scottishscallylads

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]

Cool wx is bringing the bro’s out

Hot lad in Adidas trackies & Nike kicks cruising park 😈

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]

(via jonny953)

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]

John was the king of the cul-de-sac — or at least, that’s what he told himself every Saturday morning when he strolled down the cracked pavement, hood up, and his hand tucked casually down the front of his grey trackies. It wasn’t about comfort; it was about attitude.

Today, he was on a mission. Not an epic one involving dragons or buried treasure, but one that, to John, was just as serious: finding out who nicked his last can of Monster from the corner shop fridge yesterday. Word on the street was it might’ve been Liam from the other side of the estate, but John needed proof.

With his puffer vest zipped tight and his little black man-bag bouncing at his side, he strutted like he owned the pavement. His phone, half hanging from his other hand, buzzed with a group chat message. The boys were already at the park, waiting.

John smirked. He knew today wasn’t just about a missing energy drink. Today was about making a statement: you don’t mess with Scally John… not unless you fancy a very stern talking-to and maybe a light shove.

And with that, he headed off, the faint sound of drill music in his earbuds and the confidence of someone who truly believed the estate revolved around him.

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]

🔘 the things I’d do to him in that van 😈

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]

[scottishscallylads]