Two Minutes Apart, Absolutely Beautiful Site

“What are you doing? Oh, this is nice.”  I’ve been waiting for this hug since the “just-grabbing-the-door-for-you” moment in Spider-man Homecoming. 

Hey when will you start writing again?

Hello anon,

I don’t want to make any promises at the moment but I’ll definitely be writing again in 3 weeks time - when I leave for holidays - but perhaps before then if I manage to get myself together as I’m struggling with a couple life things at the minute.

I feel bad though because I just have asks from months ago and the inactivity and interaction with people dying down just makes me feel like everyone is forgetting me, so when I finally do start writing again nobody will care - which obviously it’s not about likes or anything I just feel like I’m letting everyone down.

maybe some cock warming with eric? I really miss this big man

and he’s making the excuse that he’s cold as he hitches your leg over his hips and sinking into you with an exhale of breath. And you’re both just sitting there, connected and in love, enjoying the intimacy as he plays with your hair and mumbles into your neck about his day. And even though it’s not sexual you’re still clenching around him occasionally - ‘don’t be a tease’ gruffly returned.

Write more of John and thins United photographer, what’s he replying to the text ?

Was thinking we could do something

And that’s how you ended up exploring the city with John. He took you to places you’ve never been - ‘paparazzi follow me sometimes: you learn where to go’ - and treated you to food you’ve never eaten - ‘got to spend my money on something, I’m glad it’s something as pretty as you’ with a cheeky wink thrown in for good measure. And at the end of the day he’s driving you home, your cheeks hurt from laughing so much and your eyes are bright with excitement and he’s walking you to your door, silence engulfing the pair of you as you stand, not quite knowing what to do. And he’s placing a lingering kiss on your cheek, leaving you with an ‘I’ll text you’, a longing stare and a desperate need to stop him from going.

Send me blurbs

Send me blurbs, I still have some in my inbox but I’m having writers block so I need to find some I’m inspired for. To everyone who’s sent me something, I’ll get to it! Also everyone who sent me a sancho blurb: I want to familiarise my self with him first before I write.

John Stones won the Premier League. Hadouken motherfuckers

*chanting* Smutty Lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard Smutty Lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard Smutty Lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard Smutty Lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard smutty lingard

YES, chant it

So he’s subbed off after 70 minutes, sending you a wink and a subtle flick of the head to follow as he goes for his post-match shower. And you follow, cheeks heating up despite no one seeing, hurriedly finding the dressing room. Jesse is immediately on you, pushing you against the door, closing it as he does and locking it. Tongue in your mouth, hand in your hair, sweaty body pressed against yours and you moan into his mouth and he loves it. And he’s pushing you and his shorts down, head falling backwards and a string of moans pouring out of his mouth as you work on him. Tip first, teasing him, stroking him, head going further and further down, gaining a rhythm. And his moans are getting more loud and intense as he’s pulling you back up, mouth on yours again, pushing down your trousers, hand under the shirt with his name on the back, resting on your waist as he lowers you onto the cold bench, head between your legs. And then it’s you moaning, and your knuckles going white as his tongue and his fingers do their work, moving perfectly with his expertise (and you make a mental note to mention that later). And it’s when he comes back up, ready to kiss you again that there’s a knock on the door and the two of you pull up your clothes, Jesse unlocking the door to find Marcus at the front of a large group of footballers clad in red and you walk past sheepishly, all of them smirking at you and you laugh as you hear Rashford speak, ‘couldn’t even watch us win could ya?’

‘Well I had other business, beansprouts’.

omg do some Frenkie de Jong xx

I have some in my inbox that I’ll get around to between now and the next few days x

okay being in a relationship with John but you had a huge fight and drifted apart and haven’t had much contact for weeks but one day you decided to show up to his game wearing a jersey with his name on it and the cameraman randomly shows you on the screen and John sees it during the game and is all distracted and gets subbed off and as soon as he leaves the pitch he texts you to meet him after the game

I actually really liked this idea, anon

so you hadn’t spoken to John in weeks, but it was a big derby match and you’d be damned if you missed it because of him, so you got ready, throwing on your Man City jersey and go to the game with your friend. And it was a good game. And intense game. You were telling your friend that City are playing well - but John was starting and playing well was what you really meant. And it’s after a goal, everyone celebrating, showing the gleeful fans that he sees you, up on the screen, screaming and hugging your friend and he notices it, of course he does. STONES written across your back and it looks right to him, and he keeps thinking about it, looking at were he thinks you are in the crowd, searching, hoping to get a chance to see you - his girl - with his name on your back. Like it should be. And it’s this distraction that ends with him getting subbed off, commentators agreeing with the decision - ‘Stones has slipped in quality this second half’ - but he doesn’t care. He’s getting his phone out as soon as he’s off, finding your undeleted contact name and sending you a message.

Meet me after the game x

And you see it at full time, high off the win, high off the thought of him. So of course you do.

do a dele one, any story x

Because it’s his birthday

You’re waking him up to kisses on his face, giggling at his lazy groan as he pushes you off him, smiling as he does so. ‘You have to get up for training, del’ you whispered against his warm skin and his response was even more groans and a muttering of ‘but it’s my birthday’ and you’re pulling him up and pushing him out of bed ‘come on I can sleep in for a bit longer’ and he’s stropily walking off to the shower as you admire his back muscles in the dim morning light. And soon he’s leaving, a kiss to your forehead and the demand of his birthday sex when he gets back and you’re up as soon as he leaves: birthday gift preparations time