#bucky barnes teacher au

[holylulusworld]

My lawn, my rules - Kinktober 15

Summary: Things get out of hand…

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, hate sex, vaginal sex, 69 & doggy style, knotting, biting, claiming (non-consensual in a way), I’ll label this one dub-con (just to be safe), enemies to lovers, fluff

Trope: Mating

Catch up here: Get off my lawn

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

“Oh, you will wash these with your dirty mouth…”

Bucky snarled when you tried to push your panties into his mouth. He grabbed your wrist, holding it in a tight grip before pushing you further inside his home. The alpha guided you toward his bedroom, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Get the fuck off me, Barnes. I’m warning you!” You snarled at him.

He only laughed and pushed you onto the bed. You bounced off the mattress, much to Bucky’s amusement.

“You’re going to be a good and obedient omega for me now.” Bucky pinned you down to the bed, holding you still. “You could be such a good mate.”

Bucky kissed your neck, teeth sinking into your skin, but you jerked away from him, trying to get his teeth out of your skin. “Stop fighting your alpha,” he said.

“Fuck you, misogynous asshole!” You screamed, pushing against his shoulders. “You’re not going to touch me, bastard.”

He grinned, holding you down tighter. “Not until you stop fighting your instinct, Omega. You’re meant to be mine and take my knot. I’ll not let you out of this bed before I bred this cunt.”

Bucky moved one hand to your chest, ripping the buttons on your sundress open to reveal your breasts to him. He immediately leaned over your body to greedily suck one of your nipples into his mouth.

You whined while hating yourself for feeling a pull toward the alpha you hate. He was having a blast biting your breasts, marking you up as you still fought your instinct.

“Fuck, I can smell your pussy,” he growled against your plush flesh, biting you again. You tried to push his head away and stop him from marking you even more. “I need to be inside of you.”

Your eyes widened at his words. No. You couldn’t let him mate you. That was the last thing you wanted when you came over to his place.

“No,” you snapped at him, wiggling harder to shake him off you. “Get off, you sick fuck.”

“I know you want me,” he purred against your flesh, soothing the bite marks with his tongue and lips. Bucky looked up at you from between your breasts, still that cocky grin on his lips. “I know you want me to fuck you too.”

“In your dreams.” You gasped when he wiggled out of his shorts, freeing his pre-cum leaking cock. “Creep…panties thief. Misogynist…” You choked out a moan when he settled between your legs and rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit. “I’m warning you.”

Bucky smirked. He leaned over you, ignoring that you threw insults at him. The alpha silenced your potty mouth with his lips, earning a split lip because you bit him.

“Fucking brat,” he said, and slammed home with one hard thrust, making you keen. “Take it like a good omega should.”

“Fuck you! I hate you!”

“Of course you do,” he grinned. “You hate my big cock in your underfucked cunt.” His thrusts started slow, cock sliding in and out of your slick pussy. How you hated to hear the wet sound of your cunt sucking him in. “Look how well you can behave when full of cock.”

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging hard, making him growl. Bucky wasn’t used to a disobedient omega or to fuck the enemy. It only made him harder, though.

He grabbed your ass, moving your body up and down as he slammed into you again and again.

“Bastard,” you slapped his face and pushed against his shoulders. This wasn’t about mating; it was a fight for dominance.

“I'm gonna make you cum so hard you’ll lose your mind,” Bucky snarled. You wiggled beneath him, but the bastard was too strong to fight him off. “You’re going to beg for it,” he said, thrusting his thick cock inside your cunt.

“Shut up, asshole,” you snapped at him. “I’ll never beg you for shit!”

“I'm going to fuck you better than you've ever been fucked in your life, Omega,” Bucky said, his hands squeezing your ass.

“As if you could fuck me better than all the others before you,” you tease, earning a deep guttural growl from the alpha.

“We will see,” he snarled and pulled out to flip you over. You screamed and tried to scramble away. If you let him mate you like this, you’d end up with a claiming mark. “Hold still.”

Bucky slapped your ass, hard enough to make you yelp. “Or, do you like it rough?” he asked you, his hand coming down again. You hissed through your teeth, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing you whimper. “I knew you’re a kinky slut,” he told you while sliding his throbbing length back inside your heat.

You bit your tongue, forcing yourself to not moan, feeling his weight on top of you. Bucky pressed you into the mattress, growling like a feral animal as his thrusts sped up, your wetness squelching around his thick cock.

“Say you want me,” he hissed in your ear. “Tell me I’m the only alpha you want inside your sweet pussy.”

“No—” You shook your head, still in denial.

He stopped fucking you, cock buried inside you, and looked down at you. “You want me to make you mine, don't you?” he taunted. “I don’t care. You’re mine.”

“You're not done yet,” you said and tried to buck him off. He smirked at your words and started to thrust faster, his cock hitting the sweet spot deep inside you.

You were so close. So painfully close to your orgasm that you allowed yourself to meet his thrusts. Fuck, it was too late to stop now. Your body shook, feeling the spark ignite a raging fire, feasting on your dignity.

He groaned into your neck when his thrusts became more erratic. His warmth filled you, and you could feel it leak out of your spent cunt.

“Such a sweet omega now,” he laughed in your neck. “You took every droplet, my sweet mate. I only need to seal the deal.” You screamed in surprise, pain, and agony when his teeth suddenly sank into your mating gland. You couldn’t do anything but let his knot lock you together and Bucky sink his teeth deeper into your flesh to leave a permanent mark. “Mine,” he growled. “Only mine.”

“I hate you so much,” you snarled while wiggling in his embrace. “You ruined my life. What did you think? How can you claim me?”

Bucky smirked against your neck. He excessively licked the mark he left to help it heal. It looked perfect to him. This would keep any concurrent away from his omega. The mark and the fact you’d smell like him all the time from now on.

“I claimed my omega,” the alpha simply said and went back to nuzzling your neck and licking his mark.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too, doll,” Bucky whispered. “I love even more how you feel around me and in my arms. I had a raging hard-on every day thinking about having you on your knees for me.”

“It’s not my fault that your alpha hindbrain doesn’t allow you to act like a decent person,” you huffed and tried to ignore that your bodies were still connected. Not only by his arms wrapped around you, but by his knot trapped inside your body. “Now, let me at least sleep.”

"Y/N, don’t be like this.” Bucky’s voice softened, and he nuzzled you again. “We are mates now. I’m not the bad guy you painted in your mind. All I wanted was to get your attention—usually omegas like a strong and cocky alpha. You did not. Most of the time you ignored me, so I had to rile you up to get you to talk to me.”

You huffed at his lame excuses. “Seriously, Barnes? What is wrong with your birdbrain? Why did you never try to court me instead of being the worst?”

“I wasn’t the worst,” he replied. “I offered you to wash my clothes. That’s proper courting an omega.”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “That’s the worst way to court for an omega I ever heard of, Barnes. What did you think? That I’d grab your dirty underwear and wash it for you while sucking your dick?”

“Oh, you'd do such a thing?” He sounded serious, and that made you snort. “Just asking for a friend.”

“Just shut up for a moment,” you said and elbowed him in the stomach. “We have a mess to take care of, Bucky. You claimed me in the heat of the moment.”

This time, he snorts. “I didn’t claim you in a hurry.” He brushed his lips over your cheek. “I lured my omega in and made her mine. It was a well-laid plan. Now that I got you in my clutches, I’ll never let you go.”

“Maybe it was my well-laid plan to get you in my clutches,” you cooed. “We will see who’s in charge after tonight, Alpha.”

Tags in reblog.

[marvelslut16]

Field Day

Prompt number: 27 "Let me remind you"

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Teacher!Bucky x teacher!reader (no use of y/n)

Rating: T(een)

Word count: 1.1k+

Warnings: Swearing, a stupid hr policy based off a policy at one of my jobs, a horny woman at work, I think that's it.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been ages since I posted a fic, and this is 2 days late late. I really really want to participate again this year, but I have 2 jobs now and I have some other important things happening this month, so I won't have much time to write. But without further ado, here is day 1!

“Let me remind you that we aren’t allowed to date coworkers,” you sigh, as Peggy tells you that you should finally give into your work crush and go on a date with Bucky.

Bucky is the sweetest soul you have ever met, he’s a little shy but once he warms up to you he’s just a giant teddy bear who will do whatever he can to make your life easier. He’s been your work crush for about a year now, when he switched from second to fourth grade, the grade you teach. Now you have department meetings together, teach science labs together, and go on field trips together. His sweet personality and the forced proximity made it impossible not to develop a work crush on him.

“Technically we can date coworkers, it’s just frowned upon,” Peggy tries to play devil’s advocate, hoping that her friends will finally get over themselves and go on a date. 

“Oh yes, Bucky and I can date so long as we report it to HR the moment we go on a date, and they can still decide to fire one or both of us,” you roll your eyes and give your best friend a look before turning back to the playground to watch the kids. “Isn’t that why you waited to start dating Steve until he went to teach at the military academy.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Peggy giggles, just as Bucky lets his kids out his classroom door to join yours and Peggy’s for field day. 

“What are you two gals talking about,” Bucky saunters over to where you're standing near enough to the playground to see the kids, but far enough from them that they can’t hear what you're saying. 

“I was telling her that she should start packing her lunch instead of going out on Wednesday and Friday, much healthier. And obviously, she called me on the fact that Steve sends me lunch from restaurants most of the week,” Peggy smoothly lies. It’s a decent enough fib, but if you were Bucky you wouldn’t believe her. 

So where did you end up getting stuck for field day?” you ask Bucky, he was sick the day of sign ups no doubt being stuck with the worst job. 

“The dunk tank, damn Stevie leaving the school and leaving me with this stupid job,” Steve always volunteered to do the dunk tank, and now that he’s gone the entire staff quickly snapped up every other position. “What do you have this year?”

“The inflatable obstacle course,” you grin widely, you’d been petitioning the PTA to allocate funds to rent one for field day for the past three years now.

“I told you you could convince those parents to let you rent one, and the kids are going to love it!” you can’t help but blush at his praise. 

“Third times the charm,” you give him a small bashful smile.

“I’m in charge of dodgeball in the gym,” Peggy cuts in, reminding you that you aren’t alone and have an audience of almost a hundred kids as more classes spill out of their rooms.  

Soon enough the three of you go your separate ways and get field day started. Like every year, the day flies with minimal complaining from the kids, lots of laughing, and just a few scrapes and bruises. The kids all loved your addition to the course this year, all cheering in excitement when they get to your station. Before you know it your class is back at your station and field day is wrapping up, so you take the kids to the refreshments table to grap a dixie cup off gatorade and a cookie. 

“Oh dear god,” you murmur under your breath, catching Peggy’s attention as she walks up to the table with her class. 

Bucky’s also walking up to the refreshment table sopping wet, black t-shirt and basketball shorts clinging to his rock hard physique. Bucky is an attractive man, anyone who disagreed was either lying or blind, so this wasn’t a new revelation to you by any means. But knowing he has abs is one thing, but seeing his shirt clinging to them is a completely different one. Your heart starts to hammer harder and harder the closer he gets to you, damn Peggy had to get in your head about your crush earlier and you’re on the edge of  throwing caution to the wind, and yourself at him. 

“What were those rules again,” Peggy whispers, giggling in your ear. 

“Can’t remember,” your voice trails off just like your thoughts. It’s unreal and unfair that Bucky could be as nice and as drop dead gorgeous as he is. No man could ever live up to him, and you pity everyone that dares to try. 

“Only one person dunked me, and it was one of yours,” Bucky says gruffly, the twinkling in his eyes gives away his humor and pride in the student.

“One of mine?” you grin from ear to ear, your own pride showing at your student. One of your little fourth headers was able to dunk him, when the older kids couldn’t. “Who was it?”

“Me!” Brayden, your secret favorite student, hollers from behind you.

“Way to go Brayden!” you exclaim, the rest of your class cheering as you give him a high five. 

“It was hilarious,” Luke, one of Bucky’s students pipes up. “We were at the human wheelbarrow station next to the dunk tank and we saw everything! One minute he was on the seat, and the next he was coming up from the water coughing on it.” 

“Are you okay, Mr. Barnes?” you giggle, turning to look at him. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes on his, something the other female staff aren’t doing themselves. 

“I will be, once my ego heals,” your two classes laughing at his joke. 

“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I’m making my chili that you love so much,” you ask Bucky when the kids are out of hearing range. Peggy stares at you wide eyed, it’s like she can hear your inner monologue, in awe of your bravery and taking this chance. 

“I would love to,” Bucky has a soft smile on his face, like he’s sensing that everything is about to change for the better. Fuck HR, and fuck this job if it keeps you from being happy and with the man of your dreams. As long as you have Bucky everything will be okay, and you’ll both land on your feet eventually, even if it means finding a new district. 

[sstan-hoe]

◇ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐇𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐬 ◇

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — teacher!bucky barnes × ceo!fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — with a hot-headed wife like you, Bucky's life was never boring. Add to that, his daughter. Seven years, cute as a button with the temper of her mother.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — SMUT (at the end tho), riding, slapping, a bit of choking, allusions to cum eating, sub!bucky (I tried lol), this thing has like 5k words... THERE IS PLOT PEOPLE

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — I wanted more smut but then decided I will only do more drabble wise, meaning if people want and maybe give ideas I'd be happy to show more of them – especially sex wise, there is so much we can do! reblog, comment / follow!

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

A soft nudge against your shoulder pulled you from your deep slumber, when you didn’t move right away you got another nudge, “mommy,” a small voice whispered.

You couldn’t help but smile into the pillow after hearing the voice of your daughter. Slowly you turned to her, “good morning little lady,” you greeted her, and she gave you the most adorable grin one could imagine.

“Daddy said to get you for breakfast,” she told you, rocking back and forth on her soles. Her words caused you to look over to Bucky’s side which was indeed empty. Normally you’d be up before your husband and make breakfast, start working and get Myra ready for elementary school.

Slowly you sat up and grabbed Myra quickly making a sound that matched a lion��s roar, “gotcha!” you started tickling her. High pitched squeals left her mouth, “mommy, mommy stop!” she giggled.

Downstairs the noise of happy laughter made Bucky’s ears pick up, a smile spreading across his lips. Soon his two troublemakers would come down for breakfast.

Meanwhile you picked something out to wear with the help of Myra, she was always excited to choose a shirt or dress pants for you. Never had you met a seven-year-old that had as much fashion sense as your daughter, sometimes she picked better clothes than you.

“Mommy you have to wear the red blouse, it makes daddy’s eyes twinkle,” Myra giggled and pointed at said blouse at the top of your closet.

You got the blouse from the top and slipped into the soft satin fabric. It was cute to see how your little girl was aware of her surroundings and that she knew which clothes Bucky likes the most. You finished the look with jewelry and then walked downstairs with Myra.

Bucky heard your footsteps and instantly turned around, his eyes in fact twinkling when he saw you in the red blouse.

“Good morning moya lyubov',” he whispered against your cheek as you came around the kitchen aisle. “You did not wake me,” you stated, holding your chin high. A low chuckle rumbled through your husband’s chest, “couldn’t, you looked too peaceful to wake,” he pressed his lips to yours.

You couldn’t help the grin that formed on your lips, this man and his sweet tongue. “You are a sweet talker Barnes,” you told him, gently shoving his shoulder, “and you Barnes are falling for it everytime,” Bucky said back with a small smirk.

“Now sit your cute ass down and eat,” he patted your bum before his second whirlwind rushed over to him. Myra jumped into her father’s arms with a big smile, “I helped mommy pick out her outfit!” she told him proudly, “thank god you did,” Bucky whispered into her ear in a teasing tone.

The little comment didn’t go unnoticed by you, cocking an eyebrow at him. Bucky just shrugged, “mommy you needed my help,” your daughter agreed.

“Okay you two, enough. I gotta make your lunch,-” “already done,” “and pack Myra’s bag,-” “done that too,” “okay, mister and have you made your lunch too?” You questioned him, even though your tone was teasing you were more than happy for him and that he had taken the work off of you.

“‘Course I did, moya lyubov',” Bucky promised and presented you with the lunch boxes and then pointed at Myra’s backpack which stood by the door.

“Good boy,” you whispered in his ear, making sure your daughter didn’t hear it. A shiver ran down his spine, before you could tease him any more the doorbell rang and Myra sprinted towards it.

“Stevie’s here,” you said with a slight smirk and went to walk after Myra but Bucky snaked his metal arm around your waist and pulled you back, “don’t think this is over,” he growled lowly.

That’s the thing with you and Bucky, you were both in control. Although no one believed the calm, sweet teacher would have such a dirty mouth and a rude, controlling CEO would easily get told what to do, it was how your life was sometimes.

A second later Steve walked in with his niece - goddaughter - in his arms. “Morning boss, morning jerk,” the blonde greeted you with a smirk, “morning,” you said unison, though Bucky sounded more unwelcoming than you.

Not only did Steve walk in at the wrong moment, he also was like a switch. As soon as he would come in you would be in work mode - save for vacations or weekends.

You took Myra from Steve’s arms and pressed a kiss to her cheek, “have fun in school and give Lilian hell,” the last part you whispered in hopes Bucky didn’t hear them.

Steve tried to hide a chuckle while Bucky faintly heard your words and lifted his head, “what was that?” he questioned. You gave him an innocent smile and sat Myra down who wore the same expression, quickly you left with Steve.

Bucky looked down at his daughter, “we’re not giving Lilian hell,” he said sternly. Myra nodded her head, but both knew if Lilian was being her bratty self then the littlest Barnes wouldn’t hold back. He was proud that his daughter stood up for herself and others, but sometimes she came too much after her mother.

“How are the numbers looking?” you asked Steve as you got into the passenger seat while turning your tablet on.

Suddenly Steve went quiet, he rubbed his neck a little anxiously, “well…you know Fred, he kinda switched something up and-,” “Steve, how are the numbers looking?” you asked again with more enforcement. “We had a little downfall…,” the blond tried to stay calm and not show any sign of nervousness.

“And what does a little mean?” you raised your eyebrows already in motion to open everything. “Like 20 percent,” thankfully you were now in front of the office and your anger would be directed at someone else.

You got out of the car with a glare and instantly walked to the sales department while swiping through said numbers.

“Good morning,” you announced yourself loudly, all heads turned towards you, “I was informed that our numbers had a downfall from 20 percent, can anyone tell me what caused this,” you knew what and who.

Several heads turned to Fred who looked frightened, “it was an accident, really,” he tried to explain. It wasn’t a good answer, accidents like this weren’t supposed to happen, at all.

“You better fix it before I do it and when I fix things, I fix people too. I will come back at 12 AM, it would be better for you if it’s fixed,” you said with a stone cold face.

“Yes, ma’am,” Fred almost whimpered, the fear visible on his face like nothing else. “Start working,” you barked and turned around, walking away. One of Fred’s coworkers leaned towards him and whispered; “wow she was nice,” meaning it with full honesty.

You walked into your office, turned the computer on and sorted through the files on your desk. As you looked through them you noticed that they weren’t properly created and certain information missing.

If you were the one who made those folders then you’d be mad at yourself but you weren’t the one who made them.

Pressing down on the phone at your desk you called the Personnel Management, “hello?” a female voice greeted you. Confused, you sat down on your chair, wasn’t the manager a man?

“Hello, I’d like to speak with Mr. Martin,” you said slowly, waiting for what would happen next. “He’s currently in a meeting with the boss, can I take a message?” This person apparently didn’t know who was calling. You ended the call and instantly went to the fifth floor.

Passing your secretary you told her to make a tea for you in exactly ten minutes, you would need it after what was about to happen.

As you waltzed through the halls all eyes were on you, they all knew someone was going to get fired.

Swinging the door open you saw Mr. Martin sitting at his desk and on his right was a slightly smaller desk with a brunette sitting there. She looked confused while her boss was frightened.

“So, this is your meeting I see…with your boss,” you closed the door behind you before looking at the girl, she wasn’t older than twenty, “and who are you?”

The girl smiled brightly, “I’m Oliv! I’m Mr. Martin's intern, and you are?” An intern? You never said it was allowed and everything like hiring an intern - or anyone - had to go over you first.

“Huh, Oliv do you get paid?” you asked instead to which she shook her head, “no, it’s just an internship.” You actually made a rule that even interns get paid.

It seemed like Mr. Martin was using the poor girl and that’s probably why he left at three o’clock PM everyday. You didn’t care how long your employees worked as long as they got everything done in time and correctly.

“You hired a young girl to do your work while you sit here and do nothing? I just looked into the files which had to be prepared by you and more than half are missing information. It is your job to make them and not give them to someone who has no idea what to do. You’re fired, pack your shit,” you were on the verge of yelling before turning to the girl, “you, with me.”

Oliv followed you quickly, scared she would end up with the same fate. “Wasn’t that quite harsh?” she dared to ask in a small voice, “sweetheart you haven’t seen harsh yet,” you stated and lead her towards Marketing.

You were well aware that the young girl wasn’t at fault which was why you would put her somewhere you knew she would be appreciated.

Opening the glass door you were met with a beautiful woman, tall, red hair and a charming smile. She was talking with the online marketing manager and didn’t even notice you until the manager's eyes widened.

Natasha Romanoff knew that meant you were right behind her, she turned around and instantly handed you papers. “Morning boss, sales are going up and we made three new deals this morning, just need you to look over it and give the okay,” her smile was gentle and calm.

She already heard about the first incident and well given she was on the same floor, meaning she heard you.

“Thank god someone knows how to do their job, I swear too many people here are idiots,” you muttered, quickly glancing over the papers, “I will have it to you after lunch meanwhile…here is your new intern.”

Confusion washed over Natasha’s face, she had interns before but not on this kind of short notice. “Oliv meet Ms. Romanoff, Nat this is Oliv. I’ll have your employment contract sent to you by the morning, if you have questions make an appointment.” With that you rushed back to your office.

You needed to get some of your own work done, fate had a different plan though. A soft knock on your door and Wanda - your assistant - popped her head in, “Stark is on the phone,” she said and quickly vanished.

Groaning you picked up the phone, “hello, Tony what can I do for you?” you tried to sound polite, nice and not annoyed.

For the next hour Tony Stark talked your ear off on new product ideas and how he could technically advance certain products.

Meanwhile you sorted through the files and looked over the deals Natasha gave you. A glance at the clock showed you it was finally lunch time and Tony was still talking. Letting your head fall down on the desk you buzzed for Steve.

“Yeah, Stark let’s have a meeting on this…I’m free on the twelfth September at nine o’clock,” just before you put the phone down you heard him protest and how it was only just May.

A few minutes later Steve strolled in, “please tell me you have good news…,” you begged desperately however got silence in response which gave you an answer.

“You know that fucking idiot Martin just hired a girl who had no idea what to and didn’t even pay, then all these files were wrong which leaves me to do that shit right and I have to fill another position,” you complained as you sunk back into your chair.

“Listen, you're my best friend's wife, I’m the godfather of your daughter and you really like me…maybe you should fire less people?” Steve sounded like a child in your eyes, with raised eyebrows you looked at him.

“Was that a question or a statement? If people knew how to do their fucking job I wouldn’t have to fire them,” you tried to remain calm and not snap at him.

Meanwhile Myra was in school having her lunch break, she played catch with her friends giggling every time she successfully catched someone.

Suddenly one of the older boys came up to her and pushed her, “hey that was mean!” she complained as she landed on her butt. The boy laughed at her, “are you gonna cry now?” he mocked Myra.

“No, I won’t waste my time on bullies,” she stated and stood up from the ground. Bucky always told her to never get involved and be the smarter one.

“I’m not a bully, you’re just weak,” the boy laughed and that was it for Myra.

She took a step forward and roughly pushed him, he was taken back, looking shocked, “little brat,” he snapped at her. Again she pushed him until he fell to the ground and that was when a teacher intervened.

However they only saw Myra pushing him and not the boy starting it, they took Myra to the principal where she had to wait for her parents.

Bucky was the first one they called as he was the closest, given he teached some of the older classes. As soon as he heard he came running, but one thing wouldn’t leave his mind; you would raise hell upon them.

A knock on your door had you lifted your head and saw Wanda walking in with a strained expression, “school called, Myra pushed a boy and said mean words…,” with that she left, not wanting your anger.

“Cancel everything today,” you told her as you rushed past her office and to Steve, opening his door he looked at you puzzled, “Myra has trouble in school, I’ll take the car!”

Before Steve could answer you were back on your way, but he quickly followed you, “but it’s my car! How will I get home?” He stopped when he saw the elevator close.

Steve walked over to Wanda, leaning against her desk with a charming smile, “mind taking me home later, scarlet?” The red-head wasn’t falling for it and instead leaned back in her chair, “she left you huh?”

The blonde let his head fall down in defeat, “yeah.” Wanda nodded with a little smirk and promised to take him home later.

You walked into the school with a heavy glare on your face, when you reached the principal's office you took a deep breath like Bucky taught you.

When you opened the door you already saw your daughter and husband sitting there with the blonde bimbo - seriously she was a bitch. “Ah, Mrs. Barnes! Nice that you could join us, I already told James a bit,” she also refused to call Bucky by his nickname or surname.

One glance at her showed you that she was undressing Bucky with her eyes already, yeah she also had some kind of crush on your husband.

It made you furious, but Bucky promised you he would handle it and you trusted him.

“Yes, I came as soon as I heard,” you told her and sat down on the other side of Myra who held out her hand to you smiling.

“Myra unfortunately pushed a boy from one of the older classes and said some mean words…,” she trailed off trying to sound sincere, she went to add something but interrupted her.

“And what did the boy do?” your tone was calm, “excuse me?” You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at her answer.

“My daughter doesn’t just push someone, what did he do?” you repeated yourself and grew tired of the woman claiming your daughter was completely at fault.

As the blonde was about to answer, Myra cut in, “I was playing catch and he came up to me and pushed me, he did! And said I was about to cry and weak,” at the confession of your daughter you raised your brows.

“Love, did anyone ask your side of the story?” the little one shook her head.

“Let me get this straight, you just saw Myra push the boy and didn’t think to ask the little girl for her side? What’s wrong with you, you just assume she started it? What kind of teacher are you,” you were livid and Bucky was unsure if he should let Myra sit outside.

Bucky instinctively put his hand over yours, “Myra why don’t you wait outside?” he gently asked his daughter who followed his request.

She left, but not before giving the principal one last dirty look. Myra was a smart girl and well aware of her mothers temper - after all it was where she got it from. A smile locked on her lips knowing you would give her quite a piece of mind.

As soon as the door closed and Myra was outside you let loose. “How can you even be a teacher huh? You’re obviously favouring students,” at this point you were standing with the chair moving back a little.

“Where are the parents of the boy? I swear to god if I get a call from them or anything related to my daughter where they complain, I will sue you and if I can’t I will raise hell!” your voice got louder with every second.

Bucky placed his metal hand on your waist drawing soft circles while his right hand moved up to your neck. The gesture helped you calm down.

The woman in front of you didn’t know what to say, her mouth hung open causing her to look like a fish. She was taken back, although she knew you had a temper.

“I asked you a question,” you stated, crossing your arms over your chest. “No, I’m not favouring students,” she sighed but didn’t answer your question. “That wasn’t a question, that was a statement,-” “James…,” she rudely cut you off and desperately looked at Bucky.

Bucky just gave her a glare, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t like how the principal cut you off and looked at him, as well as not answering your questions.

“You listen here, if my daughter gets any punishment but the boy doesn't, you won’t have your job for very long anymore,” you threatened her and successfully scared her.

With that you left the office, Bucky trailed behind you and after closing the door he cupped your cheeks, “sh, it’s alright, she doesn’t know a thing. I will look after Myra and make sure everything is fair, yeah?” His tone was soft and his movements so gentle.

You nodded and let your head rest on his chest, “office was crazy today and I stole Steve’s car,” you muttered.

He chuckled at your last words, “how’s he gonna get home?” he teased, you shrugged your shoulders in response.

“How about we go home for today mhm? Come on moya lyubov',” he walked you to Myra and told her about the plan, however on the way to the car Bucky remembered he had an appointment with some parents.

Cursing silently he told you to go home with Myra and he would come as soon as possible. What he forgot at that moment was that when you drove with her, she would come home knowing new words.

“All buckled in love?” Myra nodded with a wide grin and was already putting on her music in the car.

Just as you left the car your phone rang and interrupted Myra’s music, rolling your eyes you answered the call. Steve’s voice echoed through the car which had your daughter excited, “hello uncle Stevie! I pushed a boy today because he was mean and then got in trouble but mommy told them off! Oh! Can I sleep with you tonight? Pretty please, with a cherry on top? I promise to cook for you,” she began ranting.

Steve was a good cook, Myra only helped him. Though when she told stories, it was always her who cooked and Steve wouldn’t complain about it.

“Hey, there little troublemaker…didn’t know you’d be in my car with your mom,” his tone was calm and you knew he had a little smirk on his lips when he mentioned you taking his car.

“What do you want, Rogers?” you asked and his mood shifted, you could already feel something happened. “The online shop isn’t working,” he said, almost too quiet to understand, but you understood it perfectly. 

“What!” you yelled, Myra held her hands over her ears at your outburst, “are you fluffing kidding me? Which potato sack did that? Why is that frying thing not working?”

Steve was sweating on the other side of the phone, “there is some technical issue, but Jensen is working on it and we actually didn’t wanna tell you but you’re the boss you gotta know, you know?” he ranted like your daughter when she was excited.

You desperately needed to get some steam off, this day was already chaotic and your blood pressure was too high.

“If you don’t have it fixed within an hour I will ban you from babysitting,” you said, you couldn’t fire Steve as he was one of your best but you could threaten him with Myra. “You wouldn’t,” “No, mommy!” Both said at the same time.

You leaned down to your daughter, “don’t worry nothings gonna happen, you can sleep at Stevies tonight,” you whispered and she nodded with a confused expression.

“You sure I wouldn’t Steve? Wanna test me?” you questioned him monotone to which he sighed in defeat, “I’ll have it done boss,” “good,” you hummed and hung up.

Myra put her music back on and sang along as you continued driving, suddenly a car in front of you harshly stooped, “you horse! Can’t you drive?” you snapped at him. Myra giggled at your words.

Once at home you helped Myra pack her things for later and finish her homework. As you looked over her papers you wondered how they could give the students homework over the weekend.

Thankfully the online shop worked again and your little girl could be with her favourite uncle. You had already called Bucky and updated him about everything.

Steve came around five to collect Myra, you ushered them quickly out of the house knowing Bucky would be home soon. As you waited for him you stripped off your clothes and sat cuddled up with a blanket on the couch watching Dynasty.

As Bucky walked through the door he expected you to welcome him, instead he found you on the couch.

“I see…want me to make you some soup or get you ice cream?” he tone soft as he made his way over to you.

The moment he’s close enough you unwrap the blanket revealing your naked body to him. Bucky stopped in his tracks, taking in your body. Slowly you stood up from the couch and walked towards him, you let your hand roam over his chest.

“I do want some cream though,” you whispered, kissing down his neck while unbuttoning his dress shirt.

His pants felt tighter with every kiss you laid upon him. Resting his hands on your waist he leaned into your touch, a part of him wondered what had gotten you in such a mood but he wasn’t one to complain.

“Mhm, then you should be a good girl and do as I say…,” Bucky trailed off and gripped your waist tighter.

“No, today I’m in charge,” you announced and pushed him towards the bedroom.

Bucky knew what that meant, you needed to cool down and let your anger out. He didn’t mind being the submissive, he liked giving all control away for once.

You directed him to lay on the bed, after he stripped all his clothes. The tip of his cock hit his lower abdomen, leaking with precum.

“Aww look at the effect I have on you,” you smirked as you climbed on top of him, “you have no idea how mad I am,” you whispered against his lips. “I know how mad you are moya lyubov', that’s why I married you,” his big hands cupped your cheeks, drawing you into a fiery kiss.

A moan slipped past his lips as you gently bit his lip, tugging on it. Your tongues fighting over dominance, you clearly winning.

His hands travelled along your skin sending shivers along your spine. Then his colde metal fingers found your sensitive bundle of nerves. “God you’re wet,” he groaned.

“Bucky,” you whined as you felt him take back control, not even intentionally it was you who let it slip away, “I’m in control,” you added.

Your husband growled and moved your hips to hover over his cock, “then take it,” he growled, “if you can’t take it here, how can you take it in the office?” Now he was mocking you, trying to rile you up and it was working.

“You think you can be in control? You’re too weak,” he whispered into your ear, that was it.

“Shut it! You think I can’t control everything, think I can’t be in control? Fuck you,” you snapped and lowered your hips onto his cock.

A pained moan slipped from your tongue, even after years it was still hard to adjust to his size. Bucky groaned at the feeling of your tight cunt. He would never get tired of feeling you stretched around him like this.

Once you had all of him inside you, you stopped needing a moment to breathe. “You will not tell me mock me, tease me or fucking anything. I’m in charge,” you said, determined and began moving your hips.

At first you had a slow pace but as the events of the day replayed in your head, your pace became harsher, faster.

“These fucking idiots, can’t do a thing right. What would they do without me? And that bloody teacher can suck my dick,” you panted heavily.

Bucky held on your hips as you drew moan after moan from him, the sounds only spurring you on in the most sinful way.

You wrapped your hand around his neck, you weren’t able to choke but at least a bit of pressure on his throat.

“That’s why you’re fucking my cock huh? You can’t control every-,” a slap against Bucky's cheek shut him up. The pornographic moan was something different, it felt good, made you feel like you had all the power.

“You like that? Like it when mommy slaps you?” before he could answer you gave him another slap against his other cheek. You never stopped moving your hips which only added to Bucky’s pleasure.

“Yes, I love it mommy,” he cracked, Bucky cracked and was fully pushed into submission.

A knot formed in your stomach at his strained voice, hoarse, needy and desperate for more. You picked up your pace and tightened your hold on his neck, chasing your needed orgasm.

“Fuck I’m gonna come,” you breathed out as you threw your head back, “me too mommy,” just when you heard those words you stilled, “don’t you dare to come, baby,” you threatened him.

Bucky tried his best to hold back his high when you began moving again, “play with mommy's clit,” you instructed. Not hesitating, he pressed his metal fingers over your clit and rubbed tight circles.

You moaned loudly as your orgasm washed over you, “god, fuck, Bucky,” you nearly fell onto Bucky’s chest if it wasn’t for his hands steadying you.

"Mommy please let me come," Bucky begged after your orgasm. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, his cock twitching against your soft walls.

How could you deny him? He looked too pretty begging for you, "then come, come for me like a good boy," you whispered and leaned down, licking a long stripe over his cheek.

Bucky didn't come right away which made you slap his cheek again, "did I not say come?"

Then he groaned, biting his lip and drawing blood as he painted your walls white. You kept riding him, adding to his pleasure. Once you felt like his last cum was inside of you, you slowly stopped.

"Now…I'm not quite done with you…," you smirked. Bucky chuckled, he adored this side of you and was ready for another round, but he needed to eat first.

"Sounds good moya lyubov', but I need to eat first," he meant it honestly, with no dirty mind.

"Oh, I have something you can eat," you wiggled your eyebrows and Bucky knew exactly what you were talking about.

"God, I love you moya lyubov'," he sat up and pressed his lips to yours in a loving kiss, "I love you too, my good boy," you answered, accepting the kiss gladly.

You truly loved Bucky, you couldn't even understand how you deserved a man like him. He was loving, gentle and calm. Without him you would be in a sour mood all the time.

He made you feel whole and didn't act like you were being overdramatic. Yes, you get faster riled up than others but what's bad about it?

Nothing and your husband who gifted you a wonderful and sweet daughter who may have be a little like her mother since forever – seriously she was vocal as a two year old – he knew that and would never make you feel bad about it.

𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑺 𝑻𝑾𝑶 — @smile1318 @wintasssoldier @xcaptain-winterx @georgiapeach30513 @alina02 @jobean12-blog @broadwaybabe18 @waddlenut @buckymcu12 @witchybabel @daemonslittlebitch @shara-ne

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |I do have a taglist however it has conditions that must be followed — you can follow @sstanhoe-updates for updated without anything

[georgiapeach30513]

See Through My Eyes, Part 1

Summary: You had reached the point of your life in the last thirty-six years that you were just going to be alone. You were content. Living your happy life with no rules for anyone but yourself. And there was Bucky. And one night. And that was all it took to have your world turned upside down, and it will never be the same again.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  language, implied sex, slight sexy imagery, I'm a cocktease (get over it 🤭), 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5K

Series Masterlist

Left. Left. Hmm.

This is not going to be an easy task. You’re definitely not picky, you just know what you want, and what you don’t want. What you’re willing to compromise, and some things that you most definitely would never even think twice about compromising on. Being single for so long, you have grown to be independent and didn’t actually need anyone in your life. If they were going to be with you, they would have to add to your experience.

Left. Nope. Never. Not in a million years.

Your friend, Zoey’s mouth drops open as your finger continues to swipe left. Left. Left. Throwing her head back in exasperation as you keep flicking left over and over again, and never in the direction she was ready to beg you to flick. Such a fruitless endeavor she’s making you endure. Pointless. These men were — well they weren’t anyone you would go after.

Countless faces that do nothing to excite you. There was absolutely no physical attraction whatsoever. Looks aren’t everything, but you have to be able to look at them. Imagine having that face hovering over you. Sputtering stupid words they think are a turn on, while you just start moaning so they get the fuck off you, and you are left to finish yourself off. Left with hardly any relief, but filled with humiliating shame for the rest of your life. No, thank you.

Oh that one looks smug. Nope.

This one looks high as a kite. Can’t do that.

“Are you even reading their bios?” Ehh, you were skimming them, and that’s if you find something about them you like. You know that Zoey thinks you’re just being a prude or an ass that is there for her humor. But if you were going to do this, why not make it enjoyable? At least walk away with a story to tell that didn’t want to make you hurl.

“A bit,” you hum. “Gross, this one is saying he’s going to give me a good time. How cringe is that?”

Zoey’s eyes narrow, and her lips purse as she stares at you. She’s already annoyed with your antics, and her constant want for you to have what she had. And you are okay with being alone. “What?” You ask her overly dramatic but judging face that you love, but still want to pinch her.

“You’re the one that’s cringe. How do you know?”

“Of all the dating sites you wanted me to use, you chose Tinder. Now, maybe I’m wrong but isn’t this a hookup site?” She just shrugs her shoulders while you continue to swipe left. “How do you want me to have sex with them if I don’t like the way this one looks like he could murder me in my sleep. So do you want me to date or…?”

“I want you to get the stick out that’s shoved so far up your ass. You work with children all day, and go home alone every night, and play with yourself,” you snort as you keep flicking through a few maybes, but mostly a bunch of no’s. “So you just have no sexual drive whatsoever?”

“Sex is more to me than just getting off. I need you to empower my eyes, my mind, control my body without touching me. Make me want you,” sex is sex of course. But you need to feel needy without penetration. The buildup and anticipation should be just as important and amazing as sex itself.

“And you know without a doubt that these men can’t do that to you?”

“Well,” you pause looking through this one’s bio. He was cute, no he was beautiful. Sexy in a rugged kind of way, but a face that looked like it was painted from your imagination as the perfect man. Step one. “First is their look. I do have to be attracted to them, or they’re not getting anywhere close to me with their dicks.”

You are very attracted to this one. He’s in construction. Muscles rippling, sweat dripping down his neck. But in his bio he is a bit of a nerd even adding a corny joke ‘How do construction workers usually party? They are always known for raising the roof.’

You giggle, flipping through more of his photos. He is doing it right, they’re just of him. No guesswork as to which one he is, and he has a pretty smile. Pretty and smart, even if he had dad jokes, and you’re sure there’s more than just that one. Not exactly empowering your mind, but he got your attention. And being cute and sweet was a part of being sexy.

But that last photo of him — he is one hundred percent bonafide beyond sexy, incredibly handsome man. He looks tired in this photo, maybe even a bit sad. His hands are in frame, and why is the fact that they’re dirty turning you on? Sweat drenched shirt, so it’s sticking to him, and leaving nothing to the imagination. But it isn’t what you would call the normal thirst trap. No this is designed to hit your every fantasy. And it does. Just looking at his picture gives you the most vivid dreams of him. Is that wrong?

Maybe a fictional man can exist. At least for one night. You could completely have a one night stand with him. Could find yourself daydreaming that a one night could be more, and could turn in to the most perfect love song that no one had even written yet.

Yes, this man could be the one that you would consider wrecking all your plans of being single forever. You could have fun with this man, but only if he matched with you. Oh, you didn’t think this through. At the very least you had a picture to add to your spank bank. Back to the point of this being normal to have sexual fantasies of people in your real life? Someone you could quite possibly run into eventually?

How could you even react? This is the man that you had pictured in every one of your romance novels that you drooled over every night claiming that there is a reason that fictional men are superior and that’s because men sucked. Women could never be enough. Your boobs are too big, they’re not big enough. Your hair is too short, and now it’s too long. They like a woman that doesn’t wear a ton of makeup, but they want you to look like a Kardashian.

Everything men say is a contradiction. Everything they want doesn’t add up. There’s holes in this plot, and it just makes absolutely no sense. And now you’re rambling in your head as your best friend stares widely at you, and you place your phone in your lap looking at her.

“You totally found a good looking man and your brain just went wild with different scenarios that could happen, but doesn’t mean that it will happen. Am I correct?” This is the problem with having a best friend. They just knew.

“Shut up.”

“Just swipe right, and put yourself out of your misery. You are so picky,” yes you are, but she didn’t have to call you out on being picky.

“I’m not picky. I’m very selective, and I’d rather be alone than settle. I don’t need sex,” she reaches to grab your phone, but you’re quicker. “I did swipe right. That is what you’re supposed to do right? What — Zo! What if I swiped left thinking it was no, and it was on all those guys except the one man that I wanted. Am I supposed to swipe right when I want him?” Your heart starts to race as you think of the possibility that all the men you found repulsive are the ones that you liked.

“Swiping right is correct. And judging by this whole meltdown you just did, you do in fact need sex,” you puff out a bit of air as you collapse on your couch. This is exhausting. You are going to give yourself an aneurysm if you continue at this rate. Why does everything seem so stressful? Dating in your thirties sucked. And not the good kind of suck.

And don’t try to judge yourself because you took a screenshot of that last photo. You weren’t going to do anything with it, but just look at it, so tonight when you were reading about a faerie king you had a face to put with his name. It’s that simple and that’s all it was. Nothing more, nothing less.

You take a glance down at your phone, mouth going agape as you read the notification. All of that nonsensical blubbering and worrying about how you were going to most definitely be alone forever, and you accepted that. But now the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life just matched with you.

“Um, Zo?” She can tell by the stunned look on your face, and your lack of words the onslaught on emotions and thoughts what happened.

“I’m booking the waxing immediately. We’ll go pick you out a new outfit, and you need fresh new lingerie. Is he cute?” You sit stock still, and refusing to even open your phone, just stare at the notification. Men did not find you attractive in a sexual way. And if they did, they never acknowledged it. You could flirt with the best of them, but all it got you was a free upsized fries. Or a free matcha, which you are positive was made before you, and they just never picked it up. So it was completely accidental.

Could this amazing looking man with his cute bio have made a mistake in his swipe? Maybe he thought that right was a no. He just got confused like you did.

I did have something planned, but it feels wrong. So can I say your beauty is so enchanting that it made me forget my pickup?

What the hell is this? You’re dreaming. This cheesy and corny man messaged you. So it wasn’t a mistake, you’re just living in a fantasy world where men like him talked to women like you. The lies you’ve made up in your head have made you crack. You are not a woman that can travel through time. Nope, you are a kindergarten teacher, and he was a fine as fuck man who matched on Tinder with you. On purpose.

“What the fuck do I even say?”

“Dinner?” Zoey starts laughing. Your friend loves to watch you squirm, but this isn’t what’s happening, you are trying to make this make any form of sense. It doesn’t. There is no way that this man meant to do that.

I think I’ve done something wrong.

Or are you online?

Ignore these messages. Maybe I made a mistake.

No! He didn’t make a mistake. ‘Sorry, I was trying to get away from my company. What mistake could you have made?’ God, that line was so cheesy. Just bury yourself in the sand and never emerge. This man is going to think you’re an absolute idiot. What the hell.

Your throat tightens up as you wonder exactly what he could be thinking. Does he think you’re as big a loser as you feel right now? Or is he already going, never mind, she’s not worth the time? And isn’t it just sex? Is Tinder more than that? Surely it is, even if the people have made it into a hookup site.

Good. You wanna have some dinner this Friday?

Yes.

Good. Perfect. Amazing.

Okay.

No, I mean thank you.

I’d enjoy that.

My dating etiquette is really rusty.

No worries. So is mine.

That was excruciating. Ouch, you hurt from the embarrassment. But dinner. There’s dinner in your future. “I need a new dress and lingerie. Forget the waxing. Let’s go.”

Bucky winces as his daughter, Isolde, runs down the hallway screaming. He looks at his best friend, Steve, and he shakes his head. “She’s on crack.”

“No. No, she was just at her mother’s,” Kenton. The bane of Bucky’s existence. She came around maybe twice a year. And of course wanted to insert herself the past weekend because it was Izzy’s birthday. “She’s got no raising at Ken’s. If…I’d like full legal custody of Izzy, but until then I play fucking nice.”

“Daddy said a bad word! I’m telling my teacher,” his cherub faced daughter runs into the living room before disappearing just as quickly. She was in love with her teacher. Bucky was thankful for his parents, and only slightly annoyed he didn’t have time to meet her.

“What is Miss Bambi doing?” Steve screams down the hallway, and Izzy steps back out of her room, shaking her head no. “What?”

“Fawn. Miss Fawn. Deer are her favorite animals, and she said Bambi was already taken. I am the chameleon of the classroom. And Jacob is the penguin,” she covers her mouth giggling as she runs back into her room, and Steve twists his head towards Bucky so fast. He’d have to talk to her about this Jacob.

“Each kid has a nickname, don’t ask questions. They love it. If Izzy wants to be a little lizard…”

“Daddy! I need a pet chameleon!” Hearing another loud bang, both men’s eyes go wide, and they turn towards her room.

“I can’t be responsible for her,” Steve shakes his head, “Why not wait until she gets a bit more acclimated to being home again? Are you just going to let her destroy her room?”

“She didn’t like the present her mom got her, and asked if she could break it,” Steve gives his friend a weird glance, chuckling when Isolde starts to evil laugh.

“I taught her that,” Steve beams proudly at his goddaughter, “What is so important?”

“A date.”

“Come again?”

“A. Date.”

“Bucky Barnes! Is this from Tinder? Wait, that’s why you want me to watch her at my house? You dog. You dirty little bastard! You’re finally going to get you some? This is great.”

“Number one,” Izzy runs back into the living room, and stands in front of her uncle, wagging a finger at him, “I’m telling my teacher you said a bad word. Number two, what does daddy need to get besides pizza?”

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m getting you. Go — do whatever evil little master plan you’re doing with your toy, and I’ll order pizza. Because daddy needs to get some — pizza,” he steps in front of his friend shaking his head. This was a bad mistake. Not because of you, but because Steve was going to make a bigger deal out of this than he was ready for. It wasn’t anything major. It was his yearly time to get out there to see if dating was worth it, and it rarely was.

Too many games, and too much time. At least with Tinder there didn’t seem to be any confusion on how the evening would go. A bit of dinner, laughs, fun, and…you go home? He takes you to his home? He goes to your place, and sneaks off? No, that’s rude. He offers to call a cab? Wait, how are you and him going to get to wherever you are going?

“I don’t feel good.”

“Ahh! No! Not all women are like Ken. They are not all evil bitches that like to use your daughter as a bargaining tool. They are not all her. Don’t you dare put your issues with one woman on another one. You may have fun, you know?”

“Steve! I’m telling Miss Fawn you said two bad words!”

He is just as nervous and awkward as you, and you sigh in disbelief. Legitimately laughing at his corny jokes, and when he smiles, the nervous knot in your belly loosens up, but a warm tingling remains. The restaurant is small and cozy, and he is a delight. He doesn’t turn you off, in fact…

Oh yeah, he’s hitting all your spots. Everyone of them. Amazing to look at. First step with attraction. The way his face lights up when he talks and tells a joke, he’s not faking. His sweet little giggle, and nose scrunch make your body all fuzzy and giddy. All these different adjectives to describe the buzzing in your brain feels almost dizzying, and you welcome it. No, you want to pull into your body and keep it with you forever.

Well, until the morning comes and you imagine for the rest of the weekend about what it would be like if Bucky wasn’t a man that was going to eventually disappoint you, and that it could truly be real and true love. And you live happily ever after, which of course you know is a lie because men just don’t like you like that.

And the man is smart, and well traveled. Talking about how he spent his twenties moving around for work, and enjoyed every second of not being tied down. You suppose that is a positive and something you should have done more in your life. But now, he’s somewhat settled. You don’t even know what the ‘somewhat’ part means. But you like to look at him. Looking at him feels wet, and you would completely be ashamed to admit that out loud.

And he even casually and occasionally touches you. You’ve seen how dirty his hands get, but they’re clean now. And warm. And strong, and when he talks with his hands a waft of his sexy, clean and fresh cologne invades your senses, and you’re a goner.

Oh oh, when he leans towards you, whispering something in your ear, and his lips touch your neck just the tiniest bit, and your insides light on fire. That was definitely not an accident, and you want to devour every touch of his petal pink lips. You’re so deprived of actual touch that this was all it took, and you are a simpering fool for this man.

Your pupils turn into a black pool of lust. Nearly trembling from the vibrating that his scent has your body doing. You’re ready to place yourself in his lap allowing him to feel your pulsing heat, while the other patrons of the restaurant be damned. His body scoots closer to you, and you feel his own buzzing radiating onto your skin. Thankfully you’re not alone. He’s fully aware of what’s happening, and he wants it, too. One night can’t hurt.

His hands finds a home on your thigh and he rubs up and down. Up and down. Each time getting higher, and dipping lower between your legs. Up and down. Lick the annoying tick of a metronome, and the tempo speeds up. You feel like you’re going to explode as an odd pleasure courses through your body. Going to come undone right here in front of these people.

Whimpering out his name when he leans into your neck, “Without sounding too forward...”

“My place?” Fuck. Well, aren’t you just the eager beaver? Men don’t like when you’re too forward. They want a lady, until they’re ready to pounce, and then you bend to their every whim and let them use your body as your plaything. You would like to be treated as a play thing. That actually sounds nice to give someone else the control over your pleasure and not just tapping the button on your battery operated boyfriend. Power tool.

“Okay,” he says enthusiastically. Looking over the table as he adds up the amount before he lays down a few bills. “We are — how do I say this?”

“I want you to fuck me like you own me.”

“Good.”

Good? Oh god this man is going to have you turned inside out, and wiping drool off the floor. No, he’ll probably have you licking the floor. Sweet Jesus. Maybe Zoey was right. You need a real man with real hands and a real touch.

And a real reality check. You sigh, leaning your head back on your shoulders as you run your hands down your front. That man changed your life forever. You’ll never forget that man, or apparently get back in touch with him. You’re sure there’s some stupid excuse as to him deactivating his Tinder. And maybe a decent excuse. But that left you here. Alone. With twenty-three five year olds.

Alone. All alone. It is what you wanted after all. Well, this part of your life you didn’t see coming or planned on it but it is what it is. Alone.

That word used to sound like a dream, and now it is the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Irritation of how one night of fun could make one’s life change so rapidly, while also you were open and ready for the changes.

It’s a moment of thinking your life would be one way, you were comfortable with your life of solitude. Accepted the life that was laid out before you as a thirty-five year old woman. Of course, everything did not happen according to your plan of life when you were a child, but you had come to the realization that it was your life, and you were okay with it.

And then there was Bucky. He made you realize some personal things. That you were a woman with needs, and you were a woman that was desired. Although not desiring more than that one night did do something to your fragile ego. That is not something you were ready to come to terms with. Nor the frustration, confusion, and yet clarity that came from that connection.

“Miss Fawn!” You look towards the student that was left. Her chubby little cheeks try to smile at you, but she is worrying away at her lip. “Do you think they forgot about me?”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” you offer a smile, sitting in your chair, and you tap your lap. “Come on, we’ll wait together. The office has called someone to get you, okay?”

Her face turns up into a forced smile, but she walks over to your lap all the same. Crawling up, and laying her head on your shoulder. You look down at her a bit odd. She didn’t normally get too touchy with you, but clearly she was scared about being forgotten. “You’re tired and want to go home.”

“I’ll go home once someone gets you. I’ll always stay behind.”

“You’re nice. Next year can I have you as my teacher, too,” you brush back her flyaway hairs, but shake your head no. She is sweet. Adorable even. She is one of the more enthusiastic children in your class. “Why not?”

“Because, you’ll move up to first grade,” the sad reality of being a kindergarten teacher is seeing them so young and scared, and then they turn into these balls of energy, and they actually like you. But you have to set them free to another teacher. It is cruel in ways.

“Will I still be a chameleon?”

“Oh, honey, if that’s what you want your nickname to be,” she gives you a pretty little smile before she starts picking at her dress. Her little fingers convey the anxiety she has bubbling inside of her and waiting for them to calm with any familiar face to walk through the door.

“My mom hasn’t called since my birthday,” she rarely mentioned her mom, and it leaves you wondering what the best approach would be. If you were in her shoes what would you want an adult to say? But you’ve never been in her shoes. Your parents were miraculously still in love and still together. Freaks of nature.

They couldn’t understand how and why you were where you are in life. Your decision, your life. Leave you alone. And that’s how they had to approach you nowadays.

“Izzy, baby, I’m sorry,” that damn voice. You could feel the whispers on your skin as Bucky’s fingers entwined with yours. His whole weight on you as he slowly pushes into your body.

His sweaty forehead presses against your own as he begs, ‘Give me one more time, gorgeous.’ You lost just how many one more times you actually had. No one had ever made you feel so engrossed in pure pleasure quite like Bucky did that night. And he can nonchalantly walk around like that? Still sweaty and dirty from working and still fine as fuck. And thinking he can come in here and you not feel something. It’s just your cunt that feels it.

“Oh,” he stops halfway towards his daughter when he realizes that it was you whose lap she was sitting in, “Hey,” he struggles to get out your name, and the fucker scratches his head trying to look away. Was he really going to waltz into your classroom and act like that? Like nothing happened. But you have him stunned. Good. That’s what you’ve felt since that night.

You were already a bit irritated that Isolde was his daughter. You never saw that man cross the threshold of the school. It was always her grandparents that picked her up. “Daddy, this is Miss Fawn. I told you that you would like her. You’re doing that weird thing with your fake hand,” his left hand not so casually dips into his pocket, and you cock up an eyebrow.

Liked you? Liked you and then removed his profile from Tinder. What kind of ridiculous nonsense was this?? Izzy jumps off your lap, and runs to her dad, and he adorably picks her up for a sweet kiss before putting her on his hip. And your heart aches.

No! Don’t you dare find him being a dad cute. It hurts. Seeing him be a dad stings and pangs, and makes you want to hurl your guts out. Something that thankfully you haven’t done for a few hours. Standing up from your chair, you turn to go grab her things.

The room isn’t silent, but you hear it. Hear the giant gulp that Bucky takes as he sees you from the side. “Miss Fawn is having a baby. How far along are you now?”

You remember that night like it had just happened. How he had literally picked you up and told you how you were going to be positioned for him. How every bit of your body lit up with his ministrations. And the way that he made sure that more than just your cunt was stimulated. You even remember exactly how many days ago it was. It helped with determining how far along you were.

“I’m four months. You shouldn’t worry about that though. I won’t have the baby until school lets out. So what is your fact of the week?” Bucky is a frozen little bastard. You swear you can see his calculator working out exactly how long ago that was. Protection scmection. He had to have super sperm. Maybe you didn’t use your pills just right, but a condom was fucking involved. And even the way he took that shit off was sexy.

You could write poetry on how he pulled off the rubber, keeping his eyes on you while you gaze at his member, wondering how it fit inside of you. And with too much ease, he ties the protection up, tossing it in your garbage, and he still got back in the bed, and he still held you. His lips couldn’t stop kissing over your sweaty skin, and you were so high with euphoria you couldn’t remember his name.

Asshole.

He had to have one flaw. His? Sperm that could penetrate anything, and the ability to disappear.

“Oh, oh! Chameleon actually means ground lion,” you crinkle your nose as you smile at her, handing Bucky her things, and hoping that his parents pick her up tomorrow.

“Daddy, can we go to Miss Fawn’s baby’s birthday shower?” Her chubby little hand presses against his cheek, and she forces him to look at her, and not you any longer. He was part of making this baby, but you didn’t need him. If he wanted to ghost you, he could. You had savings. You had your own place. You had the space. And you didn’t need Bucky Barnes.

You just still really really want him. And only a small part of you wanted him to make you whine as he rails into you. “Baby shower, Izzy. And I don’t think I need students coming. How about when you get home you show your daddy the book you made about chameleons?”

“Have…you’ve always been her teacher?” He’s observant.

“Mhmm,” this is so awkward. Could he just go already? You didn’t need him to gawk at your swollen belly where his donation was growing. You were getting to the point you were going to shout in front of his daughter that he knocked you up, but you didn’t need him. Or his money. If he didn’t want to be in your life, who cares? Definitely not you, and your romantic ideas. Or even just the thought of having him again. No! Stop that. Hormones. It definitely wasn’t your body betraying you as it craved Bucky’s touch, and his cock.

“I…I should call,” no, he should leave you alone. Just like he did four months ago.

“You don’t have my number.”

“I deleted the app. And then realized I didn’t have your number, and then couldn’t remember my login information, and,” he takes a deep inhale, and your mushy hormonal brain can’t handle this information. You were in no way ready to process whatever the hell he was saying because he didn’t have a stupid excuse. It was an excuse, but it made sense. “I…I have so many questions.”

“The answer is yes. And your daughter is with you. Maybe you should set up a parent/teacher meeting. My school email is on the website. Have a good evening Mr. Barnes,” he doesn’t want to leave, but he looks at his daughter, and back to you with a nod. And you’re left with conflicting feelings on what the hell that just was.

Sure, maybe you could have tried harder, but you just thought he wanted to fuck once and be done, so you gave him that out. But after all those years of wanting children, and thinking it wouldn’t happen, you looked at this like a blessing in disguise. But…what was that? So much was said, and nothing was said all at the same time.

Maybe you didn’t have to be alone.

And maybe you didn’t have to have a fantasy of an impossible man when there was something between you and Bucky. At least your body still thinks so.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @buckybarnesisdaddy @theinheriteddutchess @lecliff037 @w1nter-wolf-barnes1 @distractingbeth

[buckrecs]

𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 : 𝘼𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙡

masterlist | monthly fic rec masterlist

FLUFF

Lessons in Love. by @violentdelightsandviolentends

Too Hot, An Arm Cold by @t-lostinworlds

Out of control! by @pomelo-villano

Jacks and Sunshine by @rookthorne (tattoo artist!bucky)

Do You Need Someone? by @drabbles-mc (soldier!reader)

Grandeur by @navybrat817 (florist!bucky)

plum tarts and red carnations by @golden-barnes (florist!bucky)

Mornings Like This by @majestyeverlasting

What Dreams Are Made Of by @navybrat817 (tattoo artist!bucky x baker!reader)

bucky’s day off by @aescapisms

One Simple Touch by @likeahorribledream

Let’s Stay Inside by @writing-for-marvel (dad!bucky)

Operation milkshake, hospital visits and custody of Mr Bear by @golden-barnes (teacher!bucky)

You Bring Me Home by @real-jane

fitting in by @insomniumstella

shy!bucky by @ro-is-struggling

flustered by @lovelybarnes

Grocery Trip by @/lovelybarnes

Angel by @toastedkiwi (UFC Fighter!Bucky x surgeon!bucky)

find sunshine in the rain by @witchywithwhiskey

no shelf control | don’t overdue it by @buckymorelikefuckme (librarian!reader)

Dentist Visits. by @justkending

Five Sweaters to Make You Love Me by @sebbytrash

Took You Long Enough by @matchamunson

Work It Out by @jobean12-blog

backflips by @venusstorm

Crimson Wave by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Entrapment by @/invisibleanonymousmonsters (shapeshifter!reader)

Champion by @sgtjbuccky (40s!Boxer!Bucky)

Stay With Me by @/sgtbuccky

A Love That Heals by @ @/sgtbuccky

Ballerina by @softlyspector (ballerina!reader)

ANGST

She’s Not Mad by @subwaysurf45

Glutton for Punishment by @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

The End by @buckychrist

Best Man by @/navybrat817 (soft dark!bucky)

His Everything by @/likeahorribledream

Redamancy by @world-of-aus

Grip by @pellucid-constellations

Pretense by @themorningsunshine

healing broken hearts by @alisonsfics

Marry You Someday by @mickeyhenrys (40s!bucky)

for the best by @classylo (dilf!bucky)

take cover by @royalsweetteaa (dark!bucky)

Anesthesia by @jobean12-blog

borderline by @sergeantxrogers (film maker!bucky)

I Need Him Like Water by @/pellucid-constellations

SMUT

heartless | 2 by @sinner-as-saint (incubus!bucky)

Occupied by @goodgirlofglory

Ambrosial by @/goodgirlofglory

No One Else Matters by @marvelouslizzie

Slice of Heaven by @softevnstan

Stay The Night by @notroosterbradshaw

attention by @heavysoldat

big question by @ownedbyfictionalwomen

normal routine by @wndalovebot

Aiming to Please by @gayouijaboard

Whatever It Takes by @buckybabesonly (dark!bucky)

Soft Lovin’ by @jamdoughnutmagician (chubby!bucky)

Night Out by @/softlyspector

[buckymilf]

everyone shut up i'm having stevebucky thoughts™

[ramp-it-up]

Homework

Shield High School FACULTY AU

Pairing: Teacher! Bucky x Teacher! Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Language, S MUT w/some plot, mutual pining, angst, fluff, two idiots in love, wall s ex, dirty talk, teasing, praise kink, a teeny tiny bit of degredation, oral s ex (f/m recieving), finger f ucking, face f ucking, sloppy head, rough s ex, pleasurable pain, squirting, raw s ex (protect ya self).

A/N: This is a teacher AU. All characters in this are ADULTS, as you should be if you’re reading my fic. Thank you. 😊 This comes right after Quarter Finals and way before Deck the Hallways. Thanks to @blackpinup22 for asking for this after 18 months. I'm glad you got me when you know I ain’t sh#t, lmao. Reblogs and interaction is currency for writers on this app. If you like it, reblog.

Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Bucky woke up the next morning and stared at you as the sun came up. You looked so angelic. He couldn’t believe his luck, and fought his instinct to grab you again. Last night had been everything he’d dreamt of and more. His heart flipped as he studied your face. He had to do this right; he couldn't scare you off.

You’d said that you wanted him ruined for any other woman. Bucky didn’t know how to tell you that he had been before he laid a finger on you. He was so far gone that he couldn’t sleep and he didn’t want to leave, so he got up, quietly cleaned himself up and slipped on his clothes from the previous night. Then, he snuck out of the door.

Bucky came back 45 minutes later, carefully replacing the keys that were on the table next to your door. 

He carried the bags into the kitchen and opened your refrigerator. 

Food. It was one way to express how he felt about you.

——

You woke up to the smell of food coming from your kitchen. You peeked your head out of your bedroom and saw Bucky puttering around.

You closed the door before he saw you and leaned against it, heart skip-pattering and a giant grin on your face. Your mind couldn’t believe the night actually happened, but your body told you it did.

You ran into the bathroom and turned on the shower while you brushed your teeth quickly. You took a famous seven-minute shower and threw your hair up in a bun, trying not to take the situation too seriously. You threw on an old t-shirt and some shorts, trying desperately to not look like you were trying too hard.

You looked ruefully in the mirror before turning to join Bucky. You thought that you looked a mess, but it was the best you could do.

——

“Why are you always trying to feed me, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky turned around from his preparations and his heart skipped a beat. He felt his face split into a grin when he saw you. You looked beautiful and sexy as hell, fresh faced and relaxed. You were so damn hot.

“Morning, Doll.”

The way you smiled and walked up to him and put your arms around him made his anxiety disappear. He wrapped you up in an embrace and kissed you on your forehead.

“Gotta keep your strength up.”

“For what?”

You smirked up at him.

“At school, you are on all day when you’re teaching. You need sustenance.”

You stared at Bucky’s lips. Bucky stared back at you. 

“And on a Saturday morning?”

Bucky raised his eyebrow up. He leaned down to your ear, his breath on your neck making you shiver.

“You need strength for weekend activities.”

You shuddered in his arms at his voice.

“Activities, huh?”

Your sultry tone was doing things to him. 

“Yes. Activities…”

Bucky kissed your neck and then pecked you on your lips as he took you by the shoulders and moved you away from him, trying to keep focus.

“It does take almost all day to wash my hair.”

Bucky looked at your messy bun. 

“You make beauty effortless, Doll.”

You blushed and ducked your head as you turned around and looked at the spread.

“Let’s eat.”

Bucky pulled out your seat and placed a napkin in your lap. You smiled at him as he sat across from you.

“What did I do to deserve this kind of service?”

You reached for the maple syrup which you realized you didn’t have in your pantry.

“Did you go grocery shopping?”

“I did.” 

Bucky stared at you as he took a bite of food. Those lips distracted you and you shifted in your seat, the delicious ache in your core giving you an inkling of why.

“I did it because I had a great time last night. And food is my love language.”

Your eyes got wide. Did he just say 'love?'

Bucky started choking.

“I mean…Not like that. I mean.. Not not like that… shit….” 

He felt like such fool as you watched him take a drink of juice.

“You good?”

“No. I’m a fucking idiot.”

You smiled at him, feeling disappointed that he didn’t want to express those types of feelings. The types of feelings that had butterflies trapped below your rib cage since the first time you saw him.

“It’s okay Bucky. We had a great night. We don’t have to ruin the vibe with all that ‘what are we?’ nonsense.”

Bucky paused. Wait. Did you not want to define the relationship? Fuck. He shouldn’t be such a simp.

“Right. Yeah, absolutely. Don’t want to ruin the mellow.”

You two ate, making small talk about the Saturday errands, laundry, cleaning and planning for the next week that needed to be done and then you both moved to put the dishes in the washer and clean the kitchen.

When you were done, you stood staring at each other.

Bucky wanted to say the things he thought he shouldn’t say, but he didn’t want to ruin this. He was afraid he already had. All he wanted was to take you into his arms and tell you that he wanted you, that he felt very deeply for you already. But it was too soon. 

Wasn’t it?

“Well, Doll. See you Monday morning.”

“See you Monday, James.”

You wanted to throw yourself into his arms and burrow you head into his chest, pull him back to your bedroom and cuddle all day, but you decided not to. Maybe this was a one time hookup, or maybe there would be more to come. You didn’t want to be that girl who just wanted a relationship. 

So you decided to be a grown up about it.

Bucky walked out, looking back at you before you closed the door. Your heart sank that he was leaving, but you just waved as he climbed into his car.

You spied Bucky’s tie peeking out from under your couch as you walked back to your bedroom, picked it up and put it around your neck, smiling as you remembered the night before. You debated giving it back to him. If you never had another night, you’d have this. 

You were thinking about how to act around him at work when you heard a knock at the door.

Your heart flipped when you saw it was Bucky.

“I forgot…”

Bucky stared at you in his tie and licked his lips when you opened the door.

“You forgot your tie.”

“No. I forgot my… I forgot my you.” 

Bucky looked at you and sighed. Your butterflies awoke.

“I forgot my you.”

Bucky took the ends of the tie and pulled you toward him. The action was unneeded because you felt this magnetic pull which drew your lips together like magnets.

He mumbled something when he separated from you, and you thought you heard what he said, but you couldn’t believe it. His mouth brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered it, urgently begging.

“Please be my girl, Yourname. I want you, I like you. So so so much.” 

His lips brushed your neck, making you shiver as the butterflies rioted in your stomach. He was slurring as if drunk on your scent and proximity. 

“Wan’ you to be mine. Please. Don’t wan’ anyone else. I’m ruined. Just like you said.”  

The velvet tenor of his voice made you tremble, and all of your senses were alive in all areas of your body.

“J-James, what? What are you saying?”

You were breathless as your hands traced the muscles in his back, and followed his lats around to the front of his shirt, toying with the buttons, your fingers itching to take it off again as he walked you backwards into your apartment.

After kicking your door closed, Bucky stopped long enough to pull back and look in your eyes as your hands trailed up to his shoulders. 

“I want you to be my girl, Yourname.”

You looked down and then up again, biting your lip to keep from grinning like a fool. Then you nodded.

“Okay. I’ll be your girl, James.”

“Fuck yeah!”

Bucky let out a whoop and then walked you back into the nearest wall, hands everywhere.

“Want you. Need you.”

The feeling of intoxication was contagious, and your head was spinning at Bucky’s ardor.

“We went all night, James. I’m already sore…”

Your protest was countered by the fact that you were unbuttoning Bucky’s shirt and pushing it off of his shoulders.

Bucky dropped to his knees, looking up at you with those blue, blue eyes.

“Did I do that? I’m so sorry, Doll, Let me kiss and make it better.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes as he pulled your shorts and panties just down enough with his hand so that his tongue could reach your cunt. 

Bucky’s lips kissed yours and his tongue split them in two, collecting your juices on his tongue. It was so fucking sexy to see him so desperate for you that he didn’t even take off you panties. You weren’t laughing anymore as he dove face first into your moist cunt, sukling your clit and inserting two fingers over your panties to finger fuck you as he tried to shatter your soul.

“Fuck you’re so perfect!”

Bucky moaned it into your cunt as you scream-whined.

“Oh my god, yes! Ohhhhhhh. Mmmmmmh. YesyesyesYESSSS!”

Your legs started shaking and your hands fisted in his hair, pulling the more he moaned when you did it.  He stared you  straight in the eye as you came and tried to hold on to the wall above your head for purchase. 

“One more time…”

Bucky pulled your panties all the way off as he drove his entire mouth into your cunt, tongue fucking and sucking your clit impossibly at the same time. You were on tiptoes and instantly on edge again.

“Oh my god I’m gonna cum again.”

You were speaking in a low sultry whine as you held his head and stared at him again. It was so intimate and so fucking hot when you came into his mouth.

“James! Fuck.”

You laughed as he stood up, sliding his body against yours along the way. You fisted his cock through his pants.

“What do you need, Doll?”

“Need my man to fuck me up, James.”

“Damn, Doll.”

Bucky picked you up and walked over to your couch, sitting down with you on his lap, bottomless, squirming on his lap in an effort to get what you wanted where you wanted. Your soreness was forgotten. Your only mission was to get his pants off.

You started gyrating in Bucky’s lap, trying to get some friction on your clit while he gently swatted your cunt while his hands reached under your shirt to squeeze your braless tits.

“This sweet, sweet pussy. Don’t want to hurt it anymore.”

He gave you a quick, filthy peck on your lips.

“Pleaseeee. James. Please hurt me.”

His teasing was driving you crazy and he was loving it. You could feel his bulge rubbing against your ass.

“You can’t mean that, Doll.”

Bucky’s eyes mesmerized you as one of his huge hands lifted your t-shirt and he leaned down to suck and pull your nipple into his mouth. You panted and moaned as you propped your leg up outside of his on the couch, opening your legs even wider as an invitation.

Bucky licked his fingers and reached around and under your leg to rub your pussy as he sucked your nipple again.

“Ah that feels goood, James…unnnnnh yessss.”

You both looked down to see you start making a wet mess all over his hand, then used two fingers to stroke circles on you. He alternated watching your face and your pussy. 

“So fucking beautiful, Doll.”

You came on his hand again and then he let you slip down to the floor while he stood up to take off his pants. When he sat back down, you immediately grabbed his bobbing dick, proclaiming “Mine!”, and wasted no time deep throating and gagging on him. 

“Holy shit, that’s right Doll, it’s yours. But…take it easy on me… fuck!”

But it was Bucky who was fucking into your throat preventing your breathing at the moment. He let you gag and drool all over him for a few minutes before he pulled you off, kissing you filthily and fully as he squeezed your tits again.

“So fucking hot. Get up here.”

He went under your shirt to suck your nipple as you positioned your legs on either side of his widespread thighs. You scrambled to take off your tee while Bucky licked his fingers to stretch you out again. You wiggled your ass as he positioned his cockhead at your entrance and the magic began.

Bucky intoned a deep, “Ahhhhhhh,” as you slid down the length of him, and you immediately started whining. He hit that spot deep inside you and your apartment was filled with the pornographic sounds of your flesh slapping together.

You started riding him harder as you two watched him filling you up just right.

“Why are you fucking your dick so good, Doll? Such a good fucking girl, My good girl. My best girl.”

Bucky’s words drove you over the edge and your eyes rolled back into your head as Bucky held your wildly gyrating hips steady.

“Need more…”

Bucky turned you around reverse cowgirl, but took control of your hips and leaned you back, using you like a fuck toy, slamming you down on his cock. He was going as deep as you ever felt him while whispering filthy things in your ear.

“You thought you were sore before. That’s nothin’, Doll. Gonna make sure you can’t walk straight all next week. When I see you coming down the hall I better see the evidence of how I molded you to my dick this weekend.”

“Bucky, FUCKKKKK! I’m gonna cum. All over!”

Bucky scooted to the edge of the couch as you released, the squelch of your fluids outright obscene.

You collapsed on him, only slowly realizing that Bucky was still hard inside you. 

“Oh… nooooo….”

Bucky kissed your temple as he moved you two down to the floor.

“Oh, yes, Doll.”

You were on your hands and knees as he put his hand on the back of your neck and started fucking into you. Bucky helped you realize that you were not done because when he stopped moving, you found yourself throwing it back on him.

“Fuck yes, fuck your dick, Doll. Sssssshit.”

He watched your ass work and then grabbed your hips, his stroke becoming erratic. Knowing that his end was near brought you another and you shattered just before he did. Bucky’s thick streams of cum filled you up and then leaked out of you almost instantly with their velocity and copiousness.

You were on the rug in your living room, trapped by the bearable weight of Bucky’s body. You didn’t think you were able to move anyway. A sudden rush of cool air was replaced by a feeling of weightlessness as Bucky packed you up, put you on the toilet and bade you to pee.

You did, unashamed as you sleepily watched Bucky run a hot bath. He looked back at you and blushed when he caught you admiring him.

“Can I stay a while, Doll?”

How did the man have the nerve to be bashful after what you two just did? You wanted to say that he could stay forever, but you just nodded, and softly said, “Yeah.”

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 10

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omorashi

Summary: Bucky Barnes is young, confused, and conflicted—a real "rebel without a cause" type. His parents ship him off to Steve's reform school to help him get straightened out into a "proper young omega."

Wait! I haven't read an earlier part of this fic! Story Masterlist

Part 10 Expedient Action

Steve watches as the kid’s lower lip trembles, his stubborn little cleft chin moving along with it, and he hums sadly. “Do you remember the last time you were happy, Bucky?”

The boy shrugs, won’t meet his eyes. “Dunno,” he eventually says.

Steve nods, having expected as much. Slowly, he curls his fingers over the top of the towel at Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s stomach sucks in with tension when he realizes that Steve intends to pull the towel off him, but he makes no move to try and stop it. Steve lets it fall to the floor, then looks at Bucky’s lap, eyes briefly considering the state of the omega’s rigid little prick, before sliding to the side to look at his leg. Sadness fills him again at seeing them, even though he’d known they were there.

Right along the top of Bucky’s left thigh are a series of pale lines. Scars, lined up in a tidy little row that begins at his hipbone and ends several inches before the knee. Most are white, but some are pink, still in various stages of healing from the recent past. Months old, but not years. Steve grabs Bucky’s hands when he tries to cover himself. “It’s okay, Buck. You’re not in trouble.”

Bucky whines and tugs his hands away. “Leave me alone,” he groans, sounding miserable. Steve has no doubt that he is, though that doesn’t mean that he’s not aroused, as well. Steve could smell his slick as soon as he’d gotten out of the shower, and it’s only intensified since then. Understandable, after what they’d witnessed from the doorway of Parker’s room. (Steve really needs to give Natasha a good bonus this semester. That woman knows how to get a task done.)

With the towel discarded, Bucky’s scent is rich and unimpeded, that pleasant mix of loamy earth and spiced verbena combining to arouse Steve’s senses. Virtually all omegas smell nice at bare minimum. Even ones pregnant by other alphas still smell good, if not particularly arousing. But again, he’s reminded that the notes of Bucky’s scent stand out to him more than what he’s accustomed to, pulling at all the baser instincts that live in the back of his brain.

He tries his best not to let his enjoyment of it show, but there’s only so much a man can do. He’s wearing his own special brand of compression underwear at the moment. Made for alphas, thank god, or else there’d be a very different situation at the front of his slacks right now. The bloody things are tight as fuck, but they do a good job at concealing all but the most aggressive of boners. And for an alpha who spends his days surrounded by hundreds of teenaged omegas reaching the peak of their sexual maturity, they are a godsend.

Steve rests his hand on Bucky’s leg, right over the scars. Oh Sweetheart, he thinks mournfully. Who did this to you? He lets his thumb trace one silvery-thin line, probably one of the oldest, and hushes Bucky’s whimper when it comes. “When did you start doing this, Honey?” he asks, being careful to keep his voice as gentle and as coaxing as he can. “Shh. It’s okay.”  Poor thing’s just embarrassed as all get-out, and Steve isn’t trying to scold him. “When, Bucky?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs and won’t meet Steve’s eyes. “Couple’a years ago, I guess. I don’t do it anymore. Not … not much.”

“That makes sense,” Steve observes. He’s baiting Bucky, and it works.

The kid peeks up at him. “It does?”

“Sure. Your heats mature at about fifteen, sixteen. That’s when it gets harder. Without a safe and consistent partner with you each cycle, you’re not going to be very fulfilled.” He watches as Bucky frowns down at his lap and thinks about that. “Has that been your experience?” he prods gently. “Feeling unfulfilled?”

“I … no.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Want to try saying that like you mean it?”

Bucky grimaces. “I mean, I didn’t use to think so. It just was what it was, y’know? Most kids don’t have a heat partner, so I figured I was just bein’ oversensitive. I at least had Brock. … Once in a while, anyways.”

“Hm.” 

“I thought that was good,” he says, looking to Steve for confirmation in a way that is pitifully naïve. “Nobody else pairs. Unless they’re dating. And even then, people have lives. They can’t just stop everything for a week every single month. That’d be ridiculous.”

“Right,” Steve says, hating this. He wants to growl and bundle Bucky up and make him see how neglected he’s been, how he deserves so much more. “You felt like you had to make due on your own.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I could get a hookup, at least for the second day of my heat. Those are usually the worst.” Bucky looks away, evasive. “And … I tried some things.”

“Suppressants?”

“Yeah. But before I figured out how to get a doctor to prescribe ‘em, I used to steal Ransom’s credit card to buy some of those supplements you see in the infomercials. You know: with the testimonials and everything? People saying how good they work?”

“How well they work,” Steve corrects under his breath. “Those are expensive.”

“Hundred and fifty bucks plus shipping, every month,” Bucky confirms. “Well, at least until Ransom noticed it on his credit card statement.” He colors a little and admits, “I also tried those things they sell over the counter at the pharmacy. Those, erm, those things that you can take. That you stick up your—”

“I’m familiar,” Steve drawls. “So, you put multiple things in your body without knowing what was in them.”

“Well I figured they couldn’t sell ‘em on tv if it wasn’t safe,” Bucky defends. “And besides, everybody does it.”

“Not exactly winning me over, here, kid.”

“Look, you don’t understand!” he snaps. “You’re alpha. You don’t get it. Heats are stupid, they're not fun. They just get in everybody’s way, and these products help. They help quality of life. They help make it less of a problem.”

Steve holds back the actual growl that wants to come at hearing such a tragic pile of tripe. “Did you ever stop to wonder why it’s always your natural biology that gets labeled as the ‘problem’, hm? Always something to be fixed, rather than something you’re entitled to? Something you deserve to have accommodated?”

Bucky blinks a few times in a row, mouth working. “Well … no. That’s just how it is.”

“Oh is it?”

“It is if you want to make it anywhere in life. Get into a good school, get a good job, work your way up at some company.” He blithely rattles off the examples, speaking like this is all pre-determined truth, and Steve is the only idiot who hasn’t been clued in. “People won’t hire you if you need all that time off of work and stuff. You’ve got to make yourself as good as a beta employee, at least. Otherwise nobody’ll hire you.”

Steve nods solemnly. “Yeah, well that’s where I take issue. I think omega rights—true omega rights—demand that society value omegas for what they naturally are. And that means allowing them the space and time they need for their cycles, not treating it as something inconvenient, not expecting people to use a bunch of drugs to try and force themselves into some, some …” He makes a frustrated gesture. “Some employable box.”

“Well yeah, I guess. But—”

“Omegas deserve to have their contributions as mothers and homemakers valued, too,” Steve asserts, then narrows his eyes at Bucky when the kid rolls his eyes. “You scoff, but the omegas who consistently rank highest in self-reported life satisfaction are those who choose to take on domestic roles. The only thing career omegas consistently rank highest on is level of  antidepressant usage. It’s a trend we’ve seen increasing ever since the seventies.”

“Right,” Bucky snaps. “Back in the good old days when we didn’t have any rights.”

“That’s not true,” Steve says sternly. “Omegas had all the same rights as other designations, it was culture that was different. There was a place carved out in society for them. Omegas’ natural affinities were valued. Those who did work were able to find jobs that fit their lifestyles and needs. Now, employers expect you to change yourself for the job, just like you said.” He shakes his head sadly. “One could make the argument that that’s equality, but it sure as hell ain’t fair. Betas and alphas have society shaped to fit their needs, and omegas simply have to try and force themselves into difficult spaces just to get by. I don’t think it’s right that the way we do things is geared towards what alphas and betas naturally need, and nothing that’s naturally omega is accommodated for anymore. Do you?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, but his posture slumps with uncertainty the more he considers what's being said.

Steve softens his tone to something more gentle. “That’s why I think the erasure of gender roles is unhealthy, Buck. Not because I’m a sexist who hates omegas and doesn’t want them to be able to do anything, but because I think you guys deserve so much better. So much more.” He watches Bucky’s face, the growing doubt in his features, and figures it’s time to stop with the proselytizing. He's given the kid something to think on. That's good enough for now. It is bedtime, after all. “Just think on it a bit,” he advises kindly. “You’ve had a lot of experiences, but there’s still a lot for you to learn. Try and do it with an open mind, okay? You might come to see one or two things a little differently.”

Bucky grumbles unhappily, but Steve can tell when his point is getting through. Most students start to come around to considering the school's curricular viewpoint by the one week mark. After a week of constant offers to have his needs fulfilled—and constant refusal of those offers—it’s pretty obvious that Bucky is nearing the turning point. Steve decides to end this little talk on a positive note. He gives him one final pat on his legs. “Okay, Hon. Time for bed.” He stands up and observes the way that Bucky seems to physically stall, unable to quickly process Steve’s sudden departure. 

“You’re leaving?” he blurts.

Steve offers him a gentle smile. “Would you like for me to scent anything? Maybe a blanket or a pillow?” Right now there’s only a sheet and a single, thin blanket on the bed. He thumbs backward at the room’s cabinet of nesting supplies. “The nurse said you’re mid-cycle. The urge to nest must be waxing rather than waning at this point, yeah?”

Bucky seems surprised by the offer, but after a moment he nods shyly. “Maybe an extra blanket wouldn’t be so bad.”

Steve turns and goes to grab a blanket out of the cabinet and scent it, taking Bucky’s compliance as a significant win. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and is doubly pleased when Bucky makes no snippy remark at the gendered praise. He doesn’t face Bucky as he scents the top edge of the blanket with his wrist and then his neck. He doesn’t want to push his luck and make the boy so embarrassed that he’ll revert back to his pattern of disrespectful misbehavior. It’s always a balancing act, with new students, but once you get the right combination of domination, kindness, and familiarity? That's when things begin to smooth out.

Bucky takes the blanket with a bashful, “Thank you,” when Steve hands it over, and Steve gives him a quiet rumble of praise for being polite.

“You’re welcome, Honey.” Bucky moves like he’ll get under the blankets, but Steve stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Hang on a sec. You forgetting something?” Bucky blinks vacantly up at him, and Steve can’t help but chuckle. “We don’t sleep naked, do we?” 

Bucky looks back down at himself, like he’d forgotten he was naked in the first place. “Oh.”

Steve fetches him a pair of underwear from the room’s dresser. The students’ nighttime briefs aren’t dissimilar to what they wear under their uniforms during the day, but they consist of one piece rather than two, and the padding’s a bit more … thorough, meant to help deter wandering hands at night. Steve finds himself unable to look away as Bucky puts them on, sliding them up his legs with shaky fingers and whimpering near subvocally when his leaking prick gets covered up by the padding. His hands fist the bedsheets at either side of his hips, and for a second his face gets red and his eyes go unfocused.

Oh Jesus. Steve grinds his teeth at the display, unhappy to feel his own cock pulsing insistently against the seam of his slacks. Bucky’s tortured, straining efforts to not touch himself are near-pornographic to watch, making that warm, sexual urge swirl up harder in Steve’s belly than before. He shifts in place and flexes his hands as he tries to think of something to counter the pulsing in his dick—picturing his grandparents fucking is his usual failsafe, in times like this. He doesn’t want his scent to grow so strong that it affects Bucky right now. Not when they’re ending the night on such a positive note. 

The thought of Nana and Pawpaw doing the nasty does the trick, and Steve retreats to the doorway. He hums in approval as he watches Bucky climb into bed and get settled. He nests only the barest bit, almost tentatively, tucking the scented end of the blanket up alongside his pillow and draping the rest of it over his body. He curls up on his side and nuzzles his cheek against the pillow. Steve waits with his hand poised to flip the light switch. “You have everything you need?” he checks, giving Bucky one final chance to be honest about his needs.

But he simply tucks his face into the scented blanket and closes his eyes. “Uh huh.” His still-damp hair is stark against the white pillowcase, and Steve’s heart gives a fond twinge at the sight.

It does dry curly.

“Okay,” he says quietly. He flicks the lights off, knowing that by tomorrow morning, he’ll have a punishable offense to address with the boy. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“… Night, Steve.”

Despite the excellent performance of composure that he’s managed to maintain with Bucky for the past few hours, all that time with the omega really has taken its toll. Steve is relieved to get back and shut himself away in the confines of his office. It feels like a sanctuary right now. It’s a deep mental and physical relaxation that hits him as soon as he sinks into his desk chair and inhales the professionally filtered, pheromone-free air of the room. 

“Ahh," he sighs, rubbing at his temples. "God save the queen. Fuck."

Compared to other alphas, he’s got excellent control of his reactions and is able to mask a great deal (an invaluable skill when one works with hordes of hormonally-peaking teenagers), but the end of the school day always provides a bit of relief—today more than most.

He opens his laptop and leaves it to boot up while he goes over over to pour himself a drink. He pulls out one of the cork-coated lowballs that he keeps in the freezer (because he prefers his drinks on the rocks, but whether he likes it or not Peggy’s had an influence on him these past twenty years, and he knows it’s blasphemy to add ice to a 30 year old Scotch). He eyeballs a finger of the liquor—okay, maybe closer to two fingers—and brings it back to his desk to sniff it and swirl it around. 

It’s a vintage that one of Peggy’s relatives gifted them years ago, worth quite a bit of money apparently, and it’s been Steve’s one petty protest amongst the many bigger ones of his soon-to-be ex-wife. He’s only begun making use of it since their divorce proceedings intensified over the summer, with Peggy’s obstinance against fair division of assets reaching damningly selfish levels. Steve never thought of her as someone who’d go for the nerves in a divorce just for the hell of it, and it’s upsetting to see that nastier side exposed. It feels like all his good memories are slowly being tainted by it, made ugly and ruined, like paint thrown over a fine portrait of the woman he’d once admired. Steve’s not a heavy drinker, but he’s nearly made his way through the entire bottle these past few weeks.

At his desk, he peruses current events on his newsfeed and a few academic articles of interest, being sure to sip steadily despite his leanings as a teetotaler. He wants to feel a bit of a buzz by the time he dares to brave his inbox. The little icon tells him that he’s got dozens of unread emails waiting in there. Not unusual for a weekday, but there’s one from Peggy that he purposefully puts off for last. And surprisingly, there’s one email each from the personal accounts of both Tony Stark and Harlan Thrombey.

He clicks on Stark’s first, expecting the email to contain more demands for the accommodations he wants for the upcoming parents’ weekend. Sure enough, Stark doesn’t disappoint, asking Steve to please arrange for a 2-minute slot for one Ms. Pepper Potts to speak during that coming Sunday’s evening ball. It’s during said ball when the school has its traditional slew of scheduled, “spontaneous” rounds of toasts over betrothal announcements. Steve’s happy to agree to a slot for Ms. Potts, just grateful that it won’t be Stark himself making the speech. Thank god for small favors. 

Stark also has a footnote jotted in, as though it’s a nothing, requesting a black Rolls Royce Phantom to pick them up afterwards to take them to their hotel in Newcastle-upon-Tyne. In the distinct manner that Steve’s learned only multi-millionaires ever really have, Tony blithely throws out his specifications for the car’s interior temperature (73 degrees Fahrenheit, precisely), a fully-stocked bar, and a selection of snacks and juice boxes that sounds suspiciously catered to a certain omega's tastes.

Smirking and shaking his head, Steve spends a moment researching the costs of this additional, last-minute amenity. He tacks an extra two grand onto the price and shoots the email back with an inflated invoice that brings him no guilt. Academia is little better than a break-even industry, after all. And besides, Stark can afford it.

Normally, Steve would save any email of Peggy’s for last, but given his growing obsession with interest in Bucky’s case, he decides to save Thrombey’s email for last.

Peggy’s email is also very typical of what Steve’s come to expect from her: curt, concise, and infuriatingly presumptive.

📨Peggy: Asset Divisions Update

Steven, it reads, My solicitor will be in touch after this next weekend with an updated proposal for division of assets. I did not find your last offer acceptable. Mr. Jorgensen is out of the country on account of an emergency this week, which is the reason for the delay. I do apologize and hope you will understand. In the meantime, I look forward to enjoying a pleasant and uncompromised parents’ weekend with our two schools. I’ll be in touch soon, in regards to those preparations. Cordially, Peggy.

Steve sneers at the ‘cordially’. “More like cold as ice,” he grumbles, grabbing the glass of scotch to toss back the last few sips. Parents’ weekend is going to be hell, having to be in such constant proximity with her. 

Thrombey’s email is long and flowery, in the distinct manner that only novelists ever really have. He rambles on, bemoaning the state of his grandson for several long paragraphs before getting to the point. Finally, he lays out the issue, and it is a doozy:

📨Thrombey: Expedient Action Required

—has come to my attention that the boy has been engaging in a form of online prostitution. Something called only fans.”

Steve’s jaw drops as he feels the blood drain from his face. Oh no. Bucky wouldn’t … would he? Shit. He totally would. Steve’s eyes flick back to the email.

—can imagine my horror to find that for a monthly fee, subscribers have access to his nude photos. I hadn’t the stomach to look myself, but Ransom assures me it’s all him on the webpage. There are even videos, and Ransom says that James’ face is visible in some of the footage. His face! This is outrageous! 

“You’re telling me,” Steve mutters. 

Thankfully, the Academy’s structure seems to have put an end to his production. There’s been no new footage uploaded since the week before his enrollment. My lawyers are working on having the account erased, and I can only pray that nothing comes to light publicly before then.  Now more than ever, an intervention is required for my grandson. His eligibility for a good marriage will be out the window if word of this pornography spreads, his prospects ruined. I want you to put your full efforts into seeing him matched up with a suitable Alpha as soon as possible. I don’t care who it is, what nationality they are, if it’s a triad, if there’s no notable family name—nothing. All that matters is that you find him a decent mate with no record of mistreatment. Do be thorough in your searching, but do not drag your feet! I’m sure I needn’t explain how damaging this will be to my family, if word gets out.  I am counting on you to take expedient action, H. Thrombey

At the bottom of the email is a link. It’s to an OnlyFans page. Steve’s heart rate picks up and he hesitates for a long moment, knowing that he shouldn’t look. Harlan’s lawyers are handling it. 

But his morbid curiosity wins out, and he clicks on the link. It leads directly to Bucky’s personal page, and Steve experiences a very unpleasant combination of sensations: his dick filling with blood at the same time that his stomach turns from seeing the images that are on the page’s banners. It’s Bucky’s body, that’s for sure, with his face cleverly turned away or artfully clipped from the shots. Below the title page and summary are links to “Exclusive new hot videos!” with 3 second thumbnails of Bucky’s ass moving, his back arching, his hand moving over his—

Steve looks away from the computer screen, furious and aroused and mortified. “Goddammit, Bucky,” he hisses, angry that the kid has done something so inherently damaging—not just to his reputation like Harlan is thinking, but to himself, to his soul. Steve’s stomach churns something awful at knowing that this stuff is available for any creep with a credit card to purchase … and at his own reaction to even the barest glimpses of it. He peeks up again, this time reading the titles of the videos: 

“Hot O-on-O action!”

“Omega dominates Alpha Slut”

“Horny Teen Twink in Heat”

His jaw ticks angrily. What fucking awful, typical titles. He looks down at his cock, which is visibly pressing against the seam of his slacks. “Fuck,” he groans. He can’t jerk off to porn of Bucky. He can’t. It’d be beyond unethical. Even if the kid was his mate, Steve would still feel the moral obligation to—

Oh. Well there’s an idea. 

His brain stalls on the thought of him as Bucky’s mate, his Alpha, in charge of him and giving him what he needs … and taking what he wants. Mortifyingly, a growl builds up in his chest as he glances once more at the thumbnails of Bucky doing lurid things. The kid’s got such tight, smooth skin; such a perfect, pretty shape. Steve’s mind slips into editorial mode, imagining what it would be like if Bucky was his, the omega’s ass moving under his hips, his back arching in his bed, his quivering hands smacked away from his cocklet while Steve rails him from behi—

Jesus fucking Christ. Stop!

His hand is halfway to his pocket when he realizes that he’s reaching for his wallet, contemplating buying a subscription just so that he can see. Disgust floods his chest, extinguishing the growl, and he snaps out of it. He pushes away from the desk and stomps over to grab the bottle of Scotch and bring it back, dumping himself back in his desk chair and heedlessly pouring another fill. 

And so what? he thinks. Who cares if he finishes the whole fucking bottle? He might as fucking well. His wife, the woman who agreed to be his life partner, who placated him with endless promises of “one day” and then went ice cold and bitter and reneged on everything she’d ever claimed to want with him, is putting him through the wringer just for shits and giggles. And now come to find out, his newest pupil, a boy for whom he’s got way too much personal interest, is selling himself on the internet—For $9.99 a month?!!! The videos seem to cost extra on a pay-per-view basis, but even still, what the ever-loving fuck?!

Steve’s whole body stiffens as something else occurs to him: Harlan’s email said that Bucky’s face is visible in the videos. Bucky’s stepfather reported that to Harlan. Which means he's seen the videos. Which means … 

Steve’s jaw ticks as he glances back to the computer screen, to Bucky’s homepage and the free lurid teaser photos that don’t show his face. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses, angry. That Drysdale guy had been a prick during the tour of the campus, and now Steve knows what a fucking pervert he is, too. Because the only way he could know that Bucky’s face is shown is if he bought the subscription and paid extra for the videos.

Steve closes out the browser window, not wanting to see any more of it. The warring disgust and temptation to be one of those creeps who pays money to view omegas degrade themselves is just too much. He yanks his wallet out of his back pocket and chucks it angrily at the couch, missing by a country mile. He takes a gulp of the Scotch, exhaling harshly at the burn as it goes down. “Fuck.”

Pornography for omegas carries a heavy social stigma—far beyond what any beta or alpha porn star would ever face, and deeper in the nature of its contempt and consequence. Omegas who do porn make big bucks, because they’re making an even bigger trade-off. Engaging in any sort of sex work virtually erases an omega's chance of mating. It hadn’t merely been upper crust snobbery in Harlan’s email, but common sense as well. People from all walks of life treat omega sex workers as an untouchable caste, damaged goods, not worthy of real relationships. 

It’s one of the few holdovers from the old days, even though porn isn’t what it once was. It’s easier to make than ever. Amateur is in. Omegas who would’ve once been exploited by large production companies now work from home, in control of their own content creation. More and more of them are choosing get rich quick schemes over mating, turning to platforms like OnlyFans and giving away their most sacred gifts to any scum bucket with a credit card. Ruining their lives. 

Steve loosens his tie and takes another gulp of liquor before setting the glass down heavily. His hands go resolutely back to his laptop with what he knows he has to do. It sickens him that he even has to do it in the first place. He considers himself a man of morals, a man who lives by his word. But in this one thing, he’s let himself become a hypocrite. He navigates to his internet bookmarks and opens the subfolder marked “Meditations.” It’s his porn stash. Favorite videos he’s saved for lonely nights. Nothing too wild, but virtually all of it involves omegas. Watching A/o porn has been his guilty pleasure for … a while.

He used to avoid it on principle, but these past few years have been different, his desires harder to ignore, the urge to bond, mate, and breed pooling in the back of his brain and the pit of his belly, winding him tight with a tension that he doesn’t like. At first, he’d just chalked it up to being a horny bastard, but that wasn’t it. The unrelenting tension came with a hollow, forlorn ache that refused to go away. Even after a good jerk off session imagining himself in one of those videos, it never went away for long. It’d taken Steve a long time to figure out what that ache really was. For the first time in his life, he felt unfulfilled. 

He only hesitates a second before right clicking on the folder and pressing delete, a grim sense of rightness settling over him at the action. He should’ve done it long ago. He shouldn’t have compromised his values in the first place. Of course he’d made all sorts of excuses for it: the porn was amateur, it was self-made, the omegas were getting off and enjoying themselves, he wasn’t paying for it, maybe the Alphas in the videos were actually their mates.

And then of course, the lamest excuse of all: that he deserved to watch it, because his erstwhile wife was ruining everything. 

He closes out the browser window and frowns at his reflection on the screen. “Lame,” he mutters. He opens Harlan’s email back up and begins drafting a response, assuring the man that he has nothing to worry about, that Steve will find Bucky a suitable match in no time.

He uses one of the school’s proprietary databases that tracks eligible bachelors, typing in search parameters for sex and nationality (any), net worth (≥ €2,000,000) and age (25-45). Alphas live longer than other designations, so he isn’t worried about being too picky on the age range. Just so long as it isn’t some young sap who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing. Bucky needs a firm hand and lots of attention. He needs an Alpha who can handle him with gentle dominance, who’ll know when to be indulgent and when to put their foot down.

Steve can’t say why he picks €2m to be the cutoff point for a prospective Alpha’s net worth. Maybe he likes the idea of Bucky being given an easy, comfortable life. And if he sets the search results to list from lowest to highest net worth, well … maybe it’s because he doesn’t like the idea of Bucky being smothered by ludicrous levels of wealth (like Parker’s undoubtedly about to be). 

The list of possibilities starts with a landowner in rural Scotland, and ends with an Israeli shipping magnate based out of Cairo. Steve scrolls through the profiles, dismissing anyone he deems unworthy of being Bucky’s mate. Too ugly, too ugly, too fat, too old, too many divorces, too ugly, too ugly. Nobody seems good enough. Steve finds flaws in every profile he sees. And underneath it all, the thought remains: he could be Bucky’s mate.

He shakes his head like he can rattle the idea loose, thinking: don’t be stupid, Rogers. He’s the headmaster here. Taking a student as a mate would be a violation of his professional duties. Not illegal, hell, not even technically against the rules, but certainly embarrassing, perhaps bordering on … unseemly. Parents entrust him with their omega sons to train them up and secure good matches for them, not to mate them himself. 

… But Harlan’s email had specifically said that nothing else mattered. Not race, nor gender, nor pedigree. ‘All that matters is that you find him a decent mate with no record of mistreatment’.

All Steve can think about is how that could be him. He could be Bucky’s Alpha. He could take care of him, provide for him, have a family with him. Pieces of an imaginary life layer up in his mind like paper mâché, one on top of the other, slowly congealing into a picture that makes the yearning in his gut that much worse. He imagines Bucky as his omega, living in the Pendergast Street cottage together, a scar on Bucky’s neck; holing up in the house’s nesting closet with him each month, fucking him through his heats, getting him pregnant, watching him give birth and nurse their baby inside a bundle of blankets that have Steve’s scent on them.

He’s always wanted kids. Peggy had, too, or so she said. They’d talked about it infrequently, but they had talked about it. How one day they’d mate an omega and live a blissful family life, have a traditional triad marriage. But that was the problem: they’d only ever talked about it. And on the rare occasion when they had, Steve was always the one to bring the topic up. He hadn’t realized that, hadn’t realized how often Peggy’s only input wound up being an obfuscating ‘one day’. 

The day when she finally nutted up and said that she’d changed her mind, that she didn’t want an omega mate in their marriage, didn’t want babies, was the day Steve finally uttered the word that’d been sitting on the back of his tongue for months: “Divorce.”

He still wants to have that intimacy with an omega: bonding them, sharing their heats, getting them pregnant and watching them grow, seeing his child in their arms. He thinks of Bucky in that role, imagines how the boy would take to it, what their first time would be like, if he’d instinctually know to go ass up in the bed or if he’d need to fight it a little, have his alpha toss him around and hold him down before he could accept a knot. If he’d get quiet right before coming, or shriek and thrash and dissolve into agonized tears.

“Fuck,” Steve groans, letting his hand slide over the top of his thigh and into the crease of his groin. He palms himself there, gripping his dick and giving a few short tugs from over the material of his slacks. He looks down and stares at the hard line his boner makes, imagining Bucky being here and seeing it, putting his hand there, how much smaller it’d be than Steve’s, how much less experienced. God, Steve wants to guide him through that, teach him how to touch a man, watch the nervousness and arousal play out on his face as he learns how to please an alpha for the first time. 

“Fuck, Honey,” he breathes, thinking about the little noises Bucky would make, the little protests and growls, and the slick that would drip down his thighs and betray him. Steve wonders how the kid touches himself, thinks back to that first day in his office, when he’d asked him how he liked to make himself come. Bucky hadn’t gotten around to answering before he’d lost control of his body, wetting up his underwear in submissive release and going a fascinated shade of red once Steve cooed at him over it. 

He’s never had a student release like that before. Not that easily. And he’s just so fucking pretty, even his anger is pretty. Steve grits his teeth at how he can feel his self restraint slipping. He thinks of Harlen’s email: find him a mate, anyone will do. Well if anyone will do, then why the fuck shouldn’t he put himself in the running?

Bucky is low hanging fruit, so fucking ripe for the picking, and Steve just knows he could get him to bend so beautifully with only a little bit of tender care. He could have him happy and content in no time, releasing at the barest show of dominance, just like before. He can still hear that warbling, humiliated whimper that came right after Bucky wet for him, the way his big, confused eyes had looked to Steve for help … 

“Goddammit.” He hastily undoes his belt and fly. He shoves his pants and underwear down to free his dick, wrapping a hand around himself and squeezing tightly at the base. His knot is already dark and aching, halfway to being erect after less than a minute of touching himself. He wrings his fist up under the head, forcing the skin over the tip and jacking off with it, guts coiling tighter at the tiny, wet sounds it makes. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He takes his hand off, not wanting to come too fast. He slumps back in the desk chair for a moment, panting, and remembers two things at almost the exact same second: He needs to check the surveillance in Bucky’s room, and he’s got a pocket masturbator in his desk drawer. Well, fuck.

He all but lunges for the drawer, yanking it open and cursing when he sees it. He grabs the toy and holds it to the tip of his cock, moving his hips to push the head through in tiny, teasing little pulses. Oh god, it feels amazing. He pulls it off and reaches for his laptop, opening the school’s surveillance mainframe and navigating to the dormitory views. He clicks on the camera for Bucky’s bedroom and toggles the night vision to on. At first it doesn’t look like much is happening, but then he catches the slight movement of Bucky’s body beneath the blanket … and he moans all over again.

“You little fuck,” he breathes, grabbing the masturbator to slide it all the way over his dick. “Ughn.”

Bucky’s touching himself from underneath the blankets. He’s lying in the same position that Steve left him in, only now his eyes are clenched shut tight and he’s panting open-mouthed into the pillow, his one shoulder angled in such a way as to suggest that he’s got his hand reached behind him. His arm moves in tiny, barely-there pulses. Steve realizes that, unless Bucky’s got the longest fingers known to mankind, he’s using a toy on himself back there. 

“Nnh.” He squeezes the silicon sleeve over his cock, dragging it up and down in time with the motions of Bucky’s shoulder, imagining that it’s Bucky he’s feeling around his cock, imagining that Bucky’s feeling him.  “Naughty boy,” he grunts through a grin. He knew Bucky would be jerking off once left alone, but this is even better. Steve regrets not watching the feed from the moment he left, as he’d love to know just what the toy looks like, and where Bucky was hiding it. Somewhere in his luggage, obviously. New students are always searched when they arrive, but clearly the boy managed to get something past bag check. Steve almost feels admiration for the sneaky little shit. 

He pushes the unmute button and listens to the audio. At first it’s just the quiet rustling of fabric on fabric, the stirring of Bucky’s body against the sheets as he pleasures himself, but then a tiny, breathy moan breaks through, and then another. Steve’s hips flex into his stroking hand. “Oh, Honey.”

Bucky’s face is pinched and he’s biting his lip—probably trying to keep quiet. The notion makes Steve smirk. Omegas are very vocal in their sexual pleasure, prone to keening and squealing and making all sorts of warbling, debased noises when they’re feeling good. It must be the most exquisite torture for Bucky to try and stay silent like this as he fucks himself on whatever toy he’s managed to sneak in. Steve watches it with a tightening belly and aching balls, twisting the rubber sleeve over himself again and again, bumping down hard against his knot on every stroke. “Fffuck.”

In the frame, Bucky’s voice catches on a single, high pitched noise as he comes, his body going rigid under the sheets and his hips pulsing harder than before. He whimpers and turns his face further into the pillow to muffle it, but Steve is already right there too, jerking himself hard and fast with the sleeve until he shouts and starts to shoot. His knot blows inside of the rubber, which isn’t as good as the real thing, but still feels fucking amazing. He keeps his dick fully buried and squeezes the toy hard over his knot, milking himself until his hand cramps and he lets go. The toy pops off his cock and falls to the floor, and Steve goes boneless in his chair as he shivers through the long wave of his orgasm. 

When it’s finally over and he looks back at the computer screen, it’s to see Bucky carefully rearranging himself under the blankets. Whatever it was that he’d used to fuck himself, he seems to be keeping it hidden between the mattress and the room’s wall. Steve plays idly with his knot while he waits for it to go down, deciding that the kid gloves need to come off now. It’s time Bucky learned just what it means to be taken in hand by an Alpha. And with the development of the online porn and Harlan’s request, there’s no longer need or time to play things slow and easy.

Tomorrow, Steve’ll finally do what he should’ve done from the get-go, what he’s been wanting to do ever since Bucky trounced into his office with a bad attitude and false bravado. From here on out, he’s going to take proper care of that boy. Starting tomorrow, he’s going to handle Bucky’s education himself. And if things progress from there? Well, Harlan said anyone will do.

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[monster-cock69]

winterspider omegaverse early 1800sish au where alpha Bucky's a farmer and omega Peter's a school teacher that just moved west with his family and Bucky's parents die and leave him the farm, so he decides he finally needs to learn to read so he can properly handle all of the paperwork

[braveclementine]

Chapter 3

Warnings: None.

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs: Elizabeth Silvertongue and Clementine Greenleaf. I also own Clementines' brother Donavan. The following OCs are owned by other Wattpad writers as this is a collaboration project. Their OCs are on the face claim page. I do not condone any copying of this.

I only had one class today, which I was thankful for. The study of East Asian history with Professor Rogers, who I was hoping was the handsome blond man that Clementine had said taught her American History. 

Clementine had already headed out for one of her nursing classes and so I had the dorm to myself. I didn't stay in it long, however, deciding to go to the library and study there. It was definitely a placebo affect to feel like I was getting more done in the library than if I stayed in the dorm. 

When my timer went off as a ten minute warning for class, I scooped everything up and headed off for the classroom. 

I hurried through the hallway, turning the corner, slamming into someone. I lost my balance, falling backwards, before something hard wrapped around my waist. I felt a spinning sensation before my back hit something. 

I let out a small gasp, finding that I was pressed up against the wall, Professor Barnes in front of me. His arm around my waist where he had caught me, feet planted rather defensively. I couldn't remember how to breathe or speak, only staring at him until I realized my mouth was open. 

"Than-" 

"Watch where you're going." He interrupted me, shoving away from the wall, stalking down the hallway. 

I watched him go, feeling completely humiliated, before turning and continuing down to where my history class was. 

Professor Rogers was indeed the Professor my class, but after seeing Professor Barnes, my excitement was not high enough. 

"Miss Silvertongue." Professor Rogers greeted me immediately. He looked amazing in his light blue shirt he was wearing, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I could see behind him a group of girls muttering behind their hands as they watched him. "Good afternoon. Your seat is right here." 

He pointed to a seat at the front of the classroom, right in front of his desk. I was going to have a hard time concentrating this year. 

I quickly sat down where he had assigned my seat, while he quickly arranged the other students as they came in. As the bell rang, the last of the students filing in quickly, he closed the door behind him and smiled at the class. 

"Good Afternoon class. Firstly, I would like to make sure that you all know this is Survey of East Asian History class. So far, everyone seems to be in the right spot, but if anyone believes they are in the wrong class, let me know now." 

No one said a thing, though some girls behind me giggled. 

Professor Rogers grinned, "Alright then. Let's get started." He picked up a stack of papers from his desk and started to hand them out. "As you can see, this is the Syllabus of which I'll be teaching from this semester. You will have a small ten question quiz every week at the beginning of class, which will be timed for twenty minutes. And you will have on exam halfway through the year and an end of the year project." 

There were some groans in the class, but I felt rather light hearted at that. One exam was fine by me. Hopefully the project wouldn't be to hard. 

I surveyed the syllabus as mine was given to me. It seemed he had organized everything based on the country. Starting with Vietnam, then China, Japan, Korea, and so on. That might actually be quite nice. 

"So," Professor Rogers said with a grin, "What is East Asia? Anyone want to take a guess?" 

I hesitantly raised a hand and he nodded to me. "Well, I suppose a collection of different countries that are located on the East side of the continent of Asia?" 

His eyes seemed to twinkle at my answer and he let out a chuckle, "Well, in all technicalities, yes. The countries of East Asia include China, Japan, South and North Korea, Mongolia, Hong Kong, Taiwan, Macao, Vietnam, Singapore, The Philippines, Laos, Thailand, Indonesia, Cambodia, Myanmar also called Burma, Brunei, Timor-Leste, and Malaysia." He wrote each country out in clear cursive. 

I immediately copied down the list on one side of my composition notebook, labelling at the top 'East Asia'. 

"And, just so we can get a clear picture, the countries of West Asia are Iran, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, Oman, Qatar, Jordan, Lebanon, Kuwait, Iraq, Georgia- no not the state-" That got some laughter from the class "-Yemen, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Cyprus, Israel, Syria, Palestine, and Egypt. You may notice that most of these countries are what we would also call the 'Middle East'. However, do not consider West Asian and the Middle East to be synonymous for each other, because they are not. They just share many countries. I would also like everyone to note that Palestine is not exactly a country of their own. It is a collection of people who live on the Gaza strip, given to them by Israel. Any questions so far?" 

On the other side of the class, an Asian girl shot her hand up. 

"Yes, Miss Sun?" Professor Rogers asked politely. 

"Professor, when you were listing the countries of East Asia, you separated both Hong Kong and the Republic of China from Mainland China. Why?" She asked. 

"I listed Hong Kong separately because of its' history as a British Colony." Professor Rogers replied, tapping the country name with his Expo marker. "It has been both a part of China, and also part of Britain and therefore, separated as it will be talked about separately from China. Taiwan on the other hand, is a separate country from China, though some people will say that it is still part of China, depending on who you talk to. We could also make an argument for Tibet being separate from China as well." 

When the girl did not look convinced, Professor Rogers added, "Would you consider Ukraine to be a part of Russia?" 

"Well, no, Ukraine broke away from Russia." The girl said. 

"I would say you can compare Taiwan to China the way you compare Ukraine to Russia." Professor Rogers said. I could tell that his tone was friendly, but there seemed to be a fierce protective note in his voice. It seemed he cared about the freedom of Taiwan very much. I could respect that. 

"Now, who can tell me, what is history really about?" Professor Rogers asked, looking around. "What makes history? Yes, Mr. Black?" 

"Battles, events, things that occur and we memorize the dates of them long enough for our exams and then forget again almost immediately after?" The boy answered with a cocky grin. Some of the girls in front of him giggled but I rolled my eyes, looking back down at my loose-leaf paper. 

"Partially." Professor Rogers said, not as amused though he wore a complacent smile. 

I raised my hand and was called on. "People, Professor? After all, the battles and events can't happen without people involved." 

"And that's the answer." Professor Rogers sounded pleased and I couldn't help but let the butterflies that had been caged up in my heart since my run in with Professor Barnes out. They fluttered in my stomach, making me shift in my seat as his blue eyes pierced my brown ones. I found that I wanted his praise more than anything in the world at that moment. "Perfect." 

I nearly fainted. 

From there, he had us get our textbooks out, following along. He did not read word for word the introduction - I was glad for this since I can't stand being read to- exploring the details more in depth. 

At the end of the lesson, he had another piece of paper for us, which was actually three pages, stapled together. 

"This is a glossary of words that will last the semester. They may or may not show up on tests so it's best to know what they are and their definitions or meanings." Professor Rogers said, handing the sheet out. 

My favorite part was that it was set up alphabetically. My OCD agreed with it a lot. 

"Class dismissed. I will see you all Thursday." Professor Rogers said, and the students started to stream out.

I quickly slipped the glossary terms into my East Asian History binder, placing the binger and textbook into my backpack, before noticing that Professor Rogers had stopped in front of my table. 

"Yes, Professor?" I asked, fighting back the instinct to swallow hard, nervous as I realized how close he was to me. I could smell his cologne, which wasn't overpowering, but comforting. I wished I knew how to describe it. 'Woodsy and homelike' seemed to cliche. 

"Well, I'd hate to be intrusive, but I was wondering if you were busy Saturday and Sunday mornings. Specifically between eight and eleven in the morning?" 

"Uh- n-no." I stuttered out my answer, head spinning with sudden questions. Most specifically, for what? 

He answered that quickly enough, "Every year I choose a student that I believe is competent to work for me. You'll be paid, of course, $15 an hour. It would be miscellaneous work. Helping me grade homework- not for this class but American or European history- etcetera." 

"Yes, I would love that." I answered easily, though a little astounded. 

There was a noise in the doorway and I jumped a little at the suddenness of it. It was Professor Barnes, leaning on the doorway, his dark eyes brooding. I immediately looked away, grabbing my backpack and trying to focus solely on Professor Rogers, "When would you like me to start?" 

"Next week. Here," He walked over to the desk, grabbing a small slip of paper that looked a bit like a business card, but not quite. "This is my work phone number and address. Saturdays will be spent here since I also have office hours that day. But Sundays will be spent at this address. I may change things up which is why you have my phone number so that after you contact me, I will be able to let you know if things change. Agreed?" 

"Sounds perfectly in order." I said easily, reaching out and taking the card from him. I slipped it into the safety of my purse, before sliding it into my backpack. "Thank you for the opportunity Professor." 

"Of course." Professor Rogers smiled and looked over at Professor Barnes, "What's up Buck?" 

Professor Barnes rolled his eyes, something that I noticed made Professor Rogers smirk. I quickly stepped to the side as Professor Barnes decided to move at the same time I went through the door, moving past me without another word. Professor Rogers gave him a look that seemed to be slightly exasperated before he said, "Have a nice day Miss Silvertongue." 

"You too Professo- Professors." I quickly said over my shoulder, before leaving the room. I sped down the hallway, excited to get back to the dorm. . . and away from Professor Barnes. 

ꨄ︎

"Hey." Clementine greeted me the moment I stepped inside the dorm room. "The grocery store down the street that you applied to called the dorm phone today and left a message. You got hired. Tuesdays and Thursdays from- well you know what, here." She tapped a piece of paper that was sitting on the table. 

She had written out the entire phone message in neat cursive and I smiled fondly at her. "You're the best Clem." 

"I know, now make sure to bring me home free food from work." She said with a smirk, before turning back to the American history textbook she was pouring over, making side notes in the margins, comparing them to an assignment sheet. 

"Essay already for history?" I asked, surprised. 

"It's easy." Clementine shrugged. "It's more an opinion essay than anything else. We can take one event from American history and compare it to something else in the rest of the worlds' history that shows that history can repeat itself. Then what we think should be done to keep it from happening again." 

I couldn't think of a comparison off the top of my head, but then again my mind wasn't on American history to begin with. I was thinking of the way Professor Rogers fingers had brushed the tips of mine as he gave me the card. And also, surprisingly, of Professor Barnes brooding stare. 

I was sure the darker Professor hated me, but there was something about his dark persona that was drawing me in. I wonder if he did it on purpose, to prove that Psychology really did work. His dark mysterious personality drew curious people in. 

I rolled my eyes, trying to push both Professors out of my head. They were like thirty something and I was twenty-two. 

"Well, I'm going to have two jobs." I said, unable to keep the happiness out of my voice. Clementine looked up with interest. "Professor Rogers hired me as a. . . assistant of sorts? A teacher aide? I'm not sure. Basically to help grade other peoples' stuff in other classes. So maybe I'll get to grade your homework." 

"Well, don't go easy on me." Clementine said, getting up from the table, going over and grabbing an orange. I watched her peel it and then started to make homemade orange juice. "By the way, I was thinking this weekend we could go to a few of the orchards, pick our own fruit? It'll be a bit of a drive, but this'll be the one weekend we won't be slammed with homework and you and I both know apples will keep for a while if we put them in the fridge." 

I smiled, nodding, "Great idea." Then I left her with her history homework and I went off to call the grocery store, telling them that I would be there first shift on Thursday. 

[sesamestreep]

a little friend-iversary gift 💕

for the amazing, magical @firstelevens: a fic set in her critically acclaimed and universally beloved teachers AU. Thanks for all the good advice and hand holding and 8 hour video calls this past year, and for always generously welcoming me to play around in the sandboxes you build!

The idea starts innocently enough. Well, okay, maybe “innocently” is a bit of a stretch. Sam’s an English teacher; he should know better than to try and make words mean something they don’t. Perhaps the best way to explain it is that he didn’t come up with the idea himself. Everything that comes after is definitely his fault, but the inception of the idea? That can definitely be blamed on his students.

It’s during the period where he’s got study hall that the fateful conversation happens. He normally doesn’t pay attention to what the students chat about as long as they don’t get too loud or rambunctious. He usually has his own work that he needs to get done, and it’s better to just leave them to their own devices rather than micromanage their behavior. But on this particular day, Aida comes in late with a pass from the guidance office and barely responds to Sam’s greeting before she’s sliding into a desk next to her friends and urgently whispering about something to them. That captures his attention pretty effectively. And it’s not his fault that they’re sitting close to his desk, close enough to overhear with minimal effort.

If it had been about other students or personal matters, Sam would have probably checked out immediately and gone back to his work. He makes it his policy not to get overly invested in student gossip, unless someone’s in danger or the student involved comes to him personally to talk about it. This isn’t that. This, it turns out, is faculty gossip.

“Heartbreaking news,” Aida declares somewhat dramatically. 

“Oh, God,” Courtney says, “did something happen with your scholarship application?!”

“What? No. I mean, Mr. Murdock helped me finish it, so it’s, like, all set now, yay! But that’s not the news!”

“What happened?”

“Mr. Murdock BROKE MY HEART!”

Sam’s eyebrows raise at that. Matt’s been working at this school for a few years now and he’s always seemed totally solid in Sam’s opinion. Sam has never once seen him be weird or inappropriate with any student, to the point that Foggy often teases him for being too guarded with them. Most of the students adore him anyway, though, so this conversation is more than a little surprising.

“Oh, here we go,” Courtney says, and Sam doesn’t have to look over to see an eye roll when he can hear one in her tone so clearly. “Aida, you’ve gotta stop listening to every rumor about the teachers here! They’re not all secretly dating or like mysteriously independently wealthy.”

“Yeah, but that thing about Coach Barton LARP-ing in his spare time turned out to be true, though!”

“Okay, good point.”

“Besides, I’m like convinced that Mr. Murdock and Mr. Nelson are dating.”

“Mr. Nelson wears a ring, dingus,” Bridgit chimes in. 

“And Mr. Murdock doesn’t,” Courtney adds. “Case closed.”

“Listen, I won’t go through all my evidence again,” Aida replies. “Because…I’ve finally seen the light.”

“Wait, what?!”

“Are you feeling alright?!”

“Yes,” Aida says, bravely. “I just came from Mr. Murdock’s office and we were talking about my scholarship applications and that got us talking about how I volunteer at the senior center and I was saying that I was going to help at their Valentine’s Day event this week and then I asked if he was doing anything special for the holiday and…”

“Aida!” Bridgit shrieks “You did not!”

“It’s not that weird to ask!” She pauses for a second, clearly thinking it over. “I mean, is it?”

“It’s so weird. What’s wrong with you?” Courtney says.

“Well, he was more normal about it than either of you. He just said he didn’t have anything special planned, that he’d probably have a chill night in.”

There’s a significant pause, before Bridgit asks, “Sorry, how does this qualify as heartbreaking news exactly?”

“Um, maybe because Kris had a meeting with Mr. Nelson yesterday where he said he was going to cook this big, fancy meal for his partner and said that it was going to take days to prepare?? And Mr. Murdock isn’t doing anything, so they’re obviously not together.”

“We literally already knew that.”

“I didn’t!”

“That’s because you’re delusional,” Courtney says, not quite gently. “And you have a weird parasocial relationship with our guidance counselors.”

“That’s not true! I just thought, based on how they are when they're together at school, they must have something going on outside of it!”

“Despite the fact that one of them wears a wedding ring and references a partner all the time, and one of them doesn’t and refuses to confirm or deny the existence of a significant other at all.”

“Despite the fact that Kamala and Miles totally saw him with a beautiful, blonde woman at a Nationals game that one time.”

“He can have beautiful female friends, you know,” Aida protests. “I stand by that. I was just maybe wrong about him and Mr. Nelson.”

“Listen, everyone knows those two are, like, work married. They’re just not married married for real. There’s no way.”

“Yeah, Mr. Murdock is for sure straight, too.”

“You don’t know that,” Aida replies, defensively. “I mean, not that I’m speculating, but you can’t know. Not for sure. He’d never talk about that.”

“No, of course not, but like…he is. Just look at him!”

“That’s offensive,” Aida sniffs. “You can’t tell anyone’s sexuality by looking at them!”

“Sometimes you can.”

“Yeah, some people are just so straight, you know?”

“Ugh, whatever,” Aida says, sliding down further into her chair. “No one understands the depth of my despair.”

“Penny told me that she doesn’t even think Mr. Murdock’s met Mr. Nelson’s partner.”

“That’s crazy! Even if they’re not dating, they’re like besties, right?”

“Maybe it’s just at work,” Courtney says. “Maybe they’re indifferent to each other in real life.”

“I guess I just always imagined like, even if they were dating other people, they still like hung out together outside of school, you know?”

Bridgit snorts. “If I was dating a guy and he was that close to his co-worker, I don’t think I’d want them hanging out outside of school, to be honest.”

Aida gasps. “God, you’re so right. Their partners must be so jealous!”

Next to her, Courtney sighs in frustration. “I feel like you almost learned a lesson about not getting too obsessed with other people’s personal lives there and then you went right back to making shit up again.”

“What? I was just saying, hypothetically, if they are dating other people, it must be weird!”

“Yeah, okay. I need help with my Calc homework, if you’re done being creepy about the faculty here.”

The conversation obviously loses Sam’s interest there, but he spends the rest of the day thinking about it, formulating a plan that he can only call, well, evil.

*

“I have a really, really stupid idea,” he says to Bucky later, while he’s grading papers on the couch and Bucky is frowning at the saucepan he’s got on the stove. “And I need you to talk me out of it.”

Bucky looks up at that to frown at Sam instead. Luckily, frowning at things is kind of Bucky’s love language, so Sam isn’t worried.

“When have I ever successfully talked you out of anything, Sam?” he asks, amusement peaking through in his tone and the way he tilts his head. “I don’t think I’m the man for the job.”

Sam sighs and tells him the whole study hall gossip saga anyway, which just ends with Bucky looking even more confused and concerned.

“God,” he says, rubbing his forehead, “you don’t think they talk about us like that, do you?”

“Oh, I’m sure they say worse about us,” Sam replies, feeling both pity for Bucky’s poor nerves and amusement at his innocence. “I’m sure they say worse about Matt and Foggy, honestly. This was probably on the tame end.”

Bucky considers this for a moment. “You know, I’ve heard students talking about Matt having a girlfriend before, or a wife or whatever, and how she must hate how close he is with Foggy. I didn’t know this was a thing, though. I just thought it was two students being crazy, you know?”

“Oh, no. There’s lore. And it’s been getting more intense since Foggy came back from break with a wedding ring. The kids have been going bonkers over it. They’re convinced there’s some mystery afoot.”

Bucky shakes his head. “We might need to give them more homework, if they have the time to come up with this stuff.”

Sam stifles a laugh at that. “Or at least a unit on creative writing so they can get this kind of thing out of their systems.”

“These are all good ideas, though,” Bucky says, with a small smile. “So I don’t understand what your bad one is. You want me to talk you out of giving these kids detention? Or telling Foggy what you overheard?”

“God, no! Nothing that sensible. I told you it was a stupid idea, Buck. Remember?”

“It’s apparently so stupid that I can’t even conceive of it, based on what I know now.”

“I want to fan the flames a little,” Sam admits, only slightly embarrassed to own up to such a thing in front of his boyfriend.

“Fan the flames…how exactly?”

“Listen,” Sam sighs, as he pushes himself up to a seated position, “I know I’m supposed to be a grown up about this stuff, but Foggy gave me so much shit when you and I were…”

“Dancing around each other for the better part of a year?” Bucky suggests, with a smile.

“I was going to say ‘figuring our stuff out’, but sure, that works too,” Sam says. “I just want to give him a little grief back.”

“You still haven’t told me your plan, you know,” Bucky says, knowingly. 

“I—” Sam starts to say and then pauses. “I just want to remind you, before I explain this, that you love me and you think I’m a cool, mature person most of the time.”

“Well, half of that’s true.”

Sam narrows his eyes at him. “It better be the first half!”

Bucky smiles. “It is. Proceed.”

Once Sam is done explaining the plan, he fully expects to see Bucky standing there, hands on his hips, frowning in a classic disappointed dad pose. Sam also expects that will be all it takes to talk him out of this, that another adult’s disapproval is all he needs to act like an adult himself. What he’s not expecting is for Bucky to open and close his mouth a few times and clearly struggle with what to say first. Sam’s at the point of formulating an apology and maybe, you know, fleeing the country in embarrassment, when Bucky finally speaks up.

“I don’t know how to say this right, Sam, like in a way that conveys the depths of my love and admiration for you, but I guess…do you want my credit card?”

Sam beams, and does not tell Bucky to return anything he’s bought for him in preparation for Valentine’s Day because this is all he’ll ever need, but he does think it. He thinks it very much.

*

Sam wishes he could say that his own childish antics didn’t fully distract him when Valentine’s Day comes around, but he’d definitely be lying. He’s giddy to the point of antsy to hear what happens, as a matter of fact, and, luckily for him, he has study hall on the day in question. He trusts the students who started this all will be able to give him some updates, at the very least.

Aida doesn’t disappoint. She sprints into Sam’s classroom just as the bell is ringing, towing Bridgit behind her, and basically Tokyo drifts into her seat next to Courtney.

“Oh my GOD,” she whisper-shouts while trying to catch her breath. “You will not believe what Bridgit and I just heard!”

“What is it?” Courtney asks, not sounding that intrigued despite the theatrics.

“Mr. Nelson’s spouse sent him this huge bouquet of roses—”

“Like freaking enormous,” Bridgit interjects.

“Yeah, like, whatever you’re thinking of for a massive bouquet of roses, think bigger,” Aida says. “Anyway, he got this ridiculous floral arrangement delivered to the school and it took up, like, his whole desk and everyone in the office is giving him such a hard time about it, because it’s just so much, and now he’s giving away roses to everyone!”

“Ew, he gave you a rose?” Courtney asks, horrified.

“No, not students,” Aida replies, affronted. “He’s giving them to the staff and stuff. Although I heard there’s a small arrangement of them at the front desk and they were letting students take from there, if they wanted. But I only know about it because Nurse Palmer had like four of them in a little cup in her office when I went to see her.”

“Oh my god, why were you at the nurse?!”

“She got smacked in the head with a volleyball in gym,” Bridgit supplies. “Again.”

“My peripheral vision sucks, okay? I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Fine. Why is Mr. Nelson giving away the flowers? Won’t his partner be mad?”

“Nurse Palmer told me that he can’t bring the flowers home because he said his cat would just attack them and make a mess.”

“Aren’t roses toxic to cats?”

“No, that’s lilies,” Bridgit says, wisely. 

“Still,” Courtney says, scandalized, “I feel like his partner would know that! Why would they send him flowers he can’t bring home?”

“I don’t know,” Aida replies, smugly. “Maybe they just wanted to remind a certain co-worker of his that he’s taken…”

“Oh my god! Not this again!”

“Well! It’s like you said, his partner would know that their cat would destroy the flowers! So, clearly, the flowers were never meant to make it home! It was obviously all for show!”

“Sending your partner flowers to their place of work always is,” Courtney says, darkly. 

“So petty,” Bridgit agrees.

“I like flowers,” Aida objects, pulling a notebook out of her backpack hesitantly.

“There’s nothing wrong with flowers! It’s the method of delivery that I find tacky.”

“Yeah, that’s true, I guess.”

“How did Mr. Murdock take it?”

“I don’t know,” Aida says. “I haven’t been to the office today.”

“I think my lab partner Gabe has a meeting with him this afternoon,” Bridgit adds. “I should tell him to snoop.”

“Oh my god,” Aida coos, delightedly.

“You’re both maniacs,” Courtney says.

“Oh, yeah, like you’re not a little curious! Be for real!”

“I’m not! I don’t care about this at all!”

“Okay, so if Gabe finds out anything, I shouldn’t tell you?”

There’s a meaningful pause while Sam is turned away, pretending to look through his file cabinet. “I mean, obviously you should tell me,” Courtney grumbles. “But only because I like to be included.”

“Right, of course,” Aida says.

Sam finishes with the pretend business he had with the filing cabinet and turns back towards his desk. “Hey, Courtney,” he says, feigning casualness. “You got that big game against Horizons this week, right?”

“Yeah, it’s Friday, Mr. Wilson,” she replies.

“How’s the team feeling?”

“Okay,” she says. “I think we’re ready but, you know, they’re having a good season, so…could go either way.”

“I hear ya,” he says, settling back down at his desk. “Well, good luck!”

“Thanks!”

“Mr. Wilson, have you been by the main office today?” Aida asks, sweetly, and if he hadn’t been anticipating it, he might have missed the wide-eyed look Bridgit shoots her immediately afterwards, but he doesn’t. He does catch it, though, and enjoys it immensely.

“Not since first thing this morning when I came in,” Sam replies, innocently. “Why?”

“I heard they’re giving out roses.”

Sam schools his features into a mildly perplexed look. “Roses? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Aida says. “One of the teachers or someone got a bouquet delivered for Valentine’s Day or something?”

“Huh,” Sam replies, channeling his inner Angela Bassett and turning in what he hopes is an Oscar-worthy performance. “You know, maybe it’s just me, but I’ve always thought sending someone flowers at their place of work for Valentine’s Day is a little…much.”

“Totally,” Bridgit agrees.

“I was just saying,” Courtney adds, pleased.

“Are you doing anything special for the holiday, Mr. Wilson?” Aida asks, matching Sam’s faux-innocence with some of her own.

“Besides spending my day with the best students in the world, you mean?” he asks, all charm.

“Yeah,” Aida says, with a discreet eye roll in her friends’ direction. “I meant besides that.”

“Nothing much, really. I’ll probably go get a rose from the main office, though, since you gave me the tip on that and since no one bothered to send me any flowers at work.”

The girls all exchange an unimpressed look at that, which mostly tells him that they save gossiping about his personal life for when they are, mercifully, not in his classroom. All things considered, he appreciates the restraint.

*

Sam is still cleaning what remains of his last class’s lesson off the whiteboard (because several students lingered behind to ask him questions about their assignments that he definitely answered in the handout for it that he gave them already) when he hears a knock on the doorframe of his classroom. He turns to find Foggy leaning there with a single red rose in his hand.

“Hey there, Romeo,” Sam calls. “How can I help you?”

“Sam Wilson,” Foggy says, too earnestly, as he approaches, “will you accept this rose?”

“Oh, thank God,” Sam replies, as he reaches out to take it. “I was dreading having to debrief with Chris Harrison after this, if you didn’t pick me.”

“How could I not? After all, I believe I have you to thank for making today one of the weirdest days of my life.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Sam says, twirling the stem between his fingers.

“Really? You mean to tell me you’re not responsible for sending me a frankly absurd amount of roses with a note that implied I’d always be your sugar plum?”

“The note was meant to say outright that you’d always be my sugar plum, Foggy. I hope the kid at the flower shop accurately captured my vision. I certainly paid enough for it!”

Foggy shakes his head, smiling. “I still don’t know what you were up to with this, Sam, but it must have cost you a fortune.”

“Well, I figured that your no-good husband would never shower you with lavish gifts at work and I thought you deserved something nice.”

“Listen, I know I’ve been upping my skincare game lately, but I don’t think I look good enough to pass for having been born yesterday,” Foggy says. “What’s your angle?”

“I still can’t believe you knew it was me.”

“It has the trademark Sam Wilson charm all over it.”

Sam smiles and leans against the edge of his desk. “I didn’t really embarrass you that bad, did I?”

“Only a little,” Foggy replies. “I assume I did something to deserve it.”

“Yeah, you made the mistake of befriending me in grad school and staying in contact ever since.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s a rookie move, for sure.”

“And you didn’t invite me to your wedding.”

“No one was invited to my wedding! We got married at City Hall!”

“A likely story.”

“If you’re really upset about that, you’re going to have to get in line,” Foggy says. “My mom is definitely more annoyed at me than you are.”

“It wasn’t that, don���t worry. The kids in my study hall were just gossiping again,” Sam adds, finally dropping the bit. “About how Matt’s girlfriend and your partner are probably jealous of your bromance.”

“God, these kids,” Foggy laughs, shaking his head. “Couldn't you assign them more homework or something?”

“Bucky and I are on it.”

“Thanks.”

“Some of it’s on you for just showing up for the new semester with a wedding ring and no explanation, you know.”

Foggy sighs. “I know, but it’s always weird finding the line with students. I don’t care what they know about my personal life, but I don’t want to find out I overshared when it’s too late and I’ve got some upset parent emailing me about how I’m setting a bad example for their kid by implying I date sometimes.”

“Well, your dating days are done, at least,” Sam says, sympathetically.

“Yes, but my gay marriage days are just beginning, which is a whole new can of worms.”

“True enough,” Sam replies. “Hey, if you learn anything about navigating this kind of thing, be sure to report back to the rest of us.”

“Why is that, Sam? You got gay marriage on your mind for some reason?”

Sam feels his face heat. “Shut up,” he says. “This whole situation today was supposed to give me a reprieve from you being smug about my love life for once.”

“There’s nothing on earth that could stop me being smug about that, sweetheart, but I applaud you for trying.”

“Applaud Bucky too,” Sam replies. “He footed the bill for this overture.”

“Did he?” Foggy asks, sounding reluctantly impressed. “Well, I hope you two weren’t saving up for anything important, because these flowers probably bankrupted him.”

“We’ll manage. Consider it a wedding present from us.”

Foggy nods, absently. “You know, speaking of Bucky…sorry, I actually don’t know the right way to say this…”

Sam feels himself tense. Even though he trusts Bucky completely and is happier with him than he can remember being with anyone else, the look on Foggy’s face is giving him pause. What if Foggy’s about to say he’s never actually liked Bucky? What if something happened to him and Sam somehow hadn’t heard? That seems pretty unlikely, but it’s not like Foggy to be cagey about anything.

“What is it?” Sam asks, pretending as hard as he can to be normal.

“It’s just—and maybe this isn’t my place to say, but—I just think, if Bucky’s not meeting your needs and you feel the need to act out like this, well, I have to say something—”

Sam sputters as he tries not to laugh and fails miserably. “Goddammit, Foggy!”

“I’m just saying, if you’re not feeling satisfied, I’d be happy to take him aside and give him a few pointers, you know, maybe point out a few erogenous zones he’s never heard of…”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sam replies, getting himself under control.

“I know it would be an awkward conversation,” Foggy says, hand to heart, “but you’re my friend and I’d do it for your sake.”

“Thanks, man. That’s really too kind of you. But why don’t you save that mojo for your husband?”

“Well, not to brag, but I’m doing well enough in that department that he doesn’t feel the need to send people prank bouquets just to start rumors about them.”

“I bet he wouldn’t even be able to find the time to think of it honestly.”

“Nope,” Foggy replies. “He’s far too sexually satisfied for such puerile pranks.”

Sam snorts. “I’m also perfectly satisfied, thank you!”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Sam says, just as another knock sounds on his door. “Come in!”

“Hey, Sam,” Matt says, as he enters. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No worries. Foggy was just insulting my boyfriend’s lovemaking skills.”

“Sounds about right,” Matt replies, coming to stand next to Foggy. “You ready to head out?”

“If you are,” Foggy says, and Matt inclines his head. “Thanks again for all the unnecessary drama, Sam.”

“You’re so welcome, Foggy. Happy Valentine’s Day to you and your mysterious, jealous partner and to Matt’s beautiful, blonde girlfriend.”

Matt’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “My what?”

“Some woman a couple of students saw you with at a Nationals game, apparently,” Sam says. “I didn’t even know you liked baseball.”

“I can take it or leave it, honestly,” Matt says, “but Karen loves it, so we went to a game when she was in town.”

“Oh, okay,” Foggy says, comprehension dawning. “I heard that one too and I could not for the life of me figure out who they were talking about.”

“You were at that conference and your flight home got delayed,” Matt supplies. 

“Right. Lucky me.”

“You fared better than the Nationals did, at least,” Matt says.

“Though, that’s not a high bar to clear,” Sam adds.

Matt acknowledges that with a tilt of his head. “True enough,” he says. “That’s really where that rumor came from?”

“Apparently. Unless you’ve been cavorting around town with multiple beautiful, blonde women.”

“Not that I know of,” Matt says. “Though, you’re blond, right, Foggy?”

“Yes, and in the right light, I can be mistaken for a beautiful woman.”

“I can’t tell if that’s the sort of comment I should agree or disagree with to avoid insulting you.”

“And they say keeping the mystery alive in your marriage is difficult,” Foggy replies, with an arch look in Sam’s direction.

“Hey, is that why Matt refuses to wear his ring at school?” Sam asks. “Just to keep everyone guessing? Or is it something like how some couples will pretend not to know each other at parties and pick each other up as if they’re strangers?”

“Sure, let’s go with that and not the fact that Matt keeps conveniently forgetting to get his ring resized.”

Matt frowns. “I resent the implication that I’m deliberately avoiding it for no apparent reason.”

“Matt, it’s been like two months!”

“And I’m very easily distracted!”

Foggy sighs. “You see what I have to deal with?”

“This is why I sent you flowers,” Sam replies. “To remind you that you have options.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Matt says, darkly. “I’ll get the ring re-sized this weekend, I promise.”

“Well, actually, you might do better to wait,” Sam says. “Just think of how many idiot boyfriends are going to propose tonight without checking their girlfriend’s ring size beforehand. Jewelers are going to be busy for a few weeks from that alone.”

“That’s a good point,” Matt replies, thoughtfully.

“Why are you discouraging him?” Foggy asks, desperately. “Haven’t you interfered in my relationship enough for one day?”

“Foggy, you and Matt could get matching neon signs installed over your heads that say ‘happily married’ and the students would still think you’re seeing other people. A wedding ring on Matt’s finger is not going to do the trick.”

“Yeah, you’re right. In fact, it’s almost like I don’t care at all what the students say about my love life. I’d just like the man I love to wear the damn ring I bought him.”

“It’s actually because he wants other people to stop hitting on me at the grocery store when he’s like two feet away,” Matt says, leaning into Foggy’s side in an obvious bid for attention, which Foggy immediately indulges by putting his arm around Matt’s shoulders. 

Sam snorts and then feels bad about it. “Does that happen a lot?”

“Let’s just say I mostly go grocery shopping by myself these days,” Foggy says. “The masses cannot be trusted around Matt and his beautiful face.”

“You’re a brave man, Foggy Nelson.”

“For what? Going grocery shopping alone? Or being in love with Matt?”

“Both,” Sam replies.

“The dangers of marrying up,” Foggy says, and Matt elbows him immediately for it. “Someone ought to warn Bucky.”

“Hey now,” Sam warns, but he ruins the effect by laughing. “Bucky’s very handsome.”

“And you’re stunning! You’re a literal earth angel, Sam! They wrote that song about you!”

“Damn, if I’d known all it took to get these kinds of compliments from you was a floral arrangement, I’d have splurged years ago.”

“Sure, I go to one baseball game with a female friend and the rumor that I have a girlfriend persists for a year,” Matt says, grouchily, “but you guys talk like this all the time to each other and there’s no rumors about you two dating.”

“That’s true,” Sam concedes. “It is kind of weird, now that you mention it.”

“It’s because there’s no drama there,” Foggy says. “Sam and Bucky get rumors because there’s tension. They’re in the same department. You and me get rumors because there’s the potential for scandal. Me and Sam, our relationship is too pure to speculate about.”

“Too pure? Did I not just walk in on you offering to give his boyfriend sex tips a few minutes ago?”

“Yes, you did,” Foggy says, unapologetic. “And I stand by that offer, by the way. It could help!”

“No, thank you,” Sam replies, firmly. “As I said, save that energy for Matt.”

“Yeah, save that energy for me,” Matt says, giving Foggy a significant look. “And don’t think I missed that ‘marrying up’ comment a while back. I heard it and we’re going to discuss it in the car.”

Foggy sighs. “This is what I get for marrying a guidance counselor.”

Sam smiles at him. “Good thing you love him, huh?”

“A very good thing,” Foggy says. “Otherwise these persistent rumors about how he’s got a beautiful model girlfriend at home because he’s so straight would really get me down.”

“A beautiful model girlfriend who’s insanely threatened by his relationship to you, though.”

“Good point.”

“Well, I hope you and Bucky didn’t spend all your money on flowers for my husband,” Matt says. “That would make your own Valentine’s Day plans pretty bleak.”

Sam laughs. “We’re not literally bankrupt, don’t worry.”

“Just morally, then,” Foggy replies.

“Yeah. And my only regret is that you couldn’t even take the flowers home. Seems a waste. Ziggy would really go after them?”

“Oh, Ziggy would take any flowers or plants in the apartment as an act of warfare,” Foggy says.

“We tried to bring home a fern once,” Matt adds, looking haunted. “Didn’t survive the night.”

“He still hasn’t forgiven me for bringing Matt home,” Foggy says, shaking his head.

“My bad,” Sam says, considering the rose in his hand and thinking how Alpine would feel about it. After a moment of consideration, he realizes he’s getting a little ahead of himself and banishes the thought to the back of his mind.

“Honestly, it might have been more fun distributing them to everyone here than it would have been to just keep them at our house,” Foggy says, with a shrug. “Really got me in the spirit.”

“You’re welcome, then.”

“I still don’t know if I’d go so far as to thank you for it.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam replies. “I was talking to Matt.”

“I’m welcome?” Matt asks, perplexed. “For what, exactly?”

“Getting your husband in the Valentine’s Day spirit,” Sam says, with a wink.

“Sam just winked at you,” Foggy adds, for Matt’s benefit.

“Makes sense.”

“I believe he’s trying to imply that any sex we’ll be having tonight is his doing.”

“I’m following, Foggy. Thank you.”

“Little does he know—”

“We really should be going,” Matt says, grabbing Foggy by the arm. “Have a good night, Sam.”

“And remember: my offer to give Bucky some pointers is always open,” Foggy calls over his shoulder as Matt drags him bodily from the room. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says, waving them both off.

Once they’re gone, he focuses his attention back on cleaning up his classroom and getting his things together, which takes only a few more minutes. When that’s done, he shuts off the lights and closes the door behind him before making his way down the hallway to Bucky’s classroom.

Pausing in the doorway, he sees Bucky glaring at something on his laptop screen, which probably means he got a parent email right as he was trying to wrap up for the day and it fully derailed his routine. Sam knocks on the doorframe twice with no response before letting himself in. Once he’s standing next to Bucky’s desk, still without being noticed, he pokes him in the shoulder to get his attention.

Bucky does a comical double take, as if he can’t believe Sam is actually there, and then very clearly takes in the time on the clock on the wall and realizes how long he’s been distracted. Then, he notices the rose in Sam’s hand.

“Don’t tell me I have a rival for your affections,” he jokes, even as the scowl doesn’t fully disappear from his face.

“Of course not,” Sam smiles. “This is for you.”

“Really?”

“Yep. The last remains of our little Valentine’s Day gift to Foggy.”

“Oh,” Bucky replies, taking the rose gingerly from Sam’s outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Sam says, grandly, trying to put his dumb feelings into nice words. “There’s, uh, nobody I’d rather do stupid, immature shit with than you.”

Bucky puts a hand to his chest. “Honestly, Sam, if you make me cry at work…”

“That will be on you for still being at work at this hour.”

“You’re still here too!”

“Waiting for you,” Sam fires back. “And on Valentine’s Day, no less!”

Bucky sighs, but closes his laptop anyway. “Alright, you win. This will keep. Let’s go home.”

“At last he sees sense!”

Bucky stands up and starts packing his things into his bag. “Did Foggy enjoy the flowers, at least?”

“Apparently, he got a lot of shit from the faculty for being the recipient of such an obvious and desperate romantic gesture. And our efforts were aided by Ziggy, who apparently doesn’t tolerate any plants in the house, which means Foggy had to give away the flowers and it only added to the supposed drama according to the students.”

“What a tangled web,” Bucky replies, shaking his head as he throws on his jacket.

“He said to thank you for the mild humiliation and the bankruptcy you risked to achieve it,” Sam says, and leaves out the other stuff Foggy said about Bucky for now. That’s more of an ‘at home’ conversation.

“Oh, I’m always happy to torment people with you, Sam. It was truly my pleasure!”

“Well, the feeling is mutual.”

Bucky pauses as he’s hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder, looking serious again. “I mean it, you know. What you said before, about how there’s no one you’d rather do stupid stuff with…?”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“There’s no one I’d rather do anything with than you,” Bucky says, earnestly. “I hope you know that.”

Sam smiles, even though the feeling swirling in his chest right now is not precisely happy or amused, but rather everything mixed together. Happy and amused and overwhelmed and confused and delighted and scared and…well, everything.

“Now who’s trying to make someone cry at work?” he asks, rather than admit to any of that. Yet another ‘at home’ conversation.

“You’re right,” Bucky acquiesces, with a small smile. “Let’s get out of here, so we can cry as much as we want.”

“Romantic,” Sam quips, barely holding back his own smile or the still very possible tears. “Home, then?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, looking right at him. “Home.”

[holylulusworld]

Get off my lawn

Title: Get off my lawn

Written for @buckybarnesbingo (Round 6)

Card: B004

Square Filled: Y5: Kink: A/B/O Society

Ship/Main Pairing: Alpha (Teacher) Bucky Barnes x Omega (Teacher) Reader

Rating: Mature

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, misogynism, arguments, enemies to lovers, idiots in love, panty theft, implied smut

Summary: You hate your neighbor and co-worker.

Word Count: 1632

@buckybarnesevents „Hot Bucky Summer 2024”: “We’re…enemies to lovers.”

@buckybingo (expired): Square 3: High School Teachers AU

@AllCapsBingo (expired):  G3: AU: Teacher

@warmandfluffybingocards: Square 9: Enemies to lovers

@the-slumberparty (expired): Square 7: Lingerie

@buckbarnesbingo Round 5 (expired): B1: Knitting

You need time away from … everything and everyone.

Sometimes it’s hard to love your job. On days like this, when the parents of your students bug you because they believe you are more than a teacher you want to quit. According to some parents, you must be a therapist, a nanny, and a private tutor at the same time.

Impatiently clicking your pen, you listen to the last father’s rant. He’s angry because his son won’t do better than a D for months. It’s not your fault his son plays on his phone all the time.

“I’ll stop you right there,” you raise your hand, not letting the man argue with you. “It’s past my work time, still, I agreed to talk to you.” You rub your pounding temples. “Let’s be honest. Your son could do much better if only he put a little more effort into schoolwork. He just doesn’t want to.”

“That’s not true!” And he tries to argue again. Alphas are all the same. They try to force you into submission by raising their voice. “He’s a smart boy, but you don’t give him a chance.”

“Sir, I must ask you to lower your voice. I’m not your omega, and I resent your tone,” you get up from your seat. “Your son plays on his phone all the time. When I ask him to listen to the lecture, he gets cheeky. He doesn’t respect his teachers or fellow students. He’s disturbing the lectures too.”

“Mr. Barnes said my son is a good student,” the alpha snarls and puffs his chest. You roll your eyes and decide to end the conversation.

“Mr. Barnes is a gym teacher. Of course, he believes your son is a good student. Jack only ever shows interest if he can push others around and use his physical strength to intimidate others.”

“Are you implying that my son is a bully?”

“No,” you smile cooly. “I’m not implying that your son is a bully. I’m telling you that he is a bully. If you want Mr. Barnes to teach your son English too, you can ask him to be his tutor from now on.”

You grab your bag and jacket to leave the room, ignoring that the alpha snarls in your direction. You have handled men like him before and won’t whine only because he believes you must cower in front of him.

Today is not your day. First, you had to endure your student’s father, and now you run into the only co-worker you hate.

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N,” James Buchanan Barnes, the cockiest motherfucker you ever met, purrs. “I heard you had trouble with Jake’s dad.” He grins, knowing he made things even harder for you. “Maybe you should leave the young alphas to me.”

“Maybe you should not stick your nose into other people’s business, Mr. Barnes,” you quip before marching away. He won’t get under your skin. Not today out of all days. It’s the last day of school. Summer lies ahead and you won’t allow him to ruin your mood.

“I wonder if you bought these for someone special,” Bucky laughs as he steps toward your fence to look at your rotary airer – or rather at your lingerie hanging on the airer. “I thought you hate any alpha.”

“Get. Off. My. Lawn,” you twirl around to glare at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What kind of man sneaks around an unbonded omega’s house to stare at her lingerie?”

He snorts when you put your hands on your hips, and snarl in his direction. “I’m not on your lawn, doll. This is a public street. I can stand here as long as I want to.”

“If you don’t get out of my sight, you’ll regret it,” you point your index finger at Bucky. “I’m warning you.”

“You’re cute when you believe you can scare me,” he laughs. “What are you going to do, huh? Threaten to throw your lingerie at me.” Bucky throws his head back, laughing. “No, I know. You are going to stab me to death with your knitting needles.”

You growl loudly. “How do you know I knit?”

“Women like you,” he steps closer to your fence and puts his hands on it, “lonely omegas no one wants to mate spend their time with knitting and telling themselves they love being single.”

“You—” you inhale sharply before turning around. Bucky is still laughing when you grab the water hose. You suddenly turn back around to spray Bucky right in the chest, soaking his shirt. He ungracefully backpaddles.

“You…” He growls when you laugh at his predicament. “Do you think this is funny?” Bucky takes off his shirt and flings it at you. “You’ll wash it and give it back to me.”

For a moment, you look at his chest, drinking his defined abs in. He is perfectly toned, and you hate him even more when your eyes drop to his thick thighs.

“In your dreams,” you rip your eyes off his body to grab the shirt and toss it in his face. “Get away from my house, you creep. What kind of man stares at a lady’s lingerie?”

“Lady,” he snorts. “You’re a fury, not a lady!”

“Bastard!”

“Bitch!”

Bucky watches you storm off, an amused smirk on his lips. He loves to toy with you and rile you up. Your scent gets stronger, and you almost drown him in it. The alpha inhales deeply, purring low in his throat as his lower half yearns for something more than your scent…

“That bastard,” you pace back and forth in your living room, eyes drifting toward the wool and your knitting needles on the coffee table. “I should stab him with my needles. One day, I’ll do it.”

Your cat meows loudly. The stray you saved a year ago wants more food, not an angry omega disturbing its sleep. “What? I took you in. You should be on my side!”

You’re about to fight with your cat when a knock interrupts you. “Christ, can I not get a moment of silence?” You walk toward the door, taking deep breaths to calm down. You don’t want to yell at someone only because Bucky Barnes riled you up once again.

“Coming,” you coo while opening the door. You put on a fake smile, but it falls when no other than the thorn in your side stands in front of you. He waves his shirt and growls your name. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you; you’ll wash my shirt!”

“I told you to get off my lawn, bastard!”

You snatch the shirt out of his hands, drop it to the ground, and stomp on it before kicking it away. “If you come here again, I’ll stab you with my knitting needle.”

“I knew you are knit—” he can’t end his line because you slam the door in his face.

“Yeah, fuck you too!”

“Where are my…” You stare at the empty rotary airer. All your lingerie and even your favorite nightie is gone. There is nothing left but Bucky’s dirty shirt. “That motherfucker stole my panties!”

He made it. Today is the day you’ll end James Buchanan Barnes's life. You run inside to get your knitting needles, a grim expression on your face. He brought it upon himself with his cocky attitude and stupid smile. How dare he drown you in his scent anytime you are near him.

The alpha will die and it’s all his fault…

“Open the fucking door!” You harshly knock at his door. “I know you are at home, you fucker! Stealing is a crime. Trespassing is a crime too!”

Bucky slowly opens his door. Today the cocky fucker has his hair pulled back. The white undershirt he’s wearing is a little too tight. He smirks at you and crosses his muscular arms over his chest. “What can I do for you doll?”

 “You know exactly what I want, Barnes,” you throw his dirty shirt in his face. “Give me back my lingerie and nightie, you fucking creep!”

“I don’t know what you are talking about?” He dips his head to let his eyes wander up and down your body. “If anyone stole clothes, it’s you. How did you get my shirt, doll?”

“You won’t get away with stealing from me,” you take a step closer to Bucky to push against his shoulders. He stumbles backward and hits the door with his back. Bucky yelps when you press one knitting needled against his crotch, poking his balls.

“Doll, what are you up to?” He watches you place your other hand on his chest, moving it up and down. “Y/N?”

“You’ll never underestimate me again,” moving your hand to his throat you smirk. “I want my lingerie back. If you don’t give them back, I’ll take something from you.”

“I can’t give them back,” he breathes heavily feeling the needly poke his sack. “I’d love to give them back…though…but…I can’t…I swear.”

“Why not? Did you give them to one of your one-nighters?” You snarl his name. “Where are my panties?”

“In my nightstand,” Bucky licks his lips. “They are dirty…though.”

You gape at him. “You fucker!”

“Yeah, I fucked them good and hard,” he grins when you drop the needle to cup his crotch. “I imagined it’s your needy hole I stuff with my thick cock.”

“You’re a pervert and a creep,” you fist his undershirt with both hands. “If you don’t want me to stab you with my knitting needle, you’ll wash my lingerie…”

“Hmm…” he purrs when you step away to move your hands under your summer dress. You shimmy out of your panties and ball them up. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, you will wash these with your dirty mouth…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[sarifinasnightmare]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sarah Wilson, Steve Rogers/Sarah Wilson Characters: Sarah Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Romance, Sexual Tension, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Flirting, Eye Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Meet-Cute, Lunch, Fluff and Smut Summary:

First AU- Teachers, Bucky and Sarah meet at a team building session and they can't take their eyes off each other.

Second AU- Coach Steve meets Coach Sarah at their first high school softball game. Sparks fly and a bet is made.

IT IS COMPLETE!!!! I hope you’ll enjoy, especially @palettesofrenaissance

Now back to my next epic that I’m procrastinating on! 📝📝📝📝📝

[sstan-hoe]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐇𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐬

-> 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋!𝖻𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗌 × 𝖼𝖾𝗈!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽

[neptunethemosasaurus]

Fundamental Paper Education/Avengers Earth's Mightiest Heroes AU characters part #2.

This is James/Bucky Barnes.

In this AU,he is the Languages teacher, taking the role of Miss Thavel.

I struggled with Miss Thavel's claws and picked to make them Bucky's metal arms😅

[buckrecs]

Hey hey! Do you have any professor!Bucky series and one shot recommendations? Thanks in advance 💖

Professor!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Office Hours by @gogolucky13

Professor Barnes gives you a bad grade and you visit him during his office hours to find out why.

honeybee by @wndalovebot

Redamancy by @world-of-aus

Bucky Barnes had no idea about your feelings for him, except that he did.

Bad Intentions by @seventven

dr barnes, y/n’s psychology professor and final year thesis supervisor is going through a rough patch in his marriage. following a heated argument at the end of class, dr barnes spots y/n at an on-campus bar. he makes a twisted revelation.

Imagine by @metalbuckaroo

“you’ve got a pretty mouth.” & “this could get me fired.”

Mastery by @urvenicebtch

Your history professor, Mr. Barnes asks you to stay after class for extra help which leads to...*ahem*... other things(;

“You are. Every inch. The fantasy.” by @becca-e-barnes

Buttoned Up by @disturbedbydesign

Even though you were one of the top students in his class, Professor Barnes had always been cold to you. You had tolerated his indifference all semester, but when his end-of-term dinner party invites went out and you weren't on the list, you decided it was the last straw—it was time to confront him about it and find out what the hell his problem was. The answer would surprise you.

Tenure Track by @disturbedbydesign

You and Professor Barnes had been at each other's throats from the moment you met, and when a tenure position opens up in your department, the claws come out.

Like Real People Do by @navybrat817

Bucky decides to stop being professional and take what he wants.

Imagine by @saltiestdemonloves

where you sleep on his couch while he works late so he can keep an eye on you

Professor Bucky by @buckycuddlebuddy

masterlist by @bucky-barnes-diaries

SERIES

Steel Blue by @youlightmeupfinn

When you experience the most intense night of the summer alongside Bucky, who you nickname Steel Blue, you weren't expecting to fall pregnant. When a positive pregnancy test meets your eyes a few days before school starts, you know it belongs to the man who you'd never see again. Until you walk into your Romanian Linguistics class and he's your professor.

ephemeral by @aescapisms

Bucky Barnes fell in love with you, but the universe isn’t all that forgiving.

“sup, professor @/bbarnesjames” by @aescapisms

Bucky Barnes is the “most handsomest man” that you have ever laid your eyes on and oh, would you look at that. He’s your professor.

Show Me Love by @lenavonschweetz

Where sex-on-legs Dr. Barnes is your History professor that makes it impossible to pay attention in class.  Perhaps it’s the danger of it all, but god help you - you can’t stay away.

Busted by @mysterioh

Nat asks you about a certain contact by the name of “Bucky Boo Bear 🐻💖💕💗” and gets the surprise of a lifetime.

+ All Yours by @sinner-as-saint

Student!Bucky x Professor!Reader

One of your students confess their feelings for you and things get interesting...