#chubby stucky

[achubbydumpling]

The Struggles of Being Too Fat for Fat Camp

This was inspired by an incredible video by @lardfill. Sadly, I can't find a current link to the video and I only have it as an mp4. But basically the entire second part in the kitchen is inspired by that.

Rating: Explicit Words: 2387 Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Weight Gain, Teasing, Name-Calling, pig, Bucky calls himself a pig, Belly Kink, No Lube, ...dish soap, it's inspired by a real video!, Fat Bucky Barnes, literally getting off from his own fat, Extreme Weight Gain, Mobility Struggles, out of breath, modern AU, Established Relationship

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Read the series on AO3

The inevitable conversation about moving in together came up earlier than Bucky had expected. Just after he’d entered cabin 13 Steve had already stood in the doorway, knocked on the door frame and wrung his hands.

“I’ve got a flat in town. Just until the end of summer, but, you know, you could move in. If you wanted to.”

Of course, Bucky had agreed to spend the rest of the summer there. No useless dieting rules that he wasn’t going to follow anyway, no annoying team sports and activities, and no one that expects him to lose any weight.

When they finally lived together, it didn’t take long for them to settle into a comfortable routine living together.

Steve would get up early to go for a run and to make breakfast. While Bucky spent another hour just lounging in bed with the sun shining on his face, slowly waking up to the quiet sounds of Steve moving around the kitchen.

However, today Bucky woke up to the soft press of Steve’s lips to his temple and his hand gently squeezing his plush side.

“Morning, sleepy head.” Steve could barely hide his amusement at Bucky’s wide-eyed look around. When he noticed Steve wearing his counsellor uniform already, Bucky tried to sit up. His efforts were hindered by the heavy weight of his belly.

“What time is it?” Bucky had to build up a bit of momentum first and Steve ultimately helped him scoot back to rest against the headboard.

“Almost half nine.”

Bucky sighed, “Wanted to eat breakfast with you.”

Steve’s expression softened and he tucked a stray strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear.

"I didn't want to wake you up if I didn't have to."

Bucky couldn’t stop the warmth that bubbled up inside him. It built into a fond smile that pulled at his lips.

“Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Tomorrow.” Steve pulled a serious expression before he broke out into a smile again. “Do you want to stay in bed a bit longer or some help getting up before I leave?”

The sleep-warm duvet tempted Bucky to stay a bit longer, but he could feel the beginnings of hunger coil in his stomach. So, he stretched his arms out towards Steve, who gripped his hands tightly. Together they got Bucky on his feet and out of the bedroom in no time. Alone Bucky would’ve probably taken twice as long just to get up, but he needed fewer breaks when he could lean some of his weight on Steve.

Still, just the few weeks he had spent living with Steve had resulted in even more weight piling onto his already morbidly obese body. While Bucky didn’t feel much heavier, his doughy belly had gotten wider and softer and increasingly unwieldy. Where he used to be able to grab a good roll, now the fat was so pliable it almost slid out of his grip of its own volition.

This new development also led to his belly working more and more against him when Bucky tried to walk. It weighed on his thighs and swayed between his thighs with every step. The heavy swing always in opposition to the leg he needed to bring forward. His breathing was laboured from the moment he heaved himself out of bed and the sofa creaked dangerously beneath him he plopped down on it.

Steve placed the small folding table in front of Bucky and started loading it with a veritable breakfast buffet until it bowed under the weight of all the plates. Sweet and savoury, a stack of pancakes soaked in maple syrup, thick cut slices of bread with margarine melting into it and sprinkled with garden cress, two cinnamon rolls the size of Bucky’s palm and a bowl of thick, oatmeal topped with spoonfuls of peanut butter and halved plums.

“Here.” Steve handed Bucky a piece of grapefruit. “It’s really good. I had some for breakfast.” Steve smiled at the ground and shuffled his feet. ”Wanted to share.”

Bucky waited until Steve looked back up to say, “Thank you.”

“I’ll make dinner tonight, ok?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back. Fury planned some competition for the campers that could take until the evening,” Steve paused and grinned when he remembered the last year Bucky spent at camp,“or just a few minutes.”

With a kiss and a promise to call before the end of his shift Steve left the flat. Bucky could finally dig into the food Steve had prepared for him.

It didn’t take long for him to feel full, but Bucky didn’t get to his current size by stopping when he was full. With the bread and oatmeal gone, he started on the pancakes. The carbs were laying heavily in his stomach, he felt the familiar bloat settle in.

So, he set about eating the thick slices of freshly baked bread. His initial plan was to force them down quickly so he would be finished before the bloating really caught up to him, but when he bit into the first slice, he couldn’t help himself slowing down to savour it.

The crust crackled between his teeth and the soft middle was soaked through from the thick spread of margarine. On his first bite he noticed the faint taste of other herbs as well. The tang of the sourdough bread spread on his tongue and Bucky couldn’t hold back the content hum at the combination of the taste and texture of the still hand-warm bread.

Bucky warmed up the cinnamon rolls in the microwave and ate them as a late morning snack. Yesterday’s leftovers served as lunch to keep him comfortably full into the afternoon.The hours of stuffing slowly transitioned into himwatching TV, burping his way through the bloat and rubbing away the tightness in his stomach

After nursing away most of the pain, Bucky finally pulled out his laptop to work on some of his course assignments for after the semester break, but the contentment of a lazy morning and a still-full belly had him falling asleep on the couch without meaning to.

The late afternoon sun warmed Bucky’s face as he blearily opened his eyes. He groaned when he saw the low battery warning on his laptop. Bucky checked the clock — almost five — and then his phone for any messages from Steve. Even though a lazy sort of hunger curled at the back of Bucky’s mind when he looked down at himself he could still see the bloat from his extended breakfast. He could still feel the heavy weight of the food in his stomach.

Not for the first time Bucky was surprised just by how fat he was — how much fatter he was getting every day. He pulled his shirt up and splayed his hands over his upper belly, he couldn’t even cover half of it. Then he trailed lower, grabbed onto his sides and hefted his belly up to let it drop down again. It rippled through the fat all over his body and his dick gave an interested twitch.

I’m getting so fat, was all Bucky could think when he saw his belly continuing to move on its own like this. The smallest movement making it shake and jiggle, his fat moving in waves across his body. He grabbed the sides of his belly again and let it drop into his lap. Then he tried to reach over it, he reached his belly button and about a handbreadth beneath it, but he couldn’t actually reach the lowest part of his belly.Thick arousal started to cloud his mind.

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned and scooted lower on the sofa. His hands dug almost painfully into the fat on his sides. He noticed how it spilled over the edge of the sofa even though he was pressed into the cushions of the backrest. Just exploring all this new softness had him half hard under the heavy overhang on his thighs. But he wanted to feel out the changes to his body some more.

His hands came up to his moobs and he lifted them each up and let them drop through his hands again. Bucky skimmed his finger over his nipples, they felt even more sensitive with just the weight he’d put on living with Steve, stretched out from gaining weight even there. He’d never really had pecs, always soft even at his lowest weight.

Bucky tried to get more comfortable. He splayed his legs as wide as he could, but the couch was barely wide enough to fit his entire body. He bent his knee and tried to get his heavy belly to pool to one side, to give him access to his dick.

Every one of his movements was followed by a grunt, just trying to move himself into position, a difficult task for someone Bucky’s size. He tried to heft his belly up and to the side, out of the way so he could finally get his fingers on his dick that was growing harder underneath his fat pad.

With his belly hanging over the side of the couch, however, it only felt like he was about to be pulled off by its weight. Bucky rolled more onto his side, angled his knee more, but no matter what all he could reach were his thigh rolls and his fat pad, he couldn’t actually get to his buried dick.

He tried one more time, adjusting his position and trying to work his way along his fat pad, but the furthest he ever managed to reach was just barely skimming the tips of his fingers over the tip of his dick.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed. Oh, God, I’m too fat to jerk off.

His emotions were all over the place. Partly in awe at how big he’d eaten himself, slightly shocked he’d ever let himself get this fat, but most importantly so incredibly turned on and he couldn’t do anything about it. Unless he got up and tried again in bed — more room to spread his legs and get his belly out of the way.

He pushed the folding table to the side and prepared himself to get up. His lower belly was trapped against his thighs, so he grabbed at that lowest roll to move the heavy overhang to droop between his legs. Then he scooted forward.

He couldn’t help the noises he made, moving this much mass forced grunts and sighs from his straining lungs. Once he got his body right to the edge of the sofa, he rocked back and forth to build up the momentum to get to his feet. The couch had been sagging lower every day, so he had to cover an even greater distance just to stand up.

Might as well get something to eat for after. So, instead of heading to the bedroom Bucky turned to the kitchenette. They kept snacks in the cupboards above the kitchen. Bucky was craving something salty and headed for the right side.

Opening the cupboard wasn't too difficult since Bucky could just grab the bottom of the door. However, reaching the chips he wanted was a different story. Of course, his favourites were high on the second level.

Bucky stretched upwards, going up on his toes just for his finger tips to barely graze the package.

The cold countertop pressing against Bucky’s belly startled him, but the enticing snack kept him going.

As he moved closer to try and reach the cupboard his fat pad pressed against the counter too and when he stretched up his fat pad almost spilled onto it. His belly and fat pad rubbing together against the cold hard counter.

That's when he got the idea.

He should have gone to the bedroom.

He should have lied down, gotten comfortable and used some actual lube, but he was here and horny and some watery dish soap seemed good enough for lubrication.

His inhales were stumbling over each other, a strangled sound and he had to slow down to actually take a breath. He lifted his belly, blindly searching for his fat pad before finally grabbing it and maneouvering his dick to rest on the counter too. When he let go of his belly, it added the most incredible pressure.

He could barely lift his entire belly up and then it slapped right back onto the counter, he moved on to just jiggling it, letting the counter take most of the weight of the fat apron on his front and just moving it by shaking and grabbing rolls all over it, letting the fat rub over his dick. Relishing in the feeling of having gained so much weight that he could fuck his own fat.

“Fat fucking pig,” Bucky said to himself in between wheezing breaths. Steve always defaulted to praise, but sometimes Bucky needed that humiliation. Someone telling him how much fatter he was gonna get if he kept eating more.

“Gonna get bigger, fatter.” Bucky’s thrusts were becoming erratic, his muscles were shaking with the effort to keep his hips driving forward against the counter.

“Please,” Bucky could barely get the word out with how ragged his breathing had gotten. Begging someone, anyone to let him come before his legs gave out.

A dull, tight pain had started settling in his joints, lactic acid built up in his thigh muscles. Still he kept up the shallow thrusts, even as it became increasingly difficult to command his body to keep going.

"Fuck," Bucky grunted, "I'm such a pig."

He tried to wrap his arms around his belly to adjust it one last time. So close to coming, racing against exhaustion. The very body he was getting off to, threatening to cut his orgasm short.

One last grunt and he was finally rewarded. Thick spurts of cum painting his belly, mixing with the soap suds.

His legs were shaking, knees threatening to buckle. He was holding himself up on the counter though his arms also quickly tired. With a last effort he made it to the chair in the kitchen and let himself fall down on it.

"What a work out," Bucky chuckled to himself, reverently running his hands over his belly.

And then his gaze fell on the chips packet that was tilting out of the cupboard, perfectly in reach if Bucky just stretched up a little.

[hungryhungrydoe]

More stuckage! 🤭

[chubthings-by-georgie]

Finally have a place to organize my chub fics!!

A short oneshot depicting the lovely and peaceful life of Steve and Bucky one year after marriage and how happiness and Bucky’s cooking habits have affected Steve’s waistline.

[shawtythatluvsurgut]

Could y’all drop in my inbox or in a reply to this some weight gain story prompts that I could write for this requested Stucky wg story? I don’t wanna post a Stucky weight gain prompt that I’ve already written because I don’t want to expose my own desires completely 🤭🫣 but I’m blanking on new weight gain ideas to write about. So please help ya girl out and recommend some feeder/feedee prompts! I usually make Steve the feeder and Bucky the feedee, but lately I’ve been doing a lot of fat Steve writing so I’m willing to write either/or. (And also please not the fat boss prompts because those are written so often and i’m not into the bossxemployee subgenre. That power dynamic weirds me out.) Big thanks to anyone who replies to this! Muah 💋

[iwriteweightgainbullshit]

I think im gonna write something tonight or tomorrow.

What would ya'll like to read? Chubby bucky? Chubby Steve? Chubby Tony?

I write about a few fandoms:

-marvel

-harry Potter (i only saw the first movie tho but i'll do my research:D)

-brookyln 99

-bo burnham

Any recommendations will do, just ask and ill write :D even if the fandoms wasnt named i might write it :)

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Thinking about Steve getting so big and round that he can rest on his belly like it’s a giant beanbag and he’s alone without Bucky so he starts to belly fuck himself and is just whining and moaning and panting being very verbal while feeling himself jiggle

Asdfghjkl 🥵🥵🥵

Oh.

Warning for unbeta'd stucky belly kink ahead, including impossible/unrealistic levels of belly fat, belly humping, immobility, etc.

A stuttered, high moan bursts desperately out of Steve’s heaving chest as he squirms on top of his impossibly big gut. The sensation is otherworldly. It doesn’t feel real even though it’s so fucking visceral. It’s all he can feel. He can only feel his own fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. Huge. He’s lost in it, lost in his own fucking fat. Steve’s grown so huge. Fattened and then overfattened recklessly. Ungodly round and swollen.

Steve lets his head hang down toward his overgrown middle and chest, pecs turned to moobs to just breasts, they’re so big and fat. All of him is. And he’s out of breath, panting and gasping, just from bucking his hips down frantically, barely doing any work at all, just trying to get any sort of friction to his blubber-buried dick. He hasn’t seen his dick in so fucking long, he hasn’t had Bucky’s hand or mouth or anything of Bucky’s around his dick is so long. His dick might as well be gone at this point, all of his normal sexual pleasure replaced by the pure pleasure of consumption - eating like a madman, eating so much that his belly stretches and he moans and cries, swearing he’s going to burst at the seams, straining around all this food and drink packed and stuffed into his body. It’s how he’d like to go, though, if he has to, he’s going to ride the wave of utter unrestrained gluttony like a true pig. Steve shivers just thinking about it - oh, oh, fuck yes. His gut stretched, new marks etching themselves into his thick flesh, his stomach churning and gurgling, his skin flushed red with how big he’s made himself, his body glistening with sweat, and creaking. There’s not enough room. There’s never enough room for everything he wants inside him. Delicious, decadent food.

Steve’s thinking about stuffing himself now, while he fucks his own fat. He’s reached an entirely new plane of greed and gluttony that he can’t be stopped. He’s the size of a boulder, his belly the shape of one, and he’s going to be stopped just about as easily as a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain. Jesus, he’s greedy. He’s fat. Huge. He’s moaning, crazed with the sensation of what he’s become.

The only thing Steve has to work with to get out his throbbing, pulsing arousal is the taut, huge surface of his belly. Nothing else. He’s so big. He can’t reach anything but so of his gut. Even his belly is too big for him to reach all of it. Steve whimpers. All he can feel his the sweaty, hot sensation of his own overfattened flesh. Thick and heavy, wobbling and jiggling underneath him. All over him. He’s massive. He almost can’t breathe, his stomach is so filled and so hard and pressing into him, trying and failing to find any more room to expand into.

Still, having trouble breathing or not, with every lazy thrust of his hips, pleasure sparks inside Steve. It feels so good. Fucking his own fat. So. good. But he needs more. Still. Steve always needs more. More food, more pleasure, and more complete hedonism.

Really writhing now, not just squirming, Steve’s toes curl until the soles of his feet ache like the sizes of his absolutely massive belly do, trying to stretch around all those calories, exponentially swelling him more. More. Steve whimpers unstoppably through a burp. There’s gas inside him rolling and bubbling in his stretched stomach and intestines from the damn keg of beer Bucky poured into him (trying, in vain, to placate and satisfy the monster of Steve’s appetite that they’ve built together) before he left to work on the monumental task of gathering, buying, and then hauling all the groceries they (mostly just Steve) need at home. So, now, Steve’s gargantuan stomach is carbonated. The feeling of bubbles in him is too much. He keeps belching and moaning, the bloat, the pressure mounting inside him. He’s gonna explode. All the humping and wiggling isn’t helping, he’s making more bubbles inside himself. Pressure. More pressure, tricking his body into thinking he’s fuller and leaving him panting even harder. He’s so fat. He can’t believe it.

Actually, he can believe it. He lives in his own head with the constant onslaught of thoughts that demand moremoremoremoremore. That’s how he got so giant. More. That’s how he grew this massive, round gut that holds his body off the ground like he’s laid out on a big, plush beanbag.

More.

Lavish.

Soft.

Big.

Steve just can’t fucking help himself. He’s so gluttonous and he doesn’t want to stop. Never.

Waves of his own wobbling fat take Steve beyond reason, almost beyond pleasure. It’s fucking good. So good that he can’t comprehend what he’s become. A true, immobile beached whale. His feet can’t touch the ground, they haven’t been able to touch the ground in ages. Ages and ages that have only been filled with food and drink - filled like Steve is filled. Overfilled. Unbearably filled with literally anything that Bucky wants to shove down his throat, from greasy pizzas to rich pastas to creamy desserts to malty beer and thick milkshakes.

More.

Steve licks his lips, whining. He just keeps fantasizing about food while he humps and fucks his gut. Jiggling. Wobbling. Bloating. Slowly… slowly… slowly growing fatter, stuffed with food, and always reaching new heights. Every day that goes by he’s the fattest he’s ever been and also the smallest he’ll be from now on.

God.

Another burp makes its way out of Steve, he intends to moan, squeezing his arms and legs into the blubbery sides of his belly - what he can reach of the sides of his belly underneath him - but he can’t control whether or not he moans or burps. He can’t control himself. What’s the difference anyway at this point? Indulgence is pleasure, pleasure is indulgence; food is sex, sex is food. There is no difference. All he knows is the pure sensation of unending fat underneath him. His body. So big. He can’t comprehend how fucking huge he is and it makes him so fucking horny.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Can i request something that the reader is sick and Bucky or Stucky comforts and taking care of them please i am sick right now and i needed but its okay if your not comfortable to write it

༉‧₊˚. 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞'𝐬 || 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

— pairings: steve rogers x plus size!reader x bucky barnes

— summary: for the first time since you three had gotten together, you got sick, and your two boyfriends are determined to nurse you back to health.

— warnings: literally none besides some hurt/comfort and mentions of fevers.

— wc: 669

⋆ a/n: i stopped everything i was doing so i could write this for you :] i was sick earlier this month so i know how draining it could be, and everyone needs some lovin'.

masterlist | AO3

At first it was the small things that had gone unnoticed by you, but definitely not by your two boyfriends. They had been around for longer than you, living to see variants of different diseases, but that seemed to not matter as you continually sneezed, taking constant trips to blow your nose, and the inner elbow part of your sleeve becoming a radioactive zone.

It was only until you couldn't get out of bed one morning that they began to truly worry. It didn't take a lot of coaxing to get you to just lay down and relax, your eyes quickly falling shut as the duo exchanged quiet words.

Inly one of them left the room, the other staying and sitting on the side of your bed, brushing some sweaty hair off of your forehead as his fingers fell to your cheek. You could recognize that gentle touch even if there were hundreds of hands stroking your face.

"Steve..." You groaned as another rush of pain assaulted your head. "I know, sweetheart, I know. Bucky's running to the store right now to get you some medicine and groceries to make some soup. Would you like that?" You nodded weakly, burying your face into your pillow so you could cough. You were aware of the super soldiers almost impenetrable immune system, but you had only been with regular humans, so it was more of a habit than a courtesy.

"Sleep, it'll be easier." You sighed, allowing your body to sink into the soft mattress as you strayed further and further away from consciousness, Steve's caresses never ceasing.

When you had woken up next, the blonde was pressed against your back, your body shaking. You were completely unaware that your fever had broken, your nerves feeling as though they had been dipped into a bucket of ice water.

"Buck... where's Buck?" You chartered. Steve's arm wound around you, tugging you back into his warm body and hard chest. "He's coming, just finishing up your food." That seemed to quell your stirring, even though you couldn't go back to sleep, you laid there, tears brimming in your eyes as you felt like your body was shutting down. As if on que, your other boyfriend walked in, hands clasped with a tray filled with all sorts of things as Steve assisted you on sitting up.

You didn't want to, whining in a fruitless protest as you were propped up on the pillows.

"I know you don't feel well, but you have to eat, doll." You allowed him to feed you, your taste buds bringing back a bit of life in you as you let out a hum in appreciation.

"It was my ma's recipe." He said with a smile on his face. "She used to make it for Steve back when he would get his ass kicked." You heard Steve's charming laugh boom from beside you.

"Yeah, and then Winni would scold me the whole time while I was trying to eat." He said with a fond smile on his face. you wished you could have been able to meet this woman. "She sounded like a force to be reckoned with." You croaked from behind the spoon bucky had pressed against your lips. He nodded, his smile matching his boyfriend's as he pressed the utensil into your mouth, continuing to coax you to eat.

"Yeah, she was. you kind of remind me of her. always keeping me a Steve on our toes, taking care of us even though we're grown men." Bucky began, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to your cheek. His scruff tickled your skin, but you didn't have time to dwell on it as Steve's soft hand cupped your even softer jaw. "So let us take care of you. we always will be here to do so, even if you think you don't need us."

You could only let out a light scoff.

"I'll always need you guys." They both smiled, the words sounding like music to their ears.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood

[gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes]

motivation  - a modern fluffy stucky AU with chubby Bucky, trainer Steve.

Art by @buckybearsdoodles

“But I don’t know a thing about being a spotter,” Bucky protested, understanding full well he was about ten seconds away from giving in and doing it anyway.

“It’s really easy,” Steve crooned, with his deep voice that was much more seductive over the phone. “All you have to do is kiss me on the downs. Make sure I don’t fall any more than I already have.”

See the art and read the chapter on AO3!

[sugarpopss]

Running Sucks

Okay. So. This is very niche bc it takes place in the universe of @bucknastysbabe and I's chat where Bucky got rescued from HYDRA after falling and sent home, settled down w his sweetheart and got to be happy and safe and fat and work for the SSR. Then ALSO they found Steve he's fine and he and Peggy are fucking on the DL. Very much an 'everyone is fine bc it's happy' AU. Steve and Bucky go on runs together and have bestie time. There's just a lot of lore to know alright.

The thing about running is that it sort of sucks. Sure, it’s ‘good for you’ and ‘important to exercise’, but it sucks. That’s an opinion Bucky will stand by until the day he dies. 

The thing about James Buchcanon Barnes in the spring of 1949 is that he wasn’t even that out of shape. He’d always had good stamina and going into the military didn’t hurt that. Besides, whatever they’d pumped him up with in Azzano-traumatic as the whole experience was-seemed to bolster his entire body. He didn’t need to know precisely how. The less time spent thinking about it, the better. The night terrors were calming down and that was good enough. 

So no, Bucky did not have a negative opinion of running simply because he was out of shape. 

And he liked parts of running! He liked being out and about in Brooklyn, he loved hanging out with Steve-especially since their lives had diverged a bit in post-war adulthood. Even if Bucky would’ve never imagined ‘hanging out with Steve’ constituting going on a run before the guy went and got himself shot up with whatever secret smoothie sent him into second puberty. 

He liked jogging with his best friend and swapping banter and gossip with the easy comfort of childhood friendship and the understanding of forged in fire brotherhood. But by god, he hated how his thighs chafed like they were trying to start a fire. Bucky would absolutely admit to having put on a lot of weight since coming home-being full helped him sleep and his wife loved to bake, sue him. It didn’t usually bother him. Being fat felt like being safe, like his body was one hundred percent, absolutely his, even with the metal arm HYDRA had practically superglued onto him before he was rescued. 

But the fucking chafing was something else. And it was the very worst while running. His thighs rubbed together and wore the inseam of his pants to threads, he could feel his entire body jiggle every time his feet hit the pavement, and the sweat that accumulated in the creases underneath his moobs or the overhang of his belly was less than comfortable. 

And because Bucky was the man he was, and had pretty much settled into a happy, domestic life and the good days far outnumbered the bad, he was in the position to be needlessly dramatic. Just for fun. And for attention. 

Which was why about two thirds of the way through the circuit they were running he stopped running and bent over, hand on his knees, and took several heaving breaths like a dying fish. It wasn’t entirely for show-he was out of breath-but he could’ve kept going for a few more minutes. 

The dramatics had their intended effect, though. Steve stopped running and turned around, eyebrows raised. 

“Come on, assclown. You can’t finish five miles?” 

Bucky took another very deep breath and straightened, wearing the same smile that made girls in dance halls fall over themselves almost a decade ago. Not that he used it for that much anymore-he was a happily married man. 

“Said I’d do two. Pretty damn sure I said I’d do two.” 

Bucky had, in fact, said he’d only do two miles. He’d also gotten distracted talking to Steve and just kept running; he’d only noticed how far they’d gone when the friction burn on his inner thighs had become too irritating to ignore. 

“Yeah, but you say that every time. I just tune it out.” 

Steve smiled like he was holding back laughter when he said it, and Bucky laughed after he said it. 

“Whatever, punk. We’re walking the rest.” 

He slung his flesh arm around Steves shoulders, grinning. For all the moaning and groaning he did, Bucky did enjoy this time. 

As they started walking-because they were going to walk the rest of the circuit. He was serious about that-he realized there was something he hadn’t asked Steve about in a while. Something incredibly important that he absolutely wasn’t just using to josh on his friend. 

“Say, you asked Peg to move in with you yet?” 

Steven Grant Rogers went bright pink. 

[frogstalavista]

Fat stucky fat stucky fat stucky

[hungryhungrydoe]

✌🏻enjoy

(Idea by @mylevisdontfitanymore ❤️)

[chubthings-by-georgie]

More stucky things!! BIIIIGGG STEVIE this time!

i just wanted an excuse to write a big fat stevie be spoiled with all the food he could ever possibly want!!

[shawtythatluvsurgut]

Could you write a fat Steve/chubby Bucky story? Or the other way around?

I have so many fat bucky writings in my notes app I got you! Lemme finish one of the shorter ones n I’ll post it for you :) And I’d love to explore writing fat steve, I think the idea of him letting go of all that muscle would be fucking HOT to write about. Thanks for the idea :3 I will get on that tomorrow since I have tmrw off.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Okay, I've had this idea knocking around in my head for a while but I only just had a moment to write it down:

We talk about and Daddys or other Soft Dom types that are older and support their babies emotionally (and maybe financially too, if we're going full ✨️sugar daddy✨️) through college but you know what I haven't seen talked about-?

An older baby that sees their Daddy-their Dom struggling through college as said Baby is out of college and in their professional career. Maybe their dom is stressed out about their grades, or trying not to lose it when figuring out how they're paying for their college, or whatever, and their Baby helps them. Supporting them emotionally. So the Baby-the sub might...

Offer to do whatever scene the dom wants (within their limits as a couple obviously). Knowing that being able to control a scene (and control their partners pleasure or lack of pleasure 👀) while they can't control how their professors grade their work or what their classes cost will be soothing. OR-

The sub is all ready to take care of their dom the second they get home, ready to sit them on the couch and cook them dinner, waiting on them hand and foot, sitting at their feet, letting their dom eat while giving them something pretty to look at without having to lift a finger.

Just... a good sub, taking care of their dom, collared and maybe even leashed 👀

[achubbydumpling]

Could you write something about bucky getting chubby and getting insecure about that. So Steve gains a bit too and they realize they both like it? <3

thank you for this ask, nonnie, idk if this is what you had in mind, but I was inspired, though I did end up asking myself: is this... whump? but if you get through all the hurt there's some saccharine, sappy comfort at the end, I promise! 🤗

Rating: Mature Words: 1763 Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Negative Self-Talk (Self-Worth Connected To Weight), Hurt/Comfort, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Hurt Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Chubby Bucky Barnes, Chubby Steve Rogers

Bucky was painfully aware of how tightly his shirt was stretching over his body. He couldn’t do much to hide it but he still sat slumped over with his arms crossed in front of his body.

He’s been gaining weight. The doctors had assured him it was an expected side effect of his recovery but Bucky felt like a foreigner in his body once more. Everyone could see the change and he feared that they’d use it as proof he wasn’t coping as well as he said. What if they decided to put him back in cryo without asking him this time? What if he wasted too much of their time and resources and they kicked him out? What if—

“Buck?”

He looked up (when had he looked down?) and found Steve looking at him, once again with that concerned crease deep between his eyebrows. Bucky cleared his throat and tried to put on a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Is everything ok?” 

Bucky forced his smile wider.

“Of course,” he looked at his half-empty plate (three-quarters full, did he eat too much again?), “I’m just not that hungry.”

He pushed the chair away from the table and went to get up when Steve finally put his foot down.

“I think we should talk.”

Ice water washed over Bucky’s back. This is it. Steve finally has enough or the King or the doctors. He’d finally overstayed his welcome.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered and to his embarrassment his voice wobbled from the tightness in his throat.

“You don’t have to apologize, Buck. I’m just— I’m worried, ok?”

Bucky lifted his head (when did he look down again?). Steve looked at him intently.

“Your appetite hasn’t been the best lately and if you don’t have enough energy that could make you feel worse throughout the day.”

Bucky’s arms tightened around his body. He could feel the softness of his belly. Nausea swept over him.

“I’m just not that hungry,” Bucky insisted again. What else could he say?

“Ok,” Steve sighed, this clearly wasn’t the right answer. “How about we ask for something that’s easy to stomach and high-calorie at your next doctor’s appointment. Is that ok?”

Bucky’s eyes started burning. Steve simply chose to believe his obvious lies and tried to offer solutions. He didn’t deserve this. He’ll just ruin Steve’s life if he stays here. His ruined body is proof of that.

“I don’t want to.”

“You need to eat.”

Bucky swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice steady despite the threatening tears.

“I don’t need as much as you do.”

Steve’s expression hardened and his mouth drew into a thin line. He’s getting fed up with me.

“You were barely fed enough to survive. Your metabolism might be slower right now but it will only recover if you show your body there is enough food and you’re not just surviving off scraps anymore.”

Bucky was surviving right now. Could it get better than this? His eyes burned harder and tears finally welled up. Despite trying to stay quiet a choked sob escapes him. Why now?

Steve gets up and walks around the table to crouch in front of Bucky. He projects all his movements and slowly lays a hand on Bucky’s leg.

“This isn’t about not being hungry, is it?” Bucky sobbed harder and shook his head. Steve’s hand rubbed in slow circles over Bucky’s leg and he wished desperately he could hug Steve right now.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now, but lets get you to lie down, ok?”

Steve had to treat him like a child, talking him through a crying fit. Fuck, he was pathetic, because Bucky was actually glad that he had Steve to lean on to shuffle the few meters to the living room and then curl into a ball on the soft cushions.

The gasping sobs had quieted down a bit when Steve went back to the kitchen to get a paper towel and a glass of water for Bucky.

“Can I?” Steve asked and pointed to the empty space on the sofa where Bucky was curled up. Like the perfect fucking super soldier he was, he waited until Bucky nodded. 

It was humiliating how good it felt that Steve waited that little second.

Steve didn’t talk for a long time and just ran his hand through Bucky’s hair. When he’d started doing that Bucky’s tears had started again but the longer he kept going the calmer Bucky felt until he was ready to wipe his tears away.

He stayed in the same position—curled on his side—and didn’t look at Steve when he started talking.

“I’m sorry. I’m a liar. I’m hungry. I’m so fucking hungry all the time.” Bucky could feel Steve gearing up to say something, but Bucky powered through.

“But I can’t really trust my body, can I? I listened for way too long and now I’m—I—”

His voice falters. He tries to fight through the silence but his throat clamps up.

“I gained weight.” 

It’s barely audible from trying to force the syllables through his steel-tight vocal chords.

Steve breathes out hard, but stays quiet. Still, stroke-stroke-stroking his hand through Bucky’s hair. This was the worst kind of confessional. He keeps going. Everything’s ruined now anyway.

“I feel so fucking useless. I just take and take and take. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how you can even stand looking at me. I get it. I’ll understand if you want me to go away, I promise. You don’t have to keep this up. Really, I’m sorry.”

Tears prickled at the corners of Bucky’s eyes again and he bit his bottom lip to keep them at bay this time. He waited for Steve to finally say something and when he stayed quiet for a second and another, he finally dared to look over.

Steve was the one crying now. Silently. While he slowly shook his head.

“You—” Steve’s voice cracked but he kept talking, “—don’t have anything to be sorry for. I should have—”

He stops talking again, shakes his head once and sighs again.

“Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve…” Bucky recognises the mantra from Steve’s therapist.

“I wish I could take all those thoughts and just make them disappear. You deserve so much. You deserve to be here and I’m glad you’re here. Your weight doesn’t change that. It’s not going to change anything.”

Bucky buried his nose against the cushion he was lying on. His heart clenched tight and didn’t let up.

“I’ll say it until you believe it,” Steve broke off into a teary laugh.

They sat quietly for another moment until Steve quietly asked, “can I give you a hug?”

Bucky froze at the question. As much as he craved the contact and the feeling of Steve’s body against his, that question alone sent his brain into a scramble of panic.

“Give me a second,” he choked out.

His eyes stayed looking at an unfixed point on the floor while he worked through the flare of panic in his brain. He’d—They’d been forcing him to see a therapist and she’d been big on breathing. Breathing deep. In and out. Infuriatingly slowly.

“Do you want—”

“I’ll give you a hug.”

“—some water?”

They looked at each other stunned for a moment.

“Not right now. I can’t—I’m—”

“I get it,” Steve said easily. Bucky’s throated tightened again when he realised Steve actually meant it.

He took the glass of water he was offered and emptied it in one gulp.

They went through the rest of the evening quietly. Steve sent an e-mail to Bucky’s therapist when Bucky couldn’t get his thumbs to type anything. They cleaned up the dishes and put away the leftovers. Bucky had another glass of water and then they headed to their bedrooms.

Steve hesitated for a moment before he turned the door knob and when he looked up Bucky thought they’d turned back time a few decades.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

Bucky dashed forward for the quickest hug in human history before he high-tailed it into the safety of his bedroom. His heart was beating like he’d sprinted a marathon, but the tightness in his chest loosened by a fraction.

+++

Steve stays after that. Just for a bit, he said but days turn into weeks and Steve stays. 

He settled down in a way Bucky didn’t notice Steve hadn’t.

His toothbrush wanders from the kit he’d take on missions into the cup on the sink. The book he’s reading stays upside down on the coffee table instead of bookmarked and carefully placed back into the shelf.

They develop a routine. One that isn’t dictated by missions, mission prep and debriefs. Instead they rise with the sun. The first order of their day is breakfast and time spent outside. Easy companionship. Reading in silence.

It’s on one of those mornings that Bucky notices it.

The way Steve had softened a bit.

The weight.

His breath caught in his throat and he waited for that ugly hatred, the clawing at his throat and vile thoughts that plagued him when he looked in the mirror for too long.

But it never came.

He looked at Steve and saw comfort and warmth. The growing softness made him feel at home. Like tangible proof that Steve was here to stay. Safe and healthy. It took much longer for it to click in Bucky’s mind. 

That’s me, he thought one morning while watching Steve in the bathroom mirror brushing his teeth. 

A bit of pudge underneath his chin that isn’t completely hidden underneath his beard anymore. Chubby cheeks that make his eyes crinkle when he smiles. Soft, wide arms that looked too inviting for Bucky to resist the urge to hug Steve in that moment.

A startled laugh and then Bucky was enveloped in a full-body hug. The sharp smell of mint made his nose wrinkle, but Steve’s scent took over just a few moment later. Big, wide shoulders and a chubby belly, warmth bubbles up into Bucky’s chest and he can’t do anything but hug Steve even tighter.

And in that moment he doesn’t even mind his own belly pressing against Steve’s.

“What’s this for?” Steve asks eventually when he tries to go back to brushing his teeth and Bucky whines until he keeps hugging him.

“Being here.” Bucky shrugged, “loving me the way I am when I couldn’t.”

“Oh, Buck.” Steve couldn’t say anything more after that, he swallowed hard and tried a few times but then he just tightened his arms even further and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

I am... fully obsessed with the magic doll story you wrote. Is there any possibility one day getting an expansion (heh) that included other aspects of the ask, like getting Bucky drunk or making him horny and cum from a distance?? Sorry, I had no idea I would like it that much 👀

This magic doll

I'm not sure how much this expands on the original idea, but... I just blacked out and came back with this, so 🤷🏻‍♂️ have it 😂😂

(Also, tagging @bnb-atnite because she went feral for that story 👀)

Warning for unbeta'd stucky belly kink. Mostly rapid and magical weight gain, some vague dubious concent vibes but not really, etc.

I’d like to think that Steve likes to take his boy toy out on the town, showing him off, the media thinks they’re dating, but they don’t know that this pretty, young twink is Steve’s toy. Paid for and still pampered by Steve’s wealth.

As a result of Steve taking him out to the most lavish, expensive dinners, showing him off, alongside Steve’s need to keep his reputation (relatively) controversy-free… Steve has to unstuff the magic doll when they go out for the aforementioned high society vanity and practical reasons. For vanity, paparazzi would ruin them (as hot as it would get Steve) if Bucky waddled out of their building, thighs not only rubbing together but spilling out against each other, all that fat jiggling and forcing his legs further apart than they normally would be when he walks, turning his smooth walk into a wide-legged, ponderous staggering. The whole time he would need Steve to hold onto, his balance so fickle when he’s that fucking big. Steve’s arm fighting to make it all the way around his thick, soft waist and getting lost in between those heavy, overflowing rolls; Bucky’s chubby hand tight on his muscular forearm, clinging to him, complete contrast; Bucky huffing and puffing, his chubby cheeks red and misted with sweat, pure exertion from all that weight packed onto his frame and being forced to walk the short distance from the elevator to the lobby to their waiting, chauffeured car where he needs Steve to help stuff him into the backseat, fighting all his blubber, it’s a good thing that they don’t buckle up in the back because even with an extender… Bucky wouldn’t fit, meanwhile, Steve isn’t out of breath at all, not a hair out of place, nothing but a cocky smile on his lips, after all, with his workout regime he could skip the elevator down from their top floor penthouse, run the flights of stairs, down, up, then down again, and still be fine. But not Bucky. Bucky’s overburdened frame, overflowing with this soft, luxurious blubber, would cause quite the media frenzy, feeding off of him. And God knows there’s enough to feed off of. Steve would get off on it, but he doesn’t do it. For practicality, they can’t leave the penthouse with the magic doll, and subsequently with Bucky so round and heavy, because Bucky can’t move very well when his body is stuffed with fat. When the magic doll - always in Steve’s pocket, ready to be manipulated and played with whenever Steve feels like it - nearly bursting at the seams with so much fiberfill, Bucky can hardly maneuver around the penthouse, much less the outside world. In the penthouse, he knocks stuff over with his shelf-ass, he gets stuck in doorways (and even in Steve’s impressive, huge shower stall), he finds it difficult to waddle more than a few inches before becoming exhausted, he complains about having to use his arms because when he does his heavy, big tits get in the way, and, just, anything that isn’t sitting on his ass, mounding out underneath him like a thick cushion, is hard. So, when he’s so huge, he sits and lets himself be pampered. However Steve wants him, so long as it’s resting, he’s good.

However, as much as it makes Bucky pout when he’s unstuffed, returning to that little twink he was when Steve first bought him, it’s totally worth it once they’re done with their little date and he gets to experience being supersized all over again. There’s nothing like a public dinner date filled with foreplay, knowing that the real fun begins when they get home where Steve can have him to himself and mold his body into whatever form he wants, all for him to play with him. Touch him, fatten him, grope him, spank him, fuck him, even fuck his rolls. Whatever he wants. It’s about what he wants. Bucky is a toy, his needs don’t matter, he’s just here to be Steve’s. And Steve’s going to play with him. Roughly or softly, he’ll play however he wants.

So, their date is foreplay in the form of Steve buying courses and courses and courses of expensive, fancy food that come in tiny portions that Bucky always swears will never fill him up, only to sing (pant, really) a different tune in an hour when the plates are still coming and he’s not so sure he has any more room. If not for Steve demanding that he keep eating - he paid for it, didn’t he? Bucky isn’t sure if he’s talking about the food or Bucky himself. Jesus Christ, that’s hot. - claiming he wants to have to hold him close to his side when they leave so the cameras don’t catch that Bucky’s popped at least one button off of his shirt, the pressure of his swollen belly just too much for the expensive cloth and thread. And if he doesn’t pop a button, if he doesn’t finish all his food, well, maybe he’ll have to go to bed without an orgasm and without all the fat he so desperately wants to be packed back onto him, addicted to how soft he’s grown (ha) used to being under Steve’s pampering care.

So.

Bucky eats.

He eats and eats and eats, always moaning at the rich tastes of the decadent foods, easily letting Steve continue to fill his wine glass until he’s satisfied with Bucky making a pig of himself in public. Stuffing his face. The evidence is clear on his body - his belly distended into a tight, pregnant-looking globe.

In the bathroom before they leave, Steve slaps his tender gut a handful of times, weakening Bucky’s knees until he’s leaning against Steve’s chest, panting hard, his eyes rolling to the back of his head with a whimper as he feels all the food inside him shift and churn, he’s so full and Steve’s being so mean. The burn of his slaps is barely diffused by his tight, tight shirt. The smacks are just to make him focus, though, Steve knows how dumb his spoiled toy gets, and he needs a reminder to suck in as much as he can while they walk to the car. Keep up the reputation. Then, once they’re inside, he can let his greedy belly bloat back out. Nearly moaning into his collar, practically drooling on him, Bucky nods and struggles to right himself.

They stumble through camera flashes into the car to go home.

Bucky whines and moans through the car ride, Steve’s heavy, hot palm resting possessively on his starter belly for the night, the bulk of his body close, leaning into him. His lips are pressed close to Bucky’s ear, whispering about how he can’t wait to watch this chubby belly swell into a real fat gut and… hmm, y’know, maybe he can’t wait. Maybe he’ll pull out the magic doll in the interior pocket of his suit jacket and start puffing him up right here. Wouldn’t that be fun? He could give Bucky huge, big tits again and then force him to walk from the car to the doors of their building with them wobbling and spilling out of his shirt. Wouldn’t the gossip rags have fun with that? Talking about how this tiny little twink went and got himself big, mommy milkers… or maybe, maybe he should stuff his ass, make it huge and give everyone in the city, hell, with Steve’s business being a household name, everyone in the country something to jerk off to. That big, fat ass.

Bucky is panting. Forget foreplay, this is… it’s midplay? Just play? It’s so much more than simple foreplay to get him riled up. He's past riled.

His belly is stuffed to the point that he might burst and he’s so hard in his slacks, his belt biting into his waist, that he’s achy. He wants Steve to play with his dick right now. He doesn’t care that he’s pretty sure Steve wouldn’t do any of that, and he’s just talking. He doesn’t know 100%. And he could. Bucky is his to play with. He could do whatever he wanted to him. If he wanted he could take his clothes and make him do the walk of shame up to their building, streaking with his stuffed, glutted middle bulging out in front of him like Steve’s fucked him so good, so often, that he’s defied the laws of biology and impregnated him despite his lack of uterus.

Steve caresses his tender middle, dragging his fingertips just hard enough over him, that he shudders. A soft, “please,” comes out in a whine.

Steve just nips his ear, hushing him.

Bucky swears that he nearly dies, his heart pounding so hard in his chest, on the way back to the penthouse. He’s too turned on. He’s gonna explode. Anticipation and fullness are so overwhelming together.

Once they’re behind the heavy, solid wood door of the penthouse Steve stops dragging him along, possessive but also reasonable because Bucky’s not sure how he’s still walking, he’s not even that heavy, he’s just too turned on, there’s nothing going on in his head. So, Bucky stops in his tracks, Steve goes to the kitchen for… something, meanwhile, he sticks to the door, leaning against the cool surface, trying to catch his breath.

It doesn’t hit Bucky that it’s intentional on Steve’s part until, oh, God -

He’s squirming in pleasure with the tingling, stretching feeling of his body expanding. It’s magical. Literally. But it feels magical, too. It’s so much better, after a break of being back in his “normal” body, he’s fucking dying here, feeling himself balloon right back up. It will never get old. It’s tight and tingly, his skin fighting to keep up with the pure lard that’s exponentially filling him, almost like the sensation of pins and needles. So, so intense. It’s hot like fire spreading through him. It’s such a stretch that it takes his breath away, he feels like an inflatable parade balloon. Fuck, he’s about to be the size of one, too.

Bucky moans, tortured by the sensation and by the fact that he can hear Steve, his footsteps on the wooden floor, chuckling as he waltzes out of the kitchen and further away from Bucky - it sounds like he’s heading for the bedroom, which, fuck yeah, but Bucky can’t move! He’s still expanding!

Heavier and heavier, wider and wider.

It feels like he’s swelling to fill the whole door frame. Like he’s gonna get stuck again! He moans loudly at the thought, there’s really nothing as sexy as Steve coming up behind him to unstick him, teasing him for “letting” himself get so big (as if he has any choice with the power Steve has over him), and then getting his hands all over his body, sinking into his soft, plush fat, grunting with the effort of shoving and shoving, making the parts of his body that aren’t wedged in tight jiggle and wobble in waves until he stumbles forward, dazed from how turned on it all makes him.

Bucky’s still swelling.

What’s better or worse-? Getting fattened in the blink of an eye, suddenly woomph, hugely obese and incredibly off-balance and so aroused, or having it accumulate just fast enough for him to feel his body struggling to keep up, his heart pounding as he knows what’s coming.

“Buck?” Steve calls, beckoning him forward.

He struggles through a few steps, his new weight making his muscles tremble while his mind weakens. He’s shaking. He’s already so close to begging out loud. He just wants more already. He wants it fast. He wants it now! Fatten meeee! Swell me!

Bucky uses the walls and furniture along the way to the bedroom to steady himself, fighting to keep walking when he really just wants to fall to his knees to enjoy the sensation that’s overtaking his whole body.

Swelling.

Filling out.

Inflating.

Bloating.

Shit, it’s so good.

By the time he gets to the end of the hall that leads back to the master bedroom and bathroom, he’s sweating. Steve is standing there, leaning against the door frame, smirking at him, eyes dark as he watches his struggles. He’s holding that fucking doll and a mass wad of stuffing. Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat, his dick twitching like an excitable pet hearing the word “dinner.”

Then -

“OH!”

Steve forces all of the huge mass of stuffing into the little magic doll, making it bulge.

At first, it all settles right into the doll’s belly, the biggest open space available. It’s so much that Bucky stumbles and falls onto his suddenly massively, massively round gut. The thump sound of his impact would be laughable if it weren’t so fucking obscene. He is so excessive. SO fat. The air is knocked out of him. His head is spinning. He’s so fucking turned on. He could come like this. He could. He’s on top of his gut, his legs forced to spread so wide around the massive shape of his gut, and -

A whole long moan that’s almost more like a wail leaves Bucky, emptying his lungs of all oxygen as Steve takes the ungodly huge chunk of stuffing straining the doll’s limits in its tummy and massages it. He smooths the big ball of fiberfill out, distributing it more evenly throughout Bucky’s frame. Bucky can’t breathe. It feels like there are hands all over him, touching him, touching him, touching him, squishing, squeezing, and groping his fat. He feels like a pillow being fluffed. But a heavy pillow. It's so heavy that he doesn’t think he’s ever going to walk again. Guh. How does he ever get used to this feeling between their public outings? It’s mind-melting. With Steve touching him without touching him, his belly shrinks, but the whole rest of his body thickens, evening out, leaving Bucky much chunkier, but on all-fours rather than resting on top of his gut.

Of course, once he’s done massaging him, Steve stuffs him more. Filling the freed-up space.

More.

He makes his body so thick, his arms and legs blubbery and his belly nearly sagging to the floor while he trembles on his hands and knees. To deal with the weight, Bucky arches his back, but it doesn’t help him deal with how turned on he is - if anything, it makes him hornier because he can feel how his thick ass jiggles and pops out more. He could get fucked like this; if he’s not too fat for Steve’s dick to reach his hole yet, he could get fucked like this; he wants to be fucked like this. So bad. He wants Steve to fuck him, grope him, jiggle him, and fatten him.

More.

He’s so fucking spoiled. Weakly, plaintively whining, begging without words as his arms and legs slide farther apart under the still-increasing weight of his body. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck meee. If Steve keeps pushing him he’s gonna be laying on top of his fat rather than crawling on all fours soon. He’s too soft and weak! Absolutely spoiled.

“Buck, honey-”

Steve’s voice makes Bucky stretch his head up, blearily looking at him through the haze of arousal.

His voice has softened “-quit playing around and come to bed, baby. I know your tummy hurts after dinner, c’mere and I’ll rub your belly in bed, don’t you want me to make it better?” he’s too good at playing the doting, innocent husband of an overdue wife considering that he’s the one doing this to Bucky, fattening him, driving him insane with too much and not enough pleasure.

With a whimper Bucky tries to crawl forward again, wobbling, his body fighting so hard to do something so simple that’s so hard when he’s so fucking heavy. He can’t make it and he opens his mouth to beg for help, he can’t do it! He’s too big! When -

A truly shameless, obscene sound comes out of Bucky. Before he knows what’s happened and why he’s suddenly so hot and so sweaty and so close to coming, Bucky is going down. He’s suddenly crumbling onto the floor face first, putting his weight on his tender gut and belching through another desperate moan. He can’t take it. He can’t -

Steve.

Fucking! Steve! So mean!

Just barely, Bucky can make out that Steve is holding the doll, not passively stuffing whisps of fiberfill into its body but now rubbing it. He’s rubbing the, the…

Oh, Jesus, just looking at what he’s doing to the doll, and thus doing to Bucky, makes embarrassment riot inside him. It’s so dirty!

He’s rubbing the crotch of the magic doll. He’s pleasuring it! Pleasuring Bucky!

His eyes roll to the back of his head, going limp in stunned arousal.

It fucking feels like he’s pouring pleasure straight into his body through his dick. It’s like being jerked off and sucked off and humping his own fat all at the same time. It’s like nothing else, he’s never felt something so good. It’s melting his mind. It’s ruining him for any other pleasure that doesn’t come from being so gluttonous and out of control.

Bucky can feel himself quivering on top of the cushion of his squished, fat belly. He can feel his dick, trapped where he can’t reach it under all his heavy, thick blubber twitching and leaking. He’s sweating so much, running the hottest fever. He’s wailing, voice breaking, when without fucking touching him Steve jerks him off to orgasm. It’s hot and wet against his own skin but Bucky can’t see it, the dirty evidence is hidden by his swollen body. The whole time, Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes on him, focused and burning, as captivated with him as a cat that’s just spotted an impressively fat mouse, deepened with the sadism of a predator whose only pleasure is unraveling its prey like a spool of thread. And just to make it worse, dragging him through the last twitches of his orgasm, Steve pinches the doll’s belly, undeniably delighted to hear how Bucky’s moans change tune.

It hurts to be groped so hard - his belly is under so much pressure already with him on top of it, and adding to it is… it’s, it’s unbearable. It feels so good. All he wants is to be touched and he is being touched but he wants Steve to actually touch him, he doesn’t want magic, he wants it to be real, and he’s already aching for more. Spoiled. He wants to be hefted into bed and turned over, rolled onto his back where he’s pinned and made into a bloated, swollen playground for Steve to touch, grope, hump, and climb all over. He wants Steve on top of him, grabbing handfuls of his thick blubber, jiggling it, and grinding into it, getting red in the face as he reaches his own high, getting off on what he’s done to Bucky. How he’s ruined and perverted him. How he owns him. He can do anything he wants to him, and Bucky will lick it up and beg for more like the greedy boy toy he is.

Me rn:

Did I realize AFTER I wrote this whole thing that I neglected to talk about Bucky's clothes tearing off of him as he got fatter? Yes. Is that evidence of my brain being horny scrambled? You bet your ass it is 😂