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𝒜𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑀𝑒
You can call me Rose, Rosey, or Rae. I am 21 years old as of October 31. I love writing but I do work a full time job at a cardiovascular clinic and am actively looking for a part time job as well so updates may be a bit slow.
My dog Milo is my best friend and my baby boy and apparently I’m obsessed with myself so I will be posting my photos every so often.
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Reblogs Yours Truly Free Scroll
𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒟𝑀𝓈
Closed currently - got held at gunpoint and am trying to relax and dealing with the investigation/case
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
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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.
warnings: 18+ NSFW, smut, friends with benefits, secret relationships, jealousy, blood and wounds, war, fluff, angst, light banter, mutual pining, slight chef!bob x reader moment, possessive sex, pussy pronouns, breeding kink
wordcount: 12.2k
a/n: based on this request. thank you sm for the suggestion because it helped me out of my slump. ohhh knight!bucky how i yearn for you
main masterlist
synopsis:
A maidservant’s only job is to tend to the princess's every whim. But despite the warnings of everyone around you, you can't help but fall for the one person you shouldn't, and that was the kingdom's trustiest knight and the princess’s sole protector—James Barnes.
Being the maidservant of a princess came with both its advantages and disadvantages.
You were constantly on your feet, up before the sun rose and down long after it set. Your body was in a permanent state of ache and strain from lifting heavy baskets of laundry up and down several flights of stairs, and your fingers were often raw from the needle poking through thick fabrics.
Princess Daphne always barked the wildest commands, keeping you and the other maidservants running around the palace to satisfy her every whim and desire.
It was hard, tedious work, but it gave you a roof over your head and a decent enough pay. And in this day and age, with the war against Sokovia, protection was the most important thing.
You could live in a beautiful home, but none of it mattered if Sokovian soldiers could barge past the kingdom gates at any moment with their weapons and horses at the ready.
With knights posted at every corner, the palace became your sanctuary.
There was one knight in particular who always seemed to linger near the maidservants’ chambers on the highest floor. A window sat right outside your room in the hallway, offering a clear view of the grounds where that same knight always stood on guard.
“James,” you greeted him with a sigh, still catching your breath from the long climb up the stairs.
He turned toward you, his usually tense, focused shoulders easing slightly at the sight of you.
A small, rare, and gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“You know—when it’s just me and you, you don’t have to call me James.”
A sheepish flush crept over your face as you approached him.
There was a true sense of family among the palace workers; the bond between the maidservants was like a sisterhood, and you were close with many of the chefs. Late at night, when the palace fell asleep, you and the other servants would gather at the kitchen tables to laugh and drink long past midnight.
The knights hardly ever got the time off or the leisure that you and the other maids enjoyed. But for Bucky, just seeing and talking to you was enough.
He stepped toward you, his heavy armor clinking with every movement. “Long day?”
“Mhm,” you mumbled tiredly.
Finally stripped away from the presence of royalty, you were free to speak as sluggishly and as improperly as you liked.
A soft exhale left Bucky’s nose. His right hand—flesh and human—came up to caress your cheek, while the other, metal and forged by the kingdom’s greatest blacksmith, cradled the other side of your face.
The touch was cold and made you shiver, but nonetheless, it was still Bucky.
Your Bucky.
“Sleepy girl,” he muttered, his thumb tracing your cheek as he stared down at you, strands of long, dark hair falling over his face. “You’ve been working so hard, haven’t you?”
A little whine left your mouth as you stepped closer into his space, letting yourself bask in his touch.
He chuckled softly, pulling you against his chest and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.
“I should let you retreat to your bedchambers,” he spoke quietly. “But I don’t want to let you go. I haven’t seen you all day. Is that selfish of me?”
“Very selfish of you, James.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
You smiled, tilting your head back against his chest to look him in the eye. “Oh—I apologize, Bucky.” You teased.
Bucky grinned, his hand trailing down to your chin and lifting it, presenting your lips to him—the prize he’d been seeking all day.
“That’s my girl,” he mumbled.
Just as he leaned in to find the salvation he’d been starving for, the door to your bedchamber swung open. Your roommate, Yelena, poked her head out and scrunched her nose in disgust.
“Ew,” she dragged out childishly. “Is this what you knights usually do on your time off? Stick your tongue down an unassuming maidservant’s throat?”
Your face burned with embarrassment as Bucky pulled away, glaring daggers in Yelena’s direction.
He clicked his tongue. “Unassuming,” he repeated in a grumble.
He looked back down at you with a soft, disappointed sigh.
“I shall let you rest.” Using his gloved hand, he brought your fingers to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your palm. “Goodnight, maiden.”
Bucky stepped aside as you retreated toward your bedchambers. Yelena held the door open with her body, arms folded tightly across her chest as she continued to glare him down.
“Yelena,” you hissed at her quietly as you slipped inside, “stop.”
After throwing one last look over her shoulder at Bucky, Yelena finally pulled the door closed. Inside, your roommates and fellow maidservants were already settled for the night, snug and comfortable on their cots.
Natasha was brushing out her hair, a knowing, teasing glint in her eyes. “Did you have fun with soldier boy out there?”
You gasped softly at her direct question. “N-Nat—!”
“You know, soldier boy didn’t even spare us a glance when we walked up the stairs,” Wanda added, swinging her feet over the edge of her bed as she stood up. “It’s as if the knight recognizes the sound of your footsteps by heart.”
All eyes were on you, and you wished the floor would simply open up and swallow you whole to save you from the relentless teasing.
“You ladies are unbelievable—”
“Am I the only one who doesn’t find this funny in the slightest?” Yelena barked, a disapproving look on her face. She glared harshly at Nat, then Wanda, and finally you. “If word gets out that a maidservant is having an affair with a knight—no, the Sergeant himself—we’re all ruined!”
You frowned, undoing the ties in your hair as you made your way to your side of the room.
“I wouldn’t call it an affair,” you explained. “We haven’t put a title on…” You swallowed hard, twisting the hair tie between your fingers, “…this arrangement.”
Yelena ran a hand down her face. “That’s even worse!”
“Yelena, calm down,” Natasha cut in, glancing at you from her bed. “But as harsh as she's being, she is right.”
You kept your head down, trying to appear fixated on the hair ties and pins scattered across your dresser. You knew they were right—that being in any kind of relationship with one of the kingdom’s knights was nothing but trouble.
Especially when the knight in question was Sergeant Barnes—the very man entrusted to watch over the princess.
“You are in love,” Wanda pointed out gently from across the room. “We can see that. But you have to believe us—we’re only looking out for you.” She approached you, setting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Falling in love with a knight will bring nothing but heartache.”
Words were just words until they were spoken by the right person. Yelena and Natasha could doubt you and Bucky all they wanted—but it was Wanda’s voice that truly made the realization sting.
Because Wanda was a maidservant who had fallen for a knight, just like you.
His name was Vision, and he had been felled in a battle against Sokovian soldiers. While they were deep in their secret affair, they had been told the same things over and over.
“You could get us all in trouble.”
“You’re only thinking for yourself.”
But before word could ever get out about Wanda and Vis, he passed away, leaving Wanda to grieve in total isolation.
She couldn’t even attend his funeral, and her name couldn’t be left in his will.
It pained you because, despite the sanctuary and comfort of living in the palace, you still wanted more. You wanted to be with the man who stood just outside your bedchambers.
“I know,” you said quietly, looking up at the other girls and forcing a smile to show them you were okay—that this was okay. “And I understand. I won’t let it come between us.”
It was a promise you had made countless times, but you knew you would always run back to him.
You were kneeling on the floor, adjusting the hem of Princess Daphne’s dress as her blue eyes bored into the large window to her right rather than the full body mirror in front of her.
“Is it just me, or are the roses in the garden unkempt?”
There was no one else in the room, so this was her attempt at a conversation. Most of these ended with her complaining about some minor issue, leaving you to simply nod in agreement.
You glanced over your shoulder, taking in the roses. They didn’t look out of place—maybe a few weeds were overgrown nearby, but nothing unruly.
“The roses do look unkempt these days, Your Royal Highness,” you agreed anyway, bringing your attention back to the skirts.
She hummed. “The gardener has been fruitless lately, has he not?”
“I believe Mister Alexei has been feeling unwell, Your Royal Highness,” you explained politely.
Princess Daphne raised a brow, looking down at you as you fluffed her skirt. “Whatever for?”
You pressed your lips together, glancing up to meet the princess’s eyes. “His wife passed away, Your Royal Highness.”
“I see,” she sighed softly. “That’s a shame.”
You stayed quiet as you continued to fix her dress. You finally rose from the floor, letting out a soft groan as you pulled yourself up. You smiled, admiring your own handiwork on the princess’s back, but her mind seemed preoccupied with something else.
“All finished—”
“I would like for you to tend the gardens today.”
You blinked at the sudden request. “I… the gardens?”
“You fill the vases with the most precious and stunning flowers every morning,” she said with a guileless smile. “So, I am entrusting you to tend the gardens.”
You truly didn’t know what to say.
You had never been ordered to work the grounds before—sure, you might have plucked a stray weed or offered a hand to Alexei when the days in the palace were slow and long, but never like this. That was what a gardener was for.
But knowing Princess Daphne, she couldn’t tell the difference between someone arranging a bouquet and someone maintaining an entire estate.
And you were nothing but a maidservant. How could you refuse, anyway?
“I… yes,” you bowed your head. “It will be done, Your Royal Highness.”
“Wonderful!” Princess Daphne beamed, clasping her gloved hands together as she stepped off the pedestal without your assistance. “I expect the roses to be vibrant and lively once I return from my promenade!”
Once Princess Daphne left her bedroom, you stayed behind to tidy the mess she had left in her wake. When the room was back in order, you made your way down to the gardens.
Outside, the sun was baking the garden soil. Your nostrils were immediately hit with the scent of dirt and blooming jasmines.
You managed to find a pair of old, oversized gardening gloves—likely Alexei’s—in a shed, and after tucking your skirts as best you could, you dropped to your knees before the rosebushes. The work started easy, clearing away small weeds and tossing them into a pile.
But then, a thick rooted weed tucked right at the base of a vibrant red rose was giving you a run for your money.
You gripped it tight, bracing your feet against the stone path, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Come on,” you hissed under your breath, your face heating up from both the sun and the exertion.
With a frustrated huff, you desperately heaved, putting your entire body weight into it. The root finally snapped, but the sudden lack of resistance sent you flying backward. You tumbled through the air like a fool, losing your balance until you landed with a dull thud right in the middle of a freshly turned hydrangea bed.
The Queen’s favorite flower.
You sat there for a moment, stunned, with your legs sprawled out and dirt smeared all over your… toosh.
The heavy clinking of metal hit the stone pavement, stalking closer and closer. Bucky loomed over you, his long hair catching the light from behind as his heavy cape draped over his shoulders. He didn’t offer a hand immediately, wanting to take in the sight of you sprawled out and dirty.
He rested his gloved hand on the hilt of his sword, a slow, devastatingly handsome grin spreading across his smug face.
“Don’t tell me the princess has you working her gardens now.”
You looked around to see if anyone else was near, but it was just him.
“Bucky,” you greeted with a breathless smile. “Don’t tell me the princess has you clearing the garden perimeters.”
Bucky’s grin widened as he extended a hand. When you took it, he lifted you from the dirt with ease.
“If the princess believes there are any threats out here, you can start by eradicating these,” you said, lifting the weed in your hand for emphasis.
He chuckled softly, reaching out to brush away a bit of soil that had caught in your hair.
“No, actually,” he said. “The princess sent for me. She wants me to accompany her on her promenade through town.”
“Oh,” your smile faded slightly. “I see.”
Bucky nodded, standing tall in his armor. All you could think about was how, while the man you loved was out strolling and shopping with the princess, you would be here in the dirt, working far beyond your usual station.
He tilted his head, leaning down slightly to get a better look at your expression. “Is there something troubling you?”
I don’t want you to promenade with the princess, even if it is your job.
I want you to stay here with me instead.
“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a smile as you clutched the weed tighter in your gloved hand. “It’s a lovely day outside for a promenade—I’m sure it’ll be a good change of pace from guarding the palace all day.”
Bucky furrowed his brow, noting the way your shoulders slightly slumped and how your voice had grown quiet. He reached out and caught your hand with his gloved one, running his thumb gently over your knuckles.
“The promenade won’t last forever,” he promised, his eyes searching yours. “And once you’ve finished tucking the Princess into bed, I’ll be posted near the gazebo south of the palace.”
He stepped even closer until his tall frame shadowed yours, the cold metal of his chest piece brushing against your bodice.
“Meet me there,” he whispered, his thumb still tracing slow, gentle circles over your knuckles. “Behind the willow trees. No other knights patrol that far down, and the sound of the water will drown out... everything else.”
Drown out everything else.
You knew exactly what he meant. This wasn’t the first time you two had snuck away past your working hours just to find comfort in each other’s arms.
Bucky’s gaze dropped to your lips for a quick, hungry second before he pulled back just slightly to maintain appearances.
“Tonight, after the moon hits its peak,” he murmured, quiet and low. “Don’t make me wait for you, sweetheart.”
Your heart thumped faster in your chest. Now, the only thing left to do was count the hours until you were in Bucky’s arms again—a thought that made the day drag on far slower, despite the mountains of work piled up before you.
“Tonight,” you repeated with a genuine smile. “I shall be there.”
Bucky smiled softly, satisfied with your answer. “Good—”
“Sergeant Barnes!” the King shouted from across the garden, where he stood by the shade.
Bucky’s body went stiff as a board, his hand instantly dropping from yours as he snapped into a formal salute. You quickly stepped away, desperately brushing the loose soil from your skirts and keeping your head bowed low.
“Your Majesty,” Bucky’s voice lacked the warmth he shared with you just a moment ago.
He moved toward the King, leaving you behind without another glance.
The King didn’t even spare a look at the messy hydrangeas or at you—the dirt smudged maidservant trembling beside them. His eyes were fixed solely on his most trusted knight.
“Sergeant, the Princess is ready for her departure,” the King lectured with authority. “Why are you lingering in the gardens when your charge is waiting at the carriage?”
“My apologies, Sire,” Bucky replied, a mask of stoicism and professionalism taking over him. “I was merely ensuring the perimeter was secure before leaving the grounds. I am headed to the stables now.”
The King gave a curt, stiff nod, though he didn’t look pleased. “See that you are. In these times, the Princess’s safety is paramount. We cannot have our best men distracted by trivialities.”
The King’s gaze flickered momentarily toward you—a cold, passing look that made you feel like nothing more than a piece of garden furniture—before he turned back to Bucky.
“Move along, Sergeant.”
“At once, Your Majesty,” Bucky said.
He turned to leave, but for a split second, while the King’s attention was turned away, Bucky’s gaze broke rank.
Over his shoulder, he stole one last look at you. You were already back on your knees, picking at the weeds, and Bucky’s heart clenched. He wished he could spend his days right next to you.
In his eyes, you shouldn’t be the one picking the flowers, but rather the one receiving them.
But all he could do for now was tear his gaze away and head for the stables.
With the Princess gone and the garden task finally completed, you followed the distant yet familiar sounds of clinking copper and boisterous laughter down into the belly of the palace.
The kitchens were a different world entirely. As soon as you pushed through the heavy doors, the scent of roasting garlic, fresh rosemary, and baking bread enveloped you—a welcome relief, even after being stuck outdoors in the fresh air all morning.
At the center of the room, several maidservants were perched on the edge of the prep tables, their legs swinging as they broke fresh bread and shared it with the kitchen crew.
“Look what the cat dragged in!” Yelena called out, her mouth half full of loaf. She beckoned you over with a sticky hand. “You look like you’ve been rolling in the trenches.”
Natasha looked up from where she was leaning against the counter, a cup of cider in her hand. “And it looks like you didn’t have your knight in shining armor to save you this time.”
“That’s because the Princess is strolling through town today, which means Sergeant Barnes is busy looking after her,” John, one of the cooks, mentioned from across the kitchen, not looking up from his work.
Wanda motioned for you to take the empty seat next to her. “Hours have passed, and the Princess should be returning soon. Eat now, unless you want to wait until midnight.”
Your stomach grumbled as you stepped deeper into the kitchen to claim your spot.
“I’m starving,” you groaned tiredly, sinking into the seat. “What are you all feasting on?” You smiled, taking in the mountain of bread crumbs and various loaves scattered across the table.
Yelena nodded toward the back of the kitchen. “Bob has been locked away by the ovens all morning. He calls it focaccia—” she lifted a piece of the bread, “apparently, it’s all the rage in the southern kingdoms.”
You glanced over to see Bob carefully dimpling the surface of a fresh loaf with his fingers, drizzling it with a generous amount of olive oil and pressing sprigs of rosemary into the dough.
“He’s even made a special companion for it,” John called over his shoulder, “a savory onion and fig jam.”
Wanda slid a small wooden bowl and a thick, airy slice of the bread toward you. The loaf was golden brown and glistening, pockmarked with herbs that smelled divine. The jam was a deep, thick purple that smelled of caramelized sugar.
“Try it,” Wanda encouraged. “It’s much better than the dry biscuits we usually get. He even added a bit of honey to the jam to cut the salt.”
You tore off a piece, dipped it into the jam, and took a bite. It had a satisfying, golden crunch on the outside but remained soft and pillowy on the inside.
“Mmm!” You beamed, eyes widening as you reached for another piece. “Bob—this is delicious! If you’ve been cooking like this all this time, how haven’t I had a taste until now?”
“It’s because you spend most of your free time with Sergeant Barnes rather than us,” Yelena teased, rolling her eyes, which earned her a sharp nudge in the shoulder from Wanda.
Across the kitchen, Bob’s ears turned a shade of pink that you noticed even from your seat.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, keeping his focus fixed on the dough in front of him. “I’ve been trying something new… so I’m glad you like it.”
“Aw, look at that,” Yelena teased, turning her entire body to stare at the baker. “You’ve got Bob all flustered now.”
John snickered, glancing at Bob, whose face only burned a deeper shade of red.
“Careful with that one, Bob,” he warned, pointing his whisk at you. “Getting too close to her will only get the kingdom’s mightiest soldier’s blade pressed against your throat.”
The entire kitchen barked in laughter at John’s comment. You should have been embarrassed by their relentless teasing, but instead, you just felt bad for Bob. The poor man was stammering in the corner, desperately trying to dismiss the attention.
“Hey now,” you called out, focaccia crumbs still clinging to your lips. “Don’t tease the guy. He’s the only one keeping you all fed.”
Laughter still hung in the air, and for a few minutes—away from the pressure of your chores—you were all just a group of friends rather than a squadron of dirty servants.
The enjoyment continued until the melodic tolling of the courtyard bells rang out. In an instant, as if a switch had flipped inside everyone’s head, the boisterous noise died. Everyone scrambled to their feet to collect themselves.
“The promenade is over,” Natasha said, setting her cider down and wiping her hands on her apron. “Back upstairs, girls. Princess Daphne will be expecting us.”
“I didn’t even finish my loaf!” Yelena’s complaints were ignored by everyone else as they hurried toward the doors.
Wanda stood up, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “The Princess will likely want a bath and a change of clothes immediately. Go on—I’ll change her sheets so they’re ready for her to lie down.”
You swallowed your barely chewed bite in one hard gulp. “Right. I’m going.”
On your way to greet the Princess, you collected a set of freshly pressed towels along with various soaps and aromatic oils for her bath.
You scrambled up several flights of stairs, lungs burning, hoping to reach her chambers before she did.
With your heart beating wildly in your eardrums, you rounded the corner and stopped short.
Princess Daphne was already lingering at the entrance of her bedroom, but she wasn’t alone.
Bucky was standing right beside her.
And against your better judgment, you pressed yourself into the shadows of the wall, gripping the wicker basket tight as you listened in.
“My knightly duties do not require me to escort you all the way to your chambers, Your Royal Highness,” Bucky said, his tone formal and polite.
Princess Daphne giggled, pressing a gloved hand to her mouth as she flushed beneath the knight’s gaze.
“Please, when it is just us, you must call me Daphne,” she sighed, her voice drifting into something dreamlike. “Just as I shall call you Bucky.”
You felt your heart drop.
As far as you knew, you were the only one who called him Bucky. It was a name he had reserved for the people closest to him. You knew he had served the palace long before you arrived, but the reminder of the closeness he shared with her was a sting that never failed to make your heart ache.
“Thank you for accompanying me on my stroll through town, Bucky,” Princess Daphne continued, as you winced from behind the corner.
“Of course,” Bucky nodded politely. “With the rising tensions against the Sokovians, it is my duty to put your safety above all else.”
“You always make the gloomy days brighter and the dangers feel so much smaller,” she smiled.
“I am glad to hear that, Your Royal Highness,” Bucky hummed, his gaze flickering to the door of her bedchambers. “Shall I take my leave, then?”
The Princess frowned, her expression turning pouty. “I told you to call me Daphne.” She looked around with a sigh. “And no need—it seems my maidservant has yet to arrive—”
Your feet moved before you could think, and you rounded the corner, acting as if you had just arrived and hadn’t been eavesdropping the entire time.
“I apologize for the wait, Your Royal Highness,” you said, bowing politely with the basket still in your hands. “I made sure the towels were freshly warmed for your arrival. I can prepare your bath right away, if you’re ready.”
Bucky turned toward you, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.
“Oh,” Princess Daphne was surprised, her hands folding primly at the front of her dress. “I would like that very much.”
You stood there for a moment with a polite, awkward smile, waiting for the Princess to grant you permission to enter, but she didn’t.
So instead, the three of you remained in a tense, silent standoff.
Bucky’s eyes were fixed on you. His posture was stiff, his gloved hands tightening at his sides as if he were fighting the urge to reach out.
Princess Daphne cleared her throat, glancing at Bucky. “You are dismissed, Sergeant Barnes.”
He didn’t reply immediately—not until the Princess called for him once more, her voice sharper this time. “Sergeant?”
“I… my apologies,” Bucky said, finally turning to face her. He bowed low. “Your Royal Highness.”
He glanced at you, offering nothing more than a short, professional nod. For someone of his rank, it wasn’t customary to acknowledge a maidservant, but as he walked past you, you felt the subtle, intentional graze of his glove against your skirt.
The ghost of his touch made the hair on your arms stand up.
“The bath, then?” Princess Daphne spoke up, snapping you back to attention.
“Yes—of course, Your Royal Highness,” you stammered, scrambling to recover your composure.
You pushed into her bedchambers and moved toward the bathing area, immediately drawing the steaming water.
The Princess followed close behind, peeling off her silk gloves. She didn’t wait for you to ask about her day, as she was already glowing with excitement to recount her afternoon.
“He truly is a marvel, isn’t he?” she sighed, watching the water swirl into the marble basin. “The way the villagers part for him—he has such a presence. Or perhaps it was simply because he was standing beside me. And yet, he was so attentive today. He held my parasol the entire time we crossed the market square without me even having to ask.”
You kept your back to her, focusing on the steam radiating off the tub as your jaw clenched at the image.
“He is a man very dedicated to his duties, My Lady,” you managed to say.
“It’s more than duty,” she countered, her voice drifting into a dreamy haze. “When we stopped by the fountain, he told me that my safety was the only thing on his mind.”
Steam continued to fill the room as the tub rose with nearly scorching water.
You knew, deep down, that Bucky only said those things because it was his job—just as your job was to nod and smile at every word the Princess spoke. But a selfish part of you was seething with jealousy at the thought of anyone else walking by his side.
“Do you think he finds me charming?”
Your eyes widened and the vial of bath oil slipped from your hand, splashing more of the aroma into the water than intended. You turned to look at her, the word “I—” dying on your lips.
“It’s so hard to tell with men like him,” she continued, unlacing her bodice with a sigh. “So stoic. So guarded. But I saw the way he looked at me today!”
There was so much you wanted to say, but the words withered at the sight of her.
Having served her for so long, she had grown comfortable being nearly bare in your presence. As she let her hair fall—the silky blonde locks you had pinned so carefully earlier—her slender, graceful frame made your heart ache.
She was so beautiful, and standing in the same room as someone as beautiful as Princess Daphne felt like a cruel insult to your own heart.
But that was okay, because you would see him tonight. Unlike Princess Daphne, you would see the real version of him—the version of Bucky who gave you nothing but his warmth and his heart.
So, until then, you simply bit your tongue and nodded with a hollow smile.
“It is impossible not to find you charming, Your Royal Highness.”
The night crept on, and while the other maidservants were long asleep, you slipped out of the bedchambers. With quiet, tiptoeing steps, you made your way down the stairs and snuck out the back of the palace toward the gazebo where you and Bucky had agreed to meet.
The night air was cold and breezy, the shawl around your shoulders fluttering in the wind as you treaded through the grass.
Bucky was right—no guards were posted on this side of the palace.
As you sat down, your eyes drifted to the left. Tucked away behind the trees and bushes stood the small cabin where the kitchen crew rested. The lights were out, meaning the cooks were likely all in bed.
While you waited, the only things keeping you company were the hooting of owls and the gentle chirping of crickets.
By now, it was well past midnight, and your earlier excitement was slowly fading into exhaustion.
You found yourself yawning every few seconds, your eyelids growing heavier with each passing minute.
Had Bucky been caught up in other duties?
Had he forgotten?
Or worse—was everything Princess Daphne said true?
Had he realized his heart belonged elsewhere?
An hour had passed, and your heart began to ache the longer you sat alone without a trace of him.
You knew you had to be up early for your morning duties, so with a tired sigh, you pushed yourself off the bench and pulled your shawl tight.
As you stepped down from the gazebo, the sound of crunching grass echoed in the distance. Your eyes snapped open, your heart leaping at the possibility of him finally appearing.
But as the figure stepped into the faint, warm light of the gazebo, your shoulders deflated.
“Bob?” you asked, your voice sounding more disappointed than you intended. “What are you doing out here?”
Bob blinked, looking just as confused as you were. “I stayed behind in the kitchen,” he said, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. “I wanted to perfect the focaccia.” He lifted the loaf, which was carefully wrapped in a white cloth.
He stepped closer into the light, his eyes trailing you up and down. He took note of your thin sleeping gown with nothing but a flimsy shawl to cover the rest of you. Your face warmed in embarrassment as you wrapped the shawl tighter around you, though it salvaged nothing.
“What are you doing out here?” Bob returned the question.
“I’m… um—waiting for someone,” you replied meekly.
Bob glanced around, the crickets filling in the already awkward and suffocating silence when he found no one else near.
“… For how long?”
“I haven’t been out here long,” you lied, only finding yourself more embarrassed being caught in this predicament. “I was just starting to head back, actually.”
Bob pressed his lips together as if he wanted to say something. He knew you weren’t telling the truth, and any worker within the palace could piece two and two together.
Instead of leaving you be, he stepped up into the gazebo to meet you and lifted the loaf in his hands, changing the subject for your comfort.
“I think this is the best loaf I’ve made,” he said, unwrapping the cloth and revealing the gold-crusted focaccia with herbs laced at the top. “Want to share it with me?”
You looked back toward the palace. You really should have gone back inside, knowing just how early you’d have to rise in a few hours to tend to the Princess.
But at the thought of returning to your cold, lonely cot with nothing but the empty promise Bucky left behind, the warmth of a friend didn’t sound bad at all.
“Just for a moment,” you whispered, and Bob smiled gently.
You sat back down on the wooden bench, and Bob settled beside you, careful to maintain a respectful distance. He carefully tore the focaccia in half, the crust crackling over the chirping of the crickets.
“Here,” he said softly, handing you the larger piece. “It’s still warm.”
You took the piece in your hands and bit into it—no jam this time, but the taste was even better than the one you had earlier that day in the kitchen.
It was delicious, and you didn’t even need to shower him with compliments. The satisfied look on your face told Bob everything he needed to know. He smiled, his expression warming as he bit into his own piece.
For a moment, you two just sat there in silence. The only sounds were the crunching of bread and the wind rustling the leaves in the trees. Bob didn’t push for answers or smother you with questions like the girls usually did back in your chambers.
You two just sat there, enjoying each other’s company under the stars.
“You’re an incredible cook, Bob,” you said, gazing up at the dark sky. “I wish people outside of the palace could taste this—it’s exquisite.”
Bob wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his shoulders hunched modestly.
“I told myself that when the war is over, I want to open my own bakery one day.” He looked up at the sky with you. “It’s always been my dream.”
You glanced at Bob. He had such a faraway look in his eyes that your heart could only ache for him.
Sokovian soldiers had been sweeping through the streets, stripping people from their families and tearing down local businesses—wreaking havoc everywhere they went. For the lucky few handselected to work in the comfort of the palace, it was like a dream compared to the world outside.
But even though many workers had aspirations beyond these stone walls, they knew deep down that safety came before all else.
“Well, when you do open up your shop,” you said, nudging him in the shoulder with a reassuring smile, “I’ll be the first one in line.”
Bob smiled at you. “What about you? What do you want to do when the war is over? Will you stay here at the palace?”
“Does anyone actually want to stay at the palace?” you joked, and he chuckled softly.
“No. I want what any other woman would want. I want to get married, have my own family—” Your smile faded slightly at the thought. “Maybe a cottage somewhere deep in the forest, by a river. A place where my husband can go hunting while I stay home with the baby.”
But even if the war ended tomorrow, you knew that future was a ghost.
Even if everything went exactly as planned, the only person you could imagine sharing that life with was Bucky—and he was the Sergeant of the Howling Commandos. They were the elite, the knights specifically curated to guard and protect the royal family at all costs.
He could never leave his post, even if he wanted to.
Bob knew it, too. It was why he didn’t press you with more questions. He simply rested a hand on your shoulder, offering a silent sympathy.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
You forced a smile. “It’s okay.”
Another silence settled between you, the crickets filling the space before Bob sucked in a breath to continue.
“I know you hear this plenty of times,” he started gently, “but you deserve so much better than—”
“Hey!”
A rough voice shouted from across the yard, followed by the sound of heavy boots thumping frantically against the grass. Both of you snapped your heads up, and your breath hitched at the sight of Bucky.
He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.
He looked angry, his entire body tense, and his left hand—the cold metal of his prosthetic—rested firmly over the hilt of his sword.
Bob scrambled to his feet, hands raised in surrender to show he meant no harm. You quickly stood up beside him.
“James—”
“What the hell are you doing past your post at this hour?” Bucky seethed. He didn’t even look at you—his icy glare was focused entirely on Bob and Bob only.
“I—I was just about to head to bed, sir,” Bob stammered, his hands still raised. “I was just finishing up some work in the kitchen and—”
“Bullshit,” Bucky spat, stepping into the faint light of the gazebo. “All I see is a mere cook who has forgotten his place—a foolish boy who thinks he’s entitled to roam the grounds after dark. You’re a cook, Reynolds. Your duty begins and ends at the stove.”
You winced at his cruelty. You knew Bucky could be rough—it was how he had earned his rank, but Bob didn’t deserve this.
“James, calm down—”
“You will not tell me to calm down, for you are interloping on palace grounds as well,” Bucky snapped, cutting you off so harshly that you flinched.
“I meant no disrespect, sir,” Bob whispered, his voice trembling.
“Then get out of my sight before I decide your presence here is a threat,” Bucky threatened, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. “Back to your hole, baker. Now.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
Bob scrambled down the steps of the gazebo, sparing one last, sympathetic glance over his shoulder before retreating toward the dark cabins. Bucky watched him with a tense jaw, his face twisted in disdain until Bob reached the door and shut it behind him.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Bucky had never spoken to you like that.
Usually, your meetings were filled with the hushed, gentle tones he shared with no one else. But tonight, he spoke to you as if you were just another servant—and that hurt more than his shouting. Instead of running to him for a hug as you usually did, you stayed rooted to the floor of the gazebo, your body tense, unsure of what he would do next.
Bucky slowly turned back to you, his eyes piercing, cold, and completely unwelcoming.
He stepped fully into the gazebo, his gaze trailing down your thin nightgown before landing on the white cloth Bob had left behind on the bench. He picked it up slowly, examining it as if it were evidence of a crime.
“You broke bread with the boy?”
You didn’t dare to speak.
“Answer me,” Bucky commanded.
“I waited for you,” you said instead, your voice trembling.
Bucky fell silent, the cloth in his hands lowering at your quiet admission. For a moment, it seemed as though he had been snapped out of his defensive daze, and you took the opportunity to continue.
“I waited for over an hour,” you said, wrapping the shawl tighter around your body defensively. “I have to rise in merely four hours—you know that. And yet...” Your voice started to shake, your face scrunching as you tried to will away tears. “You stood me up.”
Bucky parted his lips to speak, but you breezed right through him.
“Not only that—but you treated Bob with such blatant disrespect! He’s my friend, and he did nothing but keep me company and feed me!”
Bucky’s eyebrow twitched at that, his voice coming out pettier than he intended. “I didn’t realize that kid was of such importance to you.”
You blinked, your face scrunching at his words. “Don’t tell me,” you scoffed lightly in disbelief. “Are you jealous?”
He made a face. He could deny it all he wanted, but the way his jaw set told you the truth.
“I am many things,” he said stiffly. “But jealous? I am not.”
You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head. “Oh, I’m sure.”
“And even if I was,” Bucky stepped closer, invading your space until he was looking down at you. You made no effort to move, standing your ground despite the height difference. “Is that so wrong?”
Your brows furrowed. “Funny for you to say. I heard you had an excellent time being out with the Princess today.”
Bucky’s face became a mask of confusion. “What?”
“About how charming you were,” you said with bitterness. “She said you held her parasol and that you looked at her… differently.”
Bucky let out a dry, humorless rasp of a laugh, running his gloved right hand through his hair.
“Looking at her differently? That’s unbelievable,” he scoffed. “And you know it is my job to do as I am told.” He took another step, his shadow completely looming over you. “And charming, is it? What do you think? Am I charming?”
He was taunting you now, but you refused to let him distract you from the fact that he had stood you up.
“You’re ridiculous, James,” you spat. Your hands tightened on your shawl as you tried to push past him, but he grabbed your arm firmly enough to hold you in place.
“Wait—” he sighed, his shoulders finally easing as the defensive walls came down. “I’m sorry. It was never my intention to stand you up—I swear it.”
He squeezed your arm gently—a silent plea for you to hear him out.
“I was with the General,” he spoke, his voice getting quieter. “The meeting… it went on for hours. There were maps, ledgers, reports from the front. It’s Sokovia. The news is bad, and the King is panicked.”
He met your eyes, and you could finally see the raw regret and exhaustion behind them. “The Sokovian line is breaking through the southern pass. It’s getting worse, and the General is scrambled. He spent three hours arguing over troop placements and supply routes—I… I couldn’t just walk out.”
Bucky tugged on your arm gently, guiding you to face him. His left hand moved to your chin, his thumb stroking your cheek to keep your focus on him as he explained.
“I was supposed to leave tonight. Right after the meeting adjourned, I was ordered on a scouting mission to the front lines. I wouldn’t have even had time to find you to say goodbye.”
Bucky was leaving?
You sucked in a sharp breath, a wave of regret washing over you for being so quick with your accusations.
“But… you’re still here,” you whispered, your eyes searching his.
“I am,” he nodded, tilting his head down to stay in your line of sight. “Rogers and Wilson… they volunteered to take the mission in my stead. They’re out there right now, just so I could be here—with you.”
Bucky’s hands trailed from your face down to your arms, eventually finding your hands and cradling them in his larger palms. He brought your hands up to his face and leaned down, pressing soft, gentle kisses to your knuckles.
“There is never a moment where I’m not thinking of you, and God—the thought of you waiting for me this entire time… I can’t even fathom it,” his voice broke as he pressed another kiss to your skin, looking up at you through his lashes. “I swear to you—I would never leave you alone.”
He stood tall again, releasing one of your hands while his other crept up to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck. He tilted your head back slightly, holding your gaze under the dim gazebo light.
“And as for that outburst earlier…” He exhaled, the sharp edges of his pride finally softening into embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I’ve been on edge, is all. I never meant to take it out on you, my dear.”
Bucky didn’t wait for verbal forgiveness—he took it from the silence and the way you gazed up at him, your eyes softening in the moonlight.
He leaned in, his breath warm against your chilled skin before his lips finally met yours. It was a soft, yet desperate press, a low groan escaping him at the feeling of your warmth against his own.
When he pulled back, it was only to pepper kisses across your forehead, his eyes closed tight as if he were memorizing every inch of you.
“You are a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a gravelly, broken thing.
He kissed your temple, then the tip of your nose, his hands sliding from your hair down to the small of your back to pull you flush against his chest, you shivered from the cold armor. “A beautiful, beautiful sight.”
You sighed softly, your body unable to help but crave his touch—to crave him.
And all Bucky wanted to do was make love to you.
He stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to remove his armor pieces one by one. You moved to take your shawl off, setting it on the bench behind you as you reached for the straps of your dress.
“No,” Bucky cut you off coldly. “Keep it on. I want to tear through it myself.”
You swallowed hard, your face warming as you obeyed. You stood there, watching him as he watched you with hungry eyes. As he stripped away the layers of leather and steel, his breathing grew heavier. When he reached his belt, his fingers fumbled clumsily for a moment before he stepped back into your space.
He closed the distance again, his lips trailing down the line of your jaw to the sensitive skin of your neck. You let out a shaky breath, your head tilting back to give him better access as his mouth explored you.
“I’ve missed you,” he mumbled, the words muffled against your throat. He began to suckle gently, marking you between words. “God, I’ve missed you so much it hurts.”
“I’ve missed you so much too, Bucky,” you moaned softly. “So much.”
Bucky groaned against your skin, satisfied by your confession as his touches grew needier. His metal hand trembled slightly as it gripped your waist, pulling you so close there wasn’t any space left between you.
He whispered sweet nothings into the crook of your neck, each sentence making you writhe beneath him. “You smell so good.” “You’re so soft.” “So pretty.”
Bucky’s hands were everywhere all at once, a contrast of heat and cold as he explored the curves he had spent all day dreaming about. His flesh hand groped at your hip while his metal fingers seared through the thin fabric of your nightgown, mapping out the expanse of your lower back.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped against your ear. “I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting, my dear. I’m going to make it up to you. I promise.”
Your heart raced as his lips found yours again. His tongue pushed past, sweeping against yours as he kissed you hungrily.
Now stripped of his armor, Bucky pressed his hips forward, and you gasped softly at the feel of him—his cock, thick and hard, straining against his pants as it poked against your lower belly.
Your body already felt so empty without him. There was a building ache between your legs that only he could remedy.
“Bucky,” you sighed softly against his mouth. “I need you.”
“I know, my dear,” Bucky groaned, rolling his hips against your stomach once more, letting you feel just how hard he was for you. “You don’t know how badly I needed you today.”
His hands wandered down to grope your bottom through your dress, bunching the fabric in his fists as he lifted it up past the curve of your ass to squeeze you more.
“Missed your legs wrapped tight around me,” he breathed. “Missed you moaning my name.”
Bucky couldn’t wait any longer.
His strong arms wrapped tight around your body, picking you up and laying you gently on the floor of the gazebo. He spread your legs, nestling himself between them. With a rough hand, he found the hem of your skirt and lifted it past your thighs, exposing your undergarments. He impatiently found the waistband, tugging them down roughly past your legs to expose you to the cool night air and his hungry gaze.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight of your glistening cunt—already puffy and begging for him, and he hadn’t even put it in yet.
“She missed me, hasn’t she?” he hummed, staring at your pussy as he began palming himself over his pants. He felt pre-cum trickle at the tip, staining the front of his trousers. “Bet I can just slide in so easily. She wouldn’t even put up a fight.”
You watched, breathless, as Bucky pulled himself out of his pants. His cock sprang forth, so thick and so heavy, as pre-cum dripped from the tip and onto the floor.
“Christ,” you said, voicing your thoughts out loud.
Bucky grinned, his flesh hand gripping the shaft as he pumped himself slow and steady. “When was the last time we fucked, sweetheart?”
You swallowed hard, trying to mask your embarrassment at his vulgar words. “I… I don’t know. Nine… ten days ago?”
Bucky hummed. “Haven’t fucked you for a little over a week and you’re already seeking attention from other men, aren’t you?”
Your eyes widened at his words, and you couldn’t help a small, huffing laugh. He really was jealous—and that jealousy only seemed to spur him on, because his cock twitched in his hand as he stroked himself.
“Gotta claim you again,” he mumbled so quietly, it was like he was speaking to himself. “Gotta remind you who you belong to.”
With his metal hand bracing his weight over you, he rubbed his cock up and down your cunt, soaking himself in your juices. Your back arched off the floor, your hips wiggling for more of him, but Bucky only clicked his tongue.
“What an eager little thing,” he taunted.
“Bucky,” you whined, wiggling your hips until your entrance caught his tip. “Pl-please...”
Bucky groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt your warm, wet opening catch around his sensitive tip.
He was so hard it was nearly painful. He had planned to take his time and savor this moment—but with the war in the back of his mind, he felt a desperate, driving need to fuck you as hard and as much as he could while he was still alive.
With a low growl, his hand found the back of your thigh, hiking it up and spreading you wide. With half of his tip already inside, he adjusted himself so he could sink even deeper.
“Goddamn,” he breathed, his muscles straining with the effort it took not to fuck you into the floor right then and there. “Just as I thought—so fucking wet… can just… slide right in.”
You hissed, your hands finding Bucky’s broad, bare back and clawing at the muscle as his thick cock stretched you out with each passing thrust. You could feel him throbbing deep inside you—searingly hot as your cunt welcomed him.
“Mine,” Bucky gritted through clenched teeth as you bottomed out against his pelvis, sheathing him completely.
To him, the feeling of your pussy was like a much needed, warm, tight hug after a long, stressful day.
“Ten days,” he breathed against your ear. “Ten fucking days—don’t think I’m gonna last long inside you, baby.”
“Don’t care,” you mumbled, wrapping your legs tight around his waist. “I just want to feel you, Bucky. Every inch of you.”
Bucky groaned, his flesh hand sliding up to your neck and applying pressure. He held your gaze, his eyes dark and blown out with lust, as he began rocking his hips back and forth. He moved slowly and sensually, forcing you to feel every swollen pulsing ridge and vein.
The sound of your pussy squelching around him filled the quiet gazebo. The mating press position made you feel utterly helpless—completely and devastingly stuffed.
“Oh my—Buck, too… too much.”
“Too much?” he repeated raspily, staring deep into your eyes as he continued to fuck you slow. “But sweetheart, this is me taking my time with you. You’ve taken harder.”
“I know,” you winced, your legs squeezing him tighter. “It’s just been… ten days—”
“Ten days and you’ve already gotten so tight for me again,” he murmured, his pace increasing. “Means you haven't been fucking anyone else.”
Your face burned as you stammered, “Of course not—”
The words that left your lips made Bucky’s heart soar and his cock pulse.
With a sharp exhale, he increased the pace. His thrusts slapped harder and deeper, making you bounce against the floor as you clung to him. The wet, vulgar sound of his skin hitting yours echoed under the gazebo roof, a testament to his hunger for you.
Bucky looked down at you, taking in the sight of your dress hiked up and ruined, your hair fanned out across the floor. You looked so beautifully destroyed, and something in him only wanted to ruin you more.
“Jesus,” he muttered, his blue eyes trailing down to where your bare hips tilted to meet him. He watched in awe as his cock disappeared in and out of you, his shaft slick.
“You look so good like this,” he rasped, his metal hand digging into your thigh to spread you even wider. “Sprawled out for me. Mine. Just mine.”
Bucky leaned in, his teeth grazing your exposed shoulder as his movements became sloppier and uneven.
“Seeing you like this always makes it so damn hard to leave,” he rasped against you, his balls growing heavier with each thrust. “Makes me want to do things to make sure you stay.”
You were a babbling mess beneath him, your voice reduced to broken sobs and incoherent pleas. You couldn’t even form words anymore, just soft, high pitched whimpers that only made Bucky’s grip on you tighten.
“I want to breed you,” Bucky confessed shamelessly. “Wanna give you a piece of me—so when I’m out there fighting, or when you’re away from me, you’ll still have me. I want to pump you so full that you’ll always be carrying a part of me.”
You body clenched at the implication of his words. He groaned at your tightness, gritting his teeth as he continued.
“Need to…” Bucky thrust deep, “pump you full…” He felt his balls growing tighter, felt himself getting closer. “Going to have to make you my girl for good.”
Your eyes rolled back as Bucky used your body for his pleasure. He was so much bigger than you, so much stronger, and all you could do was be the woman he needed as he fucked himself into you. You moaned, your body getting wetter and tighter as you felt yourself getting close.
The gazebo and the starlit sky above started to blur as tears prickled your eyes from the overwhelming sensation of being fucked.
“You like that?” Bucky breathed warmly against your skin. “You like the idea of being full of me? Of my own seed... dripping down your pretty legs?”
Your head was spinning as you nodded frantically.
“Yes!” you cried out. “Yes, Bucky—please! I’m yours… all yours—I want to be full of you!”
“Fuck,” Bucky moaned. With your hands still tight around his shoulders, he circled both his arms around your waist, lifting you from the ground and pulling you flush against his chest.
He repositioned you until you were straddling his lap, held aloft by his strength alone. Bucky’s arms wrapped tight around your body—the scent of sweat and sex mingling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
“Bounce on it, baby,” he muttered roughly. “Fuck—bounce on me ‘til I cum.”
Your fingers laced through his long, dark hair, giving it a tug as you fucked yourself down onto his cock.
Bucky groaned, his head pressing into your shoulder as his hands moved from your waist to your hips, his thumbs digging into your skin to help guide your rhythm. Every time you moved down, he met you with a hard thrust upward that sent sparks through your body.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to quiver and squeeze around him. “Just like that.”
“Bucky… I’m—I’m going to—”
“I know, baby,” he rasped, holding you tighter against his chest. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
I’m not going anywhere.
“D-don’t go,” you whimpered against him, your body tightening as you clenched around his cock, letting yourself unravel all over him.
Bucky growled, low and deep in his throat, as his arms pinned you tight against his chest. With one last rough thrust deep into your cunt, he finally broke.
Thick spurts of cum surged from him as he began pumping you full. He slowly rocked his hips in gentle motions, letting his seed settle and mix inside the heat of your body.
“Good girl,” he praised with a gravelly rasp. “My sweet, precious girl.”
You let yourself melt into his touch as you two fought to catch your breaths.
Still perched on his lap, you felt him nuzzle his face into your chest, his hands roaming your back gently, mapping every inch of you as he came down from his high.
“So perfect,” he mumbled.
You looked down at him through your lashes, and the sight of him made your heart ache. You wanted to stay like this forever—with Bucky always by your side, holding you and making sweet love to you while he praised you with gentle words you wouldn’t want to hear from anyone else.
He told you he wasn’t going anywhere in the heat of the moment, but even you knew he could only mean so much.
“I don’t want you to go,” you said, your voice broken as you were reminded of his duties after tonight. “Please, just stay with me.”
Bucky let out a long, heavy sigh, his grip on you softening tenderly. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his thumb gently brushing away the sweaty strands of hair that clung to your face.
He didn’t pull out, he stayed joined to you, his cock still half hard and soft inside, wanting to keep that connection for as long as the world would allow.
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I know.”
He began to press soft kisses all over your face— your damp forehead, your cheeks, and your lips.
The reality was that after tonight, Bucky would have to be posted at the front lines along with his comrades, Steve and Sam. He would have to ready his blade, preparing for war at any given moment to lay his life down for a royal family instead of living on for the woman he loves.
But instead of letting that feeling take over, he gently pushed your hair back, looking deep into your eyes.
“Right now, let’s just enjoy the moment,” Bucky murmured gently, caressing your cheeks. “Me and you—we’re together now, and that’s all we can ask for, right?”
He spoke so soft, but you knew deep down he was feeling that hurt just as much as you were. You nodded, forcing a shaky smile despite the tears that threatened to escape.
“Right,” you whimpered.
“Don’t cry,” Bucky sighed softly, his thumb coming up to wipe the tear that spilled anyway, before leaning in to press another kiss to your lips. “I’m right here, baby. Right here.”
The sounds of crickets, soft breathing, and the gentle rustle of leaves filled the gazebo as you two held each other. His hands trailed down to your waist, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over the fabric of your crinkled nightgown.
“When the war is over,” you brought up carefully and quietly. “Do you think we’ll have a chance to be together?”
Bucky went still for a moment before a small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips—he didn’t have high hopes at all, but the smile you returned meant it was enough to reassure you.
“In a perfect world, where there is no war and no duties to bind us separately, I’ll always choose you.”
The sun that rose the next morning was the brightest it had ever been that month.
You found yourself in a happier mood, and everyone around you could tell.
“What’s she smiling about over there?” Wanda asked as she folded freshly washed white cloth.
“What do you think?” Natasha grinned, watching out of the corner of her eye as you hummed to yourself, handwashing towels.
“She’d usually be complaining about her back by now,” Yelena chimed in. “But she’s just singing to herself like some mentally deranged—”
“I can hear you all, you know,” you said over your shoulder without looking back. You pushed off your seat with a groan, stretching before you lifted the bucket of dirty water in your hands.
“I’m going to dump this outside,” you announced to the rest of the group. “Maybe bask in the sun for a bit—who knows. It’s a pretty day.”
“Okay, but don’t be long,” Natasha called out as she pushed the tower of folded clothes to the side to work on the next batch. “We have a lot to do today.”
“I won’t,” you reassured as you pushed the door open with your back, heading out of the cleaning chambers and into the warm sunlight.
As you dumped the water out onto the grass, birds chirped and the trees rustled gently in the spring breeze. Bucky was out there, somewhere, huddled in formation with the other knights as they scouted south of the kingdom.
After last night, Bucky had told you how he and the others had a mission that required them to be on their horses before sunrise. But later that night, he would meet you at the gazebo again.
He was the kingdom’s strongest soldier, and you knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself. But every time Bucky was out on a mission, you couldn’t help but pray for his safety.
You always hoped that he would return home without a scratch, falling back into your arms once again.
You gathered the empty, damp bucket and reached for the door, but you stopped short at the sound of horns blaring from the top of the guard posts.
Your head snapped up immediately at the unexpected sound.
Was this a drill?
The kingdom hadn’t made any announcements for a drill today—unless you had missed it?
As you raised your hand to shield your eyes, squinting past the sun, you saw the frantic movement of the soldiers at the top of the towers. The distant shouting was getting louder, and you watched in confusion as they began to ready their crossbows.
“Sokovian flags on the horizon!”
“Soldiers are pushing back from the southern bridge!”
“Alert the town! Citizens to the shelters! Get down!”
Your ears rang as everyone around you scattered in a frantic, panicked hurry. The horns continued to blare, crying out a symphony of war and ruin. Palace workers ran around, bumping into you as they retreated toward the safety of the cleaning rooms you had just stepped out of.
You knew you should run. You should follow them into the dark, stone safety of the cellars.
But the only thing you can think of was the southern bridge.
That was exactly where Bucky was stationed.
A hand clamped onto your arm, making you wince and snapping you out of your haze.
“Are you trying to get killed?” she hissed over the bustle of the crowd. Natasha yanked you backward, dragging you into the sanctuary of the cleaning chambers.
Inside, the room was unrecognizable. The neat stacks of folded white linens had been toppled and trampled underfoot. Buckets were overturned, soapy water slicking the floor as servants and workers scrambled toward the trapdoor leading to the deep cellars.
“Oh my god,” you breathed. “How—”
“They’re saying they’ve already made it inside,” Natasha yelled over the noise. “Sokovian spies were already within the kingdom just yesterday—soldiers are barging right into the palace as we speak.”
You felt your blood run cold.
Sokovian soldiers were already threatening to tear down the palace, and the kingdom’s strongest soldier wasn’t there to protect it.
“Where are the others? Yelena? Wanda? Bob—”
Natasha led you toward the trap door, cutting you off. “They’re already inside—”
The doors of the cleaning chamber shattered inward before she could even finish.
Sokovian soldiers stomped through, their armor dark and their weapons already leveled. “Clear the room!” one of them shouted, and before you knew it, the sharp crack of muskets and the whistle of crossbow bolts filled the air, splintering the wooden tables around you as the others screamed.
“Down!” Natasha screamed, shoving you to the floor as a projectile embedded itself in the wall where your head had been seconds before.
“To the back doors,” you hissed at her, pointing behind her. “Quick!”
She nodded, ducking behind you as you both scrambled for the exit. You burst out into the rear garden, the air already suffocating with smoke from gunshots and the sounds of people shouting over one another.
“The grapevines,” you shouted, pointing to the heavy wooden trellis that led to the outer wall. “We can climb over and reach the forest. The trees are thick enough to give us cover—”
Natasha didn’t let you finish before she grabbed your arm, already running in the direction you had pointed. “Let’s go, then!”
As you ran, a sharp crack sounded from your right. Natasha let out a choked gasp, her body crumpling as her leg buckled and blood blossomed through her skirt.
“Nat!”
You turned back, reaching out to grab her arm, but the world suddenly turned into a blinding flash of white.
A cannonball screamed through the air, striking the stone archway just above you. The impact was nearly enough to deafen you—a force strong enough to throw you backward.
You hit the ground hard, the air driven from your lungs.
Everything went silent, replaced by a high pitched ringing in your ears that drowned out the war. Dust and debris rained down, coating your tongue in grit and stinging your eyes. Through the haze of gray smoke and broken stone, you tried to move, but your limbs felt heavy.
You felt yourself deteriorating, the sounds fading in and out as your vision began to blur.
A concussion set in, your head aching and your body going numb while the world around you began to crumple and fall apart.
“Get the Princess to safety!” the kingdom’s soldiers shouted over the noise. “Go, Sergeant!”
Your head throbbed with an ache as you craned your neck, struggling to see the what was unraveling in front of you.
Through the thick dust, a familiar silhouette broke through the haze.
It was Bucky—his armor and silver blade flashing through the smoke. Following close behind him, a figure huddled low — the Princess, disguised under a dirty, oversized cowl to conceal her identity.
Ah, there he was.
Your heart thumped weakly in your chest as a strange, hollow peace settled over you.
Bucky was alive. Your Bucky.
He was alive, and he was protecting the princess.
You smiled faintly, and though your heart ached to reach for him, you knew it was futile. You couldn’t even feel your legs anymore, pinned beneath the heavy stone debris. The blood pooling around you was enough to tell you that the end was near.
But at the very least, in this moment as the war claimed you, you knew the person you loved was still standing.
And that was all that mattered.
In the chaos, amidst the smoke and the screaming, Bucky caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye.
His entire body froze. The soldier who never hesitated, the very man who served as the kingdom’s ultimate sword and shield, went completely still.
His blue eyes widened, locking onto your broken form, taking in the blood, the dust, and the way you struggled to even lift your head.
Any other soldier would have seen your body and deemed it a lost cause, a life not worth the delay. But for Bucky, every duty was forgotten as his feet began to move—away from the Princess, and toward you.
“Sergeant Barnes! What the hell are you doing? Get back in formation!”
“Barnes! Get over here! Protect the Princess!”
“The Princess is exposed! Cover!”
“Barnes!”
Several commanding voices roared after him, but Bucky didn’t look back. He didn’t care about the crown or the certain court martial that awaited him, or even the noose.
All he cared about was you.
Heavy footsteps thundered near your head, and for a moment, you feared it was a Sokovian guard coming to finish the job. They dropped to their knees beside you, and trembling hands cradled your neck to lift you up.
“No, no, no,” it was Bucky who rasped, his voice frantic as he wiped the dirt from your face. “Hey… hey, look at me. Open your eyes, sweetheart. It’s me—stay with me. Come on, stay with me.”
You tried to speak, but all that emerged was a soft, wet cough.
His thumb brushed the dust from your cheek, leaving streaks in its wake, while his blue eyes searched yours for any sign that you were still there.
“Bucky…” you whispered, the sound barely audible over the roar of the nearby fire.
“I’ve got you,” he choked out, leaning his forehead against yours. He ignored the shouting soldiers and the Sokovian arrows whistling overhead. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere—you have to stay. You have to stay awake for me.”
He began to pull at the debris with a desperate strength, refusing to let the world take the only thing he cared about.
“I can’t—I can’t move my legs,” you choked out, your body feeling useless as he tried to lift you.
He was finally able to pull you free and cradle you in his arms, lifting you bridal style as he ran. You didn’t know where he was going, nor did you care. All that mattered was being here, held by the person you loved most.
“Just stay awake, okay? Promise me you’ll stay awake.”
“Bucky—”
“We’ll get you somewhere safe—I swear it—”
“Bucky,” you tried again, your voice a soft, fragile thread.
As he ran, Bucky tilted his head down to glance at you, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were still there.
“I love you,” you whispered suddenly.
Bucky’s stride faltered for just a moment as a choked, broken sound escaped his throat.
For a second, the face of the stoic soldier crumbled, and his eyes grew glossy with tears that threatened to spill over. But he forced his jaw to tighten—forced himself to get back into that same resolve that kept him alive til now.
“No,” he rasped, his voice hardening from vulnerability to a command. “Don’t say that. Not yet. You don’t get to say goodbye.”
He pushed himself faster, his boots skidding over the blood slicked stone of the courtyard as he dodged the falling debris of the palace.
“You save that,” he muttered, his breath hitching as he ducked behind a crumbling stone pillar to avoid a spray of Sokovian arrows. “You save those words for when we’re back at the gazebo—you save them for when the sun is up and there isn’t a drop of blood on this grass. Do you hear me?”
He looked down at you again, anticipating a response—anything to show that you were still alive—but your breathing was growing labored in his grip.
“I’m not letting you go,” he promised. “You hold on to me, and don’t you dare close those eyes.”
Bucky continued to run, and the world around you was nothing but a darkened blur.
The sounds started to grow distant, and in this moment, even on the verge of death, at least you were held by Bucky once more.
Bucky kept his promise—and more.
Even in a world that wasn’t perfect, bound by duties that often kept you both far apart, in the end, he would always choose you.
thank you to the anon for that lovely request and for entrusting me to write it. if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them!
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I’m a bit out of it rn yall. long story short but I got held at gunpoint last night and am now the victim in a felony aggravated assault case. so I’ve got a lot going on. I’ll probably be off of her for a week or two but I promise I have seen your requests and have been working on them and I will post them when I get back!
GIRLLL WHERE ARE YOUUUUU????? WE NEED YOU!!!!! HOPE UR DOING OKAY 💋
I’m here!! I’m so sorry!!! Girllll I been sick and handling some HR changes at work so I’ve been so distant from socials but omg the love coming in from that last post is so felt and I appreciate all of you!!!
I do have some things being worked on and soon to be posted I promise!! Just bear with me 🙏💗
Summary: Usually, Victor held meetings in his office, not at a strip club. But Zeno had insisted on it this time, and who would say no to a private striptease?
Wordcount: 7.1k
Warnings/tags: Porn with plot, strippers, alcohol, penis in vagina sex, doggy style, missionary, dirty talk, multiple positions, biting, tit slapping, begging, crying, rough Sex, vaginal fingering, Hand jobs, breeding, creampie, unsafe Sex, Reader is chubby, squirting, age gap, size difference, praise kink, english is not my first language, not proof read!
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
The bass thumped through the dim haze of the strip club, neon lights flickering over women that were dancing sensually around poles. Smoke curled in the air, mixing with the scent of cheap perfume and spilled liquor, Victors nose scrunched up in a snarl as he followed Zeno deeper inside, the man in front of him strutting around as if he owned the place.
When Zeno had called in a meeting, regarding the tracking and capture of Grace Ashcroft, Gideon expected them to discuss it in his office- the usual. But no, this time Zeno insisted on chosing the place they would talk at.
Said place being a strip club came as a surpise to Victor.
But Zeno was his client, his companion of sorts, partners in crime some would call it- literally. And he was the money man in the whole operation. If Victor wanted to find and continue his masters legacy, he had to stay on Zenos good side.
Zeno guided Gideon to a table that was closest to one of the stages, a skinny blonde woman swaying her hips to the music, her eyes lighting up as she saw the white dressed man. Mr. Wesker. He always paid good.
While Zeno easily dropped into the chair, one leg thrown over the other, Gideon seemed less enthusiastic. Zeno lounged comfortably, his eyes, even though they were hidden behind his glasses, trailing over the movements of the stripper in front of him approvingly. He threw her some money, that's what he was known for. Throwing money around like confetti because he thought it made him irresistible. Big spender, zero charm.
But that mattered down here. Only the guys with money were interesting. And while the woman didn't know the big guy Zeno had dragged along, she quickly realised he wasn't here to spend anything. He looked like he'd rather dissect a corpse than watch tits bounce to the rhythm. So she quickly went back to ignoring him.
Victor huffed through his nose, throwing his briefcase onto the table. "So, Zeno, I'd like to start with-" but he didn't come far as Zeno clicked his tongue in annoyance "I'm not talking without a drink in my hand" he said dismissively, bringing his cloved hand to his mouth to whistle over to the bar.
The words you do it were about to leave your mouth, but your friend said them faster, making you lose your little game of banter. You groaned and took a pen and paper off the bar counter. "Hey, I did the last one. It's only fair" she called after you with a chuckle, her laugh growing louder when you flipped her off. You had been on your feet all day, in these stupid but unfortunately sexy heels and just wanted to take a break.
You adjusted your short skirt, the one that stretched perfectly over your curves and the plushness of your stomach. It always gave you the most tips, even if you were just serving drinks.
You sauntered over to the table with the guy that had whistled to get your attention, hips swaying, your makeup making your eyes look even more alluring. You recognized the man in white, though you didn't know his name. He was...a bit exhausting to deal with. But he was generous, which was a good compensation.
When Zeno spotted you, he whistled again, approvingly "Well, hello there, gorgeous," he drawled, leaning forward to take your hand, kissing the back of it. "What's a vision like you doing in a place like this?"
You flashed a professional smile, pulling away your hand a bit more forceful than intended "I'm here to ask what you boys want to drink today" you almost purred, popping out your hip as your pen tapped your notepad, waiting.
"Pour me a glass of whiskey on the rocks, sweetheart" Zeno said, slipping a bill into the hem of your skirt. You scribbled his order down with a hum. Then your gaze slid to the man next to him- damn. That just hit you like a freight train. He was massive, even sitting. You were sure you were merely a head taller than him when he sat. Just how much would he actually tower over you if he stood up?
His shoulders were broad and strong, straining his leather vest which wasn't closed in the front all the way, giving you a peek of his skin there, a snake skin coat draped over his stool like a shed skin. His skin was pale gray, etched with scars and cracks veined in red, and those yellow eyes pierced right through you. You almost visibly shuddered. Not from fear, no. People with mutations weren't as uncommon in this part of town, you had seen plenty. But it never made you feel...hot and bothered before.
When he started speaking, you almost melted into a puddle on the floor. Thank god your friend forced you to take this table. "Spiced rum. Neat" he specified, his voice way gentler than he looked, a soothing tone to your ears.
Your handwriting was crooked as you tried to remember what he ordered- you just couldn’t help imagining his voice speaking of something else, right into your ear while he fingered-
Zeno cleared his throat, snapping his fingers lightly. "Yeah and also, add some salted olives for me, pretty girl" he chimed in, enough to make you regain your composure. You nodded, writing it down, earning yourself another handful of bills that soon were stuck against your waistline.
Just when you turned to leave, Zeno called to you "Hey, beautiful, you got a name? Or should I just call you mine for the night?" he grinned, as if that just got you wrapped around his finger for good. You chuckled, trying to ignore the cringe-worthy line, telling him your name "- and flattery will get you extra toothpicks for your olives." You winked in hopes to get more tips later, but your attention lingered on Victor, who was subtly staring at your ass when you left.
Zeno wasn't hiding how he looked, watching you over the rim of his glasses as you talked to the bartender. "Oh she's so into me" he muttered, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he saw you lean against an empty bar stool, bored, waiting for the drinks to be poured.
Victor mustered all the strenght in him not to roll his eyes. He just hummed, the sound something between acknowledgement and agreement to Zenos delusional words.
"You have that look in your eyes" The bartener mused as he poured the whiskey, the ice in the glass cracking at the contact. "I'm tired as fuck, to put it frankly" you replied, but he shook his head with a laugh "No, not that. You look like you're thinking about sex. Is it white suit guy?" He asked you, looking behind you at Zeno, who went back to watch the blonde stripper dancing.
You bit your lip and shook your head "Not him, but..." you mumbled, averting his gaze. He gasped, almost overpouring the glass of rum "Uh, okay...you do you, girl" he shrugged and you went to slap his arm in embarrassement, to which he chuckled.
He sent you on your way with the drinks and bowl of olives on a tray, but not without muttering "Maybe if you kiss him, he'll turn into a pretty prince"
You threw him a look over your shoulder “Ha ha, you’re funny” you deadpanned. The bartender snorted, cleaning a glass with a rag he had slung over his shoulder “And you have some weird fetishes” he said, more to himself than to you, and luckily you were already too far away to hear him.
You balanced the tray on one hand as you approached the men’s table, your face growing hotter the further you went. At least the glass was cool against your fingers as you set it on the table and slid it towards Zeno “Whiskey on the rocks…” you started, absentmindedly placing the olives in the middle of the table. “…and a spiced rum, for the handsome gentleman” you didn’t know what came over you to make you say that, but now it stood between you in the humid air like a brick wall.
“Handsome gentleman? Sweetheart, are we seeing the same man?” Zeno chuckled, trying to mask just how pissed he was at the attention you gave Gideon. He went to pat his shoulder roughly “No hard feelings, Doc”
That made your ears perk up “You’re a doctor?” You asked, watching as the object of your desires took an approving sip of his rum, and you didn’t even know his name yet. “Well, yes. I am. A virologist, to be more specific. Dr. Victor…Gideon” the way he said his last name, his voice turning into a deeper rumble as he bowed lightly, flicking his wrist- a very charming way of introducing himself, you thought.
You giggled softly, squeezing your thighs together as his dark gaze raked over you, assessing . “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Gideon” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, purring his name as you tested the sound of it on your tongue. Good god, if you didn't get into his pants by the end of this evening, you'd combust.
He cocked his head to the side, a small smile playing around his lips “Victor” he corrected you, taking another swig of his drink “And the pleasure is all mine” his tongue darted out to lick the remains of the liquor off his lips- you damn near fainted right there. It was split, like a snake’s. It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it had turned you on, it was very fitting to the python theme of his clothes and jewellery after all.
You bit your lip, thinking about what his tongue could do, before you cleared your throat and averted your gaze. "Well, if the boys want another drink, you know where to find me" you said, pointing behind you at the bar with your thumb.
Your eyes wandered to Victor one more time before you reluctantly pulled yourself away, turning around with your tray tucked under your arm.
Victor let out a breath as your perfume left his nostrils, and he already missed the sweet scent of it. But he was here for business, and now that Zeno had his drink, they could finally talk. Or so he thought. He was just about to start where he left off when Zeno shushed him, popping a olive into his mouth "Seriously?" he mumbled, chewing.
Victor furrowed his brows, stopping in his tracks as he was just about to pull out stolen documents and photos "What?" he asked, a slight irritated edge to his voice.
Zeno looked at him, chewing obnoxiously, letting Gideon wait for an answer even though he was already fuming out of his ears. "Are you seriously just gonna...ignore that?" Zeno said, poking a few olives onto his toothpick before eating them one by one.
"Ignore what exactly?"
Zeno rolled his head to the side to look properly at Victor, his glasses sliding down his nose to reveal his eyes that screamed don't play with me right now, but as Gideons face remained obvious, Zeno sighed "Ignore that our darling server has the hots for you" of course Zeno had noticed that your eyes kept drifting to the big guy. He himself was used to being the center of attention, the one women fawned over for his looks and class- totally not because of his money.
But you? You with your beautiful plush curves, breasts sitting nicely in your skin tight shirt and your thighs thick enough to crush a man's head- you were eyeing Victor like he was the main course, even though you could have anyone.
Victor scoffed at Zenos words "She is as infatuated with me as she is with you, Zeno" he said and watched as the man in front of him processed his words. Zeno threw him a nasty glance before he cought himself, brushing a hand through his slicked back hair. "I'm serious. Didn't you see the way she looked at you? Should have brought your stupid goggles, maybe then you wouldn’t be so painfully obvious"
Victor huffed, his eyes narrowing. He wasn't stupid, you only batted your eyelashes in hopes to get money out of his pockets. That was the trick of these clubs. Gorgeous young women glued to the lips of older men, waiting patiently to be showered in money.
"I'd rather we discussed the situation at hand. Grace Ashcroft. A loyal informant of mine sent me her employment documents. She works for the Federal Bureau of-" yet again he was interrupted by Zeno, who laid hid arms around him, pulling the taller man closer "Come on, Victor. Live a little. If she works for the FBI, it's a piece of cake for us." He reassured, not taking this as seriously as he should "So, for now, let's focus on the piece of cake in front of us"
Gideon followed Zenos eyes to the bar where you stood, swirling a fruity cocktail in your hand as you talked to the bartender. Piece of cake indeed. Your soft side profile, kissable lips and round ass was all Victor could focus on.
"Just look at her. What a pretty little thing, all soft and inviting. Don't tell me you don't want a little taste of that, old man" Zeno continued rasping and truth be told, Gideon couldn't avert his gaze away from you. You seemed to feel his eyes bore into your back and you turned, meeting his intense stare. You bit your lip to surpress a smile, holding your glass up as if to cheer, before turning back to the bar. A flicker of interest broke through Victors mask of professionalism. He hadn't been with anyone in years, too buried in work and too scarred inside and out. Could he even handle you? Sweet and curvy temptation that you were?
After a tense pause, Victor sighed and ripped himself away from Zenos tight grip "I'll pass, thank you" he declined and opened up his laptop, typing in the password, making Zeno huff.
You gorgeous little thing were so desperate to get laid that you'd fuck Victor out of all people, and he didn't even appreciate it! Zeno could only shake his head.
Victor slipped an envelope over the table "Now, I'd like to discuss what we came here for in the first place" he said, voice stern with no room for arguments, his eyes pinning Zeno in place. The blonde man sighed "Alright, alright" he muttered, lighting a cigarette before he finally turned his attention to Gideon fully.
Gideon showed him all the documents, informations, e-mails and photos the private investor he paid had found to Grace's whereabouts, schedules and close relatives.
The men planned the abduction with deliberate care, every detail important. It had to work this time, it just had to. Zeno nor Victor were ready to wait another 8 years just because they made a stupid mistake or forgot one crucial factor.
By the end, the whole club had been emptied out. It was well into the morning hours now, and Victors backpain was proof that they had been sitting here for a very, very long while. They would have spoken about this whole thing even longer if it hadn't been for your friend approaching them, her hands on her waist "Gentleman, you don't have to go home yet, but I'm gonna need you to leave. We're closing" she said seriously. Her presence was menicing, pushing. She clearly wanted them to leave now.
Gideon, who quickly got onto her last nerve, was calmly sorting his laptop, the pictures and his notes back into his sleek black briefcase. She went to storm off with an annoyed groan, grabbing her coat to leave, but not before she cane over to you while you scrubbed down the bar "Can you handle these two assholes? I can not deal with their shit right now" she explained dramatically, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek after you nodded. Then she headed out, leaving you alone to your closing shift.
You ruffled out your hair, brushing a finger under your eye to clean off the eyeliner that had smudged throughout the night, making you look more like you hadn't slept in days instead of being sexy. Then you went over to the two men, hoping you didn't look as tired as you felt.
When you stood in front of them- holy fucking shit, Victor indeed loomed over you, quite easily up to two feet taller than you. You swallowed thickly. What else of him was this big?
You suddenly didn't feel as tired anymore.
You cleared your throat and collected the empty glasses off the table, putting them onto your tray that you held with one hand while you cleaned the table with a rag with the other "Well, you heard her. I don't want to throw you guys out, but I do want to go home soon" you smiled, eyeing Gideon in all his glory, with the snake coat now, in hopes to burn this imagine into your mind before you would never see him again.
"We're on our way, love" Zeno bowed slightly, throwing you a wink. Ugh, why couldn't the big strong doctor be so flirty with you?
Zeno already turned to leave when you suddenly stumbled over your own feet, the glasses slipping from the tray and shattering on the floor. Great. Really fucking great. "Shit" you gasped, dropping to your knees to scoop up the shards back onto your tray quickly. Not only did you have to pay for two new glasses now, but you also just completely humiliated yourself in front of Gideon and Zeno.
The floor suddenly went dark, and when you looked up, you almost moaned. Victor had crouched down with you, still towering over you tremendously. "Let me help" he just stated calmly and soft, beginning to pick up the glass "Oh- no, you don't have to-" you protested, but he was already shoveling the large splitters onto your tray. "You'll hurt yourself. Such delicate hands shouldn’t be scarred up" he said matter of factly, and the gesture made your heart soar in your chest.
He then helped you up, his hand strong and sure as he pulled you up to your feet and you almost tripped again, right against his chest. But you cought yourself, taking a step back, your fingers shaking as he handed you the tray with the busted glass.
"Thank you, doc" you smiled, which he returned, and you swore your cheeks were burning up from the look he gave you. He was about to answer, though a sharp whistle behind him made you both jump.
"Get in the car or get a room" Zeno complained impatiently, tapping his food as he leaned against the entrance door, impatient.
Victor bid you goodbye and turned to follow the smaller man. You watched him as he bowed down to fit under the doorframe, the door heavily clicking shut after that. Now you truly were alone, the pop music quiet in the background and your heart hammering helplessly in your chest.
Outside, Zeno dialed the number of his chauffeur, and by the way he almost crushed the phone in his hand from anger, the driver was on his way- but currently held up by a traffic jam.
Cursing, he searched for a fat cigar in his coat pocket, nearly biting it clean through with how hard he was clenching his jaw.
Gideon knew better than to taunt him right now, so he remained still, watching Zeno inhale deeply, before puffing out a ring of smoke that carried down the street until it eventually faded into thin air. His shoulders were a little less tense now, though only a fraction. "When he gets here, m'gonna fire him" he mumbled over the thick nub of cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Until he could fire the guy, it could be mere minutes, half an hour, or closer to two hours...Gideon leaned against a street lamp, crossing his arms in front of his chest. That's when he noticed- he wasn't carrying his briefcase!
He must have forgotten it in the club, too busy helping you with the clean up and stressed by Zeno whining into his ear that he wanted to leave.
He rolled his eyes, barely noticable, pushing himself up right. "Where'you goin'?" Zeno asked with a cocked brow, muttering through his cigar. "Forgot something" was all Victor answered, stomping back over to the entrance of the club and hoping you hadn't already locked up the building.
Relief washed over him as he found the door to be open, lights and music still on. Gideon watched you jump, ducking behind the counter as you heard the door creak open. You relaxed a bit as you recognized him "Don't scare me like that, fuck" you wheezed out, a shocked laugh escaping you. You had almost dropped another glass!
He didn't answer you, looking almost frantically around the room in search of something, frowning as whatever he was looking for wasn't in it's place where he had left it anymore. You dried your hands with a rag, your eyes following him "Is everything...okay?"
He spotted the suitcase on the bar counter, striding over to it. "I was just looking for this. Very important documents" he informed you with a charming half smile as you craned your neck up to look into his face. "And here I thought you came back because you missed me" you pouted softly, sauntering around the corner to stand in front of him.
He chuckled, the noise warming your core. "I can not miss what I never had, can I?" he returned, noticing the way you seemed to inch even closer. "You could have me. Right here" you were alone, and you were horny. So, so horny for this man. So it didn't really come as a surpise when you answered like this, and you couldn't bring yourself to feel guilty, not even when he muttered that hook-ups weren't his thing.
"I haven't done this in...ages" he admitted, but he felt his resolve cracking when your fingers made contact with his leather vest.
You stood flush against him, this was now or never "Then let me make it memorable" you breathed, fingers inching up to the scar that ran down his chest, your touch featherlight as you traced it. Victor was glad you couldn't see the goosebumps that spread across his neck and arms right now.
"I could make you feel so good" you whispered sincierely, and all better judgement was thrown out the window when your tongue replaced your fingers, licking the scar up to his throat- as far as you could reach while already standing on your tip-toes.
His hand shot up to grip your arm. You expected it to be harsh and tensed up, but he was surprisingly gentle, his hand sliding up to cup your face "Well, if you truly want to be a naughty little tease, why don't you strip for your doctor, hmm? I need to examine you properly, don't I?"
Fuck, Jackpot! You didn't think you would be able to crack his resolve in the end like this. You had already came to terms with the fact you'd go home and finger yourself to sleep, trying to imagine it was him. Now you didn't have to imagine anything anymore, you could just experience this, allthough you had no idea if you were dreaming right now instead. It was just too good to be true, which is why you pulled him by the hand over to a plush couch in front of a stage, buzzing with giddiness and excitement. Your genuine wide smile was enough to warm his coldblooded self.
"Make yourself comfortable, Doctor" you purred, watching him fall back into the leather couch, the material creaking under his weight. Tension crackled between you, like it had all evening, your pulse racing as you faced him.
His legs were spread wide, those yellow eyes tracking your every move, and something already began to stir in his pants.
You smiled, despite feeling incredibly bashful under his gaze. Yes, you had masturbated in weird and risky places before, but never out in the open at your job like this. You had rooms for that here, but you were too impatient to pull him into one, just so you could say you had a bed beneath you. He could fuck you right on this stage, too.
You started to sway to the last bit of music that played off of the work playlist, something sensual, before you slipped off your bra without removing your shirt yet. You threw it to the ground carelessly, then your hands slid up your sides, cupping your breasts through your top, thumbs circling your nipples until they pebbled through the fabric, a soft shudder going through you.
Slowly and ever so teasingly, you peeled off your low cut shirt and let it drop to the floor as well, revealing your full, beautiful tits, soft and bouncy, just begging for his attention.
Victor's breath hitched, his cock now very visibly filling out his pants. "My god" he muttered, eyes glued to you, the black slits of his eyes dilating into round pools of desire, making his eyes appear as if they were solid black.
You couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually looked at you with such genuine adoration and interest, so you shimmied out of your skirt, kicking it aside, standing in just your lace panties that clung to your wet pussy, the colour matching your bra. You turned slowly, arching your spine to show off your ass and the soft rolls of your back, then faced him again, fingers hooking into the waistband that dug into your soft hips. "Like what you see, Doctor? I always had a thing for men in white coats, you know” you admitted, caressing your curves to the music.
Victor chuckled, a deep rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Come closer, darling. Be a good girl and tell me where it hurts” he mused, flicking his fingers in a command for you to approach. He didn’t have to tell you twice.
You slid your panties down, quickly stepping out. But instead of throwing it away, you pushed the wet fabric into his coat pocket as you perched yourself on his lap, your dripping cunt barely hovering over the bulge in his pants. "Down here” you whispered, voice raw with need as you guided his large hand too your pussy, letting him feel how soaked you were.
You mewled as his fingertips dipped inside you shallowly, your hand clawing at the collar of his coat. He hummed as if analysing your reaction with medical professionalism “What kind of pain are you experiencing?” He asked you, smooth and soothing, his middle finger slipping deeper inside, making you gasp “Is it dull? Stabbing…burning?” His voice became more and more breathless as he watched you fall apart from the stretch of his fingers.
You sighed, his fingers easing the ache in your core “It’s a throbbing…pulsing pain. Feels empty” you whined, rocking eagerly against his hand, your arms snaking around his neck for balance “Any idea what it might be, doc?” You panted the question, your wet pussy squelching on his fingers and swallowing his thick rings that made him feel even bigger.
“Hmm, I could imagine one or two things…but I think I need to take a closer look, just to be sure" He smirked, pulling out of you, the uncomfortable emptiness returning instantly and you whimpered at the loss. You wasted no time to spread your pussy lips over his bulge, humping against the coarse fabric of his pants, staining it with your slick. You felt like him being completely dressed while you were naked was greatly unfair, so your hands went to his coat, shrugging it off his broad shoulders. Then you unbuttoned his leather vest with shaking fingers, your hands just couldn’t get the garment off quick enough.
Underneath it all- fucking hell. His torso was cushioned with fat, but you felt the strength under your palms as you roamed his pecs, the pale grey skin soft despite the red scars that mapped his body.
"So fucking hot" you breathed to yourself, nails scraping down his chest, leaving angry red trails. He hissed at the sting and yanked you closer, your mouths finally crashing together. The kiss was hungry, your tongues tangling, allthough yours quickly lost the battle with his forked one.
He broke away, making you whine out that he stopped, a string of salaiva connecting your tongues "Go get your medicine, sweet girl"
You obeyed instantly, fumbling with his belt and zipper until you practically ripped it all off of him- and then his cock sprang free, slapping against his plush belly. You thought you just came on the spot.
Victors dick was very much matching the rest of him. It was girthy, long, veins pulsing underneath the pale skin and his tip already leaking. "Holy fuck" you moaned, wrapping your hand around it, stroking slowly. It throbbed in your grasp, hot and heavy, bigger than anything you had ever taken, though you certainly dreamt of having your pussy stuffed to the max.
You held his cock up and against your stomach, it ended about an inch or two over your belly button, and you were looking down at it in awe. He chuckled at that, but was interrupted by a groan as you pumped him faster, thumb swiping over the sensitive tip. His head fell back, eyes fluttering "That's it" you stroked him like you knew just to drive him crazy, as if jerking him off was everything you ever did- everything you were made for.
When he regained his composure, barely, he leaned forward to latch onto your breast, trailing hot open mouth kisses over it until his lips found your nipple, sucking hard and swirling his tongue over it.
You cried out, arching into him as he bit down lightly, his golden teeth grazing the sensitive bud. "Fuck- oh, Victor!" you gasped, squeezing his cock tighter in your fist. His free hand slapped your other tit, the sting making you yelp again, then he pulled off your nipple to spit over your other breast, rubbing the saliva in with rough circles.
"Such perfect breasts you have" he muttered against your skin, switching sides to suck, slap and bite, leaving them red and slick and blooming with red and uneven teeth marks. You ground eagerly down on his thigh, pussy soaking his pants, your movements over his cock growing sloppy.
"Please" you begged, pushing his cock between your folds, sliding back and forth. It made Gideon hiss, hands digging into your thighs painfully "I need your cock inside me. Please, Victor"
You shrieked as he suddenly stood, hauling you up in his arms and manhandling you onto all fours down onto his large coat that he threw onto the cold stage so your knees were cushioned. There was barely enough room for him on the couch alone, but he needed to fuck you properly, make this worth your while, so the stage it was.
Your hands clawed at the fabric as you arched your back, eagerly presenting your dripping pussy to him. He massaged your mound with one hand just to see you squirm.
"You really want me to stretch that pretty pussy?" he taunted, but maybe with a slight unsure tone, as if you'd snap out of it soon and realise you were letting a disgusting old bastard fuck you raw.
But all you did was push back against him "Yes, yes I want it. Fill me up, doc- wanna cum all over your cock" you mewled, laying your upper body on his coat, your cheek squished against the collar, inviting him even further.
Victor lined up with your hole, rubbing his thick head through your folds and coating himself in your wetness before thrusting in. Once your pussy started to envelope him slowly, inch by inch, he couldn't help but sigh in bliss. You were so tight, while to you, it felt like he was splitting you open. You screamed, the stretch burning in your core, his cock filling you utterly and completely. "Oh, what a snug little pussy" he sighed, bottoming out, his heavy balls slapping your clit.
He wasn't a monster, so he waited exactly 3.5 seconds to let you adjust, anything extending that time would have been torture.
Victor pulled out before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace from the start. Each thrust rocked you forward, tits bouncing and your nipples rubbing against the fabric of his coat while his hips snapped against your ass. "Who would have thought you would take me so well" he mused, watching how he disappeared into your cunt, his dick coming out wetter with every pass. The sight made him groan.
You moaned, pushing back as much as his strong hands on your hips allowed you, meeting his harsh pounding "H-harder!" you hiccupped, biting into his coat "Fuuuck, you're so biiig" you whined, the needy sound muffled.
But Gideon wouldn’t have you hiding your moans from him, so he wrapped one hand up in your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your neck for bites and open mouth kisses. When he leaned over you to lick at your pulse point, his plush stomach molded perfectly into the arch of your back, as if you two were made to fit together like this.
Tears started to brim in the corner of your eyes as he abused your cervix mercilessly, pleasure shooting down your legs to the point you almost couldn't hold yourself up anymore.
When he reached around, his thick fingers finding your clit to rub it in fast circles, a sob escaped your throat and fat tears rolled down your cheek from the ectasy "Cum for me, sweetheart. Milk my cock, I know that pussy wants it. She's so needy, dripping all over me and onto my coat. Filthy girl"
His words were your undoing and you soon submitted to the building pressure coiling in your abdomen, your orgasm crashing over you likes waves. "Victor! Oh god- yes! Yesyesyes, cumming!" you yelled, your body convulsing violently, your cunt gushing even more around his cock while your legs were shaking helplessy beneath you.
He didn't stop, and the way he moaned when you clenched hard around him was heavenly. He pounded you through it as best as he could to prolong your pleasure and chase his own release, but your orgasm made you incredibly tight, your pussy barely letting go of him.
"Good girl. Be ready for one more, I haven't had my fill yet" Victor pulled out of you with a slick pop, much to your dismay, before he flipped you onto your back. He was setting you down carefully despite his desperation.
He hooked your legs over his shoulders, grasping your pillowy thighs in his hands, kneading them as he leaned forward to fold you in half as far as your flexibility allowed, slipping back inside. You moaned at that, your eyes rolling back into your head. "Oh my- fuck!" You gasped, this new angle hitting spots deep inside you that you didn't know existed.
You scratched his back open, drawing blood, the pain only spurring him on. Your mouth was opened in a constant symphony of moans and whines, your brows furrowed as you tried to keep looking at him, into his lustful eyes, and the way his lips parted to pant, sweat beading on his forhead.
He spat on your tits again, slapping them as he fucked you, making you cry out and arch your back into him. "Look at you, tits jiggling and your pussy creaming on my dick. Such a needy slut. What more could an old man like me want?" He taunted, admiring your beauty like he had all evening. Even when your tears washed the make up down your face, you were utterly captivating.
You could only nod dumbly, your voice shaking "Yes yes yes, use me, Victor, please!- don't stop!" you were sobbing all pretty for him, another orgasm approaching quickly with how sensitive you already were. The mere pressure of his thumb on your clit threw you over and you came a second time, harder, squirting all over his cock with a shocked yell. Your vision whited out for a second there, your ears ringing so loud you didn't even hear yourself scream his name like a mantra.
Victor growled, thrusts erratic. "Gonna fill you up, cum deep in this tight cunt." He muttered more to himself than to you. Even if he had spoken to you, he doubted you were close enough to earth to hear him at the moment. A feeling of proudness filled his chest, so he buried himself all the way inside with a roar, his cock twitching violently against your cervix, unloading thick hot spurts of his cum right where it belonged, so deep he was sure most of it would stay inside.
Both of you panted heavily as you came down from your highs. He gently slid your trembling legs off his shoulders, your eyes remaining closed, even when he gently pulled out of you, though not without earning himself a disappointed whine from you.
He brought you back down from space with a kiss, one you gladly accepted. Your whole body was buzzing with warmth, aching in all the right places.
When he pulled back, you were smiling blissfully, completely relaxed and at ease. He brushed a strand of sweaty hair behind your ear, the gesture making you shiver. "That was...amazing. How much do I owe you, sweet girl?" he asked you.
At first you thought he was joking, and when you realised he was dead serious, you bursted out laughing, sounding hoarse but giddy, sitting up on his coat. He helped you, putting the top part of it around your shoulders. It dwarfed you slightly, feeling heavy and grounding. "Owe me? Victor, that was the best fuck of my life, ever. I'm not charging you a single penny" you giggled, wrapping yourself up tighter in his jacket, watching him sit next to you on the stage to put his pants back on.
You brushed your hand over his naked chest, your finger traveling down the scar that seemed to split him in two "But...maybe you could...ask me out on a date? Dinner somewhere, round two..." you purred, smirking up at him with mischief in your eyes. Damn, you looked too good in his coat. This was a deadly combination.
He blinked, a rare smile cracking on his face. "A date? With me?"
You smiled, leaning closer "Yeah. We have to talk about the results from all the tests we just did and find out what's wrong with me- why I seem to have a thing for older, mutated doctors"
Victor chuckled, pulling you in for a lazy kiss. "Deal" he breathed against your lips.
Of course, despite everything, Victor hadn't forgotten about Zeno. But considering that he hadn't blown up his phone nor stormed in on the two of you fucking, the driver was most likely still on his way here.
Gideon quickly went to dress himself in his vest, brushing back his hair and trying to look like he didn't have wild sweaty sex just moments ago. You stood on wobbly legs, collecting your clothes from the floor, even though you were currently wearing Victors coat, which dragged across the floor and slid past your hands from how big it was.
"Your coat..." you muttered, even though something in you didn't want to take it off. Victor looked down at you, and my god were you cute. A slight smile tugged at his lips and he leaned down to kiss you one more time "Keep it. As a promise that we will see each other again" he whispered in your ear, making your heart hammer in your chest, giddiness rising up in your throat.
You went over to the bar counter, trying not to fall over with the excess fabric pooling around your legs, and scribbled something onto a napkin. Your number.
From the fanny pack you used to store your note pad for orders and your wallet, which you had discarded onto the floor as well, you pulled out a small travel sized parfume, the one you had used today, soaking the napkin with it so the scent would linger for a few days. Then you waddled back over to Victor, pushing the napkin under the hem of his v-neckline.
"Give me a call, doc" you purred, leaning up to kiss his cheek, the last bit of lipstick you hadn't managed to sweat off leaving a faint mark on his cheek, which quickly matched the colour his face flushed in from the gesture.
When he reluctantly left this time, he didn’t forget his suitcase, storming out of the club.
Zeno stood where he had left him, cigar burned to a stump. When he saw Victor, he squared up "Where were you?" he asked irritated.
Gideon held up the briefcase "I forgot this. I went in to get it, but the server girl had already put it into the lost and found container. I went through the whole thing to get it back" he lied, stepping up to Zeno.
While the idea of a big guy digging through a pile of stinking clothes, practically diving into the huge container for his suitcase was amusing, but Zeno couldn't find it in him to even smirk. "Did the gods of the lost and found demand your coat as compensation or what?" he spat into Victors face, but the taller man only brushed past Zeno as the familiar car they were waiting for came into view behind him.
A touch of something floral and fruity stung in Zenos nose as Gideon walked by and he turned his head, only to see a kiss mark on the side of Gideons face that was illuminated by the streetlamp.
"What the fuck-" he exclaimed as he pieced it all together, but the sound of a door being slammed shut made him snap out of it. The black tinted window of the car rolled down, revealing Gideon in the passenger seat "Get in, Zeno" he commaned, then the window went back up, leaving Zeno to stare into his dumbfounded face in the reflection
He huffed out a growl.
"Lucky bastard..."
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
Idk what has gotten into me lmao and idk if this is even a good plot for Gideon, but I got carried away as you can see😭
Lmk how you liked it in the comments <3
Also, why is being tumblr such a whiny bitch when you're in a rush to post something
We, The Council of Thirsty Tumblr Users, demand more Caine content in order to keep your account active. Failure to comply will cause in very disappointed anonymous users.
You have been wanted.
Well we definitely don’t want to disappoint, now do we?~
Definitely will start drafting up some ideas buuuttt if anyone has any ideas, feel free to send them over 💗
and i need to tell u that u did a good job. everyday i learn some new words that will haunt me /positive
Thank you so much!!
I redid that fic so many times trying to write it in a way that I usually do with plot behind it but it was not working out for me and I’m honestly surprised by the outcome but so glad people are enjoying it so much!!! 💗💗💗
hngghhh writing this Leon Kennedy x reader fairytale fic that’s supposed to be a retelling of tangled and it’s 23k words so far unedited im gonna lose my mind
i decided i'm going to start doing some monthly rec posts for fics i've read and enjoyed throughout the month to show support for the writers! be sure to check these fics out and like, reblog and follow these writers because they're all so fucking cool!!
**some fics will not have necessarily been posted in february
IMPORTANT: please read the warnings on the fics before reading them. most will be 18+!! there is some series in there also but mainly all of these are one shots!
ᰔ indicates that this is a series / multi parts
۶ৎ steve harrington
perfect disaster by @vividxpages
ᰔ idealism sits in a prison by @cha0ticstranger
to be me by @roseyreveries
ᰔ things you don't see by @sorryharrington
show don't tell by @luvdeuce
the man who can't be moved by @loveridge
friends don't kiss by @vividxpages
steve fingering you at a party by @lipglossnkisses
fingersucking by @keerymehome
plushy boyfriend by @envythekoipond
ᰔ don't kiss and tell by @harringtonsdiary
۶ৎ gator tillman
ᰔ the tie that binds by @cha0ticstranger
salvation by @insomniacpen
ᰔ superstitious by @petalborn
cool my desire by @cha0ticstranger
۶ৎ travis "teacake" meacham
reciprocal by @keer-y
feelin' you by @solarismoons
۶ৎ bucky barnes
a lesson in devotion by @sheriff-bodecker
speak now by @brunchable
double vision by @aureateink
vibe check @ @planetbucky
never leave me by @blowingbarnes
۶ৎ steve rogers
neighbourhood watch by @blowingbarnes
when did you get hot? by @epiphanyrogers
fill her up by @slutdier
PLEASE I NEED CAINE SMUT💔. ONE WHERE CAINE IS THW TOP BUT HE IS SO DESPERATE YOU HAVE TO CALM HIM DOWN 💔💔
Summary: In the ask <3
CW: smut obv, Caine is very desprate, very dominant, very rough
A/N: I genuinely couldn’t find a way to add plot to this so there is no plot, this is just pure smut so it’s just gonna be a short little flash fic, I hope that’s okay! Also, I’m so glad Caine is finally getting the love he deserves after EP8!!!
Directory!!
The room is dim, lit only by one harsh white spotlight that follows his every move. The moment you materialize on the large circular bed, Caine is on you. He is desperate, trembling, his usual theatrical grace completely shattered. His gloved hands shake as they rip your clothes away, not caring when seams tear. He pins your wrists above your head with bruising force, his body pressing you down so heavily you can barely breathe. His teeth find your throat immediately, biting hard, sucking deep marks into your skin like he needs to brand you before you can even think about leaving.
He frees his cock with frantic, clumsy movements. It’s achingly hard, flushed dark, already leaking in thick beads down the shaft from how long the stress has been building. Without a single word he spreads your thighs wide and thrusts in deep with one brutal, desperate stroke that buries him to the hilt. The stretch is overwhelming, but he doesn’t stop. He starts fucking you immediately, hips snapping in short, frantic, punishing thrusts.
Every movement screams desperation. He’s trying to fuck the thought of escape out of you. To fuck every longing glance you’ve ever taken toward the void with the heavy, relentless drag of his cock inside you. His glowing eyes are wide and wild, locked on your face, drinking in every gasp and whimper as if your pleasure is the only thing keeping his code from fracturing.
You’re already overstimulated. The sudden, deep invasion pushing you toward the edge far too fast. Your body clenches around him involuntarily, thighs shaking, and you try to calm him. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his back in an attempt to slow his frantic rhythm. One of your hands twists free just enough to cup his jaw, thumb stroking over his clenched teeth, silently urging him to breathe, to ease up, to let you ground him.
But Caine is too far gone. He growls low in his chest and only fucks you harder, hips slamming against yours with wet, obscene slaps. He shifts his angle so every thrust drags perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you, forcing another wave of overwhelming pleasure through your already trembling body. His free hand slides between you, gloved fingers rubbing tight, ruthless circles over your clit, determined to push you over the edge again and again until the only thing left in your mind is him.
You come hard the first time, walls fluttering and clenching around his thick length, but he doesn’t slow. He keeps pounding into you through your orgasm, chasing his own relief while your overstimulated nerves scream. Your second climax hits almost immediately after, sharper and more intense, tears pricking at your eyes as your body shakes uncontrollably beneath him. Still he doesn’t stop. He is desperate, relentless, using your body to bleed out every ounce of stress and rejection the others have piled onto him.
Only when you’re a trembling, overstimulated mess whimpering, thighs quivering, trying desperately to soothe him with soft touches and the tight grip of your legs around his waist does he finally let go. With a silent, shattered groan he buries himself as deep as he can and comes hard, flooding you with thick, endless pulses of hot digital seed. He grinds against you through every spurt, making sure you feel every twitch, every drop, as if marking you from the inside out will somehow convince you to stay.
Even after he’s spent he doesn’t pull out. He collapses over you, heavy and possessive, cock still buried deep inside your oversensitive, leaking body. His arms wrap around you like steel, face pressed into the crook of your neck as the frantic static in his code slowly begins to settle. His breathing is ragged, trembling, but your gentle touches gradually calm him.
In the quiet, overstimulated haze, with Caine’s body still twitching inside you and his teeth resting gently against your marked throat, the message sinks in deep:
He needs you.
He is desperate for you.
And as long as you’re wrapped around him like this there is no room left in your mind for thoughts of leaving.
