#my fic: spring semester seduction
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mickey-henry · 3 years ago
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𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
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pairing: professor!bucky x reader
summary: bucky barnes is your gorgeous, young, new professor. you're into him, and you're pretty sure he wants you too. much to your chagrin, he's not making a move; it's up to you to seduce the man of your dreams.
word count: 6.9K (she’s a long one)
author’s note: hello! welcome to my fourth fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! I hope you like it! 💖
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Earbuds in, arms swaying along your side, and thoughts elsewhere, you mindlessly completed your morning workout. Today’s podcast discussed the discourse of the latest controversial commercial and the opinions different people had on it. You found that your anger towards the blissfully ignorant powered your workouts more than caffeine ever could.
Just as the discourse was getting heated, your arm tangled with the earbuds, yanking them from your ears. You rolled your eyes at yourself, still jogging as you pulled out your phone to stop the podcast. 
Right as you tapped the pause button, you ran into someone who was just as oblivious to their surroundings as you were. You stumbled yet quickly regained your balance when you looked at the person you collided with. Your eyes quickly darted up—discovering his impossibly long eyelashes and enchanting smile—then back down again, realizing there was no place you could look without your mouth gaping. Moving down his sweaty, ripped torso, you noticed the athletic sweatpants barely staying up—there was probably only one thing holding them there—and the exposure of his v-line made your mouth drop even lower. Trying to make sure you weren’t staring for too long, your eyes moved to his hip bones—and boy, they were beautiful. You then finally allowed your eyes to drop to the ground, where his feet rested in sockless Nike shoes.
“You should probably watch where you’re going next time,” the boy said with a cocky smile still plastered across his face.
“Sorry-” you began, but upon processing the smile on his face and lack of anger about the situation, you chuckled. “Well, the same goes for you, then you could’ve moved out of the way.” You felt an unstoppable grin trickle across your cheeks and tried to ignore it.
“What can I say? I can’t help that you’re falling for me.” 
“Sure, that’s definitely what is happening right now,” you retorted, the comment coming out less sarcastic and more flirty than you intended. 
“Be safe next time, okay? You don’t need to be falling for any more guys, sweetheart.”
Without thinking, you corrected him with your name.
“Sorry, sweet pea. That’s a beautiful name. You should be careful now, okay?” He then turned to continue his run. 
Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “You’re not going to tell me your name?” 
He turned around with a smirk. “Bucky,” he winked as he ran off before you could say another word. The devilishly handsome boy got a good way away before turning around to tie his shoe, clearly trying to see if you were watching him go. You were. You smiled to yourself and then continued your jog back to your apartment.
Working out in the park became your regular pastime. It wasn’t because you were extremely stressed about your last semester at Copper Cove University, and it definitely wasn’t because you were intentionally trying to bump into Bucky again. Yeah, those weren’t the reasons at all. While completing your latest jog, you thought about the semester to come. Your first class was tomorrow, and you couldn’t be more nervous.
This semester was going to be like no other. The career you desired for years and years was closer to your grasp than ever before. You carefully created your course schedule, only taking classes from the highest-rated professors. There was one problem; the class you needed the most, Narrative Writing, was only offered at one time, and the professor had no reviews. Maybe he was new? You signed up for the course anyway, despite how horribly anxious the decision made you. Maybe the professor wouldn’t be so bad? You couldn’t Google your professor beforehand either; only the teacher’s first initial and last name were present on the roster. All you had to go on was J. Barnes. Hopefully, this semester wouldn’t be one of those horror stories where a person who wasn’t even a teacher posed as a professor for weeks with no one knowing. You had to sit down at the thought, nearly missing a freshly stained bird poop spot on the park bench. Your heart was racing, and not because of your jog. “Everything is going to be fine,” you said to yourself. “This semester is going to be fine...”
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The following morning, you completed your first day of school ritual. You checked the online roster to see if you know anyone taking the course. There was no one. You showered, put on makeup, and got dressed in your cutest new outfit. First impressions mattered deeply to you, and your first day back on campus was going to be unforgettable. At least you hoped so. Grabbing your backpack and earbuds, you made your way to class thirty minutes earlier than you had to. 
You were one of the first students to arrive. You exchanged awkward smiles with the other students; they seemed just as nervous as you were. You sat front and center, your go-to spot, claiming the seat as your own for the rest of the semester. As students trickled in, you made yourself look busy by checking emails. No one was speaking. The familiar echo of dress shoes bounced through the lecture hall. The professor must have arrived. You thought nothing of his arrival until you heard the girl two seats over from you whisper, “Oh my god.”
You glanced up to see the professor setting his things on the desk. Oh my god was right. You couldn't believe your eyes; you watched him intently as he removed a perfectly fitting black leather jacket. Decorating his torso was a form-fitting white dress shirt, one size too small. He rolled up his sleeves halfway up his forearm, exposing his veiny arms, before turning to write his name on the whiteboard. With his back to the class, you could see the faint outline of his back tattoo. As he turned to face forward again, fiddling with a stack of papers, you noticed his shirt unbuttoned one button lower than should be legal. You let your eyes travel down his torso, admiring his slim dress pants that hugged his thighs and ended just above his ankles. He completed the ensemble with mahogany slip-on dress shoes—without socks. You chuckled to yourself; this man must have an affinity for no-show socks.
The professor looked up, probably feeling the stares of his students upon him. Your jaw dropped—it was Bucky from the park, the man who hadn’t left your mind since you ran into him last week. Holy shit.
He cleared his throat and began his introduction.
“Hello, class. My name is Professor James Barnes. A little about me? Well, I just finished grad school, I turn 26 in March, and your class is the first one I have ever taught. Consider yourselves my guinea pigs.”
The class let out a simultaneous laugh. Making a class laugh within the first five minutes was typically a good sign for the rest of the semester. “This guy is funny too,” you thought to yourself, trying to contain the heat that was spreading across your cheeks.
“I know it’s annoying, but since it's the first day of classes, I have to take attendance,” he continued. “Bear with me.” He then reached into his bag to take out the roster. “If I mess up the pronunciation of your name, please correct me. I don’t want to call you the wrong name the entire semester.”
As he made his way through the alphabet sea of last names, your heart raced faster and faster as he got closer to your name. After what was seemingly the longest minute of your life, he finally reached your name.
 You raised your hand to signal your presence. When he looked to match your name and face, he gave you a sweet smile. The look he gave you was unique; it differed from the smiles he gave the other students. “He recognized me; I know it,” you thought to yourself, feeling a slight tingle in your chest. You fixated on your feelings until the professor cleared his throat to signal that he finished with attendance. He took one smooth look around the class, fully taking in his first day.
“This is going to be a wonderful semester; I can feel it,” the professor said with an enticing grin, looking directly at you. You agreed; this was going to be a wonderful semester indeed.
After class, you approached him with “questions about the syllabus.” You pretended to be busy on your phone until the other students left. It seemed like there was no class afterward—no new flood of students arrived. After a minute or so, the two of you were the only ones left in the room.  
“Hi, Professor. I wanted to introduce myself. My name is—”
He interrupted you, saying your name for you. “Yes, I remember you, if that's what you were wondering.”
The words stuttered from your mouth. “No! Umm. Yeah, I was wondering. But, I have a legitimate question for you,” you stated. Your voice trails off as you fixate on his hands that delicately rest on top of the desk. You looked to see if he was wearing a ring. He wasn’t. Your heart swelled at that fact. Without warning, a thought flashed in your mind, a thought that you should not have in this very moment, especially in front of its subject. You couldn’t help but wonder how his gorgeous hands would feel tracing your arms, knotting your hair, and caressing your inner thigh.
You shook your head to clear the thought away. The action was more noticeable than you intended; he laughed and smiled at you. You finally made eye contact, observing his beautiful, bright blue eyes. He was impossibly pretty and equally humble. He was perfect. 
“I think you just answered your question,” he answered with a grin. During your brief reverie, Bucky packed up his things and stood across the desk from you. Your cheeks burned at the fact that you had zoned out for so long.
“Well, this class seems incredibly fascinating. I look forward to seeing what the semester brings,” you said. Wow, that was a good comment. Shout out to me for coming up with that right on the spot. 
“I'm intrigued as well. It was lovely meeting you,” he said, placing his hand out to shake yours.
His handshake was firm and proper. You were sure you weren’t the only one who felt sparks at the touch—he didn’t hint otherwise. He grabbed his bag and headed for the door, gesturing for you to follow. Right as he was about to reach for the door handle, he looked at you. 
“When we’re not in class, call me Bucky,” he insisted with a wink, opening the door for you. 
“Will do,” you answered with a smile. You departed ways and headed back to your apartment. 
 In less than two hours, Bucky left you smitten. You knew he felt something too—there was no way you imagined that entire interaction. Whether he was going to act upon your connection was an entirely different story. As you walked back to your apartment, you formulated a plan. Bucky would be yours, even if it took all semester. Nothing would stop you from capturing the heart of your gorgeous professor. 
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The forty-eight hours between your first and second day of school flew by. Sure, you had other classes and spent time with your roommates, but all you could think about was seeing Bucky again. You reflected on just how quickly the days had gone as you sat waiting for Bucky’s class to begin.
“My goodness, he’s perfect,” you thought, watching Bucky arrive a minute before class officially started. “I’m not crazy; he was clearly into me in the park and he smiled at me on Monday.” You looked up to watch him unpack his bag. Before he spoke, unknown to the rest of the class who were too busy on their phones or socializing with those around them, Bucky caught eyes with you and smiled. You tried to stop your heart from fluttering, with little luck. “I definitely didn’t imagine that smile this time; it was clearly a little flirty. He’s into this.”   
“Good morning, everyone,” he began. “I hope you all have had a good forty-eight hours, and I’m glad to see I didn’t scare too many of you away.” The class unanimously chuckled.
You zoned out after Bucky called your name on the roster. You replayed the smirk he gave his roster as your name came up over and over until your cheeks burned. Your focus snapped back to reality as Bucky began his lecture.
“Okay, everyone. Today I will go over the details of the course-long paper each one of you is responsible for completing. You will write a full-length novel. Your minimum word requirement is twenty-five thousand—”
The class gasped in unison. Suddenly, the atmosphere was tense and fearful. You were sure you weren’t the only one who was thinking, “How in the world am I going to do that?”
Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at the class’s shock. “That’s why I am assigning this now; you can work on it piece by piece. You will have no formal exams; your only assignments will be this novel and a few short stories here and there. Your novel may be any genre. Please keep your writing PG-13; I don’t want to read obscene sexual acts. Write those things on your own time.” The class’s laughter roared. Bucky smiled to himself at the success of his joke.
“Along with the seemingly horrendous word count, the only other requirement for this assignment is to print your book into an actual book. There are no expensive textbooks, so this class will not cost you a fortune. Please pass around these promo code cards. I emailed this company before class, and since I guaranteed them so much business, they offered to make it easier on you all.”
Your mind began racing: you had many ideas and no clue how to narrow it down to one choice. You grinned at the thought that you would finally have a reason to go to Bucky’s office hours. You could ask him for help on this narrative throughout the semester—your frequent visits to Bucky’s office would not appear suspicious. You frantically noted all of the best ideas on your paper. You listened intently for the rest of the class, trying to process Bucky’s lecture on rhyme schemes. Once Bucky dismissed everyone, you strategically took your time packing up your things so you would intentionally be the last one in the classroom. You had a question prepared, but Bucky broke the silence between the two of you first.
“Excited for the novel?”
“Oh my goodness, yes!” you flustered. “I’ve always had so many ideas but no time to write them into full books—” You stopped, noticing Bucky’s amused expression on his face. “What?” you giggled nervously.
“I’m glad to see you excited. Happiness is a lovely emotion on you.”
The flutters in your heart were back. Goodness gracious, is this going to happen every time he speaks to me?
“I’ve already got some paperwork I need to get started. Finish this conversation in my office?” Bucky asked, walking to the door. You nodded. After locking the door behind them, he led the way. His office was a short walk from the classroom. The minute trip was silent. You took the time to admire the sunshine beaming through the few clouds in the sky. The sunlight made the trees look like they were twinkling stars. “That would be a great poem; I need to remember that,” you thought, quickly opening the notes app on your phone to document the fleeting thought.
Bucky unlocked his office door and tossed his bag onto his desk. You lightly placed your backpack alongside the guest chair and took a moment to look around his office.
The first thing you noticed was the lack of decorations. He had a small bookshelf resting against the wall, neatly stuffed with books of various genres. Perpendicular to the door was his desk: a simple espresso-colored table with a hutch above the space occupied by his desktop computer. There were no photos on his desk, only a few inspirational quotes placed into picture frames. There was a potted cactus in the corner—the only actual decoration present in the room. The absence of personality in this office came as a shock; most of your previous professors had decked out their offices in memorabilia and self-accomplishments. 
Without filtering the thought, you asked, “Why don’t you have any decorations in here?”
Bucky took a moment to respond. “To be frank, I didn't have any ideas. I’m always open to decoration suggestions.”
You grinned at the comment. “So, umm, I narrowed down my novel genre to three choices, and I don’t know which one I have the strongest idea for.” That was a lie. You knew which one was best. But if you always knew what to do, what reason would you have for visiting his office hours?  
“I'm sure they are all wonderful. What are your ideas?”
You spent the next twenty minutes bouncing ideas off of one another. You wanted to tie together a murder tale and a romance novel but weren’t sure exactly how you wanted to do so. You had never attempted to write a story in an unconventional format. He helped you narrow down not only your genre but a general plot outline. It would start with the aftermath of the murder, with the protagonist stunned at the horrific acts they committed. You then would transition to a chapter describing how the protagonist and the eventual murder victim met. The following chapters would alternate from present-day to past events leading to the murder. The climax would be an actual murder, described in the present tense, revealing the protagonist’s confession of the crime. You were excited to tackle the task. One of your favorite novels was in this format; it inspired you to try something new.
“I’m relieved,” you admitted. “I may have been playing it cool, but this assignment is daunting.”
“Your novel should not be causing a horrible amount of anxiety, sweet pea. Let me help. We can meet weekly to examine your progress and keep you on track,” Bucky suggested.
“I didn’t even have to suggest the idea myself. I’m going to meet with him weekly. Yes! The perfect excuse to “have” to see him,” you mentally cheered. Your stomach and heart somersaulted the thought.
“Thank you, Professor Barnes. That’ll help me a lot.”
“Bucky,” he corrected with a smile, mimicking the way you corrected him with your name in the park.
“Thank you, Bucky.” You pushed in your chair as you rose, realizing how much time you spent in his office. “I’m sure you have things you need to do, so I’ll let you get back to it. Sorry.”
“You never need to apologize, sweet pea. Your company is a delight. I wish you a wonderful rest of your day.”
“You too, Bucky!” you gushed, more eager than you had intended. Embarrassed at your response, you turned and quickly left his office. You were proud; you had a justifiable reason to see Bucky often. Part one: done.
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Your heart raced as you approached Bucky’s office door. This was the first time you arrived at a time outside of his office hours; you finally took up Bucky’s offer to schedule a meeting for another time. His office hours quickly became flooded with flustered girls wanting the opportunity to talk to him. You seriously wanted help with your novel, and his office was constantly swarming with students. You put up with it for a week before asking for a meeting. Three weeks into the semester, and you would finally be alone with Bucky, uninterrupted. You were thrilled.
You gently knocked on the door, waiting for an answer. He peeked through the curtain that covered his window, which was your suggestion so people couldn’t try to spy on him. He grinned and went to unlock the door. 
“Hello, sweet pea. Come in; make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you,” you said, walking by him to take your usual seat next to his desk chair. You pulled out your laptop and opened the document of your novel. “I think it’s about three thousand words at this point. I know I have a ton more to do, but I finished the first few chapters. Would you mind reading it over?”
“Of course. Would you like me to make edits if I see errors?”
You almost laughed. You read over your writing so many times that you were positive there were no grammatical errors. “Yes, please.”
As you handed Bucky your laptop, your fingertips brushed against one another. You almost jolted back in response; it was as if you felt literal sparks. You looked at Bucky; based on his slightly surprised facial expression, you were sure he felt it as well. He reviewed your document—you subtly moved your seat slightly closer to see what he was doing. Well, that would be the reason you would give if he asked. Of course, you had other intentions by sitting close to him. His cologne tickled your nose. It smelled faintly of sandalwood and the entire male collection of products at Bath & Body Works. It was intoxicating to be that close.
Your heart sank as you saw how many comments Bucky was leaving on your draft. You worked incredibly hard on it, and to see someone ripping it apart hurt. You always had a hard time with constructive criticism; even more so if said criticism came from someone you truly cared for and respected. By the time he finished, you had tears in your eyes. You took a deep breath, swallowed the lump in your throat, and wiped the forming tears from your eyes right before Bucky handed the laptop back to you.
“Geez, I guess it was really terrible,” you said, laughing to cover up the tremble in your voice.
“It wasn’t terrible, sweet pea. My notes are to make your writing the best it can be.”
You nodded and abruptly dismissed yourself. You didn’t wait for his response or turn to see his expression. The second you shut the door behind you, tears flowed down your cheeks. You hung your head low until you got back to your apartment, fearful that others would judge your vulnerable state. After many deep breaths and wet tissues, you calmed your frantic mind. You reminded yourself over and over that no one is perfect; it’s okay to make mistakes, and Bucky was not criticizing you as an individual.
Even with the occasional constructive criticism, you genuinely looked forward to your meetings with Bucky.
Seeing him more and more outside of class only strengthened your desires. 
The weeks between your first meeting with Bucky and midterms flew by. Your other classes paled compared to Bucky’s. His flawless inclusion of semi-personal anecdotes enlightened the class and made learning that much more enjoyable. Few professors had the light and joy that Bucky brought to his classroom. 
In a typical class period, everyone was in their own world—many students frantically took notes on Bucky’s lectures, some doodled, and a few students slept through the hour. Of course, some of the other students still fawned over Bucky and tried desperately to get his attention. He only had eyes for you; your shared glances lingered longer than his with the other students. 
You and Bucky formed a genuine bond; you could tell he truly cared about your wellbeing and success. He expanded the details of his stories that he shared in class. Soon your meetings extended beyond academics; you both shared about your days, and you expressed your troubles. You learned a lot more about Bucky than you could in class. His office soon became more personal after your encouragement. His passions filled every wall and shelf, a much-improved sight from his incredibly bare office that existed the first few weeks of school. Your favorite addition to his office was a felt letter board. Every so often, you would come with a famous inspirational quote to place on his board. Your original intention was to share the quotes with him, but he soon decided that it would be your unofficial task to update it weekly. You were the only one he allowed to touch it.
You were still on the path to winning over Bucky. Every meeting you had, you slid your chair slightly closer to his, testing the waters. If he noticed, he said nothing, even when your elbows brushed against one another. Your plan was smooth and subtle; something abrupt could backfire entirely.
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You jumped out of bed, excited to tackle the day. Midterms were finally over after an exhausting week of studying and anxiety. Your roommates invited you to a party thrown by one of their boyfriends, but you respectfully declined. At this rate, all you wanted to do was take a nice warm bath, exfoliate, and binge-watch some shows. The anticipation of your much-needed self-care was enough for you to start your morning workout routine. You started your workout playlist and accomplished what you could before your stomach begged for food. You headed to the kitchen of the apartment to fix up your breakfast. You unplugged your phone to look for a recipe, noticing several unread messages from a number you didn’t recognize. Your blood boiled as you scanned the message; you had to sit down to fully process it. 
You sat stunned for a moment. What the actual heck? My shitty ex-boyfriend had to cause drama in my day, and I didn’t even talk to him! Ugh. Well, I can’t stay here alone. I’ll probably end up wallowing, which solves nothing. There is that party tonight. I can laugh at the drunks toppling over furniture. It’ll make for an interesting story.
You redirected your focus to the task at hand: socialize and get distracted in a healthy way. After breakfast, of course. You jumped in the shower to get ready before your shopping adventure to find the perfect party outfit. After hours of searching through racks and racks of clearance and sales, you finally compiled an amazing outfit. For your top, you chose a sheer, long sleeve, black, bateau neck shirt with a black mesh bralette that had two red roses embroidered on either cup. For your bottoms, you chose a high-waisted, red, mini circle skirt that complemented the red roses, knee-high black socks, and black heeled booties. “Might as well go full out, especially when I’m feeling down,” you thought, justifying the slightly scandalous outfit. You had never worn a sheer shirt before but had always wanted to. Better late than never. 
It thrilled your roommates that you agreed to come to the party. You hoped that at least one of the two would stick by your side and help you navigate the waters. You were unfortunately wrong with that assumption. Both girls ditched you the second you walked through the door. This house party was much more crowded and loud than your roommates assured you it would be, and you immediately felt out of place. There was no dog around, so you couldn’t make yourself look busy by cuddling with it. That left one more course of action—find the food and hang there for a while. Maybe someone would have the same idea and you would have someone sober to talk to. 
You were right; the snack table was a successful social strategy. You failed to consider the fact that even slightly intoxicated individuals would have had the same idea. 
“Hey there,” said a blonde stranger with two beers in his hand. “Care for a drink?”
“I’m good, thank you,” you declined, placing some veggies from the minuscule vegetable tray onto your plate of chips and popcorn. Does no college student eat vegetables? 
“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing alone at a place like this? I’m surprised there aren't more guys drooling over you right now.”
You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes and react with disgust. He blatantly stared at your chest for your entire conversation. “I’m here with my roommates,” you politely answered, hoping that the comment and your act of scouring the room would have him leave you alone.
“C’mon now. You can spend a little time away from them, can’t you? I’m Chad.”
You almost laughed. Chad? His name is Chad? That is such a typical name for a “bro” like him.
“Have a drink! Loosen up! Live in the moment a little; life’s too short!”
Okay, that’s enough. Not today, no thank you. I don’t need this right now. “I’m okay, thanks. I’m going to head home now.”
“C’mon, beautiful! Don’t you want to see a little more of this?” Chad flirted, placing his beers on the snack table and proceeding to take off his shirt.
“I’m good. Maybe hold off on the beers? You’ve had plenty,” you answered, giggling as you turned away with your plate and headed for the door. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Chad flexing at a group of girls. They were fawning all over him. He was muscular and nice-looking, but you could sense his ego from a mile away. 
The thumps of the heavily auto-tuned music followed you out of the house. You didn't bother to say goodbye to your roommates; they had other priorities this evening. “That was a bust,” you thought. You glanced at the house as you walked away, realizing that it wasn’t your roommate’s boyfriend’s house: it was a frat house. Well, that explains a lot. There are probably at least twenty “Chad’s” in there.
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You made your way through the abandoned campus on your way back home. Out of habit, you walked by Bucky’s office. You did a double-take when you realized that his office light was on. You peeked in the open doorway and saw Bucky hunched over a large stack of papers on his desk. He let out a sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his eyes. You glanced at the clock on the wall; it was eleven in the evening. You couldn’t believe he was still here, especially on a Friday night. You gently knocked, yet the element of surprise was still too much: Bucky jumped at the sound. You smiled and sat on his desk next to the chair he was sitting in. You let yourself slowly take in his look for today, starting at his feet and ending by fixating on his lips. 
“Are you doing okay, Bucky?”
“Yeah! Umm, I guess I lost track of time."
Time wasn’t the only thing Bucky lost track of—he did nothing to hide his ogling. His gaze moved from your eyes to your chest; the action brought a smile to your face.
“I see what you’re doing, Bucky. Come closer; you can get a better look,” you flirted, slightly stunned at your self-confidence. With the campus deserted, there was no one around to overhear and intrude on your conversation.
Bucky pushed himself out of his seat. He wasn't trying to hide his stare anymore; his eyes traveled up and down slowly, biting his lip as he fixated on yours. 
You couldn’t help but do the same. His white button-up shirt was buttoned lower than usual. His biceps popped out from his sleeves, even more so than at the beginning of the semester. His pants hugged his legs, outlining his toned thighs. Loafers donned his feet rather than his typical dress shoes. He walked toward you, standing right in front of you, his legs brushing against your knees. With your faces mere inches apart, you both stared at each other's lips. Bucky placed his left hand on your right—his other hand brushing your hair behind your ear. He gently traced your cheek before resting his hand on top of yours. Bucky leaned closer, brushing his lips against yours. Just as he was about to kiss you, he pulled back.
“We can’t do this,” he said. He looked as if the words pained him to say. His hands still lingered on yours for a few moments before moving back and sitting in his chair. He placed his head in his hands and sighed. “We can’t..."
“I get it,” you nodded, desperately fighting back your tears. Goodness gracious, I was so close! 
“I can’t let this happen again.”
“Oh, this will happen again, especially if I have anything to do with it,” you thought.
“This doesn’t have to change anything, sweet pea. Please, still feel free to come by and work on your novel with me. Your presence always brightens my day.”
His kind words stung more than the almost-kiss. 
“Thanks,” you replied meekly, standing up from the desk and making your way toward the door. Just as you placed your hand on the doorknob, you heard Bucky softly say your name.
You sighed, then opened the door without turning back. A single tear fell down your cheek—not one of sadness, but one of fury. You were more determined than ever to make Bucky yours. You won't make it easy for him; you're going to frustrate him as much as you could. By the end of the semester, Bucky would be yours. 
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You thought that Bucky’s class was fun before; however, you never realized how entertaining intentionally messing with your professor could be. Because of your frustrations, you decided it was time to increase the intensity of your methods.
In class the following Monday, you pondered ways to tease Bucky as he wrote on the board. You hoped to remind him of the feeling you shared in his office and make him desperate to experience it again. As you tried to come up with ideas, you rested your pen on your lip. Hmm, this action alone might work?
You held the tip of your pen in your mouth, letting your lower lip droop a bit as Bucky turned to face the class. He spoke a few sentences before making eye contact with you—his sentence disintegrating as soon as you locked eyes. You smiled, pretended to take more notes, and were proud of your ability to distract your professor.
Upon realizing how easily he came apart when you teased him, you intentionally came up with new ideas to continue the streak. Your shirts fell lower and lower, and your skirts became shorter and shorter. You did your best to emulate your party outfit in a classroom-appropriate way, hoping to remind Bucky of that night.
You dedicated a few of your ideas to his office hours. Channeling an iconic movie, you pulled a “bend and snap,” dropping your jacket on your way out of his office in your most form-fitting jeans. You turned over your shoulder to wave goodbye after grabbing your jacket, smirking at his wide eyes. One day, you “accidentally” dropped your pen while he read over your draft. While squatting to reach it, you placed a perfume-drenched scrunchie in the back corner, hoping for your perfume to linger long after you left. It worked; when you came back a few days later, his office subtly smelled like you, and the scrunchie was where you left it. He must’ve enjoyed your aroma; there was no way the smell and scrunchie went unnoticed for that long.
You got more impatient as the semester dragged on. Your last idea had to make an impact; you couldn't wait to implement it. On the last day of classes, you wore a white v-neck over your favorite pair of jeans—an ordinary outfit at first glance. But, in the middle of class, you pretended to struggle with opening your water bottle. Rather than gracefully removing the lid, it flew off, drenching the front of your shirt with water. You intentionally wore the same bralette you wore the night of the party. That would get him to remember that night; he wouldn't be able to hide it now. 
You were right; he recognized the bralette that was under your now drenched shirt. He stopped mid-sentence—a feat you hadn't accomplished in a while—once he realized your shirt was now entirely see-through. You could tell that your other actions had distracted Bucky, but he could pull it together quick enough for no one else to notice. This time was different, though; his distractedness became incredibly obvious. He coughed and excused himself for a quick drink of water to hide his flushed cheeks. You put on your jean jacket, hiding your shirt from the side. Yet from the front, your bralette was still a sight to be seen; Bucky couldn’t help but glance over at it every few minutes. This was the most effective method yet.
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Finals week this semester was the most stressful of all of your years of schooling combined. Within nine days, you had five exams, three papers, two presentations, and your completed narrative for Bucky’s class. Many late nights and cups of coffee later, you finished with your senior year. 
Of course, you wanted to visit the one professor who made your semester. You genuinely wanted to thank him for all of his help and wishfully thought that maybe he would finally confess his feelings. 
His office door was ajar. You gently pushed it open to see Bucky’s office in disarray. Papers covered his ordinarily immaculate office, stacks on stacks of essays and stories surrounded him. You could see the manifestation of his stress: his wrinkly shirt and unkempt hair were a stark contrast to his typically pristine look. You placed your bag onto his guest chair; the mere sound of its clanking was enough to make him jump. He must’ve not heard you come in. He meekly smiled at your presence. 
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. I wanted to thank you for all of your help and for a great semester. Hopefully, I can still stop by even when I’m no longer your student?”
Bucky said nothing, getting up and walking right by you to the door, utterly confusing you. Does he want me to leave?
He pulled the curtain over his window, pushed the door shut, and locked it. He walked back to where you were standing and stopped just inches away from your face.
“Sweet pea, you’re just what I needed,” Bucky murmured, brushing the hair off of your face and lightly stroking your cheek. You looked deep into his impossibly blue eyes and gave a slight nod. He pulled you in with his hand on the small of your back, gently kissing your lips. The kiss began gradually and softly, then quickly became frantic and lustful. His passion sent chills down your body, the long-overdue kisses consuming every fiber of your being. 
He pulled away for a moment, panting to catch his breath. His lust-blown eyes were so dilated; you could barely see the steel blue of his irises.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that, Bucky.”
“Oh, I think I do, sweet pea,” he whispered, closing the gap between you two by pushing you against the door. He latched his mouth to your neck, leaving bruises as he traveled up to your jaw and back to your mouth. You ran your fingers through his hair, moving both of your hands to his neck and chest. 
“You know how many times I went home after our meetings, wishing I acted on my desires?” he growled, his voice dropping an octave. “I can barely concentrate on my lectures with you looking like that in class; wearing those little skirts and short shirts, sweet pea. It took everything in me not to take you then and there.” 
You gasped at his salacious words. Unable to find your voice, you pull his lips back onto yours. You slowly unbuttoned his shirt as your hands traced his chiseled chest. Your hands traveled back up, guiding his shirt off of his shoulders and onto the floor. 
You pushed Bucky back into his office chair, where you followed onto his lap. You glanced down at his muscular chest, still as sculpted as the day you first crossed paths in the park. You took a moment to trace his chest as he slid your t-shirt off. 
“I need you, sweet pea.”
“Yeah?” you tease, grinding your hips as you pepper his neck in kisses. You waited months for this man to be yours; you sure as hell were going to let the world know you finally got him.
All you could think about was how much you wanted every piece of him. The world around you stopped, and the only thing you felt was the rapid pounding of your heart and the gentle pressure from Bucky's lips. You were engrossed in one another, so utterly consumed in each other that neither of you stopped at the sound of Bucky’s lock clicking open.
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taglist: @certainaesthetic @midnightf @sventeen-daybreak @multiplums @starlightcrystalline @leyannrae @belladonnabarnes @champagnebuckyyy @elijahs-wife @amelia-song-pond @starrybrock @millennial-teenybopper @mardema
a few mutuals who might be interested (no pressure): @ritesofreverie @bucksbestgirl @thatsthethingaboutbucky @buckysdaydreams @jurassicbarnes @onceuponabarnes @blackberrybucky​ 
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atlaese · 3 years ago
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for the sleepover 🌿 top five favourite stories you’ve ever written, and top five you’ve ever read? 💕
alright!! There might be more than five so let’s get ready!
Top i’ve read so far
Just out of reach -> @hey-marlie
And now I know you -> @ritesofreverie
Familiar -> @winter-james
Spring Semester Seduction -> @mickey-henry
What a night -> @jurassicbarnes
If only I had a heart -> @chouettedubois
(un)cool -> @belowva
Lovely -> @bvckysmoon
take me seaside (for my health) ->@babycap
Wicked heart saga -> @gwenavibra
2am waltz -> @certainaesthetic
and so many more!!! i couldn't tag some, but i always rb with #fic rec
Top i've written
Loving dawn as certainty of sunrise
Optimist
Kill with kindness
Liability
Homesick at spacecamp / pt 2
thank you sweet mae 💗🥺
🌾 Join the sleepover 🌾
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19tozier · 4 years ago
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polaroid boy (richie tozier)
request:if/when requests are open (if this is okay bc idk your request rules) could you write an angst fic for reddie based on the song polaroid boy by nicole zefanya, it can be from either persons pov i think that decision is more of a personal one based on who you think fits the song better
warnings: angst, swearing, allusions to sexual things, i tried out some stuff w tense so hopefully it still makes sense lol
[losers + reader are college aged (20/21)]
there is an exquisite beauty in falling in love. in feeling your heart quicken at the sight of their smile, or feeling your cheeks blush at the sound of their laugh. in letting yourself tumble off the edge of the cliff because you are certain they will be there to catch you.
there is an exquisite pain in hitting the ground after they fail to do so.
you want to curse yourself for having stepped off the edge. you aren’t sure you’d have been able to stop yourself from falling anyways, but you did it with no hesitation. you didn’t just trip over the cliff, you leapt off of it. no parachute, no net, no caution. and now you’re the one paying the price for it.
it started, innocently enough, in your first lecture fall semester of your sophomore year. you were still drudging through your gen eds, doing your best to stay motivated through endless classes that weren’t at all related to your major. the lectures made your eyes glaze and your head pound, but you were getting through them. nothing exciting ever happened in them but that was fine with you.
until, of course, richie tozier sat next to you in the middle of a half-empty history lecture, fashionably late and a devil’s smirk on his pretty face.
you’d done your best to ignore him at first, furiously writing down anything and everything the professor said. just because a beautiful boy had sat beside you didn’t mean you would compromise your education. class first, dick later, you thought.
but richie, still wearing that gorgeous smirk, had leaned into your side and murmured, “you look a little tense there, doll. want some help with that?” and his left eye had dropped in a wink that sent prickles down your spine.
fuck, had you wanted to slap him for such a suggestive comment. did he always go around propositioning random girls? you were certain the answer was yes, and yet... part of you loved the attention, and another part of you wanted to keep those blue eyes on you at all times.
you’d scowled, glaring at him, refusing to rise to his bait and give him the response he so obviously wanted. you’d pointedly turned back to your professor, ignoring richie for the remainder of the class.
you’d expected him to give up the chase, maybe find another girl who’d take kindly to his attempts at seduction, but he’d stayed by your side while you packed up your bag and walked out beside you, body in a long loose sprawl as he asked—no, begged—you to let him take you to lunch. and were you really going to turn down a free meal? he may be irritating, but you weren’t stupid.
and oh, had he irritated you. it felt like he had been drawn straight from your own personal hell to drive you crazy, but there was something charming about him. something that drew you in despite your earlier reluctance.
he’d leaned across the table at lunch, smirk softened into something sweeter, and brushed his thumb along your cheek. “you’ve got somethin’ here, love,” he’d murmured, his eyes smoky.
“thanks,” you'd rasped, subtly crossing your legs and praying he didn’t notice your blush.
you’d caved and given him your number at the end of your maybe-date. you were still operating under the idea that he wouldn’t want to see you again, so hey, you’d figured, what the hell?
but he had. he’d texted you that night, a simple hey there sugar ;), and against your will your heart had started pounding. your hands shook as you carefully typed out we’ve known each other for a day and you’ve called me how many nicknames?
you’d laughed, irritation be damned, when he had responded almost immediately: i can add on a few more. put it on my tab, toots.
you found, slowly but surely, that richie was charming and funny and obnoxious in a way that made you want more. he was crass, yes, and sometimes he made you want to gouge your own eyes out, but he was softer and sweeter than you’d ever have thought to give him credit for. and it was horrible for you, really, because there was nothing to stop you from developing feelings.
but there were nights where you curled up with richie in your dorm room, squished together on your too-small bed, your roommate blessedly gone for the night, watching shitty movies on your laptop with takeout scattered around you. nights where you were certain that everything you felt for him was reciprocated.
he had pressed his lips into your hair, his glasses digging into the top of your head. “this movie is something else, doll,” he’d murmured to you, tilting his chin towards where you were forcing him to watch the room with you. “not sure i know what’s going on anymore.”
you’d laughed, twisting your head to kiss his jaw. “that’s the point,” you had grinned. “this movie is so bad that it’s fantastic.”
he’d snorted, the tips of his fingers sliding under your t-shirt and tracing circles into the bare skin of your back. “not quite the word i’d use but sure, toots. i’ve definitely lost the plot though.”
you’d frowned, reaching to pause it to look up at him. “i can rewind it if you want?”
he’d smirked, reaching gentle fingers to cradle the curve of your jaw, turning your face towards him. “i can think of something better to do,” he’d purred, and his lips and his body had silenced any objection you could’ve had. not that you did, really.
he’d had that effect on you. time and time again, he had turned you into a bumbling idiot, a lovesick fool, a damned clown. you were the court jester in his kingly eyes, the puppet beneath his talented hand, the doll to sit high on his shelf. people thought it was he that was the bozo, but no; he played you like it was his job and you were too stupid to ever realize how masterful he was.
you’d giggled to him, stretched out in the quad with your head in his lap. he’d been leaning against a tree, one hand absently stroking through your hair, the other holding up a book for class. you had been fucking around with the polaroid camera your friend had bought you for your birthday, taking pictures of the trees and the students around you but mostly of richie himself.
“what’s up, sugar?” he’d murmured, glancing down from his book. his glasses had nearly slid off of his nose.
you’d reached up to correct them, smiling at him. “nothing, nothing. you just look cute. very photogenic.”
he’d rolled his eyes, bookmarking the page he was on and setting the book aside to fully give you his attention. “cute? me? damn baby, maybe you need these glasses more than i do.”
you’d scowled at him, as annoyed as ever that he never seemed to understand how gorgeous he was. “you take that back right now, asshole.”
he had laughed, grinning down at you. his palm had slid along your stomach, warm and secure against your skin, and his eyes had shone in the sunlight. “you always say the sweetest things, doll,” he’d teased.
he’d ducked to kiss you before you could respond, slow and deep and searching, and you had melted back against the grass. it was rare for him to initiate something like this in public, enough that you had kissed him back and not had a single other thought. when he walked you to class, he didn’t reach for your hand; when you met him for lunch, he didn’t kiss you hello or goodbye; when you studied together in the library, he never sat close enough to touch. at the time, you had simply thought he was reserved with his affections.
those polaroids you had taken were the first of many, proudly hung up on the wall of your dorm next to your bed. they weren’t all of richie: some of you and your roommate, some of your friends from your classes, some of the friends of richie’s you had met only once. but most of them had been of richie, because you were smitten and you couldn’t do anything about it.
every time he came over, every time he saw them, his face had done something complicated that you had never understood—a frown to a grimace to a smile that he forced on.
looking back, you wonder about every sign that you had missed. could you have saved yourself the heartbreak if you had simply paid attention? could you have gotten yourself out with your dignity?
it had never even occurred to you to define what you and richie were. you were stupid and young and content to just be able to love him, even if you hadn’t known him long. you never thought to ask him if you were dating, or if he was your boyfriend or not. you really fucking wish you had.
it came to a head not long after. richie had come over like usual, a spring to his step and a bite to his words that had been there for weeks now. he’d been a ghost of himself, eyes flickering around to see who was watching whenever you saw him on campus, not responding to your messages for hours, jumping whenever he saw you. you had just wanted him to relax for a bit.
you’d curled into his chest, laughing along with him to the stupid horror movie you were watching. “it doesn’t even look real,” you’d giggled, pointing to the spray of blood from on-screen.
richie had snorted. “‘cause it’s not real, it’s probably chocolate syrup.”
you had rolled your eyes, poking at his chest. “i know that, smartass. i’m talking about the effects.”
“i’m talking about the effects,” he had mimicked you, pitching his voice higher and sticking his tongue out at you.
you’d scowled, pinching his side. “you’re annoying and one of these days i’ll murder you.”
“oh, is that a promise?” he’d grinned, lopsided and too damn sexy for his own good. “not one of my kinks, i’ll admit, but damn, what a way to go.”
“oh, for the love of—” you’d lunged forward, knocking him onto his back and almost pitching the two of you off the side of the bed. he’d grabbed onto your waist to hold you steady. “i want to strangle you! with my bare hands!”
“that’s hot.” and he’d laughed, the motherfucker, like the sound of it didn't live inside of your ribcage and swim through your bloodstream. every inch of him was something specially designed to get under your skin and make a home there.
it still has a home there.
you’d growled, whaling on him with gentle fists that he did absolutely nothing to combat. he’d just kept laughing, holding your wrists in his big hands, glasses skewed. “you’re awful and i really fucking wish i didn’t love you.”
all at once, it had gone silent and he had gone tense. the expression on his face had not been the elation you had been hoping for; it was horror, plain and simple, and the shock of it had pitched you sideways off of his lap.
“you love me?” he’d asked through trembling lips, looking anywhere but you.
slowly, you had nodded. your voice had disappeared. and he’d nodded back, one short frantic movement, and then vaulted himself off of the bed.
“richie—”
“i didn’t think we were that serious,” he’d said, yanking his shoes on. “i thought we were just having fun.” like it was nothing. like you were nothing.
tears had welled in your eyes and your chest had ached with the force of it. your heart, which you had thought was safe in richie’s hands, was being crushed and ripped to shreds and you could do nothing but watch.
“richie, wait—”
but he had shrugged you off, forceful in the way he had pushed you back. the look in his eyes was wild and terrified and you didn’t recognize him anymore.
he hadn’t looked back at you, in the end. he had just shouldered his backpack and grabbed his phone and disappeared out the door. he hadn’t paused when you sobbed out his name one more time. he hadn’t even faltered.
foolishly, oh so foolishly, you’d held on to hope that that wasn’t the end. that you’d simply overwhelmed him and he just needed time. but as the days stretched into weeks and your texts and calls had remained unanswered, your hope had died the same way your heart had.
you had taken that fatal plunge; the ground was hard when you’d hit it.
you still have the polaroids. you’d taken them down after a few weeks, too hurt to see yours and richie’s smiling faces when he had disappeared from your life. but you still have them, in the shoebox you keep under your bed. and there are nights like tonight where you pull them out to stare at them.
your chest aches, the tears in your throat choking you. you should be all cried out by now but you aren’t that lucky. it seems every reminder of him is destined to detonate something inside of you.
you can still feel his smile on your lips. you can still taste his laughter. you can still hear the stupid voices he’d do to make you giggle. you can still feel him in your heart.
richie hurt you. god, had he hurt you. he’d hurt you so badly you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to smile again. but you’re still in love with him and you don’t think it’ll ever go away.
he’ll forever be the boy in your polaroids, the one that made you feel on top of the world and the one that made you feel like you were six feet under. you won’t ever be able to hear his favorite song without hearing it in his voice. you won’t ever be able to love again without feeling his imprint in your heart.
there’s something magical about falling in love. you won’t take that back. but on nights like this, you wish you never fell.
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saint-kore · 5 years ago
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Virgins. [18+] (Jimmy Emmett x Reader)
♡ A/N: This took me wayyy too long to finish but I finally did it! I’m already planning out the next one-shot, which will be a sequel to this one and maybe a multi-chapter fic(?). I have to make sure that I plan it well or I will fuck myself over with that. Anyhoo, this is very AU and quite smutty. I aged Jimmy and the reader up to 18, just for my own sake while writing this because whew. I hope you all enjoy! -Persie♡ 
♡ Word count: 3,334 ♡  
♡ Contains: Very NSFW, smut, first time sex ♡ ���
Virgins. [18+]
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Bashful…
.
That’s how most people would describe you; like a shrinking violet under the human eye. Curious yet hiding its vibrant beauty away from its admirer but that couldn’t be a description of you this night. This night, at the very top of midnight, you decided to sneak out of the home of your strict religious parents for a couple of hours of fun. Your chest heaving slightly as your adrenaline pumping through your body as you stood in your bra and panties front of your very first sexual mate to-be, a shirtless Jimmy Emmett. His bright green eyes glittered as he gazed at you, shifting on his sock-clad feet in anticipation with a crooked, boyish smile lighting up his features. To you, Jimmy was always a strange yet adorable goofball since you had met him at the beginning of the school year. All your life you had been told to stay away from boys and that relationships, even friendships, between the opposite sex was inappropriate but there was something about Jimmy. You liked him. You liked him a lot.
“Boys will say anything to take your innocence away from you,” your religious mother proclaimed. “It’s best of you stay away from them altogether. Preserve your value. Pray away the sin…,” she said.
Preserve your value, you thought with an inward sneer. You never understood it. Why was your value measured in that way? Was your humanity ever considered, you thought. You never felt that way with Jimmy, considering that you both had been friends with each other since the school semester started. He never seemed to pressure you into anything, only showing you a bashful kindness in friendliness and occasionally, buying you your favorite candy bar and bringing it to school to give to you.  Russell and sometimes Lydia would tease him playfully about it whenever he would do small things like that for you, but it never stopped him, much to your delight. If anything, tonight was your idea to begin with, proposing the conversation after a straight-forward question was brought up during a pause in conversation.
“Have you ever had sex?” you asked suddenly during a surge of confidence while you both were hanging out in his backyard. The soft spring wind played in the grass before ghosting up your bare legs, revealed by your navy blue, pleated skirt. The question caught Jimmy off-guard, wrapping his lithe arms around his knees almost as if he were trying to protect himself from your reaction to his reply. “N-No, I never have…,” he answered shyly, looking away. He swallowed, his throat and his silver chain necklace moving as he did. He picked at the hem of his black Metallica t-shirt, the logo fading slightly from being washed incorrectly. You could see the intimidation clouding his expression, as if he were afraid to ask you the same. He finally glanced over at you, looking over your face like he was trying to detect a hint of amusement before looking down at your lips. To him, they always looked as if someone brushed crushed rose petals on them to make them look so fresh and pouty. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first transferred to the school and introduced yourself to class. They always looked so sensitive with your quick smiles and the way your pink tongue would run over them, making you immediately press your lips together as if to calm them down from the sudden stimulation.
“I never have…,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts and his green eyes looking back up at you immediately. A blush erupted on his face, making him push out a needed sigh before he let out a breathy chuckle to loosen himself up again.
“Really…? I never guessed that, you know, you would ever want to with the way your parents are and everything,” he said, making you smile a little and smooth your hand down your skirt to straighten it out against your thighs. His eyes followed the movement, focusing on your thighs intently before looking back up at you when you spoke
“That doesn’t mean that I’ve never wanted to,” you replied coyly, making that lopsided smile appear on Jimmy’s face again. His mind was catching up with the suggestive undertones to your words, glancing around you both momentarily before focusing on you again.
“If you want, we could, you know…,” he suggested before blushing deeply at how meek he sounded. Your smile widened at the ruddiness grew in his cheeks, reaching out to try to smooth it away. You bit your lip, burying your hands in between your thighs.
“Well…,” you started in a purr, making Jimmy’s eyes immediately light up as you both began to plan out the next night. xox So, there you were, two aroused teenagers in a cheap hotel room that was paid for with the money that you both nicked from your parents, bodies trembling from the air thickening in the room as you stared at each other. The room smelled like cheap linen air freshener and the cologne that Jimmy decided to wear that night, probably to try to impress you. You could recognize the notes of amber, cedar and even a hint of clove. Your thoughts immediately cleared your head as Jimmy began to remove his distressed jeans, sliding off his slim hips and onto the floor. In the dim light, you could see his bright eyes suddenly darken and become hooded as he leered at you. His stirring manhood twitching in his grey boxer briefs. Your hand went up to your face, feeling how hot your cheek was and tried to calm your shaky hands by busying them with removing your light blue bra.
It wasn’t anything flashy since your mother always monitored or even bought your undergarments for you but in this moment, under Jimmy’s eyes, you felt seductive. Your bottom lip trembled, making you quickly bite as you let your loosened bra fall from your chest. Jimmy’s breath audibly picked up, tongue darting out to lick his chapped lips as his hand brushed over his hard shaft. Your nipples hardened immediately from the sudden air hitting them, making a soft groan finally erupt from Jimmy.
You were scared, unsure of yourself. You didn’t know what to do next, your heart hammering in your chest as you nervously slid your hands over your hips. Jimmy was a foot or so away from you, but you could still the warmth radiating from his body.
“Lay down for me,” he requested, his voice husky and not above a whisper. You could see his body was shaking as well but his voice was confident, even sultry. You couldn’t get another word out from your throat, managing to nod before slowly crawling onto the firm bed. It was covered in a dark red blanket, uniformly tucked and made perfectly but not for long. You laid on your back, feeling heavy from the nerves and her growing arousal. You immediately closed your legs once he climbed onto the bed, the cushion dipping a bit under his weight. Warm hands touched your knees, hesitating before running down your legs slowly; his touch felt comforting and made you feel like you were melting. Jimmy slowly spread your legs apart, making sure not to go too fast. Your body tensed when you felt his hands rub down, brushing across your soft inner thighs. Jimmy let out a choked groan just from feeling the smooth, hot skin. “You’re so warm,” he moaned quietly, his hands rubbing up your tummy and over your sides. He licked his already wet lips as he made his way to your breasts, his thumbs lightly brushing over the hard peaks and earning a hitch of a gasp from your cherry lips. Jimmy grunted, leaning down to capture your lips with his in a deep kiss. You moaned softly, immediately wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you as your tongue swirled around his with obvious naiveté. You could tell that he was a bit more experienced than you in kissing with how he handled it, catching your tongue and suckling on it before biting your lip. His hand smoothed up between your breasts and gently gripped your neck, deepening the kiss more. You felt your breath leaving you until he finally pulled away, his lips a tad swollen before moving his hand to latch onto your neck. A brazen moan left your lips, his hot tongue continuing to focus on that spot before moving around to the other side of her neck. The sound of music playing in the hotel room next to yours, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere. You were never allowed to listen to any secular music but you always snuck to listen to it whenever you could and recognized the song to be a Nirvana song; the name you couldn’t recall at the moment as Jimmy feverishly, eagerly licked his way to your chest. 
Come on over,  and do the twist Over-do it, and have a fit Love you so much, it makes me sick Come on over, and do the twist Beat me outta me Beat me outta me…
Not necessarily the most ideal song to lose your virginity to but Jimmy latching onto your aching nipple quickly erased the thought from your mind, cupping the back of his head as you arched up into his mouth. “Jimmyyy,” you cooed, his darkened eyes looking up at you when you called his name. His hot tongue swirled around the pebbled flesh, a hot moan escaping him as he cupped your other breast and kneaded the soft flesh. It was enough to make you want to crawl up the walls; you had never felt anything like it before. He kissed around the swell of your breasts slowly, indulging himself as much he could. His mind was racing as he inhaled, kissed and touched every part of you that he could reach, his hands gripping your waist and squeezing to feel your soft flesh give beneath his fingers. He felt himself becoming drunk with the essence of you, your moans egging him on enough for him to give a soft bite to your side. It was enough to make you jolt, the sensation going straight between your thighs. He licked below your navel, pausing above your underwear. His eyes closed as he tried to calm himself, the warmth coming from between your legs. You could feel yourself dripping, your nectar practically coating the fabric. You felt a palm firmly press against your core, making your womanhood quiver in response. Your hand twisted into the blanket, a desperate moan leaving you as he caressed and stroked her through her underwear. “God, Y/N, you’re so wet…,” he moaned, quickly pushing her underwear to the side and delved his fingers into your entrance. He quickly slowed down when you let out a hiss of pain, clenching up around his fingers. “Sorry, sorry!” he apologized, kissing her thigh apologetically. “Just tell me when to go, okay? I-I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” “It’s okay. Just go a little bit slower,” you say, not recognizing your own voice. It sounded almost raspy in a pleasing way. Jimmy nodded, feeling your walls relax around his fingers before he slowly pushed once more. You felt nothing as he slowly thrusted his fingers, wincing a little in embarrassment at the squelching sounds of your syrupy arousal reacting to his thrusting digits. Suddenly, you felt him wiggle his fingers and rub against a certain spot that made your hips leap in surprise. Jimmy almost pulled back, grinning when he heard you moan out. “You like that?” he asked, his soft, trembling voice making you shiver in delight as he continued to rub the small ridged area that caused your reaction. Your hands shot down to clench at his brown hair, moans pouring from your lips as he continued. Passionate words running together with your girlish moans, his moans also filling the air as he used his free hand to stroke himself in time with his pumping fingers. He stopped stroking himself to bring his hand up to search for and clumsily rub at your jewel, his fingers slipping easily from your wetness. It took him a minute to stay focused as he found himself just stroking and exploring every inch of your wetness, in awe of how aroused you were. The thudding guitar riff from the room next to you wound through your body, making your head spin. You groaned when he suddenly pulled his fingers away, your womanhood pulsing and begging for relief. The feeling was so intense, nothing like you had ever experienced. With hazy eyes, you looked up at Jimmy as he removed his boxer briefs. He let out a coo once his hard shaft was released from the tight fabric, giving himself a couple of strokes to tease himself. His lean body settled between your legs, slim muscles undulating under his damp skin as he continued to slowly stroke himself. “I can’t believe this is happening…,” he moaned, his lust-filled eyes scanning your naked form. Your shaky hands settled between your sensitive breasts, feeling your heart hammer in your chest. Jimmy leaned over you, kissing your settled hands before his mouth settled onto yours. He kissed you deeply, moving so that his hips were cradled by yours. You tensed when you felt the soft tip of his shaft brush against your thigh and wetness as he moved his tip to your wet slit. Your mouth slackened against his insistent kisses, making him pull back to look into your eyes. “It’s okay, Y/N…,” he whispered huskily, his nose brushing against yours. “I-I’ll be gentle, I promise,” He gently, even lovingly, whispered soft words of assurance and comfort to you. You clenched at his shoulders, pausing before wrapping your legs around his hips. The movement made his nose bump a bit more into yours, making you both giggle in amusement at the clear nervousness. He pushed the random strands of hair from your face, placing soft kisses on your cheek and forehead. You blushed at the tenderness, but you welcomed it with open arms, moving your hands from his shoulders to rub up and down his back. He groaned softly once your hand rubbed a sore spot beneath his shoulder blade, soothing the ache with soft, warm determination.  You gave him a nod, making the sparkle in his eye brighten in understanding as he began to push into you. Jimmy couldn’t describe the feeling even if he wanted to, but he wished that he could stay within you forever. His mouth dropped open as his hard member was immediately hugged and coated with your honeyed essence. He couldn’t help the sudden buck of his hips, quickly apologizing when your thighs clenched around him. A soft moan left you at the feeling of him filling your up, opening your eyes once you felt him reach your resistance being prodded by the head of his member. You could feel him pulsing against your walls, asking for your permission to follow through. You wordlessly answered by using your legs to squeeze at him. An acceptance, a sensitive smile edging at your swollen lips as you stared into his green eyes. Jimmy let out a strangled moan before slowly pushing forward, the barrier of your maidenhood breaking. You hitched a breath at the sharp pain, your nails digging into his smooth back. Jimmy let out a heavy breath, refusing the urge to slam inside of your welcoming warmth. You felt his labored breath against your face, the pain subsiding a bit as he patiently waited for your word to continue. “Go…,” you breathed, making Jimmy give out a moan of relief as he began to thrust into you. You winced a little as the pain continued with the first set of thrusts that he gave until it slowly melted into a growing pleasure. You could hear a new song starting in the background from the room next door, the thumping drum matching your heartbeat. The sound of Jimmy’s moans combined with the instrumental formed a song that you knew you would remember. He buried his face into your neck, latching onto the skin once more and sucking hard at the skin to leave a mark, claiming you. You let out a cry as his hips treated you with a particularly hard thrust, reaching deeper than you thought he could. Your teeth dig into his creamy shoulder in response, his eager hands gripping at your hips as he picked up the pace. His grip tightening more and more, his shaft plunging and out of you and taking you higher. One of your hands moved to twist in his brown locks, pulling much to his delight. Your tongue meeting the warm metal of his chain before latching onto the skin below his jaw. “Oh God…,” he moaned, the slight lisp in his voice almost gone and his tone deeper, rougher. After a couple of rough thrusts, he pulled back and sat back on his haunches and pulled you onto his lap. His hips ran up your waist, squeezing you possessively as he buried his face in between your breasts. The combination of sensations made your moans pour from your damp lips feverishly. You lifted your hips and crashed back down against his, crying out. Your legs trembled as you continued to ride him, his arms wrapping around your lower back to steady you before moving his hips up to meet your moving hips as they smashed against his own. Both of you, grinding and humping against each other, eager to reach your peaks as your hormones shot sky high. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed shakily, his eyes dilated as he got closer to his release. You whimpered as you sped up, your head falling back as your hips slammed harder against his. His hands moving to grip your hips once more, helping you move on top of him. The pace was erratic and off-beat but neither of you cared, the grunts and moans coming from him making your release come closer and closer. Your walls tightened more and more with every single crash of your hips, your hands desperately clasping at him as you felt your breath leaving you. He suddenly licked up your exposed neck; the sensation making your release wash over you as you cried out in completion. Your walls quivered around him as your cum dribbled down his hard member. You let out a weak moan as your back hit the bed as Jimmy climbed back over you, plowing into you roughly as he chased after his own release. Your damp skin rubbing against his as he continued to moan and grunt into your ear, grinding against you roughly. His hips finally paused before giving a hard thrust, his hot seed coating your sensitive, pink softness. He gave shallow thrusts as you milked him, pulling him in for the moment before he slowly pulled out. You winced slightly as he did, feeling him collapse next to you. Jimmy stared up at the ceiling, his hands settled on his chest as he swallowed hard. You gazed over at him once you felt his eyes on you. They were back to their soft green color, dancing in the dim light of the room. He hesitated, looking down for a moment, his reddened lips parting. “I…I wanna stay here. Just for the night…,” he whispered. You moved to lay on your side, a warm smile gracing your lips. “Me too,” you said, just as quietly. In that moment, you didn’t really care about what the repercussions would be in the morning and honestly, to you, it didn’t really matter. Jimmy’s arms immediately wrapped around you and held you tight as you both fell asleep to the sound of the rotating, muffled music floating in the air. ♡
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mickey-henry · 3 years ago
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Hi Mel!!! 💖 how about a moodboard the you think represents professor Bucky from your story ?
hi faith!! here's a moodboard based on professor!bucky from my fic spring semester seduction! 💖
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it's moodboard monday!
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mickey-henry · 3 years ago
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THANK YOU SO MUCH KAT FOR THIS LOVELY REVIEW🥺😍 you’re so sweet!! this means the world to me💖
𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
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pairing: professor!bucky x reader
summary: bucky barnes is your gorgeous, young, new professor. you’re into him, and you’re pretty sure he wants you too. much to your chagrin, he’s not making a move; it’s up to you to seduce the man of your dreams.
word count: 6.9K (she’s a long one)
author’s note: hello! welcome to my fourth fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! I hope you like it! 💖
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Earbuds in, arms swaying along your side, and thoughts elsewhere, you mindlessly completed your morning workout. Today’s podcast discussed the discourse of the latest controversial commercial and the opinions different people had on it. You found that your anger towards the blissfully ignorant powered your workouts more than caffeine ever could.
Just as the discourse was getting heated, your arm tangled with the earbuds, yanking them from your ears. You rolled your eyes at yourself, still jogging as you pulled out your phone to stop the podcast. 
Right as you tapped the pause button, you ran into someone who was just as oblivious to their surroundings as you were. You stumbled yet quickly regained your balance when you looked at the person you collided with. Your eyes quickly darted up—discovering his impossibly long eyelashes and enchanting smile—then back down again, realizing there was no place you could look without your mouth gaping. Moving down his sweaty, ripped torso, you noticed the athletic sweatpants barely staying up—there was probably only one thing holding them there—and the exposure of his v-line made your mouth drop even lower. Trying to make sure you weren’t staring for too long, your eyes moved to his hip bones—and boy, they were beautiful. You then finally allowed your eyes to drop to the ground, where his feet rested in sockless Nike shoes.
Keep reading
208 notes · View notes
mickey-henry · 3 years ago
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THANK YOU SO MUCH MAERA🥺💖😍
𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
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pairing: professor!bucky x reader
summary: bucky barnes is your gorgeous, young, new professor. you’re into him, and you’re pretty sure he wants you too. much to your chagrin, he’s not making a move; it’s up to you to seduce the man of your dreams.
word count: 6.9K (she’s a long one)
author’s note: hello! welcome to my fourth fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! I hope you like it! 💖
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Earbuds in, arms swaying along your side, and thoughts elsewhere, you mindlessly completed your morning workout. Today’s podcast discussed the discourse of the latest controversial commercial and the opinions different people had on it. You found that your anger towards the blissfully ignorant powered your workouts more than caffeine ever could.
Just as the discourse was getting heated, your arm tangled with the earbuds, yanking them from your ears. You rolled your eyes at yourself, still jogging as you pulled out your phone to stop the podcast. 
Right as you tapped the pause button, you ran into someone who was just as oblivious to their surroundings as you were. You stumbled yet quickly regained your balance when you looked at the person you collided with. Your eyes quickly darted up—discovering his impossibly long eyelashes and enchanting smile—then back down again, realizing there was no place you could look without your mouth gaping. Moving down his sweaty, ripped torso, you noticed the athletic sweatpants barely staying up—there was probably only one thing holding them there—and the exposure of his v-line made your mouth drop even lower. Trying to make sure you weren’t staring for too long, your eyes moved to his hip bones—and boy, they were beautiful. You then finally allowed your eyes to drop to the ground, where his feet rested in sockless Nike shoes.
Keep reading
208 notes · View notes
mickey-henry · 3 years ago
Text
AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH HARMAN🥺💖 (right I wish professor barnes would be my teacher)
𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
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pairing: professor!bucky x reader
summary: bucky barnes is your gorgeous, young, new professor. you’re into him, and you’re pretty sure he wants you too. much to your chagrin, he’s not making a move; it’s up to you to seduce the man of your dreams.
word count: 6.9K (she’s a long one)
author’s note: hello! welcome to my fourth fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! I hope you like it! 💖
Tumblr media
Earbuds in, arms swaying along your side, and thoughts elsewhere, you mindlessly completed your morning workout. Today’s podcast discussed the discourse of the latest controversial commercial and the opinions different people had on it. You found that your anger towards the blissfully ignorant powered your workouts more than caffeine ever could.
Just as the discourse was getting heated, your arm tangled with the earbuds, yanking them from your ears. You rolled your eyes at yourself, still jogging as you pulled out your phone to stop the podcast. 
Right as you tapped the pause button, you ran into someone who was just as oblivious to their surroundings as you were. You stumbled yet quickly regained your balance when you looked at the person you collided with. Your eyes quickly darted up—discovering his impossibly long eyelashes and enchanting smile—then back down again, realizing there was no place you could look without your mouth gaping. Moving down his sweaty, ripped torso, you noticed the athletic sweatpants barely staying up—there was probably only one thing holding them there—and the exposure of his v-line made your mouth drop even lower. Trying to make sure you weren’t staring for too long, your eyes moved to his hip bones—and boy, they were beautiful. You then finally allowed your eyes to drop to the ground, where his feet rested in sockless Nike shoes.
Keep reading
208 notes · View notes