#all races smoke dope

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 | dark!jim hopper x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | smoking with eddie was supposed to help you relax... instead, it forced you to decide how far you're willing to go to keep your record clean.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | dubcon/noncon smut (oral m receiving and creampie), slight innocence kink, significant age gap, semi-public sex, kinda mean hopper, handcuffs, coercion, bargaining, abuse of power, very slight/ambiguous eddie x reader if you squint, thicc pre-season 4 hopper the way god intended, slight angst

Eddie did have a tendency to get a little paranoid during a smoke session— a side effect of the product— but maybe you should’ve listened to him this time.

“Do you hear that?” he hissed as you handed the rolled paper back to him.  “Dude, there’s someone out there!"

“Who would be in the woods, this far from town, this late at night?” you rolled your eyes.

Well, the answer to that question is two-fold: stoners, and someone who’s looking for them.

A flashlight suddenly appeared from the trees, and your eyes went wide.

"Shit!" Eddie yelped, jumping up and tossing the joint— even though it was quite too late for that— and starting to run around like a chicken with its head cut off for somewhere to go.  But he couldn't exactly hide behind a tree, because this wasn't a cartoon, and getting back in the car wouldn't really get him anywhere.

So, he ended up basically circling the van and slamming directly into Chief Hopper who looked even more pissed than he had when you first spotted him.

"Uh, hey— funny running into you here, Mr. Chief, sir," Eddie joked as you sighed in disappointment and irritation at his idiocy.

"Get back over there, dummy," Hopper groaned as he shoved Eddie aside, tossing the guy into you— you would've both fallen over if you hadn't basically caught him, and your friend looked pretty disoriented by the whole thing.  

The chief flicked off his flashlight; it wasn’t actually really necessary, with how bright the moon was tonight, but your eyes had to adjust to the dark all over again.

"Two kids smokin' dope in the woods," Hopper observed.  "Munson, this is far from our first conversation— but you—"

He ran his gaze over you as you leaned back against the back of the van, and you felt conflicted about your body's response to his sizing-up.

"I expected better from you."

He reached for the cuffs at his belt, quickly grabbing Eddie by the elbow and turning him around with an unceremonious thud against the van.

"H-hey, not so rough," Eddie chuckled thinly, "it's my first time."

You rolled your eyes; did he always have to make stupid jokes like that?  "It is most certainly not, Munson," Hopper returned firmly.  "And I'm sure the judge will take that into account before he goes easy on you again.  You might wanna practice that 'not so rough' line again before you end up in jail, kid."

Eddie winced, and not from the tightness of the cuffs.  He was finally taking this seriously— finally realizing he was looking at more than community service or a fine this time.  

Hopper stepped up to you next, but you didn't put up nearly as much of a fight— and he was more gentle with you, far more… he even seemed to linger for a moment as he held your wrist.

It was incredibly subtle, but it was all it took for you to know you had a chance.  A chance you were just desperate enough to take.

"Why?" you asked suddenly, heart already racing.

"Hm?"

"Why did you expect better from me?"

There was a silent moment as Hopper considered that question, and Eddie gave you a confused look.

"I heard you were a good girl," Hopper eventually answered.

You smirked a bit, turning around to face the chief with a feigned look of confidence.  "Well, you heard wrong."

"V'never heard of you gettin' in this much trouble before," he replied.  "Not with the law, at least."

"That's ‘cause I don't do bad things to get into trouble, sir," you added pointedly, looking up at him and seeing the look in his eyes change a bit.  "I do bad things to get out of trouble."

You didn't really notice him getting closer until you felt it— felt that gap close as his body brushed against yours, and fuck he was tall 'cause you had to crane your neck all the way back to keep your eyes on his face (though they did briefly dart down to the badge on his chest).

"You know, I never saw you smoke," he noticed, voice lowering.  "Maybe you were just an innocent bystander.  You kinda have that look about you— innocent…"

He ran his finger over your jaw, until he was lifting your chin a little too forcefully.

"I like that," he added.

Your stomach dropped, but you couldn't back away— he had you pressed up against the van, every part of you was at his mercy now, even your freedom.

"Don't fucking touch her, pig," Eddie growled.

"Eddie, shut up," you snapped at him, not wanting him to dig the hole any deeper— or blow your chances of getting him out of it.

“Why don’t you get in the van and mind your own business, son,” Hopper encouraged, stepping away from you to hold up the key for Eddie’s cuff’s teasingly.  “Think you can do that?”

Eddie sneered at first, looking away.  “Ed, please,” you said, a little softer, and he sighed.  Hopper approached Eddie, who looked like he was barely containing his rage and disgust, as the chief unlocked his cuffs less than a minute after he’d put them on.

“Old creep…” Eddie muttered under his breath when he was freed, rubbing his wrists nervously, before he looked at you.  “Are you seriously gonna—?”

"Eddie," you said sternly.  "Get. in. the van."

He groaned but obeyed, walking past you both with a grimace, hopping up in the driver's seat and shutting the door behind him.

"That your boyfriend?" Hopper asked when you were (sort of) alone.

You sighed.  "Just a friend," you insisted.

"Hm," he replied, smirking a little.  "Bet he wants you."

"What makes you think that?"

"'Cause who wouldn't?" he purred.  "Body like this…"

You shivered as his hand ran down your back, slowing down as it slid over the curve of your ass.

"A boy that age would have no idea what to do around a body like yours, honey," Hopper added, humming as he brought his hand back up.  "Need a real man to take care of all this."

"Didn't think this was about you taking care of me, Hop," you returned, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at him with his lip between his teeth.  "Thought it was about working my way out of these cuffs."

He grinned at you, though it wasn't exactly a friendly smile.  "No, baby— the cuffs are staying on."

As he pulled you into him, you felt a firm bulge rub against your hip; you gasped a little, fighting the urge to pull away, and tilted your head back as he leaned down to kiss your neck.  "Eddie, too," you whispered.  "If we do this, no charges for Eddie."

Hopper grunted disapprovingly, but you looked up with him with your best ‘please, Daddy’ eyes and bit your lip slightly.  It wasn't quite enough for him, though.  "What's in it for me if I get your friend off?"

"Whatever you want," you blurted out before you really considered what that might entail— you just couldn't let Eddie go to jail.

He purred and grabbed your ass tighter.  "You drive a hard bargain, honey.  But I can't promise anything until you show me what you can do."

Figuring what that likely meant, you slid down until you were on your knees, keeping your eyes up— on him.  It would’ve been harder to keep your balance with your hands behind your back if it weren’t for the van’s bumper right behind you to lean on.  “Y’gonna get it out for me?” you asked him expectantly, and he smirked at you a bit as he reached for his belt.  

There was something about the way he sighed as he did it, about the way he had to reach under his thick belly to do this, about the way his heavy belt clinked as he opened it… you told yourself this was just about the bargain, but you knew there was more to it than that, on some level.

His cock was only half-hard when he pulled it out of his jeans, but already so thick— you were salivating already, but pretty fucking nervous, too.  It was pretty overwhelming to be confronted with what you were about to do in such an obvious way: it all gets a lot more real when there’s a big fucking cock in your face.

Not wanting to make him wait anymore, you leaned forward and took the tip into your mouth, coating it in your spit as you suckled gently… at first.

He hummed a little— you honestly barely heard it— and stiffened a bit more in your mouth.  Soon enough, it was so big that you had to keep your jaw open wide to fit it, and soreness was already starting to set in.  

When you shut your eyes, it was a little easier; you were a little more confident, and you tightened your hands into fists behind your back to stop them from shaking.  Leaning forward more, you took him deeper until his belly bumped against your forehead.  Why did that make your thighs clench together?

His fingers combed over your hair, not quite guiding your head yet but certainly encouraging you to go on.  "Yeah, fuck, that's good— that's really fucking good, keep sucking, baby…" he mumbled, voice thick and sweet like syrup.  The deeper you took him, the more talkative he got; and when you took him all the way to the base, with your nose buried in a patch of curly hair, he moaned louder than ever.

"Shit," he hissed, grabbing the back of your head when you tried to pull away.  "N-no, stay down, need to feel that throat a little longer, fuuuuck…"

You fought harder to pull back, getting dizzy as your coughs and sputters did nothing to give you air.  Only when tears ran down your cheeks and spots filled your vision did he let go, giving you a chance to break away and gasp for air.

He was chuckling lowly as you coughed, smiling down at you proudly even though you weren't much of a sight right now— face swollen and wet with tears, red eyes (even worse than before), on your knees in the leaves and dirt…

"Stand up," he ordered, and you gave him a confused look as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Huh?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Don't you wanna finish?"

He smiled wider.  "That's cute— you were gonna swallow it, too, right?  And you thought that would be enough?"

You started to feel particularly stupid as he yanked you up to your feet.  There was a long, tense silence as he started touching you again— running his hands slowly over your waist, your neck, your hips… 

He started to slowly push your shirt up, but his eyes stayed trained on your face; you must have looked, for once, as nervous as you felt.

He hummed a little as he got your shirt high enough and tugged your bra down; your nipples hardened right away from the chilly breeze, and he toyed with them for a second with his thumbs before groping your chest more confidently with his whole hands— god, they were big, and strong, just like the rest of him.

After unbuttoning your jeans for you, he turned you around quickly and pressed himself against your backside with a purr, slipping a hand down the front of your pants and into your panties.  “Mm,” he emphasized, cupping you and holding you tightly; still cuffed, the position made your hands grab onto his thighs through his pants.

He groaned as his fingers slid between your lips, and you let out a quiet whimper of your own.  

"Oh, fuck— look how wet you are, sweetie," he cooed beside your ear, starting to rub circles around your clit a bit too roughly.  "You like sucking cock in the woods?  Or is it the cuffs?"

You only whimpered a little as he held you tighter.

"Or," he continued, speaking even closer to your ear until his mustache tickled your skin, "is it whoring yourself for a man twice your age?  Is that what gets you off, honey?"

He didn't wait too long for you to answer— he must've known you weren't going to— before he pulled his hand out of your pants and yanked the denim down.  You felt cold and weird and stupid with your bare ass out in the woods; you swallowed down a lump in your throat when you heard Hop shoving his pants lower, too.  "Do you have a condom?" you asked shakily.

"You think I bring condoms on patrol?  What kind of cop do you think I am?"

My pants are around my thighs, Hop, I don't think you're exactly clean…

"No, baby, we don't need one anyways," he decided, rubbing his head around your flexing hole with a sigh.  "God, it's so wet…"

That was his last warning, if you can call it that, before pushing inside; and you accidentally grabbed onto his shirt when your fingers made fists, the sting of pain making your toes curl inside your shoes, too.  You bit your lip so you wouldn’t be too loud, though… you remembered, for a second, that Eddie would hear if you weren’t careful.  That made guilt churn your stomach even more than the Chief’s hand coming down to spank your ass all of a sudden.

“Damn, s’tight,” he chuckled darkly, groaning as he picked up his pace and held your hips steady.  “Sweet fuckin’ pussy… y’like it, sweetie, y’like being fucked?”

Swallowing, you nodded.  “Y-yeah,” you panted softly.

“Louder, honey.”

“Yeah, I like it,” you replied, a little more confident but not exactly ready to shout it out, either.  “Feels good…"

"Bet you wanna cream all over me, huh, baby?"

Well, that would certainly make this more enjoyable— but you didn't need to, really; the pain of the stretch had finally faded and honestly, you were surprised it happened so quickly.  With how thick he was, you were prepared to struggle longer, but if anything your body was giving in, encouraging him, making your back arch deeper and your walls pulse whenever he filled you to the brim.

His hands reached around to cup your tits, and he moaned louder as he felt you up while he fucked you.  When his fingers tweaked your nipples— not too hard, but still a startle— you tensed up inside; and he noticed.  “Oh, they’re sensitive, hm?  Sweet girl…”

Of course, he just did it repeatedly, and more aggressively, until your legs were shaking and you let out a pathetic whine.  “Chief, c’mon…” you pleaded nervously.

“Chief?  Don’t need to be so formal, honey,” he laughed, leaning in a little closer.  “Just call me Jim, okay?”

You really didn’t wanna do that, and you were having a hard time getting much of anything out now anyways: he’d started fucking you harder, deeper, a lot faster… your head was spinning.  At first you’d really just wanted to get this over with, but right now, you never wanted it to stop.  It was so difficult to keep your thoughts straight, you almost told him that, before noticing what a stupid thing that would be to say—

“Fuck, are you close?” he taunted.

“Don’t stop!” you blurted out.  “Please don’t stop, fuck…”

He chuckled proudly, and yep, it was just as stupid a thing to say as you thought it would be; he sounded way too cocky now, and even the way he moved his hips seemed to be more… gloating, than before, if that’s possible.  “Little slut,” he spat, though the insult sounded just as much like a compliment.

“Fuck,” you whispered again.

“I get it, y’know— you’re young and you need a little rebellion,” he said, and in your current state it really didn’t make any sense.  “But reefer’s not worth the trouble.  Why don’t you just let me fuck you when you’re feeling naughty?”

Right now, that didn’t seem like too bad of an idea; you already got the sense this may not be the last time this happened, even if he didn’t catch you smoking pot again.  That feeling was already swelling up inside you, and your throat was dry from breathing heavily— and nearly sore from moaning, even though you’d been trying to fight it.  Your eyes kept rolling back in your head even when they were shut, which they usually were until he brushed your hair aside with his hand and told you to look back at him.

And damn, he was a sight: that look in his eyes was unforgettable, the strain on his face as he drove himself into you over and over.  The curve of his cock stretched you in a way you’d never really felt before, his grip on you was so aggressive and his pace was overwhelming.  He was right, it turns out, when he said that thing before about Eddie and how you needed a ‘real man’ instead.  You protested to that term, but compared to guys your age, this was entirely different— and better.  And supremely fucked up.  And the best dirty deal you’d ever made.

“I-I’m close,” you finally admitted.

“I know,” he mumbled, “go ahead, baby— just come for me.”

It was the way he said it that shook you so much, unexpectedly gentle after so much gruff mocking; it still took you a few more minutes, but you ended up obeying his command pretty easily.

He felt it when you came, groaning through a smile and praising you in a low voice.  You could even hear it, the sticky sound as your cunt soaked him, and he snarled as he looked down at it— he grabbed your ass and pulled it out of the way so he could watch his cock fill your hole.  “God, that’s perfect,” he announced, “you’re so fucking cute.”

Not really the adjective I was expecting after I came on your dick, but I guess I’ll take it.

“Wanna make you do it again,” he admitted, making you swallow nervously, “but we don’t have much more time… and I’m so goddamn close, fuck, you’re just so tight, honey…”

You whimpered and bit your lip, your post-orgasm haze working overtime to keep your shame at bay— but the clarity was due any second now, and it was hard to ignore who this was when he kept moaning louder and louder, sighing your name, touching you and running his hand down your back and promising to fill you with his load—

Wait, he’s gonna do what?

"Pull out," you whimpered.  "Fuck— pull out…"

He only held on tighter to your hips, driving into you deeper as his head fell back in a grunt.

"Hop, pull out!" you yelped, only for a thick, clammy hand to cover your mouth as he bent down behind you— his forehead rested on the back of your shoulder, each hot breath fanning over your skin.

"God, sorry, I'm sorry," he panted, "need this— fuck, so good…"

You struggled harder, but all your strength was useless compared to him holding you there, keeping you exactly how he wanted you.

"Ah, fuck— you don't need to fight it, baby, s'gonna be so good… your pussy's milking me, c'mon, it's what she wants— she wants to be filled up, I can tell.  You want it, baby?  You want me to come?  Fuck I'm so close…"

He grunted a few more times before he suddenly stopped— his hips pressed forward until he couldn’t go possibly any deeper, then even just a little more after that; he held you tight as a tear ran down over his hand on your face.  Relaxing with a heavy exhale, his grip loosened on you slightly but you were far too weak to fight it now, so you just stayed there: bent over, still crying slightly, with a panting and heavy man just behind you (and inside you) catching his breath.

“Fuck,” he said again, pulling out quickly and letting you go; you didn’t realize how weak your legs were until you had to hold onto the van to stay up, awkwardly lowering your bare, sore bottom onto the small lip of the back bumper so you wouldn’t just fall to the ground.

You were pretty out of it for a minute; the smell of cigarette smoke brought you back to reality, and you looked at Hopper, having a smoke as he looked out into the woods.  He caught you staring, and raised an eyebrow.  “Y’want one?” he offered, and you nodded.  

Fishing the pack out of his pocket, he shook out a cigarette for you, holding it for you to lean forward and capture with your lips.  After lighting it for you, he watched you take a long drag and sigh.

“I’ll take you out of the cuffs in a minute,” he promised, but you’d already kind of forgotten about them.

He did, though; help you out of them, that is, and you were able to get your clothes back in order on your own after that.  You wondered if you should say something, or if he should.  What was there to say?  Thanks for the bribe?  Nice cock?  Pleasure doing business with you?

So, he didn’t say anything, and neither did you.  Until just as he was starting to walk away, and you noticed his flashlight had fallen from his belt onto the ground. 

“Wait,” you said, leaning down to grab it, and when you stood up to hand it back to him, you saw something strange in his expression.  You wondered, for a second, if he’d been hoping for more when you said that.  “You dropped this.”

He took the flashlight and nodded at you.  “Thanks,” he said, and you took the last drag of your lended cigarette as you nodded; watching him leave, you dropped the butt to the ground and snuffed it out with your shoe.

For some reason, you waited a little longer after he left to get back in the van’s passenger side.  Eddie didn’t look at you when you got in, and you didn’t say anything; he just started the van silently and began the drive back to the trailer park.  You were halfway there when you decided you should let him know, “you’re not going to jail.”

“I know,” he replied.

#jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #jim hopper smut #dark!hopper smut #jim hopper dark fic #stranger things reader insert #stranger things smut

[tightjeansjavi]

That Girl is a Problem

Part 1: “Sinful Colors”

(AU street racing! Joel x f! tattoo artist reader)

A/N: so this idea came to me because I rediscovered the song, ‘Problem’ by Natalia Kills. Suddenly I was like YES. Tatted up street racing Joel 😵‍💫 + tattoo artist female reader? Jesus Christ, my panties have been flung across the room. I’m blushing as I type this all out because this Joel is just on another level 🥵 get your engines revving laideaze.

~word count: 2.6k~

Summary: Joel Miller & Tommy Miller left their Texas homestead seeking new thrills. They find themselves working at an auto body shop on Hollywood Blvd. Joel meets you, a self taught tattoo artist working on the strip. You might be just the adrenaline rush that he was searching for. Or, his ultimate heartbreak.

Warnings: Early 1990’s Los Angeles violence/scandals. Drug use, drinking, smoking, mentions of tattooing and needles, street racing, infidelity, adrenaline junkies, Joel & reader have emotional baggage, reader is a badass, love triangle between reader, Joel, and readers boyfriend, flirting, teasing, banter, jealousy, rage, trauma, dark themes, domestic emotional/physical abuse from readers boyfriend, pining, unrequited feelings, excessive drinking/drug use, sustained injuries from street racing, bar fights, 2 character deaths, jealous! Joel, darkish! Joel, possessive! Joel, eventual smut, consent, eventual established relationship, no use of (y/n) readers nickname is Angel, (+18) minors dni!

That Girl is a Problem Playlist:

𝙄’𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡.

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚...

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢.

Los Angeles, California: Summer of 1993

When Joel Miller, and his brother Tommy Miller moved to the City of Angels, Los Angeles California, they had no idea what they were in store for. LA was a cultural shock compared to their homestead in Texas. They were looking to get in on the action, live life on the high side and they had come just to the right place.

It didn’t take long for the Miller boys to find work at a local mechanic shop on the Hollywood strip. Both brothers knew a thing or two about cars and motorcycles. Wasn’t the first time they had gotten down and dirty, and it wouldn’t be the last. Joel had discovered your tattoo shop on his lunch break. Hollywood had street vendors by the lot and he stopped in front of the bright red neon sign that read, Sinful Colors.

Joel wasn’t shy of his ink. He had gotten his first tattoo at the sharp age of 18 and from there, he became addicted to the buzzing sound of the machine, and quick jabs of the needle into his skin. It was a euphoric sensation. The only way he knew how to describe the feeling without sounding entirely masochistic, was that it was a good pain. A comforting pain that eased stress and tension. Maybe he enjoyed it too much. Who the hell was anyone to tell him that he was fucked up for feeling that way? Tattoos were fucking dope, as far as he was concerned.

Curiosity got the best out of him as he pushed open the door to your shop. He was greeted with the familiar buzz of the tattoo machine and the low tremble of Led Zeppelin’s, I Can’t Quit You Baby. There was the faint aroma of cigarette smoke, mixed in with burning incense wafting through the thick beaded curtain that separated the waiting area from the room where the clients and walk in’s would receive their new ink.

You had a cigarette perched between your lips as you were finishing up on a walk in that requested a tramp stamp to piss off her ex boyfriend. Although in your eyes, tramp stamps weren’t trampy at all. They were fucking hot as hell, considering you had one yourself. “You’re doing great, babe. You’re gonna love this one. As soon as your ex sees it, he’s gonna be foaming at the mouth.”

“As he fucking should be. Fuck him. He’s never gonna get his hands on my body again.” The client glanced over her shoulder at you, letting out a low hum from the sensation of the needle piercing her skin over, and over again. Once you were finished, you lightly doused a paper towel in rubbing alcohol before gently wiping the tattoo.

“Alright babe. You let me know how this looks, Kay? If you wanna change anything, don’t hesitate.” You had your walk-in gently sit up before you handed her a hand held mirror so she could check out her new ink. The tattoo was a gothic heart in red ink. The structured lines coming from the sides of the heart were like a crown of pointy thorns. The tattoo itself was delicate but possessed that edgy vibe that she was looking for.

“Holy fucking shit, Angel. You outdid yourself again! Oh my god, this is so fucking beautiful.”

It brought you undeniable joy to see someone happy with your art. You took immense pride in making sure that your clients and walk-ins got exactly what they were looking for. It was always fun when you got to throw in your own artistic flare in your work. “I’m so happy you love it babe. You know I would be more than happy to add you as one of my clients? You keep coming back for more..so I must be doing something right huh?” You said with a small grin.

“At this point, I’m just gonna keep throwing my money at you because girl, this is insane! Thank you so so so much!” She was already reaching into her hot pink wallet, pulling out a stack of cash for you.

“You mind if I take a picture of it real quick? I’ll give you a copy as well. Just like to keep a collection, y’know?” Your walk-in, Maddi nodded. You tapped your cigarette out in the nearby ashtray, far enough away from your supplies to stay within regulation code. You opened up your drawer pulling out your Polaroid camera as you got behind the bench. “Alright baby cakes, hold your shirt up for me just a little, just like that gorgeous.”

You snapped one picture, followed by another, gently shaking the photos as they developed. Once they were finished, you grabbed a fine tip sharpie and wrote the date, along with Maddi’s name, and handed her the second copy.

“Okay, this is so fucking hot. I’m hanging this picture up on my fridge. I don't care.”

You set your copy of the picture down before grabbing her a “goody bag.” Now remember, no harsh scented soaps, no swimming for at least 2-4 weeks. Please don’t let anyone cum on your back for at least a week either. I know how you are babe. Keep it moisturized, and a little bit of the stuff I gave you goes a long way.” You wheeled your stool over as you placed a light patch off the open wound. “You can take this off in a couple hours and gently wash it with water only.”

“Sooo no cum-shots on my back for at least a week? Got it!” Maddi said with a light giggle. “Oh, by the way, is Dylan still racing this weekend?”

“Yeah you’ll just have to stick with it on your tits or ass babe. Think you can handle that? He is racing this weekend. You and the girls gonna be there?”

“I do love a good ass shot. Hell yeah we’re gonna be there! We don’t miss that shit for the world babe.” She pulled her shirt down over the bandage gently before gathering up her things. Maddi always left you a hefty tip, which you appreciated greatly. You gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek before you counted up your money and placed it in the safe under your work area.

Maddi slipped past the beaded curtain to be met with the tall, handsome stranger in the waiting area. She shot the man a wink before she left through the front entrance.

You wiped down your work area, sanitizing everything for your next client before you stood up. You didn’t know anyone but yourself and maddi were in the shop till you slipped through the beaded curtain and were met with Joel Miller.

“Oh shit, sorry man. I didn’t hear anyone else come in. How long have you been standing there?” The first thing you took notice of was his height and the way the leather jacket he was wearing, seemed to bulge at the seams from his prominent broad muscles. You could see some ink peeking out along his wrists and the visible skin exposed beneath his t-shirt.

“Long enough to hear about cum shots.” He chuckled, Texas accent drawling smoothly past his lips.

“She’s a wild one, that’s for damn sure. You’re not from around here I take it? Based on the accent. Texas maybe?”

The first thing Joel noticed about you was your clothing attire. You weren’t afraid to show skin that was for damn sure. He took in the fact that you were wearing a short denim skirt with a tight little top that did little to cover your nipples. You wore fishnets paired with black heeled boots. You were hot, there was no denying that. You were also positively covered in tattoos. He noticed right away that your style was patchwork mixed in with American traditional. You even had a little red ink queen of hearts tattoo along the front of your ear. It easily could pass as a face tattoo. Besides your tattoos, you had a septum piercing and an array of earrings on the same ear that had the tattoo close to it.

“Based on that conversation, she does sound pretty wild. How’d you guess from my accent alone that I’m from Texas? Does it really stick out that much?” Joel asked, crossing his arms across his broad chest, stretching the leather fabric even more.

You knew he was checking you out. It was flattering to have attractive people unashamedly check you out. You knew you were hot. Something that both men, and women and everyone in between desired. You were well known in the LA nightlife. Your boyfriend Dylan hated it. He hated that you dressed a certain way, that you were naturally bubbly, alluring. You had a bit of a mouth to you but hey, momma didn’t raise no bitch. You were everyone’s dream girl, but a real damn problem.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer, handsome.” you grinned and mirrored his movements, crossing your arms over your chest with a raise of your brow. “Yeah, I don’t get many Texas men wandering in here. You stick out like a damn sore thumb man.”

Joel felt his mouth go dry at your suggestion. Was he really staring that damn hard at you? Fuck. He had only just met you, and you were already scrambling his brain. He cleared his throat as he stuck with his intimidating stance. “Can’t deny that I like what I see, huh Angel? Now, is that your real name darlin’, or like one of those fake stage names like the girls in Vegas use?”

“Between you and me, I like what I see as well. Oh, I’m sure you’d love to hear my real name, cowboy. We’re not on those personal terms unfortunately.” You said with a faux sigh of disappointment.

“Ahh, I see. You’re what men like to call a class A tease. Gotta hand it to ya darlin’ you got me hooked already.”

“Consider yourself unspecial, and most definitely unlucky.” You responded with a sickly sweet grin. “So, did you come in here to flirt me up or did you want to get something done? What was your name again? I don’t believe I caught it.”

Joel liked the fact that you could banter and hold your ground. He was unlucky indeed considering the fact that you already had the upper hand on him. “I don’t believe I introduced myself at all. I’m Joel.” He held his hand out for you to shake, a small grin plastered on his lips. “I was actually lookin’ to get somethin’ done. I’m only on my lunch break at the moment so I’d have to come back later unfortunately.”

“Joel? Never heard of a man with that name before. It’s different.” You shook his hand firmly. You could feel the ridges and veins in his hand against your soft skin. “What were you looking to get done? I can pencil you in for my next availability.”

“Well, now you’ve gone and boosted my ego up a notch darlin’. I was lookin’ to get both of my hands done. The knuckles and my fingers. I was thinking American traditional. Nothing really specific. Maybe a skull, snake or somethin’ along those lines.”

“Don’t let it go to your head too fast, cowboy. Knuckle tattoos are fucking sick. I love doing American traditional as well. Tell you what, I’ll sketch something up for you and then you can stop on by after your shift? Where do you work anyway?” You asked, already penciling his name down in your little notebook.

“Damn woman. You gotta take a man out to dinner first before you just start askin’ him personal questions like that.” He chuckled, shooting you a playful wink. “I work at S&M auto body just down the strip. My brother Tommy works there as well.”

“Fuck me. There’s two of you?” You said with a light giggle. Yeah, my boyfriend actually uses that place when he’s reckless with his car. Which is about every other fucking day I swear.”

Of course you had a boyfriend. Of fucking course a vixen, such as yourself was taken.

“Yeah but if I’m being honest, I’m the handsome one. Tommy is just eh. Although, believe it or not, he’s totally a bigger ladies man than I am. Dude can’t keep it in his fucking pants for more than a day, if that.”

“Wow, he sounds like the male version of my friend Maddi. The hot babe that was just in here. She’s out here breaking guys' hearts every other day of the week. I absolutely hype her up for it though. She’s getting it good all the time.”

“No shit? Well, sounds like they would be a perfect match for one another. Maybe we’ll have to make sure they meet or somethin’.”

“Oh, we? No. Sorry Joel. There will be no we but i’m sure they’ll end up meeting eventually. You and Tommy should come to the race Saturday night. Maddi will be there and they can meet and rip each other's clothes off and all that fun stuff.”

“What kind of race are we talkin’ here Angel?” Joel asked with curiosity laced in his tone.

“The only kind of racing that is actually entertaining to watch. Street racing babe. Happens every Friday and Saturday night, right here on the strip. Well, as long as the cops don’t come and bust up our party first.”

“Street racing? Can anyone sign up for it or is it like an invite only kinda deal? Are you gonna be there?”

“Anyone and everyone can sign up. You got a car or bike and you’re good to go. Entry fee is $50 and well..there’s not many rules either. That’s what really draws the crowds in. Just some down and dirty street racing. I’ll be there. I always am. My boyfriend holds the raining title in LA county.”

Joel fought the urge to roll his eyes at you mentioning this boyfriend of yours again. Dude sounded like a total tool and Joel didn’t even know his name, let alone what his stupid face looked like. “Well, Angel. Count me in. I’ll be there and I’ll bring Tommy. How do I sign up?”

“Alright, rookie. You got a taste for some action, huh? We’ve been looking for some new meat to join anyway.” You grabbed a clipboard from one of the drawers and handed it to him. “The $50 isn’t required till the race so just need your name, pretty boy.”

“Came all the way out here for some action darlin’. Any, and all kinds of it. Whatever I can get my hands on really. Your boyfriend might have some competition on his hands. We did somethin’ similar to this back in Texas. Only difference was, it was a bunch of hillbillies and their trucks in an abandoned cornfield. Same concept, I imagine.” He grabbed the clipboard from you, lightly brushing his fingers across your knuckles on purpose. He wasted no time signing his first and last name before handing you the clipboard back.

“We’ll see about all that, cowboy. My next client will be here in about 10. I’ll work on your sketch on my lunch break and then feel free to stop by anytime after 3 today.” You set the clipboard down along the table.

“Sounds like a date, Angel. Catch ya around hot stuff.” He winked before he turned on his heel and slipped past the front entrance door.

Dylan was positively gonna give you hell for this. Did you care? Not one fucking bit. Joel Miller was hot. He was handsome and sexy and you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t want to get a taste of what Texas had to offer. What your boyfriend didn’t know, wasn’t going to kill him.

Tag list: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @lovers-liability @korynnekorynne @loquaciousferret @cutesyscreenname @atinylittlepain @yazsos @kirsteng42 @777-wonders @last-girl @pedgeitopascalreads @pedrostories

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dark joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #AU Joel Miller #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #street racing! Joel #pedro pescal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel x reader #joel x you #that girl is a problem #TGIAP #tight jeans javi fic

[rfxiii]

hiiiiiii i rlly love ur headcanons :3 sooo was wondering if i could get some general north yankton related ones abt the boys? ive had north yankton brainrot so bad lately LOL

tysm and no rush or pressure at all !! 🩷

aahh! Tysm for the request 💕 I’ve been so obsessed with the North Yankton era and those three soggy idiots recently so ty for letting me indulge in it!

Tw: mentions of drug use

[1099 words]

General North Yankton HCs:

Michael was a regular at the local diner- so much so that they knew him by name and started making his usual order the second they saw him parking and heading in.

Trevor and Brad used to dare each other to do increasingly stupid and dangerous shit. Several of these instances resulted in Trevor having to get a rabies shot. That being said, they totally weren’t the reason that Michael found a raccoon in his bathroom…twice.

Brad and Trevor absolutely made each other worse. Brad only ever smoked weed really before meeting Trevor. But Trevor introduced him to things like coke, meth, and heroin and got him hooked almost instantly. After Brad was just as doped up on the shit as Trevor was, they’d feed off each others bad ideas- taking more drugs to see what they could handle, getting black out wasted and going for races down the highway, robbing liquor stores and even houses just for the fun of it and leaving bodies in their wake with sloppy to no cover up of evidence. Separately they were both dangerous, but together they were literally hell on earth.

Despite the sarcasm and occasional bickering, Lester considered Michael something like his best friend. Lester keeps himself guarded and he’s very much out for just himself and his own self interest, but he and Michael are closer than he’s ever been with any other person, which makes Michael his closest friend by default even if he will argue it.

Michael was well aware that Amanda was into Brad. He’s unsure if they ever hooked up, but he knows she did want him. She found Brad attractive- tall, big, strong, and his crazy personality was fun. But she picked Michael for being stable, kinder, and a long term option (and for free tits). Michael still counted it as a win.

Trevor was invited, but didn’t come to Michael and Amanda’s wedding. Michael getting married crushed him, and he went totally off the radar for almost a month after- getting black out drunk, high, and slaughtering hitchhikers in an effort to feel anything but the pain of having his best friend “stolen” from him.

Physical fights weren’t uncommon between the trio- mostly between Michael and Brad. Occasionally, Trevor and Brad would argue over stupid shit and fight. Trevor and Michael fist fought the rarest, but nearly every time they did fight, Trevor would cry after. Not usually in front of the others, but after disappearing on his own, getting high, and convincing himself that this was the fight that was going to make Michael abandon him.

Trevor remembers the exact date and time that he and Michael met. He lovingly refers to it as their “anniversary”.

The phrasing secretly pissed off both Amanda and Brad. Michael acted like he hated it, but was actually sort of endeared by it.

Brad was the first one to suggest he and Trevor go off on their own. Trevor only agreed a few weeks later after truly looking for the fact that Michael was pulling away from him. Honestly, Brad felt toward Trevor the way that Trevor feels toward Michael. He was obsessive, possessive, and hated how attached to Michael that Trevor was instead of seeing that he was “the better option”. Trevor was his person and he hated sharing him with Michael.

Trevor was, surprisingly, the peacekeeper frequently between the group. Whenever Michael would get angry about the crazy shit Trevor and Brad would get up to, Trevor would nag at him and make jokes until, often, Michael would back down and let it go. Brad would often go out of his way to say or do things to make Michael angry- enter Trevor defusing the situation before it came to blows or a shoot out. He started his fair share of fights between everyone too though with his antics and loud mouth.

Michael would pick up strippers and sex workers frequently in each town they went to- mostly slightly younger women to feel like he was reliving his “glory days”. Trevor always seemed to pick up MILFS from every bar he stopped at- older ladies love him and he loves older women who dote on him. Brad always had two or three girlfriends in each city- occasionally they’d all find out about each other and gang up to slash his tires or kick his ass when he came back through town.

Trevor hated being alone and made any excuse to share rooms when at random motels or safe houses. There could be two open motel rooms with extra beds or they could be staying in a three bedroom safe house, but either Michael or Brad would, more often than not, wake up with Trevor in bed with them or asleep on the floor beside their bed.

Brad was born into the system, and lived his whole childhood in foster care until he aged out of the system and was left to figure it out on his own. He was used to living in homes with a max of ten other kids and became very possessive of things/people (Trevor) as he was convinced they’d get taken away. And he was not good at sharing or coexisting in a space with people he didn’t like (Michael).

That being said, Brad shared almost everything with Trevor: clothes, girls, food they’d order at a diner, beds, practically everything.

Michael secretly wished, more than anything, that Trevor would calm down and grow up. Trevor was his best friend, and he did want him in his life and to be a part of his kids' lives. But between the drugs, his crazy lifestyle, and his refusal to slow down, Michael knew it was too dangerous to keep things up how they were.

(You mentioned it, and I think I’ve heard it other places too so I guess it’s just like a collective headcanon?? Or maybe it’s canon?? I seriously don’t know?) But Michael was a little older than Trevor. Maybe by like two or three years. But then Brad was younger than Trevor by a year or two also- making him like four or five years younger than Michael. And giving Michael the excuse of “being older and smarter” in his arguments about why his decisions were correct.

Trevor secretly hoped for a time that one day Michael would come to him and admit how “wrong” he’d been for marrying Amanda and they would run off together and live life how they used to back in their twenties when they first met.

#asks #gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #michael townley #brad snider

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hi Slug! I know you are very, very busy so idk if you have any time for it, but if/whenever you get the chance, I was wondering what your thoughts were on the new Hypmic wardrobe (winter style!). I thought your comments on the last one (spring/summer) were really funny.

Oh heck yes, I love doing these. There's nothing like speaking with confidence on something I know absolutely nothing about.

Here's the approximately 3 pixels we'll be scrutinizing.

And for those interested, here are my thoughts on the last wardrobe.

Under a cut for length

Ichirou: Even though this man has perhaps the most stereotypical Japanese name on Earth and is in every other respect completely, 100% not white, I have never once understood the meaning of the phrase “white boy swag” until I saw him. Now I understand everything.

Jirou: This is a pallette swap of Holden Caulfield. Saburou’s a phony confirmed.

Saburou: The way he’s doing his bangs makes him look like he’s got a trust fund, a 30% share in his father’s Fortune 500 company, and a pony. He looks like his name should be Lucius. The rest of his outfit is just... idk, it’s cold outside. He’s being practical. I like it. Simple is good. It’s probably going to be better than the rest of this set.

Samatoki: Apart from him being blasted in the face with a wind machine, I can dig whatever’s going on here. It’s simple and nice. That sort of skinny, all black look is dope. He looks if David Bowie was about 40 years younger and modeled for men’s sportwear magazines.

Juuto: I would really like more than 2.7 pixels to tell what’s going on here, but my initial thought is that he’s trying to cosplay as the little German boy people on Tumblr are always talking about. You know, I could see Juuto in lederhose. I’m not saying it’d be a good look on him, but it sure would be something! It’s either that or he’s some Skyrim NPC.

Riou: Every time I see Riou not in military uniform, I am thrust back into the year 2003, whereupon he is my older cousin playing the PS2 and teaching me how to play Pokemon Silver. I’m not sure why, especially considering that I never saw my cousin do either of those things and Riou doesn’t look anything like my cousin, but I see him and I immediately know that this is an Older Lad who is at all times only seconds away from racing you in Mario Kart or taking you outside to throw a football around. I don’t think Riou is a dad, per se, but in about 20 years he’ll somehow skip straight to prime uncle stage.

Ramuda: Up in some top-floor suite of the King Records office building, the big hotshot, Mr. Records himself, is smoking a fat cigar. A nervous young assistant tentatively steps into the room, bent double under the weight of a stack of reports almost as big as she is. “Sir,” says the assistant, “Hypnosis Mic is cornering the otome market and making billions of yen a day. We’re rich beyond our wildest dreams! But...” Mr. Records takes a long draw on his cigar. “But?” The assistant can’t quite meet his eyes. “There’s just...” She falters before screwing up her courage and taking the plunge. “There’s just one demographic we’re not... maximizing our profits with.” Mr. Records leans forward, shifting his impressive weight in the chair. He looms like a mountain, the monolith of the Japanese entertainment industry that he is. “And what’s that?” he asks, in a voice so low it’s almost a growl. The assistant gulps but, to her credit, doesn’t flinch. There’s barely a hint of a waver in her voice as she says, “The... the straight men, sir.” “Bah!” Mr. Records snaps. Bits of tobacco-stained spit flies from his meaty jowls, mercifully missing the assistant by a hairs’ breadth. “What’s that all about? Why, we’ve got... what’s the word... woo-men aplenty, don’t we? Come on, isn’t there that one broad with them big ol’ titties? The boys should be eating her up like hot cakes! What’s the damn idea?” “Yes,” the assistant says, “you’re right, sir. You always are. It’s just that... well... Our straight, male audience is hoping to see a bit more of a... moe touch, sir.” Mr. Records eyes gleam. “Moe?” he repeats. “Oh, they want moe, do they? I’ll give them moe! Just you wait, boys! You’re about to get so much moe you won’t know what to do with it!” Anyway, that’s roughly what I think happened here.

Gentarou: I can’t even joke about this. This is just a priest’s cassock. You can literally buy something almost identical on fucking The Catholic Company.com. Everyone else is trying to serve looks, and Gentarou is serving communion.

Dice: Every time one of these rolls around, I always say, “Yeah, I’d wear that.” But this is always a lie. I would not wear that; I am only trying to give in and meet Hypmic halfway in the hopes that they won’t offend my sensibilities as hard next time. Yet this time, I would actually probably wear this. There is no personality in this whatsoever. The only reason Dice is wearing it is because Ramuda and Gentarou were too preoccupied (with bamboozling potential new viewers and leading mass, respectively) to stuff him into something fashionable.

Jakurai: Half the time Jakurai shows up in these, he gives off such a strong MSLF feeling. What’s a MSLF? A mother someone would like to fuck. I’m not about to do it, but I’m sure someone will take one for the team and go nuts over this art.

Hifumi: Love the faux fur stole thing going on here. He looks like a Disney stepmother. He’s got Cruella de Vil on speed dial.

Doppo: ?? Is it just me, or does this not look like Doppo? He looks like he wandered in out of EnStars or something. Sir, are you sure you’re in the right series?

Sasara: Probably the most normal-ass thing Sasara’s ever worn in his life. He just looks like an anime Columbo with ear muffs.

Roshou: You can play chess on this bitch. He looks like the shy girl librarian character who’s the tsundere love interest in a beloved 90′s anime with 300 episodes. By episode 287, she and her love interest (probably Columbara up there) have their first kiss, leading to wild, vitriolic ship wars on message boards between fans who have been waiting since episode 1 (which aired in 1983) for the two get married and the kind of dudes who take “If she breathes, she’s a thot” literally.

Rei: Man, take this bitch to the bank! Gold bar-looking ass.

Kuukou: I actually have a slightly better image of BAT, so this final part may be more coherent. (Emphasis on the “may”) First off, I hope we can all agree this is a bath robe. You can’t tell in the image above, but there are chains on these glasses (???) making him look like a grandmother. I think the general vibe is supposed to be ninja...ish... but it’s like if a ninja was crossed with the spirit of Miles Edgeworth. Also, what the actual hell is that white thing at his waist? Does anyone know?

Juushi: HELL YES, I can fuck w/ that hair. I do not know what is going on with the rest of the outfit. He and Hifumi are both responsible for slaying some poor faux fur beast. I feel like, if Hifumi is a Disney stepmom, then Juushi is the protagonist who’s a witchcraft practicing teen girl that must navigate her parents’ divorce and remarriages, fight off the forces of evil with magical powers, and navigate her life as an ordinary high schooler and teen gymnast in this 2010s Disney Channel show. Call it Hex and Balances.

Hitoya: Love the fact that he and Juushi are both wearing heels to flex on Kuukou. It’s a good thing no one in BAT owns a cat, or they’d be having a field day with the drawstring that goes almost all the way to his knees. Honestly, I really don’t know what to say here. I have less of an issue with the designer potato sack he’s wearing (looks comfy af tbh) as opposed to the face he’s making. He looks like he rolled out of bed and isn’t entirely conscious yet. I think someone should be more awake if they’re in such close proximity of Kuukou, so I wish him the best of luck in surviving this encounter.

#not a translation #asks #humor asks

[psychicdreamfriendoperator]

any ideas/headcanons for the shishigumi lions on new year’s eve/rexmas stuff?

SHISHIGUMI AND RINGING IN THE NEW YEAR HEADCANONS

It feels like I haven't had an ask about the lion yakuza for a little while pspsp

Since Christmas is gone, I thought that I’d focus on the "New Year’s" part of the ask instead.

Hope you enjoy!

— Psychic

general headcanons

Another year past means another year survived.

And survival is always worth celebrating.

Though some lions are more low-key about it, they all celebrate New Year’s Eve in their own ways.

On a whole, New Year’s Eve is seen as a more reflective time of year — you look back at the year gone and think on what you can do to make the upcoming year better for yourself.

Ibuki

He arranges a little get-together (not a party. It's an important distinction, to Ibuki) for the gang's inner circle.

Ibuki claims that it's to discuss the group’s upcoming criminal activities, but in truth ... he wants to spend the last day of the year with the gang's inner circle.

Life is never guaranteed, so it's best to appreciate your comrades when they are still with you.

When the get-together ends, expect to find him smoking on the shishigumi mansion’s roof.

He can't help but get all introspective come the end of the year.

Free

If he doesn't spend New Year's higher than a kite, or emptying out Dolph’s liquor collection, then Free would go for a ride on his motorcycle.

The roads will be mostly clear, so he can go as fast as he wants, and really feel the wind in his mane.

Who knows? He might be able to convince Agata to go drag racing with him.

Dolph + Agata

Dolph spends New Year’s Day much as he would any other day, and really planned to do the same this year.

But then Agata mentioned wanting to go see the fireworks, and Dolph found himself being dragged along.

Hino

He sleeps through Old Year’s Night, but wakes up bright and early January 1st.

He wanted to sleep in, but he would've liked to have seen the fireworks, still.

To make up for it, he watches the news reports of the event, all while promising himself that he’ll see the fireworks next year (repeat ad nauseum).

Dope + Miguel + Jinma

I think it would be really sweet if this little trio made a night out of New Year’s.

After Ibuki’s little shindig, these three would hit up the meat markets — something something “New Year’s barbecue”.

If they don't host a barbecue, they’ll be found clubbing (Miguel’s suggestion).

Sabu

New Year's isn't anything special for him.

He treats it like any other day — the most celebration you’ll get out of him is him helping Ibuki set up for the get-together.

Sabu might splurge on something nice for himself, but it’ll probably be related to the gang in some way: a fancy (yet reasonably priced) suit, some new shoes ...

#beastars #beastars headcanons #beastars imagines #beastars shishigumi #beastars ibuki #beastars free #beastars dolph #beastars agata #beastars hino #beastars dope #beastars miguel #beastars sabu #beastars jinma

[caribouv]

went to watch horse racing, and by that i mean a bunch of horses all doped to the fucking gills run super fast with tiny men on top while rich, white fucks gloat and smoke cigars and congratulate themselves on successfully shoveling more amphetamines in their equus than the others.

anyways, it was stupid fucking exciting. doesn’t take away the cruelty and i think i’d rather be watching speed skating or track cycling, but hey i can bet too lets do this.

after the first race, i realized i needed to look at the horses before betting since i knew nothing about any of them, the trainers, etc.

i would go over to the warm-up zone with about 15min left to post bets, look for either the tallest horse with the matching worst odds (favored to win) or find the most doped up fucking horse tweaking out the hardest.

7 races. 5 successful bets. I basically made 4x my bets yesterday. it’s probably beginner’s luck, absolutely, but lol (in a bad way) at my system.

literally on one race there was this horse that would not sit fucking still to be saddled. they had to keep trotting him over and over, eventually saddling him while he was trotting and he still fought back. jockey took 3x to mount. during the walk-out he was biting at the guide horse, couldn’t even complete half the walk out so they skipped it to jog the horse.

i told my friend holy shit we are betting so much money on that fucking beast.

the fucking thing won by like 10 meters.

thinking back now and rereading this, it’s honestly impressive how fucked up horse racing is. it’s not as bad as bull-fighting, but damn it’s pretty bad.

#politics

[smokebuddz]

Regular Sesh Package

Basic-$100 (2 Hr Min)

This is a judgment-free zone where we can embrace the happy and confident side of ourselves. We'll light up, have deep conversations, vibe out to some dope tunes, enjoy some scrumptious food, and just unwind. It's all about the good vibes, my friends. So let's leave the seriousness at the door and just dive into a world of chill together. Non-nude and perfect for everyone, because happiness has no limits.

Netflix and chill- $150 (2 Hr min)

this awesome smoke session experience that also turned into a mind-blowing makeout sessionhilling with my partner, passing around a cosmic joint, the smoke swirling around us like a gentle, loving embrace. We're both feeling good, feeling the relaxation and pure bliss that the sacred herb brings with a little making out, body feeling, and gential play, nude or no?

Munchie- $200 (1 hr min)

Picture me, with just a shirt on, basking in the glorious cloud of smoke that's surrounding us. Now, imagine the munchies hitting us like a tidal wave. 

Our lips gently touch, and oh, it feels electric! As we make out, our shared desire grows, and I can't help but notice your hands longing to touch me. In this euphoric moment, I give you the green light, baby. Rub my clit with your dick! Rub away, explore, and let your hands roam freely. Pleasure awaits us around every corner, and together, we create a symphony of passion and intimacy. Let's lose ourselves in the haze and create unforgettable moments together. Remember, babe, there's nothing sexier than being true to ourselves and confidently enjoying life, one hit at a time.

Time Blocking is Available. Look at Day Rate Specials.

Perfect for All Sizes, Buffness and Races.

Add $120 if you want me to bring the Herb.

[tightjeansjavi]

That Girl is a Problem

(AU street racing! Joel x f! tattoo artist reader) +18

Chapter 1 coming tonight at 8pm CT

This fic is 100% going outside of my comfort zone and I have done my best to highlight all the warnings that I believe need to be highlighted. If there are any that I have missed, please let me know so I can make sure I update it accordingly! This story takes place in DTLA early 1990’s and the overall theme for the story is pretty dark. Every chapter will have the appropriate warnings so that nothing gets missed.

Summary/Warnings/Sneak Peek below the cut

Summary: Joel Miller & Tommy Miller left their Texas homestead seeking new thrills. They find themselves working at an auto body shop on Hollywood Blvd. Joel meets you, a self taught tattoo artist working on the strip. You might be just the adrenaline rush that he was searching for. Or, his ultimate heartbreak.

Warnings: Early 1990’s Los Angeles violence/scandals. Small age gap, (Reader is 28 Joel is 30) Drug use, drinking, smoking, mentions of tattooing and needles, street racing, infidelity, adrenaline junkies, Joel & reader have emotional baggage, reader is a badass, love triangle between reader, Joel, and readers boyfriend, flirting, teasing, banter, jealousy, rage, trauma, dark themes, domestic emotional/physical abuse from readers boyfriend, pining, unrequited feelings, excessive drinking/drug use, sustained injuries from street racing, bar fights, 2 character deaths, jealous! Joel, darkish! Joel, possessive! Joel, eventual smut, consent, eventual established relationship, no use of (y/n) readers nickname is Angel, (+18) minors dni!

Joel wasn’t shy of his ink. He had gotten his first tattoo at the sharp age of 18 and from there, he became addicted to the buzzing sound of the machine, and quick jabs of the needle into his skin. It was a euphoric sensation. The only way he knew how to describe the feeling without sounding entirely masochistic, was that it was a good pain. A comforting pain that eased stress and tension. Maybe he enjoyed it too much. Who the hell was anyone to tell him that he was fucked up for feeling that way? Tattoos were fucking dope, as far as he was concerned.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #AU Joel Miller #street racing! Joel #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dark joel miller #tight jeans javi fic #coming soon #chapter 1 #that girl is a problem #TGIAP

[xembongxyz]

When was marijuana made illegal?

Since the late twentieth 100 years, there has been a developing development in the US to sanction maryjane. In 1996 California made news as the main U.S. state to endorse the decriminalization of pot for clinical use, and clinical weed was subsequently permitted in different states. Then in 2012 Washington and Colorado passed voting form drives to legitimize sporting maryjane. By 2019 in excess of 30 U.S. states allowed some cannabis use — however it stayed unlawful at the government level. This brings up the issue, for what reason was pot ever unlawful?

The short response is bigotry. At the turn of the twentieth 100 years, pot — as it was then ordinarily known in the US — was a little-utilized drug among Americans. With the beginning of the Mexican Unrest in 1910, notwithstanding, numerous Mexicans started moving to the US, and they carried with them the custom of smoking marihuana. In the midst of a developing anxiety toward Mexican settlers, crazy cases about the medication started to flow, for example, charges that it caused a "desire for blood." furthermore, the term pot was to a great extent supplanted by the Anglicized pot, which some hypothesized was finished to advance the strangeness of the medication and in this way stir up xenophobia. Close to this time many states started elapsing regulations to boycott pot.

During the 1930s Harry J. Anslinger, top of the Government Agency of Opiates, transformed the fight against maryjane into a hard and fast conflict. Some accept that he was persuaded less by security concerns — by far most of researchers he studied guaranteed that the medication was not perilous — and more by a craving to advance his recently made division. Anything that the driving force, Anslinger looked for a government prohibition on the medication, and to this end he started a high-profile crusade that depended vigorously on prejudice. Anslinger guaranteed that most of pot smokers were minorities, including African Americans, and that pot adversely affected these "degenerate races," like prompting viciousness or causing madness. Besides, he noted, "Dope makes darkies believe they're comparable to white men." Maybe significantly more troubling to Anslinger was pot's alleged danger to white ladies' ethicalness. He accepted that smoking pot would bring about their having intercourse with individuals of color.

The US's relationship with pot traces all the way back to the Pioneer Time. American creation of hemp (the weed plant) was energized by the public authority in the seventeenth Hundred years for the development of rope, sails, and attire. Homegrown creation of hemp thrived until after the nationwide conflict, when imports supplanted hemp. In the late nineteenth 100 years, pot turned into a well known fixing in numerous restorative items and was sold straightforwardly in drug stores.

After the Mexican Upheaval of 1910, Mexican settlers overflowed into the US, carrying with them the sporting utilization of maryjane. The medication became related with the migrants and the trepidation and, thus, bias about the newbie’s became related with maryjane. Hostile to medicate campaigners cautioned against the infringing "Weed Hazard". During the Economic crisis of the early 20s, gigantic joblessness and expanded public hatred and anxiety toward Mexican foreigners heightened public and legislative worry about the possible issue of weed. By 1931, 29 states had prohibited cannabis.

In 1937, Congress passed the Pot Assessment Act, successfully condemning pot. In the interim the New York Foundation of Medication gave a broad report pronouncing weed didn't actuate brutality, or madness, or lead to dependence or other medication use. During The Second Great War, the U.S. Division of Farming went to hemp to create marine cordage, parachutes and other military stuff. It sent off a "Hemp for Triumph" program and enrolled 375,000 sections of land of hemp in the US.

During the 1950s, government regulations which set obligatory sentences for drug-related offenses were authorized. However during the 1960s a social environment shift lead to additional merciful mentalities towards cannabis. Once more, reports appointed by Presidents Kennedy and Johnson found that weed use didn't incite viciousness or lead to utilization of heavier medications.

By 1970, Congress canceled a large portion of the compulsory punishments for drug-related offenses. In 1972, the bipartisan Shafer Commission, named by President Nixon at the heading of Congress, considered regulations in regards to cannabis and discovered that individual utilization of weed ought to be decriminalized. Nixon dismissed the suggestion, however throughout the span of the 1970s, eleven states decriminalized maryjane and most others decreased their punishments.

In any case, in 1976 a parent's development against weed started and was instrumental in influencing pubic mentalities which lead to the 1980s Battle on Medications. Compulsory sentences were re-established by President Reagan. The "three strikes you're out" strategy, required life sentences for rehash drug wrongdoers. The Conflict on Medications went on under President George Shrubbery in 1989.

However a significant change in open impression of pot was in progress. In 1996 California passed Suggestion 215 considering the deal and clinical utilization of maryjane for patients with Helps, malignant growth, and other serious agonizing illnesses. Hence the pressure between government regulations condemning pot and state regulations allowing pot in specific conditions started which go on today.

To comprehend how we wound up here, it is essential to return to what was occurring in the US in the mid 1900's soon after the Mexican Unrest. As of now we saw a convergence of migration from Mexico into states like Texas and Louisiana. To be expected, these new Americans carried with them their local language, culture and customs. One of these traditions was the utilization of marijuana as a medication and relaxant.

Mexican settlers alluded to this plant as "marihuana". While Americans were exceptionally acquainted with "marijuana" since it was available in practically all colors and drugs accessible at that point, "marihuana" was an unfamiliar term. Thus, when the media started to play on the feelings of dread that general society had about these new residents by erroneously spreading claims about the "problematic Mexicans" with their hazardous local ways of behaving including marihuana use, the remainder of the country didn't have the foggiest idea about that this "marihuana" was a plant they previously had in their medication cupboards.

The disparagement of the marijuana plant was an augmentation of the derision of the Mexican foreigners. With an end goal to control and watch these new residents, El Paso, TX acquired a play from San Francisco's playbook, which had prohibited opium many years sooner with an end goal to control Chinese settlers. The thought was to have a reason to look, confine and expel Mexican migrants.

#marijuana illegal #cannabis illegal #weed illegal #thc #cbd

[tonkivelo]

Ryan tuerck s13 bashbar

RYAN TUERCK S13 BASHBAR DRIVERS

RYAN TUERCK S13 BASHBAR FULL

RYAN TUERCK S13 BASHBAR PROFESSIONAL

Dennis is planning on a huge month of testing in September to get ready for the final round at Irwindale Speedway coming up in October. The team came together and really made huge developments with the S13. Dennis held a somewhat conservative, but all around solid follow run behind Tuerck.Īfter the smoke settled, the judges gave the win over to Ryan Tuerck eliminating Dennis Mertzanis from this weekend’s competition. Ryan Tuerck led the first battle in his S13.5 against our Chevrolet Performance Parts powered LS3 S13.4. Luckily, we had a rain setup for the car on standby, but it all dried up before Dennis got on the track for his Top 32 battle. This is right before the start of the season. and E46 Applications 5 and 3 Ryan Tuercks 2019 Drift Car uses a 3 2 tdi.

RYAN TUERCK S13 BASHBAR DRIVERS

On Saturday, just before competition brought on rain and crazy wind as the drivers hit the track. This is back in 2007 when I was running my own show on Team Snakebite with good friend Tony Angelo. Toyota Chaser Tourer V with 2JZ Matsuri Nissan Silvia S13 Rocket Bunny with. This was a rematch from Round 1 at Streets of Long Beach. After his two runs, Dennis finished 19th for Kenda Tires, which lined him up against Ryan Tuerck in the Retaks S13. C-pillar bars with slot gussets S13 Coupe Rear parcel shelf - speaker deck Bar mounts Scale. Only one KÖNIG Milligram wheel was damaged beyond repair, since it made high-speed contact with the rear bash bar on Kyle Mohan’s Mazda Rx-8. Slot gussets inspired by Ryan Tuercks dope Supra FD build. The team worked quickly to get the car back in race trim. We made contact and I hit the wall knocking the suspension out of alignment.” I was coming in hot and couldn’t slow down fast enough.

RYAN TUERCK S13 BASHBAR FULL

What is normally a full throttle affair, Mohan went too close to the wall, and hard-braked, slowing down a lot. These screen grabs were pulled from our GoPro camera that has a video you can see here.ĭennis explains, “Well, we went flying into the first outer clip together. Dennis wanted to see how quick the car setup for the weekend was overall. He has had hundreds of thousands with him watching his journey as he progressed from his first parking lot. After making a name for himself in BMX he leveraged his success to fund his first drift car in 2015 - an SR20DET S13. A full day before qualifying, the car felt fantastic to Dennis Mertzanis and the whole Mertzanis Racing crew.įriday practice, before qualifying Dennis went out chasing Kyle Mohan, who is one of the fastest drivers on the circuit. Since 2009, 25-year-old Adam LZ, has been traveling the world and documenting his adventures on YouTube. With some sway bar tweaks, and a Kenda Tire pressure adjustment, the car felt unstoppable. Right after pulling off the trailer on Thursday night, we went into the private paid practice and started bumper banging on the k-rails, and scraping paint and decals off the rear bumper. A huge thank you to for being there for not only my drift program but me as a person, it’s awesome to find family in a group of friends that are as addicted to Motorsport as you.**This is the official recap written by and courtesy of the Mertzanis Racing team from Formula Drift Round 6: “After Dark” at Las Vegas Motor Speedway – August 24th – 25th** ShartKart Gets Welded up: Bash Bar, Charge Pipe, and Other Party Supplies. but not before adding a custom stout bash bar to his S13.

RYAN TUERCK S13 BASHBAR PROFESSIONAL

Thank you to everyone who helped make this weekend special. Professional Formula Drift drivers Chris Forsberg and Ryan Tuerck enter the final homestretch. A boat only sinks in a storm if water gets in it. Don’t let what happens around you happen to you. Sure we got rained out on the final day but that allowed us as drivers to interact with people who loved the sport so much they stayed in the rain just to talk to us drivers. Sure I crashed into the wall but that gave me the opportunity to drive the camaro and turn some of the most fun laps back to back with I’ve ever had. Sure, we didn’t secure a trailer in time but that resulted in me being able to drive across the country with my best friend in two cars that we built by hand. Practicing gratitude has helped me shift my perspective on things that truly matter. It’s human nature to focus on the bad, though in doing so we tend to miss being in the place we prayed for seasons ago. In all seriousness though, life is full of seasons, good and bad. Often times we only see the good on social media but I’ll be real this weekend was tough: Mentally, physically, emotionally, even the car just wasn’t 100%, granted that could be my fault for quite literally ripping the steering out of the rack(I’ve been hitting the shake weight too hard 😂).

#Ryan tuerck s13 bashbar

[sing-backwards-and-weep]

i have very complex thoughts pertaining to the christian dogma that dominates american culture, so (speaking from my own personal experience), i kind of try to delineate it like this; there’s “God” in the way suburbanites understand him, and there’s “God” in the way the streets understand him

1) i got love for christian people - down in the gutters of the ghetto, everyone’s broke, all these houses are boarded up, i stop in a corner store to grab bus money and i can tell by a glance that the clerk behind the counter has constantly got to worry about getting shot on a daily basis - visibly muslim, the dude’s a brother in abraham, and he’s still out here every day trying to give back and get back to and from the community. that’s courageous, and that’s commendable

then i’m sitting waiting for my bus to roll by, and i see this black lady picking up trash, and i gotta tell her, right, because we’ve got similar goals in common - “ay, i really appreciate you for real, what you’re doing right here, cos that little bit goes a long way” - and she tells me that he son just died from covid, and i’m kinda caught up by that right, because how the fuck are you gonna walk up on me talking all cavalier about your son just died like it’s nothing?

and she tells me - “hey, it’s just a test from the lord. ain’t nobody said you weren’t never gonna be tested, right? i wake up every day and i know that by his grace i’ll be coming out on the other side of this alright.” and then, to paraphrase what she tells me, we get talking, and she tells me this - we all go through these ups and downs, these crises of faith that shake us to our core, and it’s a natural part of life. but just surviving is, in and of itself, an act of resistance. that strength becomes endurance, that endurance becomes perseverance, and that perseverance becomes the essence of faith.

we hug each other, promise to pray for each other, and leave better folks than we were before we met. that’s a kind of solidarity we share together in common that destroys the race barriers imposed on us by academics - and you mad we found it in jesus? grow up.

you learn to appreciate how proud these people are of their own faith. these folks got every reason on earth to be bitter, resentful, mad as fuck, vengeful, hateful, etc etc - and they’re not.

they believe inside themselves that there’s a purpose and a reason for their suffering, and that there’s a brighter day that waits to reward their strength, endurance, resilience, and perseverance - academics don’t appreciate the value of faith as a tool for survival because, very simply, nine times out of ten, they’ve never had to worry about survival.

so instead, they try to appeal to the aesthetic liberal sensibility of appearing alternative (without actually offering meaningful, sustainably, effective alternatives) by attacking what they see as “the status quo” by targeting christian people as intrinsically wicked and fearful, without the exposure to reality necessary to comprehend that when you destroy their god, you destroy the way of life that helps them stay optimistic in circumstances more hopeless and downtrodden than any aforementioned academic could imagine.

2) the church as a mainstream institution - in the way it interprets morality through a narrow, reductive lens, and try to override and overwrite what it is that “god’s love” actually constitutes. god’s love is founded principally in the comprehension of nuance, not dogmatic limitations and bad-faith misinterpretations deliberately imposed on you by some clergy dope.

it’s the same shit as a tarot reader blowing smoke up your ass to rake in a profit margin - anyone can abuse faith as a vehicle for getting paid or laid, and that’s all a cult is, really - preying on the spiritually destitute.

example: the christian god in an objective context would absolutely be pro-abortion, because this is the same god that will kill your family overnight for character development, so it’s not like he’s ~beyond the comprehension of nuance~ - to that effect, trying to reduce the magnanimity of his love to this black-and-white dichotomic morality is both blasphemous and traitorous against those devout in the faith

if your spirituality doesn’t include a respect for the people of abraham - jews, christians, muslims - you’re not a spiritualist, you’re a fucking iconoclast.

#fav #neat

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Issues (r.c) part 1

pairing: rafe x reader (slight jjxreader & barryxreader)

summary: a story on addiction and falling in love.

(This does not follow the plot of the series, no gold, no murder.)

warning: drugs, language, parental abuse. (18+)

You stood at the end of the dirt road, Barry’s house in your peripheral vision. Your heart raced as you pep talked yourself the whole ride over, Your legs ached as you stepped off your bike and laid it up against a tree.

Quietly you walked towards his house, you had been here once before but only because of your dad. This time you were there for yourself, you had never brought drugs and usually dipped into your dad’s stash up until he caught you red handed, he caused both your eyes to swell the size of tennis balls.

You didn’t think you needed more coke, but the sweats started, and your mind raced, you were seeing things that weren’t around. Your fingers raked up and down your arms constantly feeling as though small ants crawled on your pale skin.

“Look what we have here” Barry called out; all eyes set upon you. Your throat constricting as you stood back, Barry pulled himself to stand signaling for you to walk over. You did so quietly until you stood in front of him. He wasn’t much taller than you, but you still felt small under his gaze.

“Daddy sent you on shopping trip?” Barry asked, his hand gripping onto your chin harshly. Your stomach felt heavy as a million thoughts ran through your head. You knew you shouldn’t have come here but you also knew you couldn’t go another day without a hit.

“N-o, I came for myself” You whispered, you kept your eyes trained on his as a sick smile appeared on his lips and he dropped your chin. He couldn’t help himself and laughed loudly causing everyone to look back you.

“Just like your daddy” He commented, he reaches down to rifle through the duffle bag under the ripped lawn chair. You catch a glimpse of the white bag and you can’t help your leg from bouncing in anticipation.

“How much you got on you?” Barry questions, keeping the bag hidden from your view. You pull out the money you currently had on you and he replaces your cash with the small bag. You already knew that would only last you maybe 5 days tops.

“Thanks” you say, already turning on your feet to run back to your bike. You don’t stop to see what else he has but you can hear him whistle out as he watches you run. Probably liking the fact your pants were very short.

----

The Kegger was in full swing, you were dancing with Sarah and Kie as you all sipped on luke warm beer. You were high as a kite, sweat dripping down the valley of your breasts as you shake your hips to the music.

“You’re in a really good mood Y/N” Sarah cheers, all you do is nod with a wide smile not trusting your words right now. You were in a good mood; you had been for four days but as the stash of cocaine got smaller, your heart stammered knowing you had to go back to Barry’s.

“Should we go smoke some dope?” Kie questions, you nod and follow them towards JJ who is leant against a log. His head is tilted backwards as he blows out smoke rings, another smile replaces your frown.

“Share?” You ask, placing yourself between his legs and leaning over him slightly. He shamefully lets his eyes wonder down until they are set upon your breasts. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs and he nods passing you the joint.

He can’t seem to keep his eyes off you as you place it between your lips and take a long drag, blowing the smoke back into his face and passing it onto Kie who’s bouncing in her seat.

“You already smoked?” JJ questions, his eyes scanning yours and you nod. You hadn’t smoked but you were not going to tell your boyfriend you were doing coke. He wasn't into the hard stuff and neither were your mutual friends.

"Well let's save the rest for the others" He smiles, signaling for Kie to take it away. You roll your eyes at his protectiveness and pulled away from him. Any other given day you wouldn't have minded, but the fogginess of the two kinds of drugs and alcohol were not helping.

"Okay Debby downer" You whine, you've already walked away from him before he can respond and you start looking for someone else to talk to. Your eyes setting upon Rafe and some kook.

You're not sure what comes over you but you find yourself watching him, the way he twists the thick rings on his fingers and runs his tongue over the rim of his cup. Your eyes scanning his physique as he spoke to the blonde beauty in front of him, the way his hooded eyes drank in her half naked body.

"Are you seriously checking out my brother, while your boyfriend sits over there?" Sarah questions, her body stepping in front of your view shielding your view to Rafe. You find yourself awkwardly laughing and furiously shaking your head.

"Shut up, why would I do that?" You joke, nudging her shoulder and stealing the mai tai from her hand. Taking a quick sip and pulling her towards the group of people dancing and she places her arms around your waist, you let her dance on you as you keep your eyes trained on Rafe.

Things seem to escalate from there, you watch as he pulls a small bag from the pocket of his cut off chino’s. Your mouth watering at the sight of the white substance and you can’t stop the cold sweat racking your body. You excuse yourself from Sarah and walk straight to him, forgetting your friends and boyfriend are around.

“Hey babe” JJ calls, his hand grasping your bicep to stop you from walking. Your eyes darting between Rafe and JJ. Your leg is bouncing against the sand.

“Wanna go back to yours?” He questions, his smile is sweet and for a second your heart melts at the boy in front of you; you forget about the cocaine that Rafe is about to dish out for a split second but then the cold sweat is back and your fingers are scratching at your elbows.

“Nah, dad’s home plus I am having fun” You state, you try to play nice but you can’t help the slight annoyance roll from your tongue and you notice the way JJ reacts to your words. You never turn down alone time with him, even when you were mad at him.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been running off all night?” JJ asks, his grip on your bicep tightens when he notices you stepping back like you're about to walk away from the confrontation. Your brows furrow together and you yank your arm away from him.

“Don’t touch me like that” You growl, your heart racing as your mind goes back and forth with memories of your dad pushing you around. His angry yells and slaps to the face causing you to flinch away when JJ reaches out again.

“I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME” You scream, you don’t mean to cause a scene but you're coming down from your high and the images of the coke in Rafe’s hands are the only thing keeping you on your feet right now. You needed a free hit; you didn’t want to go back to Barry’s.

“Woah woah Y/N, what’s wrong?” Pope asks, he also reaches out to you like JJ and you flinch away from him. Both boys stare at you confused and you can’t help but sprint away. Your cheeks flushing pink as you notice all the people watching you run.

No one goes after you though and you're left to find your own way home, you had contemplated going back to Rafe and asking for a hit but you couldn’t find it within yourself in case you bump into the Pogues. You're also extremely embarrassed by how you acted.

So you go home and search for your dad's stash, which was a stupid mistake because of course he has nothing but he catches you rifling through drawers and he slaps you so hard you fall and go head first into the oven door.

You wake up the following morning with a major headache and you're swollen, you don't dare look in the mirror to see the damage he has caused. Instead you get on your bike and ride to Barry's. If you just got one more bag you would stop, you didn't need it to survive.

Here you are again looking at the beat up trailer and overgrown grass, except this time you notice a fancy red motorbike parked out front and you instantly know it's Rafe's. You can hear his voice yelling from the other side of the trailer.

You quietly walk around until you catch sight of Rafe sitting on the floor, the palms of his hands pressed into his eyes and Barry straddling a chair. You can't make out what they are saying but you can tell by the tense demeanour of Rafe it's not good.

You're about to walk away when Barry notices you and the smile on his face turns into a frown, he climbs off the chair and walks over to you. You catch a glimpse of pity in his eyes as he takes in the bruising on your face.

"I need more" You whisper, you feel pathetic and worthless under his stare. You know you're better than him by far but the fact you're here again when you could be out on the boat with your friends is the main reason you feel so shit.

"Your daddy do this?" Barry questions, his hand once again coming to hold onto your chin but instead of making you feel weak he inspects your bruises and the tightening in your chest magnifies but not from worry.

"Mhm" Is all you can muster up, your eyes glance down to Rafe who is now staring up at you. The same look in his eyes as Barry has and suddenly you feel weak under their stares.

"Stop, I just came for more Barry" You state, you pull his hand from his chin and pull out the last of your cash. Barry nods and reaches for his duffle bag once more, you keep your eyes trained to the floor as you feel Rafe's eyes on you.

"Country club you want some too?" Barry asks, both you and Rafe lock eyes for a brief moment before he looks away and answers Barry. He pulls himself to his feet and reaches for the bag, whatever they had just been talking about seems to be brushed under the rug when he hands Barry a large sum of notes.

You're given the bag and you make your hast exit before either of them go to say anything more, you're so close to leaving when you take it upon your self to walk back to Rafe who is climbing onto his bike.

"Don't tell your sister you seen me please" You beg, your eyes plead with him and it only takes a tear to drip from your bruised lid for him to nod.

"Lips are sealed"

"Okay thanks"

#rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe cameron #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafebarry #rafe x you #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe x y/n #obx rafe #drew starkey #rafe cameron x you #barry obx

[pixelnrd]

✨ The Langston Legacy - Modern Alternative ✨

1930s - Teddy, Ruth, Thelma and Mabel

Teddy and Ruth are eco-hipsters living a purely green lifestyle. They grow their own vegetables on their urban farm and practice permaculture. Dress all their kids in linen overalls and homeschool.

Thelma is a tattoo artist and runs her own indie studio for queer artists. Enjoys boozy picnics with her enormous social circle and petting all the dogs.

Mabel is dark academia personified. Studies literature and languages at University and is President of her student union. Is a secret Marvel fangirl.

1940s - Joan, Douglas, Eileen, Cecil and Bernard

Douglas is overly invested in politics and annoys everyone with his rants on why all parties are corrupt. Only drinks black coffee and none of his family know what his job is.

Joan is a preschool teacher who runs her own cake business on the side. Always makes amazing desserts and is the reason people still hang out with Douglas.

Bernard looks like Chris Hemsworth. Loves lifting at the gym and driving his Jeep to go on weekend camping adventures with his Border Collie and his girlfriend.

Cecil is a party boy who lives for the weekend. Know and loved by all in the queer scene for his pure sunshine vibe. Does make up tutorials on YouTube and aspires to compete on Drag Race.

Eileen is a high flying Public Relations executive who religiously practices Pilates and sips oat lattes. Is constantly on her phone, earns more than all her siblings and owns her own apartment. Is known as the cool aunt because she buys the best gifts. Is Samantha.

1950s - Lewis, Vincent, Margot, Alex and Emmanuel

Margot is an Instagram influencer with a substantial following for her outfit and fashion sponsorships and cute gym routines. Secretly can’t wait to have kids so she can pivot into monetising her well dressed children.

Alex runs a neighbour writers group. Is working on his first screenplay but still has to support himself by working at a call centre. Likes red wine a bit too much. Is Bernard Black personified.

Emmanuel works at a record store and believes vinyl is superior. Rides his fixie bike everywhere and talks about how much he wants to move to Berlin. Isn’t aware that he is a fuck boy because he believes he is smarter than everyone else.

Vincent is a fresh army recruit who learnt everything he thinks he knows from playing too much COD. Posts lots of pictures of himself with his Mum and other peoples dogs.

Lewis is a dope smoking slacker whose only purpose is backpacking overseas seeking enlightenment. Always has to phone home to ask for more money. Most likely to try psychedelics in a foreign country.

#ts4 lookbook #sims 4 lookbook #ruth langston #teddy brown #thelma schiller #mabel weston #douglas brown #joan eastman #bernie brown #cecil brown #eileen brown #margot brown #alex dreyfus #Emmanuel Dreyfus #vincent brown #lewis brown