Bruce Has To Spend A Day Working An Important Mission With The League At The Watchtower But The Kids

hey omg i love your blog! I read that bed-sharing-octopus-Steve and now I wonder if there are days when Bucky is the octopus (octobuck?? lol) and Steve gets annoyed at him (like, "bucky ffs i cant move an i really need to get out of the bed NOW") o\

Aw, thank you, bb :D

Now, Bucky isn’t an octopus when he sleeps, no. That is all Steve. Sleepy Steve is a snuggly little octopus that just wants cuddles. All the cuddles.

Bucky? He’s an octopus during the day. Especially when he’s feeling particularly affectionate. If they’re watching television, if they’ve been goofing off, grappling over the remote or something, finally stopped fighting. Out of breathing and laughing.

Well, Bucky’s liable to sneak his arms under Steve’s back, lock them together, and refuse to get up.

“Alright, alright, you win,” Steve breathes out. “We can watch fucking – what was it again?”

But Bucky doesn’t answer and when Steve starts wiggling, he just holds on tighter.

“Oh, Christ,” Steve says. “C’mon, Buck. Get up. You’re heavy, you jerk –”

“Says the super soldier with super strength –”

“You’re fucking cheating, that arm is cheating –”

“Jesus, Rogers, just shut your yap and let a man have a hug.”

It lasts a lot longer than a hug but Steve can’t get up – well, maybe he could, but he doesn’t try that hard – until Bucky’s good and ready to let him.

Hello, I just discovered your blog and I wanted to say I love your writing!! I was wondering if you have any sub!steve headcanons you would like to share? :D

i'm not always great at thinking up cohesive headcanons, so take a little fic where bucky fucks steve straight into subspace!

NSFW 18+

-

“Oh, fu-uck…”

Bucky’s tongue is rough against Steve as he grips the sheets hard beneath him, ass canted up and cheek pressed into the soft linen pillows. His cock is curving up towards his belly, red and straining and spent, leaking with the remnants of his last release. He isn’t sure how long they’ve been at this-- Bucky taking him apart with his tongue and fingers, drawing pleasure out of his very core and guiding him to a comforting, suspended place he can’t seem to find anywhere else. There aren’t many places that are quiet for him these days, but underneath Bucky’s gentle touch, the world dampens out.

Bucky hums and the vibrations send a jolt through Steve, gasping as his tongue curves and digs deeper into him.

“Christ, Buck, I--” he cuts off with a strangled groan as one of Bucky’s fingers slip in alongside his tongue, crooking outwards and spreading him open as he pulls away.

Bucky hushes him when he whines at the loss, a gentle hand resting between his shoulder blades.

“I’m going to fuck you now, alright?” Bucky asks, his voice low even though he sounds just as wrecked as Steve feels.

Desperate, Steve nods. “How d’you want me?”

There’s a moment of silence as Bucky seems to think, then the hand between his shoulder blades dips to his waist.

“On your back,” Bucky says, then he’s urging him to roll over and Steve is pliant under his touch.

His legs spread automatically, eyes half-lidded and dazed as he watches Bucky drink him in hungrily.

“So pretty,” Bucky murmurs, reaching out to brush some of Steve’s sweaty hair off his forehead. His fingers trail down over his temples, across his cheek, making Steve shiver as he latches onto his gaze. Commanding and gentle in equal measure. A thumb brushes over his lips-- metal-- and he nips softly. “Good boy.”

The praise goes straight to Steve’s core and-- oh. They don’t always do this. It feels sacred, still. New territory. Slipping into these roles where Steve lets go of the wheel for a few wonderful moments. But Bucky’s words are already seeping into the crevices of his mind, drawing out any residual stress and pushing him towards the edge.

Bucky’s hand is still moving, down his jaw and across his collarbone, before coming to a stop on his neck. Steve’s eyes widen, lips parting, and Bucky’s eyebrows raise.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asks. “I was wondering if you’d like this.” He increases the pressure of his hold marginally and Steve whines, head tilting back and hips canting up. It’s exhilarating-- dangerous. His heart pounds and he wants. He wants so goddamn bad.

“Please,” he whimpers, and Bucky lets go, soothing his disappointment with a kiss.

“Just gotta get myself ready,” Bucky mutters against his lips. “Won’t be a minute.”

It’s almost Pavlovian the way the cap of the lube opening makes Steve’s legs spread wider, hole fluttering around nothing. He whines a little more insistently, and Bucky hushes him again, slicking up his cock and reaching down to finish prepping Steve as well. A moment later, he’s hitching Steve’s legs over his shoulders, taking his strong thighs around his neck and pushing in.

Bucky’s fingers are incredible-- his tongue even better. But Steve is certain there’s nothing as fulfilling as his cock, thick and heavy as it pushes past that tight ring of muscle. They’re both breathing heavily, soft whines sounding adjacent to Bucky’s low grunts as he bottoms out. There’s a moment of stillness as they adjust to the sensation, as familiar as it is.

Then, Bucky growls, and Steve’s eyes roll back as he starts to thrust into him.

He lets himself go, the world around him going wholly mute as everything zeroes into the place where he and Bucky are joined together. He scrabbles for purchase on Bucky’s biceps, shoulders, back-- but it’s no use as Bucky takes his hands and pins them over his head.

“Stay still,” he says, and Steve is helpless but to listen, going limp as Bucky fucks him harder, his other hand going back to his neck and--

Oh god. Oh god. It’s so much more thrilling in the moment. Held down where Bucky’s pinning him, knowing that his safety is quite literally in his hands, but trusting him with the very bones of his being. Bucky won’t hurt him. Bucky has control.

And it’s that notion alone that has Steve stepping off the ledge, his body free falling into open air before drifting higher, higher, higher--

He comes with a cry, thighs tensing around Bucky’s neck as his release paints his chest. It isn’t long before Bucky follows, groaning low and long as his cock pumps inside Steve. There’s a distant sensation of come seeping out of his ass, but Steve could care less. He feels like he could live inside Bucky-- take refuge in his very soul.

Static fills his mind, and it takes a few minutes for the world to come into focus as Bucky pulls out, catching his release with a towel they keep on hand and gently cleaning them up. The care only does more to push Steve further out of his mind. Higher. Lighter. He could be floating, he thinks. He could be floating over his goddamn body and it feels so good.

He blinks and Bucky is hovering over him, eyes soft and concerned.

“You with me?” he asks. It sounds like his voice is being fed through a shoddy speaker.

Steve smiles, reaching for him. Bucky obliges, taking him into his arms and rolling them over. Pillowing his head on Bucky’s chest, Steve hums in content.

“Are you feeling floaty?” Bucky asks, lips brushing Steve’s ear. It was the way Steve had described the feeling the first time they’d found this space between them and he nods. “Mmm, fucked you straight into subspace, didn’t I?”

“You knew what you were doing,” Steve slurs. “Jerk.”

Bucky laughs, his chest shaking against Steve’s ear. It makes Steve smile wider.

“What,” Bucky teases. “Can’t enjoy my fella when he’s all soft for me?”

Steve scowls. “Never said that.”

Bucky snugs him closer, browsing his nose over his brow.

“That’s what I thought,” he pauses, kissing his temple. “Mine.”

Steve lets his eyes drift shut, hand resting over Bucky’s heart. Instinctively, he listens for his heartbeat. It’s strong. Steady. Sure.

“Yours.”

-

thanks for reading, y'all!

happy deathday to my baby boy😢sorry I'm late again.

Okay but when does Aizen /realize/ they're equals who're in this mess together? Is that when he finally catches on to the fact that he inadvertently fell for the Ichigo Effect™?

Lol basically yeah, but I think it would take a while for him to put it all together. And not just time but moments - they already eat together pretty regularly but Aizen could see that as the only times when they can update each other on what’s been going on, and they are, more or less, but they’re also Ichigo inviting him into his home and Aizen cooking because Ichigo’s busy with leftover paperwork, and just meeting up more and more often to see each other/check up on each other instead of just for end-of-the-world business.

And maybe Aizen stays late one night and Ichigo nods off over the research they’re doing into the Wandenreich and Aizen ends up having to deal with Ichigo in the clutches of a nightmare. He debates leaving but doesn’t. He debates shaking Ichigo awake and does, but he also debates returning to their research and pretending nothing happened and he doesn’t. Instead, he fixes them some tea and pushes a cup into Ichigo’s shaking hands and sits beside him in a steady sort of silence until Ichigo calms. They don’t talk about whatever the nightmare was about, but Aizen returns the next evening with a list of teas that soothes the mind and encourages peaceful slumber.

(It’s the first time in a long time he is genuinely kind without an ulterior motive and he doesn’t even realize the impact of it on both of them until much later.)

Or Shinji pushes too far one day, because he has no idea what’s been going on with Aizen lately but it frustrates and worries him, because if his lieutenant thinks he can get his manipulative paws on the Shiba Clan through their youngest Shinigami graduate, he can think again. And Aizen usually lets all his captain’s mockery and suspicion slide right off him, but he has his sore spots too - things like growing up in Rukongai and getting locked up in Muken are memories he will never admit still bother him, but flashbacks don’t need permission to creep up on him, and maybe Shinji bites out a threat too far one day, tells Aizen that creeping on the Shiba boy any more than he already has might just result in a permanent trip to Seireitei’s deepest, darkest hole, and he doesn’t even mean it, not entirely, heck he doesn’t even think it would be something that would scare Aizen at all, but for a moment, all Aizen can see is nothing - no sound, no sight, no smell, no sensation - not even just darkness but a nothingness so endless that there were times when he felt he would lose himself in it, swallowed whole until his mind was a splintered thing and his body a soulless husk.

Shinji almost loses his life that day because Aizen deals with threats the way he’s always dealt with them - kill them before they can kill him - and it is very fortunate for everyone involved that Ichigo chose to visit that day. Ichigo catches Aizen’s wrist before he can do more than grip his Zanpakutou, and Shinji only gets time to blink and maybe begin to realize that he’s actually fucked up with his lieutenant for the first time ever, before they’re gone, Ichigo Shunpoing them both out of the building, out of Seireitei even, and straight into the sprawling woods in one of the Shiba compounds dotting the richer districts of Rukongai. He lets go as soon as they’re safe, activates the seals a half second later, and then he has no more time to think as Aizen lashes out, something borderline feral glinting in his eyes, fighting his mind as much as he’s fighting everything he can reach. It takes a full hour and an entire forest razed to the ground before he calms. They’re both bleeding and breathing hard, clothes torn and dirty, and it’s the first time Aizen has ever been able to let loose in a spar without killing his opponent in the process. He gets half a second to wonder if he should - for once - apologize, because he hasn’t lost control like that in centuries, but Ichigo just asks him if he’s alright now and what happened and does he need to punch someone in the face.

(Aizen doesn’t tell him but Ichigo breaks Shinji’s nose anyway.)

And there are other little moments, some that Aizen writes off or doesn’t even notice their significance, but they pile up, one by one, until it all just clicks one day, when he’s swinging by the Twelfth to pick Ichigo up for lunch and maybe amuse himself with Urahara’s thinly veiled jealousy as the captain watches his own Fourth Seat leave obliviously with Aizen for their lunch break.

(And even former would-be overlords can have silent panic attacks about EMOTION.)

i got inspired by THIS amazing post 🤠 The room was dim. The only source of light was the soft glow from the streetlights outside, filtering through the moth-eaten curtains. Bruce's hands were gripping Jason's hips, the cheap bed creaking under their shared weight and movements.

Earlier that night, Bruce had been out on patrol, moving across the rooftop with practiced ease. He had spotted Jason below, next to a group of drug dealers bleeding out in the alley.

Bruce had reacted immediately, dropping down without a sound, landing behind him. He couldn't remember the words they had exchanged with each other. It always went the same anyway, stuck in an infinite loop, like a curse.

Jason had thrown the first punch, and soon they had been locked in a dance of violence and bruises.

But the second Jason had ripped his helmet off, revealing his flushed face, unruly hair and dark eyes, Bruce lost the fight.

The rest of the night was a blur after that. They had stumbled into the first hotel they could find, somewhere where no one asked questions. The receptionist had barely glanced up from her phone when they asked for a room, and even if she had, she would be under the impression that Batman was investigating a crime.

And now, here they were. It always ended the same these days. For each time Bruce interacted with Jason, his willpower crumbled more and more.

Jason's Red Hood gear was carelessly scattered across the wooden floor, along with pieces of the Batsuit.

Then Jason leaned in, his lips brushing against Bruce's ear. "Come on, dad..." Bruce froze. His thrusts slowed, until they stopped completely, his body going rigid. The word hung in the air between them, and for a moment, he forgot how to function.

Jason always tested him, pushed his limits, but this—this was different. Bruce could feel his smirk against his skin as Jason pressed his mouth to his neck. "What's wrong, dad?" he hummed against his skin, feigning innocence.

Bruce's breath caught in his throat. He felt a flash of heat roll through his body, his arousal stirring inside Jason. The word ricocheted inside his head, over and over. He shouldn't like it. It was wrong. This was wrong. But his body didn't listen to him.

Jason shifted slightly, leaning back against the pillow, looking up at Bruce with sparkling eyes in the dim light.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a vibrating through Bruce. "You like it." His tone sounded triumphant, taunting, like he took great pleasure in finding out how fucked up Bruce was.

Bruce swallowed hard, trying to regain some sense of control, but every rational thought was drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears, the haze in his mind.

He wanted to deny it, but all he could think of was how badly he wanted Jason to say it again. But to his disappointment, Jason remained quiet now, his legs wrapping around Bruce's waist and tightening around him to try and create some friction, silently telling him to move again.

So Bruce did, picking up the pace again, each movement harder than the last. The sound of Jason's teasing voice still on repeat in his mind.

Jason's breath hitched, his hands grabbing Bruce's arms, digging into his skin. His name was spilled from Jason's lips as he moaned softly, but that's not what Bruce wanted to hear, and he was too ashamed to admit it out loud.

Another moan escaped Jason's lips, and it should have been enough. It should have been.

But it wasn't.

Jason had planted a seed and Bruce couldn't think about anything else.

Jason's head tipped further back against the pillow, exposing the sharp line of his sensitive throat. "Bruce—" He moaned again, his voice breaking as his legs pulled Bruce closer, impossibly deeper. He was doing it on purpose, deliberately withholding the word. Jason could—much to Bruce's dismay—read him like an open book. This was just like another game between them. Jason would push, tease, and taunt, to see how far he could go before Bruce broke. And Bruce, no matter how hard he tried to resist, would always end up playing along, drawn deeper each time, like a moth to a flame.

Jason's hands slid from Bruce's arms to his neck, pulling him down until their lips nearly touched. "Say it," he murmured. "Say you like it."

The words clawed in his throat, refusing to leave him. The pace slowed again, almost coming to a stop.

Jason kissed him. Bruce's blood from his split lip mingled between them, a gift from Jason during their earlier fight.

"I... I like it," Bruce confessed when they broke apart.

Even in the darkness of the room, Bruce could see Jason's smirk, the cocky satisfaction radiating from him. "You like what?"

He was going to make him say it.

"You know what," Bruce muttered, his voice strained. He didn't want to play this game, not when his shame was threatening to consume him.

Jason's fingers tightened around the back of his neck. "Do I?" he teased.

Bruce's heart pounded. The need for Jason to say it was greater than all the other shameful feelings. "I like it when you call me dad," he finally admitted. Jason's smirk widened into a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with delight. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" His voice then dropped even lower. "Are you going to keep fucking me, dad?" Bruce's entire body tensed, a surge of arousal pulsated through him. Jason's hands trailed down Bruce's back as he whispered the word again, "Dad." The sound of Bruce's voice—that word—was all it took. Bruce's movements grew desperate, almost erratic, each thrust deeper into Jason, as his soft moans dragged him closer to the edge. "That's it," Jason groaned. "Just like that, dad."

Bruce couldn't hold back any longer. With one last thrust, he reached his climax with an unexpected intensity, his vision going white and blurry from the sensation.

Jason followed shortly after. His body tightened around Bruce as he choked on the word that had destroyed Bruce completely. "Dad."

For a short minute they were both still, breathing heavily. Bruce finally pulled out, before collapsing onto the mattress beside Jason.

Jason laughed, breathless, his white strands clinging to his forehead. "You're sick."

And Bruce silently agreed with him.

I'm just so here for Bucky and Steve drifting into each other's orbit without noticing, like they're just making breakfast and next minute they're basically sitting on top of each other eating it. Or when they come home from a mission, relaxing on the couch watching a movie turns into cuddling and snuggles so subtly they have no idea when it happened. How did Bucky's hand get on Steve's butt? Was it always there? Probably. The team is so used to it, but the media isn't. They weren't prepared.

Can you imagine this happening while the Avengers are giving a home interview for the latest and greatest magazine? XD

Bucky and Steve start out on opposite ends of the couch, discreetly exiled apart by the rest of the team because they all know. But the Avengers, they’re a pretty active gang. 

Tony likes to stand and pace while he makes his grand speeches. Clint prefers a higher, distant vantage point and gives most of the interview from the top of the entertainment center. Natasha has to take an official call halfway through the interview.

The whole time, as one person leaves the couch, Steve scoots over a little bit. And a little bit. And a little bit more.

Finally, poor Sam is tightly sandwiched between two super soldiers who are trying their damndest to reach through him for each other.

“That’s it!” He says, jumping up, “I can’t take it. Have at it, see if I care.”

“What?” Steve looks wounded. “Sam, what’s wrong?”

Bucky stares at him weirdly and the interviewer blinks, confused. All three of them watch as Sam goes to sit on the other side of the couch, where Steve started out.

After that, the interview continues for a record two minutes before she stops altogether because Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and Captain Steven Grant Rogers are out and out snuggling on the couch now.

“Um,” she says.

“Ignore it,” Sam advises.

“What?” Tony looks around and then spots the problem. “Oh, yeah, happens all the time. Totally normal.”

“Ignore what?” Steve asks, frowning at them. “What’s normal?”

Bucky’s rubbing his cheek on the top of his hair and one of his hands has snuck dangerously low on Steve’s waist while the other - the flesh one - is playing some sort of game with one of Steve’s hands. Steve’s free hand rests on Bucky’s thigh, definitely higher up than is considered appropriate.

“Nothing,” Sam says gently. He looks at the interviewer. “Next question, please.”

Bucky shakes his head and leans back against the couch, sticking his hand up Steve’s shirt.

“You got some weird friends, Rogers,” he says.

“This is ridiculous,” Clint huffs from his vantage point. “I’m gonna tell them.”

Natasha points a finger at him as she comes back into the room and sits down by Sam. 

“Don’t you dare.”

... 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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obsessed with like, Jason who absolutely refuses to reconcile with the bats. he wants no part in that family and will not talk to them under any circumstances. but he's legally dead with no friends and sometimes he gets sick of being completely by himself and wants to have company. so.

Bruce: hey Alfred have you seen my-

*comes into kitchen to see Alfred calmly preparing dinner while Jason Todd, Killer Red Hood, silently does paperwork while sat on the corner of the kitchen counter*

Bruce:

Bruce: uh-

Tim, doing homework at the table: don't mention it. if you acknowledge him he'll leave. he just likes being around people sometimes.

the bats have to start treating him like a stray cat, letting him go to them and acting completely unbothered by his presence because if they even make eye contact with Jason he'll jump out the window and they 1. won't see him for a month and 2. will start to see a lot more murders cropping up around gotham.

eventually it gets to the point where Dick will come to dinner to see the rest of the family wordlessly ignoring the brick shithouse of a man who is just sat on the floor of the dining area reading a book and he has to just. take a breath and pretend Jason isn't there. calmly stepping around him without acknowledging him. Alfred will silently place a plate of food by the guys elbow while speaking to Damian about school. When they decide to move from the table to the tv room for a movie night none of them can even look around when they hear him eventually follow just to sit in the corner of this room instead.

Bruce: I'm concerned, this is abnormal for Jason. what if he's been drugged with something? or he's trying to gain sensitive information?

Damian: actually he used to do this a lot after he came out of the Lazarus pit. he liked to sit in and watch me train, and occasionally we'd find him sat by grandfathers feet while he ran meetings. Mother says it's important to let him settle, because it's likely that he's simply craving human intimacy on his own terms for once.

Bruce, crying: oh

Jason still refuses to say a word to any of them unless it's in costume, and even then it's the same old 'i'm not your son! i'm not one of you! fuck off!' shtick like normal. they just have to accept him sneaking into the house every now and then too.

one time Tim needs Red Hoods info on a case he's working and since Jason's been sat on the floor against the wall of the bat cave for the past 45 minutes just. staring into space and vibing. he risks sliding the file across the floor towards him before pointedly turning back to the batcomputer, the info he needs marked clearly. five minutes later it's wordlessly slid back, info filled out and Jason refusing to acknowledge Tim's existence again. it's the only way he'll communicate with them.

after a while it gets to the point where Jason will straight up go to bludhaven and break into Dicks apartment just to silently sit in the corner of the room and Be Around A Familiar Person. Tim comes back from his lunch brake at WE to find him sat on the edge of his desk, working through a case. They work in silence for the rest of the day and when Tim leaves Jason just follows. They get a batburger together but the second Tim slips up and asks how his day was he's off like a shot. Damian regularly eats lunch at school on the roof while Jason plays mario kart on a DSI next to him. Batman will be 4 hours into a solo stake out when civilian Jason will silently slide up next to him with a crossword. they never talk. Jason still makes it clear that he's pissed at Bruce. Bruce doesn't know what else to do but let him be and hope eventually, with enough time, things will progress even further.

Dick, whispering so Jason won't pick up on the fact that he's being perceived: are you sure this is normal

Damian: is anything about any of us normal

Tim: he's got a point. at least we know Jason's watching us. I did this shit all the time before I was Robin, and none of you ever noticed me.

Dick:

Tim: sometimes its comforting to be in the same room as people you're familiar with, even if you can't handle interacting with them.

Dick, crying: ok

everytime tim pisses off jason jason's like "first you steal my fucking job, now this?!" and tim goes "i didn't STEAL robin, you were DEAD and the position needed to be FILLED." and then jason says "but when i stopped being dead you didn't give it BACK. when an office worker gets a replacement so they can go on maternity leave the replacement is supposed to FUCK OFF once the maternity leave ENDS." and tim argues "YOU WEREN'T ON FUCKING MATERNITY LEAVE JASON" and jason screams back equally loud "WELL I DISAPPEARED FOR AROUND NINE MONTHS AND THEN SHOWED BACK UP WITH DAMIAN WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!" and then tim leaping strikes him off a 6 story building