#unspecified porn

Again, I don’t really have a prompt that inspired this / goes with it, but I wrote it like a week and a half ago and it’s just been sitting in my files ever since

So idk, enjoy some random porn~

The scenario is this: 

Steve is lounging in bed after some quality time spent on Daddy’s cock. Maybe Bucky went to take a shower after bathing his boy, or maybe he’s cleaning up their mess from playtime. Doesn’t matter, either way, Steve was left alone–maybe because Bucky thought he’d fallen asleep–and now Bucky is coming to join him again.

He thinks he’ll crawl in bed with his baby, hold him for a while, maybe nap with him. But when he walks into the room, he realizes none of that will happen. Because his boy is awake, and showing Daddy that he needs more attention.

Steve is on his back, sucking on a lollipop. Candy is probably part of his aftercare–something sweet for Daddy’s sweet boy–and when Steve falls asleep before he can have his treat, Daddy always leaves it for him on the nightstand. Today’s treat is that lollipop and Steve is suckling on it slowly, ever a boy in need of something in his mouth.

But that’s not what has Bucky’s attention. Because while his boy from the waist up is beautifully innocent, it’s the opposite from the waist down. His shirt–Daddy’s shirt, which he was put in after his bath–is rucked up high on his waist, and his legs are butterflied open, bringing attention to the limp little cock nestled there.

It never ceases to amaze Bucky, how Steve can embody such innocence and debauchery all at once. But somehow, his boy manages it, and the results are absolutely bewitching.

He thought he was satisfied for the moment; his need to play sated by their earlier activities. But seeing his boy like this, the hunger that gnaws at his insides makes him feel like he hasn’t touched Steve in days. 

Blue eyes are on him as soon as he’s in the room, but his boy doesn’t say a word. Just suckles his lollipop and watches silently as Bucky approaches the bed. He sits down on the edge of the mattress, beside Steve’s reclining form.

Steve’s expression is placid, but at his Daddy’s smile, he makes a soft little noise and suckles on his lollipop harder. His exposed cock twitches. That’s all it ever takes; just Daddy’s attention and that gorgeous little cock will harden.

Slowly, so his boy will know what he’s doing, Bucky takes the lollipop from him. He replaces it with his thumb immediately, so Steve doesn’t even have time to whine at having his mouth emptied. With a soft, satisfied little noise, his boy takes his thumb and suckles on that instead. His eyes grow softer, hazier. He needs something in his mouth, but nothing brings him more satisfaction than sucking on his Daddy. 

If Bucky let him nurse in this moment, his boy would be lost completely. The thought is there, and part of him wants to do it. But no, not now. His baby boy is asking him for something, and Bucky will give it to him.

There’s a glass bowl on their bedside table, put there for exactly this reason. Bucky lays the lollipop in it for his boy to enjoy later. Finally, when he looks back at Steve, he breaks the silence.

“Hi, baby.”

He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind a delicate ear. Steve’s eyelashes flutter at the touch, giving another soft little noise. Bucky doesn’t take his thumb away to make him answer, and so his boy doesn’t.

There are…flavors to Steve’s submission. It is total, yes–Steve is not a boy who knows how to be a brat. He craves to be mastered too much for it. In a dominant presence, he is perfectly sweet and malleable. But his submission is not always the same. 

There are moods. Variants.

Bucky has discovered each one, cataloged them to know and understand what his boy needs and when. Each variation is addicting in its own way, and Bucky thinks that’s probably because he finds Steve addicting as a whole.

This mood–this variation–is a special one. It’s one of the variations where his boy is at his most docile, and one of the variations where he’s mostly nonverbal. In those headspaces, he usually communicates his needs through body language, through expressions, and through noise; little whines and cries to show Daddy how needy he is.

But in this particular one, he won’t even whine to express his hunger. Bucky could edge him for hours and he still wouldn’t beg for relief; he’d just take it. 

Steve’s shown him what he wants, and now he’ll wait to see what his Daddy will do. He’ll wait for as long as it takes, and he won’t wriggle or squirm or whine in the meantime. He’ll stay just like this; perfectly still and perfectly docile.

Bucky smiles at him softly, tenderly. His boy suckles harder on his thumb. A glance at his exposed little cock shows it flushed a truly gorgeous shade of pink, and quickly hardening. Just as Bucky thought.

He looks at his boy again.

“You feel good, don’t you, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice just as soft and tender as his smile. 

Another of those little noises, so quiet that Bucky wouldn’t be able to hear it if the room weren’t otherwise silent. Slowly, Steve nods. Just once. His expression doesn’t shift, and his big blue eyes stay rapt on Bucky’s face. He hardly even blinks. 

“I bet,” Bucky murmurs. “You always feel good after Daddy gives your little hole attention, don’t you, baby? And I gave it a lot of attention today. Daddy made it nice and sore, just the way it craves, isn’t that right?”

Another noise, another slow nod. His boy’s eyes on him, innocent and hungry all at once. That little cock now flushed deeper, a gorgeous red. It’s fully hard now, and from nothing but this. A thumb in his mouth, Bucky’s attention, a few words said in the right tone.

Steve is so easy like this. It’s one of Bucky’s favorite things about him, how easy it is to get him hard when he’s already feeling like a boy. He never needs to be touched, only needs Daddy’s attention.

And just because he likes that about his boy, Bucky’s waited until now to touch that perfect little cock. It’s now straining toward him, begging for attention. Once he sees it, Bucky moves his hand between Steve’s spread thighs. 

He wanted to watch his boy’s cock get hard for him untouched, but now that it is, he can’t keep himself away. With a gentle, light touch, he runs the back of his finger slowly up and then back the short length.

Steve doesn’t move at all. He lays there and allows himself to be touched. Still so quiet and docile, it’s almost like he doesn’t register the touch. The only thing giveaway is the hungry way he sucks his Daddy’s thumb, the glassy sheen to his eyes, the way that little cock throbs under his touch.

God, but he’s perfect. 

It hits Bucky again, just how fucking lucky he is to have this boy. His submission is beautiful, and so fucking humbling. The fact that Bucky is the one allowed to dominate this boy, that Steve chose him as his Daddy–it’s a heady thing, that knowledge.

This boy is his. Bucky owns every inch of him, from his soft hair down to his painted toenails. And it’s all because Steve allows it. He could have anyone, and yet he still chose Bucky. 

Not that anyone would be worthy of Steve; Bucky doesn’t even think he’s worthy, most days. This boy is too sweet for the likes of him. But he’ll selfishly, jealously keep him for as long as Steve wants to be kept.

“You’re such a good little boy,” Bucky whispers, because he can’t help it. Because he knows what it does to Steve to hear those words, and Bucky wants to make him feel good. Doting on his boy is his main priority in life.

The noise Steve makes then is a little louder, and lasts a little longer. He still doesn’t move, but Bucky looks down, a little pearl of precum has formed on the swollen tip of his boy’s cock.

He wants to lean down and lick it up, but if he does, he’ll be derailed. He’ll forget to ask what it is his baby boy is craving, and he needs to know. It’s an effort to take his gaze away from such a pretty sight, but he finally manages it.

It takes a little longer for him to remember what he was saying. Steve is alluring and distracting in any state, but especially one like this.

“Your little hole needs Daddy’s attention a lot, doesn’t it, baby?” He says, keeping his voice low, cajoling. “But sometimes, when your little hole is especially needy, like it was today, some things get neglected.”

He glances down again, unable to help himself. Watching his knuckle glide over the underside of that pretty cock.

“Like your little cock,” he continues, looking back up at Steve. “It doesn’t need as much attention as your hole. But it still needs Daddy’s attention, doesn’t it, baby?”

It takes Steve longer to answer this time, because he’s already been mastered, totally and completely. He’s fucking exquisite like this.

Finally, slowly, he nods.

Another smile stretches across Bucky’s lips, this one knowing.

“Is that why you’re showing it off, baby boy?” He asks gently. “Did your little cock get lonely while Daddy played with your hole? Does it need Daddy’s attention now, too?”

Another slow nod. 

“What kind of attention does it want, hmm? Does it want Daddy to make it feel good, or does it need Daddy to hurt it?”

Slowly, so his boy knows it’s coming, Bucky takes his thumb out of Steve’s mouth. Steve allows it silently; doesn’t whine or chase after it, trying to get it back. Another noticeable difference between this headspace and others. He’s so fucking docile, he won’t even cry at having his favorite things taken away. Whatever Bucky gives him or denies him, he just accepts. Sweetly, silently, obediently.

It’s a headspace that brings out the darker lusts in Bucky, the moods that urge him to possess his boy in every way. The more submissive Steve is, the more Bucky wants to dominate him, and roughly. He always has to tread carefully when his boy makes him feel like this.

“I know it’s hard to talk when you feel like this, baby,” he murmurs. “But you have to answer Daddy now. Just this once, and then Daddy won’t make you talk anymore. Can you do that for me?”

Steve nods again. He licks his lips, hesitating. It takes several quiet moments, and many uneven breaths before he whispers, “Both, Daddy. Please?”

Smiling, Bucky leans forward and kisses his forehead. He takes Steve’s cock into his hand, stroking it as he whispers, “Good boy.”

Steve’s breath comes faster now, heavier. His eyes are brimming with adoration, worship, as he looks up at Bucky. He lays still and silent as his cock is played with.

God, Bucky wants to wreck him.

“Daddy is going to go get some toys for us to play with,” he murmurs. “Toys that’ll help give your little cock the attention it needs. I want you to stay just like this, do you understand? Don’t move at all.”

He doesn’t need to threaten punishment. Steve isn’t prone to squirming in this state. In truth, Bucky probably didn’t even need to give this order; Steve would’ve mostly likely stayed like this, anyways. But he’s too pretty like this, too perfect, for Bucky to risk it. He wants this vision–his beautiful boy, debauched and exposed, that perfect little cock hard and straining for him–to greet him when he comes back.

Bucky waits for Steve to nod, and then, with another kiss and a squeeze to the cock in his hand, he leaves. They keep many toys in their bedrooms–all of his boy’s favorites–but there are some ideas in Bucky’s mind that require leaving the bedroom entirely.

Once he has everything collected and set out, he looks back to his boy. The vision that greets him is exactly what he wanted. His baby boy, waiting so patiently, that same serene expression on his face. He’s so relaxed, laying against the pillows. And there’s that little cock, still hard and waiting for him to come play with it.

Bucky wants to keep Steve like this. He could. In this state, Steve would only nod and stay just like that for as long as Daddy wanted. Bucky would come back to him every once and a while, play with that pretty cock to make sure it stayed hard, and then leave his boy with a kiss on the forehead and soft words of praise. Steve wouldn’t move the entire time; he’d stay still and quiet, just like he is now.

But that game is for another time.

He sits down on the edge of the bed again, picking up Steve’s hand and setting a small bell in it. It’s what they use when Steve is like this—in a headspace where he’s nonverbal.

“Do you remember this, sweetheart?” Bucky asks. When Steve nods, he continues, “Show Daddy what you do if something happens that you don’t like.”

Obediently, Steve shifts the bell in his hand and then rings it. His gaze immediately goes back to Bucky as he does, waiting for Daddy to show him he did right. Always hungry for reassurance and praise.

Bucky takes hold of his cock again, giving it two slow strokes as he kisses Steve’s forehead. 

“That’s a good boy,” he murmurs. “You can still use your safeword. Daddy will always listen to that, no matter what. But if you want to stop and you still can’t speak, you ring that bell for me, okay? Can you do that, baby?”

Steve nods obediently, and gets rewarded for it again.

Then, Bucky smiles and whispers, “Let’s play, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t know how long he dedicates to playing with his boy’s cock. Minutes blend together, time seeming to go too quickly and not quickly enough at the same time.

He uses his hand first, bestowing pleasure and pain with just that—stroking him gently, then too tightly, letting go to slap his little cock and his balls when the urge strikes–watching his boy’s reactions with each, seeing what he craves the most and then giving it to him more. When Steve comes from that, Bucky leans over and takes Steve’s sensitive cock into his mouth, sucking on it sweetly while his boy makes those hurt little noises in his throat.

He uses a wand, a flesh light, a velvet glove. He takes ice from a metal cup and glides it along his boy’s cock and over his balls, until the skin is chilled, and then he takes it into the heat of his mouth.

It’s that last one that seems to partially break his boy out of his doll-like state. Up until that point, Steve has taken everything so beautifully still, and mostly silent; only soft little noises and heavy breathing to show he’s affected.

Bucky doesn’t know if it’s because of how long they’d been at it by that point or if it was the act itself, but when he uses the ice cubes for the first time, Steve cries out raggedly. The second time, he claws at Bucky’s shoulders with one hand. The other hand still clutches the bell tightly, though, and so Bucky doesn’t stop. In fact, he repeats the process again and again just because of that reaction.

Most of the pain, Bucky bestows through light slaps to his cock and overstimulation. It’s the pain his baby boy prefers. He employs it less and less as the evening goes on, until he doesn’t have to at all, because even the pleasure hurts. 

When that happens, Bucky stretches out beside Steve, tucking his body close. He takes his boy’s hard, hurting cock into his hand and gently strokes.

“Just one more, baby,” he whispers. “One more, and we’re all done.”

Steve blinks up at him hazily. He’s trembling, his lips parted on soft, shaky breaths. Tears cling to his lashes and stain his ruddy cheeks. The way he looks at Bucky–like Bucky is the lighthouse in a storm–is too much.

Leaning down, Bucky kisses his slack lips. He knows what his boy needs to give him this last orgasm, and it’s too easy to provide, when the words crowd his head, waiting to spill out, anyways.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs. “So perfect. You’ve been such a good little boy for Daddy tonight, baby. Showing Daddy what you needed and letting Daddy take care of you. You’re so good. Such a good little boy.”

He keeps it up, a steady rhythm on his cock while whispering soft praise between bestowing little kisses to Steve’s lips and all over his face. It takes a while, even with the praise driving Steve closer and closer to the edge. When it finally happens, his boy’s body has nothing left to give him except more tears.

Steve’s still shivering in the aftershocks when Bucky rolls him to his side. He shoves his pants down, grabbing hold of his cock. He’s shaking, too, but with need. His cock has been hard since he walked in to his baby boy showing himself off, and he hasn’t touched it this whole while. Dedicating his entire attention to Steve. 

His original plan was to jack himself off when he was done, come all over that limp little cock and rub it into Steve’s skin. But those tears—those tears are always his undoing. No orgasm will satisfy him now, not unless it’s found inside his boy’s tight little hole, the taste of those tears on his tongue.

He hastily slicks himself up and slips his cock between Steve’s cheeks, rubbing the head against his baby boy’s sore little hole. His lips brush against Steve’s ear.

“Ring the bell if your little hole is too sore to play with Daddy’s cock again.”

Sluggishly, Steve shakes his head, the hand holding the bell twitching toward his chest. Hiding it, like he expects Bucky to take it from him and ring it himself. His fingers are still curled tightly around it, and no sound comes.

Bucky waits a few more seconds, and then levers himself up, looming over his boy’s lax body. Sinking into that warm, tight little hole with a deep groan. His baser desires won’t let him stop and enjoy those first few moments of connection, the way he usually does. He moves as soon as he’s inside, rutting inside his baby in short, sharp thrusts.

Fresh tears cling to Steve’s lashes, a few sliding over his cheeks. Bucky’s gut tightens, his cock throbbing inside his perfect boy. 

“Is it too much, baby?” He asks. “Is that why you’re crying? Does Daddy need to stop?”

He’s almost positive that it isn’t the case, but before he can truly enjoy this moment, he has to make sure. Nothing matters more to him than his boy’s comfort and safety; he’ll always double-check, no matter how sure he feels.

Steve shakes his head, his fingers turning white with how tightly he clutches the bell. A few more tears slip out, and Bucky groans.

“No?” He says. He leans over Steve, changing his angle, his pace. Shifting into long, deep thrusts that has Steve’s breath hitching. “Then what is it, baby? Did Daddy make you feel too good?”

A slow, clumsy nod. Bucky shudders, fucking him a little harder as he bites Steve’s earlobe.

“I know,” he whispers. “That’s why Daddy loves your tears so much. I know how good I’ve made you feel when you start crying for me.”

He lets out a shuddering breath.

“Love it when you cry these pretty tears for Daddy, baby. Love making you feel good.”

There are no more words after that. Just Bucky’s deep grunts and his baby’s soft little noises, the slap of their skin together. Bucky is riveted to the sight of those tears, and each new drop drives him closer to the edge. He doesn’t want to make it last; doesn’t even try. Drawing it out was for earlier in the night, now it’s only about relieving the ache in his cock.

When he’s close, he turns Steve’s head toward him with trembling fingers, just enough so he can put his mouth to Steve’s cheek and taste his tears. A shudder wracks his body as soon as he has them on his tongue, and then he’s coming with a ragged groan.  

He’s still searching out the taste of them on Steve’s skin when he starts to come down. His hips lazily moving, chasing the last shocks of pleasure. 

“Good boy,” he whispers. “My good little boy. You’ve done so well tonight, baby. Always make Daddy feel so good.”

Steve makes a soft, euphoric little noise, but otherwise stays still and silent while his Daddy takes the last of what he needs.