#golf shirts button down collars

[starkeysbunny]

the kook's girl [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x kook reader

summary - being the only girl in the kook friend group, you were always taken care of. especially since you and rafe started dating four months ago. safe to say, everyone on the island knew not to mess with you if they valued their life at all. so, when the tourons came to town in the summer, the kook boys always got their bit of fun.

warnings - swearing, fighting, just our fav protective!rafe

"Sarah, it's our song!" She slurred, grabbing onto her best friend's hand, pulling her onto the dance floor.

Rafe and Sarah are never on good terms, but Rafe knows no matter how much he hates his sister, she'll always be his girl's best friend. He's grateful for it sometimes, as annoying as it can be, it's just one more person who cares about her and is always looking out for her when Rafe can't be.

But tonight, as both kook girls are drunk off their asses, Rafe keeps a close eye. He spots John B doing the same from across the club as he sits next to Kiara, still keeping a close eye on his girl, Sarah.

Rafe sits in a booth at the club, nursing a glass of whiskey in his palm. Topper and Kelce sit next to him, talking about things he could not care less about at the moment. For example, the girls on the dance floor they want to take home, golf, etc.

No, Rafe's attention is solely on the girl who lights up the dance floor in her sparkly pink dress which Rafe bought for her just three days prior. Her gold necklace with the letter 'R' hanging from her neck shines brightly as the club lights hit it. Her baby pink kitten heels travel her elegantly across the floor as her arm remains tightly latched onto Sarah's as they dance in tune.

He barely even notices the slight smile etched onto his lips in affection as he takes a slow sip from his glass.

"Yo!"

Rafe's attention is abruptly moved from his girl to his dumbass friends as Topper pulls on his white half-way unbuttoned shirt.

"What?" Rafe spits, rolling his eyes at their antics.

"Tourons, 12 o'clock." Topper warns.

"What the fuck? I think they're looking at Y/n and Sarah, man." Kelce points out, suddenly sitting up straighter as they both snap out of their previous conversations to keep an eye on the situation.

This catches his attention as he clocks the three sun burnt tourists waltzing in wearing khaki shorts, polos, and flip flops. Idiots. He notices one of them point in Y/n's direction as the other's snicker, laughing as they spoke to each other.

Rafe’s eyes dart back to Y/n, oblivious as ever, in her own little world.

"I've almost been waiting to pick a fight," He confesses. "Just wait till they get too close."

The three morons make their way in the direction of Y/n. One particular guy, wearing a blue tropical button up, comes up behind Y/n, tapping her shoulder. Rafe is just close enough to overhear the conversation.

“Hey, I’m Ethan,” he smirks, hungry eyes looking her up and down.

She turns around, her smile slightly fading at his stare. “Um, hi.” She spins back around, grabbing onto Sarah.

“You two are pretty little things, out here by yourselves.” He chuckles, his hand moving to her shoulder.

“You gonna go out there man?” Topper asks, getting anxious for the girls.

“No, just wait. I want a real excuse to kill em’.” Rafe responds, his fists clenching.

Ethan’s grimy hands near Y/n’s neck, his index finger latching onto her gold ‘R’ necklace. “What’s your name, hm? R…?”

“You’re gonna regret that,” Y/n whispers, her eyes meeting Rafe.

Rafe stands, marching over to Ethan. Rafe’s fist latches onto the back of his collar, pulling him back as Y/n’s necklace slips from his grasp. Rafe turns him around, knocking a punch to his jaw, blood spurting from his lips onto Rafe’s face.

Rafe lets go aggressively, the boy falling to the ground forcefully. Rafe smirks, his ringed hand coming up to wipe Ethan’s blood from his jaw. “The ‘R’ stands for Rafe. Her boyfriend.” He states before knocking one more punch to the boy’s cheek.

“I-I’m sorry,” He pathetically whimpers, begging for mercy.

“She clearly had zero fucking interest in you, yet you continued,” He chuckles. Rafe leans down, pulling Ethan’s neck up by his collar. “You better hope your flight out of here is tomorrow morning. If not, watch your back man.”

Topper and Kelce come into view, peering at the man below Rafe, only inciting more fear into the poor tourist. Ethan’s two friends quickly pull him up, scattering out of the club as fast as they can.

Rafe turns to Y/n, his demeanor immediately turning soft, a side of himself only she gets to see. “You okay, baby?” He asks, his eyes scanning over her face for any discomfort.

“I’m okay, just some asshole tourist.” She rolls her eyes, manicured fingers grasping onto her necklace.

His eyes flick down to her hand, she only fidgets with her necklace when she’s uncomfortable or nervous. He feels more rage and anger boil up inside him thinking about how that guy ruined her night of fun with Sarah.

“Wanna go home, baby?” Rafe whispers softly, fingers pushing her hair behind her ears.

She bites her lip in debate, turning toward her friend Sarah. Sarah nods her head, “It’s okay, I’m gonna have John B take me back to his place too, it’s getting late anyway.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s go home. I’ll text you Sarah, we can hang out tomorrow, yeah?” Y/n feels guilty, her and Sarah haven’t gotten to spend as much time together ever since she started dating John B and hanging out with his friends more.

Y/n had nothing against the pogues, she thought the rivalry was stupid and childish. She actually found them quite nice, but she spends every minute with her best friends, Rafe, Topper, and Kelce.

Rafe slings his arm around her shoulder after giving his goodbyes to Topper and Kelce, walking you to his truck. He opens the door for you without a word, buckling you in and shutting the door.

When he gets in on his side, starting the truck, he looks over at his girl at her sad eyes. “What’s wrong, angel?”

She sniffles, “I just miss Sarah. Wanted to hang out with her tonight but those guys ruined it.”

Rafe’s hand slips around her thigh, patting it lovingly. “I know, hon. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure Sarah gets her ass off the cut tomorrow to hang out with you, okay?”

She smiles, her hand finding comfort atop Rafe’s. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

[allbark-no-bite]

Maniac || Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: she’s dancing in the kitchen while Rafe’s falling in love

word count: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ smut

author’s note: inspired loosely by Macklemore’s ‘Maniac’

He's laughing now, low and attractive, his pearly teeth on display. His crossed arms bounce against his chest as it rumbles. From the radio sat on the counter, music bounces through the expanse of the kitchen.

"I am not dancing with you."

"C'mon! Get over yourself, Cameron!"

Warm, lemon yellow light slowly creeps across the white kitchen walls, and it makes her hair flash a rich golden color as she twirls through the sunbeams.

Rafe remembers exactly when he fell in love with her because it was a moment similar to this one. She's half dressed, dancing in the kitchen in her tube socks. Her hair is a mess, falling out of the already sloppy bun it's been thrown in, and he's not even sure she's wearing anything under the billowy mass of his shirt. The buttons are misaligned and he's half hoping it will fall further down her shoulder just so he can prove his theory.

God, does she get on his nerves. "Of you? Or looking like an idiot?" Rafe braces himself against the countertop, his lean body relaxed.

Right now he's just content to watch her, socked feet sliding against the white kitchen tile as she does what he has to admit is a fairly decent impression of the moonwalk. Thankfully he doesn't speak too soon because she stumbles over her own feet at the end, catching herself just before she hits the floor.

Rafe just shakes his head, blue eyes shining with a light that only she can put in them. "You're a maniac." His heart hurts. He wishes this wasn't so complicated.

Rafe met (y/n) through Topper, his best friend since grade school. Consequently, Topper was also (y/n)'s older brother. Now, he wants to make this point clear, he never set out to fuck his best friend's kid sister. Shit just happens. He had always liked her, of course, but everyone did. She didn't rat out anything they did at parties, and she was always down to hang out and do... other things. His favorite of those things being the time they had sex in the backseat of Topper's jeep. They'd emerged an hour later, faces hot and clothes rumpled, and returned back to the party as if nothing happened.

Rafe is sure Topper knows he's doing less than decent things with his little sister — they did leave his car reeking of sex for the whole next week — but for the most part, they keep whatever is between them under wraps. She says it's because she doesn't want to hurt her brother if things go south. Rafe knows it's because she's seventeen and doesn't want to commit to anything she doesn't have to.

"We aren't dating, Rafe. You know that."

He's just proposed that they go with Kelce and his girlfriend to the golf club tomorrow.

"Bullshit," he laughs, grinning from ear to ear. She was bad for him, her and her flighty indecisiveness, but so were a lot of other things he did. Rafe figured there were worse things that could kill him.

"You'll get over me eventually. I promise."

He's really grinning now because he knows she's all talk. "Sure," he relents, playing along for the sake of the conversation. "And when I don't?"

She's rolling her eyes now but still smiling as he takes her hand and twirls her around, her toes twirling delicately across the kitchen floor. "You're just like my brother. You'll find another Sarah Cameron and move on with your life."

He actually scoffs at that. "I'd rather not think about the things your brother does to my sister."

"I'm sure Top feels the same way," she refutes, sidling closer to Rafe until they're nearly pressed chest to chest. The collar of the shirt has slidden off her shoulder, well below her collarbone, and still there's no bra strap in sight. He swallows, a hand sliding up the back of her bare thigh to cup the curve of her backside and pull her closer to him.

She must notice his tentativeness because she offers him a cheeky look, cupping her hand over his own. "No need to be shy. If you're going to touch me then get going with it."

Rafe's blue eyes flit to hers, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into a shy smile, as if he's been caught contemplating and she read his mind. His other hand glides up her shirt, reveling at the warmth of her skin before sliding home. The bud of her breast pebbles under the swipe of his thumb and she shivers.

"What's wrong with being shy?" he mumbles, his head ducking to mouth at the cavern of her collarbone. Her body is warm and impossibly alive in his hands. There are often times like this one that he cannot fathom the fact that like him, she is a living, breathing person. He can feel her heart thumping under the weight of his palm, almost unbearably alive.

The tent in his pants must betray him because she laughs. "Rafe Cameron, you have never been shy a day in your life." Her hips grind up into his and he muffles a groan into her skin. He would say she knows him too well but really there's no hiding what's happening in his pants.

His fingers tug down at her shirt as he cranes his neck lower to mouth at the tender swell of her breast. A pleased sound escapes her. Before she can grip him through his shorts, he swiftly grabs her wrist, placing it instead on his waist. "Later," he huffs. His dick can wait.

When her hand again slips past the waistband of his boxer, his teeth catch her skin, reprimanding her. "Later, dammit," Rafe scolds, but there's no bite to his voice. He's smiling again as he kisses the welp better. His hands are on her waist, thumbs digging in below her hipbones to pull her body into his. Her fingers are in his hair, tickling his scalp and making him sigh into her skin. Rafe smoothes his tongue over the hickey forming on the top of her breast, making sure to attend to the other side as well.

With her hands still in his hair, Rafe drops to his knees on the kitchen tile. He is very, very pleased to find that she is not wearing panties. Narrowing his blue eyes, he shoots her a knowing glare. "You're nothing but trouble, kid."

Her hands tangled in his hair push his head back down. "You sound like you're trying to catch a case calling me that."

Rafe laughs at her impatience. At first he had been painfully aware of their three year age gap. She was Topper's litter sister for god's sake — practically a baby when he was a senior in high school. That number has faded over the years but it doesn't mean he doesn't like to tease her.

Grinning, his nose drags along the tan of her bikini line. She smells like sun tan oil and something he can't quite place. He would like to linger a while longer to figure it out but he's afraid she'll get too impatient with him.

Palms griping the backs of her thighs, he licks through her folds. The contact makes her body jump, but her fingers tighten as much as they can in his cropped hair, forcing his face closer. He just knows his jaw is going to ache tomorrow. Is it actually good head if it doesn't? He doesn't think so.

Rafe drags his tongue up to her clit before sucking at it. She squeaks at this, legs quivering beside his head. Just when he thinks she's going to lose her balance, she thankfully grabs on to the counter behind her before they both topple to the floor.

"Holy..." she begins, but doesn't even finish her sentence.

Grunting, Rafe has to force his wide shoulders in between her knees to keep them open as he laps at her. His tongue dips further into her, causing his nose to nudge her clit each time his mouth explores her further.

Eventually he becomes more insistent with his actions, lapping at her clit until she's whimpering, sensitive to the point that he doesn't know if she's more keen on shoving his head towards her or pushing it away. She comes with a cry, squirming in his hands as his tongue finishes the job properly.

"Oh god, I love you. Please. Fuck, you're— Right there."

Rafe pulls away just a fraction to breathe. "What'd you say?"

He's sure she can still feel his hot breath against her weeping cunt. There's arousal leaking down her thighs and he can feel it dripping down from his chin to his neck.

Panting, her cheeks are flushed as she looks down at him, but he has a feeling it's not from him. "What?" she stammers. "Nothing."

He grins cheshire-like up at her. His hands rub the backs of her thighs soothingly before squeezing her calfs. "You said the "L" word," he accuses.

Her eyes widen in realization. "No. No, I didn't," she protests.

Rafe rises to his feet, hands trailing up her body as his smile grows wider. She's trapped between his body and the counter and has no choice but to try and dodge him as he tries to catch her eyes. "What was it?" He taunts, laughing. "Say it again, baby?"

She tries to cover her face with her hands but with Rafe's overpowering strength, the attempt is useless. Even hiding halfway behind her arms, he can tell she's smiling. "I didn't! I didn't say anything!"

"C'mon! Baby. Baby, look at me." Rafe pulls her her rigid arms away from her face and holds them out to either side of her head. "Hey, I said look at me."

Leveling his gaze with her, they lock eyes for a moment, neither saying anything. Although her expression is fairly calm, if not a little pensive, he can tell she’s searching his face for a reaction. Timidly, he presses his lips to hers, stealing a chaste kiss before pulling away again.

“I love you too.”

[lokischocolatefountain]

Sunglasses

Married!Javi series Masterlist

Follow me on @javierpenaisapunk for my fic recs

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: G (wooo, that’s a first for me) Just fluffy fluff, you guys.

Word count: 1.6k words

Summary: Of all the things Javi has seen through his sunglasses, the sunglasses’ favorite sight is his relationship with his wife.

A/N: Apparently I’m writing fics from the POV of objects now. Hopefully it’s not really weird lol. Hit the follow button to read my next fic golf from the perspective of the sex Afghan on Javi’s leather couch (jk). Leave your girl a comment and reblog to fuel my obsession with writing this guy.

The Aviators were a staple of his look.

They could be anywhere. Dangling off the third or fourth button of his shirt at the bottom of the deep V that began at the collar. Perched on his nose, amber glass masking the intense gaze of intoxicating brown eyes.

They knew more intimately than most, his deepest fears. They had front row seats as he stared down the barrel of guns pointed at him. They knew the fear of seeing a teenage boy at the end of his gun, his hands shaking as the foundations of his morals stained under the pressure of his job.

If you asked them, they’d tell you of everything Javier saw at work, even the memories that he repressed to be able to wear his gun and badge another day. If you asked them, they’d tell you the first time he saw her. It was momentary. Fleeting. Nothing special. The aviators would let you know that his eyes did not linger, contrary to what his pretty pink lips whispered into her ears at night when he buried himself inside her. “Couldn’t take my eyes off of you the first time I saw you, Hermosa…” She’d moan and pull him close and kiss the lips that waxed poetic in between the dirty, dirty words that made her clench around him and pull his hair and arch her neck to let his lips taste her.

The aviators would tell you that they served as cover when he wanted to keep his emotions to himself. Police work did not take away how emotive those brown eyes were. So they sometimes served as blinds on the window to his soul.

She was the sunglasses’ favorite sight. Not because she was extraordinarily beautiful. Their owner would disagree- he would argue that she was extraordinary in every way, including beauty. He would add a couple more adjectives. But the aviators were more objective than the man they belonged to. However, both man and sunglasses could agree that she was their favorite view.

For Javier, it was her beauty- the spark in her eyes, the upward turn of her lips when she spotted him, the sign of desire when she looked him up and down, the way her shirts clung to her breasts, the fabric of her skirts that hugged her ass— you get the gist. For the sunglasses, the joy was in the way his eyes responded to the view.

First it was just curiosity. Pretty woman, sat by herself at the same restaurant where he sometimes had breakfast. Hard not to notice that she was a regular, one who sat at the exact same table and ate the same breakfast everyday.

Then it was desire. Nothing out of the normal for the man, the aviators would tell you. They’d seen desire on his side plenty when he saw women through them. The glasses were an accomplice to the way his eyes would gallivant over beautiful bodies. They sat close as his mind evaluated just how much he would love to have other parts of his body enjoy what his eyes had spotted.

As the relationship progressed, the aviators found themself in the mix a lot. Their owner found himself visiting her more often than other women. The pair was sometimes pressed against the chests of the couple as they drank from each other’s lips. Her hand sometimes took them off its place tucked in his shirt and set them on her bedside table.

The sunglasses would be the first to tell you when everything changed between Javier and the woman. At least on Javier’s part. Eyes that roamed the surroundings frantically to look for danger in every room acted uncharacteristically around her. They’d stop on her, take her in. Just when the glasses thought that their owner’s eyes had had enough, they’d find him continuing to stare. They were glad the man had her to look at. Something nice. Someone that made him happy.

She got closer to him than anyone else. And he let her.

The aviators weren’t a perfect barrier. If one stepped closer, stood heart to heart with the man, emotive brown eyes would reveal the depths of the soul.

She saw it through the sunglasses’ amber barrier. He allowed her the spot in front of his chest from where she could see it. She seemed to like what she saw, staying in the spot he gave her though he was afraid, though his mind told him to step back before she saw too much— before he liked what he saw more than he should. The aviators could tell you that he was long past that point.

There was no stopping now.

It was because of her that the aviators knew there was a world beyond sicarios, sex workers, and bosses cross at Javier for his transgressions.

There were dates in grassy parks, picking her up from university, and accompanying her to markets where she bought vegetables that Javier loaded in his jeep. The aviators were unaware of the existence of vegetables before that. They would be quite annoyed if you mocked them for this lapse in knowledge. To be fair to the object, Javier’s diet was strictly limited to whiskey and cigarettes.

The aviators were loyal. Javier only.

But they didn’t mind when she playfully snatched them off Javier’s face and placed them on her own. She played at his seriousness, looked through them in a mockery of his stern police-like gaze and let some expletives slip off her tongue in an imitation of him. It pleased the sunglasses that this woman who was so close to him believed them to be such an essential part of him that she used them to mimic him.

They got a glimpse into her soul then, could see that she had no malicious intent in snatching them off the rightful owner. It was not theft.

The twinkle in his eyes when she did that told the glasses that he enjoyed it. Other belongings found themselves on his women quite a lot. Especially his colorful shirts. They told stories of the beautiful women who’d wear them for a period after they’d been discarded on the floor in favor of access to the chest they covered up. The aviators didn’t have any such stories.

Until her.

The aviators would tell the shirts that they’d met her eyes, seen into her soul, seen that she liked him just as much as he liked her. The shirts in turn shared that he liked seeing her wear them after they found pleasure in each other’s bodies. It was different with her, the shirts would say. He liked her wearing them— the shirts — not just because he liked evidence of beautiful bodies in his belongings. No, he liked his woman wearing his shirts.

He lent them to her sometimes. When she squirted under the bright sun, he’d pluck them off his own face and offer them for her to wear. She’d smile and accept them, taking it as a gesture that he cared.

The sunglasses knew before the man himself that he’d fallen in love. Closest to the windows to his soul and all. His shirts would argue that they knew even before the sunglasses— they felt his heart beat faster when she came into contact with him. The sunglasses would argue that they knew better than the shirts— shirts changed everyday, but sunglasses didn’t.

They had the full picture if you will.

Ironically, the full picture was forgotten when it came to her. He had eyes only for her when she was around, the background blending together and fading away. Nothing else was important. They stared before only because of her physicality, but now they stared to learn and memorize every inch of her. They delighted in every micro expression, every smile and every frown, every which way she responded to him.

If you asked the aviators, they’d tell you proudly of being there when Javier’s eyes found a sparkling diamond ring in a jewelry store display. He took them off to admire it, to see its natural twinkle without the amber barrier. He didn’t buy it.

It was after all the biggest, shiniest rock that made it to the display of the store.

Not something one could afford on a government salary. Nothing you’d find on a humble professor’s finger. But, it put the thought in his head. Marriage. It frightened him, but not because of the commitment. No, it was fear that no sparkly bit of carbon would make her agree to a lifetime with his ass. He didn’t feel it with the last woman, Lorraine.

They blended in with her things soon. Next to her hair clip, her novel, both their wristwatches, and her earrings that he removed and set aside carefully when they made love. Just as his pants and shirts acquainted themselves with her dresses— on their bedroom floor, their laundry hamper, their dresser drawers.

Amber glasses would acquire scratches over the years. Javier would leave it forgotten in a drawer somewhere in his new home with his wife. Another pair of aviators, shiny and unscratched, would sit on the bridge of his beautiful nose. But if you asked them, they’d tell you of their clear vision though the scratches and from the dark depths of the drawer. They’d tell you that he still looked at her with the same adoration despite the years.

They’d find themselves roughhoused in small hands that like to play pretend. They'd sit on a nose, smaller yet similar to Javier’s as little lips that definitely belonged to her tried to talk like Papa. She’d laugh and tell him that their little one sounded exactly like him. He’d roll his eyes but enjoy the peaceful bubble he’d managed to forge with her.

The new aviators stayed shiny for not having seen the horrors, for having only the sight of his happy wife and growing family. But the OG, they’d proudly tell you that they shined despite the horrors of his old DEA job because they were there when it all began.

[jamespmarchapologist]

Harmless.

prompt : based on a recent request. sucking your very adorable bf off during a family dinner

warnings : 18+ mature audiences only. no sub or dom mentions. m!oral. teasing. cum swallowing. use of the word cock, if that bothers anyone! face fucking. let me know if i forgot anything. first time writing smut in forever, please be gentle 👍🏼 it’s kinda a short little blurb honestly

————————————————————————

You never expected earlier on in the night that a harmless invite to a pop-up family dinner would end up with you slipping under the table when no one was looking. Never expected the sudden urge to course through you as it did, but you were bored and the heat that was starting to pool between your legs at the sight of your boyfriend with his stupid black dress shirt and the first three stupid buttons undone and rested against his equally as stupid collar was getting near impossible to ignore. Did you mention it was stupid?

It doesn’t take long at all for Tom to notice the lack of your body besides him at the dinner table, his eyes wandering down to your figure that was snug perfectly between his legs. His blue orbs seem to be already pleading down at you to at least do something if you were going to surprise him in such a manner that your parents would be appalled by, your fingers ice-frozen and dancing playfully along the zipper of his dress pants.

You flash a teasing smile up at him, meeting his just as desperate eyes, pupils expanded with his lip already sucked into his mouth. It’s what you always did to him, and not only did you use that power for perfect situations that present themselves such as these, but you loved every second of it. While you still had that hold over him, of course, he always managed to snap you out of your ego and bring you back down to the surface. Not this time, though, you were going to make the upmost sure of it.

Your calmed fingers finally reward his worries, finding the metal zipper with ease, thankful that your dad had been on about one of his never ending golf stories for your family to notice the noise of his zipper being undone. You reach into his strained boxers as soon as you find a way to open his legs just enough to snake your way through, pulling out his cock that had somehow already stood at your attention with barely any help at all.

Your hand stays squeezed at his base, your lips leaning over to press a soft kiss along his pre-cum covered tip, cooing softly from above you at his eagerness. His hands find their way to your hair, his fingers tangling around the top of your head, his thumb tapping along your scalp to urge you forward. You look up at him through your dark lashes and scoot forward so you were face to face with him, raising yourself up so your lips ghosted along his tip.

It takes you a few teasing licks to his slit for you to finally give in to your own desires and wrap your slick lips around him, popping his tip in your mouth. You ease yourself down every inch, breathing in through your nose as you relax your throat to take him all like you’ve done time and time again. His hand helps prevent from bumping your head as his scent pulls you more and more into him.

You can hear him try to hold a decent conversation with your mom from above, humming around his cock as he stiffened in your mouth at the contact. You’re lucky that you’re in such a position that any noises you ever made was silenced or mere sounded like a soft hum that rumbled through the home. You tap your thumb against his thigh to signal that you were okay, his hand gripping your hair tighter when it registers with him that you’re used to the position. No time is wasted before he’s pulled your head all the way off of him the best he could and forced yourself back down.

You make sure your tongue runs along his cock, swirling around the skin as you’re brought to a soft thrusting pace into your mouth. Tom was only using you to get himself off now, and oh, did you love it a bit too much, he regains an easy composure compared to his increasingly hardened thrusts. You force yourself to try your best not to gag around his cock, breathing around him when your eyes meet again for a brief second, his lips curled into a small smirk at his pretty baby beneath him. Your spit is glistening around him with every time your nose meets his pelvis, resting your hands along his inner thighs so you could match with your own rhythm. That only seems to do him in, resulting in a much better reaction than expected, cock vibrating against your mouth. You tighten your lips purposely around him to create a tighter entrance and a longer pull.

God, he loved you.

A low hum emits from the bottom of his throat as he forces your head down making your nose directly hit his pelvis once more, your throat swallowed him whole as he starts to cum down your channel without any care or warning, he knew you preferred it when he didn’t tell you making you more surprised with the outcome. He always seemed to ask you a million times before he ever got any rough with you, he never liked hurting you. Even if you seemed to be a little too obsessed with the idea.

You could only smile around him, or at least try to, as you drink it all no hesitation. He takes a little too long to catch his breath, waiting until he’s fully softened before pulling you off of him. He could curse at the sight alone as your spit pulls in a string when the contact is lost, hurriedly tugging himself back in his pants before you could realize the effect you had on him.

Moments like these made him wonder what he ever did to deserve you.

————————————————————————

PLS PLS DONT HATE THIS 🙏🏻🙏🏻 i haven’t written in a long while </3

[fanfictilltheend]

As promised (since I'm late sorry 😭) Snippet 5 of ❤️‍🔥Violent Heart❤️‍🔥 aka stepdad!mechanic!convict!joel x afab!reader fic

I SWEAR I WROTE THIS BEFORE HE WORE THIS OUTFIT ON GOD I LITERALLY SPOKE IT INTO EXISTENCE YOU CAN THANK ME BELOW 👇

Warnings: Nothing crazy just joel admiration and dressing him up 😍

Context: Joel is Y/N's ex step-father. He just got out of prison for killing David and Y/N (age 20) takes Joel shopping for a new wardrobe.

HERE IS A LINK TO A MASTERLIST OF VIolent Heart STUFF TO TIDE YOU OVER

You take Joel shopping. At his insistence it is nothing fancy, just the local department store. That doesn’t stop you from dressing Joel up in ridiculous outfits of your choosing. You make him try on a hawaiian shirt, some golf polos like your dad liked to wear, a pinstripe suit and he lets you because saying no to you has never been in his vocabulary. He acts grumpy on the outside, but you can tell he is amused. You know in the end you’ll just end up buying every flannel shirt and jeans combo they have in the store, but it’s just fun anyway. You watch the fabric hug his torso, his tummy, the slight bulge at his waist. At one point he comes out shirtless and you try very hard not to swoon as you stare at the hair lining his chest and his adorable little tummy that you for some reason have the urge to bite. The band of his Hanes boxers sticks up past his jeans and he looks so good. He even lets out a genuine smile. The middle-aged sales attendant who is helping you even takes a good look at him which makes the butterflies inside you swarm possessively. 

Finally you make him try on a proper white-collared button-down shirt and black dress pants with matching black shoes and he looks so good you’re actually at a loss for words when he asks you what you think. They hug the curves and lines and planes of his body so nicely. All you can do is ask him to put on a black tie to match and he does at your behest following some customary griping that he would never wear such a monkey suit in the first place. The effect that a fully dressed up Joel has on you is not one to be reckoned with. He might as well be wearing the mens version of lingerie for how it makes you throb and ache between your legs. He looks like a force of nature, commanding and tall. It makes you weak. All you say is,

“Looking good, old-timer.”

He snorts.

HERE IS A LINK TO A MASTERLIST OF VIolent Heart STUFF TO TIDE YOU OVER

[say-hwaet]

High Sierra: A Red Dead Redemption Story

Chapter Six: The Outlaws and the In-laws

Arthur finishes shaving his face and washes his razor in the bathroom sink. Looking at himself in the mirror, he does see that he has aged. Perhaps it was being out in the sun for many hours of the day, the stress of the last three years, or a combination of both. He wonders why any woman would be interested in him.

"You're not fooling anyone," he says out loud to himself. He backs away from the sink and turns to grab his shirt hanging on the door knob. Putting it on, he hears a knock on the door. "Yeah?"

"Grampy wants to know if you're ready to go, Daddy." It’s Isaac, his voice somewhat muffled from behind the door.

"Yep, I'll be right out." He straightens out his shirt collar and opens the door. Isaac stands in the doorway in green shorts and a buttoned shirt with parrots on it. "Well, you clean up nicely, son!"

"Grammie helped me pick it out!"

"Shoah," he smiles. "Let's head out to the car."

As Arthur plans to take Isaac home after the cookout, Arthur is taking his car separately. Given the option, Isaac decides to ride with his grandparents, leaving Arthur to ride alone with Copper. So much for loyalty.

Following Hosea, they begin the long drive back to the city, where the Marstons live. They live in a nice suburb, with barbecues, pool parties, and a nearby golf course. Truly the life of luxury.

Arthur never liked being in the city. When he went to college, he had to reside in the dorms his first year and absolutely detested it. The small quarters weren’t the problem, but the noise and endless parties. Arthur preferred a whiskey in the corner of a room while reading his textbooks. Regardless, the city and the dorms gave him the same feeling: dirty and crowded.

Without having Isaac in the car with him, he can be alone with his thoughts. He begins to think about where he is in life and where he wants to be. He started to think about what Hosea said. Why hasn't he married Eliza? Is it commitment issues, fear, the desire for independence, or a combination of all three? Maybe if Mary had never re-entered his social circle, he would have eventually asked Eliza to marry him, but now it's not so straightforward. Not anymore.

And now he has different obstacles in his way. His job and Isaac's cancer. He couldn't possibly think about marriage, at least, not yet.

***

Pulling up into the driveway, Arthur steps out of his SUV and feels the heat of the sun. There are no trees nearby to cast their shade, and he squints his eyes. Once his eyes adjust, he sees the rest of his family get out of Hosea's truck. He turns for a moment to open the back passenger door of his SUV and Copper jumps out. He energetically turns around and as Arthur begins to meet up with his family, Copper follows closely.

Music can be heard from behind the house, but it sounds fresher than a stereo...live music?

"Looks like the band is playing," Hosea calls to Arthur, as he catches up to them.

Arthur nods, smiling softly. "It sure sounds like it. They sound pretty good!"

"Of course, they do," Bessie says matter-of-factly and she takes her grand baby’s hand. "Let's go in.”

As they head up the front steps, the gate to the backyard swings open. A tall man in a red dress shirt and black slacks approaches them. The many rings on his fingers glimmer in the sun.

"Hosea!" Dutch calls, waving.

"Dutch!" Hosea turns to go back down the steps to embrace his long-time friend. "I almost didn't recognize you without being in a suit!"

"Oh, this is a casual gathering, my good friend. I'd hate to get mustard on a thousand-dollar piece of Italian art."

They hug each other, laughing. Dutch steps aside from Hosea and sees who has accompanied him to the cookout. "And Bessie, how nice to see you."

Bessie smiles. "Hello, Dutch.” And then she looks down at Isaac. “Do you remember my grandson?"

Dutch squats down to look at the young boy standing in front of her. "This couldn't be Isaac? You were such a string bean when I last saw you." Isaac smiles shyly. "You look so much like your mother."

Isaac’s eyes light up, that curiosity proving Dutch’s observation. Every time Arthur and Eliza have talked about it, she’s always insisted that he looks mostly like his father. But Arthur can’t deny the resemblance in their eyes, their curiosity, and softness of spirit. Isaac is like his mother. "You know my mom?"

"Of course, I do! Lovely woman." He stands and looks at Arthur. "I know everyone."

"Somehow, that don't surprise me," Arthur comments, extending a hand to Dutch. Dutch shakes it and uses his other hand to clap Arthur's shoulder.

"Good to see you, son."

Arthur feels somewhat awkward, as Dutch was one of the three people that witnessed the event at the last party. "Hi, Dutch."

"How have you been?"

Arthur shrugs and answers vaguely. "Oh, fine. Glad to see you're doing well."

Dutch grins from ear to ear. "Never better! I've got big plans for this group, big plans! We've got advertising, we've got PR, we have a bodyguard, and we have a makeup artiste." The look he gives Arthur indicates there's something special about the makeup artist, meaning it has a feminine shape.

Arthur snorts. Dutch will never cease to do something new, or spare no expense. "Bodyguard? Really?"

"Why sure! I'd ask you, but you're all caught up in protecting baby bunnies and little birdies."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "It's more than that, Dutch."

Dutch replies with a hint of sarcasm and condemnation. "Oh-oh of course it is! Now, let's go back to the shindig, shall we? John's been talking about nothing but you boys since this morning!"

Dutch leads the way as Hosea catches up to walk aside his friend. "How's Annabelle, Dutch?"

Dutch gives his friend a bitter look. "Annabelle's off to see her sister."

"Is that so...?" Hosea's voice drifts off, already knowing why she isn't here to celebrate the band's first tour.

Arthur, too, knows. Perhaps the makeup artiste has something to do with it. Dutch has always been one for the ladies. They just can't seem to resist the fashion sense and ol' Dutch charm. Regardless of age, he has always seemed to charm his way in and out of anything. Poor Annabelle loved him to a fault, and Arthur can never see her leaving him. She would be back, like always.

Arthur begins to look around. There is a good amount of people here, some have gathered in groups and are socializing. There are some children who are running around with balloons, so it is safe to assume that these people are family to the band members. As a group of children run by, Arthur recognizes one of them as the four-year-old John "Jack" Marston. Jack glances at them as he passes then quickly stops, recognizing them.

"Uncle Arthur!" he cheers and runs to him.

"Hiya, Jack!" Arthur greets, as he picks the boy up to give him a hug.

Isaac looks up at Jack and smiles. Jack sees him and waves. "Isaac, hi!"

"Hi,” Isaac replies softly. He isn’t as outgoing as Jack is. That is something he gets from both Eliza and Arthur. In fact, it is by chance that they ever met. A simple accident and happenstance. Like as though fate couldn’t have planned it any better.

Jack studies his friend and sees Isaac's scar. He frowns and points a small finger. "What happened to your head?"

Arthur quickly clears his throat. "Uh, Jack, why don't you and Isaac go play, huh?" Arthur puts Jack down, who seems to forget he had asked a question.

"Okay!" Jack sings.

Isaac points a finger at the balloon floating above Jack’s head. "Hey, Jack, where did you get that balloon?"

"Mama was making them,” Jack says as he turns, already on the move again. I can show you!"

"Sure," Isaac smiles and follows Jack as they run off in a different direction. Copper watches for a moment and looks up at Arthur. Arthur nods and Copper takes off after the children.

Dutch and the rest have already moved on, and Arthur walks quickly to catch up to them. Passing by someone manning the grill, they stop in front of the band which is finishing a set. They have a simple setup, but it is clear that they are a full band. Sean McGuire mans the drums, Javier Escuella with guitar, and John plays the bass as he sings into the microphone. Two women that Arthur doesn't recognize are doing background vocals, while one plays the violin. Together, they make a fine country rock band.

Javier plays a quick riff on his guitar and leaps into the microphone.

"Dejé mi corazón contigo en St. Denis,

pero si me llamas te digo que "¡Si!"

botella tras botella,

que no pudieron reemplazar,

¡las estrellas, las estrellas,

en tus hermosos ojos...!"

Then John comes back in again, with the vocalists joining in:

"But you were a tame queen,

I was a wild thing,

You were of the city,

I was the country

And we could never be!"

Another musical riff and both Javier and John join the microphone.

"'Cause I am an outlaw!

An outlaw

On the run!"

Sean hits hard on the drums and John strums one time and lets it ring until it fades. Those who are gathered applaud and cheer. John bows and gestures to the rest of his band, who all take a bow.

"I guess they're done?" Arthur asks out loud.

"Oh, they'll be playing again," Dutch reassures him. "But they've gotta mingle with the fans." Dutch approaches the band, who are gently setting their instruments aside. "Well done, gentlemen! And oh, ladies." He looks over at the backup singers who giggle.

"Thanks, Dutch." John says. John never called Dutch "Dad" like Arthur had called his adoptive parents. Dutch and Annabelle adopted John when he was twelve, but it seems that their relationship has always been more like a business transaction. Deep down, Dutch has a good heart, but he is always about image. And money.

Dutch walks off to greet some other guests, leaving them to their own devices.

John sees Arthur and eagerly steps off the stage to greet his brother from another mother.

"Arthur!" They take each other by the arm and hug. "Good to see you, brother."

"Good to see you too, John.” When they break away, he gestures to the bandstand with a swing of his arm. “Looks like you got yourself quite the group!"

"Oh yeah, all part of Dutch's plan," he scoffs, his voice more raspy than usual. "It was his idea to sing the whole album for this get-together. My voice better hang on, otherwise, I'm gonna lose it."

"You could just tell him no," Arthur chuckles.

John shakes his head. "I can fire a manager, but I can't fire a manager who happens to be my dad."

"I could see how that would be difficult," Arthur nods.

John comes beside Arthur and wraps an arm around his shoulder. "So how's Isaac doing?"

The tone of the conversation shifting, Arthur’s smile falls. "I wish I had good news…”He pauses, swallowing hard. “His cancer's back."

John removes his arm and swears under his breath. "Then what was all that treatment for?" he asks, his brow furrowed. They both continue to walk about the yard, the sounds of other conversations and laughter filling the property.

Arthur appreciates John’s empathy, someone why shares in the anguish he’s been holding inside his chest. He rolls his shoulders, tucking his chin. "That's what I thought, but Eliza has hope that this new treatment will work."

"Eliza, huh?" John gives Arthur an inquisitive look. "So...how's that going? Heh, or should I even ask?"

Arthur sighs, might as well tell him, given he saw the exchange that started this mess. "It's...better than I thought. But I'm taking a step away from everything. I don't want anyone hurt."

John nods his head, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. "Hey, that's a good plan, Arthur. I've always known that you were a sensitive type."

Arthur gives him a look, but it fails to conceal his smirk. "Hey—"

John then leans in and lowers his voice a tad. "But I need to warn you, Dutch has hired on some new people to represent the band."

Arthur thinks about the bodyguard and beautiful woman that Dutch hired. "Yeah, he did mention that."

"Sure, but did he say who?"

Arthur shrugs, lifting a brow. "Some makeup artist?"

"Yeah, but that's not—"

Arthur doesn't need John to finish that sentence. A few feet away, Dutch is working his charm on a lady, a woman with black hair, in a turquoise party dress and pearls, and little black heels.

It's Mary.

Arthur feels himself freeze in his stride, turning away from her. "Why did he bring her here?"

"She's our advertising,” John explains with a regrettable sigh.

Arthur places a palm on his forehead, eyes wide. "You've got to be kidding me, since when?"

"A week ago?"

He looks at John sharply and points his thumb behind him, in her direction. "He saw what happened!"

John shrugs his shoulders, narrowing his eyes. "You think my dad cares about drama? He creates it for a living!" Arthur quickly walks in the opposite direction and tries to avoid being seen. John follows. "I'm sorry, Arthur."

Arthur shakes his head. He doesn’t want John to feel bad about it. He wasn’t the one kissing her. "It ain't your fault."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean I'm happy for you."

"Do you think she saw me?"

John looks back and after a moment he shakes his head. "She was talking to Dutch, and she was looking right at him."

Arthur looks at John with half lidded eyes and lips forming a flat line, unimpressed. "It's called peripheral vision, John."

John waves off the correction dismissively. "Whatever.” Then suddenly, his eye brightens and he lightly smacks Arthur’s arm. “Hey, have you said hi to my wife?”

"Nope, we just got here."

He points to the house. "She's probably inside. Let's go see."

John leads Arthur past another group, under the patio, and through the sliding doors. It has been a while since Arthur has been here. Going through the back, they pass the living room, down a hallway, and into the kitchen. It is no surprise to see Abigail, hard at work, cutting watermelon. She brushes away her bangs and looks up. "Oh! Arthur! When did you get here?"

Arthur waves at her. "Not too long ago. Isaac is running around with Jack."

Abigail smiles, smoothening her hair with a swipe of her palm. "Oh, that's great, how is the boy?"

"They say his cancer is back," John answers, coming up to her and taking a slice of watermelon.

Abigail clicks her tongue, her smile instantly disappearing. “Oh no. Arthur, I'm so sorry. You know I don't work in the cancer unit, but if I did, he would be my favorite patient," she reaches over and squeezes his arm empathetically.

Arthur feels a lump in his throat and quickly swallows it, nodding his head. He has to keep it in, like he does everything else. "Yeah, he's a good kid."

"How is Eliza taking all this?"

Arthur catches the side-eye from John before answering Abigail. She also had the pleasure to see the exchange and Arthur’s sure she and John have talked about it. "She's taking it hard, we both are."

Abigail nods, understanding. "I'm sure. I haven't heard from her in a couple of days, so I was starting to worry. Now I can see why."

"Yeah, well, at least she talked to you."

Abigail gives John a nervous look, then looks back at Arthur and smiles. "Well, I am glad that you and Isaac could make it. Jack has been so excited! He needed something to be happy about, on account of John leaving on tour."

Arthur puts his hands in his Jean pockets, turning to John. "How long are you going to be gone, John?"

"Three months. We are going eastward, stopping in a few cities, finally landing in NYC."

Arthur lifts his brow, impressed. "Sounds like quite the trip."

"I'll say," Abigail says under her breath, as she aggressively chops at the watermelon.

"It'll go by fast." John's attempt to reassure her doesn't appear to be working, as she taps his hand when he reaches for another slice.

"But it won't be long before Dutch has you go on another tour." She adjusts her posture and voice to mimic her father-in-law, "'Just one more tour and we're in! Just. One. More. Album and we're in, son!" She chops the watermelon again. "It never ends!"

John draws closer to his wife, lowering his voice. "Hey, we've talked about this already, Abigail, do we need to rehash it in front of Arthur?"

"Well, we got to see them fight, now it's our turn!"

"Abigail..."

Abigail goes to speak, then stops herself. She looks to Arthur and her expression softens. "I'm sorry, Arthur. Please forget I said anything."

Arthur waves it off. "I think I'm going to see what Isaac is up to. Hopefully, he isn't getting into something he shouldn't." Arthur steps back and turns around, soon hearing John and Abigail muttering to each other.

He feels his phone in his pocket vibrating and quickly pulls it out. His caller ID says it's Charles.

He answers. "Charles?"

"Arthur, are you at home?"

"No, I'm at a party...or something. What's going on?"

"Can you get to a TV?"

Arthur looks back and sees Abigail and John busy talking, so he goes to their family room where he last remembered the TV sat.

"Yeah, hang on." He enters the family room and turns on the TV. "It's on."

Charles’ tone still remains calm, but there is a budding urgency in his voice. "Go to the local news channel."

Arthur doesn't have cable TV at home, so it takes him a minute to use the remote. "Yeah, give me a sec."

Using the menu, he searches for the local news channel and selects it.

On the TV screen, a young woman stands in front of what looks like orange tape bordering a selected area of woods. He recognizes it to be a campground at a state park where he has patrolled. There are several people in the background. Upon further inspection, he sees Charles on the phone!

Arthur nearly spits and he takes another step toward the television. "Charles?!"

On the screen, he sees Charles’ mouth move, matching the words as he speaks to him over the phone. "I'm hanging up now. I don't want them to know I called you."

"But—"

The call ends, but Arthur continues to watch as the scene unfolds.

A nameplate appears on the screen underneath the news reporter. It reads, Tilly Jackson, High Sierra News Reporter.

"We are here now in the northern region of Redwood Falls, where another hunting accident has been reported. It was found by a game warden, who chooses to remain anonymous, on one of their routine patrols. The identity of the body has not been disclosed at this time, to allow time to contact the family, but we do now have the identity of the first victim of a hunting accident. His name is Thomas Downes, and he is known in the community for philanthropic work at homeless shelters and church functions. He was out on a boar hunting trip and had accidentally shot himself while at camp.

"Now, this recent accident has similar circumstances, so to ensure that precautions are being taken, this area of the park is being temporarily closed. Parks and recreational areas that permit more checkpoints and security will remain open until a new procedure can be in place.

"I have here with me Special Operations Warden Michael Barnes, who has been leading this investigation. Warden Barnes, what can you tell us about the incident?" She points her microphone at him. The smug look on his face clearly shows that he is enjoying the attention.

"Well, Ms. Jackson, this is again another typical case where a hunter does not take necessary precautions in gun safety. It is important to follow all safety guidelines that the Department of Conservation provides. In order to receive your permit, you need to be schooled in gun safety. This victim did not have a permit, and was most likely not properly trained."

Ms. Jackson pauses for but a few seconds, before asking another question. "Is it true that this victim was alone?"

Michael nods his head slowly, a smug grin on his face as he eyes the young reporter. "Yes, and I thank you for asking that question," his attempt at flattery makes Arthur cringe. "You should never go hunting alone. You never know what dangers you may come across."

Ms. Jackson looks unimpressed, moving on to her next question, "Could any of these indicate suicide?"

"Certainly not! With the first accident, there was no suicide note, and after speaking to his family, there was no indication that the victim would commit suicide. Mr. Downes was just a happy-go-lucky dude--er man."

"Is there a coincidence to these accidents happening so closely in succession?"

Michael shakes his head. "Of course not, they are accidents. The only thing they have in common is that they are both so tragic."

The reporter nods. "Understood. Thank you, Mr. Barnes."

"That's Special Agent Barnes."

Ms. Jackson does not respond but turns back to the camera. “Back to you, Tim."

Arthur has heard enough, he can get more details from Charles later. He turns the TV off.

Another victim. The fact that Charles called him suggests there was something that wasn't right. An accident was an accident, and it was all paperwork, but to have another one so quickly...It was another murder.

And that meant something darker was lurking.

There could be a serial killer, ready to kill again.

And Arthur wants to do something about it.

Sorry this one took so long! Been kinda busy with other things, but I hope to get back and post chapters.

Tag Requests:

@photo1030 @moeitsu @cassietrn

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: The Buckley-Diaz Family all wore the color navy-blue

Since 5x18 “Starting Over” Eddie, Buck and Chris all wore different shades of blue but for the past three episodes, they all wore navy-blue and it’s significant because it’s the same color as Eddie’s couch.

6x9 “Red Flag”

Eddie wore a navy-blue button-down shirt with a tan t-shirt underneath it when he fell asleep on the couch not long after he got off the phone with Buck, Hen and Chimney.  Reminder Eddie was playing “Punch Planet” alone and he lost the game.

6x10 “In a Flash”

Buck wore a navy-blue button-down shirt with a black t-shirt underneath it when he told his parents (and everyone else in the room) he was a sperm donor for his former roommate.

6x11 “In Another Life”

Chris wore a navy-blue golf shirt with a white color when he went to visit Buck in the hospital.

Buck wore a navy-blue hoodie with a white t-shirt underneath it after he was discharged from the hospital.

6x1 “Let the Games Begin”

Buck and Chris both wore navy-blue shirts with either a white collar (Chris) or a white t-shirt (Buck) in 6x11.  The two of them wearing the same color in the same episode, appears to be a callback to the way they wore similar colors when The Buckley-Diaz Family were preparing to eat dinner in 6x1 “Let the Games Begin” (Buck wore a white t-shirt with a blue button-down while Chris wore a gray t-shirt with white stripes and blue sleeves.)

Of the three of them, Eddie’s worn navy-blue the most since 5x18 and the suit he wore to Hen and Karen’s vow renewal was navy and cobalt blue. Buck’s primarily worn baby and light blue since 5x18 which also matches the color of the suit he wore to the vow renewal too but he wore navy-blue in 6x10 and 6x11. Chris has worn both navy and baby blue since 5x18 which matches both of the colors Eddie and Buck primarily wore.

All three of them wearing navy-blue over three sequential episodes was interesting especially since Eddie’s couch is the same color. Reminder, in 6x1 Buck’s couch was used as foreshadowing and a metaphor regarding his romantic relationships.  Also, Eddie told him since TK had been gone for four months, he could have purchased a new couch but he hadn’t.

Will Buck finally realize Eddie and Chris are the family he’s been searching for by the end of 6x18 “Pay if Forward”?  Only the showrunner(s), writers and producers know the answer to that question.

[its-stimsca]

Normal People Things by Lovejoy for day 26 of Stimtober

📸 📻 📸

📻 📸 📻

📸 📻 📸

ID below cut

[Image ID

Gif 1: A person wearing a white shirt, black jacket, and black pants uses a pair of drumsticks to drum on the lampshade of a lamp. The room they’re in is darkly lit, only the lamp their hitting being on, washing the room out in a weird green/yellow light.

Gif 2: A foot wearing black converse hits the pedal of the biggest drum in a drum set, causing the attached mallet to hit the drum. It’s the biggest one in the drum set that sits on the bottom middle, I’m pretty sure it’s called a bass drum.

Gif 3: A hammer destroys a light skinned mannequin laying in the grass. The camera cuts through multiple shots of the hammer being swung, one of the shots showing a black combat boot stomping on a mannequin leg to destroy it.

Gif 4: A light-skinned, female presenting person with long, straight blonde hair tied in a ponytail shows off the sweater they’re wearing. The sweater is a dark, mint green, and has multiple things in its pattern like a golf cart and pine trees on its front, a bag of golf clubs on its sleeve, the words “GOLF CLUB” below the golf cart, the word “Par” written in cursive on the other sleeve, and multiple other white pattens I can’t make out but they’re probably also golf related. The sweater buttons up down the middle, each button being shaped like a golf ball. It has a large, floppy green bow tied with a ribbon around its collar. The person showcasing the sweater also wears a plaid, green skirt. While showing off the sweater they do a little hop, putting their hand near their face to show off the patterned sleeves and smiling.

Gif 5: The band Lovejoy in their music video “Normal People Things.” They all dance in front of a green backdrop, stopping to freeze in place all at the same time.

Gif 6: A light skinned hand with red nail polish shows off one of the buttons of the jacket from gif 4.

Gif 7: A hand holds up a coat hanger with a green, knitted sweater on it. The character Snoopy from Charlie Brown is in the middle, lying down. Snoopy is a white cartoon dog with a black nose and ears, with a large head and small body.

Gif 8: Two intercutting shots of a hand picking the phone up off of a rotary phone. One of the phones is white with a green backdrop, and one is black with a white backdrop.

Gif 9: A green tinted image of a camera lens taking a picture.

End ID]

[the-dalseum-duet]

gay Panera Bread date gone wrong! (there was blood!) (and slurs!) (not clickbait!)

@svwhssftr mandatory mako coparent tag come look at your well-behaved gentleman of a son

just some Sutton Valence-adjacent shenanigans for tonight after a long golf practice. it’s hard to explain but in the original Sutton Valence, characters who had children that were also major characters (like Gregory and Adam) were not seen as parents and children. like it was acknowledged that Gregory was technically his father, but it wasn’t the same person. bc that Gregory was not the same age. if that makes any sense. just keep that in mind

anyway! they’re so Ricky Montgomery coded I love them DEARRRLY i fear I have fangstitch brainrot. in my delulu hopeless romantic era. I also fear that it’s not a Sutton Valence excerpt without something oddly serious covered. 

“Crow, do you have any formal clothes?” Mako anxiously slid the hangers of his cramped wardrobe as he brushed through his collection of nicer clothing. 

“Nothing that would fit you.” Crow crossed his legs as he mashed the buttons of his Switch. “Where are you two going, anyway?” 

“Panera.”

“Panera?” Crow repeated as he paused his play-through of Deltarune to stare at Mako, mouth agape. “You’re asking me for formal clothes for a date at Panera?”

“I don’t have anything!” Mako exclaimed. “I mean, he’s a big fashion guy. What if I wear something entirely inappropriate?”

“I can guarantee you that formal attire at Panera Bread would be entirely inappropriate,” Crow said. 

“What do you think I should wear, then?” Mako sighed. 

“I don’t know, man. I’m a fan of the collared shirt and sweatshirt combo, personally. It never misses.” 

“Collared shirt,” Mako repeated, standing on the tip of his toes as he swung the metal tops of his hangers. “Nice sweatshirt.”

Meanwhile, Gale adjusted the button of his shirt as he puffed out his hair in his bathroom mirror. It was a simple ensemble. Mako liked simple, right? Did it really matter, in the long run? He already agreed to their date. 

“Kai, you’ve been going out with Noeul for a while, right?” Gale asked, propping open the bathroom door with his foot. 

“Something like that.” Kai dramatically stretched himself over his bed. “Why do you ask?”

“How often do you go on dates?” Gale asked. 

“Never,” Kai responded. “Why would we do that gay shit?” 

Gale cocked his head. “Because you want to further your relationship and understanding of each other?” 

“I think we understand each other perfectly fine.”

“I guess we’re just different.” Gale habitually picked at his cuticles, chipping his bronze nail polish. 

“Thank God,” Kai sneered, staring at the popcorn ceiling. 

“Can I borrow your blue sweatshirt?” Gale asked. “I’ll be careful with it.”

“It’s going to swallow you whole, but sure,” Kai said. “Just don’t get, like, cum or shit on it.” 

“Huh?” Gale said, his head craning around the door. 

“You heard me, Porter. Just don’t get freaky with your boy toy on my vintage Alexander McQueen, and we’ll be fine.” 

“That’s vintage McQueen?” Gale asked, his eyes widening. “And you never told me?” 

“It never came up.” Kai shrugged. 

“I might have to borrow it more often,” Gale said under his breath. 

“Where are you going, anyway?” Kai asked. 

“The little Panera down the street.” 

“Panera?” Kai laughed. “God, you are a faggot.”

“It’s cozy! They have good soups!”

“You are a pansy,” Kai cackled.

“You’ve shagged significantly more men than I have, Shirogane.” Gale narrowed his eyes as he tucked Kai’s sweatshirt into his khaki pants. 

“Shagged?” Kai said. “What, am I some kind of rug?”

Gale rolled his eyes. “You should be more familiar with British slang by now.”

“And you should be more familiar with some dick by now.” 

“I’m not interested in his… manly bits… right now-“

“What the fuck?” Kai cried.

“What?”

“Why do you talk like that all the time?” Kai asked. “‘His manly bits.’ This has to be a joke.”

“Welcome to Britain, Kai! Sorry, we have dignity and a healthy relationship with sex.”

“You clearly don’t have a healthy relationship with sex.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend who sleeps with Sonnet Chea behind my back.”

Kai blinked. “That’s not true, Gale.” 

“It most certainly is true!” 

“I know Noeul fucks Sonnet. I just don’t care.” 

“Oh.” Gale’s voice cracked. 

“I’m just saying, you should loosen up a little,” Kai said. “Learn to take a joke, man.”

“Your jokes aren’t very funny,” Gale said, grabbing his bag and wallet from a hook on their door. 

“They get me good dick,” Kai said. “What do your nonexistent jokes get you, Gale?”

“A boyfriend who actually gives two shits about me.” Gale stiffly smiled as he closed the door and headed down the hall to meet Mako. 

As Gale traversed the halls, Mako’s eyes were locked on his bedside alarm clock. 

“Does it look okay?” he asked, his voice wavering. “I think it looks okay.” 

“You look great, dude.” Crow awkwardly patted Mako’s back. “I think the blue sweatshirt and khaki pants complement each other.”

“Really?”

“Really.” 

“I’m nervous.” Mako fidgeted with the shark keychain dangling from his wallet. “I’ve never been on a date before. I think he really likes me, and I don’t want to fuck up-“ 

“If someone somehow doesn’t like you, then they’re the problem,” Crow said, instinctively adjusting the chain of Mako’s paperclip necklace. “Gale seems like a good guy. Just have fun.” 

“Do my teeth look weird?”

“As fucked-up as always.” Crow smiled. 

“Perfect.” Mako confidently grinned as he swung open the door of his dorm room. His face dropped as he saw Gale across the hall. Gale waved at him, and Mako slammed the door.

“Crow, what do I do?” Mako exclaimed. 

“What’s wrong?” Crow had just returned to his game, so he was moderately annoyed. 

“We’re wearing the same exact outfit.”

“You’re what?”

“I saw him down the hall. It’s the exact same. Blue sweatshirt, collared shirt, khakis.” 

Crow burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

“This isn’t funny, Crow!”

“You’re right, this is hilarious. Open the door, let me get a picture of you two.” 

“Absolutely not-“

Gale managed to knock on the door twice before Crow aggressively opened it, slamming it directly into Gale’s nose. 

“Ah!” Gale shortly screamed, curling over to shield his nose with his hands. 

“Oh, fuck,” Crow whispered. “Gale, I’m so sorry, man-“

“No, I’m okay!” Gale nasally confirmed. “It’s not that bad, I promise.” 

Gale removed his hands to reveal a stream of blood pouring from his right nostril.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Mako gasped.  “I’m so sorry, Crow’s such an asshole.”

“Hey!” Crow snapped. 

“No, I’m fine!” Gale laughed. “This happens sometimes. Nosebleeds, I mean. Do you have any tissues?”

“I got some from Crow’s desk. Here.” Mako shoved a wad of tissues into Gale’s face. 

“Wait, are we wearing the same outfit?” Gale murmured through a glob of bloody tissues. 

“Yeah, I think we are,” Mako laughed, his face bright red. 

“Smile!” Crow perched atop his bed with a digital camera and excitedly waved at the couple. He did not wait for them to smile. Instead, he caught a candid shot of Gale wiping blood from above his lip and Mako looking incredibly pissed at him. 

“I think I’m okay,” Gale confirmed, tilting his head down and admiring himself in Mako’s mirror. Blood no longer stained his upper lip.

Crow threw a black hoodie at Mako. “This is the hoodie we agreed to get at the Ricky Montgomery show. I’ve hoarded it for long enough. You can finally wear it.” 

“Is it clean?” Mako asked.

“Dubiously.”

Mako shrugged. “It should be fine.” 

Crow couldn’t help but notice Gale staring off at his quilted throw as Mako got changed. It was nice to witness some form of respect as opposed to the raging horniness he was accustomed to seeing.

“I should be ready to go,” Mako said, taking Gale’s hand. A warm flush crept across Gale’s cheeks. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m ready, too,” Gale said.  Mako reached to open their door.

“Y’all be safe,” Crow called, doing his best impression of the Kentuckians he had grown to know and love. 

“Take care, now,” Mako replied in an equally horrific Southern accent. 

“You’re learning!” Crow excitedly clapped. 

“Never say that again,” Gale said, leaning into Mako. With that, the duo embarked on their romantic first date at the local Panera Bread. 

[fortheninth]

alright, here’s that year end selfie post!! it was a good year for pirates and gender and getting stabbed and weirdly, middle school remembrance. i went to two renaissance faires, hosted/attended several fun themed parties (including “pirates” and “orbs”), convinced a few long distance friends to come visit me, got a new tattoo and some more holes in my ears, started hormones (and therapy lol), changed my name socially, sewed myself a pirate shirt and a cape (both pictured!), made and sold a bunch of art, unfucked my knee enough to run a 5k, grew my hair out real long and chopped it off again, got a promotion at work, and finally caught covid after three goddamn years. thanks 2022, it’s been real. 

[image descriptions: ten photos of Max, a white person in their late 20s with dyed orange hair in various lengths and styles.

1. a mirror selfie, wearing a loose fitting denim shirt and soft pants over a striped tank top

2. a picture taken on top of a mountain with a view of the ocean and green hills in the background

3. a mirror selfie in a tattoo parlor showcasing a new upper arm tattoo, of a sword surrounded by pomegranates and leaves

4. a selfie taken on a sunny beach, wearing a black swimsuit top and sunglasses

5. a mirror selfie, wearing a yellow t-shirt with puffins printed on it, shorts, and goose socks (mostly white with a yellow toe area, like a beak, and there are two dots for eyes)

6. a selfie indoors in the Old Navy oranges shirt (dark blue with oranges printed all over it)

7. a selfie taken at a pirate themed mini golf course, dressed as a pirate in a tricorner hat, flowy white shirt, vest, and various pendants.

8. a selfie indoors wearing a button down t-shirt printed all over with skeleton hands doing peace signs, and collar pins shaped like skulls.

9. a mirror selfie, dressed as Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle, in a flowy white shirt, black pants, and a cape with a blue and pink diamond pattern and red lining.

10. a close up mirror selfie in a reddish orange striped sweater and freshly cut short hair.

/end i.d.]

[fash-man]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: New Travis Mathew The Zinna Polo Shirt Mens Size 3XL Heather Cardinal Golf.

[jaimee2001]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Clearwater Outfitters Red Golf Button Down Shirt Size M.

[sylvita4-blog]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Chaps men short sleeve cotton polo golf shirt New size XXL.

[wokecloset]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Garb Golf 100% Cotton Button Down Shirt Blue & White Check 5T, EUC.

[mynetbuzz]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Oobe Hydrovent Shirt Men's 3XL Red Stripe Polo Short Sleeve Golf Gorpcore.

[mysterymirrors]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Gap Men's Classic Fit Short Sleeve Pineapple Button Up Shirt - Navy Blue - S.