissing your neck, whispering ‘what ya doing’. But you don’t want to tell him, don’t want to be this vulnerable but he can tell - of course he can, Marcus is empathetic and sympathetic and everything you need right now - and he’s leading you to the bed and lying you on your back. Then he’s kissing down your stomach, giving extra attention to your scars and whispering how beautiful you look and how you would always look stunning to him no matter what and it’s a completely innocent and kind moment and just like him.
because @paudybalas was disappointed my last one wasn’t john x kyle
Protect GKs at all costs✊🏻