two gangs. two leaders. two parts of the city that the other should never enter. theodore nott, the vicious, calculated leader of the blades, infamous for their mastery of cold weaponry that leaves the victims trembling and the ground covered in dark crimson. mattheo riddle, the ruthless, hot-headed leader of the barrels — gun dealers with rough hands covered in gunpowder and burned by violent flames. do what you will, but you better not get caught in the crossfire.
summary: bwa: welcome to the buckyverse – a phenomenon exists where a person’s blood pressure will rise when measured in a clinical setting, but is recorded as normal when measured at home or elsewhere. you’ve never been the type to feel anxious in medical establishments, but with your pcp retiring and transferring your care to her trusted colleague, you end up visiting your new doctor’s office more times in the last three months than you’ve ever had in the past year.
warnings: 18+, smut, dubcon (drugs), MDNI, female reader, no use of y/n, piv sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, light choking, dacryphilia, female masturbation, mentions of sex toys, mean!bucky, manipulation tactics and verbiage used, pet names, dumbification of reader, lowk a sex pollen trope if you squint, hipaa laws broken, medical malpractice— pls don’t let any real life medical professional do any of these things to you. this is a work of fiction and the person who wrote this is insane
word count: 14k
a/n: doctor barnes is dedicated to my lovers in bwa <3 @umbreoni @barnesonly @opheliabbarnes @earthsmightiestbenders @blowingbarnes @superbassbuck @loganficsonly @iamthatonefangirl @54nboo
bwa masterlist | my masterlist
Serene, low, almost elevator kind of music filtered throughout the waiting room, but you could hardly hear it with the sound of the receptionists typing away wildly at their keyboards. The seats were worn– leather that you knew had been wiped down too many times with sterile antiseptic to the point that the material was getting eaten away with each pass.
You were early for your appointment– fifteen minutes before your actual appointment time, just like the voicemail reminder had said. Even so, you still sat there, leg bouncing up and down anxiously as you waited for your name to be called back into the maze of the clinic by someone– anyone. You busied yourself by attempting to get lost in your phone as the minutes continued to tick by.
Despite being early, your appointment time had passed by twenty minutes ago. Part of you was wondering if it would be worth it to just reschedule your appointment, and get the hell out of there before you were left waiting for over an hour.
Your mindless scrolling was put to rest by the sound of your name. A woman in scrubs stood by the door near the receptionist desk, giving you a polite smile as she held onto a clipboard that no doubt had your information on it.
“That’s me,” you said, shifting onto your feet.
“Perfect,” she nodded to you, and gestured for you to enter the hallway first. “My name is Natasha, and I’ll be your nurse for today. We’ll be taking a right down the hall, and then taking a stop towards the scale.”
You let out a deep sigh at the mention, following directions like a good little soldier. You dropped your bag on the ground, toed your shoes off, and stepped onto the platform. You kept your eyes downcast, avoiding whatever digital number came forth as Natasha hummed in approval as she scribbled down your weight onto her clipboard.
“Alright, you can go ahead and grab your things. We’ll be in the room a few doors down,” she instructed you.
A breath of relief exited your lungs as you collected your belongings, quickly shuffling behind her as you went through the remainder of the regular items– Natasha wrapping the blood pressure cuff around your bicep, sticking the pulse oximeter on your finger, taking your temperature– just the regular vital measurements.
“Do you know when your last menstrual cycle was?” she asked, typing down your information into the computer.
You froze, pulling your phone out of your purse to quickly pull up your trusty tracker app. “Sorry– one second… Uh– the 19th. A couple of days ago.”
“Perfect,” she answered, a little robotically. You didn’t take it to heart. “Do you have any questions or concerns that the doctor should be aware of prior to his arrival?”
“No,” you shook your head. “None.”
Natasha was methodical in her clean up, turning off the computer and collecting her materials. “Great– he’ll be in shortly.”
Like a whirlwind, your nurse left you all alone without another word. You didn’t really blame her, not when you knew that there was a crowd of other patients waiting outside, probably in the same position as you.
The original primary care physician that you had been seeing for the past five years had retired. Unexpectedly, at that. You were given little to no warning– the letter that the office was required to send you listed a final date of work that was just a couple days away from when you received it in the mail.
Truthfully, dread was the only thing that you were really feeling, but not because you were going to miss her. No, you didn’t feel any special connection to Dr. Raynor. She hardly did anything for you other than a check up once a year– if you could even remember to schedule the appointment.
Dread built in your stomach from the knowledge that you had to simply find a new primary care physician. With your insurance, you knew you wouldn’t be able to find a doctor accepting new patients for months. While you were healthy for the most part, you were still human. You fell ill every once in a blue moon. Going without a regular doctor would be the worst thing that you could do as a functioning adult in society.
Dr. Raynor did absolutely nothing to help your chronic migraines other than to suggest sleep and to drink more water, but she did assist you with something else.
She called it unprofessional. You called it your saving grace.
It was the only reason why you were able to be sitting in another doctor’s office so soon after losing your first PCP– Dr. Raynor had connections. A trusted colleague, one that she said was taking on new patients since he had just opened up his own clinic. Better yet, he was one of the best doctors that she had ever had the privilege of knowing.
He graduated valedictorian of his medical school, had served as a military doctor and ended up retiring and became a civilian doctor after losing his arm out on the field. He was highly decorated with awards upon awards, backed with years of extensive research and case studies that he conducted and led on his own. You were in great hands, according to Dr. Raynor. Best of all… he accepted your insurance plan.
Three thudding knocks pulled you out of thoughts just in time to watch the door swing open, and all air was instantly pulled out of your chest.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting.
Truthfully, you didn’t even look up who your new doctor was going to be. Everything that you knew came from word of mouth from your previous physician. If you looked up who would be taking care of you from now on, then you probably would have screamed. Maybe even changed providers.
What you expected was an older man– someone that was around Dr. Raynor’s age. Near retirement as well. With being in the military for so long to receive so many awards, you expected age. Wrinkles and signs of the years weathering on this man. No.
He was indeed an older man in the way that you would spot at the bar, take a few shots for courage, and approach. Bat your eyes a few times, work your charms, find out that he was newly divorced, and have a great time together.
The man walking into the room was exactly that– a walking epitome of desire and sin wrapped into one, but all at the same time… he wasn’t.
Wafting through the air as he walked was a light layer of hand sanitizer and other cleaning agents. Antiseptic and rubbing alcohol clung to his clothes, but he didn’t have that other smell that doctors tended to have– that lingering sickly scent that came with working in this profession. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought this man had some sort of cologne or scent sprayed onto his skin with the way you were leaning into him.
His hair was fluffed out– probably not on purpose. Most of it was styled back, with a few pieces that had come loose throughout the day. You didn’t blame him for it, not when you knew how many patients were waiting outside to get into the same room that you were sitting in.
And the arm. He had an arm– a functioning arm. Two of them. Which wasn’t a crazy feat, truly, but with what you were told… You couldn’t help but stare at the shining metal that caught the fluorescent lights of the examination room.
“Hello,” he spoke, and held out his hand toward you. You nearly jumped out of your damn skin at the baritone sound that shot through your ears. “I’m Dr. Barnes– it’s nice to meet you. I’ll be handling your care from this point forth.”
Even his voice didn’t match the normal tone of other doctors you’d met. There was no rush, no sense of urgency to hurry to get you out the door. When he talked, he kept his eyes on you. You had his undivided attention, and you hadn’t even said anything yet.
You hadn’t said anything yet.
Dr. Barnes was staring at you– taking in the sight of the wide eyed patient in front of him that couldn’t seem to find her voice. He almost wanted to laugh, but bit back the amusement as he watched you snap right out of it.
The realization made you clear your throat, giving the man a tight, slightly awkward smile as you reached out to shake his hand in greeting. Just the touch of his hand sent goosebumps through you. The callused palm, the weight of his larger, warm hand against yours– you were going to lose your mind in a few moments.
“It’s nice to meet you, too… I’m glad that I was able to find another doctor so fast.”
The chuckle that escaped his throat made you suck in a breath, hoping that the smile on your face was convincing enough that your new doctor wouldn’t send you into an institution. Thankfully, he looked away just long enough to sit down, and long enough for you to attempt to relax in your seat.
“Ah, yes… You were referred to me by Dr. Raynor,” he mused, giving a slight nod toward the computer screen that now had your medical documents pulled up. “She’s quite the character, isn’t she?”
“I wouldn’t really know,” you admitted with an awkward laugh. “The last time I saw her was… a year and a half ago? It’s been a while since I’ve needed to see any medical professional, if I’m being honest with you.”
Dr. Barnes shook his head in dismissal. “No worries. These kinds of things just go over our heads sometimes. However,” he paused, eyes pulled away from the screen for just a second to look at you once more, “I do expect to see you more often for regular appointments.”
You swallowed, rubbing your palms onto the thighs of your jeans. “Is that.. Necessary?”
“It’s always a good thing to make sure that your body is still physically well. We all deteriorate as we grow older. Besides– I see that you struggle with constant migraines? Are you taking any medication for that?” he asked, tilting his head back toward the chart.
Laughter almost bubbled out of your throat and spilled forth while you listened to Dr. Barnes click away at the mouse, going through more of your history.
“Uh… No. Dr. Raynor had me try more…holistic methods.”
The finger over the mouse froze, and he blinked just a few times before facing you once more. “Okay. Why don’t we do this– start fresh. Right from the beginning of your medical history. Is that alright?”
A polite smile was fitted over his face, though it seemed as though he was doing his best not to lose it– possibly from the lack of documentation and the lack of treatment that his former colleague had done. You couldn’t help but return his smile, and give him a nod.
“That sounds fine with me,” you confirmed.
The questions were generic for the most part– nothing out of the ordinary or things that you weren’t prepared to answer.
Do you have any family history of diabetes? Cancer? Heart disease? No, no, and no. Thankfully.
Are you currently taking any medications or supplements that are not listed in your chart? You wanted to laugh at this question, and you could tell that Dr. Barnes did, too. But the answer was also no.
Do you have any existing medical conditions such as asthma or high blood pressure? You were as healthy as a horse. You just preferred to have an established primary care physician for the peace of mind.
Are you allergic to anything? Not that you were aware of– you grew out of pretty much all of your allergies when you grew up.
Do you smoke, drink, use recreational drugs? Smoke? No. Drink, yes. Socially and maybe emotionally depending on the day– Dr. Barnes raised an eyebrow at you, and you told him that you were clean of recreational drugs.
Any thoughts of self harm or suicidal ideation? Another no. You were thankful to live a calm, quiet life.
How often do you exercise? As often as you could, whenever you were able to drag yourself to the gym. Not as much as you wanted to, if you were being honest, but at least you were active for some portions of the week.
Dr. Barnes’ last question made you pause. Freeze in your seat as you stared at the gorgeous man in front of you that wrote down all of your answers into his little fucking system that now held your entire life.
“Are you sexually active?”
His words hung in the air, and you wanted to change one of your answers. You wanted to take the hanging words and tie them around your neck– anything to escape the tension that you were certain only you were feeling because this man was your doctor.
Your lack of response only made him turn toward you, and raise his eyebrows expectantly. You coughed, rubbing the back of your neck as your gaze turned downward, locked onto the floor.
“No,” you answered, slowly– hesitantly.
There were no sounds of typing or mouse clicking for a few moments, and you dared to lift your head to look at him.
The corners of his lips twitched upward– like this was information that he had been blessed to find out. You barely caught it before his tongue darted out slightly to moisten his lips, and he was facing the screen once again to mark down your answer.
“Perfect,” he hummed, voice more noticeably more… upbeat than before. After signing off electronically on your chart, he pulled out a notepad, scribbling on it. “Hand this to the girls up front– I’ll be seeing you within the month for your next appointment.”
You recoiled, eyes shooting toward the paper to see the pre-printed appointment follow up request being marked down for two to four weeks.
“Isn’t that a bit soon?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Dr. Barnes put his pen down, and handed you over the slip. “Is there an issue?”
“Oh, no… Just that– I only saw Dr. Raynor as needed. Like, when I got sick. Is there something wrong with the answers that I told you?” you frowned, worry settling into your stomach.
His smile only widened, and you couldn’t help but stare. This was a little different than the smiles that he gave you earlier. This one wasn’t the polite, kind smile– the way he looked at you was toeing on the line of professionality.
“We are establishing a new doctor and patient relationship. Unlike Dr. Raynor, I would like to cover all of my bases to really make sure that you’re healthy, and possibly figure something out for those migraines of yours,” Dr. Barnes answered.
Oh. That made… perfect sense, actually. You should be jumping off the walls. There weren’t many people out there that were blessed with a physician that actually cared about their patient’s wellbeing.
“Unfortunately– I have a full waiting room today, otherwise we would be able to continue the rest of the new patient onboarding today,” he said, a disappointed sigh escaping his chest.
“What else is there?”
“New patients get an examination on both their medical history and their physical wellbeing,” he said, then paused. A slight chuckle came from his lips before he met your eyes once more. “We didn’t have time today for the actual physical part of the exam.”
Gowns provided by any medical establishment were known to be uncomfortable. It was as if the manufacturer’s wanted the piece of fabric to look unflattering on absolutely every single person in the world. If that wasn’t enough, the scratchy material resting against your skin was enough to make you want to rip the paper-like fabric off your body.
Leading up to this moment was the normal things— your vitals. Weight, blood pressure, temperature, questions about your menstrual cycle that still hadn’t come to pass yet since it had only been four weeks since your last appointment. It was coming up, though.
The nurse, a different woman this time, Yelena, instructed you to change into the ill fitting robe, and told you the doctor would be in shortly. However, you didn’t expect him to knock and open the door just as you had shrugged on the gown.
“Hey there, glad to see you’re back—“ His words died on his lips.
You could be overthinking it, but the wait this time around? Almost nonexistent. So nonexistent that you weren't able to tie the string around your waist to keep your modesty, and you were able to watch the way his eyes trailed down at you.
Warmth, heat, embarrassment— all of it was creeping up from the center of your chest and up to your ears.
Your doctor stood there, jaw clenching as he swallowed. It looked like it pained him to have to tear his eyes away from you– from how you had been exposed with just your underwear revealed to him.
He sucked in a tight breath. “Did the nurse not tell you to have the gown opening in the back?”
You stared at him, hands twitching around the strings of your gown. “Uh… No? She just told me to put it on.”
The silence stretched, and weighed upon the two of you like concrete washing over your bodies and encasing you into its shell. You were stuck in it, unable to break free from its grasp.
Dr. Barnes cleared his throat, and plastered a smile onto his face that you could only describe as forced. “No worries– just go ahead and take a seat on the exam table,” he spoke, closing the door behind him. “How have you been?”
You make your way to the table, watching as he heads towards the computer to open up your medical chart. “I’ve been… good. Nothing noteworthy to report.”
He kept his back faced to you, nodding along to your words slowly. “That’s good. No news can be good news.”
“Right.” The reply was… dry. Awkward. You hoped he didn’t notice– that he didn’t comment.
“Any other concerns?” he continued, much to your relief. “How’s your migraines been?”
“Well, my head hurts. Like usual.”
A small, noncommittal hum came from his throat. Still, he kept his gaze averted from you– almost as if looking at you would be inappropriate.
You wished he would– just to break whatever tension was going on in the room. This was your doctor. One of you needed to be professional here, and truthfully, maybe it was him with how easy it was for him to just continue on.
Dr. Barnes had to have seen bodies of all different shapes and sizes with his profession. Walking in on you half dressed shouldn’t bother him the way that it bothered you. If anything, you were just another case to work on– another body to study.
“Well,” You watched as he shut off the computer and finally turned toward you. His smile still didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Ready for the exam?”
Unable to trust your voice, you gave him a nod. Just one slight tilt of your head before the doctor was standing up from his seat, and a sigh was escaping his chest. It wasn’t out of annoyance. No, this sounded like restraint.
His hands paused mid-air as he reached for the glove box on the counter, eyes flickering back to your figure on the table. “Remind me– are you allergic to latex?”
You shook your head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Dr. Barnes stared at you again, eyes dragging down your figure so slow that you could feel goosebumps wherever his gaze touched.
“We’re out of non-latex,” he suddenly declared, and turned towards the sink. “Better to be safe than sorry, right?”
You could only release a small, half laugh at the joking tone of his voice, body finally relaxing in your place. Whatever tension was there was released and disposed of down the drain as he washed his hands.
The physical exam went as expected.
A percussion hammer to both of your knees to test your reflexes. Strength tests in your limbs to ensure that you weren’t having any muscle deterioration as you were growing older. He had you test your balance, standing on one leg at a time to make sure you weren’t a falling hazard. You endured the slight discomfort of the otoscope in your ear, some part of you wondering how disgusting the canals looked to him– he didn’t mention a single thing.
Then, he’s face to face with you, leaned down so that you were eye level with him.
Dr. Barnes had one hand on the exam bed to steady himself as he held a light to your pupils, watching the constriction. You couldn’t focus, not when you were forced to stare right at him. If you inhaled too deeply, you would be met with the dizzying scent of him– a scent that you weren’t able to catch from your first appointment.
No, this had to be a trick made to mess with you from the proximity. There weren’t any sort of scents wafting your way, enticing you to lean in closer– to steal another piece of him before he pulled away.
Finally, he stood, and you were able to give yourself some room to breathe as he put his tools away. He wouldn’t be able to see you, stressed out, unable to compose yourself.
“Gonna check your throat now,” he told you, returning right back in front of you with a wooden stick– a tongue compressor. “Can you open wide and say ‘Ah’ for me?”
Jesus fucking Christ.
You swallowed the lump in your throat before opening your mouth, blinking rapidly as you stared up at the ceiling– to look somewhere other than the man in front of you as he stuck the stick into your mouth.
All at once, your body seized. The feeling of the compressor brushing against the back of your throat caught you off guard, and tears immediately sprung to the corners of your eyes as you gagged. Your hand closed around his wrist, pulling his hand away from your mouth as you coughed.
“Sorry– shit, I’m sorry,” you choked out, looking up with him through your blurry vision.
And he stood there, lips parted while blinking at you with an expression that you couldn’t fully read. Dr. Barnes sucked in a tight breath, then allowed his smile to return back to his face. “My mistake. Let’s try again, shall we?”
You winced at the thought, but nodded regardless.
This time, his touch was different. It was tender and merciful as he raised his free hand from the edge of the bed to your face. He cradled your jaw, assisting you with baring your mouth to him as the compressor rested upon your tongue as soft as he could let it go.
A dirtier, darker part of you came forth. You imagined if this is what it would be like– if this was the kind of lover that the man in front of you was like. With how delicately he held you, you could see it all so clearly: him instructing you, guiding you down to your knees, then prying your lips open before he–
Stop.
You just gagged in front of the man, and the featherlight touch of his hand against you was only to stabilize you– to ensure that you wouldn’t run from his exam once again. He was simply trying to do his job, and here you were, allowing your mind to wander.
Even so, you couldn’t help but squirm where you sat, hands closing around his wrists once more as he peered down your throat. You swallowed around nothing, the unmistakable feeling of tears building up once more.
Dr. Barnes nodded as he stood tall, releasing you from the web he caught you in.
“Very good,” he murmured. Your body tingled at his words– at the praise. “You did well.”
You blinked back the wetness at your eyes, as he tossed the stick into the trash. “Thanks. I tried.”
A snort of laughter exited him as he removed the stethoscope around his neck. The cool metal was pressed to your back while he instructed you to take slow, deep breaths. You could’ve considered this a break from whatever chokehold this man had on you, but it was nearly impossible. His hands on your skin burned you, leaving you unable to claw for a full breath of air.
If Dr. Barnes had thought your breath patterns were abnormal, he didn’t speak a word about it as he took the tool to your chest– right above where your heart sat beneath your skin. You made the mistake of glancing up at his face, only to find that he was looking at you. More specifically, his gaze was zeroed in onto the exposed skin of your chest, where the gown had slipped open.
“Do doctors make you nervous?” The question came out as a whisper, as if he was afraid talking too loud would break whatever trance he was in.
“Sorry,” you shot out quickly, and tore your eyes away. You couldn’t look at him– couldn’t think about the fact that his eyes were on you, your breasts– no. He was looking at your heart. Listening to it. You were simply a body to examine, to check up on to make sure that all the parts of your machine were working.
“No worries,” he hummed, removing the stethoscope from both your chest and his ears before settling the device back around his neck. “I have that effect on people.”
Evidently, you weren’t a working machine. You were overheated, your main engine threatening to jump out of the skeleton that it was trapped in.
“Do you have any moles or any suspicious markings on you that weren’t there before?”
His question snapped you out of it, forcing you to swallow down whatever feelings were creeping up and leaking out of you. “Oh.. I just…”
A wave of self consciousness hit you– one that you couldn’t fully make sense of. For the hundredth time within the past half hour, you needed to remind yourself that this man was a medical professional. Someone that wouldn’t care about whatever ailments you had, and would take it all in stride. You were simply in your own head, and everything that you were observing wasn’t true. It was your own imagination.
You cleared your throat. “I have this mole,” you forced out. “On my rib– it wasn’t there before.”
“Lay back for me,” he gestured toward the bed– the absolute epitome of professionality while you bubbled and boiled over with filth that you couldn’t possibly ever share with him.
The hard cushion underneath your body did little to assist you in comfort as you laid there for him. Dr. Barnes came to your side, hands reaching for the opening of your gown to expose more of your skin to him.
Even as you kept your gaze trained on the ceiling above you, it took everything in you to ignore the heat that steadily built within you. However, you couldn’t ignore the heat of his stare, the weight of his gaze on your torso as his hands gently pulled back on the fabric.
“This doesn’t look to be too concerning.” His words were spoken so steadily, with the tone of a man who had all the knowledge in the world. You couldn’t help but flinch as his fingers pressed against your skin, brushing against the marking on your rib. “We’ll keep an eye on it– make sure that it doesn’t grow any larger or darken in color.”
You released the breath you were holding as the pressure of his touch left your body. “That’s… good,” you said slowly, and moved to sit back up– to cover yourself once again and shy away from the intense gaze he had you under.
“As I was looking through your chart,” Dr. Barnes stepped back away from you, heading towards the sink once more, “I noticed something. When was the last time you had a breast exam?”
If you were a machine, you would’ve broken down at that moment. The thought of this, doing this again filled you with dread. Not from the impending doom of having to revisit the doctor's office, but from him. His hands all over you, feeling your heartbeat directly under his palms– you were going dizzy from merely the mental image.
“It’s… been a while–”
“How about a pap smear?” he cut you off as he dried off his hands.
You couldn’t answer him. Not right away, at least. You had to push away the concept of his hands on you, needing to shuffle through the recesses of your mind to find the answers that your doctor was waiting for with the patience of a saint.
“It’s been a while,” you admitted as you finally sat up. You swore up and down to the heavens that he looked… disappointed as you closed the front of the gown. “Dr. Raynor wasn’t really…” The words died on your lips as you gave him a helpless glance, hoping that he could understand what you were telling him without having to put down your previous physician.
Dr. Barnes allowed a chuckle to escape him, “Let’s get you on that.”
Fear gripped at you, all blood rushing out of your face. “Today?” you blanched.
“No, no,” he shook his head, a smile resting on his features. “We don’t have enough time for either of those things today. I should have an opening within the next two weeks. Go ahead and schedule your next appointment up at the front so we can get this out of the way.”
Dr. Barnes extended his hand out to you, giving you some sort of stabilizer to step down from the exam table. You sucked in a breath as you slipped your hand into his, your body practically vibrating from the connection.
“Right. Just.. get it out of the way,” you repeated his words, a little breathless. “Um… Don’t I have to be referred to a specialist?”
You saw his fingers twitch at his sides, betraying the smile that he had on his face. “A specialist?” he echoed, the words almost sharp.
You swallowed. “Like, an OB?”
“Referrals to a specialist will take too long,” he dismissed, shaking his head. “It’ll be faster if I do it. PCPs are able to perform such exams, as long as they’re qualified. Tell me, do you think that I am not able to do it?”
“What?” Your head shot up, meeting his gaze. It was intense. He was daring you to tell him that you didn’t think he was qualified– that he couldn’t do it. “No.. I just… I know your practice is new. I don’t want to take up all of your appointments…”
Your response must’ve been enough to satiate the fire that was burning inside of him. You watched as his steely eyes softened just a little, and his smile finally sparkled– hitting you square in the chest and leaving you unable to breathe.
“Don’t worry about my schedule. I’ll ensure that there’s always time for you.”
You shaved every single crevice of your body like this was the third date that you were going on with this man, but no– this was just the third appointment. Where you would have your chest exposed without the safety of a bra, have your legs spread, completely exposing yourself to the man that you had spent the past two weeks fantasizing over.
What a waste, you told yourself when the nurse informed you to strip down completely naked prior to the doctor entering the room.
The underwear you wore matched, and you had spent an embarrassingly long time staring at yourself in the mirror to make sure that it was the right color to wear– the perfect hue that would compliment your skin. Your efforts were for nothing, discarded, and tucked away underneath your folded shirt on the spare chairs in the room.
Maybe you were thinking too hard, too focused on the fact the preparations you made were for nothing, but the gown that rested on your skin felt different. It wasn’t itchy, like the last appointment. The material had been switched out for something softer, a little more delicate.
Just like before, Dr. Barnes was at your door within moments. This time, he didn’t open the door right after knocking. He waited for your response– the confirmation that it was okay for him to enter. A laughable thought, if you were being honest. This man was about to see you for all you were worth.
“Come in,” you called out to him just as you sat onto the examination table that already had the stirrups pulled out and ready to go.
The door pushed open, and the greetings ensued while he washed his hands– foregoing the gloves for your own safety.
Dr. Barnes was polite, as always. Charming in how he smiled at you, voice lowered and borderline tender. You couldn’t tear your eyes off of him, every single nerve of your body lit up as he finally approached you.
“You doing okay for me there?”
“I haven’t had a pap smear before,” you admitted, wringing your hands together.
Dr. Barnes smiled, reassuring you with just a single gesture. “I’ll make sure that you’re comfortable throughout the whole thing. Just let me know at any time if you want to stop. We’ll start with the breast exam, though.” He signalled for you to lay back, “Just to ease you into everything today.”
You released a breath, and laid down.
“Raise your hands high above your head,” he instructed, and you followed his words without another second.
The breath you took caught in your throat as he reached for the tie of the gown, beginning to open you up like you were some sort of present for him to unwrap. The bite of your nails into your palms was all that you could hold onto– your sanity was long out the window the second his eyes dropped to your exposed skin.
Ever so slightly, his breathing changed. There was a suck in of breath, so low and so easily missable if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t hovering right above you.
“Have you noticed any lumps? Any masses beneath the skin that could raise some concern?” Dr. Barnes attempted to keep his tone light– technical. But you could hear it. There was something in the bottom layers of his voice, almost giving him away as his fingertips brushed against the swell of your breasts and trailed down the side– almost tracing the shape of you.
It took everything in you to not react to his touch– the heat of his flesh against yours as he pressed against your soft mound, testing the tissue and the give of you.
You swallowed. “No…Nothing like that.”
“Your partner didn’t notice anything of similar description?” he inquired.
“I don’t have a boyfriend, Dr. Barnes.”
“Ah. I see.”
There was a smile in his voice that you could hear. When you finally dared to look at him, to try to read the tone of his words, you found his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.
As if your stare held any importance, he immediately met your gaze– a question behind the swirling steel blue of his eyes that you were getting lost in. It took everything in you to avert, to turn away– to look anywhere but him.
Dr. Barnes switched over to give your other breast some attention, riding low enough for his palm to ghost over your nipple. Your breath hitched at the feeling– the rough texture of his callused hands contrasting against the suppleness of your body. His examination was thorough, fingers gently rolling down the side of your breasts as he searched for anything that could be cause for concern.
Meanwhile, air had escaped you and refused to return. It was scared off, perhaps permanently, as you struggled to find some sort of stability within your mind to forget about his touch that continued to explore your body. You almost reached that oasis, your temporary safe haven, but you should have been more cautious. Nothing good ever lasted forever.
Both hands were on you before you could register his movement.
This time, you couldn’t help but jump. The difference in temperature– his metal prosthetic versus his flesh hand was enough to send you into a temporary coma.
“My apologies. Should’ve warned you,” Dr. Barnes muttered, though his hands didn’t leave you. In fact, they moved in tandem, actions mirrored on both sides of your chest. “I’m just making sure that both sides are even– checking to ensure there are no disparities in the breast tissue.”
You swallowed. Hard. “Oh.”
If it weren’t for the fact your hands were above your head, you probably could’ve buried your face into them at the sheer stupidity you felt. You yanked yourself out of the dirt in your mind, and tried for some sort of light talk. Something to distract you from the fact that his hands were all over you, testing out the softness of your body.
“You– you can feel sensations through the metal hand?” You wanted to slap yourself. Did you just stutter?
Dr. Barnes chuckled. “The military has an amazing budget when they want to allocate funds into the right place.”
“The military, huh?” you repeated– a broken record.
It wasn’t totally your fault. You couldn’t focus anymore, head spinning out of control. This man– the object of your desires since you met him, was nearly holding both of your breasts fully in his hands. If he just moved a few centimeters to the center, he would brush against the stiffened peaks at your chest– ones that you were certain he was aware of but chose not to comment on.
The weight of his hands left you, allowing for air to enter your body once again, but leaving a gaping hole in your chest as he retreated from your form. He didn’t stray too far, gently pulling the robe to wrap you up once more.
“All done?” you whispered, slowly moving to lower your arms back down to your side.
“All done,” he echoed. “You feel good.”
Dr. Barnes turned, leaving you to contemplate the words that exited his lips. None of your thoughts went to a good place. All of them went straight to hell, just like where you were going to be if you didn’t stop fantasizing over your doctor.
The sound of one of the drawers being pulled open caught your attention, forcing you to push yourself up onto your elbows to see what he was doing.
A glint of metal caught your eye. Not from the hand that was just on your chest– no, a tool. Long, silver, and terrifying. The gasp that came out of your throat was out of pure horror, and Dr. Barnes glanced back over at you with confusion.
“Are you alright–”
“That’s going inside of me?” you cut him off, panic rising in your chest.
The doctor blinked at you, and nodded slowly. “Yes…?” He looked back down at the device– the object of your fear, and proceeded to try to explain to you what would happen next. “This is a speculum, it will–”
You were shaking your head frantically, now seated straight up at this point. “Dr. Barnes– I don’t think– that’s large. I can’t– I don’t think I can take that.”
The last shred of his humanity snapped like a thread pulled taut. You couldn’t even focus on the weight of your words crashing down upon him– the whine and helpless look that you were giving him was almost too much for him to handle.
Dr. Barnes cleared his throat in a flimsy attempt to compose himself once again. “You will be okay, I promise. There will be some slight discomfort, but the procedure will be over before you know it.”
“No,” you stressed, still denying the reality of your situation. You knew that it was necessary– that this was for your health. Sooner or later, this would be something that you were forced to face. Still, the prospect of that splitting you open– the cold metal inside of you without any sort of give or preparation. You were sent recoiling into your shell. “Do you– do you have, like, lube or something? I just– I don’t– I know that thing won’t fit in me, Dr. Barnes, I can’t even fit two fingers of my own inside of me when I–”
Your throat closed in on itself the second your ears registered your words. Shock must have been plastered all over your face, slowly vanishing and making way for shame to take its place.
“I’m so sorry.” The words came out like a squeak. “I didn’t mean to– I just… I get nervous when I’m here.”
“I can tell,” he replied, putting the speculum down onto the counter. “Doctors make you nervous. We established this.”
You had nothing else to really lose, not after that damning confession that poured out of your lips like a waterfall. “I think it’s just you.”
If you had any grasp of your mind, you would’ve seen it– the way you simply bothered him with your words. That you weren’t alone in your late night fantasies, and that you were simply feeding him with new material to work with the more you opened your mouth and spoke to him. The two of you were dancing on the line of your patient and doctor relationship, nearly dissolving it completely until there was nothing left. In fact, you’d already broken him.
“You’ll be okay. I’ll make the process as relaxing as I can for you.” A warm hand rested on your knee, and he took in a deep breath.
“Relaxing?” you parrotted. “How the hell is any of this relaxing?”
The corners of his lips twitched upwards as he stood, once again overwhelming you with the sheer size of him as he gently pushed you to lay back down. “Just take a deep breath for me– we’ll do a vaginal exam before the pap smear. You don’t have to do anything but just lay here for me. How does that sound?”
Helpless. You were severely helpless under this man’s gaze and touch, allowing him to wrap his hands around your ankles and rest your feet against the stirrups as he stood between your legs.
“Doing alright so far?”
A shaky breath exited your lips. “I’m okay.”
His touch trailed upwards, leaving a path of fire in its wake. He kept his eyes fixed onto yours, daring you to tell him to push him away– to stop.
You didn’t.
Slowly, but all at the same time too fast, his fingers were at your core, brushing against the folds of you, pulling them apart like a book to read. At the press of just a single finger at your entrance, your eyes shut as you struggled to breathe.
The intrusion was nothing like you’d felt– not for a long time, at least. His hands were bigger than yours, fingers longer, wider– just one of his digits was enough to want to wriggle out of his grasp.
“You were right.” Dr. Barnes was speaking more to himself than he was to you, awe laced behind his words. “You’re very tight. Something like that wouldn’t have fit in you right away– especially not with the way your body is all wrought up with nerves. You’re squeezing me right now. Almost can’t even get out.”
It didn’t sound like he wanted to leave you, from the breathless whisper of his monologue. He continued rocking just the single finger back and forth, attempting to ease you from within.
Your heartbeat thudded between your ears, and you were certain that he could feel it between your legs. “Dr. Barnes,” you forced out. “Is this really alright?”
A soft hum was his response. It was thoughtful, letting you know he was buried deep in his head just as you were– spurred on by the arousal that he was pulling forth from you.
“This is just a standard procedure,” he said softly, though his voice lacked the same conviction of the medical professional you had once heard. “You’re doing perfect– absolutely perfect.”
The probing of a second finger caught your attention, and your body locked up without meaning to. Just the single length of him was more than you were used to, but the introduction of another one? You weren’t certain that you would even be satisfied with yourself– you’d be chasing the feeling of him against you for a long time.
A soft curse exited his lips at the feeling of your walls clamping down around what was already inside of you. Your hips wriggled under his grasp, threatening to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you stray far. Not when his shining hand came to rest on your thigh, the shocking cold against your burning skin drawing out a gasp.
“Shh,” he hushed softly, watching the way your lips spread open for him even more, forcing itself to accommodate what he gave you. “You’re alright.”
Dr. Barnes’ eyes were locked in between your legs, watching the way that your pussy wrapped around his fingers, and swallowed him back in with each thrust he did. The hand at your thigh tightened with each passing second– his last attempt at grounding himself as he worked his way into you, preparing you for the medical tool.
The tool.
You had to remind yourself that this was all it was– a simple examination, something to help fit that monstrous thing inside of you, but you were failing at maintaining the same level of respect that he had for his job. Noises were bubbling in the back of your throat, aching to come forth with each movement– your body desperately wanting him to know how he was making you feel.
Not that you needed to tell him. Your cunt soaked his fingers, with the wet squelching noise of yourself hitting your ears every few seconds. Yet, it was still difficult to keep your arousal to yourself when he was spreading his fingers within you, mimicking scissoring motions that your tight hole protested against.
“The speculum will do this,” he murmured in explanation, but his voice was lower. A bit huskier. He wasn’t even hiding it anymore. “How are you doing?”
“I–” You cut yourself off, needing to force air into your lungs otherwise your voice would betray your words. “I’m okay.”
Dr. Barnes’ eyes shot up at you. “Just okay?”
You couldn’t answer him. Not right away. Not when he delved his fingers all the way inside of you– down to his knuckles, then pulled all the way back out until just the tips were left.
“Good,” you choked out. “I’m doing good.”
A satisfied noise escaped him. “Good,” he repeated– almost… mockingly. You’d be lying if you said it did nothing to you.
His examination remained slow, steady, spearing you open and pulling you towards him. Every thrust felt less of an examination, and more of the touch of a lover that had been waiting his entire life to finally explore you– to map out your body and burn it into his memory.
You couldn’t help the moan that ripped from your throat as his fingers crooked upwards, brushing against that soft, spongy part of yourself that you hadn’t managed to reach before.
Everything stopped. Your breathing. His fingers. Your heart.
“Dr. Barnes,” you whispered, voice wrecked. His eyes flickered up to you, meeting your weak gaze as you swallowed thickly. “I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to–”
His efforts were renewed, though different.
You were no longer just a case to get through, a medical chart to fill out at the end of the day. He had a mission, thumb pressed up against your clit as you were brought to a devious pace– one that you weren’t prepared for.
“Dr. Barnes–!” you whined, reaching between your legs to grab at his forearm as his hand sped up, bringing you to the brink of your pleasure.
His metal hand clamped over your mouth, concealing the noises that you no longer can hold in your chest. If it weren’t for him standing directly between your legs, you were certain that you would’ve closed his hand around your thighs– the building ache inside you almost too heavy to bear.
“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispered, the praise making you shiver with delight, shoving you up and over the cliff that you were teetering on. “So good– you’re… God, you’re sent from heaven to kill me, aren’t you?”
You couldn’t respond to him even if you wanted to.
Not that he wanted to necessarily hear you talk. The only response he craved from you was the sound of you shattering at his touch, making a mess of his fingers to leave him desiring for more.
It didn’t take you long to deliver his gift, thankful for the hand that covered your mouth– anyone passing by in the hall just outside the door would be able to hear you cry for him. You wondered if they would be able to imagine what was going on inside– his fingers buried deep into you while you collapsed onto the examination bed.
His fingers left you slowly with you whimpering into his palm at the loss of him. Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you could see it– the sight of your doctor licking his fingers clean before washing his hands with soap and water to be able to handle the speculum without any contamination.
“Are you feeling relaxed now?” Dr. Barnes asked you.
You’re delirious, panting, and boneless. Perfectly sated and able to take whatever else he gave you. You could only give him a brief nod before he was standing between your legs once more.
A call from your doctors’ office had you rushing straight after work. Your lab results had come back, and you were requested to come in person as soon as possible for an urgent appointment with your primary care physician.
You never considered yourself a hypochondriac, but the fact that the receptionists refused to give you any details was enough to send you into a downward spiral for the remainder of your work day. You could hardly even keep your nerves to yourself, leg bouncing up and down at a rapid speed.
Then again, it wasn’t just the phone call that made you nervous to be back so soon. Barely a week ago, you were here, indulging in acts of sin with the man of your desires.
When you were called back, you felt as though you’d left your consciousness in the waiting room. Your feet moved on autopilot through the hallways as your mind tried to block out the memories that kept you awake at night.
The room you were shown to was unlike the previous that you had been in. No, this room was filled to the brim with different medical textbooks on the shelves, a plethora of awards and certificates hanging off the walls to show expertise, and he was here.
Dr. Barnes stood from behind the mahogany desk, giving you a polite smile as he gestured for you to take a seat right in front of him, where there was already a chair conveniently placed for you.
Your name exited his lips in a breathless way. “How are you doing?”
“Still nervous for the doctor, I think,” you tried joking.
It landed for whatever reason, causing the man before you to chuckle deeply as he shifted to grab some tools– the regular devices that were used for your vitals. Things that he didn’t need to do with an entire staff of people under his belt, but you weren’t complaining. Not when he stood close to you, hands touching you once again, along with the heady scent of him invading your nostrils.
When he finally finished recording all the numbers down, you found your voice again.
“Is there something wrong with the lab results? The girls on the phone wouldn’t discuss it with me.”
“Ah…” Dr. Barnes released a sigh, and gave you a helpless smile– as if he understood where your anxiety was coming from. “Forgive me. It’s for security reasons, and because the receptionists aren’t able to give you your results over the phone. Either way, I find that it’s better to have discussions face to face… Don’t you agree?”
“So… something is wrong?”
He laughed slightly, and shook his head. “No. Nothing is wrong. You’re perfectly healthy. Well, other than the migraines that you suffer from.”
Relief filled you as you sighed, and you sagged in the chair at his reassurance. “That’s great— but… what’s going on?”
Your doctor’s smile widened a bit more. “That’s what I wanted to discuss with you. Based on your lab results, I think that you would be a perfect fit for a medication trial that I am working on. It’s a new drug, meant to combat migraines. I thought of you– wondered if you were interested in ditching the holistic approach of care that Dr. Raynor set for you.”
There’s that word again– perfect. He said it so many times the other day, that you can’t help but straighten when his voice hits you, almost as if there was pride coursing through your veins from how you managed to impress him.
You cleared your throat, trying to conceal the nerves that you were certain he already could see. “I only did a pap smear… How is that enough to let you know that I’m a good match?”
“Well, it’s also based on my own personal recordings of your physical condition and mental wellbeing. I have assessed you to be at the prime health to undergo the medication trials,” he dismissed with a slight shrug. “I can go through the logistics with you, if you’d like. I do have to warn you, it’s a lengthy and wordy process of medical terminology that I would rather spare you and me the boredom of.”
Dr. Barnes sounded so sure of himself, but there was still hesitation gripping at you from the back of your mind. He must’ve seen it, and reached for the drawer underneath his desk.
“I can give you the other lab reports that I have worked on,” he spoke, pulling it open to rifle through his file, “Along with case studies that I have done, other medication trials that I’ve been part of–”
“No, no. I trust you,” you cut him off quickly, watching as his eyes slid back towards your figure. You swallowed, and busied yourself with taking another glance around his office– at the prestige this man had in the medical industry. You were in safe hands. “Are you sure that I’m a good candidate for your research?”
“Of course.” A smile was firmly placed on his face, though he seemed more relaxed now. He reached for a manila folder on his desk, pulling out a packet that made your mind break for a second. “If you’re certain, then I need you to sign this waiver. It’s nothing concerning, just liability that you’re aware that this medication is still in development and could have potential side effects such as nausea, vertigo, etcetera. The normal things to look out for. If you do get any side effects, it’s best to reach out to me as soon as possible for recording and to ensure that you’re alright.”
Dr. Barnes is quick as he goes through each page, skimming his pen through the paragraphs as he spoke. When he got to the last page, he offered you his pen, fingers brushing against yours. It was a miracle that your signature came out normal with the way that your hand trembled– not from nervousness or skepticism, but just from the brief touch.
Jesus.
The packet is whisked away from your grasp within moments of signing, and replaced with a bottle of unmarked pills.
“Take two twice a day– once in the morning after breakfast, and once after dinner,” he instructed. “Record any symptoms or any abnormalities, keep an eye on your migraines– anything that you think could be noteworthy, go ahead and jot down for me.”
You nod along to his words, taking the bottle in your hands and turning it over to look at the pills a little more closely through the opaque plastic. It looks standard. They were simple white pills, a decent size– you wouldn’t have any difficulty swallowing two of them in one go.
“Ah!” he exclaimed, forcing you to look back at him again. “This is a paid medication trial, by the way. You will be compensated for your time and efforts.”
“That’s good to know.” You smiled at him. “Thank you.”
Dr. Barnes shook his head, returning your grin. “No, thank you.”
Lava licked throughout your veins. No– lava would have been cool to the touch compared to whatever was underneath your skin, lighting you from within.
It wasn’t this bad at first. The first dose had you feeling a little tingly, but subsided within a few hours. You figured it was the medication being introduced to your system, trying to make sense of the new chemicals that were introduced to your body.
The second and third dose had you running the air conditioner in your home at full blast, desperate to escape the warmth that burned throughout your entire body. It only got worse from there.
Attempting to work through the pain only made things worse. You excused yourself multiple times from your desk when it became evident what this heat was, dipping into the staff bathroom to hike your skirt up and rub hurried circles into your throbbing clit.
After lunch, you requested to go home, unable to complete your tasks. Your boss was understanding, and told you to stay away from the office for as long as your fever symptoms persisted.
Desperation built thickly within you.
No amount of ice cold showers could save you here. The roasting blood coursing throughout your entire being, filling you with an ache that refused to be sated on your own. Your vibrator had died, your fingers were cramped, aching– and no matter how deep or how many fingers you shoved into your throbbing cunt, there was no release in sight.
When the eleventh and twelfth pill slid down your throat, you broke.
All you wanted was to help him– help your fucking doctor with this medication trial– to do something for him after he had helped you. You couldn’t take it anymore, not with whatever change was happening within your body, wrecking you from the inside out.
You barely could keep it together for a few moments, entire body trembling as you finally pulled up the messaging system on your patient portal. Failure and pain rushed through as the message was finally sent over to Dr. Barnes– telling him that you couldn’t proceed with the medication trial. That there was something seriously wrong, and you needed help.
Dr. Barnes read your message within just a few minutes. Your phone lit up beside you in succession with an unknown number– but the desire within you told you who was on the other end.
“What the fuck is this?” A broken sob wrecked throughout your body. You couldn’t even hear whatever greeting that he had attempted to give you as you continued to cry, “I can’t– I can’t do this anymore, Dr. Barnes. I’m one second away from ripping off my skin to escape whatever this–”
“I’m coming over to your place now.”
Your chest rose and fell unevenly as you attempted to make sense of the words that you were hearing. “What?” you whispered. “How do you have my address?”
A soft rumble of laughter was his reply– but it wasn’t because he thought the situation was something funny. No, the sound of his laughter was low, teasing, mocking similar to the way he had parroted your words not too long ago at his place of work.
“Sweetheart,” he cooed softly, teasingly. “I have all your information at the tip of my fingertips. Of course I know where you live. Keep the door unlocked for me.”
The line disconnected without another moment to waste, almost as if he couldn’t get to you soon enough. His words still made no sense to you– neither did the tone of his voice. All you could do was to force yourself to your feet, using the walls for leverage as you weakly stumbled yourself to the door.
The insufferable ache continued, growing heavier within your stomach as you collapsed back into your bed. Despite the cold shower you’d just taken, your skin was slick with sweat, your entire body trembling as your fingers made the same downward descent that you knew wouldn’t do much.
The cry that came from your lips wasn’t out of pleasure– it was pain. No matter how many times you ended up like this, it did little to quell the monster that tortured you from within.
You didn’t even hear him. You couldn’t register the soft sound of the door clicking open and shut, nor were you able to focus on the thudding footsteps that came your way.
He pushed the door open, landing on the sight before him. You, on your back, whimpering out for some sort of release that he knew you wouldn’t be able to give yourself. You were grasping at straws– which was everything he had planned and more.
“Oh– look at you. You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would. Should I praise you? You seem to like it when I do.”
His voice, his presence– you didn’t even feel an ounce of embarrassment as he stood there, watching you with darker, hungrier eyes than you had ever seen before. You didn’t care– your body thrummed with something heavy.
“Dr. Barnes.” Your voice cracked as it exited your lips, pleading for him to do something.
A hum escaped him. One of complete understanding. He stepped closer, and you could feel the weight of his eyes dragging all over your figure. The bed dipped where he kneeled beside you, and he reached.
A firm, gentle grasp closed around your wrist, tugging your hand from between your legs. Whimpers escaped you as you weakly fought against his grasp– his hold. But you couldn’t do anything against him. You were still pliant under his touch, allowing him to shift until he kneeled between your legs.
“Just to think… You were telling me that you couldn’t even fit two fingers in yourself,” he tutted. “Tell me– how many could you fit during these last three days?”
“Not enough,” you babbled. “Please– what’s going on? Why is this happening? Is this a side effect–”
Dr. Barnes released a chuckle. He tilted his head at you, a slow smile spreading over his lips. “You really should’ve taken a closer look at that contract, pretty girl,” he whispered to you. If it weren’t for the fact that your body was on fire, that every part of you was so sensitive, you would’ve missed his words. “But don’t worry about any of that right now. I’ll take good care of you. You said it yourself– you trust me, right?”
You were delirious. None of it made sense, but the thought of being able to get rid of whatever was happening to you was more important. You nodded your head violently, a shaking breath falling from your lips.
“Yes, yes– please– just make this stop.”
“I will.” Dr. Barnes stroked your hair, in what you thought was comfort. “But not yet. I want to see exactly what you’ve been doing these last three days to try to fix this for yourself.”
A sob wrecked through your body. “Doctor–”
He cut off your protest before it could even start with a sharp intake of his breath. “Do you want me to leave you like this?”
Panic flooded through you. He noticed it, and wordlessly let go of your hands. You could feel the embarrassment burning through you, but the ache hurt more.
You were shivering. Not because you were cold. But with his eyes locked on you, the way that your fingers moved in and out of yourself– trying to mimic the same movements that he had done for you in the examination room.
And he noticed.
A dark chuckle reached your ears. “Poor thing. You’ve been thinking about me while you’re all helpless like this?”
“Dr. Barnes…”
“We’re not at the office. Call me Bucky.” If this were a different time, a different situation, then maybe your heart would’ve leapt out of your chest. Maybe you would have hesitated. But not now, not when you had him right in front of you, watching as he palmed himself slowly at the sight of your own fingers stuffed into your soaked cunt.
“It’s not enough,” you cried to him, tears falling down the sides of your face. “Bucky, please!”
“You’re doing so good for me though,” he praised, resting his metal hand on your thigh. You jumped at his touch, which only made his eyes darken more. “Must feel so good, huh?
You shook your head. “No, no, no. It’s not– It hurts.”
Pity must have settled into his bones from the pretty whimpers that fell from your lips. The needy, glassy look in your eyes that only he knew how to take care of. It drove him wild– you. The thought of you. The sight of you, legs spread before him, desperately rutting into your own hand.
Your hands are being swatted away. Before you can start to beg him to let you continue, to keep touching yourself, his mouth is on you, groaning at the taste as his tongue laps up the arousal that leaked out of you.
“You taste so good,” he moaned against you, the vibrations only making you gasp out his name. He smirked against you, “Tasted so good at the office, had to have another taste or else I’d go insane. Knew you would be perfect for this, perfect for me.”
You didn’t have a chance to figure out the meaning behind his words– didn’t quite understand the possessiveness that he gripped you with as he kept your shaking thighs from clasping around his head. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to stop, that his tongue was the first taste of heaven that you had gotten in the past seventy-two hours.
“C’mon, baby. Give it to me– let me taste all of you,” he urged, fingers digging into the supple flesh of your muscles.
If Bucky had issues with you grinding on his face, he didn’t voice it out loud. His efforts only renewed, taking you higher and higher until you shattered beneath him. You tugged on his hair, gasping out his name through broken moans, dirtying the dark brown locks with your arousal covered fingers.
He lifted his head, panting slightly, but no less entranced by you. You watched as he licked at his lips, savoring the remnants that you left all over his face, and kept his eyes glued on the way your chest rose and fell rapidly.
The relief was short lasting, only subsiding for just a few moments before you were reaching for him again, tugging him up your body before he could say another word.
You met his lips in a desperate kiss, tasting yourself as you licked up into his mouth. Teeth hit teeth as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him to blanket your body– to feel the warmth of him against your heated skin. Even just the flavor of his saliva was granting you some sort of medicine against the pain you were feeling, bringing you back to Earth slowly.
Your hands roamed, yanking on the buttons of his shirt, popping a couple of them off of his body from sheer desperation alone. You wanted it gone, wanted to feel his skin directly against yours. You couldn’t stand the thought of a barrier between the two of you.
His hands gripped at your wrists, trapping them right beside your head.
“You don’t know patience, sweetheart?” he whispered against your lips, the tone mocking– he was enjoying this. He took pleasure in your pain, in the desperation, in watching you struggle so deeply for some sort of solace against whatever was haunting you.
“I can’t wait.” Your breaths mingled together, and you tried to chase his lips as he pulled away from you. “Bucky, please, I need you–”
“Have you eaten anything?” he cut you off, hovering above you.
Confusion filled you, only worsening the ache that you felt. “Wh… What?”
“Before taking the pills, did you eat?” he repeated, tilting his head at you. The questions were clinical, but his lilt of his voice was anything but. Bucky was making fun of you– teasing you– mocking you for the state that you were in. “What about sleep? Getting eight hours of rest since the start of the medication trial started? Has your water intake been decent?”
“You… You said I’m healthy.” You swallowed thickly, still struggling to breathe against the burning weight in your chest. “This isn’t my fault– I followed your directions. The… the instructions.”
“Obviously you did something wrong,” he chuckled, shaking his head slowly. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be begging for your doctor’s cock, now would you?”
Bucky wanted to take a picture of you, trapped beneath him. Teary eyed, still not fully understanding the situation that you were in. It was almost adorable to see you like this, so unguarded and free– unlike the times in the office when you were so shy, unable to meet his eyes. Right now, he could see everything in your hazy eyes.
“You said you would take care of me.”
“Oh, I will,” Bucky cooed at you. He released one of your wrists in favor of cupping your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek almost lovingly. “You just need to be a bit smarter than this, sweetheart.”
The nickname came out condescending. Like he was trying to talk down to a child that didn’t know her place in the world– that had rebelled against what he wanted.
“I’ll be better.” The promise came out in a soft whimper as fresh tears began to build in your eyes.
Bucky almost felt bad at your current state. Absolutely destroyed, unable to rely on anyone but him. Then again, this is exactly what he wanted. To corner you into the wall like a spider catching its final meal... This was right where he wanted you.
“You will? Not gonna let anyone else be your doctor?” he raised an eyebrow at you. “Won’t let anyone else take care of you. Will you let just anyone give you some unmarked drugs and call it a day?”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, but it didn’t make sense. Either way, you wanted to give him what he wanted– it was the only way that you could get what you wanted, after all.
“No.” You shook your head. “Just you– only you– God, I only want you.”
“Perfect,” Bucky murmured. His lips twitched upwards in a slow smile as he stared down at you. “That’s a good girl.”
He released you fully, but not to torture you. To undress, removing the last bits of clothing that you had already attempted to claw off of his body. Once he was left bare in front of you, he reached for your shirt, pulling away the last wall that stood between the two of you.
Your eyes trailed all over him– the tanned skin, muscles rippling and straining to continue to hold himself back from whatever he wanted to do to you. His dick stood tall, resting up against his abdomen and leaking precum as he kneeled before you. You practically salivated at the visual of him– Bucky stroking the long length of him as he watched you the same way you were watching him.
He parted your folds with his cock, not entering, just pressing himself against you. A shared moan ripped through the air at an experimental roll of his hips, and he watched as he coated himself with the juices that he had just spent his time savoring.
The blunt head of his tip lined up with your throbbing pussy– and you were hit with a single moment of clarity. Your hands rested on his chest, nails digging into his muscle.
“Condom?” you forced out quickly while you still had your mind.
Bucky’s eyes rolled. Not from pleasure. From irritation.
“You said you weren’t sure if you were allergic to latex,” he reminded you with a click of his tongue. “Better to be safe than sorry, pretty thing. Don’t want you to have an allergic reaction.”
Before you could get another word in, he was pushing within you, sinking his cock into the wet folds of your pussy. Bucky sucked in a deep breath, hissing at the feel of your walls spreading open for him.
“Fuck, sweetheart– still so tight,” he gritted out, hands gripping at your thighs to push your legs up and out of his way. “Gave you three days to stretch yourself for me– to fuck yourself open for me– and this is the best you could do?”
“‘M sorry,” you sobbed, walls fluttering around him, trying to suck him in deeper to you. Every moment he spent stretching you was just another moment that you were close to snuffing out the fire. A gasp pulled from your throat as the feeling of him bottoming out– hips flushed right against yours and stuffing you impossibly full.
“You will be,” he muttered, pulling back out just enough to leave the tip of him within you, only to sink right back in.
You couldn’t hold back the moans that came from you. You could feel every vein, every ridge and pulse of his cock inside of you. The drag was delicious, every single thrust granting you solace against the war raging deep in your bones.
“It took you so long to contact me,” he bit out, his hands roaming all over you. You could only whimper at the feeling of his metal hand against you, cooling down your skin ever so slightly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
He rolled your hard nipples between his fingers, thrusts never letting up. If anything, you could feel him hitting you deeper. This wasn't just sex. It was a punishment. He wanted you to know exactly how irritating you were to him, how you had never left his mind, how he had to go through such lengths to even have you. To him, you were insufferable.
“Told you to tell me if you felt any side effects,” he continued with a huff. “And yet here you were– suffering. Maybe I should just leave you here like this– make you realize how important it is to follow your doctor’s instructions.”
“No!” you cried, crescent marks forming against his skin from where you held his arms. “You can’t– It hurts so bad, I keep cumming by myself– it’s not enough–”
“Oh, sweetheart, it won’t matter how many times you cum.” Bucky chuckled, tugging onto the stiff peaks of your breasts to pull out another moan. “If I don’t cum in you, you won’t ever feel relief again– I could always just pull out, waste my load on your chest, and walk right out of here– leave you here to scoop it all up and try to weakly shove it back into your pussy.”
Bucky could only grin a bit wider at the panicked expression on your face– the thought that he might actually leave you here to deal with this on your own was enough to make tears trail down your face. If this made you cry, Bucky might even do what he said, except he would stay to watch you do exactly as he voiced. He wanted to see it– see how far you would break for him.
“Do you think you deserve my cum?” Bucky’s hips stilled, and his hands left your chest. You gasped, trying to wiggle your hips– to rock up against him, only for him to press you back down into the mattress to keep you from moving. “After all– you can’t follow some simple orders from your doctor– the person that’s supposed to help you when you’re sick like this.”
“I’m sorry– I’m so sorry.” You weren’t able to stay anything else, not when he had you right where he wanted you. “I’ll be good– I can.. I can follow directions.”
Bucky clicked his tongue in disapproval. “See, look at you. We could’ve avoided all of this.”
“Please.” Your voice cracked as you begged, “I need it– need you to cum in me– I might die if you don’t–”
“Oh, you won’t die.” He rolled his eyes at your dramatics. “I’m too good of a doctor to let my favorite patient die from lack of cock.”
You were grasping at straws, wanting nothing more than to feel him start rocking back and forth inside of you. The feeling of him within you, unmoving, was almost as painful as him not doing anything at all. And you knew he felt you– you could hear the hitch of his breath as your cunt fluttered around him desperately.
“Don’t– Don’t I feel good?” you whimpered, clenching around him to try to get some sort of stimulation. Then, you saw it– the crack in his face. “You– God, don’t I feel so good wrapped around you? You can’t… You can’t pull out.”
Bucky wet his lips at your words, watching you beg him. It didn’t help that you were right. He spent an ungodly amount of time fantasizing about you since the moment you stepped into his office– since he was surrounded by the scent of your perfume, since he felt the smoothness of your skin beneath his rough and callused palms.
“That's why you chose me, right?” you continued, snapping him out of his daze. “You wanna cum in me– wanna fill me up– you chose me because you wanted me right?”
“Sweetheart, you don’t know how bad I’ve wanted you,” he groaned, eyes falling shut at the feeling of you clamping around over him once again. “Since the first appointment– fuck– and you’re everything I knew you would be.”
“There’s no one else that’s good enough,” you whined, still losing your mind. “You… Fuck, tell me that it’s just me– tell me I’m the only one that you’ve given this medication to– I can’t stand the thought of you helping your other patients–”
His hips snapping back into yours cut you off, a high moan cutting through the air mixed with his breathless laugh.
You were jealous. Jealous of the thought he could have someone else in this exact position, jealous that there could be anyone else out there that grabbed his attention.
If only you knew- you started this. Right when you asked to see a specialist, insinuating that he wasn't good enough to handle you. It pissed him off, but here you were- sobbing to him.
Bucky supposed he could release some of the tension you were feeling- to comfort his stupid little patient who still didn't know what kind of trap she had gotten herself into.
“‘Course you are, sweetheart.” Bucky leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. His words were coated with honey and sugar, contrasting with the tight grip he had on your body. “Like I said– you’re my favorite patient. Only one I want like this… beneath me, needy, begging– you’re the only one good enough for my cock.”
The comfort you felt should’ve been deadly. Should’ve scared you, but you couldn’t focus on it or his words– not when he was finally fucking you the way that you wanted. With his hands on your hips, he pulled you back into him, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“I’ll give it to you,” he grunted. He watched as your eyes turned clouded, body nearly overcome with the pleasure he was granting you. “You reminded me how good you can be– you take everything I give you without complaining, let me touch these pretty tits without telling anyone–”
“And I won’t– I won’t tell anyone,” you interjected, voice airy as you moaned. “Don’t want you to get in trouble.”
“Well aren’t you the sweetest thing?” Bucky scoffed at you, laughter rumbling from his chest once again. “No one would believe you either way– just like no one would believe you if you told them your doctor drugged you so he could fuck you like this.”
The realization washed over you, gripping into the last bits of sanity that was left in your mind as you struggled to look at him. Bucky continued to fuck into you, balls slapping against you with each thrust.
He watched as everything dawned onto you– him telling you that you should’ve read the packet, should’ve been smarter, should’ve asked more questions– you were adorable, putting the pieces of the puzzle back together in the midst of your scrambled brain. But he didn't want you like this.
No, he wanted you to go glassy eyed and wordless. Whatever thoughts you had were irrelevant to what he wanted.
“Oh, you stupid, stupid girl,” Bucky laughed, fingers biting tighter into your skin hard enough to leave bruises that you would admire for a while. Of course, he would be there to monitor the contusions. He'd ensure that your healing process would go smoothly, just so he could paint your skin with his marks once more. “You really should read the fine print before you sign anything.”
“You said it was for migraines,” you choked out, still being brought closer and closer to your high with each passing moment.
His grin was devastating. “You haven’t had any headaches these past three days, right?” Bucky’s hand splayed across your abdomen, thumb rubbing tight circles into your clit, watching as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “How could you, after all? You’re so horny, you can’t even think straight.”
You couldn’t come out with a response right away– not when you were creaming all over his cock. His hips stuttered against yours as your pussy tightened around him, fluttering and wanting to milk him of everything that he was worth.
“Dr. Barnes– Bucky– fuck– don’t care about it right now– need you to cum,” you cried out. You readjusted, gripping onto his shoulders, nails dragging down the front of his chest and leaving red, angry marks against his skin. “You gotta fill me up– gotta have you cum in me so deep–”
Your name fell from his lips in a loud moan, thrusts growing wilder, no longer following any sort of pace or rhythm as he used your body to get off.
“So, so perfect. Gonna fill up this pretty cunt, make it all mine. You won’t ever be able to find anyone that fucks you as good as I do,” he whispered, metal hand wrapping around your throat– not hard enough to choke, but just enough to grab your attention. You watched as he came apart, cock pulsating deep within you. The warmth of him filling you up took over, crashing through your body like a tsunami as the fire in your blood was quelled.
Bucky could hardly catch himself over your body, collapsing over you with deep pants into the crook of your neck.
With your heart beating out of your chest, your mind slowly began to clear. You could feel his fingers at your hips, rubbing small, comforting circles into the marks he left behind. Slowly, the two of you caught your breath until there was nothing but silence that stretched over the two of you.
Beneath him, you shivered at the feeling of him slowly pulling out, his load dripping outside of you and spilling onto the sheets below you. You sucked in a breath, fingers twitching at his shoulders.
“Do I need to make another appointment?” you whispered, voice hoarse from pleasure. Your hands traveled until your arms were wrapped around his neck, tugging him closer. “Or do I need to take more of these fucked drugs for you to come see me again?”
Bucky hummed softly, as if he was contemplating how he wanted to answer. You didn’t need him to– not when you could feel his smile pressing against your skin.
🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️I GET WET AT THE THOUGHT OF YOU🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️TEARS RUN DOWN MY THIGHS🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️
tldr;; mechanic!bucky is such a perve when it comes to clueless!reader
(warnings: pervy thoughts/actions, reader could be read as petite but it do be from bucky's pov and that man is massive so... take it as you will, bucky lowkey is a little misoginystic, please don't accept a man who thinks about you this way in real life! unedited because i'm lazy and this was not meant to be so long)
thinking about mechanic!bucky who is too busy trying to sneak a peak up your skirt to properly fix your car. he's a goner from the first time he meets you. a familiar ferrari rolling into the garage, vintage and so red it offends the eyes.
eyes which bucky rolls immediately, because he knows this car and, more importantly, he knows the owner of this car. an older gentleman, with an attitude problem, a rotation of rolexes, and more money to his name than the entire state of new york combined. so, when the door slips open slowly with hesitance, none of that self-assured swing of a man who could not care less if he slams it against something, bucky pauses in his steps.
then out comes you. pretty as a doe, and just as helpless, staining the red bottoms of your heels on oil-slicked floors. naturally, bucky assumes you're the wife, or mistress, of his least favourite client. you look every part the kind of woman a man with money expects to fall at his feet: sharp nails, sparkling lips, mouthwatering legs, all wrapped up in the kind of flouncy skirt that screams 'tennis at 3'.
“is bucky working today?” your voice is the kind of gentle that could haunt a man like bucky, and you’re utterly unaware of it, pushing your sunglasses up your head and flashing him a smile.
“yeah,” he nods, wiping a rag over his hands. the action is pointless: black smudges his skin so deeply, it’s practically tattooed.
head turning slowly to inspect the empty garage, your eyes land back on him with a question, “would you mind fetching him from the back office?”
“we can head into the back office and look for 'im together if you want, doll,” and maybe if he smiles innocently enough, you won't feel the weight of his eyes trailing over every edge and curve of your body. “but you're lookin' at 'im.”
your nose scrunches up, and bucky swears he feels his cock twitch beneath his navy-blue coveralls.
“‘your name tag says james.”
“‘s a formality,” he grows closer, shoving the rag into his back pocket. “everybody just calls me bucky.”
“oh,” a giggle bubbles up your throat, shaking both your shoulders and your tits. it’s as sweet on the ears as you are on the eyes, and suddenly he wonders if it’s a mirror of your moans: soft, teasing, coated in something a little too shy. or are you the kind that screams and shrieks so loud, he’d have to smother a hand over your mouth just to keep the neighbours from knocking? “sorry about that. i didn’t think you would look so...”
he bites back a wolfish grin, replaces it with a stoic line along his lips and delights in the way you shift weight between feet — nothing but a nervous tick, yet bucky can’t help but picture the subtle graze of your thighs pressing against a clothed cunt. does it feel good? bucky could make you feel better.
“so what?” he crosses his arms over his chest, making sure to flex his biceps. if he’s stuck wearing a grubby white tank, day-in and day-out, he may as well take advantage of how exposed it leaves that part of him.
“young!” you spit out so fast, he can’t help but think there’s more you’re not saying. pretty little rich girl like you, you’re probably used to having guys fall at your feet. hell, sit back and spread those legs, and bucky might just fall down too. “my dad always talks about you like you’re a grumpy old man.”
oh.
bucky feels his spine straighten.
oh.
not the wife, but the daughter.
now he’s certain of the twitch between his thighs, like a dormant beast long-last awakened at the smell of a sacrificial lamb. give him the chance snd he’ll gladly make an offering out of you.
“ain’t got all day, princess,” he likes the way you jump at his tone, a little rougher around the edges than it needs to be. maybe your hands could soften him out. he’s willing to test the theory if you are. “you wanna tell me what you were needin’ me for?”
“the engine’s been making a weird noise all morning,” pearly whites press down into your lower lip, accentuating the inviting shape of it as you slowly roll it out from beneath your bite. “at least i think it’s the engine...”
aw, you’re so clueless, bucky might cum.
“well, let’s open ‘er up and take a look under the hood.”
you stare at him.
you blink.
and then you nervously laugh.
“you don’t know how to pop the hood, do ya?” you shake your head and bucky feels a world of opportunities open up right before him. “come ‘ere, lemme show you.”
you’re skittish like a puppy, quick to run when he calls you to heel. one hand perched on the driver’s door, he welcomes you into the space between him and the car — if the door is half-open and the space is a little more cramped than necessary, you don’t mention it. you just glance over your shoulder with eyes awaiting to obey his next command. and, oh, the things he wants to tell you to do...
for now, he settle for a simple finger pointing down at the hood’s lever, “give that a little squeeze for me, would ya?”
you reach down, legs brushing back against his own, and gift him the most beautiful view. one shift of your hips to the right, and you’ll be pressing right back against his cock. he’s tempted to reach out and move you, but it’s too late: the hood pops open and you let out a shocked squeal. what else makes you squeal?
one glance down at the car’s insides — in which he fights off every thought of your insides — and bucky has easily assessed the damage.
“the coolant’s fucked,” you meet his words with a pleading look — the kind that makes him want to put a hand on your shoulder and lower you onto your knees to get a better look at you, a better view of you. he sighs with fake impatience, more than happy to see you fall into the trap he’s laid. “get over ‘ere, gonna teach you a lesson.”
you practically sprint to his side, eager little bunny hopping right into the pointy teeth of a wolf.
“‘kay, now, you see that?” he points mindlessly at the car, fighting off a smirk when you struggle to pinpoint what he wants your attention on. he tuts, like you’re inconveniencing him with your foolish ways, the perfect segue to ghosting a hand over your shoulders and guiding the upper half of your body into lowering itself over the hood. “need to look real close, girl. there, right next to the radiator.”
you turn your head back at him, and it takes every inch of self-control to not grab a fistful of your hair and test just how deep you can arch that spine. “radiator?”
“yeah, princess, they ain’t just for heatin’ up daddy’s penthouse apartment,” suddenly, his mind is flooded with images of you, 50 floors between your feet and the sidewalk, naked as sin and pressed helplessly against a floor-length window, drooling against the glass while he fucks you so full of cum it’s spilling down your thighs and-
“so, it heats up the car?” you ask it so innocently, he almost regrets thinking about how, if you bend over a little more, your skirt will ride up and grant him the view of whatever designer panties you cage your cunt away from the world with.
“opposite,” he returns to the matters at hand. by which, of course, i mean his hands suddenly fulfil their desire to feel how soft your tennis attire is, palm splaying over your lower spine and dipping your body down while he points with purpose this time. “cools it down, using special liquid. but your reservoir’s all out o’ juice, gonna have to fill her up. gotta treat your car like you’d treat your woman: keep her nice and lubricated, else she ain’t gonna be makin’ the noises you wanna be hearin’.”
“oh,” you shift and a flash of white lace winks at him from between your thighs. “so, you can just give me some of that special liquid and i can go?”
oh, darling, if bucky gets the chance to give you his special liquid, there’s no chance in hell he’s letting you go.
“‘fraid not,” bucky delights in the dissapointment that overcomes you. in fact, he wants to see that same pout creep onto your face while he denies your orgasm for the millionth time, followed up with a sob of his name to remind yourself of who exactly is making you feel so good. “she’s a vintage model, a rare breed. can’t be givin’ her any old coolant.”
you’re a rare kind, one that bucky is willing to bet his entire measly life-savings on having only ever felt the touch of affluent boys with twigs between their thighs and a pervasive avoidance of drowning their faces in the sticky goodness of a drooling pussy. the kind that needs to step outside her tax-bracket and get a taste of a real man.
he’s starting to understand why billy joel was so fixated on his uptown girl.
“then what can we give her?” you're starting to speak his language. we, her, like your soft hands are going to fix the car up alongside his calloused ones. hell, bucky would gladly pay you to let him experience such a thing.
“somethin’ that’s as special as her,” his hand slips from your back and there he sees it: a smudge of oil, a marker of where his hand has been on you. something possessive and irrational curls over his heart, and shoots right down to his cock alongside the rest of his blood. hopefully whatever loser your daddy no doubt wants you to settle down with for a new slice of wealth gets a nice glimpse of bucky’s mark on you. “i gotta order it in though, i’m all out. but, tell you what, you leave me your number and i’ll call you once the order arrives.”
your eyes light up, “you’d really do that? promise!”
“scouts honour,” he nods. bucky was never a fucking scout. “won’t even charge you for materials, seein’ as you came all the way here today for nothin’.”
unlike your cunt, money is hardly tight on your end, but bucky likes the way his generosity makes your smile widen.
“thank you!” so, that makes you squeal too. noted. “god, i don’t know why my dad’s always complaining about you. you’re a sweetheart!”
“oh, i’m sure you’re sweeter.”
you’ve barely pulled out the lot before bucky finds himself in the back office, cock in his hand, the shade of your panties on his mind, and a whole row of special coolant containers rattling atop the shelf as he throws his head back in ecstasy.
+ extra hyde !
· disclaimer! i literally know nothing about cars, i had to google this shit. i did not come here to be accurate, i came here to cum.
· uh this came to me on a whim, i fear i may be ovulating <3
· pov me looking at mechanic!bucky's tits crammed inside his slutty little tank top
if the challengers college era was set in the modern day i just know that patrick would be one of those performative guys walking around campus with a matcha in hand, the ugliest pair of sunglasses on, a tote bag slung on his shoulder with his airpods playing bags by clairo
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