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#hot wheels moodboard
aericita · 1 month
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┄ ❒ 🏎️𖨂 ✎ ⁺
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┄ ❒ 🏁𖨂 ✎ ⁺
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give credit if your gonna use this theme! (i’ve never seen anyone do it before)
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tinyowlet · 3 months
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hot wheels moodboard for anon!🔥
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little-pup-pip · 2 months
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Hi it’s @sorajourney-2000s-agere again. When you get the chance will you please do a middlespace hot wheels board for a girl/tomboy no paci?
Yes!!
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gummi-stims · 3 months
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Hi can I request a Bayverse Hot Rod stim board pls?
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Hope this is good!
🚗-🔥-🚗
🔥- x -🔥
🚗-🔥-🚗
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luv-ly · 9 months
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Hot Wheels Barbie Corvette
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Hot Wheels RC Barbie Corvette
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prettyinpinnk · 1 year
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Tickle pink
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goldenhypen · 7 months
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→ ENHYPEN’S RED FLAGS !! ⚠︎
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PAIRING | ot7 x fem!reader
GENRE | crack
WORD COUNT | 1.3k
WARNINGS | mentions of food; reader is referred to as “girl”; i’m pretty sure it’s fine but it is possible i made mistakes w the tenses (i’m still tryna get used to writing more in present tense T-T)
DISCLAIMER | THIS IS NOT IN ANY WAY A FORM OF HATE TOWARDS ENHYPEN (pls i love these boys w my entire being how could i) this is a joke so don’t take this too seriously lol
A/N | had the time of my life choosing pics for the moodboard btw they had me out here cackling at 3 am (first red flag: i’m out here losing sleep bc of them !! smh)
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이희승 ! HEESEUNG
too handsome… how can you stand to look at that devilishly handsome face without ever passing out due to lack of oxygen in your lungs when he’s always taking your breath away?! also y’all become way too popular; people are always staring at you two (not only heeseung but you too obviously 😏), it’s tiring being so famous yk 🙄
good at everything… it’s lowk invigorating sometimes bc he’s always outdoing you in everything. when you play games, he’s beating you; when you’re having fun at karaoke, he’s always out-singing you or showing off with his fancy riffs and harmonies; when you’re playing sports together, he always has a way of beating you, no matter what the sport. he even manages to do better at the simple task of making ramyeon. and we all know that’s only to list a few. it’s just so tiring having such a perfect bf 😔
박종성 ! JAY
jawline is too sharp… you cup his jaw as you kiss him then suddenly you hurt your hand on his sharp jawline !! it’s not fair that you have to sacrifice your hands every day just because he looks so good.
cooks for everyone… because he cooks so much, you can’t just be hanging out watching him be all hot and sexy as he cooks for everyone all the time !! you’ve had enough of back hugging him, cheek pressed against his firm back muscles (they’re so strong, it hurts your face !!), or smelling and eating all the delicious food,,, you just wanna spend alone time with your man, without the kitchen as the third wheel :’D your bf is just so husband material, and being able to provide for everyone aside from just you and him is just so, totally, very much, rlly unattractive (that’s sarcastic btw i actually couldn’t come up w any negative points to this why would anyone hate that about him-)
심재윤 ! JAKE
always has his tongue hanging outside of his mouth or his teeth sunk into his bottom lip with a smirk… no wonder my man always has ulcers lol jk i have no idea how that actually works,, but you can never kiss him cuz his mouth hurts !! but he’s too hot for you to handle anyways so- sometimes he’ll be all seductive with that smirk after swiftly swiping his tongue over his lips and you have to literally take a moment to compose yourself before he wraps his hands around your waist, biting his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you,, oh my heart :’>
loves his dog too much… sure, loving layla taught him ways on how to love on his own future girl, but you didn’t realize how long it would take him to transfer the title of his most favourite girl from layla to you. you were always competing with a dog and yes, she’s cute but how was this fair?! so let’s just say it took many years of hard work and determination until you finally stole that hard earned title.
박성훈 ! SUNGHOON
doesn’t hang out with enough girls… so he has no experience when it comes to dating you. even before dating you, he was basically a total clutz. not being around girls enough made him feel nervous whenever he was around them due to lack of experience. and so whenever it came to you at first, he was always a nervous wreck and super awkward. and even after dating you, though he is so much better and confident, he still has his slip ups and tends to get super shy whenever you make him flustered (which occurs a lot more often than you’d imagine)! alexa play ‘super shy’ by newjeans 👖
too funny… he randomly comes out with these stupidly funny jokes or comments that make you laugh so hard, it makes your tummy, cheeks and lungs hurt. whenever you tell him you’re gonna die of laughter, you’re not joking.
김선우 ! SUNOO
too sassy… like why does he always have to react with his eye rolls or side eyes whenever you tease him, with that snarky scoff. and then when he’d tease you back, he’d just take the remarks to a whole other level. but occasionally this sass would be used in your favour; whenever a friend would tease you, he’d always get very defensive and have the best comebacks. actually depending on how close you two are with the friend, he once in a while would take the side of your friend and just tease you harder.
perfect figure… he outdoes you all the time. like sunoo give us ladies a chance to shine?? he’s always stealing the spotlight, it’s annoying sometimes !! 🙄 like yes, you (y/n) are always hot and super attractive (self confidence!!! you deserve to love yourself 😌) but for some reason people are always complimenting sunoo’s body instead of yours. but let me let you in on a little secret… it’s only because it’s obvious you’re the one who’s clearly more physically attractive. and who states the obvious these days anyway? hmph 😌
양정원 ! JUNGWON
too loveable… in other words,, there’s nothing to ever (playfully) hate on him with or tease him about !! so boring 👎👎👎 like you just constantly wanna love on him. he can be teasing you about an embarrassing moment of yours that happened just a couple minutes ago, and then you try to think of a comeback but then you take one glimpse into his eyes and suddenly you’re melting on the spot as your mind is wiped of everything you could’ve ever thought up in one quick moment. and suddenly you can only think about the things about him that give you warm, fluffy feelings. HE COULD BE DOING THE BARE MINIMUM AND YOURE FULL HEART EYES FOR HIM he’s just perfect. so unfair and so not fun 👎👎
duality… DOES HE EVEN UNDERSTAND THAT HE SHOULD HAVE YOUR HEART TO LOOK AFTER ???? like what about your well being ??? how about YOUR FEELINGS ???? like you’re constantly being emotionally pulled this way and that cuz one second he’ll be the cutest bf ever with his bread cheeks and fluffy smile when all of a sudden he has a dance to practice and all of a sudden he’s in performance mode, and his duality is just insane !!! is that even the same jungwonie that was with you just a second ago ???? i think not !!! smh
西村 力 ! NI-KI
too tall; doesn’t stop growing… (if he’s a lot taller than you) how are you gonna kiss him?? how is he gonna kiss you?? no but even if he isn’t a lot taller than you now, this boy doesn’t stop growing. you won’t admit it but it’s actually really romantic and hot the way he’d do things to match your heights, such as the other day when he carried you onto the counter, stood between your legs, and pressed his lips against yours in the hottest kiss you’ve ever shared. it’s simply not okay ???
too good of a dancer… outdoes you in every dance game. like riki at least give us a chance??? i mean sometimes he does, but the competitive side of him always wins and he just ends up beating you anyways like always 🙄 also getting to watch him on stage is like seeing a whole other riki. you mostly know him for his goofy personality, but whenever you get to see him perform, he switches that off and enters his alter ego and it has to be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. so you get the best of both worlds… which obviously isn’t healthy for your heart ???
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drudyslut · 3 months
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— 🥥 ;; send me a character + prompt and i’ll write a blurb! (pls specify if you want nsfw or sfw)
surprising rafe w/ some road head while he is driving😜🫣
— warnings: oral (male receiving) !!!
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it was something about the way he was slouched in his seat, arm outstretched with his large hand gripping at the steering wheel tightly. it had you painfully horny, needing to wrap your lips around his cock, taste him.
“rafe” you whine, bottom lip jutted out in a pout.
he turns his head to the side, blue eyes meeting yours for a second before they’re back on the road ahead.
“what’da need baby? i see that pout on your lips. means you need or want somethin’”
you lean undo your seatbelt, leaning your body over the center console, hand flying to his clothed cock and rubbing at it softly.
rafe sucks in a sharp breath, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as you continue rubbing his growing cock through his jeans.
“fuck, you— you wanna suck my dick baby? that it?”
you bat your lashes at him, your bottom lip brought between your teeth as your fingers find his zipper, slowly sliding it down before moving on to undo the button on his jeans.
“mhm, need to taste you, please?”
your voice was innocent, angelic, but your words filthy. it had rafe spiraling, his cock now painfully hard as he patiently waited on you to make a move.
“fuck, okay. if that’s what you want baby”
you smile, taking your hands and pushing his jeans and underwear down his legs just enough to let his cock spring free. you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip when you finally see him, mushroomed head swollen and already leaking precum.
you spit into your palm before softly wrapping it around his shaft, stroking at him softly, your thumb rubbing around the tip, spreading his precum around.
rafe’s breathing becomes heavy, trying his hardest to focus on driving, but the feel of your soft hands stroking at his cock had him wanting to squeeze his eyes shut in pleasure.
“c’mon baby, no teasing. put that pretty little mouth to use, yeah?”
you smirk, leaning your body forward more, your lips leaving soft kisses to his head. you begin leaving kitten licks to his head and shaft, pulling low and raspy groans from rafe.
finally, you wrap your lips around his swollen head, sucking at it softly before pushing his entire length down your throat. you gag around him when his head hits the back of your throat, the vibrations from your mouth making him buck his hips up.
“holy shit, i don’t think ‘m gonna last long baby, fuck”
you begin bobbing your head at a steady pace, pushing him to the very back of your throat before pulling up slowly, making your tongue drag across his shaft with each upward motion of your head.
rafe takes his free hand, running it up and down the length of your back, sending chills throughout your body as his fingertips grazed your skin.
you quicken your pace, your head bobbing up and down faster as you squeezed at his balls with your hand.
low groans and curses fall from his lips, his dick twitching in your mouth, letting you know he was close to his release.
“oh shit, baby, ‘m cum— shiiiit!”
you continue sucking at him, his cum spilling into your mouth as you took every last drop, swallowing it all down.
you pull yourself off of him, sitting yourself back up in your seat and wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand, “thanks baby” you say sweetly, your eyes finding his, watching as he tries to catch his breath.
“no, thank you sweetheart, that was fucking hot”
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all 1k moodboards/blurbs here!
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netherfeildren · 11 months
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Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .2
Series Masterlist : Moodboard
(Joel Miller x F!Reader)
Rating: Explicit 18+
A/N: Art is Body, the Texture, Seung Ah Paik, (2008-2009)
Word Count: 4.8K
Read on AO3
.2
I mean maybe I was holding all of the aces, but what was the game?
Joan Didion, Play It As It Lays
Gerri’s sister, Andrea, makes a wonderful dinner that night, linguine with mussels in a white wine sauce, a tossed salad, and several bottles of a lovely and crisp Pinot Grigio. By all accounts, it should have been a perfect evening. Friends and family in a beautiful setting. The day had been warm and lazy and seemingly perfect on the surface, but the underlying vein of tension was inescapable and un-ignorable. A huge drama had unfolded when you’d come back inside the house from the dock earlier. Eva was up in arms that Joel hadn’t brought you in immediately after the sting, said that he had no business tending to you when you were hurt and there was a doctor present. She’d even gone as far as to suggest that perhaps, if you felt too unwell, you should head back to the city, for a fucking wasp sting. Gerri had stepped in at that, said that it had been her sister who’d rented the house, and thus, was the only one who had the right to suggest when anyone should or should not leave. A screaming match had ensued. No one had really stopped to listen when you’d said that you really were fine. 
The seven of you now sit quiet and awkward at the dinner table out on the deck facing the dark and serene lake. A gorgeous setting with a terribly dark cloud hanging over all of your heads. The conversation is stilted and forced and there is a palpably bitter ball of tension being tossed back and forth between Joel and Eva. Sharply spit whispers and murmurs under their breaths as they sit across from you. She keeps rolling her eyes and clicking her tongue at him every time he tries to join the conversation Gerri’s been fighting tooth and nail to keep going. 
Ger’s best friend, who was supposed to have joined the weekend so that you’d not be the seventh wheel, had canceled last minute, and so you now sit at the the far end of the table across from the happy couple, trying your best to drown your awkwardness and the memory of Joel’s mouth on your skin in as much wine as you can guzzle as quickly as you possibly can. Light-weight or not, these are dire circumstances, it calls for desperate measures. 
The tension between Gerri and Eva wasn’t much better, and by extension between her sister. The three of them reminded you of the angry wasp from earlier, waiting to see who’d strike first. Everything about this was filling you with a type of anxious fizz that has the nape of your neck breaking out into a cold sweat and the backs of your knees itching. You want to run to your room, get all your shit, and run away from this place and these people as quickly as you can.
And then fucking Joel. Part of you wants to kick him on the shin under the table as hard as you can. What was his problem, helping you like that, touching you like that, calling you sweetheart, putting his goddamn mouth on you? Fanning the flames of this terrible, horrible, life ruining crush you’re developing on him? Perhaps this is the wine talking, but it feels like he’s slowly consuming your mind like wildfire. The feel of his hot, wet mouth, the slide of his tongue over the sensitive center of your palm, it’s all you can think about. You can’t stop picturing what it might feel like between your legs, over the tips of your breasts. He’d said he’d be gentle, but you have the uncontainable thought that that’s the last thing you want him to be with you.
You really hate yourself. This has to be classified as some flavor of masochism or something, you sitting across from him and his wife as they have a covert fight, all while you’re imagining what it’d be like for him to lick your pussy. 
Yes, definitely a masochist. 
He hasn’t uttered a single word in the past half hour or so, but you’ve been watching him out of the corner of your eye. You’re trying to be discreet, but you’re pretty sure you’re failing, and you can feel the bright, hot flush of the wine broadcasting itself on the surface of your cheeks like a blaring sign. He looks so good. His hair is wet from the shower, slicked back, and he has a slightly red flush from the sun today across his cheeks and the bridge of his strong nose. And he’s so broad, the sleeves of his button down straining with the thickness of his biceps. Your mouth feels parched, like there’s fire crawling up your throat, writhing within the confines of your arteries, licking up the notches of your vertebrae. 
You should go home. You should get away from these people. This was a mistake. And yet you do not. You remain, for some inexplicable reason. Masochist, masochist, masochist. A girl who likes things that aren’t good for her, that will only hurt her. 
You can’t help but think there’s something strange in the way that the two of them circle each other, in the way they exist around each other. Like two opposing magnets – connected by something, some sort of sameness, but constantly repelling each other, at the same time. You can’t say, quite precisely, what it is, perhaps, the undercurrent of hostility they move around each other with, as if at any moment someone’ll swipe out with sharpened claws, go for the jugular, but also, almost slowly, lagging, as if they are very tired of fighting such an interminable fight. You recognize something in them, and it isn’t until this moment, with you sitting across from them on the universally familiar battleground that is a family dinner table, that you’re able to realize what it is – a marriage filled with nothing but unhappiness and resentment. 
They remind you, very much, of your own parents. 
With age, you now thought that whenever people spoke of love, they were rarely ever speaking of real love. Most of the time it was a shroud for power or fixation or loss. Life has taught you this, your parents have taught you this. In many ways, you are now teaching yourself this. After all, all of these things most usually serve as the true center of what a romantic relationship posed as. Maybe. Or maybe you’re wrong. Too jaded – too gnarled. But when you look at these two people sitting before you, when all you can see in them is the bitter, ghostly reflection of your own parents, all it does is reinforce that idea. 
Joel’s eyes are a little blank, as if his mind is very far away from here, as Eva goes on about her new project at work, but you watch that little, fluttering muscle in his jaw from earlier make its frustrated return. If he grinds his teeth any harder you’re worried he’ll crack them. Gerri and Tommy have been having some sort of silent conversation for the past few minutes, she kind of looks like she’s beating him up with her eyes, screaming at him to do something to make this dinner even the slightest bit more bearable. His jokes are terrible and keep falling flat which you find quite funny, even though no one else seems to. Andrea’s girlfriend got up to go to get another bottle of wine like twenty minutes ago and never came back. 
Joel has his left hand resting on the table beside his plate, the other hidden below the edge. His fingers are long and thick, the nails trimmed neatly. He keeps stretching his hand open, and rotating his wrist to the side, back and forth, as if he’s stretching the muscles in his forearm out. His ring finger and thumb come together intermittently to meet and he rubs them together slowly, slowly. You sit across from him, chin cupped in your palm and watch the slow caress of those two fingers, eyes slightly glazed. Your legs beneath the table are crossed at the knee, thighs pressed together as tightly as you can. 
Eva’s been going on for the past half hour about someone on her team who, she claims, is the best insurance agent she’s ever met in her entire career. Impressive. You think you must scoff or make some sort of unconscious sound, lost in your daze staring at his hand, because she turns to you suddenly, abandoning her tirade to bestow her critical eye on you. Your knee jerks beneath the table, bumping against the underside and rattling the dinnerware on the surface. You feel the wine flush deepen at her inspection. You hadn’t really contributed much to the conversation throughout the evening, feeling too out of place and anxious to think of something interesting to say, too distracted by the sight of him.
“You know,” she starts – her voice has a deceptively guileless lilt to it that you think people must find incredibly charming when the look in her eyes isn’t calling for blood. “You’re a little quiet. Don’t have much to contribute, do you?” she purrs. 
You clear your throat once, twice, you hear Joel spit her name under his breath, and Gerri says something from the end of the table, but a white, rushing noise is filling your ears suddenly. She sounds very familiar. You clear your throat again, “I was just really enjoying hearing all about what it’s like to sell insurance,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” You hear Gerri snort loudly from the other end of the table. Sometimes you could have a backbone, if you tried very, very hard. 
She hums, arches a thin eyebrow at you. “Gerri says you’re single. That you’ve been unattached for quite some time.” You hear Gerri try to interject again, but Eva cuts her off, continues her set down. “Maybe that’s why you still haven’t found someone yet. No man wants a mouse, you know.” She clicks her tongue and it makes you flinch. You can’t look away from her, it’s like you’re sitting across from a ghost. Even the cadence of her voice reminds you of your mother. When you grow up with an angry parent in your house, there will always be an angry parent in your house, and you are acutely reminded of that in this moment.“Some people might think you’re boring if you’re not careful. Don’t you agree, Joel?” She turns to him, wide grin stretched across her face, and you feel your eyes burn, backbone obliterated, back at your parent’s dinner table. 
“No, I don’t agree,” he says coldly. “That’s enough, Eva.” She ignores him. 
She cocks her head at you, “Could be somethin’ to work on,” she says sweetly. 
“Joel, think it’s time for you two to say good night, don’t you?” Tommy says from the end of the table. 
You try to say that it’s alright, but you think you might’ve accidentally swallowed your tongue in your plight to find your voice. Joel stands suddenly, his chair jostling violently with the abruptness of his movements and clasps her around the elbow, pulling her up with him. “Yeah, we’ll say good night now, everyone.” She goes along with him, laughing loudly. 
“Goodnight,” she sing-songs, as he drags her down the hallway. 
That little girl you’d used to be, the one who always needed to make herself lovable, amenable, good, surges up sharp and vicious inside of you at her words, at the uncomfortable look of embarrassment in Joel’s eyes. He couldn’t even look at you, his eyes trained uncomfortably on his plate. All the care and generosity in his gaze from the afternoon cast away in the face of his wife cutting you down and your inability to defend yourself, your pathetic meekness. 
You turn to look out at the dark water, close your eyes and take deep breaths to ease the tightness in your throat. Gerri says your name softly. You swallow once, twice, clear your throat, swallowing the humiliation. You force a smile onto your face and turn back to her, roll your eyes, “It’s okay.” You try to huff a laugh. 
“It wasn’t – I’m sorry about that,” Tommy says. He looks just as embarrassed as Joel. You want to leave so, so badly. Perhaps this need to always run is just another inheritance from your mother. Just one more terrible burden, in a long line of disappointing inherited traits, that she’s left you with. 
“Tommy, really—”
“No,” he says sharply, letting his fork clatter onto his plate. Gerri says his name softly, you see her put her hand over his clenched fist on the table. “They’re unhappy. She’s unhappy — so she tries to cast the net of her misery around the rest of us – trap us in it with her. Make us all as uncomfortable and as miserable as she is.”
“I know — I can see that. That’s why I’m saying, it’s okay. I understand.”
But you don’t think he hears you, he goes on, “And she’s got my brother trapped there with her.” He looks at Gerri now and you can see all the worry and anguish he carries for Joel in his gaze, a little helpless. “I don’t – I don’t really know how to help him anymore.”
“Baby, it isn’t on you,” Gerri tells him gently. “All you can do is be there for him.”
Tommy turns back to look at you, and for a moment, the helplessness seems to have turned to contemplation, for some reason, as he tells you, “I just want him to be happy.”
-
Joel lays in bed hours later, arm propped under his head, unable to sleep. Eva’s in the room next door with Sarah. They’d slept in separate rooms since the start of their marriage. Neither of them had ever considered the alternative, and he’s especially grateful for that right now. He has the window cracked open, and the cool breeze is soothing on his overly hot skin. His cock is hard and throbbing under his boxers, and he wants nothing more than to call your face to his mind and fuck his palm right now, but he knows he shouldn’t. That if he does it once, he’ll never be able to stop again, will use your face to fuel his fantasies forever afterwards. He can’t stoop that low. He’s not that desperate. Not yet, at least.
And he’s angry right now too. So fucking frustrated at his wife and her attitude and the things she’d said to you at dinner. And most of all, frustrated at himself. Frustrated at the fact that he hadn’t said something more to defend you, that he hadn’t prevented that terrible look of shock and hurt from crossing your face. He should’ve stepped in sooner, said something more, stood up for you. He could tell that it was difficult for you. But he’d been a little taken aback at Eva’s words, at the venom in her tone. He knows she doesn’t have any sort of real problem with you, specifically. He can see through the shroud of bitterness to the heart of the issue at hand which is nothing more than what it always is, that she’s reaching the end of her line – been too stagnant for too long, stuck around with him and Sarah for too long. She’s unhappy and she wants to leave and she’s lashing out because of it. 
He knows she just needs time to come to that on her own, to gather the resolve to abandon her daughter and finally leave the way she wants to. He also knows that this will be the last time. That after this, after she leaves this time, she’ll be done with them for good, but also, that he can’t let her continue this. He needs to set a boundary for himself, but more importantly, for Sarah. She cannot watch her mother come in and out of her life, whenever she pleases, forever. There needs to be some sort of structure to their life, to their relationship, it’s his responsibility to make sure she has that. 
So, for now, until Eva comes to this decision on her own, he’ll put up with her venom and her attitude and her lashing out at him, but at him, not at you or anyone else. You don’t deserve for the misery of his life to spill over onto you. You don’t deserve that, you’re too good for that. Too good for him. 
He’s also really fucking frustrated that his cock is hard right now. That he’s such an idiot that the confirmation that you’re single had filled him with an inappropriate amount of relief and satisfaction, that if he isn’t careful and conscious of his thoughts and his body and his proximity to you at all times, he’s almost always verging on being halfway to hard in your presence. Like some horny, desperate, perverted old man. But he can’t help himself. You’re just too pretty. And now that he knows how soft you are, that he’s held your small hand in his, that he’s gotten close enough to be able to smell that subtly sweet scent that envelops you at all times, well, he’s practically a lost cause. Putting his mouth on you today, tasting the salt of your skin, fucking Christ, he shouldn’t have done that. He can never do it again, should never get that close again. It would be, he thinks, extremely easy to lose control of himself with you.
But he also thinks, despite this very aware notion he has that he should keep his distance, that he wants to find any excuse, any at all, to be close, to get closer to you. Maybe he should go apologize. Maybe he should go and say something about tonight, tell you how sorry he is for his wife’s words, for his lack of thought to speak up for you in the moment, to ask you how your hand is, if you’re in pain, if you need anything. Yes, he thinks, he most definitely should do that. It would be the right thing, the polite thing. It’s almost necessary, he finds. 
-
This was a mistake. He knows he shouldn’t be here, he knows this is a bad idea. Dangerous in a way crafted specifically by himself to hone in on his own weaknesses, strike where he’s most vulnerable. Fucking self sabotage and self flaggelation, all at the same time. He lifts his fist to knock quietly anyways. Fuck what he should do, what about what he wants?
You take a long moment to answer, he can hear your shuffling and movement through the door. You were probably in bed, maybe you were asleep already, maybe he’ll get to see that soft, intimate look of sleep in your eyes. Maybe he’ll be so lucky. 
-
“Joel – is everything okay?” Your voice is cracked and gravelly, and you try to inconspicuously wipe away the stickiness of your slick on your hand on the back of your sleep shorts, wind the long sleeves of your soft sweater over your fingers to hide the evidence of the fact that you’d just had three of your fingers stuffed to the knuckle inside your wet cunt, trying to make yourself come at the thought of him. What the hell is he doing here right now?
You plan to never see him again after this weekend, you’ve decided. You’ll tell Gerri you can’t be friends anymore, if need be, as much as it’ll devastate you. This is too risky, you feel at risk in his presence. There is something, some terrible sense of dread you’re filled with, a fight or flight instinct, the sense of prey right before it’s taken out by a larger, stronger predator, but some sort of instinct is telling you something very bad will happen to you if you stay anywhere near this man. That he’ll make you feel things you’ve never before felt in your entire life. 
“How’s the hand?” 
You almost choke. “Wh– what?”
“The sting?”
“Oh–” you’re trying to control your breathing, the stuttering of your heart from the interrupted orgasm, paired with his presence here right now has you close to hyperventilating, “Oh, it’s fine – thank you.” Your cunt is tight and throbbing painfully.
“Doesn’t hurt anymore?”
“No,” you lie.
He shakes his head a little, gives you the gentle curve of his crooked smile, “Don’t gotta lie, sweetheart.” Your heart drops at how easily he sees through you, has your throat tightening into a knot. The reprimand at the pet name catches in your throat. After the humiliation at dinner, the tears you’d shed in the shower, the feeling of being too emotional, overly sensitive, of not being able to just brush off someone’s offhandedly cruel words, your inability, even after all these years, to develop thicker skin – it’s hard to cast away the slight comfort. Even if you know it’s wrong. 
“Your wife?” You need to remind the both of you about her, in this moment. It feels very precarious, set on the edge of a cliff, for some reason. Perhaps because of how soft his old t-shirt looks, his low, gravely voice and messy curls, the late hour – the fact that all you’re wearing is an oversized sweater and sleep shorts and that your cunt is wet and swollen. 
“Asleep with Sarah.”
“Oh, she’s–” you cut yourself off abruptly, none of your business. 
“We don’t uh –” he stutters, a blush creeping into his cheeks, “We don’t st– stay together.” He blinks rapidly, looking down at his feet. The fringe of his lashes is long and thick. 
“Oh… okay–” you can’t think what it is you’re supposed to say to that, but you’re filled with a terrible sense of premonitory dread. He’s trying to establish something now, between the two of you, you think, explain something to you about the dynamic unfolding here and the one between himself and his wife. 
“I wanted to apologize – again.” He looks back up at you now. “I’m sorry for dinner. We were incredibly rude to you.”
“You weren’t rude. You didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly. I should have said something more. I’m sorry for that.”
“That’s not what I meant. You– you don’t need to defend me from your wife. That – that isn’t–” That isn’t right, you want to say, but the words fail you.
“Maybe so – but I should’a done it anyway. She was out of line, and I’m apologizing for it now.”
“Okay–” He looks away then, peers down the dark, quiet hall. Fuck, he mutters under his breath. This feels wrong. You wonder if your mother ever felt this anxious heaviness inside of her right before she did something she knew she wasn’t supposed to. 
“We– we don’t have a conventional marriage,” he says then, spills the words in a rushed tumble. His embarrassed blush flares brighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut, hold on to the door’s edge for support, like he knows, perhaps, that he shouldn’t be going here with you but feels the need to tell you this anyways. 
You blink rapidly, the dread in your gut churns violently. You shouldn’t be hearing this right now. The two of you shouldn’t be standing here at the door of your bedroom in your pajamas having this late night, hushed conversation. You tighten your grip on the door. 
“I – I don’t follow.”
“It’s, well – I don’t –” a frustrated huff, “We’re not really… together.”
You scrunch your nose at him, “It’s – it’s open?”
He frowns, shakes his head confusedly, “What?”
“You have an open marriage – an agreement to see other people?”
He passes a palm over his mouth. “Oh – I – I guess, yes. That’s – well, she does. But it wasn’t an agreement or anything.”
This is what Gerri had alluded to, you realize. “She cheats on you?” Too harsh, but you need to be clear now, on what it is he’s trying to make you understand. Although you’re not sure why, why you feel you need this clarity. You’re treading extremely dangerous water here, surrounded by the violent sharks of your history. 
“Well, I wouldn’t call it that either. I don’t–” he laughs bitterly, “I don’t feel cheated. That’s not what it is. We don’t have a close marriage or… I guess a real one, I don’t– I don’t know what to call it – an intimate one, I suppose. We aren’t really together, in a true sense.”
“Why– why not?” Looking at him, you can’t imagine how anyone could ever not want to be close to a man like this. 
He leans against the door frame, crosses his arms across his chest so his biceps bulge, and it brings him in slightly closer to you. Your mouth feels so dry, parched. “Different reasons, incompatibility. We never – we were never in love or anything. We got married for Sarah. It was complicated, I guess.” He frowns, “And then we just did it, and now this is how we are.” He shrugs. 
“Okay…” you say slowly. You lean against the door now too, rest your head against the smooth grain, prop one foot on top of the other. If you shift your knee forward just a few inches you’d bump his leg. You want to ask him why he’s telling you this, to put him on the spot in a sense, but you know why. You know why he’s saying these things to you. There is, against all odds, against all rationality, logic, morals, fear, there is something here, between the two of you. You’re afraid, you carry your baggage on your shoulders like the weight of a mountain, like the weight of a lifetime of fear and abandonment and painful longing, but you aren’t stupid or blind. You know there’s something unspoken blooming here between the two of you, intentional or not.
“Okay,” he says back to you, equally slowly. His eyes shift between yours, the look in them, so soft and warm. Kind eyes, he has kind eyes. Honest eyes, despite what’s happening here now. Despite the fact that even though you know it should feel dishonest, it doesn’t, not really. “Just wanted to tell you that.”
“I understand,” you tell him, because you do. You do understand. 
“And to apologize.”
“You already did that.”
The gentle curve of his smile, “Again, then.”
You can’t help but smile back, “Apology accepted.”
“And to check on that hand.”
You hold up your open palm for his inspection. “I think I’ll live.” And then he brings his own hand up, without your expecting it, and catches the thin of your wrist on either side by two thick fingers, gently brushes his thumb against the prominence of the bone at your joint. He nods his head tightly, jaw clenched once again, and then lets you go. 
“You have to,” and you think he means it in jest, but he says it so seriously, the look in his eyes so direct, but also…sad, slightly sad or desperate or something you can’t fully identify, that causes the joke to fall flat, has the muscles in your throat tightening painfully. 
“I’ll try.” You can’t tell what it is you’re promising to try to do. To live? To stay away from him? To let him come closer? Does it even matter? Is the act of trying wholly futile already? In some insane way, it feels like it is. As if what’s going to happen is already set in stone and nothing either of you do or don’t do will be able to change the course. 
The thought terrifies you.
He’s quiet for another beat, the two of you just looking at each other. You wish you could press your front to his, feel his breath push into your belly with each one of his inhales, fit your nose to the space behind in his ear, where the scent of him is strongest, and breathe him in, memorize him. You think you’d like to know everything about him. What his favorite meal is, what books he likes to read, what his parents are like, what music he listens to, what his favorite thing to do with Sarah is. 
None of that information is yours to have though, so all you’ll take from him now is his unnecessary apology.
“Goodnight, Joel.”
He nods once, pauses, twice, swallows. He doesn’t want to go. He’s telling you this with his silence and his lingering, but then he lets his eyes flutter shut and nods once more, slowly this time, and you watch another swallow pass through the strong column of his throat. 
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” You don’t correct him this time either.
Chapter .3
Netherfeildren's Masterlist
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allanisjustalilguy · 3 months
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Day 20: a moodboard based on your gender
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I’m masc nonbinary, but when I regress I’m a little boy!
a lot of my regression is me reliving my childhood as the gender that I most align with
for me, that looks like
• wearing more masculine kids clothes
• playing more recreational sports
• playing in the creek and not worrying about getting my clothes dirty
• playing with action figures, hot wheels, and nerf guns
• playing pirates or cowboys
• being a cub scout instead of a daisy
I know girls can do these things too, and I did a lot of this stuff when I was a little girl, until I hit a certain age and society at large told me I had to be more pretty and clean
but a lot of agere content I see on here is so directed towards femininity, and I just can’t relate to it as much. so this is a moodboard based on my own gender expression
I hope you like it
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pervertedreams · 2 years
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𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐞.𝐦
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summary: you go to run some errands for your father, but on your way back home your car breaks down. eddie is more than happy to help, but unfortunately you have no money. you don’t mind giving pretty boy a little exchange do you?
cw: mechanic!eddie, farmer!reader, reader has a slight southern accent, eddie is older, m receiving, angst?? ig, afab!reader, fem!reader, creampie
feedback on this would actually be so appreciated cause im proud of this one!
minors shooo ! (not proof read) moodboard for this fic
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“shit shit shit.” you swear, vulgar words muffled over the red lollipop you’ve been sucking on. you’ve been out all day handling business while your dad handles things back at the farm, but somehow someway on your way back you’ve gotten lost. all the roads around here look the same, and you should know them from the back of your hand. but sometimes you still get lost. after driving all this time, your car is starting to slow down and you have not a clue where you are.
the harsh rippling sound of a busted tire echoes throughout the empty lands, anybody within fifty feet is gonna hear you coming. and eddie definitely did.
sitting up from his rusty wooden chair, he stands in the road as the sound gets closer and closer. you saw him way before his garage, a random man in the middle of the road. before you get the chance to shoo him off to the side, your car comes to a complete halt, making the entire car jerk to a stop. you slap your hands against the steering wheel in frustration before getting out of the car. your now filthy sneakers hitting the gravely ground, and skin again being exposed to the southern heat.
“why the hell we’re you in the way?” you’re now shouting at the tall man before you, you gotta blame somebody right? he was definitely older, not too much maybe in his late twenties. you wanna bet twenty-seven. his hair is longer than most of the men around your way, daddy would definitely call him a girl. his black wife beater clung to his body deliciously, you must admit he was attractive. big nose and full lips, his build wasn’t too bad either. but your attraction to this stranger wasn’t important right now.
“i heard you comin’ down a mile away, sweetheart. y’need any help?” his voice is muffled too, lips fixing around the wobbly lit cigarette in his mouth. “i need a mechanic.” you whine.
“then you’ve come to the right place!” he smiles around the cig, waltzing closer to you and your now broken vehicle. he’s eyed you down as well. jean overalls with a pair of dusty white sneakers to match, nails are neatly painted and they match the bandana handing out of your pocket. hair in two low braids so it won’t be on your neck in the heat, and lips stained from the red lollipop you were sucking on. he definitely was paying attention to that, but unfortunately that was the least of his worries.
“it’s clear you got a flat tire-“ he’s using his cigarette to point around the car, “and probably a dead battery.”
“can you please fix it, sir?” your voice is painted with nothing but southern sweetness ‘sir’ is gonna replay in his head forever. “you can call me eddie.” if he didn’t stop you now, the two of you would be breaking a sweat in the backseat. not that you’d complain.
“eddie can you please help, papa is waiting at home for me.” you plead, he can’t help but think of other ways those pretty red-stained lips would plead for him. he takes a puff of his cigarette with a nod, “y’gonna have to help me push this to the garbage, doll.” you nod coming up next to him, behind the car in an attempt to push it further down the road.
he can’t help but stare when you bend over, how your overalls cling in a way that he can see the cup of your ass. so tempting, but again not his priority. so the two of you try your best to make it to his garage.
“here should be about good enough.” y’all finally bring the silver truck to a pause, stopping at eddie’s heated garage. as if it wasn’t already hot enough. you lean against your hot truck, the heat stinging your already warm flesh. you watch as he struts towards his tools and equipment, you can’t help but giggle at the sight of his ass. you like the way it looks.
“what’re you over there gigglin’ about?” his smirk is mimicking yours, digging in his dirty toolbox for the proper items. you shake your head, the slick sucking sound of your lollipop makes his stomach clench.
“m’not gigglin’ at anything sir.” you shrug, feet kicking against the dirt.
“eddie.” he quickly corrects, earning yet another chuckle from you.
he comes towards you with a few metal tools and something that looks like a box with two clipping cords. you think it’s jumper cables but what do you know. you should know these things, but you could care less as long as there’s someone else to do it for you. you notice his muscles slightly flex as he lifts the hood of the car and begins working on it. your heavy stare is making him nervous, making it harder to focus on the task at hand.
attempting to break the silence he finally speaks up, “so what’re you doin’ around these parts lil’ lady?”
“nothin’ was runnin’ some errands for daddy n’ got lost.”
he hums, using the hood rod to prop it up in place. he’s looking over at you, this time it’s his time to stare. “like what you see googly eyes?”
“do you have a way of paying for this?”
you shake your head.
“don’t have anymore of daddy’s money left?”
“no sir.” you’re closing the space between the two of you, now bumping arms. you watch how his adam’s apple bobs before looking at his full lips. you’re still sucking on your lollipop, he swallows at your cheeks hallowing around the sweet candy. eventually you neglect the tasty treat for his bitter cigarette. giving him eye contact as you pull it from his lips before taking a heavy drag.
“there’s gotta be another way i could pay right?” you’re batting your lashes, pressing your jean clad chest to his arm. that’s when he realizes you weren’t wearing anything beneath the overalls. “give me a moment on your truck, and i’ll get to your payment as quick as possible.” you flash him a sweet smile before taking a space back in your previous spot.
some time has past, the sun is already started to set. not that it was super bright when you arrived anyways. you’re nothin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, and you both notice the lingering stares at each other. you’re ogling at his glistening arms, he’s peaking at the bead of sweat running from your neck and down the hidden valley between your breasts. you’ve finished his cigarette and your lollipop by now, sat on a crate you’re now looking up at him waiting to give your exchange. giving him big doe eyes, a visual of a similar position he might see really soon.
“so you from around here at all?” you finally chirp. at first he blinks down at you with a lost expression. the way you were sat did give his perverted brain all the privilege to wander. getting a good view of everything.
“no ma’am. from the city.” you nod telling him you figured he was, due to his accent. the heavy sound of a lid dropping makes you perk up, indicating that the job was finally done. and you could finally let out your frustrations. you step forward towards eddie, closing the gap between the two of you, chest to chest.
without warning, you’re palming him through his jeans. the heaviness from his hard on makes your hand curve around it. “i knew it.” eddie is taken by surprise, didn’t think a little lady like you would be so forward, be so bold. “woah now lil’ lady. y’don’t waste any time do you?”
“nope.” you pop the ‘p’ before bringing both your hands around his neck, “y’gunna let me pay you or what?”
he puts his arms up in defense, “be my guest.” you give him that same sugary sweet smile from earlier, getting on your tippy toes to place as kiss beneath his jaw. then his neck, then back to his cheek. eddie’s eyes are closed, hands gripping the side of the vehicle to steady himself. all the pinned up tension is slowly releasing itself with each wet kiss you place.
“i bet you wanna kiss me don’t you.” your hot breath heats the side of his neck, lips brushing against the pale skin. he opens his eyes again to look down at you before placing an unaimed kiss on your lips. the both of you moan into each other, this sudden rush of desperation getting stronger and stronger by the minute. he's drinking down any moan or whimper you let out greedily.
your brings your manicured hands over his shoulders and down his chest, lowering yourself as you glide down his frame. he has quite the muscle to be so skinny, you thought.
you’re now leveled with this crotch, dick fighting against his dark pair of jeans. you decide to give it some relief by unzipping his pants. the small sigh from him doesn’t go unnoticed by you when you start paling him again. but this time through his thin boxers.
“don’t wanna take too long. don’t want daddy coming and looking for me.” you give him a fake pout, hands reaching for the waistband of his underwear to finally pull him down. eddie winces at the way his painfully hard cock springs against his belly.
you hum greedily, finally placing your hands around his shaft. you give him a squeeze or two, spitting on your hand for lube. the sloshing sound of your spit slicking around his dick has him rolling his eyes back. “haven’t gotten any head since i moved here.” he pathetically admits.
“well today is your lucky day isn’t it?” without warning, you’re wrapping your lips around his pink tip, tongue swirling around and prodding at his hole. you can smell his musk, can smell his arousal and it’s intoxicating. all it does is egg you on to take him in deeper. earning a wobbly whimper from him, he’s now patting your hair with his ring clad hands, stroking your hair until both hands are wrapping around your braids.
he holds you still, stopping your from bobbing your head around his length. his paste starts off slow as he starts bucking his hips towards you face. you try your best to open your mouth as wide as you can, and to loosen you throat up for him. regardless of your attempts, he can feel your throat spasm against his thickness. hitting the back of your throat the quicker he goes, brain fuzzy as he lets out moan after moan. the sounds coming from the two of you are lewd, thank god no one lives around these parts cause it’s be painfully obvious what the two of you were up too.
the sounds of you gagging around his shaft, your spit frothing a ring around his cock and your mouth, his lewd whimpering as his mushy tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly. it’s complete filth.
“you’re like a fucking wet dream come to life.” he groans through his teeth, trying his hardest not to spew his warm cum down your throat. as delicious as that sounds, he’s gotta be inside you. he’s gotta see what that pretty ol’ cunt of yours looks like.
after a few more bobs, he pulls you off his cock by your braids, a lewd squelching sound echoing as he pulls himself from your throat. globs of saliva connecting you two together before dribbling off his tip and thudding onto the ground. you knees are sore against the gravel, ground scratching and stinging at your delicate skin.
you finally stand up, brushing the dirt and gravel off of your bruised knees. he’s already peeling your overalls off your shoulders, jean fabric tickling you as he slowly slides it down your arms. eddie’s leaning down to place a kiss at the junction between your shoulder and neck, then a kiss on your collar bones. “i need to be inside you, sweetheart.” his tone is desperate, wet lips grazing your skin as he speaks. “cumming inside of you would be the ultimate payment. what’d you think?”
you arch towards him when he takes one of your sore nipples between his thumb and index, head rolling back when you hum in agreement. after pinching and pulling for a bit, he finally crouches down to take a nipple in his mouth. mimicking what you did earlier, he sucks at the nub, swirling his tongue around it. eventually he pulls off it with a ‘pop’, admiring the now swollen nipple.
he peels the overalls down further, exposing more of your bare stomach. he’s grazing his fingers across your body, and your soaking him all in. your open your eyes to look around occasionally, but you’re both sure no one’s creeping around here now that the day is winding down.
“don’t forget about daddy.” you whine in his hair. the sound of his dark chuckle goes straight to your buzzing pussy. it’s like your whole body is on fire. “daddy will be fine. you’re a big girl hmm?” it’s you’re turn to smile this time. you could care less about arriving home at your fathers preferred curfew. eddie’s right, you are grown, handling grown folks business. and the most you’d get is a lecture and a shitty chore anyways, mind as well enjoy your fun.
your overalls are completely off by now, jeans pooling at your ankles like eddie’s once was. you giggle at the fact that his dick has just been dangling this whole time. but that smile quickly contorts your an open mouth moan, when he places his hand flat against your mound, underwear creating a addictive friction against your clit. he’s slowly running circles through your panties, satisfied with the way your rut your hips against his hand. filthy with the way you fuck yourself on his palm.
he’s close, mouth grazing the shell of your ear, “pull em’ down for me, doll.” there’s that smile again when your turn around on the balls of your feet. bending over as your wiggle yourself out of your panties. his lip trapped beneath his teeth as he watches you.
fucking minx.
when you finally kick them off, you help when you feel his large hands pull at your hips. swinging your around to push you up against your car, gasping at the way your erect nipples press against the now cold car door. he’s grunting on the back of your neck when he rushes to kick your foot up, wasting no time to finally slip himself inside of your sopping hole. a sigh of relief come out the both of you, felt like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever. he’s grabbing you by your chin, back not pressed to his chest so he can get a good look at you. you’re in pure bliss, you choke and pant with a slack jaw as his speed quickens. sobbing when he brings his free hand to rub circles along your sore clit. your body is completely out of your control with the way you’re rutting against him. the sounds of your bodies slapping against each other is egging the two of you on.
“jesus fucking— fuck.” it’s like he’s knocking the wind out of you, and he’s not even going that hard. that’s just how horny you are. he’s giving you everything you need and more. the boys that usually linger around here aren’t this good. maybe you should find city boys more often.
a certain buck of his hips has you going silent, pleasure too overwhelming to make a sound, just him moaning, and your ass slapping against his pelvis. his chin is hooked over your shoulder, “please tell me you’re close, doll. i can’t hold out much longer.”
your clit is aching, walls pulsating around his shaft, jaw slack with empty moans, eyes rolls back so hard it hurts, your lips are swollen from all the biting, you’re a filthy mess. you can feel it bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and just the right rut of his skilled hips makes you snap. a spew of incoherent whines come falling out of your tongue, saying anything that pops in that cock drunk kind of yours. your body is exhausted, now going limp as he’s still fucking you to reach his high. the sob at the overstimulation of your cunt.
you whine a small “shit.” when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, using that as the only way of grounding himself as he fills you to the brim. hot streams of his cum filling right inside of you, panting you hold onto your truck trying to keep yourself up. you’re both tired and sweaty, hot pants against each other’s skin as he holds you closer.
there’s a shlicking sound as he pulls out of you, beads of his cum falling right after. what a sight to see.
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feedback on this would actually be so appreciated cause im proud of this one!
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dc-marvel-crossovers · 2 months
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Crossover Fanworks Celebration Masterlist
Thanks so much to everybody who participated! We're still waiting for a couple late entries, but here's the wrap-up of all the fics that were fanworked and their related works. You can find the Ao3 collection right over here.
It seems like everybody involved had a great time, so it's very likely that this will be a repeating event. If you'd like to join in on the next one, follow us here and/or send us a message about joining our Discord!
Knaves All Three by @ginbenci: gen, focused on Steve Rogers, Bruce Wayne, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, and Tony Stark. Funny comedy-of-errors identity porn. 7922 words, rated T.
All Three Knaves by @o-kaythislooksbad
Playlist by @bittercape
Third Wheel by @kangofu-cb: Jason Todd/Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton. Established Bucky/Clint. Roleplay gone hilariously awry leads to a hot-as-hell threesome. 10,776 words, explicit.
Sequel by @carcrash429
Bookbinding by @moonshinebindery
Remix by @there-must-be-a-lock
Playlist by @capriciouswrites
Won’t You Stay Awhile? (I’m Staring At A Ghost) by @daddyswickedqueen: Jason Todd/Steve Rogers. Steve gets picked up (and flustered) in a dive bar; sexy, but also a great look at both characters. 5022 words, explicit.
Podfic by @betrayedbycinnamon
Remix by @sammialex
Sequel by @darbydoo22
Moodboard by @drgrlfriend
Snow On The Beach by @bittercape: Jason Todd/Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton. Interconnected vignettes of a developing relationship — some funny, some fluffy, some smutty, and some all of the above. 13,181 words, range from T to explicit.
Art by @o-kaythislooksbad
More art by @o-kaythislooksbadkay
Timestamp by @betrayedbycinnamon
Spider and Bat Friends by @emmacortana: mostly gen. A series of standalone fics about Peter Parker in Gotham. Mixed bag with something for everybody: some wildly creative crack, some angst, and more. 170,897 words total, mostly rated T.
Podfic by @graham-cracker-guillotine
Art by @wyxan
The Stockings Were Hung by @betrayedbycinnamon: Jason Todd/Bucky Barnes and background /Clint Barton. Christmas lingerie, insecure Jason, and a tender, reassuring Bucky. 3945 words, explicit.
Remix by @darbydoo22
Moodboard by @kangofu-cb
Sunrise On The East Side by @wyxan: Tim Drake/Peter Parker/Michelle Jones, established Peter/MJ. Spilled coffee + endearingly awkward Peter; luckily MJ is a boss and very comfortable doing something about his crush on Tim. 8816 words, explicit.
Remix by @there-must-be-a-lock
Podfic by @noxnthea
Finders Keepers by @drgrlfriend: Jason Todd/Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton. Adorable “meet-ugly” courtesy of animal friends. Clint and Jason aren’t used to romance, and Bucky decides to change that. 3081 words, rated T.
Art by @bittercape
Podfic by @daddyswickedqueen
Remix by TheologyDiscography
Moodboards by @there-must-be-a-lock
What's in the name by @graham-cracker-guillotine: Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne centric. Feel-good fluff and humor. 2142 words, rated G.
Podfic by @carcrash429
Art by @o-kaythislooksbad
blood upon the snow by @carcrash429: One fic is Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes; others are gen, focused mainly on Clint and Dick Grayson, with appearances by Natasha, Roy, and others. Fae Clint fantasy AU with great world-building. 11,900 words, rated T.
Art by @o-kaythislooksbad
Podfic by @noxnthea
Moodboards by @there-must-be-a-lock
can't start a fire without a spark by @mightymightygnomepriest: Frank Castle/Jason Todd. Frank saves a puppy and gets caught in the rain. Soft and sweet and sexy. 3468 words, explicit.
Remix by @daddyswickedqueen
Sequel by @bittercape
getting better in the worst way by @o-kaythislooksbad: gen, featuring characters from Moon Knight, Doom Patrol, Teen Titans, Hulk, and Venom. Creative canon mashup with characters that don’t get a lot of representation in fic. 80,064 words, rated T.
Moodboards by @there-must-be-a-lock
Hawksnest by TheologyDiscography: Jason Todd/Clint Barton. Post-Under The Red Hood friends-to-lovers with a fun twist on Clint’s story. 3359 words, rated T.
Podfic by CainPods
Sequel by @o-kaythislooksbad
Marshmallow Crime Lords by @noxnthea and @there-must-be-a-lock: Jason Todd/Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton, but the relationship isn’t the focus; lots of BatFamily shenanigans and fluff. 46,440 words, rated T.
Remix by @bill-longbow
Sequel by @bittercape
Art by @wyxan
Podfic by @flowerparrish
Playlist by @carcrash429
If It's A Highway by @there-must-be-a-lock: Jason Todd/Bucky Barnes, Lost Days/post-CA:TWS canon fusion. 77,122 words, explicit.
Timestamp by @bill-longbow
Art by @wyxan
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lovebillyhargrove · 2 months
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San Diego, California, August 1986
***
@dragonflylady77 my little gift for you 💖💖
This is a moodboard and a part of the last chapter to my 212k + harringrove slow burn featuring season 1 Steve. It wouldn't have been possible without your help!! You betaed the first two chapters, thus paving a way for me to go on writing, you were always there when I struggled with a specific word or a synonym. I tried not to bug you too often, but knowing that your support is there, has meant the world. Thank you ❤️
Please listen to the song. Scorpions The Zoo. It rocks, just like Billy, just like The Hurricane
***
Billy loves this time of day, when he finishes work, gets behind the camaro's wheel and sets off in the search of his pretty boy. Tonight, he's picking him up from the basketball court that he frequents, not far from the beach.
The job is done and I go out
Another boring day
I leave it all behind me now
So many worlds away
Boring is good, boring is their safe haven. The pain, the loss, all the suffering and fighting - is in the past, memories growing over it like moss.
The tyres of his car know these roads. Billy's feet remember the asphalt of these streets.
He is home, and Steve, after leaving Hawkins, has eased into their life here miraculously smoothly. Just like they slide into each other's embrace every night.
The evening is still pleasantly hot. There he is, playing basketball, he's been getting so good at it. The prettiest boy on planet earth.
Billy is rolling into the parking lot next to the court, music blasting through the brand new speakers that he installed only last week
I meet my girl, she's dressed to kill
And all we gonna do
Is walk around to catch the thrill
On streets we call the zoo
Steve doesn't see Billy, he's too busy playing the game, all lost in the excitement of it
But he hears the sound of the camaro's engine thundering
Hears the rough energetic guitar riffs
He knows - it's Hargrove, coming to watch him play, to pick him up
We eat the night, we drink the time
We make our dreams come true
And hungry eyes are passing by
On streets we call the zoo
Harrington is standing with his back to the parking lot, his eyes on the basket
Ready to shoot. He has only this fraction of a second before the guys from the other team come at him
The hairs on the back of his neck rise up, feeling Billy's eyes on him. Steve knows - he's standing there, watching
Goosebumps break all over the skin of his arms and a delicious tingle is running down his spine
Billy's eyes are on him. He feels the heat.
Steve shoots the ball and scores, guys whooping and high-fiving him and
"Yeah! Go Indiana!" Is heard behind his back
We eat the night, we drink the time
We make our dreams come true
And hungry eyes are passing by
On streets we call the zoo
***
"Hey." Steve's all wide smiles and deep golden tan. California becomes him.
He's basking in the balmy sun rays and the cerulean blue of Billy's eyes, hair damp with sweat, sticking in different directions, his own eyes are lit
Hargrove just wants to drag the pretty boy away to a quiet place and sink his teeth into him.
"A nice three-pointer there, babe."
Billy's gaze is luminous with all the sunlight. Incandescent.
"Come on, let's go eat somewhere, I'm starving. And then we're driving to that little beach I was telling you about. Wanna lie in the ocean waves in darkness and kiss you in the moonlight."
His skin and dark blond hair is sun-drenched, and Steve's insides are constantly filled with quiet joy, to see his boyfriend like that
"Jesus, will you listen to that? Billy Hargrove, a romantic."
"Mm-hmm .. a little skinny dipping, what do you say to that?"
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k-vanity · 7 months
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Wanderlust Festival: A K-Vanity Event
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Welcome to the Wanderlust Festival, the biggest autumn carnival of the year. We have many attractions that'll give you a sense of adventure and foods that will take you out of this world! Pick up your map and get to exploring this limited time experience!
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(thank you to @papermatisse for making the map) In this event, you will either write a fic or create a visual based off of the prompts we have listed below. Writers You will pick a ride (or more than one if you choose) based off of the genres and tropes listed below. It must be included in your work.
genres/rides
fluff: merry-go-round, (swan) pedal boats
angst: hot air balloon ride, carousel waltzer
smut: ferris wheel, log ride
comedy: tilt-a-whirl, fun slide
horror: boat ride, sling shot
slice of life: mirror maze
thriller: hay ride, haunted house
Fantasy: tea cups, swing ride
sci-fi: pirate swing, bumper cars
tropes/events:
petting zoo: established relationship, protagonist is a suspect 
apple bobbing: strangers to lovers, body switching 
concerts: friends with benefits, discovering special powers 
fireworks: forbidden love, dual timeline
pumpkin patch: friends to lovers, set in a small town
face painting: fake relationship, dark family secret
vendor activities : incapable of love, cursed items
bean sack race: soulmate, the double-cross
hot dog contest: enemies to lovers, unlikely allies 
tug-a-war: exes to lovers, the power of teamwork
water shows: best friend’s brother/sister, childhood memories
dunk tank: love triangle, unreliable narrator
parade: royalty, heir to the throne
Visual Artists You will create a edit (gif, moodboard, gfx, fanart, etc) based off of the prompts listed below. You can choose more than one if you like but it must be included in your work. You also have the choice to gif any kpop content that is carnival related.
cotton candy: fairycore
lemonade: vsco
fried pickles: country
chocolate covered bananas: baddie
deep fried oreos: soft
elephant ears: cottagecore
pretzels: light academia
witches' brew: dark academia
caramel/candy apples: pastel goth
kettle corn: cozy sweater
cidar drink: witchcore
corn dogs: artist
funnel cakes: old money
slushies: kawaii
meat: goblincore
loaded fries: grunge
nachos: ePerson
churros : ethereal
pizza: Y2K
hot dogs: indie
ice cream: vintage
Rules:
You must be a member of the network to participate.
For writers, the content must be at least 500 words.
For visual artists, the prompt must be included in your work (where it's in the caption or in the gif/gfx/edit itself).
No sign ups. Just use the tag #kwanderlust along with the net tag #kvanity when posting your work.
Regular rules and regulations from the net apply to this event.
Event Timeline:
Posting Period: Sept 23rd-Nov 18th
Masterlist will be posted Nov 25th
If you have any questions please reach out to the K-Vanity team!
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khruschevshoe · 5 months
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Lucius and Mel Spriggs
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It's all washin' over me, I'm angry again
The things that I lost here, the people I knew
They got me surrounded for a mile or two
The car's in reverse, I'm grippin' the wheel
I am not scared of death, I've got dreams again
It's just me and the curve of the valley
And there is meanin' on earth, I am happy
-Noah Kahan, The View Between Villages
Now that she is not dwelling over her own death, the anger seeps in. A righteous, blessed anger, at not just her parents but merchant society and the whole damn island that broke her and her brother. They were children. Babies tossing coins into wishing wells thinking that a tiny circle of metal might somehow banish the monster from their house. They never should have been trapped in that manor house, any more than Jim or Lucius or Frenchie or Izzy or Archie or Fang should have been trapped by their sea god.
“Fuck that place,” Mel spits as she takes another swig of rum. It burns going down, as hot and sour as her fury, and she relishes it. She'll take the heat of grog over the chill of a gaol cell any day. “Fuck being seventeen and knowing you'll never make it out and accepting that you're destined to die." She passes the bottle back to Lucius. “Because we did, you know? We made it out. Fuck him. Both of them. We made ourselves a family, a home, beyond what they wanted for us.”
“Fuck yeah,” Lucius says, raising the bottle in the air, cheering her statement. "Fuck him. Eat shit, Solomon and Elizabeth Spriggs." He downs a large gulp of rum while sending a middle finger to the sky.
And Mel cannot help the giggle that bubbles up through her throat, escaping bright and wild into the ocean air.
Going home can be a comfort for some, but it would never have been a comfort for her. Anguilla holds only ghosts; the Revenge holds life. It holds lantern light and music and love.
Because finally, Mel has this. The thing that she and Lucius could never have as children, when they were too scared of who might overhear. They have a shared anger, a shared catharsis. They get to complain together, bitch together, exist together without sins or memories weighing them down.
-aletterinthenameofsanity, forgive my northern attitude (I was raised on little light)
Something about reading Mel and Lucius' heart-to-heart rewired my brain a bit after the amazing arc they had in Season 3 and I'm not going to be over it anytime soon. Clearly I'm not over it now because I've been thinking about these two and their complicated, loving, trauma-bonded dynamic and them finally getting a sense of catharsis for the past week and a half.
(In which I have been rotating this song in my head for these two for weeks now and I don't care if I already did a moodboard for their dynamic, I'm posting a second one because I have FEELINGS, alright?)
@polikate @bricksbloggyplace @possumsmushroom
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ridestomars · 2 years
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LONG, HOT SUMMER NIGHTS – S. HARRINGTON
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𖥻 summary: steve harrington loves the summer. and it's only because of you.𖥻 pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader 𖥻 warnings: talks about bodily fluids, kinda gross but kinda hot i guess. not smut but very suggestive. bad english and (as always) not proofread. 
💭 liv's thoughts: please do not ask me i literally cannot stop thinking about steve and, mainly, steve + summer. i blame this beautiful moodboard and james jt taylor's long hot summer night. 
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summer is steve's most treasured season and it's his favorite time to spend with you. in fact, you might be the sole reason why he likes it so much, but if i was to say that's only because of those pretty, short, sheer and delightfully soft summer dresses that you wear during the period, i would only be scratching the surface of the matter.
it's obvious that your dresses make his skin contact with you even easier, making it almost inevitable for steve to lay one of his hands on your thigh, playing with the hem of your clothes lightly and almost knocking the air out of your lungs whenever his velvet fingertips brush mindlessly against the exposed skin. it's electrifying to feel the warmth of his palms rubbing your thighs, massaging them eagerly and leaving small trails of sweat, because of the mixture between the hotness of his hands and the unbearable temperature outside. the place stays warm even when he lifts his hand to hold the steering wheel and leaves you impatiently thinking 'please, put it back' like a mantra.
contrary to popular belief, steve isn't frightened by the idea of ruining his precious hair. in reality, one of his favorite summer activities is to have his hair messed up by you – be it by your hands tangling themselves between the brown soft locks, or by how your thighs squeeze his head so perfectly to keep him in place, or his personal favorite: the combination of the two. he won't be satisfied until his hair is all over the place and sweaty, clinging onto his neck and forehead, feeling moist. and it's even better when he gets to look at you and appreciate the mess you've become, very like his own state. chest glistening against the faint moonlight, hair all over the place and sticking onto your face, and small ramains of saliva left all over your body from the open-mouthed kisses he left on you earlier. seeing you like this meant so much for him, even more than spending his summer in a nice place by the sea… why would he need such a view when he had you? the most alluring sight he could ever ask for, particularly when you were laying there, all spread out and pretty for him.
working at scoops ahoy may have traumatized him, but steve still likes ice cream, or rather, he likes seeing you eat it. and the reason behind this was pretty simple: he thought it was cute. always watching with a big smile on his face when the melted ice cream started to run down your hands while you struggled to clean it up. you tried it in various ways, by licking the cold liquid and trying to wipe it with your other hand, all the while you smeared it all over your chin. that is why steve stays beside you with a couple of napkins in his hand, waiting for the disaster to happen. and when it did, he helps you wipe your hands, rubbing every finger carefully with the rough napkin, making sure to get you as clean as possible. he usually mutters "messy girl" to you while doing this, to which you reply, "can't help it, it's too hot", with a pretty smile. that makes his heart almost jump out of his chest. but when it comes to cleaning your chin, steve will make sure to do it with burning kisses that contrast beautifully with the coldness of the melted ice cream. to remove all the remainings off of your face, he gives you small and gentle licks, almost unnoticeable if you don't pay attention. but you always do.
and the late summer drives are everything to him. probably the thing he looks forward to by the beginning of the season – he even has a special mixtape made for this occasion. it's true that steve is normally mesmerized by the way you look on a daily basis, but when you're in his car at night, there's just something different. it could be the way the wind intertwines with your lovely hair, pushing it back just enough that he can see the clear satisfied smile on your face, or how your lips move enticingly to the words of his favorite song, singing it word for word for him. it's too hard for him to keep his eyes on the streets, alternating his attention between the road turns and the way your cleavage keeps hitting the top of your breasts. you don't even have to look at him to know what he's thinking, because you've become so accustomed to that thought in the last couple of days. but it's almost impossible not to spare him a glance and find him staring back at you, stating that this is going to be another one of your long, hot summer nights.
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steve masterlist | main masterlist | navigation 𖤐 hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep ─ currently accepting requests for concepts & moodboards for eddie munson and steve harrington.
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