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danversgirl87 · 3 years ago

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The Sweetest Gift

Summary: You've already given Bucky the perfect gift, even if you don't know it yet. He'll show you just how much he appreciates having you in his life.

Gif credit jurassicbarnes-archives

Pairing: Chubby!Baker Bucky x Reader

WC: 2.4K

CW: Smut, overstimulation, praise kink, soft!pleasure dom Bucky.

A/N: Beta'd by the lovely @lunarbuck and @awesomerextyphoon. Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated.

"What if…" you contemplate your next words, gaze drifting up to the ceiling fan, the blades lazily whirling above you; its quiet hum drifts across the room.

Bucky huffs out a short gravelly laugh, already anticipating your question, his sleek vibranium fingers toying with the top button of your shirt. Technically it’s his. You stole the henley right off his shoulder when you were both getting ready for bed, leaving him in only a pair of black briefs. He's intent on getting it back.

Bucky’s on his side, his head propped up on his palm, heat from his thigh warming yours, his belly pressing into your side, his large body molding to the shape of you. The muted t.v. casts a warm glow across the bed, a scene playing out unnoticed on the screen. A low flame dances, crackling along the wick of the cashmere vanilla candle on the nightstand, illuminating the slope of Bucky’s nose, his blue eyes focused on you.

You’ve all but forgotten about the series you were watching. For once, Bucky’s to blame. It started with his dulcet laughter at the main actress when she asked her boyfriend a silly question.

Which led to you asking him that same silly question.

Turns out that if you ever get turned into a worm, Bucky is hunting down the person who did it and getting turned into a worm too. “So we can be together, Peach.” He was so proud of his answer, his softly rounded cheeks jutting out from his wide, pleased grin until you asked him why he left you a worm instead of making them reverse the spell. An expression somewhere between chagrined and indignant crossed his features, his smile slipping off his face as he mulled over your words.

He immediately demanded a do-over.

"Okay, what if—" you start again, “—I was in a cult?"

Bucky purses his lips, his eyes never straying from the sliver of skin showing as he casually flicks open another button. "What type of cult?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well yeah,” he dryly intones, one brow raising. “ I need to know if I'm bringing weapons for a rescue mission or if I'm joining you."

“You’d save me?” He hums in response, of course, he would. You raise yourself up on your elbows, jostling his hand, his fingers deftly moving back to your chest. "And you’d join me if I wanted to be there? No questions asked? You’d sign over everything and be with me?"

"Peach." Another button gone. More skin unveiled. His cool finger traces up the path he’s created. A hint of a smile curves his lips, and warm eyes rake across your face. "I'd follow you to Antarctica wearing only a pair of shorts and one glove if you asked."

It’s a good answer. He knows it and he knows that you know it too. A slight smirk pulls at the corner of his lips when he realizes that you're going to let him have that win.

"Hmm." You flop back down, goosebumps following his light touch, the rough pads of his fingers on your soft skin setting your nerves aflame, a needy thrum building. "What if I decided to stop eating sweets? Gave up all your desserts?"

That gets his eyes off your chest.

The fact that he’s now perturbed almost makes you laugh. Cults are fine, drag him to the edge of the world, but he draws the line at you not wanting baked goods. Specifically his baked goods. You meet his gaze, challenging his darkening stare with your own. Your brow quirking mischievously. "What if I only wanted pickles?”

Bucky grimaces, a shudder wracking through his large body. He inhales, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second.

"Pickles," he whispers under his breath. Two more buttons. The slope of your breasts comes into view, and he bites his bottom lip in an obscenely sweet gesture. His attention returns to your amused face with a brief shrug. “Well fuck, Steve is going to hate you when I change the whole menu to pickles. I mean pickle pie doesn’t have the same appeal as a sweet peach pie, but if that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

Laughter builds in your chest, spilling out in waves. Bucky traces the side of your breast with his knuckle,peeling the shirt back inch by inch until they spill free.

"Hello ladies,” he murmurs, his soft lips brushing over each nipple, a warm spark winds itself down your stomach, settling between your thighs. He wants more of you, his hand drifting down the soft planes of your belly, heading to his favorite dessert.

Still…

There’s one more question you want—need—to ask him before he really distracts you.

“How did you know…” You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, trailing the pad of your finger across his smooth forehead, down to the tip of his nose, and across the seam of his soft, lush lips. “That I was–nevermind.”

“Know what? Ask me whatever you want.”

“How did you know I was the one?” It’s something that’s been on your mind for a while. You’re not entirely sure where it came from, only that it won’t leave your brain now that it’s settled in there. You’ve always been naturally curious and hopelessly romantic. It’s been burning your tongue for weeks now. You know he loves you, there’s no doubt of that, but you want to know why. So you continue, pushing past the wildfire of nerves clawing up your veins, and you ask him. “How do you know you love me?”

It gets quiet. You no longer hear the ceiling fan or the faint sounds of traffic outside your window. You do hear the way his breathing slows. Trepidation lashes at you, and you hesitate, a sinking feeling rushing down your spine. “Uh, forget it.” You avert your eyes, staring at the dancing flaming.

Part of you wants to snatch the words back and hide them away. Another part of you, that hopelessly hopeful, romantic part, hopes he doesn’t let you down.

He doesn’t.

His hand lifts off your skin and catches your chin, tilting your face towards him, his thumb sweeping across your bottom lip, Bucky’s brows cinch in, and his eyes find yours.

“Oh, Peach.”

Bucky swallows, and his adam’s apple bobs along the column of his throat. Your fingers trace the movement, and he takes your hand in his, turning it over to kiss your palm. His expression shifts, warming under your gaze until you feel as if you’re looking at the sun. Emotions that always sit below the surface of his crystalline eyes rise up in a wild torrent of love and devotion and adoration. Your chest gets warm, and the heat spreads up your neck to your cheeks.

Your breath stalls, catching in the base of your throat, vulnerability rushing through your veins like ice, and you turn your head to take a breath, unable to handle the sheer depth of love reflecting in his deep blues.

“I just know.”

The simple statement leaves his lips as they curve into a smile. “Its instinctive, the same way I know to breathe. The second I saw you that day in the bakery, I wanted you. God, I wanted you so bad. And y’know I would have been happy just to see you come in every once in a while and smile at me. Then it snowed, and we got trapped, and we talked for hours…”he trails off with a pleased noise in his throat.

“That night was incredible.” You smile fondly, recalling your first unofficial date, the day you both consider your anniversary.

“I knew when we had our first fight, and all I could think about was how to get you to smile at me again. Or how I’ll be at work, and everything sweet and beautiful reminds me of you.”

Oh.

You don’t know how to respond. You don’t have to. Bucky’s not done.

“Your laugh is the best damn sound I’ve ever heard.” He gets his boxers off in one hurried move, sitting back on his haunches, his large hands sliding under your thighs and around your ass, hooking under the band of your panties. “I love the way you get caught up in your books, you make this little face when you’re reading something—” Easing them down your legs, his lips following the lacy material until they’re at your ankles. His eyes flicker up, and your breath hitches. “Naughty. One of these days, I’m going to recreate those filthy little scenes you love so much.”

He climbs up the bed, his large body covering yours. His nose brushes along the column of your throat, and he inhales you.

“Y’know I didn’t really like peaches, I was more of a chocolate guy. Then you came along and made me crave them.” He admits with a shake of his head.

He chuckles at your surprised expression. “It’s true. Didn’t even care about them that much until you. Now I can’t live without them. Can’t live without you.” He confesses against your lips, nipping the bottom one, raking it gently between his teeth. “And I can be having the worst day, and all I need is to hear your voice, and the world is right again.”

He sweeps his hand under your leg, moving it up, his thick thighs slotting between yours, his bare chest warm against your skin. Bucky lowers his weight onto you, placing his hands beside your head.

He can feel it—that second little heartbeat that drives him crazy– can feel you shift under him, can feel how wet and warm and ready you are for him.

"You let me love you Peach. And that—"Bucky slides into you with one languid, sure stroke, the familiar stretch sends you into a tailspin of heady sensations. His head drops to your shoulder, a shuddery gasp leaves his lips, his gruff fuck breathed into your ear. “—is the single best gift you have ever given me,” he rasps, slowly, slowly pulling out, leaving his plush tip resting inside you, your pussy clenching down desperately trying to bring him back, wanting to feel every inch of him, needing to be full again.

“That's-oh oh fuck- that's not a gift Bucky,” you manage to moan out as he thrusts back inside you, his powerful hips slamming into yours. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into his soft muscular chest.

His lips graze the side of your throat, peppering soft, lingering kisses. “Yes. It. Is.” His eyes wander over your face, taking in your pleasure-contorted expression, brows drawn tight, lips parted as the sexiest little noises fall from them. “Yes it is,'“ he repeats softly, reverently, his strokes getting faster and deeper and harder, the urge to tear you apart consuming him.

“Best damn gift I’ve ever gotten, and I swear to cherish it with every breath I take.”

There’s a solemn weight to his words, a vow, and a promise all wrapped up into one declaration.

“And look how well we fit together Peach. You feel so good wrapped around me, so damn tight and wet and perfect, you can't tell me we weren't made for each other,” he roughly pants, drawing your attention down to your joined bodies, the sight of his cock driving into your tight cunt sending a shiver down his spine. “You make me feel so good. Can’t blame me for being so addicted to something so fucking sweet. Wanna spend all night making you feel as good as I do. You gonna let me do that aren’t you? Gonna let me stretch and fuck this little pussy until she can’t take anymore.”

“Bucky I-oh god.” Your gasps turn into uncontrollable sobs as an array of sultry sensations overwhelms your senses. Grabbing the headboard, he pushes deeper, giving you all of him. A filthy little grind of his hips makes your walls clench down so hard you can feel each veiny inch of his cock sliding over your spot.

S’close, s’close. You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you’re about to cry that you can’t take it, you need to come, his thumb rolls over your clit, and the tight band around your belly snaps. Everything hits you at once. Your eyes roll back, your nails scratch down his back as a low whimper preens in your throat. Bucky is relentless. Frantic and sweet and needy. His fingers intertwines with yours, kissing you throughly, moaning into your mouth, pleading for just one more, fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure, coaxing more sensations from your sensitive cunt until you’re falling apart, again and again, only stopping when he’s gotten everything he wants from you, his pace slowing as he finally let's go, groaning your name over and over as he comes.

You rest in a haze of pleasure, arm splayed over your eyes. Nodding when he murmurs not to move, the bed dipping and springing up when he stands up. The sounds of the bathroom door opening, followed by the faucet turning on, briefly fill the room. He’s back before you can get cold. Bucky gently cleans you up, tucking himself around you, resting your head on his chest.

He waits until you’re asleep, and he starts speaking again.

“Peach, in a few weeks. I’m going to ask you something.” Bucky grazes your lips, a soft lingering kiss, only pulling back when you murmur incoherently. “I have a ring picked out. Two actually. I haven’t decided which one is better for you, but I’ll figure it out. I hope. And I bought a new suit and got you a dress. I’ve been practicing my proposal with Steve. He keeps saying it's going to be perfect; I think he’s tired of me freaking out in the bakery. I can’t help it though, I’m so nervous, but I want you to be mine more than anything.

His tone lowers even though it's just the two of you in the house, wrapped up in each other. His words are for you and you alone.

“You really want to know how I knew I loved you? I knew when I realized that you don’t have to do anything but exist, and that’s enough to make me happy. I'm going to make sure you always know that. Every single day." He kisses your forehead, his words whispered against your skin. "I'm greedy for you though. I blame you for doing that to me, and now I want a little more from you, Peach. A lifetime more. Hope you’ll say yes.”

->A Lifetime More

->Chubby!Baker Bucky Masterlist

->Main Masterlist

->Personal Library

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