POV I Put You In The Lazarus Pit

NSFW CONTENT BELOW

you hear the soft whir of the vibranium arm before you see him. "kitchen’s closed,” bucky says behind you, voice quiet but firm.

you turn, caught halfway through raiding the fridge. “didn’t think you’d still be here.” he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. that arm glints under the low light, metal fingers tapping lightly against his bicep. "didn’t feel like sleeping.”

you nod slowly. “yeah… same.” his eyes hold yours for a little too long. there’s something unreadable in them, like he’s working something out. then he pushes off the wall, steps closer.

“you always make this much noise sneaking around?” he murmurs, eyes flicking down to the open fridge, “or just when I’m here to catch you?”

you close the fridge door slowly, the soft thunk of it echoing louder than it should. bucky’s still watching you, that unreadable expression etched into his face like it’s been there for years. "i wasn’t sneaking,” you say, trying for nonchalant. “i was hungry.”

“mm.” he doesn’t sound convinced. “middle of the night kind of hungry?”

you shrug. “the insomnia kind.”

recognition flickers across his face at that. understanding. he steps closer, not quite invading your space, but close enough that the air shifts. that vibranium arm brushes the counter as he leans just slightly. “you’re not the only one.”

for a second, silence stretches out between you, thick, a little charged. you notice the way his jaw ticks, like he’s holding something back. maybe a thought. maybe something else. you nod toward the cabinets behind him. “you guarding the tea now, or am i allowed to pass?” he doesn’t move. just looks at you for a second like he’s trying to read something in your face.

“you always come down here when you can’t sleep?”

“only when I’m trying to avoid people.”

his mouth twitches, more a shift than a smile. “guess i’m not people now?”

you raise a brow. “didn’t say that.”

his eyes flick away, then back. “i can move.”

“you could,” you say, stepping closer. he doesn’t back off. the air between you tightens. “but you’re not going to,” you finish, voice quieter now.

he shakes his head once. “didn’t really feel like being alone tonight.”

his mouth found yours like he'd been thinking about it for longer than he'd admit-slow at first, careful, but that didn't last. now, you're backed against the wall of the kitchen. one of his hands braced beside your head, the metal one gripping your thigh. his metal arm was warm from contact and strong-so strong. his touch both calculated and desperate, like he didn't know where to put his hands because he wanted to be everywhere at once. he’s holding you so tight it almost hurts, the line between rough and tender blurring and disappearing. the warm metal of his fingers slips under your shirt, against the bare skin of your stomach, and you realize your back is arched against the wall to keep him against you.

his mouth moves against yours desperately. his stubble scrapes lightly against your chin, a sharp contrast to the soft, warm feel of his lips. he moves again, the hand on your thigh shifting, sliding to your hip, his thumb brushing over the bone there. his breath stutters against your mouth at the same time you gasp softly, your fingers grasping at his shirt. his hand covers your left breast, the metal sending shivers through you, and you try to hold back another gasp.

he pulls back just a fraction, watching you as his thumb brushes over your nipple—once, twice, slow. he does it again, this time pressing harder, grinding his hips against you at the same time, and you whimper against his mouth. he kisses down to your jaw, his teeth scraping against your skin. “shh."

the sound of your breathing fills the room as he teases you, moving his hand in slow, maddening circles. one moment he’s kissing your jaw, the next, he’s sucking a path down your throat, his touch everywhere. the metal of the vibranium was almost burning against your skin. he drags his thumb over you again, making you buck your hips against his. bucky leans against you, the tension in your hips pressing his hardness into you. his mouth is against your neck, his breath and beard sending tingles of pleasure through you with each movement. his hips find a slow, steady rhythm, he presses a trail of kisses down your neck, stopping against your collarbone. your head drops back, hitting the wall behind you with a soft thunk. he presses a kiss to your jawline before leaning up to look at you. his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen, his expression a little uncertain. “is this-” he pauses, breath hitching as you rock into him. “--is this okay?”

your hips roll against him, your chest rising and falling hard as you try to catch your breath. you find his eyes, and your breath hitches when you see those pretty blue eyes staring back at you like a puppy, his eyes dilated. “this is okay,” you say, voice low, “god, it’s more than okay. please-” he presses his hips to you in a slow drag, his movements languid but calculated. your eyes fall away from his, and a soft whine escapes you as his metal hand trails lazily down your side. he kisses you, deep and hard, his left hand coming up to brace against your throat. he doesn’t press to restrict your air–he wouldn’t do that, and especially not here–he just holds it there, savoring the feel of your pulse moving against his fingers.

his right hand is still sliding across your skin, his thumb brushing against your hip bone. he presses closer, his hips against yours as he guides you up, then down, then up again in a lazy rhythm. he’s still holding your throat with something that almost feels like reverence, the feel of your skin under the pads of his metal fingers is almost hypnotizing. it feels overwhelming and so, so good. bucky’s eyes find yours, his lips parted, his breath coming in little pants. his right hand moves over the lace-adorned fabric, “god,” he whispers, tracing over the hem of your night wear. his hand is still on your neck, the metal so warm from contact.

his metal hand flexes against your neck before trailing down to your lower waist, his hand moves to your warm inner thighs, his middle finger rubbing slowly against the wetness of your panties. he lifts you onto the countertop and his hands go immediately to your thighs, gripping them and spreading them to make room for him. he’s between your legs, his hips rocking against yours as he pulls you to the edge of the counter. his metal hand brushes over the elastic of your panties before gently pulling it off, discarding them somewhere on the counter.

he moves his vibranium fingertip over your entrance before slowly slipping a finger in. his head falls into your neck at how warm you were. his finger dips further in rubbing against your g-spot before slowly pressing in another metal finger. he makes a sound against your skin, a strangled moan that’s muffled by his mouth against your neck. you arch up, but you’re pressed against the counter so all you can do is lean into him, and his hips jerk against yours reflexively. he’s moving slowly, taking his time, the pad of his finger moving in slow circles against your swollen clit that draws a cry from you. he’s watching your face, his flesh hand pressed to your thigh to keep you still. he lets out another sound, and this time it’s a curse that you’re just able to make out between the noises you’re panting out. he hits that sweet spot every. single. time. his forehead pressed against your glistening neck, you can see how hard he is, his hips rocking in time with his big fingers, and he's letting out these mouthwatering whimpers. gently sucking and biting little marks into your collarbone area, his right hand gripping your thigh so hard you know that you'll see some light bruises tomorrow.

you can feel the tension building and building in your lower belly, and when his hips buck particularly harshly one time it presses his thumb into a perfect angle against your clit, making you see white for a second, your eyes fluttering shut as they roll back with a whine, clenching around his fingers, your head lolled back against the wall, you hear him finally say something against your skin, "cum for me– please–" his voice is barely louder than a whisper but you hear him loud and clear. your hips jerk forward before you cum, his name a ragged chant as pleasure washes over you. he works you through it. letting out choked moans, his breath harsh against your skin. he slowly withdrawls his messy metal hand, pressing soft kisses against your neck, you're both a mess, skin slick with sweat, your muscles trembling. he pulls his head away, looking down at his glistening hand before looking back up at you and kissing you.

i'm with friends and i have to pretend like i’m not losing my mind.

afternoon reading.

was thinking of peaceful moments at the manor during jason’s childhood.

me after getting my appendix removed: omg. stigmata.

no wondering why daniel had to deny over and over that they were not in a relationship

no goggles mark likes being choked while you ride him. that’s it.

˚｡⋆୨୧˚ he lets out these little giggles and has that stupid sadistic grin plastered on his face, and god he’s so impossibly hard. He keeps telling you to squeeze his neck harder, while your losing yourself on his cock.

˚｡⋆୨୧˚ and although he knows you couldn’t harm him even if you tried and wanted to, he still gets off to it.

˚｡⋆୨୧˚ to him, there’s literally no better feeling than your hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing as tightly as you possibly could, as urged you to squeeze tighter, until he struggled to breathe.

˚｡⋆୨୧˚ he’s just a sick freak LMFAO.

- 'I gotta deal with the fact that now I know you.' - 'Well, you don't really know me.' - 'Doesn't matter. I know you enough.'

the kings are up 2-0 in a playoff series for the first time since 2012 when they won the stanley cup.

OK.