New avengers movie coming has me thinking about yet another stucky reunion except Bucky is all big and soft from his senator days which makes Steve regret leaving even more
Nowww we're cooking with gas, holy shit š„
Personally, I haven't been checked into the MCU that much because of the way they trashed Steve's character with endgame š¤¬ (I still am head over heels for Steve and Bucky btw.) However, Thunderbolts was pretty good. Definitely the best MCU film in a long while. So, yes.
Chunky senator Barnes š¤¤š¤¤
Fair warning for belly kink nonsense below. Unbeta'd, weight gain, stuffing, tight clothes, etc. Also, some salty writing toward Steve not because I don't love him but because you acknowledged canon where he left Bucky and in that real context, I have to be salty. What did he/the writers/Kevin Feige think āI'm with you ātil the end of the lineā meant? š¤¬
The question, though, is how does Steve come to his fucking senses? Where does it happen? What is the context of his horny, mixed signals regret, seeing all of the beef Bucky is bringing to the (groaning) table these days?
Do we think Steve walks into a boardroom at the new headquarters...
A shiny golden ring on his finger proclaiming his loyalty to Peggy - that woman he kissed once, then went back in time to rewrite her whole life, just to figure out how restless being a family man would make him - while his hardening cock in his pants reminds him of his instinctive draw toward the man he grew up with? In his stuffy chinos and polite button-up shirt, both pressed perfectly, does he have to confront his contrasting other half while surrounded by professional company? Is the setting making him itch, wishing he could ask every question coming to his mind, yearning to be able to touch more than just patting the other man's shoulder?
The other man, Bucky, who barely fits into the clothes he's just managed to cram himself into. Plopped heavily down into a creaking little office chair. His belly is spilling over his belt just to be pressed against the edge of the table as he goes to town on the complementary breakfast they're being served - it's a good spread, enough to feed the small army that the new avengers are. As he digs into the sugary, oversized muffins and donuts while blatantly ignoring the sliced fruit, his fat hips are dug into by the arms of his chair.
Do we think Steve is easily sliding into his tight, red, white, and blue little catsuit in the new team's new locker room...
not breaking a sweat, not from one pore on his perfect body, not until - what was that sound?
Curiosity piqued, Steve tiptoes forward to peek around the corner to the next row over only to get an eyeful of Bucky squeezing himself, a size three sausage, into a size one casing. There's a lot of meat in front of Steve now. And his mouth is watering at the same time that his mind is running a mile a minute - how did he ever convince himself to leave? Why did he want to leave? Justā¦ look.
In the privacy of the locker room, Bucky has barely, barely managed to work himself into his painted-on tac pants. The seams around his fat thighs are screaming loud enough Steve doesn't need to rely on his advanced senses to hear it. His pants are so fucking tight around his big thighs and bulging package that the (still undone, a wedge of flesh between the two sides of his zip, mother of god) waistband is forcing his hips out into pudgy handfuls, ripe for the groping.
Steve almost forgets himself and steps forward. He itches to grab Bucky by the hips, to take handfuls of his generous flesh, to turn him around, and to slap his fat ass. His ass has to be fat-fat, right? All that width on his hips and the heavy, round bulge of his g-u-t.
Plus, god, that uniform top is not going to fit. There is no chance. His swollen moobs, soft and capped with soft, perky nipples, stretched out into much bigger circles than Steve remembers. His gut. There's nothing Steve can say or think. He's just. Big. He looks bigger, too, the more he struggles to get into his clearly already once or twice sized-up uniform, jiggling, grunting, and sweating like a glazed pig. š„µ
Do we think Steve gets roped into sparring with Bucky...
training together like old times and that's when it really hits him how much more solid Bucky is? Solid is the polite, outside-voice way to say it. Internally, Steve is hit with a much more visceral thought: he got fat.
Steve just didn't realize sooner because Bucky was always bigger than Steve before. So, it makes sense in Steve's head now, too. It's normal. He doesn't think twice. Not until he's being punched stupid and knocked straight to the ground with more force than Bucky probably needs to put behind his fighting when they're just training. (Bucky's not taking anything out on him, nu-uh. He would absolutely deny any intentions like that. He is not petty. He's too old for that.) One, two, just two rounds with it and Steve gets steamrolled, flattened beneath Bucky's mass. His solid yet flabby chest pillowed against Steve's muscular shoulders. His bulging, heavy gut slotting against the curve of his spine and overflowing it. His wide hips and massive thighs against Steve's round, pert ass and toned thighs. Oh. Steve doesn't just feel small compared to him, like old times, he wheezes like old times. Suddenly, he can't breathe.
Oh, he got fat. There's no two ways around it.
Squished beneath him, still getting walloped by his flesh and metal fists, it's like being run over by a tank. Though, Bucky is a lot hotter and more sweaty than a tank would be, working himself to a fever, throwing around all that weight.
Steve just about moans beneath him, smothering his face into the mats. He's more than just passively ashamed of how he can't help but roll his hips against the sparring mats, pretending he's trying to get free when really, he just likes feeling all of his fat belly against the low of his arched spine.
Do we think Steve doesn't realize Bucky is coming in too until he can't sleep the night after he arrives...
answering the call but wondering if he's still capable of going back in and fighting again? To deal with his restless uncertainty, Steve is making his way down to the gym from the room he's staying in at the new compound. He's planning to burn off his nervous energy. It's three in the goddamn morning and Steve is in loose sweatpants and a tight t-shirt when he stumbles upon Bucky. The other super soldier is also in sweatpants and a t-shirt, just hanging out in one of the endless hallways here.
Whatever noise he makes while thinking, steam practically pouring from his ears as his mind rattles faster and faster, overheating, Steve apparently startles him.
Here, wherever they are, there's a vending machine. And. Bucky. Bucky is contemplating what to get from the calorie dispensing machine next, a few already opened bags in his arms, more than a few crumbs decorating his puffy chest and belly. Just standing there, he's munching, thinking, and scratching his belly absentmindedly. His tight sweatpants are slung low, crushed beneath the weight of his proudly protruding tummy. His shirt is just as strained - it's stained, too. There's a dark shade of sweat clinging around his pits and beneath his big moobs. Worse than any sweat or crumb staining, the tight cotton of his t-shirt has rolled far up over the mound of his gut, exposing his hairy, pale belly, hence the free scratching. Steve can't actually tell, across his gut, if those pink lines are recent, from his fingernails as he rubs his turgid, gurgling gut, or if those are stretch marks.
Can he get stretch marks? With the serum? Is that possible?
Shocking him enough that he whirls around, almost losing his waddling, precarious balance - he burps, too. Breathy and quiet, but definitely an actual belch.
follow up on the mpreg: if youāre comfy writing it may i request any and all thoughts u have?
related to this
If I had more time for writing I was planning on digging my teeth into this with a kind of mpreg I've never written before which is fucking heavy, heady, masculine mpreg. LikeāI've got this image in my mind of pregnant Bucky but Bucky as we see him in Romania, all thick and beefy with his long hair, beard, and a mountain of chest hair, with the addition of a round, round belly.
He looks thick. He's never been healthier, strong with the sustainable layer of fat on top. And he's glowing.
The skin over his growing bump is stretched taut, darkened at the center of his nearly overdue belly and his stretch marks are thick, though, they're a little bit hard to spot under the fuzzy hair covering his stomach. Throughout pregnancy but especially late into it, Bucky can't help following his cravings, destroying heavy plates of takeout, getting extra meat added to everything. He jokes that he's either turning into a werewolf or a caveman more than growing a baby. He's sweaty and hot with all that extra blood rushing through his body. Also, he smells different than before, stronger than before, and Bucky's convinced he fully stinks, even more than he normally does, but Steve is obsessed.
Steve is constantly rubbing up against Bucky like a needy cat and, holy shit, don't even get Steve started on how constantly out of his mind he is when Bucky's hips get wider and his ass gets bigger and then his milk comes in and he has these huge, hairy, mommy, no, daddy milkers andā
It's a fucking problem for Steve.
How is he supposed to get anything done? His baby, his baby, is walking around all big and heavyāwaddling around like a daddy.
I keep thinking about an Evans character that isn't Steve possibly "going to seed" (i.e., Andy Barber really rocking the dad bod, or even Ransom getting a belly). Do you have any thoughts?
what is this, anon? hm? are you trying to kill me? because omg ahhhh dad bod Andy, Ransom with a Belly?? and you ask me if I have thoughts? I'M HAVING THOTS!!! (I haven't seen Chris in anything else so I'm going with just those two)
ā loooooong ramble ahead
ok ok let's start with dad bod Andy
maybe his metabolism just slows down a bit with age
his sedentary job
some stress eating
that new bakery across the street with the ~cute barista~ (are we thinking x reader? Ransom? a Seb character?)
whatever caused it, there's suddenly a layer of fat accumulating on Andy's middle
oh something more like a beer belly
all those late movie nights and all that beer late at night
maybe it just barely brushes the tops of his thighs when he sits down
nice and round and firm
rounds out underneath all his shirts and pulls them tight against his belly
maybe he doesn't notice at first, his slacks are getting uncomfortably tight and all his dress shirts are gaping at the buttons, but he's too stressed lately to focus on anything else really
and then he's sitting in that coffee shop again after he's already eaten lunch and he's drinking a caramel latte and eating a huge cinnamon roll as an afternoon snack
he's shifting around and arching his back to get comfortable, but that just pushed his belly more against his shirt and suddenly he hears this ping
and when he looks down there's suddenly a gut sitting in his lap and his button down is gaping over the widest part of it
how did he not notice gaining weight?
but when he looks around if anyone saw him pop that button, he catches the barista's eye across the room
and they come around to Andy's table and put down a chocolate muffin wrapped in a napkin with the barista's number on it
(oh God sorry this is already so long, but somehow I've never though of dad bod Andy, ugh straining the seams of those tailored suits, ohh throwing around that new weight when he gets angry, his thick waist giving him an even more imposing figure š¤¤)
Let's get to Ransom thots though!
that boy did not grow up knowing any boundaries, just surrounded by abundance, excess and indulgence
multiple course meals for every dinner
is it even dinner if you don't have at least hors d'oeuvre, appetizer, main course, and dessert?
private chefs available around the clock to cook up whatever he was craving
feeling peckish? have some antipasti: olives, peperoncini, mushrooms, artichoke hearts and bread dunked in olive oil
the Drysdales don't just eat at midday, they lunch
breakfast doesn't exist, they're too preoccupied with looks to eat when they can't show off, it's boozy brunch over business dealings
vanity is the only reason Ransom hasn't porked up yet
but the constant dieting and over-exercising has sparked a gnawing hunger inside him, a craving to finally give in and eat his fill
and when he finally gets over that eternal dating phase and puts a ring on someone?
his well-maintained physique is gone in a heartbeat, his abs are basically gone after the wedding night
a married man doesn't need to draw any looks anymore
it's a happy coincidence that his partner likes Ransom's weight gain as well, because he surely wouldn't have gone back to dieting even if they hadn't
he has to retire that big, white sweater from the movie within barely two months
Ransom doesn't just eat until he's satisfied
his greed extends into his eating habits as well
after he experiences it for the first time, he always eats in utter excess until he is completely full
stomach aching, squirming in his seat, stiffling burps and cradling his distented belly
it looks ridiculous at first, a round ball of food tacked to his front
but his body quickly catches up that little overstuffed belly
he slows down a bit once he finally thinks he's caught up on all those years of denying himself
but a good 50lbs have settled on his body at that point
all wide and heavy, plush fat and soft rolls
ohhh I imagine he'd have the softest under belly, all velvety smooth, striped with stretch marks, but Ransom would take care to use lotion on them every day
and in the metaphorical sense too, he mellows out a bit when he's not constantly hangry and two seconds from a binge
he's still an abrasive asshole on the outside most of the time, but you actually get to see his softer side
and even though your marriage was mostly for each of your families' sake you actually fall for each other
getting very "just the two of you against the world"-vibes, very "mob boss and mafia wife" :D
A bloating prompt for you on this fine afternoon: post settling in the 21st century Bucky has Steve see how much it takes for him to get drunk, if he even can any more. Meaning Steve eventually just ends up with a sloshy round tummy and Lots of burps from all the beers he's downed. He's not drunk. Unless... is he drunk and thats why he's turned on? Is that how it used to feel to get drunk? Or... has he just learned something new about himself, sitting with his hands on his heavy, burbling, Round tum? š„“š„µš„µ
ah yes yes more bloating with beer (and getting drunk, but that's not happening with Stevie, is it) I don't think I'll ever get tired of that š¤¤š¤¤
Rating: Mature
Words: 1119
Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Additional Tags: Excessive Consumption Of Alcohol, Bloating, Kink Discovery
āAre you trying to get me drunk?ā Steve asked when Bucky handed him another beer.
āNah, thatās just to get the vodka taste out of your mouth,ā Bucky said and presented Steve with an enormous bottle of vodka. It looked huge even compared to Buckyās bulk.
āBuckyā¦ā Steve sighed but he was already reaching for the bottle. Bucky had been fascinated by the fact that Steve couldnāt get drunk. Supposedly, Steve heard Buckyās voice say.
He barely had any kind of resistance against alcohol or other meds for that matter. Theyād quickly discovered that after trying to sedate the Winter Soldier with a Captain America amount of drugs.
āDo we really have to do this tonight?ā
āItās Friday night. You have two full days off to recover from a potential hangover.ā
Steve studied Buckyās face for a moment. He sighed and got comfortable on the sofa.
+++
Unsurprisingly the vodka didnāt do anything but make him need to pee. Steve moved to get up for the third time in an hour, heād just managed to drink the last gulp of the damn gallon bottle and had washed it down with another beer, since Bucky wouldnāt let him drink anything else.
But when he moved now Steve was caught off guard by all the liquid sloshing in his stomach. A wave of nausea washed over him and when he grabbed his belly it actually rounded out into his palm.
It was a dizzying realisation.
Steve had always been slim. Even in his big Captain America body Steve had a disproportionately thin waist. He slid his hand along the curve of his belly and for the first time he noticed how much the skin there prickled, tingled, buzzed. How tight it felt.
Is this what being drunk feels like?
āGetting drunk,ā Bucky teased with a smirk.
āNoā I donāt know, Iām just gonnaāā Steve ripped his hand away and pointed in the vague direction of the bathroom.
Even though it was his own body Steve felt like he was doing something forbidden. Only once he had locked the bathroom door did he dare to touch his belly again.
Tentatively at first. He turned to look in the mirror, took a step back and to his surprise he couldnāt actually see his belly pushing out the way it felt like. No, his shirt mostly hid it, only when he slouched a bit could he see his belly really pressing against the fabric.
Steve didnāt know why he was disappointed by that.
He pulled his shirt up. There was a curve bowing forward right between his hip bones. Steve skimmed his fingers over the skin. He turned to the side and pushed his belly out. He supported it with both hands and felt another prickle of disappointment when there wasnāt any real weight to support.
Steve turned to the other side andā
He almost jumped a foot in the air when Bucky knocked on the bathroom door.
āYou ok in there? Youāre not throwing up, are you?ā
āNo, Iām fine. Everythingās fine.ā
Steve still felt a bit shaky. This must be what drunk feels like, he decides. Drunk people had weird thoughts and did weird things. So, Steve must be drunk, right?
Steve finished up his business and then returned to the living room.
āSee,ā Bucky said triumphantly, āwith enough alcohol even Captain America gets tipsy.ā
āTo be honest Iām not sure what drunk feels like anymore.ā
Bucky narrowed his eyes and looked to the side, wracking his brain for a description.
āWarm and fuzzy.ā Buckyās smile morphed into something more mischievous.
āFun and happy. Yāknow the stuff youāre not,ā Bucky poked a bit of fun at Steve.
āAnd like youāre about to make the stupidest decision of the night, which isā¦ to keep drinking.ā With that Bucky pushed himself up and fetched another six-pack of beer.
āBuckā¦ā
āNo, no, weāll keep going until youāre sure whether youāre drunk or not.ā
āIām not then!ā Steve shouted after Bucky, but a weird energy fluttered in his body when he saw the six-pack.
āOneāāSteve held up his index fingerāāmore six-pack, but after this Iām done.ā
āDeal.ā
+++
It feels so fucking strange.
But so fucking good.
Steveās belly rounds out more and more with every bottle and now that heās aware of it he can feel the beer sloshing in his stomach with every move. It starts getting heavy in a way Steve didnāt know heād ever craves.
This was nothing compared to the sudden transformation in the 40s. The added weight had been muscle and it had actually made him feel lighter on his feet. Running, jumping and climbing with ease.
But thisā¦
The novel feeling of there actually being something. No matter how hard he tries he just canāt keep his hands off his belly. Though just resting them there too long makes heat creep up under Steveās collar.
Bucky seems pretty focused on the TV but occasionally he glances over to check on Steve and he really canāt deal with this right now. He forces his hands to rest on his thighs instead. Mechanically takes another sip.
And another.
And another.
Steve just needs to keep his hands occupied and he wonāt embarrass himself. That plan works great until the six-pack is empty and Steve is left with his very angry stomach making itself known. Rumbles, growls and gurgles that make Bucky look over more and more often.
Heās definitely not drunk, Steve decides.
His mind is fighting, trying to decide what to do with his hands. Steve canāt fidget the way he wants to with how sensitive his belly feels, but heās sure that a belly rub would help right now. Excitement flutters in his stomach, but Steve canāt do anything about it. He is painfully aware of Bucky looking over again.
āAre you ok there, pal?ā Bucky asks with genuine concern.
Steveās belly groans again and he uses that excuse.
āI really overdid it.ā
āI think that pretty conclusively proves you canāt get drunk then, if all youāre complaining about is a sore stomach.ā
āSorry,ā Steve grimaces half from the discomfort of the bloat and half because heās so unbearably turned on but he canāt. fucking. do. anything about it right now.
He had planned to spend the evening with Bucky, but Steve really needs to figure this out. What the hell makes him this hot about his bloated belly and what he wants to do about it.
His mind drifts off for a moment and Steve catches himself thinking what if itās permanent. Not just bloating but actual fat. Eating himself to this point of discomfortā¦
One thing is for certain Steve really needs to get to his bedroom.
Ok but I will treat your imagination to skinny steve getting a beer belly because its a cheap calorie source... Bucky jerks off over it at night.
I am DIVING IN!
Unbeta'd, as always, with filth like this. 1940s stucky, chubby Steve. Warnings for: belly kink, intox kink/alcohol consumption, dubcon because Bucky jerks off in the same bed as Steve while Steve sleeps, masturbation, etc.
The creeping feelings of guilt and shame in Bucky's chest are crushed completely beneath an iron curtain of darkness and sweltering arousal. His most selfish, greedy instincts have always come out at night.
Evenings out with Steve - when Bucky can convince him to get out of their tiny, dusty apartment - are always torturous. It's not that Bucky doesn't want to go out with Steve; it's that Bucky wants to go out with just Steve, but they can't do that. They gotta have buffers. For Bucky's sake, so he doesn't do something stupid and get in trouble with Steve, or God forbid, with some copper (that's always been Steve's role, not Bucky's). It was extra torturous tonight. The middle of a hot, humid July evening, packed into a smoky, instrumental bar, a dame hanging off of Bucky's shirt collar, her lips pressed to his neck, staining him with her waxy red lipstick. Bucky tried to pay attention to her, he did - God's honest truth - but he just couldn't. As good as her plump lips felt, Bucky was fucking dying to feel Steve's plump little belly.
Hours into the syrupy evening, Steve was deep into the cheap house brew, uncaring how it tasted, just about how it made him feel. The gal Bucky's dame of the night promised to come hadn't shown. Again. Poor Steve.
So, Steve resigned himself to the bar, no dancing for him, just drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. So much drinking that his concave belly became a rounded, sloshing dome barely tucked into his shirt and oozing out between his stressed suspenders.
My God.
Bucky is thinking about Steve's shirt with the gaping buttons now, hours later. They can't afford undershirts - not that they make any small enough (when he's not sloshing with cheap, shitty beer) for Steve anyhow - and so with just the right, stolen angle, Bucky could lay eyes on Steve's creamy, pink-tinted skin, stretched to full capacity beneath his nearly-transparent button-up. That's another thing, oh, Lord, Steve doesn't run hot. He ain't got enough heat for that when he's not feverish with sickness, but he was sweating tonight. Too much alcohol and too many bodies cramed into one little bar will do that to a man - leave him sweating so thickly that his white shirt starts to bleed through with the color of his skin, showing off the shape of his body through clothes. A peep show better than a wet t-shirt contest.
Steve's body, swelling up like a little portion of bread left to proof in the oven, bubbling with yeast and growing slowly. On a normal day, out in the open air, Steve's body drives Bucky crazy. But it was something else in there. Steve's little body, not so little all the sudden, belly rounding out underneath his sweat-soaked shirt with its gaping buttons and his suspenders shoved to the side to make room for that heavy tummy working on crushing his waistband down.
Steve wears belts, usually, mostly to keep his pants pinned to his boney hips in a death grip, but his belt suddenly had a death grip on his heavy, bubbly belly tonight. Bucky licked his lips, wondering if it hurt, gasping at the thought when his gal nipped his neck at the same time.
Oh, he wanted to touch so bad he coulda crawled outta his skin, his fingertips twitching, squeezing his gal's hips a little tighter than usual. He could hardly control himself.
He still wants to.
Right now.
He wants to touch and he could wriggle outta his own skin.
It has to be tomorrow! Technically. Steve spent hours drinking after an hour, maybe more, of waiting for the second gal. Bucky twirled and necked half-heartedly with his gal for a while. And it even took a long time to stumble home 'cause of Steve hanging off his arm, drunk and saturated with beer like a sponge in a bathtub, suddenly twice it's usual weight, soaking, heavy, and useless, so, yeah, it's gotta be morning.
Bucky is spending his dark, early morning thinking about it all. Replaying every sip he watched Steve's beer-wet, alcohol-loosened lips take, drowning himself until he collected a whole lake inside himself.
Steve can fit way more inside his body than he looks like he could š„“
Bucky fits more arousal than he would've expected of himself, especially more than he'd'a thought based on just a night of memories and a moment of noises. He's engorged, too, like Steve. Just in a different way. Steve got big in the belly and it's making Bucky big between his legs. Aching.
God.
It's too dark to see anything in their room, Steve and Bucky confined to either side of their thin mattress and threadbare sheets. The darkness is a weapon and tool; Bucky can grip his prick and stroke it good because it's dark, but he can't see what he's getting off to because of it, too.
Steve can't see him.
Steve is asleep.
Bucky's pretty sure he's asleep. His wrestling around might've woken him up. If he's awake, he's too nice or too niave to comment on Bucky's behavior, getting off in the same bed that holds his best friend after getting off with that dame, her smooth, lithe hand down his pants in the alley outside, the air cold but not cold enough to cool his imagination, perverting her long, blond curls to short hair, her slim fingers into artist's hands, her small breasts into a flat chest...
Steve might be the one sleeping on a full tummy, bloated with enough beer to kill a much taller man than Steve, but he's not the greedy one.
Bucky is greedy.
Bucky hoards every tiny fucking scrap of Steve he can get his hands on.
He's stroking himself, stifling his own moans with a gal's lipstick stuck to the side of his neck, marked pink, her perfume still soaked into his skin, and her plump lips a fresh memory. It's not enough, though. Nothing is enough. He can't get enough of Steve. He can't. He won't. He'll gorge himself on this, though -
Pitch black, all he has is the white noise gurgles and groans of Steve's overloaded pot belly. It sounds as if the beer is fermenting over again inside Steve. Bucky chokes down a whine, imagining Steve's swollen beer belly bigger. It sounds like all that sloshing, frothing, calorie-heavy liquid is fermenting, for sure. Steve, even in his sleep (he's gotta be asleep, right? (Why does Bucky hope he's awake, knowing what Bucky's doing and grinning that mischievous, trouble-making grin to himself, luxuriating in how desirable he is, fat cat?)), is burping. Hiccuping. He has to be extra swollen now if he's gassy even while unconscious.
His body just has to get it out: Steve's, bloated and excessively full; and Bucky's, feverish with gluttonous desire.
Steve stumbles in and out of deep sleep again and again. So, Bucky matches the pace of his sinning hand to him. Might as well add to the torture, right? Further, Steve's breath is unsteady, as always, his poor, brittle lungs, but tonight there's an extra uneven rhythm to it. Hiccups, belches, throaty-groans, and more breathy, moaning hiccups.
Bucky swears can hear the sound of Steve's hands rubbing over his skin at one point, caressing his bloated belly, soaking up all that beer and dumping it into his bloodstream, slurring and loose, getting much closer to Bucky than normal, draping himself over Bucky, clinging, if only he were awake.
(Maybe he is awake - the thought excites Bucky dangerously, heart pounding in his chest.)
Steve's pot belly consumes his perverted imagination, powered by how it gurgles and groans. It sloshes erotically every time he rolls over, trying and failing to get comfortable.
Bucky twists his hand around his shaft, reaching down with his other hand to grab his aching balls. At the same time that he can't help but gasp, Steve rolls over -
Oh.
Suddenly, the round, taut swell of his fever-hot pot belly lushly presses against Bucky's flexing arm. He's unconsciously searching for a comfortable position for his stretched, probably throbbing belly. Steve's been restless like this all night, denting their shitty mattress so much more than usual, slowly getting closer and closer, or, fuck, not moving but slowly getting bigger and bigger. Bloating with bubbles, full of froth, and crammed with carbonation. Bigger. Closer. Bigger. Closer. Closer.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Bucky splatters come all over his abs, shivering as he climaxes too suddenly to stop. It hits him like a freight train. There's no option but to stroke himself harder, breathing fast through his nose, trying not to choke too loud or jerk too hard and wake Steve. Bloated, swollen, beer-soaked Steve. His little Steve is so big and grabbable that it's making Bucky crazy reckless.
imagine chubby Bucky with a really vocal belly. Itās super loud with grumbles and growls when heās hungry. But also itās very noisy when heās stuffed too and you can very clearly hear all the groans from his belly struggling to digest everything and burps rumbling up from inside. His big tummy doesnāt know how to be quiet
AND THEN JUST IMAGINE HOW EMBARRASSED HED FEEL AROUND PEOPLE AWW
duuuude soda would definitely make it SO much cuter too š
Hear me out, but I've been thinking about a person witnessing somebodies weight gain as like, a bartender at a night club or bar watching a patron continuously guzzle down copious amounts of alcohol and stumble out each night slowly yet steadily get a bigger and bigger gut, or a server at a fast food restaurant consistently serving the same person and watching them get bigger portions each time as they steadily get fatter and fatter. Just two outsider perspectives having a front-row seat to somebodies gluttony and debauchery and getting to witness first hand somebody letting themselves go and being almost directly responsible for it. Thinking about this in the view of Steve and Bucky, where one is the bartender and one is the server at the fast food place and they watch the other come into work all the time and watch them stuff themselves on greasy fatty food until they're moaning around every bite and their face is smeared with sauce and they're too bloated to walk without waddling, or drinking so much alcohol that their bellies get swollen and sloshy and they don't remember their own name and they slur when they talk and stumble everywhere when they try to walk with a hand on their bellies. They're never in their right mind to recognize each other, one too drunk and one to hungry, but the server knows immediately "oh shit this is him" and they end up keeping an eye on them while they're there so they can really get to enjoy them loosing themselves in pleasure. I don't know, I just really like the idea of Steve and Bucky watching each other get bigger and bigger and bigger while being too fucked up to function and being directly responsible but neither really knowing it. I don't know if this makes sense, it made a lot of sense in my head
This has similar vibes to "Surfside Sliders" by Anonymous on Archive
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Obviously, it's not the same because that fic is chubby Natasha with feeder Steve watching her get fatter as she comes into his restaurant again and again but I thought, either way, you might like it! š
This idea is SO GOOD! There's nothing that makes me blush quite like a drawn-out gain... something about watching someone slowly but surely pack on weight, especially if they're either unaware, totally ignorant (or in denial) of their weight gain, or, on the other hand, trying so hard to stop themselves from packing on more weight but it just keeps happening. They can't stop it. They can't help it. š³š³
So, all is to say, I squirm reading your ask anon š„µ
Heyy I don't see much of Pre War Stucky on your blog so I thought I'd give some ideas...
(disclaimer: in no way do I mean to romanticize poverty or the Great Depression, I'm just being real about their situation)
Steve is poor and doesn't come by enough food to keep going at a normal rate but ever since he became Bucky's friend, he's been getting more access to heavier food. He's always loved eating at the Barneses but it's after his mom's death and moving in with Bucky during college that he really picks up on the idea.
Despite all the rations, Bucky makes sure that Steve gets to eat well on his birthday: but now that they're living alone, he can get away with bringing a hamper to Steve's bed and hand feeding him a heavy dinner.
They don't understand why this turns them on. They've known that they were queer for a long time, but this is where it awakens within them.
Bucky stuffs him with muffins and bits of turkey and even has some bottles of soda to go with, and Steve's just sitting there smiling and meeting his eyes while he takes it all by the mouthful.
In minutes he's moaning and rubbing his belly and trying to joke between burps, and also driving Bucky mad with the sounds. He unbuttons the bottom half of his shirt to see that his belly, which was once sticking to the back of his ribcage, was now bloated and full of food.
Bucky's hard in his trousers as he watches his boyfriend struggle to eat more while cradling his huge belly. It was a beautiful contrast between his slim hips and visible rib cage.
"Thanks Buck." Steve smiles and lets him silently rub his belly to push out gas. "How 'bout we save the rest, I've eaten enough for two weeks!"
"It'll go bad, Steve... better eat it now." Bucky smirks and spoons icecream into his pretty lips.
All it takes is for Steve to look down for a second and smirk back.
Soon the icecream is left melting on the bedside as Bucky makes sweet love to Steve, who's burping and groaning with each thrust.
Oh yeah! I think I just get caught up in all the later canon or alternate universe possibilities that I forget about pre-war š pre-war is SO GOOD, though. Have you seen this art by @frogstalavista?
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It's FAT pre-serum Steve and I think about it all. the. time.
Thank you for the ideas/writing!!!
Even if it's just a non-canon exaggeration, I love the idea of the Barnes's being a little more well off and Steve just gaining when he's around them. They all shove food at him, not just Bucky: his mom Winnifred, his dad George, and even his little sisters, they all feed Steve like he's a starving puppy they can't resist, giving him table scraps on top of making him his own plate. Any day he stays over at Bucky's for more than half an hour, he ends up waddling home, stifling burps, trying to be polite, nursing his pot belly with both hands, rubbing and rubbing it like he's pregnant, and continually sticking his thumb under the tight line of his belt or stretching out his suspenders that cling so tightly to his round little gut.
Yes! Exactly like you said, it'd just speed up the stuffing debauchery if he moved into the family home after his mom's death, and then moved out with Bucky to get their own little place. First, he'd round out and then again. A one-two punch. š¤¤š¤¤
Birthday stuffing!! Yes. I love that. And hand feeding! My weakness!
Ooh, yeah, also just the discovery of it all, after they have a home to themselves, they just dive in to all these things - doing whatever "weird" things get them off. And with how fucked the 1930s into the 1940s were over being queer, what's the difference to them between being queers and being weird about food? It doesn't feel all that different to them. To them, at the time, in this context, it's the same level of weird. Soā¦ they might as well just keep doing it.
"while he takes it all by the mouthful" made me shiver!! Literally. Like. Mouthfuls. He's eating whatever Bucky brings him so eagerly that it puffs out his cheeks like a greedy chipmunk, hoarding it for later right there in his burgeoning belly.
I looooove sounds, yes! And because Steve hasn't always gotten everything he needs to eat, his body just isn't used to being this full, meaning it's extra noisy. Bubbling, gurgling, and groaning. Steve's trying to take away the ache from the stretch by rubbing it, unbuttoning his own clothes like a slow strip tease because he's getting off to it just as much as Bucky is - he can't believe he looks like that. That's him. Fuck.
"cradling his huge belly" YES, it wouldn't take that much food to make him look massive by comparison. He would get the hottest pot belly and I bet it would take an awful long time for his tummy to go back to normal, his body unused to being so well-fed that he stays bloated and puffy for a while. The bloat and clinging belly ache get them both hot, too, like bruised love bites fading from the last time they fucked.
Don't get me started on Steve burping and groaning with each thrust during sex!!!!! Oh my god
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