DOMESTIC AU Sleepy Rogers Gets Sassy 

Do you mind writing more canon compliant!stucky cockwarming Ps love your blog

I don’t mind at all :D

Scenarios to consider:

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ok so i just discovered your blog a few days ago and i am obsessed! i have been reading everything you've written and i was just going through your stuck trash tag and there was this line "(haaaa, you think Bucky scarred people in That Ass? You got no idea; Steve on sex pollen would make Fury blush.)" please please please elaborate!!! steve on sex pollen is amaaaazzzing

oh, bless ;_;

tbh, I think it would be hilarious if sex pollened!Steve is how everyone finds out that Steve & Bucky are an item.

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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]

PROMPT: Dick or any of the other Batfam members see bruises on Jason and think he's in an abusive relationship. Jason shuts any and all conversation on the topic down. They bring their concerns to Bruce, who sort of just...blue screens (those are HIS handprints on Jason's hips, after all) and then seems to brush it off. They're not happy with this response, so naturally a family full of detectives will want to investigate...until they wish they hadn't.

dick is the first one to notice the bruises. they're faint, but unmistakable. a handprint on jason's hip. he doesn't say anything at first, but he holds jason's gaze, making it obvious that he's seen it, silently asking for an explanation, if things are okay. but jason doesn't offer any. he just glares back.

"what happened?" dick then asks.

"none of your damn business," jason sneers, then turns to leave.

tim notices it next—the red marks around jason's wrists.

"what is that?" he frowns.

"you've never seen a bruise before? that happens in our line of work. sounds like you've been slacking off," jason says, shrugging it off before exiting the room.

the family discusses it among themselves. they've seen the signs before, they know what they're looking at. jason's unwillingness to talk about it speaks volumes. those are not some incidents that occurred during a mission. so they're determined to help, whether he wants them to or not.

they decide to go to bruce, to see if he knows something—because nothing goes on without bruce knowing about it.

but when they tell him, something strange happens. bruce freezes. and for a moment, he doesn't move, doesn't speak. it's almost like watching a machine short-circuit, something behind his eyes going blank.

when he finally speaks, it's dismissive. "jason's fine. leave it."

they don't. of course they don't. they're a family full of detectives, they can't just let something like this go.

so they do what they do best instead. they investigate.

they start by tracking jason's movements, try to figure out who he's been seeing. it's a breach of privacy, they know this, but they tell themselves it's for jason's well-being.

but the more they dig, the more confused they become. because nothing adds up. there's no one suspicious in jason's life, no new relationships. none of his enemies would leave marks like that. none of it makes sense.

then they notice something odd.

jason's occasional training sessions happen more frequently, stretching far longer than necessary. and they always happen late at night, when no one else is around.

suspicious, tim pulls up the surveillance footage from the batcave, expecting catch something. but after a few nights of reviewing, he notices something strange—the footage is incomplete. the cameras are turned off for a few hours, right around the time jason shows up.

it's strange, to say the least. they're detectives, and speculation isn't enough. they need hard proof.

they debate it briefly, knowing they're about to cross a line, but eventually they decide that there's no other way. they have to actually spy on jason.

so they do.

they carefully set up their own hidden cameras and microphones in the batcave. they justify it by telling themselves it's for his own good—they're only trying to protect him.

a few days pass until they decide it's time to look at what they've caught. they fast forward through a lot of the footage until something catches their attention. jason is there, late at night, just like before. but he's not alone.

he's sparring with bruce.

they watch, not really alarmed at first—it's normal for everyone to spar with each other. but then the session takes a turn. bruce's hands starts to linger a little too long on jason's body. each hold, each grip seems deliberate.

jason's back hits the wall, hard. bruce steps in close, his hand finding jason's hip, fingers digging in. the bruise that had been there before suddenly makes sense. jason doesn't pull away, doesn't really resist, but something in his expression shifts. there's almost a defiance in his eyes, as his hand shoots up as if to strike.

bruce is faster, or maybe jason didn't even try. but his grip locks around jason's wrists in one smooth motion, pinning them above his head, trapping him against the wall. for a long moment, neither of them moves. their breathing is labored, heavy in the silence, and they just stare at each other.

bruce's hold tightens, his thumb pressing against the pulse on jason's wrist. jason doesn't even flinch. a wicked smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. the hand on jason's hip travels up, fingers trailing along the line of his body. it moves with purpose, until bruce's fingers splays across his throat, settling there with a grip that's perfectly balanced—tight enough to thrill, not enough to really hurt.

bruce tilts jason's head, angling him exactly the way he wants him, and then he leans in. the kiss is slow, sensual, bruce's lips claims jason's like it's the most natural thing in the world.

like it has been going on for god knows how long, right under their noses.

the room is silent, the footage still playing, but no one moves to stop it. both of them are frozen. tim feels his stomach twist as he tries to process what he's seeing. dick looks like he's stopped breathing, eyes locked on the screen.

they should have seen it earlier, should have put the pieces together before it got this far.

tim shuts off the footage in a sudden, quick motion. the screen goes dark, but the image of bruce and jason stays burned into their minds.

they got what they came for. they uncovered the truth, just like they set out to do.

but now, they wished they hadn't.

I headcanon that Ichigo can smile like Unohana, but he just doesn't do that, because he's scowling and irritated often, but not cold-like angered or raged.

Trully angered Ichigo is cooooold and quiet, but the most terrifiyng part begins when he *smiles*

And when Urahara aka mad-scientist-extraordinaire decided to see how far he can make Ichigo angry-

He saw in every detail how the scowl slowly faded and watched in crippling horror how the edges smoothed and the softest, sweetest smile he's ever seen appeared on Ichigo's face.

The shudder ran down his spine when Ichigo proceeded to say in the gentlest way possible:

"I'll plug out your spine and hang you on it in three, two-"

And then no one saw Urahara for the whole week.

Could you do KoyoIchi (Swinging Pendulum), please? C: I have fallen in love with this ship ever since you posted those short one-shots (or whatever they are called) a while ago.

Hmm you didn’t include an AU and I’ve already done a KoyoIchi SP AU in the last batch, there’s not much else I can write for that I think. So how about KoyoIchi post-canon AU instead, where Ichigo’s human body gives out after the Quincy War, so he ends up splitting his time between SS and the Human world afterwards.

Edit: omg wtf did i do i went off i’m sorry this ended up semi-background pre-relationship KoyoIchi + like a dozen unrelated headcanons thrown in it’s a mess fml

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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!

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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]

What if: Both Ichigo and Urahara were booted back in time in the Swinging Pendulum universe?

Notes: Idk if I’ll continue this later (once those later SP canon parts are written). But I was in an UraIchi mood, and I’ve been trying to write some more of SP so here’s hoping this helps me get past that writer’s block.

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