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#senator and intern
howdoyousleep3 · 2 months
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11. “Louder. Let me hear you.” IS SCREAMING SENATOR/INTERN
Hell yeah. ❤️‍🔥 Tags: established relationship, manhandling, anal sex, rough sex, dirty talk, hinted at exhibitionism, daddy kink Word Count: 811
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Bucky feels like he’s drowning.
Each breath is a gasp, his lungs desperate for the oxygen he’s purposely depriving himself of in order to muffle his noises. The pillow he bites into does very little to assist him in this matter, yet it feels good to bite down on something, to put something in his mouth.
Always forced to be quiet, always forced to hide. Secrets, secrets, secrets.
Never out of his head entirely, always leaving one foot within the clearer parts of his mind. He can count on one hand the times he’s been able to leave his mind in full, the times he’s not anxious about the what ifs, the risks.
Always good though, always as good as he can be for Daddy. Always—
A smack on his ass, sharp and stinging, forces his eyes to water, forces his teeth to clench. He chokes on his wail, chokes down the greedy moan that forces its way up and out of his throat. His dick aches where it’s trapped against the sheets, ignored and throbbing from the friction of Steve’s thrusts.
Another slap then, smack, right atop the first one, followed by a dig of the senator’s hips. It stretches his rim out around Steve’s girth even further, as if the senator is trying to impossibly force his cock further into Bucky’s body. He can feel the older man in his throat, feels as if his ass isn’t the only hole being brutalized.
Steve lets out the noise Bucky wishes he could, the depth and emotion of it nearly rattling Bucky’s own teeth.
“I didn’t bring you all the way out here…to shove your face into a pillow and just take it.”
Steve takes a pause from riding Bucky into the mattress and leans down, blanketing himself over Bucky’s backside. And it’s as if the senator can’t help himself, as if the temptation of being inside of Bucky is too much, because even then his hips rock.
Bucky’s eyes roll easily back into his head.
Fingers slip through his hair, tugging, yanking his head back and pulling the pillow free from his teeth.“You think I brought you into my home so you could cry into my pillows?” Bucky can feel the smile on Steve’s lips press against the shell of his ear. “Don’t get me wrong—you know I love it when this dick makes you cry. But if you don’t start wakin’ up my neighbors, I’m gonna call you a fuckin’ Uber, boy.”
Bucky listens blindly, obeys in the exact manner that makes the senator’s dick hard—immediately.
His groan feels more than just a noise; it feels like a release.
He embraces the way it grates against the front of his throat, leans into the feeling of embarrassment when the desperation of the noise hits his ears. His breaths are distorted noises, pleading and ugly, ones that jolt and bounce in time with Steve’s thrusts. With the noises he lets out, Bucky almost mourns for the loss of the lewd noises of his ass being fucked, almost wishes he could hear them again even if they make his cheeks heat up and his eyes well up with tears.
But once the first moan is out of his mouth, he’s unable to stop.
And once he’s unable to stop is when the senator seems the most satisfied, his own noises hitting a more feral pitch.
Satisfied but never not greedy.
“That’s it. Louder. Let me hear you, baby.”
Always the listener, always obedient, Bucky moans. “Daddy…Daddy!” He gets a hand wrapped around the front of his throat for his troubles, for being good. He hopes Steve can feel the rasp of his groan against his palm. The senator pulls his hips back further, gives him longer strokes, digs his cock into Bucky harder.
“Yeah, there it is. Ain’t anybody here gonna get’chu in trouble for getting a senator’s dick all wet. You can be as loud as you want here.”
“Oh fuck,” Bucky pants, shouts. “The senator’s…dick. Get his dick all wet.” Bucky hiccups, whining as he reaches for one of Steve’s fingers to suck into his mouth. “Steve…Steve, it feels so good.”
Bucky’s certain he’s wailing.
“Fuck yeah, Buck. Pussy feels so goddamn good. Gotta let Daddy know you love it, gotta be loud as fuck for it.”
Bucky just repeats what he’s hearing, making noise feeling too good to question the words he’s saying. “Pussy feels…feels so good. Gotta let…oh god, gotta let Daddy know.”
Steve’s guttural groan into his neck almost feels better than letting out his own.
“Fuck, baby. You get the cops called on us and I’ll double your pay, triple it. Want the neighbors thinkin’ you’re dyin’ in here. C’mon, honey. Gimme that pussy.”
Always good, always as good as he can be for Daddy.
“Give Daddy this pussy.”
“Good fuckin’ boy…”
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maddiewritesstucky · 1 year
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Kiss The Quarterback — Part One
When star quarterback Steve and his right-hand man Bucky lead their team to a National Championship, Senator Rogers takes it upon himself to invite the two young athletes to meet with him in person to celebrate their victory.
But the Senator has more than a congratulatory handshake in mind, and what transpires behind the closed door of the Senator’s office is beyond any reward the boys could ever have expected...
Rating: Explicit
Word count: 3.6k
Tags: gang bang adjacent, oral sex, blow jobs, dirty talk, humiliation (verbal and physical), degradation, voyeurism, authority kink, daddy kink, power dynamics, dom/sub relationship, orgasm control, free use, hand job, light subspace, edging, enthusiastic consent
A/N: Originally written as a birthday gift for our girl @rainbowsandcoconut, Sister K @howdoyousleep3​ and I are so excited to finally share our first ever collaboration! This fic is POV switching, between Jock Steve and Intern Bucky. The scandal is only just beginning — Part 2 coming soon.
Find more of K’s Senator here, and my Jocks here.
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“I’m gonna flirt with him.” 
“Bucky, no.”
“I am, I’m gonna do it.”
“You are not gonna flirt with the state fucking Senator, Bucky. Don’t blow this for us.”
“Oh, I’ll blow something,” Bucky laughs, reaching to tug at the collar of Steve’s dress shirt. “You fuckin’ seen Senator Rogers? Guy looks like he could bench press you.”
Steve bats Bucky’s hands away, and turns to survey his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window; nervously brushing at his suit. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that? Fuckin’ knew I should’ve brought Wilson instead.” 
“Jesus, Steve, would you relax? This is a privilege, remember?” Bucky says, dripping sarcasm as he parrots their coach’s words from earlier. “You brought home the championship, and now you get to shake the Senator’s hand, can you believe?” 
“Oh my god, would you shut—”
“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes?” A woman with dark-rimmed glasses and a clipboard raps on the doorframe of the small waiting room, gesturing for them to follow her out into the hall. “The Senator is ready for you now. This way, please.” 
The way Bucky grins when Steve looks his way does absolutely nothing to quell Steve’s anxiety.
“Showtime…”
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“You just sit there and look pretty for our guests. You think you can do that for me?” 
The Senator’s breath blows hot and damp across Bucky’s jaw, the drag of Steve’s teeth making him squirm in his chair. A small kiss to his chin is soothing but he wants one on his lips, huffs for it, fingers digging into the front of Steve’s suit jacket. 
“Yes, Daddy,” he replies, easy like a hot knife through butter. He gets a kiss on his cheek for his troubles, but he’s needy, wants a proper kiss, right on his lips. 
“You ever see these guys before? These college jocks?” Steve asks him with a grip of his chin, and Bucky shakes his head in response. 
“I think you’re in for a treat, sweetheart. How hospitable are you feelin’ tonight?” he asks and what...what does that mean? Bucky’s eyebrows knit together in confusion until Steve clarifies.
“Should I offer up my slutty intern to these boys? Give them my own little present for winning the National Championship?” 
Oh.
Bucky’s body clenches up immediately, neck going weak but the Senator holding his chin taut. This time he is given a kiss to his parted lips, one laced with the ghost of a smirk, one that drinks his whine right off of his mouth. It’s hypothetical, fantasy, an inquiry meant to make Bucky wiggle in his seat, but it makes Bucky achy. 
His Daddy offering him up to someone else? The chance to make the Senator proud? Bucky is more than okay with that.
He purses his lips into the chaste kisses Steve gives him, but now he’s hungry, now he wants more, asks for it with a pull on Steve’s suit. The Senator bats Bucky’s hands away as he stands. 
“Maybe Daddy’ll give you a little treat before you head home tonight if you’re good for me.” 
Bucky has no chance to respond to Steve’s offer, swallowing down yet another disgusting whine instead of letting the older man hear it. Steve turns towards the sharp knock at the door, Bucky standing on wobbly legs and following suit. 
“Gentlemen! I hear congrats are in order…” 
Bucky almost falls right back down into his chair.
“Senator Rogers, thank you so much for inviting us to meet with you.” 
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine. I’ve been watching you boys from the beginning of the season and now you’re here? C’mon, I had to congratulate you in person.” 
Bucky is almost certain he’s walked into a wet dream. Chiseled jawlines, summer sky eyes, muscle and strength as far as the eye can see— these athletes have most definitely starred in some of Bucky’s recurring fantasies. Bucky is so taken aback that he barely makes out the Senator’s words as the blond, first through the door, turns to Bucky. 
“This is one of my interns, James,” The Senator offers, and Bucky is nodding his head like he’s got a jar of marbles for a brain, reaching for the extended hand in front of him. The blond beefcake flashes Bucky a dazzling smile that has butterflies swooping down and all throughout Bucky’s belly and he introduces himself with a confident and kind, “Steve. It’s nice to meet you, James.” 
Bucky barely has time to give proper attention to how warm Steve’s hands are, that grip, before Steve is moving to the side and—
Bucky almost bends to pick his jaw up off the floor. 
“How’s it goin’?”
A second grip and handshake Bucky wants to hold tightly to, this time accompanied by a smirk that surely drops panties on the regular. There’s strength behind this handshake as well, an edge of cockiness that Bucky could grow addicted to. Dark hair pulled back, unassuming strength, the plushest mouth Bucky has ever set eyes on, and the axis of Bucky’s world has tilted. 
The Senator, Bucky’s own Daddy, momentarily slips from the forefront of his mind until the older man is guiding, offering up a, “Sit, sit, please,” as he gestures to the sitting area. The notepad that Bucky has been clutching against his chest almost needs to be adjusted to cover his crotch, but he’s afraid that if he moves it whatsoever, his hands will wander to the endless amounts of tightly-packed muscle spread out in front of him. 
He manages to find his seat in the chair next to the Senator’s, coffee table between their pair of chairs and the leather couch the two athletes seat themselves at. When he looks up and over at the man to his left, the man who just kissed him breathless before inviting these jocks into his office, the Senator is already looking over at him. 
Bucky wrings his hands when the state rep gives him a knowing look and a wink. 
“When I invited the Quarterback I wasn’t sure who you’d bring, but I should have known it would have been your right hand man. You two make quite the duo out there on the field, don’t you?”
Bucky has never really been a fan of sports. He goes to games, enjoys the atmosphere, but won’t seek it out on his own. He doesn’t understand but a handful of details about sports as a whole, and he feels himself begin to detach from the conversation playing out in front of him. All he knows are the things that have been mentioned in passing: these two men are on the football team that won the National Championship, one is the Quarterback, and they’re here on Capitol Hill in order to meet with the President, which they had done earlier that day. 
He’s sure he would have paid more attention to sports over the past few years if any of the athletes had looked like this. 
Steve looks like he could carry Bucky around on his hip with one arm, has the biceps to show it, the shoulder span no doubt proof of that as well. Bucky feels like he might begin to sweat under the collar of his shirt when his eyes lock with that plump bottom lip. 
He wants to sit on that bottom lip. 
He blushes furiously, knows his cheeks have to be opaque and obvious. Damn the Senator for planting the seed of fantasy in his brain with a kiss seconds before inviting these men into his office. How is Bucky supposed to have any thoughts that aren’t laced with sex? 
When he diverts his eyes away from Steve in hopes of reeling himself in, he’s met with a smirk on a mouth that might be more sinful than the Quarterback’s. First his lips, the suggestive smirk, then the eyes and Bucky has never felt so caught in his life. 
The dark-haired Wide Receiver is just as startlingly handsome as Steve is, within that sphere of beauty that has Bucky’s pants growing tighter by the second, yet somehow different. Steve almost looks like someone Bucky wants to rough up, a pretty face, eyes that Bucky wants to see messy with tears. He wants to rock himself in Steve’s lap and possibly make him beg. But this other guy? 
Bucky wants this hunk to shove him face-down into the mattress and make him squeal.
The added raise of an eyebrow has him suddenly and desperately thinking of a valid enough excuse to leave the room to get his shit in check. There is business to conduct, pleasantries to be had, and Bucky can’t sit here fantasizing about the plethora of ways he can manage to take both of the athletes on this couch. 
He’s so in his head he hasn’t realized the silence surrounding them all and...it isn’t a pleasant silence. What had Bucky missed? He glances over at the Senator and wishes he had more time to divert the conversation elsewhere, to see if that familiar sneer can be muffled by pointless small talk. 
But nothing could prepare Bucky for Senator Rogers to open his mouth and say, without reservation, “So, Steve, you play this good ‘cause he’s suckin’ your dick, or is he suckin’ it ‘cause you keep on winning shit?”
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Steve’s distantly aware of Bucky barking a laugh that rings way too loud in the confines of the office, but he can’t compute anything beyond the words that have just left the Senator’s mouth. 
Only moments ago, they were talking about the rigors of training schedules and pre-season diets, and now suddenly the Senator is hitting Steve with the one question he’s been living in mortal fear of ever since he and Bucky started their...whatever it is they’re doing. 
Steve doesn’t even know whether it’s a genuine question or just a joke, and he’s sure it’s written all over his face that he has absolutely no fucking idea how he’s supposed to respond.
“What, um...what do you…” 
“Oh, come on, kid,” the Senator rocks back in his chair, smirking conspiratorially. “You don’t have to play dumb in here. You might have the rest of your team fooled, but you’re not gonna sit there and tell me it’s all just sportsmanship I’m seein’ between you two.” 
Steve can only stare, mouth agape and any words he might otherwise hope to speak immovably lodged in his throat. He looks over at Bucky, the pleading look of a drowning man, but Bucky’s fucking cackling; throwing his hands up with a resigned shrug.
“He ain’t wrong, pal,” he grins back at Steve. “My mouth is the real secret to your success.”
“Bucky, I really don’t think we shou—” 
“Hey, hey,” the Senator holds up his hands in a placating gesture, “don’t worry, it’s not gonna leave this room.” His gaze flicks over to the young intern seated next to him, and drifts slow down the length of his body, “...We all got our secrets.”
Steve’s stomach flips at the brazenness of the gesture. There’s nothing subtle about the way James shivers under the Senator’s attention; everything about their rapport screaming headline-in-the-making. 
Senator Rogers is doing fuck all to hide it, too, which is making Steve feel hot in ways that have nothing to do with the tight fit of his suit or the unseasonably warm weather.
“Scandal recognizes scandal, don’t it, Senator?” 
Steve’s head whips round at Bucky’s drawled remark. 
Bucky’s sitting there, completely unflinching in the cocky set of his smile, meeting the full force of the Senator’s surprised stare head-on, and Steve doesn’t know whether to apologize on Bucky’s behalf, or just stand up and show himself out.
He chances a look over at the intern, whose rose-flushed cheeks have bloomed a darker shade of crimson; his eyes carefully glued to the notepad clutched in his lap, and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
It’s a painfully awkward moment. The entire room is silent save for the heavy, rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock inset into the bookcase, and Steve’s screaming internal monologue, which he’s only half certain no one else can hear at this point. 
“Senator Rogers, I…” 
He’s not sure what he plans to say, he just knows he needs to say something before the tension in the room reaches critical point.
But then, inexplicably, the Senator grins.
“It’s alright, Steve,” he sighs. His eyes don’t budge from their deadlock on Bucky, but they narrow a little as he regards him. “I had a mouth on me too, when I was young.”
Steve looks back and forth between the Senator and Bucky, noting the dusting of pink that’s crept onto Bucky’s cheeks. 
He also notes - with great interest - that Bucky is the one who breaks first, dropping his gaze to the coffee table situated between them.
“Mm, that’s what I thought,” the Senator hums. 
He tilts his head, smiling something calculating as he watches Bucky squirm in his seat. He doesn’t let up his stare, even as he speaks to address his intern.
“James, would you go and close the door, please?”
Bucky looks up at that, looks at Steve with a question in his eyes. But Steve is watching the intern, whose face has done something indecipherable at the request. 
“Of course, sir,” James responds immediately. He rises from his seat to head for the door, but he doesn’t make it two steps before Senator Rogers is stopping him with a hand gripped firmly on his arm. 
“Of course, who?” 
James’s breath catches audibly in his throat. He looks at the Senator; looks over at Steve and Bucky, and then back again, his eyes wide. 
Steve doesn’t know exactly what he’s expecting to happen next, what it is the intern said wrong in that exchange, or what the Senator is wanting from him. But he sure as hell isn’t expecting the next words that come out of James’s sinfully pink mouth. 
“...Of course, Daddy.”
Bucky’s whole body tenses at Steve’s side. “Holy shit,” he whispers, leaning in to get at Steve’s ear. “I’m gonna make you call me that.” 
“No you’re fuckin’ not.” 
There’s a part of Steve that’s saying he and Bucky should probably get up and leave right about now. But there’s another, louder part that wants to find out where the hell this is all going, and what the Senator could possibly have in mind that warrants a closed door. 
More to the point, Steve’s pretty damn certain that he wants to be a very active part of whatever Senator Rogers has in mind.
He watches James walk over and push the heavy oak door shut; the click of the latch resounding through the room. It feels like they’re about to be let in on something illicit, sitting there as the intern closes them all into the privacy of the Senator’s office together.
It becomes really fucking clear that that’s exactly what’s about to happen, when James turns to come back to his seat, and Senator Rogers raises a hand to halt him in his tracks; snapping his fingers, and pointing to the floor by his feet.
“Crawl,” he growls.
The intern sinks lithely to his knees with a soft whine; his gaze fixed glassy and wanting on the Senator, and the practiced ease of the movement isn’t lost on Steve. 
James moves like he’s done this a thousand times, shoulders and hips rolling slow as he shifts forward on hands and knees. The implication of it has Steve’s head spinning; has his cock twitching behind his zipper. 
He looks up to find the Senator staring right at him with a knowing smirk.
“He’s something, ain't he?” Senator Rogers cocks his head toward James, now kneeling at his feet. “Fuckin’ nightmare trying to find a good intern these days, I swear.”
“Yeah…I don’t think they cover submission in PoliSci,” Bucky scoffs, though Steve can hear the faint tinge of awe in his voice. 
The Senator must catch it too, because he pins Bucky with a look and slowly extends a hand down towards James, two fingers outstretched.
“Indeed not, Mr. Barnes,” he sighs as James takes his fingers into his mouth, “James is what we call a ‘natural talent.’”
If they were anywhere else, Steve would be screaming. He’d be smacking Bucky on the arm, and pointing wildly across the room, and asking if this entire fucking thing is some unhinged dream.
Because there is no way, no way, that the actual, real life Senator Rogers is sitting across from them, making direct eye contact as his fingers get a suck job from his intern...who is unashamedly making sex noises, and all but rocking his hips down into the floor as he works his mouth around his boss’s digits.
It’s a scene plucked straight out of a porno - one that Steve would save in his bookmarks bar, and create a desktop shortcut to, and have a link pasted into the notes section of his phone, just in case he somehow lost his other access to it. 
It’s all so deeply wrong, and Steve knows that objectively he should be feeling a whole lot of things about what he’s seeing right now...but it’s fucking hot. 
The Senator is hot, and the intern is fifty shades of Steve’s type, and Steve’s never had much of a poker face when it comes to seeing something he likes.
“Think you’ve got a fan, James,” the Senator rumbles. 
He slips his fingers free from between James’ spit-slick lips, hushing him when he whines and gripping him instead by the chin. 
“Lucky for you, Steve,” the Senator begins, “James here was just telling me before you boys came in that he’s feeling particularly generous today. Ain’t that right, sugar?” 
Steve’s pulse rate goes through the roof as the intern nods, flicking his tongue out over his lips.
“Yeah, you’re gonna be real hospitable, aren’t you?” The timbre of Senator Rogers’ voice dips dark as he leans in to speak right up against James’ lips. “Gonna treat our guests nice, make sure everyone’s taken care of…” 
James is nodding vehemently; huffing soft, breathy moans that are going straight to Steve’s dick. 
Bucky’s not faring much better; keyed-up energy coming off him in waves as he sits there with fingernails dug into his thighs and his breaths shuddering slightly on the exhale. 
Steve desperately wants to know what Bucky’s face is doing right now, but he couldn’t look away from this if he tried; his stare fixed on the flush creeping down beneath the intern’s collar as he hangs on the Senator’s every word.
“Give Daddy a kiss,” Senator Rogers commands. 
He sits back just enough to see that James has to work to reach him, but reach him he does; fighting past the Senator’s grip on his chin with a frustrated huff that only makes the older man laugh. 
When their lips meet, the Senator doesn’t so much kiss his intern, as he allows the intern the privilege of kissing him, and it’s clear that James knows where the power lies. He knows, and he’s weak for it; kissing Senator Rogers like he’s trying to prove a point. 
Steve doesn’t even realize he’s tucked a hand between his own thighs to press at the ache in his dick until the Senator pulls back, eyeing Steve pointedly and using his grip on the intern’s chin to turn his face toward Steve.
“Now look at that, I think the Quarterback’s feelin’ a little lonely over there...Go show him how well you keep a lap warm, James.”
Steve’s pulse turns erratic as he watches the intern slowly get to his feet and walk towards him. Senator Rogers is murmuring encouragement aimed at the both of them, telling Steve to relax and prompting James to ‘be a good host’, but Steve still feels like he’s been sprung doing something he shouldn’t when the intern looks at him from under his lashes, and sinks down to sit across his thighs.
“Goddamn,” Bucky breathes, shaking his head. “Tell him he’s pretty, Stevie, I wanna see if he blushes.” 
Steve swallows hard. James feels so slight in his lap, almost dainty in the way he’s perched, and Steve just about has to sit on his hands to stop them migrating to the guy’s waist just to see if they can span around his middle. He is pretty, even more so up close with his cupid’s bow lips and the little dip in his chin, and the vaguely glazed look in his eyes like getting passed around is all he’s ever wanted in life. 
But that doesn’t change the fact that the Senator is watching Steve’s every move with an inscrutable smile, and Steve has no clue where the limits are in this situation.
“He’s, uh...he’s…”
“Oh, your boy’s shy, huh?” the Senator grins at Bucky. “Get a little dumb with something sweet in his lap?” 
Bucky huffs a laugh, kicking a foot out to scuff at Steve’s. “With anything in his lap.”
“Mm, there’s something about these easy boys, ain’t there?” Senator Rogers sighs fondly with a tilt of his head. “How does he like to be kissed?” 
The intern tenses in Steve’s lap, gasping quiet to match Steve’s own. 
Bucky looks at Steve’s mouth as he answers, flippant like Steve’s not right fucking there. “Kissing’s not part of our deal, I only ever did it once. But if I remember right, he almost shot off from having that fat bottom lip sucked.”
Senator Rogers hums an approving sound. He settles back in his seat, turning his attention back to Steve and his lapful of vaguely trembling intern. 
“Go on then, James,” the Senator nods, uncrossing his legs and letting them splay open a little wider as he looks on. “Kiss the quarterback.”
...to be continued
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alwaysbewoke · 2 days
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As multiple work stoppages continued across the United States, Democratic Sen. John Fetterman of Pennsylvania on Thursday introduced legislation that would enable striking workers to qualify for federal food aid.
Called the Food Secure Strikers Act of 2023, Fetterman's bill would amend the Food and Nutrition Act of 2008 to ensure that striking workers aren't excluded from receiving Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits. In addition, the bill would preserve food stamp eligibility for public sector workers who are fired for striking and clarify that any income-eligible household is entitled to SNAP benefits even if a member of that household is on strike.
"Every union worker who is walking the picket line this summer needs to know that we have their back here in Washington," Fetterman said in a statement. "The union way of life is sacred. It's what built Pennsylvania and this nation. It is critical for us to protect workers' right to organize, and that includes making sure they and their families have the resources to support themselves while on strike."
"As chair of the Nutrition Subcommittee and an advocate for the union way of life, this bill is just plain common sense," he added. "I'm proud to introduce this bill that will eliminate the need for workers to choose between fighting for fair working conditions and putting food on the table for their families."
Workers typically forgo pay when they exercise their right to walk off the job in pursuit of higher wages and better conditions. Although union strike funds sometimes provide workers on the picket line with a stipend, it is less than their regular income.
Under existing law, striking workers and their households are ineligible to receive SNAP benefits unless they already qualified for food stamps prior to withholding their labor. This gives employers significant leverage over employees who can only endure economic hardship for so long. By repealing the current restriction on striking workers securing SNAP benefits, Fetterman's bill would help restore some balance to the struggle between capital and labor.
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"It's good to see lawmakers attempting to correct the wrongs of the past by reinstating a benefit for striking workers that never should have been taken away in the first place," said International Brotherhood of Teamsters president Sean O'Brien. "Congress should never pass laws that punish American workers and hopefully this amendment is a repudiation of that practice."
O'Brien spent the past several weeks preparing 340,000 United Parcel Service (UPS) warehouse workers and delivery drivers for what would have been the second-largest work stoppage at a single employer in U.S. history, trailing only a 1970 strike of 400,000 General Motors workers. Although a UPS strike has likely been averted after the logistics giant and the Teamsters reached a tentative five-year contract agreement on Tuesday, Fetterman's proposal comes amid a nationwide wave of ongoing and potential labor actions.
"The United Auto Workers have mirrored the Teamsters' militant stance, blasting CEOs ahead of their own contract negotiations slated for later this year," The Intercept reported Thursday. "And the truckers union has staged trainings in dozens of cities for a strike that could shut down shipping from coast to coast. In California, meanwhile, thousands of hotel workers organized with Unite Here are already on strike, along with tens of thousands of Hollywood writers and actors belonging to the Writers Guild and SAG-AFTRA, respectively."
The walkout of 160,000 writers and actors, who are fighting for improved remuneration and attempting to safeguard unionized jobs threatened by artificial intelligence-induced automation, is perhaps the most well-known of the current strikes.
Earlier this month, an anonymous studio executive admitted to Deadline that "the endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses," drawing widespread condemnation, including from star actor Ron Perlman.
The Food Secure Strikers Act is designed to counteract the delay tactics that bosses rely on to crush workers.
"Workers who make the difficult decision to go on strike are coming together to lift the standard of living and gain more respect for all working people," said Becky Pringle, president of the National Education Association (NEA). "They are prepared to make sacrifices—but going hungry should not be one of them. The Food Secure Strikers Act of 2023 will help ensure that when striking workers stand in solidarity for better working conditions and wages they can receive SNAP benefits so they don't put themselves and their families at risk."
The legislation is co-sponsored by Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) and 10 Senate Democrats, including Sherrod Brown (Ohio), Elizabeth Warren (Mass.), and Ron Wyden (Ore.). A companion bill was unveiled in the House by Democratic Reps. Alma Adams (N.C.) and Greg Casar (Texas).
It is also endorsed by numerous unions and anti-hunger organizations, including the Teamsters, NEA, the United Food and Commercial Workers, the Communications Workers of America, the Food Research Action Center, and Hunger-Free America.
"We need to get rid of the anti-union provisions in our code that starve striking workers," said Casar. "We're seeing workers exercise their rights across the country by going on strike to demand better wages and working conditions. That's why our bill, the Food Secure Strikers Act, is more important now than ever. We need to stop starving strikers, and ensure all working families are able to make ends meet."
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imaginedreamwrite · 11 months
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#7 BOC Steve and reader
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Soft glowing lights radiating in the bathroom had transcended the mood from the dinner you’d had before the skyline, to the crisp apple ale you sipped in clear champagne flutes, finally to the bathroom where you and Steve had spent time soaking together in the tub.
With your little one safely back at home with the nanny, one that Bucky had found himself highly interested in, it was a weekend away for you and the man in charge. It was a weekend seemingly free, where he could relax and spend time with his wife. It was planned for months, almost falling apart after a potential road bump had risen though it finally came together.
And with the plans to spend the weekend together, you and Steve were as self indulgent as ever. In each other. In your hotel. In your food. In your need for each other.
You were insatiable for the other, ravaging in the heat of desire and want. Friday had been spent rampantly being filled and toyed with on every surface, Saturday morning was a lazy day in bed, and Saturday night was dinner and drinks and a spa in the hotel room.
It was blissful, it was carrying from one languid event to the next. And the feeling followed you from bed to the bathroom, your phone in hand to check in on your little one and the nanny. The first few texts were standard and ordinary, with a little addition of a selfie of yourself in a face mask, seemingly completely ordinary. As you were sending the last text after the selfie was sent, you felt Steve come up behind you with an air of electrifying eroticism that made your belly flip.
His hands pulled the edge of your robe up over your hips, fingers tugging and twisting the hem of your panties as they were shifted away from you. His thumb brushed back and forth over your hips, his mouth trailing up and down the column of your neck as he conveyed his whispered desire.
Your head looked back, eyes fluttering closed when his teeth grazed against your neck. Your legs had become parted, his hand slipping between your thighs in order for his fingertips to move against your puffy pussy lips.
His name fell from your mouth as an airy sigh, your phone slowly pulled from your hand and set down against the counter. You shuddered pleasantly as he groaned into your ear, his husky voice delivering a promise to you.
“By the time we leave the weekend, you’re going to be dripping my seed.” Steve’s fingers plunged into your cunt, his name squealed as you rocked your hood against his thrusts. “You wanna give me another baby?”
“Yes, sir,” you whined, resting against his firm chest, “yes, Mr. President.”
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tennessoui · 10 months
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would it be annoying or fun for y’all if I were to write a “choose your own adventure”/“vote on what happens to the characters next” fic vía tumblr polls?🫣🤔
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rotzaprachim · 5 months
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cried and screamed down the phone to my reps today. It felt cleansing. Traumatizing but like dealing with the pain
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fruitgoat · 10 days
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Um….
I don’t want to tell you what to do, State of Oregon. But I agreed not to itemize on my tax return this year and let you pocket that money. You pay for some of my favorite places and some of my favorite people (can we pay teachers like 4000% more?). You even pay for my meds, no questions asked. I signed off my smaller tax refund because I could. And I wanted you to use that money. So why are you depositing three times the agreed amount in my bank account?
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saywhat-politics · 2 years
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Sen. Rick Scott (R-Fla.) warned potential job seekers against applying for new positions at the Internal Revenue Service, vowing that Republicans will move to rescind new federal funding for the agency if they retake control of Congress next year.
Democrats are beefing up tax enforcement with a major $80 billion investment in the IRS, more than half of which will go toward enforcement to ensure the wealthy and corporations pay their taxes. The funding was included in Democrats’ climate and health bill, titled the Inflation Reduction Act, which was signed into law on Tuesday.
“These new positions at the IRS will not offer you the long-term job stability you may expect from a position with the federal government. Put another way: this will be a short-term gig,” Scott wrote in an “open letter” released by his office on Tuesday.
Republicans have decried stricter enforcement of the tax code as not only a tax hike, but a threat to people’s liberty and even their safety.
One GOP senator suggested IRS agents with AR-15 style guns could shoot business owners. They’ve even tried to link the new IRS funding to last week’s entirely unrelated FBI raid on Mar-A-Lago, former President Donald Trump’s ritzy estate in Florida.
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polithicc · 7 months
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was about to fall asleep and remembered next year is an election year <3
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sirenalpha · 1 year
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The Fire Nation is not fascist
words have meanings and you should use them correctly even when applying them to fiction
not all authoritarian governments are fascist even when militarized and just because you don't like that government that doesn't automatically make it fascist
the Fire Nation in the time of atla is more akin to the British Empire as it was an industrializing colonial empire than any fascist regime, Sozin's comments prior to the war harken more to white man's burden than fascism
that's also a very bad thing, you can just say that and be accurate, you don't have to reach for fascism
there are multiple ways you can look at the Fire Nation as it is portrayed within atla and see that it is not fascist
the Fire Nation is an absolute monarchy
fascist regimes are dictatorships
the Fire Nation has never had a period of democracy
fascist regimes are post democratic often initially winning power through democratic elections
the Fire Nation has no corporations, as far as can be assumed from the show everything related to industrialization might just be owned by the state (military)/the monarchy from all the ship building rigs to the factory blown up in The Painted Lady, the only people who might even be merchants are the Bei Fongs but they're still nobles so potentially all their wealth is from their land and holdings not through trade, the Fire Nation could genuinely just still be feudal and have an underdeveloped merchant class if everything trade related is getting funneled through the military/state
fascist regimes are extremely corporatist, they don't believe in public ownership, public goods, public services, anything that can be sold off to corporations and private interest will be, they go for extreme privitization
I think you could even argue that the Fire Nation is not industrialized enough to be fascist either, when the gaang is traveling through the Fire Nation it's basically as rural and pre-industrial as the Earth Kingdom there's like one factory in all of the Fire Nation, and even the Caldera seems pretty pre-industrial, there are no factories, no modern housing/aprtment buildings, no smog and pollution, only the military seems to be industrialized at all with tanks, metal ships, air balloons, and jet skis
and if you take a more ideological lens and compare it to Eco's Ur-Fascism while whether the Fire Nation meets the requirements are more debatable on some of his 14 points than others based on what you can assume from what is shown, others are outright impossible in the Fire Nation and atla world, and some the Fire Nation straight up doesn't meet the requirements for (the ones I don't mention here you can assume the FN does meet them enough though again some are more debatable than others)
-rejection of modernism
this is impossible in the Fire Nation and atla because as far as we can tell there is no period of Enlightenment or even a modernism to reject and you could maybe even argue the Fire Nation might be the ones embracing anything approaching modernism as they were the ones to hire the mechanist but that's very little proof to go on especially as it's for the war machine which is one technology fascists do go for
-appeal to a frustrated middle class
again no corporation or move to capitalism or any merchants or businessmen, hard to say a middle class even exists in the Fire Nation, there's a middle ring in Ba Sing Se but the Fire Nation seems split between nobles and commoners with no middle ground
-obsession with a plot
so I wouldn't say the Fire Nation has no obsession with a plot as they're doing the whole white man's burden equivalent and wanting to 'share their greatness' with the world but the plot fascists are obsessed with are internal enemies aka being anti-semitic and suspicious of Jewish people and while yes the Fire Nation tells lies about Air Nomads they're all convinced every single one of them are dead, they're not internal enemies, there are no internal enemies of the Fire Nation and this ties into the next point
-at the same time too strong and too weak
because there's no internal enemies to stamp out and be fearful of and they're winning a global war, there's no sense from the Fire Nation that they think they're too strong and too weak, they only think they are strong, so strong in fact as to be deserving of ruling the world, this is Azula's entire argument for her coup in Ba Sing Se, she as a member of Fire Nation royalty has the divine right to rule that is unquestionable
-machismo
now I'm not saying there's no sexism in the Fire Nation, they're clearly led by men in the monarchy military and in organized religion, but they might be the least sexist of the existing nations aside from Kyoshi, the Water Tribes obviously have sexism as exhibited by the male power structure, arranged marriages, and preventing female waterbenders from gaining martial skill, the Earth Kingdom in atla only shows male rulers whether kings or Dai Li and Toph's the only female earthbender and she learned it so far outside the system she didn't even learn from a human and their military is also entirely male, the Fire Nation however has female soldiers and guards, teaches female firebenders to bend and female nonbenders can also learn martial skill, and yeah Azula and her friends might just be getting lee way as nobles but literally no one belittles them or remarks upon it in anyway whereas Katara and Toph are definitely remarked upon (though Toph not solely for being a girl)
also Fire Nation noble teen girls can casually date like I get it's a kid's show and maybe they're not thinking deeply on this but they made it explicit that Yue was already betrothed and could not casually date at around the same age Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai are casually dating or trying to date without any mention of betrothals or arranged marriages and without any apparent risk to their personal reputations (yes Mai's dating Zuko is politically and likely financially advantageous to her family or could potentially have been spurred by Azula to keep track of Zuko but as far as we know from canon this is entirely Mai's choice and is in fact casual dating)
-selective populism
the Fire Nation royalty do not give a shit about the will of the people, their positions are for them and to be used how they wish to use them, they do not see themselves as the interpreter of popular will because they don't need it for legitimacy and authority in place of a democratically elected government, they are monarchs with a divine right to rule in a world of other monarchs
-newspeak
there's no evidence the Fire Nation employs this at all, they lie sure especially about the Air Nomads, but they don't invent new jargon to limit critical thinking (they kinda don't need to Ozai and Azula are abusive and manipulative enough on their own they can do it with normal language)
the Fire Nation just does not match the profile of a fascist regime enough ideologically or otherwise to be comfortably calling it fascist or treat it as a matter of fact in fandom
and if you're going to make the argument well they just couldn't show you everything like multiple factories and corporations or a middle class in the Fire Nation due to time limits so actually you can safely assume it is fascist
no, anything beyond what they DID show is headcanon and what IS canon does not lend itself to an argument that the Fire Nation actually is fascist
the monarchy, lack of democracy ever, and what Fire Nation characters have said about the country and its stated goals are canon and point towards an industrializing colonial empire that's not as sexist as it could be
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howdoyousleep3 · 1 year
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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.
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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…”
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maddiewritesstucky · 2 years
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This cannot possibly be real.  
This is just...this could be the product of concussion. They probably never won the game at all - Steve’s probably laid out in the middle of the field right now, surrounded by medics ‘cause he got sacked so bad his brain’s having to fire off hyper-realistic porn scenarios just to give him something to live for.  
The intern is sucking on his bottom lip like it’s a fucking gummy candy, humming a happy little sound like it’s some kinda treat for him that Steve’s just said yes to a blow job, and the Senator - the goddamn Senator -  is the playmaker of it all.
Fuck, Steve might be dead.
—Crossover coming October—
Get to know my Jocks and K’s Senator 🤍 Find K’s teaser here
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alwaysbewoke · 2 days
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The vast majority of the Senate Republican caucus united last week to introduce a bill that would permanently repeal the estate tax, targeting one of the few provisions in the U.S. tax code that solely affects the richest 0.1% of Americans.
Led by Sen. John Thune (South Dakota), the top Republican on the Senate Subcommittee on Taxation and Internal Revenue Service Oversight, 40 Republicans reintroduced their bill to ensure that ultra-rich individuals seeking to hand off tens of millions of dollars — or more — to their heirs can do so completely tax-free. The extremely regressive proposal has been a longtime goal of Republicans, who have already massively watered down the estate tax in past years.
Currently, the estate tax threshold is $12.9 million, and nearly $26 million for couples. Amounts under this are exempted from taxes. This is nearly triple the threshold from 2016 and earlier, as Republicans more than doubled the estate tax cutoff in their major tax overhaul in 2017. The threshold is now so high that it is estimated that less than 0.1% of Americans are subject to the tax.
Evidently, these tax cuts are still not enough for Republicans, who had tried to repeal the tax altogether in 2017. In a press release on the bill, Thune, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Kentucky) and Sen. Mike Crapo (R-Idaho) attempted to couch their support of the repeal in efforts to supposedly support farmers — claims that reveal themselves to be a farce when more closely examined.
“For years I have fought to protect farm and ranch families from the onerous and unfair death tax,” Thune said. “Family-owned farms and ranches often bear the brunt of this tax, which makes it difficult and costly to pass these businesses down to future generations.”
Thune’s statement is a misrepresentation of the truth. The vast, vast majority of “family-owned farms” are not subject to the estate tax. In 2020, a mere 0.16% of farm estates owed the tax, according to data from the Economic Research Service of the U.S. Department of Agriculture. This is an exceedingly small number of farms. As the Tax Policy Center estimated, only 50 farms total paid any estate tax in 2017, and this research was done before lawmakers doubled the threshold.
The criticism of the estate tax in defense of farmers is disingenuous for another reason, as Inequality.org pointed out in a blog post this week. The tax code “already has provisions that protect the very few families with farms and businesses subject to estate tax,” wrote Institute for Policy Studies associate fellow and senior adviser for Patriotic Millionaires Bob Lord. “If the bill sponsors truly cared about family farms, ranches, and businesses, they could have proposed legislation to expand these protections but leave the estate tax intact.”
In reality, deep-pocketed lobbyists with the Farm Bureau have long been pushing a repeal of the estate tax — and the group’s deep ties to big business and Wall Street are well documented.
Perhaps not coincidentally, repealing the estate tax would complete the loop of tax avoidance for the wealthiest Americans. The bill targets the “die” part of “buy borrow die,” a common tax dodging scheme used by the wealthy to avoid paying taxes; it is part of the reason that the wealthiest Americans are able to pay little to no taxes year over year.
In the practice of buying, borrowing, and dying, the rich first pour their wealth into assets like stocks, building up a large portfolio. Those assets are then used as collateral for taking out large loans with low interest rates — lower than, say, the income tax rate — that become a wealthy person’s spending money. Then, they die, and hand off their wealth to the next generation, maintaining their dynasty for decades to come.
At very few points do taxes come into the buy, borrow, die equation. Buying and keeping stocks doesn’t incur a tax bill. Taking out loans allows the wealthy to claim very low incomes to skirt income taxes. The estate tax is essentially the only guarantee, and even then, the wealthy have come up with extreme loopholes to dodge the estate tax, too. Republicans, then, are hoping to make tax avoidance even easier by legalizing it entirely; Lord has pointedly labeled the bill the “Billionaires Pay Zero Tax Act.”
The proposal stands in sharp contrast to progressives’ views on taxation. Pointing to extreme and growing wealth inequality, progressives have been calling for increasing taxes on the rich and specifically targeting their wealth and stock portfolios, rather than endlessly allowing the “buy” and “borrow” portions of the cycle.
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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year
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Breach Of Contract: Part 9
A/N: Peggy Carter bashing as usual
You felt anxious before the plane had even touched down. It started with your palms sweating and your heart racing, the steady uptick in beating had been a synonymous symptom of your changing emotional well-being.
Senator Rogers had departed your side a half hour ago, leaving you to get a briefing of the events that would take place the first night you arrived.
He had left for the back of the plane to make a few adjustments to his wardrobe and his physical appearance. In his absence, you were welcome to fall into a pit of anxiety and restlessness, the debilitating awareness that you were going to face the media as both his intern and as some specimen, they wanted to shove under a microscope.
You knew, full well, that the connection between you and Steve had been noted by both likely supporters and opposition.
You knew full well that comments were comparing the kind of chemistry you two had, versus the kind of blasé and underwhelming bond that tied Steve and Peggy together. The evidence of support or animosity had already been noticed through different socials and handles on the vast internet.
However now you were going to have to face it head-on.
Pepper had made you aware of the media circus, of the absolute hell and chaos that would ensue once Senator Rogers touched the ground. It was only natural given the attacks that the other party was trying to unleash on him in order to dissuade the public from voting for the necessary parties to vote him in. It was rather nasty, from what you had already seen and it was only going to act as gasoline for this insane and innate fire that would be all-consuming.
Once he set foot on the tarmac, the press tour started. There would be no shortage of events that would aid Senator Roger’s message for unity in the country, and the need to help each other out rather than turning our backs on each other.
The start of the press tour on the west coast would start the moment he stepped off the plane and the docket had started to take place with the first flash of a camera. Senator Rogers was ready, he was prepared with a level head and an assurance that he could and would handle whatever was thrown his way.
“I hope you’re ready.” Chase had given you a forewarning as the process to off-board was starting. “We’re coming behind him and immediately going to the hotel.”
You reached for the bag you’d packed, one of the carry-ons with little inside other than a quick change of clothes and a few books, hesitating when you felt hands grazing your own. Given the last chance to give you a pep talk, Steve lifted the bag from the overhead compartment for you and set it on the floor.
Inhaling slowly, you focused on the scent of his cologne and the tinge of spice that made you want to turn into him for comfort. He was strong and broad-shouldered but he carried so much warmth with him, warmth that you wanted to surround yourself.
“Take a deep breath, don’t let them get in your head.” He whispered, he whispered gently as if the roles were reversed and you were the one who was going to be facing the onslaught of the media circus.
“I’m scared.” You replied with a mumble, unable to turn and face him, at least not while the doors were prepared to be opened.
“Fear is not a weakness.” Steve had pulled away when it was time for him to settle into his role, and after he stepped away you looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with him. It was only a moment, it was barely half a minute before he had to turn away but it was enough.
And then the door opened, a powerful vortex of questions and the steady click of cameras had come rushing to your ears before he had even stepped out. He had upped out of your line of sight although you could easily detect the cacophonous drone from the tarmac.
“We have to go, we have to face it.” Val and Sasha both stepped by your seat, the latter helping you pick up your bag and the files you’d been scouring over. “We’re right here with you.”
The buzz that you heard on the plane was tepid compared to being on the tarmac with a line of press, different media cycles and online avenues for gossip and information vying to get his attention. It was as if you were in a wind tunnel, being accosted by the piercing noise that hit your ears with an unseemly tangency that made you grit your teeth.
“Senator Rogers reaches the LAX airport with his team in tow-“
“Senator Rogers is starting the tour here on the west coast and is said to be attending a few ceremonies-“
“The excitement for the senator to arrive has boiled over and quite a crowd has been drawn. Now I’ve been told-“
You could remain ignorant to the questions as Steve had stopped by a few press junkets as the start of his tour commenced. However, when you started hearing questions fired off at you, you were not as poised and collected as the Senator.
“Y/N! Y/N do you have any responses to the fans and supporters of Madame Carter who have accused you of interfering in their marriage?” A reporter for a popular online gossip outlet had raised their voice to garner your attention, and immediately you were thrown off guard.
You were a deer in headlights, eyes wide and tongue-tied. Your mind was not cooperating with your vocal cords or your motor skills, you couldn’t move or respond in any possible facet. Rather, you were stuck where you stood with your fingers tapping on the inside of your hands.
And when you finally could speak, when you finally found yourself able to produce a sound, it came out as a stuttering and weak response.
“I’m…I don’t-“ you were steered away, set into the protective side of Chase and Val.
“Ignore them. Keep your head down and move. Act normal.” Chase squeezed your hand and led you off to the vehicles waiting for the support team. He opened the door and watched you slide into the back beside Val before he joined you, the other vehicle held out for Pepper, Sasha and Steve.
“This is madness. It’s chaos-” you rest your head in your hands, your eyes closing for a single moment to gather your thoughts.
You weren’t prepared for this, even with all the warning and prep you’d been doing it wasn’t expected. This was your first real, true job as a PR intern for a major political campaign, and maybe it was your naivety that made you ignorant, but you didn’t know it would be like this.
“The first day and I feel like I’ve been dumped into the Arctic Ocean.” You lowered your hands, watching aimlessly as Senator Rogers approached the lead vehicle and took a pause to wave once more at the crowds.
“We have the night off. Sasha, Pepper & the Senator are going to do a kickoff press conference, so…” Chase leaned in and nudged your arm with his. “Come to my hotel room, we’ll order food and watch B-rated movies.”
“As long as you promise not to start sexting your boyfriend. The last time you invited us over, we got a deeply personal insight into your sex life, and we didn’t want it.” Val leaned forward and directed her attention to Chase, the two of them continuing their ease back and forth until the driver started taking off from the airport.
As the vehicle moved, you leaned back against the seat and angled your head, staring out the window at the masses of people or reporters who were still recording or taking pictures of the envoy.
It was endless or seemed to be and you wondered, at any point, if you would be on the receiving end of Madame Carter’s hatred in person.
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“The press tour started eventfully,” the fabricated crooning which once had brought him to his knees had now been a nail upon glass to his ears, “are you enjoying playing with your intern?”
“Peggy quit.” Steve drew out his annoyance with a sharp hiss when his wife’s comments, through a picture-perfect screen, had come across as hypocritical at best. “We’re not doing this.”
“Not doing what, Steve? You’re not screwing around with a younger woman while your wife is doing charity work?” Peggy leaned forward tucking her hand under her chin, her long deep brown hair was pinned to the top of her head in a style that was as calculated as she was.
Peggy was unbothered by the weight of her affairs, by the notion that while Steve wanted to change the world for the better she wanted to acquire an endless stream of power and money for herself.
It was a reality that was more of a nightmare, the idea that she could have used Steve so easily and not found fault in the irony that she was committing physical adultery. Steve, in comparison, felt like he was genuinely falling in love with someone incredible.
“Where’s he hiding? Where do you have him this time? The closet?” Steve blew out the accusation with animosity, and disgust hanging off every syllable until his mouth was coated with bitterness.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Peggy’s lips were drawn back into a smirk, a slow-building quirk riddled with heinousness, “I should remind you…”
His heart sank and his hands were balled into tight fists by his side.
He didn’t need to know what toxic spewing ire she would fire off at him to know that it was another tactic for control. Steve knew that she and her family, who had promised so much for the man who wanted to be a great politician and make a difference, were trying to tighten the strings and spin this discourse between the two of them into a positive light.
“It’s in your little whore’s contract that if she fucks anyone in her circle she’ll be fired.” It felt like a victory for her, Steve could see it written clearly.
Every shadow and highlight on her aesthetically pleasing face, her natural beauty and charisma that charmed more than just him, was now twisted.
Every facet of her that he once loved was tainted and obliterated by this poisonous facet that made him hate her. It was despicable, it was beyond what he thought he could handle. Peggy Carter and Pierce’s were fucking with what little glimmer of happiness he could have.
“Make sure you’re a good boy, Steve. Don’t put your dick in anything that could get you into trouble.”The irony, cruel and twisted, befell him.
He was finding happiness but couldn’t step over the line they drew in the sand. It was a method of torture to keep him in their distinctive clutch, and Steve was caught between letting himself chase the glimmer of hope and squandering it all.
“I wanted to change the world, Peggy. I wanted to do good and be good. I wanted a loving wife and kids to come home to, I wanted the American dream and you-”
“I told you to fuck her, didn’t I?” Steve’s heart sank, the acid in his stomach churning as he rendered himself stuck on this terrorizing notion that if he chased you, physically seeking you, you would be ruined. “Guess you better keep your dick clean.”
He wanted to call her a bitch, he wanted to call her a hypocritical whore for this cage she was forcing him into. Steve wanted to rip into her, endlessly tearing her in two through the screen, and yet all he could do was stare at this vile poisonous snake.
She was fucking every intern she had and dangling up above him like a carrot in front of a horse.
Peggy Carter was holding everything from him.
“I’m not letting you go, Steve. I still need you and you need me, my family, to get what you want. Who knows…maybe when I become the First Lady I’ll give you the whore as a gift. You could keep her locked under the Oval Office to suck dick for all I care-”
Steve closed the screen with a snap, using enough force to crack the screen. He stood violently and reacted in anger, swiping everything from the desk to the floor. Bile was crawling up his throat, stinging his esophageal system from the inside. His heart was thrashing violently as he continued the destruction, seeking an outlet for himself.
And as he finished, as he had spent all the anger he had, Steve slowly slid down the wall nearest the window. He drew his knees up to his chest and hid his face in his hands, slowly exhaling.
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