Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Awww, look at that, sweetheart, you get so dumb anytime anything goes between your legs, don’t you?” Daddy coos at him from over his shoulder. Bucky just whines, obediently trying to look down to where Steve is working between his spread thighs without even thinking about it. He simply does what Daddy asks, and that’s it. Nothing more. And, fuck, Beyond what he’s telling him to do, Daddy is doing. Daddy has a vibrator held up against his dripping slit and is sliding it back and forth through the wetness leaking out of him, making a mess of Bucky’s own skin and the sheets underneath him. 

God. 

Oh, God.

Bucky trembles all over, whining high in the back of his throat, it feels… oh, oh, it feels like nothing else. So intense that it brings tears to his eyes, so hot and tingly and tight inside his body. A knot deep in his gut. 

And it only gets worse when his Daddy slides the slick, vibrating silicone higher, placing it over his swollen clit and then clicking his tongue, his lips soft and his beard scratchy against his cheek, “such an easy slut for it.” 

Bucky moans. His head is spinning. Still, Daddy keeps holding the vibe against his clit, alternating between barely resting it against the sensitive bundle of nerves and pressing down enough to get Bucky’s toes to curl until they cramp. His pussy throbs. It fucking aches. He wants more, clenching down on nothing. Blood on fire. Between his widely spread thighs, the toy is gripped tightly in Steve’s large hand, making it look smaller than it really is. It’s obscene—those huge hands doing such filthy things to Bucky’s seemingly little body. 

“Your head just goes empty the second I reach for you, baby,” he rumbles. Bucky nods frantically, agreeing as his chest heaves. “All those smarts are already gone before I even lay a hand on this cunt-” he slides the vibe up and down his body smoothly, making Bucky impossibly more aware of his dripping wetness. God. He’s so wet. “I know,” Steve talks at him, “it’s okay, honey, Daddy thinks it’s fuckin’ precious. Jus’ how sweet and dumb you get.” Whimpering because he’s so, so fucking hot for this, Bucky lets his head hit back against Steve’s shoulder, dropping all its weight because he’s unable to keep watching the baby pink vibrator against his own wet, pink pussy or he’ll cum already. Right now. Just like this where he’s splayed out on top of Daddy, right between his thick, hairy thighs with his thick, heavy, and hot cock pressed against the top of his ass. Rubbing against him. Reminding Bucky what he wants most… fuck. He wants that inside him. 

And, Jesus, Daddy’s bigger frame surrounds Bucky, engulfing him. Daddy’s arms cage his hips, leaving the inside of his forearms rubbing against Bucky’s hips as he pleasures him. Bucky isn’t going anywhere even if he wanted to. Shit. The flex of Daddy’s arms alone is enough to have anyone drooling. But, the size of his hands—thick fingers and knuckles with wide, huge palms—compared to Bucky’s own lean thighs is more than enough to get Bucky drooling. 

And clearly more than enough to get Bucky going stupid. 

God. 

Bucky can’t deal. Still, Daddy kisses his cheek as he whines, teasing. 

Every touch is electric. 

Bucky arches his back, their feverish, sweaty skin sticking together. He doesn’t know if he wants more of the feeling—more of the vibrator buzzing against him, or less. He can’t figure it out. There’s too much sensory input.

And Daddy knows he can’t figure fucking anything out like this, purring, voice rough and deep, “just let go. You don’t gotta be a big boy anymore.”  

Bucky mewls, his pussy throbbing and clenching around nothing as his hips impulsively jerk into the buzzing. Just as stupid for this as Daddy accuses him of being; one drop of pleasure leaves him a weak, melted mess. 

“Just let Daddy take care of you,” Steve coos, “let Daddy do all the tough thinking, ‘kay? Just feel. Just feel how nice that is against your sweet little pussy, sliding through all your wetness, riiight between your lips, mmm-hmm, honey.” Bucky just moans with abandon, unable to not do exactly as Daddy says. His eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open. Suddenly, there is nothing to focus on but Daddy. And there is nothing to focus on but the pleasure Daddy is giving him. Daddy and his solid heat underneath Bucky’s soft, melting body; the shift of his thick muscles, the soft scratch of his body hair against Bucky’s smooth skin, the soft, pleased-growls Daddy is making, enjoying making Bucky feel good, and the intensity of his body heat. All of it is obscene enough without the sharp, buzzing, and almost too-overwhelming pleasure of the vibrator. But, with the vibrator Daddy is holding against him… 

Fuck!

It’s shaking him to his very core. 

When it’s the only thing he’s focusing on, it makes his jaw clench tight so his teeth don’t tear into his lower lip. It makes his toes curl. It makes bright, white flares go off behind his tightly shut eyelids. Shit. Another obscene moan careens out of his open mouth. The knot deep in his gut is getting tighter. It’s getting bigger. Taking up more space. Making it harder and harder to not focus on it. He’s gonna cum soon. 

Fuuuck, he’s gonna cum soon!

Bucky scrambles blindly to find Daddy’s shoulders, arms coming back up over his head to hold on. Arching his back. Squeezing his eyes shut that much tighter as another feminine, needy sound breaks free of his chest. He fucking can’t. 

Steve just gentles his desperation, purring, “shh,” and he fucking strokes the vibe up and down, up and down his slit, taking it away from his clit. 

It makes Bucky whine. It makes him wail. If he could think enough to speak, he’d beg, “no! No! Please! Noo! Daddy! I- I was s’close! Pleease! Wanna cum!” But he can’t speak. So he has to keep making high, stupid sounds instead as Daddy drags the toy back and forth between his pussy lips just enough to tease, not enough to actually press the head of the toy against him and give him real stimulation anymore. No. If he did that, Bucky wouldn’t just be on the edge, he’d be over it. Sensitive. Already cumming what little amount of his brain is left in his head out. 

“Shhhh,” Steve repeats himself because Bucky can’t stop whimpering. He truly can’t help it, entirely, deliciously out of control. “Just let go, baby,” he coaxes while conversely teasing him horribly. “Let all those silly thoughts go, honey. It’s okay. I know. I know your pussy gets nice and wet and that makes it hard to think. It’s okay.” Bucky shivers head to toe, even though he’s the opposite of cold. He is engulfed in flames, burning dangerously hot. “Always have trouble thinkin’ when you’re like this,” Steve chuckles out his words and the rush of hot air over Bucky’s face has him choking on his own spit. Daddy’s feeding the flames, breathing oxygen onto them. Lighting them up hotter. “You don’t have to think about anything anymore though,” as Steve talks, he uses one of his hands (hot and slippery from Bucky’s pussy) to pull his legs wider apart, throwing one of Bucky’s thighs over his own leg. 

Cold air attacks Bucky’s soaked, molten center, leaving him crying out. Eyes shutting even tighter. Stunning him. 

“Let it all go…” he says again, low. “If you wanna squirm and whimper for Daddy, it’s alright, Daddy understands.” Bucky half-sobs. Not fully there yet but this close to it. This close to losing it all and unraveling entirely. “It’s easy, baby. Go for it. ‘S nothin’ to be embarrassed over. Same if you start droolin’, sweetheart. I know. I know you can’t help but drool a little ‘cause you feel so good that you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut. Daddy knows and he doesn’t mind a bit. He doesn’t care that you’re dumb and needy, ‘cause you’re dumb and needy for Daddy.” 

For Daddy, that part hits Bucky like a kick to the chest. Bucky pants harshly, his breath stolen from him and leaving him unable to moan the way he wants to. All he’s doing instead is trying to not die by not breathing as he tries to take all of Steve’s words into his head. And melting more. Always melting more because there is fucking nothing he can do now. Nothing he can do but let Daddy torture him. Saying everything Bucky wants to hear, everything that leaves him so wet that it’s embarrassing. Throbbing and aching to the point that it feels like he’ll die if he’s not allowed to orgasm. He needs it. 

He needs it. 

“Keep those legs and that mouth spread wide open for Daddy,” the other man breathes, using the vibrator to trace the inside of his thighs now, spreading his slick even further over his skin. 

Bucky’s hips jerk up harshly in response. He can feel the muscles in his thighs quiver strongly as if his body is trying to spread itself even more open but can’t. Already he’s as exposed as he can get. Showing his soaked cunt off in their fully lit bedroom. Wanton and obscene. 

“Good,” Daddy rumbles. Bucky whines. “Such a good, dumb whore.” 

Fuck!

Bucky groans like it’s there’s been a spear of arousal harshly shoved into his gut. 

“Don’t worry though, sweet thing,” Steve says with a rich chuckle, petting him all over with his hands, the vibrator, and his hot, heavy breath. It’s overwhelming. “Daddy won’t tell anyone else what a good, dumb little slut you are.” He pauses, then, lowers his voice to a velvet purr, lips to Bucky’s ear, “it’ll be our little secret, won’t it, sweetheart?” 

Bucky nods completely uncoordinatedly. Head bobbling. Breath completely absent from his chest. All the air kicked out of him because how can he possibly breathe when he’s so fucking turned on? There is no room for anything inside of him but arousal—nothing but heat and flames and lava. 

Except—

“OH! Daddy!” Bucky sobs loudly when suddenly Daddy drops the vibrator in favor of using one hand to spread his lips and the other to stroke his fingers brazenly down from his tight clit to between his throbbing folds, fingers right at his clenching, sofuckingempty hole, and, and-!

His first finger slips in. 

Bucky’s body swallows it. He’s so fucking worked up. So ready for it. He swallows Steve's long, thick digit whole.  

A dark noise rumbles out of Daddy, low and delicious and making his voice sound as if he’s speaking down to Bucky. Like he thinks Bucky can’t understand anything. Like he’s a little dumb. “Ohh, baby,” Bucky breaks out in full-body goosebumps, feverish, “your pussy’s so hungry. You really need Daddy bad, don’t you? Poor thing.” 

Bucky whimpers shakily, body ablaze with an unbearably hot flush. A dangerously high fever. 

Steve’s first finger slides in and out of him, making wet, sloppy sounds already. “Mmm,” Steve purrs, happy with how debauched he’s made Bucky, “you’re so fucking wet. God. Feels like heaven in this slutty little pussy, Buck. You know that?” 

Bucky can’t respond. He can’t. All that exists is the feeling of Steve inside him. Not enough. He wants more. He’s clenching tightly down on his finger and jerkily shoving his hips down, trying to get more. Begging with his body since his mouth can’t. 

Please. Please. Please.

Daddy hears him loud and clear, Bucky knows, but he doesn’t give him what he wants. Because he’s a fucking bastard. He doesn’t slip another finger inside him. Not yet. Instead, he allows Bucky to keep desperately squirming and angles his hand just so… leaving his hand perfectly placed so if Bucky tries as hard as he can with his weak, shaky muscles, he can make his clit scrape against the heel of his hand. But nothing more. Just a taste—a tease. 

Tears sting Bucky’s eyes. He whines. Moremoremore. He wants more pressure against his clit, he wants more inside him, and he wants the vibrator back. It felt so good. He wants to feel good. He wants to cum. 

“AH!” Bucky cries out, blinded by white-hot sparks under his eyelids as Steve, without warning, teases Bucky’s hole with another finger and then slips it inside too. First, it’s just the tip circling his wet, needy entrance. Then, all of a sudden Bucky has all of it.  

Two fingers inside of him. Curling up and pressing on that spot inside him that leaves his toes curling until the soles of his feet cramp. 

“Oh. Oh. Oh-” Bucky can’t stop making pathetic sounds, gasping, head lolled back, mouth wide open as those fingers curl — hitting his sweet spot — and thrust inside him. 

It’s such an increase of fullness and, and —

He’s not finished yet. 

Guh. Fuck. 

Bucky chokes on his own fucking drool. Gurgling on it. So fucking fuck-dumb. 

Daddy presses his third finger in too, ignoring the way Bucky is crumbling, “mmm, lookit that, knew you could take it, baby.” Now he’s thrusting three fingers in and out of him. Bucky’s head is spinning. Flames are climbing up his spine, nerves all alight. Overwhelmed. “Knew you’d get ‘em all in there so easy, you’re such a good little slut. A proper whore for Daddy—” he pauses so Bucky can hear the obscene sounds of his fingers fucking into him. As if he needs to hear it. He can feel it. He can feel how wet and swollen he is. 

Oh, God.  

“Mmm-hmm,” Daddy rumbles, “you’ve always got room inside you for anything,” his fingers do something that leaves Bucky’s jaw dropping open even wider. “This pussy’s always ready.” Bucky can’t help but mewl. The tease of a fourth finger, Daddy’s pinkie, is making his eyes roll back in his head even though he’s not pushing it in and making Bucky fuller. Just the idea of it is enough. “Greedy without anything else you can do. Yeah, you ain’t good for nothing else to do but lying back and being Daddy’s dumb, little wet hole. Daddy has to do all the work, ‘cause you’re too simple to know what to do.” 

Wetness must be pouring out of Bucky. He’s soaked. So turned on. He could listen to Daddy dirty talk like this all day. He is aching. Throbbing and hurting around Daddy’s thick fingers, so, so into this. Getting finger-fucked and dirty-talked within an inch of his life. On the cusp of being murdered. 

“You should be Daddy’s dumb little wet hole all the time,” Bucky moans, in his head, he’s picturing being dolled up in some shitty maid costume — being Daddy’s housewife, following him around with a beer or nothing at all, not even pretending to do anything, just staring at and drooling over Daddy — and he can’t fucking take it. He can’t think about it for more than a mere second or he’s gonna cum. Fuck. He wants that. So bad. “Daddy makes all the money anyway, baby. So why go to work and sit looking pretty all day, pretending you know what you’re doing? You don’t need to.” Daddy pauses, breathing heavily, calling attention to how the air around them is impossibly thick and full of tension and smelling of Bucky’s wet pussy. “You know they don’t need you,” Steve’s voice is nothing but a feral growl, “they just like to look at you. They look at you but they don’t touch ‘cause they know who owns the pretty, slutty cunt between your legs.” 

Fuckfuckfuck.  

Bucky pants, chest heaving, but it’s useless. There’s no fucking way he can get enough air in him. All he can do is burn. Going up in flames. He’s never been so hot. Never so wet. God.  

“So, instead, you should stay home all day and wander around the house, naked, and dripping all the time. Always kept full of toys so your head is the only thing that’s empty.” 

The sound that comes out of Bucky is indescribable, it’s just fucking hunger. 

“Mmm-hmm, my pretty boy doesn’t have any thoughts, does he?” 

Bucky mewls. Not even trying to make words. He can’t. 

“Nah, no fucking thoughts in your head, sweetheart,” Steve says it like it’s praise and it is. “None at all. All you know is that when Daddy touches you ‘cause it feels good. So good.”  

He nods like a bobblehead, his pussy clenching down around his thrusting fingers. 

Daddy, meanwhile, laughs darkly and mutters, almost under his breath, “such a fuckin’ slut.” 

Then, the buzzing of the vibrator being turned back on is all the warning Bucky gets as to what is about to fucking go down. Because. Because —

It blindsides him. 

One second Bucky’s choking on his spit, three fingers inside him, teasing him, playing with his wetness, pressing down hard on his sweet spot — all happening as Daddy’s hand brushes his clit every once and a while, giving him juuust enough stimulation to make sparks explode deep in his gut, teasing — and the next second he’s holding the tip of the vibrator against Bucky’s clit while his fingers play with Bucky faster, harder, better —

“DADDY!” Bucky sobs—truly sobs as tears suddenly leak out of his squeezed-shut eyes. There, fuck, there isn’t a word for how he feels. JesusfuckingChrist. It’s, it’s, God, it’s too much. The vibrations travel deep in him, deep between his legs, and start to shake him apart, making him feel so close to tearing apart that all he can do is clench all of his muscles. Including clenching his pussy down as tight as he can on Daddy’s fingers— Daddy’s fingers that are pressing hard into his sweet spot and dragging forward. Curling forward. Oh. Oh, fuck. He trembles from head to toe. Pressure builds up inside him so fast with Steve’s fingers doing that inside him. He can’t even— It feels like he’s desperately got to use the bathroom. Like he’s going to wet himself right now and here. It’s so much pressure. And it’s so much pleasure too. It’s like there’s hot, sparking flames licking up his body, melting him; fire and lava and—

Over the buzz of the vibrator driving him fucking insane and over the wet squelch of Daddy’s fingers in his pussy, Daddy asks, “you gonna cum that easy, sweetheart?” Bucky sobs out an incomprehensible, garbled sound in response. Yes. Fucking yes. He’s gonna fucking cum.  “You get two seconds of the good stuff and you’re already on the brink?” He laughs, dark, rich, and mean.  

Bucky shudders, his entire face wet with tears. His nerves are sizzling. Pleasure has wrapped around him and is squeezing his life out like a boa constrictor. Too much. The vibrator is relentless against his clit. Daddy’s fingers are relentless inside him. Pleasure won’t stop thundering through him. 

“Oh, oh, ah —” Bucky can’t stop making stupid sounds. He can’t do anything. All he knows is the feelings clouding him. There is nothing but this. Only Daddy. He doesn’t have to think, not about anything. Daddy is thinking for him and Daddy —

“Yeahhh,” the sound of Steve’s voice has a wolfish smile within, dark and so, so pleased, “yeah, Daddy’s little slut is gonna cum. Just like this. Easy as anything.” Bucky whimpers. “Anything gets you off, baby. Anything. You like having your pussy touched so much, I can’t fuckin’ believe it. Tsk-tsk,” he clicks his tongue, pressing the vibe harder into Bucky at the same time. Bucky gasps. He’d scream if he could. Mouth falling so far open it feels like he’ll never close it again. “You’re so fuckin’ slutty. How do you ever get anything done when all you ever think about is feeling good and you’re so easy to make feel good? So sensitive, so dumb —   

The praise and the degradation mix inside Bucky’s veins. It is intoxicating. So, so intoxicating. Burning and hot and murderous with how good it feels. It walks him right up to the edge of the cliff. There is barely an inch of solid ground under his feet and his sense of balance is shot to shit. Legs wobbly, gut tight, and hot. And Daddy’s impossibly erotic voice, rough and deep, telling him, “so pretty, Daddy’s slut is so pretty,” is what really does it. That’s it. 

That’s it. 

There is nothing Bucky can do but crumble under the pressure —u nder the pleasure that hits him like a building falling on top of him. Blinding him. White-hot. The vibe is still pressed tightly to his clit and it’s so overwhelming. Steve’s fingers are still curling inside of him, keeping Bucky so full. The press of their bodies together, Daddy under him but still so so much bigger and more powerful than him, leaves Bucky shaking apart. 

God. 

His whole fucking groin burns. Tight and hot and oh —  

He’s already there but there’s even more. 

More that is choking him, forcing even more convulsing, shaking cries out of him. 

“OH! AH! Ff-fuck!” Bucky sobs, the dam inside him breaking as, as, as… he fucking squirts as he cums. Two releases at once. So overwhelming and so much that his eyes roll to the back of his head and his chest rises up, back arching violently with the amount of pleasure quaking through him. Uncontainable. Uncontrollable. 

Fuckingshit! 

His fingers and toes curl and his muscles cramp but the pain doesn’t even put a dent in his pleasure as Daddy strings his orgasm out mercilessly. Keeping him high and flying — rubbing that spot that makes his eyes cross and makes his mouth hangs open like a cheap porn actor. Like a two-cent whore. Just … keeping the pleasure coming until Bucky can’t understand what is up and down. 

God. 

Daddy keeps pleasuring him until he whines, he whimpers, he —

-

“Shh,” Daddy’s breath wooshes past his ear. Bucky can’t make a sound, he feels gutted. “Shh, that’s it, baby, that’s it. Get it out. Get it out.” Bucky’s weak body gives one last shudder, still getting off on being talked down to and still at his attention; obeying Daddy no matter how exhausted he is.  

The vibrator is gone. 

And it’s been gone for… who knows how long. 

Bucky doesn’t even know how long he spent cumming on Daddy’s fingers — how long his pussy cried around three of his thick fingers. It must’ve been pretty long though, judging by how much Bucky feels like he can’t move. His body is like pasta that’s been cooked for way, way too long; cooked to the point that it’s nothing but mush. No integrity left whatsoever. 

Daddy coos at him — he purrs. Bucky can barely breathe. But, evidently, Daddy has other ideas for him, pulling his fingers out of his pussy wetly and flipping him over so they’re belly-to-belly. Bucky’s hands can’t even work well enough to grope at Steve’s chest. More proof he’s been over-cooked. Normally he would never resist an opportunity. But now, all he does is leave his mouth open lazily, silently gasping as Daddy splits his legs for him once more. 

Cold air hits his wet, molten center. But he can’t whine or shiver violently over it like he wants to because he doesn’t have the control over his own body to do so, his nerves are shot. He would if he could. He’d wail at the rush of frigid air over his cunt. Now, all he can do is leave his mouth open and soon he’ll be drooling over Daddy’s chest. Pathetic and dumb. Fucked out. 

Shit. 

“This okay?” Steve asks in a whimper, hands tracing lightly up toward his hole again with his fingertips dragging through Bucky’s wetness and sweat, “you up to having Daddy fuck this cunt even stupider?” 

Hnnnnnngg, is the only thing that Bucky’s melted brain can come up with. Fizzled out. He feels so good. He just fucking came, he should be overwhelmed and hurting from overstimulation, but… it feels too good. So good he doesn’t even know if it hurts. He can’t focus for shit. 

“Buck?” Daddy’s fingers cup his jaw, his thumb and forefinger pinching his chin and raising his head up, making their eyes meet.  

Bucky can hardly make himself nod, captured in Daddy’s sizzling, heavy gaze, but he just manages it. And he means it. He wants it. He wants Daddy’s fat cock inside him, stretching him wide, and filling him full. 

“Say it then, baby,” he demands suddenly, teasing now that he knows Bucky isn’t entirely gone, “I know you’re stupid but you can answer a yes or no question. C’mon.” 

“Y-yes, ‘addy,” Bucky mewls, his tongue too thick and wet in his mouth. Clumsy. 

“Yes, you want Daddy to fuck your stupid cunt and make you even more stupid?” Steve can’t resist teasing. Even now.  

“Yess,” he whimpers. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he smirks, “whatever you want.” 

Bucky's insides clench with heat, never not aroused by Steve’s ability to make Bucky always sound like the horny one even if it is Steve that wants to fuck him right now. Bucky is down for the count —h e could stay like this forever, drained in his post-orgasm haze, head in the clouds. Weightless and floating. 

And then, as if it’s nothing, Daddy lines up the head of his cock to Bucky’s dripping hole and presses in.

A choking sound is kicked out of Bucky’s chest. “Ohgod-” are barely actual words as they fall from his lips. He’s, oh, he’s full, and yet, Steve keeps going. So full. Bucky’s poor little pussy flutters around the hot, thick shape of Daddy’s cock as pressure rises from his feet to his chest—toes curling, thighs quivering, groin burning with heat, tummy in knots, and chest heaving. Daddy rocks back and forth inside him slowly once he’s allllll the way inside. Grinding deep. That pressure rises to Bucky’s throat, his head dropping back entirely. Limp. He can’t breathe. Only choke. 

God. 

A whimper spills out of Bucky because there’s no room for the sound inside him. All the room inside his body has been taken up by Steve. Daddy has all of him. Daddy is so big inside him. He whines. Moans. 

“F-fuck, you’re tight-” Daddy slurs, sounding intoxicated. His hands, big and powerful, bite into Bucky’s hips. There will be bruises from his fingertips left behind. 

Yes!

Bucky just shivers—skittering with sparks of flames from a bonfire—unable to do anything else. 

But, again, Daddy rocks back and forth inside him; his balls press tight up against Bucky’s hot, wet flesh. Oh. Daddy’s cock twitches inside of him. Oh! And Bucky’s gut does something swoopy and tight, reacting to the eroticism of that sensation in a way that leaves Daddy swearing and letting go of more filthy words, something that Bucky doesn’t quite catch—too far gone and too stupid to process it—but it sounds like praise for how slick, tight, and plump he is around his dick. Made for Daddy’s cock. Made extra ready to be split apart on Daddy’s cock by his first orgasm. Just that much more lush. 

Another deep, deep grind causes another whimper to slip out of Bucky. He doesn’t mean to make so many soft, pathetic sounds but it seems to be the only thing he can do. Only pleading and whimpering and whining. Good for nothing else. Nothing but a tight, wet hole for Daddy to use—a music box full of debauched sounds for Daddy to listen to. And speaking of… 

Daddy’s response is something of a growl and chuckle rolled into one. Dark and rough but, amused nevertheless. 

It sounds so good. 

Steve sounds good and he feels good as he moves from deep, tight grinding to actual thrusts. Grabbing his hips and fucking up into him. They’re short thrusts for now but they hold so much power behind them. Core strength. They threaten to plow Bucky into the mattress soon, regardless of if Bucky is not actually under his Daddy right now. Not pinned between Daddy and the bed but boneless on top of Daddy. Either way, he will get plowed. Destroyed. And, God, Bucky’s pussy drips at the thought of it. Weeping for it. Plus, with his face smashed between Daddy’s muscular, round pecs, Bucky garbles out a sound that would make him blush if he had the capacity to think about being embarrassed. 

“Fuck, I fucking love this pussy, baby,” Daddy spits, his hips working faster. Hands holding him tighter. Breathe coming faster. 

Bucky keens. The friction of his dick inside him leaves Bucky’s blood throbbing—if that’s even possible. Shit. Every inch of him so, so turned on. 

“Love how fuckin’ wet your fuckin’ pussy is—dripping, squirting, an’ fuckin’ crying on my dick,” he growls, Bucky keens again, but louder this time, from his words and the way he’s using him. Fucking up into him. Hard. Fast. “Love, ngh, love how tight th-this pussy is. And I fuckin’ love how it turns your brain off, sweetheart. Love watching your pussy start to get wet, startin’ to drip, and then lookin’ up to see those pretty eyes go hazy like there’s not one fuckin’ thought in that pretty head.” 

Bucky cries out. 

He must be actually crying too. Right? He doesn’t fucking know. All he knows is that it feels like he’s flying and like Daddy’s cock is in the back of his throat with how deep it is. Gravity shoves him all the way onto his cock. And Steve determinately pulls him off, against gravity, only to slam him back down and slam up at the same time. It burns hot, hot, hot. It feels so good. And Poor Bucky keeps mouthing, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” against Daddy’s rock-hard chest but it won’t really come out. All that comes out are stupid little sounds. 

Stupid big sounds when Daddy punches that sweet spot inside him and, and-

Oh, God. 

Bucky doesn’t know what to do. He—what? Fuuck. He, he can’t do anything! All he can do is try to take it; try to take hit after hit of pleasure right into his shaking, unraveling body, and not overdose on it. 

FUCK! 

Bucky sees God in the way Steve fucks him. It’s so filthy and debauched that it’s made it full circle. So sinful that it’s holy again. 

Daddy fucks him so good.  

“Should fuckin’ keep you, God, should keep you stupid like that all the time. ‘S what you’re best at anyway. So, so good at being slutty and stupid. ‘S your callin’ baby—meant to be nothing but Daddy’s little cock-sleeve, aren’t you?” 

Bucky shouts. 

He makes such a loud, debauched sound half from the words and half from the ohdeargodthat’sgood way Daddy pulls him down at the perfect angle to drag his clit against his body as he fills him up. His sweet spot. His clit. Those words. His Daddy. 

“Daddy-!” Bucky wails, high and barely coherent. “Daddy!” The angle stays just the way it is. The pressure. The rhythm. Oh, God. His mouth opens up even wider with a silent scream emptying his lungs. 

“Ohh—” Daddy purrs, catching on quickly “—this pussy gonna cum again, isn’t it? Yeah, yeah , gimmie it, sweetheart.” Impossibly Steve’s thrusts get harder. Really punching his sweet spot. Reeeally dragging his clit against Daddy. His entire groin is on fire. “C’mon, pretty boy. Squeeze that pussy around Daddy’s cock and cum on it— own it, sweetheart. Get it wetter and make Daddy’s cock yours. Yeah, yeahhh,” he groans heartily, fat dick throbbing inside Bucky, “that’s it—do what you do best, Daddy’s dumb lil thing. C’mon, make a mess a’your Daddy. Make Daddy look jus’ as slutty as his pretty, stupid lil boy. All wet and wrecked.” 

Bucky cums and the world falls apart. 

His orgasm, ohjesusfuckingchrist— it’s heat melting his whole body. It’s a bright, pure, white-hot light behind his squeezed-shut eyes. It’s pleasure assaulting every working nerve in his body. It’s wetness squirting out of him with a hiss again. It’s Daddy’s cock twitching inside him as he finishes earlier than expected, unable to resist the feeling of his slut coming around him, jerking hard and letting go of a roar. 

It’s everything. 

So much so that it turns into nothing. He dissolves. 

-

Bucky feels like a cherry blossom made of lace and cotton candy. Light. Airy. Pink. Easily moved with the softest of breezes—the breath of early spring. Mmm-hmm. His whole body is quivering happily with static. Burbling. He… 

He feels so good it’s like he’s high. Emerging from an indulgent nap with leftover weed gummies stuck in his teeth in the best possible way. Sweet and hazy. 

Slowly, Bucky feels his burbling, pink body shift. His own weak, soft muscles are not what pulls at his honey-gold bones; it’s not his doing. Not him. It’s… 

It’s hard to think. 

But, also, it’s Daddy. Daddy is the one moving him. And it’s also the deep earthquake of Daddy’s voice rumbling low in his chest that is lifting Bucky’s awareness of the waking world higher. He’s here and now. 

Here and now with Daddy. 

Daddy is humming and moving his arm for him because… because—

Oh. 

Honey fills Bucky’s veins and he feels his neck weaken impossibly further where he is, relaxing in the bath. Because, yeah, now that he’s paying enough attention—back in his own body rather than hovering in pink clouds with shimmering gold flecks—he can tell that there’s water all around him, delightfully warm and happily steaming. Water is covering him all the way up to his collarbones in their huge tub. Water is lapping at him. Melting and soothing him. Water is helping Steve wash him. Steve—Daddy is behind him once again but this time there’s a soft, soaked, and lathered cloth massaging his arm. Suds cover him from his shoulder to his wrist and—

Ohhh. 

Bucky might moan out loud as well as in his head at the way Daddy takes his hand and truly massages it. Soaping him up there too but also pressing strong fingers into his palm and stretching out his fingers and thumb. It feels practically orgasmic after all the time he spent with his hands curled into fists, overwhelmed with hot, intense pleasure. 

Daddy chuckles, his laugh low in his big, broad chest just like his humming, “you back with me then, Buck?” 

Bucky nods. Although, he’s sure it looks more like a discombobulated bobble than an actual nod. 

“Good,” Steve says simply, lips pressing to his temple in a quick kiss. 

And, suddenly, Bucky realizes his head (and his hair) are completely dry. Hell yeah. He knows Steve would never wash his hair when he wasn’t fully present—too busy floating in subspace instead—because he wouldn’t risk accidentally drowning him but, still, the victorious swearing stands. Hell yeah because that means he didn’t float through one of Daddy’s world-famous scalp massages. He loves those; Steve’s hands working shampoo and conditioner into his hair, pressing juuust hard enough to leave Bucky a puddle—a completely not-stressed puddle of relaxation. 

Steve doesn’t stop to give him that head massage now though, no, Steve is a thorough man. He keeps up with what he had been doing. Washing every square inch of Bucky. Bathing him. All while murmuring things to him—calling Bucky delightful things, telling him how good he is, how much he loves him, how smart and capable he is, how much he admires him, how grateful he is for his submission, and on and on. By the time Steve is moving them around so he can get at his legs, scrubbing from his hips to his toes, Bucky is pretty sure he’s glowing from the inside out like he’s been dipped in gold. Drowsy from the washing, praise, and heat all in addition to the orgasms wrung out of him shortly before their bath, Bucky mumbles, “best Daddy… ‘ve got th’best Daddy.” 

And Daddy doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to, he just presses a kiss to the top of the foot he’s finished rinsing, lips pulled into a silent, secret smile.