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navybrat817 · 7 months

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Incandescent

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Steve Rogers x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader x Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes Summary: Bucky and Steve try to put on a show for you. Word Count: Over 1.7k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, implied vaginal and anal sex, threesome, bondage, dirty talk, tension, polyamory, possessive behavior, porn with feels (it’s me, c’mon), tattooed Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers (they’re warnings, okay?) A/N: Welcome back to my Howling Commandos Tattoo AU! Have you missed them? I know I have! I was nervous posting this as this my first dive into dynamics with Steve and Bucky, but I love it. If that isn't your jam, feel free to skip! ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Banner created by yours truly, but Bucky and Steve photos were provided by the talented @nixakimbo ! Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky and Steve were your world. You weren’t afraid to voice that. In fact, you were proud to be on their arms when you were out together. You had their hearts and vice versa. You were their best girl. Their Blossom. Nothing would ever change that.

But once you got your hands on them, you were going to strangle them. Not enough to inflict real damage. You would never. You loved them. But they were going to feel some sort of wrath.

Fucking tattooed bastards.

You struggled against the binds, your wrists bound tight enough to keep you from escaping, but not enough to hurt you. Like you wouldn't hurt your boys, they would never harm you either. Your core throbbed enough to ache when they knelt on each side of you and faced each other on the bed.

Why did I let them talk me into tying me up? Damn them and their persuasiveness.

As Bucky moved his hand upwards to cup Steve's cheek, they smiled. From their profiles, you caught a hint of playfulness and something deeper before their lips met. A bond between two men who had been through hell and back together. Somehow you became their heaven on earth, allowing them to be with you and each other. And wasn't that the beauty in your relationship? Boundlessly loving and trusting each other?

No. I will not get mushy. Not when I'm frustrated.

Bucky’s tongue darted out to lick along Steve’s bottom lip as he pulled away. “I think Blossom wants a taste,” he said, turning his head to wink at you. Had you voiced your frustrations out loud or did he know you well enough that being a mere spectator wouldn't be enough today?

Both.

“And she’ll get one when we’re ready,” Steve stated, a sympathetic smile on his face as he gazed down at you. You wondered if he was secretly a sadist since he seemed to take pleasure in your current “pain”. “We made you too greedy, didn’t we, sweetheart?”

You squinted, trying your best to glare when they chuckled at your predicament. “You know why I’m greedy? Because you two can’t keep your hands off me OR your tongues, fingers, and cocks out of me. Excuse me for getting a bit used to it when you're to blame.”

Steve chuckled at that, not disagreeing with you.

He better not. I'm right.

A coo left Bucky’s mouth as he leaned down, his lips moving along your cheek before they stopped at your ear. “Who said we’re not giving you our tongues, fingers, AND cocks? Stevie and I just wanna have a little fun first while you watch. Is that so bad? Hmm?”

You whined in response, your hips rising and pussy begging for attention. Mandy joked that your libido was in permanent overdrive thanks to your boys and she wasn’t wrong. Your body craved and welcomed them. They fit like a glove, missing pieces that made you whole.

It was also a sight watching them. The view alone would've been enough to disintegrate your panties had they not destroyed them already. But tying you up so you couldn’t touch? Not even a small feel of Bucky’s bicep or Steve’s chest? It was cruel and unusual punishment and there would be retribution. Those bastards would rue the day.

No clue how, but they will.

“Do you need to touch us that badly? Are you that desperate for us?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow when Bucky leaned back up.

“Yes! Have you seen you two?” You asked as they shifted their gazes to look each other over. They shed their clothes before they bound you to the headboard, giving you a chance to admire them. Hard muscles, sculpted tattoo gods, one blonde and one brunette. “You were created for at least one person in the world to worship you and drive people insane.”

“Aww, I think she wants to worship us,” Bucky smiled, gliding a hand down Steve’s chest. You watched the blonde swiftly inhale, knowing how much he loved the slow drag down his body. “What do you think?”

“Buck,” Steve groaned when Bucky firmly wrapped a hand around his cock.

“Maybe you can fuck my throat first?” The brunette suggested, lazily pumping him as you bit your lip. “Or at least let me get my mouth around it. Get your cock sloppy and wet before you fuck our girl.”

“Please,” you moaned, unable to spread your legs any further since they were still planted on either side. “I need it.”

If begging is what it takes, I'll do it.

“Or you can suck my cock before I fuck her? I know you love watching me slide in and out of her sweet pussy. She always takes me so well,” Bucky went on, Steve’s eyes slipping shut as he began to leave open mouth kisses on his neck. You understood why Steve shivered. Bucky had a very talented mouth. “Too bad she can’t touch herself while she watches like last time.”

Yeah. Too fucking bad.

“Touch her, Buck,” Steve ordered, making you and Bucky gasp when he gripped his hair and pulled him back with a smirk. “Slip those fingers in her cunt and show me how soaked she is from the sight of us.”

You were fairly certain that Bucky and Steve were the only men in the world who could speak about you like you weren’t there and get you hot and bothered. They didn’t have to touch you to prove how wet you were, but you weren’t going to stop Bucky from curling his digits inside you. Especially when Steve gave the order in that deep, husky tone.

“Please, Bucky?” You asked sweetly, raising your hips again. “I know I've been a little mouthy and impatient, but please? Show Stevie how wet my pretty pussy is?”

You shrieked when Bucky’s hand suddenly came down on your throbbing cunt, the smack loud in your ears. “Not your pussy, doll. It’s ours. Now be good and open up,” he said, his voice rough as he bent down and spread your lips apart with one hand, the other still pumping Steve’s hard cock. “Our pussy really is pretty. What a fucking sight.”

“You gonna apologize for calling our pussy yours?” Steve questioned, arching into Bucky’s touch the moment he slipped two fingers inside your wet hole. It hardly stung, the relief as he thrust his fingers making you whimper. “I think you owe us one.”

“Okay. I'm sorry, you fucking tattooed bastards,” you said, smiling dreamily at Steve when he narrowed his eyes. He said to apologize, but didn’t say anything about getting mouthy. Again.

“And this is why we tied you up,” he said, wiping the smile off your face. “You beautiful brat.”

Not fair.

“Oh. Now you’re being mean, Steve,” Bucky said, smirking when he brushed a thumb over your swollen clit. “But I’m not mean, doll. Gimme a few minutes and I’ll get my mouth on your perfect tits. Love hearing you whimper when I drag your nipples between my teeth.”

You shuddered with your next breath, your breasts lightly shaking with your exhale. Both sets of eyes on you darkened at the movement, your cheeks hot as you squirmed. Maybe being tied up wasn’t such a bad thing after all. It didn’t give you a chance to hide from their hungry gazes. It left you open, vulnerable, ready for whatever they gave you.

And you’d take it all because you were strong and eager enough, just like they took everything you gave them. It made sense why you were their Blossom. You bloomed into the person you were now and they helped you continue to grow. In some ways, you did the same for them.

“And who said I’m not getting a taste of anything?” Steve said, batting Bucky’s hand away from his cock. “Take your fingers out.”

Bucky swiftly removed them, making you whine at the loss. A punched sound came from your gut a heartbeat later when Steve gripped Bucky’s wrist and sucked his fingers into his mouth with a grunt, not stopping until they were clean. “I may not need to get your dick wet if she's that soaked. You might be able to slide on in while I fuck you.”

Fuck, please.

It was Bucky’s turn to tremble when Steve nipped at his earlobe. “I think you’d like that. Me at your back. Her at your front. Both of us loving you the way you deserve,” he said, before he turned a fond gaze your way. One that made your throat go dry. “Loving each other the way we all deserve. I know our best girl would agree.”

“Of course, I do,” you whispered. That wasn't lust speaking, but the pure adoration you had for them.

“I love you both so much,” Bucky said without fear or hesitation, his blue eyes sparkling with joy.

You stopped shifting against the mattress, tears threatening to clog your throat. How could they simultaneously turn you on and resort you to happy crying? They made your heart and holes full.

“Love you both, too,” you said, your chest rising and falling with your next breath. “And I’ll be good and watch until you’re ready for me.”

Bucky swooped down to catch your parted lips with his. Heat surged through your body as his tongue fervently tasted your mouth. As quickly as it began, it stopped so Steve’s mouth could replace his. It was just as demanding and hungry as Bucky’s before they turned their attention back to each other, leaving you a panting mess as you watched captivated as they licked and sucked, their kiss rough and desperate.

You knew exactly how they felt.

Steve’s hand closed around Bucky’s cock, swallowing down his groan of pleasure as you could only look on. You found yourself smiling again as they got lost in each other, each of them making sure to keep a hand on you. They were beautiful. They were yours. And they were your home.

Still might strangle them a bit once I’m free. Nah. I’ll just sit on their faces. Much better way to suffocate them.

Until they took care of you, you’d enjoy the show.

Blossom already has a revenge plan brewing. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Stucky Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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theinheriteddutchess · 6 months

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Ok @georgiapeach30513 it was because of your story, but I want these on my blog so, I'm just doing this here.

#Steve Rogers #tattood au #piercings and tattoos au #Your Mark On Me inspiration #ai fanart

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sarahowritesostucky · 3 months

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📖Make it Stick: Pt. 3 The Knight

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 3195

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly.

Wait! I haven't read part 1, part 2!

“Nnn, pl-please…”

Her gasp is hardly audible this time, she’s so out of breath.

Panting from the way the second orgasm’s just ripped through her. And she’s crying still, but only just. Not like before. Because now the pleasure’s overtaken most of the anger, all of the fear, and even some of the humiliation. Bucky pulls his hands from her and delicately eases her panties back into place, smooths her little slip of a dress out for her. He looks up from his spot on the floor.

Her chest heaves with her breathing, the underside of her breasts—beautiful and natural under the silk—on full display for Bucky from this angle. And, Christ, her nipples are pebbled up, just begging for attention. Bucky sees Steve refixing his hold on her waist to support her because she’s gone so slack. She’s shaking against him, his body practically the only thing keeping her vertical at this point.

Inside his pants, Bucky is … uncomfortable. He slowly pushes up from where he’s been kneeling in front of her, coming back to stand at his full height and crowd in close again. He cages her between his body and Steve’s, hands landing on her waist right alongside Steve’s own. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, mockingly tender. “Don’t you want to say thank you for your orgasm?” He leans in so that the words are whispered against the side of her head. He’s staring at Steve as he says it, and when Lena’s mortified, overwhelmed little whimper comes in response, he doesn’t miss how Steve’s mouth twitches at the corner. Steve likes to play the white knight—and maybe he sort of is, compared to Bucky, but even still, he’s no sweetheart. And he’s enjoying the heck out of this. “Are you hard?” Bucky whispers, and he feels his sweet puppy’s body stiffen between them as she figures out who he’s talking to.

“You have to ask?” Steve answers, the rumble of his voice no doubt felt against Polina’s back. She makes another little outraged cry when Steve presses forward, driving his erection against her backside and pushing her more tightly up against Bucky.

Bucky, who helpfully slots his thigh back between her legs. She shivers as her sex is pressed up against him, going stock still to avoid any stimulation. Bucky coos down at her. He lets go of her waist and cups her face with one hand, tucking her hair behind her ear with the other. “Aw, princess,” he murmurs. “You sensitive now? Hm?”

She sniffles and nods her head. She’s been much more forthcoming ever since the suppository and the pill worked their way into her system. Behind the glossy sheen of her tears, her pupils are even wider and darker than Steve’s. It’s hardly taken any work at all to get her to come twice for him, she’s so keyed up.

Bucky tuts lovingly and brings the still buzzing vibrator up in front of her face. He twists the base, turning it off. Lena’s whole body slumps between them with relief, and Bucky chuckles. “Don’t get too excited. This might not be over for you.”

“W-what …” she swallows dryly. “What do you mean?”

“You still have a choice to make.” Bucky taps the little bullet vibrator against her lips. “Open.” She clamps her mouth shut stubbornly, so Bucky shrugs and rubs it over her instead, smearing her own release onto her lips. He leans in and slots his mouth over hers, licking the taste of her right back. “Mmm,” he hums. “Somebody’s been drinking their pineapple juice.”

She’s glowering at him when he pulls back. Bucky licks his lips like he’s savoring the last taste of a fatty meal. He can tell from the look on her face that he’s actually right: she has been drinking it. He feels a rush of fondness mixed with anger come at that—Fond, because it’s proof that she takes even his smallest teachings to heart.

“No, seriously. That’s why I have a glass each morning. It makes cum taste sweeter. … Pussy, too.”

Anger, because it’s not him she’s been drinking it for.

He forces the latter emotion away with a deep breath and a long exhale. He doesn’t have to be angry, because nobody but him is ever going to taste that pussy again. … Well, almost nobody but him. “Okay, little one,” he sighs. “Time to make a choice.” He reaches around her and tucks the vibe back into Steve’s pocket. Then he looks down and meets her gaze.

Her pretty blue eyes are wide but dazed, high from the drugs coursing through her system. Bucky smiles and cups her face with both hands. She’s so fucking beautiful, with her round little face and plush lips, her pretty blue eyes. They’re near arctic in color—closer to Steve’s cornflower blue than Bucky’s own muddled blue-grey. Sharp and clear, like ice underwater, and positively gorgeous when they’re crying.

Lena sniffles and Bucky’s heart twinges with affection. He leans in and kisses her cheeks, cleaning up her tears. “You need to listen to me now, Polina,” he murmurs, feeling her shudder underneath his touch. “Are you listening?”

She whines a little, not able to give up completely on her stubbornness, even now. Bucky loves her so goddamn much. She tries to squirm in their hold again, but as soon as her over sensitized clit bumps Bucky’s thigh, she’s calming back down. “What?” she asks quietly, sniffling and trying to put on a stiff upper lip. It’s cute.

“It’s up to you, how this goes,” Bucky tells her. He looks over to his right and catches the eye of one of the widows. It’s Belova. He jerks his head for her to go and get the supplies that are waiting in the wings. She disappears and reappears with a rolling tray table of tattoo supplies. “This,” he says to Lena, “is what’s happening.”

She squints in confusion at it for a second or two—the tray of gauze and ointment, inks and gloves and gun—before her eyes register the stencil and read it … and go wide in realization. She jerks in their hold, thrashing, tossing her head back against Steve’s chest in another vain attempt to hurt him. “No!” she huffs, the sound breaking into a pitiful whimper at the end, despite her bravery. “No, you can’t!”

Bucky waits her out, and sure enough, her little tantrum dies down. She cries, and he wipes those tears away, too. “Shh,” he soothes. “It’s not so bad.”

“It is!” she cries. “I hate you. I hate you!”

“You’re a smart girl, Lena. You can’t tell me you didn’t always know you’d wind up here.” He tilts her chin up when she refuses to look at him. Her tearful, angry eyes meet his, and he offers her a tender smile. He gives her another kiss, just a peck on the lips, this time. “I always get what I want, sora mica,” he murmurs, right against her lips.

Little sister.

She shudders underneath his touch but doesn’t shirk away, and Bucky preens because he knows the war that’s going on in her head right now, even if she’ll never admit to it. Revulsion, mixed with lust, and darkness, and something too close for comfort to love. It’s what he used to feel, back before he decided to give up on conventional morality altogether. Poor little Lena, though, he thinks sadly. She hasn’t gotten there yet. Oh well, she’s young, she’ll learn.

“Now,” he tells her, thumbing over the familial cleft in her chin. “You have two choices, sweet pea. You ready to listen to ‘em?”

She grits her teeth and purses her lips in an angry little moue, stubborn thing, though she capitulates when Bucky tightens his grip on her chin. “Yes,” she whispers tightly.

Bucky smiles. “Okay. Now, two things are happening, no matter what,” he says, raising a warning eyebrow at her. “You’re getting this tattooed on your body … and Gleb back there is going for a long swim in the Hudson.” He waits her out while she throws another hissy fit over that, tears leaking and eyes burning up at him. Bucky sighs and looks off to the side until it’s over. Then, when she’s slumped back against Steve again, all tuckered out, he continues, “If you hold still like a good girl, I won’t take your dress off in front of all these people, won’t force any more orgasms outta you down here where everyone can see. And Gleb’ll get wheeled off to his morphine and an easy death. No torture, just the widow’s bite—lickety-split, no fuss-no muss.”

He watches as her eyes flare and her face crumples with suppressed emotion. She composes herself faster this time, though, and he continues softly, drawing her lip down with his thumb. “But, if you make things difficult? I’ll have you squirting all over this floor before I knock you out and ink you while you’re unconscious. And Gleb will have …” he looks off to the side, as if trying to parse out his words, “... mmm, he’ll have a very stressful weekend.” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, squeezing her chin sternly enough that it smooshes her cheeks the barest bit. “Are you gonna be good?”

She looks torn for a second or two, but then her eyes slip closed in defeat. In Bucky’s hand, she gives the tiniest of nods.

Bucky’s pleased, but he wants more from her. “Tell me,” he commands. “You’re gonna hold nice and still?”

She sniffles and nods again. “Yes,” she breathes. “I’ll hold s-still. I’ll … I’ll be good.”

Her meek response satisfies him. Feeling a sudden wash of tenderness towards her, he leans down and presses their foreheads together and whispers, “Thank you, little one. You know how I hate to see you struggle.”

She shivers against him but doesn’t throw out any bratty quip. She keeps her eyes down, avoidant. Sighing, Bucky pulls back and steps aside to have a word with Belova. He tells her his plans for Gleb, and she gives a sharp nod and heads off to handle it. Bucky knows then that he can put the idiot man from his mind for good. The widows will more than take care of him.

Bucky returns to Steve and Lena, ready to get to work. Really, he’d prefer Natasha to be the one doing this. Bucky’s no amateur with the gun, but he’s not as good as she is. Oh well. He has a steady hand, and the design is extremely simple. Just that one phrase, in cyrillic:

собственность дракона.

Translated roughly, it means: Property of the Dragon.

“Steve,” Bucky says. “Sit with her on the bench. It’ll help keep her calm.”

Along with the cart of tattoo supplies, a rolling stool, a bench, and a padded armrest have been brought over from the Red Room. Steve all but lifts Lena and brings her over there, straddling the bench first before pulling her to straddle it in front of him. Bucky goes about setting up, snapping on a pair of black vinyl gloves while Steve wraps his arms around Lena’s waist and murmurs quietly into her ear. Bucky smiles at the pair of them. Steve cares about Polina, too, has known her for almost a decade, and he’s always had a knack for calming her down. A good thing, since Bucky’s so naturally gifted at riling her up.

He sits on the stool and scoots over to them. Lena watches him warily. Steve’s used both his and Bucky’s discarded ties to bind her arm down at the wrist and at the bend of her elbow, in case she gets second thoughts about her promise of good behavior. Bucky’s mouth quirks at the ingenuity, and his dick twitches at the optics. He’ll have to take a picture, one he’s got the ink in. A shot of her arm; reddened and bleeding with his mark, and his and Steve’s neckties framing it. Fuck, he might jerk off to it sometime.

He spends a minute getting the ink prepared, and then he carefully cleans her inner forearm and applies the stencil. It’s small but long, stretching almost the full length between the ties. It’ll take a good hour or more in its entirety, but Bucky isn’t a sadist: His little one has been through a lot, and they’ve got a long night ahead of them once they take her upstairs. Bucky wants that time to be spent mostly in pleasure, not pain. They’ll just do the outline, for now.

Lena whimpers when the paper peels back from her skin, revealing the design left behind. “Bucky,” she pleads, though one look up at him and her begging stalls. Bucky gives her a grim, apologetic look, and she knows. She knows she’s not getting out of this. She whines lowly and turns her face into Steve’s shoulder.

“Shhh,” he soothes her, his big arms wrapped tightly around her waist, comforting and restraining all at once. “You’ll be fine, hon. This is how it has to be.”

Bucky settles himself and the gun, then turns it on. Soon, the buzzing fills the small space between the three of them. In the background there’s still the noise of the club: music, chatter, bodies moving around. But in their little corner in the back, it almost feels private now that they’re centered around what Bucky’s about to do to her. “Okay, malyshka,” he murmurs, waiting until he’s got her full attention. “Watch the gun. Don’t want you jerking around in surprise.”

He’s a little taken aback by the emotions that hit, as he brings the needle down and starts inking her for the first time. He’s marking her permanently, branding her as his in a way that will never wash off, and from which she can never escape. And despite her tears and the ties binding her arm down, she is sitting there for him, allowing it. That goes straight to Bucky’s cock as sure as anything else he’s ever done to her, and he spends the rest of the session focusing on each line and curve, putting the red ink underneath her skin and trying to work out what it is that’s twisting up in his gut so bad. There’s lust and possessiveness, that much he expected, but there’s also a certain amount of … melancholy? Maybe. Whatever it is, it’s there too. A feeling of resolution, of an era coming to an end. Arousing and yet oddly bittersweet.

Lena’s fist is already clenched when he starts, but he can see her body stiffening further as the burn of the needle really sets in. Her arm flexes and her fingers curl harder into her palm, the veins popping against the strained lock of her inner elbow. Steve keeps up a gentle litany of praise and reassurance in her ear, half of which Bucky hears and half of which he misses due to his own focus on the gun. He’d love to take Steve’s place, be the one to hold her and comfort her through this, but that’s just not possible because he simply doesn’t trust anyone else to do the work.

He’s even glad that Natasha refused to do it, at this point. Because this isn’t just any tattoo. It’s personal and intimate. A promise as good as any wedding ring. Probably better-than, in the fidelity it’ll enforce. Not on Lena’s part, poor thing, but on the part of any man who might dare to entertain the idea of an affair with her. One look at her arm, and that idea would go straight up in smoke. These red words are branding her for life, in more ways than one. It’s only right that Bucky be the one to do it.

“Almost done,” he murmurs when he’s finishing up at her wrist. It’s the most painful area, and he regrets saving it for last. But his girl does beautifully and keeps relatively still, sometimes hissing or whining in pain but never asking for a break, and never twitching enough to throw Bucky off course. He finishes the outline and sits back, setting the gun aide on the cart and reaching for the salve. He smiles at his little one, who by now has stopped crying. “Good job, sweet pea,” he praises softly.

Her defenses are down from having all of her focus on something other than him for so long. She only blushes a little when he uses the nickname, and says nothing snarky back. Bucky’s heart pulls with it. In Steve’s lap, she watches as Bucky uses a tongue depressor to apply the salve in long, smooth strokes over the raw areas. She blinks at her arm like she’s fully waking from a dream. “... That’s it?” she asks, sounding surprised, maybe even disappointed—though that’s probably just Bucky’s wishful thinking.

“For now,” he tells her, bringing out the non-stick pads and adhesive wrap. He’s giving her all the aftercare that he’s neglected on himself—already the back of his neck and shoulders feels tight and unpleasant, and he doesn’t want the same for her. Steve pulls the ties loose to release her arm, and Bucky explains, “You have delicate skin, sweetheart. We’ll let this heal, fill it in another time. Add some other design elements, if you want.” He catches her look of surprise and smiles, then looks away before her expression can shutter on him. He gently applies the pads along her skin, wrapping her up in an opera glove’s length worth of neon pink animal print bandaging, nice and tight. “There you go.”

“Cheetah print, really?”

“Just special for you, my little hellcat. Don’t worry, you can take it off tomorrow.” He rolls out on the stool and goes around to stand just in front of the bench. Briefly, he meets Steve’s eyes, and they have a short, non-verbal conversation, at the end of which Steve nods smally in agreement. “Okay,” Bucky says, reaching out to palm Lena’s face.

She automatically goes to shirk away from it, but Steve whispers something in her ear—Bucky doesn’t hear what—and it makes her settle. She bites her lip and peeks up at Bucky through her lashes and ruined makeup. “I was good,” she whispers, like she’s half-sure Bucky’s going to revoke his end of the deal.

He tries not to let it show on his face, how that hurts him. “Yeah, sweetheart. You were very good.” He bends over to kiss the top of her head, then turns and searches out Belova. She’s standing next to Maximoff now, over at the bar. Bucky goes over and holds out his hand. Pietro shakes first, Yelena second. “Thank you,” he tells them. “For bringing her back safely.”

“Again,” Yelena says with a smirk and a semi-suppressed eyeroll.

“You should get a leash,” Pietro jokes.

“Or a homing beacon.”

Bucky waves them off (though the homing beacon idea has occurred before), telling them to go back to their drinks and enjoy their evening. He doesn’t bother asking if the Gleb issue’s been dealt with—he knows from the look on Belova’s face that it has.

Part four

Masterlist

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Drawn Together 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

I saw this and had to

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You are not a rebel. You are clean cut. You live within very precise boundaries. Minimizing every part of yourself to evade notice. Rules are not meant to be broken, despite that old cliche.

That is until that day. It's foolish, you know it. That voice in the back of your head repeats your foreboding. You know you can't go back. There isn't a magic eraser for this one.

Shut up.

You're over it. Over yourself. Over your boring life. You've never done one fun thing for just yourself. It's always been what has to be done. What must be done. You're thirty years old and you don't even know if you understand the concept of 'fun'.

You sit on the leather bench. Nervous and shaky as hell. There's still time to change your mind. You can take your deposit and go, with clean untainted skin.

No! You're not going to chicken out this time. You want one memory that doesn't end in you tucking tail and running.

"Do you like the sketch?" Sam, your assigned artist asks.

You glance over at him as he pulls on a pair of black gloves, his gun laid out and sterilised. You peek at the open sketchbook, the drawing of a simple red poppy outlined in black with a thick spiraled green stem. Nothing too big or extravagant, easy to hide. If your mother or father ever saw that, you would be excommunicated.

"I love it," your voice quavers and you clear your throat, "I'm sorry, I'm just a little anxious."

"That's fine. First time, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I don't even have piercings," you give a brittle chuckle, "I'm not really the adventurous type."

"I'm sure you are in your own way," he grins, a look that calms you. "So, we still set on ankle?"

"Um, yeah, I think that's good."

"As good a starting place as any. Glad I talked you off the ribs. Those are tender."

"Just an idea," you breathe, "I don't know much about these things."

"Not to worry, you're in good hands," he winks, "you can just relax," he rolls his stool to the foot of the bench, "and pop your leg up here."

"Right," you gulp down another chest full of air and follow his direction, "that's it?"

"And keep still. Tell me if you need a break. The pains a bit much at times so don't be afraid to speak up."

"Okay, sounds good," you try to settle in but your blood feels thick and your vision speckles with silver. Oh god, you're really going to do this.

"Don't hold your breath," he says, "really, I don't like my canvases passing out."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, you want something to drink before we start?"

"No, I'm good."

"Awesome," he says and grabs his gun, double checking the tip before moving back to your ankle. "Alright, I'll count down so you're not too surprised."

"Thanks," you fold your hands over your stomach as he positions your leg and bends forward.

He counts from three and you focus on not moving at the first stab of pain. Don't be a weak bitch. You grit your teeth and let out your breath as the gun buzzes loudly. The pain keeps a steady sear in your skin but you slowly get used to the sensation.

As he works, your eyes wander along the dark red walls and the artwork hanging all around. Tattoos in colour and black and white. The schematics of a tattoo gun. A falcon crest wrought in brass.

You hear the door open and the smoky voice of the other artist, Nat greets the newcomer you can't see past the pillar. The response is a deep, rocky timbre. You can only imagine the inked up brute behind it.

"Always with the notes," you hear a paper crinkle, "I'm the artist here, Rogers."

"Hey, I'm an artist too," the man counters lightly.

You peek over as the redhead woman appears on the other side of the pillar and guides her client through to her open workspace. An open curtain drapes against the wall at the other end of the shop. She sets down the page and tuts as she looks it over.

The man slides off a pair of dark sunglasses, black lenses with golden frames. He slips them into the pocket of his denim jacket and tugs at the sleeves. Their actions seem to be routine and you can see why. His arms are covered from wrist to shoulder in ink, a few smaller tattoos on his knuckles. Now you really feel out of place.

"Sam, what's up?" The other client calls over as he hangs the denim on the coat rack.

"What's it look like, Steve?" Sam says, his eyes not leaving your ankle.

You take in the interaction silently. You're a stranger among the usuals. The poser getting their taste of artificial danger. Your ankle tweaks and you smother a grunt between your teeth. The noise catches the blue eyes of the man, Steve.

You quickly avert your eyes back to Sam and knot your fingers together. Steve's shadow moves away. The artist at your bench hardly seems bothered but gives a shake of his head.

"You want the curtain?" Natasha asks as she approaches the black drapes.

"Nah, you know I don't care."

Your eyes flick up as the man peels off his tank top. Wow. You blink rapidly and make yourself act normal.

He lowers himself onto the leather seat as Natasha takes out her tools and starts sterilising. You once more force your attention back to Sam's careful work. It's going to take a while.

"You good?" He asks as he glances over, lifting the gun from your skin.

"Great," you murmur in an airy voice.

"Still nervous?"

"No, actually, kinda excited," you try not to speak too loud, overly mindful of the other client in the shop.

"Good," he hunches again and you suck in as he put the needle back to your skin. "So, what do you do? When you're not getting sick tats, that is?"

"Um, I, er, I teach. Music lessons."

"Music, huh? You seem like… the drummer type."

"Piano," you correct him, "I can carry a beat–" you pause to check the pain in your voice, "but I mostly teach piano."

"Classy," he remarks, "so, a poppy, any particular meaning to that?"

"Er, no, uh," you rub your neck nervously but make yourself quit moving, "it's my favourite flower."

"Pretty sombre fave but I get it," he remarks.

"Yeah, I guess…"

Your attention is drawn at the soft slap of skin and the rattle of metal. You look up as Steve retracts his hand and Natasha points at him with a sharp nail, "this is a sterile workspace."

He chuckles at her irritation and shows his palms before he sits back. He rolls his shoulders as he leans casually and twiddle his fingers against his jeans. Once more, your eyes meet and his mouth slants slightly. You gulp and look down again.

"So, any ideas for a second piece?" Sam asks.

"I think I'm gonna stick with one."

"Not gonna get a full bouquet?" He wonders.

"Not yet."

"Better get cozy, Rogers," Natasha says.

You look up as she sprays shaving foam onto his chest.

"You know this is my second home," he teases as he relaxes and she spreads the cream.

"Don't remind me," she grumbles as she takes a razor.

You tear away from your distraction once more. Gosh, it is painful. You don't know how people end up like him. Your tiny little flower will be more than enough for you.

You close your eyes and groan. Sam rests his hand on your calf. He squeezes as he pauses again.

"Need a break."

"No, keep going," you puff out.

You grip the side of the leather bench and bite down. You've always been a big baby. You bat away the gloss of tears threatening to confirm that and take another breath.

The subtle creak of leather pulls your gaze back across the room. Steve leans slightly around to see you past Nat as she shaves one side of his chest. You grimace and hide beneath your lashes.

Why is he looking at you like that? It must be amusing, someone like you in a place like that. Now you know this is definitely a mistake.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble series #mcu #marvel #captain america #sam wilson #natasha romanov #au #tattoo au

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pineapplebread · 1 year

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This is a little full circle moment for me, a little approval stamp on the first drawing that started the Tattoo AU. I started the series after Endgame, not expecting for it to be the multi year journey it has become. I’ve been asked many times if the Avengers have seen the art before.

I can now officially say, yes, Chris Evans has seen tattoo Steve. (He smiled down at the print, nodded and said, “I dig it. I like it.”)

I’m extremely emotional that so many of you guys are so happy for me. I’ve always said the Tattoo AU was a collaborative project, and it def wouldn’t have gone on for so long and with so much detail without the input and encouragement from the stevetony community. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart for your continued love and support of this series. I’m eternally grateful 💖

#tattoo steve #tattoo au #chris evans #steve rogers #stony #stevetony #superhusbands #mcu #marvel #my art #illustration #fanart #artists on tumblr

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Drawn Together Masterlist

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

#drabble #series #au #tattoo au #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #mcu #marvel #captain america

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steevbuckk · 7 months

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FAVORITE STUCKY FICS | 52/100

much tattoo about nothing by Deisderium

[Shrunkyclunks, 14 576 words, Explicit]

Summary:

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

more fics

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randomstuffjustrandom · 6 months

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Thor’s tattoos

Mother, Father, Heimdal, Loki, Tony and Natasha.

These are the people that he loves. These are the people he cares for the most. These are the people that have passed. This shows that Thor doesn’t know what happened to the rest like Steve being old or Clint being depressed. He himself hasn’t been the same either and he has a hard time accepting that things will never be the same.

#thor love and thunder #Thor #loki #loki laufeyson #Tony #tony stark #natasha romanoff #natasha #steve #steve rogers #clint #clint barton #avengers #odin #queen frigga #heimdall #tattoos #thor odinson

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duchessonfire · 1 year

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New Hands on Deck - Stucky, Explicit, AU: restaurant, Chef Steve, Waiter Bucky

Some people might call Bucky a shameless flirt.

They would say that just because Bucky knows Chef Steve is attracted to him doesn’t mean he should lap it up and squeeze it for everything he’s got.

And maybe they would be right. Maybe spending two hours at the gym and running late for work every day just so that his uniform will hug every single one of his muscles is in bad taste. Maybe preening at the way Steve clearly favors him over everyone else in the restaurant is tacky.

Too bad Bucky doesn’t give a shit.

~~~

Veteran Bucky Barnes slowly adapts to his new life as a civilian in NYC when he gets a job working at one of the finest luxury dining establishment in Brooklyn. The restaurant staff quickly becomes an extended family to him, but his relationship with the handsome and heavily-tattooed Head Chef Steve Rogers is more complicated...

For the @allcapsbingo March adoptable: AU - Chefs

A huge thank you to @sparkagrace for betareading and helping me brainstorm this story :)

Read chapter 1/7 on AO3:

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky moodboard #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve x bucky #chef steve #waiter bucky #tattooed steve rogers #gay bucky barnes #jewish bucky #bisexual steve rogers #duchess writes #allcapsbingo2023 #au: chefs

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georgiapeach30513 · 8 months

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Your Mark On Me, Part 1

Summary: when you need something to help you stay alert study, you found a whole lot more than you were looking for. Tatted and massive. He was what your dreams were made of, but is he a nightmare? He claimed you, and now he intends on keeping you. No matter what the cost.

Pairings: Tattooed!Steve Rogers X Innocent!Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, selling drugs, taking drugs (adderall/marijuana), non con/dub con thigh riding, thigh riding with an audience, taunting, threating, a bit of degradation, teasing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.3K

Series Masterlist

*Tattoo edit by the amazing @randomagnes0210

Putting your car into park, you take a deep breath as you stare at the club in front of you. If you weren’t desperate, you wouldn’t be here. You had run through all the possibilities in your head, and this seemed like the best solution. Your grades started to slip after the breakup, and it was like you couldn’t concentrate. You couldn’t stay awake, and you weren’t able to study.

But this was beyond desperation. This was complete lunacy to be driving up to the belly of the beast. The rumblings of this club were more than just gossip. People who started doing more than taking the pills came here. The allure of big money and protection with Steve Rogers was hard to resist.

You didn’t want to sell, but you also didn’t want to buy from anybody on campus. You just need a few pills to get through finals. That was all. Enough to keep you awake to study, and then you were out. It made sense to go straight to the source for that. You didn’t care what it took. You just need to stay alert.

Exhaling deeply, you get out of your car. The bass of the music rumbles deep in your body the closer you get, mimicking the pounding in your chest. You can hardly breathe, and you know that your pulse is visible. You didn’t do things like this. You can’t afford jail time or even a mark on your record. You’d lose all scholarships, and have to drop out, and this would all have been in vain.

Stepping up to the door, a brutish man towers over you. His shoulders are wide and broad, and his arms as thick as your legs. Casting your eyes down to the ground, you get a glint of metal as his fingers. The man tilts chin up, and you tremble. Your whole body shivers with fear.

“Why are you here? You look like a scared little lamb coming to slaughter. It’s just a night club, darling,” his silver blue eyes look behind you, casting their gaze all through the parking lot. Seemingly looking for someone with you before looking back at you.

“Are you alone?”

“Y-y-yes,” you hiccup, trying to tilt your head back down, but even his finger was enough to keep you in your place.

“Why are you here?”

“I-I-I…”

“You’re not cut out to be a pusher. Your fear shows you know exactly what goes on upstairs. You offering up your flesh? I’m sure there are several that would love to feast on you.”

“Oh, god, you eat people? I’m sorry,” tears blur your eyes, but the man lets out a harrowing laugh at your expense. Grabbing onto your wrist as he pulls you in the club. This was it, you are going to die, and all because you thought you needed Adderall to stay awake.

“Oh, you’ll be eaten. There’s nothing more delicious than the honey between a woman’s legs. Your body will be trembling for a very different reason besides fear. It’ll be pure unadulterated pleasure. Pleasure so grand you won’t even know where you are. That is, if you get the right client.”

“I don’t want to be a whore. I want to go home,” he pulls you into an elevator, waiting on the doors to close before his sneering face is rounding back on you. Inching ever closer before both his hands go on either side of you. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry.”

“You’re right. You are just a scared little girl. Steve will have fun with you. Tell me, little lamb, why are you here? You wouldn’t be good at selling, and judging by the sweat beading around your hairline, and you recoiling into your skin, I bet that cherry is still fresh and ripe in between your thighs, so selling your skin doesn’t seem like you. Someone offer you up as a sacrifice, giving you all sweet and innocent up to some man that is going to destroy you? You wired, sweetheart?”

“No,” you sob. Shaking your head. “No, I’m by myself. Honestly.”

“Tell it to Steve,” he growls as the doors open up, and he pushes you forward. “Go on,” it is hard to move with the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your body pulses with fear. Convulsing uncontrollably, and when you see the cherry of a blunt light up in a corner, a dark figure clouded by even more darkness, and you yelp.

Attempting to turn around, and get past this behemoth of a man, but it was pointless. You are trapped. Just like a mouse in a maze waiting on her predator to pounce. A hand drops down on the arm of the chair, and almost every inch of it is covered in black ink. Rings adorn all his fingers. Rolling them along the fluffy arm, but never bringing his face into the light.

Inhaling a long drag of his joint you can almost make out some features on his face, and it only gives you more to be afraid of. He was just as big as the man that was refusing to let you go. “What have we here, Bucky? Did you bring me a little angel to sit on my lap? What’s your name, darling?”

He clears his throat when you don’t answer. Chuckling when you’re able to squeak out your name, “You’re just as sweet as an innocent Dove. I think that’s what I’m going to call you. Now, why don’t you come and sit on my lap, and let me get a better look at you?”

“No,” the answer comes out quickly, and much more surely than you were expecting.

He slowly stands up from his chair, twisting his neck to the side and a sickening pop rolls through every bone in his spine, and he takes one solid step forward, and his body is out of the shadows. Another step, and you see just how dangerously handsome he is. Tattoos erupt over every inch of his skin, except his face. A boyish quality to him with the smile of the devil, himself.

You have nowhere to go, because the brick wall behind you is nudging you closer to Steve, and the gap gets smaller. Steve’s thick hand raises the roach to his mouth, and inhales long. Flicking the stick to the side, he completely closes the gap. His hard muscles, coupled with the ones behind you stifle your breathing, and all you can do is stare up at him.

He blows out a puff of smoke, before his thick fingers close around your neck. Not tight enough to hurt you, but it would take only a second for him to start crushing your windpipe. “What did you say to me? Did you just tell me, Steve Rogers, no? Dovey, I could have you bent over this couch, and let every man that works for me stuff you full of cock, and there’s nothing you could fucking do about it. I was being nice when I asked you to sit on my lap. I just wanted to look at you. And now that I’m closer to you, I’m demanding you sit in my lap. The pleasantries are gone, sweetheart. So if you don’t want everyone to watch you take my fat cock, I would suggest you listen.”

Without warning, he walks back to his chair in the dark, and that ringed finger rubs over his thigh, “He won’t ask twice,” Bucky whispers into your ear, and you shuffle your feet over to Steve.

“You won’t hurt me?” His eyes roll up to meet yours, and he shakes his head no. Waiting for you to gently sit down, and a possessive hand, lays too high up on your thigh. Rubbing on it, and his fingers dip too low between your thighs. “I don’t like this.”

“I would have been much kinder had you just sat down, and not defied me. You wired?” You shake your head no, and his fingers move all the way up your legs. Roaming around at the apex of your thighs before cupping your covered core. Drifting up higher, and he cups each breast, and runs up the swells of them. Another hand sweeps down your back, until he grunts in satisfaction.

“You understand why I have to check? A pretty and sweet girl in a place like this. It’s like they know my weakness. There is something about fresh meat. Has anyone ever touched you, sweetheart?” You stare dead faced at him. You weren’t answering. You didn’t have to defy him, but that's none of his business.

“They haven’t. Your pussy was throbbing so hard, and that sweet little sigh you let out. I can make you feel good if you let me touch you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I just want to go home.”

He clicks his tongue as his eyes roam over your body. Getting too close as he sniffs up your neck, “You even smell sweet. You wanna know a secret?” Don’t answer. Just stare. “I can feel how hot that cunt is. Feel how she’s pulsing so hard at being filled. You hide nothing, Dovey.”

“Why can’t I go home?”

Steve settles back in his chair, glancing towards Bucky who also sits on a couch, and kicks up his feet. Rubbing his hand slowly up and down your back, but keeping a firm hand on your thigh. Keeping you spread out a bit more than you would want. “Why did you come here in the first place? You sought me out. I had to question things. Everyone knows I love pretty little things with tight pussy.”

“Stop, please,” your voice deadpans. There’s no emotion in you even though you want to scream and flail around. But it wouldn’t help. You chose to walk in here on your own accord, so now it was time to just listen.

“Why? You don’t feel that heat radiating out from between your legs? I have asked you why you are here, and you can’t provide an answer. So until you tell me, you’re going to sit like this. Have your panties become soiled with that sweet nectar. Uncomfortable, and desperate for friction. I just know you’re going to go home, and touch yourself thinking about me.”

“I won’t,” his eyebrow cocks up, and he waits. It would just be easier if you told him the truth. “My grades are slipping.”

“Oh, she’s sweet and educated. Let me guess…early childhood education? It will come in handy for when you take care of our kids,” Bucky snorts, leaning his head back on the couch, but you look at him horrified. “Oh good grief. What are you studying?”

“Early childhood,” a deep chuckle erupts out his mouth, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. Distracting you while his hand moves further up your thigh. “I…I need to cram in some studying.”

“I can definitely help you with some cramming. So you thought you would come to the supplier for some Adderall? Is that it? Why not ask one of the many people on campus? I’m sure they’re good and stocked up. We know it’s finals season.”

“I don’t trust people,” Steve moans, and his hand starts to rub in and out of the gap between your legs, only inches away from your core. “All it would take is for them to get caught, and then they’re ratting everyone out that they sold to. Even you.”

“Oh, trust me, if they sing like a canary and mention my name, it’ll be the last thing they fucking do. So let me get this straight, you, this sweet little Dove, come to the seedy part of town, thinking you’re going to march in here and ask for a few pills from me to get you through finals?”

“I have money,” you close your eyes as his fingers lightly graze over your panties. A skirt was a terrible idea, but you can deal with being angry at yourself later. Right now you just need to remain calm, and get out alive.

“I don’t want money.”

“I don’t want sex.”

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s definitely ways I could want you without having my cock going into your pussy. Fine. I’ll give you your fucking pills. If you don’t pass, you get to suck my giant cock. If you’re lucky I might let you ride my face before I split your pussy open for the first time,” don’t answer. Don’t even look.

“Why so wet Dovey?” Don’t answer. Don’t look. Definitely don’t moan. “Wet and so hot. I bet it feels like heaven in between your thighs. A pussy like this is something I would need all the time. Make you sit in my lap, with my cock buried so deep in your warmth, all while I hand out everyone’s product. Every seller would know you were taking my cock like a big girl, but they would see how much I stretch you out. Is that what you want? To be my pretty little cock ornament for all my sellers?”

Don’t answer. Don’t look. And stop whimpering. “You better answer me, you little bitch,” you gulp as he twists you around, making you stare at Bucky as you straddle his leg. Holding onto your hips as he forces you to grind on him. “How much do you have?”

“Carol told me they were fifteen dollars a pill.”

“I could give them to you for free. Just come on my leg, and tell Bucky what a pitiful little birdie you are.”

“I can pay like a normal customer,” you moan. This is humiliating. Bucky sits in front of the two of you, munching on some form of nut or cracker with the biggest eat shit grin. “Steve, I’d rather just pay.”

“Your money's no good with me. Who sent you? Carol? She’s the one that told you to come straight to me? Whoever told you to come here, sent you right into a mousetrap, sweetheart,” his own moan echoes yours as you clench your eyes close. You can’t look at Bucky or him. Your body is betraying you. Feeling things deep inside of you that you have never felt before.

Even the thought of Bucky watching this all unfold is making you weak. You hate it, but the pleasure is proving you didn’t hate it enough. “I have a type, Dovey. Sweet little ladies like you. One that wants to deny themselves all this pleasure is even better. I promise there are things that feel better than this.”

You didn’t want anything that felt better. It was like Satan had his finger curled, wiggling it towards you, and beckoning you deeper into depravity. First the pills, now riding someone’s thigh while another man watched. What was next? Did you even want to know? Or did you not want to let go?

Your hands slap down on either armrest, and you can not control the sounds that seep out of you. His tattooed fingers dig even deeper into your hips. He was going to leave marks on you, but it didn’t matter. What mattered now was the high that was all through your limbs. This shouldn’t feel good, and you are irritated by the fact that it was Bucky watching that made this more enjoyable.

“What is it that you want more than anything, Dovey?” Don’t answer. Keep your eyes closed. “The way this cunt is making a mess of me, I think you want to come, huh? Does this pretty little bird want to come? I’ll keep going until you pass out, so you better learn to talk to me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, little darling? Yes isn’t a damn answer,” he grinds you down even harder on his thigh, and you have to brace yourself. Holding onto his knee as your head tilts back to the ceiling. The most strangled of cries as you come undone, but Steve doesn’t slow. Doesn’t stop, but goes faster. Harder. Leaving you screaming. Writhing around.

Your fingernails dig into his knee, but still he goes harder. He is trying to kill you. “What does my little bird want more than anything, hmm? Yes, isn’t an answer. And I won’t stop until you tell me.”

“I want…” your eyes roll into the back of your head as another orgasm builds up in your belly. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t process what is even happening. “I want to come!”

“Done,” Steve growls, giving your neck a little nibble, and you lose all self control. Your body trembles as you come undone. Whimpering even more when you hear drips onto the floor, as you squirt onto his thigh, and he gives your sensitive skin a hard suck.

“I figured you’d want your little pills to keep you awake for studying. Maybe even to pass your finals. But making you come is so much easier, and cheaper for me. Now how many pills do you need?”

“What” you pant out, turning to look back at him.

“You need pills. I’ll give them to you.”

“How much?” You ask, shifting on his thigh. No matter which way you turn, you’re uncomfortably wet. Slick coats the inside of your thigh, and Steve’s leg just further wipes it on you.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Really, oh my god, thank you!” He releases your hold, and you stand up, ready to hug him, but take a step backwards instead. Staring down at his drenched leg in horror. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Bucky, get her five pills?” You give him a sweet little smile, nodding your head. “No more than one a day. If you need more, just come to the club, and Bucky will bring you straight to me, and I’ll take care of you.”

You can’t believe he’s being so nice to you, but you’re thankful. Delighted even as Bucky hands you a bottle, “It has my name on it.”

“I don’t need you getting in trouble, Dovey. I need you to pass your finals. Come on, let me walk you out to your car. It gets dangerous at night. You don’t need to be alone,” you forget about the mess left behind on Steve’s pants. Don’t even pay attention to how his eyes darken as he leads you through the club.

Don’t notice the stares that are pointed right at you, and all because you have a nasty little hickey on your neck, and Steve’s possessive hand on the small of your back. No one approaches the two of you. No one points. You’re able to get out of the club without some man hitting on you.

Steve opens the door for you, letting you get seated before buckling you in. “I don’t want you to be out by yourself.”

“Yeah, okay,” that is a weird request, but you weren’t going to be seeing Steve anymore for it to matter.

“Good luck on your finals, Dovey,” he licks his lips as he looks over the expanse of your body. You’re just thankful that it is over. It wasn’t that terrible. And you saved some money.

Bucky comes to stand beside Steve as he memorizes your license plate. A sinister grin on his face, “Don’t lose sight of her. You know what to do,” he tells his friend before walking back into the club. Bucky goes over to his bike, already sensing some late nights for himself.

Steve had a mission. To keep you safe. Because you are his. And your scent engulfed him fully. He was going to break you down. And he was going to have every part of you. You just didn’t realize it. But everyone else did. He saw the club goers look at you and their sight was quickly averted. He’d wear your juices for the world to see. And soon, you’d wear his mark as well.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmaii @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess

#your mark on me #tattoos #tattooed #tattooed!steve rogers #tattoos!steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fics #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #druglorg au

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navybrat817 · 8 months

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Sin on Skin AU

Pairings: Various men with female readers. ❤️

AU Summary: Sin on Skin is the hottest tattoo parlor in town and the men who run it live up to the name. And as luck would have it, they only have eyes for you. 🔥

AU Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral sex (m. and f. receiving), dirty talk, fluff, flirting, feels, slowish burn (depending on the couple), slight angst, porn with feels (it's me, lovelies), more to be added.

A/N: You lovelies know me by now! I hope you all enjoy this AU and the various pairings. Please heed the warnings before each post and I will update as time allows. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics . Tattoo edits by the talented Nix and the "Andy" edit by the amazing @randomagnes0210 . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky Barnes x Baker!Reader - Hottie and Sugar

🧁 Sugar and Spice

🧁 And Everything Nice

🧁 What Dreams Are Made Of

🧁 Sweet and Strong

🧁 Sundresses and Leather

🧁 Innocent and Sinful

🧁 Ladies and Gentleman

🧁 Rules and Chaos

🧁 Traditions and Innovation

Steve Rogers x Teacher!Reader - Thorn and Rose

🌹 Every Rose Has Its Thorn

🌹 By Any Other Name

Andy Barber x Reader - Grumpy and Sunny

☀️ A Sunny Outlook

Hal Carter x Reader - Menace and Angel

Jake Jensen x Reader

Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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punkbarnes2 · 6 months

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DAY 04 - TATTOO ARTIST . (Swipe for old version) This took me longer than i expected, i didn't liked the previous art - in fact it is one the old arts that i like the least - so that's why i decided to make it from scratch, and also, my unstoppable urge to make a lot of tiny little details. At least this time i had more success into making Bucky look like Sebastian Stan's Tommy Lee (which was the original intention) That's it, xoxo

My commissions are still open babies, and you can also support me on Ko-fi <3

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #stevebucky #stucky #marvel fanart #captain america #steven grant rogers #ipad8 #james barnes #tattoo artist #tattoo studio #tommy lee #sebastian stan tommy lee #sebastian stan

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geminijade · 9 months

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Tattoo Tuesday 🔥 🥵

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Drawn Together 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You admire the tattoo through the plastic film. It’s so vibrant and red. The outline is beautiful and precise. You worried it would be less than with all your fidgeting but the hours of sitting paid off wonderfully.

You set your feet flat as Sam tosses his gloves and gathers up his tools. You fix the flat pleats of your straight cut skirt and smooth your white blouse. Plain and simple and neat. Just how everything in your life is. Well, except your tattoo.

You’re almost giddy. You feel so… edgy. You know you’re not but you’re going to enjoy the idea.

Your excitement is short lived as a heat settles over you. Like a shell you can’t see. You latch onto your wrist, holding your arms in front of you meekly as you peek across the shop. That man, Steve, he’s watching you again. You’re not sure he ever stopped as you kept your eyes on your round-toed flats for most of the time.

He smiles. The expression deepens the lines in his face and adds definition to his bearded jaw. His blue eyes sparkle deviously as you shy away. That’s the kind of boy, well, man, your mother would warn you about. Fifteen years ago and today.

You follow Sam to the counter and stir out your wallet from your black purse. You count out the rest of the fee in cash and hand it over. He explains the after care as he checks your count.

“Once you see blood under that film, you should take it off. Don’t keep it on longer than six hours. Don’t wrap it after and try to wear light clothing.”

“First ink?” The man interrupts, causing you to visibly flinch. Sam looks over your head and you hesitate to answer.

“Um, yes,” you turn your head only slightly and raise your voice so he can hear over the buzz.

“Can’t see it from here. What is it?”

“Steve, mind your business,” Sam retorts as he closes the till, “sorry about that. He’s always been too nosy for his own good.”

“You don’t gotta apologise for me,” Steve calls back, “I’m curious, is all. Sweetheart, if I disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you bend your ankle nervously and try to muster a smile at Sam, “thanks, I really like it. I love it. The colour is so good.”

“Appreciate it. As long as you're happy, I’m happy,” he grins, “here, take this.” He takes out a small booklet, “it’s everything you need to know about aftercare. Keep it clean, don’t touch it.”

“Oh, great,” you accept it, “that’s wonderful.” You tuck it into your purse, “thanks again. I’ll, er, I’ll go.”

“Have a good day,” Sam responds smoothly, a much needs balance for your awkwardness.

You turn and head for the door. You hear a low growl and peer back as you push through. Nat lifts her gun and punches Steve’s arm as he leans to keep an eye on you.

“Would you sit fucking still?” She hisses as he snickers in amusement.

You escape his gaze and the shop swiftly. That went a lot better than you thought. You only wish he hadn’t been there. Watching. A scary man like him, tattoos and all.

Well, you’ll never have another reason to go back to the shop or see that man. You had your dose of rebellion.

🎹

You resist the urge to scratch your ankle. You have discipline. An overbearing degree of discipline. Hammered so deep that you’re left hewn in rigid stone.

The rules. You’ve always been good at following those. It’s the one talent you have.

Aside from the piano.

You set up for the day, your ritual the same as every other. You change the water in the vase and place the long stems inside. The lilies are starting to wilt but they look good enough. You put them on the window sill, a soft breeze flowing in and fluttering the curtains.

You quickly brush a feather duster around the apartment, searching for any spec of dust. You’re gentle at the piano, the old boxy instrument is finely tuned despite its worn varnish. The bench is in a better state as you recently had it reupholstered.

You kick the corner of the carpet down as it folded over with an errant step and you pause to check out the tattoo. It’s so cool. Or cool to you. It’s probably lame to everyone else.

You imagine the rolling eyes and low whispers. Not really the tattoo type…

The boring type. That’s what you are. You live in your corner of the world and you keep to it. You don’t impinge, you don’t intrude, you are a very mindful person. Of others as much as yourself.

You fold the dusters and hang it in the closet from the hook on the inside of the door. You shut it, the hinges squeaking slightly. The walkup was inherited along with the piano. Both belonged to your grandfather. The same man who taught you how to play.

You breathe out as you run your fingertips along the belt of your dress. Some would say it’s out of style, you say it’s vintage. Nothing too flashy. Forest green with cap sleeves.

It’s always a bit nerve wracking to take on a new student. Amanda moved away and so the vacancy needs to be filled. You keep to a particular capacity. Both to maintain your sanity and your finances. Too many and you won’t be an effective teacher, too few and you won’t be able to afford the keys to practice.

It’s not too difficult. Usually their parents walk them in, talk a little bit, and go. Some of them stay after a few lessons to hear their children’s progress. You offer them tea if they do and some shortbread cookies; your grandmother’s secret recipe.

You pace as you check your watch, a slender golden chain attached to an oval face. You tap the glass with your fingernail and sigh. Two minutes.

You twirl and repeat your steps across the rug, just across the top of the stairs. You pull down your lip anxiously but correct the impatient habit quickly. Don’t fidget so much. Stop picking at yourself. Your mother’s voice lives in your head.

You circle around and straighten the framed embroidery above the antique side table. You lean back on your heel and consider it. Still a bit off. You work at getting it perfect, your obsession pierced by the doorbell.

You recoil and go to the top of the stairs. You look down and see a silhouette on the other side of the half-moon pane set into the thick walnut door. You glide your hand down the banister as you descend and steady yourself at the bottom.

You set your shoulders and smile. You’ve done this so many times before. Why are you so unsure? When have you ever been sure? Oh gosh, what if they see your tattoo? What if they think you’re trouble?

You grasp the curled handle and twist it. You pull the door open and your cheek twitches in surprise as you face the unexpectedly familiar face. You blink long and hard. You don’t believe it. It can’t be him. You must be dreaming. That must be why this whole day has felt so surreal.

“Hi,” Steve’s deep tone washes over you like a tide.

“Um, hello,” you look to the right, then the left, then at him. He’s alone. It’s just him. Why is he here?

You can’t be mistaken. You see the tattoos peeking out at the ends of his jacket sleeves along his knuckles. His newest addition shows through the white fabric of his plain cotton tee. It’s definitely the same man. How could you forget those eyes?

“I’m here for piano lessons? This is the right unit, right?”

“Piano? I– yeah, I teach but, er…” you reach to rub your neck and his gaze follows the gesture before returning to your face. He watches you intently, just like at the shop. “I usually teach–”

“Beginners,” he smirks, “yeah, I know I’m a bit old but I always wanted to learn.”

“Well, of course, um, anyone can learn but I…” you try not to show your confusion.

It’s not his age. You’ve taught adults before. No, it’s that he’s even there. This can’t be a coincidence, can it? Or maybe he doesn’t even remember you.

“So, you healing up?”

“What?”

“The tattoo.”

“Oh, uh,” you look down at your feet, “sure. It’s… alright.”

“I’m dying to scratch mine,” he chuckles, “which is why I need something to keep my hands busy.”

“Yes, I mean, okay,” you grip the door tightly.

“All cards on the table, I heard you in the shop say you taught piano,” he confesses, “I looked you up. I’m sorry. I hope that’s not weird.”

You let out a long breath. It is weird but he is being honest. He doesn’t seem like he’s up to anything. And anyone can get a tattoo, even you. So maybe he isn’t too bad. And maybe you need the cheque.

“You’re late,” you say, “usually I ask my students to be ten minutes early.”

“Got it,” he nods, “promise, it won’t happen again.”

“Put your shoes on the mat,” you back up and open the door, “since we’re already behind, I won’t have time for the tea.”

“Maybe next time,” he breaks the threshold as he peers around at the entryway, “nice place.”

“It is,” you say, “the piano is upstairs.”

You spin on your heel and scurry up the steps. You cling to the railing to keep yourself on your feet. Now that he’s inside, you’re even less sure about this.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #au #drawn together #tattoo au #marvel #mcu #captain america #natasha romanov #sam wilson

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lokiswifeduh · 1 year

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beautiful flesh

pairings: tattoo!artist!buckybarnes x fem!plus!size!reader

summary: You're going in with Natasha to get a tattoo, but you're nervous since the place you want it in has a little extra skin. Thankfully, Bucky is there to assure you you're beautiful.

warnings: needles, blood, tattoos, negative self-talk, I think that's it!

Natasha walked in first, the bell on the door jingling as she stepped through. You walked in behind her, timidly looking around as you kept at least a two-foot distance between the two of you.

"Romanoff!" A blonde man grinned as he stepped up to the counter, wiping off a bottle with black liquid in it. He was covered in tattoos, his arms filled with roses and skulls and his neck was covered in intricate designs as well. You eyed the ink drawings, admiring them from behind your friend.

"Y/n!" You snapped out of your daydream as Natasha caught your attention. "Hmm?" She let out a small chuckle, "I was just telling Steve here about the tattoo you wanted to get."

You nodded, "Yeah, I want flowers." "You gotta be a little more specific, doll." All your heads snapped in the direction of the man walking from behind the glass partition. His eyes were steel blue, contrasting with the chestnut brown of his hair. His muscled flexed back and forth as he cleaned off a piece of equipment, the tattoo's on his arms moving over the muscles underneath.

You soon realized everyone was staring at you, awaiting a response. "Uh, a vine of flowers, with the branch going up on my breast." You slightly lifted your arm, motioning with your other to the underneath of your right breast. Bucky's eyebrow raised slightly, "I hope you gotta picture, doll. Come on back." I looked to Natasha who had already sat down at Steve's station, the blonde artist already working on sanitizing and cleaning her arm where her next design was going.

You followed the brunette man to the back of the store, walking through and into a room where there was a chair with a table of supplies. "You can lay down on your back." You moved, following his words as you let your back rest against the chair, your legs bent down but not enough to touch the ground.

Bucky cleaned off his machine, making sure everything was prepped and ready. You didn't wanna tell him this was your first tattoo but somehow you could tell he knew. Plus the absence of art on your bare arms and back made a statement that you hadn't done this before.

Bucky sat down on the rolling stool beside the chair, "Lift up your shirt for me, doll." You cringed, Bucky catching your grimace. Just as you were about to lift your tank top he caught your hand, "If you're uncomfortable you don't have to do this." You shook your head, "It's not, I just..." You took a deep breath, "I'm a little bigger than most girls and I'm not really sure this tattoo will..work with my size."

Bucky's brows furrowed in confusion before softening his gaze, "Doll, I've been doing this for a while. And I can tell you, no matter the size you are or the shape you are beautiful, and this tattoo, or any you get in the future will look amazing on your exquisite body." You let out the breath you were holding, squeezing your eyes shut only to open them as you made eye contact with the brunette sitting above you.

"You mean that?" Bucky nodded, a smirk gracing his lips, "You have nothing to be worried about, doll. You have an amazing body, believe me." You nodded your head, pulling up your shirt and holding it so he could sanitize your skin.

He wiped off the area you described, "I might need you to lift a little more of your bra if that's okay." You let out a low laugh, "Can I at least know your name before I flash you?" He huffed out a surprised chuckle, "My names' James. and you are?"

"Y/n" You lifted your bra a little more as he swiped the disinfectant over the under of your boob.

"Well, nice to meet you Y/n." You smiled, feeling his hands over your body like electricity.

"You too, James."

A/N: I honestly loved this idea! Plus it was fun getting to photoshop Natasha and Bucky with tattoos! I want to start doing more Bucky x plus-size!reader, since I am plus-size myself and it is hard to find fics with plus-size readers.

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #tattoo!artist!bucky #fanfic #marvel #buckybarnes #avengers #bucky imagine #fanfiction #fluff #fem!reader #natasha romanoff #romanogers #steve rogers #tattoo!artist!steverogers #marvel imagine #winter soldier

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