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[computer-assignment-help-uk]

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[thevillainswhore]

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

Warnings: Bucky POV, revenge plot, age gap, older!reader, flirting, cheating, kissing, smut, mommy kink, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), ass play, spanking, p in v sex, recording of sex, cum play.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Dividers by @saradika. Hi, lovelies! It’s been a while 🤍 This is by far not my best work, but I started it at the beginning of the year and finally finished it and decided to let it go before I convince myself not to post it.

Also, I have little to no knowledge about the education system outside of the UK, since I’m British. So please excuse any facts I may have gotten wrong, this was purely for the smut 😅

The arms of the leather chair Bucky was sitting on creaked, straining under the tense grip of his fingers. Fury coursed through every muscle of his body, boiling his blood until he was sure steam was blowing out of his ears. 

He had been sitting in his professor’s office for thirty whole minutes and not once had the man had the decency to look him in the eye and tell him a good enough reason for the C- marked on his most recent assignment. Thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure if his professor had ever made eye contact with him before; certain that he wouldn’t be able to recognise him if he ever looked at him. 

Bucky was a straight A student, working towards the perfect GPA to graduate with full honors and claim the job of his dreams. And yet, the second since his professor had licked his finger and slapped the stack of papers — stained with a ring of coffee that wasn’t there when he handed it in — on Bucky’s desk, his whole world had been turned upside down. 

He remembered his frenzy, the whirlwind of erratically flicking through each page and trying to find a single comment or suggestion that could help explain the low grade. But there was nothing. Only a forbidden red-inked C- that had taunted him ever since. 

Immediately, Bucky had booked an office session, since his professor was strict on the rules of when and where to discuss anything other than current class material. There must have been a mistake he reasoned with himself in the beginning — maybe a mix up with another student or maybe his professor had missed a chunk of his work because surely that godforsaken C- wasn’t right. 

However, Bucky soon came to realise in the thirty long minutes of his office session, that it wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was the most generous grade received of the whole class. 

“Sir.” He attempted once again to get through to his professor. “With all due respect, I worked extremely hard on his assignment. Every variable is valid, I ran through each test multiple times to gain an accurate representation. My method has been executed perfectly.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat. “I can’t understand why I’ve been graded so low.” 

Dr Parker couldn’t have seemed less interested if he tried, the keys of his computer clicking away aimlessly as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. “For the last time, if you don’t understand what is wrong with your assignment, then I can’t help you.” 

Bucky discreetly gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. The logic his professor spewed made absolutely no sense. He took a calming breath before he responded. “I’m not sure I can understand what exactly is wrong with my work if there’s no feedback to go off, Sir.”  

Dr Parker sighed, seemingly fed up with the conversation. “It's not for me to serve you on a silver platter. If you want a mentor who gives you a free ride or has to hold your hand through a grade then it seems like college isn’t the place for you, James.”

The material of the chair almost ripped where Bucky’s nails began to furiously dig in. He never wanted a hand to hold or a free ride during his time in college; the bare minimum he expected was to at least have some kind of evaluation or support that offered more than a lousy grade that wasn’t fair. 

Out of options, he desperately pleaded with his professor once again. “Sir, all I’m asking for is a reason for my grade being low. My GPA has been perfect all year and this assignment has made it take a huge hit. Please understand.”

Still, Dr Parker continued uselessly typing away without looking at him. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky’s words came out jumbled as he jumped to offer an alternative. “What about— What if I did something for extra credit! You know? Just for— to boost my GPA back up?”

“That won’t be necessary.”  

Bucky was at the end of his tether and his throat began to tighten. “Please, Sir—I need—“ 

“What you need to do is move on from this assignment and work harder on the next one.” Dr Parker interrupted him coldly as he suddenly stood, packing his papers into his satchel. “My office hours are over and I have somewhere to be, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door behind you when you leave that would be great. Goodbye.” With that, his professor walked around the desk and out of the door without a second glance. 

Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes while he sat there, staring mindlessly at the now empty chair behind the desk in front of him. He forced the lump building in his chest down, never having felt so defeated in his life. Throughout his years of education, he had sacrificed, placed everything that wasn’t important on the back burner; holidays, parties, normal friendships, just to put his future career first and for what? For one complete asshole to decide he didn’t care enough about his job or students to fuck him over? 

He shot out of his seat and paced over the carpeted floor. All of his dedication to his studies had been pointless — the thought burned through his mind and wounded him. All his life he had worked hard and this is how he had been repaid. The soles of his shoes thudded heavily until he came to a stop, running his hands down his face in despair. 

When Bucky opened his eyes, he blinked until his blurred vision became clear, finding himself in front of the floor to ceiling bookcase that panned over the length of the full wall. Sighing at a complete loss on what to do, his eye flitted over the polished ornaments in front of him.

As he trailed over the neatly placed trophies and certificates, a scoff left his mouth — bitter and venomous. Every one of the awarded achievements built his resentment even more. The pretentiousness was aggravating. 

He was about to walk away, go for a stroll with some fresh air to try and cool himself down and think properly. But just as he was going to leave, his eagle eye caught a small wooden picture frame shoved to the very back corner of the shelf, hardly noticeable with everything else taking front and center and ultimately hiding it. 

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, making sure his professor had really left before stepping forward. His nosiness had gotten the better of him and now his interest was peaked. Careful not to knock over any ornaments, he plucked out the frame and blew off the dust that had accumulated over the picture for god knows how long. 

To his surprise, it was a photograph of Dr Parker, many years younger and dressed in a tuxedo. Next to him, a stunning woman with the biggest smile on her face, dressed in an ivory, white dress. 

Bucky’s eyes flew wide open while his jaw unhinged in shock. 

Dr Parker had a wife?

Now that he thought about it, his professor did wear a gold band around his finger; one that the sun caught during a lecture one time and blinded Bucky enough to choke while he was drinking his coffee. 

Studying the photo some more, Bucky only focused on the woman, one with kind eyes, pretty lips and a body to kill for; silhouetted in a gown that complimented her figure amazingly. He was utterly blown away. 

The picture was at least ten years old, he summarised. His professor looked way younger than he did now, with frown lines and dark circles underneath his eyes. But he couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife was and how the hell he had managed to snag her with his douchebag personality. His mind ran a million miles per hour. 

For all Bucky knew, you could have been just like your husband; just as dull and just as unbearable. It was only rational, because no one in their right mind would willingly be with a man like that. 

He stared at you through the glass and tilted his head in thought, until the cogs started to turn. What if? he asked himself. What if he got his comeuppance somehow? 

As soon as the thought presented itself, he batted it away, shaking his head and placing the photo frame back in its place. 

But as he stood the frame upon the shelf, his hand stayed with it, unable to let go of the nagging idea that had now taken root in his mind. 

What if you were his perfect route for revenge? 

Looking out towards the window of the office, the setting sun beamed in. Bucky followed the streams of light that shined through, one landing on another photograph, larger in size of a chocolate haired boy with bright eyes. While he resembled Dr Parker, the boy’s eyes were all yours, kind and filled with light. The kid looked around the same age as himself, in a lab coat that had the same emblem as Bucky’s college. 

A plan began to quickly form in his mind, each piece and detail intricately connected together to create the most beautiful retribution. The biggest fuck you to his professor for screwing him over. 

Bucky sheathed his hands into his front pockets, running his tongue over his teeth with the most evil grin on his face. Dr Parker was going to get what he rightfully deserved. 

Vengeance.

Having met up after their last classes of the day, Bucky followed Peter into his home when he opened the door, the droolworthy aroma of a home cooked meal slinking into his senses and making his stomach grumble. 

It was now routine for him to come round to the Parker residence every week on a Friday afternoon. Once you found out your son had a new friend at college, you had extended the invitation to Bucky as Peter had recited. And of course, it would be rude of him to refuse. 

The execution of his plan had come together seamlessly, almost too perfectly. It was just his luck that a clumsy Peter Parker happened to bump into Bucky on campus in a rush to his next class, spilling his coffee onto the ground and offering to buy him a new one. 

Since then, he had made it his mission to become closer to Peter and soon enough, it was the night of his first dinner with you. 

Before that first meeting, he had drilled it into his head that his scheme of revenge was strictly business; to get in and out and call it a day. But that went down the drain when he rounded the corner to the kitchen to introduce himself and he choked on his words when you spun around on your heels. 

Bucky still remembered that moment, the first time he laid eyes on you in the cutest sundress, decorated with daisies that hugged your waist sinfully. The way your tits practically spilled out the damn thing stuck with him too. 

You were a vision, a sight for sore eyes — the photograph in his professor’s office did not do you justice even with ten years added on. Then, as soon as you bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his dick hard, his initial intentions went out the window. He was a goner and he knew one time wouldn’t be enough of you.

However, when it came down to dinner, Bucky was admittedly nervous. It wasn’t only just meeting you in the flesh and having his expectations blown out of the water that threw him off balance, the inevitable of seeing his professor outside of college worried him. His plan for revenge could have fallen through as soon as he met him. They almost did. If that would have been the case, Bucky wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.  

But when he sat down at the dining table, his professor had only just noticed another guest in his home. Bucky remembered the slight sweat of his palms, the dryness of his throat as your husband looked at him over his newspaper and cocked his head; a familiarity brewing between them. Those couple of seconds lasted longer than he cared for. Then, unexpectedly, Dr Parker brushed him off and went straight back to reading his paper — evidently deeming Bucky unrecognisable and only a new friend of his son’s.  

That memory still offended him slightly. There wasn’t a hint of recognition, even though he had fucked Bucky’s chances of attaining his dream career. 

Snapping out of his memory, Bucky quickly shook his jacket off, taking care to hang it neatly on the coat rack and made a beeline to the kitchen. 

“Dude. I know you like my mom’s cooking but damn.” Peter shook his head with laughter but Bucky ignored him in favour of something of much higher importance. 

Stepping into the kitchen, he immediately found you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the spice rack on the highest shelf. The skirt of your dress inched up your thighs and he couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at a sneak peak of your white g-string. 

Clearing his throat, Bucky held out his arms wide and acted casual with a wide smile. “Where’s my favourite girl?” 

His heart jumped as you snapped your head around, grinning wide once you saw who it was. “Bucky!” you cheerfully sang. “Hi, sweetie. I’m so happy you made it.” 

You have no idea how happy I am to see you too, he groaned internally. “What do you take me for? Like I would ever miss your cookin’, Mrs Parker,” he teased aloud. 

Raising an eyebrow playfully, you cocked your hip and crossed your arms over each other. “What have I told you about that, hm? Call me Honey, sweetheart. All my friends do.” 

Bucky held his arms up to placate you. “Forgive me. Your food is too damn good to pass up, Honey.” 

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly and turned back around to try and pluck the thyme from the top shelf. “You and that charm, boy. You’re gonna be the death of some poor college girl one day.” 

Noticing your struggle, Bucky took the opportunity to come up behind you and reach over your head. His lips perfectly aligned with your ear and so with a sly hand to your waist, he grabbed the jar of herbs and placed them onto the counter in front of you while he whispered, “What if I’m not into college girls?” 

Bucky heard the sharp inhale you tried so hard to smother, but it was useless with the proximity between you. It was instinct to then squeeze your hip, listening for your sweet whimper he lived to be the cause of. 

The moment lasted only a couple seconds longer until Peter called out for you from the hallway. “Hi, Mom. We’re home if you hadn’t already noticed.” 

Breaking away from Bucky sharply, you held a shaky hand to your chest. “H-Hey P, how was your week?” 

Small incidents as such repeated themselves every week. You and Bucky would find yourselves — or he would create them — in intimate, dangerous positions that wouldn’t be explainable to your son or your husband should they ever catch you. 

Which only made the game all the more exciting for him.

“Mom,” Peter whined while he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please not call me that when I have friends around?” 

Bucky held his laughter behind his hand when you passed your son by, pinching his cheek and putting on a baby voice. “Oh, but you’re just so cute!” 

However, that smile was soon wiped away from his face when the front door opened, immediately slamming shut with a loud bang. “I’m home, Honey,” your husband yelled. 

Your name on another man’s lips left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth. He had come to learn that your nickname was born from your old college roommate who had affectionately bestowed it upon you after your love of baking dessert treats. 

The story was adorable, one he had soaked in with all the details you offered him. But your husband and his boring, monotonous tone turned even the sweetest name into something unpleasant. 

With his keen eye, Bucky had spotted the fake smile you plastered on your face to greet your husband, even when he walked straight past you without a hug or a kiss and into his usual chair at the dining table. 

“Glad your home safe, love,” you quickly offered him a half assed hello and headed back towards the kitchen to grab the meat out of the oven. 

“Hey.” Bucky shot forward before you could grab the handle and slid the oven mitts laying on the counter onto his hands. “I got this, don’t worry about it.” 

You paused to look at him like he had grown another head. “Bucky, I've done this a million times. I’m perfectly capable.” 

“I know you are, beautiful.” He didn’t miss the way your lips parted from his compliment, reserved for your moments alone. “Doesn’t mean you should have to. Lemme do it, please.” 

It didn’t take much for you to relent, already flustered enough to give in to him. Stepping aside, you made room for Bucky to take the dish out of the oven and place it on the worktop. 

“Smells fuckin’ delicious, Honey.” You gently swatted his arm for his colourful language, but he couldn’t help test the waters as he stared directly into your eyes. “Hopefully tastes as good as she looks.” 

What he didn’t expect was for you to retort back with a quick wit. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s as juicy as they get.” 

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. “I bet she is.” 

“Where the hell is this damn food, woman? I’m eating away here!” your husband barked from the dining table. 

Bucky gritted his teeth while he watched you bow your head in embarrassment. “Just plating up now. It won’t be much longer, dear!” 

Turning back to Bucky, you smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, he gets a little grumpy when he’s hungry.” 

He couldn’t believe you were apologising for that son of a bitch, though this was a regular occurrence by now; excusing your husband’s wrongdoings even if you were ashamed of it. 

Placing his hand over yours, Bucky told you firmly, “Don’t think for one second that you have to apologise to me, Honey.” The next words he grumbled under his breath. “Especially never on behalf of that fucker.”

Your free hand smoothed over the skirt of your dress, a nervous habit of yours when you were upset. 

Bucky recognised your unease and took initiative to derail the conversation. “What do you need me to take?” he asked while rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. 

You looked at him then, quick to protest and shake your head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve done enough, honestly. Go sit down and—”

“Honey.” Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll help you. I’m all yours.”

Sighing defeatedly, you nodded your head to the foil covered dishes on top of the counter. “The vegetables and mashed potatoes could do with taking to the table.” 

Bucky grinned wide, all teeth and brought your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Good girl.” 

A shudder ran down your spine that he didn’t miss, the hitch of your breath that blew the front strands of his hair giving you away. With a wink, he backed away to grab the dishes, piling them in his arms, along with a couple extra to take to the dining table. 

Soon enough, a full roast dinner was set out, steaming hot and ready to be eaten. 

Peter was already sitting on the chair by his Dad’s side, speaking animatedly about his recent discoveries on his science assignment for class. You always sat opposite your husband, which meant the only free seat that Bucky could take was opposite Peter and next to you. 

Not that he was complaining. 

He steadily pulled the chair out and sat down. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that he brushed against you, not when he shuffled his chair as close as possible to you without raising suspicion. “Everything looks incredible,” he whispered as he leaned into you. 

The grip you had on your cutlery faltered. Bucky reveled in your bashfulness, always competing with himself to see how much he could make you squirm. So he smirked when you gulped, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “T-Thank you, Bucky.” 

Your son‘s voice brought you out of your flustered state “—So I was right, Dad! My results actually confirmed my hypothesis.”

You cleared your throat and chimed in cheerfully when your husband only answered with an uninterested hum. “That’s amazing news, P!” With a stern tone, you addressed your husband this time. “Aren’t you proud of him, love?”  

But instead of congratulating him, your husband turned the page of his newspaper while shoveling food into his mouth. “Mhm. He did good, I guess.”

Luckily, Peter didn’t notice or bat an eye to his father. Bucky had witnessed over the few weeks he had been invited over for dinner that your son had enough support from you alone to keep his spirits uplifted. 

You decided not to bite and move on with the conversation, mouth open about to speak when your husband suddenly laid his newspaper down and spoke over you. “You know, I’ve had the worst week at work.” 

Frustrated, your fingers clenched tightly around your knife. “Oh yeah?”

Dr Parker blew out an irritating sigh. “The students this week—god—I had a flock of them at my door, complaining about their grades being too low.” 

Bucky felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. Normally he would tune out the grating voice of your husband, but he couldn’t help but listen to something that directly involved him — unknowingly to his professor. 

“I mean, I can’t help that their work isn’t up to par. What do they want me to do? Mollycoddle them?” he scoffed. “If they come crying to me for help all the time then they may as well cut their losses and drop out. They’re only wasting their own money.” 

The loud clink of your cutlery dropping against the plate cut through the tense atmosphere. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Dad,” Peter cringed, obviously uncomfortable. “You can’t say that.” 

“I’m not saying anything that’s not true.” Dr Parker shrugged. 

“It is your job to guide your students—who are paying thousands for their education by the way—and give them feedback to help them improve,” you shot back, heatedly.

Bucky’s chest puffed out in pride. Though he couldn’t outwardly say anything, he was proud of you for inadvertently defending him — even if you didn’t know it. 

Your husband’s tone turned biting towards you, however. “I’m not their babysitter, Honey.” 

But you stood your ground. “No you’re not. You’re their teacher and they look to you for guidance. It's the bare minimum your job requires.” 

A weighted silence fell over the dinner table while you and your husband glared at each other until the chime of a text cut through the awkwardness. 

Dr Parker retrieved his phone from his pocket and read his message. After a couple of seconds, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto  his plate. “I’ve got to go back into the office. Emergency.”  

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “But you’ve only just come home.” 

“Well, unlike some, I can’t just slack off at home all day.” 

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as your mouth dropped open in shock at your husband’s barely hidden jab. Unrestrained anger filled his veins as he had to hold back. Though the urge to fly over the table at Dr Parker was hanging on by a thread. 

Is this what life was like at home for you? A husband who so obviously didn’t care for you while you made his life as comfortable as possible. And Peter, a son who held his tongue while he stiffly carried on eating his dinner and not defending his own mother?

Bucky looked to you as you quickly regathered yourself, blinking away the tears building over your waterline and pretending like you weren’t hurt. 

Your husband passed over his harmful statement as nonchalantly as he said it while lifting out of his seat. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late.” 

And just as rudely as he came home, he walked out, the slam of the door reverberating through the house. 

It wasn’t a minute after that when Peter also received a text. After reading the message, his eyes lit up with excitement. Bucky knew well enough what that face meant — Peter was getting lucky. “Hey mom, is it okay if I go out? Hang with my friends for the night?” 

The dinner you laboured over had already gone out the window once your husband had ruined it. Of course it didn’t bother you as much that your son wanted to leave too. “Of course, sweetie.” You stood up and collected the half empty plates from the table robotically. “Just be careful and let me know when you’re there.” 

With a dejected sigh that only Bucky noticed, you gathered the rest of the cutlery and took them to the kitchen, beginning to fill the sink to wash up. 

Peter waited until you were out of ear shot to whisper, “Dude, MJ asked me to come round tonight. I think she finally wants it!” Bucky held back a cringe. “You think it’s cool if I shoot off? You can make your own way home, right?” 

Bucky couldn’t have given a single fuck where Peter went or what he did right now. All he cared about, as he shot discreet glances of you in the kitchen washing the plates, was your wellbeing. “Sure, Parker. I can figure it out.” 

“Awesome!” Peter laughed before whipping out of his seat and running towards the door. “Catch you Monday, pal!” 

The house grew silent apart from the departing slam of the door, this time by your son. As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky instantly left his seat to join you. 

He leaned his shoulder against the archway of the kitchen. “You okay, Honey?” 

Looking towards him in surprise, your eyes held onto a last tendril of hope that someone hadn’t let you be alone. “Sweetheart, I thought you would have left with P.” 

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile, the curls at the top of his head bouncing with the movement. “Of course not. I’ve got nothing better to do with my Friday night than spend time with a gorgeous woman.” 

He caught the tightening of your lips, as though you were holding back your flustered smile. “Oh, stop that. You flatter me.” 

“I can’t help it. You make a man go weak. What can I say?” 

“Are you flirting with me?” you laughed incredulously. 

“And what if I was?” Bucky noticed the way your eyes latched onto the sight of his shirt, tightening over his arms as he crossed them over each other. “Would you like it?” 

Your eyes flicked up to his, holding his intense gaze for a few seconds before you huffed a breath and began cleaning the dishes again. “You’re cute, Bucky.” 

Bucky licked his lips and ravaged your form silhouetted in your fitted dress. “Wouldn’t exactly be the word I would use, but I’ll take it from you.” 

A rare giggle, only let out in his presence, escaped you. “Scram would you? You don’t want to be spending your Friday night with your friend’s mom, sweetie.” 

Testing the waters, Bucky let slip exactly what was on his mind. “Actually, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”  

Your hand stilled, chest rising and falling at a faster pace than before. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger,” you chuckled quietly to yourself, not expecting for Bucky to overhear. 

Jackpot, he smirked to himself. 

Walking to the kitchen island, Bucky leaned his elbow on the counter beside you. “What would you do, Mrs Parker?” 

You jumped with a yelp, visibly surprised to have received a response so close; eyes blown wide as they flitted over Bucky’s face in panic. “E-Excuse me?” 

Bucky closed the distance between you even further. He leaned over the sink to turn the running water off. “I said,” he whispered huskily, keeping consistent eye contact with you. “What would you do if you were twenty years younger?”

“I—I um,” your breathing started to become heavy while Bucky stared shamelessly at you. “It’s just an expression, sweetie,” you laughed, shaking your head to try and brush the comment off. “I d-didn’t mean it like that—“ 

“No?” He watched carefully as your eyes darted around, trying so hard not to look at him. “How did you mean it then?” 

The spotlight Bucky was intentionally putting on you made you falter, even more so when he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger over your collarbone. 

“C’mon, tell me. I don’t bite.” A sadistic smirk adorned his face while you stared at his lips. “Unless you want me to, of course.” 

“I s-swear, Bucky.” Your voice was breathless with the heat of his stare. “There was nothing behind it, I—”

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. “I think,” he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. “That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless.” 

The wind was audibly knocked from your lungs as you gasped. Words failed you, stuttering over yourself which was most amusing to Bucky.

Nonetheless, your eyes still followed him with a glaze, hooked onto every word that left his lips. “I think you’d let me take you from behind. Stuff your pretty pussy full with my fat cock.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. “You feel that, huh? How good it would feel to take all a’me, pretty mama?” 

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered and you bit your lip — the last of your reserve hanging by a thread. One more deadly blow to your empty head and you would be putty in his hands.

Any remaining distance between you disappeared as he placed wet kisses from the pulse of your neck up to the corner of your mouth. “I think—” he whispered against your lips, his next words uttered in his most seductive voice. “I think you’d let me do it. Right. Fuckin’. Now.” 

You placed your hands over the shirt on his chest to push him away; a mistake he imagined as you alternatively began bundling the material up with clenched fists. “Bucky—“ you painfully uttered with your eyes squeezed shut. You shook your head, as though that would help you. “This—this isn’t right. You’re my son’s friend and I n-need you to leave—“ 

“Look at me.” Bucky slid his hands over your neck, holding your jaw with his thumbs to tilt your head up. Slowly, your eyes squinted open and he saw the confliction clear as day in your glossy eyes, the battle you were facing in your mind. “You’re practically melting in my hands, Honey. You just gotta give in. We’ve been playin’ this game for far too long now, don’t you think?”

There was no escaping his blue eyes when you tried to look away once again and he firmly guided your gaze back to him. “None of that, now. Do as I say.” 

Your expression was tortured — torn between right and wrong, pleasure and sin. Bucky knew you were good, a dutiful housewife and loyal to a fault to a man who didn’t deserve it. 

Where had that gotten you? Whilst the revenge plan was hot on his mind — the very reason he had meticulously planned everything up to this exact moment — he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth that he was getting something extra out of this. You.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you pleaded painfully, still with a wild spark in your eye. “We can’t do this.” 

“You know what I’m not hearing, Honey?” Bucky asked. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to do it.” 

You shook your head frantically with wide eyes until he tightened his grip on your cheeks. “I’m gonna give you one chance to answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Desire rolled through your eyes as your thighs clenched together. Though you still tried to deny your need for him. “Bucky—”

“Ah, ah. I want an answer.” 

Bucky watched as your throat bobbed. Your nostrils flared with your harsh breaths and your breasts heaved up and down with exerted force. Seconds went by, the two of you staring at each other before you finally answered. “Yes.” 

The two of you burst into the master bedroom — the one you shared with your husband, kissing erratically while your hands fumbled through Bucky’s hair. 

He moaned deeply, pushing you against the wall, and turning feral over the feel of you as he kneaded your body. “You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he hummed against your lips. 

Your head thumped back against the wall, chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. All of Bucky’s attention was drawn to your chest. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most perfect tits?” 

Choking on your spit, you stumbled over your words, so adorably oblivious to your own attraction. “I—I didn’t realise—um, t—thank you—”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head before quickly ripping down your dress to your waist with force. Your upper body was bare, free for him to roam his rabid eyes over your naked tits.

“Bucky!” Your squeal of shock was followed by you hastily trying to cover your chest with your hands. 

But a scowling Bucky immediately ripped them away; offended you would dare try to keep them from him. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cover yourself up, Honey.” 

He could tell it was intense for you, to be so thoroughly desired and the thought that you had never received this much attention before made him angry once again. 

“It’s been a while,” you mumbled. The mousy confession only heightened Bucky’s fury towards your pathetic husband.

Delicately, he kissed you and began to trail his lips down the slope of your neck. “Ain’t gotta worry about that. I’ll take care of you.” 

Slowly descending, Bucky laved his tongue over your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop. Your breast bounced with the motion and he squeezed his dick over his trousers with a groan. “Look at you, Honey. You’re a fuckin’ goddess.” 

Bucky’s tunnel vision made whatever you said next pointless. Grabbing your tits, he buried his head in between them, relishing in your softness. He peppered his kisses across to your other nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak. 

Your legs crumbled, the sensation overwhelming for you. The thought that Bucky could get you off by just playing with your tits made his cock even harder. But he had so much more in store for you.

“Why don’t you take off your dress, baby?” he murmured into your skin. “Want you to kneel on the bed for me, alright?” 

You nodded shakily. Bucky hovered over your breasts a couple of seconds more, savouring the feel of you before stepping backwards to give you space to move. 

With a deep breath, you walked on unsteady legs towards your bed, letting your dress shimmy down your body on your way. Your back was turned to Bucky and he salaciously eyed your figure, each and every curve of your body. He internally created a map of your stretch marks and imperfections that only made him more crazed for you. 

The mattress sank down while you knelt onto it carefully. Bucky watched the arch of your back intently, the flesh of your ass rounding out from your position. 

Forget the damn reason he plotted this very moment, he was just excited to finally get a taste of you. 

Your quiet murmur sounded over Bucky’s thoughts. “I’m ready.” 

Biting his lip, he strolled forward until he came to a stop behind you. Still fully clothed, Bucky desperately singed the picture in front of him into his mind. He held so much power in that moment, and it felt like a dream that he had you bent over solely for him. 

Bucky leaned over your form, beginning to place delicate kisses down your back. He basked in the goosebumps that arose on your skin. “How the fuck are you real?” he murmured to himself. 

With a shaky sigh, you whispered, “I still don’t know about this.” 

Chuckling, Bucky finally dropped down to his knees, ignoring your reluctance to eye the flimsy piece of material covering your pussy. Hooking a finger inside your underwear, he peeled it away and held it to the side. “Oh, fuck me.” 

You squirmed in place as the cold air hit you in your most vulnerable state. Your raw scent clogged Bucky’s nose and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Honey. Gotta know how you taste.” 

Surging forward, Bucky buried himself between your thighs. You screamed in retaliation to the feel of his tongue snaking its way through your folds and he was sure he hadn’t heard a better sound. 

He explored every inch of your cunt, unwilling to leave the heaven you so graciously granted him. But it was the sensation of Bucky’s tongue beginning to ease its way inside your hole that made you vocal once again. 

“My husband—“ you called out, obvious to Bucky  that you were trying to clear your conscience of guilt. But he knew you couldn’t care less about him — you didn’t even mention the fucker once while you were too busy feeling sorry for your son in the kitchen and making silly excuses to not let him have his way with you. 

Landing a harsh smack to the top of your thigh, Bucky savored your squeal of shock. “Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, Honey. Who’s the one eating your pussy this good, hm?” He ran two fingers down the middle of your folds, biting his lip at the wetness coating them. When your only answer was a moan muffled by your pillow, he spanked you again in the same place with more force. “Answer me.”

“You, Bucky!” you instantly shouted out. “You’re the one eating my pussy so good!” 

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased over the marks beginning to bloom on your skin and smiled to himself. “Call me James, though. I like it better.” 

Without letting you reply, Bucky dived back in, fucking your pussy with his tongue. You reached back to hold your asscheeks open with each hand, desperate to have him go deeper into your hole. The glint from the diamond of your wedding ring caught his attention and he smirked into your cunt; the reminder that you were married only fuelled his arousal even more. 

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke into your cunt. “You really are sweet, ain’t ya? Taste fuckin’ incredible.” 

The filthy sounds of slurps and moans filled the room. Bucky was a starved beast, held back and pushed to the edge for too long and every little bit of anger and resentment that had built in his body from your husband’s treatment was taken out on you. 

It only boosted his ego when you grinded your cunt back against him too. His cock jumped with excitement with how fucking dirty you truly were. You had been locked up too, he remembered. Stuck holding back your true self for a shitty excuse of a man. 

Bucky grunted deeply before licking a wide stripe from your clit, slowly running through your pussy lips and reaching higher towards the puckered hole that twitched with anticipation. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed aloud in surprise. Bucky thought he may have gone too far, then. But once you relaxed and backed yourself into his tongue, he smiled wickedly. 

“You like that, filthy girl?” he laughed, darkly. “Should’ve known you’d be a little freak.” 

Bucky circled the tip of his tongue teasingly around your asshole, moaning at your eagerness when you tried to reach further back with your hands and drag him closer. 

“Don’t tease,” you gasped, out of breath. “Please, I want more. Gimmie more.” 

Almost immediately, Bucky complied, ripping your hands away with vigor to replace them with his. He spreaded your asscheeks wide and lapped at your tight hole. 

“Fuck yes—oh my god, James—yes!” 

The depravity was obscene and disgusting and Bucky absolutely loved it. Never had he been more turned on and he decided then and there that this wasn’t going to be a one and done deal. He wanted you to be his. 

A string of saliva connected Bucky’s mouth to your ass as he reluctantly backed away. The slick that had poured out of you smothered his chin and cheeks and Bucky happily licked his lips with a groan. “Baby, as much as I wanna keep eating your ass, I need to feel your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.” 

You whimpered while your pussy clenched with a need to be filled. Bucky watched your cute little hole flutter. “Put it in me,” you slurred. “Need your cock.” 

He wasted no time unfastening his jeans to pull them down enough until his dick bobbed out of its confines. Bucky caught you peeking your head around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock, but he spanked your ass and bit his lip with amusement at your scream. “Not yet, baby. You’ll get a chance to see it when I fuck your throat later.” 

You squirmed impatiently, needy moans escaping you and Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing his cock, he began to push the fat head of his length inside you. 

A loud gasp tore from your throat and your pussy instantly tried to suck him in deeper. Your walls, tight and warm, hugged his dick like a vice. “You’re—oh my fucking god—how are you so big?” 

The smirk that donned Bucky’s face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him. 

“This is all for you, baby,” he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. “Get me so fuckin’ hard everytime I see you. Cookin’ in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want.” 

Your moans both fell into sync as Bucky finally slid his cock all the way to the hilt. You couldn’t stop squirming and it drove him crazy. 

“You need to move,” you begged in between pants. “Please, I can’t stay still.” 

Bucky licked his teeth with desire blazing through him. “Since you asked so nicely, Honey.” 

Without the decency to ease you into it, Bucky instantly set a brutal pace. He looked down, admiring the thick coating of your juices lathering his dick and he willed himself not to blow his load so fast. He tightly closed his eyes, adjusted his stance and began to fuck you. 

You were quick to grab ahold of whatever you could, scrambling for purchase within the sheets,  but you were useless to try to stop how your head buried into the bed. The force of Bucky’s thrusts were too violent and so you surrendered to what was inevitable, letting yourself drool over the cotton.

“Bu—CKY!” your cry of surprise when he lifted his foot onto the bed, allowing him a better angle to fuck you, was music to his ears. 

“What’s’a matter, baby?” Bucky mocked. “Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can’t handle me?” 

Your reply was instant. “I can! I can, I promise, I promise!” 

“Then shut the fuck up and take it.” 

Bucky didn’t know where to look, he was spoilt for choice. To watch your eyes roll back in ecstasy? To concentrate on the shlick shlick of your soaked cunt? Ultimately, his eyes were glued to the jiggle of your ass, his hands soon following as though he was hypnotised. How it so perfectly met his hips without a falt in rhythm.

“Fuck me—this ass is heaven, baby. You been hiding it from me all this time?” 

There was no answer this time, at least not a coherent one. Bucky was instead graced with your constant squeaks and groans — a woman too invested in a physical gratification she had so sadly been starved of. 

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t gotta answer, Honey. The sounds comin’ outta that mouth are keeping my dick happy enough.” 

He almost forgot the end goal of his proposition in the midst of the delectable feel of your cunt. With a sudden bolt of clarification as he felt a vibration against his leg, Bucky kept one hand on your hip while he reached for his phone in his pocket with the other. Keeping up the pace of his thrusts, you were clueless as he unlocked it and opened the camera app. 

“Now, Honey, I want you to really scream my name, okay? Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, dumbly. “C-Can do that for you, James.” 

He grinned wickedly and threw his head back. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.” Looking back down at you through the phone screen, he hovered his finger over the record button and brought his other hand down hard on your ass. “Go on then, baby. Put on a show for me.”

If Bucky thought you were a fucking treat before, his mind was blown once you began to take the reigns of your own pleasure. Bucky hardly had to move and you still plunged yourself onto his cock with an unmatched enthusiasm to anyone else he had fucked. He could hardly keep his hand that held the phone up from shaking. The combined sounds coming from the both of you were insane. 

None of his wet dreams could compare to his reality. “You—shit—you’re killing me, Honey.” 

You must not have heard him because you decided to torture him even more by arching your back just that little bit further. 

Bucky thought he was a goner, soon to approach his end. But he couldn’t let that happen. He was far from done with you yet. 

Propping one foot up onto the bed for better leverage, he gathered his restraint and began to drive forward once more. He felt high. 

“That husband of yours ever fuck you like this, huh?” Bucky demanded. “Can he make you leak all over his dick like a fuckin’ slut?”

You violently shook your head from side to side, like the thought of your husband left a sour taste in your mouth you wanted to get rid of. “Nuh-uh,” you whimpered, popping your ass up even more to take as much as you could. “O-Only you.” 

“Tell him, baby.” Bucky noticed too late that he had slipped up, too gone off the feel of your cunt wrapped snug around his dick. But you hadn’t seemed to realise his mistake either and the thought that you were too much of a wreck from his cock to comprehend who he was talking about made him even harder. “Let him know who’s balls deep in your tight, slutty pussy.” 

“Oh, fuck—please, please—you, James, it’s you.  Please, it’s you!” 

“Atta girl,” he cooed, hoarsely. “Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on me.”

Bucky reached down to where the two of you were connected with his free hand, sweeping the copious amount of your slick gathered in a ring around the bottom of his cock. “Here.” He leant forward, one palm up towards you with his phone still in his other hand out of your view. “Open your mouth, pretty mama.” 

You slightly turned your head with your tongue sticking out wide and eagerly sucked the juices off his hand with a long moan. 

Managing to get all of it on camera, Bucky watched as you licked between his fingers, not wasting a drop. “Holy fuck,” he grunted deeply. “You’ll really do anything I say, won’t you?” 

You bobbed your head up and down, eventually letting his fingers go, clean as a whistle. 

“What a fuckin’ filthy whore. You’re perfect for me.” 

You backed yourself onto Bucky’s cock, meeting his thrusts perfectly while the meat of your ass clapped against his toned waist. “You’re a needy little thing, ain’t you baby?” 

“Anythin’ you want,” you slurred. “Can be whatever you need.” 

“Poor mommy hasn’t been treated this good in a long time I can tell.” Bucky gripped your ass harshly with his hand, jiggling the flesh for his own satisfaction. “Women like you, need putting in their place on a daily basis. Need a good fuckin’ to keep them happy.” 

“Yes!” you agreed, firmly. “Mommy needs to be fucked like this all the time.” 

Unbelievable. Bucky didn’t even have to try to add salt into the wound. He couldn’t help the continuous conspicuous messages that he could easily pass off to you. “This is what happens when you don’t take care of your wife.”

Harsh slaps echoed in your bedroom. The two of you could only share the raw sounds that left your mouths in your haze of the thrill as the string between you pulled tighter and tighter. 

“I’m—so—close,” you murmured with all your depleted energy. 

Bucky didn’t need the confirmation when he could feel the rapid pulses of your walls that squeezed him. He knew your orgasm was clutching at its straws and he was so close himself. The blood from his head had long since made its way to his dick and his composure was swiftly deflating. 

“Want that cum,” he garbled as his mouth hung open. “I’ve been such a good boy, mommy. Give it to me, please.”

You whined loudly, like a dog in heat. But your voices became lost on each other. That didn’t stop Bucky from losing his inhibitions out loud.  

Thrust. “I’ve been such,” thrust. “A good,” thrust. “Boy.” 

The wound up ball of tension in your lower stomach exploded in a series of screams and violent shivering that overtook your whole nervous system and the very sensation brought Bucky to his defeat. 

The muscles in his legs failed him as they turned to jelly. Bucky let out the sluttiest moan he’s ever experienced in his life and all but collapsed onto your sweat slicked body. He could feel his cock shooting a constant stream of cum into your cunt with seemingly no end in sight. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered into your ear. Slowly, his conscience came back to life and the flow of his load finally came to a stop. 

The two of you laid still, only the heavy panting serving to fill the silence. After a couple of minutes, Bucky kissed your shoulder blade, before lifting himself up. He gathered the strength to gently retrieve his length from your hole that still strangled him. 

Bucky was reminded of the phone that was still recording in his hand and he quickly made sure to get the winning money shot of his load dripping out of your pulsing hole while he wholly detached himself from you. 

He was only human to push his finger into your cunt, he thought, letting himself gather himself on his own fingers. 

Flipping the camera around to himself, Bucky put his coated finger in his mouth, sucking your combined juices and humming and letting it go with a pop. He laughed, out of breath, his red cheeks and mussed hair only adding to the depravity of the video. “Y’know some people should really keep an eye on their wives. You never know what they’re up to in their spare time. Ain’t that right, Honey?” 

Bucky knew you were out of it — he watched on while you buried your head in the sheets, rubbing your thighs together as aftershocks made your body twitch. Your needy, high pitched keens bounced off the walls. “Wan’ more of your cock, James—please—need you to fuck me again.” 

He licked his lips in delight, the sight of your ass wiggling with his cum leaking out of you and your unprompted addition to the recording filling him with glee. 

“Well,” he sighed, turning back to the camera and shrugging with no remorse. “You heard the wife. Duty calls.” With a cocky wink, he ended the recording with a final farewell. “See you in class, Professor.”  

Bucky exited his camera app and quickly brought up his emails, scouring through to a saved draft and attaching the video link. After pressing send, he shut off his phone, making sure any future notifications would be silenced before throwing it to the ground with a careless thump. 

“Baby,” you whimpered, looking behind you to search for him. “What are you doing? I said I wanna be fucked again.” 

Undressing the rest of his clothes, Bucky stalked towards you, kneeling onto the bed and effortlessly flipping you over to kiss you deeply to share your combined tastes. “Don’t worry, mommy,” he breathed into your mouth. “I’ll take care of you now.” 

Meanwhile at his college, a new email popped up on Dr Parker’s computer screen, shrouding the dark office with a white glow in the late night. With an exhausted huff, he looked up from grading papers — all of them marked with a C or lower — and squinted his eyes at the bright screen. 

New Email from James Buchanan Barnes

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. The name was familiar as he thought back to the day the kid almost cried in his office, complaining about his poorly-graded assignment and his GPA; Dr Parker had gossiped with Professor Stark in his department on his dinner break, recounting the annoying way this particular student had whined like a baby. Though he couldn’t quite remember how James looked, unable to place him among the hundreds of pupils he taught.

Amused curiosity ran through him, wondering what his student had to moan about this time and so with a sadistic smirk, he clicked on the link, waiting until his message came up. 

Though that smirk was quickly replaced with a frown when the email finally loaded with an attachment. 

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet.

Just like Honey. 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Object permanence

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me at NEW ZEALAND'S UNITY BOOKS in AUCKLAND TOMORROW (May 2), and in WELLINGTON on SATURDAY (May 3). More tour dates (Pittsburgh, PDX, London, Manchester) here.

#20yrsago Danny O’Brien goes to work at EFF! https://web.archive.org/web/20050507123924/https://www.oblomovka.com/entries/2005/04/29#1114782180

#15yrsago 1939 World’s Fair: the future’s cradle, in pictures https://web.archive.org/web/20100501170616/http://www.wired.com/thisdayintech/2010/04/gallery-1939-worlds-fair/

#10yrsago British austerity: a failed experiment abandoned by the rest of the world https://www.theguardian.com/business/ng-interactive/2015/apr/29/the-austerity-delusion

#10yrsago Translation: once they learn the truth, techies hate and fear us https://www.wired.com/2015/04/us-defense-secretary-snowden-caused-tensions-techies/

#10yrsago FBI’s crypto backdoor plans require them to win the war on general purpose computing http://webpolicy.org/2015/04/28/you-cant-backdoor-a-platform/

#10yrsago Anyone can open a Master Lock padlock in under two minutes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09UgmwtL12c

#10yrsago Couples counsellor who assigns Ikea furniture assembly calls Liatorp “The Divorcemaker” https://web.archive.org/web/20150430183654/https://laist.com/2015/04/28/santa_monica_therapist_uses_ikea_as.php

#10yrsago UK Tories forged letter of support in the Telegraph from “5,000 small businesses” https://sturdyblog.wordpress.com/2015/04/27/small-business-letter-to-the-telegraph-an-attempt-to-defraud-the-electorate/

#5yrsago How monopolism crashed the US food supply https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#butchery

#5yrsago Legendary troubleshooting stories https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#cuckoos-egg

#5yrsago Medical debt collection during the pandemic https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#armbreakers

#5yrsago British Library releases 1.9m images https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#it-belongs-in-a-museum

#5yrsago NSO Group employee used Pegasus cyberweapon to stalk a woman https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#loveint

#5yrsago Founder of AI surveillance company was a Nazi who helped shoot up a synagogue https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#damien-patton-nazi

#5yrsago Talking Radicalized with the CBC https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#zuckervegans

#5yrsago Bayesian reasoning and covid-19 https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#uncertainty

#5yrsago Cigna claims to be rolling in dough and on the verge of bankruptcy https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/29/banjo-nazis/#someones-lying

#1yrago Cigna's nopeinator https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/29/what-part-of-no/#dont-you-understand

[meraki-yao]

An exchange student from Canada saw me crying and gave me a tissue. We talked. He's really nice. I'm sane now.

This is going to be a full vent. This is my full story on this situation. Only read if you want to and if you're okay with it. Also warning, this is long as fuck, I really trauma dumped here.

tw: suicidal thoughts, self-harm

Backstory: High School

I was labelled as a jack of all trades, master of none. I'm naturally a more art/social science/emotion/humanities person, but I took STEM subjects in high school (Physics, Chemistry, Information & Technology/ Computer, and Calculus & Algebra), partly because these subjects had objective, standard answers, which supposedly makes getting marks in exams easier, partly because I felt like I had to as my parents are both PhD in engineering, and at that point I still thought I had to be "my parents' daughter".

So throughout high school, all my external achievements were humanities/arts related while my studies were STEM orientated. But I struggled a lot with my STEM subjects (except for Computer because a lot of that is just stuff you would know if you use one a lot), and I mean, a lot. As in failing quizzes, fucking up assignments. Thank God I had really kind teachers who cared more about my mental health than my grades and were willing to help and accommodate my needs. But there were many times when I straight up broke down during a lesson and ran off to the social worker's. I skipped several lessons because I just couldn't go to class and try to listen when voices in my head were all yelling at how much of a useless piece of shit I was. I would spend three hours on a single question, and still get it wrong. It always felt like no matter what I did, I would go nowhere. And it didn't help that when I asked for help from my parents, their response would always first be "How can you not know something so simple". By senior year I gave up and started asking my friends and the internet.

On the contrary, I thrived in my language classes and liberal studies class. Even if I initially sucked due to the change in the system, I asked, I studied, I worked and I improved. I got somewhere. Effort paid off in a fair ratio. I never needed to ask my parents anything about that. I never needed to ask anyone other than my teacher. I loved doing my homework in those subjects. My writings were printed out as examples for the whole class. It was great.

Backstory: College Selection

By the time college choices rolled around I had no idea what to choose. At the same time, my mother was also suggesting I go to mainland Chinese universities for my undergrad, and I didn't want that. Going to the States or the UK wasn't affordable for my family, so I opted to stay local, to the dismay of my whole extended family.

So in the mess of all of this and no parental support because they are Chinese stereotypes who think the only courses worth studying are doctor and lawyer, my school's career counsellor suggested Bachelor of Arts and Studies to me (here's their website) a new personalized interdisciplinary degree in HKU. And I was so happy. It felt right. It felt like putting a on tailored dress. And despite my parents' protest, I put that as my first choice.

College entrance exams came and went. Overall I did pretty well. Got top scores in Chinese, English, Liberal Studies, and Computer. Got average for Chemistry, Math and Physic despite spending most of my study leave on these subjects. Just passed Calculus.

So the way the local system works (it's called JUPAS if you wanna look it up) is that by the end of November, you need to submit your 20 university programme choices, but after the public exam result is released, you're assigned 24 hours to change your choices.

And this is where everything started going to hell for me.

My parents, who in the first round of selection, compromised and let me put what I wanted, looked at my marks, and my choices, and vetoed everything. They said I'm not gonna get a job with an interdisciplinary degree, there's no career path for psychology, that the arts and science degree was created because the art, social science and science faculty didn't have that many people.

A different advisor, one who didn't know me personally suggested my current programme: biomedical engineering, which basically combines medicine with engineering. They said it's a lucrative career since health service is in demand, and with my basis in STEM subject I would do well, and that it's easier to go from a science subject to humanities if I want to do something different in post-grad than vice versa. By this time I had 2 hours left before confirmation.

If we were to completely ignore me as an individual, they're right. This would be the logical choice.

But at that point, I already knew it felt wrong. But unfortunately for me, all I could say is it felt wrong, which isn't a strong rebuttal.

With no "logical" rebuttal, two yelling parents and a fucked up head, sobbing, I changed my first choice to this programme. I cut my arm with a cutter over the myriad of scars I gave myself over the years. I told my best friend who was asking if I was ok, that I'll give it a go, and if it doesn't work I'll find a way out. I told the rest of my close friends that my undergrad will be me paying a debt to my parents, and I'd figure out my own dream in the future.

I shouldn't have caved in.

Back Story: University

University started. Immediately it felt wrong. Save for my elective (HKU has this really cool thing called Common Core, look it up if you're interested but essentially it's compulsory electives) I felt so detached from my engineering courses. I couldn't explain, just an inherent feeling that I don't belong here.

It didn't help that it was at this time that I realized I straight-up don't like biology.

Managed through year 1 first semester with average grades. Semester 2 I didn't have any courses directly related to the programme save for a probability & stats course that I fucked my way through. The rest of my grades were pretty good, even got two A- s. The feeling that I didn't belong persisted but popped up a little less.

Now: Breaking

Year 2 came, and from the moment in August when I had to sign up for courses, the feeling of wrongness came back in full force, amplified, even. It felt all-consuming.

This is from my diary:

"I don't wanna be here. I don't want this degree. I don't want this career God I don't want it. It's doesn't fit. I don't fit in this space. This isn't mind. It feels like dysmorphia. It feels like tar, black and toxic and vicious, sticking to my skin, trying to mould my body into something I'm not, to seep into my skin and dye my blood a dull shade of grey. I wanna fucking run away. I wanna fucking die. I don't fucking know what to do."

You guys kind of know the rest, because that's when I met you guys and started feeling safer here than anywhere else, and vented here. But for reference

September

October

November

December

January, January, Fuck you January

I skipped class. I got antidepressants. I binge ate and became overweight. Failed three classes. Parents didn't find out anything until the grades came out. Then they lost their mind.

Now: Not Enough

They blamed me for not trying hard enough.

They said oh failures happen, you have to learn from your mistakes and try again.

I have to set up a proper routine. Dedicate all my time and energy to staying physically healthy and studying. Spent my "free time" thinking. I even got berated for listening to music with headphones on.

Dad asked me why did I fail biochemistry. I said it was hard, the pace was fast, and I don't like the subject. He said there's no point in not liking it.

Mom said I needed to get rid of the idea that this degree is against me and accept it, that I shouldn't dwell on what-ifs from the past, and all the reasons they convinced me to choose this still stands, that learning is a fun and interesting thing that I should take joy in, that I won't be able to handle being a psychiatrist, that I used to be such a star student what the fuck happened to me, that each path has their own difficulties and I'm already on this road so why won't I just keeping going for the next two years, that if I quit and start over I'll be older than my cohort and my friends will all graduate before me and why won't I just follow the normal path dammit

SO EVERYTHING IS MY FUCKING FAULT HUH??

I don't fucking know anymore.

Now: The present

The reason I was crying earlier, was that I went to have a meeting with an academic advisor to ask about the possibility of transferring to a different programme.

There are two ways.

One, apply for an internal transfer by June. But that requires exceptional grades, and I don't have that.

Two, quit university and re-apply with my college entrance exam results. But then none of the credits I earned in the past two years will be transferred. All will expire. I went through shit for nothing except to confirm my mistake is a mistake.

I might figure something out when I'm not crying my brains out but right now neither option sounds like an option to me.

I could barely ask anything intelligent afterwards because I was trying so hard to stop myself from breaking down immediately.

Now: How I feel

I'm not supposed to feel like this. This is not normal. This is not how my university life is supposed to go. It cannot be normal to want to die every day.

The moment I realised this was fundamentally wrong was when I looked at my high school friends' social media, and saw them living their best lives: dating, joining the committee of societies, getting awards and scholarships, jobs and internships, travelling, going to parties, everything a young person should be doing. My best friend is chasing her dreams to became an actress at NYU TISHC, already getting paids acting jobs at year 1, going to prominent events, maintaining a 3.9 GPA, goes out partying all while maintaining a long distance relationship with her athletes boyfriend who is the best of the best in Asian youth, handsome, and just a great guy in general.

I'm supposed to be on the same level as them.

I'm from an elite class of an elite school in an elite city. I've been on city radio four times and city-wide broadcast television once. I was on four department/society committees, two of which I was chairlady. I wrote and directed my own play. My name was followed by seven internal awards when it was my turn to get my diploma during the graduation ceremony. I aced my classes. My drawing and writing had been in my school's anthology and yearbook. I genuinely enjoyed learning.

I'm not supposed to be this.

I'm not supposed to be this depressed, overweight person who can't get out of bed and skips classes and fails courses. I'm not supposed to be this stagnant, I was always moving. I was always giving it my 100%. I'm not supposed to not make any friends and want to stay in my bed all the time. I'm not supposed to be insomniac, or sick, or depressed, or overweight.

I was always fighting.

I don't have any energy in me anymore to fight.

I'm not supposed to turn out like this. This isn't who I want to be/ I hate whoever I am now. This isn't right.

But I'm fucking stuck, I don't know what's the truth, I don't know how valid "I don't like this" is.

A lot of people tell me to just ignore what my parents say but it's really not that simple. I only realized they can hurt me despite loving me and it's not my fault last year. And even then it's hard to stay firm on this belief. Because truthfully, I don't know what's right, I only know what feels wrong.

Fuck this. I want to fast forward until the day I figure shit out. I want to live here on Tumblr.

Fuck everything.

[helpwithperdisco]

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How to Meet English Language Requirements for Your Australian Student Visa?

Australia is one of the most popular destinations for international students, offering world-class education, a vibrant multicultural environment, and excellent post-study work opportunities. However, before you can begin your academic journey in the Land Down Under, you’ll need to secure a Student Visa (subclass 500). One of the key eligibility criteria for this visa is demonstrating proficiency in the English language.

In this guide, we’ll walk you through everything you need to know about meeting the English language requirements for an Australian Student Visa — including which tests are accepted, required scores, exemptions, and helpful preparation tips.

Why Are English Language Requirements Important?

Since English is the primary medium of instruction in Australian educational institutions, students are expected to have a sufficient level of English proficiency. This ensures you can:

Follow lectures and tutorials

Complete assignments and exams

Participate in class discussions

Integrate into the Australian community

Failing to meet the language requirement could result in visa delays or rejection, so it’s crucial to understand and prepare for it early on.

Who Needs to Meet English Language Requirements?

You’ll typically need to prove your English proficiency if:

English is not your first language

You haven’t completed at least five years of study in English

Your course provider or visa assessment level requires it

However, you may be exempt if you fall under certain categories (we'll cover that below).

Accepted English Language Tests for Australian Student Visa

The Australian Department of Home Affairs accepts several international English language tests. These are:

International English Language Testing System (IELTS)

Test of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL iBT)

Pearson Test of English (PTE) Academic

Cambridge English: Advanced (CAE) – now known as C1 Advanced

Occupational English Test (OET) – mainly for healthcare professionals

Minimum English Test Score Requirements

The exact score you need depends on the education provider and the type of course you’re applying for. But for visa purposes, the Department of Home Affairs generally requires the following minimum scores:

Test Minimum Overall Score Minimum Score in Each Band

IELTS 5.5 No band less than 5.0

TOEFL iBT 46 14 in writing and speaking, 4 in reading and listening

PTE Academic 42 No section less than 36

CAE (C1 Advanced) 162 No skill below 154

OET B in each component -

Note: If you’re taking a pre-sessional English course (ELICOS) before your main course, lower scores may be accepted.

English Test Validity Period

All English test results must be less than 2 years old at the time of visa application. If your test result has expired, you will need to retake the exam.

English Language Exemptions

You might be exempt from taking an English test if:

You are a citizen of the UK, USA, Canada, New Zealand, or Ireland

You have completed at least five years of study in English in one or more of the above countries, or in Australia

You're enrolling in certain foundation or ELICOS courses with a CRICOS-registered provider

You're a Foreign Affairs or Defence student

Always check with your education provider and the Department of Home Affairs to confirm whether you’re eligible for an exemption.

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1. Choose the Right Test

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2. Take a Diagnostic Test

Before booking the official test, take a practice exam to see where you stand. This will help you understand your strengths and weaknesses.

3. Use Official Prep Material

Invest in official practice tests and preparation guides. These are closely aligned with the real exam format and difficulty level.

4. Take a Preparation Course

Many language centers offer test-specific training, including mock tests, strategies, and feedback on writing and speaking tasks.

5. Practice Consistently

Make a study plan and stick to it. Focus on grammar, vocabulary, listening to English media, reading newspapers, and practicing speaking with peers or tutors.

What Happens If You Don’t Meet the Requirement?

If your test score falls short of the required minimum, you may still have options:

Enroll in an ELICOS course (English Language Intensive Course for Overseas Students) before your main program

Retake the English test after further preparation

Consult with your education provider about alternative pathways

Final Thoughts:

Meeting the English language requirement is one of the foundational steps to obtaining your Australian student visa. It not only fulfils immigration requirements but also sets you up for success in your academic and personal life in Australia.

Make sure to:

Choose the right test

Prepare strategically

Keep your scores valid

Understand if you qualify for an exemption

Start early, stay consistent, and don’t hesitate to seek help from education agents or language coaches if needed.

Australia is waiting — and your English test is the key to opening that door.

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Conclusion

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IELTS vs PTE: Which is an Easier English Proficiency Test?

If you're planning to study, work, or move abroad, one of the first things you’ll need to do is prove your English skills. Two of the most popular tests for this purpose are the IELTS (International English Language Testing System) and the PTE (Pearson Test of English). A common question that comes up among test-takers is: Which one is easier—IELTS or PTE? The answer really depends on your personal preferences, learning style, and how comfortable you are with technology. If you're preparing for the test and need some guidance, exploring resources or seeking support from ielts best coaching in ahmedabad might also help you better understand the test format and your strengths.

Let’s take a closer look at both tests and compare them so you can figure out which one suits you best.

1. Test Format

IELTS is offered in two formats: Paper-based and Computer-based. It tests you in four areas:

Listening

Reading

Writing

Speaking (this is done in a one-on-one interview with an examiner)

PTE, on the other hand, is completely computer-based. You’ll use a microphone for the Speaking section, and everything is assessed by a computer. The sections in PTE include:

Speaking & Writing (combined)

Reading

Listening

Which is easier?

If you feel more comfortable speaking directly with a person, you might find IELTS easier.

If you prefer typing and interacting with a computer, PTE might feel more straightforward.

2. Scoring System

IELTS uses a band score system ranging from Band 0 to 9, with scores assigned by human examiners. PTE gives scores between 10 and 90, and your results are calculated by an automated system.

Which is easier?

PTE’s scoring is automated and consistent.

With IELTS, the scores for Writing and Speaking can vary slightly depending on the examiner.

3. Speaking Section

In IELTS, you’ll have a conversation with a real examiner. In PTE, you speak into a microphone, and a computer evaluates your answer.

Which is easier?

If speaking to a person makes you nervous, PTE might feel less stressful.

If you’re more comfortable speaking face-to-face and expressing yourself that way, IELTS could be the better option.

4. Writing Section

IELTS includes two tasks:

Task 1: You’ll describe a graph, chart, or letter.

Task 2: You’ll write an essay on a given topic.

PTE has different types of writing tasks:

Summarizing written text

Essay writing

Sentence completion tasks, where you’ll have to choose the correct words to complete sentences.

Which is easier?

If you prefer writing essays in a more open-ended format, IELTS gives you more freedom to express your thoughts.

PTE is more structured, which can be easier if you’re good with grammar and typing quickly.

5. Test Duration

IELTS takes about 2 hours and 45 minutes to complete. PTE is a bit shorter, lasting around 2 hours.

Which is easier?

If you’re worried about fatigue during a long test, PTE might be more manageable since it’s shorter.

6. Result Time

IELTS results take around 5 to 7 days for computer-based tests, or up to 13 days for paper-based tests. PTE results come much faster, usually within 2 to 5 days.

Which is easier?

If you need your results quickly, PTE has a clear advantage due to its faster turnaround time.

7. Availability and Acceptance

Both IELTS and PTE are accepted by thousands of universities, colleges, and governments worldwide, including in countries like the UK, USA, Australia, and Canada.

Tip: Make sure you confirm the requirements with the university or visa program you’re applying to. Some may have a preference for one test over the other.

Conclusion

So, is IELTS easier or is PTE the better choice? Ultimately, it comes down to your personal preferences and strengths.

Choose IELTS if:

You’re more comfortable speaking to a person in a one-on-one setting

You like writing essays in a traditional format

You’d prefer the option of doing the test on paper or computer

Choose PTE if:

You’re comfortable using a computer and typing

You need your results quickly and prefer automated scoring

You’re more at ease speaking into a microphone than in a face-to-face conversation

If you’re still unsure, it might help to try practice tests for both. You can get a feel for the format and see which one you’re more comfortable with before making a decision.

FAQs

1. Which test is more accepted, IELTS or PTE? Both are accepted worldwide, though some institutions or countries might have a preference for IELTS. Always check with the relevant authority before booking.

2. Is the PTE test easier for non-native speakers? It depends on the individual. Some people find PTE easier because it’s more technology-driven and less focused on human interaction.

3. Can I prepare for both IELTS and PTE at the same time? You certainly can, but it’s usually better to focus on one to avoid spreading yourself too thin. Choose the test that aligns best with your strengths.

4. Which test gives faster results? PTE typically provides results within 2 to 5 days, making it faster than IELTS, which can take up to 13 days.

5. Do preparation strategies help with IELTS or PTE? Absolutely. Whether you’re preparing for IELTS or PTE, having a focused study plan and practicing regularly can make a significant difference in your scores.

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Comprehensive Masters Dissertation Coding and Algorithm Services

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Our Key Services1. Masters Dissertation and Thesis Coding Services

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Help with Assignment on Marketing Research: Make Studying a Breeze

An assignment on marketing research plays an integral component of learning business strategies, market trends, and customer habits. Being complex, these notions can usually benefit from expert help. Through professional assignment writing services UK, students can learn major concepts in an effective and timely process and reach maximum academic achievement.

The Essence of Marketing Research Assignments 

Businesses can make well-informed business decisions using marketing research by studying trends, studying customer behavior, and analysing competition. Marketing research is a project in which students must apply abstract concepts in concrete business scenarios, which improves analytical and solving capacity. Conducting marketing research homework in an organised manner develops strategic thinking and researching capacity, making students professionally capable.

Important aspects of a well-composed marketing research project.

Market Analysis

A detailed industry trend, business, and customer preference study is required for a captivating research paper. This includes researching reports, customer feedback, and market trends.

Data Collection

Both qualitative (interview, case study) and quantitative (statistical modeling, surveys) methods give detailed and authentic results. The perfect balance of these methods makes marketing strategies stronger.

Data Interpretation

Analysis of survey data, computation of key performance metrics (KPI), and data visualisation technology must be employed. Probability distributions, hypothesis testing, and regression analysis enhance result validity using such tools.

Strategic Models

Utilising well-established concepts such as SWOT (Strength, Weakness, Opportunity, Threat), PESTLE (Political, Economic, Social, Technology, Legal, Environmental), Porter’s Five Forces, and STP (Seg, Target, Place) provides depth and appropriateness to the project.

Organised reports

A well-composed assignment should have a well-crafted introduction, a detailed methodology discussing study procedure, a detailed results analysis, a discussion of results, a reasoned conclusion, and recommendations based on study observations. 

Although assignment on marketing research are critical, time is usually a constraint for students, which may result in insufficient time for in-depth research. This is when assignment help in UK proves invaluable, delivering timely, well-researched, and excellent-quality work.

What Makes Locus Assignments Different

Expert opinion

Our team is comprised of highly trained marketing and business studies experts who provide well-researched, university-compliant, and academically valid assignments.

Customised Solutions

We provide work based on individualised study requirements, which includes case studies, research papers, essays, and reports, so students can have high-quality, individualised work.

On-time delivery

We prioritise punctual submissions, allowing students ample time for revisions without compromising quality.

Reasonable Fees

Our cost-effective solutions, combined with flexible payment options, make expert learning support accessible to all.

24/7 Support

Our customer support team is available round-the-clock to assist with queries, clarifications, and urgent requests, ensuring a seamless experience.

Complete Coverage

We write on a wide array of marketing themes, ranging from digital marketing, brand positioning, trends among consumers, market segmentation, and online marketing strategies.

Original Work

Our priority is originality. Each paper is well-researched, plagiarised, and written in a manner which keeps it of an academic standard.

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An assignment on marketing research provides a thorough understanding of marketing realities. With marketing assignment help, students achieve expert guidance, guaranteeing success in studies and professionalism. Choose Locus Assignments now and succeed in your marketing research project!