#MY PLEASURE OP !!

[kirrryash]

She's a 15yo with superpowers and a crush and THEY keep going after him...

The plot armor of some characters. Unbelievable.

[crabboytahomaru]

I NEED a crack fic about Mydei Argenti brothers

[pinksepia]

JUMP INTO THIS LI~FE !!! 🎶

The captain is currently busy!

[brainmuncher]

So, in honor of trying to write DP x DC content that isn't focused mainly on Batman, I've been writing a new fic. It's one of those classic crossovers with the animated show Justice League from 2001. (It's super self-indulgent. I'm not gonna lie. Just under 14,000 words in, and I'm still on the first episode smh.)

I'm going to be honest with y'all, it has been really interesting trying to write it. The balance of trying to flesh out the bond between the two shows without making it feel like I've made the writing version of a collage board has been informative. But what's mostly been taking me aside is trying to balance out Danny's powers. It's honestly slowing me down because of how much I need to think about it.

While writing this I'm really trying my best to not let anyone shine over the others (Unless it's an episode or moment where a character or relationship is being fleshed out and learning some kind of lesson). I want this to be a story about a team coming together, and Danny finding a new place of belonging, not a spotlight on how much "better" any specific member is. (Considering it's all from Danny's perspective, it's been a tough balance.)

That being said, everyone has their own place in the team. So trying to fit Danny in there without overshadowing another member has been hard. I want him to be his own person, not an amalgamation of powers that take away the point of different heroes. Because at that point why do we need them? Danny can do it on his own!

Funny enough, the first time I encountered this issue was with his speed. In the episode Maternal Instinct Tucker mentions that Danny can fly at 112mph. Because I am writing this as Danny a few years older, I'd like to think that he's only gotten faster. This immediately made me pause because where I am currently in Wally West's comics, his top speed is a little over 200mph. (I already know that this ends up changing in future comics.) I know that that is in comics though, not the show, but it still made me realize just how careful I needed to go about representing Danny's speed. I do not want him to be too quick because that would nullify Flash's powers in the long run. With that in mind, I had to tamp down exactly what Danny could do with that speed without making it feel obvious that I was limiting him.

That's what set me off on a path of realizing just how much I needed to carefully represent Danny's strengths. Suddenly a lot of the usual canon and fanon tropes that I subscribe to became an obstacle.

I don't want him to be too proficient at making things with his ectoplasm because then that would start to entrench Green Lantern's territory.

I can't have him be too strong or pro of a fighter because then that would start to take away from Hawkgirl, Superman, and Wonder Woman. (I already feel guilty enough that the plotline had me basically replace Wonder Woman's place with Danny in the first two episodes. But unfortunately having four people on one team while there are just two in the others was just too unreasonable for me to excuse.)

That popular Fanon of Danny being good at building machines because of his parents now becomes too close to Batman's expertise for comfort.

The body manipulation powers that Danny showcases multiple times throughout the show start to feel a bit too much like Martian Manhunter. Danny already has intangibility, invisibility, and flight. It's hard enough already to not have him overpower J'onn.

And there's probably going to be even more things that I encounter while writing this fic. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that I could update every once in a while whenever I got the fancy. But now I'm sitting here with a pile of notes trying how to normalize him compared to the people in Justice League.

I dunno, just thought I'd share my thinking process I've had with this project. Until I have a solid ground, I most likely won't be posting it. It's super self-indulgent and clearly rips off from the show, though, so idk. Either way, I'm having fun writing it despite the troubles Danny is throwing my way. Was curious if anyone else has come into this issue as well.

[waywardgirl75]

call me delusional or whatever, but when sanji called him a liability zoro's earrings, "twikked" and i can tell you with 100% surety of my delusional mind that zoro was thinking, "just wait you shitty cook. once this is over, I'll show you how my liability can cause more problems for you and how it will make you scream my name and beg for more."

[nothingpersonalkid]

I'm tired of pretending Bayverse Optimus isn't hot HE'S A DILF, I REST MY CASE!!

[chuchu-lovely-munimuni-muramura]

(𝘋𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.)

There's no context for this one, just wanted to draw Ikkaku in a pretty dress and holding a gun. I would love to hear some ideas for this though!

[omegasmileyface]

every bookmark in my ao3 bookmarks has a comment but none of them are helpful theyre all just like "GRRRR GRRR OUUUUHHHH MY GOD theyre so. theyre. hhahahnrnrnrnrnt..... i wanna eat them"

[hanakou-often]

Gang ... Your blog... it was a blessing to find... ☺️🎀

AWWWUEGSYSUUHHH YOU'RE SO SWEET C: On skibidi ya'll are a blessing too!!! 🔥🔥🔥💪

[meltedhorror]

👀👉👈

[thenezuverse]

Final chapter of part 6 is up y’all 🤭 it was a haul and a half but we made it🤩👍

[empress-hancock]

I’m sure they’ll going to make changes in the live action but I do hope Sanji still gets to beat that dude almost to death for spilling soup, like that’s hilarious. He almost kills a guy over soup. Me too, man, me too

[ursie]

I need everyone who hates one piece (fair) to blacklist the tag because I will be cringe and rbing every gifset from the show I can see it now

[teethsmoothie]

ahhgh ...... f/o collage is slow going since i lost all my images. but here is a sneek peek if you like

[rohan-kishibaby]

I'd say i have zero hope but if AoEx got 3 new seasons after a 7 year radio silence then anything can fuckin happen at this point

So apparently ons was never actually cancelled after s2??? It's still possible we'll get s3??? PLEASE I AM BEGGING

Imagine chapter 90 animated I-

[buckysleftbicep]

eyes don't lie 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader (no spoilers though!)

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex, one bed trope, dom!bucky, lots of sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, self-pleasure, rough sex, slight degradation, bucky manhandles you, rough sex (please read the warnings)

summary: you and bucky were trapped in a storm during mission, with one bed and so much tension. (really just lots of filthy sex guys)

word count: 2.8k

author's note: hi! i am obsessed with the one bed trope and i've been trying to write something for thunderbolts!bucky! i am glad i finally finished this up! thank you for reading! again, please read the warnings, I received some comments on my previous work, i understand my fics may not be for everyone, so please take care to read the warnings! love ya guys and stay safe!

It should have been easy, a covert extraction in the Romanian wilderness, just as you and Bucky had planned, weeks ago. Intel in, asset out, and given how you and the brunette had run riskier ops with much less and fewer exits, this was supposed to feel like a walk in the park. But the weather had turned fast, almost as if it had a vendetta, ominous dark clouds had spilled over the carpathian ridge just as the both of you had left the drop point, and within twenty minutes, the sky had cracked open in a violent deluge. 

The mountains were drowning as you sprinted through sleet and biting wind which soaked through your gear in seconds, thunder splitting the sky like a scream. “Which way is it?” You managed to ask as the wind howled, “right, we should be nearby” Bucky replies as lightning flashes close, lighting up Bucky’s face in ghost-white bursts as he moves beside you, shoulder-to-shoulder, jaw clenched, steps unrelenting. You followed the fallback coordinates, grateful that Yelena had embedded it in your comms, breath ragged, legs burning with adrenaline. A safehouse, government-owned, forgotten, and you and Bucky’s only shot at shelter. 

By the time you stumbled through the warped wooden door, your boots were squelching with every step, water dripping from your clothes in heavy droplets, you shivered, your skin cold to the bone. 

Then Bucky turned, and your breath stuttered in your chest, the firelight from the stone hearth barely reached the corners of the single-room cabin, but it was enough for you to see the way his soaked, black, tactical shirt clung to him, transparent in all the right places. You noticed how his hair, now longer since the last time you saw him, wild from the rain, plastered to his forehead in thick waves. His jaw was tight, the stubble sharp and biting, water slid down his throat, over his collarbone, disappearing beneath the cling of drenched fabric. 

You hated how your gaze had caught there for too long because when your eyes snapped up again, you found Bucky already watching you. For a moment, something passed between you in that moment, heat, recognition, restraint stretched, razor thin. His stare didn’t falter, it raked over you in silence, dark and heavy, almost as if it had a weight of its own. 

You looked away first, he was always like this after missions, all silence and sharp edges, carved from restraint. But it seemed lately, ever since he asked for your expertise in retrieving files and other classified information hidden across Europe, you realised that restraint had been reserved only for you. 

You peeled off your soaked jacket and gear piece by piece, trying to focus on the hearth, “well, this is cozy” you muttered, eyeing the single bed tucked in the corner, “hope you like cuddling”. 

Bucky didn’t even blink, he crouched low by the fire, striking a match, the flames crackled to life on the third try, his jaw flexed as he stared into the fire almost as if it owned him something. 

“Better than freezing out there dollface”. He said finally, voice like gravel dipped in whiskey, you tried to ignore the way the nickname he had for you made you feel, the way your cheeks heated up as you crossed your arms, teeth still chattering, “don’t suppose there’s a hot tub?”.

“No power, its barely insulated, you’ll want to dry off,” Bucky replies, voice clipped, almost controlled, but you could hear it, the tremor in his voice, not from the cold, from something else, something neither of you dared to name. 

You stepped behind the divider wall, pretending you didn’t feel his gaze burn a hole in your back, your hands trembling as you peeled off your soaked clothes, bra, panties, socks, everything clinging to you like a second skin. You found an old thermal shirt in the worn down cabinet, grateful to whoever who had decided to chuck it in there because it was probably the most useful thing in the cabin right now. You slipped it on, and it fell mid-thigh when you did. 

You stepped out, seeing Bucky sitting by the fire, shirtless now, his tactical shirt placed over a chair, his hair had started to dry in soft waves, and you could see the scars that marred his shoulder, chest and back catching the flicker of flame. The scars he endured over the years, his vibranium arm, gold and black in the low light, sleek, deadly and almost beautiful. 

His eyes found you, dark, slow and unblinking, the kind of look only years could shape, Bucky didn’t just see you, he saw everything, every late night conversation, every one of those missions that just caused the tension between you and him to build, so thick you could probably slice through it with a knife, every almost that had ever happened between the both of you, not that you would ever bring it up.

He looked like he wanted to devour you and god knows how much restraint he must have had in him at that moment. 

You swallowed, sitting at the edge of the bed, trying to pretend your thighs weren’t already pressing together. “You taking the bed too?” You asked in a bid to break the silence, the thin ice you were treading on starting to crack beneath the weight of your own voice, brittle and breathless. You didn’t dare look at him, not when the heat of his gaze felt like it could burn straight through your spine. 

“I’ll take the floor,” Bucky said after a beat, “you need rest”. 

“Does it look like I’m sleeping?” you reply. 

The silence was thick, smoke-like, you didn’t want to see those cerulean blues, because if you did, you’d remember what happened in Prague just weeks ago. That kiss—a fake out, a cover that had happened when you both were at some stupid alleyway, a whisper of heat at the edge of danger. You had pressed your lips to his jaw like a lie, in a bid to escape the eyes of agents hunting you both down after escaping with a hard drive. 

But the look in his eyes afterward? That hadn’t been fake. Neither of you spoke about it, not after, not ever. Not even when Alexei joked about how the both of you seemed awkward, and he joked about everything, despite Yelena’s eyerolls and groans. He always had a quip ready, but after Prague? He and the rest of the team had watched the two of you with careful eyes and said nothing. The silence had been louder than any tease.

Because something had changed. 

You had felt it in the heat of Bucky’s breath against your lips, in the way his hand lingered too long on your waist after that kiss. In the way he didn’t look at you for days after, or when he looked at too much or too long, almost as if the man was trying to remember how to keep his distance. 

You had spent nights wondering if he felt it too, the shift, sure the tension had always been there, since the day Steve introduced you to him, since the days you spent with him in Wakanda, but this spark was different, it felt electric—like the gravity of something neither of you could name. Or if he was just pretending it hadn’t happened. 

But now? It pulsed in the air between you like it has never gone away, just buried, waiting. 

You lay back, letting the warmth of the fire lick at your skin, the coarse wool blanket that you had draped over yourself scratching lightly at your thighs, but it wasn’t what made you squirm. 

It was him. 

Bucky. Stretched out near the fire like a wolf at rest, deceptively relaxed, every inch of him radiating coiled strength. Every line of him was cut from shadow and heat, his muscles taut, almost as if he were sculpted by Adonis himself, glistening faintly from with the remnants of rainwater and sweat. His dog tags glinted faintly in the fire light, rising and falling with slow, even breaths that belied the tension buried just beneath the surface. 

He wasn’t looking at you, not really, but you could feel the weight of his presence like a hand around your throat, firm and deliberate. The tension in his body hadn’t left, in the rigid set of his jaw, the way his metal fingers tapped against the floorboard with rhythmic precision.

Like he was trying to keep himself in check. 

His eyes flickered toward the fire as if he was trying not to look at you, as if he didn’t want to give himself away. But you catch the way they flick back now and then, the slight twitch in his brow, the shift in his throat when you move. Like he couldn’t help it, like you were a habit he hadn’t meant to form. 

He hadn’t touched you, but god, he didn’t need to. 

Your thighs pressed tighter together beneath the blanket, you kept replaying the way he had looked at you, how his gaze had dropped to your thigh, your ass, then back up. 

You imagined his voice, low, rough, almost dangerous.

A soft, involuntary shiver rolled down your spine. Fuck. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, let the image of him bloom, imagined his fingers dancing along your skin, his breath warm against your neck, that vibranium arm spreading your thighs like he owned the right, one hand around your throat, the other slick with your arousal. 

You swallowed hard, and your hand was already moving. You slid it beneath the blanket, then under the hem of your shirt, lower, lower, until your fingers brushed our soaked, needy skin. You gasped softly, hips twitching at the contact as your fingertips circled your clit, slow, desperate, and in your mind, it was his hand, his voice. 

“So fucking wet for me”. 

You bit your lip hard, trying to keep the sounds quiet. 

But not quiet enough. 

You didn’t hear him move, didn’t hear his boots on old wood, your mind cloudy with the things you wanted him to do to you, until his voice rasped through the dark, like a gun shot. 

“You touching what’s mine princess?” 

You froze, eyes wide. You didn’t even have time to stammer out an excuse, any excuse. The blanket was ripped away in one swift, brutal motion, and there he was, looming, dominant, those cerulean blues now blown wide with lust. Bucky’s jaw was clenched, fists tight at his sides, chest rising and falling like he had run a fucking marathon. 

“You gonna lie to me, sweetheart?” he gritted out, his voice wasn’t angry, it was worse—controlled. “Or are you gonna be a good girl and tell me what the fuck you were doing”. Your breath caught as your thighs instinctively snapped shut, but Bucky was already kneeling between them, spreading you wide with both hands, one rough and warm, the other smooth and unrelenting, vibranium pressing against your skin like a brand. 

“I-” you gasped, but he was already dragging the hem of your shirt up, exposing your slick cunt to the cold air and his greedy eyes. “I couldn’t help it” you whispered, “you couldn’t help it” Bucky echoed, mocking. “Poor little thing, soaked and needy while I’m just over there, keeping myself in check like a fucking saint” he cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “I see you princess. Walking out in that shirt like it’s not a god damn invitation, shifting under that blanket like you wanted me to notice”. His hand slid down, over your collarbone, between your breasts, down your stomach, slow and firm, until his fingers brushed the slick heat between your thighs. 

“And now look at you,” you whimpered when he dragged a single finger through your folds, slow and devastating, watching the way your hips jerked.

“So fucking wet for me”.

“Bucky-” He cuts you off, “you don’t get to say my name like that, not when you’ve been touching yourself like that. This,” he swiped through your folds again, this time bringing his thumb to your clit and pressing just enough to make you cry out, “belongs to me. Say it”. You whine, pleasure sparking up your spine like lightning. 

“It’s yours, Bucky, fuck, it’s yours”. “That’s right” his voice dropped, dangerous and delicious.

“Now, beg”.

“Please” you whispered arching into his hand. 

“Please touch me, I need, need more” you whimper. 

“You gotta be real specific princess” Bucky’s voice was velvet over knives. “Beg me to wreck you” your face burned, but your body screamed for it louder. “Please, Bucky, wreck me” you breathed. “I want it, want you, need your cock, need you to fuck me until I can’t breathe, p-please” he stood, the sight of him towering over you, muscles taut, eyes ravenous, made your breath catch. He tore his belt off in one swift pull, tactical pants shoved down just enough to free his cock, hard, thick, flushed and leaking. 

Your mouth watered, he gripped your chin, forcing your eyes to stay on him. “Keep your eyes open for me dollface, don’t make me repeat myself” you obeyed instantly. He wrapped your thighs around his hips and slammed into you in one smooth, brutal thrust. The sound you made was half-scream, half-moan, shock and pleasure colliding as he filled you completely. The stretch was overwhelming, perfect. Bucky didn’t give you time to adjust—just gripped your hips and started to fuck you, raw and deep, snagging into you with bruising force. 

“God, Bucky!”

“You begged for this,” he snarled into your neck, hair falling over your cheek. “You asked me to ruin you,” You could barely think, the way he filled you, relentless, punishing, perfect, had your brain short circuiting. His cock dragged against every sweet spot inside you, ruthless and filthy. You clawed at his back, legs trembling as he slammed into you over and over. 

“You wanted my cock that bad?” he hissed, fucking you harder. “Needed to get yourself off thinking about me? Is that what you do sweetheart? Lay in your bed, fingers buried in that needy little cunt, whispering my name like a fucking prayer?” 

“Yes, fuck, always think about you-”

“That’s what I thought” Bucky grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanked your head back and bit your throat, sucking a dark bruise into the skin as you writhed beneath him. “You’re mine” he demanded. “Say it”. “I’m yours, I’m yours” you choked out, pleasure running through your veins as you felt that coil in your stomach tighten as Bucky inches you over the edge. “You gonna come for me now princess? You gonna soak my cock like that desperate little thing you are?” your body was already there, strung so tight, you could hardly breathe. 

When Bucky’s thumb found your clit, rubbing circles in time with his thrusts, you shattered. It ripped out of you like a storm, your orgasm crashing through your body so hard it stole air from your lungs. You screamed his name, back arching, thighs shaking as you pulsed around his cock, soaking him just like he promised. But Bucky didn’t stop, god no, he fucked you through it, groaning as your walls milked him, thrusts growing sloppy, brutal. 

“Gonna fill you up baby” he panted, burying his face in your neck, “gonna give you every fucking drop” you whimpered begging for it, pleading like you didn’t care how filthy it sounded. “Please, Bucky, want it—need your cum inside me” his hips snapped once, twice—Then he came with a snarl, cock buried deep, ropes of hot seed spilling inside you as he trembled against your body, moaning your name like a curse and a prayer. 

You stayed like that for a long, long moment, breathing hard, clutching each other like the world outside didn’t exist. And then slowly, Bucky eased out of you gently, catching the whimper that left your lips with a kiss, his mouth was so soft now. Reverent. He dragged it across your cheeks, jaw, your temple, grounding you as his hands cradled your body like you were breakable. 

“You did so good for me, princess” he murmured, voice low and warm. “So perfect.” you blinked up at him, dazed and blissed out. Bucky grabbed the blanket, wrapped you up in it before tugging you into him. His hands smothered over your thighs, your stomach, brushing your hair off your face.

“You okay?” he asked, voice softer than you’d ever heard it, you nod, smiling sleepily. “I’m better than okay”. His smile, small, crooked and real was almost enough to undo you. He leaned down, kissed your temple, then your lips.

“Good. You’re mine now, you know that?” you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Always was” he chuckled. “Cock drunk little doll face”.

And then he tucked you in against his chest, wrapped you in his arms like you were the only thing that mattered. 

Because to Bucky, you were.

thank you love for taking the time to read this fic!