Honestly Tho Bucky Saying "I'm Sweet On You" Just Might Be MY Everything. I Mean Just How Much More Sappy

Out of curiosity, and because you've mentioned it before: how do you think a friendship between ichigo and aizen would go down? *tosses in a time travel bit, just in case, because why not?*

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Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. In general, I’m not a huge fan of Ichigo & Aizen interaction unless Aizen’s just there to fill the enemy role. It’s not like I hate it, it’s just I’m usually not interested in it.

But.

Let’s say Yhwach wins. Soul Society is destroyed. Most people are dead. All that good-bad stuff. Ichigo gets sent back. Along with Aizen. They’re basically the only two powerhouses left, and SK figures if anyone can stop his son, it’s these two with all the knowledge and experience they have against Yhwach. And also if anyone can keep Aizen in check without literally locking him up, it would be Ichigo.

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Some of my favourite behind the scenes photos from the making of the prequel trilogy.

BONUS:

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 ⚠️

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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.

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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 ~

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.

bruce subtly ruins every romantic relationship jason ever has. he tells himself that he's protecting jason, watching over him like a father would, that they simply aren't good enough for him. he would never allow himself to acknowledge the real reason behind it.

every time jason starts seeing someone, bruce finds something wrong with them. he will make background checks, quiet investigation, anything that might expose a flaw or a secret.

when he finds something, he will use it. dropping hints, a stray comment to jason that makes him doubt the relationship.

if he doesn't find anything, bruce will create something. carefully manipulate situations or planting subtle lies or rumors.

if jason brings someone to the manor, bruce's demeanor is cold, detached. but he's careful, never overtly hostile, but enough to make his presence feel slightly oppressive.

and sometimes, bruce doesn't stop there. if that isn't enough, he will interfere directly. messages go missing, phone calls gets interrupted, misunderstandings are fueled by bruce's careful meddling.

with each ruined relationship, bruce feels a sick satisfaction, knowing jason will always come back to him—alone, hurt, and in need of comfort, even if jason never says it out loud.

and every time, bruce is there, arms open, grip tightening, pulling jason deeper into the life he has so carefully constructed for him. jason was never meant to belong to anyone else—he's always been his, and bruce will do whatever it takes to make sure it stays that way.

I'm obsessed with beefcake!Bucky's thick muscular abs/waist. It's just. SO BIG AND TONED I CANT TAKE MY EYES OFF OF IT. And I love that Bucky's big where Steve's small even after the serum. Like waist. Or thighs. THOSE THIGHS. Just. Ugh. I bet Steve (and Bucky too) love these differences between their bodies either. Right???

unf, GOD, yes. You are on my level, Nani.

I mean, they’re of a similar height now and I’d say their shoulder width is around the same but other than that? Steve’s still so much smaller!

Imagine him in Bucky’s clothes. Shuffling around the kitchen in Bucky’s pajama bottoms, still half-asleep and seemingly oblivious to the collective stare of his teammates on him. Everyone watching the way those pants slide low on his hips because of how tiny his waist is in comparison to Bucky’s.

Sam griping, “dear god, put a shirt on before Stark has a coronary; it’s seven am, Rogers, people can’t deal with this,” and then face-palming when Steve comes back wearing one of Bucky’s big sweaters.

Fits him near perfect around the shoulders but too big everywhere else.

…I’m now imagining this in the oblivious-couple/bedsharing universe and my heart eyes are strong.

Bedsharing and snuggling and clothes-sharing, oh my. *_________*

Having a bad day do you have any fluffy stucky headcanons that would cheer me up. Ps love your blog so much

So I asked medieisme to help me get the ball rolling with fluffy headcanons, right, because I usually require some sort of starting point.

She said, “BUCKY BEAR.”

Now, I have written about Steve obtaining a Bucky Bear - not just any, either, Bucky’s Bucky Bear - and then I said, “okay but imagine when Bucky comes back.”

Because Steve, he sleeps with that bear every night. Can’t help himself. From the moment it becomes his again, its place is in his bed. He snuggles right up to it at night and probably imagines that he can still catch Bucky’s scent on it even though that’s practically impossible at this point.

And then Bucky comes back. And James Buchanan Barnes, he is a jealous sonuvabitch when it comes to Steve Rogers. It seems ridiculous to be jealous of his own damn bear but he fucking is.

Because he and Steve, they’re still tip-toeing around each other, still trying to act like they don’t ache for each other at all hours of the day, and there’s that damn bear, in Steve’s bed, being held by Steve every night, getting the fucking privilege of having Steve’s head rest on its chest every night.

Finally, Bucky, he just can’t take it anymore. Bedtime comes and there’s Steve, snuggled in his bed with his fucking Bucky Bear, and Bucky can’t take another night of being exiled to another room. Of being alone when Steve is right there.

So he climbs right into bed with him and yanks the bear away, tosses the damn thing away.

“Buck!” Steve looks at him, wide-eyed, but Bucky just lays down and yanks Steve closer.

“Me,” he says, angry. “I’ll be your damn Bucky Bear, not that thing.”

Steve melts right against him, laying over Bucky just the way he used to; leg thrown across his hips, head on his chest, clinging to him with all the strength he has. Used to, that wasn’t much strength at all. Now, it’s a lot, but Bucky doesn’t mind.

In the morning, Steve will tease him mercilessly once he’s got over his heart-eyes/shock but Bucky will not give one iota of a fuck. No, because he got his Steve Rogers snuggles and that’s the important thing to take away from this.

The Stormlight Archive: Secret History

(video by nathanthecatlady)

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+

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“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!