#artist steve

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Thinking about Sam asking Steve, "What makes you happy?" And when he doesn't have an answer, Sam starts paying attention to try and parse out little pieces of happiness from him. Once, he sees Steve doodling with a pen on the back of some extra receipt paper when they go out to lunch, Sam leading the charge to get him used to non-boiled future food 😉 They're waiting for Steve's card to be returned to him and, okay, damn, the history books left out that Steve's a pretty decent drawer. Sam can work with that... watching the quirk of Steve's mouth as he doodles.

So, Sam gets him some nice art supplies. No dollar-store pens or regular #2 pencils. Some expensive, apparently high-quality (according to the Internet, it really is helpful sometimes, ha) graphite pencils, a set of micron pens, and the appropriate watercolor paper, brushes, and pigment. The final cost is eye-popping to Sam in spite of his understanding of modern pricing. It's worth it, though. Because Steve uses them. He starts carrying a sketchbook along with his list book. And, eventually, he shyly shows Sam some of what he's worked on.

The sprawl of Central Park...

A broken section of sidewalk, grass creeping through the space made by the roots of an elder tree...

The skyline view from Steve's apartment...

A dog...

A potted plant sitting on Steve's balcony with a label that reads "my sadness buddy" (a gift from Natasha)...

An empty folding chair from the VA...

A steaming cardboard coffee cup.

Sam is blown away by the beauty of what Steve can create. He wonders, but he doesn't ask if Steve's ever had nice, vivid art supplies before. There's something impressive about the colors and way he experiments, pulling beauty out of nothing, with his new art supplies. But, also, there's something especially impressive about what he can do with any old pen or pencil lying about. Sam finds himself smiling, thinking about that old saying he's heard, a poor craftsman blames his tools. Steve is bluntly a master craftsman--in everything he does, he puts his entire heart into it. It's strange he hasn't drawn any faces or people, though. (There's definitely something there. Sam's gonna have to see what that's about, too.)

#read this as samsteve or as sam being the deeply caring and loyal friend he is #idk either way #i just couldn't stop thinking about it #maybe steve isn't showing sam the faces he's drawing because he's drawing sam (samsteve vibe) or he isn't showing sam the faces he's drawin #because all the faces are bucky #and its every moment from before the fall that steve remembers in perfect clarity but steve won't show him because it hurts #and he doesn't want to remind sam of riley in such a visceral way #idk #it's up to you #steve rogers #sam wilson #fandomfluffandfuck #samsteve #stucky #artist steve

[aliea82]

Steve had a secret.

There was a box hidden under his bed that was filled with books, books that held page after page of sketches, drawings, and paintings.

Steve had never shown a single person what he could do, what he had taught himself. He spent years of nights spent filling these pages, then hiding them away never to see the light of day.

He had started when he was four, his then nanny buying him his very first book of blank pages. He had drawn on every single page. Little drawings, drawn by little hands using crayons and pencils. His nanny had loved each one, heaping praise and encouragement. When he had shown his mum, she had only nodded, not looking. But when he showed his father, he had scoffed, told him how ridiculous he was, how he had wasted his time, that his four year old pictures were pathetic and stupid. Steve had spent that night ripping each page to tiny pieces, falling asleep in tears, waking to find them gone, cleaned away by his nanny who simply bought another book, leaving it on his desk.

Steve didn’t touch it, left it blank for years, until the first time his parents had left him alone, no nanny, no babysitter, just himself, he was nine.

That first night, he didn’t sleep, to afraid, to scared of the dark. He had sat on his bed, covers piled up around him, staring at nothing, listening to the silence.

The second night, he did the same until he got up, walked to the desk, pulled out the book of blank pages, and started to draw.

It became his coping mechanisms, drawing night after night, sketching, shading, colouring, and perfecting.

With every book he filled, he would spend time looking through it before storing it away in his box under his bed, never to see the light of day.

As he grew up he became good at what he did, sketching his friends, Tommy, Carol, then the many girls he had taken to his bed, private art, their breast, their hands, their mouth, never the whole of them, just parts, parts he had enjoyed.

When he met Nancy, she filled so many of his pages, her hair, her eyes, her nose, her quirky mouth. He loved her hands, so small and delicate, he had drawn them time and time again, brushing back her hair, holding her books, touching his hand, delved into his hair.

For months she was his obsession.

Then it became the Demogorgon.

The pages became dark, dangerous, gruesome. Blood, and nail bats, fire and bear traps.

He filled so many books with the monsters he had encountered, of Billy, dying, blood covered, and sorry.

He drew the kids, and they all had their own books, Dustin’s was the one that needed two until he met Robin. Robin the light of his light life, the ying to just yang, the soul mate he didn’t know he was looking for. She filled a single book in under week, her smile, her eyes, her hair, and ears. She was the first full portrait he had ever done, a whole page full of her face. He drew her constantly, but he never showed her, not once.

The first time he drew Eddie was after picking Dustin up from a DnD night. He has watched as Dustin had spoken to him, his eyes drawn instantly the curls of his hair, of the way the light had landed on them. That was the first thing he drew, in a new book, in a book that now belonged to Eddie even though Steve hadn’t even spoken to him.

Over the months as Steve picked up Dustin, catching glimpse of the man Dustin now gushed over as he got in the car, he would study different parts, all from a distance and slowly his book of Eddie held parts of him, his eyes, never coloured because Steve wasn’t sure what colour they were. His mouth, so full and always smiling. His hands, covered in rings that shone in the light but held no detail because Steve never got close enough to see.

He filled a whole book of parts of a man he didn’t know, but he couldn’t stop, and why would it matter? No one would know.

The night after the boat house Steve spent the whole night filling page after page with details, of brown chocolate eyes, of fear shown on a full mouth of rings so chunky and metal, a cross a pigs head a skull and a black stone. He placed each one on the right finger, then he drew his second ever full portrait, Eddie lost, sat on a create, looking defeated and scared.

He stared at that picture a lot once finished, his fingers tracing over it as if he wanted to sooth the tension away to make it better.

After that night, he didn’t draw again for a week.

When he finally drew again, it was Vecna, and bats and vines and blood and death.

It was Dustin holding Eddie, it was Max in a hospital bed, it was cracks in the earth, it was Robin smiling, it was Lucas crying, it was Nancy with a shot gun, it was El with her buzzed hair, Mike hugging his mom, Will with his hand to his neck, Erica with a flash light.

It was Eddie, eyes wide, blood on his face, mouth full of it, hands covered in gore. It was another hospital bed, white bandages, and heartbeat lines. It was forming scars and bats still eating.

He counted the following months in sketches of everything that happened, drawings of fighting, hands around guns and Molotov cocktails and when it was all over he sat on his bed watching Eddie flick through page after page after page of books full of everything Steve loved.

After that, Steve drew of Eddie, of his bare back, his hips and scars, his mouth open in pleasure, his hands in Steve’s hair, around his throat, around his dick. He drew Eddie, and he showed him, allowing the sketches to see the light of day for the very first time.

#eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #ao3 author #steve and eddie #artist steve #steve harrington

[steevbuckk]

FAVORITE STUCKY FICS | 50/100

Learn Me Hard Oh, Learn Me Right by @love-ha-fge

[College AU, 60 000 words, Explicit]

Summary:

“Have you always struggled with math, Steve?” Dr. Potts asked.

The blush crept higher as the same shame that he had felt since the second grade crawled up his spine.

“You’re not the only one.” She assured, handing the papers back to him. “Luckily, you can get one-on-one tutoring at the student center, your tuition covers two sessions per week.”

“Thank you ma’am.” Steve accepted the paper and stood, sliding his backpack over his shoulders. Making his way out of her office he paused when she called his name. “Ma’am?”

“Ask for Bucky Barnes.” Her lips turned up at the name. “He’s one of the math majors that I oversee, haven’t had a student work with him who hasn’t passed.”

No pressure, Steve thought. “I’ll make sure to do that. Thank you Dr. Potts.” “Good luck Steve.”

He didn’t need luck, he needed a miracle.

more fics

#100stucky #stevebucky #stucky #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #fic rec #my recs #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #college au #artist steve #fluff #smut #football au #football fanfic #alternative universe #stucky fanfic #stucky fics #steve x bucky #steve/bucky #steve and bucky #james buchanan barnes #friends #coming out #moodboard #stucky fanfiction #stucky moodboard #steve rogers/bucky barnes

[ronearoundblindly]

'Item 107' Masterlist

skinny!demigod!Steve Rogers x bewitched!soulmate!Reader a Beauty and the Beast AU (sorta)

Summary: Steve has lived a long, long life, gaining energy and power through his art, but he's lonely. Ages ago, he painted one piece to draw his one true partner to his waiting arms, and he waited. He waited and waited. Nothing happened, and Steve gave in to his fury. When reader shows up interested in that faded and ugly canvas, Steve is too bitter to fathom why. Will he notice who you are to him? Will he make space in his life for you?

Romance 🔥 || Smut 🦆 || Angst ⛈ || Fluff 🌼 || Dark Fic 🌘

Gesso-Prepped Canvas

Tonal Background

Adjust Brush and Color

Set To Dry

[Main Masterlist]

#steve rogers fanfiction #item 107 #skinny!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #skinny!demigod!steve #beauty and the beast au #artist!steve rogers #artist steve #steve rogers series

[amarriageoftrueminds]

Steve's Favourite Paintings, Part 4.

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

Having already said Steve might be a fan of Van Gogh, it occurred to me recently that someone like Steve...

who grew up small and disabled, in Brooklyn,

frequenting the big nightlife hubs (of downtown, Sands St. BK and Coney Island)

who later worked with the kind of showgirls who would've been around in those areas ^

and/or who may have been a commercial artist himself

...would really vibe with someone like Toulouse Lautrec.

He was himself a visibly disabled artist, did commercial art (art nouveau, a style the Nazis hated), embraced queer imagery (in his famous 'bed' series), and was a big fan of working class Parisian showgirls and what Terry Pratchett calls 'Ladies of Negotiable Affection'. 😂

.

I also think Steve would like the social realism of (husband of Frida Kahlo) Diego Rivera. But particularly the fresco Man at the Crossroads:

Which was originally slated to be installed in the lobby of RCA Rockefeller Center in New York City in 1933.

It was criticised for having 'anti-capitalist propaganda' imagery in it (to which Rivera added a portrait of Lenin, LOL) ...and the Rockefellers decided to have it sabotaged / covered up before it could be finished.

There was a big public protest about this, in the New York art community. Steve would've been 15 at the time, but I imagine he might have participated, and would be delighted to find that the piece had been reproduced by Rivera, and that he still gets to see it in the future.

#long post #steve rogers #historically accurate stucky tag #steve meta #artist steve #art nerd steve #art #art history #dat's me #mcu meta #meta #mcu #painting #my meta

[half-oz-eddie]

The Body Is A Work Of Art

Bartender Billy strikes up a conversation with a cute patron—an eccentric artist named Steve. He tells Billy his beauty inspires him and that he’d like to paint him, so Steve invites Billy over to his apartment. Billy has no idea that Steve’s "passion project" is a messy, fetish fantasy.

M is for Mess Fetish (Enjoying the mess created by sexual fluids. They may use the fluids as lubes, to drink, to “paint” on their partner’s body.)

This is the 13th fic in my Harringrove Kinktober ABCs

A series of 26 unrelated ficlets about Billy and Steve, each one written for a kink that starts with every letter of the alphabet.

@harringrovekinktober

A young man, likely in his mid 20’s walked in with a smile and energy that could light up the room—even a dimly lit bar like Billy’s.

“Hey there!” He greeted Billy as he sat on a bar stool, swiveling from side to side. “Nice bar you’ve got here.”

“Thanks. What can I get you?” 

“Hm…maybe a whiskey? I just sold a piece that took me a year to finish, so I’m kinda celebrating.”

“Congratulations.” Billy smiled. “You an artist or something?”

“Or something.” The artist laughed. “I’m more of a hobbyist who got into art by accident and learned that this shit kinda works for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do, I just didn’t think anyone else would.”

“Got any samples?” Billy curiously asked as he poured his drink.

“Sure.” He took out his phone and showed Billy a photo of his gallery.

“You did all that?” Billy raised his brows, impressed. “You’re damn good.”

“Thank you. I-I really appreciate that.” He sipped his drink. 

“So why’re you celebrating all alone?”

“Ah, my best friend’s away on her honeymoon. Usually we’d go to dinner or something nice after I make a big sale but…I’m all by myself.”

“Not completely. You’ve got me.” Billy winked.

“That certainly counts for something. So what’s your story, Mr. Bartender?”

“It’s Billy. I’m a bartender by night and lifeguard by day.”

“A lifeguard, huh? Makes sense.”

“Does it? Why’s that?”

“Your physique. I was about to ask if you were a model.”

Billy laughed, bashfully turning his head away. “No, I’m not a model. Never considered it, honestly.”

“No? You’re gorgeous, though. I’d love to paint you.”

“Paint me?” Billy echoed in surprise.

“You could be my muse. I’d love for you to be the subject of a passion project of mine.”

Billy had been flattered before, but never admired in such a way that he’d be seen as art. The thought thrilled him. 

Billy shrugged. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

“Great!” He handed Billy a card. “Text me when you’re free and you can come by my studio—which is...also my apartment.” He nervously chuckled. “Hope that’s okay.”

Billy grinned. “In this economy? It’s fine…” He read the name on the card. “Steve.”

Keep Reading On Ao3

#harringrove kinktober ABCs #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrovekinktober2k23 #artist steve #bartender billy

[broodybuck]

Title: Draw Me Like One of Your Brooklyn Boys

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, daddy kink, overstimulation, handjob, dom Steve, sub Bucky, dirty talk, artist Steve, insecure Bucky

He's lying on the couch completely nude and he'll admit it's a little chilly in here. Part of him is sure Steve put the air down before they started this. Then again, Bucky likes it cold in the apartment so he can bundle up in comfy clothes.

His cock being hard isn't helping things. That part he knows is Steve's fault. When he asked Bucky if he could draw him, he said he'd reward him afterward. And well, how could Bucky not get hard just thinking about what his reward might be. Bucky's sure he's getting fucked. How could Steve not want to fuck him after studying his body for this long? But that's just the problem, this is taking way too long.

He swears it feels like an hour has gone by and Bucky can't help but fidget in and out of position. Steve's pencil stops and glances over his sketchbook.

"Bucky, what did I say?"

Bucky sighs, resting his limbs flat again. He wonders why it's taking so long. Is Steve erasing and redoing parts... the parts of Bucky he doesn't like? Bucky wiggles again. He's restless and his cock feels heavy sitting hard in between his legs.

"Buck, you have to stay still," Steve warns.

Bucky tries to relax, he really does, but now he can't get it out of his head. What if Steve doesn't even want to draw his cock when it's all needy and enlarged like this? Maybe he'll skip over it.

"How much longer?" Bucky asks.

"Almost done."

"Please, can I have a break?"

"Of course," Steve says, putting his pencil down.

He stands from his chair. He steps over to the couch and gazes down at Bucky's naked form. Bucky squirms under his heated stare. He glances at his cock, he knows Steve can see how hard he is. No one could miss it but suddenly, he's not sure if he wants Steve to see.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks.

"I don't look good, are you sure you wanna draw me?"

Steve's expression drops.

"Why would you say that?"

Bucky shrugs. He hasn't been insecure about his looks in a long time but occasionally it creeps up on him at the most random times.

"Bucky," Steve says softly, his hand cups Bucky's face giving him a sense of comfort just from the gentle touch. "You look perfect."

Steve sits down on the edge of the couch, his thumb strokes across Bucky's jaw. Bucky leans into the touch.

"Can we be done, please?" Bucky asks.

"Yes, baby," Steve allows and nudges Bucky forward with the hand. Bucky sits up and crawls into Steve's lap, hugging him tightly. Steve rubs a palm up and down his back comfortingly.

"Buck, do you need a reminder of how much you're wanted?"

Bucky hums non-committedly. He's just happy to be in Steve's arms not posing motionless on the couch anymore.

"Come here, let me see," Steve coos.

He gently pushes Bucky back and then stares down between his legs.

"Beautiful," Steve marvels.

He grazes the shaft with the softest touch of a fingertip. It makes Bucky shudder and he remembers how good Steve makes him feel. Okay, maybe he is happy Steve is looking at his cock again.

Steve leans in to kiss the side of his neck, then the edge of his jaw, and finally his lips. Bucky melts into the kiss, his whole body sagging forward from it. Steve holds him up with his hand above his ribs. When his other thumb smears a dribble of precum from the head, Bucky moans brokenly. Steve spreads it down the shaft and then wraps his hand around it. Okay, yeah. Bucky wants it now, really fucking wants it.

Steve starts with a slow up stroke, then rubs under the sensitive head. He repeats the motion, pulling his fist down to the base then back up and rubs. Bucky's eyes squeeze shut, his breath shudders.

"You're perfect, baby. I'm gonna give you everything you need."

Bucky nods, hiding his face in Steve's shoulder. Steve's fist sets off in a fluid motion, pumping him faster. A perfect mix of heat and speed firing up and down his dick until Bucky can't keep still. He needs to whine and thrust up into Steve's hand.

"Please, please, please," Bucky begs, panting.

Steve doesn't stop, he pumps him hard and tight until the pleasure is coiling at Bucky's spine. His toes curl, his nails digs into Steve's shoulder blades and he comes.

The pleasure rushes through him and he can distantly recognize the warmth of Steve's hand continuing to stroke him up and down. The pleasure begins veering on the side of too sensitive and Bucky starts to squirm helplessly.

"Daddy—" he gasps.

"Have to get it all out, every last drop," Steve commands.

He covers the wet head and twists his wrists in quick circles that make Bucky's body jerk from the overstimulation. He cries and writhes from it.

"I can't—"

Steve keeps going and massages his balls with his other hand until soon the near pain turns to pleasure, blinding pleasure. Bucky's body shakes with it and he feels his cock come again, dribbling more release into Steve's heated palm.

Steve finally frees Bucky's spent cock and kisses him. Bucky's heart swells under the kiss, his body feels high. Steve pulls him against his chest, holding onto him tight. Bucky snuggles into him, then feels another kiss press onto his forehead.

"I'm always gonna take care of you, baby."

#stucky #stucky fanfiction #stucky smut #tumblr fic #flash fiction #artist steve #dom steve rogers #sub bucky barnes

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Modern AU, Fake Relationship, Singer Bucky, Artist Steve | 70K | Explicit | @chicklette

~

At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Well, one of them anyway. He’s a man who’s given up on finding joy in his life, and if it wasn’t for his kid, he’d have probably found a way to quit the world a long time ago.

Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is, other than some musician his mom liked a lot. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top.

Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

~

That was an amazing story, so lovely!! I loved it!

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #Modern Setting #no powers #show business #musicians #fake relationship #artist steve #parent bucky

[flumet]

Starkbucks High School AU

"In the darkest nights, we find solace in each other's embrace"

Jock/Artist Steve, Badboy/Genius Tony, Class Represetative/Musician Bucky

#marvel moodboard #marvel #moodboard #steve rogers moodboard #tony stark moodboard #bucky barnes moodboard #au #high school #high school au #college #college au #university #jock steve #artist steve #badboy tony #genius tony #musician bucky #starkbucks #polyamory #grainy aesthetic #flumet moodboard

[somanywords]

Created for @steverogersweek​ day 6 - art :) (pictures are not mine)

#steverogersweek2022 #steve rogers #moodboards #artist steve #cassstuff

[frosthexe]

Graphology - leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

"Steven Grant Rogers," a voice said from somewhere near Steve's front door. "Professional inker. Maybe you'd like to explain why you're leaving us messages about our good friend Bucky?"

The redhead currently pinning Steve to the couch said, "Really?"

"Alright, her good friend Bucky. My tolerated friend Bucky."

"My phone's on the table," Steve ground out. "Grab it, have a look at the last picture."

The guy grabbed it, and his obvious double-take would have been funny if Steve wasn't being crushed into his couch. He held it out and the redhead peered at it. "It could be fake."

"That's right," Steve said, digging down for all the sarcasm that existed in his skinny body. "I scribbled all over my own thighs and took a photo so I could lure a pair of hostile weirdos to my apartment. That's how I enjoy spending my time."

"You know what this means, right?" the guy said, sounding deeply bemused. "Bucky has a soulmate."

#stucky #fic rec #pre serum steve #winter soldier bucky #artist steve #bamf steve #soulmates #writing on skin

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I’m back to those posts about Steve drawing his own dick for Bucky…

Bucky for sure would have Steve do a series of like 5 drawings/paintings of Steve’s own cock. The series would go from a completely soft cock to fully hard and all the stages in between. Bucky would frame them and put them over the bed.

And maybe Bucky realizes that Steve finds it easier to draw the blue pictures than to say the words. So he has sub!Steve draw the fantasies he can’t bring himself to say out loud.

Steve folds the drawings and leaves them out for Bucky to find. And Bucky is blown away at how Steve draws him. THIS is how Steve sees him? He looks so…sexy, kind, nurturing, and of course dominant. Bucky gets a big ego boost from those drawings of himself doing dirty things to Steve, as well as lots of scene ideas!

related to these two posts

Okay, if you're at all into oviposition, I HIGHLY recommend you check out "Day 29: Alien dildo/Oviposition" by pandafish on AO3. It's only 3k words and so good! It relates to this prompt because Steve's drawings are what reveal his oviposition kink to Bucky 👀

You're so right, though! Bucky definitely has the whole fucking collection--proudly framed, conviently stuffed into his wallet, or otherwise displayed. Drawing after drawing of Steve's sweet, cute, lil flaccid cock but hoards of drawings of Steve's cock so hard that it's emboldened by throbbing veins, the head engorged, fat, dripping wet from how long he's been aroused, his whole dick and balls stained dark red-purple, too. Further, he has drawings of all the stages in between those two extremes; soft and vulnerable to hard and temping. He's fascinating and gorgeous. So much so that Bucky could and does stare at his pretty dick for hours, on paper as well as when they're stripped down together, time stretched to the limit.

Steve could have drawn all the drawings on different days, and it would've been much easier on him--easier on his mind, body, and soul--but he didn't. It wouldn't be nearly as much fun for Bucky if he'd done it that way with the collection built up over weeks. But because Steve modeled for himself all day, all in one day, it means that by the time dusk rolls around... Steve comes tumbling out of his home studio, his head fuzzy, eyes hazy, feeling too big for his own body, unsure of what to do with his limbs, his skin buzzing with electricity. A crackling, faint fire burning through him, smoking up the whole studio where he had been holed up.

He's dazed by the hours and hours he's spend curled up with his sketchbook, a pencil in one hand, his cock in the other. Examining himself. Detailing every inch. Keeping himself at each stage, entirely soft to throbbingly hard, through sheer self-discipline. His head is mortifyingly full of his own dick. It feels self-obsessively, heat prickling at the back of his neck, sending shivery feelings down his spine. He, he... he feels like he isn't anything but his dick. Like nothing about him exists at all but his dick; he doesn't have a brain, he doesn't have thoughts, he doesn't have a voice, he doesn't have arms, he doesn't have legs, he doesn't have a heartbeat except for the one pounding through his dick like bass shaking the whole foundation of a concert venue. Pounding. Steve doesn't have anything but a dick.

Speaking of his dick--

The moment Bucky finds him tripping over his own feet, tumbling forward, falling more than he's walking, Bucky is grabbing him by the cock and guiding him toward their bedroom. A cute, tiny whimper drips out of Steve's lips, his mouth statically open, head all spacy. He's mush.

Similarly to that adorable little noise, Bucky keeps his voice hushed, gentle as he leads him by his cock, hard as hell. Steve can hardly understand him anyway, so it doesn't matter what he says. He just needs some stable direction because, otherwise, he's aimlessly floating--swimming through the glittery clouds surrounding him. A whole day of forcing himself to stay soft, denied, then controlling his cock and keeping it hard, ramping up to be harder, harder, and harder denied differently, will do that to a man. He's broken open. Too sensitive. Lost to the mercy of such an enticing sensation.

They make it to the bedroom with no help from Steve at all. He's bonelessly laid out on their king-sized bed, spread flat like sweet, sugary jam melting onto warm, crispy toast. Then, just like that, Bucky dares to drag his hand up his shaft real slllllllllow. After, too soon for his poor, little Stevie doll, Bucky strokes down just as unhurried and just as devastingly tight so these big, wet tears well up in Steve's hazy, blue eyes--it makes him look like he's near drowning. But immediately, those sizzling tears spill over, and suddenly, he's pouting, shaking, sobbing. Outright blubbering.

He doesn't even know what he's begging for. He's not making real words. He's too simple for words right now. He couldn't even tug and pull at Bucky's hands to show him what he wants when he's like this. He really is a doll, posable, sweet, and anything that Bucky imagines him to be. He's Bucky's.

Bucky's to touch.

It's agonizing. Does he want Bucky to keep stroking him off? Does he even want to cum? Does he just want his dick to be left alone? Does he want this to stop? Does he want to float here forever? Never coming down? God! It huuurts! He feels all swollen and sensitive, it's almost like Bucky is pressing on a fresh bruise. There's this fucking rush to it, the endorphins shimmering too brightly through the pain, but it's painful and tender, too.

It's so much.

Steve is sobbing, crying so much that the tears are dripping into his mouth, salty and wet. As hard as he's blubbering, the baby, he's not shaking, nor is his chest heaving because he can't.

Steve can't even writhe, thrashing side to side, because he's so drained from a day of nothing but dick. His fingers twitch, hands aching from all that drawing. His cock can't twitch or jerk, it just drips, overflowing, making a puddle on his weakly clenching stomach--the flat, smooth muscle of his abs and the shallow dip of his belly button. All he can do is stare up at Bucky, those big, puppy-dog eyes foggy, his head is empty. Mouth agape. Dumb. All he knows is Bucky.

BuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBu--

It's not his fault he can't admit his fantasies. They're just so dirty and m-mortifying, and words are so hard. For such a delicate thing like Steve, it's so much. He gets needy, and he dissolves, cotton candy into water. It's lucky that his hands are smarter, and his drawings don't just turn into indistinguishable scribbles.

I didn't actually mean to write that... it just happened 💀💀

#asks #anon provided writing #fandomfluffandfuck #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #big sub steve #dom bucky #artist steve rogers #artist steve

[matchbookarmy]

Brushstroke by meglorraine

Rating: G

Summary: Steve's been painting again.

Why I'm Reccing: So, this is an underrated little ficlet with only 33 kudos. I think short fics sometimes don't get the love they deserve, and so I'm hoping you'll all go show this fic some attention.

However, this one is extremely short at only 410 words, which does make it a little bit hard to talk about without spoiling it. Um, and I think it's worth not spoiling.

But, basically, Tony goes to Steve's studio where he's been working sort of obsessively for the past few days on a particular painting (and isn't that just a delightful twist on an old Stony trope, like, yes, more of this, please. I am totally down for Tony having to drag artist Steve away from another manic bout of creativity). And then he sees the painting, and okay, look, there's only so many directions this one could go, and you could definitely maybe predict it, but I actually really like the direction it went, and it feels very Steve to me.

#stony fic rec #pre slash #artist steve #underrated fic

[huariqueje]

Cold snap - Steve Smulka

American, b. 1949 -

Oil on linen , 36 x 48 cm.

#Steve Smulka #american artist #still life #window sill #glass jug #glass bottles #glass bell jar

[sokadrawws]

that was hard as shit-- but finally done. first try to draw William (looks better than I expected)

#artists on tumblr #art #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fandom #five nights at freddy's movie #fnaf movie #fnaf william afton #fnaf #william afton #afton family #steve raglan #matthew lillard

[amarriageoftrueminds]

I feel like Stucky fanon doesn't have enough of Steve populating his house with his own copies of famous paintings with Bucky embarrassingly painted into them with absolutely zero chill

#stucky #am I wrong tho #steve rogers #bucky barnes #release the cracken #artist steve #art nerd steve #MCU #bucky having to present a 20 slide powerpoint #to convince his dumbass husband of why he cannot hang exquisite nude paintings of him around where visitors can see #yet each man queues the thing he loves