leavethefan-on

[leavethefan-on]

fuck it homebrew boop button. reblog this post to boop the person you reblogged from.

[leavethefan-on]

I’m just trying to enjoy my camp life in RDR2, walk around a bit, stare at my favorite characters and play cowboy and everytime I get within even a yard of him, Dutch starts spouting nonsense at me. I’m eating soup what do you mean ‘Arthur you’ll be the first to betray me’?? IM EATING SOUP

[leavethefan-on]

Rb for larger data set yadda yadda

[leavethefan-on]

I love when people say "my Arthur/john" when talking about rdr, it makes me imagine we're all pet owners but all our pets are Arthur Morgan.

[leavethefan-on]

Did you know that Arthur morgan was once a kid? Cause it eats me up everyday!

[leavethefan-on]

this is quite literally on-par with a royal baby announcement

[leavethefan-on]

It's stupid that bread goes bad so fast. Bread should last ten million years on your countertop. You should be able to feed yourself off the same loaf of bread from the day you are born to the day you die. They should pass down bread between generations like a family heirloom. There should be remnants of still-good bread after the heat death of the universe.

[leavethefan-on]

growing up I was always afraid of being Found Out. not sure what I was hiding. just my whole self I guess

[leavethefan-on]

there is no point to 'self diagnose' yourself with anything if you have no incentive to seek medical assistance or atleast do any other forms of self help and inner healing. at that point you're simply looking for a label to identify yourself with as if it's a personality trait, and not an actual disability. it's trashy at best, anti recovery at worst.

[leavethefan-on]

me: hmmm i’m really horny but could also use a simple and convenient snack

oddly fuckable chicken sandwich:

#immediately thought of the mcchicken vid

[leavethefan-on]

"do you seriously think you're above the rules" the stupid ones yeah

[leavethefan-on]

Reblog if you want all cops dead or if you like strawberry milk

[leavethefan-on]

Is Konig up for a board game? Or maybe cards?

I just imagine him having shit luck at UNO lol

[leavethefan-on]

Ahhh I wrote a poem

I want to be the cigarette between your lips.

I want to be the liquor down your throat, and the shiver that follows.

I want to be the pit-a-pat rhythm that pleasure and pain play in your blood.

I want to be sweet and smooth for you, singing with the nicotine.

I want to be all you need. Breath me in and let me build a lovely nest in your lungs.

I want to be the stain on your skin.

Let me sink in, nestle into your bones.

When everything behind your eyes finally quiets, when breathing makes sense.

You’ll feel a fluttering in the hollow of your throat.

That’s me, settling in.

A/N: I wrote this last night, I’m trying to get back into writing poetry again.

#original poem #self love #I was totally chain smoking when I wrote this #i can reclaim

[leavethefan-on]

Time to watch BuzzFeed unsolved, smoke some weed, and write about hot guys 😈😈

[leavethefan-on]

I can’t stop thinking about how you can see his little cheek dimple when he’s screaming “what town” and I will be out of commission for the remainder of the night pls don’t txt

[leavethefan-on]

Kiss Cam - A Frankie Morales GIFLET

Uh, Jett, what the heck is a GIFLET?

Just a short 500 words or less drabble, based on inspiration that I got from a GIF. Simples.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 499

Scoville Smut Rating: None, it's fluff. You're safe.

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

GIFLET MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

This GIFLET was inspired by the below GIF 👇🏻

In the midst of the adrenaline-fueled chaos of the MMA live fight, you find yourself absorbed in the gripping action within the octagon.

The air crackles with excitement as the crowd roars in response to each thunderous strike and strategic grapple.

The man in the navy beaten cap, seated next to you, seems casually aloof as he sups his beer whilst engrossed in the fight. He’s already apologised twice to you for knocking your knees with his, or elbowing you, as he shifts and cheers excitedly.

He and his friends stand, hollering in unison, as the young fighter in the ring spars with his opponent and subdues them easily.

Beer from his plastic cup sloshes onto your knee, but you don’t mind. The atmosphere is electric and somewhat contagious.

He smiles softly at you around billowy curls tucked behind his ears, and leans into you over the noise of the crowd, offering to buy you one in apology for his persistent clumsiness.

The warm, chocolate eyes and patchy scruff sways you into agreeing.

He returns, two cold ones in his giant grip, fingertips brushing yours. He smiles again at you; eyes lingering on yours, before turning slightly in his seat to converse to his friend.

You become engrossed in chat with yours on the other side of you, when you catch the jumbotron switching to the kiss cam.

As the audience, initially caught off guard, transitions from cheers to raucous laughter as randoms in the crowds kiss, you and the man beside you exchange amused glances when you recognise your faces on the screen.

Your friends beside you cackle and his friends cheer and pat his back encouragingly.

You can’t help yourself, he’s incredibly attractive and smells so good when he leans in. He shrugs, suggesting, hinting; seeking permission.

You nod back, leaning in to press your lips on his.

His lips are soft under the moustache that lines them, and you expect only a quick peck.

But yet, neither of you pull away. You feel it all over your body as his lips graze yours and you instinctively reach for his face, thumb brushing through his fuzzy cheek.

He slips his tongue inside your mouth tentatively. You reciprocate, tasting him and the coolness of his tongue from the beer.

His large hand is felt on your shoulder, then at the back of your neck; pulling you closer, kissing with more intent.

Both of you are completely lost to it, to one another.

It takes you a moment to realise the whole arena is a cacophony of deafening cheers at your clinch on the big screen with this man. Your friends whoop and screech excitedly behind you.

Dreamily, you pull away giggling, feeling heated and tingly all over. His eyes are on yours, his face flushed and beaming at you.

He leans in again. Fuck, he smells so good.

You hear him over the crowd, his voice warm inside your ear.

“My name’s Frankie, what’s yours, querida?”

🖤