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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 months ago

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Dog Tags (3)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When a mission goes wrong, Bucky gets his Dog Tags back.

Disclaimer: This is part three for one and two. Mentions of serious injuries, blood and being hospitalised. Angst, bit of fluff here and there, hurt/comfort, Bucky stays by reader's side. Sam giving Bucky his own reality check, platonic!Wanda, swearing. Left kinda open ended in case I decide to write part four? Not Proof Read.

Bucky stared down at the dog tags in his hands, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the blood stained letters. He had to take a deep breath before the tears started flowing again.

You were meant to be on a simple recon mission. You’d done them a thousand times. Maybe you’d come back with a bruise or two, but you still came back.

This time, his phone had rung throughout his room just as the clock turned 4:00 am. An agent had found the tags on her person. They knew they weren’t hers, but they were definitely someone’s.

Bucky had gotten to the hospital in under an hour. You’d still been in surgery by the time he arrived, but the nurses had brought out your personal belongings in a large plastic bag.

Your clothes; blood stained to hell. Your Shield issued weapons were empty of bullets. Whatever had happened, you’d emptied your clip, plus your three backups. Your knife lay at the bottom of the bag, stained with blood, too.

Bucky couldn’t work out if it was yours or someone else's. But he did know one thing for certain. The blood that lay splattered over his tags, as he pulled the chain from the bag, was yours. You never wore them outside of your uniform. You kept them close to your chest. It couldn’t be anyone else's.

Bucky had left a message at Hill’s desk, as well with Sam explaining what had happened. What he knew, at least. Hill was sending someone to the mission base to find out more.

“Mr Barnes?”

Bucky took in a deep breath as he stood up, clasping the tags in his palm. Maybe if he squeezed tightly enough, he’d be able to feel you.

“Yes.”

“Your wife is now out of surgery. We’ll be keeping her under observation for the foreseeable, but once she’s situated in a room, you’ll be able to sit with her.” The Doctor told him.

Bucky just nodded. “Do you know what happened?”

“I know it’s not common, but I’ll bring you her more detailed medical chart.” They told him. “There was too much extensive damage to talk about off the top of my head.”

Those words hit Bucky in the chest, harder than anything else had ever done.

“But she’ll-” Bucky couldn’t bring himself to talk.

The Doctor just nodded. “She’s going to need a lot of physical therapy. Thankfully nothing broke within her legs, but the damage to her muscles will make her training a lot harder than it should be for a while.”

Bucky nodded.

“But she’ll be okay.”

“Thank you.”

The Doctor nodded. “Thank you for the tags.”

Bucky was a little confused as he followed the doctor’s finger, pointing to his hand. The dog tags? Why was she thanking him for the dog tags?

“If your wife hadn’t been wearing them, we wouldn’t have known who to contact.”

Wife.

Bucky felt himself chuckle inside. If you were awake and could hear the doctor now, you’d have probably made some disgusted eye roll and comment over being even associated with him.

“Oh, yeah.”

The Doctor smiled. “I’ll come and get you when she’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

She just nodded with another soft smile before walking away. Twenty minutes later, he was being walked down the hallway where he stood outside of your room for ten minutes before opening up the door.

You had at least a dozen wires hooked up to you, aside from the standard hospital gear. Bucky just stared at the monitor for a while, watching your heartbeat print onto paper.

Eventually, he sat in the chair beside your bed and looked at you. In that moment, he’d give anything to have you yell at him. Cuss him out, threaten him, roll your eyes…anything.

“They…” Bucky cleared his throat, looking down at the tags in his hand. “They told me you should still be able to hear me…and that talking helps. I know you’re probably mad it’s me who’s here, but you can’t blame me for this one, doll.”

A weak chuckle escaped Bucky’s lips as he looked from his hand and to your sleeping frame. “They think we’re married, by the way. Mostly because of the dog tags they found on you. I’ve…I’ve got em’ right here. They’re safe. You’re safe, doll. Just…just kinda need you to wake up soon. Maybe tell me to piss off. Not that I’d leave you anyway, but that’s kinda our thing, right? Fighting?”

Bucky went silent for a while as he looked at you.

“I need you to fight me, sweetheart.” Bucky told you. “So you’ve gotta mend and pull through all of this. Whatever happened out there in the field…that’s not the end of your story. It can’t be. I won’t let it.”

Bucky could hear your voice in his head. “You’d don’t have a choice in it, Barnes.”.

Bucky told you a few more things, like how he’d called both Hill and Sam. He told you that he’d text Wanda, “She’ll get it once she lands. I’m sure she’ll be flying through that window soon.”

But, eventually, he stopped talking. He just let the sound of your steady heart fill the room. It was proof you were still alive. You were still here.

On the days where Bucky couldn’t sit with you, Wanda took his place. Or Kate. Or Sam. On the odd occasion, Joaquin sat with you. Bucky had walked in on plenty of PowerPoint presentations of how his suit was better than Sam’s old one.

But when he did sit with you, his mind would wander to memories of you and him. Like the training room when he’d told you he knew you had his dog tags, or when he’d helped you when you got hurt a few months back.

But one stuck out to him in particular. Plenty stuck out to him as time ticked by, but he was reminded of this one as he looked at the side table beside your bed. Your knife lay on top, still in its protective covering.

Less than three weeks before you’d landed in hospital, Bucky had been training with you.

The main noises being made were grunts. As you hit his chest, as he knocked your legs down, as you twisted his arm, as he flipped you onto the mat, as you kicked his legs from beneath him, as you both rolled across the mats before you landed on top, trapping him in place.

“Give in yet?”

“Do you?”

You were about to question what he meant, but then you felt it. Cold and sharp; he had your knife, again. But this time, it was pointed against your side.

“What?” You hesitated for a second and looked away. Bucky took his opportunity.

In two simple moves, you were on your back staring up at him with your own knife gently pressed against your skin.

“Give in.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes at his glowing smirk. “Yes. Fine. Now get off me.”

Bucky chuckled and stood up, lowering his hand down to help you up. At first, you swatted it away. But he held it out again, “Come on.”

Reluctantly, you accepted it and he helped you stand. “You’re focusing too much. Too in your head. You need to relax.”

Bucky flipped the knife over in his hand so he was pinching the sharp blade. He handed it over to you and you swiped it up. “Thanks.” Your voice grunted a little before you placed your knife back in its place.

“You know, if you wanted to, you could train with me more often.” Bucky offered as he walked away. “I know you and I are…whatever we are. But I have training that isn’t exactly found in a Shield manual.”

“I’m fine.” You said, avoiding looking at him as he stood with his back to you. You had stared at him in this fashion one too many times. It was only a short time before someone caught you doing so. Even worse if it was Bucky.

“It’s not an issue. Hell, we don’t have to even talk-”

“I said I’m fine.” You didn’t mean to raise your voice when you spoke to him. You regretted it instantly. You sighed. “Look, I know you mean well. And, thank you. But I’m okay.”

Bucky watched you, over his shoulder. You walked away from the mats, grabbed your water bottle and sat down on one of the opposite benches.

“What is it?”

“What?”

“Do you have a problem with me or something?”

You sighed. “Bucky.”

“I get you and I don’t exactly get along-”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” you cut him off. “I just-”

You gave a short sigh. There were so many reasons why it wouldn’t work if he was the one to train you. He wouldn’t know it, but you’d become more distracted by him. And for some reason it was written into the heavens that if you and Bucky spent more than ten minutes alone together, things in the air started to get…close. Too close.

But the main thing was your undisclosed feelings for the super annoying, massive pain in your ass, super soldier. The longer you spent around him, so close to him, the harder they were getting to manage.

It was only a matter of time before he figured out the truth.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Can we just leave it at that? Please?”

Bucky watched you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Forget I ever mentioned it.”

You just nodded.

Later that evening, Bucky had been with Wanda. And he’d been avoiding the topic of you ever since he walked through the front door.

“Did something happen between you two?” Wanda just flat out asked him.

“No. Nothing happened.”

“You’re sulking, so I know something happened.”

Bucky shrugged. “She just doesn’t want my help. I’ve tried being nice. But she’s just so…her. It’s annoying.”

Wanda nodded. “Yeah, I’m gonna need more information than just…you not handling your school boy crush very well.”

“I don’t-” Bucky shut his mouth as he whipped his head around to look at Wanda. “I don’t like her like that.”

“Doesn’t like who?” Sam asked as he walked through the door.

“Bucky. Not liking Y/n.”

Sam just barked a laugh as he opened up the fridge and put his groceries away. “Ha! That’s a bullshit lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What-”

“Bucky,” Sam was practically laughing. “You’ve had a crush on her for god knows how long. I don’t know what twisted bullshit you both have going on that prevents you from talking like normal human beings, but even I know you saying you don’t like Y/n is nothing but a complete and utter bullshit lie.”

Bucky looked at Wanda for backup but she seemed to be on Sam’s side.

“You know, maybe if you…I don’t know…talked to her rather than fight her-”

“She fights me!”

Sam just looked at him. “You fight each other.”

“Maybe you should just try and talk to her,” Wanda told him. “Might just clear a few things up.”

Sam sat down on the arm of the chair. “You’ve had feelings for her for a long time, Buck. Maybe it’s time you did something about it.”

Bucky just sighed.

“How long have you guys been married?”

Bucky hadn’t noticed the nurse walk inside to your hospital room, at first. “Sorry?”

“I’m sorry to ask,” she apologised as she changed out your IV and drew some blood. “It’s just…I’ve seen a lot of couples pass through these doors and I’m yet to see ones with a connection like yours.”

Bucky sat up. The nurse could read the confusion on his face from a mile away.

She just stepped to the side and pointed at the print of the heart rate.

“See these spikes here?”

Bucky nodded.

“These are from when you’ve been with her. It’s good they’re going up. It means she’s recognising her surroundings. At the very least, the people in it. You’re healing for her.”

Bucky just looked at your still sleeping frame. He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

The nurse smiled again. “How long have you two been married?”

“Not long,” Bucky answered. “But we’ve…we’ve known each other for years.”

The nurse smiled. “Who made the first move?”

Bucky thought for a moment. “She did. She saved my life.”

And you had.

You’d been one of the new agents placed with the team. In the middle of a forest, Bucky had noticed every tripwire save for one. As something came flying over head, you’d swiped his legs from underneath him and pinned him down.

“You’re welcome,” you whispered.

That had been the first time Bucky had met you. It had also been the first time he’d looked you in the eyes. He could have happily drowned there and then. Which scared him. More than he knew what to deal with.

“And now you’re here saving hers,” the nurse smiled. “I’ll be back in about an hour. Is there anything I can get you? Blankets, pillows?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“She’ll be okay, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky just nodded and watched as the nurse left. As he turned his head, that was when he noticed your chart. They still kept you as Y/n Barnes. Nobody, including Bucky, had bothered to correct them. If anything, it meant Bucky still learnt about your injuries and your healing process.

It also meant he got access to stay with you for as long as he wanted. Which, if he didn’t have to work and if Sam didn’t come and drag him outside every few hours, he’d stay the whole time.

It was a month or so more before you finally woke up.

When Bucky had gotten a text from Joaquin telling him to get to the hospital quickly, he’d dropped what he was doing and came running down the hallway of the hospital ten minutes later.

“What’s happening?”

“I-I don’t know.” Joaquin told him. “I was just holding her hand and she moved. Like, she squeezed my hand.”

“What?” Bucky moved past Joaquin and to your side, leaning his hand on the side headboard.

“Y/n? Hey, doll? Can you hear me?”

Bucky held your hand in his. Nothing happened. “I know you don’t like me all that much, but if you can hear me, can you try and squeeze my hand?”

Again, nothing.

Bucky looked at Joaquin.

“I didn’t dream it.”

Bucky looked back at you. For a split second, he pushed some of your hair from your face. “Doll, if you’re awake, please. I just need you to squeeze my hand.”

Again, nothing.

Until there was something.

“Go and get a nurse.”

“On it!” Joaquin practically flew out of the room.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Joaquin had been talking to you, telling you that you were gonna be okay. Then you heard Bucky’s voice which was quickly followed by a rough hand gently holding onto yours.

And when you finally opened your eyes, you saw him. Standing beside your bed, holding your hand, looking like the world had finally started moving again.

It was a few hours before you came around properly. And when you did, it felt a lot less hectic. Everything was peaceful and quiet. You had time to look around. There was a steady beeping somewhere.

A heart monitor.

You had different wires and tubes sticking out of you. The lights weren’t as bright as they’d been when you’d first woken up.

But the thing that caught your eye the most was the sleeping frame of Bucky, hunched over your bed. Then you felt it. His hand, still in yours.

You tried to squeeze his hand but eventually it hurt a little less and he stirred awake before shooting up.

“Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“How long have I been out?”

Bucky answered you honestly. “Almost two months. The damage was extensive. Can you remember anything?”

You just nodded. “I think I blacked out after the building collapsed because I don’t remember anything after that.”

Bucky stood and pressed a button on the headboard of your bed before sitting beside you, clasping your hand in his. If it had been any other time, you would have taken your hand right back.

But in that moment you needed comfort. You needed to feel safe.

You felt safe with Bucky.

But then you gasped. “Shit.”

“What? Are you hurt? What is it?”

You sat up and touched your chest and neck. “Your- your tags. I-”

Bucky just pulled the chain from his shirt. “There’s right here.”

You visibly relaxed but then you tensed as you watched Bucky remove them. “What are you doing?”

A small chuckle left him, “Just stay still, would you?”

“It’s not like I can exactly run away right now.”

Bucky smiled to himself before lifting the chain up and over your head. “There.”

You looked at him, wondering what he meant by all of it. “They’re your tags, Bucky.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I know they’re safe with you. They always looked better on you, anyway.”

Once Bucky knew you were okay, he’d wiped the rest of the tags clean. He’d been waiting to lay them back on you. He didn’t want to do it while you were sleeping. He needed you to fight him first.

He needed proof you were alive.

That was when the door opened and a nurse walked inside. “You’re awake! I must say, you nearly gave me and your husband a fright earlier. The doctor hadn’t predicted that you would wake up this early.”

You looked at Bucky and whispered, “Husband?”

“Just go with it,” he whispered back.

It wasn’t until an hour or so, when both the Doctor and nurse had left, that you spoke to Bucky again.

“You wanna tell me why we’re married?”

“They found my tags with you. They called me and…”

“You never corrected them?” You’d asked that question a lot calmer than Bucky had been expecting.

“It meant I got to stay with you longer. And that they’d tell me what was going on.”

“You didn’t need to do that, Bucky.”

Bucky was honest with you. “I’m glad they called me first.”

You hand clutched the tags dangling from your neck. “They really thought you were my husband?”

Bucky chuckled. “If anything, the tags made sure you came home.”

In the silence as you and Bucky looked at each other, you felt the coolness of the metal in your palm. His tags had brought you home. His tags had brought him to you. His dog tags made sure you weren’t alone. And something told you Bucky had the same idea.

Which was only confirmed when he attended almost every physio appointment with you.

“How’s she doing, doc?”

The physio smiled as they held their arms up, in case you fell. “She’s doing great.”

“She’s tired and pissed off.” You answered truthfully.

“If it makes you feel any better, I brought your favourite snacks from that store you and Kate found.”

Your hand gripped the two parallel bars as you slowly walked from one side to the other. “How the hell do you know about that store?”

“I asked Kate. She told me.”

As the phyio’s pager went off, Bucky offered to take over for a few minutes to help you. And, considering the medical staff still believed you and Bucky to be married, you’d both decided to just keep the act up.

So, slowly walking beside you in case you fell, Bucky helped you turn around and walk back down the parallel bars.

“How’ve you been feeling?”

“You mean other than tired and pissed off?”

“Yeah.”

“Sore,” you admitted. “Bored. I can’t wait to get back home.”

If Bucky was being honest, he would say the same thing. Even if you did spend more time fighting each other, he missed it. He missed you.

“Neither can I.” The honesty slipped out from Bucky before he could think about any awkward consequences.

You paused and looked at him. “What?” Your voice was a little softer than usual.

“What?” Bucky shrugged. He’d said it. There was no taking it back. “It’s boring without you. I get we might fight the whole time, but without you I’ve got no one to keep my ego in check.”

Bucky earned a laugh from you as you looked away to keep walking. And he laughed, too.

You had to admit. Laughing with Bucky rather than groaning was a nice change.

And it only got easier from there on out. Your groans had turned to laughter, your scowls had turned to smiles and the roll of your eyes had turned to tears of laughter.

And slowly, the same things happened for Bucky, too.

Eventually, the ten minute window you and Bucky spent together turned into twenty, then forty and before either of you knew it, hours had passed.

You were both together and, surprisingly, still alive.

Part Four

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art-by-jas · 1 month ago

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Pretty Girl (AO3) Tags: Established Relationship, Sexting, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Pussy Drunk!Robby, Dirty Talk (And I mean waaaay too much talking probably), PINV SEX, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Coming Inside, Kissing, Spit Kink A/N: If this is garbage, I'm sorry, I wrote this basically in one sitting, and I haven't done anything else in this time. Also, I'm considering opening a KOFI, but I don't know. WC: 3.7k

Today is your day off; you didn't have to remind him that you're not two steps behind him, eager to learn. The absence of your presence and vibrant personality created a noticeable void in the emergency department. The fluorescent lights seemed dimmer without your laughter echoing down the hall. Thankfully, the constant flow of patients makes the twelve-hour shift pass quickly.

But that's not to say he wasn't texting with you every free moment he could; the man is absolutely, hopelessly whipped. The two of you would talk about everything imaginable, flowing effortlessly from debating your favorite takeout spots (he insisted that little Thai place on 4th had the best pad thai while you defended your beloved taco truck) to making plans for next Saturday when Robby has off and eagerly wants to whisk you away to his secluded cabin by the lake.

His heart would flutter with each notification, fingers trembling slightly as he rushed to respond. The soft, tender texts eventually ventured into spicier territory. You boldly started it by confessing how desperately you missed his hands on your skin. How you missed those gorgeous brown eyes of his, the way they looked up at you, dark with lust, from between your thighs as he tongued your pussy, making your back arch and your toes curl.

His eyes widen as he quickly looks around. His scrubs suddenly feel tight in the staff lounge. He shifts a bit and pulls his phone onto his lap to hide his growing excitement. His ears are slightly burning as he responds.

Christ, are you trying to get me into trouble at work?

He anxiously glances over his shoulder, checking if he’s the only one in the lounge before exhaling shakily. He can practically see you smirking on the other side of the phone, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you shoot back a response.

Sorry, not sorry. 😇

He rolls his eyes but can’t help the small smile. He quickly types back.

You little brat. I ought to put you over my knee and spank that little ass red.

A jolt of arousal shoots through him as he rereads his text. He shakes his head, trying to clear the vivid image that pops into his mind. He didn’t need to think about that right now, not when he had patients to attend to and paperwork to fill out. But you, on the other hand, seemed to be relishing the effect you had on him. Your response comes swiftly.

Is that a promise?

Before he can respond, you send a picture. He inhales sharply, nearly dropping his phone as he sees the picture. His mind goes blissfully blank for a few moments. There you are, wearing his old college shirt, riding up show your stomach and the underwear set he bought you, looking all innocent with those damn bedroom eyes. The sight is absolutely sinful. His thumbs fumble as he tries to form a coherent text. A few seconds later, another text pops up after your picture.

Only an hour left of your shift. Good luck, see you soon, honey.

He stares at the screen for a long moment, his mind racing. A low groan escapes his lips before he can stop it. Damn it, he curses inwardly. How the hell is he supposed to concentrate now? He shoves his phone into his back pocket, grumbling to himself. He stands up and tries to compose himself, but the image of you in his shirt is seared into his mind. He adjusts his scrubs once more, hoping it will do something to disguise his arousal.

"Get it together," he mutters to himself. With a final, shaky exhale, he pushes through the door and back onto the floor.

The rest of his shift passed in a torturous blur of patients, charts, and increasingly obscene fantasies. By the end, he was a tightly coiled bundle of tension, ready to explode. He practically sprints to his car, barely remembering to say goodbye to Jack. He knows Dana and Jack probably shared a skeptical look as they judged Robby running out of the locker room after grabbing his things. He’ll probably have to explain to Jack later, but he didn’t give a fuck at the moment.

As he drives, he can’t help but picture you waiting for him, just as eager and impatient as he is. By the time he arrives at his apartment, he’s practically trembling with anticipation. He fumbles with his keys, his fingers trembling slightly as he unlocks the door. He steps inside.

"Baby?" he calls out, his voice raspy with arousal. His eyes dart around the apartment, searching for you. He hears your voice from the direction of the bedroom, and his heart rate spikes, blood pounding in his ears. He crosses the living room quickly, almost jogging to the bedroom door.

When he pushes it open, his breath catches in his throat. You're sprawled out on the bed, still wearing his old college shirt and the panties underneath. The sight of you there, waiting for him, is almost too much for him to bear. He stands there for a moment, drinking in the sight of you. His mind goes blank as he takes in the way the fabric of the shirt clings to your curves and the way your legs are slightly parted, invitingly. He swallows thickly, his mind going fuzzy with desire.

"You are absolutely trying to kill me," he says, his voice hoarse with need. He moves towards you, his body on autopilot. He kneels on the bed, crawling towards you like a man possessed. His hands roam over your thighs, moving up to the hem of the shirt.

"This damn shirt," he mutters, his voice low and rough. "You don't know what you do to me when you wear it."

His eyes darken with arousal as his hands slip under the shirt, touching your bare skin. His touch is possessive, almost desperate. He moves up your body, his fingers trailing over your ribcage. His lips find the hollow of your throat, pressing feather-light kisses along the sensitive skin there.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice rough and strained. "You're so beautiful. So perfect."

His hand cups your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of the shirt. He can feel the way it hardens under his touch, and he groans softly. "I've been wanting you all day. Can't stop thinking about you, baby. About this." His hand slips lower, his fingers brushing over your hip bone. He wants to touch every inch of you, to mark you as his.

His words send a shiver down your spine, the desire in his voice clear. Your body responds eagerly to his touch, arching slightly under his hand.

"Robby," you gasp, your voice thick with want. "I need you. Now."

He growls softly in response, his hand gripping your hip tightly. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his hand continues to roam over your body. He kisses you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours. Then he breaks away, his lips moving to your jawline. Each kiss is eager and urgent, his breath hot against your skin. His beard feels amazing gliding along your skin.

You arch under him, your fingers digging into his shoulders desperately. "Please," you gasp. "Please, Robby.”

He kisses his way down your body, worshiping every inch of you. His lips trace a path down your neck to your collarbone, then lower, to your chest. His fingers push the shirt up, baring your breasts to his gaze. His breathing is ragged as he leans down. You feel his tongue flick over the sensitive bud, teasingly, before he sucks it into his mouth.

He leans back, reluctantly pulling away from your nipple. He quickly yanks off his shirt, the fabric landing on the floor by the bed. His body is revealed to you, his chest bare and his stomach soft and supple. You can't help but reach out, running your fingers across his skin. Running up from his happy trail over his stomach up through the light dusting of chest hair. He returns to his ministrations, scattering kisses across your chest, your stomach, and your hip bones. He looks up at you from between your spread legs.

Then he hears your words, and his brain practically short-circuits.

"Christ," he growls, his eyes wide, "You touched yourself while I was at work?"

You can feel the possessive heat radiating off of him, the lust in his gaze nearly palpable. He leans down between your legs, his mouth hovering over your core. You feel his breath, hot against your sensitive skin, as he speaks.

"Tell me," he says, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me how you touched yourself while I was gone."

You take a deep breath, your cheeks coloring at the memory.

"I -" you start, but your voice is shaky. "I was thinking about you. Your hands. Your mouth."

His eyes darken even more as you continue.

"My tongue," he repeats softly, his gaze fixed on you. "You thought about my tongue, baby? On that pretty pussy of yours?"

He pauses, letting the words sink in.

"I want to hear every detail."

You feel your cheeks heating up again, but you can't help it. The way he's looking at you.

"Yes," you admit softly. "I was thinking about your tongue. Licking and teasing me, making me come."

He groans at your words, his fingers digging into your thighs as he imagines it. His head lowers down, his mouth hovering over your sensitive flesh. "Like this, baby?" he asks, his voice low and rough. "You were thinking about this?"

Then he licks you, his tongue pressing against you through the thin fabric. He hums thoughtfully, his eyes darkening.

"Christ," he mutters, "so wet for me, sweetheart.”

You feel your body respond instinctively to his touch, arching up against his mouth. His words send a shiver down your spine, making you ache for more.

"Only for you," you gasp. "Always for you."

He grips the fabric of your underwear and pulls them down, the gesture rough and impatient. He tosses them aside, then looks up at you, his gaze hungry. "I'm going to make you come on my tongue first," he says, his voice gravelly with desire. "Then I'm going to split you open on my cock." His words send a jolt of arousal straight through you, your mind going fuzzy with want. You can feel how wet you are, your body already begging him for more. He takes a moment to enjoy the taste of you before looking up at you.

"Look at you," he says, his tone mocking. "Already so needy, baby. You want me so bad, don't you? You're dripping." He ducks back down, his mouth finding your center. He doesn't hesitate, his tongue immediately plunging in. He doesn't let up, his tongue working you expertly. You can hear his muffled grunts and groans as he continues his ministrations, like he can't get enough of you.

"Fucccccck, Robby, please...."

He just chuckles against your flesh, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "Please what, baby?" he asks, his tone innocent. "You gotta be specific."

"Please," you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Please, I need more."

His hand moves, sliding up to your thigh. You can feel his fingers brush against your center and then start rubbing circles on your clit. His gaze is still locked on your face, watching your every reaction.

"Like this, baby?" he murmurs. "You want me to keep talking? You want me to tell you how good you taste, how much I've wanted this all day.”

You're nodding frantically, unable to form coherent words. All conscious thought has abandoned you, replaced solely by the sensations radiating through your body.

His fingers never stop their ministrations as he speaks, his voice thick with desire.

"Your pussy is so good," he murmurs, "so warm and wet for me. I can't get enough of tasting it, of feeling it on my tongue."

"Fuck, Mikey... Almost there... Mhmmmmm..."

He quickens his pace, his fingers working you faster as he continues to talk to you.

"Good girl," he grunts. "That's it, baby. You wanna come for me? You want to make a mess all over my tongue?"

"Yessss," you gasp, arching your back. "Please, Robby, I'm so close. Just a bit more." He doesn't waste any time before diving back down, his tongue plunging deep into your sopping pussy. As your orgasm overtakes you, your body shaking and writhing, he can feel you clenching down around his tongue. You let out a sharp gasp.

"Ah....!" You cry out, your voice ragged. "Oh god, Robby!" He doesn't stop, his tongue continuing to work you through the aftershocks of your release. He looks up at you, satisfaction and pride in his gaze.

He finally lifts his head up, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Feel good, baby?" he asks, his voice gruff.

"So good," you breathe, collapsing back against the bed. "So, so good." He grins, crawling up to you, his body covering yours. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips.

"I'm not done with you yet," he husks against the skin of your neck. You shiver as his words wash over you, the promise in his voice igniting another spark of arousal deep within you. He stands up, stripping off the rest of his clothes And there, at the apex of his thighs, his cock is already hard and curved up towards his stomach. It looks heavy and full, glistening in the low light of the room.

His breathing is ragged as he approaches the bed, his gaze roaming over your body. "I can't wait to feel you," he grunts, "I can't wait to bury myself deep inside you."

He leans over you, his body covering yours. He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth before pulling away. His hands are rough as they run over your skin, his touch leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Then he looks down at you, his gaze hungry and unrelenting. "You want this, baby?" he growls, his voice thick with need as he wraps his hand around his aching cock, slapping the tip against your cunt.

"Please...." you manage to gasp. "I want it. I want you. Please, God, Robby, I need it. Need you." He growls, the sound primal and possessive, as he positions himself above you. He looks down into your eyes, his gaze wild with lust.

"Good girl," he says, a note of approval in his voice. "Always using your manners, aren't you, sweetheart?"

You feel a surge of pride at his words. It's like a rush of adrenaline, leaving you tingling from head to toe. You want to please him, to make him proud. "I want to be good for you," you whisper, your voice thick with desire.

He holds himself above you, the head of his cock just barely grazing against your entrance. He looks down at you, his expression almost feral, his eyes dark with desire. He takes your chin in one hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. His gaze is intense, almost primal. "I'm going to put my cock in your pretty pussy, okay, baby?" he growls, his words blunt and unfiltered. His grip on your chin is gentle yet firm, like he's staking his claim. You feel yourself growing wetter, your body responding to his words.

He can see the effect his words are having on you, the way your breath hitches and your eyes darken. He smirks, a pleased expression on his face. "You want me to make you feel good, baby?" he asks, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

A low groan escapes his lips as he watches you take his thumb into your mouth. It's so hot and intimate, and it only serves to fuel the fire that's already boiling inside of him. He presses his thumb down on your tongue, his eyes dark and heated, before he removes his thumb to hold himself up as his other hand goes to his cock to line up with your entrance, pushing in slowly.

You can barely form the words as he fills you up. "You feel so good, Robby."

His eyes darken, the praise only serving to intensify his need. "Yeah? You like that, sweetheart?" he growls.

"Mhmm," you moan, nodding dumbly. "So good, so good."

"That's my girl," he murmurs, his fingers tangling in your hair. "You're taking me so well." He starts to move his hips a little faster, each thrust more urgent than the last. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your body greedily.

"You're doing so good, baby," he gasps. "Taking me so well. You feel incredible." He leans down, his body pressed against yours, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin. "You love this, don't you?" he growls, his voice low and rough. "You love feeling me inside you, don't you, baby?"

"Yeeesssss... oh god, yesss... I love it so much," you gasp, your words little more than a ragged whisper.

His hand moves up to your chin, tilting your head back so he can look down at you, his gaze intense. "Open that pretty little mouth for me, baby," he says, his voice huskier than usual. "Stick out your tongue."

You obey eagerly, your mouth falling open for him. You stick out your tongue, your eyes locked with his. He grins, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. He leans down and spits on your tongue, a string of saliva connecting you.

"There you go," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "That's a good girl." He leans down, his eyes roaming over your face. "You look so pretty like this," he says, his voice low. "All messy and wrecked. Such a pretty little mess I made of you, huh, baby?" His rhythm is growing more desperate as he feels you tighten around him. "Oh god, yes," he grunts, his voice ragged. "Baby, you feel so good. You're so close, aren't you? I can feel it.”

You cry out, your body shaking with the intensity of it all. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, so close to falling over. “Fucccccck… Robby, I’m so close…”

His breathing is ragged as he talks, his words coming out in quick gasps. "That's it, baby," he growls. "Come for me. Make a mess all over my cock. You want me to come in you so deep, don't you, baby?” He grits out, "Let go for me. Come for me, pretty girl."

"Oh god," you cry out, your body trembling as the pleasure takes over. It's an overwhelming rush, everything fading away except for the sensations pouring through you. All you can see, all you can feel, is him.

He's right there with you, the words and sensations sending him over the edge. He gasps, his body going taut as he comes, filling you up just like he promised. "Fuuuuck..." he grunts.

"So good," you gasp, your voice ragged. "You're so good, Robby... God, I love you so much."

He collapses on top of you, his body warm and heavy on yours. "I love you too," he murmurs, his voice weary but filled with tender affection. "So damn much."

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close. "Please don't move," you whisper, not wanting to let him go just yet, loving the feeling of his weight on you.

He slowly pulls back, his movements slow and a bit shaky. "I gotta get up, baby," he mumbles, "Gotta clean you up and get you some water."

"No," you protest, trying to hold on to him. "Stay here with me. Just a little longer."

He chuckles softly, gently nudging you to loosen your grip on him. "I'll be right back, I promise," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Don't move."

You let out a snort, your muscles still a little weak and trembling. "I don't think I could move if I wanted to," you say, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He grins, his eyes soft and fond as he looks at you. "I'll take that as a compliment," he teases, carefully extracting himself from your grasp. He stands up and stretches, his movements a bit wobbly.

"Stay right there, sweetheart," he says, his tone gently commanding. "I'll be right back with a towel and some water."

A few minutes later, he returns, a warm washcloth in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He sits down on the bed next to you, his expression tender as he takes in your appearance. "Here you go, baby," he murmurs, handing you the water before gently beginning to clean you up. His hands are soft and careful as they move over your sweaty skin. It feels almost like a form of worship, the way he attends to you so diligently. When he's finished, he tosses the washcloth into the hamper and crawls back into bed beside you, pulling you close against his chest.

You cuddle against him, feeling content and relaxed. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, his voice a rumble in his chest.

You nod, still feeling a little floaty and boneless. "More than okay," you murmur, resting your head against his chest.

He smiles softly, his hand gently stroking your hair. "Wanna watch one of your shows?" he asks.

You let out a little sigh, snuggling closer to him. "Yeah, that sounds good," you say, your voice still a bit sleepy.

He leans over and grabs the remote from the nightstand, flicking on the TV to your favorite show. He settles back, comfortable and content, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. The familiar sounds of the show fill the room, soft and soothing. You can feel yourself relaxing even more in his arms, the steady beat of his heart a comforting rhythm.

He pulls the covers up around you, tucking them in around your shoulders. "You cozy, baby?" he asks, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

You nod, snuggling deeper into the blankets. "Mhmm," you hum, closing your eyes. "Very cozy."

He smiles, glad to see you so relaxed. "Good," he murmurs, his own eyes fluttering shut. "Get some rest, sweetheart. I'll be here when you wake up."

MASTERLIST

#Noah Wyle #fanfiction #the pitt #michael robinavitch #robby robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch smut #smut #michael robinavitch x reader #reader insert

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