In Reference To This Post, I Do Legitimately Wonder What Exactly Nick Fury’s Expectations Of Steve

Guests at a gala notice that Brucie Wayne is surprisingly jacked. Like, a suspicious amount of muscle for a CEO who lives a life of luxury and doesn't do any physical labour. An amount of muscle that goes beyond "works out to stay fit and look good". And when he's asked about this by a gossip columnist guest he panicks (he's running on 2 hours sleep) and says "It's so I can pick up my kids!"

Now everyone is looking at his kids. Cass and Tim are tiny at 5’ 5 and 5' 7. Damian is still a kid and he's also small. Dick is bigger, but picking him up wouldn't require that much muscle. Maybe Duke, who is still growing but looks like he could be about Bruce's height when he's fully grown? Maybe him?

Then Jason officially returns from the dead. And everyone looks at the 6' 4, 260lbs walking double fridge and goes "Ahhh, ok then."

More Visored/Ichigo ramblings because I just love them so much.

Is it trauma, power dynamics, or hollow instincts? The world may never know.

Jk ~ If I'm writing it then it's all three.

⚠️ Visored/Ichigo because that's my jam and I'm partying alone ⚠️

💀💀💀💀

It starts as a joke, mixed in with the stupid shit they send each other. Sending Ichigo messages like remember to eat, moron. Or stg you better get a full 8 hours of sleep tonight or I'll kick your ass.

But Ichigo does a lot better when they remind him to actually take care of himself. As much as he takes care of others, he's terrible at taking care of himself.

They make him eat when he's with them. He'll eat about half before being distracted or say he's full and try to pass it to one of them. They shove it back at him and tell him to eat, not taking their eyes completely off him until he finishes everything. He never gets sick or uncomfortable, so they're not forcing him to overeat. They think he doesn't remember what it's like to feel comfortably full, usually eating just enough that the hunger doesn't hurt.

There's a gnawing hunger that comes with their hollows sometimes, a hunger for things that Ichigo isn't ready for yet. It's not real hunger in the way humans get hungry, but it does make eating hard sometimes.

Ichigo sends them pictures of what he's eating when he's not with them, sometimes making sure to include his unimpressed face, and something about not needing to be reminded about eating like a child.

They disagree.

They also text him to remind him to actually sleep, frowning when they get responses about hollows or doing homework. The low smoldering anger for Shinigami that constantly lives in them now burns a little hotter each time Ichigo shows up with new injuries and bruises under his eyes or when their texts show read at 3am. Especially when they know that there's shinigami assigned to the town who don't seem to do anything.

They get creative. They train him until he's so exhausted he falls asleep after cleaning up, slumped against their shoulders or curled up in their bed. Convincing him to use their bed took awhile, but his hollow desperately wanted a pack and Ichigo didn't fight it too hard. They like that he'll smell like them, even though it's a warning that no one but hollows will be able to sense.

Bed may not be the word to use when it's big enough to fit all of them comfortably and has more pillow and blankets than they can even count anymore.

They all sleep together, something that started from a combination of their hollows prefering it and safety in numbers. Ichigo naps in sheets that smell like them and leaves his own scent behind every time he drags his skin across the sheets. It should be upsetting, the scent of someone who isn't them in their space but it isn't, in fact it's comforting. Especially when he doesn't stay with them. They know Ichigo isn't there with them, which their hollows huff unhappily about, but it smells like he is and it's just enough to settle their instincts.

Ichigo always ends up finding the nearest person when he's asleep. If anyone gets in the bed to rest while he's in there, he always finds his way to their side and presses in as close as he can. It's a big bed, it has to be to comfortably fit all of them even though they usually end up piled on top of each other and tangled up.

If he falls asleep sitting next to someone, his head will find their shoulder or he'll slump down until his head is on their lap. He sleeps better with skin contact, the ever present frown on his face fading when he's made skin contact.

He's bad about letting them know if he's hurt, his mindset seems to be if he can still move, or as long as he's not actively bleeding, then he's fine. Bruises are the worst, big ugly ones that they won't know about unless Ichigo wears something that shows it, it gets exposed during a spar, or he moves stiffly and can't hold back a wince.

That also means he has the bruises they give him from sparring longer, and they never claimed to be good and proper okay? Ichigo wearing marks they gave him is appealing. They'd rather give him other marks to warn people off, and they want to say that they didn't know they'd end up wanting this but Ichigo was always going to be theirs.

Someday they'll be able to make sure he's constantly covered in their scent and they can bite and suck all the marks they want onto his skin. They'll be able to keep him in their bed every night and smell him when they first wake up. They'll be able to check him for wounds or bruises he thinks aren't bad enough to mention and remind him that just because he can tolerate the pain doesn't mean he should have to.

He starts to keep some spare clothes with them but they take every excuse they can to have him wear something of theirs. On one memorable occasion he even wore a pair of Lisa's leggings, blushing and mumbling that he was cold and they felt soft. Lisa rushed to tell him he could wear them whenever he wanted, eyes flicking down to where the dark material clung to his legs. It's a soft, thin material and borderline see through in some spots where the material stretched over muscle, like his hips and thighs.

At some point Ichigo seems to catch on, and they're all able to stop pretending they're just interested in friendship.

Ichigo does his own clumsy scenting, not quite right but it's clear what he's trying to do and they don't correct him. The furrow of his brow says he's going to figure it out eventually.

He rubs their cheeks together when he's tired or hurt, or when he knows they're upset or hurt, not quite scenting but it's adorable, and his hollow is trying very hard to figure out what feels right.

He doesn't hesitate to nudge food over to them if he thinks they aren't eating enough. If they get distracted training or doing something else, he brings them food and hovers until he's able to make them sit down and eat.

They can't resist holding out bites to him occasionally and grinning at the faint blush before he takes it.

He spends a lot more time in their bed. And the kid is a fucking tease once he gets going because the amount of reasons he find to strip before rubbing his scent all over their bed is unreal. So much bare skin means his scent sinks into everything and stays, everytime they roll over or land on the mattress a burst of Ichgo greets them.

Knowing he's barely clothed, or wearing theirs, and vulnerable in their bed is incredibly distracting. He's sleep warm skin and pliant limbs, little protesting noises leaving him when they pile around or on him.

Hiyori is the first one to leave a mark, the urge to bitebitebite becoming overwhelming and she's behind Ichigo, wrapping her arms around him to keep him still and biting down on the curve of his shoulder and neck. He doesn't react, just keeps talking like he doesn't have someone clinging to his back and chewing a dark bruise onto his shoulder.

It's fair game after that and he's always got marks on his throat and shoulders, the delicate inside of his wrists and inner thighs, and the soft skin of hips and lower belly.

He leaves his own marks on them, not near as dark or deep as theirs, and it fades quicker. He bites at them with dull human teeth instead of the sharp hollow teeth he needs to make a lasting mark, another thing he's still getting the hang of.

💀💀💀💀

Do I like to think that they would all text each memes and stupid shit? Yes.

Didn't get Kisuke added in this one but I like to think he's always involved too ~

okay so we all know just how much bucky would dirty talk when it comes to steve, like even when they weren't fucking he would still be dirty. but what kind of pet names and praises would he mostly use for steve?

Pet names used by Bucky Barnes:

Stevie, of course (lbr it’s a pet name when Bucky says it)

Sweetheart

Baby doll (sometimes just “doll,” sometimes just “baby”)

Dollface

Kitten

Sweet thing

Sugar

And Bucky’s praise is always geared towards making Steve feel capable and desirable. 

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I'm a slut for your oblivious couple 'verse. also I'm a slut for steve's tiny waist and slim hips. and imagine bucky always put his arm around steve's waist. I mean, he used to put his arm around tiny!steve's shoulder, but it'd be a bit uncomfortable because steve is much taller now. so waist then. totally oblivious that he looks like a possesive boyfriend. and doesn't understand the other avengers' sighing and eye-rolling. because they are not a couple. XD

omgosh yes :D

And Bucky putting his hand at the small of Steve’s back. Sometimes it’s when they’re in the kitchen and Bucky needs to get something outta the cabinet above Steve’s head, sometimes it’s when they’re out and about or at a gala and Bucky is guiding Steve through the crowds.

When they’re eating – either out or with the others – Bucky probably does put his arm around the back of Steve’s chair. Everyone has to sit through a meal pretending that Bucky doesn’t play with Steve’s hair or put his hand around the back of Steve’s neck whenever Steve leans back.

Harder still to ignore is the way Steve kinda just melts into a puddle of happy vibes every time it happens.

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

Been thinking about Bruce, tying Jason down and worshipping him. Paying special attention to every single scar, whether visible or not, that he caused.

A soft kiss pressed to Jason's abdomen, feeling it flutter as Jason tenses. Little nips of teeth between Jason's legs, the fractures having healed years ago, but the ache remains. Licking along the faint scar on Jason's neck, and kissing back down it to Jason's collarbone.

Bruce whispers sorry after each one. So quiet in the room, and only just loud enough over Jason's gasps. It's not enough. It'll never be enough for his boy. Bruce could say "I'm sorry," and "please forgive me," and "I love you" until he was blue in the face, but it would never be enough to chase away the guilt.

So he worships, and lavishes Jason in a way that he hopes conveys the depths of his feelings.

Until Jason is shaking and sobbing and feeling seen and loved and remembered. Bruce resting his forehead against Jason's as he finally sinks down on him, both breathing the same air, reminding each other they're alive.

Jason had started to notice that Bruce's gaze lingered sometimes—just a second too long. At first, he brushed it off as coincidence, that it held no deeper meaning. It wasn’t abnormal to sometimes stare while your mind was drifting off. But the glances kept happening. It had been quite late at night in the Batcave, and they were the last ones there, running through some data side by side, keeping it surprisingly civil. As they talked, Jason noticed Bruce’s eyes drift—not to the screen, but to him. Bruce’s gaze slid from Jason’s eyes, over the line of his jaw, to the curve of his lips, then back to the monitor. And once Jason noticed, it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the glances; whenever Jason stood a little too close, Bruce would tense. It was barely noticeable, but easy to catch with a perceptive eye. Intrigued, Jason began testing the boundaries, seeing how far he could push before Bruce would finally tell him to stop. It started innocently enough. Just a casual touch here and there, or leaning in a bit closer than necessary. Each time, Bruce would tense, his eyes lingering before something like frustration would cross his normally stoic face. But Bruce would never acknowledge it—he never said a word. Jason was finding it harder to resist pushing even further, wondering just how much Bruce would allow.

・・・・・

Bruce sat by the edge of the couch, arm leaning against the armrest, newspaper in hand. The lamps were off and the only source of light came from the warmth of the fireplace. Its flames casted shadows across the room, occasionally making a comforting cracking sound.

Jason stood at the doorway, watching the way Bruce's eyes would scan over the articles, pretending to read, like he wasn’t drowning in his own thoughts as usual.

Without announcing himself, Jason sauntered into the room, making his way toward the couch. He could feel the warmth from the fireplace brush against his skin as he passed it, his long shadow making Bruce glance up from the paper.

He didn’t say a word as he flopped down onto the sofa, sprawling out lazily. He stretched his legs out, brushing against Bruce’s thigh as he shifted to get comfortable. Jason felt Bruce stiffen, informing him that he had the older man’s attention. He carelessly reached for a book on the coffee table, his arm extending as his shirt pulled up with the motion, exposing a sliver of his midriff.

Jason retracted back into the couch, book in hand, leaning comfortably against the cushions. His shirt was still ridden up, and when his eyes flicked sideways, he noticed how Bruce’s gaze was locked on his exposed skin. Jason didn’t move to adjust it, he simply flipped open the book as if he hadn’t noticed and it was all an accident.

Bruce shifted, just slightly, the paper crinkling in his hands. Jason sprawled out further, one arm resting sluggishly against the back of the couch, his legs extending along the length of the couch. His calf brushed against Bruce’s knee this time. Bruce lifted the newspaper, blocking Jason from view, but it didn’t stop Jason from feeling the way his body stiffened again.

He wasn’t interested in the book at all, his eyes just glossing over the words. With a casual sigh, he let his head roll back against the armrest, his shirt riding up even higher. The fabric of his t-shirt barely covered his stomach now, exposing the sharp lines of his lower abdomen to the warm light of the fire.

The sound of Jason’s exaggerated sigh seemed to catch Bruce’s attention, the newspaper lowering just a fraction. Jason angled his head slightly, peering under the book in his hand, and his eyes locked with Bruce’s. Neither of them said a word. Jason watched as the shadows danced across Bruce’s face and his furrowed brow.

He saw Bruce’s eyes briefly flick down toward his exposed skin again, the muscles in his jaw slightly tightening, barely visible. Jason let his attention drift back to the book, but the sentences were nothing but an uninteresting blur in the background.

He glanced over to Bruce again, catching him staring.

Bruce snapped the newspaper shut with a sharp crackle, then stood abruptly. His movements seemed stiff, off. “I… need to check something in the cave,” he muttered, his excuse half-hearted and weak, like even he wasn’t convinced by it.

He didn’t look at Jason as he turned on his heel, leaving the room with quick steps. Jason let out an amused breath, his lips curving into a full smirk as he watched Bruce leave. He could still feel the tension lingering in the room.

・・・・・

Jason stood in the training room, muscles tense and ready, waiting for Bruce.

Bruce entered, focused as ever. He offered no small talk, not even a greeting. He went straight to business.

“Ready?” he asked.

Jason smirked, giving him a lazy nod. “Always.”

They soon fell into the familiar rhythm of their sparring. They had done this countless times before. But after a while, Jason’s tactic shifted. He began moving closer than he needed, dragging his body just a bit too intimately against Bruce’s with every dodge and strike.

Each time their bodies connected, Jason made sure Bruce felt every inch of skin, every press of muscle. It was subtle at first, like there was a reasonable explanation behind it.

Jason threw a punch, aiming for Bruce’s side. But he quickly caught his arm with fingers tightening around Jason’s wrist. The impact made them step closer, their chests nearly touching. Jason glanced upward, looking at Bruce through his dark lashes, his breath brushing against Bruce’s jaw.

Bruce froze. His gaze dropped, landing on Jason’s lips for just the briefest of moments, and the air between them felt electric. But then suddenly, Bruce let go, stepping back. The movements were a little too sharp, like he was trying to create distance both physically and from his own thoughts. But the tension still lingered, thick like smoke.

Jason wasn’t going to give him that space, though.

Bruce looked almost rattled, clearly still unfocused. So, without warning, Jason surged forward. Bruce blocked his attack, but Jason didn’t stop. He pressed harder, his strikes swift, strong, determined. He ducked under Bruce’s counterattack, slipping past him, and then sweeping his legs out from under him.

Bruce’s back hit the mat with a solid thud, but Jason wasn’t going to give him a chance to recover. In an instant, he straddled Bruce, knees planted firmly on either side of his hips, pinning him down to the ground.

Jason leaned in, his face inches from Bruce’s, their heavy breaths mingling. “Seems like I got you this time,” he murmured with a teasing smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

Bruce said nothing, just stared up at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Jason shifted slightly in his lap, and he could feel Bruce stiffen underneath his weight. There was something darker flickering across his eyes, something Jason wanted to investigate further. He shifted again, pressing down more firmly, his body aligning perfectly against Bruce’s.

He could see Bruce grinding his teeth together. And then his hands moved, gripping Jason’s thighs, fingers digging into him. In one swift motion, he shoved Jason off, rolling them over until he was standing.

“Stop playing around,” he muttered, sounding rougher than usual.

Jason chuckled at that as he sprawled out on the mat, unbothered. “Is that what we’re doing?”

Bruce didn’t reply, but Jason got up to his feet again and they began sparring. Punches were thrown and blocked in quick succession, but Jason wasn’t playing fair. He continued to push closer whenever he had a chance and each time, without fail, Bruce would be thrown off by it. It was almost unnoticeable, but Jason knew him well enough.

As they moved, the fight grew more intense and suddenly Jason found himself being spun around, slammed chest-first into the wall. Bruce’s body pressed against him from behind, one hand firmly between his shoulder blades, and the other wrapped around Jason’s wrist, holding it above his head.

Bruce had him pinned and Jason didn’t resist. He glanced over his shoulder, the smirk back on his lips. Bruce’s grip was firm, his body flush against Jason’s, trapping him completely.

Jason leaned back into the warm, steady body behind him. “Getting a little rough, aren’t we?” he teased.

For a brief second, Bruce’s grip on Jason’s wrist tightened as he seemed to tense. His breath hitched, almost imperceptibly, but Jason had noticed it, felt it. But just as fast, Bruce’s hands released him.

He stepped back, his face was unreadable and his movements seemed a bit stiff.

“We’re done,” he muttered, turning his back and walking toward the exit.

Jason’s smirk lingered as he watched Bruce leave and pretend like everything was still normal.

・・・・・

Jason pulled off his gloves and threw them onto the bench with a heavy sigh. It had been a long night, one that had left everyone involved worn out. His body was still buzzing with the aftermath of the adrenaline. Bruce was a few feet away, unbuckling his utility belt in silence, face as expressionless as ever.

Jason peeled off the top of his suit, letting the armored material fall to the floor. He removed the shirt afterwards, tossing it next to the gloves. His muscles were slightly aching after tiresome fighting, the sweat on his upper body glistening slightly in the harsh light of the cave.

Jason bent down to remove his boots. The subtle scent of sweat and leather filled the air, mixing with the slight metallic tang of blood from earlier wounds, and Bruce’s expensive cologne.

Jason glanced over, catching Bruce’s gaze lingering on him for just a moment too long before he quickly averted his eyes, focusing on removing the rest of his gear. There was a tension in Bruce’s shoulders, and he was doing that thing again where he pretended everything was normal, and Jason’s behavior was nothing out of the ordinary.

“You still owe for that back there, you know,” he said playfully, mostly to fill the silence.

Bruce grunted in response, a noncommittal sound that did nothing to contribute to the conversation. He seemed focused on his own suit, but his movements had slowed down.

Jason saw his opening. He moved closer, his fingers reaching for the clasps of Bruce’s suit before he began working them free.

Bruce froze, his head snapping up to look at Jason, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

Jason didn’t flinch, didn’t stop. His lips twitched into a smirk as he worked the last clasp free. “What does it look like? I’m helping you out.”

He gripped Bruce’s gauntlets and tugged them off, letting them fall to the floor with a low thud. Jason reached for Bruce’s cape next. His arms slid around Bruce’s neck, fingers easily working the fastener that held it in place. Jason leaned in close, his bare chest brushing against Bruce’s hand and lower arm.

The shift in his posture was obvious; his body was taut and he turned his head away from Jason. But he was still rooted to the ground, eyes fixed on the wall as if he was determined not to acknowledge how close Jason was, how their skin was touching.

The cape came off, pooling below Bruce’s feet.

“I’ve got it from here,” he muttered and turned abruptly to leave, like he always did.

Jason had grown quite fond of the game they were playing.

・・・・・

The Batfamily had gathered around the long table in the cave, discussing the night’s mission in detail. Jason had agreed to assist them, now sitting at the far end by the table. Tim and Dick were currently talking over each other, and Jason wasn’t really listening to them.

Bruce was standing next to him, at the head of the table, telling them to quiet down and barking orders as usual.

Jason leaned further back into the chair as his legs stretched out under the table. His elbow rested on the table, with his thumb supporting his chin and the middle and index fingers pressed gently against his lips and nose, seemingly uninterested in the meeting.

His attention lay elsewhere.

Slowly, carefully, he let his leg brush against Bruce. The touch left no room to question whether or not it had been an accident. He let it linger. And Bruce stilled for the slightest second, a flicker of awareness passing over his handsome features before he quickly regained his composure.

But Jason wasn’t done.

Bruce was in the middle of giving instructions to Tim when Jason shifted again, this time allowing his knee to press against Bruce’s leg.

Bruce’s voice faltered for just a moment, the flow of his words slightly halting. But he refused to acknowledge it, kept his eyes ahead. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to continue. “Tim, I need you to—”

Jason shifted his knee again, rubbing it deliberately against Bruce’s upper leg. He felt him tense immediately, stumbling on the words. “To—uh… to monitor the surveillance—footage…”

Jason smirked, partially hidden behind his hand. “You okay there, Bruce?”

He received no answer to that, instead, Bruce pressed on with whatever he was talking about. “…and cross-check it with the logs Oracle has provided.”

The others nodded along, caught up in the debriefing. Bruce sat down on the chair behind him, probably thinking it would help him regain control of the situation. That was a big mistake. Because his reaction only fuelled Jason’s confidence, only spurred him on to push further, and explore where the boundaries lay. To see when Bruce would finally acknowledge him, to stop pretending nothing was going on.

Jason shifted a little, letting his fingers lightly brush against Bruce’s thigh. He felt Bruce tense immediately at the touch and heard the slight hitch in his breath. But still, he did nothing, didn’t even look at Jason. He kept his concentration on the others, jaw tight, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

His fingers continued to trace a subtle, slow line along Bruce’s thigh. Barbara was talking in the background, agreeing with whatever Dick had been saying, and Bruce nodded along, clearly trying his best to stay focused.

He let his hand slowly slide higher, and that’s when he felt it—the unmistakable hardness under the fabric of Bruce’s pants. Jason sucked in a breath by the surprise. He couldn’t deny the thrill, the way his heart picked up its pace. And Bruce could pretend all he wanted, but the proof was right there. He found this just as thrilling as Jason did.

Jason’s hand inched just a bit closer, fingers brushing over the bulge. Bruce’s entire body stiffened, the tension in his shoulders so taut it could snap at any given moment.

And then suddenly, Bruce’s hand shot under the table, grabbing Jason’s wrist, gripping it tight enough to hurt. Jason glanced up at him, watching the way Bruce tried so hard to keep his composure and focus on Tim’s yapping in the background. Bruce didn’t meet his eyes, his jaw clenched as his fingers tightened around Jason’s wrist, preventing him from moving any further.

Bruce didn’t say anything, instead, he just squeezed his wrist harder as a silent warning. Jason’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned back slightly, letting his hand fall away. Bruce still refused to look at him.

The rest of the group continued to plan the mission, but Jason’s thoughts were far away, wondering how long Bruce could go on without acknowledging whatever this thing was between them. 

・・・・・

The mission hadn’t gone according to plan at all, in fact, it had gone sideways fairly quickly. It left the Batfamily stranded in one of their backup safehouses. The place was cramped with barely functional amenities. They had crashed in whatever space they could find.

Jason had ended up sharing a small bed with Dick, but every time he started to drift off, Dick would roll over, nudging Jason further and further toward the edge of the bed. He was tired and sore, and after a while, his patience wore thin.

With a frustrated sigh, he got up and left the room to find somewhere else to sleep. But every corner he checked was already taken, filled with the sound of quiet breathing or snoring. The wood boards under his feet creaked wearily as he made his way down the dark hallway. He stopped outside of Bruce’s door. Of course he had his own room.

“Screw it,” he muttered under his breath, pushing the door open.

Moonlight slanted through the moth-eaten blinds, casting a faint glow across the room. Bruce was lying on his back with his eyes closed, breathing evenly. Jason padded over to the bed and without overthinking it, he carefully lay down on the other side. The bed shifted slightly under his weight, and Bruce’s breathing changed just enough to show he was awake too.

They lay in silence, staring up at the dark ceiling. Even after a long mission, Bruce still managed to smell good.

Jason was too exhausted to pick up his usual teasing, even if now would have been the perfect moment. And somehow, the air felt different. Maybe it was the rawness of his body after the mission, or the quiet of this isolated safehouse—it felt like they were somewhere completely else, almost like in a dream.

After a long stretch of silence, Jason turned his head, just slightly, to check if Bruce had fallen asleep. But Bruce was already looking at him, the faint glimmer of moonlight catching in his blue eyes. His expression was unreadable, and the atmosphere between them felt thick in a way it never had before.

For the first time since this whole thing began, Jason didn’t dare to push it any further. Bruce didn’t look away, he held Jason’s gaze. The way Bruce looked at him made his heartbeat quicken and suddenly, he didn’t feel as bold anymore. His confidence wavered under Bruce’s steady, dark eyes. There was something so calm about it, yet intense enough to make him feel bare, exposed.

For a few long, quiet moments, neither of them moved, their breaths almost in sync at this point.

But then suddenly, in one slow, careful movement, Bruce leaned in. His body shifted slightly closer, closing the small gap between them. Jason’s breath caught, his pulse drumming in his ears, and he found himself frozen in place. He’d been teasing, pushing—even fantasizing about this—but he’d never truly expected Bruce to actually do something about it. Now, with him leaning closer, his presence invading Jason’s senses—it felt surreal.

The faint warmth of Bruce’s exhale ghosted over his skin, making his skin tingle, his pulse racing. Then Bruce’s lips brushed against his, softly at first—almost like testing the waters. Yet it was enough to send a sudden jolt of electricity through Jason’s nerves. It was only when Bruce leaned in a fraction closer, lips pressing more firmly against his, that Jason felt his mind start to unravel, his nerves catching fire.

But soon Bruce deepened the kiss with a quiet confidence, like this was nothing but another skill he’d mastered. It was like Bruce knew exactly how to kiss him, drawing sensations out of Jason he hadn’t even known he could feel, making his mind go entirely blank. He’d kissed before, sure, but nothing had ever left him this breathless, this affected.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, kissing lazily as if nothing else existed outside of this room, but eventually, they drew apart. Neither of them said a word. Bruce lay back down, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Jason mirrored the movement, feeling slightly dazed and more relaxed than before, finally able to drift into sleep.

When he woke, though, Bruce was already gone. Jason wasn’t surprised. He got up and stepped into the hallway, hearing soft voices drifting from the kitchen. As he made his way toward them, he saw some of the members awake, talking over coffee. Bruce was standing by the window, already dressed, hands in his pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Bruce looked up when Jason entered, their eyes meeting for a split second. There was no hint of acknowledgement from last night in his gaze. He simply greeted him with nothing more than a curt nod.

Jason felt a flicker of something unwanted—disappointment, frustration—but he buried it deep, slipping into a mask of indifference. He joined the others, leaning against the counter, forcing himself not to glance in Bruce’s direction.

Jason found himself wondering how, in a game he’d thought he controlled, Bruce had so quietly taken over, leaving him feeling unsure and strangely exposed.

・・・・・

i've been occasionally writing this when i wanted to write more FUN and not so serious scenes! fyi i'll probably take a break from writing since dragon age veilguard is released tomorrow! but let me know if you'd like me to continue this, and i might need to pause dragon age lmao. (literally all it takes is for one person to say pls do this 🥺 and i'll drop everything for you cause i love validation and people telling me what to do (jk) (or am i?))

okay but what if we refocus our gaze to stevies “pretty, swelling nectarine of a tummy” for a sec ... i Need 🥺

(Slightly old ask that I started and forgot to finish. Nonnie is referencing to this post about the ‘Take You With Me’ -verse— my favorite self-indulgent tropetrash universe— with regard to preggo Omega Stevie) Hm, okay, if you insist! Coming right up ;)

Alpha Bucky is a pregnant belly worshiper.

Early on in the pregnancy before Steve is even showing Bucky is still regularly cuddling his flat stomach, running his hands over the skin low on his slowly softening belly... maybe being a little naughty and moving lower to nuzzle right above Steve’s groin and breathe in deep at the place where Steve’s changing scent is the thickest

Insists on having Steve stand sideways against the same wall every week so Bucky can draw the outline of his growing tummy in marker and admire the progress

Has a secret Pinterest board where he saves ideas for the maternity photoshoot he’s going to beg Steve to do when he’s near-term, because Alpha Bucky is exactly that basic

Asks JARVIS to order the largest container of cocoa butter he can find so he can rub it on Steve’s belly every night-- even though “Bucky, I-- you don’t h-- c’mon, you know the serum won’t let me get stretch marks”

(tbh Bucky is kind of sad about the “no stretch marks” thing)

Fluff fluff fluFF oh I’m sorry, did you think you were going to come onto my blog and I was going to produce some a/b/o pregnancy kink smut? Whatever could have given you that idea? I’m scandalized.

I’m imagining that Bucky still has his normal ruts even though Steve isn’t having heats, and they are just the most euphoric times of his life because his body is telling him to breed Steve but then he’s fucking him and looking down at the big, pretty omega spread out under him and his brain is just— ‘oH GOD YES LOOK HE’S ALREADY BRED UP THIS IS JUST. THE BEST. I DID SO GOOD.’

But even outside rut Bucky is fucking insatiable, from the moment Steve’s scent starts changing all the way up to when he looks big and huge and about to pop. Can’t keep his hands off of Steve, off his mate, off his widening hips or his healthy bump. (Steve and all his horny pregnancy hormones are... not averse to Bucky’s enthusiasm)

Bucky’s got a definite *thing* for having Steve touch his own swelling belly while Bucky is fucking him on his back, holding his legs open for him (especially since Steve can’t really hold them himself anymore), sitting up on his knees while he looks down and sees how well Steve takes him into his growing body, describing everything Steve can’t see over the bump, saying how wet he gets (how good he smells), low-key growling deep in his chest while he encourages Steve to run his hands all over that taut belly with an endless litany of hormone-fueled dirty talk and praise, “So good for me, sweetheart, growin’ my baby for us, keepin’ ‘em safe and warm inside a’ you, show me— yeah, that where? This big, sweet belly where I put our kid? That the place you’re keepin’ ‘em for me, till we get to meet them? So good, Stevie, so good, yeah you can take it, take this knot...”

Whew, feels good to get a little nasty.

[x]

important !! please read and reblog !!

it’s unfair of us to have platforms and not use it to speak up for palestinians. i have resources provided below for how you can educate yourself on the ethnic cleansing that is happening in israel right now and how you can help.

educate yourself

thread on what is occurring in sheikh jarrah, another thread

thread of infographics about misconceptions regarding israel and palestine

tw bombing video of al aqsa mosque being bombed

tw violence, tw bombing, tw shooting video of palestinians in al aqsa mosque

tweet explaining importance of al aqsa

a website where you can learn more about palestine

a video breaking down the history of the israeli oppressing palestinians

video of palestinian explaining the importance of spreading awareness

tw violence video of 16 yo palestinian boy being forcefully evicted from his home by israeli solders

tiktok of palestinian speaking about what is going on in her country. please see the links in her bio for more information— tiktok will not let me copy and paste her linktree

tiktok of palestinian speaking on situation in gaza

instagram page for jewish voices for peace, an organization working for liberation and justice for palestine

free ways to help if you cannot donate

do NOT sign petitions !! they are not accounted for in the middle east and do nothing.

simply go to this website and click

watch this video to donate, it’s 3 hours long but just playing it in the background can help

watch this video to donate, it’s 1 hour long but just playing it in the background can help

if you are from the U.K., follow these instructions to call local MPs into action

if you are from the U.S., text RESIST to 50409 to urge congress to help palestine

thread of dua’as muslims can make to pray for palestinians

boycott israeli products

donate— it is better to donate directly to people rather than organizations, but i do have a few organizations listed.

do NOT donate to change.org

help children and hospitals affected by gaza bombing

help hungry children in palestine

donate to palestine child relief fund, known to be reputable

donate to united palestinian appeal, a direct charity

donate directly to journalist injured in gaza

ramadan zakat fund for palestinians in gaza

i’ll add more links as i continue to find reliable sources and proper donations. please dm me other resources and i can add them to this list. if anything here is not trustworthy, please let me know immediately and i will take it down. free palestine until it’s backwards, pray for palestinians who do not know whether they will be safe in their own country.

last but not least, if you are a zionist, unfollow me immediately. i don’t need you on my tumblr. and do not use what is happening in palestine right now to be anti-semitic.