#john mcginn x reader

[lesellieknope]

tbt to the last euros when my friend was obsessed with jack grealish so i introduced her to the concept of (bad) yn fanfic and purposefully found an awful jack grealish x reader fic on wattpad, in which he still played at aston villa so there was a john mcginn cameo where he refused to pay more than £25 for a cake, so since then he has been known to me as a cheap bastard

[tommyspeakycap]

Still buzzing of the scotland game and have reread your John McGinn fic like 3000 times, so I would love to request another one. Celebrating this win maybe?

me too!!!! and omg of course i can write another one he’s so under appreciated on this app!! i didn’t see this request till i posted my other fic so changed this one up a bit but hope u still enjoy!! here u go my bestie

celebration

celebrating a victory, a goal and one little girls first game

John would have much preferred that you remained in the warm, safe box that had been given to the players for as many family members as they could get to come to what would be for many of them, their first time playing at a capacity Hampden Park. Although, it was clear that wasn't quiet on your agenda when you ended up down in the stands where you had bought tickets prior to John telling you about the box seats.

The little girl in your arms has a pair of those funny headphones on so she doesn't get overwhelmed, but she's cheering just like everyone else and keeps pointing out the number she knows her favourite man in the world is wearing. It was one of the very few numbers she goes know, but she has certainly gotten used to it by now. It's the same number that's on the front and back of her little navy blue Scotland shirt and embroidered onto the Scotland shorts she was wearing over her little blue leggings to keep warm in the October rain.

"Daddy!" She yells, barely heard over the sound of the cheers around the entire stadium. You're both right behind the dugout and as John's brother holds onto her as she stands on the waist height wall that separates the the space between where the substituted players sit and the spectator seats. She puts her hands over her little eyes in the exact same way John had done moments before for his celebration and you have to immediately capture a picture of her actions.

She's so into the game you almost feel bad for not being able to take her to one of the Scotland ones sooner than now. Just the same as it's John's first time playing to a Hampden full house, so too is it your daughter's first time being at one. She's leaping up and down, singing along to all the songs as the game is scarily close once again when Scott Mctominay sends it tumbling into the back of the net and the whole stadium actually erupts in noise. It feels like the entire place is bouncing.

After the stadium has began to empty, you have to whip out your phone again to film your daughter running down the tunnel with her tiny football boots clicking with each unsteady step the two and a half year old takes. The first thing she does when she runs out is shout on her dad, who can hear her now that the cheering has practically ceased to exist due to the emptying park. Kieran notices her first, turning around immediately, spotting his daughter doing the same celebration John had been trying so hard to teach her over FaceTime last night.

"Wahayyyy!" Kieran cheers, opening up his arms and crouching down so she can crash into him, scooping her up and spinning her around before throwing her up into the air. Andy bounces over to dance with them, holding his hand out for her little high five and then calling for John - who bounds over the second he spots her. “Daddy!” She yells, reaching her arms out for him to take her and pepper her face with kisses to gain those loud little girl giggles John loves so much.

“You scored daddy!” She claps, reaching her little hands out to hold his face. John underestimated how funny his little daughter would be even in just the small things that she does, like looking him in the eyes very seriously as she says, “So next time daddy you have to score two. One for me, and one for mummy.”

John laughs loudly, opening his other arm so he can wrap it around you so his whole little family is held close to him. He presses a kiss to the side of your face, taking the time to whisper, “Better not tell her about the fact she’s having a brother, else ill be scuppered having to score for the three of you.”

You laugh loudly, resting your head on his chest as you walk down the tunnel together. You love your family with John and you are so, so unbelievably excited to have another weird, wonderful, funny little baby with him.

The happiness you feel watching a John chase around his daughter despite the fact he’s exhausted, the pair of them showing off his celebration to everyone they see. You can’t help your belly laughter later on after she’s fallen asleep on his lap with her face smooshed against his chest when you’re scrolling through instagram and see that the Scottish National football account had posted the picture of John holding your ecstatic little girl on his hip in front of one of their pitch side cameras both doing the hands over the eyes celebration that John had adapted as his own with the caption;

“Like father, like daughter.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

[spotofimagines]

Can I request comforting Meatball after Scotland get knocked out of the Euros? 🥺

It was late when he'd texted you he was outside, thinking you'd probably be asleep and not wanting you to worry about the sound of the door. But after 10 minutes you still hadn't heard any movements.

A quick look around the still dark house had you confusedly looking through the kitchen blinds to see if his car was actually there. It was. And John was still sitting inside it.

You padded down the drive in your socks and peered in at John, his arms crossed on top of the wheel and his forehead leant on top. You gently knocked on the passenger window, jolting his head up then dropping it back down with a sigh when he saw you open the door.

"I thought you were asleep." His deep voice mumbled. "No," you said, your hand moving to the back of his neck and softly trailing your thumb across his skin, "but I should be, and so should you."

There was silence as you sat watching him under the streetlight. He leaned back in his seat, still gripping the wheel with both hands. "I let so many people down-" "No, you didn't. You absolutely didn't." He slowly turned his head to look at you and you could tell he didn't believe you.

You put your hand on his thigh and you gave him a small comforting smile. "Let's just go to bed, yeah? Forget about it all for a bit?" John let his hands slide down the wheel then he closed his eyes and nodded. You squeezed his thigh and kissed his cheek before grabbing his bag, finally getting John out of the car.

[emwritesfootball]

Sotto Voce: Chapter Five | John McGinn

Word Count: 1,815 Warnings: overheard masturbation, teasing, oral sex (female receiving) A/N: Since this is the last chapter, I just wanna give a HUGE shoutout to @sammisze for encouraging me to actually post this (I wanted to keep it for myself but she made me realize I shouldn't), @meteora-fc for beta-ing this and loving Meatball as much as I do, and @lawsandother for just reading this and telling me how much she loved it before I ever put it out. I hope you've all enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it <3

- - -

John knows something is off the moment he steps through the door on Monday after training. He doesn’t know what it is until he hears voices coming from her end of the house, and he doesn’t think as he follows the noises.

Her bedroom door is open, but he doesn’t go in when he doesn’t see her. The voices seem to be coming from her bathroom and John can’t help but be a little jealous when he thinks she’s got a man with her, until he recognizes the sound of his own voice from one of his audios and his blood runs cold.

He pauses, the muted sound of a vibrator in the bathtub mix with her throaty whimpers and John’s dick twitches. When she moans his name, he doesn’t know what to think - does she actually know it’s him or is she just imagining the man speaking on the audio is him? - but he intends to find out when she comes out.

She hides her surprise well when she sees John lounging on the sofa after she gets out of the bath. She hadn’t heard him come home but she’d sensed his presence while she was having her soak, making sure she’d turned the volume up on TheScottishLad’s audio while she masturbated to his voice. It hadn’t done much for her except leave her more sexually frustrated than before, and she hated that her body craved an orgasm specifically from John at this point.

“Mental health day?” John asks nonchalantly when she emerges from her bedroom in short-shorts and one of his Scotland kits.

She’s acutely aware of how his eyes graze over her body in the outfit she’s chosen, breaking out in goosebumps as a thrill races down her spine and her pussy clenches around nothing. “Yeah.” She takes a seat next to him, and John instinctively moves her so that her legs are laying across his lap. “Sometimes you just need to sleep in, have a bath and a nice wank, ya know?”

John blushes, his ears tinging pink as his grip tightens almost imperceptibly on her knee. “I, uh, I heard.”

“Oh?” She feigns surprise, looking at him innocently. “Sorry - I can get loud sometimes.”

John clears his throat, swallowing hard at her innuendo. “I-It’s okay.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he replies, not meeting her eyes.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Johnny,” she whispers in his ear, reveling in the power she holds over him right now. “Did you hear me cum?”

His eyes are glazed over with lust and she knows she has him right where she wants him. “I m-might’ve heard you, uh, moan my...name.” His accent is thicker now and there’s no doubt in her mind now that TheScottishLad is him.

“That’s because I was thinking about you when I got myself off,” she murmurs, dragging her nails down his chest. His breathing is ragged and she can feel his heartbeat under her fingertips and it drives her wild.

“You...you were?” He sounds stunned.

“Mmhmm,” she hums, nodding. “Besides...you’re TheScottishLad, aren’t you?”

John pauses, his eyes searching hers. “How did you find out?”

“Oh, Johnny,” she tuts, smirking. “You’ve got to learn to be more subtle.”

“I thought I was,” he pouts, and she resists the urge to lean down and kiss it away - they’re not there yet, even though she desperately wants to be.

“Actually, you were,” she amends, thinking about it. “I just know you too well. It took me a while to figure it out.” She pauses, leaning in. “So...do I get to see where the magic happens?”

“Depends on what you want.”

“I thought I made it pretty clear what I want,” she says, her hand drifting down his torso to cup his erection over his joggers. John’s eyes flutter closed and he lets out a low moan at her touch, the sound going straight to her clit.

“You’re being a tease, love.”

Those are the words she’s been waiting to hear directed at her since the moment he used the phrase in one of his recordings. “What are you gonna do about it?” She challenges, letting out a squeal when he abruptly gets up and drags her to his end of the house.

Her eyes go wide as she takes in the bedroom he’s transformed into his mini-recording studio. To anyone who doesn’t know better, it just looks like an elaborate gaming setup or some Twitch thing; to her, all she can picture is him getting himself off as he speaks, all those audio recordings reminding her exactly what he sounds like doing so.

“Wanna record with me?” He asks, suddenly seeming shy.

“What about the other girl?” She retorts, the jealousy popping back up inexplicably.

“What other girl?”

“The one you record with.” It sounds stupid now that she’s said it out loud, but John doesn’t make her feel stupid for it.

“I don’t have anyone else that I record with,” he explains, stepping towards her until he’s pinned her against the wall. “I always picture you when I make these.”

It’s her turn to be stunned. “R-Really?”

“Really.” He runs a hand up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “I’ve wanted you for months now - I’ve just been using these audios as a way for me to take care of some of my more sinful thoughts.”

“Does this mean you wanna tie me up?” She asks, her mind going to his most recent audio.

John smirks. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

“So,” she starts, looping her arms around his neck as she pulls him closer, “are you gonna kiss me or not, Johnny?”

He responds by finally capturing her lips in his, and she can’t help moaning into his mouth at how good it feels to finally be able to kiss him the way she’s wanted to for months now. His hands find her hips, pulling her flush against him so she can feel how hard he is for her.

They’re both breathing heavily when the kiss ends, and she knows she’s never been needier in her life, especially now that her body knows John’s going to give her an orgasm. “Are you going to let me record you?” He asks again, his expression serious.

“Yes,” she breathes, nodding. “Now?”

“If you want - or we can wait until-”

“Now. Now is good.”

John smirks. “You know, if we record, you’re going to have to be quiet for me, right?”

“I know.”

“Let me get everything ready.”

When the equipment is all set up, John picks her up and sets her down on the table. His hands reach under her shirt and she gasps when they slide up her bare torso.

“Can’t believe I finally have you like this,” he starts, and she instantly recognizes his recording voice. There are similarities to his normal speaking voice, but the timbre and cadence has changed just enough to be unrecognizable. “Your body feels just like I imagined it would. All those late nights stroking my dick and pretending it was your pussy but now I get to have you like this? Truly mine. Are you going to let me do everything I’ve fantasized about?”

“Y-” she starts to say but remembers she can’t so she just nods.

John visibly softens, tucking a lock of her hair as he leans in. “I can edit this out.” A pause as he switches over to his vocal personality again. “I want your verbal consent, love. Are you going to let me do everything I’ve fantasized about?”

“Yes, John.” She groans, biting down on her bottom lip. “Make me cum so many times I forget my name.”

His grin matches as hers. “With pleasure,” he replies, leaning in for the last kiss before TheScottishLad takes over once again.

“Oh, God, I love your body,” TheScottishLad says as John kisses his way down her neck, his hands sliding up her torso again. “I could spend days touching you and not get tired of you. You’re perfect.”

His words made her melt, and she knew he wasn’t speaking just as TheScottishLad - he was speaking as John McGinn, her friend and now-lover who she now knew had been thinking of her the entire time he’d been making these - and the knowledge made her heart race and her pussy drip.

“Perfect neck,” he continues, kissing his way down to her breasts. “Perfect tits.” More kisses down her stomach as he cups her pussy and she resists the urge to moan. “Perfect pussy. And it’s mine - all mine.”

All she can do is nod, arching her back as she spreads her legs for him. “Let’s get you out of these clothes so I can start making you feel good.”

He takes his time, making sure every sound of him undressing her is captured on audio. When she’s fully undressed, he steps back, his gaze raking appreciatively over her body. She feels so exposed yet so sexy at the same time, and it turns her on more than she thought it would.

“Are you gonna let me taste this juicy pussy?” He asks, kissing his way up from her knees to her thighs as she nods. Her hands find his hair and her hips buck involuntarily, the gasp that leaves her lips when his stubble scrapes over the sensitive skin barely audible. She mouths his name when he finally gets a taste of what’s between her legs. “Mm...addictive. You taste like honey, love, and I’m gonna need all that I can get,” he murmurs, his breath fanning out over her clit and making her walls clench around nothing.

“I’m gonna make you cum on my tongue,” John promises, slipping two fingers inside her slick entrance. “And then I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” He pauses, placing a sucking kiss to her clit that has her grip in his hair tightening. “And then...I’m just gonna make you cum until you can’t anymore.”

She brings her hand to her mouth, biting down hard on her palm so she doesn’t make a sound when her eyes roll back and her body spasms through that first orgasm.

“Good girl,” he praises as he slides his fingers out of her pussy, smirking as she lets out a breathy whimper both at the loss and the praise. Her eyes lock with his as she watches him suck his fingers clean. “What do you say we take this to the bedroom so I can really make you scream?”

In seconds, he’s flipped off all the recording equipment and saved a copy of their audio for him to edit later. She’s growing impatient, but only because she wants to finally have her way with him. “Done?” When he nods, she takes his hand, leading him to his bedroom. “Good, because it’s my turn now.”

[collecting-stories]

Body Electric - JJ Maybank

Request: Hi love , I have been feeling really insecure about my body lately and I was wondering if you could do a imagine were the reader compares herself to Sarah and kie when she gets in a fight with jj and the jj comforts her and just holds her while she cries into his arms ?!! ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: Inspired in part by Julia Michaels’ Body and by Walt Whitman’s I Sing the Body Electric.

Outer Banks Masterlist 

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You knew that you had been awful lately. You couldn’t make any sort of excuse for it. There was no specific reason that you could give for the way you had been acting, or at least no reason that you would want JJ to hear. How could you tell him that lately you couldn’t stand going to the beach or out on the boat or even just to John B’s. That being around Kiara and Sarah was like forcing you to endure a never-ending loop of personal torture. Muttering in the back of your head, voices that kept getting louder and louder, comparing every inch of your body to them. And who could blame you, both of them were beautiful, it didn’t matter what they did, they always looked flawless.  

It was unfair, really, and you were being unfair to JJ in return. At this point you thought he probably thought that you hated him. It had been days since you’d seen him. Or anyone.  

When the familiar insecurities started up again, set off by nothing but Kiara pulling JJ over to dance with her during a party, you had tried to ignore. Tried to remind yourself that you were being a little crazy and that you were pretty and that, obviously, JJ liked you. He was dating you. But those voices never let you live. You imagined a million different ones, other people, to make you feel better. But it was never other people, it was just your voice.

Were the people in line behind you talking about you when you ordered a full fat latte at the coffee shop. Did the guy standing at the counter make that face because he hated his job or because he was trying not to laugh at how ridiculous you looked in shorts? Should you stop wearing shorts? And crop tops? And anything that drew attention to your body.  

At first you were just awful. You snapped at JJ all the time, you were mean every time he said something and every time you wanted to tell him that it wasn’t him, it was you. And you just needed to take it out on someone.

But then you started canceling plans. If you didn’t go out, if you no one had to see you, maybe that would be better.  

“Can we please just talk?” But JJ was persistent. You could yell at him a thousand times and he would keep coming back because he knew you. He knew something was bothering you and he was determined to figure out what it was.  

“We are talking.” You called back, turning your head to look at the door. You were laying on your bed, wishing you could be swallowed up into it.  

“You know what I mean.” He sighed, trying the door handle again. You had locked it and he knew it was locked but it was like watching the end of a movie over and over hoping that it changed. Maybe if he kept trying the outcome would be different. And he couldn’t help thinking that maybe all these problems could be solved if he could talk to you face to face.  

“I already told you I’m not going, just go away JJ.”  

“Look,” JJ had tried every other explanation but it always came back around to this one, “if you want to break up, that’s fine but, you shouldn’t punish everyone else. If you feel like you can’t hang out with them, I can stay away for a while.”  

“I don’t want to break up with you.” The lock clicked and the door opened. You stood there in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, as if they could distort the way you looked enough that everyone who saw you might forget.  “You should break up with me though.”  

“Why?” More genuinely curious than anything.

“Because,” you stressed the word like it explained every issue that you had with the situation. You walked back into your room but you didn’t shut the door and JJ followed you. “Because I saw the way you were dancing with Kie-”

“What are you talking about?”  

“At the party!” You snapped. “At the party, I saw you and you guys fit so well together you should be with someone like that.”

“I don’t...” JJ shook his head, trying to get himself from point A to point B and understand what you were even insinuating, “I mean, we dance together all the time.”

“That’s not the point!”

“I don’t know what the point is!” He snapped. “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.”

“You should be dating some like Kie or Sarah...someone really pretty and...stop!” You pulled away from him when he tried to get close to you, holding your hand out. “We just don’t match.”

“Because you think you're not pretty?”  

“I know I’m not.”  

JJ shrugged, “well I know you are, so what are we gonna do about that?”  

“You don’t understand,” you attempted, better accuse him of not ‘getting’ what you were going through then have to admit that it was all just you, in your head, sabotaging yourself.  

“Maybe not exactly but, you think I don’t ever feel like that?” JJ replied, “fuck, I mean, every time you talk to Pope I feel that way.”

“It’s not the same.”  

“Yeah it is, we’re both being irrational.” He argued, “do you think I’m stupid?”

“No.”

“Would you rather date someone like Pope?”  

“No, JJ,-“

“Exactly.” He stressed, cutting you off. “I don’t wanna “I don’t wanna date Kie or Sarah or somebody who looks like them. I wanna date you. I like you. Can I?” He reaches his hand out for you hesitantly, cautious that you would just reject him again. But you nodded and he took that as sign enough to wrap his arms around you and hug you.  

“I just hate the way I look sometimes,” you admitted, voice a little muffled by his sweatshirt but not enough for him to miss the venom that laced through the word hate. Like you were expelling the actual feeling and not just saying the word.  

“For what it’s worth, I love you, and the way you look.” JJ replied, kissing the side of your head. “I love those jeans you have  that you always say are too tight on your thighs cause I wedge my hand in the holes and you always have the softest skin. Like when you stay over at the Chateau and we get the pull out, I love holding you. I love watching you surf cause you’re incredible at it, probably better than me but don’t tell anyone. Anything you wear, anything you do, I love it.”  

“You’re such a sap,” you laughed but JJ could see that familiar gleam in your eyes, the glassiness that only came when you were seconds from crying. “I needed it though.”  

“It doesn’t matter what I’m doing you know, you always have my attention.”  

You nodded, “you always have mine too you know.”

“Yeah well, that’s a given,” JJ teased, pulling away from you enough to guide you toward your bed. “I mean I’m pretty irresistible.”  

“I can’t argue with that,” you laughed, “what about the party though?”  

“Screw a party, we can have one of our own.”  

-

Taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts  @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @aoba-josigh @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon @calums-betch @dpaccione @bbeauttyybbx @jolomez

[astralaffairs]

280 characters pt 2 | john laurens

title: 280 characters pt 2

pairing: john laurens x reader

notes: click on the images for better quality; moving into idiots to lovers territory now

warnings: sex mentions, asshole friends, mentions of violence ig??

desc: you don’t expect much to come of it when you wake up with a hazy memory beside who you believe to be a total stranger – you don’t even bother to try and figure out who he is. but when a lost green bra and a few twitter threads lead you back to your mystery lover, will 280 characters be enough to rekindle your past?

tags: @sothisishappiness​ @nemesis729​​ @ahsteriawrites​​ @popbubblegumpop​​ @fanfic-addict-98​​ @noonewouldlisten25​​ @pachowpachowbucket​ @justahappylilblog​ @reidcult​ @spacefish42069​ @wiffle-snuffles​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @booksandfandomsarelife1​ @allie-mcginn​ @katierpblogg​ (hope i didn’t miss anyone; lmk if you’d like to be added!)

[tommyspeakycap]

double win

nobody reads my john mcginn fics but i am in love with this man so have it anyway :)

celebrating the win with some more very good news for john

It literally feels like the stadium is bouncing, cheers reverberating through your entire body as your throat hurts from screaming so loudly. Your hands are above your head, mixed between clapping and just aimlessly waving in the air to celebrate a 3-2 win for your country. There are few greater joys for most people in this stadium, but to you it’s different. To you, it’s your boyfriend scoring at home, giving him ten goals in ten home games and they take the win.

People are just hugging left right and centre, enveloping you and bouncing up and down. You enjoy it, but it doesn’t matter because you’re ducking under arms and trying to escape the so you can glide your way up the stairs to enter the box you were meant to be standing in before you ended up migrating to the stands to get involved with the fans down there. There are more hugs from family members and friends you’ve made through this team and while you smile, greeting them and hugging them back, your mind is racing with more important matters that you’ve been keeping to yourself for what feels like forever now.

Andy’s fiancé give you a tight squeeze, whispering reassuring words into your ear. She’s the only one who knows about your well kept secret. The boys come bounding up eventually, all still full of adrenaline and the buzz of the win. John comes straight over to you, bypassing every single other person in his way until he finds you with a huge grin and already wide open arms. “I’m so proud of you,” you mumble into his shoulder as he squeezes you tightly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Love you.” He grunts with the tightness of his squeeze, you giggle against him, “Love you too. Can we go somewhere quiet?”

John furrows his brows when he pulls away, but nods his head nonetheless and leads you by the hand through the crowds, out there front of the box to the near empty stands of Hampden Park stadium. An idea pops into your head somewhat unexpectedly, prompting you to keeping walking until you get down to the wet pitch as John follows you hand in hand.

“Okay.” You state, turning around so you can face him and take both of his hands. “So you remember when we were in that JD in Glasgow a couple weeks ago and they had those little Scotland strip baby onsies?” You ask, your voice sounding a little more shaky and nervous than it usually would. John raises one eyebrow, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Yeah, why?” He hums, his memory flicking back to the day you walked around together hand in hand, running from shop to shop across the streets when the rain poured down. It was a few days after he proposed to you and he wanted you to pick out a pretty outfit for the engagement party his mother insisted on throwing. It was such a fun day, just being two people walking around Glasgow in the rain holding hands, giving loose change to the buskers and taking in the atmosphere just like you used to when you still lived here permanently.

“Well i went back when i got here the other day so i could get one.” You add, heart thundering in your chest. It seems as though John may be catching on, but he kind of just opens his mouth a little wider and narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Though it’d be cute eh?” You tug it out of your bag, it’s so tiny and he can see from the tag it says 0-3 months. John’s own heart now starts racing as you hand it over to him. “For our own little baby McGinn?” You hand over the black and white sonogram picture and John looks between it and you multiple times with his jaw dropped wide.

“Are you-” He blurts, “So we’re…” he looks back down at the fuzzy outline of what is barely visible as his tiny baby. “A baby!”

You nod vigorously with a huge smile and he laughs loudly, swooping forward to scoop you up in a hug that he spins you around while he cheers. The second he puts you down, he smashed his lips onto yours. It’s probably the most emotional kiss you’ve ever shared, full of passion and happiness and desperation to be close to each other.

“We’re having a baby!” He exclaims again, eyes a little wet from tears he hasn’t shed as you nod. “We’re having a baby.” You repeat, smiling hugely.

He leaps up into the air, yelling out a loud “Yessss!”

The fans don’t know why the shout has left the midfielder, but it’s enough for cheers to echo around the emptying Hampden park once again anyway. It’s still chalk full, but John couldn’t care less as he has his own little celebration down there with you. John looks around quickly, his eyes landing on one of the camera men who’s attention he yells for instantly. He’s very happy to take the little family picture, John with his arm wrapped around you tightly, his old hand holding out the sonogram photo while your holding the little ‘McGinn’ Scotland onesie over your stomach. John makes sure he gets that picture sent to him straight away.

When he’s laying in bed that night with you in his arms, he retrieves that picture and opens his instagram account to post it;

“What a night, what a win. Pleased to add three points and even more pleased to announce our newest member! Baby McGinn due Summer 2022❤️”

[tommyspeakycap]

Would you write for John McGinn? anything at all for him haha

you got me

a nasty breakup brings you to the door of the aston villa player, ready to welcome you once again with open arms full of love.

Whistling to himself as he walks from his bathroom to the kitchen of his home, John towel dries off his hair when his doorbell sounds through the house. His immediate reaction is one of question. He tilts his head, furrows his brows and wracks his brain for a memory of potentially making plans that he had then completely forgotten about. Instead, he begins to wonder if there was a chance he had leaked his address and would be met with paparazzi or fans standing on his doorstep. The villa player draws blank on both of those thought processes, and is snapped from them when the a harsh knocking accompanies the sound of said doorbell.

His feet hurry him towards the door, taking the opportunity to look at the doorbell footage he could access from the little alarm box on the wall just next to it. His eyes are met with you standing on his porch dripping from the rain, shivering in soaked clothes and very possibly crying.

He reaches for the door immediately, tugging the heavy thing open with eyes wide, "Bloody hell, you have a key!" He exclaims, ushering you in as he removed his hair towel from around his neck to drape over your shoulders while you close the door behind you. Your lips are a little blue from the winter chill that had blown the cold rain through your clothes. "Forgot it." You chitter, entire body shivering with the painful force to try and conserve some form of heat.

John grabs a bigger towel, one that's much softer and warmer. "Strip off," he orders hurriedly, turning his back to go back into the kitchen and see if he left any clothes in his dryer from the load he put in earlier. "Sh-shouldn't you take me t-t-to dinner first?"

Your half hearted, shivering attempt at a joke doesn't make him laugh like it usually would. He turns around to shoot you a disapproving scowl. "I'll get you some warm clothes, get dried."

You do as told, or attempt to. It's hard when you can't feel your fingers to get a grip on anything more than the zipper of the zip up hoodie you'd had on. You try to shake the material from your shoulders, but your whole body is stiff with the tight muscles that the freezing temperatures had inflicted upon you.

"You'll end up with hypothermia," John rushes, dropping the warm clothes down on the cabinet by the door where you still stand, surrounded by a puddle of rainwater. He works quickly, but carefully to shed you of the zipper, then looks to you for permission to lift your t-shirt over your head. He hands you the warm, dry towel to cover yourself with so he can unclip your soaked bra. Shoes off next, he discards them off behind him as water literally pools from them. You keep that towel around you, patting at your skin as he tries to get your leggings off as painlessly as possible, but every touch still hurts. Your pants, you insist on doing by yourself even if it is a struggle while John holds up the towel.

He didn't bother to even make an attempt at pulling the hair bobble out of your hair, John just snaps the thin black band wordlessly, easily between his fingers before he orders you to flip your hair so he can tied it in another warm towel.

"Why were you out in that?" He asks as he sits you down in his cosy living room with a new, drier towel. You're still chittering, which is worrying but John had learned a lot from coaches behaviours towards the teams when they come off after games played on nights like these. "It's negative 6 degrees."

Warming up was the most important thing, just not too quickly.

You avert your eyes from his, chewing slightly on your lip. "(y/n)," John presses, moving to occupy the space on the couch next to you. You sit forward on the couch so you both sit shoulder to shoulder, his head turns to you while yours faces the floor. "David kicked me out, I didn't have my keys and my phone wasn't charged so I couldn't call you. Busses were off for the weather and the snow covered the train lines yesterday, plus I don't have any money with me so I was scuppered there too. I did some grovelling at the door then I walked here when he wouldn't let me back it."

John's jaw all but hits the floor as anger infiltrates the worry coursing through his veins.

"Don't..." you sigh, trailing off as you stand up with a loose shake of your head. "Don't look at me like that John. I'm gonna go get changed."

The sound of your bare feet padding off through his house holding the warmed pile of his clothes he gave to you was one that he would certainly like to get used to, but you had both done this dance so many times he knew it wasn't something he could count on. Usually you'll call him though, or he'll go and pick you up after a mutual breakup. You've never come on no notice and it's never been because of something like this. John hadn't heard from you in a few weeks either, you had his mind reeling.

Even more so when you reappeared, dry hair tied back out of your face with his grey joggers and black t-shirt drowning you in its size. They were him homebody comfy clothes, so they were bought to be even a little big on him. He had to admit they looked a lot better on you, though.

In the time you were gone, John had made hot chocolate and brought through his biscuit tin to sit on the couch between you both. Words weren't deemed necessary to find a movie he knew you would like. That and he knew you didn't want to talk, so even if he tried it would have been like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall.

He keeps looking over at you, trying to do so discreetly by flicking his eyes over in your direction. Those little giggles at Hugh Grants exasperated facial expressions while James Can disposes of a body in a trunk in the 1999 rom com you loved so much. The movie is good, but your reactions to every time you watch it just like each time is the first time. John can't understand why a man would ever do anything that would wipe that little grin off your perfect lips. How anyone could ever put anyone out on their doorstep in a  storm like that, but least of all someone who was supposed to love you. If it were up to John, you would have been wrapped in a blanket the second the rain pour started, curled in his arms falling asleep to the sound of the thunder rumble and the rain pattering against the street. That was his dream, the one he couldn't keep a girlfriend because of. All he wanted was you and nobody else ever lived up to that.

He wishes he could scream at you, tell you that those very sorry excuses for men that you end up with and what you have with them isn't love. Or maybe you do love them, but they do not love you. They like the idea of you, someone free spirited and always ready to fall in love.

It truly seemed as though you could fall in love with anyone but the one man who wanted you the most.

Watching you fall asleep on his couch, head resting on the high armrest with knees curled up and his blanket still tucked around you with a tiny little bit of chocolate on the corner of your lip sends his heart racing a mile a minute. It feels so right to have you there. He feels guilty for enjoying it. Your heart was broken even if you wouldn't say a word about it and here he was enjoying it.

He uses his foot to push open the spare bedroom door just along the hall from his room. John lays you down carefully on top of the duvet, letting your head nuzzle into his plush pillows as your eyes remain shut in soft sleep. He grabs another blanket for you and makes sure the heating is right up in the room before he leaves you there with an ache in his chest.

He goes to check on you in the middle of the night, finding you not in the room but instead standing in his kitchen still shrouded in blankets with crazy sleep hair and tired eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, startling you ever so slightly. You shrug, moving to take a seat at his kitchen island. “Woke up and got all messed up thinking about how i have literally nothing.” You mumble in response, your voice thick with the desire to burst into tears. It breaks his heart to see you so defeated, your eyes never meeting his as they stare pointedly down at the marble surface. “I’m sorry.” John says, “Really. He’s an arsehole. I can go round and grab some stuff for you tomorrow if you want.” He offers, his apology as sincere as they come. But you shake your head with only a quick glance up at him. John isn’t hot tempered at all. He’s mellow, easygoing and funny. Never quick to anger and never the type to get into a fight but by god is he protective of you. You worry about the kind of blow that would come to his career if he gets an assault charge against your ex when he inevitably doesn’t let John into the house to get any of your stuff while probably barraging you with insults.

“It’s not worth it.” You admit. “It’s less physical. Just leaves me empty, i guess. ‘Cause i gave everything to that relationship and how i have nothing left to give.” The heartbreak and the weight of your words will weigh on John’s mind probably for years to come. How someone could do that to you he will never understand. There’s nothing he wants more in this world than for you to be his to love. He wants to shower you with praise, make you realise how strong you are and remind you every single day that he loves you. That’s what you deserve. You deserve kindness and encouragement and support. He wishes more than anything to be the guy who could give that to you instead of watching you enter into relationships with the worst men he’s ever known only to see you torn down at the other side of it.

“You’ve got me.” He offers. He knows that’s probably not what you want to hear and it might not give you the kind of relief he wishes he could give. But you smile softly and stand up, shuffling over to him under blankets and his warm clothes until you reach him. You don’t really hug him, just lean against him with your cheek on his chest. John wraps his arms around you tightly and feels you sigh contently. He’s your John. The burly Scottish lad who makes you laugh when you feel like crying, who looks after you and keeps you pushing forward when life feels like it’s stacked against you. “Yeah. I love you, John.” You hum softy. John can feel the small smile on your lips against the thin material of the shirt he wore to sleep in because his house was like a sauna with the heating to keep your warm. He can tell you’re about to fall asleep there because he supports most of your weight. He holds you to him, rubbing your back soothingly as you nod ever so slightly against him.

“Even when i’ve got nothing, i’ve got you.”

[emwritesfootball]

Sotto Voce: Chapter Four | John McGinn

Word Count: 1,549 Warnings: 'audio' descriptions of semi-public sex, mentions of being tied up and multiple orgasms

- - -

She spends the next few weeks going through TheScottishLad’s audio portfolio. He’s got the standard scenarios, but they’re even hotter to her than the audio she occasionally listens to and she can’t explain it. John’s name is on her lips with every orgasm, but she quickly grows accustomed to her ‘new normal’. Her lust for him increases tenfold, but at least she’s got her new Scottish audio porn to get off to now.

There are a few she can listen to over and over again while still cumming as hard as the first time she heard it. Among them is the very first audio he put out because it makes her think back to all the times she’s worn one of John’s kits to bed and woken up in it the next morning, grabbing coffee and breakfast in it without him saying anything; it’s what she’s secretly always wanted to happen, and now every time she does it, she can’t stop thinking about the audio whenever she reaches for a mug and hears John’s sleepy voice behind her. Another one of her favourites is just five minutes of TheScottishLad stroking himself, his breathing and occasional grunts and groans go straight to her clit each time.

The audio titled ‘Mutual Masturbation’ is by far her favourite. TheScottishLad spends nearly fifteen minutes edging himself as he talks her through her own orgasm. She always has at least two orgasms when she listens to it, especially when he says, ‘Cum for me, love’ in the thickest Scottish accent she’s ever heard, her pussy spasming around the toy as she cums hard.

When she’s finally through all of his audio catalogue and is waiting weekly for content, it’s easier to figure out. It takes her longer than she should have to put the puzzle pieces together, but once she does, she can’t unsee it.

TheScottishLad is John McGinn.

Or, more accurately, John McGinn is TheScottishLad.

All of the weekly audio drops are based on something that had happened a week or two prior, and it blows her mind. She goes through TheScottishLad’s page again, her mind racing as she puts it all together. The week before his first audio, she’d worn his kit to bed and he’d caught her in the kitchen before she’d changed. The sexual tension had been palpable (to her at least), and now she knew he felt the same.

The bathroom audio - the first one she’d stumbled upon - was uploaded the week after she’d hung out with him while he was getting ready.

There are a few other similarities that match up with her theory, but she doesn’t have complete proof yet. Her first thought is to confront him, but she doesn’t want to be wrong or end up scaring him away.

After his most recent upload, she gets her idea.

***

TheScottishLad’s most recent audio somewhat corroborates her theory.

She hates that she presses ‘Play’ without a toy in her hand or any sexual frustrations she needs to get out; this is purely for research, and a part of her wishes it wasn’t.

“Look at you, all dolled up in your sundress,” is the opening line, and she gasps. “Your hair frames your face as your eyes meet mine across the room and you give me a small smile. I smile back, watching you blush as you look away, trying to focus on something - anything - else.”

She can picture it now. It’s almost exactly like last weekend's team get-together at Tyrone’s place. She was wearing a sundress and her hair had been styled to frame her face. At one point, she and John had shared a look across the room; she’d been certain she’d hid her blush from him well, but maybe she hadn’t. She pressed play again and TheScottishLad continued…

“We both know what’s coming next, but we have to wait. After all, we can’t fuck in my friend’s place.” A pause and he chuckles, the sound making her pussy clench around nothing. She tries to remind herself that she’s just doing research right now, but her body can’t stop betraying her.

“I mean, we could, but we run the risk of getting caught. Does that make you wet, love?”

“Yes,” she can’t help moaning out loud as she pictures John coming up to her at the party last weekend and whispering that question in her ear.

“‘I can’t take it anymore’ I whisper in your ear when I’ve had it,” TheScottishLad says and her eyes flutter closed as the fantasy comes to life. “I know you want this. I do, too.” He lowers his voice. “Meet me in the upstairs bathroom in five minutes.”

The audio continues, the sounds of steps and a door opening and closing setting the scene.

“It’s been five minutes,” the voice resumes, and she pictures John waiting in the upstairs bathroom at Ty’s place for her. “Where are you, naughty girl?”

The door opens and shuts again, and he whispers, “Finally.” The sounds of kisses fill her headphones and she imagines being pinned against the bathroom door by a needy John McGinn. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he says in-between kisses, “but you were just as needy as I was, weren’t you?”

It keeps going on until TheScottishLad makes the girl in the audio cum quietly, and she has to stop it there. Her body is flushed from head to toe and she’s sure she’s breathing heavily. She wants John to make her cum like that, but she isn’t sure how to make it happen.

***

The next morning, she wakes up feeling more than a little sexually frustrated. Her mind had been racing all night and she’d been unable to get herself off no matter how hard she tried. All she kept picturing was John with every audio she played - even the ones that weren’t by TheScottishLad - and she knew she wouldn’t actually be able to cum again until John’s cock was inside her or she found out the truth; whichever came first.

“I found the best audio porn recently,” she blurts out as John’s making breakfast, hoping to shock him.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, seemingly unfazed as he stirs the eggs into a nice scramble. “Good for you.”

“I’ve never cum so hard in my life.” Now she’s really pushing it and she hates that he doesn’t really react.

“Better than with a man?” John turns off the heat, transferring the eggs to their respective plates and handing her one of them.

She shrugs, a smile playing on her lips. She’s got him right where she wants him. “Honestly? I’m not sure. It’s been over a year since I’ve fucked anyone - I’d probably cum from a kiss or the right touch.”

A flash of something unrecognizable flashes in John’s eyes but it’s gone a moment later before she can truly get a read on it. “Makes sense. Your body’s probably so sensitive at this point.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums in agreement, taking a bite of her eggs. “I’m sure the next guy I hook up with will end up making fun of me for cumming so quickly.”

***

Since her confession, all week she can feel John’s eyes on her when she’s preoccupied or her attention isn’t on him. She doesn’t call him on it and he doesn’t press her for any additional information after breakfast that morning.

A sick sense of glee fills her when she logs into the website to find that TheScottishLad has uploaded his new weekly audio. She’s almost certain it’s John now, especially, when the audio starts.

“Look at you, all tied up in my bed,” he chuckles, and she knows it’s him. He’s disguised his voice well, and anyone who heard him speak like this wouldn’t even put it together that it’s him. Except she has, and only because she’s paying attention and knows what to look for. “You’ve been a little tease all week, love, and I’m gonna make sure you regret it.”

A moan escapes past her lips as she thinks about being tied to John’s four-poster bed. She’s sat on it plenty of times as she’s watched him get ready for match days and training, and she knows how plush it is - and how good it would feel to be restrained and at his mercy.

“Don’t think I didn’t read between the lines earlier this week - I know exactly what you need. You told me you wanted someone to help take the edge off because you were sick of having to do it yourself. Don’t worry, love - you won’t have to do anything. I’ll make sure you get all the orgasms you need.”

John keeps speaking as he does various things to the girl in the audio, drawing out almost five orgasms before he stops. “Good girl,” he praises over the sound of the restraints being untied, the praise going straight to her already-sensitive pussy.

A wave of jealousy washes over her as she realizes that John might already have a girl he’s been using for these audios. The girl always seems to be silent, but her jealous brain can’t think of any scenario other than that.

The day after John’s audio drops, she decides to play one last game. She calls in sick to work on Monday, finally putting her plan to work.

[emwritesfootball]

Sotto Voce: Chapter Three | John McGinn

Word Count: 1,866 Warnings: masturbation (female), oral sex (female receiving)

- - -

With no way to promote this newfound venture, John isn’t sure it’s going to do well, which is why he’s surprised when he checks the sites a few days later to find that he’s had a few thousand hits. The comments on some of them surprise him, too - people listening seem to love his accent and a few even want more videos along the same theme of punishment.

The days leading up to his next recording are filled with an intense amount of one-sided sexual tension. Things aren’t awkward between the two of them - unless you count the fact that he’s gotten off thinking about her once for his audio - but that doesn’t stop John from constantly questioning her actions or trying to spin something into a fantasy he can use later.

Case in point. It’s their usual weekly movie night and she’s got her legs across his lap. He’s absently tracing patterns on her calves and she doesn’t seem to mind, except when she shifts and adjusts every-so-often. When she does, she lets out little whimpers that are driving him mad with need, and John’s somewhat scared that she’ll move the wrong way and find out he’s got a raging hard-on. Thankfully, it never comes to that, but when he goes to bed that night, he knows exactly what he’s going to be recording tomorrow.

“You’ve been a tease all week,” he starts, opening this week’s fantasy with much more confidence. “Don’t try to play innocent with me, love. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking. There’s longing and need behind those beautiful eyes.” He chuckles, shaking his head and leaning in on his elbows as he speaks sotto voce into the microphone. “I know you felt it, too.”

“Come here, love,” he murmurs, patting his lap. “Come straddle me. I want you to feel just how hard you make me while I kiss you. Don’t hold anything back - I’ll know.”

John only feels foolish for a moment as he brings his forearm to his mouth. The sensation of his lips on skin, even his own, override his senses as images of his roommate fill his head again. It’s wrong, he knows, but he can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have her like this, and on some level, these fantasies help quell his lust for her.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, imagining her eyes fluttering closed as he brushes his thumb over her cheekbones. “Are you gonna let me kiss your neck?”

He waits a beat for the answer, and then he starts kissing his way down his forearm. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He says, making sure the microphone picks up the smirk in his voice. “Will you let me mark you, love?” He chuckles, kissing the same spot on his arm a few more times and holding. “Good girl.”

He imagines the shiver that would run down her spine at his praise. John’s seen the way she reacts to certain words and he knows that the phrase would drive her wild.

“Let me slide my hands up your thighs,” he continues, painting the picture with his voice. “Oh, does that turn you on - when I run my fingers over the edge of your shorts, making you buck your hips? Can you feel how hard my dick is for you, love? Does it make your pussy wet?”

John groans into the mic, his eyes involuntarily closing as he pictures her breathy whimper of need as she gasps a short ‘Yes’ against his neck. When he pushes her panties to the side, he imagines finding her wet, chuckling, “Look at you - such a mess! You’re positively dripping for me, love.”

“If I slide two fingers inside of you, will you cum for me?” John asks, visualizing her response. “Fuck,” he groans. “I just felt your pussy clench around my fingers when I brush my palm against your clit. Want me to do it again, don’t you? Needy thing.”

He makes a few more gestures and groans, giving her sufficient time for her orgasm to build. “You gonna cum for me, love? Yeah? Nngh - fuck! - your pussy feels so good squeezing my fingers like that. Keep going - I want every last bit of your orgasm. Thaaat’s a good girl.” He pauses, breathing heavily like he’s actually made his roommate cum. “Let me lick your juices off my hand. Mm, you taste so good… will you let me go down on you later tonight? Stick my tongue in that juicy pussy while you thread your fingers through my hair and ride my face?” John chuckles again. “You’d like that, wouldn't you? Naughty girl.”

He ends the audio session a little after that, going back and editing as needed. Within the last week he’s learned how to add in and layer sounds over each other, so he does just that, making sure that this audio is better than the last.

Luckily for him, he hits ‘Upload’ seconds before his roommate comes home, and he can breathe a sigh of relief that she still doesn’t know what he’s up to.

***

She finds it completely by accident, and she can’t believe she didn’t find it sooner. It’s up on one of her most frequently-visited sites, right at the top under Featured New.

The man’s username is TheScottishLad, and the moment she clicks on his most recent audio, she’s hooked. It doesn’t help that his accent makes her picture John and she has to bite her lip to keep from crying out too loudly. He’s long-since gone to bed and of course she can’t sleep that night, needing relief in the form of an orgasm. Not for the first time, she’s grateful that his room is on the other end of the house as she finds the toy she wants to use and turns it on.

The audio is titled ‘Bathroom Tease’ and it’s the most recent of his fifteen or so uploads. She makes a mental note to bookmark the page after she’s done with her orgasm, but the second she presses ‘Play’, she loses all rational thought.

“You’re teasing again, love.” The man’s voice invades her ears through her headphones and sends a shiver down her spine. “I’m getting ready for work, and you’re teasing again. You think you’re so coy, sitting on the counter in nothing but my shirt and that sexy smile, but you have no idea what I’ve got planned for you.”

The image he conjures up makes her think back to earlier in the week. She’d been doing the exact same thing - sitting on John’s counter as she watched him get ready - except, she knew, this was going to end much differently. This time, she’d actually get to cum instead of leaving his bathroom sexually frustrated.

“Spread your legs, darling - I wanna stand in between them. God, you look so sexy in my shirt. You can’t expect me to keep all this sexual frustration to myself, can you?” He chuckles and she lets out an audible moan. “Naughty girl, though - you’re not wearing panties!” He makes a tsk noise with his tongue and she can practically picture John shaking his head at her as this man asks, “What are we going to do with you?”

“Make me cum,” she whispers to herself, thrusting her toy in and out of her dripping pussy. “Please!”

“Let me run my fingers up your thighs.” She pictures John’s hands as the voice narrates, and it makes her unbearably horny. So far, it’s everything she wanted him to do to her in the bathroom earlier in the week and she needs to know how this ends. “Your little gasp is so sexy, love. Tell me… is that how you’re going to sound when I make you cum?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, biting down on her bottom lip as she arches her back into his invisible touch.

“Lean back on your elbows. I wanna see all of you. Thaaat’s it - good girl.” The way his accent trips over the praise has her head spinning. She’s always wanted John to call her that - even if he’d only mean it platonically - and hearing it said in a Scottish accent (even if it isn’t his) makes her pussy clench around the toy. “My, my - someone’s made a mess. Maybe you should’ve worn panties, but then again, that would take the fun out of what I’m about to do now. Open your mouth; I want you to taste yourself off my fingers.”

She dips her fingers between her legs, whimpering when the pads of her fingertips skim over her clit and she can feel how wet she is. It doesn’t feel weird when she lifts her fingers back up to her mouth, pretending they’re John’s as she swirls her tongue around them. She imagines the look on his face when her eyes connect with his, the brown turning shades darker with lust.

“See how good you taste? That’s why I love going down on you. Kissing-” he pauses, and the sound of lips on skin fill her headphones as he continues, “-my way up your inner thighs before I get to your sweet centre. Can you feel my breath on your clit? Does it excite you? I can see your pussy puckering, desperate to clench around something. Are you desperate for me, love?”

“Yes,” she mumbles, her thoughts barely coherent now. “Yes, so desperate, John. Please!”

“Normally, I’d take my time with you - make you beg - but I don’t wanna be late for work again because I made you edge too many times and gave you that orgasm you were craving. You’ve got a minute to cum, love, and if you don’t, that’s your own fault.”

The sounds of mouth-on-pussy have her reeling. She’s pretty sure the audio murmurs dirty things to her cunt while he continues, but she’s lost in her own little world thinking about John. She imagines her legs wrapped around his shoulders, her elbows shaking as she struggles to hold herself up while he goes down on her.

When he starts to count down, she loses it.

“Five.”

She turns up the vibration on her toy.

“Four.”

She starts to breathe heavily, panting in little whimpers as her orgasm builds.

“Three.”

John’s name is on her lips as she starts to thrust faster.

“Two.”

She cries out, “Oh, God! Please!”

“One. Cum for me, love.”

Her pussy spasms around the toy as his command triggers her orgasm. It’s one of the most intense orgasms she’s had all year, and the man she’s picturing in her head is none other than her friend and roommate. Sure, she’s had fantasies about him, thoughts she’d never acted on, but she’s never actually had an orgasm while his face is on her mind.

There’s a small twinge of something that she feels when she pulls the toy out of her pussy and sets it on her nightstand - she’ll clean it in the morning. Right now, she’s too spent to do much else except turn over and hook her leg around her body pillow as she drifts off into that perfect post-orgasm-satisfaction sleep.

[emwritesfootball]

Sotto Voce: Chapter Two | John McGinn

Word Count: 1,220 Warnings: the audio-portion of this begins; spanking, oral sex (male receiving), details of fantasies

- - -

It’s been a week and he hasn’t said anything more on the podcast idea.

“Any updates on the podcast?” She asks over coffee on a Saturday morning. He’d gotten in late the night before after an away match and she hadn’t seen much of him all week since they’d both been busy.

“Eh. I don’t think I’ll do it. It’ll be a lot of work and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Maybe during the off-season.”

“Well, there’s always audio porn,” she jokes, taking a sip of her coffee.

“What?”

“It’s a joke, Johnny.” She smiles, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, right.”

The ‘joke’ plays on John’s mind the rest of the weekend. He does some cursory research, listening to various audio clips he finds on questionable websites. From what he’s listened to, it doesn’t seem that hard - just be a man or a woman with an attractive accent, some decent sound equipment, and be good with words. By his count, he’s two for three, and he proceeds to scour the internet and various ratings videos on the best recording equipment for making videos and audio recordings.

Within a week, he’s racked up a few thousand pounds worth of sound equipment. He decided to purchase a second laptop with the recording and editing apps he’d need so that he wasn’t using his personal computer after he’d realized his nightmare would be one of the boys accidentally finding out about his new hobby. He gets two microphones, planning on having one as a backup but realizing the moment it arrives that he can use the second to get better sound quality if he ever decides to start stroking himself ‘on air’. There are a few other odds and ends he gets just to put his mind at ease.

If she notices his purchases, she doesn’t say anything. It’s one thing John appreciates about their friendship - she always knows he’ll come to her when he’s ready, and she doesn’t push him for information he’s not ready to give.

Once he has all the equipment set up in the spare bedroom, he starts to get to work. He’s still not sure how all this is supposed to work, but he’s full of pent-up sexual frustration that he’s been saving for this moment.

“Fuck!” He curses, feeling utterly embarrassed and self-conscious as he sits down in the plush gaming chair he impulsively purchased. “Alright, John - you can do this.”

He turns on the recording equipment before he does anything else, checking the sound and reverb levels. The room isn’t soundproofed by any means, but she’s at work and John knows he has a specific window to get this recorded. The editing he can do later with noise-canceling headphones in, but the talking and wanking portion of this is on a deadline.

He squirts some lube into his palm (not a recent purchase; leftover from his last relationship, but it’s coming in handy right now - no pun intended) and closes his eyes as he starts to stroke himself, trying to mentally conjure up something.

The image comes to mind before he can stop it. She’s standing in the kitchen in one of his Scotland kits, her back to him as she balances on her tiptoes while she tries to reach for one of the bigger mugs for coffee. The way she’s angled, John can just see the barest hint of lacy panties peeking out as the jersey rides up and exposes part of her ass.

“You fucking tease.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them and the fantasy version of his roommate turns around, giving him a sexy smile.

“So?” She smirks, setting down the mug and sauntering towards him. “What’s wrong, Johnny?” She coos, running a manicured finger down his chest.

John’s breathing picks up and he can’t stop stroking his cock. “I think you know exactly what’s wrong, baby,” he growls, his voice getting deeper. “You can’t just walk around this house in my shirt with nothing underneath and not expect consequences.”

She pouts, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “What are you gonna do - spank me?”

He lets out a loud moan at his fantasy roommate’s suggestion. “I think a spanking sounds like a fine idea. Bend over.” She shakes her head at him, and he grabs her by the wrist, manhandling her. “I said: bend over.”

She thrashes and kicks as he holds her in place, lifting up the jersey so he can get a full glimpse of the lacy panties she was wearing. “Johnny, please!” She begs, whimpering now because she knows she’s really in for it now. “I’ll be good, I swear!”

“Begging won’t get you anywhere, love,” he chides, lost in the fantasy. “Now, be a good girl or I’m gonna have to take these panties off.”

“No! Please! I’ll be good - I swear!”

“How about ten?” She nods. “Good girl. I want you to thank me after each one of them and beg me for the next - got it?”

“Y-Yes, John,” she breathes, swallowing hard. “Please...spank me.”

Instinctively, John brings his hand down to smack his thigh, the sound of flesh-on-flesh making it more realistic. He takes it all in - how she sounds when his hand makes contact with her ass and the way her back arches as she begs for more - and he’s even harder by the time her spanking is over.

“You did so good for me, love,” he praises, his accent thicker as he helps her up. “Did you learn your lesson?”

She sniffles, nodding as she struggles to meet his gaze. She didn’t cry during her spanking, but John knows he’s gotten her close to tears. “I...I did.”

“Don’t worry - I’ll still let you wear revealing clothes around our house, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“If you’re going to dress like that, you have to be prepared to get down on your knees and suck me off.”

She sucks in a breath, biting down on her bottom lip as she weighs her options. Slowly, she sinks to her knees, reaching for his cock.

John almost lets her name slip past his lips the moment she puts her hand on his dick, but he turns it into a groan. It’s been so long since any woman has had their lips wrapped around his dick but the image of his roommate on her knees in front of him is so vivid that he doesn’t mind. He fantasizes about getting his dick sucked, stroking himself with one hand while the other plays with his balls as he imagines her hands in his place.

He holds out as long as he can, a hissed, “Fuck! I’m cumming!” crossing his lips before he spills his seed onto his stomach. When he’s done, he sits in the chair for a few minutes, coming down from his high. He hadn’t expected to fantasize about her like that, let alone cum to the thought of her sucking his dick after he spanked her, but it’s taken some of the edge off.

By the time she comes home, he’s lounging on the sofa, his noise-canceling headphones in as he puts the finishing touches on his first-ever audio file. Later that night, he uploads it to a couple sites, nervous yet excited.

[emwritesfootball]

Sotto Voce: Chapter One

Word Count: 1,018 A/N: this is an introductory chapter, so nothing crazy happens xx

- - -

“Whatcha doing?” She asks, walking into the kitchen to grab a snack. It’s the end of her workday so naturally she’s gone foraging for food, rolling her eyes to herself when all she finds is healthy food to snack on.

“N-Nothing,” John stutters out, shifting in his seat. He’s seated at the kitchen table, staring intently at his laptop like it holds all the answers in the world.

She knows something’s up - they’ve known each other for far too long for her to not be able to read him as well as she does - and her curiosity is immediately piqued. “Mmhmm,” she hums, peering over his shoulder. When she reads what’s on the screen, she bursts out laughing. “You can’t be serious!”

“Don’t laugh.” He shoots her a glare, continuing on with his quiz. “It was pure clickbait.”

“You can’t ask that of me, Johnny,” she teases, taking a seat at the table next to him. By some miracle, she’d managed to find a leftover bag of crisps and she was planning on taking her time savouring them while she made fun of her friend for his internet choices. “Especially not when you’re taking this so seriously.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, moving the mouse around and clicking on another answer. “I’m almost done.”

With a huff, she stays quiet, pulling out her phone to snap a pic of him hunched over his laptop which she promptly sends to Jack, whose reply is instantaneous.

Grealish: I NEED to know how this turns out!!!

She giggles at his response, sending him a few confirmation emojis before turning off her phone and turning her attention back to John.

“All done,” he says, taking a deep inhale as he moves the mouse again. “Time for the moment of truth.”

“Oh, my god.” She can’t roll her eyes hard enough, but she also doesn’t want to tease him too much. If she pushes too far, he won’t confide in her about it, and she desperately wants to know how this will turn out. “What are your results?”

John narrows his eyes, confusion furrowing his brow. “It says...it says I should go into podcasting.”

She’s stunned. “Wait...really?”

“Really.” John nods solemnly, turning the laptop so that she can see the results.

“You should go into podcasting,” she reads verbatim from the website, already sucked in. “Your natural ability to talk about any subject for an extended period of time, coupled with your sense of humour and quick wit make going into podcasting as your next career move well worth it. Now, if only you could think of a good title…” She leans back in the chair when she’s done, processing the accuracy of what she’s just read. “Whoa. It’s like that stupid quiz saw right into your soul.”

“I know.” John gives her a sheepish grin, running a hand over his head. “Weird, right?”

She thinks about it for a second before responding, “You know, I’m not sure it’s all that weird.” At John’s curious look, she continues, “I mean, you do like to talk, and you’ve got a ton of football knowledge. Besides, what other Prem player is out there starting a podcast about what it’s like playing starting from the bottom and working their way up to playing in the Prem? Sure, interviews and the like exist, but they don’t look at the full picture.” She’s excited now, the wheels in her brain spinning as she gains momentum. “You could take fan questions and have special guests. I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d love to hear this - especially all the young kids who look up to you. Plus, you’ve got a half-decent voice, and if I can listen to you speak for hours on end without wanting to deck you, you’re already halfway there.”

“Maybe…” John trails off, but he’s just as into this as she is.

***

He brings it up to Jack the next day at training. “I don’t know,” Grealish says as they change out of their gear and back into regular clothes. “Don’t people get a lot of shit for doing a podcast these days?”

“I mean, yeah, probably, but there’s all sorts of ways around it. And I’d keep mine family-friendly and whatnot.”

Jack stood up, clapping him on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Good luck, Ginny. If anyone would find a way to make it work, I’m sure it would be you, but I’m tellin’ ya - you just might be better off having an OnlyFans if you wanna have a side gig. Or, if you still wanted to do a podcast, just start one of those ASMR video channels or whatever they are.”

~~~

“Jack thinks I should do porn,” is the first thing John says when he walks through the door after training.

“I’m sorry, what?!” She’s thrown off by the comment, staring blankly at him as she tries to process his words. “I’m gonna need you to say that again.”

“So, I brought up my podcast idea to him after training today and he likes it, but he’s got concerns. According to Jack, I should ASMR porn on OnlyFans or something.”

The pout on John’s face has her giggling and shaking her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what he said.”

“And how would you know?”

She holds up her phone. “I got a heads-up that you’d probably be in a mood. According to Jack’s text, he likes the idea, but he worries about you getting ‘canceled’ and he joked with me that if you wanted to get canceled, there are faster ways of doing it, like having an OnlyFans or doing weird ASMR videos on YouTube. To which I responded: ‘don’t you already have an OnlyFans’ along with ‘and aren’t ASMR videos not even that weird anymore?’”

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” He says, pulling her into a side-hug. “Because I do.”

“You haven’t, but it’s always nice to be reminded,” she replies, looking up at him, ignoring the funny feeling she gets in the pit of her stomach whenever they get intimate like this. “Love you, too, Johnny.”

[tommyspeakycap]

Omg pls can I request jack grealish x reader where she get is harassed and he gets protective or just protective one shot in general pls would be so cute 😫🤧

sorry this got so long omg

right here with me

you’ve been getting abuse since jack’s move to city and he finds out upon hearing some nasty words in a pub. he is not happy

Before the euros, those who loved Jack were generally villa fans. They were the only people who truly appreciated his talent, the kind of people who were more surprised that he hadn’t made the England squad call up before. Most of the people who approached him when with you in the street were kids with huge grins while bouncing on their feet in excitement to meet their idol while wearing his strip. It always made you beam with pride, offering to take pictures of the parents wanted in too or even taking a snap on Jack’s phone so he could be reminded how much people love and support him.

Post England call up and certainly after the six week euro campaign that saw them through to the very final, the story was very different. It was far, far more busy that you had anticipated. The holiday you took shortly after was riddled with paparazzi snapping pictures wherever you went - which wasn’t particularly common. Sure, you’d had that here and there but it wasn’t massive and it never happened to only you. It only ever happened when you were with Jack.

Before, anyway,

Now you had people coming up to you, sweet girls asking what he was like or if they could get his autograph. They were generally harmless and too young to be a problem. There were some your age who flirted with him way too much for your liking, but again, harmless. The ones that were problematic were paparazzi and some ‘fans’ harassing you for tickets or playing access that always sent you into a flurry of panic with stuttered words, sudden sweats and trembling hands. By far, however the worst kinds of people are the drunk men in bars who come up to you usually initially to flirt because that’s what so many do. Then, if you’re unlucky and it seems as though recently that’s all you have been, they recognise who you are. Maybe from the tv where they would pan cameras onto you in the crowd after a goal when Jack points up at you, or from social media where you and pretty much every other wag of the England team had become common knowledge following the euro campaign. You’d expected Jack to blow up after this but you hadn’t realised that somehow, you would too. The second they recognised you, it was either a desperate search for something you could give them or a torrid berating for the team your boyfriend played for usually including some very derogatory targeted remarks at him.

Jack was someone who looks like he’d be a bit of a prick. He has that suave swagger and a mild resting bitch face that would make pretty much anyone think he was going to be one of those guys. But it only takes a mere second to realise he’s not. He’s soft spoken through the brummie twang and the second he even has the hint of a smile that resting bitch face ceases to exist. His eyebrows raise, frown disappears and in its place in the face of literal sunshine. He’s the softest lover you’ve ever known, constantly wanting to be physically affectionate and wrapped around you in adoration. It’s his love language, just touching you all the time. He does it to everyone, but it’s tenfold with you.

That, and he’s very very very protective of his people. He’s doesn’t worry about much, prefer to live each day as it comes and enjoy it in that manner too. Jack loves football, his family, his friends and you. He likes good food, football compilation videos, John McGinn’s jokes and scoring worldies. Truly he’s a simple man, easily pleased and happy almost all of the time. He rarely overthinks and always sees the best in everyone.

To tell him the harsh reality that you had been living in for the past months would shatter his world. The move was so hard and you witnessed that first hand; holding onto him late into the night as he lay there frowning and thinking harder than he ever had to desperately come to a decision. Things had levelled out now though, everything settled. You had a house to live in, he had slipped into form with the team at City, he was playing most of the games, the Ronaldo transfer took the hype and focus from his transfer a little so he had a bit of actual breathing space to process. He was actually genuinely very very happy and you are a self sacrificer. You don’t have it in you to tell him this transfer and his incredible euro performance had brought your life to a screeching halt for fear of stepping out the house.

Jack would absolutely kill you if he knew you had been hiding something so big from him.

“Are you sure you want to go tonight?” He asks sweetly, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he searches your face for the truth that your words seem to be lacking in. “Yeah, course.” You smile, placing a peck on the corner of his lips for reassurance that fails to actually reassure him. He trails behind you when you brush past him, his eyebrows furrowed only just enough to change his face but not quite enough to crease his forehead. “You’re not feeling well though.” He pouts slightly. You can see that pout in the mirror behind you that you stand in front of in the bathroom.

Jack wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder to make you pause putting in your earrings. “What?” You protest, “I feel-”

“Don’t lie.” He quips, eyebrows raised to challenge you. He can read you like a book, truly a lot smarter than people give credit for. Maybe not in booksmarts or common sense, but very good with people and he knows you like the back of his hand.

Your hands are shaky and you move around so quickly that he can barely keep up. The tone of your voice is an unnaturally higher octave and your forced smiles are just that; forced. He can tell because he's in love with your smile, so he knows when it's real. Jack has memorised very minuscule detail of your face when you smile because that smile exists in your whole face with crinkled eyes and adorable dimples he can't ever resist kissing when they pop out.

The way your body sinks into him as he remains wrapped around you, keeping your back flush to his chest is something of pure beauty. You fit together perfectly both in an emotional and physical manner. He calms you, brings you back down to earth with just his grounding hold. The way that his strong arms encompass you as he scent engulfs your being all the way through through to the gentle tickle of the hair framing his face against the back of your neck is a soothing. He's soothing.

"I'm just tired, I swear."

You swear. He notes that it's a strange thing for you to say. 'I promise' would've been much more common as a phrase form your lips, usually said with a soft smile and sparkling eyes. You'd usually have swivelled around in his arms, letting him keep you there as you would lean against the bathroom ledge that your sink sat on with the mirror above it. He would look down at you and there would be a whole moment of getting lost in each other, but that never comes today. Those dazzling eyes of yours never meet his except through the mirror and he knows you more than well enough to know that it's worry that swims around in them rather than fatigue.

“We won’t stay late then, can’t have my girl all tired.” Jack hums while pressing gentle kisses against your cheek that do make you smile, genuinely really smile with a giggle that makes Jack’s heart flutter the same way it did the first night he met you. “There’s that smile,” he teases, “That pretty, pretty smile.” Your cheeks heat up like you’ve not been together for nearly three years. “I love you, but we should go if we don’t want to be late.”

“I don’t care about being late,” Jack protests with a lazy smile, poking your side slightly to entice another giggle before you unravel yourself from his arms to finally look into his eyes. “Oh really? Could’ve fooled me.” You retort, rolling your eyes playfully as you brush past him to escape the bathroom so you could head towards leaving the house.

Jack’s a hand holder as ever, only taking his hand from yours when he settles it on the small of your back to guide you into the bar. You stick to his side like glue, remaining tucked under his arm as you sit together at the end of the round booth. Jack’s on the outside and you can cover up your desire to be so close to him to feel safe with the fact there’s many more people squeezed into that booth than it is meant for. You observe most of the conversation, laughing when everybody else does and engaging only when directly spoken to and otherwise remaining quiet again settled against Jack’s side warmly.

“Anyone for drinks?” You pipe up, mildly nervous about looking like you weren’t going to buy a round when everybody else has and a lot less nervous about being out when Jack’s right there with you.

Mentally noting the orders, ricing them in your head as Jack lets you out of the booth - not without a cheeky peck on your lips and a very discrete bum tap of course - to allow to walk up to the bar a little apprehensively. The order wasn’t an issue, easily told to the bartender who was very sweet to you.

It’s the man sitting slightly along the bar that is making your palms sweat ferociously. He keeps looking at you, so you turn your back to him to attempt to force his attention elsewhere.

Instead you feel a tap on your shoulder that makes you jump out of your skin.

“Is be loyal?” The deep voice sneers, forcing your heart up into your throat in fear. “Excuse me?” You splutter, eyes wide as your hands tremble violently. The breath has already fully left your lungs and there’s little potential for you to suck it back in right away in your panic. “He’s not loyal to club, not loyal to country, so i can only imagine the world he’s into all sorts of birds behind your back, eh?”

All you can do is swallow thickly, desperate not to burst into tears right there in front of him. You open and close your mouth like you might say something but no words manage to escape. “That’s why they wanted him though eh? Pretty poster boy to throw himself around the floor like he throws himself at other women. Suppose your type hang around for the money anyway, don’t you?”

The tall brunettes words would hurt a lot more if you were actually processing them instead of just hearing a string of sounds that make words but don’t actually register in the freeze mode your brain had gone into, seemingly forgetting the fight and flight were available options. “I-uh-I…uh-”

“Can barely string a sentence together,” the man notes as though he’s actually picked up something of substance, “Makes sense you’re with him then. Similar intelligence.” He tuts, shaking his head with another laugh. You can’t seem to wrap your head around why someone would want to be this horrible to anyone, let alone someone they don’t know if when they are as drunk as this guy apparently appears to be. You’re a very anxious person as it is, but this would shake anyone like it is you right now. In all honesty, you would far prefer being harassed for a free ticket to the Etihad.

You can barely even blink, completely stone frozen bar the genuine shake of your body. “Pointless,” he scoffs, “Just a rich man’s who-”

A shoulder cuts that voice off, a broad one that towers over you and slices through the space that had existed thinly between you and the raging man who appeared to definitely not support City.

You recognise the head of bouncy hair right away, followed his strong accent proclaiming a challenge of “Finish that sentence, fuckin’ finish it!” As he pushes forward with his chest puffed and his face contorted in rage. John is lunging forward after him to wrap his long, strong arm across Jack’s chest to tug him back while Kyle creates space between Jack and the offending man. In front of you, a pale face and two kind blue eyes appear right in your line of vision with two hands landing on your upper arms.

“You are alright, (y/n).” Kevin says, his words gentle and caring. He moves you a few paces back to get out of the situation, using his body to shield you from the clash in the pub that had caused yelling and quite the scuffle by the bar. He keeps you with him, trying to keep you just calm enough to not go into a full blown panic attack before Jack can get out to you. He has a quick word with the manager that gets the drunken asshole thrown out the bar and allows Jack to push his way through the mulling crowd to get to you.

Kevin unravels his arms to show you, tucked into him still quivering. Jack rushes over, both of his strong, cold hands finding your flushed cheeks.

“Hey pretty girl,” he coos, “I’ve got you, i’m right here.” He uses his thumb to swipe away each tear that leaves your wide eyes. “Breath with me, baby, come on. Just like this.” Jack makes exaggerated movements in inhaling and exhaling so you can copy him. He keeps you both tucked away in that darker corner of the bar, keeping your body hidden by the muscled build of his body. He coaches your breathing, wipes your tears and talk absolutely nonsense to drag the focus of your mind away from your previous harassment and bring your feet back to the ground. All the while his own mind is racing, connecting vital dots as it becomes clear why you’ve been a bit of a homebody recently. Why you haven’t wanted to go out without him and why you stick to him when you are out together.

“I’m sorry.” You hiccup, sniffling as Jack immediately shakes his head. “No.” He states firmly, “You have nothing to apologise for. How long has this been happening to, baby?”

His voice is so soft, each syllable spoken with genuine love and care that patches your heart so quickly and so easily. “Just since the transfer.” You mutter, keeping your admission as quiet as possible as it leaves your mouth showered in shame. Your boyfriend’s jaw drops, his face one of complete horror. Jack wants to ask why you haven’t told him, in fact he’s desperate to know. But pushing you right now will only make you more upset and he would sooner die that make you cry for a single minute longer. He hates seeing you hurt, his heart shattering with every moment of your pain.

“Well it won’t happen again.” He assures firmly, “Ever.” You don’t doubt him, but you also just don’t know how true that statement could be. He truly can’t be one hundred percent sure as far as you’re concerned. He wraps his arm tightly around your shoulder so he can hold you close to his chest as he leads you out of the bar towards his car. Neither of you were drinking so he was good to drive home with that sickly silence that makes you worry that he’s angry at you.

Jack never has been and he certainly isn’t now. He’s angry at the man in the bar and maybe even more angry at himself. He let you go up there by yourself. He is the one who people were angry at for the transfer. He is the one didn’t score at the weekend. It’s him who’s on the pitch, him who created this issue for you and though he can’t be blamed for other people’s malicious actions, he’ll still blame himself for being the one who put you in a position to have to experience that.

The exhaustion of the day has clearly taken a role on you because when he looks to his left after pulling into the drive, you’ve fallen asleep against the window. His heart softens at the sight of you, his anger momentarily disappearing with how peaceful and restful you look in that moment. He doesn’t have it in him to wake you up, instead opting to scoop you out in his arms and carry you through the door, up the stairs and into bed.

He keeps you in his arms, cradling you like he might with a small child. He just holds you and thinks. Jack thinks about how much he loves you, how much you’ve given up for him and truly how much he would give for you. The soft hearted man doesn’t know how to fix this one just yet. God does he want to. There are few things in the world he wouldn’t give to know and be able to stop it right here, but he’s honest in saying he doesn’t. That’s okay, though. Sometimes nobody knows what to do in a relationship. It’s touch and go a lot of the time and you’re not expecting him to click his fingers and make things perfect.

Instead, he just holds you. It won’t magic everything away, but it sure eases things for the moment. Your very loving, very protective and ever sweet man just holds you and kisses your head, muttering quiet and soothing words despite the fact you barely register them in your sleepy haze. One thing you do make out, however, is the love coating those words and his eye firm assurance that makes your heart beautifully warm;

“Not gonna go anywhere. You got me baby,” he murmurs softly, “mhm, ‘m gonna keep you safe right here with me.”

[tommyspeakycap]

Footie Fics :)

prompts lists

meeting prompts

prompt list

cute intimate prompts

(requests are not exclusive to these lists, send in anything you like and I’ll give it a shot!)

also want to just put it out there that I’ll never accept a request involving players real life families / stuff like that. they’ll never be included in the fics and everything here is completely imaginative and fictional with no relation or link to the players personally. that said, request away! :)

how i headcanon member of the england nt when they’re travelling - a stupid thing i made once

insta files masterlist

Jack Grealish

linked fics / stories

Friends for now

Not mates

Stay

Blurbs/prompts/oneshots

this is happiness

illicit affairs

fell for you

Braids

Cheeky

Mama’s Boys

Villa boy

comfort

changed man

snow days and haribo rings

right here with me

accents

Kieran Tierney

Dating would include

nsfw alphabet

christmas market

this is what dreams are made of

Jordan Henderson

linked fics / series

Rose Garden

Painted Roses

blurbs/prompts/oneshots

fluff alphabet

John Stones

linked fics / series

always yours

part two

john x single mum reader

masterlist

blurbs/prompts/oneshots

perfect

black tie turbulence

my hero

say it back

nsfw alphabet

because i’m in love with you

holiday hatred (smut)

no matter what // (part 2)

traffic lights

work welcome

everybody knows

changing it up

longer than forever lasts

car problems

wife

christmas jumper

dad duty

flatmate

Ben Chilwell

fics/multi-parts

please don’t say you love me (1)

cause i might not say it back (2)

doesn’t mean my heart’s not skipping (3)

when you look at me like that (4)

single dad!ben x reader

helping hand

a team

heaven

blurbs/prompts/oneshots

home

reunions and surprises

welcome to the family

good luck charm

rings

want it again (part two)

i believe

Ben White

blurbs/prompts/oneshots

ease

dating would include

holiday heartbreak

Andy Robertson

fics/multi part pieces

ruined it // part two

resentment // part two

baby girl

a fathers woe

not just the physio

feeling some kind of way

nsfw alphabet

uprooted plans

with a bang

best kept secret

Marcus Rashford

blurbs/oneshots/prompts

meet the family

the one

count on me (series)

part one

part two

Jorginho

blurbs/oneshots/prompts

brothers

seil il mio amore piu grande

Mason Mount

blurbs/oneshots/prompts

3am confessions

biggest mistake

quite miss home

John McGinn

blurbs/oneshots/prompts

double win

you got me

celebration

Rúben Dias

next to you

beautiful

not ready

daddy's home

blue masterlist

insta files

one

two

blurbs

songwriter girlfriend blurb

ring blurb

looking out for you blurb

[tommyspeakycap]

Ruined it

pairing - andy robertson x reader

summary - after the england tie, andy’s left sulking while watching the woman he’s fallen in love with apparently cracking on with kt - this request

word count - 2k

"What're you sulking about eh?"

Andy turns his head suddenly at the sound of a voice he’s come to be very fond of. A brotherly voice of consistent reason. Jordan Henderson is always level headed and gives probably the best advice of anyone Andy has ever known, especially off the pitch. It’s why he’s their Liverpool skipper.

Andy shrugs, watching as Jordan takes a seat a little away from him, a row down and three seats over so they’re not too close as they sit in the stadium. The England international has his hands stuffed thoroughly into his pockets for a bit of heat against his rain soaked body, but the Scot doesn’t seem to be bothered by the dark blue strip still rain plastered to his skin. Jordan’s never understood the unbothered nature of many Scottish players and the rain, especially after matches. Tierney could often be spotted kicking about training in shorts and t-shirt even in the snow. But the rain seemed to be the least of Andy Robertson’s worried right now.

His eyes instead are focused down on the side of the pitch, still actually standing in the rain on his fellow left back. Tierney is standing by the goalpost and next to him is someone Jordan has become mildly familiar with through his friendship with Andy, you. Billy and Mason had been standing there a couple minutes ago and since had left to chat elsewhere with Chilwell, but you and Kieran remained talking.

The Liverpool skipper understands immediately why his club mate looks so sour even though they hadn’t conceded a goal. It’s not so much that you’re talking to Kieran, but instead the way that you’re talking to him.

It’s so animated, he’s using his hands to tell a story and you’re mimicking his actions with the same intensity, engaged in somehow simultaneously telling and listening to each other talk. Except Jordan can rationalise. You haven’t seen Kieran in person for ages, this was like two pent up kids seeing their friends for the first time after the summer holidays. So much to tell, so little time to get it across.

“Can’t compete with that, mate.” Andy mumbles, his voice thick with the heavy heartache kind of emotion that chafes a little at the large heart of the mackem man looking at him softly. “Don’t be like that,” Jordan protests with a scoff, “She’s not interested in him.” He insists, but he - again - can understand why Andy might think that. He doesn’t see what you look like when you talk to him. He doesn’t see the way you look at him or how excited you are to speak to him. He can’t watch your conversations from the outside line he’s sitting doing right now with you and the arsenal left-back who you’ve got doubled over in laughter right now. It's very obvious for Jordan to tell that you and Kieran are just friends because he can, and does, get to see what love from you looks like.

It looks like the hearts that basically swirl around in your eyes every single time you look at Andy Robertson.

You're standing down there talking to that cheeky Celtic through and through left back with his hair sticking up funny because of the rain and the thing that he's talking about is you and the Scotland captain. He was the real reason you were at the game, Kieran knows this. He knows you’re smitten, have been since he introduced you to him a few years ago. It had only been a waiting game of how long until one of you to crack and admit it.

Kieran was getting awful bored of waiting and nobody was getting any younger. If he had to hear you talking about Andy and this 'potential girlfriend' one more time, he'll lose the fucking rag. Andy doesn’t have a girlfriend. He couldn't fucking get one because everyone that asked him out got turned down for the simple fact that they weren't you enough for him. Nobody ever would be.

Nobody would laugh at his jokes and rip him a new one when he needed to be told that his patter was genuinely shocking. Nobody, literally nobody, appreciated that little thing he does with his shoulder on a run down the side of the pitch when he realises he might lose the ball like you do. He throws his shoulder forward, almost in a way that can be played off as a natural movement but has just enough on it to send the quickly running member of the opposing team into the closest pitch barricade. When he'd spent the length of the Manchester City game doing it to Kyle Walker, it's all you'd talked about for days. You just love him and it's almost painfully obvious to everyone but the one person who should see it the most.

"They're just friends Robbo." Jordan repeats, but Andy squints with an ever so subtle shake of his head. "It's like a fuckin' movie. Met when they were four, still fuckin' best friends at twenty four. Couldn't write it Hendo." Andy explains, hitting the back of his hand against the palm of his other emphatically, almost as if to drive home the idea brewing in his mind that you and Kieran were set to be together. A perfect couple, of sorts.

"You're being ridiculous." Jordan states simply, shaking his head in disagreement and indifference. "Like, do you realise how stupid you sound? She is not... interested... in ...him."

Andy sighs again heavily, finally tearing his eyes away from you to look at his club mate turned close friend sitting there in front of him. Jordan had his serious, almost dad face on. The one he uses if there is a message he needs to get across or a scolding that he needs to give either to a team member acting up or to one of his children.

"That said," he adds, "You need to tell her how you feel mate, before she is interested in someone else. Won't wait around for you forever."

The words actually give Andy a chill through his spine, making him shiver and not from the cold. He spots you, drifting out of a circle containing KT, Ben Chilwell, Billy, Mason and John McGinn, kind of looking as though you were looking around for someone else. Jordan knows that you are looking for the one man you really came here for. You're almost looking for him to save you, searching for him in the sea of football players standing in circles dotted around talking amongst each other about the game, about their lives and all that other rubbish that had missed talking about.

You're not sure what it is, but it feels like someone's arse that bloody bounces you sideways stumbling in straight into the front of Jack Grealish. Kieran smirks from where he stands knowing he hit his intended target when he hears your 'oof' and Jack's signature Brummie accent asking if you were alright. He casts a side eye up to the stands where he's seen his skipper sitting, a small grin ticking over the former Celtic mans lips as he sees Jordan Henderson patting Andy on the back just as he quickly makes for the stairs two at a time on tired legs.

"It that Grealish?" Andy had asked, eyebrows pulled into furrowed confusion. Jordan nods. "Yup."

That raises Andy to his feet immediately. Kieran was one thing, but to see you basically nose to nose with Jack fucking Grealish was another. That Andy could not even begin to handle even as he helped you back to your feet. "Better move fast." Hendo notes.

Andy does just that, except not in the direction that either Kieran or Jordan had anticipated him going in. When Andy got to the bottom of the stairs where Kieran had expected him to barge through the players and make a break for you, he instead took a swift left and marched back through the tunnel to the changing rooms.

Jordan is the first to spot your frown when you see the number 3 walking quickly off towards the changing room. He can physically see from your face the way that your heart sinks, a soft sigh parting your lips as you disjoin from the groups of talking players and mingling family members to find the side of the pitch that he had left from. Whether or not you were supposed to go back there, you didn't know. But you had come here to see him, watch him play and actually get to speak to him face to face for the first time in a while. Your work had kept you busy and he was travelling for the Scotland matches.

"Andy!" You call out after him, picking up your pace when you spot him rounding a corner quickly. "Andy!"

You know he can hear you, but he doesn't slow down. He keep thundering towards the changing room and you're confused. He was never like this. Andy is such a sweetheart to everyone and to you he was even sweeter. He was funny, he was kind and he made you feel like the world was a better place to be in.

This was very out of character, especially after a game that would be considered a success from their perspective.

"Andrew!" You bark, courage bubbling up to the surface when he pushes through the changing room door and lets it shut behind him just before you walk through.

Andy freezes in his spot, guilt immediately causing through his veins at the sound of you attempting to catch the heavy door. That was uncalled for and his mother would slap him silly if she'd ever caught word of him doing something like that to anyone, but especially. His mum really loved you.

"What was that far? Who pissed in your cereal this morning?" You try to joke as you lean against the door, crossing your arms over your chest with a teasing grin, but he just turns his back to you at his number designated changing spot in the room. He shrugs and pulls his shirt over the top of his head roughly, chucking it down on the bench in front of him. "Just didn't know you were behind me." He mumbles, almost so lowly you can't hear him.

"Right." You scoff with a step takin towards him. He still won't turn and look at you. He has so much anger coursing through his veins and he just doesn't even know why. Just seeing you there, hugging all them and speaking to Kieran before him, the way the arsenal man held you with such a tight squeeze and kissed the top of your head was what he was supposed to be doing. It's what he always did and watching Kieran do that to you knowing it was a routine for him too made him feel like an absolute idiot. Everything for Kieran was completely platonic, simply the act of missing you as his best friend.

"Cause you're not really supposed to be back here." He hints, making your heart sink. Your confidence to confront him dissipates right there and then, forcing you to attempt to swallow back a lump in your throat. He had never even used a tone like that with you before, not even in the petty little arguments you've been in in the past.

In fact had anyone else spoke to you anywhere near anything like that, Andy would have laid them out flat. But he was so fuelled by jealousy and the desire to be alone to wallow in his heartache so he doesn't take it out on his teammate later on a ruin morale that he almost doesn't realise how nasty he's being, even if the words themselves aren't that sharp, his cold tone was enough to make any words seem hurtfully intended. He chances a look back at you, a quick turns of his head to see you staring at him before he turned his head back to face his number stuck to the wall in front of him as he pulled the tape from off his wrists.

"I just noticed you walking off and the guys let me through so I-" You attempt to reason, words shaking slightly as you try to string together an excuse for being there when he clearly doesn't want you to be. God that hurt more than it should. "Are you alright?"

"Just surprised you could tear yourself away from trying to shag KT is all. Or maybe you'd prefer Grealish? Not too sure."

Your heart skips a beat at his snap as he pulls his undershirt from his arm and throws it down with his strip shirt. A puff of air is snorted out your noise, the kind of scoff of disbelief that hits his ears just in time to realise the words had actually just left his lips. With his back to you, he's safe to make screw up his face in disbelief at himself.

You scoff full this time, just about sick of the sight of his back and completely over the attitude. He's not sure what you're doing behind him in the seconds after he spits out those words that he knows for a fact will have hit you hard.

"Here." You tug him from his thoughts, turning him around finally to see you standing there with hurt written across your face. He watches you with his own pain filled eyes as you stand there in a long sleeved blue shirt something like the one he had been wearing under his strip. Right when he turns around, you throw something at him. A bundle of blue material that he barely catches against his bare chest. His head turns down towards it to investigate.

"Fuck you, Andrew." You spit, "Fuck you."

His sighs heavily to himself as he watches the door slam behind you, shaking out the fabric in his hands. His heart literally shatters when he realises what it is. The dark blue Scotland shirt with name and number is printed proudly across the back, something he hadn't even noticed you were actually wearing until you had throw it at him.

He drops himself backwards to sit on the bench, the jersey settling over his cold thighs as his head falls into his hands and a loud "Fuck," leaves his mouth into the empty room.

You power past Jordan Henderson walking along the corridor, looking at you expectantly with a smile that falters the second he see's your face, eyes brimming with unshed tears as you basically run past him. You're heading in the opposite direction of the pitch too, clearly on your way to leaving.

"Don't, Jordan. Just don't." You cut him off, holding up a hand to silence him before he even had the chance to do more than open his mouth. "Just leave it alone."

He reaches out for you, but you're gone before he gets the chance to catch your arm and his eyebrows are tightly furrowed in confusion. He knows that you and Andy have gotten in something similar to fights before, all friends do but never has the left-back said anything that had ever made you look quite so upset. He was usually the one making sure nobody ever did make you that upset.

While the England international stands there confused, it becomes clear he wasn't the only one to see you so upset when a thundering head of dark hair barrels past him towards the changing room with a definitively angry gusto that has Jordan leaping forward to chase after him.

"Fuck did you do, mate?" Kieran booms the second he throws open that changing room door with Jordan behind him, immediately getting in between the two Scotland players. Kieran has a tendancy to get hot headed. He’s very protective and everybody knows this. Andy’s guilty face wasn’t enough to clarify the idea that it was, in fact, he who had upset you.

“Tierney,” Jordan warns, his eyes serious as he switched from friend to captain mode in a split second, “You’d better go make sure she’s alright.”

Kieran lingers shifting from boot to boot, but ultimately does as he’s told and goes after you at a jog that allows Andy to drop his head back into his hands. Jordan turns back to Andy, hands on his hips with a very unhappy look written into his features.

"Now what the fuck did you do?"

“Just fucking ruined everything, mate.”

[collecting-stories]

Rain - JJ Maybank

Request: hello💛may i request jj x reader, they are bestfriend’s and lately jj has been seeing reader in a completely different way and he doesn’t know why? like he‘d get mad at the boys interested in her and whenever rafe or topper tries to hit on reader it always ends in a fight? maybe he abruptly kisses her one day and then does he realise he’s inlove with her? FLUFF & A JEALOUS JJ PLS😭❤️

Request: could you do a jj fic with a rain kiss? i don’t really have a plot in mind but maybe one where they’re arguing in the rain or something💖

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

JJ sat on his board, ignoring the growing waves and Pope telling him to hurry up and paddle the rest of the way out to surf. He was too far away to hear anything you were saying but he was close enough to see you, standing there with your board, talking to Topper at the edge of the water. He squinted against the sun, trying to get a better look at your face as stood there. Were you smiling or was he imagining that? Did you like Topper? You had never mentioned anything about the kook to any of them, unless you just hadn’t mentioned it to him.  

Pope called JJ’s name again and he waved his other friend off, still trying to decipher what was going on with you and Topper on the beach. He would never admit it out loud but lately JJ had been feeling different about you. It wasn’t just some lust fueled, empty flirting. It was more than that. He couldn’t explain it and he’d definitely never felt like it before but he couldn’t sit there and watch you flirt with Topper. He paddled back toward the shoreline, getting off his board when he was close enough and walking to where you and Topper were talking.  

“Hey.”

You looked surprised to see him when your eyes met his but you recovered pretty quickly, “hey, what’s up?” You asked.  

“Thought you were coming out...it’s gonna storm soon.” JJ pointed out. You and Pope had been talking about going out to catch waves all week and there was finally a break in what felt like seven days straight of rain.  

“Yeah, I will, I’m just...” you looked back at Topper, still standing there. He raised his eyebrows in question, “I’ll be right there I’m talking to Topper.”

“Yeah...about what?”

“What?” You asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“How about, none of your business?” Topper commented, glaring at him.  

“How about you get the fuck off our side of the beach.” JJ said, stepping forward. You were quick to get between them, holding a hand out to JJ to stop him from coming any closer. Everything had been fine two minutes ago before he decided to come back to shore.  

“I’ll be right out J,” you said, “just go.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Please.”

“She told you to leave.” Topper cut in.  

“Seriously,” you rolled your eyes, “I got it.”  

“I can’t believe you’re seriously choosing him over me.” JJ said.  

You clenched your fists, trying not to lose your cool right here on the beach in front of Topper. This was the same bullshit that JJ had been pulling for weeks now. Interrupting any conversation that you tried to have with anyone that wasn’t him. He’d been antsy and unusually clingy just the other day when you were hanging outside the Chateau with John B. Now he was embarrassing you in front of Topper.  

“Can you not do this right now?” You practically begged before turning back to Topper, “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Text me.” He replied, nodding. He glared at JJ one last time before heading off down the beach, away from both of you. If only you could have gone with him.  

“What the hell is your problem JJ?” You laid your board down and started to gather the rest of your stuff. Shorts, sandals, shirt, all went in your bag.  

“My problem? You’ve been bitching all week about going out to surf and we finally get a few good hours and you waste them standing around on the shore twirling your hair and flirting with Topper.”  

“Fuck you! I’m allowed to talk, and yes flirt, with whoever the hell I want to.” You snapped.  

“Topper though? Get some fucking standards.” He replied, dropping his board down beside yours and grabbing your bag before you could finish packing it.

“Give me that back!”

“No!” He held it away from you when you tried to reach for it, “I’m trying to talk to you and you’re standing here packing up so you can run away.”

“Run away? You’re so fucking dramatic JJ! I’m leaving because you’re being a dick and you ruined  my entire afternoon.”

“Oh sorry you didn’t get to suck his-”  

You slapped JJ, hands immediately covering your mouth, eyes wide as you stared at him. You knew about Luke and you’d always been carefully of the way you acted around JJ. You’d never so much as jokingly nudged him.  

“Oh my god...J-”

JJ shook his head, holding his hand up. “I was out of line.” He replied. The moment he heard the words coming out of his mouth he knew he had taken his anger too far. He wasn’t surprised you’d slapped him, he wanted to hit himself too. He was being stupid and he knew but he didn’t know how to fix it.

“I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay.” He insisted.  

“I wasn’t flirting with Topper.” You clarified, “I didn’t deserve the accusation but I wasn’t flirting.”

“You were just out here talking to him and I saw you and-”

“I can’t just not talk to people because you don’t want me to...I get the whole kook pogue thing but I’m allowed to talk to whoever I want, without some six degrees from you.” You replied. You hadn’t meant to slap him but you weren’t going to let him get away with his behavior because of that.

“It’s not a kook pogue thing.” He looked away for a moment as a drop of rain hit his cheek. You looked up as it started to rain again, the umpteenth time this week. As you turned your attention back to JJ you saw Pope coming in out of the corner of your eye. At least someone got to enjoy a few waves.  

“Then what is it, because I’m so sick of this shit with you JJ. It’s every party, every beach trip.” You said. “I can’t talk to anyone without you right there. I don’t get it.”

“I just-” JJ let out a breath, frustrated with himself mostly. He was terrible with words as it was but he felt like he was incapable of just explaining to you what was the matter. Why couldn’t he just tell you that he liked you?  

“What?” You asked, “you just what?”

“I just-” He tried again, the rain overhead getting worse as he pushed wet hair out of his eyes. Without warning he leaned forward, knowing he’d either be slapped again or you would reciprocate. He kissed you, hand laying at the back of your head but trying not to seem like he was holding you there.  

Your eyes went wide and then quickly closed against the rain. JJ was kissing you, mouth on yours as if it was the most obvious reason of all and somehow you had never even considered that the reason he was so pissed was because he was jealous. You kissed back, grabbing at his waist to pull him closer, hands slippery on wet skin. He was jealous of Topper or John B or any nameless touron at a party and you couldn’t even fathom that because it was completely unbelievable. What did he even have to be jealous of?

“Guys!” Pope called, coming up the beach to where the two of you were standing. JJ pulled way, turning to look at his best friend.  

“What?”

“I’m real happy for you but can we get going? Now isn’t the time!” He insisted, looking back to the darkening sky over the water.  

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized, grabbing your bag from where JJ had dropped it on the sand and sliding it over your shoulders, “JJ was yelling at me over Topper.”

“I wasn’t yelling at you!”

“No, totally, of course. You were so calm and collected.”  

“I would’ve been if you hadn’t been talking to Topper when we were supposed to be hanging out!” JJ replied, that slight crack in his voice back as he followed you and Pope up to the car.

“I’m joking J, god I kissed you didn’t I?”  

-

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