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[peteytheparrot]

Lil messy comic I made for the shits n giggles

[coconutcows]

Mouthwashing fans, if I try to knit a doll of Curly, in your opinions do you think it would be better to knit him all red??? Or do an alternating red and darker orange like his model looks in game???

[gay--dog]

sounds silly to say this but i wish wikipedia articles had more images

[irenespring]

One of my (many) problems is that I've been trying to do some original writing so I have been cursed with the sudden power of Editing. So when I try to write fanfic I keep going "does the audience need more wallowing, is there too much stream of consciousness depression in this scene, should I cut it?" and in the end I have decided no, this is fanfic, I have a lot of character lore and stuff to write, and the audience will be subjected to more stream of consciousness backstory angst if I say so. The plot will come when I am done making the audience sufficiently very sad.

[fantasiac]

guys, youtube is starting to be harder on the adblocking rules, so we should definitely follow them.

just so you know what rules not to break, chrome has hidden ublock origin because it updates around all of youtube attempts to block adblockers (slimy bugger), definitely DO NOT use the inspect element tool, use Ctrl + F to find "disabled aria-describedbody", and and DO NOT under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES change it to "enabled". this will allow you to install the extension like it was never hidden by chrome. this is very bad guys, don't do this. you'll have ublock origin back, and youtube doesn't want that because it stops youtube from making ad money. so come on, DONT install ublock origin, watch all 15 unskippable sexually inappropriate ads marketed towards children in your 4 minute video, come on. don't break youtubes rules guys.

also, youtube has been cracking down on removing quality of life features, as we all know, they know best, and their decisions are flawless. so DONT get the extension that re-impliments the youtube dislike. youtube removed it for a reason guys, come on.

[ayukaze]

What the actual fuck is happening in the Digimon fandom?

Coming across this post in 2025 is insane.

Like the layers here??? What do I even address first???

Just absolutely clownery, but no that is too soft an insult, a full on disgusting bigot.

[lesausageperson]

vast amounts of roblox on my dash. I need to post superthings to balance this out

there we go

[toopunkrockforshul]

Oh so the mature content filter is broken broken

[imyourcomputergame]

Pinterest was fun for like 2 days but now all I do on that app is "hide pin -> not relevant to me"

[izzy-b-hands]

I. I think I have a decent finished draft for the first day of the upcoming Our Flag fan event with those drag based prompts that's coming up later in the month but. Oh. I made myself sad for Izzy in the process 🥺

[joemama-2]

throughout the entire ceremony and reception, gojo can’t keep his eyes and hands off of you. maybe it’s the excitement of finally being husband and wife, or the sheer thrill of what’s to come afterwards.

because everyone knows, the after party is always better than the actual event.

you just look so beautiful, so enchanting, so….his. it’s a pain to just opt for making out in the back of the limo on the way back to your hotel because he’s forcing himself to wait. wait until you two are finally alone. wait until he can just finally show you much of a good husband he is.

there’s rose pedals, a glass of champagne, a huge heart shaped bed, dim lighting, a spacious suite, a beautiful balcony that overlooks the darkened tokyo skyline. it smells like warm sugar.

everything is perfect.

well, not as perfect as seeing you lay down on the bed, still in that expensive, but memorable white dress. your hair down and slightly messy from the dancing and alcohol. cheeks flushed and a dopey smile on your face. he mirrors your expression, his own inebriation coming into play because you weren’t the only one who drank more than you could handle.

he’s unbuttoning his white button up, freeing his broad chest. working next on the belt of his slacks that are too tight to hide his growing tent. all the while, he’s keeping his eyes on yours. stalking towards your figure on the bed. he starts by raising your ankles, your heels having been discarded already.

planting kiss after kiss, the tip of his nose being shoved against your skin as he inhales your scent deeply. he’s working his way up from your white, manicured toenail to your tempting cleavage, then to the crook of your neck, the top of your hair, and finally…your lips.

it’s a sweet and soft kiss, one that lingers and one that further solidifies the new union of love between two souls.

it’s only when he pulls back, breath mingling with yours, eyes glued to each other, his hands paused on your thighs, body slotted between them, that he realizes…

you’re his wife.

it’s his wedding night, and you’re here as his wife, his life-long partner. the woman who he’ll stay with through sickness and good health, and vice versa. the woman he’ll have children with. the woman he’ll grow old with. the woman who he’ll be buried with, his skeleton cradling yours until enough time has passed on earth where you two are nothing but a faded memory for your future generations.

his wife.

his wife who’s currently laid out in front like an offering to him.

yeah, he’s breaking the bed.

[spock-adoodledoo]

maximalist themes save me please

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Always read. Always, always, ALWAYS READ.

A simple cancellation mechanism: If consumers are unable to easily leave any program when they want to, the negative option feature becomes nothing more than a way to continue charging them for products they no longer want. To address this issue, the proposed rule would require businesses to make it at least as easy to cancel a subscription as it was to start it. For example, if you can sign up online, you must be able to cancel on the same website, in the same number of steps.

New requirements before making additional offers: [emphasis mine] The proposed rule would allow sellers to pitch additional offers or modifications when a consumer tries to cancel their enrollment. But before making such pitches, sellers must first ask consumers whether they want to hear them. In other words, a seller must take “no” for an answer and upon hearing “no” must immediately implement the cancellation process.

New requirements regarding reminders and confirmations: The proposed rule would require sellers to provide an annual reminder to consumers enrolled in negative option programs involving anything other than physical goods, before they are automatically renewed.

That format up there? Depending on the read, that format up there either complies with this language (it's not an additional offer or modification, it's the same offer you've already agreed to, just a very large option to say "I hit the wrong button, take me back"), or could be made compliant by dialing back the language on the features you already have. There is already a "no" button. It is small, but it is visible, and it is there. BEFORE YOU GO CLICK HERE FOR A COUPON! (or don't) would also be a valid format.

There may be other language that addresses this. There may be intent to prevent making the "no" button less visible. There may be a revision forthcoming. But it's not in the linked document. It's close, but it's not there.

"Sign up online, cancel online" is worth having, but that's a separate thing. The linked document has a loophole that websites are already using.

Options on the page to cancel your subscription to Shudder, which I'm pointing out because you can observe this same phenomenon on basically any subscription-based website:

Doing the opposite of what you came here for - Written in bold on a red button, 18 pt font, 700 weight

Doing what you came here for - Hidden beneath the red button, 12 pt font, 400 weight

Make this illegal

[cameronsbabydoll]

milk & honey — john price

pervy!john price x younger!pregnant!reader

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, lactation kink hinted, suggestive/soft smut buildup, dirty thoughts, price being a full-on menace, breeding/prey language

you show up ten minutes early.

little thing in a stretched-out dress that clings to your bump, a button-up cardigan barely hiding the way your tits are pressing against the fabric.

hair done. makeup light. cheap little folder tucked in your hands, pressed under your belly.

you knock.

and john price looks up from his desk and nearly groans out loud.

because you walk in glowing.

waddling a little.

smiling so big.

“hi! i’m here for the assistant position. sorry i’m a little out of breath, the stairs—”

“sit down, love,” he cuts in.

voice low, rough. already full of that accent and already wrecked.

you blink, cheeks warm.

“o-oh! okay.”

you sit. wince slightly. shift on the cushion with your knees pressed together, hands folding over your bump like muscle memory.

john watches.

watches the way you move slow, all careful.

watches the bounce of your chest — so full, nipples peeking through the fabric now that you're close.

you don’t even realize.

“how far along are you?” he asks.

doesn’t even open your file. doesn’t care.

“almost seven months.”

“you doin’ this on your own?”

you pause.

nod.

“yes, sir. just me and baby.”

he exhales. leans back in his chair, one hand dragging down his beard.

baby.

that fuckin’ word, from your soft little mouth.

he wants to say —

that belly should be mine. i’d fuck you again right now if i could. you’re perfect, made for it. full, warm, helpless little thing just waiting to be kept.

instead, he says:

“and you wanna work?”

you perk up.

“yes! just part-time. i don’t wanna strain myself, but i’m still able, and i wanna save some money before the baby comes.”

god.

you’re so fucking sweet.

he bets your apartment’s tiny. your cupboards half-full.

you probably eat cereal for dinner and watch baby videos at night. and now you’re trying to work — trying to be responsible — even though your ankles are already swollen and your belly’s in the way and you can barely bend over.

“i’ll do anything,” you add quickly. “i just need a shot.”

john looks at you.

hard.

long.

then he stands.

walks around the desk. comes to stand in front of you — tall, wide, shadowed in the doorway light.

you look up at him with big eyes.

“sir…?”

he crouches a little. one palm lands on the armrest beside you.

you freeze.

“you ever had a man take care of you proper?” he murmurs.

his hand brushes the curve of your belly — just barely.

“wh-what…?”

“not talkin’ about the father, sweetheart. i mean someone real. someone who’d put you in a warm bed and rub your back and pay for everything — make sure you never had to lift a finger.”

you swallow.

your breath hitches. thighs press tighter together.

“i-i just came for the job, sir…”

he smiles.

“mm. and i’m givin’ it to you. but you’re gonna be more than just an assistant, yeah?”

he leans in.

“you’re gonna be my girl. my pretty little secretary. sit at your desk and look sweet and full and happy for me.”

his hand smooths over your belly now — slow, deliberate.

“and i’ll take care of the rest.”

[eowynstwin]

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

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