
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7343101.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      The_Avengers_(Marvel)_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      James_"Bucky"_Barnes/Steve_Rogers/Tony_Stark
  Character:
      Tony_Stark, Steve_Rogers, James_"Bucky"_Barnes
  Additional Tags:
      Wingfic, Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Alternate
      Universe_-_High_School, Supervillains, Alternate_Universe_-_Hogwarts,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Mob, Alternate_Universe_-_College/University,
      Bodyswap, Alternate_Universe_-_Stripper/Exotic_Dancer, Asgard, Alternate
      Universe_-_Pirate, Awkwardness
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-07-22 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2990
****** But never doubt i love ******
by Sylph_Dancer
Summary
     Whatever universes there are out there, whatever troubles the
     Avengers could face, whatever mischief the three could get themselves
     into, whatever skeletons they have in their closets—Bucky can't
     imagine a world where he and Steve won't want to spend their days
     pressing endless love letters to Tony's skin.
     A collection of Stuckony ficlets I'm (currently) too lazy to turn
     into anything bigger.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
 “It’s just one night, Tones,” Rhodey wheedles, and Tony turns from his
whiteboard to face his friend with a hard glare. “Listen, I know you’ve been
angry since Fury threw down the hammer, but—”
“Oh, please,” Tony snarls, capping his dry-erase marker with ferocity and
slamming it on his desk. “More like the asshole pissed in my goddamn cereal. I
am a leading expert on mechanical engineering. I practically invented the
concept of arc reactors—” Rhodey rolls his eyes, “—and starting in three weeks,
I’m supposed to babysit a bunch of children who either somehow didn’t learn it
in high school, or they’re only looking to fill their core requirements—”
“Not every high school has Engineering 101, and please, like you didn’t do that
when you were in college—”
“—and who’ll be staring at me blank-eyed, most of them probably don’t even care
about science—”
“It’s only for a semester, and besides, it’s not like you haven’t known about
this for months—”
“I have more important things to be doing than—”
“Like what?” Rhodey crosses his arms, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Working
yourself to the bone? Don’t think I didn’t notice you haven’t touched the
burrito I got you for lunch. Look, all I’m asking is that you act your age for
once and come drink with your friends like a normal twenty-four-year-old.”
“Why? So you can attempt to flirt with Carol at that nasty bar with the weird
taxidermy?” Tony quips, and Rhodey sighs, though the flush in his cheeks
betrays him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. And since when have I ever been
normal?”
It's not like it isn't true. Young though he may be for a professor, as an ex-
prodigy who graduated college with two doctorates at fourteen, Tony is more
than qualified for his position. What he is not qualified for, however, is
teaching Engineering 101 instead of upper-level, specialized mechanical
engineering courses to graduate students like he has for the past three years.
Fury is such a dick.
“One night, Tones. You need to get off campus. Just for a little bit. Get drunk
and forget, wiggle your ass at some stranger, maybe get laid.”
“You sound like Clint,” Tony grumbles, then groans when Rhodey looks away
guiltily. “Are you serious? The last time we went out drinking with him, he
vomited on my shoes!”
 “That was three years ago.”
“I was wearing sandals!”
“Hogan and Lang will keep Barton from—”
“Those two? Scott’ll probably cheer him on, and I love Happy, but I don’t need
to hear him wax poetic about Pepper’s eyes for half an hour like he did at the
holiday dinner party.”
“What did you want me to do?” Rhodey pinches the bridge of his nose. “Banner,
Foster, and Cho are all busy, and I doubt I can convince Lensherr and Xavier to
stop boning each other and actually leave the house.”
“Fine, okay, whatever, I’ll go with you,” Tony grouses, rolling his eyes as
Rhodey grins and throws an arm around his shoulder. “But we’re not going to the
taxidermy bar.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re lucky Richards was busy.”
“If you invited that corner-cutting, uppity ass, smug little pseudo-scientist,
I swear—”
 
===============================================================================
 
As it turns out, Tony has a lot more than just Reed Richards’ absence to be
thankful for. For one, Rhodey did not, in fact, take them to the weird bar with
the stuffed dead animals everywhere, but instead brought them to The Gallery, a
brand-new nightclub with a waiting list a mile long and a reputation for taste
in clientele. Much to the delight of Clint and Happy, Rhodey had managed to
secure VIP passes, which meant Tony had the fortune of spending more time
sipping a martini on a cushy recliner and watching one very attractive blond
man in a too-tight grey shirt and leather jacket swing his hips on the dance
floor instead of waiting in line for hours.
Tony takes another sip, keeping his gaze fixed on the man, who keeps shooting
him sweet smiles that melt into wicked smirks each time he catches Tony’s gaze.
Tony doesn’t have a type, per se, but it’s hard to resist a man built like a
brick shithouse with a shoulder-to-waist ratio of a Dorito, especially when
said man keeps eyeing him and licking his lips like he’s going to ruin Tony the
minute he gets his hands on him.
He’s got half a mind to go over there and actually talk to the man instead of
staring at him from the seating area—Rhodey’s too busy texting Danvers, half-
listening to Happy bellow drunken praises about Pepper, and Clint’s off on the
dance floor somewhere making a fool of himself, so there’s no one to tease
him—until a bombshell with his brown hair tied up in a bun and his ass stuffed
into a skintight pair of jeans wraps a sleek prosthetic arm around the blond
man’s waist.
Tony meets the new man’s gaze, startled and a little disappointed, and swallows
hard at the look in the man’s eyes. His gaze is burning, crooked smile dirty
enough to send shivers up Tony's spine and a flush to his cheeks as the man’s
eyes trail down his form.
He averts his eyes, downing the rest of his martini. Tony may only be twenty-
four, but he knows this game, knows he doesn’t deal well with one night stands,
let alone threesomes. He’d get attached too easily, and to two heartthrobs like
that …
Still … Unable to stop himself, he chances another glance, only to be met by
disappointment; the two are nowhere to be seen. It appears Tony has lost his
chance. The realization is surprisingly harsh, and Tony excuses himself to grab
a bottle of vodka from the bar, ready to forget the way the two strangers had
left sparks in his belly just from looking at him, because that is criminal,
and Tony isn’t going to be a victim tonight.
Or so he thinks; rather, he’s so caught up in distracting himself from moping
that he doesn’t notice the two hungry gazes following him or the way the two
men slip up behind him, covetous gleams in their eyes.
“I’ll admit, I’m a little disappointed,” a man hums in Tony’s ear, and he
fumbles with the vodka bottle, cursing, turning to face the smiling blond.
“Could’ve sworn you were looking for more than just an eyefuck.”
“I was—am,” Tony manages; normally he’s smoother than this, but the way the
blond is undressing him with his eyes is very distracting. “I mean—I thought—”
An arm slips around his shoulder, squeezing, and Tony whines a little at the
strength of it. “Maybe you should stop thinking,” the brunet breathes in his
ear, “and leave the rest up to the two of us.”
The man’s grip tightens, and Tony’s mouth opens and closes. “You were right,
Buck,” the blond murmurs, big hands grabbing Tony’s hips in a possessive
gesture, “he is a blusher.”
“Whaddya know,” the brunet drawls, nipping at Tony’s ear, and Tony shudders at
the way the man’s fingers trail up his chest and torso, setting his nerves on
fire. “How’s about we see how far down that blush goes?”
A hasty text to Rhodey, a somehow erotic motorcycle ride, and three
shameless public makeout sessions later, they’re in Tony’s apartment, and Tony
finds himself sandwiched between two men who seem intent on taking him apart
very, very slowly.
“Tony,” he gasps out, squirming as one of the men licks his way up Tony’s neck,
nibbling at his earlobe, “Just so you know what name to scream.”
“Steve Rogers,” the blond says, casual, tugging Tony’s shirt from his pants and
ripping it open, sending buttons everywhere holy shit that’s hot, “and I think
we need to put a stop to that sass.”
“Why don't you make me,” Tony challenges, and Steve’s smile widens. “What about
you, sweet cheeks?”
“James Barnes,” the man pants, wrapping a hand around Tony’s cock, “but you can
call me Bucky.”
Tony snorts. “Seriously? Buckyyyyy ohgodpleasedothatagain—”
 
===============================================================================
 
When Tony wakes up shivering to an empty bed, he’s startled to find himself so
deeply disappointed. That is, until he catches sight of a sticky note on his
bedside table that reads Lunch Sunday? in pretty, curving script above not one,
but two phone numbers. There’s a part of him that’s wary—he barely knows either
of them, and Tony’s never been any good at relationships—but there’s another,
much larger part of him that remembers the way Steve had ducked his head when
he smiled and how Bucky had curled his arms around him afterwards, burying his
face in Tony’s hair, and Tony’s heart tugs at the memory.
Without hesitating, he puts the numbers in his phone and curls back up with a
yawn—he’ll text them tomorrow, after he gets some more sleep and lets his voice
rest a little, because wow, his throat kind of hurts now.
Rhodey was right—this was a great way to forget about Engineering 101.
 
===============================================================================
 
To: Punk
From: Bucky
guess who’s teaching mech eng
 
To: Bucky
From: Steve
That one famous guy, right? The one who invented the arc reactor?
 
Bucky sent a picture.
 
To: Bucky
From: Steve
holy shit
 
To: Punk
From: Bucky
you might want to get over here
 
To: Punk
From: Bucky
like now
 
===============================================================================
 
To say that Tony is surprised when he turns around to face the fresh faces of
his eight o’clock Engineering 101 and sees his boyfriend of two weeks staring
back at him from the third row would be an understatement.
From the looks of things, it seems Bucky shares his astonishment, judging by
the way he chokes on the breakfast bar in his mouth, causing in the two other
students—oh god, he’s a student—to scooch towards him hastily, asking him if
he’s okay.
The part of Tony’s mind that isn’t currently in a panic screams at him to act
casually, and he clears his throat hastily, fumbling with his whiteboard
marker. “I—I’d like to start off by telling you all that if you’re taking this
just so you can fill a credit requirement, you made a big mistake. I didn’t
spend sixteen years in school just to drone to an uninterested group of young
adults.”
Dammit, he had a whole speech prepared and everything. How is Bucky here? “It
is my primary goal to make every last one of you actually enjoys and works hard
in my class.”
He doesn’t even look like a college student. What college student is built like
a goddamn Adonis? “Yes, there will be homework and labs, and lots of them.
You’re welcome, by the way.”
Admittedly, Tony doesn’t look like a college professor, but still—and why this
class period? Who willingly takes an eight o’clock class, anyway? “When you
leave this class, you will have a new love for Mechanical Engineering, even if
I have to cram that love down your throats,” he says primly, and while the rest
of the class chuckles, Bucky’s eyes fly straight to Tony’s throat—Tony doesn’t
have to read minds to know he’s thinking about how deep he’s crammed his cock
down Tony’s throat (and how much Tony has enjoyed it).
Needless to say, while Tony (somehow, miraculously) manages to enchant the rest
of the class with a portable arc reactor, three rubber bands, and a broken
pencil, he also juggles a knot of panic in the pit of his stomach as well as a
slowly growing hard-on, which wouldn’t even be a problem, except Bucky won’t
stop staring at him, and it feels like he’s burning and it’s making his knees a
little weak.
When class (finally, finally) gets out, Tony collapses at his desk, shooting a
glare at Bucky, who, unsurprisingly, has decided to hang back, approaching
Tony’s desk as the last student files out the door. “The fact that you’re like
eighteen would have been nice to know before you stuck your dick in my ass.”
“Twenty, actually,” Bucky tells him, placing his hands on the desk and boxing
Tony in. “And you loved it.”
“Maybe,” Tony allows—hell yes I did, he thinks, and shoves that thought down,
“And you’re also my student, Jesus fucking Christ, how does that even happen—”
“I mean, I’ll admit, it’s not exactly a pleasant surprise,” Bucky drawls, and
Tony stares at him, incredulous.
“Not—I’m going to be grading your homework.” Tony jabs a finger into his chest.
“You’ll be taking my tests and doing my labs and—”
“Giving you blowjobs under your desk?” Bucky quips, and Tony glares at him. “I
texted Steve, by the way. He’ll be here in about—”
The door swings open and Steve bursts through, panting slightly. “Now,” Bucky
finishes.
“It’s true, then.” Steve hurries over to the two, mouth scrunched in a frown.
“…So what now?” Bucky demands. “I mean, this ain’t exactly something we can
just gloss over.”
“This doesn’t change anything for me,” Steve says, slow and decisive. “I still
want this. Want you, Tony."
“Easy for you to say,” Bucky grumbles. “Technically, he ain't your teacher.”
“We’ve gone out on like three dates,” Tony protests, but it sounds weak even to
his own ears. Steve only takes his hands, eyes painfully bright with hope.
“It’s enough for me,” Steve says softly. “Call me a fool, but I’m not ready to
give this up just yet.”
“This is a horrible idea,” Bucky says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Not saying
that a lot of your ideas aren’t horrible, Stevie, but this one ranks up there.”
“You don’t have to try if you don’t want to,” Steve challenges.
Bucky’s eyes narrow; he wraps a possessive arm around Tony’s waist. “I didn’t
say that.”
This is a really bad idea, Tony thinks. “Fuck it,” he says aloud. “Why the hell
not?”
 
===============================================================================
 
Tony learns numerous things about his boyfriends in the weeks that follow. One,
the owner and head mechanic of the auto shop Bucky works at is helping
Bucky pay his way towards a degree in Mechanical Engineering; Steve, on the
other hand, has landed a contract after submitting his portfolio to an art
gallery, which is impressive considering he’s only halfway to earning a degree
in Fine Arts. Two, both his boys are proud hopeless romantics, and will spend
an absurd amount of time dragging him on supremely cheesy dates and showering
him with affection. And three, judging from Tony’s current position, spread out
on his desk with Steve stretching him wide and Bucky sliding down his throat,
both men seem to enjoy the student-teacher element of their relationship a
little too much.
“Imagine,” Steve pants, “how scandalized,” he punctuates this with a thrust
that forces a sharp whimper from Tony’s throat, “your students would be,” he
shifts back, angling his hips so his cock grinds harshly against Tony’s
prostate, and he squeaks, frantic, legs trembling in Steve’s tight grip, “if
they found out how much their professor likes being filled?”
“If they could hear how sweet you sound,” Bucky pants, rolling his hips, and
Tony swallows fluttering and sweet around him, hands grasping at Bucky’s
thighs, “when you choke on my cock—nngh, that’s it, sweetheart, like that.”
It’s—so much like this, Tony thinks hazily, caught between the two and their
overpowering, enveloping frames; he feels so full, nerves alight with pleasure
that buzzes warm and strong in his veins, dizzying, crackling up his spine, all
the way to the tips of his fingers. He wants more, he wants them to take him
apart piece by piece, fill him up until all he knows is the way they feel,
swallowing him up—
Without warning, there’s the sound of the classroom door swinging open and the
clip of heels across the ground, and the three freeze, Bucky pulling back
sharply and Steve’s hips stuttering to a halt.
The footsteps approach Tony’s office, and then the door handle shakes. “Tony?”
Pepper’s voice rings out clear and curious, and Bucky’s hands tighten in his
hair. “He never locks his door.”
There’s a pause, then: “Rhodey probably made him take a nap.”
There’s so much fondness in her voice that Tony almost—almost feels guilty;
then he catches Steve’s gaze, filled with mischief, and stifles a shocked yelp
when he feels Steve thrust deep, rubbing slow and cruel against his sweet spot.
A moment later, Bucky continues his thrusting, and when he feels the pads of
two fingers press hard against his perineum, stimulating his prostate from the
outside, Tony’s eyes roll back, trembling with the effort to keep quiet.
Just as the click of Pepper’s heels fades down the hall, Steve and Bucky come
near-simultaneously on soft groans, Steve slamming in deep and keeping his hips
pressed flush against Tony’s ass, Bucky tightening his grip in Tony’s hair as
he goes soft in his mouth. The sensation of the two pressed tightly up against
and inside him, big and full and twitching, is beyond overwhelming, and Tony
comes with a jerk and a quiet whine, spurting come all over his chest and up to
his chin.
Bucky pulls out of his mouth with a satisfied hum, brushing a sticky strand of
hair from Tony’s forehead. “Mm. I could get used to this.”
“Nngh,” Tony manages, and Bucky’s gaze softens; he leans over, pressing a kiss
to Tony’s red, swollen lips.
“I can’t believe you let us do this,” Steve confesses, panting as he releases
Tony’s ankles and pulls out, leaning down to bracket Tony with his
arms. “Again, I mean.”
“You’re not taking any of my classes ever again,” Tony says hoarsely, and Bucky
chuckles, nuzzling his cheek. “I can’t concentrate with you eyefucking me all
the time.”
“Whatever you say, Professor Stark,” Bucky tells him, laughing when Tony smacks
his shoulder, and yeah, this was a bad idea, but Tony doesn’t think being bad
has ever felt quite so good.
End Notes
     so like
     prompts are nice
     (hint hint hint)
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