Title: the (pineapple) contract - chapter 1/3 Rating: Explicit Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes/Escort!Reader (F) Tags/Warnings: Big Dick Bucky Barnes, Top Bucky, Dom/sub Undertones, Confident Bucky Barnes, Oral Sex (by that I mean Bucky eats you out like a starved man), Praise, Pet Names, Painful Sex, Crying/Crygasm, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Until You Black Out, no beta we die like thanos Summary: Well, the contract said Personal Care Attendant and technically, the Winter Soldier wasn’t on the active roster. Yet. But the point still stands. He more or less owned you now.
You take one last deep breath before knocking on the door.
Part of the "Bucky Barnes As..." series & Hot Bucky Summer 2023
hosted by @buckybarnesevents Week 3: "Where do you want me?" Kneeling | In My Lap | Bent Over
We'll be back for Week 6 (Chapter 2) and Week 3 (Chapter 3)
>>AO3 Link<<
The cheque in your hand has far too many digits in it — you’ve never seen two commas in the number, made out to you of all people. Hell, you wouldn’t have cared what the hell the job was, you would’ve said yes anyway.
You just never imagined that trying to pick up Tony Stark on Park Avenue would be a job interview.
“Name your price,” he had said.
You probably would’ve slept with him for zero, but when you had jokingly said a million dollars, you never thought he’d actually follow through. First came the NDA, then the contract and benefits package, and now…
Now, you stood outside a dull-looking door trying to calm yourself down about the fact that you were about to whore yourself out to an Avenger.
Enclosed for your review is a copy of your job description, benefits package, and the corresponding appendices. Should you wish to accept this offer, your contract and a questionnaire are emailed for your review and return. Upon receiving your executed contract and completed questionnaire, should your answers be compatible, we will reach out to schedule your start date.
Well, the contract said Personal Care Attendant and technically, the Winter Soldier wasn’t on the active roster. Yet. But the point still stands. He more or less owned you now.
You take one last deep breath before knocking on the door.
The man that opens it is not the man from the online articles and archives. He isn’t long-haired, dead-eyed and clad in murder gear (because there really wasn’t any other word for it). No, the person that stands in front of you is seemingly flawless, the sunlight from his windows surrounding him in a glowing warmth.
He quite literally takes your breath away.
“Can I help you?” He finally asks, shifting his weight ever so slightly.
Right. You clear your throat, offering your hand as you introduce yourself.
He studies you intently, his eyes obviously tracking you from head to toe, but doesn’t say anything else as he shakes your hand firmly. “Bucky,” he responds in kind.
“I’m, um, I’m here because…” Oh god, what if he had no idea?
He quirked an eyebrow up at you.
“I’m here as a… As your personal care attendant?” As soon as you say the words, you feel silly. Your cheeks start to flush, but it’s nothing compared to what he says next.
“Then you’re late, kitten.”
(4) Your duties will include, but are not limited to (a)Providing thorough, attentive care to the client within reasonable allowance, even outside of those covered in (5). (b)Receive and follow instruction from the client within reasonable allowance, even outside of those covered in (6) (c)Commence reasonable care should the client require it at your discretion, without infringement of (8)(a), (b) or (c) (4)(c)(i)The term “care” will include, but is not limited to… (ii)Psychological care as set out in Appendix I (iii)Domestic care as set out in Appendix I (iv)Physical care as set out in Appendix I, II and III
It was very evident that he wasn’t expecting you to take care of him so much as take care of him. His apartment was spotless, though the lack of furniture and possessions might be the biggest reason.
“So. You know what this entails.” It comes like more of a statement than a question, but admittedly, that does a lot for you. You looked at him, cross-armed and leaning against the back of his couch. Tugging at the bottom of your dress, you tried to remember how to simply act normal and nod, a little less shy, slipping into your role with a little more ease.
“Yes, sir.”
There’s a look of amusement on his face, so you make a note of that.
“Hard limits?”
“None,” you answer quickly.
“I find that hard to believe,” he fires back. “Everyone has limits.”
You bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking about his, though he reads your expression well enough.
“I have too many to list,” he says. “Which is why I prefer to just control the situation.”
God help me. It sounded too good to be true, that maybe — just maybe — he was made for you.
Or you were made for him, at least. His pleasure.
“That sounds good to me,” you say all too brightly. “Sir.”
He smirks at that, and you’re absolutely done for.
“You don’t have to keep calling me that,” he tells you, beckoning you to follow him. “Though I do like it.”
You decided right then and there that you would do pretty much anything with him. For him.
“So, about those limits —”
“Knife Play,” you blurt out once you reach his bedroom. “That’s — that’s the only one I don’t think I can do.”
He turns and gives you a look. “Why, because I’m the Winter Soldier, you think I’m automatically into knife play?”
“OH MY GOD!” You exclaim, slapping your hands over your mouth at your blunder. “No! No, oh my god, that’s not what I meant!”
You’re about to grovel at his feet when he starts to chuckle softly.
“Relax,” he says easily, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “That’s fine. I’m not gonna throw you into the fire just yet.”
Yet. You’re not sure if that was meant as a threat but it sounds more like a promise if you’re being honest.
“I can handle more than you think,” you say, pursing your lips.
“S’that right?”
The challenge in his voice has you nearly quivering and you’ve barely even started. You give him a little shrug before nodding, trying to give as good as you got.
“C’mere here,” he coaxes softly, hand outstretched. It’s stunning, the black and gold, intricate and precise — more sophisticated than anything you’ve ever seen.
You take it and ease yourself down on his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hands far gentler on your waist than you thought they could be. The blue of his eyes is even brighter this close up, light with mischief and wide with wonder as he looks at you, like you were something to be discovered, explored.
“Safe word still pineapple?”
Looks like he read your questionnaire after all. You nod again, the energy thrumming just under your skin as his hands slowly travel up your sides and back before ending up at your neck. He can probably feel your small shudder or your thundering pulse. At the very least, he can certainly see the goosebumps forming under his fingertips.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
With that, he claims your lips, your body, your very existence as if it was his only goal. And god, does it work.
There is no part of you that doesn’t immediately belong to Bucky at that moment. His tongue parts your lips and moves confidently as he devours you, taking you apart. Each swipe of his tongue is firm and purposeful — designed to steal your breath away as his hands map out your body.
You can’t stop the gasp that escapes against his lips or the way your body tenses in his arms, muscles coiled to try and stop yourself from just dripping all over his lap.
It takes you far too long to realize the game you’re playing — well, that Bucky’s playing. You’re simply along for the ride as he catalogs all your reactions from each shiver of your body to every moan and shaky breath you let out. Within a few minutes, you’ve already revealed all your cards without even knowing that’s what you’re doing.
You’re embarrassingly short of breath when he pulls back to survey you.
“You make such beautiful sounds,” he says, nonchalant as if your heart rate wasn’t skyrocketing.
“You’re a damned good kisser,” you respond/
He gives you a cheeky grin that would’ve made your knees buckle if you weren’t seated on him. “You’re not so bad yourself, sweetheart.”
You run your hands up his chest, marveling at how firm it was. For a brief moment, you forget who he is and just touch. As your fingertips roam upward, you memorize the arch of his clavicle that leads to the dip in the hollow of his throat underneath his Adam’s apple.
You shift slightly, getting ready to slide off and sink to your knees to service him.
“Like what you see?” He asks — except this time the cocky tone has a softness to it that you're not sure he even caught. As if there was just a bit of something behind that seemingly unshakable confidence.
“Yes,” you answer simply with a smile. “I really, really do.” It’s true, after all. He wasn’t just handsome, wasn’t just pretty, there was something about him that was so alluring, you found yourself forgetting your contract almost entirely.
It’s the right answer, apparently, because he flips over to lay you down in the center of his bed, throwing your plans to kneel for him right out the window.
You’re suddenly acutely aware of just how much bigger he is than you. He’s an imposing figure, there’s no arguing that, but when he had first invited you inside, it hadn’t been your focus. Now, with the cool, soft sheets at your back and his thighs settling between yours, you feel like trapped prey to the king of the jungle.
You knew that a serum pumped through his veins that made him infinitely stronger, but your history books always said that the serum wasn’t like Captain America’s. It didn’t shoot him up nearly a foot and slap on nearly 150 pounds.
No, these are all muscles that he had to work for and train for, that he has to maintain. The very same muscles that pressed against the inside of your thighs as he settled in above you, dwarfing you.
“Okay?”
It catches you by surprise. Really, you were his property, he owned you, and could do whatever he pleased with you. That’s what you had signed up for. Ever since signing all those papers, you had braced yourself for the worst of it — after all, you’d come across plenty of people who only ever wanted to assert their power over you because of what you were and what you did.
So this? The pause, the way his eyes search yours for a truthful answer, the way he asks so tenderly? All unexpected when what you thought you would receive was something harsh, sharp, and as cold as his moniker suggests.
From here, looking up at him, though? He looks like an angel. The overhead light isn’t too bright ad the soft, warm halo of light makes him ethereal — all smooth skin and eyes like the sky.
“Very okay,” you reply, your cheeks unusually warm. You don’t get flustered anymore — or so you thought. Wrapping your hands around the back of his neck, you urge him closer, eager to kiss him again.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs as he closes in. This time, he kisses down your neck instead. His teeth softly graze against your skin every now and then as he makes his way to the centre of your chest.
That’s my girl. You don’t know if that’s just his sweet talk or if he’s finally asserting his ownership of you. Either way, it gets you all worked up, especially when his hands join his mouth in their exploration of your body, gentle but firm as he gropes at you.
By the time he reaches the hem of your dress, every inch of you is covered in goosebumps.
Expecting him to rip it off, your breath catches when he simply sits back on his haunches and runs his hands up your thighs. They disappear from sight under your dress but you can certainly feel their presence, skin hot and metal slightly cooler.
Your legs spread for him so easily it’s almost laughable.
(10) You are expected to carry out your duties with discretion, professionalism and a high level of enthusiasm. Criticism will not be tolerated.
“Pretty girl, are you already drippin’ wet for me, hm?”
You’re almost afraid to speak, knowing full well that a bunch of embarrassing noises are pent up inside you right now. Where you wish Bucky was right now.
You take a deep breath in. “Yes, sir.”
He gives you a look — a fond one that most people give their pets — and it inexplicably makes your heart race.
“You don’t mind if I have a little taste now, do you?” He asks, fingers already curling around your panties and tugging them down.
“Please,” you let slip, waiting for him to lower himself to the mattress.
Instead, you yelp when he suddenly hauls your lower half up by the hips. You figure you must look like quite the sight, tits jiggling with the movement as you find yourself nearly suspended with your legs slung over his shoulders.
You don’t even get the chance to speak before he lowers his mouth and makes your entire body come alive for the first time in ages.
“Oh!” You cry out, hands gripping the first thing they can find: his thighs.
He chuckles against your cunt, tickling you in the most intimate sense while your fingers dig into hard muscle.
Your legs automatically tense up, ankles loosely locking behind his back as he keeps working your cunt, tongue gliding up and down your folds easily. His tongue is a wicked thing, a sin all on its own, as it draws the most guttural sound out of you
Seemingly satisfied that you’re secured, he runs his hands up your thighs and slips behind to knead your ass, large hands cupping you perfectly.
“Bu…”
You lose your train of thought when he slips his thumb inside of you, tongue following closely, fucking in and out shallowly. “Oh god, fuck, fuck!”
“Sweet as honey, baby,” he purrs, licking a long stripe up to your clit and sealing his lips around it. His other arm wraps around your hips to support you through the involuntary spasms that wrack your body as he circles his tongue around you, torturously slow to draw every last breath out from your lungs.
“W-wait,” you pant out, flushed and warm all over. “This should - it’s about you —
The corners of his eyes wrinkle slightly as he smiles deviously, the coarse hairs of his scruff tickling you.. “Oh, it is, honey. I'm enjoying myself just fine.”
To prove his point, he presses his hips forward and along your back you feel a faint, long, thick heat.
“Oh, fuck,” you whine, imagination already running wild with how good that’s going to feel inside you.
“Gettin’ there,” Bucky quips, returning to his task.
He’s diligent about switching between suckling you and curling that sinful tongue of his, flicking it over your clit just firm enough, just slow enough, that every drag feels like it’s breaking you open.
You feel yourself unraveling, like a runaway spool of thread and you desperately trying to hold on, hands clamoring for purchase as your body comes undone.
“Bucky!” You cry out, hands grabbing onto the arm wrapped around your waist. You’ve never whined the way you do right now, trembling in Bucky’s hold as he slows his movements, giving you just a moment of reprieve.
The look in Bucky’s eyes is predatory as he waits for you to regain your breath before giving you a final, harsh suck, teeth grazing over the sensitive nerves that nearly makes you come again just from that.
He finally lowers you to the mattress — a trembling, flushed mess — before undressing himself. It’s almost clinical, without fanfare, and that just doesn’t seem right to you when he’s unrevealing such beauty. As he strips, revealing all that gorgeous, smooth skin, you try to sit up even if you felt like your entire body was jello. You just wanted to reach out, to touch, and you were so enraptured by him, by his body, that when your eyes finally roamed south you gasped.
“Holy shit,” you blurt out. You think back to when Bucky originally asked you “like what you see?” not realizing just how much you would.
Your hand has never looked smaller than it does right now, wrapped around Bucky’s monstrous cock, hot and heavy against your palm. Subconsciously, you lick your lips as you watch precome starting to bead at his swollen tip.
You keep your grip firm as you give him a full stroke and your eyes drink in the sight before you — Bucky’s face, lax with pleasure, and the minute twitches of his muscles at your simple touch. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s been intimate with someone — if that’s why you were offered so much money to be for his personal, constant use.
“Your cock is gorgeous,” you tell him, hand getting used to the weight and length of it. “Want this inside of me, right now.”
Bucky’s face morphs into something even hungrier. He lowers his hips, cock nearly scalding against you. For the first time, his voice sounds less than perfectly in control. “I can’t catch or carry anything.”
You already knew that from the massive package of paperwork.
“And I can’t get you pregnant.”
You knew that, too, but again he sounds so clinical about it, you wonder if it bothers him at all.
“Yeah, handsome,” you nod, smiling dopily. “Rawdog me.”
Bucky makes a sound like a cut-off laugh, and you can’t help but feel victorious when a smile breaks out on his face.
“You’re somethin’ else, sugar.”
There’s a shift in the air, the both of you settling into each other like you’re not two absolute strangers as he presses his body to yours, cock sliding over your tender clit and across the slick of your folds.
You wrap your legs around him and dig your heels into his back as if to say c’mon, c’mon! Hurry up!
You thought you were ready. You’ve never had this issue before. But as Bucky starts to nudge the head of his cock in, you inhale sharply, your body immediately tensing to reject the intrusion.
He pauses to pull back and look at you.
“Sorry,” you say in a hurry, nervous and embarrassed by your reaction. You bring your hands to the side of his face trying to show him that it’s nothing he’s done. “You… You’re just, um…”
His eyes narrow slightly, eyebrow furrowing as he goes to pull away.
“Wait!” You keep your legs firmly wrapped around him, trying to trap him even though you were no match for his strength. “It’s not you. Well, sort of. It’s just that… You’re fucking huge, Bucky. I’ve never…”
His eyes widen in surprise, evidently not expecting your answer though you don’t miss the way his cock twitches between your legs. Then his look softens and he kisses you sweetly — more tender than anyone’s ever kissed you before.
“Roll over for me,” he commands gently.
As you do so, you watch him open the nightstand and to your relief, pulls out a bottle of lube. Natural instincts take over at that point — you prop yourself up on your knees, spreading them until you’re comfortable, and keep your chest to bed, arching your back.
He makes a pleased sound behind you. “Lookit you, babydoll. Bent over and spread open for me like a good girl.”
Your toes curl slightly at his words and your whole body tightens when you feel his fingers slip into you, the lube cool against your heated cunt.
“Relax, princess,” he coos, his other hand trailing down your spine. “Be a good kitten and just let me open you up, alright?”
You’ve lost the ability to form words so you nod against the sheets instead as you will your body to relax. Soon, you forget about your mission to take Bucky’s giant cock and start to lose yourself to the feeling of Bucky's fingers inside you. They’re just as talented as his tongue, expertly navigating all your sweet spots, some of which you didn’t even know you had.
“God, you feel you so good,” you groan, fingers curling in the sheets, clinging on for dear life.
“Oh, we’re jus’ getting started, baby.” His other hand returns to your near-overworked clit and you’re dangerously close to coming again.
You turn to look over your shoulder, intending to stop him. Instead, you jolt as he gives your cheek a lovebite, beard scratching against your ass while he curls his fingers inside you and pulls the orgasm from you. Your back arches as you scream out at the unexpected whirlwind of pleasure that travels through every vein of your body.
“Shhh, sh, you’re alright, sweet thing.” His voice is low and soothing.
You want to tell him that you’re more than alright, that you’ve never been pulled apart like this, that you’ve never come just from someone’s fingers, that you’ve never seen such a fat cock in your life. But all you can do is nod frantically, panting as your body comes down from the high.
“Think you’re ready, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. You let out a breathy moan as you reach back blindly for him. “Yes, Bucky, yeah. Gimme that perfect cock of yours.”
While you can’t see his expression, you hear a soft huff from him before the head of his cock is at your eager hole again. You feel him give himself a few pumps, slicking himself up with more lube, taking the time and care not to hurt you.
This time, you’re ready for it. As he enters, you exhale, your muscles loosening to let him in.
More than just let him in — welcome him, pull him in, making yourself the perfect fucking home for his cock.
“Goddamnit, sweets,” he murmurs, lowering his chest to your back, the cold metal of his dog tags on your spine. “Y’feel like a dream.”
“You’re one to talk,” you manage to gasp out, eyes scrunched as all of your attention is focused on the delicious stretch.
He brushes your hair to one side and for a moment, all you do is look at each other in the moment.
You reach out to trail your fingers along his wrist and he goes to press a kiss to the nape of your neck.
“M’gonna move, ‘kay?”
In lieu of a response, you clench down on him and grin when he hisses at the sensation.
“Watch it…” The low rumble of his voice only spurs you on, so you do it again, this time wriggling underneath him.
“C’mon, Bucky, please won’t you fuck me?” You taunt, your voice coy. “Put that fat cock of yours to use, huh?”
There are no words this time, only a soft clicking as you watch in fascination while his arm calibrates ever so slightly. You think you hear him mutter “you asked for it” but you can’t be sure because your own cries fill the room as he pulls back a few inches and thrusts back into you.
“This what you wanted?” Bucky growls before he gives your ass a light swat.
“More,” you beg him, despite the twinge of pain as your body tries to adjust and accommodate Bucky’s girth.
Bucky must read it as a challenge because he doesn’t go easy on you — after a few long, controlled thrusts, he must deem you ready.
You’re not sure anyone could quite be ready for the ravaging storm that is Bucky.
He fucks you like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to fuck anyone — determination and desperation wrapped up in superhuman stamina and strength. Without a doubt, you know you’re going to walk away with bruises — on your hips from where he grabs you, your thighs and ass from where he slams into you.
“Sh-shit,” you curse, panting into the sheets that you’ve bunched in your fists. Your hair sticks to your neck with the sweat building as your body tries to keep up with the assault. “So fucking - good, Bucky. Your cock feels so good — splitting me in half.”
Bucky makes an animalistic noise in his throat, yanking your hips back to him as he plants his hand beside your head, arm anchoring you in place.
Oh, fuck. As anticipated, he rails you within an inch of your life — you’re struggling to breath, heaving for air, and your eyes are scrunched shut to stop the tears from actually spilling.
“Okay there, sweetheart?”
Fuck him for not even sounding out of air. “Ssso goo-ood,” you slur, a litany of gasps and moans follow. “Love — that you’re — tearing me apart.”
Bucky’s voice is positively gleeful. “Yeah? You like getting fucked so hard you can’t even keep your eyes open?”
You make a conscious effort to crack an eye open and fire back. “Yeah. Fuck, you’re so deep I can feel you in my throat.”
“That can be arranged, honey,” he teases, hauling your hips up for an excruciating angle that makes you come so hard your vision turns white.
“Fucking gorgeous when you come,” he praises and you can’t formulate the words to reply.
“Ah, ah, nnngh, ah, f-fuck,” you babble, vision blurry as you tear up. It hurts but it’s beautiful, it’s brutal but controlled. It’s fucking perfect. You’d tell him just that, if had any air left in your lungs.
The last thing you hear is Bucky’s voice shushing you and telling you to rest before it all turns black.