daddybucky

[daddybucky]

There's a book I think you recommended and i'm desperately trying to find it again. It was almost certainly a KU book about a shifter boss (I think a dragon?) and his human assistant who is the boss's fated mate. Is this ringing any bells? Or if not, can you recommend something along those lines?

So if it's a dragon specifically, it's PROBABLY the sixth book in the Forbidden Desires series called Finch.

I've read other shifter books, but I don't think any that have a boss/assistant relationship *squints* not that I can remember, anyway

If this isn't the book you're looking for and you can remember anything else about it, let me know! It might jog my memory :D

[daddybucky]

This isn’t really a question but I just wanted to let you know that you made me fall in love with reading again. A few years ago you gave book rec for Kiki Clark and I gave it shot cause it was free lol and omg. I went from reading 2 or 3 full length five a year to like 200 books and getting involved in such wonderful communities too! Idk i was just thinking today about comfort authors and books i constantly reread (mine is the kincade pack books, like every 6 months lol) and i never would have found them without you. i hope you are doing well and continue to share you writing with the internet, and if you have anymore book recs i wouldn’t complain

;_; <3

This was such a nice message to wake up to this morning, thank you for it, genuinely. I know I can get a little obsessive when I'm really into something so I try not to annoy the masses but it's HARD when something gets me hype

I haven't read any new books in the past couple of months, I've been neck-deep into 9-1-1 fic since probably August, BUT I do have this page set up to showcase what I own physical copies of

Some of them are not very well-written but I found them compelling in one way or another. Compelling enough that I read them more than once, hence why I have the physical copy.

Some specific recs for stuff I really liked:

If you want fluff: Stella Starling's books, but I especially love the Semper Fi duology and the last book in the Delicious series, Promise, is one I think about a lot. It does feature characters from another book series but it shouldn't be too confusing, I think. It's all contemporary romance, but it's so cute, too <3

If you want something similar to the Kincaid Pack series: the Wolves of Kismet by Sam Burns is one of my favorites and they also have another series with WM Fawkes called Wolf Moon Rising.

If you want fluffy dark romance: Onley James, but specifically her Necessary Evils series. It has two different spin-off series, Jericho's Boys and The Watch. A new book just came out for the JB series which I haven't read yet but I'm looking forward to and the Watch series has a book coming out next month.

The Temptation series by Ella Frank, but listen to me: I URGE you to experience this one through the audiobooks. The narrator is amazing.

Another audiobook I love: the Quarterback by Mackenzie Blair. You can actually only find this one on audiobook anymore, but I do have this as a physical book, too, because my dad somehow found it available somewhere? idek how he achieved that but it's a great book and the guy who narrates this book is one of my favorites. I'll try just about anything if he's the one reading it.

Cole McCade is another author I think you should check out. Their prose is flowery and purple sometimes, but their characters are unique and interesting and very engaging. Criminal Intentions is a detective series, so the plot is heavy, but CM did write an AU of the characters where one owns a bakery and it's like a nice warm hug on a winter day. It's called Bitter + Sweet, I don't have time to link all the stuff I'm talking about, but I will link that.

OH. And last rec before I have to go back to work: Robin Moray!! They have an Omegaverse alien book which I love, a pack series of which the fourth one is my all-time favorite and the only one I usually reread, and under the name RJ Moray, they write the His Boy Next Door and Collar For His Brat series which is a long-running kink-focused series which I love.

And if you have any questions about any specific book on my shelf, feel free to ask! I love rambling about the stuff I read

[daddybucky]

Idk how much fanfic you read, but anoke's series Major Design Flaw is giving me SO MANY Stucky feels. It's a Witcher fic about the relationship between King Foltest and Vernon Roche (a poor man who catches Foltest's eye and gets promoted very quickly.) Foltest's desire to be a responsible king and respect Roche's life and duties beyond their (so far secret) relationship keeps interfering with his desire to spoil Roche ROTTEN. And Roche LIKES the king's possessive streak.

I don’t read Witcher fic but this sounds like a VIBE

Love a king being down bad pathetic for his peasant lover, hell yeah 👏👏👏👏

[daddybucky]

missing alpha daddy james dearly. would love to hear your thoughts on how he and stevie would approach their heat/rut, or oh my i would kill to read their bonding

This one's been in my head for like 3 days straight and I have like 4 other things I need to be working on, BUT I WROTE THIS INSTEAD

--

Like, let’s say in this ‘verse that Alphas are just a step above feral when they’re in rut. They’re so clouded by instinct and need that they can’t even remember their own names.

Alpha Daddy Bucky, he would be afraid to subject his baby to that. His perfect boy, who’s so fucking innocent and sweet—too sweet to handle an Alpha in rut.

Maybe an Alpha normally goes into rut 2-3 times a year. When the symptoms first start, you can take medication that will suppress it, but that’ll only work for up to 3 cycles. Any longer and it’ll be dangerous.

So at the start of their relationship, Bucky decides that’s what he’s going to do. The first year of their relationship, he never goes into rut.

And then that year is up and the next time he feels the symptoms start, he knows he has to go through with it. Steve has grown so much in that time. He’s flourished, a boy now confident in his needs and his place, but he’s still too sweet.

Bucky makes the necessary arrangements. Makes sure that everyone knows what’s coming and that they’ll need to guard his den and Steve to make sure his baby stays safe while he’s indisposed.

He doesn’t tell Steve. Steve will want to sacrifice himself to Bucky’s needs and Bucky won’t let that happen.

And then his rut comes.

He loses all sense of self, everything down to his name, until the only thing left is the animal inside.

The Alpha paces his den. He’s naked and sweating, his cock heavy and aching between his legs. He’s furious.

He wants to mount. To fuck. To knot.

There are toys littering his den just for that, but he hates all of them. He tried, but none of them satisfy the need clawing at his insides.

He needs someone with him. Someone to submit to his needs. Needs a mate. His mate.

Does he have a mate? He can’t remember, but the idea makes his cock pulse, precome dripping from the tip.

A mate would satisfy him. The toys don’t have a scent, they don’t submit. They just are. 

He breaks more than one of them in his anger. He breaks everything, trashing the room in a fit of rage that stems from having so much energy—so much hunger, so much need—and having no place to put it.

It could be mere hours he spends alone. It could be days, years, a millennia. Time has no true meaning in his need, because every fucking second without relief is a cut underneath his skin.

Somewhere in the monotony of his pain, the door to his den opens and a little figure slips through.

The Alpha stops, breathing hard as he glares at the intruder.

It’s an Omega. A very small, very pretty Omega, barely older than a pup. The boy wears a comically large shirt tucked into a small skirt, carrying a teddy bear underneath one arm. The shirt has the Alpha’s scent on it—it’s his shirt, he’s sure of it, and his mouth goes dry. 

The Omega shuts the door behind him, turning to glare at the Alpha.

“You are in so much trouble, Daddy,” he says in a furious whisper. “I’m so mad at you.”

Daddy.

Is that the Alpha’s name? It must be. The moment it falls from the pup’s lips, his gut tightens, his aching cock throbbing fiercely. His body likes that name. He wants to hear it again.

Still, the pup’s glare and his stance, fists perched on his tiny hips, is too much a challenge for an Alpha in rut.

The Alpha glares harder, snarling a warning at the pup. This is his territory, his den. He’ll abide no challenges here.

The boy blinks, cocking his head to the side. His hands leave his hips, coming up between them, palms out. He steps forward cautiously.

“Okay, Daddy,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

Before the Alpha can snap at him again, the pup folds himself neatly at the Alpha’s feet. The Alpha barely has time to notice how pretty he looks kneeling there, his tiny little skirt fanning over creamy pale thighs, before the pup takes the Alpha between glossy pink lips.

The Alpha groans, panting heavily as he watches the pup bob on his cock. The boy’s posture is relaxed, his scent contented, his warm, wet mouth gentle and hungry in equal measure. His gaze is lowered respectfully, never meeting the Alpha’s. 

It isn’t sex. It’s submission. The pup is submitting to him, totally and completely, and for the first time since the haze of his rut took over, the Alpha settles.

It’s dangerous for anyone to help an Alpha through their rut, because this is what’s required. Total submission. An Alpha in rut craves to assert dominance. 

The Alpha palms the back of the pup’s head, his fingers sliding through silky smooth hair.

“More,” he commands, his voice rough and gravel-deep as he tilts his hips. The hand on the pup’s head growing heavier.

The pup has offered submission with his warm mouth, but will he continue to submit when the Alpha dominates him? Or will he fight, challenge the Alpha?

He doesn’t challenge. He goes easily, sinking further onto the Alpha’s cock with a weak little moan. The Alpha groans again, his head tipping back as the pup continues to submit.

This is what he craved, what he needed. This is why the toys did not satisfy him, why they were an affront to his senses. Toys cannot be dominated. They cannot submit.

The Alpha’s chest rumbles with a deep, satisfied growl. His chin touches his chest, heavy-lidded gaze on the pup at his feet.

His knot aches. He’s going to put it in the pup’s mouth. Come with his knot behind the boy’s teeth and his cock in that pretty, slim throat. He’ll make the boy take it.

But not yet. The boy looks so pretty at his feet, and some distant part of him knows that if he rushes it, he’ll hurt the pup. He doesn’t want to hurt the pup.

So instead, he stands there and accepts the pup’s submission as his due, and tells himself that if he’s patient, he’ll be rewarded.

He doesn’t know how long they’re like that before the door bursts open.

The Alpha looks up, glaring at the two men hovering in the doorway, but they’re not looking at him.

“What are you doing in here?” One of them hisses frantically. “Come back here, you can’t be here, the boss will kill us.”

The Alpha’s hackles rise. They want to take the pup away from him. 

They won’t get him, not this pretty boy who submits so easily. If they try—if they even think of touching the pup—the Alpha will kill them both.

Before the Alpha can answer, or the rage can take over, the Omega pulls away from his cock. He turns his head to glare at the two men.

“Go away,” he says, somehow firm and pouting at the same time. The Alpha’s cock throbs at the sight of that plump lower lip glistening in the low light. “I’m not leaving Daddy, he needs me.”

Daddy. That name again. God, his body likes that name. His cock bobs, smearing precome over the Omega’s cheek.

“He said—”

“I don’t care what he said,” the Omega says, glaring. “I’m not leaving my Daddy.”

Irritation flares inside the Alpha. The boy had been so pliant before, but now he’s dangerously close to challenging again and it’s purely the fault of the interlopers. 

The Alpha forces two fingers into the pup’s mouth, hooking behind his teeth and pushing down until those pretty lips are open again. He guides the pup’s face back to him.

“Submit,” he demands roughly, all but shoving his cock back into the pup’s mouth.

He lets go of the boy’s jaw only to palm the back of his head again, gripping him tight and keeping pressure there so the pup can’t pull away again.

He pushes his cock deep and repeats, “Submit.”

Blessedly, the pup does.

This time, the Alpha rolls his hips to meet the boy’s eager mouth, fucking himself good and deep. The pup clutches at his thighs, moaning every time the Alpha’s cock hits the back of his throat.

He wanted to wait. He wanted to savor the pup’s submission. But he’s been challenged too much and the interlopers—they want to take the pup.

The Alpha pushes his cock into the boy’s throat and knots his mouth.

The boy shivers at his feet, making weak little noises as his throat convulses around the Alpha’s cock. His eyes roll into the back of his head and a moment later, the scent of his release reaches the Alpha’s nose.

God, the little pup likes it. Likes to be dominated so completely.

He’ll be lucky if the Alpha ever takes his knot out after this.

When the peak of his orgasm as faded, the Alpha looks back to the door. The men haven’t left.

He sneers.

“My knot is in his throat,” he tells them. Well. Close enough. “Will you try to take him now?”

They know they can’t. Even if they were brave enough to get so close—which they clearly aren’t—trying to take the pup now would hurt him.

He gives it a beat, letting that knowledge sink in, before he growls, “Leave.”

It’s clear the interlopers don’t want to do that, not without the pup, but they have no choice. They leave.

They come back, but they never get the boy.

Not when the little one is astride his hips, the Alpha’s cock buried deep in that tight, lithe little body. The pup’s shoulders hunched and the bear still under his arm, one hand braced against the Alpha’s chest as he hangs his head and cries.

“I don’t like it this way, Daddy,” he whispers. “Don’t make me.”

The Alpha knows. He realized that the moment he laid on his back and pulled the boy on top of him, could smell it in the little one’s scent.

The Alpha grips his small hips tight and demands, “Submit.”

The boy does, riding his cock as he sobs. The pup loves it and hates it, that much is clear. The Alpha only loves it. Loves the distress on the pup’s face, the tears dripping onto his bare chest, the tight hole milking his cock so perfectly, but most of all, he loves the pup’s submission. His obedience.

Distantly, he hears the door to his den open. This time, it doesn’t open all the way, just enough for more voices to float through.

“How the fuck did he get in there?”

“I don’t know—”

“You were supposed to make sure that doesn’t happen, you idiots—”

“God, the boss is going to kill us.”

“Ya think?”

“We have to get Steve away from him before he gets hurt, keep watch until you see an opportunity.”

The Alpha is irritated again. Not just from the intrusion, nor the distraction from the perfect picture of a distressed pup on his cock.

No, he’s irritated that they think he would hurt the pup. This lithe, delicate creature, so fine-boned that it would take no strength at all to break him. 

He needs to dominate the pup—needs the pup to submit to him, totally and completely—but he would never hurt the pup. Just the idea threatens to soften his cock, which should be impossible in his state.

He gathers the boy to him, rolling them until the Alpha is on top of him now. He draws himself out of the pup’s hot, tight body before snapping his hips, burying himself to the hilt.

The pup comes, but still the Alpha doesn’t stop.

He rubs his body along the boy’s, sliding their skin together until their scents mix completely, fucking him hard because that’s what his instincts demand.

“Submit,” he murmurs to the pup, licking up the boy’s tears. “I won’t hurt you, pup, I just need you to submit.”

The boy makes a soft little noise, lithe fingers gripping the Alpha’s face and bringing him down for a needy kiss. When their lips part, the pup looks up at him with open, naked trust.

“I know, Daddy,” he whispers. “Even if you don’t. Even if they don’t. I know. You would never hurt me, not even like this.”

And what can the Alpha do but knot the pup after that?

[daddybucky]

Are we getting your DELICIOUS fertility god au some time soon? I hope so because I am ADDICTED

Yes!

This part is a little trickier 'cause they have to, you know, actually Talk About Things so I stalled out in the middle of it because I wasn't really sure how I wanted that convo to go

And then I got sidetracked with 9-1-1 fic, admittedly, but I haven't forgotten about fertility god Bucky

[daddybucky]

Tomorrow is WIP Wednesday, should we choose our own adventure again?

[daddybucky]

Alpha Fertility God Bucky won the WIP Wednesday poll, so here we have it. Part two.

Part One is here for anyone who wants a refresher. Amazingly, there is still no porn here.

--

What I desire, little one, is a mate.

Steve shudders, his breath hitching. It isn’t just the words. It’s the low voice they’re spoken in–a sultry, seductive tone that burrows right into his belly, where heat blooms. It’s the warm breath on his neck, making him shiver, and the scent of the Alpha making his knees weak. 

The stranger straightens to his full height slowly, his gaze intent as it roams Steve’s face. Warm fingers brush along his jawline again.

“Y-you,” Steve stutters breathlessly. “That is–do you mean to say that your rut is upon you…a-and you have come for relief?”

To him, it seems the only explanation.

The Alpha’s ozone scent is heavy with pheromones, the spicy undercurrent of arousal steady and unwavering. Anyone who caught his scent would be able to tell that he was only hours away from a rut–a day, if one was being generous.

It isn’t exactly common for unmated Alphas to seek out a temple attendant for relief, but it isn’t unheard of, either. After all, theirs is a god of fertility. Sex isn’t forbidden, the way it might be under the service of certain other gods. It wouldn’t make sense if it were. 

Most Alphas just forget it’s an option, really, when there’s usually a peer there to lend a needed hand. Attendants are only ever used when no other option is available.

Steve has a hard time believing this Alpha has no other options. He’s so very handsome, but he’s also calm. Confident. There’s a certainty to him that makes something inside of Steve relax in his presence. He’s the kind of Alpha that others would flock toward for a sense of comfort and safety.

An Alpha like this would have a string of admirers just waiting to be invited into his mating bed, surely?

The Alpha smiles, stroking Steve’s jaw again.

“No,” he says. And then, so gently that the command feels like a request, he adds, “Tell me your name, little one.”

“Steve.”

The Alpha tilts his head, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

“Steve,” he repeats, his voice reshaping it into something new. Something lovely. “No, I do not seek a temporary mate, beautiful Steve. I seek companionship for all eternity. A mate to stay by my side until the stars die out and we are left to make love in the darkness left behind. Do you think that is something you could help me with?”

The galloping of Steve’s heart rivals that of the fastest steed living. Every shallow, unsteady breath brings with it a certainty that he’s about to shake right out of his skin.

“Per–perhaps,” he says faintly. “My lord Alpha, he is a god of fertility, not love. But…but the argument could be made that blossoming love is a kind of birth. We could–we could offer and see if a blessing is granted.”

The Alpha watches him, a fondness growing in his eyes that Steve has never had directed at him before.

“You,” the Alpha murmurs, “are a hidden treasure beyond all imagining. I have waited a long time to find you, little one, and what a delight you are. Just these scant minutes in your presence have been worth the millennia of loneliness.”

Steve’s first, instinctive response is a moment of heartbreak as he thinks, You have been lonely?

But then the rest of what the Alpha said catches up to him. It is his turn to tilt his head and regard the Alpha curiously.

“I don’t understand,” he says.

Before the Alpha can elaborate, the sound of sandals slapping against stone reaches them. Steve turns just as he hears an incensed voice hiss, “Boy.”

One of the senior priests strides toward them quickly, his face a mask of irritation that only deepens when he sees the basket still in Steve’s grip. They were quick to tattle in the kitchens.

“Sir,” Steve says, as the priest nears, “there was–”

“I will have none of your excuses,” the priests interrupts, keeping his voice low to as not to draw attention from those at the altar. He snatches the basket away so violently that Steve might have stumbled if not for the Alpha there to steady him. “Stealing from the kitchens? You may have gotten away with much, but this will not allow this to pass. I will be speaking with the High Priest, you must be punished–”

He got closer with each word, his finger dangerously close to poking Steve’s eye out. The fury in his eyes and in his scent could so easily translate to physical violence. No doubt, that would be the way he’d see Steve punished, if it were up to him.

The Alpha puts a hand on the priest’s shoulder and pushes him back. The ozone in his scent has deepened, the air around him crackling with his own anger. The priest’s tirade dies on his lips, the stench of fear leaking into the air.

He’s only a beta, and not a particularly strong one at that. It isn’t a surprise at all when he tilts his head to the side, baring his neck in submission.

“My apologies, esteemed Alpha,” he says haltingly, with a perfunctory bow. “I did not see you there. Allow me to fetch another attendant to aid you while I deal with this one.”

“No,” the Alpha says mildly. “I think not.”

The priest balks, opening and closing his mouth in a great likeness of a fish. He’s not a very nice priest, not to any of the attendants, and despite the trouble he’s in, Steve has to bite down on a smile at seeing him so flummoxed.

“A-Alpha–”

“I have traveled far,” the Alpha says over him, “and visited many temples dedicated to your god. There are many admirable attendants and priests among them, but none have worked so earnestly in service to your lord Alpha as this one. This village is modest compared to others. It could easily be overlooked by your god, if not for an attendant like this. You are lucky to have him for that reason alone and yet instead of showing gratitude…you would see him punished?”

The priest laughs nervously, glancing between the Alpha and Steve.

“I-I am sorry, esteemed Alpha, but surely you do not think one so great as he,” the priest throws his hand back, gesturing toward the great statue behind him, “would be swayed by a mere pup. If the god takes notice of us, it is because of the work of the priests and the monuments they have built in his honor.”

He preens a little at the mention of monuments. Steve remembers, with sudden clarity, that it was this priest who petitioned for a new statue all those years ago.

We should have one as grand as our lord, he had said, gleaming and immortal as he who watches over us.

The Alpha raises an eyebrow.

“What use is a statue to a god?”

The priest turns red, indignation rising within him. Before he can begin a rebuttal, the Alpha waves a hand.

“You may go,” he says, “we have no need of you.”

“Be that as it may,” the priest answers, snatching up Steve’s wrist and yanking him away from the Alpha with more bravado than his scent implies, “I have need of this one. I will find a new attendant for–”

The air truly does crackle this time, threads of pale lightning flickering in and out of existence around the Alpha. His bright hazel eyes become brighter until there is no color left in them save for glowing, ethereal white.

It is a sign of a living god.

That kind of power cannot be overlooked. All around the temple, parishioners drop to their knees in supplication. Inhaling sharply, the priest goes to the floor, inadvertently yanking Steve down with him. Steve stares up at the Alpha, watching in fascination as the glowing white fades back to hazel.

He looks from the Alpha to the statue and back. They don’t share a great resemblance, and yet somehow, Steve knows–

A millennia of loneliness, he’d said.

“You are him,” Steve whispers into the echoing silence of the temple. “You are my lord Alpha.”

The Alpha smiles again, that same sweet smile that Steve received when he worried about the burdened mother.

“Yes,” he says gently.

Perhaps it is the shock that makes him so bold, but Steve cannot help but ask, “What are you doing here?”

The Alpha laughs softly.

“You prayed for it,” he answers.

Steve blinks. 

“You can hear the prayers?” He whispers. “Truly?”

The Alpha shakes his head, squatting in front of Steve so that they’re eye-level.

“Not all of them,” he says. “Not always. To hear them all would bring madness. But when one is good and earnest, when you offer so selflessly, you are heard.”

He glances at the priest with a look of derision.

“His voice, it is unfamiliar to me,” the Alpha says, kindness bleeding back into his expression when he turns his gaze to Steve once more. Pressing a palm to Steve’s cheek, he continues, “But you, my little one…you are known to me. You have greeted the morning at my feet, you have unburdened your fears to me, you have fervently prayed on another’s behalf. You are the reason I am here. I followed your voice until it led me to your door.”

A ripple goes through the gathered crowd, though no one is brave enough to lift their heads and look upon the living god. It’s only when Steve glances at those gathered that he becomes aware of the fact that he is the only one with his face not pressed into the temple floor.

He is dishonoring his lord. Shame flooding him, Steve hastily tries to rectify this. He throws himself forward, but strong hands stop him.

The Alpha’s fingers skate down his arm, brushing away the priest’s hand from his wrist, and then guiding Steve to his feet.

“No,” he says. “You will not bow to me, little one. Not ever again. But these people, they will bow to you, for it is you that has saved them.”

Steve frowns, looking around once again before looking back to his lord.

“But I don’t want them to bow to me,” he says uncertainly.

“And that,” the Alpha replies, smiling, “is why you are perfect.”

[daddybucky]

It's WIP Wednesday but posting 3 sentences at a time feels weird and Not Right in my brain, so instead I'll let you guys choose your own adventure

[daddybucky]

So I’ve seen this… contraption. Or maybe contraption isn’t the right word, since it’s a fairly simple thing. But picture it: a collar with a short chain/leash leading to a cock ring that’s… attached to Bucky’s cock? Any thought on how much Steve would like/love that? If it sparks joy?

Sometimes I think I write too many blowjobs but honestly, who the fuck cares

Steve would be obsessed with something like that.

Like, they probably shop for sex toys together. Sitting in Bucky’s office, Steve sitting pretty on his Daddy’s cock in an honestly indecent little skirt. 

Daddy has control of the computer mouse, but the hand not occupied by that is under said skirt.

The moment his big, warm hand wraps around Steve’s slim little cock, Steve fucking melts.

Daddy kisses his temple.

“Now let’s see what Daddy can buy for such a perfect little boy,” he murmurs.

They scroll idly, Steve content to dazedly watch the items go by. He barely registers most of them–dildos, vibrators, paddles–too busy basking in the haze of pleasure Daddy’s put him in. A fat, hard cock in his aching little hole and Daddy’s thick fingers fondling his little cock, it’s too good.

But then–then it comes on screen.

It takes Steve a moment to realize what it is and another for the images to start flooding his brain. His body flushes hot. He whines, his back arching as he tightens up and comes on Daddy’s fingers.

He’s fucked over Daddy’s desk after, but not before Daddy buys the toy that caused such a reaction.

When it finally arrives, it’s everything Steve imagined and more.

Just picture it: Bucky still dressed from work, lounging against the headboard. His baby boy curled up between his legs, gloriously naked.

Bucky–intent on spoiling his baby mercilessly–has set up the machine at the end of the bed and while Steve has his mouth full, his little hole is being fucked at a glacial pace by a fat, ribbed dildo.

He’s in fucking heaven.

Bucky modified the toy, I think. Shortened the chain to where once the cockring is secure, Steve can’t pull off his cock. He’s stuck with a full mouth until Bucky’s decided he’s had enough.

When Steve realizes that, he tightens up around the dildo and comes without a touch.

Bucky smiles gently at him, petting his baby as his little cock spurts. He hasn’t let Steve nurse yet, right now his perfect little boy is just holding Daddy’s cock–warming it like the good little boy he is–and already, he’s fucking gone.

Those pretty blue eyes made even prettier by how glazed they are, heavy-lidded and distant. He looks fucking drugged, just from this. Just from a cock between those pretty pink lips.

Bucky pretends to work while his baby lays there and basks in the pleasure, going through a pile of paper with only half his attention actually on the material.

He doesn’t do it to be productive. It’s just another way to make his baby feel good.

The purpose of it all is simple. To give the impression that this is a treat for Steve and Steve alone. That Daddy is merely indulging his hunger, that the cock in his mouth is only hard because Steve needs it to be and not because Bucky gets anything out of this.

It’s an illusion, but one that works perfectly. One that–in the moment–is difficult for Steve to see through. His baby whimpers.

They started with only the head of Bucky’s cock on his tongue, but Steve has inched his way forward little by little until that head is now touching the back of his throat. Daddy’s apparent indifference has only made him hungrier, needier.

He whimpers again.

He can’t help it. He feels so good, good and perfect and like everything is right in the world. Everything is as it’s supposed to be.

Sometimes, when Daddy slips his cock into Steve’s mouth, he’ll say, “This is what you were made for, baby.”

If Steve thinks about it too hard outside of play, he’s embarrassed about it, even though his little cock still gets hard just from the thought.

But in the moment…in the moment, he thinks it’s true.

Drooling around Daddy’s hard, fat cock, feeling so good that he can’t stop trembling. Shivers of sharp, exquisite pleasure racing along his spine. Between his thighs, his little cock hurts because he’s come, but it can’t soften. Not with his little hole fucked steadily the way he needs and Daddy in his mouth, Daddy’s heavy, musky scent in every breath.

He hardens again too soon.

Steve doesn’t even realize he’s started crying, whining pitifully around his mouthful, until papers shuffle above him and then a big, heavy hand lands in his hair and Daddy starts to coo.

Steve blinks through the tears until he can look up and see his Daddy, but what he sees only makes him want to cry more.

Daddy’s soft, indulgent smile and his warm, tender gaze. He pets Steve gently and murmurs, “You’re alright, baby. You’re okay, Daddy’s got you. I’ve got you, hush now.”

Steve shudders, his hurt little cock dribbling.

The world is so big and scary. It’s proven itself a dark and hurtful place. But when he’s like this, taken into this headspace where he’s so little and innocent, nothing feels scary. How could it, when Daddy is there? Daddy, who touches him so gently and coos so sweetly. Daddy, who has proven that he will end anyone who tries to hurt him. Daddy, who watches over him always, and looks at him with such love.

Daddy’s right, he was made for this. Maybe not born for it, but the world made him need this–this ownership and care, this vulnerable headspace where he’s utterly incapable of taking care of himself.

God, does he need it. Crave it. Feeling so little inside and having Daddy taking care of him, totally and completely.

Bucky is…fucking mesmerized by his baby. Steve’s gaze is so open and innocent, so fucking vulnerable. 

His baby’s started to nurse. It’s entirely unconscious, his pup gently suckling to soothe himself, and Bucky cannot believe he’s the lucky bastard that gets to keep this boy. To fucking own him, totally and completely.

He hasn’t given permission for his baby to suckle yet, but he can’t–won’t, absolutely fucking refuses to reprimand Steve.

There are times where a stern word makes his baby feel good, but this is not one of those times. Steve is too vulnerable. A stern word would shatter him, take away every good feeling he has and replace them with the worst kind of pain.

“My baby boy,” he coos instead, brushing his thumb along Steve’s flushed cheek. “My perfect, perfect little boy. Daddy loves you so much.”

Steve, feeling far too good and utterly defenseless against his Daddy’s praise, comes again.

Daddy just smiles, carding fingers through his hair.

“Are you showing Daddy what are, baby?” He asks gently. “Hm? Showing Daddy that you’re just a little boy? Too little to control your cute little cock?”

Fuck, the way his baby looks at him, then. Adoring and fucking worshipful. 

“I think a boy so little needs to nurse,” Bucky murmurs. “What do you think, baby?”

Steve moves for the first time, his body shifting restlessly as he makes a little noise. The fucking hunger in his eyes makes Bucky’s cock throb. His baby boy, still unaware of his sweet suckling, fucking whines.

“Go on, pup,” Bucky breathes out. “Nurse on Daddy. Show me how little you are.”

Steve picks up his head and greedily starts to suck.

Bucky groans, leaning back against the headboard, all pretense of indifference gone. He keeps one hand in his baby’s hair, never letting Steve pull too far back.

He wants that hot, hungry little mouth filled his cock. He’s gratified to know that his baby is desperate for the same thing when he realizes that Steve never tries to push against his hand.

They both want his cock in his baby’s throat, and that’s where he stays.

He lets his baby have it for as long as he can stand, but when the desperate ache in his cock grows too much, Bucky lets the cockring fall away and comes inside his pup.

Steve moans, swallowing it down before he flops uselessly between Bucky’s legs. He stays close, despite the fact that he doesn’t need to, warm breaths ghosting over Bucky’s sensitive cock.

Bucky uses the remote to pause the machine, but as soon as he does, his baby starts to whine.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Bucky soothes, turning it back on. “Alright, you can still have it.”

Steve relaxes as soon as the machine starts up again and he’s being fucked like he deserves.

They lay in silence, nothing but the whir of the machine. It isn’t too long before Bucky, his head leaned back against the headboard and his eyes closed, feels the head under his hand move.

Steve can’t help it. He feels so fucking little inside and he just–he wants Daddy’s cock. Needs it, craves it. It’s right there, a mere inch from his face, and he’s only a boy. He can’t help it.

He scoots a little closer to it, maneuvering until Daddy’s fat cock is laying across his cheek and Steve’s nose is buried at the base. God, it’s so hot. And the scent–the scent burrows into him, pooling heat into his hips and thighs, his little cock throbbing.

Daddy’s scent is heavy and musky, manly in a way Steve’s sure his own musk isn’t. It makes him feel so fucking little, so needy inside that he wants to whine and so he does.

Soon, scenting it isn’t enough. He has to kiss the heated flesh against his cheek, reverent and worshipful. His Daddy is so good to him, so perfect, he deserves to be worshipped and what better way to do that than with his mouth?

He’s gentle, because he isn’t sure if Daddy’s still sensitive. He doesn’t want to have this taken away. He thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t feel Daddy’s hot cock under his lips.

Not long after that, kissing isn’t enough. He mouths at the tip, whining pitifully. He looks up at Daddy as he tongues the slit.

Doesn’t Daddy know how hungry he is? Can’t he see how much he needs it?

“Alright, baby,” Daddy murmurs. “Alright, you can have it again.”

He pushes Steve’s head down, fills his mouth so perfectly again. He blinks hazily, watching as Daddy secures the cockring again, and all Steve can think is he’s the luckiest boy in the world to have a Daddy like this. A Daddy who spoils him so good.

Daddy hasn’t just given him a cock to suck on again, hasn’t just ensured that Steve can’t pull off it until Daddy’s come again. He’s given Steve a cock that’s still mostly soft, a cock that he can nurse to hardness.

God, he loves that. Loves feeling Daddy grow and harden in his mouth. It makes him feel so lightheaded, so fucking good, and so hungry.

He’s always hungry for Daddy’s cock, any way he can get it.

The rest of the night is the same cycle. Steve nursing hungrily, Daddy coming, Steve having to wait for Daddy to tell him whether he can have it again. Sometimes, if he gets too excited, Daddy makes him cockwarm again, just lay there and calm down until he can nurse without choking himself.

When it’s bedtime, Daddy tries to take it all away from him. Steve sobs, bereft and heartbroken, until Daddy’s cock is back in his mouth, until Daddy’s soft voice is promising that he can nurse himself to sleep.

He drifts off, feeling safe and warm and loved.

[daddybucky]

I love to imagine super fluffy aftercare, with lots of face kisses and giggling and teasing and cuddling and just so much trust and love and Steve being so happy and comfortable and safe and bucky so proud of his boy and bursting with pride at seeing him so happy <3 gah

GOD yes

I have a computer again, let’s celebrate with some fluff

--

A nice warm bath with Steve snuggled into Daddy’s chest. When Daddy washes him, he makes sure to find all of his ticklish spots to make him giggle and the more he does, the more the warmth in Daddy’s eyes grow.

“I thought you were tired?” Daddy teases. “You’re squirming an awful lot for a sleepy little boy.”

"It tickles, Daddy,” Steve protests, another peal of laughter echoing through the bathroom when Daddy brushes the rag along his side again.

By the time Daddy’s gotten down his legs, Steve’s sides hurt from laughing. He’s been maneuvered in Daddy’s lap so that Daddy can get at his feet.

“Hold still, sweetheart,” Daddy says, mock seriously. “I have to count your toes and make sure none fell off.”

“They didn’t!”

He doesn’t count Steve’s toes at all. Instead, he tickles the bottom of his foot. Steve rears back, laughing loudly. He would’ve hit his head on the wall and hurt himself, except Daddy’s broad hand is suddenly there, cupping the back of his head and taking the brunt of the blow.

“Careful,” Daddy murmurs, kissing the top of his head. “Or you’ll hurt my perfect little pup.”

“You tickled me!”

“Did I? I don’t remember that.”

And then he does it again.

By the time Steve is clean, he’s limp in Daddy’s arms, exhausted all over again. Daddy’s holding him tight, his teasing replaced by sweet, chaste kisses to whatever skin he can reach.

“My perfect boy,” he murmurs between each one. “There aren’t fucking words for how you make me feel. Can’t tell you how much I love you.”

Daddy says it after every play time. It’s important to him, making sure Steve knows how much he’s loved, and no matter how many times he hears it, Steve craves to hear it again.

When bath time is over, Daddy makes him sit in the water where it’s still nice and warm while he dries himself off. Only once he’s taken care of does he get Steve out, scooping him out of the bath and setting him on the rug. He doesn’t say it, but Steve knows it’s so his feet don’t get cold.

He dries Steve off with a singular focus, making sure that he’s never too exposed. The realization makes Steve’s chest feel too tight. He leans forward, clumsily kissing the corner of Daddy’s mouth.

Daddy meets his gaze, his bright eyes so warm and loving. He touches a finger to Steve’s chin, bringing him forward for a proper kiss.

By the time their lips part, Steve’s little cock is sticking straight out, hard and flushed and begging for Daddy’s attention. It was already halfway there from Daddy’s care but the kiss was more than he could handle. 

His little cock throbs when Daddy’s gaze drops to it.

Daddy runs his knuckles along its length, looking back up at Steve in a way that makes him feel so fucking little inside that he wants to pout and whine until Daddy takes care of him all over again.

“My eager little boy,” Daddy coos. “You’ve had enough for tonight, baby. I think you know that, don’t you?”

Steve nods. He has no opinions on the matter--whatever Daddy says, that’s what he thinks.

Daddy hums.

“Which means,” he says, “your little cock must be getting hard because it wants back in its cage. It doesn’t want Daddy to forget to lock it up nice and snug. Is that it, baby? Is that why your little cock is trying to get my attention?”

Steve--breathless from those simple touches and Daddy’s warm voice--nods dazedly.

“Then let’s give it what it wants, hm?”

Daddy picks him up and carries him to bed. He lays Steve out on the bed, pinching the head of his little cock until it softens enough to go in its cage. The moment the lock clicks into place, a tension Steve didn’t know he held eases out of him.

“Come here, baby, your collar next.”

Daddy helps him kneel and winds the collar around his neck, slotting it into place. Steve has a great many collars and tonight, Daddy’s chosen a pretty pink one with a metal heart in the middle. Only once it's on does Steve relax enough to realize just how tired he truly is.

He couldn’t sleep before, not feeling so exposed, but given these two simple things--these symbols of Daddy’s ownership--and he feels safe enough for his body to remind him of how worn out he is.

“My precious boy,” Daddy coos softly, kissing his forehead. “I think a boy so precious deserves to sleep in Daddy’s shirt. What do you think?”

Steve yawns, nodding.

“Yes,” he says sleepily. And then, remembering his manners, “Please, Daddy. Thank you.”

Daddy smiles at him knowingly. He helps Steve into the shirt and then tucks him into bed. Steve is so close to being able to sleep, but it isn’t quite right yet--he can’t go to sleep until everything is right.

Noticing his pout, Daddy asks, “Do you need Teddy, baby?"

“No,” Steve says, his pout deepening. “Just my Daddy Bear.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. Daddy Bear is loved, sure, but he isn’t Steve’s comfort item, his security blanket. Still, what his baby wants, he gets. 

He goes to reach for the bear in question, only stopping when Steve whines in protest.

“No,” he says, tugging on Bucky’s arm. “Not that Daddy Bear.”

Bucky laughs softly as he allows himself to be pulled into bed. He molds himself around Steve’s body, so big and broad that he feels like a fortress around Steve’s body, protecting him completely.

“Am I Daddy Bear now?” He asks, laughing.

Steve hums, burrowing into his embrace.

“You’re my Daddy,” he slurs, already nodding off now that everything is just right. “And I snuggle you like a teddy bear. Daddy Bear.”

Bucky can’t breathe for how much love he feels in that moment. No one’s ever had the ability to bring him to his knees before, but his baby boy has held that power in his slender palm since the moment they met. 

“Alright, baby,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss Steve’s forehead. “Daddy Bear’s got you. Time for good little boys to sleep.”

But Steve is already fast asleep, safe and warm in his Daddy’s arms.

[daddybucky]

oh wait wait wait hang on one more

temple attendant steve, dressed in wispy white tunics, quietly cleaning and caring for the temple and the supplicants by day, always so sweet and tender for the people coming to beg the god for children or whatever other things they are praying for

and by night getting thoroughly railed by his hungry god

I wrote like 1500 words to this and my computer decided it did not want to work properly anymore. I managed to rewrite what I’d lost and then get to this point before my computer decided to stop working completely. I had to wait to post this at work XD

So. Like. I meant to change the way it ends or at least write more but I don’t know when I’ll get the home computer situation fixed so I figured I’d just throw it up here for your enjoyment.

It is weirdly angsty, Bucky is hardly in it, and it's minor character focused for something that was supposed to be a porn prompt. But I still like it.

Warnings for a famine situation and all that goes with it and mentions of fertility issues.

Also, if anyone can’t tell, I’ve been scouring my inbox all week for goodies. This one’s from 2022 based on this post and then this story.

Alpha Fertility God Bucky, Take #2

–

Steve was born an Omega runt and we’re not going to enlighten this ‘verse, either, so that’s bad. His birth pack gives him to the temple as a babe and that’s where he grows up.

He could grow up bitter and angry, but he doesn’t. Somehow, he turns out kind.

Each morning, he is the first to greet his Alpha Lord in the temple. The sun’s rays have barely peeked over the horizon when he slips through the columns of the great hall, heading toward a smaller back chamber.

In his teens, the birth rate in the village rose for several years. During that time, the temple saw a boom. The priests received enough money to enlarge the temple and build a new statue of their god, one seated on a huge dais, glittering gold and taking up most of the wall.

Steve does not approach this statue, though he takes the time to pause and bow to it as he walks.

No, the statue he greets every morning is the one that had been there when he’d been given to the temple. It’s in a small chamber now facing the eastern horizon.

Some of the younger attendants call it the morning god for the way its bathed in light each sunrise. 

Steve carries with him a tray, which he sets at the statue’s feet.

The first step in his morning ritual is to kiss the statue on each cheek.

“Good morning, my Lord Alpha,” he murmurs, bending to light the incense. “Did you sleep well?”

Statues do not sleep, of course, but Steve always asks. He hopes that perhaps, somewhere in the great universe, his lord hears a whisper on the wind and knows that someone cares.

The incense burning, Steve picks up a small, decorative bowl filled with perfumed water. Dipping two fingers into it, Steve sets about spread the perfume upon the statue.

When he was a child, he watched the High Priests perform this ceremony to this very statue each morning. Now, they do it to the new statue, but they wait until the doors are open and the village people can witness their dedication.

It is a show performed for the peace of mind of the villagers. This is not a show. It is worship.

“The drought continues,” he says as he works. “Three weeks since the last rain. The farmers worry too much of the food will rot in the fields and we won’t have enough for winter.”

The statue perfumed, he sets down the bowl and opens the last item on the tray: a small cloth tied into a knot. Inside is a small chunk of bread and cheese, the two of items together no bigger than his fist.

“We’re asked to reduce our offerings,” he continues. “I understand. Babes need food and I think you would rather see them eat. But I cannot let you go hungry, so I brought you this. It’s from my breakfast, so no one will will suffer.”

With everything set out, Steve kneels once more, closing his eyes as he leans his cheek against the statue’s knee. He stays there, allowing himself this peace, until the sun warms his back and he hears others in the great hall. Only then does he begin his day.

He began temple life as a cleaner. It is the easiest job for children and the attendants were always good about keeping them away from the statues when they were too young to comprehend. 

He did that job well, but the problem with cleaning is it is a mindless task. It was so easy to listen in on what was being said around him and through that, he heard the pain of the people in the village. What was he to do but offer comfort?

Too many times being caught by the priests and finally, they made it his job. He now helped the villagers with their offerings, listened to their stories, offered whatever comfort he could. 

It was not much in the grand scheme of things, but it mattered. It was a job he could be proud of.

When the great doors opened, the first thing Steve hears is the familiar sound of a wooden cane striking hard earth.

Old Man Erskine is the oldest Omega in the village. Every morning, he makes the trek from his little hut to the temple and leaves a modest offering of dried fruit seeds. They are never for himself; always, he offers in the same of someone he thinks can use an extra prayer.

For the past decade, he’s had trouble with his hip. The walk hurts him but he refused the notion of giving it up or asking another to make the offering in his stead. His only concession seems to be allowing Steve to help him from the great doors to the altar across the room.

“Who is it for today?” Steve asks as they make the trek.

“My granddaughter,” Erskine says, his breathing hard and labored with the effort. “The eldest one. Her sisters have all born children, but she and her mate are still without. She’s a good girl and I know she’d make a good mother. She deserves this.”

Steve smiles, squeezing Erskine’s hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a trio of seeds.

“To add to your offering,” he murmurs, tipping the seeds into the Omega’s open palm. “It isn’t much, just from yesterday’s snack. Perhaps with these, my lord will hear your prayer and grant her a blessing.”

Erskine’s own offering is meager, a scant few seeds, but it must be. They are all struggling in these times.

His eyes shine as he lifts his gaze to Steve. With his free hand, he touches his palm to Steve’s cheek.

“Bless you, boy,” he says. “What a joy you are.”

He bends his head, kissing the seeds and whispering a prayer before he flings them at the statue’s feet. As they fly through the air, Steve closes his eyes and adds his own prayer.

When the old man leaves, another takes his place and then another, and another. 

At some point in the morning–and he doesn’t know when–Steve becomes aware of a lurking presence in the shadows of the great hall.

He’s a tall, broad Alpha male dressed all in black, a sword at his hip and his hood pulled low. There is an air of power and confidence surrounding him that Steve has never seen before–not even in the richest of men.

The scent trail he leaves behind is intoxicating, heavy and dominating. It holds an undercurrent of arousal, as if the Alpha is on the cusp of his rut. It might explain why he’s in the temple at all, though he never goes to the altar.

Steve means to talk to him–to ask if he can offer guidance–but he is waylaid at every turn. 

First a new mother coming to thank the god for her easy birth and then a string of new brides hoping to be blessed on their wedding night.

The latest is a young boy, perhaps only eight. He’s too young to present yet, but Steve sees the Alpha in him already. The poor boy worries too much for his family, a weight of responsibility on him that should not be on one so young. The boy’s mother is set to give birth within the month and someone’s filled his head with the horrors of labor. 

Steve doesn’t ask who; he’s afraid that if he knew, he would hunt them down for hurting this innocent.

He kneels with the boy at the statue's feet, stroking his hair.

“I don’t have anything to give,” the boy whispers, watching others lay down their offerings. He turns to Steve, staring up at him with big brown eyes. “I didn’t…I didn’t know I needed anything.”

Steve smiles and kisses his forehead, reaching into his robes to pull out a silver coin.

“Here,” he says. “Give him this and tell him your fears.”

He would’ve used the coin to buy material for a new tunic. Some would call it a sacrifice, giving the coin away, but Steve doesn't see it that way. Alleviating this boy's fears is far more important. 

“It will be a wasted blessing, though, I think,” he muses. “The mother of a boy so strong and good could not fall to the labors of bringing his sister into the world. I’m sure of it.”

“Sister?” The boy looks up at him in surprise. “Do you think?”

Steve hums, carding fingers through his curls.

“Yes,” he says decisively. “Only the most worthy big brothers are given little sisters, and I can’t think of a big brother more worthy than you. In a month, your mother will be fine and you’ll have a sister to look after. You’ll bring them to the temple so I can meet them, won’t you?”

The boy beams. “Yes,” he vows.

Throughout it all, the stranger in black is an ever lingering presence in his periphery. The Alpha walks the edge of the room, a silent, intimidating presence. Watching.

It’s curious that no one has asked him to leave yet, given the fact that he has offered no prayer or trinket or even supplication to the god. This is a sacred space, it isn’t for gawkers. 

Steve has only just decided that if no one else will do it, he will ask the stranger to leave, when he sees the woman.

She’s another of the villagers, though not one that he ever remembers seeing. Her clothes are threadbare and worn, dark bags under her eyes and her hair neglected and unkempt. She’s far too thin, especially for someone with a growing babe in her arms and two small children trailing behind.

It takes such energy to care for the young, but this woman looks like she has nothing left to give. She’s exhausted, on the verge of tears, defeat showing in every line of her body.

Steve, the stranger in black forgotten, approaches her with open hands and an encouraging, sweet smile.

“What blessings do you ask for today?” He asks by way of greeting.

The woman hesitates, looking from the child in her arms to the two hiding behind her skirts. She looks back up at Steve, a little lost.

He understands. Whatever she’s here for, she doesn’t want the children to hear. He beckons another attendant over, bidding them to watch the children while he takes the mother across the room.

They kneel together at the altar, the mother staring at her lap unseeing. Her eyes brim with tears, her knuckles bloodless where she clutches her dress.

“It’s not right,” she murmurs, her voice coarse. “It’s not right to ask what I’ve got to ask.”

Steve touches her hand. “That’s not for us to decide. Go on. He will understand.”

She takes in a ragged breath, shaking her head just once as a tear slips down her cheek. She sighs the sigh of someone too burdened.

“The little one,” she says, “he’s six months next week. His Daddy’s already talking of another. He comes from a big family, you see, and he wants one of his own. I wanted to give him that, once upon a time. I did. But it’s too many mouths, my lord. The field’s aren’t yieldin’ what we need. One of us’ll be dead before winter’s through if we keep going like this.”

She closes her eyes, rocking against her hands.

“It’ll be me,” she whispers. “It’ll be me, ‘cause I won’t see my children starve. I won’t. But if I’m gone, who’ll care for them?”

Steve’s stomach drops. Suddenly, her thin frame makes too much sense.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” He asks softly.

“Doesn’t matter,” she says, cutting him a hard look. “I won’t see my children starve.”

The fire in her dies as quickly as it came. She reaches into her skirts with shaking hands and brings out a tattered cloth. When she unfolds it, it holds only a single slice of apple.

“It’s all I have to give,” she murmurs. She looks to Steve again, but this time, she’s uncertain. “I’ve never offered before. Never needed to–the babes came quickly, one after another. What do I do? Just leave it here?”

Steve swallows roughly.

“What is it, exactly, that you ask for?”

She trembles, her fingers spasming around the cloth. She has the look of a woman who knows that if she speaks the words out loud, she can never take them back. But she knows she has to.

“Make me barren,” she whispers. “I’ve had three, let me have no more. I don’t care if it makes him hate me, I can’t watch them waste away.”

She hesitates, her breathing ragged, before breathing out, “And I don’t want to die.”

Steve gathers her to his chest, squeezing as tightly as he can.

“You won’t,” he whispers. “You won’t, I won’t let you. Wait here, I’ll help.”

He lets go, thrusting himself to his feet and taking off toward the back rooms of the temple. Underneath the main chamber, the kitchens are situated. He runs through the halls until he reaches them, taking up a basket and filling it with anything he can find.

There must be something in his expression because none of the kitchen workers try to stop him, though many give him hard looks that say they will be telling the high priests. He doesn’t care. He will take whatever punishment they dole out, but he will not let a mother or her children starve. 

They have plenty, what is it for if not to help those that serve his lord?

He comes to a halt when he enters the great hall again. The woman still kneels at the altar, but the stranger in black is with her now. He squats in front of her, smoothing down her unkempt hair as she drinks from his waterskin.

Her burden is gone. Life had weighed her down only minutes before, but it’s seemingly disappeared. She stares at the stranger with a dazed expression.

The stranger stands, helping her to her feet. He kisses her knuckles and then her forehead before bidding her back toward her children. 

A shaft of light catches her face and to Steve’s utter bafflement, she no longer looks haggard and worn. Her once sallow skin glows with health, the bruises gone from her eyes and with it, her palpable exhaustion.

Steve starts to go after her, but the stranger intercepts.

“What have you done to her?” He demands, trying and failing to look over the stranger’s shoulder. “Move at once! She needs food before she keels over.”

“Be still, little one,” the stranger soothes, taking Steve by the shoulders. “She is well. She will not starve, I give you my word. I have seen to it.”

Steve looks up at him, confused and a little dazed himself. The stranger’s hood has been removed, the lines of a strikingly handsome face revealed. His scent is overwhelming, crackling like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.

“What did you do to her?” Steve asks again, softer this time.

“I did nothing but take her burden,” the stranger promises, touching his cheek. “She will have nothing more to fear.”

Steve frowns, looking down at the basket in his hands. He tries to peek around the stranger again, but he cannot find the woman.

“Truly, she will be alright?” He asks, scanning the crowds. “She will not starve?”

When he looks back to the stranger, it’s to see a sweet smile spreading across his full lips.

“You care very much, don’t you, little one?” The stranger asks gently.

“Of course,” Steve says, affronted. “These people trust me. They trust my Alpha Lord. What would I be if I took that so lightly?”

“Unremarkable,” the stranger answers, as if the question were not rhetorical. “And unfortunately common. Not many take their service to the gods so seriously.”

Yes, Steve thinks sourly. He knows too well.

He has seen it too often in his short lifetime, not just from other attendants but from the priests as well. His fingers tighten around the basket.

He will need to return it to the kitchens if the mother will not need it, but he can’t seem to find it in him to do it now.

“What brings you to the temple?” He asks instead. “You have been here a long time, but have made no offering. Do you have nothing to give?”

The stranger smiles at him again, strong fingers brushing along Steve’s jaw.

“If I said that I did not,” he murmurs, “would you give to me the way you have given to all the others?”

Oh. Steve blushes, the heat rising in his cheeks quickly.

The stranger has been watching him.

“Yes,” he answers truthfully. “If you tell me what you’d ask of my lord, and if it is not blasphemy, I would help in whatever way I can."

The stranger leans forward, his lips brushing the shell of Steve’s ear.

“That's good,” he murmurs, “because what I desire, little one, is a mate."

[daddybucky]

G, pleeeaaaassee could you write barnes twins + cockwarming/blowjobs + steve in a slutty dress and makeup? 💕💕💕💕💕💕

I don’t know what happened here, but the twins–Bucky specifically–decided that this was not going to be Business As Usual

James is all Daddy all day, but not Bucky. I don’t know what Bucky is here, I just know he is not a Master or a Daddy. He’s just vibing and I let him do it for the porn.

So imagine if you will:

The twins were supposed to take Steve out for a night on the town. Maybe they own a club and the plan was to go there so Steve can have fun, or maybe they’re the kind of legend in town that means they can go anywhere they want and nobody will be stupid enough to take issue with their baby doll in a dress.

Either way, Steve is looking fine. Etienne can be in this ‘verse, too, he helped Steve get dolled the fuck up. The slinkiest little dress, one with a deep neckline and so fucking short you can see the swell of his ass if he moves wrong. 

His hair is short, of course, but Etienne’s done something to do that makes it look soft and mussed, like he’s already been fucked good and hard. There’s actual volume to it and waves. Steve didn’t think that was possible.

He does Steve’s make-up and it’s soft. The dress is slutty but the make-up is all blushing innocence, highlighting his big blue eyes and rosy cheeks, pale pink gloss on his lips.

Etienne bullies him into a pair of strappy heels that Steve doesn’t really feel confident in, but they do wonders for the look and for his fucking legs. 

”You’re a magician,” Steve says when the look is complete and he’s finally allowed in front of a mirror. 

Etienne flips imaginary hair over his shoulder. “Sweetie, tell me something I don’t know.”

The dress is shimmering, glittery blue and the heels are silver, so the collar chosen to go with it is silver leather with real sapphires encrusted along the band. Etienne doesn’t put it on him, of course, he would never.

Instead, he takes it out to where Bucky’s sitting in the living room. James isn’t there yet–he had to take care of some last minute business–but he’ll meet them soon.

Etienne lays the collar in Bucky’s hands, and then, with a flourish, he says, “Maybe I present: the hottest piece of ass you’ll ever have.”

Hovering in the entrance to the living room, Steve is somehow confident and shy at the same time. Etienne’s completed the look by adding sapphire stud earrings to match the collar and a sapphire-and-diamond encrusted bracelet. The only thing missing now is the collar.

Steve knows he looks good and more than that, he feels good. But there’s still a little part of him that worries he won’t be desirable like this to the men he’s so desperately in love with.

He needn’t worry. The moment Bucky lays eyes on him, an intense heat erupts in his belly. Goosebumps ripple over his skin as the heat spreads until he feels like he’s about to combust.

He doesn’t bother to adjust himself, wanting his baby to see the erection now bulging his slacks. He knows what the shyness is about and he wants Steve to know he has nothing to worry about–not from him or James.

Both of them would worship at his feet if that’s what their baby wanted.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he rasps, patting his thigh.

Steve shudders, his expression turning hungry, needy. He stumbles toward the couch, but it has nothing to do with his heels and everything to do with how weak his Daddy makes him.

“And that’s my cue,” Etienne says, picking up his bag. On the way out the door, he calls over his shoulder, “Don’t ruin my hard work until people have a chance to see him, you fucking pervert. See you at the club, bitches!”

Steve’s so affronted by the remark that it knocks him out of his arousal for a moment. He glares at the empty space over his shoulder.

“Etienne!”

A cackle echoes through the house just before the door slams. When Steve turns back around, he jolts. Bucky is standing in front of him now.

“No, he’s right, baby,” Bucky says as he puts the collar to Steve’s throat. He walks slowly around to stand at Steve’s back and buckles it.

When he’s done, he places an open-mouthed kiss just above it on Steve’s neck and Steve suddenly, desperately wishes they were in bed. Strong arms wrap around him and pull him against a broad, rock-hard body.

“I am a fucking pervert,” Bucky murmurs, kissing behind his ear. 

A big, warm hand teases the hem of his dress, thick fingers sliding along his skin. Steve moans, trembling. He fucking loves this, not just the dominating presence behind him or the hand grabbing at his thigh, but the hunger behind it. The need. He can feel it in those touches, hear it in Bucky’s voice.

He isn’t just wanted. He’s craved.

The only thing that would make it better is if James were there. All Steve wants is to be sandwiched between their two powerful bodies, big hands roaming his skin, hungry kisses and impatient orders that culminate in what he wants most: to be fucked by them both. To know how much they want him.

“Because here you are,” Bucky whispers, “looking so fucking pretty and all I want to do is lift the hem of this pretty dress and put my cock where it belongs. You look at me with those innocent eyes wearing a dress like this and all I want to do is fucking ruin you.”

Steve shudders again, nodding as he turns his head, seeking out Bucky’s kiss.

“Yes,” he breathes out, sounding so confident for how needy he feels inside. “Yes, please. That–please, do that–”

Their lips are so close and he tilts his face up, wanting that connection, but Bucky denies him.

“Uh-uh, baby,” he teases softly. “I’m not allowed to ruin his hard work, remember?”

Steve can’t help it. He whines.

Bucky chuckles softly, reaching up to trace the edge of Steve’s lips.

“Do you have more of this gloss?” When Steve nods, he orders, “Go get it, baby, then we’ll go. I have a feeling you’ll need to reapply it a lot tonight.”

Steve stumbles back to their room. He stands in the middle dazedly, trying to get his brain clear enough to figure out what he’s supposed to be doing. After a second, he spots the gloss on the vanity and with shaking fingers, he grabs it and stuffs it in the clutch.

For the second time, when he turns around, Bucky is there. He’s got a predatory gleam in his eye as he advances.

“Now that I think about it,” he says, taking Steve by the shoulders and steering him toward the bed. “There’s more than one way to ruin a pretty boy.”

He hikes Steve’s dress up and pushes him onto the bed, only pausing when he realizes that the only thing Steve has on underneath is his cock cage.

Chuckling, he lowers himself to his knees.

“Naught boy.”

“Etienne said–”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky interrupts. “You’re in a fuck me, Daddy dress and we’ve got to actually meet your Daddy in about twenty minutes. I don’t give a damn what Etienne said.”

Bucky unbuttons his dress shirt just enough to get at the chain underneath. He pulls the necklace out, using the key at the end to unlock the cage. It takes no time at all for Steve’s little cock to harden once it’s off.

“I can’t fuck you ‘til you cry,” Bucky says, and he sounds genuinely put out about it, “and that’s a shame, baby, because you would’ve looked so good bent over the couch, your little dress around your waist and my cock in that perfect little hole. But do you know what else would look good? This dress around your waist and your thighs around my head. Don’t you think?”

He grins, giving Steve only a second to comprehend what’s to come before he dips his head and takes Steve’s cock into his mouth. Steve cries out, grabbing a fist full of his hair. He means to pull Bucky off, but he can’t. 

His cock is small enough that it fits perfectly in Bucky’s mouth and that’s apparently where Bucky wants it, because he’s not backing off, keeping Steve on his tongue and sucking mercilessly.

“I can’t,” Steve whines, tugging. His hips twitch. “I can’t, I can’t–”

Bucky pulls off, kissing along his length. 

“You can,” he promises. “Go on, baby. Fucking ruin me. Nobody’s gonna give a shit what I look like with you around. Fuck my mouth and come.”

“I can’t.”

Bucky actually sits back this time, his lips already swollen and spit-slick. He quirks a brow, bringing his hand up to run his thumb along the underside of Steve’s cock.

“I wasn’t giving you permission, sweetheart,” he says easily, only the gleam in his eye and a thread of steel in his tone giving him away. “I was giving you an order.“

He picks up the key dangling from his neck again.

“When it’s just us, this means I get to decide if you come. I’ve decided. You’re going to fuck my mouth and come and then we’re going to go have fun. Or do I need to tell your Daddy that you were disobedient while he was away?”

Steve shakes his head quickly.

“No,” he says softly. “No, I’ll be good.”

Bucky grins again.

“I know you will, sweetheart. Now show me.”

When Bucky takes his cock back into his mouth, Steve gives in.

He doesn’t want to be disobedient, but Bucky is right. Daddy gave him a key to the cock cage, which means he’s allowed to make these kinds of decisions.

Steve doesn’t like to take his own pleasure–not even when it’s fucking his little cock between the lips of his insanely hot lover–but there’s something about being made to do it that melts his brain.

He comes quickly, and it takes every ounce of discipline in him not to flop back onto the bed as the pleasure crashes over him. Only the knowledge that Etienne would know and be furious stops him from giving in. 

Bucky sucks him through it and after, he puts the cage back on, pulling Steve to his feet and straightening the dress until it looks like nothing happened. Only the hazy, pleasure-drunk look in Steve’s eyes and his loose posture give anything away.

Bucky, on the other hand, gives it all away. His suit is wrinkled, his hair’s a mess, his lips red and swollen. One look at him and it’s obvious he’s already having a very good night.

When he sees himself in the mirror, he gives another of those panty-melting grins. He gives only a cursory attempt at flattening his hair.

“They’re going to know as soon as they see you,” Steve whispers, blushing.

“I told you,” Bucky replies. “No one’s going to give a shit about me with you on my arm. Now c’mon, we’re late.”

I’m thinking that the club they’re going to is actually James’ club and I’m also thinking it’s a sex club.

Maybe this is the first time Steve’s at the club. Maybe it’s the first time he’s showing up as James’ boy. Maybe both.

The moment they show up, Steve’s surrounded by a small fan club of other boys and subs, all ooh-ing and aah-ing over his outfit and Etienne’s in the middle like, “Didn’t I tell you? Hot as fuck. I don’t even like twinks and I’d fuck him.”

Steve blushes fiercely, which only makes the group giggle.

Then, from the off to the side, a deep voice says, “I doubt that.”

James steps into view and for Steve, everyone else disappears. He watches his Daddy with wide, shining eyes as James takes in his outfit.

“Hi, Daddy James,” someone from the crowd coos. “Look! Isn’t he pretty?”

James hums, wrapping an arm around Steve and nuzzling into his hair.

“More than,” he responds, kissing behind Steve’s ear, right in the place Bucky had just a while earlier. “There isn’t a word for how stunning you are tonight, baby.”

Steve’s eyes close, a little tremor going through him. It’s unclear whether it’s James’ words or his proximity that’s having the effect, but something sure is.

James glances at the gaggle of subs.

“Off you go,” he tells them. “Go find your keepers.”

The boys giggle as the disperse, running in different directions. James kisses Steve’s temple, holding him a little closer.

“C’mon, baby, we have a special seat tonight.”

Their booth is in a shadowy corner, set apart from everything else but still in full view of the open floor. There’s a stage on the other side of the room and demonstrations set to go all night, but James doesn’t plan on paying attention to any of it.

He pulls Steve into his lap, kissing along his jaw.

“Did my brother fuck you before you got here, baby? Is that why you’re late?”

Bucky flops into the booth next to them.

“No,” he says. “Etienne said I wasn’t allowed to fuck him until he was seen by other people. But we had our fun, didn’t we, sweetheart? Not to spoil the surprise, but he has nothing on underneath that dress.”

James takes the time to process that before he turns to Steve, frowning.

“You mean you’ve looked so pretty all this time and no one’s put a cock in you yet?”

Steve blushes, squirming in his Daddy’s lap.

“No, Daddy,” he whispers.

“My poor baby,” James coos. “Let Daddy fix that, sweetheart.”

Under his baby boy’s watchful gaze, James takes his cock out of his slacks and slicks it up. He whispers a soft, “Lift up, baby,” as he slides his hands under Steve’s dress, pulling his baby forward and they’re chest to chest.

Even though Bucky can’t see beneath the table, he knows the exact moment the head of James’ cock sinks into their boy. Steve makes the same noise every time his little hole is filled, one of hunger and ecstasy.

By the time he’s fully seated, his expression is slack, his gaze hazy and pleasure drunk. He’s limp against James’ chest, shivering, whining pitifully every time his little hips twitch.

“There you go,” James coos, cradling his head to place kisses all over his face. “This is what you deserve, isn’t it? Pretty little boys always deserve a cock in them, don’t they, baby? Is that better?”

Steve nods dazedly, whispering, “Yes, Daddy.”

“I know.” James smiles, kissing his nose. “And since you’re the prettiest boy, you’ll get it all night. There’s a lot of people that want to meet you, baby, and they will. But they’ll do it while you’re warming Daddy’s cock like the perfect little boy you are.”

Steve shudders.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He’d been so nervous about meeting everyone, about saying or doing the wrong thing. He wants to make Daddy and Bucky proud, not embarrass them. He should’ve known they wouldn’t let him drown in the anxiety. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now give Daddy a kiss. Let me taste that pretty lip gloss.”

The kiss is slow and gentle, but far from innocent. Daddy somehow makes it loving and filthy, dominating him so sweetly until Steve can only whine into the kiss.

The heat of another body presses in close.

“Hey, i didn’t get one of those,” Bucky complains. “Give me a kiss, too, baby.”

James lifts his head, smiling down at his dazed boy.

“I don’t think he deserves one, baby, do you?” He asks sweetly, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. “He neglected you when you were looking so pretty, after all.”

“I didn’t neglect him,” Bucky interjects. “I just didn’t fuck him.”

“A boy this pretty? That’s the same thing.”

They bicker back and forth until Steve lifts his head and kisses underneath Bucky’s jaw. It’s only a brush of his lips, but it shuts both of them up. Bucky looks down at him, smiling softly.

“Hey, gorgeous. You ready for me now?”

Steve nods, offering himself up happily. They don’t kiss anything alike–where James is slow and thorough, Bucky is hungry and demanding. They’re different, but Steve craves them both.

The rest of the night passes in haze of pleasure. He meets many people, but he doesn’t remember names or faces. He remembers what they say over the top of his head to the twins, remembers words like gorgeous and pretty and you lucky fucking bastards.

The things he remembers the most, of course, are the twins.

When Daddy gave in and fucked his little hole, Steve biting his shoulder to keep his cries muffled. The way Daddy groaned long and deep as he came, filling Steve until it was dripping out of him.

When Bucky got impatient and laid him out in the booth. He fucked Steve hard and fast all the way up until he was close to orgasm and then he backed off, slowed down. By the third time, Steve was clinging to him, crying into his kisses, so desperate for his orgasm that he would’ve done anything. Anything.

“It’s not nice, is it, baby?” Bucky murmured in his ear, backing off once again. “Making someone wait for what they need. I had to wait to get my cock inside this little hole, and I’ll use it as long as I want. You’ll wait for my orgasm just like I waited for this.”

Distantly, Steve’s aware that Daddy is talking to someone. Steve’s hand is thrown above his shoulder, laying on Daddy’s lap, and Daddy has hold of it, drawing absent patterns into his palm. He’s talking, but not to Steve, no. It isn’t the sweet cooing or filthy praise that makes him feel so good.

It’s Daddy’s normal voice, calm and casual, as if nothing salacious is going on next to him.

Steve doesn’t know who he’s talking to and he wouldn’t recognize their voice if he met them away. But he knows that they’re talking to Daddy and they’re watching him get fucked. 

The thought makes him shudder. He whines loudly, licking at Bucky’s jaw, begging, “Please–please don’t stop–more–”

He wants whoever it is to know how much he loves this. The hulking figure over him, his dress pushed up past his hips, his caged little cock, the sweat of their bodies, his make-up smearing. 

Eventually, the person leaves, and Daddy says, “Put him on his hands and knees.”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

Steve doesn’t understand at first, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll go where he’s put. He’s rewarded for this when Daddy’s cock bumps his lips.

“Open up, princess,” Daddy murmurs, sliding a hand in his hair. “Let Daddy see those pretty glossy lips around my cock.”

By the end of the night, Steve is fucking gone. His dress is torn, his little hole deliciously sore, jaw aching, make-up beyond repair. 

Bucky carries back to the car and Steve cries the whole way, because Daddy promised he’d be full all night and his little hole is empty. The fingers inside it do little to relieve the hurt, because it isn’t what he wants. It isn’t what Daddy promised.

As soon as they’re in the car, Daddy takes him from his twin.

“I know, baby,” he coos. “I know. Come to Daddy, that’s it. Let Daddy make it better.”

The sobs wracking his body don’t subside until Daddy’s back inside him. Steve settles, sniffling quietly, trying to burrow deeper into Daddy’s arms. One of their jackets is put around him, keeping him nice and warm against Daddy’s chest.

“When we get home,” Daddy whispers into his hair. “We’ll give you a nice warm bath and put you to bed. And because you’ve been such a good little boy tonight, I think our little boy should go to sleep tonight warming a nice thick cock and nursing on another. Would you like that, baby? Do you want to go to sleep stuffed full of cock?”

Steve shivers, nodding.

“Yes,” he whines plaintively. “Yes, Daddy, you promised.”

Daddy chuckles softly.

“I did, didn’t I? I said the prettiest boy would get a cock in him all night. A Daddy is only as good as his word, isn’t that, right?” He kisses Steve’s forehead. “Which means you should warm someone’s cock while we wipe this pretty make-up off you and give you a bath, don’t you think?”

Steve whines again, tightening up on his Daddy’s cock. He sucks on Daddy’s throat, craving something in his mouth.

“A bath would be a waste,” Bucky grunts. “The way he’s making me feel, he’ll be lucky to sleep tonight.”

He does eventually fall asleep, though it’s as the first rays of the morning are beginning to peek over the horizon, and he does it exactly the way Daddy promised. One twin spooning him from behind, thick cock in his sore little hole, petting him gently and cooing as he nurses on the other.

[daddybucky]

I started reading this book called Deadly Little Sparrow by KM Neuhold and I was excited for it because it's like...mafia enforcer and a feral little twink that he meets in a bar fight

I read that synopsis and was like, "this is absolutely my jam."

Turns out there are BDSM elements and the twink is the Dom in this relationship.

I'm not gonna stop reading it--it's definitely good so far--but man, there are not enough stories where the twink gets to be a menace without him also being the Dom. It happens every. time.

[daddybucky]

any spare thoughts?? 🫣

I have COVID and am currently quarantined in my bedroom with very little to do, so let's write some porn

Today, I am having many thoughts about Alpha Daddy Bucky deflowering his baby boy

Specifically, I was thinking about the first time Bucky fingers his baby and how hot Steve gets over Daddy's big, thick fingers in his virgin little hole

But then I was thinking about the lead-up to that and it led me down a completely different path

Like, imagine them in bed together. Steve is completely naked except for a collar and Bucky only has a pair of dress slacks on. Steve likes skin contact but Bucky doesn't want him to feel pressured by anything, so he's keeping his pants on for now.

It's not the first sexual touches between them, but it's still new enough that Steve is so easily overwhelmed. He lays against his Daddy's chest, already drowning in pleasure. The anticipation of what's to come has his whole body feeling sensitive, his skin actually aching with his need to be touched by his Daddy.

They're trading soft, slow kisses. Just getting started, really, but Daddy pulls him closer and his little cock brushes against a rock hard thigh. Steve is so worked up today, so hungry with the anticipation of what's to come, that it's all he needs. He comes just from that graze, shuddering in his Daddy's arms.

Afterward, he's so embarrassed, unable to stop the tears from slipping out because he was feeling so good, but he's sure that he's ruined it now. Ruined Daddy's fun, whatever it is he had planned.

But Daddy doesn't get mad.

Instead, he gently kisses Steve's face, cooing softly to settle him.

"It's okay, baby," Daddy murmurs. "It's okay. You didn't do anything bad. You just showed Daddy that you were a little boy, that's all."

He pulls back, smiling so tenderly that a fresh wave of tears burn Steve's eyes. He whimpers, lips trembling as he reaches out to touch that tender smile.

Daddy kisses his fingertips. He lays a hand over Steve's limp little cock, rubbing slowly as he leans down to kiss Steve lips again. The stimulation hurts so soon after his orgasm but already, Steve is learning that he likes it. The pain pushes him deeper into that needy little headspace where the only thing he craves is Daddy's attention, his care.

"My little boy," Daddy coos and the pleasure of those words mixing with the sparks of pain in his cock--it's indescribable. A euphoria almost like another orgasm.

"Daddy," he whines softly.

Daddy smiles at him again.

"That's what you are, isn't it, baby?" He asks. "A gorgeous, perfect little boy. You just showed Daddy, didn't you? Men don't come so easily, sweetheart, only little boys do. Do you want Daddy to show you?"

Steve doesn't quite understand what's being asked, but he nods anyways. Already, he would do anything for Daddy.

Daddy's hand goes to the button of his slacks and suddenly dry-mouthed, Steve gets it. Daddy undoes his pants, pushing them down just enough to get his cock out. The scent hits Steve first, the heavy musk of an aroused Alpha.

His little hole grows wet, his cock hardening painfully, far too soon after his orgasm. When he can get past the head-swimming scent to actually look, his mouth waters.

Up until now, he's only gotten stolen glimpses of Daddy's cock. Their relationship is so new and Daddy never wanted him to feel pressured, so everything until now has been about Steve's pleasure. Long make-out sessions, Daddy's big hand around him, Steve rutting his little cock against a firm stomach as he cries into Daddy's kisses.

This...this is new, but Steve isn't afraid. He's enamored.

Daddy's cock is big and thick, just like the rest of him. Long, meaty, so hard that each vein is prominent, the flushed tip of him gleaming with precome.

Steve licks his lips softly.

"Do you want to play with it, baby?" Daddy asks gently, and Steve is nodding before he's even finished speaking. "Go on. You can touch it."

Steve whines, lurching down to bury his face at the base of Daddy's cock, where his scent is thickest. He pants softly, already overwhelmed. It only lasts a few seconds before he needs more.

His belly clenches hot and tight as he turns his head, letting his lips brush the heated skin. He trails trembling fingers along the other side, exploring with both fingertips and mouth.

He kisses the side of Daddy's cock, his tongue slipping out to rub along the underside. Daddy groans softly.

Steve blinks hazily up at him, whimpering when he sees the soft smile aimed his way.

"You see, baby?" Daddy murmurs, gently carding fingers through his hair. "Just a touch and you came, but it's not so easy to make Daddy come, is it? Because Daddy isn't a little boy like you."

The truth of it settles into Steve's bones. Daddy isn't even touching him right now, but his little cock is throbbing like he's seconds away from another orgasm. Just from this--from the heavy, dominating scent of Daddy's arousal and the heady pleasure of exploring his cock.

The head of Daddy's cock smears over his lips and suddenly, nothing else matters. His tongue slips out again, the tip delicately touching Daddy's slit.

Steve shudders, moaning as his lips wrap around the head.

Not long from now, Bucky will look back and realize that this moment...this is the awakening of a born cockslut. His perfect, needy little cockslut.

The weeks to come will be filled with an eager little boy on his knees at Bucky's feet, rubbing his face into Bucky's clothed erection. Big innocent eyes staring up at him and lithe fingers toying with his buckle.

A soft, breathy voice asking, Can I play with it, Daddy? Please?

It will be the only thing his baby thinks about. The only thing he wants, the only thing he craves.

His baby boy will be so hungry for it that he has no other thought in his head but how to get Daddy's cock in his mouth.

Bucky doesn't realize it now, though, too caught up in the innocent, exploratory touches. In those first moments of his cock in warm, wet heat.

He grunts, his fingers spasming in Steve's hair as his baby boy starts to suckle. There's no talent or finesse, no skill whatsoever, just the innocent, eager instinct of a boy.

Bucky doesn't need talent or finesse. This is more than enough to bring him to the brink of his sanity.

He'd always considered himself more evolved than to care whether or not he was his partner's first. It was an antiquated double standard that he'd thought himself above.

That was before he'd met this boy. This beautiful, eager, entirely untouched runt. Every outdated standard he thought he was better than, it applied to him when it came to Steve.

No, he doesn't need talent. The unskilled suckling of his baby boy is a constant, thrumming reminder that his is the first cock between those pretty lips and that knowledge--that will be what does him in.

He touches Steve's hair, his gut tightening when Steve blinks hazily up at him. His expression is fucking drugged.

Fuck, his baby is loving this. Loving a cock in his mouth.

"Look at you," he coos. "Are you feeling good, baby? Do you like playing with Daddy's cock like this?"

Steve makes a soft, hungry little noise. He doesn't stop suckling long enough to answer with words and Bucky doesn't make him. Can't make him, not when the answer to his question is so obvious. He won't take this pleasure away from either of them.

Bucky takes Steve's hand, wrapping it around his cock and guiding it along the length of himself, the parts where Steve's mouth can't reach.

Steve watches him with an unwavering gaze, though he never stops suckling.

Bucky smiles gently at him.

"Daddy likes it, too," he promises, using Steve's hand to jack himself off into his baby's mouth. "Do feel it? How much Daddy likes it? How hard you've made me?"

Steve makes a yearning little noise, his fingers tightening under Bucky's hand as he suckles harder.

"That's right, baby," he coos. "You did this. You made Daddy hard. You always make Daddy so fucking hard. Every little thing you do, sweetheart. Every shy look, every sweet kiss, every time you let Daddy touch you. Every time I scent your wet little hole."

He groans, eyes slipping closed for a moment as he takes in a deep breath. His cock throbs in his baby's mouth.

"I can smell it, baby," he whispers. "Every single time your little hole gets wet for me. And every time I do, it takes everything in me not to mount you like a beast in heat."

Steve shudders, whining around his cock. Bucky guides his hand down the root of his cock, where his knot is already half-swollen. He presses Steve's hand down on it, groaning deeply.

"You get wet," he confesses softly, "and Daddy's knot starts to ache. God, baby, I want it in you. It's the only thing I can think about some days, when you prance around in your little skirts and give me those shy looks, those sweet little blushes when I give you too much attention. You look so good like that and then your little hole gets wet for me and all I wanna do is sit you on my cock, put my teeth in you, and knot you until you cry."

This, it seems, is too much to go unanswered. Steve lets the cock slip from his mouth, even though he's clearly reluctant to do so.

"Please," he whispers, letting his lips glide along his Daddy's cock. "Daddy, please."

He takes the tip back into his mouth before the last word has even fully left his lips, moaning as he resumes his suckling. He looks up at Bucky, whimpering, the plea still clearly there in his gaze.

"I will, baby," Bucky promises gently, petting him. "But not now. Your little hole is too small for Daddy's cock. I have to train it first. Daddy promised not to hurt you and I meant that, pup. In the mean time...why don't I show you how to make Daddy come?"

Steve nods quickly.

He takes to that lesson better than any lesson before it, following each instruction to the letter. By the end, Steve's dazed and limp, the remnants of come leaking out of the corner of his mouth, and Bucky's cock is having a hard time softening thanks to the view.

Steve shudders as Bucky scratches the nape of his neck, blinking hazily up at him.

"Again, Daddy?" He begs, and Bucky can't think of a single reason to deny him.

[daddybucky]

Steve waking up to a rocking bed and a full hole, soft kisses on his face telling him to go back to sleep, that daddy just needs to use his little hole really quick

Steve's favorite way to wake up lbr

The room is pitch black. He can't see anything, but he can hear everything. Rustling sheets, the shifting mattress, the creak of the bedframe. Hot, heavy breaths right above his ear, interrupted only by deep, rumbling groans of pure pleasure.

Steve's on his belly, his face half-buried in Teddy's fur. There's a great, hulking weight on top of him and his flimsy, satin little nightie has been pushed up around his hips, his panties pulled to the side. A fat, heavy cock is in his little hole, a big, rough hand under his knee keeping it up, keeping him open.

Someone kisses him. His cheek, his ear, his neck and shoulder. Everywhere those lips can reach, they touch.

Steve whines loudly, rubbing his cheek against Teddy.

"D'ddy?" He slurs.

Another deep groan, followed by soft, unsteady shushing.

"Hush now, baby," Daddy breathes shakily. "Hush. You made Daddy's cock hard. You know the rules. Little boys have to help Daddy feel good when they make his cock hard, don't they?"

Heat erupts deep in Steve's belly, his little cock struggling to harden in its cage. He pants softly, whining as Daddy fucks into him deeply.

This isn't for him. This is purely for Daddy, for his pleasure, but that knowledge only heightens Steve's own pleasure. God, he loves this. Loves when Daddy uses that voice on him, fucking loves to be a toy for his pleasure.

"I tried not to, baby," Daddy whispers breathlessly. "I tried so hard, but Daddy couldn't help it. You looked so sweet and innocent, laying here in Daddy's bed. You can't be so sweet and expect Daddy not to put his cock in you. It's what sweet little boys deserve, isn't that right?"

Daddy groans again, pressing a kiss into Steve's sweat-dampened hair before pressing his forehead in the same spot. His hot breaths gust over the back of Steve's neck.

"Yes, they do," Daddy murmurs. "And Daddy deserves to have his cock in such a sweet little boy. Just go back to sleep, baby. Daddy's going to play with your tight little hole and then I'll leave it nice and full."

Steve doesn't fall back asleep immediately, but he rides the knife's edge of it. It's perfect, his limbs heavy and immobile, his body completely at Daddy's mercy, and receiving the most indecent pleasure as a reward. His mind is hazy and empty, floating near a twilight sleep, distantly aware of his Daddy still on top of him.

Sometimes, he wakes up enough to understand what Daddy murmuring under his breath. A mixture of the sweetest praise and the filthiest promises.

Steve always starts to whine when he wakes up to understand and when he does, Daddy coos in his ear, his voice warm and tender and so loving that tears prickle behind Steve's eyes.

"Hush, baby," he soothes. "Hush now. Just go back to sleep. Daddy's not done yet."

When he finally does drift off again, Daddy is still on top of him, still moving inside his aching little hole.

The last thing he hears is, "That's it, baby. You just sleep now, let Daddy play. That's my perfect little boy."

[daddybucky]

Very nsfw link!

https://x.com/rafaelalencar/status/1745595132219380121?s=46&t=fBhVsqdb3JOb5bUw3ftORg

Saw this and immediately thought your sweet little Steve being bounced on his daddy’s cock. If you’d spare us some of your wonderful work, I’d love to hear your take on it!

I don't know what it says about me, but my first thought upon seeing the clip was, "This can't be sustainable for a long period of time." 😂

That being said, I did have thoughts

The scene I have in my head is definitely sweeter, though.

The two of them trading slow kisses, Steve's fingers buried in Bucky's hair, touching his face. He's cradled in his Daddy's arms, his little hole so fucking full as Daddy moves him up and down.

He was being fussy, probably, wanting to be cradled in his Daddy's arms but also wanting Daddy inside him and instead of Bucky making him choose, he indulges his boy.

With his thighs pressed together, Daddy's cock feels too big for his little hole and Steve whimpers into the kisses every time Daddy bottoms out inside him.

Daddy moves him so easily, there's no hint of a strain on him, no labored breath or trembling muscles--nothing to suggest that bouncing Steve on his cock is a workout at all.

That knowledge burrows itself inside him, making him feel lightheaded and shivery, so fucking little that he doesn't know what to do with himself. All he wants to do is lay his head on Daddy's shoulder and cry as he's fucked, but he doesn't want to give up Daddy's kisses.

God, how he loves this.

"Look at you," Daddy murmurs. "Such a spoiled little pup."

Steve whines softly, mouthing at Daddy's jaw, his little cock throbbing where it juts up from between his thighs. Precome dribbles down his small length. His belly is hot and tight, heat spreading into his aching sack. It feels so good when Daddy calls him that--spoiled and pup.

He feels it. So small in Daddy's arms, bestowed drugging kisses, his hole aching from Daddy's fat, hard cock.

"It's true, isn't it?" Daddy asks softly. "Daddy's spoiled you rotten, haven't I, baby?"

Steve nods, a little pout to his lips as he whines until Daddy groans and kisses him again.

He used to feel some level of shame for that word--spoiled. Sure that he'd done something wrong to deserve it. But he knows now that it's the opposite.

Daddy wants to spoil him. He's trained Steve into it. He's doing it even now, reinforcing the behavior--showing him that it isn't just okay, but Daddy wants him this way.

"Show me, baby," Daddy orders gently. "Show Daddy you're a spoiled little pup. Come without a touch to that pretty little cock."

Daddy stops moving him, instead holding him in his arms and fucking up into Steve in long, powerful thrusts. By the third one, Steve cries plaintively into Daddy's kiss and spurts. Despite the orgasm, he doesn't feel truly satisfied until Daddy comes inside him.

Afterward, Daddy laughs breathlessly, kissing his nose.

"See, baby?" He says. "Being on top isn't always bad."

[daddybucky]

i’m so into the idea of criminal buck being absolutely taken apart by his stevie whether it’s by his mouth or [enter various sexual act here]. something about a dom who is always in control being reduced to moans and groans just does it for me. do you have any thoughts?

Oh man, you know Steve has to feel fucking powerful in those moments

His big, powerful Daddy–always so collected and in control–completely unraveled, undone, desperate.

Those moments when Daddy’s stopped teasing, where the only thought on his mind is how fast he can come, how good he feels.

Could be Bucky’s had a bitch of a day, just absolutely clusterfuck, and the only thing he’s been thinking about for the last several hours is finally relaxing with his cock in his baby’s mouth.

I just imagine him sitting there in their dim bedroom, half-dressed. His tie undone, still hanging around his neck, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging off his big frame, buckle undone and pants open, his fat cock hanging there, growing harder under his baby’s hungry gaze. Maybe a finger or two of whiskey on the table beside him.

He pets Steve’s hair gently.

“Daddy’s had a long day, baby,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to play. I just want to relax and feel good. Can you do that? Can you help Daddy feel good?”

Steve shudders, nodding quickly.

“Yes, Daddy,” he promises.

Daddy takes such good care of him. He so rarely asks for something so selfish, but Steve craves to give it to him. To take care of Daddy the way he’s taken care of, to make Daddy feel good. Loved. Cherished.

And, of course, it’s no hardship at all when Daddy is asking for his mouth. Steve loves everything they do together–of course he does, Daddy shapes their play with the focus on his pleasure–but this. This is special.

When Steve has Daddy’s cock in his mouth, he feels like everything is right in the world. This is what he was born for. This is where he belongs…at this man’s feet, his mouth full of cock.

He knows this time is different from the moment he wraps his lips around Daddy. As he takes Daddy in, Daddy doesn’t watch. Doesn’t smile or coo or pet him, like he does when Steve nurses.

Instead, Daddy sighs softly, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. After a few minutes of quiet, where the only noise is Steve’s soft suckling, Daddy reaches over and picks up his drink, taking a sip.

Fire erupts in Steve’s belly, his little cock struggling ot harden in its cage.

This isn’t play. Daddy said so. Right now, he’s nothing but a toy for Daddy, something to make him come, a way to destress after a long day.

He wants to be the best toy. The only toy Daddy ever wants to use. 

Daddy’s lessons on sucking cock are burned into his psyche. He diligently taught Stever how to please him, how to use his mouth, his hands, where and how to touch to bring him the most pleasure.

Through those lessons, Steve learned that his favorite reward of all was just this–sucking on Daddy’s fat, hard cock. He was rewarded often, given every opportunity to practice what he learned during those lessons until it was second nature.

He uses every trick to his advantage now. His lithe fingers wrapped around the base of Daddy’s cock–the parts he can’t fit into his mouth–jacking him slowly as he suckles on the head, playing with the slit, rubbing the flat of his tongue along the underside where Daddy is sensitive.

He pulls his mouth off, dropping down to take Daddy’s sack into his mouth, suckling it so, so gently. Running his tongue over every inch, pressing his thumb just behind his balls.

His goal isn’t to make Daddy come. No, Daddy said he wanted to feel good. Steve wants to give him that for as long as possible. So he uses those tricks to prolong the pleasure, draw it out.

Above him, Daddy groans in appreciation. He takes another sip of his drink as he spreads his legs wider, encouraging Steve to continue.

For a long while, it goes on like that. Daddy casually sipping his drink, relaxing gradually under Steve’s efforts.

Eventually, the drink is gone. Daddy is boneless in the chair, head tipped back, mouth open. Broad chest heaving with each panting breath.

Both hands are on Steve’s head, his thick fingers flexing against Steve’s scalp, rubbing feverishly. His thighs shake, hips lifting in aborted little thrusts that drive him a little deeper each time.

He wants so badly to fuck his baby’s mouth, but he knows he’ll be too rough. 

“Baby,” he groans breathlessly, over and over. “Baby—fuck, fuck.”

It’s the only thing he can say. He’s lost the ability to even praise Steve, to tell him how good it feels, and Steve–

Steve is fucking drunk on it. On having reduced his Daddy to this–this man who’s only thought is the bliss of the mouth around his cock.

It throbs on Steve’s tongue in time with Daddy’s rapid pulse, and all Steve can do is suck on it greedily. His hands massage Daddy’s balls, the base of his cock.

He watches Daddy unravel under his tongue, and suddenly, he understands why Daddy reduces him to tears so often. To watch someone come unglued from the pleasure you give them…there’s no power like it.

“Let me come, baby,” Daddy pants out. “Let Daddy come, I need to come, sweetheart—let Daddy–fuck, fuck—”

The realization hits Steve like a shot of the most potent alcohol. Daddy isn’t telling him anything, he’s asking.

He’s begging.

Steve shivers. It feels as good as being praised, Daddy begging. He wouldn’t want it all the time, but knowing he could have it at all is power like he never imagined.

By the time Daddy finally comes, words have left him completely. All he can do is pant and groan, his orgasm long and drawn out.

For Steve, there’s nothing like it. Daddy’s cock throbbing on his tongue, filling his mouth in long pulses until it’s spilling out of the corners. 

He swallows his reward, wiping the remnants off his chin and greedily licking his fingers. Gently, he uses his tongue to clean Daddy up, earning a few more precious drops for his trouble.

He lays his head on Daddy’s thigh. Daddy doesn’t pet him–he can’t. He’s completely boneless, panting, his cock still twitching with aftershocks long after his orgasm is over.

Steve’s groin is so hot, throbbing, his little cock leaking despite its inability to harden fully. His little hole aches with the need to be filled, fucked, the way it always does when he’s caged. He ignores it all, his own needs unimportant.

Daddy needed to relax and how he is. Completely boneless, still trying to catch his breath, not a single thread of tension anywhere in his body. 

Steve basks in that knowledge the way he would in Daddy’s praise. 

Daddy needed to feel good and now he does. Nothing else matters outside of that.