#professor bucky au

[thereadingfangirl]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐀𝐔 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! 📚

Behind the Walls by @221bsherlock​

One for the History Books by @cametobuyplums​

Words Left Unsaid by @talesofsadhuman​

[espinosaurusrexex]

Revision

Professor!SteveRogers x Student!Female!Reader AU

summary: Professor Rogers was a lot of things, but for you, he was even more. A secret affair? A fun little side thing? You didn’t know yet. But you'd gladly seek out every possible moment with him until you did.

a/n: once upon a time I had a crush on my professor… this is what came out of it (don’t worry it didn’t really happen) but shame on me for keeping this in the drafts for so long

thank you @sebsgirl71479 for finding this gif and also very special thanks to @urcatslitterbox for taking the time and making one herself! you are the greatest!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: age gap (reader is of legal age of course), student/teacher relationship, a little fluff (because apparently I can’t do it without) this is obviously smut (dry humping, praise kink, unprotected p in v - wrap it before you tap it guys, slight overstimulation, voyeurism - if you squint), I don't know what else to tell you !MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

“Do you know why I asked you to stay, Ms. Y/L/N?” His arms crossed before his chest as his gaze followed the last students roaming amongst the rows of the vast lecture hall, a blonde strand of hair falling loose and settling in a soft curve over his eye. Professor Rogers looked intimidating, but so damn sexy as well. His biceps bulged beneath the checkered white and blue button-up, his sleeves halfway rolled up, restrained by his evenly muscular forearms.

“To be perfectly honest, Professor,” Your voice stayed even, a slight mockery undertone by the use of formality when you had called him far more personal things than that before. Steve, Stevie, Daddy... you shook out of it - there were still people here. “I don’t. I was quite confident that my assignment was to your... satisfaction.” A smug grin hid behind the last word, as you remembered the actual satisfaction that assignment had brought you as well.

Steve had to hide his smile, too. His eyes darted with amusement when he tilted his head forward to peer up at you through his thick lashes. Your eyes wandered to his legs. His tan chinos were tight on his muscular thighs and the way he leaned back with his knees spread even wider - holy mother of god.

He knew damn well how hot he was, and the annoying thing was that he also knew how to make it work for him. Steve reveled in the power his body language had over you.

He watched as your tights clenched together behind his desk. The simple movement of his fingers on a desk could make you keen thinking about the places they had done that before. His confidence seeped though every fucking vein in his body, dripping in thick undertones and slight remarks out of his mouth and invading your senses through his touch and smell.

He was to die for. Tall, muscular, charming, and older.

You looked him up and down again and as his head tilted to the side you knew exactly that he could read your every thought. His arms opened when the door closed behind the last student, one hand gliding to his inner thigh while the other motioned for you to step closer.

You did.

It was like an automatic response of your body. Though you leaned forwards on the wooden desk, your arms pushing inward to help the cleavage peeking through the collar of your top, Steve’s eyes pulled down in an instant as well. 

“It certainly was.” He rubbed his beard. “I just thought it would be beneficial to go over it once more, highlight the good parts and make sure you know what made them so... enticing.” He leaned forward now, his fingers brushing yours on the sleek surface of the polished wood, though his eyes remained on your breasts. Steve wet his lips before his eyes flicked up to yours again. “I’m willing to thoroughly talk you through the rougher bits as well.”

“Are you implying they weren’t all good?”

“Oh, they were good, just not as good as other parts.” 

It was a game. You knew that, and Steve knew that too. But the little role-playing brought an excitement to this ordeal that couldn’t be denied by either of you. He was like a magnet and your entire body felt like it was made of metal with the pull he had on you. You stood on your toes, pushing yourself further over the table, where Steve stayed entirely still. He was observing you, though. The slight intrigue in the twig of his brow when your lips came dangerously close to his. A fast glint to the double doors leading to the hallways full of students rushing to their next classes. There was no nervousness in his stare though. Steve actually liked the potential threat of getting caught. It spurred him on, enticed him, and turned him on beyond belief. You had learned that just the other week when he had dragged you behind the open door to the janitor's closet of the history building. He had absolutely no shame in getting his hands dirty while all the students walked past the dark room where Steve had his hand firmly pressed above your mouth as his other relentlessly plunged in and out of your wet cunt. 

“Huh.” You pushed back. And even though the muscular blonde on the other side of the desk tried not to react, you caught his shoulder slouch in disappointment. You liked playing tough, though. While his perfume worked hard to pull you back into him, your feet shuffled a little further back, looking him up and down again. His legs were still manspreading on the chair and damn did those thighs look inviting. You knew they were. 

The clock above the double door clicked louder now that the students outside had passed on to their next classes. You had one, too actually. But the professor was boring as hell and who wouldn’t trade a creepy scarf-wearing weirdo for this specimen of a man in front of you right now? Exactly: no one. But they didn’t have that chance. Steve had chosen you, reserved his glances and touches, and kissed for you and it was exciting. Getting to share his experiences, letting the older man take control of your body in such rough yet gentle ways. 

Your legs strode around the desk as Steve’s eyes followed you through the room. His arms had reached out to you once you were close enough for him to grab and once his index finger looped in the belt loops of your jeans, he pulled you onto his lap. As your hands wandered to his shoulders, his snook around your waist, his thumb gently stroking the skin beneath your top. A shiver ran through you when he leaned back, his icy blue orbs piercing the air as they focused on yours, a small smile twinkling in the corner of his mouth. 

“You look good.” You whispered, a hand smoothing over the collar. Steve’s lips escaped a laugh, and even though the sexual tension you build up with the sneaky conversation still lingered in the air, there was a softer, sweeter sound invading the atmosphere right this moment. 

“I know you like the blue.” He mumbled when he dipped forward, his nose brushed your neck and a trial of goosebumps traveled down your back. The rasp in his voice stirred something in your stomach, a slight tingle shooting up to your brain and telling you ‘hey that’s hot!’ In bright and blaring neon lights. 

Steve’s fingers ran down your legs and began massaging your thighs on each side of him. Another strand of hair came loose and fell forward. It tickled your neck as his mouth began to suck its way up to your sweet spot, your hands frantically cramming his shirt at the sudden attack. His tongue shot forward, soothing the place his teeth just nibbled on and the familiar burn ran over your skin as hisses and moans mixed in your mouth. Your hips jolted forward when he finally reached that spot behind your ear, hot breath blowing over the wet skin and a soft kiss right after. 

“You smell...” A growl broke through his speech when your hips ground a second time. “So sweet...” 

A jolt of confidence placed a grin on your lips. The perfume you wore had turned some heads before, but the only one that mattered was Steve’s. His mouth resumed his caress of your skin as his hand wandered to your ass, slowly pushing you forward and guiding you over the growing bulge beneath his pants. 

“Ah, yes!” It was only a breath out when the seam of your jeans was pushed into your clit by the hardness in his lap, but - God did that feel good! Your back arched when he continuously ripped you over the spot, your hands buried in his hair, pressing him deeper into your skin, encouraging him to keep going. 

“Goddamn...” His head switched to the other side of your neck, the skin on the neglected one already hot and tingly. But your sole focus lay between your legs, where his cock massaged your clit in perfectly firm rocking motions. The roughness of the jeans just added to the pleasure creeping through your body.

You could’ve gone like this forever, with the heat rising in your belly and Steve’s muffled panting lingering in the air, but Steve pulled away. A whine brushed over to him when his lips left your skin. You were burning from his touch but at the same time, a cool brush of goosebumps covered your body. It was crazy how much you craved his touch even when he was sitting right in front of you. His stare alone lit a fire within your stomach, butterflies flying wild patterns through every nerve ending when his light blue eyes found yours in the distance of the lecture hall. It had happened suddenly and spiraled beyond your control within days. And then, when he had finally kissed you, it was pretty clear that there was no going back. Steve was like a drug. Something you shouldn’t play with and something that was definitely illegal to pursue, but so so so freaking good because he made you feel things you could have never imagined. 

His voice pulled you back to reality.

“As much as I like your ass in those jeans...” Steve tugged on your Jeans with dark eyes, the silver button glimmered in the lecture hall light when his rough fingers yanked on the material. “They need to go.” That last part was just a growl in your ear but the tire of it made you eagerly wiggle out of the blue denim.

You stepped out of your jeans once he had finally opened them and when his eyes fell on the underwear covering your heat, he pulled you closer by your hips. His thumbs drove circles over your skin, sending yet another tingle of excitement up your spine. His hands wandered back to your behind, squeezing and needing the flesh all while pressing you into his front. 

Your lips attached to his neck like a magnet, your hand scraping the gruff on his chin with excited circles. A growl traveled past his lips when you reached his sweet spot - the one right beneath his ear, making him melt every time. A deviant smile spread about your face but before you could revel in the control you had over him - even if it was just for a short moment - he had you turned around, facing the rows of desks stretching to the walls.

“You’ve been doing this on purpose, haven’t you?” His hand wandered past your breasts down your front and stopped right by the edges of your panties, the other holding you by the hip, pressing his hard-on right to your back. The excitement shooting through you did nothing to hide, slick pooling between your legs, and your nipples already hard pebbles on your skin. “Putting on these scandalous little lace things thinking about how I’ll be seeing them today...” Warm breath tingled at your ear when he leaned closer, pushing his hand past the hem of the lace. “...taking them off of your perfect body.”

You moaned when his fingers slit past your folds, gathering some slick to smoothly roam about your clit.

“Maybe...” The shivers erupting from his touch interrupted your speech until you could collect yourself. “I’m always thinking of you, Stevie.” He bit your neck before his tongue smoothed over the spot again. It was a perfect interplay of pleasure and pain, the wet warm strokes of his tongue soothing the stinging and adding fuel to a desire only he could evoke in you.

“Say it again,” he growled, adding more pressure to the swollen bundle of nerves between your legs. You squirmed as the muscles in your abdomen tightened, clenching around nothing and reminding you what you had been missing. “What else are you thinking about?”

“Your hands all over my body...” Your hand guided his over to your breasts encouraging him to squeeze the soft flesh and breathing heavily when his thumb brushed over your hardened nipple. “Pushing me to bend over that desk while you fill me up with your big cock.”

“Nothing I’d rather do, doll.” Before you knew it your face was gently pressed against the cold and polished wood. Warm hands wandered to your ass where they pulled down your underwear painfully slow, having you fiddle in place impatiently.

“Now, don’t be so hasty, love. I gotta take my time.” You heard his belt unbuckle.

“Unfortunately, Professor, time is the one thing we do not have a lot of...” His hands stopped moving as you called him ‘Professor’, though you knew it wasn’t a bad thing. If anything, it probably turned him on more, which would hopefully speed up the process of him finally filling you up to the brim. Your pussy clenched at the thought of it again - a frustrating reminder of the emptiness you so wished to disappear. 

“Too bad, I would have loved to play with you a little more.”

“Tick Tock...”

“As you wish, princess-” And before the words had even reached your ears, you felt his swollen tip nudge at your entrance, stroking up and down your slit to cover in your arousal as a sinful sound escaped Steve’s lips.

His hands found their way back to your waist before he finally pushed fully into you, leaving you no time to adjust to his size as he started pounding into you with an unrelenting pace. The burn wasn’t painful though. You knew he was big, and even though you had not believed that he would ever fit inside of you, Steve had managed to not only do that but also ruin you for every other man to ever come. 

“Look at your greedy little cunt begging for my cock, practically sucking me in, doll.”

You couldn’t answer, too focused on holding onto the desk and controlling your body not to melt with his strokes as he pushed into you over and over again.

“Gripping me so tight... perfect little pussy.” A slap landed on your ass cheek to which you responded with another loud moan. If there had been a care for anyone to hear you doing the indescribable in this lecture hall before, Steve had certainly fucked it out of you by now. You turned your head watching as he spit down on his cock before it disappeared in you again, his head falling back with shut eyes while he reveled in every piece of pleasure you gave him.

“Fuck!” He locked eyes with you, a determined smirk painting his face when his hand wandered around your body again, finding your clit and rubbing tight little circles over the nub.

Your vision blurred as the hot pleasure crept up your spine. There was something about Steve’s touch that made you feel as though every nerve in your body fired twice and fast. You clenched around him again, watching with pleasure as his brows furrowed.

He picked up his pace, kicking your legs further apart and hitting an even deeper angle now.

“Oh my god!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head before you closed them, trying to last longer than this. The feeling was just too good to let go of so soon. But with Steve’s hunky body towering over you and his cock stroking just the right spot with every moan he pulled from you, that seemed like an impossible task. You tried your best, though, but right when you thought that you would last a little longer, his fingers changed the direction of the circles on your clit and turned your brain to mush.

“I’m gonna- ah”

“The hell you are.” He pulled away, leaving you to whimper with the empty feeling you had never wanted back. But Steve pulled you up and turned you around in one swift motion, walking forward until you were pressed against the desk again. This time, though, he made you lay on your back with a hazy smile.

“I wanna see your pretty face when you come all over my cock.” He placed your legs on his shoulders and grabbed his dick to line it up with your entrance again. Then, he made sure to keep eye contact while he pushed himself into you once again, but this time, painfully slow.

You gripped him tight when he bottomed out, stroking the flesh on your thigh while he pulled back just to pound back in again.

“I fucking love this pussy,” he growled as his pace picked up much to your delight, “it’s mine. Tell me, baby.”

“Yes. Yes, it’s all yours, Stevie.” You couldn’t even focus on the words leaving your mouth at this point. You would say yes to anything he said just to make the feeling of his cock stroking your walls last forever.

“That’s a what?” He halted, raised eyebrows watching you expectantly.

“Yes, sir,” you smirked.

“Good girl.” The pressure built up again and when his hand found its way back to your clit, you felt like exploding. His pace didn’t falter, determination taking over while he watched himself slip in and out of you with hungry eyes. 

You would be busting in seconds if he kept it up like this, your walls clenching tighter and tighter, your stomach feeling rock solid from the pleasure building up with every circle of his thumb and every stroke of his cock.

“Don’t hold back now, sweetheart. Let go. Give it to me.”

That was all it took for the knot to finally come loose. “Ah!” Your back arched off the table while your hands frantically searched for something to grip, the walls of your pussy fluttering and making your core be on fire with pleasure. It just intensified when Steve slowed his strokes to let you ride on the wave of bliss that made your body tingle.

When you relaxed again, you felt your walls pulsing with lazy delight. A weak smile shining through your hooded eyes when you watched him intensify his strokes again. Shaky whimpers left your throat when his cock brushed over your sensitive parts. He was close, too. You could feel him twitching inside of you, waiting for the perfect moment to let go. And you would give him just that.

“You make me feel so good, sir. Your big cock stretches me out, fills me up. I want you to come inside of me.”

“Fuck, keep going.” He closed his eyes, speeding up his movements and making the pressure build right up for you again.

“You’re so big. I can feel you in my stomach, baby. Make me come by just thinking about you. So sexy and strong and- ah oh!”

Steve’s movements staggered his cock twitching as his face contorted into pleasure while you felt his cum spill inside of you. The scene was erotic, and the sounds coming from the man above of you made you reach another orgasm, milking the last drop from him with every pulse of your walls.

Your chest heaved as you leaned your head back, watching the clock above the door. It was too sad this moment was ending.

Though Steve took his time. He watched his juices drip after he pulled out, whispering a low ‘perfect’ into the room that made your head feel hot. 

How was this man making you flustered after shamelessly rearranging your guts in a public lecture hall?

“Put your jeans back on, doll. I don’t wanna get in trouble today.” He winked at you while he zipped up his pants and secured the buckle on top. You stood, fixing his slightly tossed hair and leaving your hand hovering over his jaw.

“Where’d you put my panties?” He kissed you.

“I think I’m gonna keep these,” Steve smiled while stuffing them into his back pocket.

“For revision, I presume?” You smiled with wicked eyes.

“Exactly.”

Here it is - finally! Please tell me what you think (hopefully it was worth the wait)! I've missed you guys so much; life is keeping me busy and excited for more. How have you been?? 💛

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@fangirl-swagg @mi-amoree1111 @lastwandastan @royalwritersoftheuniverses @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @broadwaybabe18 @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @simpxinnie @blackhawkfanatic @kandis-mom @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | prologue

Summary: The first encounter.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: 18 in this part)

Word Count: 837

Spotify Playlist | Pinterest Board | Tips

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: Oh, hello Dr. Barnes. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

The university loomed before you, the ivy-clad walls and gothic spires stood as testaments to the centuries of academic excellence. Renowned for its rigorous standards, the prestigious institution drew in the brightest minds from across the globe. You stepped through the grand archway, the air humming with the energy of countless scholarly pursuits, each echoing through the hallowed halls. 

You haven’t long turned 18, now a freshman, driven by a passion for creative writing. Your nights were spent hunched over notebooks, pouring your heart into stories and poems. Determined to make the most of this opportunity, you reflected on your talent that earned you a place here. With the best and brightest. It was a new chapter of your academic journey, and it started today.

Dr. James B. Barnes is a brilliant literature professor yet, reserved. His reputation preceded him– known for his profound insights and standards, he was feared and revered by his students. As you approached his office, your heart began to race. 

Tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, stood a heavy oak door with a brass nameplate glinting in the dim light. You took a deep breath and knocked firmly. Creaking open the door, you revealed Dr. Barnes. Sat behind a cluttered desk, his gaze lifted from a pile of papers, meeting yours. Piercing yet thoughtful, there was a moment of silent assessment. 

You felt the weight of his scrutiny as you stepped inside. The room smelled of leather with a faint trace of whiskey. 

“Good afternoon,” you begin, trying to steady your voice despite the nerves. “I’m going to be joining your advanced English literature class.” 

“Ah, yes,” he responded, his tone measured. “You must be the freshman. Please, have a seat.” 

You took a seat in the heavy leather chair opposite his desk. The two of you exchange a few professional courtesies, keeping the conversation brief but charged with mutual respect. You could sense that he had recognized your passion, and you were determined to prove yourself. 

~

A week later, you found yourself attending his class, surrounded by fellow students. His presence was commanding as he stood at the front of the room. A masterful blend of critical analysis and profound insight, his lectures were delivered with authority. 

Your hand raised after a particularly challenging lecture, Dr. Barnes acknowledged you with a nod.

“Yes?” 

“I have to disagree with your interpretation of his work,” you say, your voice clear and confident. A stark contrast from your first meeting with him. “I believe his use of fragmented narrative serves as a challenge to the notion of a singular, authoritative voice, rather than to obscure meaning.” 

The room fell silent, all eyes turned to you. Dr. Barnes regards you with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. 

“Interesting perspective,” he replied, keeping his tone cool. “However, I would argue that the fragmentation serves more to reflect the chaotic nature of postmodern existence.” 

You don’t back down. “Isn’t that chaos a direct challenge to traditional narrative structures? He seems to be inviting readers to find their own meaning within the disarray.” 

Your heated debate ensues, intellectual electricity cranking the air. Your classmates watched, their gazes swapping between you and Dr. Barnes like they were at Wimbledon as you exchanged arguments. 

Initially, he was annoyed by your boldness, yet you caught a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. You thrived on pushing boundaries and testing limits, in particular, with those you found intellectually stimulating and authoritative. Leaving everyone, including Dr. James B. Barnes, captivated.

“Your argument is well-crafted,” he concedes, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I look forward to more discussions like this.” 

As the weeks passed, Dr. Barnes’ class quickly became the highlight of your week. A battlefield of ideas in each session, a place where you could push your intellectual prowess. Dr. Barnes, though initially reserved, seemed to relish the debates as much as you did. 

One chilly autumn afternoon, you lingered after another stimulating class as the other students left. The room fell quiet, as though itself was in thought and reflection. Dr. Barnes noticed and approached you.

“Good work today,” he said, his tone less sharper than usual. “You’ve brought a new energy to these discussions.” 

“Thank you,” you smile, a rush of pride coursed through you. “Your classes challenge me in ways I never expected.” 

He nodded, “To challenge and to inspire, that’s the point of academia. Keep questioning, you could go far.” 

You smiled again, your cheeks becoming flushed. “I’m glad you’re not tired of my questions yet.” 

“On the contrary,” he said as he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that caused your heart to race. “I find them… refreshing.” 

The flicker of something unspoken passed between you, a deeper connection yet to be explored. His words echoed as you left the lecture hall, the promise in his eyes lingered. 

What were the boundaries between student and teacher? And, could they transform into something more profound? 

- - -

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[buckyalpine]

Student Bucky

Shy Beefy Student Bucky x Professor Reader 

No thots, just 

He’s so smitten with his professor, always mesmerized with anything you say, gazing at you with heart eyes while you deliver your lectures. He could listen to you speak for hours, always finding a seat at the very front of the large hall so he doesn’t miss a word. 

He’s too shy to ever raise his hand and participate which is upsetting considering he’s on of the brightest students in your class. You always toss him a soft smile when you see him, adoring the little blush that follows after; it’s even worse when you compliment his papers. 

Every time he thinks about you, his mind ends up going to less than holy places and his hand finds itself down his pants. He can’t help it, thinking about your pretty body in those suits and skirts, how gorgeous you’d look spread out on your desk. You’re so brilliant and pretty and sweet and he isn’t sure how many times its been but his sheets are messy but he’s still so hard. 

He almost has a heart attack when you ask if he’d like to come on board a research project your doing. Obviously he’d never say no but your doe eyes looking up at him are too much and he can only nod in response. 

A few late nights and not so innocent touches later 

He’s so shy, he’s not even aware of how his size engulfs you under him, all his focus set on making you feel so good, giving you all the pleasure you deserve. 

“Does-does it feel good for you?” He asked timidly, biting down on his bottom lip, keeping his moans down, abs tensed from holding his body back from releasing too quickly. He can feel his cock throbbing, his orgasm already at the base of his length.

“So good baby, so so good”  You moan, your arms and legs wrapped around his body, the both of you in the middle of your large bed, all clothes tossed off, nothing separating you. “Making me feel so good baby”

The pet name makes him feral as he preens, adjusting his hips so he can fuck the very depths of your soul making you see stars. He maneuvers your legs higher up on his waist, loving the way your ankles are locked around his lower back. You let your hands wander around his body, clawing at the muscles on his back, and holding onto his biceps. 

“M’I doing okay?” He pants against your skin, hesitantly bringing his hands to lace with yours, pinning you against the mattress. All you can do is moan and nod, the tip of his cock hitting that sensitive spot just right, your arousal making a creamy mess all along his veiny girthy shaft. “Yeah? M’making you feel good?” 

“You’re-so-thick-oh God” You cry out between thrusts, gasping at the stretch while he blushes, keeping his face hidden from you.

“I am?”

You giggle at his shyness, kissing his temple, finding his soft sweetness endearing.

“So thick baby, cock stretching me so good”

“You like it?”

“So fucking good James”

“M’gonna cum” He whines out, his pace growing sloppy but he doesn’t want to stop, he wants this night to last (not realizing it was the first of many). You gasp when he pulls out and buries his face between your legs. He laps at your arousal, mixed with his precum, your sensitive cunt soaking his scruffy cheeks. 

“Wan you to cum first” He shoves two fingers into your sopping core, thrusting and curling them till your screaming, your thighs trapping him in. 

“JAMES” 

“Say-say my name” He lets out a broken moan, growling when he feels your hand tug at his roots, his eyes rolling back. “You taste so good”

“You like that sweet boy? Like when I moan your name?” Your back arches off the bed as he suckles on your swollen clit, your body convulsing as pleasure consumes you. He laps up every drop you give him, not giving you a second to catch your breath; he flips you over with ease, bringing your ass all the way up and shoves his cock back in.

“F-FUCK JA-MES” you claw at the sheets while his large hands grip your hips, slamming your ass back on him to meet his thrusts, his heavy balls hitting your throbbing clit each time.

“You feel so good, don’t wanna pull out” he moaned, throwing his head back, nearly whimpering when he feels you flutter and clench around his swollen cock, your second orgasm already barrelling towards you.

“Can-can I cum in you?” He’s asking permission but he doesn’t know if he’ll have the willpower to pull out if you said no. He’s never felt so good, his cock harder and more sensitive than ever, your pussy swallowing every Inch he gives.

“Cum in me sweet boy” you slur out, letting him man handle you, getting off on how soft and sweet he is, a stark contrast to the way he fucked like an animal.

“Cum with me” he cries out, snaking his hand around to rub your clit, letting his heavy body collapse on top of you, rutting into you, letting his cock rub against your sweet spot. “M’gonna cum so much for you, fuck”

He gives you a few more harsh thrusts before he moans loudly in the back of your neck, his hands reaching out to grab something, locking with yours.

You both lay panting in a post sex haze, his warm cum making you thighs sticky. It doesn’t take long to feel him get hard inside you again, a low rumble emitting from his chest when you clench around him. He slowly drags his cock out before pushing it back in, letting his cum squirt out onto the sheets.

“Can I?” He asks softly, between gently thrusts, wrapping his arms around you when you nod, taking his time to savour your soft body wrapped around his large one. “Don’t wanna leave, you feel so good”

“We have all night baby, all night”

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 10 — Cockwarming

Pairing || CollegeProfessor!Bucky x Student!Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 800

Contents & Warnings || Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, undefined age-gap, pet names, professor x student relationship, cockwarming (which leads to unprotected sex), teasing, Sir kink, mention of bodily fluids.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Kinktober Masterlist

You couldn’t sleep. Not without him by your side. You missed him, and you missed him. He was right next door in his office, but you felt bad about disturbing him while he worked late. You were needy and lonely without him, so you said fuck it and went to see him.

His door was slightly cracked open, so you peered your head in. You watched him, contemplating if you should go in after all when he looked so concentrated, but he heard you and called for you.

“Hey, baby, come in.”

You went in with your head down to the floor; your hand nervously stroked your arm.

“Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head no as you stand opposite where he’s sitting.

“I’m sorry, princess. I’ll be with you soon, ok? I just need to finish grading these papers.”

“Are you grading mine?” You smirk as you stand on your toes to peek at whose essay he’s scribbling on.

“Already have.” He pats the stack of papers beside him. “You’ll get it tomorrow in class. But you did good, my smart girl.” He winks.

Your heart fluttered at his praises and something else, which intensified your need for him.

“I miss you.” You pout.

“Come here.” He opened his arms for you. “You can sit on my lap while I finish. I promise I don’t have much left, ok?”

You straddled and snuggled into him, inhaling his comforting scent as you nuzzled your face in the crock of his neck. He went back to grading, and although you’d hoped being close to him would quench your need for him, you still didn’t feel satisfied. You wanted him closer.

You started grinding on him. The flimsy material of your sleeping shorts and cotton panties made it so you could feel his bulge stimulating your clit.

“I need you so bad, Sir.” You whimpered.

He groaned. You knew he could never resist when you moved against him and whimpered so sweetly in his ear.

“Would my dick in you make you feel better, princess?”

You nod.

He fumbled with his pants to get them open, pulling out his dick that was already hard from your grinding. You part your lips as you take him in your hand, smearing the leaking pre-cum on his tip.

He pushed your shorts and panties to the side. With two fingers, he ran them through your folds, groaning as he found you wet and ready for him.

Both of you forgot the initial plan as you touched one another until Bucky reminded you.

“Put it in, baby,” Bucky mumbled against your lips.

You lined his tip with your entrance and slowly sank onto his cock, wanting to feel every ridge and inch of him as he filled you up to perfection. You moaned in satisfaction and rolled your eyes as he was situated entirely in you. He sucked in a breath as your walls hugged him.

“So warm and tight for me, princess.”

You tried to move on him. Only getting in a few soft bounces before he stopped you and slammed you down on him again, making you cry out.

“Baby, be a good girl and let me work, yeah?” He caressed your cheek before he grabbed your chin. “I promise I’ll make it up to you once I’m done.”

You wanted to be a good girl for him, so you would try and be still as you snuggled into him once again.

He went back to grading the papers. It seemed like it didn’t phase him that he was buried deep inside your pussy, but for you, it was torture. So painfully pleasurable to have him nestled so deep inside you, tickling your sweet spot with the tip of him.

You tried your best to resist moving on him, but once he adjusted himself in the seat, it caused his cock to shift and hit your sweet spot perfectly, making you whimper at the stimulation.

Bucky pulled you closer with his hand on the small of your back, burying himself deeper, if that was even possible.

You tried to be sneaky with your movements. Starting with rocking so very slowly back and forth on him before you started to bounce up and down on his cock.

He slammed you down again as he grabbed the back of your neck, making you look at him.

“You really can’t sit still, huh?

“N-no, Sir.”

“Bad girl.”

He cleared some space on his desk before he sat you on top and rammed his cock hard inside you, making you cry and shut your eyes tight at his brutal move.

He harshly grabbed your jaw as he got all up in your face.

“I’m gonna show you what I do with bad girls that misbehave. You’ll wish you didn’t disobey me.”

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[buckrecs]

Hey hey! Do you have any professor!Bucky series and one shot recommendations? Thanks in advance 💖

Professor!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Office Hours by @gogolucky13

Professor Barnes gives you a bad grade and you visit him during his office hours to find out why.

honeybee by @wndalovebot

Redamancy by @world-of-aus

Bucky Barnes had no idea about your feelings for him, except that he did.

Bad Intentions by @seventven

dr barnes, y/n’s psychology professor and final year thesis supervisor is going through a rough patch in his marriage. following a heated argument at the end of class, dr barnes spots y/n at an on-campus bar. he makes a twisted revelation.

Imagine by @metalbuckaroo

“you’ve got a pretty mouth.” & “this could get me fired.”

Mastery by @urvenicebtch

Your history professor, Mr. Barnes asks you to stay after class for extra help which leads to...*ahem*... other things(;

“You are. Every inch. The fantasy.” by @becca-e-barnes

Buttoned Up by @disturbedbydesign

Even though you were one of the top students in his class, Professor Barnes had always been cold to you. You had tolerated his indifference all semester, but when his end-of-term dinner party invites went out and you weren't on the list, you decided it was the last straw—it was time to confront him about it and find out what the hell his problem was. The answer would surprise you.

Tenure Track by @disturbedbydesign

You and Professor Barnes had been at each other's throats from the moment you met, and when a tenure position opens up in your department, the claws come out.

Like Real People Do by @navybrat817

Bucky decides to stop being professional and take what he wants.

Imagine by @saltiestdemonloves

where you sleep on his couch while he works late so he can keep an eye on you

Professor Bucky by @buckycuddlebuddy

masterlist by @bucky-barnes-diaries

SERIES

Steel Blue by @youlightmeupfinn

When you experience the most intense night of the summer alongside Bucky, who you nickname Steel Blue, you weren't expecting to fall pregnant. When a positive pregnancy test meets your eyes a few days before school starts, you know it belongs to the man who you'd never see again. Until you walk into your Romanian Linguistics class and he's your professor.

ephemeral by @aescapisms

Bucky Barnes fell in love with you, but the universe isn’t all that forgiving.

“sup, professor @/bbarnesjames” by @aescapisms

Bucky Barnes is the “most handsomest man” that you have ever laid your eyes on and oh, would you look at that. He’s your professor.

Show Me Love by @lenavonschweetz

Where sex-on-legs Dr. Barnes is your History professor that makes it impossible to pay attention in class.  Perhaps it’s the danger of it all, but god help you - you can’t stay away.

Busted by @mysterioh

Nat asks you about a certain contact by the name of “Bucky Boo Bear 🐻💖💕💗” and gets the surprise of a lifetime.

+ All Yours by @sinner-as-saint

Student!Bucky x Professor!Reader

One of your students confess their feelings for you and things get interesting...

[navybrat817]

Knock knock

Who’s there?

PROFESSOR BUCKY FUCKING BARNES THOTS ONLY 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

#RIPaquaspusspuss

Panty ruiner, Aqua! 🔥

Like Real People Do

Pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky decides to stop being professional and take what he wants.

Word Count: Over 1.3k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), age gap, slight power imbalance, swearing, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?).

A/N: I should be working on other things, but why not? Might be a thing. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by @rookthorne . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications and please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Bucky had seen his fair share of students during his career. Most didn't care about his lessons and he had to remind himself that it didn't matter becaus he loved teaching. His favorite part of teaching this year, however, is seeing you. Each class, you sat in the front row, paid attention and actively participated, and aced every quiz and exam.

He was certain you were trying to kill him.

Why else would you show up in dresses and skirts with stockings and heels? Why did you ignore the jocks and every other guy in class who tried to get your attention? And why did you hand in your assignments last and brush your fingers against his every single time?

His own personal temptress.

Bucky tried to be good. He was a professional, a man in his 30's. Sleeping with a student was a line he never thought about crossing, but you made it hard for him to think of anything else. Especially after you bent down to pick up the book you dropped after his last class and revealed your silk panties.

Were they as wet as he imagined?

Did you know he was staring?

"See you next class, professor."

"No," he said before he could stop himself. "See me in my office."

He had to put himself out of his misery.

Sitting across from him at his desk a few minutes later, he wasn't exactly sure what to say. He couldn't remember the last time he wanted someone as badly as you. How did a mere glance from you shake his confidence?

"Professor?" you asked, playing with the hem of your skirt.

He cleared his throat and loosened his tie. "Yes?"

"Why haven't you fucked me yet?"

Bucky was a dead man.

"Excuse me?" he asked because he was sure he hadn't heard you correctly.

"You heard me. You think I wear outfits like this for everyone? I caught you staring, so I kept wearing them," you smiled as you opened your legs, revealing your panties again. There was no mistaking the wet spot this time. "Like what you see? Or did I read this wrong?"

Bucky swore all the blood in his body rushed to his cock. His mouth watered as he stared, wondering how you'd taste on his tongue. He wanted to drown himself in you.

If he was going to hell, would it be wrong to have a bit of heaven?

"I'm sorry, professor," you said, quickly shutting your legs when he didn't speak. The certainty of the situation visibly left your body as you scrambled to get your bag. "I'm so sorry. I'll go."

He slowly stood up and placed his hands on his desk, needing to take back some control. You were offering yourself to him. He was going to selfishly indulge.

No, he couldn't let you leave.

Thankfully, he remembered to lock the door.

"I didn't say you could go," he said, leaning forward an inch when you froze. "Get your panties off and bend over my desk. Now."

Determination filled your eyes again as you smiled. "Yes, professor."

You had your breasts pressed against the desk as he stroked himself, his cock so hard it almost hurt. He could see the tremor in your body as he flipped your skirt up and spread your legs further apart, your ruined panties on the floor where you left them. He'd take his time with you later. But the groan of relief he let out when he slid home, his eyes fluttering shut at the feel of your wet walls around his cock, it had to be quick and dirty now.

"Fuck me," you begged, pushing your hips back when he stilled. "Please, professor.

"Bucky," he corrected you, smirking as he looked down to see you stretched around him. "I'm not just some professor, so you say my name when I fuck you."

"Bucky," you sighed when he began to thrust, holding on as he gripped your hips.

"Good girl," he praised, the sound of his name on your lips a sinful sound he wanted to hear again. "Fuck, your greedy cunt keeps sucking me back in. Tell me how good my cock feels."

You gasped as he pushed deeper, eagerly rocking back as much as you could. The way you squirmed, he knew you'd be a sight fucking yourself on his cock. He couldn't wait to watch your breasts bounce as you took all of him.

"Answer me," he practically growled, bringing his hand down on your ass. "Always such a good student. Don't be bad now."

"Feels so good," you whined, looking briefly over your shoulder before you pressed your cheek to the desk. "Touched myself thinking of you. Feels so much better."

"Touched yourself thinking of me? My dirty girl. I'm no better. Wanted to fuck you the first day," he grunted, bringing his hand down again. "Next class, don't wear any panties. You hear me? Your pussy belongs to me now."

Instead of putting himself out of his misery, he was becoming addicted.

You moaned as Bucky fucked you in earnest. "Yes, it's yours. I'm yours. Please!"

He leaned down, bringing a hand around to cover your mouth. "Be as loud as you want when I take you home," he grunted in your ear.

He never wanted to stop fucking you. Not with how good you felt. He was powerless to stop himself from driving deep inside you, your body made to sin with him. Maybe one day he'd fuck you before class so he could seep out of you, the boys around you none the wiser.

Consequences be damned.

Bucky kept his thrusts deep and steady when he felt your walls begin to flutter. With how wet you were, he hoped you dripped on his desk. "Gonna come for me, aren't you? You want me to come in you," he groaned, the desk creaking from his tough movements as he removed his hand.

"Come in me, please," you begged, your delicious moans filling the room again. His control started to slip away as you clenched harder around his cock. "I-I'm on the pill. Fill me up."

"Beg me for it," he demanded, if only for him to remember later when he jerked off.

"Please, Bucky."

A man could only take so much.

"Come."

You tipped over the edge as his hand smothered you again, your cry of his name muffled as you gushed around him. He helped you ride out your orgasm, praising you under your breath as he chased his end. He buried himself as deep as he could go as he came, your pussy still fluttering as he finished.

His heart pounded in his chest as he gently pulled out moments later, almost coming again at the sight of your mixed release leaking from you. "Fuck," he whispered, helping you upright and fixing your skirt.

Your legs shook as you turned slightly, blindly finding his lips with yours. He brought a hand up to your cheek to deepen the kiss. You were smiling.

That felt even better than the amazing sex the two of you just had.

"So, I didn't read this wrong?" you smiled wider.

"Not at all," he smiled, giving you another quick kiss before he fixed his pants. He cleared his throat as you straightened the rest of your clothes, suddenly worried that this was a one-time thing. "I hope this isn't too forward, but I do want to see you again."

"Too forward considering you fucked me on your desk?" you pointed out. "I want to see you again, too."

He sighed with happiness. "And I meant what I said. You can be as loud as you want when we're actually alone," he winked before his phone went off.

"Oh, I plan to be," you smirked, gesturing for him to get his phone.

He grabbed it and saw a message from Steve.

"Guess you didn't hear me outside of your office. You have fun?"

He scoffed, giving you another gentle smile as you grabbed your underwear, before he typed back. "I did. And I'm not sharing."

"Don't worry. I have my eye on my own student."

Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

[lunarbuck]

The Kiss (prof!bucky x f!reader)

AU- Professor/Student

Pairing: professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.2k

Summary: You’ve always had a crush on Professor Barnes… little did you know he has been hiding some feelings of his own

Warnings: age difference, fluff, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), pet names (Sir, sweetheart, baby), praise

A/N: this is my entry for @the-slumberparty Week 4 challenge! the AU I got was professor/student and I've been wanting to write this for a long time!!! I hope you guys enjoy <3

full masterlist

“That’s it for today. You’re all dismissed.” Book bags and jackets zip loudly as the small lecture center begins to empty. You start packing up your things, but you don’t get out of your seat yet. This certainly has been your favorite of all the classes you’ve taken in the past four years. White Collar Crime, taught by Professor Barnes, is one of the most interesting courses you’ve taken, and you also love the professor. 

Prof. Barnes is a lawyer by day, and a lecturer by evening, as he says. And though he’s often incredibly busy with cases, it's easy to see how passionate he is about teaching. You watch as he packs up his belongings, a few students quickly asking him questions about the upcoming exam. Prof. Barnes used to seem scary and intimidating to you, but after a few weeks, you started catching glimpses of his grin, of light in his eye, and you’ve been a goner ever since. 

His features are sharp, and he always looks so put together. His brown hair is clipped close on the sides and kept short on top, which suits his personality well. His broody exterior is one that most people fear, but it just draws you in, and you can’t seem to stay away.

You grab your things and start toward the front of the room. Typically, you make up a question as an excuse to talk to him, but today you have a real one. You’re the last student in the room, and Prof. Barnes is already watching you approach.

“Hi,” you greet, rocking back and forth on your heels momentarily. “Last week, you mentioned being able to go over our exam answers with you, so we know what to study. Could I schedule time with you to do that?” You do your best not to let your eyes drift from his, but it’s tough. His shirts are always perfectly tailored to him, showing off his broad shoulders and strong legs. 

Prof. Barnes doesn’t smile, but you can see the warmth in his eyes, which is better, in your opinion. “Of course. Do you have time now? This was my last class of the evening, so we can just go right to my office.” Your heart stutters in your chest at his words. You’ve gone to his office hours a few times, but there’ve always been other students outside or in the office with you. You’ve never been alone with him like that.

And as it turns out, you don’t have anything going on for the rest of the night. “That works for me,” you say, grinning. Prof. Barnes leads the way out of the lecture hall and to the building where his office is. Even though neither of you speaks the entire way, you’re buzzing. He walks close enough that sometimes your arms brush, and you can smell his cologne. 

When you arrive in his office, Prof. Barnes instructs you to sit across from him at his desk while he gets everything ready. The office is filled with books and papers, organized in a way that doesn’t quite make sense to you, but you can imagine it’s perfect for Prof. Barnes. Your eyes trail over the spines of the books, and you notice that not all are law books, but many of them are classics. 

“So, here’s your last exam,” he says, pulling your attention back to him. Prof. Barnes has laid out your scantron page as well as the exam itself, and has your grades pulled up on his computer. “You did very well, which I’m not surprised by, and the questions you did get wrong, the whole class struggled with.” Your mind short-circuits as he speaks. He’s paid enough attention to you not to be surprised by your good grade? The class itself isn’t very big, all things considered, but there are 50 students, and this isn’t the only class he teaches.

“Oh, thank you, Sir,” you reply shyly, surprised that that’s what you called him. You’ve never addressed him that way, but you love how it felt. The corner of his mouth tips up into an almost smile as he suppresses a slight shiver.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he adds, flipping through the exam booklet. You quirk an eyebrow, silently asking him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He finds the first question you got wrong. “So here’s what you said,” he points to your answer on the scantron. “What do you think the right answer is?”

His bright blue eyes watch you as you think, tracing over your features like he’s trying to analyze you. You try not to shrink under his gaze.

“Differential association?” You suggest, not entirely sure of the response, but the way Prof. Barnes’ eyes light up tells you you’re right.

“Correct,” he says, marking down your answer on a new sheet of paper. “Good girl.” The words slip out, almost as if he didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you did, and they go straight to your lower belly, lighting a spark. Prof. Barnes doesn’t acknowledge what he’s said, opting to continue through the other questions you missed. 

Each time you answer a question correctly, he smiles a little more, and looks a little more pleased. But all you can focus on is how he called you ‘good girl’. It echoes through your head, making your heart beat faster and heat lick in your belly. 

As you answer the last question, Prof. Barnes’ tongue traces over his lower lip. Your eyes track the movement, and you suck in a breath. He nods, indicating your answer is correct and clasps his hands on the desk.

“You’re more than ready for the exam,” he tells you, keeping eye contact. “You need to give yourself more credit, and trust that you know the answer. You’re smart. Trust your gut, okay?” You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

“Thank you, Sir,” you say, voice breathy. Alarm bells go off in your head that you’ve definitely alerted Prof. Barnes to the state that you’re in, but honestly, you don’t care. You’re sure women throw themselves at him constantly, probably even some students. He’s handsome in that classic way, strong features and bright eyes. He knows he’s attractive; he knows people want him.

He’s close enough that if you leaned in a bit, you could kiss him. You’re desperate to know what his lips would feel like against yours, what he’d taste like. Would he hold your face to lead the kiss? Would his fingers tangle in your hair?

Even though you don’t want to, you stand and gather your things. As you walk toward the door, you hear Prof. Barnes approach. He reaches the door before you and stands in front of it, blocking your exit.

He opens his mouth but closes it immediately like he isn’t sure what to say. His eyebrows furrow, and he takes a deep breath. “You liked it,” he states, as if that’s enough information for you to go off of. When you don’t respond, he continues. “You liked when you called me ‘sir’ and when I said you were a good girl.” His voice doesn’t waver, but he fists his hands like he’s holding himself back from something. 

Your lips fall open, stunned at his observation. The way he’s speaking to you now makes the coil in your belly tighten, thinking about how he’d called you a good girl only fueling the feeling.

“You’re easy to read,” he continues. “You always stay after class to ask me questions. You come to my office hours when we both know damn well you don’t need the help. You bit your lip when you called me ‘sir’. You shivered when I called you ‘good girl’.” Your breathing has sped up, causing your chest to heave.

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure you’d know how to speak even if you had the words.

“You thought I wouldn't figure it out, didn’t you, sweetheart?” He steps toward you, grips your jacket, which you’ve been clutching to your chest this whole time, and tugs it from your arms. “You thought I hadn’t seen you, that I hadn’t noticed you.”

You nod as he closes the distance between you. His smell invades your nostrils, making you feel dizzy.

“Well, I noticed, sweetheart.” Prof. Barnes places his hands on the sides of your jaw, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. He’s giving you time to pull away, giving you an out. But you don’t want it. You rest your hands in the bend of his arms and nod, giving him the permission he needs.

Prof. Barnes leans in and kisses you, pressing his lips gently to yours. He tilts your head slightly like you imagined he would, but you could never have imagined how soft his lips are. How good it feels to have his breath wash over your cheek. He tastes like coffee and something sweet, something distinctly him. He pulls you closer, removing the small space between your bodies, leaving you pressed against his chest. Prof. Barnes’ left hand leaves your face, shifting to cup the side of your neck before sliding down your back. It settles on your lower back, pressing you into him even more. 

You whimper into the kiss at the feeling of him, of being so close, and he takes the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip. When he pulls away, you’re breathless. “You taste so sweet,” he muses, a smile growing on his face. “Just like I knew you would.”

For the next two weeks, Professor Barnes cancels class. Even when he’s busy with a case, he never cancels; he just switches the class to online. You can’t help but feel like it’s because of you. Because of the kiss. 

The kiss.

It plays on repeat in your head; it follows you into your dreams. How his lips molded to yours and his hands held your head, how they pressed you into him. It was all so perfect; it felt so right. But maybe it didn’t feel that way for Prof. Barnes. After he’d kissed you, you’d stayed for a little longer, wrapped up in him, but he got a call and had to leave right after. He’d kissed you on the way out, saying he’d see you soon, but you haven’t. 

You were supposed to have Prof. Barnes’ class today. It was supposed to be a review day for the exam next class, but again, class is canceled. Once you finish your morning classes, you have no reason to stay on campus, so you start walking back to your apartment. Your phone buzzes, and when you pull it out, you find another text from your roommate begging you to go out tonight. You’ve been trying to get out of it, but you’re in the mood for a distraction, so you give in.

Later that night, you find yourself at one of the bars near campus. It’s not as packed as you thought, so you go to the bar and almost immediately get the bartender’s attention. He leans over the bar to hear you better, but you don’t miss the way his eyes roam over your figure before reaching your eyes again.

“What can I getcha?” He asks, giving you a smile. You rattle off your order and something for your roommate and make pleasant, if not flirtatious, conversation with the bartender. He’s cute but not really your type. Your type these days has been older, broodier, more intense…

You need to stop thinking about Professor Barnes. You need to get him out of your system.

The bartender, whose name you’ve learned is Troy, sets your drinks down in front of you with a wink, and you smile in return, sliding the cash over to him. Your roommate grabs her drink quickly before running off to say hi to one of her other friends, leaving you at the bar alone. You turn around to find somewhere a little less crowded when you feel someone’s eyes on you. 

It takes you a second, but your gaze connects with two familiar bright blue eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. 

Bucky

She saw me. 

I watch as the bartender gets her attention again, and though I can’t hear what they’re saying, I see her smile at him. I clench my teeth at the sight. The bartender slides something across the bar to her, and she looks surprised but accepts it, tucking it into the back pocket of her tight jeans.

She looks incredible tonight in her fitted shirt and those jeans that make her ass look perfect. The bartender gets pulled away to do his job, and I watch as the woman that has occupied my thoughts for so long turns back around and finds me in the crowd.

She is like a ray of fucking sunshine, so bright in my life, and as she walks toward me slowly, I can practically feel her warmth already. She approaches me tentatively like she’s worried I’ll disappear the moment she gets close enough to touch.

“Professor Barnes,” she whispers, but I hear her despite the noise of the crowd. It’s pathetic, the way my cock hardens just at her voice, but she has me wrapped around her little finger, whether she realizes it or not. 

“Sweetheart,” I reply. I don’t miss the way she shivers, the way heat flares in her eyes. 

“Where’ve you been?” She asks, fiddling with the straw in her drink. She’s avoiding eye contact, but I want to see her beautiful eyes. I stand, towering over her, and that gets her attention. She tilts her head up, and I have to stifle a groan at the sight of her looking up at me with those doe eyes.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” She nods just a little as if her head did it without her mind’s consent. I let my fingers trail up her bare arm, her skin soft against my calloused hand, until my hand cups her jaw. She leans into my touch, and I brush my thumb over her cheek.

I lean in, getting close enough that her shaking breaths fan over my face, and whisper, “I missed you too.” She tilts her head to try and kiss me, but I hold her face still. We’re in a bar on campus full of students. I can’t risk us being seen like this. Even touching her is dangerous.

“Oh.” She sounds defeated, and my chest squeezes. I’m not rejecting her. Quite the opposite, actually.

“The things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” I tell her, leaning my forehead against hers. “I cannot do in this bar.” Her breath stutters and her eyes glaze over with need. She quickly downs her drink and finds her roommate to tell her she’s leaving. When she returns to me, her nerves and excitement pour from her, and I feel myself beginning to smile. 

“Where are we going?” She asks, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. I tangle my fingers with her and tug her toward the door. My car is parked a block away. I didn’t drink. I didn’t come here to drink, so I’m good to drive.

The drive to my place is only about 10 minutes, but it feels like hours. I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles go pale. I’m desperate to taste her again, to feel her writhing against me. I’d wanted to take her right then and there in my office, but it was too risky. I’m so close to having her after waiting for what’s felt like forever.

We pull into the driveway of my house, and I watch her take a deep breath. I can tell she’s nervous, but I also see the way she’s watching my every move, the way she so clearly wants me.

I shut the front door behind her, and I’m on her. I press her back against the door and kiss her. She tastes so fucking good, so soft and sweet against my lips. She grips my jacket as my fingers tangle in her hair. My tongue swipes across the seam of her lips, and she opens for me with a moan.

“You’re so sweet, baby,” I whisper against her lips. She shudders, arching against me. My cock is hard in my jeans, and I grind against her to show her just how much she affects me. I kiss her again, drinking in the way she reacts to every touch.

“Please,” she moans. I pull back slightly and take in the way her face is twisted in pleasure. 

“Please, what, sweetheart?” She furrows her brows in frustration, and I can’t help but smirk as she does it. She’s so worked up, but I want her begging.

She pants for a moment before finding her words. “I just need you,” she whispers. “Please, Sir, I need you so bad.” Her voice comes out a needy whine, and the way she calls me sir nearly sends me over the edge.

“Good girl.” I press a bruising kiss to her again before I pick her up princess-style. I walk her up the stairs to my bedroom and toss her on my bed. I can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner, that I tried to deny myself the pleasure of seeing her on my bed, panting and wanting. 

I shrug off my jacket and toss it aside before approaching the bed. She looks up at me with big doe eyes, those eyes that watch me every time we’re in class, the ones that I’ve seen in my dreams. I lean over the bed and grab her ankles, tugging her until her legs hang over the edge.

She watches my hands as I run my hands up her legs, appreciating every beautiful curve of her body. My fingers tease the skin above her waistband. I move to unbutton her jeans, waiting for her to tell me to go on, and once she nods, I peel them off her.

I am breathless, utterly hypnotized by her as I kneel at the foot of the bed. Her panties are simple, lacy and black, and when I run my thumb up and down over her pussy, she lets out the most beautiful moan. 

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” I ask, rubbing a circle over her clit. She shakes her head, fisting the sheets. “Since the day I saw you, I’ve wanted you. Every time you came to my office, I wanted to kick everyone out and put you over my desk. I’ve wanted to keep you after class every day, have you moaning my name so loud it would echo in the lecture hall.”

When she lets out a strangled moan, I pull her panties down and revel in how gorgeous and wet she is. I tuck her panties into my pocket and run my hands over her bare skin. She shivers and tries to pull her legs together, but I don’t let her. 

“I’ve wanted to taste you since I saw you. You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” I ask, adding a teasing tone to my voice. 

“Please,” she begs. “Please, Sir.” I grin at her pussy and dive in. The second my tongue swipes over her pussy she arches, her fingers digging into my hair. She lets out a string of expletives as I suck her clit and explore her perfect cunt. 

She tastes so much better than I ever could have imagined, and I know I’ll be addicted to this forever. She is so responsive, so sensitive to every swipe of my tongue, and all it does is make me work harder for her. I graze my teeth over her clit, and she jolts but pulls my hair more, guiding me to exactly where she wants me.

I work her up more and more until I feel her trembling beneath me. “You wanna come, sweetheart?” I ask, sliding a finger into her pussy. She’s hot and tight around my finger, and I feel her clench around it.

“Yes, please,” she replies, voice breathy from the pleasure. I click my tongue in mock-disappointment. I nip at her inner thigh, soothing the bite with a kiss.

“Please, who? Who’s making you feel good? Who’s gonna make you come?” She squirms a little and tries to get me to keep eating her out, but I don’t give in, no matter how much I want to keep tasting her.

“Please, Sir,” she amends. “You’re making me feel so good, please, Sir. I need you so bad.”

“Such a good girl,” I groan. I double my efforts on her clit and slide a second finger inside her, hitting a spot that makes her twitch.

Her legs tighten around my head as she comes, and it takes everything in me to not come right along with her. I ease up when I notice her getting too sensitive and kiss my way up her body. 

“You’re perfect,” I tell her, sucking a mark on her neck. She helps me pull her shirt and bra off before she starts working my shirt off as well. A moment later, we’re both naked, and I love the way her eyes trace over every inch of me. 

She pulls me in for another kiss, and I lean on my forearms, keeping myself hovering just over her.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she tells me between kisses. “Wanted you for so long.” I grin into the kiss, then pull away to dig through my bedside table for a condom. She watches with hooded, lust-filled eyes.

“This okay?” I ask, rolling the condom onto myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone how I want her. 

She nods enthusiastically. “Please, Sir, please fuck me.” My head lulls back at her words.

I line myself up with her pussy and push in just a little, watching her face contort. Inch by inch, I sink inside her wet heat, and once I’m fully inside her, I let out a low moan. I give her a moment to adjust before I pull out and slam back in.

I know I should be gentle, that I should warm her up to this, but I can’t. There will be time for gentleness, and now’s not that time. I set a brutal, deep pace, and she takes it like the good girl she is.

Her fingers scrape down my back as she urges me on, legs wrapping around me to keep me close. I knew she’d be able to take it. I knew she’d be good for me. I tell her over and over how perfect she feels, how good she’s taking me, and every word of praise makes her squeeze tighter around me.

“Oh my god, I’m so close,” she moans. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my dick.” I keep doing what I know she likes and watch as she falls apart beneath me. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than this. Than her. Once she comes down from her high, I switch our position. I turn her over and hike her ass up, keeping her head low on the mattress. My mouth waters as I press into her again. Her jaw drops open, and her eyes squeeze shut, and I start fucking her again.

Each sound she makes goes straight to my cock. Every moan, every whimper, brings me closer to the edge. I grip her hips hard, but I don’t care if I’m leaving marks. I want her to see them, to run her fingers over them as she thinks about the way I made her come on my cock. 

My hips start to stutter, my thrust getting sloppy as I get closer and closer to coming. I wish I could fill her up and see my cum drip out of her, but I know we’re not there yet. I haul her chest up, pressing her back to my front, and snake my hands around her. One of my hands cups her neck, not choking her but gripping it, and the other teases her breast. My fingers tweak her nipple, and she jolts in my hold.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” I ask, punctuating my words with deeper thrusts. She moans but doesn’t answer. “Answer me, sweetheart,” I say, practically scolding her.

“Fuck, I love it so much, Sir.” Her voice is strung out with pleasure. The hand that has been playing with her breasts falls to her pussy, and I tease her clit, pulling another orgasm out of her. She’s so loud when she comes, and it pulls me over with her.

I come hard, my vision blacking out on the edges, and we collapse together on the bed. 

We watch each other as we come down from our highs. She smiles sheepishly at me, and I kiss away any doubts that might be clouding her mind right now. “That was perfect,” I tell her, kissing her nose. 

“Thank you, Sir,” she replies. I pull her close to me, wrapping her in my arms. 

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” I remind her. She tilts her head up to keep eye contact, and I love the light that shines in her beautiful eyes.

“What should I call you then?”

“Bucky.” She smiles at the nickname my friend gave me when we were younger.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Bucky.” She giggles as I kiss her, and I lock that sound away, keeping it somewhere I’ll never lose it.

“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

please message me to be added to a taglist! must be 18+

Everything tags: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @nekoannie-chan @late-to-the-party-81 @chibijusstuff @midnightramyeoncravings

All Bucky taglist: @prettylittlepluviophile @writerwrites @w0nderw0mansw0rld @hawsx3 @meetmeatyourworst @harrysthiccthighss @goldylions @luxeavenger @cloudyfeel @searchf0rtheskyline @keliiii @urmom4130

@buckyb-stan

[pinkiebieberpie]

shoutout to my bestie for giving me professor bucky idea - because that is beefy!professor!bucky 100%, to be more specific it's literature professor and he is the most romantic man you have ever met, i can picture him writing poems for you, reading you books out loud, always making you coffee in the morning before going to work... aah where can i get one?? and he looks fantastic in suits and sweaters and without clothes, obviously. he's a big boy.

bucky moodboards list

[steevbuckk]

FAVORITE STUCKY FICS | 55/100

Introduction to Fake Dating Your Best Friend 101 by @spacerenegades

[Fake relationship, 24 627 words, Teen And Up Audiences]

Summary:

Bucky stares at his best friend as though he’s absolutely lost what’s left of his dumbass mind.

“Excuse me?” he asks dumbly.

Steve sighs and sags back onto the couch, covering his face dramatically with one large, well-manicured hand.

“Dean Coulson thinks we’re dating. And gay. But like, for each other. And now I need you to fake date me so I can convince the Chancellor to fund my research.”

or;

Steve and Bucky are a pair of professors who have to fake date for academic purposes and are real dumb along the way. It's not so much a forest of pine as a whole landscape of it. It turns out fine, probably.

more fics

[bucking-mustangs-with-wings]

skater!au buck & curt friendship ft. Buck's texts with Curt about Prof. John Egan

fallin in love with yet another one of my own au's and the lore i'm creating <3

[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.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

If you liked what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup.

Fic commissions: reach out via Tumblr messenger or Kofi🍵

If you'd like to be on my taglist, please use this form (it's easy I promise!)

@scottishrosefury, @not-that-syndrigast, @lolitsbuckybarnes, @kathy-2005, @stuckysgal, @thenewmissescullen, @sapphirebarnes, @Yoruse, @autumnrose40, @alexakeyloveloki, @gretasimp, @kandismom, @ivoryangel1290, @mrs-rogers-barnes1, @iloveshawnieboi, @m0k0k0, @sousydiv, @sapphirebarnes, @kandis-mom, @juicyfruit-22

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

[cable-knit-sweater]

Someone write me an AU pls thank you

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | chapter three

Summary: And, what about older men?

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: early 20s)

Word Count: 1426

Spotify Playlist | Pinterest Board | Tips

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: Dick me dead, and bury me pregnant. Here is the link to the assignment mentioned in this chapter.- Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @mostlymarvelgirl | @mrsnikstan | @angelbabyyy99 | @kaithesimps-blog

The words of your assignment were still vivid in your mind as you hit ‘send’ on your email to Dr. Barnes. Laying your emotions out bare felt exhilarating, though terrifying. Something real, something raw had finally been tapped: The story of a young woman longing for the depth and experience of an older man, a mirror of your recent desires, and newfound feelings about unfulfilled connections with men your age.

Your thoughts had regularly returned to your meeting with Dr. Barnes, and the magnetic pull toward him– His intoxicating presence, full of authority and warmth that left you yearning. The way he leaned in, husky whispering, shivers shooting down your spine. You knew it was more than an academic connection, an unspoken attraction. 

While packing your bag after Psychology class, your phone buzzed with a new email notification. Your heart pounded as you unlocked the preview, Dr. Barnes had responded to your work. 

“Miss Spector, 

Your submission is captivating and shows significant growth. The raw honesty and ability to show vulnerability in your writing are truly commendable. I want to discuss your work further and help you delve further into these themes. Meet me in my office tomorrow at 3 PM.

I’m looking forward to our conversation, 

Dr. Barnes.” 

The prospect of another intimate encounter with Dr. Barnes caused a thrill of excitement and anxiety to course through you. His words penetrated your defenses, in both person and writing, reaching down to your core. Rereading the email, you could almost hear his deep, resonant voice, laced with praise. 

Zipping up your bag, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Slowly, you turned to become face-to-face with Wanda and MJ, two of your closest friends. They were both wearing mischievous smiles, curiosity twinkling in their eyes. 

“Hey, what’s got you grinning like The Cheshire Cat,” MJ teased, playfully nudging you. 

Wanda’s eyebrows raised suggestively as she joined in on the interrogation. “Yeah, spill, Spector! Pete up to his old tricks again?” 

Trying to find the right words, you chuckled nervously. “Oh, you two,” you jokingly rolled your eyes at them. “Nothing scandalous, just a text, I promise.” 

Your friends weren’t so easily convinced. Exchanging knowing glances as MJ leaned in closer, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, we’ve known each other for years. You can’t fool us that easy…”

Struggling to come up with an explanation, a blush crept up your cheeks. You tried to laugh off their teasing just as a familiar voice interrupted from behind. 

“Everything alright here, ladies?” Professor Wilson’s voice boomed across the empty lecture hall. Your heart skipped a beat, feeling the embarrassment heat your cheeks. You wondered how much of the conversation he had overheard.

Exchanging surprised glances, Wanda and Mj quickly composed themselves. Their once playful expressions shifted to innocent ones. 

“Oh… just chatting about our plans for the evening, Professor,” Wanda replied with a smile and casual tone. 

He nodded, leaving his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. As he returned to his desk, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew more than he let on. 

Regaining your composure, you exchanged a relieved glance at Wanda and MJ, silently agreeing to table the conversation. Walking out of the hall, the weight of Dr. Barnes’ email hung heavy in your mind. Something had shifted, not only were you feeling the anticipation of the upcoming meeting with him, but you realized that your feelings for him ran deeper than you had allowed yourself to admit. 

Lost in your trace, you rounded a corner colliding with a solid figure. You stumbled back, slightly startled, however you felt a strong hand steadying you. Your heart began to race as you looked up, meeting the gaze of none other than Dr. Barnes himself. 

“Ah, Miss Spector,” he greeted, a smile beginning to play on his lips. His touch lingered against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a subtle yet undeniable spark. 

“Dr. Barnes…” you trailed, trying to steady your racing heart. You heard the sniggering of Wanda and MJ as they watched in surprise and amusement. 

“My apologies,” Dr. Barnes said, his gaze dropping to your lips for a moment before returning to meet yours. “I hope I didn’t startle you too much.” 

Shaking your head, you felt a flush creep up to your cheeks. “No, not at all. It’s… I, un, I’m looking forward to our discussion tomorrow.” 

Your friends shared another glance at each other, a smirk tugging at their lips. They sensed your embarrassment, giggling and teasing you for being clumsy and oblivious. You shot them a quick warning look.

Dr. Barnes observed the interaction between you and your friends, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. “I’m glad to hear that,” he replied, his voice smooth. “I have no donut it will be a… fruitful conversation.” His voice was laced with a subtle undertone of invitation, a promise of something more lingering. 

You nodded, feeling a rush of heat spreading through you at his proximity. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With one last glance into his piercing blue eyes, you excused yourself and followed your friends out of the building. 

As you walked away, Wanda and MJ’s laughter filled the air, you couldn’t resist another glance back inside the building. Standing in the same spot, was Dr. Barnes, his gaze fixed on you intensely. 

Time stood still as you locked eyes, a silent exchange passing between you. You had never experienced a connection like this before. 

You tore your gaze away at the sound of your name being called, joining your friends. But, Dr. Barnes’ stayed with you. 

~

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying you causing your pulse to quicken. “I’ve read your submission. It’s compelling and honest. You’ve done well, tapping into your fears… and desires.” 

Your palms warmed under his praise, and the thudding of your heartbeat drummed in your ears. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes. I tried to be as truthful as possible.” 

Nodding in agreement, he rested his chin against his fist. “That’s evident. Your exploration of the longing for an older man, their depth and experience was particularly poignant.” He paused, noticing you fidget with your fingers under his intense gaze. “Tell me, do you believe younger men are truly incapable of providing the satisfaction you seek?”

The question cut close to your personal life causing you to hesitate while searching for the right words. “I think… it’s not their age, but… their lack of understanding. They don’t seem to see beyond the physical.” 

“And, what about older men?” he pressed, shifting in his seat, leaning forward against his desk. “Do you think they inherently possess the ability to satisfy a woman on a deeper level?” 

“I think they have more life experience,” you replied carefully. “They tend to have more patience, more attuned to a woman’s needs.” 

The room seemed to close in around you as his eyes bore into yours. “Experience does bring a certain depth,” he murmured, his voice becoming lower, more intimate. “But, regardless of age, emotional connection and mutual understanding are paramount.” 

You nodded. “I agree. It’s about finding someone who truly sees and understands you.”

He smiled, a slow, almost predatory smile played on his lips, sending a heat to your core. His gaze pierced through layers of your defenses, you felt both exposed and exhilarated. “And how about you, Miss Spector? Do you feel seen?” 

Your breath caught in your throat, the pressure building up inside you making it hard to form words. “I… I think I’m beginning to.” 

His smile deepened, eyes gleaming with something darker. “Good,” he said, in a whisper. “It’s a rare and precious thing, true understanding… true connection. Keep exploring them, Miss Spector.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Barnes, I will,” you replied, your voice betraying you.

His eyes never left yours as he leaned back in his chair. The added sense of space allowed you to breathe, yet the electrifying connection between you was maintained. 

“I look forward to seeing where your explorations take you,” he continued, encouraging with a hint of command. “This is just the beginning, our journey together is only starting, and I’m here to guide you through it.” 

His eyes followed your every move as you stood to leave. “Until next time,” he said, glancing back at him, a hint of a smile played on his lips. 

“Until next time,” you echoed as you stepped out of his office and into the library.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Tension

Pairing || CollegeProfessor!Bucky x Student!Female!Reader

Summary || Professor Barnes would like to see you in his office…

Word Count || 1915

Contents & Warnings || Smut — [N]SFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, [e]xplicit content/language, undefined age-gap, professor x student relationship, Professor/Sir [k]ink, [t]easing, [t]ouching, [f]ingering, mention of bodily fluids.

Disclaimer 1 || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Disclaimer 2 || Do you find the use of [ ] throughout my fics annoying/distracting? You can also read this story on AO3 and Wattpad! But remember to come back to this post and reblog to show support! I would appreciate it if you left a Kudos on AO3 and a Vote on Wattpad! And a comment as well on whichever platform you decide to read on :) I must apologize for this workaround! Thank you for being kind and patient! And for the continued support <3

Professor!Bucky Masterlist

Whenever Professor Barnes called you into his office, it was not to discuss your ongoing assignment, but rather for some mind-blowing and secretive [s]ex.

You expected him to wait for you right by the door when you walked in, as he usually did—pushing you up against it, trapping your hands above your head, while locking the door with his other. His [l]ips would quickly find yours in a hurried and desperate [k]iss before moving you over to his desk—[b]ending you over, lifting your [s]kirt, and [f]ucking you [h]ard into the mahogany wood.

But no. That was not the case this time.

This time, as you entered, the was no ambush. No riveting [t]ouches or intoxicating [k]isses. Instead, he was seated at his desk, scribbling away on some papers.

He lifted his head as the door opened. The thin line between his [l]ips curved upwards into a bright smile once he saw who it was.

“Hey,” he greeted cheerfully. “Lock the door and come on in.”

You can’t deny that you were disappointed at the lack of special attention as you walked to his desk and stood opposite where he was seated, fiddling with your [f]ingers and looking nervously at your feet. Maybe he actually just wanted to discuss your assignment this time—be a teacher to his student instead of secretive [l]overs.

“Professor,” you greeted casually, “you called me to your office for…?” You tried to keep your voice normal—masking the disappointment and confusion in your tone.

He reached his hand out to you across the desk with an encouraging smile. So this was more than just a teacher-student moment after all.

You hesitated for a second, but placed yours in his nonetheless, and you felt a surge of electricity spread through your nerves as you [t]ouched [s]kin. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, and your heart fluttered at the affectionate contact. His eyes sparkled behind the black-framed glasses as he gazed into yours, which made you feel at ease.

“Just wanted your company while I work. I hope you don’t mind, Darling.”

An unusual request from him. It was not something he’d ever asked of you. Your relationship was either; [h]ard and [d]irty [f]ucking, or, on rare occasions, actually discussing assignments and academic work. But this request was somewhere in between, and you didn’t mind at all. You were just happy to be in his presence and that he wanted you with him.

“Of course not,” you reassured and squeezed his hand before stepping to his side of the desk.

His eyes widened behind the glasses when you stood beside him. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before on several occasions. The [t]high-[h]igh socks, the short [l]ittle [s]kirt, and the [t]ight long-sleeve shirt—a [s]choolgirl fantasy come to life.

He had gazed and [l]usted for you over it in the morning lecture today, as he did most classes, and he definitely noticed when you walked into his office just now. But having you this close in that [c]ock [t]easing outfit was challenging. He wanted to reach out and [t]ouch you [s]eductively all over. He wanted to hoist you on his desk and [f]uck you like the [n]aughty [g]irl you were for [t]easing him. But he kept himself composed and smiled at you sweetly again.

You noticed the shift in his behavior but pretended like you were completely oblivious to the [a]lluring impact you had on him as you sat on top of his desk, [l]egs crossed, right beside the papers he was grading.

It would be so easy for him to reach out to [t]ouch and [c]aress your [t]empting [s]kin. It was so close. He could practically feel the [s]oft texture of your [t]highs on his fingertips. But again, he held back. Shaking his head mentally before gripping the pen tightly with his tense and [n]eedy [f]ingers, before burying his head into the papers again, scribbling away.

You failed at hiding your satisfied [s]mirk as you picked up a random book from his desk and pretended to be engrossed in the words. But in reality, all your consciousness was on him, and his was on you.

Although this could have been a sweet moment between you and him where you just appreciated each other’s presence and silence, the [s]exual tension in the office was almost suffocating. So strong that it invaded all your senses and manifested itself so deep in your core, making you [n]eedy for him beyond belief.

He pretended to be engaged in his work, but you could tell from his mannerisms how uneasy he was as well. The [f]ingers holding the pen twitched, making his handwriting lose its finesse. His leg anxiously bounced up and down, making his chair shake.

And you could see out of your peripheral that he was ever so often eyeing you out. Trailing his darkening eyes from your [d]angling [f]eet, up your covered [c]alves, before settling on your [l]uscious [t]highs. Lingering his gaze on your [e]xposed surface for a moment and [s]ucking in a low breath at the mouthwatering [s]kin. He continued his journey upwards towards your [c]lothed [b]reasts. Spending the same amount of time eyeing them up—the [t]ight top hugged your [c]hest to perfection.

He found this [s]exual tension just as riveting as you. Although he wanted nothing more than to give in and toss his papers on the floor, bend you over the desk, and make you scream and [c]ome in his office, he wanted the tension to reach the breaking point, knowing how explosive the outcome would be.

And after about 10 minutes, you reached that breaking point. The tension had become completely unbearable, and you were ready for the outcome of yours and his touchless and nonverbal [t]easing.

Placing the book back in its place, you leaned back on your palms, pushing your [c]hest out and uncrossing your [l]egs, allowing you to play.

You dragged the hem of your [s]hort [s]kirt up your [t]high. His eyes, which were already fixated on you, got a glimpse of your cotton [p]anties. The material was already damp with need and [d]esire for him. His eyes grew wide and darkened upon the sight. And he swallowed thickly.

You hummed softly as you dragged your [f]ingers through your covered [w]etness—paying close attention to your deprived [cl]it, circling the aching nerve.

“Please, Professor,” you mewled as you fussed on his desk, “[t]ouch me.” You wanted, needed, for him to [t]ouch you like only he knew best. Only he knew how to make you truly satisfied.

His gaze lifted up to you, and he could see the outright pleading expression on your face—frustrated with need and longing for him.

He gripped the pen tightly with one hand, and the other clenched into a fist in his lap, resisting the [t]emptation again to [t]ouch you, but this time was for good reason. He wanted, needed, to hear more of your sweet and soft pleas for him. He wouldn’t give in to you so easily.

And you could tell by the growing [s]mirk on his face that those were the exact thoughts running through his head, so you had to step up your game and play even harder.

“Please, Professor,” you practically whined, almost sounding pathetic with need. “I need you to [t]ouch me.” You [a]rched your [b]ack and thrust your [h]ips forward, hoping it would convey how [d]esperate you were at this point.

He let out a chuckle at your [d]esperation, but decided that you’d been good enough, so he would give you what you [d]esired, at least to some extent. He placed his warm palm on your [t]high, digging his [f]ingers into your [d]elicate [s]kin.

The [t]ouch was [h]ot and electrifying, satisfying beyond belief, and you couldn’t help but [m]oan softly as he made contact. But you needed more, needed for him to just reach a little bit higher to [t]ouch, [c]aress, and play with your aching [s]ex. But it still didn’t seem like he would give in entirely.

“Please, [t]ouch me, Sir.”

He found it riveting to watch you fall apart at such a simple [t]ouch, still yearning and pleading for more. And if he could, he would continue to [t]ease you, loving the whining mess you became when he did, but he could tell that you were on the verge of a breakdown.

“You didn’t tell me how to [t]ouch you, [s]weetheart.”

You huffed in annoyance and took his hand in yours, done with the [t]easing and playing, and guided his hand further up and lay it flat against your [c]overed core. He groaned deeply as he felt you. Felt you pulse against his palm. Felt the dampness of the material. And that’s when he reached his breaking point.

The next part happened so fast.

He pushed the chair back, legs scraping across the floor. Definitely loud enough for someone walking outside the office to hear. He was up from the chair in a flash, towering over your sitting form. With one hand, he pushed your [t]highs apart and stepped between them. The other hand grasped the back of your [n]eck firmly, making you gasp loudly. All your attention was on him now—waiting for the explosion that he would make of you.

He took his [g]lasses off, and you knew it was serious business when he did that, making you emit a [n]eedy approval that you were finally going to get what you [d]esired.

He [g]roaned deeply as he lightly brushed his [l]ips with yours. The bass of the sound rumbled in his [t]hroat, making your [c]lit flutter in excitement at the [e]rotic music. His eyes were now dark with [l]ust—no more sweet Professor.

“Tell me again what you want, [s]weetheart.” His tone was mocking and cruel because he knew exactly what you wanted, but he needed to hear you say it one more time.

“I-I want you t-to t-[t]ouch me,” you mumbled in a breathless [m]oan. You were losing focus and started slipping into the world of [p]leasure as he pushed your [p]anties to the side, lightly brushing your [s]lick [f]olds with his [f]ingertips. “[F]uck, Sir, please,” you pleaded again as your eyelids fluttered.

He chuckled at how sensitive you were at such a simple [c]aress, and he couldn’t wait any longer to have his entire force on you, knowing how insane it would make you.

So he brought the [f]ingers up to his [l]ips and [s]ucked them, [m]oaning at the [t]aste of you on his [f]ingertips, before bringing them down again to your deprived [s]ex. His mess mixed with yours, making his [f]ingers rub against your [s]lick and [n]eedy [f]olds in an effortless manner, paying close attention to your [c]lit.

The [m]oan of relief and satisfaction you let out once he finally [t]ouched you was blaring, and you bit your [l]ip, drawing [b]lood, to keep your [w]hines, cries, and [m]oans at bay. It was still business hours, and the campus was still bustling with students and teachers in every hall.

“Is this what you wanted, [s]weetheart? For me to [t]ouch this [n]eedy [l]ittle [p]ussy of yours, huh?”

“Y-yes, Professor,” you [c]hoked out as you thrust your [h]ips into his [f]ingers, desperate for him to go further, knowing that he had more to give.

And without needing to [b]eg much more, he pushed two digits into your entrance—fitting inside of you to [p]erfection and making you [f]eel whole and truly satisfied.

“I’ll make you [c]ome so good, [s]weetheart. So [f]ucking good….”

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

Follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

Apologies for the [ ] on some words! I’m testing it out to see if I can evade getting a Label put on this.

[georgiapeach30513]

@buckybarnesisdaddy just for you 🤭