IM GONNA LOSE MY MIND HE'S ALL I DRAW GOD I HAVE BECOME SO CRINGE!! Anyway, Kittji~! (my Brain Is Rotting-)

Just thinking about Dick freaking out over losing his title of best uncle to Jason.

Dick showing up to take Lian out and give Roy a break only to hear she's having a fun day with Jason

Dick walking into the room with the toy he knows Lian really wanted, only to find out Jason got it for her first.

Dick showing up to game night at Roy's only to find Jason already there.

Just Dick getting increasingly frustrated and his rival Jason having no clue well the the rest watch on in humor and exasperation. Roy finds the who thing hilarious.

Picturing it all coming to a head when Dick is babysitting Lian and she shows him a new photo they put up. Dick all dejectivly being like, "look, it's you and your favorite uncle."

The pure shock and joy he feels when Lian tells him he wrong and her favorite uncle is "you uncle Dickie, duh!"

The door opening and Lian shouting "Papa!" As dick turns to excitedly tell Roy what Lian said only to see it's Jason who's holding Lian.

Dick just bluescreening.

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. *_________*

omg #22

DOMESTIC AU sleepy rogers gets sassy 

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

Jason’s alcohol tolerance is exactly 0.09%, which Dick knows. Which is the primary reason he roped his siblings into playing a drinking game.

At most, Steph, who likes to think she’s fluent in Jason, — or Batboys with repressed emotions, at least, — anticipated the following:

Angry shouting, maybe some swear words God definetly didn’t approve of, trying to fist fight Alfred’s plants, painting the Batmobile pink, and the works.

She definitely didn’t expect a ruby cheeked Jason to cry in Bruce’s lap.

“What the fuck are we gonna do if we don’t know eachother in the next life, huh?!”

Tim piped up with an a nerdy rant, — technically, if life were to reinvent itself into another existence, it’d simply be an alternative universe being created, — but Jason simply throws his shoe at him.

Bruce, much to Damian’s pride, doesn’t look shaken in the slightest. If he can handle his mother, he can handle everything,

“Sweetheart, I really think that’s not going to happen, thought,” he assures him with gentle conviction.

“But we’re not gonna know eachother! What the FUCK. I want to be your son in every life. I’m gonna kill God.”

“Please don’t kill God.”

“We’re Jewish, what do we care?!”

“Jay,” Bruce promised, “I would find you in every universe.”

That was supposed to make Jason feel better, not make him cry harder. But it’s cute Bruce tried, Dick thinks.

He still grounds all of them for paining the Batmobile, thought.

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]

What if: the Gotei 13 offers Ichigo the creation and captaincy of the Fourteenth Division?

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Pinglist: @queen-sands​

Notes: Literally no plot happens here whoops.

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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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it wasn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was going to make him say it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Bruce silently agreed with him.