#this fic is 10% housewife roleplay and 90% breeding kink lmao

[howdoyousleep3]

Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: 7K Notable Tags: Established Relationship, Daddy Kink, Light Dom/Sub, Surprise Roleplay, Crossdressing, Feminization (!!!!), Age Difference, Breeding Kink, Butt Plugs/Sex Toys, Manhandling, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink (!!!!!!), Anal Sex, Overstimulation, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Pregnancy Kink (!!!!) A/N: Y'all...😮‍💨 This shit is wild. I'm so horny for these two and for this specific kink, it's craaaaaaazy. How have we never indulged in Senator and Breeding Kink?? This might be my favorite thing I've ever written for them and I can't wait to hear what you think. This fic is entirely dedicated to @vilkasdaina since she was the one that requested it. Extra lub to @the-iceni-bitch and @maddiewritesstucky for hyping me up when I needed it most. I hope you enjoy. 🧡 Read here on Ao3.

Bucky thought his hands were trembling as he was cutting up carrots and potatoes, steaming Steve’s dress shirts, and fluffing the pillows on his bed, but that’s nothing compared to the tremor of them when he hears the senator opening the door to his apartment. 

The shake of his fingers as he tied the frilly white apron around his waist, his waist while wearing a dress, is a very close second though.

Bucky has but a second to consider how long he’s been thinking of this moment, how long it’s been brewing in his mind. He’s spent months planning this daydream out, from hyping himself up into going to the extreme, to ensuring that this was the perfect Friday to execute his plan. 

Every single thing is perfect so far: how easy it was to get into Steve’s apartment, how unrushed he felt throughout the chore list, how delectable both dinner (pot roast) and dessert (red velvet cake) look and smell. Even the dress he borrowed from Wanda fit him perfectly, black and cinched at the waist and low-cut. 

“I hate you. You look better in this dress than I do. How is that possible?” 

She even believed him when he said it was for some Halloween party on campus. He couldn’t bring himself to buy a new pair of heels but he is wearing stockings underneath this dress, one on each leg, and that will just have to do. 

Every single aspect of the night has worked out flawlessly and yet here Bucky is about to faint wondering what Steve’s reaction is going to be. He has to like it. Right? Bucky’s been taking hints all the way back from when they were merely boss and employee, comments about coming home to a warm meal and wishing he had someone to come home to and to take care of him, how his ma would do the same for his father before he passed away. 

Steve is a man who wants to be taken care of, pampered. 

And Bucky is just delusional enough to provide that for him, even if it is but for a night. There’s no option left but to follow through and do it well.

He’s pulling the roast out of the oven with shaky hands when Steve walks into the kitchen. 

“Hi honey,” Bucky purrs, surprised at his own sultry tone, the false confidence it’s laced with. “I hope you’re hungry.” 

The look Steve gives him from the doorway of his kitchen floods Bucky’s mind and body with almost too many emotions. The senator is hungry indeed, eyes blazing as he takes in the situation before him, no doubt Bucky’s attire. Surprise is evident on his face, as is confusion. 

Bucky places the roast onto the stovetop, checks the temperature of it to ensure its doneness, turns back towards Steve. 

Steve looks at him, unmoving and critical. Bucky anticipated this moment, this moment where Steve plays along or calls it off. He gives him a moment to take everything in, to make decisions for himself on whether or not Bucky has gone too far or if he wants to continue. Bucky can almost hear his questions from here, can hear that brilliant mind working overtime. 

Steve is rarely caught off guard and Bucky can already feel himself growing addicted to making this a frequent occurrence. 

One thing is for certain— Steve looks like a housewife’s wet dream. It feels like he takes up every extra inch of space in this kitchen, both with his physical presence and dominating air. A charcoal-colored suit, a crisp white dress shirt, a tasteful tie; Bucky wants to unwrap him button by button. His suit is perfectly rumpled, his hair windswept, his cheeks flushed. He looks like he needs to be taken care of and something deep deep within Bucky reacts. 

He ignores it mostly, but capitalizes on the opportunity in front of him. 

He makes his way across the kitchen towards the older man on shaky feet, stops when he is toe to toe with him. The way Steve looks at him is unnerving, predatory. He’s in Bucky’s head already, is affecting him physically too. He feels himself stir between his legs, his dick filling out under the silk of the women’s panties he’s wearing. The excitement is almost too much to contain, his body interpreting it as sexual excitement. 

It probably is.

He indulges in his urges and clenches down around the plug buried in his ass. 

It’s definitely sexual excitement. 

He reaches forward on his tippy-toes, places a kiss onto Steve’s bearded cheek. When he pulls back Steve continues to fill the air with silence. Bucky chooses to reach for Steve’s shoulder bag, taking it from his body and placing it in its designated spot on its hook a few steps away. His heart hammers against his chest when he makes his way back towards Steve. 

It batters overtime against his ribcage when the senator startles him with a burly arm wrapped tightly around his waist, with a tug and a squeeze that results in his entire front being pressed deliciously to the older man’s own. 

“Smells delicious,” he purrs against Bucky’s mouth, hand quickly wandering down to his ass draped in silky material. Bucky’s heart soars elatedly, his mouth parting to make way for his breathing picking up. When Steve’s big fingers dig into the meat of his ass, kneading, Bucky can’t help but gasp. He feels smaller like this, in this roleplay and dressed more femininely. He’s tempted to drop to his knees right here and call the whole thing off to suck Steve off, but he worked too hard for this. He has to stay focused. 

He lets himself gasp again, this time in more of a shocked manner, pushes at Steve’s chest as he turns his cheek away from Steve’s mouth. 

“No sir, not in the kitchen and not after I’ve worked so hard on dinner,” he breathily tells him, voice full of fake scandal before he turns his attention back towards the stove. As with every other moment spent with the senator, he fails to remember and anticipate just how intoxicating the man’s physical presence and pushiness is. He takes a few deep breaths as he pulls a rocks glass out of the cabinet and makes his way to Steve’s liquor selection. 

“Did you have a good day?” Bucky asks lightly, working to pour a generous amount of scotch into the glass he retrieves. He moves towards the fridge, grabs a sphere of ice specific for drinking liquor. It’s quite fancy if you ask Bucky, but he wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he found them in Steve’s freezer. 

“It was…” Steve starts, saddling up to the kitchen island. “It was a lot actually. I wasn’t sure it was going to end.” 

Bucky’s chest pulls tight. He brings Steve his glass, places it in his hand before turning his attention back to dinner. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Midterms are such a stressful time, understandably so. You have nothing to worry about, you know this.” 

The reassurance flows from Bucky easily and with purpose and honesty. He knows how stressed Steve has been over the past few weeks and he knows that stress will only compress and grow as they get closer and closer to election day. This is the main reason Bucky chose this time to follow through with his plan. 

Steve sighs heavily once Bucky has spoken, a tiny thrill running through him when Steve immediately takes a drink from his glass. He could get addicted to this. 

“I do know this. There’s just both some uncertainty and some big changes that this election could bring. Some pretty important states have been putting in the work. It could be big. Texas with a Democratic governor? Can you imagine?” 

Bucky hums, plating up the roast, potatoes, and carrots rather artfully on two of Steve’s dinner plates. He doesn’t have enough time in the world nor the focus at the current moment to dwell on and analyze the reasoning behind how easy this interaction feels. There’s no awkwardness, no unpleasant tension. It’s as natural as any other interaction they have when he’s in Steve’s apartment. Except this time, he’s wearing a dress and has spent the day cleaning Steve’s apartment and not eating greasy pizza in his underwear on Steve’s couch. 

“Honestly, no. But there’s hope with Beto. His campaign is one that should be studied and used as an example for all future candidates, governor or not.” 

He gracefully makes his way to the dining table, two plates in hand, Steve following him curiously and slowly. He had set the table just a few minutes before Steve arrived home from work and Steve seems impressed, a raise of his eyebrows once he sees the lit candles. When Bucky goes to make his way back to the kitchen, Steve stands in his way. He doesn’t move. Bucky knows then that small talk and mindless conversation are over. 

When he tips his chin to look up at Steve, he can almost taste the scotch on the older man’s breath. His dick comes back to life, twitching in his panties. The senator’s eyes dance as he drinks in Bucky’s face, his appearance. Bucky goes almost cross-eyed when a hand casually rises to cup the side of Bucky’s neck, Steve stepping forward, closing what is left of the gap between them. 

“You tryin’ to romance me, sugar?” he inquires softly, voice but a gruff whisper. Bucky wants to kiss him, wants to melt even further into the older man’s dominant embrace, his chest, his body. 

Get it together. 

“You deserve it,” Bucky dutifully responds with, almost positive Steve can feel his erection against his body. Steve’s own is dizzyingly heavy against Bucky’s belly. He immediately wishes the plug buried between his cheeks were replaced with that cock. He forces himself to reel in his kiss, placing a dreadfully chaste one on the senator’s lips before slipping around him and into the kitchen. 

“Go ahead and sit down. Everything is ready.” 

Bucky isn’t sure how he’ll make it through dinner. Especially with the other plans he has in mind; he won’t survive those . 

When he turns back to the table, Steve has seated himself and made himself comfortable, having taken off his suit jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. Bucky suppresses the urge to moan when Steve takes the time to unbutton his cuffs and rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up his forearms. He could get off to that and that alone on repeat, he swears. 

Bucky reaches behind himself and unties his apron, also drapes that across the back of his chair. Bucky can only describe the look Steve gives him as predatory. It devours him, feels like a physical touch that has his breath hitching in his chest. 

Fucking hell. 

“Is that a new dress?” 

The question feels as if Steve’s stroking him off. 

Bucky nods his head as he takes a seat in his chair. 

“It is, I was…was hoping you’d notice. Do you like it?” 

The last part slips out of Bucky’s mouth before he can contain it. He shouldn’t have to desperately seek out Steve’s approval, no matter how flustered he may be. The senator would reprimand him for this line of thinking, for Bucky not communicating with him, but…he’s working on it. 

He regrets his question up to the point where Steve reaches beneath the table and openly adjusts his erection. 

“I think you look fucking divine.” 

“Oh.” 

Bucky is sure his blush creeps down his neck. 

“I think that if you didn’t work so hard on this dinner, I’d toss you on this table and eat you for supper.” 

“Steve.” 

“Honey, my dick is so—” 

“Steven,” Bucky damn near begs, overwhelmed by the senator’s words and the plug he’s wearing and his dick wrapped in satin. “This is not appropriate dinner talk. Watch your mouth. Please .” 

He thinks it’s what a housewife would say. Surely a housewife wouldn’t let her husband talk about fucking her at dinner. And that’s what Bucky is tonight, a housewife. He’s playing a role tonight. 

He takes a deep breath before continuing, grounding himself by placing his palms flat on the table. After a few seconds he looks up and over at the senator to find him already devouring him, his eyes roving over Bucky’s nearly nude chest. His nipples harden in an instant, pebbling up at the attention. It is more than distracting. 

Without another word yet still communicating his desires by eye fucking Bucky into oblivion, Steve picks up his fork and knife and digs in. 

Thank God. 

Bucky shouldn’t be startled by the moan Steve lets out, but he is. It’s dripping in eroticism, it’s guttural, it’s pleasure. It’s food, he has to remind himself as he watches Steve savor his bite on his tongue. Bucky shoves his own bite into his mouth, first one and then another, just so he has something to do with his mouth other than beg for the senator’s cock. 

“Buck, honey,” Steve moans, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them to work another bite onto his fork. “This is incredible. You made this?” 

The pleasure brought on by the senator’s compliments is unmatched. Bucky feels as if time slows, as if his head fills with wisp after wisp of cotton candy sweetness. He’s finding it infinitely more difficult to stay focused, but he nods his head. 

“Mhmm,” he murmurs, swallowing his own bite before reaching for his wine glass. “Started it this morning.” 

Bucky doesn’t miss the twinkle in Steve’s eye at the subtle confirmation that Bucky has indeed been in the senator’s apartment all damn day. He knows it, Bucky sees this, but he blessedly plays along, Bucky’s dick hard for this roleplay and this banter. 

“How have you spent your day, sweetheart? What’d you do while Daddy was away at work?” 

Bucky barely manages to swallow his bite of carrots. 

“Umm, I…well, I did the laundry and steamed your shirts, made the bed. I vacuumed and tidied up around the house. I went to the store and got the things I needed for dinner and dessert. I—” 

“Bucky.” 

Bucky immediately feels like he’s done something wrong. 

“Y-yes?” 

“If you tell me you made red velvet cake for dessert I’ll—” 

“Of course I made red velvet cake for dessert.” 

“— marry you right here.” 

Bucky’s cheeks burn bright red as he looks down at his plate to push a few pieces of potatoes around. He snatches up the opportunity to solidify what it is they’re doing here, what Bucky hopes Steve is understanding in full. 

“Don’t be ridiculous— we’re already married.” 

When his eyes meet Steve’s, he’s almost certain he’s going to reach across the table and snatch Bucky up to sit him on his cock. There have been few times in their relationship where Steve has looked so furiously hungry, where Bucky can see his purely sexual thoughts written all over his features. His eyes burn like fire, his breathing is damn near ragged. His neck is even flushed. 

Bucky needs to add Steve’s reaction to him saying they’re married to the list of things to analyze later. 

They share a heady look with one other, the two of them visibly trembling with their need to break character but to also keep moving forward with the hottest thing they’ve ever embarked on together. Steve is the first to break the tense silence. 

“You spent all day taking care of me? Taking care of our home?” 

Bucky mindlessly takes another bite of the roast on his plate. It melts on his tongue. He did do a good job. 

“Of course I did; that’s what I’m supposed to do. You work hard every day and deserve to have everything you want at home. You deserve to be taken care of, Daddy.” 

A noise deep in Steve’s chest reaches Bucky’s ears at the same time Steve’s fork lands loudly on his plate. 

“Bucky. Fuck, I need—” 

He reaches forward, grasping up Bucky’s chin and pulling. His own fork lands as loudly as Steve’s did on his plate. He tries hard to shake his jaw free of the senator’s grip. Hell will freeze over before he doesn’t follow through with every aspect of his roleplay, no matter how desperate he is, no matter how thick with arousal his brain is. 

“No! Steve, no. Not at dinner, not here. This wasn’t…this wasn’t the plan.” 

“Fuck this plan, Bucky. You’re killin’ me, baby. Just—” Steve tries, voice rough as he litters Bucky’s cheeks, his jaw, with wet kisses. Bucky whines. 

“Steve, no.” 

It’s more the word no than his tone that does it, his whine morphing into something stern, strong enough to force the senator to pull his head back with a groan. His temple presses against Bucky’s own. His chest heaves as he collects himself. One more part of this roleplay is important to Bucky, one more part. He needs to follow through with it and he needs to make it quick. The senator doesn’t wait for anyone and Bucky knows he’s used his one chance to reel him back in. 

Steve pulls his head back to run his nose along Bucky’s hairline, the move making Bucky feel like prey, yet somehow intensely comforting. He waits a moment before speaking again.  

“You’re showin’ me so much fuckin’ skin, Buck.” 

“I know, it’s…it’s a lot.” 

A hand curls around Bucky’s knee under the table, fingers toying with the hem of his dress and the lacy top of his stocking. 

“No— it’s perfect.” 

He presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek before he can respond, clearing his throat and adjusting himself. Bucky attempts to pull himself together as well, crossing his legs and reaching for his wine glass before taking a sip and reaching for his fork. His hand still shakes but there’s nothing he can do about that, he’s decided. He clenches desperately around his plug, a shiver running up his spine in impatient anticipation.

“So you spent your day tidying up, doing some chores?” Steve asks, making a valiant attempt at trying to steer the two of them back towards the direction that Bucky has requested. 

“Mhmm, but that’s boring. Tell me more about your day. What’s been on your plate lately? It’s such an exciting time.” 

Steve does just that, sharing with him his back-to-back meetings and appearances. Of course Bucky is aware of most of the things that fill the senator’s days, Bucky himself being a part of some of these meetings and events. But it’s been so long since the two of them have actually sat down to talk about their day. They don’t tend to do that, Bucky reminds himself. Bucky finds out what Steve’s up to outside of meetings he’s a part of through trying to figure out when to squeeze in a quickie. 

So, it’s nice to hear Steve discuss what he’s involved with, what’s on his mind and how he is feeling. It’s wildly domestic and Bucky’s dick doesn’t soften in the slightest. 

Bucky has a lot to think about once this night comes to a close. 

When Steve is done sharing, they fall into an easy silence. They’ve taken their time eating their meal, sipping on their drinks. It’s easy and blissful and Bucky is relaxed…until he realizes this is the perfect and silent opportunity to move onto the last part of his surprise and to finally get Steve’s hands on his body. 

His heart kicks up into his chest. 

With one last sip of his red wine and placing his fork on his empty plate, he clears his throat. 

“So, I’ve been thinking, honey” he starts, his elbows falling to the table, his fingertips grazing his collarbones. His voice is gentle, but there’s an obvious tremor to it, one that isn’t lost on Steve. Somewhere deep, Bucky digs up confidence, pulls forth a coquettish demeanor. Steve’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as he finishes his last bite, mirroring Bucky’s body language and leaning forward onto the table as well. 

Fuck, it’s risky. This is the most daring part of his planned roleplay. Is this something the senator will enjoy? He finds it difficult to find his voice as Steve’s eyes rove over his chest once more, as if Bucky has tits . It’s so brazen it makes his dick twitch.

“You were thinkin’ about what, sugar?” Steve pushes after Bucky doesn’t finish his sentence right away.

Bucky audibly swallows.

“I stopped taking my pills,” Bucky whispers, throwing caution to the wind. “I’m ready to try for a baby. I think it’s the perfect time to and I know I—” 

The response is immediate.

Strong and hungry hands reach across the table for his nape, his waist, as he’s hauled from his chair and onto the top of thick thighs, directly into Steve’s lap. He doesn’t have time to appreciate the strength it takes to be so smooth with a move like this, let alone have time to gasp. Lips are on his in an instant, insistent and hot, tongue delving between his parted lips and stroking along his own. 

It’s the kiss he was hoping for, the kiss he’s been denying himself all night. 

It’s delicious . 

“You…you wanna fuckin’ run that by me again?” Steve all but growls into his kisses, doesn’t even bother pulling his mouth away from Bucky’s. He whimpers pathetically when Steve dives for his neck. 

“I…I want your baby,” Bucky stupidly whines, but Steve’s groan sounds like thunder when he digs his teeth into Bucky’s adam’s apple. “Want to start a family, wanna… want you to get me pregnant, Daddy.”  

He’s on his back in the next instant. Dishes clatter to the floor, the time and effort he put into setting the table gone within seconds. He’s sure he hears something break, more than one somethings, but his pout of, “Steve, the dinner…!” is met with a harsh, “Fuck the dinner,” just before his dress is hiked up around his waist with a yank. 

“The dress isn’t mine, don’t—!” 

“I’ll buy another fucking dress, Bucky, goddamnit .” 

The sensation of Steve between his legs, narrow, fit waist between his thighs, leaves Bucky no choice but to moan. It’s a gluttonous noise, a built up one that is the culmination of jerk off session after jerk off session imagining what this moment would feel like. His thoughts don’t compare in the slightest, the feeling of Steve’s cock rocking against his own behind the silk of his panties forcing him to give into the urge to tremble. 

He feels the frenzied moment that Steve realizes he isn’t wearing his normal undergarments, that he’s prepared for this housewife role thoroughly. 

“You motherfucker, you…oh my god, Bucky.” 

“Daddy…”

“Fuck yeah, that’s right,” Steve purrs from above him, fingers digging greedily into the meat of his hips, eyes blazing where his gaze rests between his thighs. “Really am your Daddy now, ain’t I? You gonna make me a Daddy, sugar? You gonna gimme a baby?” 

Oh. 

“Oh fuck.” 

This wasn’t part of the plan. Not once did he consider Steve returning his dirty talk, of what Bucky’s roleplay would sound like coming from Steve’s point of view. He failed to think about how it would sound if Steve responded to the things he had decided to say. He is such a fucking idiot. 

He is a fucking idiot that is going to come if Steve keeps massaging his body in such a deep and appreciative way. 

The senator chuckles, hands greedy as they work their way around Bucky’s body. He rubs the heel of his hand up and along Bucky’s dick, squeezes his fingers around it with another rumble. Bucky’s eyes nearly cross. 

“You’ve been in my house all goddamn day,” Steve mumbles distractedly, hotly. “Cleanin’ and cookin’ and bein’ the prettiest fuckin’ housewife a Daddy could ask for.” His fingers find their way to Bucky’s nipples as he talks, the tips of them pinching and pulling at them over the material of his borrowed dress. Bucky hisses between his teeth, his dick throbbing and his ass clenching around the heavy plug he wears. He should have done this months ago; he’s in heaven . 

“And now my tight little wife tells me she’s been keepin’ secrets? Been tryin’ to get knocked up without Daddy even knowin’?”

“Steve, I can’t…I can’t do—” 

“What a naughty fuckin’ girl I got.” 

Bucky is in way over his head. His fantasy never went this far, always ended with what he thought would be the most anticipated moment, the reveal. He hadn’t thought beyond that point. If he had, he may have not followed through. They’ve never dabbled in any of these kinks, in breeding, in roleplay. Surely he won’t survive an hour, let alone the entire night. 

“Show me that fuckin’ pussy. Show me that pussy that Daddy’s about to ride until he breeds, just like you’re askin’ for.” 

He won’t survive the next five minutes. 

He barely has time for his brain to catch up on what he’s feeling, what he’s hearing, his limbs weak from an onslaught of arousal. The senator reaches for the top of one stocking but stops, apparently deciding to keep them on, which is heady. The underwear encasing his dick is yanked down his thighs then, impatiently left hanging from one ankle before the senator is shoving his legs apart, the wide spread making Bucky feel like a slut. 

He feels the plug buried between the cheeks of his ass. He’s been feeling it all night, all day. 

He feels it but he doesn’t register that Steve will see it. 

Goddamn, has he gone dumb in the head. 

“Oh my fucking god, are you…”

The senator can’t even finish his sentence, his thoughts, something Bucky would surely marvel at if he were in a more stable headspace. But all he can do is whine, huff and run his hands down his chest to his dick where he squeezes at himself. Steve lets him, watches as Bucky touches himself, the senator’s fingers pushing at the base of the plug, rubbing at his stretched and puffy rim. 

“Look how ready you are for Daddy, baby,” Steve recovers swiftly, voice deceivingly sweet as he pulls at the plug slowly, letting the widest part stretch Bucky to the point where his toes curl. He stops touching himself immediately, throws his hands wide on either side of him as he attempts to find anything to ground himself. There’s nothing. He soars. 

“Pussy’s ready to make me a Daddy, ready to take every load I can pump into it. Look at that…” 

Bucky’s whine gets louder, longer. He keeps his thighs spread wide, lets Daddy play with him, slipping the plug halfway out of his ass before letting his hole eat it up again. He’s getting fucked by that plug, and while it feels like everything he’s been wanting for all damn day, he knows the senator’s cock will feel infinitely better. 

“Gimme a baby, Daddy. Fuck it into me so…so deep, ngh,” he whimpers, face turning crimson as his own words hit his ears. What is he saying? 

Steve growls, growls, as he reaches for his belt, undoing it swiftly and impressively with one hand. “Hell yeah, gonna knock you up so good, ain’t I?” 

Bucky’s response is simply a wail, a pitiful noise that grows messily frantic when his eyes are blessed by the sight of the senator’s cock. It looks so heavy, so meaty and girthy. Bucky wants it inside of him now , wants it to hurt so good. He wants to be bred by that cock, wants to come on it. He feels mindless, lit up from the inside out, needy and achy. He finds himself nodding his head, in response to the senator’s question, in response to all future questions, all without thought and newfound, dumb enthusiasm. 

“Mhmm, so good, so good. No pills, no…no protection— wann’it raw, Daddy. Give it to me raw.” 

Bucky doesn’t know what he’s turned into, what this roleplay has done to him. 

Steve’s groan meshes deliciously with his chuckle, dexterous fingers pulling the plug free from the grip of Bucky’s ass, tossing it carelessly to the floor. 

“Dirty fuckin’ bitch, of course I’m gonna give it to you raw. From here on out it’s only raw. From this moment on you’re always gonna be heavy with my kid. You think there’s any goin’ back after this? Fuck no, you’re gonna make me a daddy over and over and over and—” 

The stretch the plug provided him with, that he worked towards all day, feels as if it does very little to prepare him for the size of the senator’s cock. He should have known to size up over the course of the day, that he should have chosen a larger plug if he was going to use just one. 

“Hold your legs, press ‘em— yeah, there you go. Get your pretty little body in that baby makin’ position,” Steve guides him roughly, pressing Bucky’s thighs to his chest, big hand pressing against his belly. “Gotta watch this pussy get bred up, as a Daddy I gotta make sure’m doin’ my job.” 

Bucky feels lightheaded as he wraps his arms around the back of his knees, his vision turning blurry around the edge when it gives him the perfect view of his neglected and rock solid dick, of the senator fucking into him, still donning most of his work clothes. What a picture he must make: Bucky’s dress hiked around his middle, lithe legs still clad in stockings, back pressed against the dining room table as their forgotten dinner is scattered around him, damn near gagging for a United States Senator’s cock.

It’s indecent, scandalous. 

He feels so fucking hot, so desireable, even though he feels entirely gone in the head. 

“Pussy’s soakin’ already. How long have you been thinkin’ about this? Huh?” 

“So fucking long,” Bucky whines raggedly, the senator taking his time sliding inside of him, of course making a show of it. 

“Yeah, bet’chu have,” Steve chides, fingers splaying wide against Bucky’s belly as he sinks further into Bucky’s willing ass, other set of fingers rubbing at Bucky’s rim, smearing spit he just pursed his lips and sent down. “Let Daddy in, lil’ mama. C’mon, let Daddy have it.” 

No, he’s going to come. He’s going to come. Steve is barely bottoming out and Bucky is going to come because of the astronomical build-up of this moment and because of the senator’s filthy fucking mouth. And because of how stretched he is, how no part of his pussy is untouched, the senator squeezing himself inside of Bucky so perfectly, oh god. 

The stir in his core, in his balls, has no time to build; it spirals and bursts within seconds.

“Coming, m’gonna—! I’m coming, oh god I’m—” 

“Jesus Christ, Bucky. Already?! Fuck.” 

Steve doesn’t even let him lay there and take it. He curls his hands around Bucky’s middle and ruts into him with newfound energy and fuck, it makes Bucky shout through his teeth, makes him whine just like being fucked through an orgasm always does. He can’t even touch himself given his position and the jolts of his body from Steve’s punishing thrusts, and he’s forced to just take it , wave after wave of pleasure knocking against his limbs and his insides. 

In half a minute he’s messy with his own come and left sucking in air like he was being chased. 

And Steve doesn’t stop. 

“Steve …Daddy…!” 

Steve rumbles, eyes locked onto Bucky’s belly, his messy dress, as he fucks him, on the rivulets of come left behind from his explosive climax. “Squirtin’ all over Daddy’s dick, just like you should. Atta girl. They say that helps with… fuck, with makin’ a baby— you comin’. How many times can Daddy make you come tonight?” 

“Oh fuck…fuck you, I…oh my god…” 

Bucky can never recover appropriately from an orgasm he’s been fucked through. It’s like Steve fucks his mind too, his brain, when he does this, fucks it so roughly he’s left loose-limbed and exposed. He feels raw, feels like he’s right there on the edge of too much, too much. The recognition that he is going to need some major aftercare tonight is his last thought before one, two, three long, deep strokes perfectly rubbing against his sweet spot have his eyes rolling back into his head. 

“Yeah, baby. Tonight’s the night, ya know that? Daddy’s gonna knock you up on the first try, first try. This belly’ll be all sorts of swollen, won’t it?” 

A shock rips through Bucky’s  system upon hearing those words, one that sparks an impossible fire in his dick, in his groin, in his chest. He whines at the force of it, at what hearing those words does to him without any sort of hesitation. Of course the senator notices. 

“Oh yeah, sugar— gonna be heavy as fuck with my kid. This belly—” Steve bunches up the come-covered dress as he talks, as he uses it to fuck into him.“—it’s mine, just like this pussy is.” 

Steve reams into him steadily, his cock digging into his sweet spot repeatedly. It’s impossible, is ridiculous, the way he makes Bucky’s body feel lit up from the inside out even after such a shattering orgasm moments before. No one else does this to him, no one will ever do this to him, not when his Daddy makes him feel so thoroughly fucked out. The images flashing in his mind are pure fantasy, ones that Steve masterfully and filthily paints, yet Bucky feels as if they’re real, as if his belly can grow big, as if he can get pregnant. 

And god help him, he likes it. 

He gasps for air, his body going weak alongside his mind. He loses his grip on his legs, elbows slipping along the soft material of the stockings with slick sweat, neck arched weakly against the dining room table. Steve takes over for him immediately, smacks at his hands and presses Bucky back, bending him further in half, taking a brief moment to tug Bucky close towards the end of the table. It makes the senator’s cock feel ten times larger, makes Bucky squeal, makes his noises grate against the front of his throat as Steve fucks them out of him. 

“These tits?” Steve growls, digging his hips into the underside of Bucky’s ass, grinding in tight with each trust. “Fuck, these tits, baby, they’re gonna be so big. And Daddy loves big tits."

Bucky hiccups. “Daddy…they’re not… not—” 

“Oh, they’re tits, Buck. They’re gonna be swollen and round too, gonna have Daddy’s mouth all over ‘em. Got no choice but to suck on ‘em every time I goddamn see ‘em.” 

As if he needs to prove his point any further, Steve bends at the waist and joins Bucky on the table smoothly, dishes clattering to the floor. His thighs are left spread wide around the senator’s thick middle, a sensation Bucky will surely never tire of. The way Steve fucks him feels damn near feral this way, god, it’s close and tight and the older man’s breaths sound like they are being punched out of him with every brutal thrust. It finally sounds as if this sex, this wild roleplay that Bucky spent months planning, is finally getting to Steve. 

And that makes a second climax feel within reach.

Bucky barely has time to squeal before the senator is yanking at the already low neckline of his dress and his mouth is on his nipples, his tits, sucking hungrily at his pecs, cock heavy in his ass. He can feel the senator’s balls in this position, can feel his heavy sac smack against his ass and it makes him feel dizzy with dick.  

Steve holds onto his tits, one in each hand, squeezes at them as if they are indeed heavy and swollen and purrs.

Bucky can’t breathe. 

“Mhmm, get used to this, sugar. Get used to Daddy’s mouth on these pretty tits,” Steve mumbles, tugging one pebbled nub between his teeth and sucking. Bucky’s dick jumps, genuinely jumps where it’s trapped against their torsos, and his moan is ragged and worn out, exhausted. Bucky can’t believe he’s going to come again and his mournful noises reflect that sentiment. 

As soon as Steve hears his sob, his purr turns into a groan.

“Already comin’ again, Buck?” Steve asks, panting against his mouth, hands finding a home as both of them wrap loosely around his throat. When Bucky can’t formulate an answer, when all he can do is hiccup and tug at the parts of the senator’s dress shirt that he can reach, Steve nips at his bottom lip. “‘Course you are; you’re gaggin’ for this Daddy come.” 

He is. He’s mindless and boneless and laying there taking the senator’s cock like it’s his job, like he’s getting paid to get fucked so willingly. He isn’t, he reminds himself, head bouncing with every thrust Steve rocks into him without mercy. Bucky really does feel like a slut. He smiles. 

“The first one was for you,” Steve whispers against the curve of his mouth, his sweat dripping onto Bucky’s neck.. “This one's for me. Ask me for it, ask Daddy to come in this pussy. Ask Daddy for that baby you want so fuckin’ bad.” 

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate. In fact, he lets out a growl of his own, albeit a pathetic, pup of a noise. If a second orgasm is being forced out of him, he’s going to earn it. And if he’s so lucky enough to have a surprise roleplay work out this well, he’s gonna send it home. 

“Put that fuckin’ baby in me, Daddy,” is what he ends up biting out, spreading his legs wide and lifting his head to meet Steve’s eyes. His tongue darts out, lapping at the senator’s plump bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. The older man’s groans sound almost pained when Bucky leans into the hold around his throat. He knows exactly how to get what he wants.

He sticks out his bottom lip, whimpers.

“Want that Daddy come. Please Daddy, please— can I have your baby? Will you give me that baby? Daddy…” 

Steve’s groan sounds more like a roar when his fingers tighten, when Bucky feels his breathing hitch, feels the shallowness of his breaths. Bucky feels like a doll, limp and useless as Daddy uses his grip to fuck Bucky on his cock, thrusts going sloppy. 

“Practicin’ that fuckin’ baby talk already, fuckin’ hell. Take it, Buck— take that Daddy come and make that baby.” 

He’s gasping, all sensation narrowed down to the big hands around his neck and the fat cock in his ass, and when he hears and feels the senator begin to moan raggedly into his cheek, when he grinds in deep, Bucky soars. 

He’s pure sensation. His ears ring, his vision blurs, his limbs tremble. He milks Steve for everything he’s worth and that’s all that matters to him, is what pushed him over the edge and into another orgasm, a much more intense one. Steve is in his ear, against his lips, whispering filthy thought after filthy thought as he drops his load in Bucky’s worn out pussy. He sucks breath after breath into his lungs and by the time he’s done spurting between their bodies, on this poor dress, his thighs drop like stones onto the table beneath him, his arms doing the same. 

It takes more than a few minutes for this feeling of pure sensation to give way to the present, for the fog to clear long enough to feel the kisses that the senator presses against his chin, his lips. 

Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before. The closest he’s ever come to this was the first time Steve fucked him on the desk in his office. 

“I’m… holy shit, I can’t…m’gonna need…” Bucky hears himself mumble mindlessly, giggling when it sounds ridiculous to his ears. His brain feels like it’s full of air, weightless and empty. Steve joins Bucky in chuckling, hands squeezing all over his body: his shoulders, his neck, his chest. 

“You’re gonna need a lot of things, Buck,” Steve mumbles, pressing a set of chaste kisses against his lips before sighing and settling his feet back onto the floor. He’s still quite hard within Bucky, cock rigid, and for a moment he wonders if Steve wants to go another round. 

Having almost passed out after two rounds, he surely wouldn’t survive a third. He thinks he’d take that risk. 

“We’ll take a bath,” Steve tells him, hands running up Bucky’s sides to pull down his dress. “Let me go grab a fat piece of that cake you made and you can feed it to me in the tub.” 

Bucky scoffs.

“Oh, excellent. As if I haven’t done enough for you today already.” 

Steve gives him a light smack on the cheek for his attitude. Bucky bites his lip. 

“No, don’t move,” Steve tells him in a hushed voice as he slips from Bucky’s body and steps back. “I’ll carry you.” 

“Oh…okay.” 

The senator doesn’t bother tucking himself back into his pants and Bucky doesn’t know why he feels himself blush, not after tonight.

“Plus,” Steve starts, voice dipping into dangerous territory as he saunters towards the kitchen. “Gotta keep those hips up, gotta keep you on your back. Better chance for makin’ that baby…”