Having A Bad Day Do You Have Any Fluffy Stucky Headcanons That Would Cheer Me Up. Ps Love Your Blog So

Possessive Brujay? I think it would be interesting if they were both equally possessive in their own (toxic) ways.

your wish is my command 🫡🫡🫡

after jason's resurrection, something changes between them. when bruce finally gets him back, he swears never to lose him again. he can't go through it again—the guilt, the grief, the loss.

bruce becomes possessive, but he hides it behind a mask of concern. he tells himself it's for jason's safety, that jason needs him, which makes it easier to push away the guilt of his behavior.

it starts with bruce hovering over him, always watching. he had always been controlling, but it's different now. more intense. bruce isn't just concerned about jason's safety; he's fixated on keeping him safe.

whenever jason talks to someone else, there's a dark look in bruce's eyes, a possessive flash, like jason is something to be guarded. and bruce always knows where jason is, like he's tracking his every move.

every time jason tries to go off-grid or leave gotham for a while, bruce is already there, making sure he never strays too far from the city—too far from him.

he shows up unannounced at jason's apartment, keeps critical information from him, brings him into the batcave for medical check-ups even when jason feels fine.

bruce even subtly sabotages jason's relationships, wanting him for himself. as jason tries to reconnect with the family, things mysteriously fall apart. texts go unanswered, calls get ignored.

and the most fucked up part is that jason doesn't care about any of that.

because his need for bruce's attention runs deeper. he craves his approval and hates how much he needs it. he wants to be the only one bruce sees, the only one bruce cares about.

jason goes out of his way to provoke him—flaunting his independence as red hood, breaking rules, taking reckless risks—just to see bruce react, to feel that warm flash of anger, that possessive rage that tells him bruce still wants him, still cares.

the more bruce tries to control jason, the more he pushes back. jason wants to see how far bruce will go to keep him. jason thrives on it.

then, one night, after an argument gets too heated, it just happens. it's rough, desperate, all of the tension and the need to own each other, poured into that moment. the next morning, they don't talk about it, don't even look at each other any differently.

but it keeps happening.

every time their bodies crash together, it's like a power struggle, but jason knows exactly what he's doing. he pushes, provokes, teases, waiting for bruce to snap, and stop holding back. jason knows, after everything that's happened, he shouldn't like it this much. he should hate giving up control, hate letting bruce have that power over him.

but he doesn't.

instead, he loves it. he loves the way it feels when everything is in bruce's hands, when bruce pins him down and takes what he wants, when he shows jason who is in control. it only makes him want bruce more. jason lets him have that control, because he likes feeling bruce's power.

the risks keep getting bigger, more dangerous, almost suicidal. jason stepping into enemy territory without backup, defying direct orders, putting himself in harms way on purpose, just to see if bruce will save him in time.

and bruce always does.

every fight is a test, every argument a challenge, and bruce rises to it every time. jason gets a rush whenever he successfully pulls bruce out of his controlled world, every time he sees that mask crack and the raw, possessive want underneath is exposed. he thrives on being the one thing bruce can’t control.

bruce wants to control him, to own him, and jason lets him think he can—until the next time he pushes back.

but there are times when jason hates how much he likes it. but the thought never lasts long—not when bruce's attention feels so good, not when his hands are on him, claiming him.

it's intoxicating—a twisted game. jason pushes and bruce pulls, and neither of them wants to stop it. their equal possessiveness and obsession feed off each other, and they're insatiable.

omg #22

In the spirit of OC appreciation Ichigo/ koyonagi from your SP!AU? Thank you for writing such lovely stories cross!

Hmm I’ll try to keep this short because I actually want to write Koyonagi/Ichigo for OC Day, and it’ll likely take place in the SP ’verse. But here’s a few hcs I’ve considered.

Edit: what is this short ppl speak of

I mean at least it’s shorter?

더 보기

Short snippet from the Bleach I Knew You AU.

But before I begin. *Insert deep sigh here.*

Secretlypansexualmango, if you see this, it was supposed to be a response to your ask. Unfortunately, it took a hard left-turn and ended up in. Uraichi shipping territory? Look, IDK, I'm asexual, I don't get it either. Anyway, since I don't know your shipping preferences and don't want to accidentally respond to your ask with something that squiks you, I will be officially responding to your ask in another post that is less likely to be unexpectedly unpalatable. Thank you for your patience, and, uh, I hope this doesn't turn you off the au! (*laughs nervously*)

Without further ado, the snippet:

Breaking into the Shiba family grounds is easy. By sheer comparison, breaking into Shiba Ichigo’s room specifically is almost a challenge, but it’s not anything that Kisuke hasn’t planned for.

The strange, modified kido, and the odd wards Ichigo has placed, are simple to bypass with a bit of fancy footwork and precisely-timed counter-kido. It’s practically child’s play to get past them, now that he's roughly figured out how they work and where they all are.

His job is made even easier by the fact that, for some reason, Kisuke’s spiritual pressure doesn’t wake Ichigo up. Quite the opposite, in fact. He seems to sleep deeper when Kisuke is nearby and has let Benihime out a little.

He has theories about that.

He’s tired of them being theories.

He’s here to get evidence.

Kisuke bypasses the final seal and slides Ichigo’s window open, slipping into his room. He lets his spiritual pressure permeate the air a little thicker than he would in normal company, and as expected, Ichigo’s spiritual pressure slows down as he falls further into slumber.

… And Kisuke is supposed to believe that the first time they met was two months ago? When this is Ichigo’s reaction to his presence? When Ichigo is one of the most paranoid people Kisuke, an ex-onmi agent, has ever encountered?

Kisuke is a genius. He doesn’t need to be in order to see the flaw in that logic.

Kisuke steps further into the room, gliding softly over the old wood floorboards. He pauses in the middle, taking a moment to debate where to start.

Well. Why not with the simplest?

He’s caught it a few times, the barest trace of his own power lingering around Ichigo. A fascinating phenomenon, when he can’t recall a single time he’s drawn shikai around him, let alone used enough power to leave a long-lasting trace.

He draws closer to Ichigo’s bed, until he could reach out and touch him if he wished.

Ichigo breathes deeply, evenly, no sign of waking up. At some point, his covers ended up half kicked-off. Possibly from the heat, probably from nightmares. Regardless of the reason, Kisuke can’t help but think that he looks strangely fragile this way, surrounded by the evidence of his restlessness.

He puts a hand on the the hilt of his soul-partner. “Awaken, Benihime,” he murmurs.

She stirs within him, gently, in a way that is oh so rare. Like the softest, most gradual of ocean tides, she rises, her fragrance of wet iron washing through the air around them.

And together, channeling her power through his eyes, they see.

Glowing crimson threads that they have no recollection of weaving wrap protectively, lovingly, around Ichigo. A thin but strong filament, sewn through the skin from just below Ichigo’s ear all the way to his opposite shoulder, sutures closed what must have once been a deadly throat wound. Another one, obviously originally meant to keep shut a gash down the length of Ichigo’s forearm, keeps it companion.

And beyond the battlefield sutures there are more threads. Hundreds of intangible and deceptively thin and absolutely unbreakable strands of Benihime’s power wrap around Ichigo, crisscrossing over themselves — around his throat and across his face and down his torso and up his arms, visible wherever his bare flesh is exposed — seemingly serving no purpose.

Benihime’s power surges at the sight, a hot delight running through her as she sees Ichigo so thoroughly caught in her webs. Kisuke’s fingers suddenly, urgently ache with the urge to touch, to tighten, to add more.

Soul King.

No purpose other than, it seems, to satiate their own possessiveness.

Kisuke exhales a shaking breath. Closes his eyes for a brief moment. Gets the heat in his blood under control.

No purpose other than to alert themselves, perhaps? Did they know that one day they wouldn't recognize Ichigo anymore, and left this as a clue?

(And oh, what a clue. What a clue it is.)

He lets Benihime’s power fade, taking his hand away from her hilt. He’s self-aware enough to know when he needs to stop tempting himself, and he’s gotten the evidence he came for — far better proof than he could have ever anticipated.

He takes a step back, and the motion is the most unnatural thing he’s done in a long, long time.

He has questions. He has a few theories, too. Amnesia, caused by a very specific type of parasitic hollow. Dimension travel. Time travel. He doesn’t have enough information yet to figure out which is most likely, but he has finally confirmed beyond doubt that Ichigo is his, has been his, and something tried to steal that from him.

Fury flares within him, burning through his veins, and he can’t do this right here.

He takes another step back, this one just as unnatural as the last.

He can’t ask, yet. He can’t get closer, can’t wake Ichigo up with a soft hand on his cheek, can’t tell him that he’s there now, can’t promise him to take care of it all if he would just let him in again.

No.

Shiba Ichigo is in the middle of a chess game — a dangerous one, a complicated one — and Kisuke can’t see the whole board yet. Tipping his own hand might trigger a whole plethora of traps, including another round of amnesia, and he refuses to risk the knowledge he’s regained.

He will have to be careful. He will have to move cautiously.

He casts one last look at Ichigo, lets his eyes trace over that delicate throat that he now knows almost bled out. That delicate throat that had to be held together with Benihime’s webs. That delicate throat that he doesn’t remember stitching back together, despite the fact that he used his bankai to do it.

He was made to unknow a person he loves. He was made to unknow a war. He was made to unknow the fact that danger lurks still in the shadows of Soul Society.

He will know the end of this game. And Ichigo will learn that there is no universe in which Kisuke does not protect what’s his.

Kisuke turns. Takes another unnatural step away from his favorite, infuriating puzzle. And then he wrenches himself out of the room, out into the night, closing the window behind him and leaving as unnoticed as he had come.

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.

people don't talk enough about how fucking funny it is that bruce can sub in his kids as batman when he's too busy. like can you imagine it from the league's perspective? imagine you have this really mysterious, geniusly scary guy that you know next to nothing about, never cracks a smile and yet always comes out on top, and one day he shows up to a league meeting and there's just something... off. about him.

you can't pin it down because he's literally acting exactly the same as usual and there's no reason to think there's anything wrong, but maybe he shifted in his seat one to many times, or he looked just a tad bit too bored during green lantern's case review, but something's just... odd. so you quietly ask superman after the meeting if anything's up with the bat bcs you know those two are closer and also clark can hear heartbeats so if something's wrong surely he'll pick it up? and without hesitation he leans over to you and mumbles 'yeah batman was busy, that's his 17 yr old son. he's a crime lord and kills people sometimes though so we're not allowed to let him into the weapons department.' and then walks away like it's normal.

like the whiplash the league must go through every time they realise that no, this is not their fearless dark and brooding leader, this is in fact one of his dipshit kids being forced to sub in bcs the real batman broke an ankle, is incredible.

wonder woman: so that's my proposed plan, what are your thoughts batman?

batman: hn. i think that- *voice raising two octaves* oh shit hold on my phones buzzing

the league:

batman, answering the phone and immediately dropping the Bat Posture™: what do you mean- aw come on little wing that's not fair! but- no, NO DON'T YOU DARE TELL ALFRED I'LL BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU- IM SORRY OK I'LL BUY YOU MORE- *catches sight of the league watching him, baffled* *stiffens* ok listen i promise to replace them but i gotta go, please show me mercy iloveyoubye *hangs up*

the league:

batman:

batman: *coughs awkwardly*

superman: *sighs*

batman, to superman: ...red hood found out i ate his chocolate pretzels-

superman, shaking his head: just... just stop.

the flash: so this isn't batman either, is it?

wonder woman: if this one's also a criminal im losing my mind.

superman, tiredly: no no, this one isn't a criminal. this one's actually a cop.

batman: *sinks down in his seat* b's gonna kill me

green lantern, mystified: where does he keep GETTING you all from!?

'batman' dick, who made a pact with jason to Always Fuck With Bruce Whenever The Opportunity Arises: batman is a whore.

they think they've finally sussed out all 2 of batman's kids and then one day during a meeting 'batman' ends up on a 30 minute rant about different hacking methods this tech villain could be using that results in him half way through a sentence breaking off to say '-oh uncle clark could you pass me that pen- thanks, anyway so-' and then five minutes after that when the league have all been exchanging incredulous looks he finally freezes and is like. SHIT.

wonder woman: you're different from the other two, aren't you?

batman: maybe i am maybe i'm not, you can't prove it.

wonder woman:

green lantern: so like, are you new or have you just managed to avoid sub duty up until now?

superman, coughing: actually, this is this ones ninth occasion of replacing batman. you've just never realised before.

the league:

batman: yeah actually the other two are kinda mad i lasted longer than them...

the flash: how the fuck does he keep getting kids with the exact same build as him!??!?

'batman' tim, spent 20 minutes padding the suit out so he would look the part, still mad that bruce keeps palming WE work off on him: oh he forces us to take steroids for it.

the league, concerned:

superman, pinching the bridge of his nose: now come on red robin-

batman, fully tearing up and looking distraught: PLEASE uncle clark, it HURTS, you can't keep COVERING FOR HIM!

superman, frantically to the league: this one lies.

bonus

the league, squinting at batman:

the league: ...

superman: *head in his hands, too disappointed to do anything*

the league: *silently exchanging looks, wondering if anybody's brave enough to say anything*

duke as batman, fully aware this is fucking stupid but jason and tim fell on the floor laughing when dick came up with the idea and frankly, he wanted to see if anybody would have to guts to call him out: so, are we all ready to start the meeting?

im obsessed with the difference between the Wayne family and the Kent family. like i can imagine Clark and Bruce working on some kind of case at the watchtower when Kon storms in angrily talking about how Jon won’t stop whining to play games on his phone and it’s really getting on his nerves and Clark needs to go and tell him off bcs he won’t listen to Kon, and Clark sighs before turning to Bruce with an eye-roll like ‘kids amiright?’ and then they hear a far off scream from Dick on the other end of the watchtower that’s like ‘BRUCE JASON KEEPS DRESSING UP AS NIGHTWING AND KILLING PEOPLE IN BLUDHAVEN AND NOW IM BEING INVESTIGATED FOR FUCKING MURDER AGAIN!’ followed by an evil Jason-like cackle and a crash, and Bruce just grunts and stands up to go investigate with a chuckle, returning Clark’s look like ‘oh don’t i know it haha’ as if the two are in any way comparable and Clark isn’t staring at him like his whole family is insane

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.”

The Stormlight Archive: Secret History

(video by nathanthecatlady)

Okay but has Rhapsody in Pink (RiP 🤣) Steve been waiting his entire life to get dicked down like that by Bucky or what? Imagine him point blank telling-- nay, begging Bucky to do to him everything he would kill another man for doing hnnnng

I always told myself I would never do head canons are blog ficlets or whatever for my Rhapsody in Pink Steve and Bucky because they were too special to me to risk turning them into a tumblr ~performance item... but fuck it. I simply cannot resist this ask.

So Bucky has definitely been through a trauma. Hydra chemically castrated him and ripped his sex drive away from him, and now as a result his recovery has been marred by these really jarring sexual desires (a base desire he already had, but now turned up to eleven). But I am in love with the idea of a recovering Bucky who learns to reclaim his mind and his body by turning the consequence of his trauma on its head and “using” it for something he wants. And it’s his right to do that, because it’s his trauma—but he can’t learn to do all of that without the help of the love of his life.

... Because Steve—while first and foremost being in love with a man he thought he could never have (until now) for approximately the past one hundred years—sort of gets off on the idea of Bucky being an absolute ‘pervert’ for him (and that would be Bucky’s word, not mine). It makes Steve feel wanted and sexy, even if it kind of makes him feel like a pervert himself for wanting Bucky to want all of those nasty things from him. Basically, Steve’s kink is Bucky having this visceral desire to do depraved-sounding things to him, and he’s got some internalized kink-shame about it, but then he kind of... gets off on that shame. But again: this complicated double-shame is Steve’s issue, so Steve gets to “use” it however Steve wants.

All of that said... Jesus fucking Christ, Steve has absolutely waited his entire life to get dick like this. 

[Warnings: nsft / 18+, Dom/Sub, dacryphilia, many anal things, sex toys, derogatory names and self-slut-shaming, fantasies about some... pretty hardcore BSDM stuff. No Ao3 archive warnings would apply, but read at your own risk.] 

Here is a list of a few things I imagine happens in their bed after the end of Rhapsody in Pink:

Bucky learns to accept that it’s okay that his own orgasms feel fucking feral anytime he gets Steve to cry on his cock

Steve learns to accept that it’s okay to be proud of how smooth and “tiny” (Bucky’s word, not mine) and pink his own asshole is

They learn together that Bucky has a natural penchant for the most disgusting dirty talk:

“Yeah, sweetheart, wanna mess up those sore, puffy tits, hold ‘em together for me”

“Gonna smack this sweet hole while it’s squeezin’ my dick”

“Right there, Stevie, keep your head right fuckin’ there, be good for me while I fuck my cock between these fat, pretty lips”

Bucky pries it out of one very blushy Steve that he has a dildo in his closet, but, he just—he can’t. Steve can’t bring it out. It’s one thing for Bucky to know how much Steve likes the things Bucky does to him, but it’s another thing entirely for Bucky to see his filthy toy (Steve thought it was a really big dildo when he bought it; it’s really not) and know what a desperate fucking, just... slut (Steve’s word, not mine) that he was before all this. Still is.

... But Bucky needs it. He needs to see Steve use his little shame toy on himself so badly that one day he ties his own dick and balls up in a cock ring and fucks so many subsequent orgasms out of Steve that Steve is sobbing and begging for a break and his entire face is a red, snotty, tear-stained mess, until eventually Steve craves a reprieve from the overstimulation so badly that he agrees to get his toy out. 

(Steve pauses when he finally gets in the closet, but then Bucky follows him in and fucks him one more time over the shoe-rack just for the hesitation. Bucky milks his prostate until Steve frantically grabs the box and gets it down.)

Steve does beg Bucky to do—or at least tell him about—all those dark, depraved things that he said he would kill another man for doing to Steve. Bucky tells him about the visions his mind-fucked head has shown him of tying Steve down to the Avenger’s kitchen table with clamps on his chest and a cage on his cock and fucking Steve dry in front of anyone who could walk in. He tells Steve about the dozen different times Bucky came from thoughts of choking Steve until his face was blue and his dick was wet. He tells Steve about his drug-addled dreams of having two of himself so that he could fuck Steve with two cocks at the same time. He tells Steve about the time he jerked off so hard to the image of Steve’s ass swallowing down his vibranium fist that his dick started to bleed. They don’t actually do any of those things, though, because it’s never been that Bucky wants really them, but the thought that Bucky wants him enough for his withdrawal-sick mind to even imagine those things makes Steve come from nothing but listening and rutting his dick against Bucky’s jeans. 

(Okay... maybe they do try that last one. And maybe they use Steve’s loose, stretched body and his little shame toy to get as close to that other one as they can without time travel or cloning.)

... But first, before any of that, Bucky wakes up the morning after he first fucked Steve and spends an hour kissing his hole slow and wet and sweet and loving, just like he’s kisses Steve’s mouth.

Steve cuddles Bucky every night and congratulates him for learning to take his own body and mind back.

Hopefully I didn’t ruin my babies for you too hard 😅

[x]