#dark professor steve rogers

[huffelpuff210]

My new list for the dark

Biker Bucky Barnes x abused reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Dark alpha Steve Rogers x dark alpha Bucky Barnes x dark alpha Tony stark x omega reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Dark professor Steve Rogers x innocent reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Soft dark Stucky x reader

Part 1

Part2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Dark professor Tony Stark x shy reader

Part 1

Dark shifter Bucky Barnes x shifter reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Dark mafia Bucky Barnes x reader

Part 1

Part 2

Mob boss Steve Rogers x innocent reader

Part 1

Part 2

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Late Bloomer 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You are as ever painfully early. It's a habit that often leaves you wandering or hovering awkwardly. You check your watch as you come up to the steps of the century-old building. You are in dread of your physics class but it turns out that all the easy electives fill up fast. 

Before you can start the ascent, there's a scuff of steps from the other side. The breadth of the stairs nearly spans a third of the grand facade. You glance over as a young man with a messenger bag rushes up the first few steps only to trip and sprawl over the concrete stairs with an oomph. Without hesitation, you rush over as he groans and clatters back to the bottom. 

"Oh my gosh, are you alright?" You scoop up the phone that flew from his hand, seemingly the cause of his accident.  

He grunts and struggles to turn himself over, clutching his chest as he can't even get a word out. You know exactly what's happened. You rub his back through his burgundy jacket and give a gentle lat. 

"Ah, you're fine, honey, you just got the wind knocked out of ya." 

He nods and gulps, a spiral of his reddish brown hair falling down his forehead. His dark eyes meet yours, their panicked sheen softening as his lips tremble in an attempt at a smile. 

"Thanks," he rasps at last. 

You pull your arm back and offer him your phone. 

"That was quite the tumble," you stand straight and extend your hand. He takes it and hauls himself up. 

"Yeah, this dang thing," he wiggles his cell and tucks it away in his jacket, "always getting me in trouble." 

You smile nervously and your eyes drift down as he favours one leg. There's a red splotch growing on his khakis. You pop your brows up in concern. 

"Er, think you got yourself good." You point and he looks down. 

"God! I knew I shouldn't have worn these ones. I told May, dark colours!" 

"Baking soda, maybe a bit of club soda," you assure him. "I got bandaids in my bag." 

"You-- do?" He's surprised. 

"Can never be too prepared," you smile. "Um, I guess.. 

We're in the way." 

You glance around as you sense bodies heading up the steps, a few glancing your way. 

"Uh, yeah, why don't we head inside," he takes a ginger step. "Uh, typical. My first day." 

"It'll get better," you say. 

"Hm, yeah, I guess it already has," he grins at you before he turns back up the steps. 

"You need help?" You ask. 

"No, no, I'm not a total disaster," he chuckles. "So," he clears his throat as you catch up to him, "what do you teach?" 

"Oh," you repress a strike of embarrassment. Of course he would assume you're a professor, or a TA at the very least. It's obvious you have a few years on him and most of your classmates. "I'm a student." 

"Nice," he nods, "wait, oh, gee, I didn't mean to imply-- ah, I'm sorry." 

"No, no, it's fine. It's my second year. First year all the freshmen called me mom," you shake your head. "But that might be the bandaids in my bag." 

"Maybe," he stops and squints, "right..." he points his finger around as he thinks, "this way." 

You let him guide you. You don't need to be in class for another half hour. You follow him up to the second floor. That's where your class will be. Convenient. 

When he stops at a door and digs around in his pocket, your heart drops. You look up at the room number as he takes out a set of keys and unlocks the door. You chew on your dismay. 

He lets you in ahead of him. You wait patiently and he heads up to the podium. He leans on the table next to it as he unhooks his bag from over his shoulder. He sighs and peers down at his knee. 

The pulls up the fabric and hisses. You approach as you sift through your bag. He bends his leg as he looks at the scrape. It's not that bad. 

You take out the little pack of alcohol wipe from the little emergency pouch. How many times have you played mother hen to drunk coeds? You're prepared for it all. 

"Wow, you got everything in that magic bag," he teases. 

You squat down and wipe the blood away. As you peel the bandaid wrapper away, you scoff, "I'm a pack horse. Utterly terrified of forgetting anything important." 

You cover the cut and run your fingers across the bandage to make sure it sticks. He winces. 

"Sorry," you apologise as you stand and crumple up the wipe and wrapper. 

You search around for the garbage and toss the waste. You fish again in your bag and take out your sanitizer. You squirt it onto your palm and drop it back through the open zipper. Your rub your hands together as he pulls his pantleg back down. 

"Well, since you got my blood on your hands, I guess you should get a name too," he chuckles, "I'm Peter. Er, Professor Parker. Still getting used to that." 

He offers his hand and you shake it, "Olive." 

"Olive. Pretty. Er, interesting. Oh no," he pulls back, "I went through sensitivity training. Can I say that?" 

"It's fine, professor. I'm not overly fond of the name myself," you shrug. 

"Right, well," he bends his arm and tugs up his sleeve to check his apple watch. "I hope I didn't make you late." 

"Well, actually, funny story," you scratch the side of your neck, "I'm enrolled in Physics 2." 

He tilts his head and his lips part on disbelief, "you're joking." 

"Nah, it's not exactly my favourite subject but I'll do my best," you say, "but er, if you need to get set up, I can wait in the hall." 

"What? No. You're early. Make sure you get the best seat," he insists. "I will say the front row is where you wanna be but I was a student not too long ago and I won't be insulted if you sit in the back." 

You laugh, "well, you know, I'm a late bloomer and these ears aren't so good." You kid, "front row's fine with me." 

His grin lingers, awkwardly as his forehead lines and he tries to come up with a response. You smile, "I'll go sit down." 

You give a little wave and go to find a seat. You settle in with your bag in your lap and slid out your notebook and the box of fresh pens. You tried your laptop for notes but you just find your eyes hurt from the blue light. 

You tuck your bag under your seat and unfold the small desk from the arm rest. As you peel back the cover of your notebook, your ears tingle. You glance over as Peter-- Professor Parker, peeks at you. You give a tense smile and pull out a pen, putting your focus back to your notebook. 

At least if you do crappy, you might be able to charm yourself into at least a passing grade. 

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

One Masterlist

Spiritual successor to Forbidden Lessons with Professor Steve ft. Jake Jensen

One is the Loneliest Number

One on One

One Little Thing

Only One I See

One Thing Leads To Another

One Message Waiting

One Day Closer to You

I’m the Only One

Plus One

Ticket for One

The Wrong One

Number One

One Small Change

One Step Too Far

One Side of the Story

Just One Look

One Way or Another

One Moment of Doubt

One False Move

One Second

[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.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

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[justdealingwithsomeissues]

The shit absolutely hits the fan here...

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

boo! surprise bitches! i'm doing kinktober this year! finally doing it! bet you didn't see that one coming, did you hehe 🕸

there is a good mix of both short and long stories coming your way throughout this (and i will also still occasionally post other fics this month that aren't related to this). also, a handful of these fics are darker in nature, thought it was fitting for halloween, so remember to read the warnings, if there's something that's not for you then please, as always, be kind to yourself and don't read the story.

masterlist | join my taglist

day one | sore

stepbro!sirius black x cheerleader!reader + dubcon massage

day two | don't smile

steve rogers + throat fucking + size kink

day three | stuffed

devil!eddie munson & angel!steve harrington + tentecles + double penetration in one hole

day four | a little fashion show

best friend!stiles stilinski + lingerie

day five | stay still

peter parker + bondage

day six | hold up, let me record this

jj maybank + tittyfucking + sextape

day seven | the palace guards

guards!poly!marauders x princess!reader + secrets relationship

day eight | it’s practically like we’re down there with them

mob boss!bucky barnes + exhibitionism

day nine | keep that pretty mouth shut

tommy shelby + keep quiet quickie

day ten | I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

poe dameron + somno thigh fucking

day eleven | I just want you a little longer all to myself

matt murdock + secret office sex

day twelve | nothing more than a toy

rafe cameron + using you like a toy to masturbate with

day thirteen | I still got a few rounds left in me

boxer!steve rogers + bathtub sex

day fourteen | open your fucking mouth

dark!wild west cowboy!joel miller + gun kink

day fifteen | tiny

miguel o'hara x fairy!reader + extreme size difference

day sixteen | the wall between us

cult member!steve harrington + fem glory hole + breeding

day seventeen | be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

spencer reid + aftercare

day eighteen | pleasant pile of pillows

brother's best friend!james potter + pillow humping

day nineteen | ring ring

sam winchester x reader x bf!dean winchester + phone sex + cheating

day twenty | window

perv!neighbour!billy russo + voyeurism

day twenty-one | say yes

fiancé!bruce wayne + possessiveness

day twenty-two | i can think of something better than that

bucky barnes + anal

day twenty-three | double check

dark!professor!ben solo + power imbalance + manipulation

day twenty-four | maroon

vampire!remus lupin + biting + blood kink

day twenty-five | i want you

pirate captain!miguel o'hara + sex as payment

day twenty-six | teamwork

pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson) + gangbang

day twenty-seven | my little flower

din djarin + fantasy au + cockwarming

day twenty-eight | hysteria

doctor!aleksander morozova x hysteria patient!reader + historical au + fuck machine

day twenty-nine | can't fight the moonlight

werewolf!bucky barnes x gf!reader + predator/prey + monsterfucking

day thirty | magical mimic

eddie munson x witch!reader + magical mutual masturbation

day thirty-one | you can’t put it in

stepbro!peter parker + halloween pussyjob

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[biteofcherry]

Professor Rogers would like a word. 😏

A deep study masterlist

professor!Steve Rogers x female reader

You eyed him with amusement; giggle almost bubbling out on your lips as you watched Steve fidget in his seat.

He was looking for the most comfortable position for the next hour of the discussion panel you were guests at, but you couldn't help teasing what only appeared to be nervousness.

There was never any nervousness in Steve. He held control and composure in any circumstances.

You leaned closer, making sure his ear was the only one that your words would reach.

"Nervous, professor Rogers? Or is your cock too big and needs extra arrangements?"

Steve's eyes shot up to you in an instant.

You knew that gaze, knew it meant you just landed yourself in trouble. Just like you knew his cock truly was on the impressive side.

Though there was no hiding of the dark glint in his eyes, Steve's face remained relaxed. His lips curved in a smile; a charming, polite one that would suggest to the audience gathering in the auditorium that you were merely colleagues sharing some light conversation before the panel started.

Guests sitting on your right were oblivious, as well. Some chatting with each other, two were still missing. There was no rush, over fifteen minutes left until the discussion part of the conference was supposed to start.

But for you Steve's smile was farthest from comforting.

He reached for a bottle of water placed on the table, then leaned your way while opening it.

"Speaking of arrangements," he started almost casually, but the dip in his voice was the one he used when commanding you to get on your knees.

"You have that little pink box in your handbag, right?" He knew you had it, as you always brought whatever he asked you to.

For the afterparty kind of play.

"Yes." You nodded, licking your lips.

You were waiting for that dark, sinful poetry of what he was going to do to you later in retaliation.

"Use the restroom before the panel starts, there's still time." Steve ordered, his gaze ensnaring yours. "Take off your panties. And put on the contents of the pink box."

"Now? Here?" Your breath hitched.

Your gaze shifted away from Steve and toward the almost full auditorium.

In other circumstances, Steve would grip your chin, forcing your eyes back to him. But he never crossed that line in public, respectful of both of your reputations and privacy.

He didn't need to use touch, however. His voice was a leash enough to tug your attention back to him in a snap.

"Now." He hissed. "Since you can't help yourself being a needy slut thinking of my cock even in a professional setting."

"Be thankful I picked only the pink box. But hesitate a minute longer and I will add the blue one to it."

Heat flooded your body instantly, your thighs clenched. Contents of the pink box were risky enough of exposing you to the audience, but if he made you use the blue one, too, you'd be completely ruined.

You jumped to your feet and scurried away, your handbag clutched to your side.

The blue box contained a vibrating egg. Though you were spared wearing it in public now, it would be used to torment you later. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn't wait for the return to your suite, but rather the dinner party for professors attending the conference.

The pink box was somewhat safer.

But not really.

A set of shiny nipple clamps fell into your hand when you opened it.

Your blouse had a gentle waterfall neckline, with soft rolls of fabric covering your cleavage. The clamps shouldn't be visible through them.

However, if your arousal spiked, your nipples would pebble further and strain against the fabric. Risking outlining the clamps as well.

It wouldn't be so obvious. Not even from the first rows that stood quite a distance from the stage where the panelists were seated. But some may notice, some may wonder and battle their own suspicions.

Most of all, you would be the one who knows. You would be humiliated and turned on at the same time.

You and Steve would be the only ones aware that you wore them because he ordered it. Because you were his good girl, his naughty cumslut.

[hansensgirl]

❆ 𝑭.𝑯: 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑪𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑺 (𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑)

psstt! — minors, do not interact! 18+ only, just like my blog. do not plagiarize, copy, translate, repost, copy or recreate my writing on any other public platforms. heed the warnings, and remember you are responsible for your media consumption.

info. — in honour of the holiday season, mr. hansen has decided to open requests! how kind is he? they will be posted in the next week or so, and will be written by me (sab). if you ask nicely, the man himself will even make an appearance!

format. — the requests will be submitted to this form. you will select one character, one AU (if desired), one dialogue prompt, and one kink/key element. all concepts will be dark, no matter what. there is an option for you to leave your username so i can tag you when i post your request. you may always remain anonymous. all prompts were created by me, please don’t use them without my permission.

time. — concepts will be written and posted as fast as possible. by january 7th, 2024, they should all be completed. please bear with me, as i can be quite a slow writer. thank you for your patience.

note. — concepts that are bolded and have three asterisks (***) will be turned into full fics. the list can be found under the ‘read more’ cut, along with all the drabbles i’ve posted.

the form is now closed. thank you for all the submissions! requests will be posted in the next two weeks.

show mr. hansen your gratitude by sending a request! isn't he such a sweet man?

NAVIGATION. ❆ @hansensfics. ❆ NEON PALM.

Andy Barber + Yandere + “Think an old man like me can keep up?” + conditioning/grooming.

Andy Barber + Roommate/Tenant + “Isn’t it beautiful? Bullet proof, too.” + dumbification.

Andy Barber + Bookstore + “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” + kidnapping.

Natasha Romanoff + Neighbours + “I’ll always love you, even if you don’t feel that way. But you will.” + sex pollen.

Johnny Storm + Sugar Daddy + “The night’s still young.” + obsession.

Jake Jensen + Step-brother + “C’mere. I can’t see you from all the way over there.” + thigh riding.

Steve Rogers + Stepfather + “Don’t you think you’re a little too old to be playing this game?” + face-sitting.

Natasha Romanoff + Mob boss + “I think I like you better when you’re gagged and crying on my dick.” + humiliation.

Steve Rogers + Boyfriend’s dad + “You’re so cute when you’re struggling like that.” + cum-play.

Lloyd Hansen + Yandere + “I’ll always love you, even if you don’t feel that way. But you will.” + sir kink.

Ari Levinson + Dad’s best friend + “I dreamt of you last night. Every night.” + daddy kink.

Andy Barber + Professor + “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely.” + abuse of power.

Andy Barber + Dad’s best friend + “I just want to take care of you.” + daddy kink.

Steve Rogers + no AU + “Don’t be a brat.” + manhandling.

Lloyd Hansen + Sugar Daddy + “Merry fucking Christmas, princess.” + captivity.

Steve Rogers + Mob boss + “I just want to take care of you.” + stockholm syndrome.

Curtis Everett + Boxer + “C’mere. I can’t see you from all the way over there.” + dom/sub.

Lloyd Hansen + No AU + “Merry fucking Christmas, princess.” + daddy kink.

Lloyd Hansen + Sugar Daddy + “That’s no way to speak to your future husband.” + daddy kink.

Robert Pronge/Mr. Freezy + Amnesia + “Don’t you love it when I touch you like this?” + stockholm syndrome.

Pete Brenner + Camgirl + “I can’t help it, I love you too much.” + dumbification.

Lloyd Hansen + Mob boss + “I love hearing you beg. You’re much sweeter that way.” + pet play.

Lloyd Hansen + Mob/mafia + “You have no idea what you do to a man like me.” + overstimulation.

Andy Barber + Boyfriend’s dad + “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” + cheating.

Ransom Drysdale + Step-brother + “Don’t you love it when I touch you like this?” + innocence.

Steve Rogers + Yandere + “You know what I hate more than broken promises? Liars.” + kidnapping.***

Pete Brenner + Camboy + “You ask too many questions. Just relax.” + drugging.

Lloyd Hansen + Maid + “Where do you think you’re going?” + abuse of power.

Johnny Storm + College/University + “I thought you hated me.” + stalking.

Ari Levinson + Stepfather + “Don’t be a brat.” + vaginal sex.

Steve Rogers + Fake Marriage + “What did you just say?” + sex pollen.***

Jake Jensen + Neighbour + “I had to—you gave me no other option.” + obsession.

Lloyd Hansen + Sugar Daddy + “Isn’t this so pretty? It reminded me of you.” + daddy kink.

Lloyd Hansen + Neighbour + “The least you could do is be grateful.” + humiliation.

Ransom Drysdale + Yandere + “Merry fucking Christmas, princess.” + captivity.

Ari Levinson + Soulmate + “Don’t fight me. You’ll only make it worse for yourself.” + overstimulation.

Steve Rogers + Boyfriend’s dad + “You have no idea what you do to a man like me.” + cheating.

Natasha Romanoff + Camgirl + “C’mere. I can’t see you from all the way over there.” + scissoring.

Ransom Drysdale + Step-brother + “You ask too many questions. Just relax.” + drugging.

Ari Levinson + Dad’s best friend + “You ask too many questions. Just relax.” + corruption.

Andy Barber + Dad’s best friend + “Can’t you see I’m trying?” + cum-marking.

Ari Levinson + Mob boss + “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely.” + innocence.***

Robert Pronge/Mr. Freezy + Neighbour + “The least you could do is be grateful.” + drugging.

Steve Rogers + Mob boss + “You ask too many questions. Just relax.” + corruption.

Ari Levinson + Camboy + “Isn’t this so pretty? It reminded me of you.” + innocence.

Lloyd Hansen + Boyfriend’s dad + “I think I like you better when you’re gagged and crying on my dick.” + creampie.

Natasha Romanoff + Yandere + “You’re so cute when you’re struggling like that.” + mommy kink.

Natasha Romanoff + Boyfriend’s mom + “You’re shaking so much, honey… Just wait until I get my tongue on you.” + obsession.

Lloyd Hansen + no AU + “Where do you think you’re going?” + pet play.

Natasha Romanoff + CEO + “Go on. Let’s see how far you’ll make it.” + mommy kink.

Natasha Romanoff + Sugar Mommy + “You want something from me? You gotta ask nicely.” + begging.

Lloyd Hansen + Mob boss + “You have no idea what you do to a man like me.” + choking.

Ransom Drysdale + Sugar Daddy + “You’re so cute when you’re struggling like that.” + abuse of power.

Ari Levinson + Amnesia + “Take you home? This is home. You aren’t going anywhere.” + obsession.

Natasha Romanoff + Dad’s best friend + “You have no idea what you do to a woman like me.” + creampie.

Curtis Everett + Mob + “Don’t be a brat.” + squirting.

Andy Barber + Mob/Mafia + “Take you home? This is home. You aren’t going anywhere.” + stockholm syndrome.

Ransom Drysdale + Soulmate + “That’s no way to talk to your future husband.” + captivity.

Andy Barber + Professor + “Take you home? This is home. You aren’t going anywhere.” + finger-sucking.

Lloyd Hansen + Boss + “Aw, are you gonna cry?” + overstimulation.

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

2024 Kinktober Masterlist

I'm so sorry for not posting like at all this year but it's been a very long year. College classes started up again this fall and I'm swamped with work. This is my list for Kinktober this year. I will do my best to keep up but anywho, I hope you enjoy!

Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Key: Fluff; 🌙 // Angst; 👿 // Smut; 🔥 // Dark; 🕸️

Day 1: Deepthroating/Facesitting (Daryl Dixon (Prison Era) x Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 2: Semi-Public Sex (Ransom Drysdale x Nurse!Fem!Reader)🔥

Day 3: Knotting (Alpha!Jim Hopper x Assistant!Omega!Fem!Reader)🌙🔥

Day 4: Phone Sex (John Winchester x Hunter!Fem!Reader)🌙🔥

Day 5: Squirting (Obsessive!Perv!Billy Hargrove x Bimbo!Fem!Reader) 🔥

Day 6: Cuckolding (Shy!Jake Jensen x FemmeFatal!Fem!Reader x Franklin Clay) 🌙🔥

Day 7: Biting/Marking (Possessive!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 8: Morning Sex (CACW!Steve Rogers x Avenger!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 9: Praise Kink (Insecure!Geralt of Rivia x Healer!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 10: Mommy Kink (Needy!Johnny Storm (CE) x Mommy!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥👿

Day 11: Caught (Daryl Dixon (Prison Era) x Fem!Reader) 🔥

Day 12: Sex Toys (Lawyer!Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 13: Virginity Kink (Professor!Logan Howlett x Virgin!Mutant!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 14: Shotgunning (Needy!Ransom Drysdale x Nurse!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 15: Tentacles (Part-Kraken!Steve Rogers x Princess!Fem!Reader) 🕸️🔥

Day 16: Spanking (Johnny Storm (CE) x Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 17: Breeding (Wolf-Hybrid!Geralt of Rivia x Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 18: Tittyfucking (Wade Wilson x Plus-Sized!X-Men!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 19: Hate Sex (Erik Lehnsherr x X-Men!Fem!Reader) 👿🌙🔥

Day 20: Edging (Young!Logan Howlett (X-Men1) x Professor!Mutant!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 21: Dub-con/Non-con (Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Innocent!Fem!Reader) 🕸️👿🔥

Day 22: Stripping (CEO!Nick Fowler x Stripper!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 23: Anal Sex (Dark!Steve Kemp x Innocent!Fem!Reader) 🕸️👿🔥

Day 24: Pegging (Brat!Wade Wilson x Mean!Dom!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 25: Lactation (Dad!Steve Rogers x Mom!Pregnant!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 26: Age Difference (Older!Daryl Dixon (Alexandria Era) x 20s!Sunshine!Fem!Reader) 🌙🔥

Day 27: Gagging (Mob!Bucky Barnes x Bimbo!Fem!Reader)

Day 28: DP in One Hole (CEO!Married!Stucky x Assistant!Fem!Reader)

Day 29: Gloryhole (Jim Hopper x Fem!Reader)

Day 30: Panty Raid/Panty Kink (Shy!Perv!Jake Jensen x Slight!Perv!Fem!Reader)

Day 31: Videoing (Camboy!Eddie Munson x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader)

[witchywithwhiskey]

slasher summer masterlist

summerween is over, and so is my slasher summer writing challenge. as promised, here's the masterlist of all entries in the challenge (if yours is missing, please DM me!)

thank you to everyone who participated, as well as all readers who liked, reblogged and commented on the fics!! i loved getting to read everyone's stories and see what y'all did with the prompts. you're all so creative and lovely—thank you again!!!

for readers, please heed the warnings on each individual post below, your media consumption is your responsibility. and please make sure to show your support of the writers by reblogging their work!!!

When He First Got Me by @buckets-and-trees

pairing: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader summary: Prequel in the Exiled Nomad Series. July 3, 2017. Steve sees you at a city festival for the Fourth of July, but he's not content with only seeing…

Dirty Little Secret by @buckys-wintersoldier

pairing: Professor!Ari Levinson x Student!Female!Reader summary: You share a dirty little secret with your professor.

In the Woods by @thezombieprostitute

pairing: James Mace x Female!Reader x Chris Beck summary: Using the prompts: Summer Camp; Sex in the Woods; You know how girls love to scream

Not A Common Storm by @nekoannie-chan

pairing: Steve Rogers x Agent of HYDRA!Reader summary: You and Steve are trapped in a storm, what would happen?

Once Upon A Friendship by @steviebbboi

pairing: Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader summary: Growing up together, you and Steve were inseparable. Where did it all go wrong?

Rosa by @perdidosbucky-yyo

pairing: Best Friend!Steve Rogers x Plus Size! Female!Reader summary: Trapped in a prison of your husband and your mother’s expectations, your only comfort is the ghost in your garden, haunted by the memory of your best friend. You thought you would never see him again but when he unexpectedly returns home from the war after 12 years, you’re not prepared for what’s to come.

A Night of Frights & Delights by @elixirfromthestars

pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?

Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays by @buckets-and-trees

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Female Reader summary: A first date with your neighbor Bucky Barnes.

Fool Me Once… by @dc418writes

pairing: Ari Levinson x BlackReader, Pete Brenner x BlackReader summary: Who knew grudges could be so deadly?

Slasher by @witchywithwhiskey

pairing: DARK Horror Movie Villain!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader summary: Somehow, you end up in your favorite old horror movie, and you decide to take the opportunity to fulfill one of your fantasies—you're gonna fuck the villain, Bucky Barnes.

[huffelpuff210]

Only Mine Professor Steve Rogers x Innocent Reader

Only Mine

Dark Professor Steve Rogers x Innocent Reader 

Warning: Dark Themes,Age Gap,  Forced relationship, drugging kidnapping, Grooming, Stalking, Non Con

Steve was bored and tired it’s always the same thing, Students come in here to achieve, but just end up flunking his class, He was a history professor, And most students come in here thinking it will be easy, since it’s History and end up disappointing him as usual, 

He knew he was being a little too harsh, and He knew that he was missing something in his life that’s why he was so miserable and so harsh on his students, but he knew that he had to find something and outlet or someone, someone to make him happy someone who wouldn’t disappoint him like everyone did. These girls today are just so self absorbed and whore around it’s nothing like before he got frozen in ice, after the serum, and now being retired from the avengers.

He was looking down at his papers grading them, when he saw something he hasn’t before, your name, you have every answer right, an ‘A’ 

Steve smirked knowing that someone was paying attention, You just transferred here from Colorado and this isn’t the first Ease you got an ‘A’ on either Steve has taken notice to you and you payed attention taking notes, watching closely. 

Steve had taken notice to you, and he had one more test for you and then he would make his decision. 

You had you bag hanging on your shoulder as you walked to class with your roommate you were just entering Professor Rogers class room, she was laughing, 

“It’s not funny.” You say

“I’m sorry I can’t help it.” Jessica says wiping the tears away, 

“Your a nineteen year old virgin.” She says 

“I told you I’m saving myself!” You yell

As you sit down 

“Okay class settle down.” Professor Rogers says as he starts handing everyone’s work, out your paper was and ‘A’ you were so glad, since you studied your ass off and went over all the notes you could to get a perfect score, You let out a breath of relief so happy that you got a great score,

Jessica slams her forehead on her desk You look over at her she holds up her paper that says ‘D-’ 

“Told you. You should have studied instead of going to bakers party.” you say 

“Oh shut it nerd!” She says 

You chuckle, After taking diligent notes and sitting through an hour lecture you and Jessica were leaving class chatting to one another little did you know Steve was following close behind you two, listening closely to your conversation, 

“God how do you always get ‘A’s’!?” Your friend complains 

“Because I study my butt off unlike you. Who decides to go party.” You say with a chuckle 

“So I like to have a bit of fun sue me why don’t you.” She says 

You laugh, 

“You’re too much of a good girl.” She complains 

“Well that’s what happens when you have a Military father.” You chuckle  Steve smirks, feeling a bit turned on. as the two of you walk

You two walk towards the coffee shop 

Steve knew right then and there that you were perfect for him that you were going to be his girl no matter what, He knew he had to be careful on how he did this, he also knew he had to get you away from your roommate she was a bad influence on you, He also knew that you would make the perfect wife and mother, That’s all Steve ever wanted was a perfect family with the perfect woman, 

Sure you were young but that’s what made it perfect, You could bare many children, you were a quick learner meaning he could train you, 

He smirked at the thought, He had been looking for so long not finding the perfect woman but now it seems that dream is just within grasp. 

“Do you want to go to a party tomorrow night before spring break?” Steve’s attention was caught by your friend asking you, 

You hesitate 

Steve knew you were a good girl, but if you accepted he knew it would be the perfect opportunity 

“I don’t know I still need to study.” You say 

“Oh come on live a little bit.” Your friend says

You sigh

“Fine, but only for a few minutes, I need to study for my next midterm.” You say 

“Yeah, Yeah, the good girl can’t have fun.” She says 

You chuckle grabbing your coffee as the two of you leave Steve smirks knowing he had to plan this just right that you were going to be his girl, Spring break will be in two days, meaning, This is perfect And he knew he had to prepare before tomorrow night.

[stevierogersbabygirl]

What No One Sees

(Dark?)Professor!Steve Rogers x reader

Run-through: Steve was that one popular professor that everyone liked, and you were closest to him. You'd never predict that he'd be the father of your future child.

Themes: smut, unplanned pregnancy, angst, absent father

Dr. Rogers was why every girl wanted to go to attend college. He was around 40 years old, handsome, tall, jacked, with pretty eyes, and he seemed very likable too. Not a single person on campus disliked that man.

Every student knew him as that one hot and perfect stranger unless they were in his class, which was like winning a lottery. Girls secretly fangirled him, and he'd even get the female professors to be all shy next to him.

That's what they all saw him as, you knew him as Steve.

When you moved here for college, you coincidentally booked the same apartment on the same floor as him, making you see him a lot. He'd sometimes even offer to walk you to college, and lent you things whenever you needed. He'd even sometimes tell you to visit his apartment to study, and you'd always visit him happily. You weren't sure why he wanted to be closest to you, but you sure were happy with it, especially when you noticed other girls getting jealous.

All those events have made you closer to him, earning you the privilege to call him Steve.

You loved being "Dr. Rogers' favorite student", as your girlfriends labeled you. They noticed how close you were with him and teased you about it, but you just knew they were jealous of all of it.

You've had a small internal crush on that man for how attractive he was, but you knew you couldn't do anything about it because of how wrong it was.

Life was going great overall, as you worked hard and gained good grades in college, and Steve's presence made it even better,

until one day everything changed.

It was Saturday night, and you didn't have anything on your to-do list, meaning you were lazily slouched on your couch in cozy pajamas, binging the latest Netflix series, until you heard a knock on the door.

You sighed, lazily got off the couch and walked towards the door, and opened it, your eyes widened in happiness and when you saw Steve standing there.

"What's up?" You'd ask him, looking into his deep blue eyes.

He looked slightly nervous and didn't reply, instead, he surprised you with flowers which he hid behind his back. He'd take a breath and said shyly, "Bought you flowers."

You looked at it in surprise, and that little happiness was slapped by your common sense. Professors can't engage in a romantic relationship with their students.

"Steve, I'm sorry, we can't-" You said until Steve cut you off closing the door, moving forwards, making you subconsciously walk backwards. He moved towards the wall, making you trapped between him and the wall. Your faces were so close to each other that you could feel each others breaths. Two words, sexual tension.

"One night, Y/N. We can keep it a secret." He said, his ocean blue eyes looking deep into your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I can't." You said, backing further into the wall nervously, expecting an angry response.

He sighed, backing his face away as you felt the tension loosen. "I've been interested in you since the first time I met you, you're just so beautiful, Y/N."

He paused to look into your confused eyes.

"I know you want me too, doll, and I know this gets past so many boundaries, but what if it's all a secret? One time chance, Y/N." He said, making you pause to think.

You sighed. "But if someone finds out I don't know what I'd do." You'd say with fear in your eyes staring deep into Steve's eyes.

Steve smirked, leaned in on your ear and spoke, "And that makes it even hotter, doesn't it? The thrill of being caught."

You blushed at the thought and smirked a bit, and in a few seconds, you'd cup Steve's face with both of your hands and had a deep kiss with him. He'd lift you by your ass as you both kissed. He moved both of you onto the bed and broke the kiss as he gently placed you on the bed. You'd both quickly undress, and by the time you saw his size, you knew you wouldn't be regretting all of this.

You were lying back-first onto the bed legs on Steve's shoulders, and Steve was on the floor, crouched down onto your pelvis, and stuck his tongue out to lick your clit, all while staring at you deep into your eyes.

He'd lick up and down your slit, until he eventually went in, using his skillful tongue to pleasure you. You grasped on the bedsheets and did so even tighter when he'd hit the right spots.

You eventually came, and he smirked as he got up, crawled onto the bed, and kissed you deeply. He'd use his hand to position his cock onto your entrance, and in no time he'd be stretching you out deeply. None of your previous partners have quite had a size like him.

He started with slow thrusts, his head on the side of your face, occasionally kissing you. When he knew you could handle it, he went faster and rougher, occasionally choking you.

The sounds of moans in the room were horribly sinful. You eventually came violently around him, and he came next, coating your womb with his seed.

Your mind went into a blur and you could only remember being in a deep sleep afterwards.

The next morning, you woke up naked beneath the thick blanket and Steve was not beside you. You could not believe you just fucked your professor last night and had to live with that guilty feeling.

Every time you and Steve saw each other, you both knew you had to keep a distance from each other, so you did not really interact for a while. People noticed this, raising some questions from your girlfriends, but you'd always give random excuses that you didn't really think of. You wondered if it was obvious that you and him did it.

A few weeks later, you were terribly ill. You skipped a few days due to these symptoms, which consisted of puking and missing a period. Oh my god, the realization came.

You took a pregnancy test, and it came positive, so that secret went from being small to a ginormous one. You did not want to abort and tried to accept the fact that you were going to be a mother soon.

You told your closest girlfriends and they promised to keep it zipped, always trying to assist you while you skipped many days of college. Somehow, rumors went out and eventually, the whole campus knew you were pregnant. People would either text you supportive messages, or ones calling you a "slut" or "whore." The only thing they didn't know is who the father was.

Then, you heard news that Steve resigned and moved away.

Just what the fuck is happening?

You wondered how life would be, your studies in risk as you'll raise your new child with their biological father far away.

Pt. 2 is out!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Late Bloomer 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

Your confidence starts to recover as you show up to your Art Studio class. It’s in the same room as last year and the familiarity makes you feel a little less lost. As it so happens, the professor is also the same as your first. 

Professor Rogers welcomes his class in as he did the year before. He explains that the brushes, paints, and materials in the ‘community garden’. The collection if for those in need and the need is never questioned. Students are encouraged to come take what they need and leave what they don’t. With the cost of materials, it’s a kind concept. You took advantage of it more often than you liked. 

You gently unzip your leather artist’s bag while he begins the lesson. As he reads over the expectations in the syllabus, your eyes meet. He smiles and continues. You still, reluctant to distract him. 

“Last year, you would have gone over 2D concepts and techniques. This year, we will delve into 3D. Every two weeks, you will submit a project. Lessons are Tuesdays in the current slot, but the studio will be open daily for three hours after seven. Whether you work here or in your own space, I expect all work to be on time. Extensions will not be given outside extenuating circumstance.” 

His voice is rigid but you know well he isn’t as strict as he pretends to be. It’s the first day, he has to make a show. Still, you never submitted anything past the due date. Not in this class. 

“I am aware of your other classes and I have not set unrealistic goals alongside those. However, for those who have joined as elective students, you might want to make note of the withdrawal deadline,” he girds. “Now that we’re past the fear mongering, we will start the session. We’re starting standard. Clay. First assignment, molding and shaping, then we will delve into pottery. Basic, you’ll get deeper into techniques if you are enrolled in the subject course itself.” 

His tendency to overexplain can overwhelm but you are reassured by your first year. Rogers wasn’t the worst but he had standards. Besides, this is what you’re here for. This isn’t an elective, this is your major. You like this stuff and that makes it a little easier. 

You delve into the first week. After going through some foundational work, Rogers lets the room fall silent. Most students will have a degree of experience from high school or freshman classes. You aren’t entirely lost yourself. 

Professor Rogers makes a round of the room, stopping to chat with each student. You sense him coming close and knead your clay without much purpose. He stops across from you, just on the other side of the table. 

“You’re back?” He says. 

“Wouldn’t you know, I need more than one course for this dang degree,” you kid. 

“Really? Jeez.” He scoffs as he presses his fingertips to the table, “so, how was your summer? Did you go to the beach?” 

Your eyes flick up to his. You remember last year he wasn’t so... casual? You don’t know how to explain it. His hair is a little less neat and he doesn’t sport his usual button-up. You always made note of his expensive shirts and that he didn’t seem to care about the paint stains. This year, he’s in an open canvas jacket and a plain tee. 

“Yeah, but it was overcast. Didn’t feel like mixing that much grey,” you answer. “What about you? Good summer?” 

He shrugs and smiles. Something about it is stiff, “it was a summer. Taught a few interim classes. Nothing special.” 

“Oh, well, summer is overrated.” 

“Is it? Don’t tell me you’re into all that pumpkin spice?” He sniffs. 

“I’m more into winter. I love snow and hot chocolate. Simple tastes.” 

“Very minimalistic,” he praises. “Well,” he taps the table and drags his hands off, “welcome back.” 

“Thank you, Professor.” 

You refocus on the clay as you consider the various objects up for grabs. You could recreate the broken porcelain figure. It reminds you of ancient Greek ruins. Or you could go simple and claim that large silver spoon. Your indecision has always been your greatest obstacle. 

“Alright, so, from here on, you have the rest of the time to work. You’re welcome to pack up and do it in your own time but I highly recommend staying,” Rogers announces to the room. “I am here for your benefit.” 

The class murmurs back at him. Most keep on what they’re doing while a few fidget and wait only ten minutes before they leave. You would have done the same ten years ago but this isn’t just a checkbox on a list. This is you trying to reshape your whole life. You’re done with waitressing. You’re here to learn, to make this into something real. 

Besides, your roommate is a fan of metal music and it doesn’t do well for your creativity. You don’t hate the music but it’s just not the vibe. You press your fingers into the clay and stare off across the room. Your eyes haze as you fall into thought. 

Cerise texted before you got there that she wanted to meet up after and Primrose gave a staunch thumbs up. You missed them too. You can’t wait to catch up. You can only say so much over texts. 

You smile as you think of them. Your little ragtag trio. Cerise, the youngest, who always manages to get lost wherever she goes and Primrose who only ever knows exactly where she needs to be and what needs to be done. You’re the oldest, the maternal light that keeps the younger from wandering too far and the other from overthinking her coffee order. 

Your vision clears as you sense movement. You blink as you find yourself staring at Professor Rogers. Oops. You give a sheepish smile and put your head down. As much care as you put into others, you often forget yourself. While everyone assumes you have it all figured out, and you would think that you would at your age, you are just another student muddling through to graduation day. 

[literatureatthebowofnails]

Went back and read Kiss Me in the Dark and this one from the beginning. Gives a while different perspective on the characters, especially Steve and Bucky

summertime sadness Masterlist

Status: Finished

You stay in the city for a summer job but can’t escape trouble.

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 9

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 9 Practical Applications

It’s usually difficult for Steve to eat a meal in peace in the school’s dining hall. Too many of his staff see him and flock over to ask questions, or favors, or to float ideas, just trying to get their two cents in while they have him in sight. Or students will inevitably come over, wanting a word or to gush about something, complain about something else. It’s not usually a very enjoyable dining experience. Steve prefers to eat in his office.

But that evening at dinner he’s got Bucky with him, and all the staff and students seem to recognize that he’s acting as Handler to Bucky for the time being. The staff, understanding that it’s actual work, stay out of the way, and the students either avoid them with jealous glances over the special attention they think Bucky’s getting, or sympathetic glances over the punishment they think he’s receiving.

The answer is more complicated than that. Mostly, Steve just needs to spend enough time interacting with the boy to decide if Sharon really isn’t the best fit for him. A student’s relationship with their Handler is crucial to their success during their time at Carter Academy, so Steve doesn’t take the task lightly. It’s unusual but not unheard of to have to switch up a student’s assigned alpha, especially for newer students who haven’t been broken in yet. So Steve brings Bucky to the dining hall and takes over the role of Handler as he tries to get a feel for the boy. Bucky doesn’t act up as they go around and get their food and then sit down to eat, so there’s no real need for punishment of any sort. Steve pulls out his phone at the table and reviews the assessment Sharon filled out on Bucky. 

Bucky, who sits catty corner to him and eats his dinner with a far-off look in his eyes, is clearly still distracted by his body’s arousal. But somewhere halfway through the veritable mountain of macaroni he’d had Steve heap on his plate, he starts to become interested in what Steve’s doing. “What are you doing?”

Steve looks up, not having realized how focused he’d been on his work. “Sorry,” he says, tucking the phone away and going back to his own plate. “Just headmaster stuff. Lot’s to do.”

“Like what?” Bucky grumbles. “Forcing everybody to bend over and let a doctor shove—”

“That’s enough, young man,” Steve chides, though his tone is closer to fond than stern. He shakes his head with a wry smile. “More like reviewing Handler assessments. I get a progress report for every student, every week. It’s a lot to keep up on.”

“Oh.” Bucky twists his lips and goes back to poking at his plate. He seems to have come to the end of the macaroni and is being standoffish with the vegetables. “So … did Sharon do one for me?” he asks, trying (and failing) for an air of nonchalance. 

Steve nods. “Yes. She did. Quite a thorough one, in fact, since this is your first week here. New students tend to have the most behavioral issues, so they get the most attention. She made some recommendations about what she thinks will work best for you.” He stares straight at Bucky as he says it, cataloging every expression that flits across the boy’s face. Bucky doesn’t seem thrilled to hear that he’s been assessed at all, which is to be expected. Steve goes back to eating his food and waits for the inevitable next question:

“What’d she say about me?” 

He shrugs. “The usual. She noted the areas where you struggle and where you excel, what your interests are so far. She made suggestions for best discipline measures and what your daily protocols should be.”

It’s clearly the word “discipline” that brings the scowl back to Bucky’s face. He shoots Steve a peeved look and abandons his fork to the vegetables, reaching instead for one of the butter cubes on the table and unwrapping it. “So? What’d she suggest?” 

Steve sits back a little in his chair, considering him. He decides to be frank. “Spanking, for one. Though you’ll need to be assessed before we can make any determinations on how useful or not that is for you, in terms of discipline and/or protocol. Some students have a daily spanking as part of their wellness plan, others behave better with just punishment spankings when needed. It depends on the individual.” 

“What?! No !” Bucky glowers at him. “Spanking is the one fucking thing I didn’t want! … Or being naked,” he adds, after a second of thought. 

“Yes, well. We’ll see about that. It may turn out that you respond well-enough to other measures without needing to resort to corporal means. Not everyone needs it.” Bucky looks like he’s about to blow up, so Steve cuts him off by continuing, “For daily protocols, she’s suggesting lap time or kneeling time, and hand feeding for meals.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffen. “What the fuck is ‘lap time’?” he sneers, then adds, “I’m more of a reverse cowgirl type of guy.”

Steve refrains from rolling his eyes, and of course he doesn’t take the bait. “Lap time just means close bodily contact with your Handler, like snuggling. An omega’s wellbeing is greatly improved by close bodily contact with their alpha, so sometimes we schedule time for that. A lot of students get it in just before bedtime, or after their classes are over to help them calm down from the day. Has Sharon not engaged with you at all these past few days?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

Bucky makes a face. “Whatever. I’m not really into chicks like Sharon, anyways.”

Steve arches a brow. “Well that is, of course, your preference. Everybody has them. Sharon herself suggested that you might fare better with a male Handler.” Bucky’s eyes pop back up to him in surprise at that, and Steve nods. “But I’d advise you not to refer to Ms. Carter as a ‘chick’ ever again. You won’t like what happens if she hears you disrespecting her like that.”

“She said I should have a dude?”

“It’s something we’re considering,” Steve admits. “Though I’m less focused on that and more concerned that you might simply need a firmer hand. Sharon is easy to get along with, which can be helpful for some new students who are being combative and just need some space to help them adapt to the sudden change in lifestyle. But from what she’s reported, you haven’t fallen in line very well with the ‘friend’ approach.” He gives him a pointed look. “I have stricter Handlers I can pair you with, if you have a tendency to brat until you’ve received the dominance you’re itching for.”

Bucky’s face goes pink at that pronouncement. Steve sees the instinctual pleasure that peeks through for a second, before the boy is covering it up with another scowl and more defensive posture. It’s in that moment that Steve knows he’ll definitely be assigning Bucky to a more dominant, no-nonsense Handler. Bucky is exactly the type to brat until he gets put in his place, and it’d be negligent-bordering-on-cruel for Steve to ignore his needs. He’ll have to sit down in his office and choose someone later that evening. “It’s nothing to feel bad about,” he tells Bucky. “The urge to act up doesn’t mean you’re bad. It’s just a sign that you have a higher need for domination than some other omegas. And there are plenty of ways we can tailor your routine to help give you that.” 

Bucky scoffs and rolls his eyes—proving Steve’s entire point, though the kid certainly doesn’t realize it. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” he sasses, and reaches for his dinner roll. Steve snatches it off the table before he can get to it. “Hey!”

“The other protocol she recommended was hand feeding,” Steve repeats calmly. “Let's just see about that, shall we?”

“No.”

Steve gives him a real warning look this time. “Bucky, I’ve been patient with you. But you need to check your attitude real fast, or I’ll be frog marching you to the nearest spanking bench.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he immediately glances over to the spanking bench that Steve knows lives in the corner of the dining hall. “No,” he says quietly, just the threat of Steve exercising that sort of dominance over him making him turn mild and pink in the cheeks. “No.”

“Then get over here, right now.” Steve points to the floor. “Use the cushion off your dining chair to kneel at my side.”

Bucky looks mortified, but he does obey. He grabs the cushion off his chair and drops it beside Steve, and goes down heavily to his knees. Then he looks up at Steve. His pissy little expression wavers somewhat, just at being in the submissive posture. Steve gives him a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything about it. “Just a few bites,” he tells him kindly. “I just want you to get a feel for it. See what I’m talking about.” 

“Whatever.”

Steve splits the dinner roll and butters each half of it, then rips off a small piece and brings it down for Bucky to take in his mouth. “ Aht ,” he corrects, when Bucky starts to reach with his hand. “No. Open .” He waits expectantly until Bucky parts his lips. Then holds eye contact as feeds him the piece of bread. “Good boy,” he says quietly, letting him hear the praise just as the flavors are hitting his tongue. He feeds him another piece, and then another, watching as Bucky’s posture relaxes and his eyes go heavy. Steve feels his heart squeeze in sympathy at how dominance-starved the boy clearly is. “Has anyone explained hand feeding protocol to you?” he asks quietly, ripping another bit of the roll off. Bucky takes that piece readily, and he’s busy chewing as Steve tells him, “Like I said before, most protocols are meant to reinforce reliance on your natural instincts. You have mental health needs that can only be met with domination and close contact, so things like allowing your alpha to feed you are always encouraged. It creates a physical feedback loop in your brain. It’s why you feel good right now, posturing down by my side like this.”

Bucky makes a whiny sound of complaint in his throat, but by the last bit of bread, he’s gone soft and sloe-eyed, and doesn’t seem to be thinking anything much besides how pleased he is to have his alpha feeding him. “You want dessert, Honey?” Steve asks, smiling down fondly at him. Bucky had pleaded for a slice of cake at the buffet earlier, and while Steve isn’t one to encourage sugar addictions, he’d grabbed the cake with this very idea in mind. He starts to feed small bites of it to the kid, warmth growing in his gut the more Bucky falls into accepting it. The biggest brats tend to fall the hardest, once they get what they need.

By the time the last bite has passed his lips, Bucky has all but turned to a puddle on the floor, with his chin resting against Steve’s leg and his lashes fanned out on his cheeks as he waits obediently for his alpha to feed him another bite. Swallowing heavily, Steve drags his finger through the last bit of icing on the plate and sets it gently to Bucky’s lips, cock pulsing in his underwear as he watches the boy part eagerly for it and suck his finger into his mouth. Steve grits his teeth and tries to get a hold of himself. Christ . 

Bucky whines and opens his eyes when Steve’s finger is removed. Steve pets his hair and shushes him. “That’s all there is, Honey. You did good.”

Bucky makes a grumpy sound and rubs his cheek more aggressively against Steve’s leg, and Steve raises an eyebrow. He ignores the feeling of tightness in his briefs, making a mental note to institute kneeling and hand feeding as mandatory daily protocols for this kid, since he obviously responds well to both. “Okay, Buck,” he tells him gently. “I think that’s it. Let’s get you settled for the evening.”

After dinner, the students all have a block of unstructured evening time. Some spend it working on their studies if they’ve fallen behind in a certain subject, or on protocols with their Handlers if they’re feeling extra needy, but most of the boys choose to socialize for at least an hour or two before bed. After the success at dinner, Steve allows Bucky to choose what he wants to do. Predictably, the boy decides to seek out Parker and latch onto whatever the other omega is doing. 

Thus, an hour later they find themselves in the darkened auditorium as the latest—and dumbest—Fast & Furious movie plays on the projector screen. Steve stands in the back of the room with Natasha. “I want you to encourage this friendship,” he tells her. “Parker’s done well here. His behavior modified quickly and he’s excelled academically. Plus, he’s got a good situation lined up for after graduation.”

In the dark, Natasha turns her head the barest degree. “Nothing’s been made public.”

Steve hums. “Yet.” With Parents’ weekend coming up, there will soon be multiple announcements about mates being taken. It happens every year. Students find their alphas at the matchmaking ball. Some cement their choices, some meet a number of potential suiters without locking down on any one person. But there are always some prestigious families who've make arrangements outside the school's purview. Parker falls into the first of those categories, having cultivated his relationship with the man who serves as his sponsor. Steve knows Stark hasn’t made his intentions public yet, but the time is drawing near. "His alphas will make an announcement next weekend, I'm sure."

“Stark and Potts?” Natasha murmurs. “They’re sharing, then?"

"That's the impression I got."

"Hm. A triad.” 

Steve nods primly, staring straight ahead at the movie screen where a car is being launched out of an airplane. “They’re good people. He’s an asshole, but he’ll take good care of Parker. I’ve heard good things about the wife, too.” 

Soon they’ll be two very happy alphas, married spouses with a sweet and subservient omega mate to cherish and raise their pups. It’s an old fashioned notion, certainly: two alphas, married as intellectual equals and taking on the care of an omega together. The picture perfect, white picket fence, happily ever after, pre-war ideal that people used to aspire to; born of a time when society still acknowledged the realities of the world and the needs of those living in it. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever met a two alpha triad that weren’t some version of blissfully content.

He tries not to be bitterly jealous about it.

“I want Barnes to see how easy it can be, if he just gives in. Parker will set a great example,” he declares, and Natasha nods along silently. It’s the kind of silence where Steve can tell she’s thinking something but not saying it out loud, so he refuses to look at her as he stiffly nods and changes the subject. “Good. Do you have any plans with him tonight?”

“He’s been pretty wired today. I don’t think lazing around during gym did him any favors.”

“Sorry. I told Odinson to get them moving next time they have gym.”

“We’re going to wind down with protocols after this. He’ll probably ask for an orgasm before bed.”

“And he’ll get it?”

“Oh yeah, he’ll get it,” she says, and there’s a low note to the way she says it; something covetous and very privately alpha that betrays the fact that she’s going to enjoy giving it to him. “I’ll reward him for being so friendly with the new kid, let him have a few until he gets tuckered out.” She glances over at Steve. “It could make for quite the demonstration, if your boy needs a push.”

“A demonstration." He considers it, locating Bucky’s head and shoulders up amongst the boys watching the movie. Steve's been eager to touch Bucky sexually, certainly he can’t lie to himself about that. And there's no rule that says he can't. As long as Steve isn't using the boy for his own gratification, then there's no impropriety in it. After the doctor's visit that afternoon, he knows Bucky has been struggling with keeping his composure. It’ll be delicious to watch the stubborn little thing fall apart once he gets a taste of what could be. Steve’s fingers twitch as he imagines stuffing them in Bucky's sopping wet cunt and working an orgasm or three out of him while the kid begs prettily. Fuck , he can't wait to hear the sounds he'll make ...

Steve sees that Nat’s watching him closely, realizes that he's probably scenting aroused, and he straightens and clears his throat. “Right. Well. Hm. Good idea. Let him get a look at what he’s missing. He’ll come around once I’m putting him to bed.” 

“I think you’ve been lulled into a false sense of security,” Nat says.

“Why?” 

“I read Sharon’s assessment. He’s bound to act up.”

Steve frowns. “Maybe, maybe not. Things don’t always get worse before they get better.”

“No, not always.” 

He sighs and fights the urge to rub his forehead. “Parker’s on the same hall, yeah?”

“Just a few rooms down.”

“Great. I’ll make sure we pass by at nine o’clock. Try and be in the thick of it then.”

“Sure thing.” For a moment it’s quiet, save for the ridiculously awful movie’s action sounds. Then in a different tone of voice, Natasha asks, “And ... how are things? With you?”

Steve pretends not to know what she’s really asking. “Good. Busy. Got a lot going on with parents’ weekend and all that.”

“Mmhm. And Peggy?”

“We’re liaising for parents’ weekend,” he says curtly, not wanting to get into it any further than that. Already, he knows he’s got more than one email from her waiting in his inbox. He’s been ignoring them all day, not wanting to deal with whatever problems she’s come up with now. 

“You know,” Nat says. “Just because she changed her mind doesn’t mean that you couldn’t still find yourself a nice omega to settle down with.” She pauses pointedly. “You prefer males, don’t you?”

“That’s enough, Nat,” Steve snaps, his voice cutting the tension like a knife. 

It isn’t like he hasn’t been entertaining the fantasy ever since Bucky wet submissively in his office on that first day. But he’s since talked himself out of the idea. Parents don’t pay forty grand a semester to see their children mated off to the damned headmaster. Steve doesn’t live in the same social echelon as these folks, and a stodgy middle class academic is a far cry from the types of mates that Carter Academy’s parents want for their children. Steve can only do his best for Bucky, perhaps manage to get him to behave at the parents’ weekend long enough to chat up a potential suitor or two. ( Dare to dream, at least.) 

“I’ll bring him by at nine,” Steve reiterates. “Make sure your boy’s visible from the doorway. With the way Barnes’ day has been going, he won’t be able to hold out much longer.” 

Steve is no fool. He knows that an omega can only go so long without sexual relief. And after the frustration of that afternoon’s medical exam, he’s well aware of the building levels of arousal that Bucky is experiencing.

The boy’s gorgeous floral scent has only grown richer as the evening has worn on, so much so that Steve isn't at all surprised when the kid’s little prick is sticking straight out when he strips down to take his evening shower. And he’s certainly not surprised when Bucky balks at not being left alone to wash himself. Clearly, the boy had plans for his shower time. Plans that Steve is now ruining. 

He leans against the bathroom wall and pretends to be absorbed in his phone while he waits Bucky out in their little shower stall stalemate. Bucky puts up a fuss when he realizes that Steve isn’t planning on stepping away, the horror of having lost his opportunity dawning on his face in an expression half near to nausea.

Steve smirks down at his phone and scrolls some more. “Chop chop, Kemosabe. I haven’t got all night.” He watches Bucky’s cute little backside as the kid finally deems the water hot enough and steps into the shower. His skin pinks up quickly and his hair soaks flat to his head. The slick on his thighs becomes indistinguishable from the water sluicing over his body. 

Steve watches him move about slowly, as if he's pained. His shoulders are tense, and he seems to tremble full-body for a moment as he looks down at himself—perhaps staring at his rigid little dick that he can no longer touch now that Steve is there. He all but vibrates with the arousal he’s feeling, standing still under the spray for long minutes.

“Wash yourself, Bucky,” Steve commands, not unkindly. “Or do you need me over there to assist you?” Bucky isn’t facing in his direction, but even still, Steve would bet money that he’s giving the shower wall quite a death glare right about now. Poor thing.

Bucky could cry when he realizes that Steve isn’t going to leave him alone to shower. “I can wash myself without you staring at me,” he says. “Sharon doesn’t watch me.”

“Sharon gives you too much credit,” Steve says from where he’s been leaning against the wall and dicking around on his phone, looking bored. “Now finish up.”

Bucky grits his teeth and turns back into the spray. He looks down at his cock and fights the urge to whimper. He’s so fucking hard . His underwear had had an embarrassing amount of slick on them when he took them off. And much to his mortification, Steve’s attention had gone right down to the wet spot. Bucky knows he probably imagined the heated look in the Headmaster’s eyes, but even still, having an alpha who looks like Steve watching him undress certainly hasn’t helped to calm his situation down any.

Bucky’s body feels achy and tight and too sensitive, the water hitting his prick keeping his attention down between his legs. He can feel the slick between his cheeks, but he avoids washing himself there because that’ll mean touching himself there, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop touching if he starts. The thought of Steve wrestling him out of the shower to spank him silly for stuffing his whole goddamn fist up his ass isn’t something Bucky wants to experience.

“You almost done in there?” Steve drawls from across the room, after Bucky has washed himself, after he’s shampooed and conditioned and rinsed his hair. “Gonna run out of hot water, soon.”

Bucky growls lowly and pumps more body wash out of the dispenser. “Don’t rush me.”

He looks down at himself, his whole belly clenching hard at the sight of the gel in his cupped palm and his throbbing prick right there, how easy it would be to reach down and wrap it around his cock and —

“I’m sending in a rescue mission soon,” Steve jokes, and Bucky’s eyes water with the urge to scream.

Jerking off once a day is not enough, but it’s all he has. He’d been counting on these few minutes tonight to be able to get some fucking relief! So far, his nightly showers are the only times he’s been left alone without any sort of camera or alpha surveilling him. Sharon hasn’t acted like she suspects that he’s using the opportunity to jerk off, but now Bucky’s beginning to think that she’s known all along and has tipped Steve off. 

Just a little longer, he tells himself, practicing some deep-breathing after a glancing touch to his nipples nearly pulls a whimper from him. Just a little longer and then he’ll be alone in his room, lights out, and he’ll be able to get some relief. Sure, there are cameras, but if he angles himself just right under the blankets and doesn’t move too much, he thinks can get away with it. Someone would have to be watching his bedroom camera like a hawk to see. 

“Bucky,” Steve warns. “You’re not even washing yourself. Come on.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Hang on !” He gets more shower gel from the dispenser and starts soaping himself up all over again—fastidiously avoiding his chest and anywhere between his belly button and his knees.

It's awful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s gone more than eight hours without masturbating since the day he turned thirteen, and now it’s closing in on a full twenty-four hours since he’s had any relief. His entire pelvis feels full and heavy at this point. It’s an ache second only to what heat feels like, and he has to continually remind himself not to let his vocal cords tighten up into the instinctual keen that wants to come. 

What makes it even worse is that there’s an alpha right there. And unfortunately and mortifyingly, that alpha is Steve. The man is leaning against the bathroom wall, perfectly willing and capable of getting Bucky off if Bucky asks him to. The one reprieve of the shower is that it gets some distance between the two of them. Bucky can’t smell Steve's scent from under the spray of the water, but he knows he’ll have to face it again as soon as he gets out.

Which is why he’s delaying getting out. Insisting that he didn’t want Steve to finger fuck him over that medical bench had been the most painfully counter-intuitive thing Bucky thinks he’s ever done in his life. But he hadn’t wanted to give the alpha the satisfaction of knowing how bad he needs it, hadn’t wanted to prove him right in his misogynistic beliefs. So what if Bucky’s horny a lot of the time and needs to jerk off three or four (... sometimes five) times a day? It’s normal for an omega, doesn’t mean he’s as desperate and helpless and useless as Steve and everybody else at this school thinks he is, doesn’t mean he needs anybody or anything other than his right hand. Alphas jerk off too, he thinks mulishly. Don’t see anybody telling Steve he’s not allowed to pull the pud whenever he wants.

Bucky all but jumps out of his skin when Steve’s hand appears in front of his face, shirt sleeve rolled up and the hairs on his forearm getting wet as he shuts off the water.  Bucky spends a very brief second admiring the way the veins line the alpha’s strong forearm before he remembers to be upset. “Hey!” He whirls around to glare at him. “I wasn’t done .”

“You’re done,” Steve says, looking amused. Bucky’s belly flips when he notices the alpha’s gaze dragging down his naked, wet body, lingering on his still-hard prick. “Clean as a whistle,” he murmurs, something dark and interested flashing in his eyes before he turns to grab a towel. “Come on. Time to get settled.” 

Bucky dries off and wraps the towel around his waist for the walk back down the hall to his room. He’s eager to be left alone so that he can finally get his hand on his —

“Oghn!”

He freezes in place as they’re passing Peter’s room, barely noticing that Steve almost runs into him from how suddenly he’s stopped. “Buck?” Steve says, but Bucky only half processes it because his ears are ringing as all the blood rushes out of his head and down to more important places. 

Like all the other bedrooms in the dormitory, Peter’s room has no door. So Bucky has a perfectly clear view of what’s going on inside. He’s come to a dead stop just outside the door frame, and he whimpers without meaning to as he’s confronted with the sight of Peter, bent over the side of his bed, facedown in the comforters while Natasha stands behind him and …

“Nnngh, Nat, yesss. Fffuuhh—”

Bucky’s knees go weak, and the only thing that keeps him from dissolving into a puddle of slick on the floor is Steve’s hands on his waist. “Whoa there, Bud.”

Bucky makes a noise of distress in his throat at the feeling of Steve supporting him against his hard body. He thinks the alpha will pull him along, tell him not to look, but instead Steve holds him up and lets him watch. “Night time expression,” he says quietly, as if what they’re seeing is completely normal.

“What,” Bucky rasps, having to try again when his speech initially fails him. “But that … that … ahm, that’s allowed?”

Steve chuckles, the low rumble of it felt against Bucky’s back. “What? The hook? It’s just an aid, Honey. Helps to get the glands wrung out real good and proper.” Bucky makes a small choking noise as Steve says it, the alpha’s fingers gripping him a little firmer at the words ‘wrung out’. Steve notices and chuckles. “The glands inside of you are your biggest sexual organs, did you know that? The prostate alone is three times the size of a beta male’s. That’s why you can’t go for long without relief, it’s just biology.”

Without thinking of what he’s doing, Bucky’s one hand slides over the towel to in-between his legs, cupping himself from over the terrycloth for the briefest of moments before Steve tuts and takes hold of his wrist. He gently but firmly moves his hand away from his aching prick, and Bucky keens miserably. “Shh,” Steve soothes. “None of that, now. That’s not allowed and you know it, Bucky.”

“But I need to,” he whines.

“So you ask for help ,” Steve corrects. He gives him a comforting squeeze. “I told you that you can always ask your Handler for help with your sexual urges. That’s part of what they’re here for. Just like you have nonsexual submissive needs, it’s completely natural to need to orgasm a few times a day. You just have to accept that it’s someone else’s job to give it to you. You need to submit .”

“Yeah, but …” Bucky licks his lips and tries to avert his eyes several times, but he’s unable to look away for long. He’s starting to wonder if maybe Steve knows about his jerking it on the sly in the bathroom these past few days. “I don’t … I, um.” It’s not his fault that his brain is leaking out of his ears. Not when faced with this .

Peter is fully naked where he’s bent over the edge of the bed, eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping the blankets. His whole body is flushed, but the skin of his backside is noticeably darker than the rest of him, stained deep pink from an—ostensibly very recent—spanking. Bucky gets a brief glimpse of what could be dried tear tracks on the boy’s cheeks, but if he was crying, it seems to have little bearing on his enjoyment of what’s happening now, as he gasps and moans and presses back into the curve of the metal hook that Natasha has buried up inside him. Bucky can’t see much of it, just the way that Natasha is tug, tug, tugging on it in tiny little motions, rocking it inside Peter's body. But just imagining what it must feel like is enough to have Bucky’s own hole clenching down needily on nothing. God, it would be so firm, wouldn't it? It'd get right at it ...

Natasha picks something else up from the bed: a little egg shaped thing. Bucky just about has a cataplexy when she pushes a button on it and the thing starts thrumming in a heavy, pulsing vibration. “Ohmygod,” he whispers, watching with wide eyes as she holds it against the part of the hook just outside Peter's body, letting the vibrations travel through it. Bucky feels his body release a fresh wave of slick at the faint sound of it and how he can instantly imagine how it must feel . 

He thinks about the toy he’s smuggled in, in his suitcase. Nobody’s found it yet. He hasn’t been able to use it since arriving there, but watching Peter get his prostate pounded so thoroughly makes him suddenly desperate to have something up there, filling him up and drilling away the ache that these miserable one-wank-a-day days have left him with. It’s been almost a week since he’s had anything inside him, and he feels saliva pool in his mouth as he envisions how he might be able to slip his dildo out from its hiding spot that night and use it under his blankets, after lights out. He thinks about the soft, firm, rubber head, and how it’ll feel to rub it against his rim and tease himself for a while before finally shoving it inside and relishing in that first, delicious stretch. … Though ... it'd be pretty nice to have an alpha to rock a hard metal ball directly against his prostate, too.

“This is part of his routine,” Steve’s murmuring, his quiet voice pulling Bucky back from his thoughts. “Parker is high energy, low self control. He’s … spastic. Anxious. Like you. This helps to settle him.”

“I’m not—”

“See his backside?” Steve continues, ignoring Bucky’s weak interruption. “That’s one of his protocols. A nice, steady spanking—therapeutic, mind you, not punishment. You’d be amazed how much relief you can get from a session. Tomorrow I’ll assess you to see if it’s something we should implement.” Bucky makes a squeak of protest and Steve shushes him with a gentle squeeze to his waist. “Don’t worry, Honey. It’s not like you’re imagining. Punishment spanking isn’t at all like therapeutic spanking. They're two completely different creatures.”

“H-how?” Bucky’s eyes fall back to Peter’s butt, darker pink than the rest of him. It looks angry, like it must hurt a lot. He stares at Natasha’s slender hand and her hand on the toy, tug, tug, tugging …

“It starts off slower, for one. Very light and gentle at first.” Steve’s fingers curl in more securely when Bucky squirms in distress, holding him still. “Shh sh sh. It’s alright. Look at him: does he look upset?” 

Bucky sniffles and tries to look away. “Lemme go.”

“Your Handler will have you bend over the bed, like he’s doing,” Steve keeps explaining. “It builds up gradually. You’ll be comfortable. They’ll start soft and build up the force until you’re overwhelmed but not in pain. It won’t hurt.” 

“That makes no sense ,” Bucky complains, though the ache in his pelvis is heavier and tighter than ever at hearing Steve murmur the explanations against the shell of his ear. He imagines what it would be like to be spanked by Steve; held down firmly and soothed with cooing, sympathetic words like Natasha is giving Peter right now.

“Poor baby, you really needed this, huh? Could hardly put two sentences together since dinner, you’re so wound up. That’s how I know you’re gettin’ tired, need to let it all go and stop thinking n’ just feel.”

“Nat. Can’t … can’t, nnngh …”

“Shhh. There’s a good girl. It’s okay, just relax and let it happen. I know it feels good, Honey, I know. Alpha’s got you. It’s okay to cry. It’s a lot, I know.” 

Bucky looks down at where Steve is holding his waist. He admires the shape of those strong hands, his thick fingers and sturdy wrists, the veins against the skin … He swallows heavily and imagines Steve's palm coming down on his backside again and again, imagines what it would feel like, what it would look like. And— Oh god, fuck. Steve’s got such big hands. It'd be so solid .

A low keen breaks from the back of his throat before he can stop it, and he bites down on his lip, still not able to tear his eyes away from Natasha and what she’s doing to Peter. “I don't understand,” he says miserably. “No. You're lying."

"Lying about what, Baby?"

"About, about ... that," he grits. "How can it not hurt?”

Against his ear, Steve’s condescending chuckle makes his belly clench and his asshole release another obscene wave of slick. “You’ll see. It’s because of the pace, and the way your brain reacts to the physical dominance. Endorphins build up and are released before you can start to feel any real pain. The skin warms and you sink into it, kind of like a trance. By the time you’re getting real hits, you’re already high. Some students are able to orgasm from it.” Bucky shudders, and Steve hums. “It’ll be comfortable. You won’t be restrained. Your Handler won’t be angry with you. It isn’t discipline, that’s not the point. It’s to help you feel good and keep you healthy.”

Another whine is building in Bucky’s throat and he’s fighting to hold it back because he doesn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction of knowing how much this is affecting him. Though really, he figures Steve must know—from his scent alone, if nothing else. Bucky's freshly showered, but underneath the towel there’s new slick trickling down his inner thighs, wet and sticky, and there's no question that Steve can smell it. Bucky rubs his legs together uncomfortably, cringing at the messy feeling.

In the bedroom, Natasha turns up the vibrations, and Peter lets out a pornographic moan and arches his back even more. “Ohnn! Nat, Nat, Nat.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmnnn, feel’s’good …” He squirms and writhes, starting to cry helplessly when Natasha abandons the hook and pulls both hands back, no longer rocking the toy into him. She tuts and hushes him almost mockingly as he gets red in the face and wiggles around, trying to move the metal ball inside himself but unable to do it. “Nnnnh!” he cries desperately, prompting Natasha to pet his back and shush him,

“You’re okay. You’ve got it. Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Nnnoooo,” he cries miserably, hips working, shoving back in vain to try and work the hook in the same way she'd been doing.

“No? You want to stop?”

“Please, please. Don’sstop.”

Bucky's heart leaps at the sight of the hook going into Peter's hole, the helpless clenching of his wet and swollen rim as his body grasps it, trying to stimulate himself to no avail. Once again, Bucky's knees go weak and Steve is the only thing keeping him upright. Meanwhile Peter’s practically nonverbal, upset and desperate for the stimulation he needs. Natasha coos and rubs his back, encouraging him to ask for what he needs. “C’mon Pete. It’s okay. Tell me what you need. Remember to ask the right way. That’s all you have to do.”

Peter nods frantically, hips still working, eyes opening and closing sightlessly. He's crying sluggish tears now as he begs, “Help, please, help. Nat. Nnnn. Need you. Please Alpha.”

“Theere’s the magic word,” Natasha praises, her hand going back down to grasp the hook. She begins to rock it again and Peter sobs in gratitude. Natasha smiles and laughs fondly. “There you go, I’ve got you. I know you can’t do it yourself. Poor dumb baby. Just get too overwhelmed to know what to do, don't you? Need Alpha's help to make it go away.”

Against the pillow, Peter moans and drools and nods his head. “Yeah, y-yeah. Ongh …”

It’s too much. Bucky’s hips judder in Steve’s hands, his body literally unable to stay still when he’s this aroused. He knows that Steve can tell how bad it is, but the alpha doesn’t tease him. He just holds him and talks to him quietly as they both watch what’s going on. “You like that?” he asks, watching the scene alongside Bucky and humming knowingly when Bucky lies and shakes his head no. “It’s been a long day for you,” he says, a degree of kindness in his voice that, for all the heaviness in Bucky’s belly, still manages to make him feel thin and brittle and liable to break apart. “I want you to have some relief, Bucky. I can tell this is hurting you. So when we get to your room, if you need, you can bend over the edge of the bed just like that. Okay? Then all you have to do is ask nicely.”

Bucky moans, he can’t help it. He wants that so bad. Even just Steve’s big hands on his waist feel so good, making him yearn for more. “No,” he rasps, only to feel Steve’s chiding rumble against his back. 

“You don’t have to do that, Honey. It’s okay to give in.” 

“Nnn.”

“ Look at him.” Steve urges, nodding at the bedroom. “Don't you see how she is with him? How gentle? It’s not just about sexual release. It’s about that closeness, that care. Trusting your alpha enough to let them give that to you. That’s an important aspect of an omega’s wellbeing. It literally keeps your brain balanced the right way.” 

“I know,” Bucky grits. “We learned about it in science class." (Fucking right-wing, bullshit science class.)

“Good.”

In the bedroom, Peter is whining and mewling and moaning, and Natasha is so caring and attentive , telling Peter that he’s good and that he can let go and come whenever he wants to. “Whenever you’re ready, Pete. Just close your eyes and let it happen.”

Bucky’s eyes are filling with confused, anguished tears from watching it, a soul-deep yearning he doesn’t even understand swelling up inside him and making it hard to think. It just looks so safe and warm and good , what Peter has with Natasha, and he wants it. He wants to know what that feels like.

On his hip, Steve’s one hand edges inwards, fingers glancing over the tent that his prick is making underneath the towel. Bucky whines in frustration and Steve hushes him. “Stop. C’mon. How long do really think you can keep this up, hm? How long are you going to fight it?”

Bucky grinds his teeth even as he can feel his eyes stinging from the tears he’s trying not to cry, from how bad he wants it. “Forever,” he grits, though that’s a fucking lie and they both know it.

Maybe Steve has already figured out his plans to jerk off at lights out, who knows? He tuts at Bucky's defiance, and meanwhile in the room in front of them, Natasha is curling further over Peter’s back, sort of lying up alongside him. Peter’s eyes are glazed and he’s drooling on the pillow, dumb to anything but the climax he’s nearing. The closer he gets the calmer he seems to get, relaxing instead of straining, body going limp and letting Natasha do all the work.

“Good boy,” she purrs when he goes soft for it. She sets the vibrator against the hook again, speaking in an extended litany of gentle praise. Bucky can’t make out the words anymore, but whatever she’s saying, it makes Peter cry and shiver and nod, followed by more of her pleased hums and encouraging alpha sounds.

“ —‘pha,” Peter slurs, rubbing his face against the sheets as Nat’s hand works down below, keeping the toy seated deep and tug, tug, tugging against that spot inside. “Mmm. Please, please, yeah …” Peter looks and sounds like he’s completely sure that he’s going to get what he wants, that Natasha is going to give him what he needs , and seeing it makes Bucky burn with a wave of emotion that he only belatedly recognizes as jealousy.

He jerks in place, angry at himself and wanting to get away from the sight of it, but Steve’s strong hands hold him fast, not allowing him to avoid witnessing the display of what he’s missing out on. “No,” Steve says sternly, holding him still. “Watch it.” And Bucky can’t pull away. He’s forced to stay standing there in the alpha’s arms, face flaming, the sheer intimacy of what he’s witnessing with Steve making lust coil heavy in his guts, weighing heavy, heavy ; aching deep in the cradle of his pelvis.

Every gentle word and gesture that Natasha gives Peter makes him think of what it’d be like to have that with someone, what it’d feel like to have an alpha curl over him and purr at him and care for him so completely. A pit of yearning is opening up in his mind, cavernous and gaping and awful.  Briefly, he thinks of Brock and the few times that the older boy had been there when Bucky really needed it, how he’d fucked him hard and knotted fast and then pulled out before it was completely down because he had to get to practice, and wasn’t Bucky just grateful that he was there wasting time on his heat anyways?

He cries out when one of Steve’s hands readjusts on his hip and nudges his cock in the process. Steve gives an infuriatingly smug chuckle by his ear. “Pete’s a nice kid,” he says. “He was like you at first, you know. Angry, resistant, fought everything tooth and nail. Till he figured out that we were just trying to help him, to give him what he needs. Cause once you get a taste of what it's really like, you never want to go back. And now look at him: He’s happy, balanced, an A-student with a mate lined up for after graduation.”

Bucky shivers at the word 'mate', trying and failing to look away from the pair on the bed. He feels Steve’s breath hit his neck and is struck by the indelible urge to have the alpha cover his body the way that Natasha is covering Peter’s. And Steve is so much bigger than Natasha. Steve could really cover him ...

“Look at him,” Steve urges. “Getting everything he needs, because he asked. That could be you.” Bucky whines and jerks in his hold and Steve’s fingers dig in. “It’s that easy, Little one. All you have to do is admit it. Stop fighting everything so hard. You’ll be amazed how much easier it gets once you just let us help you .”

Bucky tries to think of something to say back to that, but he’s slogging through a brain gone mostly to soup, and before anything is forthcoming, Peter starts to come. He moans and shudders, and Natasha works him through it with those same deep rocking motions. It seems to go on forever, and when it’s over she eases the hook out of him and sets it aside, sits on the bed and has him lie there with his head in her lap. She strokes his hair and tells him nice things.

“Okay. Come on.” Steve guides Bucky away from the doorway, back down the hall and to his room. He steers him over to the bed and presses down on his shoulders, gently urging him to sit. 

Bucky hisses at the thrum of intensified arousal that comes just from Steve forcefully moving him and his butt meeting the bed. He fights the urge to squirm down against the mattress, but it’s hard. There’s slick between his cheeks that makes him want to writhe. He wants to rub his ass back against the blankets, hard, wants to purr and luxuriate in the feeling of soft things sliding against his skin. He wants to yank all the covers down and bunch them up between his thighs and squeeze , hump on them like an animal until he bursts.

But even more than that, he thinks he wants to hear Steve’s Voice praising him while he does it.

Steve surprises him by taking a knee right there beside the bed. He puts his hands on Bucky’s thighs and rubs up and down in a move that is probably meant to be soothing, but does nothing but make Bucky’s belly swoop with pleasure. He’s still got the towel wrapped around his hips, his prick an obscene little poke beneath the material. Steve is looking at it. “Last chance, Honey,” he says. “Do you want to bend over like Peter?” 

Bucky feels like he’s watching somebody else shake their head no, because everything in him is screaming for him to nod his head yes. Just a few minutes longer, he reminds himself. Just until lights-out. “No,” he breathes, and watches as surprise flashes in Steve’s eyes—though it quickly fades into something like disappointment. He almost looks pained for Bucky. He looks sorry for him.

“Okay,” he says, nodding grimly. “Okay Honey. That’s your choice. But you know the rules, right?” He gives him a pointed look. “The cameras are always on. You’re not going to get away with anything. Someone will come in here and restrain you if you try.” 

“Restrain?” Bucky asks worriedly, eyes flicking over to the cameras in the corner.

“Yes. So behave yourself. Your Handler will be in tomorrow morning. You can ask them for help then, if you need it.” 

“Sharon?” he asks dumbly, because that’s what comes to mind, but Steve shakes his head.

“No. Someone else. I’m assigning you a new Handler.” 

“What? But …”

“No buts.” Steve gives his leg an encouraging pat. “It’s not a bad thing. We’re just trying to find the right fit for you.”

“Sharon fits fine ,” Bucky snaps, thinking that at least he’s able to manipulate her a little bit. If he gets someone else, he may not be able to get away with his clandestine shower jerkoff sessions anymore. “Sharon fits,” he insists again. “She does.”

“You need a firmer hand, and you obviously respond better to males.”

“What? I do not .” Bucky deflates when Steve continues to stare at him knowingly. “Whatever,” he sulks. “It doesn’t matter who you assign me to. I’m still not gonna be how you want me to be.”

Steve stills, looking sad. “And how do I want you to be, hm?”

Bucky looks away, cowed by Steve’s intense eye contact. “Dunno,” he mumbles. “Just … like this .” He wiggles his hips uncomfortably. “Helpless. Needing an alpha. Pathetic.” For a few long seconds, Steve stays kneeling there, completely still, not saying anything. Bucky peeks at him and then quickly looks away again. He squirms self-consciously. “ What ?”

Steve inhales deeply and then reaches up. Bucky tenses, anticipating his displeasure, but Steve isn’t displeased. He’s just reaching for the collar on Bucky’s neck. “Let’s take this off for bed,” he says quietly. 

Heart in his throat, Bucky waits as the alpha maneuvers it around with deft fingers and undoes the buckle. There’s something so incredibly intimate about sitting there and allowing him to do it. It makes dread and desire war with each other deep in Bucky’s gut. He swallows compulsively once the collar is off, relearning the feel of himself without the leather band around his throat, fighting not to bring his hand up to touch the empty space where it was. He won’t admit that it feels like a loss, but it does. 

Steve sets the collar aside and turns back to cup the front of Bucky’s throat, this time with nothing between his hand and the bare skin. His thumb brushes back and forth over Bucky’s bonding glands. “It’s good to take a break, to maintain its effectiveness. Your body adjusts to the dopamine rush too much if you wear it twenty-four seven.”

Overly-sensitive, Bucky shivers at the sensation of Steve’s thumb swiping over his glands. A tiny, needy sound escapes his throat without his permission, and he peeks up at Steve to find the alpha staring at his neck. 

“You’re not pathetic, Honey. I'm sorry that other people have taught you to think that way about something that's natural for you. Something that's supposed to be beautiful.” He slowly applies pressure with his thumb, frowning when Bucky gasps and then whines pitifully. “You're swollen," he murmurs. He sounds displeased. "Has Sharon helped you at all since you got here?” 

“No,” Bucky whispers, which isn’t a lie. She hasn’t. But only because he's turned her down at every single offer. Bucky goes tight lipped, since admitting that to Steve feels like admitting that he’s broken the rules already. They both know it’d be near impossible for him to have gone four days without any sexual release whatsoever.

Steve doesn’t acknowledge it, though. He circles the pad of his thumb more firmly over Bucky's glands, massaging and looking thoughtful. He presses a little more, and a little more ...

Eventually it becomes too much to bear and elicits a tortured whimper from Bucky. “Nnh! Stop .” He slaps Steve’s wrist, and is surprised when the alpha lets go. Steve pulls his hand back to himself. Bucky swallows nervously, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to hit.”

“It’s okay. I know this is hard for you.” 

Steve won’t stop staring, and Bucky hates it. He flinches from the scrutiny and looks at Steve’s body instead, taking in the nicely tailored clothes he wears: the front of his dress shirt, his pants. The fabric pulls taught against the strong, thick lines of his thigh muscles, but Bucky is disappointed to find that the alpha isn’t visibly hard. He looks back up, and Steve’s eyes catch on his. Bucky gulps. “I … I’m tired,” he says. "I'd like to go to bed now."

Steve’s mouth quirks. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” 

They both know he’s lying, but Steve doesn’t call him out on it. “Your Handler will be here in the morning,” he tells him again. “He’ll help you. Just behave yourself and ask nicely.”

Bucky’s face burns. Like hell is he going to bend over and beg for an anal hook fucking from a stranger before breakfast. He’ll handle it tonight, himself , just as soon as Steve’s out of the room. “Kay,” he says, avoiding any further eye contact, because every time he meets Steve's gaze he feels like the alpha knows exactly what he's planning. “S’fine,” he says. "You can go." Steve doesn’t move to leave, and he smells kind of melancholy, too, which makes confusion and worry twist in Bucky’s gut. “Are you mad at me?” he asks. Steve doesn’t smell mad, but the way he’s just kneeling there, and staring …

“No, Buck. I’m not mad.”

Bucky huffs. “Well what then?”

Steve’s hand cups him underneath his jaw and angles his face towards him. “Look me in the eyes,” he commands quietly, and Bucky’s breath hitches. He wasn’t expecting Steve to Voice, and the sound of it has him visibly reacting, goosebumps erupting across his skin. If he isn��t mistaken, Steve’s eyes get a little more heated. The alpha rumbles in approval. “I asked you a question the other day,” he says. “In my office. Do you remember?”

Bucky shakes his head dumbly, but in his defense, there’s a lot that he can’t remember right now. “Uhm …”

“I asked you a question and told you to think on it for a while before you answered,” he reminds.

Against Steve’s hand, Bucky swallows. “Oh,” he whispers. “Yeah. Y-you asked …” He squirms uncomfortably as he recalls the loaded question Steve had asked him that day. “Mmn.” He shakes his head.

“Tell me, Baby. What did I ask you to think about?”

“Dunno,” he mumbles, which is another obvious lie.

Steve tuts softly and circles his thumb over his glands again. “I asked you to think about when the last time was that you were really, truly happy.” A—

Bucky frowns as he thinks about the answer to that question. It’s not an answer he wants to give. He’s not even sure he knows the answer. But he knows it’s not a good answer. Because Steve asked about when he’d been truly happy long term , not just happy in the moment over one thing or another. " Settled "—that’s the word he’d used. When was the last time Bucky felt truly happy and content; settled in his own skin?

His lip trembles as he admits to himself that it’s been a long, long time.

A.N.: Uh, yeah I know it's an awkward place to end, but it was getting stupid-long and I still have a lot left to go in this scene and the next, so the next part will be a separate chapter.

T.W.: The next chapter will contain explicit mentions and depictions of past cutting scars.

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This has been a fill for @allcapsbingo, card: sarahyellow (AC1105), square N5: anal hook.

[biteofcherry]

So… tell me more about Professor Rogers. What would happen if he needed to call you into his office to discuss the grade you received on the mid term after getting told you what to study?

When he calls you into his office you both dread it and are excited for it. You did your best, but you also consider agreeing that you could do better and imagine yourself bent over his desk.

But Steve doesn't give you that. He makes you simply sit there and listen to his steady, firm assessment of your work and the clear disappointment in his voice.

When he tells you that you're free to go and that there will be an opportunity to change your grade next week, you look up at him quite shocked and crestfallen.

"Is that all, professor?" You ask, feeling heaviness in your chest.

He stands up and rounds the desk, then leans against it with his arms crossed.

"For now, yes. We need to make sure your smart head still works properly and I haven't fucked out your last braincells."

A muscle in his jaw ticks as he leans towards you and grips your chin.

"Because that midterm grade suggest you've been thinking about my dick and being a dumb little fucktoy, instead of the respected professional you want to be one day."

"I wanna be both," you whine, looking up at him.

"Then work for it," Steve barks. "Both for the degree and for the privilege of being my fucktoy."

You nod eagerly, hoping some dark mercy to flow your way and ease the constricting guilt.

Steve's grip tightens and he tilts your head back as he moves to stand over you.

"Open," he orders and you immediately obey, opening your lips wide and sticking out your tongue.

Steve spits into your mouth. The moment it splashes on your tongue your pussy clenches.

"Hold it in." You listen, feeling your saliva pooling beneath your tongue and your panties growing wet.

"No orgasms, no pleasure of any kind for you, until you earn a higher grade. Understood?"

Steve lays the law strictly. You'd whine in protest, if his ruthless rule didn't turn you on so much. You nod, mouth still open.

"Swallow." He commands. "Now go home and get some rest. Starting tomorrow, you're going to put all your brains and dedication into mastering that material."

"And if your results please me-" he continues- "I'll fill one of your holes."

"One hole for each good grade you get this term, since it appears that fucking all three regularly really turns you into a mindless cumslut."