#progooner123

Bucky’s sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over his laptop.

Still in his tight black compression shirt, hair tied back, brows furrowed in focus. Fingers flying across the keyboard, posture rigid, jaw set. It’s late, and whatever he's working on has his full attention.

Which would be fine.
If you weren’t so desperate for his attention.

You pad across the floor, quiet, barely a sound. He doesn't notice.

So you start small.

A soft kiss to the crown of his head. Nothing.

A second kiss to his cheek. Still nothing.

Then a third, just barely grazing the edge of his mouth, your lips lingering. “Hi, Buck,” you whisper sweetly.

“Hey, doll,” he murmurs, distracted, not even glancing up.

Not good enough.

So you climb into his lap.

Slowly. Carefully. One leg swings over his thighs, straddling him as he types. Still no reaction. His hands keep moving on the keyboard, and his eyes flick briefly to your face before going right back to the screen.

“You comfy?” he asks flatly, still typing.

You pout. “You’re not paying attention to me.”

“M’hands are full, sweetheart.”

You lean in again, this time kissing the underside of his jaw, letting your lips drag a little slower. Still no reaction just a sigh through his nose.

So you up the game.

Your hips shift subtly on his lap, rolling down just enough to graze the bulge forming beneath his pants. His typing stutters for half a second.

“You need something?” he asks, not looking at you.

“Yes,” you hum, grinding forward again, this time with a little more pressure. “You.”

That gets his attention, barely. His jaw tightens.

“Behave.”

You smirk. “Make me.”

You press another kiss to his neck, this one wet and slow, your teeth grazing the skin just enough to make him grunt. His hands pause on the keys.

“Don’t test me, baby.”

You kiss him again, higher now, just under his ear. Your hips roll again. slower, rougher. His cock is stiff now beneath you, and still he hasn’t touched you.

Your voice turns into a soft whine. “You’re hard.”

“Because you’re grinding on me.”

“Mm,” you murmur, dragging your tongue along the edge of his jaw. “Feels like you want me.”

His hands are still frozen over the keyboard.

You lean in close, press your mouth to his ear.

“You gonna keep working, or you gonna do something about the soaked little mess in your lap?”

That’s when he shuts the laptop.

And everything shifts.

The soft click of the laptop shutting echoes like a warning shot.

You barely have time to register it before Bucky grips your hips tight and yanks you forward, forcing your chest flush to his.

His eyes are dark. Glinting. No more sweet smiles.

“That what you needed, baby?” he asks lowly, voice rough with restraint. “My attention?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “I needed you.”

His fingers flex on your hips, metal and flesh digging in like he’s holding back.

“You’ve been acting like a fuckin’ brat all night,” he murmurs, leaning in, mouth brushing your cheek. “Climbing in my lap, grinding like a needy little thing. Is this how you ask for what you want?”

You don’t answer.

So he slaps your ass. Hard.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” you gasp, heat licking through you. “I want your attention, Bucky—please.”

He smirks, mean and gorgeous.

“You have it.”

He flips you without warning, your back hitting the mattress. He’s on you in a second, ripping off his shirt, eyes locked on yours.

“Take off your panties. Now.”

You fumble with them, legs trembling, panties soaked through. When you slide them down your thighs, you swear his pupils dilate. He watches the slick string between the fabric and your folds stretch, snap.

“Messy girl,” he mutters. “Did all that teasing get you wet, huh?”

You nod.

“Show me.”

You slide your fingers down and spread yourself, glistening in the low light. Bucky groans low and primal. His hand flies to his belt, working it open with sharp, practiced movements. Pants down. Boxers shoved to mid-thigh. His cock springs free.

Thick. Red. Veins bulging. Dripping.

Your breath catches.

He strokes it once, slow from base to tip, and watches your face as he does.

“This what you wanted to play with while I was working?”

You nod quickly, thighs twitching. “Yes, Bucky.”

“Get on your knees.”

You hesitate, just to see what he’ll do.

So he grabs your jaw, squeezes, makes you look at him.

“I said knees, doll. Don’t make me ask again.”

Sliding off the bed, you drop to your knees slowly, heart pounding in your chest like war drums. The floor is cool against your skin, but nothing chills the heat building low in your belly. Bucky stands tall above you, cock in hand, watching you with a look that could break glass.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “So mouthy earlier. Where’d all that attitude go, sweetheart?”

You glare up at him. defiant and bratty just how he likes it.

And then you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, slow and deliberate, tongue teasing the vein that pulses beneath your taste.

His groan is immediate.

“Fuck, that mouth…”

You wrap your lips around the tip, tasting him, dragging it over your tongue. He’s heavy, leaking, already twitching. His metal hand finds the back of your head, cradling you there for a moment.

“Open up, baby. I’m not gonna be gentle.”

You hum, taking more of him inch by inch until your jaw aches, until your throat tightens around the tip. He shudders above you.

Then his fingers tighten in your hair, and he starts to move.

No warning. No buildup.

Just rough, deep thrusts that force your nose into the base of his cock, his hips grinding against your face. His soft groans melt into sharp curses.

“Fuck, yeah—just like that. Take it, baby. Be a good girl and take it.”

Your eyes water, spit slicking your chin. He pulls back just enough to let you breathe, then pushes in again. Over and over.

You gag, choke but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. Not when he moans like that. Not when his grip trembles and his thighs flex like he’s barely holding on.

“Knew this mouth would ruin me,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Fucking knew it.”

When he finally pulls out, your lips are swollen, eyes glassy, drool dripping from your chin. Your chest heaves, throat sore in the best way.

“Goddamn,” he pants. “You like being used like that, don’t you?”

You nod. “Yes, Bucky.”

“Say it.”

You smile, bratty even now. “I like being used. By you.”

He growls low and possessive. Before you can blink, he’s yanking you back onto the bed, flipping you onto your stomach.

“Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You're face-down on the bed, dress bunched around your waist, panties torn somewhere behind you. Your thighs are already slick, skin damp with sweat, and your mind fuzzy from the weight of him, the scent of him, the way he grinds his cock against your ass without giving you anything more.

“You wanna be a brat?” Bucky growls, hand gripping the nape of your neck as he bends low, voice hot in your ear. “Then you get fucked like one.”

Your cheek’s pressed to the sheets, and still you smile.

“Then fuck me already.”

The room goes still. He breathes in deep through his nose, like he’s trying to control the absolute animal you’ve unleashed.

Then-

Smack.

His palm lands hard across your ass, sharp and deliberate. You cry out, hips bucking.

“One,” he says. “That’s for the attitude.”

Another slap, harder.

“Two. That’s for interrupting my work.”

He rubs the red marks after each one, soothing the sting only to deliver another. You whimper, your slick leaking down your thighs.

“You drippin’ already, baby?” he taunts, fingers dipping between your folds. “Barely even touched you and you’re making a mess.”

His hand leaves you again this time to slap your clit.

Your entire body jolts, a cry ripping from your throat.

“That’s three,” he breathes. “That one’s just ‘cause I can.”

He slides his fingers over your clit, fast and cruel, circling just right, then pulling away when your thighs start to tremble.

“No coming,” he warns. “Not yet. Brats don’t get off without earning it.”

“Bucky, please-”

Another slap.

Your body twitches. His palm soothes the heat after each one, and the push and pull between pain and pleasure has you dripping.

“Keep those legs spread,” he growls. “Or I start over.”

You whine breathy and broken but you obey.

He leans over you, hard cock rubbing between your thighs, but he doesn’t give it to you yet.

“You want this cock, baby?” he rasps, voice low and mean. “Want me to fill you up raw, fuck you ‘til you cry?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Yes—please, Bucky—”

He fists your hair, pulling your head back so you’re arching for him. His other hand reaches down, guiding the thick head of his cock through your slick folds, not pushing in just rubbing, pressing, teasing.

“You don’t deserve it.”

“Please-”

“Tell me who owns you.”

“You—You do, Bucky, I’m yours, I’m only yours—”

“Damn right,” he growls, and then he slams into you.

No warning. Just the sharp, perfect stretch of him splitting you open, thick and hot and deep.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, arms shaking from the force.

He grunts behind you, breath harsh.

“Fuck—you’re so tight. Like you were made for me.”

He doesn’t move yet. He just stays buried inside, twitching, throbbing, letting you feel every inch.

Then he pulls back.

And starts to ruin you.

His hips slam back in, hard and merciless. The bed creaks under the force, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as every nerve ignites.

His metal hand wraps tight around your waist, pulling you flush to him, skin on skin, heat seeping between your bodies.

“You’re mine, baby,” he growls low, voice thick with need. “Only mine. You feel that? My cock buried deep inside you, taking what’s mine.”

You cry out, thighs trembling, hips jerking forward against him, chasing the overwhelming pleasure spiraling out of control.

His thumb finds your clit again, slapping slow, hard circles that send your body spiraling toward madness.

“Come on, baby. You gonna be a good girl and cum when I say? Or are you gonna be a brat and make me take you harder?”

You arch up, breath hitching as your hands clutch the sheets. You can’t hold back, you want to scream, to beg, but Bucky’s grip on your hair keeps your head tipped back, exposed.

“Say it,” he commands, voice rough, almost tender beneath the harshness. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“I’m yours, Bucky,” you gasp. “Only yours.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear as his hips snap forward harder, deeper. “Such a fuckin’ perfect brat.”

The overstimulation curls tight in your stomach, the friction on your clit and the relentless pounding inside you making your world narrow to one single point of pure, shattering bliss.

“Cum for me,” he demands.

Your body breaks, trembling violently as your orgasm rips through you, hot and overwhelming. You scream his name, squeezing around him, soaking him with every pulse.

He groans, voice rough, almost broken, as he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, holding you tight.

He follows moments later with a broken groan, spilling deep inside you. His hips stutter, then press forward, grinding in slow and hard like he’s trying to keep every last drop buried as deep as you’ll take him. He doesn’t pull out just sinks in deeper, breathing heavy against your skin, possessive and spent.

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

When you finally settle, panting and weak, Bucky pulls you back into his arms, forehead resting against yours.

His voice is soft, almost breathless

“You did so good. So perfect. My sweet girl.”

“You look so pretty” he murmured into your skin, voice low and rough with want. “Like something out of a dream. Mine.”

You leaned into him, heart fluttering, the warmth of the moment curling around your chest. His fingers slid along your exposed thigh, feather-light at first, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed but couldn’t help himself.

But he let himself look.

The way your skirt had ridden up was sinful. Bunched high on your hips, soft skin exposed, begging for his touch. He didn’t even try to hide the hunger in his gaze. You saw the moment his restraint began to slip.

“You tryin’ to kill me, baby?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

He didn’t wait for a reply.

His mouth moved to your neck. warm, open-mouthed kisses trailing slow and hot down the side of your throat. He found that spot just beneath your jaw that made your breath catch and sucked gently until your hips twitched against his. His hand gripped your thigh, sliding up, up, until his fingers dipped beneath your skirt and squeezed.

Before you could speak, his hands were on your wrists, pinning them gently into the bed above your head. The soft sheets tickled your skin, but all you could feel was the weight of him, the heat of his body pressing close, his lips dragging along your jaw like a promise.

He kissed you like he meant to leave a memory on your skin. Slow, sweet, deliberate. Every brush of his lips across your cheek and neck made your chest flutter and your thighs squeeze tighter around nothing.

His hands slid down from your wrists, hands dipping beneath your skirt again, brushing the curve of your waist, fingers grazing the edge of your panties. He paused, breath warm against your throat.

“These gotta come off,” he murmured, voice husky. “Wanna see all of you.”

He knelt back on his heels, letting his eyes trace every inch of you. His fingers hooked into the sides of your panties.

soft lace clinging to your hips

and dragged them down slowly, reverently. The fabric peeled away from your soaked folds with a quiet sound, clinging for just a second, and he groaned when he saw the glisten left behind.

“Fuck,” he muttered, gaze fixed between your thighs. “You’re soaked, baby. You that wet for me already?”

You nodded, dazed, legs falling open wider as he slipped the panties off completely and tossed them aside.

“Look at this,” he murmured, brushing a thumb through your slick folds, spreading the wetness with a featherlight touch. Your body jolted. “Messy already. All for me.”

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned back and shoved his pants down. The waistband laid low on his hips first, revealing the cut of his abdomen, then he worked his boxers down with them in one smooth motion.

Your breath caught.

He was thick, flushed, already leaking. Veins stood out along the shaft, and when he wrapped his hand around it and gave one lazy stroke, your mouth went dry. His cock looked heavy in his palm, tip red and glistening.

“Look at what you do to me,” he murmured. “All I did was kiss you and I’m already about to lose my fuckin’ mind.”

He moved back between your legs, cock brushing your inner thigh, and kissed you again. softer this time, lips tender, one hand slipping under your thigh to hitch it around his waist.

“You ready, baby?”

“Please,” you breathed. “I need you.”

He guided the tip through your folds, dragging it through your slick until he was coated in it. You whimpered at the sensation of thick pressure gliding over your clit, teasing your entrance, pushing just barely inside.

And then, slowly, he sank in.

Stretching you inch by inch, filling you with a delicious ache that made your eyes flutter shut and your back arch. You gasped his name, the fullness almost too much but perfect. So perfect.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

He didn’t move right away. Just stayed buried in you, letting you adjust while kissing the side of your neck, whispering in your ear.

“So warm. So tight. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

You nodded helplessly, arms winding around his back.

His hips pulled back. slow, deliberate and then he pushed in again, harder this time, the slap of skin on skin making you moan.

“You feel that?” he whispered, voice rough and low. “That’s me. Deep inside you. Exactly where I belong.”

He set a rhythm . Deep, rolling thrusts that hit every spot inside you, his pelvis grinding against your clit with each stroke. Your legs wrapped around him, heels digging into his back, and he groaned at the way you clung to him.

“You’re takin’ me so well. Such a good girl.”

His metal hand found yours, fingers lacing with yours, grounding you as his other hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Say it again,” he whispered. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you gasped. “I’m yours, Bucky. All yours.”

He kissed you hard, swallowing your cry as he snapped his hips forward, harder, deeper. Your body shuddering as pleasure coiled tight in your belly. You could already feel the edge approaching again, fast and overwhelming.

“You gonna come for me?” he breathed, lips against your ear. “You gonna soak me like a good girl?”

You whimpered, already unraveling. The friction, the fullness, the way he looked at you like you were sacred.

It was too much.

“Yes—yes, Bucky”

“Then come. Come all over my cock, baby.”

Your whole body seized, every nerve snapping tight as you came with a cry, your nails digging into his back. It hit hard, sudden, like a wave breaking over you and dragging you under. Your thighs trembled, clenching around his waist as your walls pulsed around him, gripping his cock tight, milking him.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby—good fuckin’ girl,” Bucky groaned, his hips stuttering for a second as he held you down, letting you ride it out.

You were still panting when he didn’t stop.

His hips pulled back and slammed into you again, deeper than before. Your whole body jolted, pleasure tipping into pain, and you whimpered.

“Too much,” you breathed, tears pricking your lashes.

But Bucky only kissed your temple, slow and gentle. “You can take it, sweetheart. I know you can. Let me feel you fall apart again.”

His cock moved inside you, soaked with your release, making every thrust sound obscenely wet. Your legs trembled, hips trying to jerk away, but his hands pinned you in place.

“You’re still twitchin’ around me,” he murmured against your ear, voice like gravel. “Still so fuckin’ tight. You’re not done.”

His hand slid down, thumb finding your clit, rubbing slow circles, soft but relentless.

“No—Bucky—”

“Yes, baby. Come again for me. Let me see how good you look when you lose yourself.”

The overstimulation made your nerves light up like sparks, burning pleasure layered over pleasure. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All that existed was him. The stretch, the warmth, his scent in your hair, his voice in your ear.

“You’re mine,” he said again, hand gripping your jaw, making you look at him. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimpered.

“Say it like you believe it.”

“I’m yours, Bucky. Only yours. Always.”

Your second orgasm hit harder than the first. Brutal, and all consuming. You sobbed his name, thighs shaking violently, gushing around him, soaking the base of his cock and the blanket beneath you. Your body trembled, spasming uncontrollably.

Bucky moaned. loud and wrecked when he finally let himself go.

He buried himself deep, jaw clenched, forehead pressed to yours. You felt him throb as he spilled inside you, the warmth spreading with every pulse. He grunted, hips twitching, then stilled completely.

You were both shaking, stuck in that quiet, dazed moment where nothing mattered but the feeling of each other.

“Goddamn,” he whispered into your hair. “You ruin me, baby.”

He kissed your face softly, one hand brushing tears from your cheeks, the other rubbing gentle circles into your hip.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, brushing your hair gently away from your face. His voice was soft, like he didn’t want to disturb the quiet between your heartbeats.

You gave a small nod, still catching your breath, and he smiled.

“Good,” he whispered, pulling you close against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, one hand stroking your back, the other resting protectively at your waist.

“You did so good for me,” he said softly, lips pressed to your temple. “So perfect. My sweet girl.”

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then just held you. safe and still in the hush of the moment.

“Always gonna take care of you,” he breathed. “Always.”