I Just Found The Alt!swinging Pendulum Bits You've Done And I Am Blown Away. The Really Funny Thing?

Yet Another Time Travel AU ft. Ichigo With Fractured Memories + TBTP!Kisuke Falling In Love One Cryptic Hint At A Time [Headcanons 2]

[Headcanons 1]

By the time Kisuke makes it back to his division compound and has dismissed his Shinigami, another day and night has passed, it is way too early in the morning to be up, and Kisuke is in no mood to do anything except maybe get some answers and then hopefully get some sleep.

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... one of these days, we probably are going to hear about That Ass in France in detail, right? (gigglesnorts at your Bucky Muse)

Here’s the great thing about the story of The Ass In France:

No one even remembers why it was necessary.

Bucky sure as hell doesn’t and least of all because of his time as the Winter Soldier. The Commandos, upon retelling the story, found that they, too, had forgotten why it even had to happen in the first place and so none of their descendants know.

No one’s ever bothered to look it up, either, because the less said about their mission reports? The better.

The point is, no one knows why the fuck Peggy had to get Steve all dolled up in women’s clothing and they certainly don’t know why halfway through the mission, clothing became synonymous with women’s lingerie. He lost his dress somewhere along the way and they never found it.

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Bruce watches from the shadows above, perched on a rooftop, his gaze fixed down below. He tells himself that he’s scanning the Arkham Knight armor for design weaknesses, but his attention keeps drifting to the lines of Jason’s waist. It's crafted for efficiency and intimidation, yet there is something almost scandalous about how it fits him. The armor cinches his waist, and the fabric clings to his skin, making his shoulder appear even broader. He shouldn't notice the way it hugs his body perfectly. Jason presses his fingers against his helmet, sneering something into the comms, then starts walking. Hips swaying, stalking forward like a goddamn feline. The pointed ears are a mockery of a bat, but Bruce sees nothing but a cat.

The light from the city frames Jason's body, showcasing his slim waist and Bruce can't help but wonder what it would feel like to press his fingers into the soft skin, to hold him down and never let him run off again.

A wave of nausea crashes over him as it usually does when these thoughts claw their way into the back of his mind, grabbing on like a parasite until they drain his thoughts and leave him thinking of little else. It's a sickening familiarity. Jason turns his head suddenly, tilting it upward toward the rooftops. Bruce knows he's shrouded in darkness from where he is standing, hidden from being spotted. But Jason pauses in his steps, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the curve of his hip exaggerated even further as he places one hand there. His stance is almost suggestive.

Bruce feels his entire body stiffen as he can't tear his eyes away. The stance, the way his armor pulls tight across his waist and hips, and the way his fingers tap idly against himself, as if taunting whoever might be watching, entirely ripped apart all of the self-control he prided himself on having.

The suit doesn't only protect Jason—it weaponizes him. Bruce is convinced it's with purpose, serving as a distraction for all of his enemies. Jason finally moves again, but the damage has already been done. The image is seared into Bruce's mind and he knows it will come back to him, late at night when he's lying in bed. He hates himself for it.

Frank Castle x Steve Rogers - regret (ao3)

"Frank," Steve whispers, afraid to say any more for fear of breaking the moment- whatever it was.

"Yeah, baby," Frank responds, his voice low and husky, the way it always got when he had Steve naked and mewling in his bed.

One of Frank's hands reaches up to caress Steve's neck, pulling back the neckline of his sweater further, stretching the material until it exposes the expanse of pale skin that Frank used to know so well. He presses his thumb to a dark, purple bruise there, making Steve whimper.

"He do this to you? Hm?"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64061896#main

okay but bucky kissing steve’s hole better after he uses it 🙈🙈🙈

Warnings: Rimming. So much rimming. Talk of Steve’s... bottom.

***

Steve is spread out across the sheets on his stomach, spent. He’s got the side of his face resting against his folded forearms, and he’s still working on taking big, beautiful breaths to try and bring himself back down to Earth. Somewhere in the fog of his mind, he comprehends Bucky—still naked in all his magnificence—moving purposefully around the room.

Bucky ditches the used washcloth in the dirty laundry basket. He crawls onto the bed to join his baby, straddling the backs of Steve’s knees. He uses both hands to take a careful hold on each of Steve’s ass cheeks, and he spreads them gently to expose him to the air of the bedroom.

“Oh, sweetheart...”

It takes Steve’s head a moment to catch up, but when he does, his throat makes a high, mortified sound. He smashes his face into the crook of his elbow.

“No, no, Stevie,” Bucky chides. “Don’t get shy on me now.” He leans down and presses a chaste kiss right over the bruise on Steve’s tailbone. “I’m the one who made this mess. ‘S only right that I be the one to clean it up—isn’t it?”

Steve draws in a deep, shaky breath instead of answering. Bucky watches him try to make himself small, even when he’s six-foot-two of pure muscle and more than a stone over two hundred pounds.

“You need to answer me, baby boy.”

Steve whines.

“Yes.”

“‘Yes,’ what?”

“You should—you need to, um. To clean up your mess.”

Bucky groans and bites down on the rounded flesh of Steve’s ass cheek.

“Good boy. And where did I make a mess—”

“—Bucky!”

“Where did I make a mess, sweet thing? Tell me.”

Steve makes a sound that is half-sob, half-moan, and it’s the sound that Bucky knows Steve makes when he wants something very, very much but is embarrassed about how badly he wants it.

A mumbling noise comes from somewhere against the sheets.

“What’s that? I didn’t hear you, sweetheart.”

“My bottom,” Steve bites out, lifting his head. He is crying.

Bucky chuckles, a dark thing.

“Oh, baby boy... your bottom? I just came home to find you waiting for me in a plug and a cock ring, and then I had to spend three hours fuckin’ you silly because you begged me not to stop...”  Bucky gives Steve a two-fingered smack against his own come dripping down over Steve’s perineum, then trails his fingers upwards. “...And now you can’t call this little pink asshole what it is?”

“Bucky... please...”

“‘Please’ what, doll? You really gotta start bein’ more specific if you wanna get the things you need...”

“Please, um. Please clean up m—my...” Steve stops with an important inhale, as little as he is big, and he wipes his nose against his arm. “Please clean the mess on my bottom.”

“On your bottom?”

“N—Well, yes, but, um also... in my bottom.”

Bucky laughs, in love beyond any form of volume or time or measure of daylight, and presses a wet kiss against Steve’s gaping asshole.

“That’s a sweet boy,” Bucky growls, licking a wide stripe up Steve’s leaking hole and savoring the taste of himself in Steve’s musk. “Do you want to be kissed like I’m kissing your mouth? Or do you want it like I’m kissing your wet cunt?”

Steve barks. Bucky fucks him through it on the hardworking tip of his tongue.

“L—like, um...” Steve starts, quiet and soft after a little break, “...like my mouth?”

Bucky hums out his satisfaction with Steve’s answer and reshuffles his legs, getting comfortable, settling in. He cups each of Steve’s cheeks in his hands in the same way that Steve cups his jawline when he wants Bucky to kiss him tender and sweet.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Bucky rumbles, the tip of his nose tracing up the slick valley of Steve’s ass. “You stay still while I clean this messy bottom. Yeah?”

***

This tale of true love is extremely dedicated to @canadiangarrison @mitsususu @calypso-mary for enabling and not complaining while i actively steal your ideas,❤

masterlist [x]

Commission

in your uraichi swinging pendulum spin-off snippet, once ichigo graduaes, where would he live? barracks? shiba home? move in with the boyfriend *winkwink* XD

Lol where else~

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Your thoughts on sex pollen? Maybe Steve gets dosed on a mission and he needs *someone* to help him take care of it, but he and Bucky aren't together yet (just both in the mutually pining stage). So Bucky volunteers to take a bullet for Steve, to get to have him this close (but not really). Steve's crying out "I love you, I love you" the whole time and Bucky just tries his best to ignore it, because it's just the drugs talking, right? And after, Steve must feel so bad for "taking advantage."

My thoughts on sex pollen are “hell yes,” tbh.

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Alright, but you're gonna keep the secret, right?

In reference to this post, I do legitimately wonder what exactly Nick Fury’s expectations of Steve were.

Assuming his two primary sources for Steve Rogers Anecdotes were Howard and Peggy (and I think they were), there’s no way he would have gotten anything approaching an accurate account for who Steve was as a person.

I honestly don’t think Howard knew Steve well.  All his reminiscences are going to be fundamentally colored by the fact that, despite the epiphany he comes to in the S1 finale of Agent Carter (he says something like, ‘he was good before I got my hands on him, wasn’t he?’), Steve’s successes as Captain America are in part his successes because he helped make Captain America.  So all the stories Howard could tell Fury (and, sorry about your horrible childhood, Tony) are going to portray Steve in a very specific way, turning him into the ultimate war hero, the ultimate super solider, the ultimate weapon that Howard helped create.

I doubt Peggy’s telling a lot of truths either but for different reasons.  Or, well.  Peggy doesn’t lie about Steve, but there are certain things she doesn’t say about Steve.  Because everyone knows and mourns Captain America, but she’s one of a small handful of people who actually mourn Steve Rogers.  There are things about him she keeps private and safe for herself.

Like the fondue story?  I am positive that never made it into the global Captain America narrative.  I also don’t think it’s a story Tony or Sharon ever heard.  Howard doesn’t tell it because it’s not a Cap Story, it’s a Steve Story, and Howard’s far more interested in the former than the latter.  Peggy also doesn’t tell it because it’s a Steve Story, and the world isn’t owed any more of Steve Rogers than they already have.  They can keep Captain America, but Steve is hers.

But I honestly believe that if Nick got half a shot of whiskey in Colonel Phillips, he would spend literal hours dragging Steve Rogers through the mud.

“Rogers?  Biggest pain in my ass that ever lived, and that’s before Stark and Erskine got their god damn hands on him.  I’ve had a hemorrhoid or two tried to compete, but nope.  It was Rogers.

“That son of a bitch probably spent six weeks AWOL altogether thinking he knew better than me, the SSR, and all the Allied powers put together.  At the end of it, he’d come into my office, stand at attention, salute.  Then I’d maybe get one ‘yes sir, no sir’ out of him before he started arguing with me about whatever damn fool thing he’d just done.  Which, I shouldn’t have to tell anyone, is not how the god damned United States Army works.  Rogers never did manage to grasp that concept.

“Don’t ask me about vehicle requisitions.  I don’t even know how many cars those idiots wrapped around how many trees.  I finally had to order the motor pool to stop giving him motorcycles at all.  He kept throwing them at the enemy.  That worked for maybe a month.  He started stealing them, and I gave up.

“Once I ran into Barnes just staring at a wall looking whey-faced, terrified, and madder than a hornet.  So I said, “What did that captain of yours do this time?” and he says, “He charged a fucking tank,” and I say, “Of course he did,” and he says, “Dumb bastard wasn’t even wearing his helmet,” and I say, “I don’t understand how you kept that boy alive long enough to con his way into the army in the first place,” and Barnes says, “You’ve got no god-damned idea, sir, you really don’t.”

“You know Carter shot at him once?  I’ve never envied another human being so much in my whole life.

“Steve Rogers gave me most every grey hair on my head, don’t you let her tell you any different.  I had a full head of thick black hair in 1943; by ‘44 I looked like someone dropped a pound of drywall on top of me.  I aged a year for every hour I spent in Rogers’s company.  When I die, if the coroner doesn’t list my cause of death as Steven Grant Rogers, it’ll be god damned perjurous.

“I could have court-martialed that jackass on at least 16 separate occasions, and we wouldn’t have won the war without him.  God rest the son of a bitch.”

….so we have to assume that Fury never talked to Phillips I guess.

BUT OH GOD DO I WISH HE HAD