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! 😏
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. 😳😳
So, all is to say, I squirm reading your ask anon 🥵
after vormir, natasha needed a break. "just a month off and then i'll be back to avenging again," she told herself. truth is, she wasn't sure that would be enough, wasn't sure any amount of time would be enough to make the flashbacks of fighting clint and falling off the cliff in vormir fade. yes, steve brought her back. the memories remained, however.
-over the month, she goes to her apartment in new york, away from the tower.
-she tries to fill the void first with workouts but when that makes her think of fighting clint she turns to food for comfort.
-well first she has days of laying in bed in the dark and her elderly neighbor (or maybe steve) stops by with soup and she can feel the love put into it and it makes her want to cry but she also realizes how hungry she is.
-she eats. a lot. she doesn't notice any weight gained. to be honest, she's probably lost weight recovering from vormir and laying in the dark alone and she's started getting back to normal. she's taking a break from the team though they call, she doesn't want to see them. doesn't want to see the expression on their faces every time they look at her. feeling full feels good and makes the memories go away.
-needless to say, she takes more than a month off. two then three months pass. the avengers don't visit. they don't know where she is. she checks in to ease their concerns.
-she usually treats herself to the elevator (even pre vormir) because living on a fifth floor apartment can make the stairs become a slog. she isn't opposed to the stairs though, and when the elevator is out of commission one day, she takes herself to the stairs. going up is difficult. harder than she remembered. she looks down at her body, "what have i done?" she is short on breath, having to take breaks on the way up.
-where there were once abs and smooth muscles are stretch marks and fat rolls. her clothes are tight, her belly straining her shirt, love handles pressing into her sweats, and her breasts spilling out of her bra. she squeezes a roll, ignoring the spark of pleasure it brings and focuses instead on the panic of her changing body. the fear of anyone else seeing her like this. she steps on the scale and is panicked when she sees the weight, overweight.
-the eating feels good but she doesn't want to get fat. she starts a plan to lose weight, contacts the avengers and gives them a date six months out: "i'll be ready." losing weight is harder than gaining though, the pounds falling away slowly and she's hungry all the time, her stomach stretched from her weight gain.
-when she comes back, her body's not the way it was, she has some loose skin and stretch marks and a little bit of leftover flab that she squeezes into her suit, tucked away. she's hungry all the time.
-she falls back into the avengers, this time training new recruits and stepping back from doing as much avenging.
-steve sometimes shoots her concerned glances when she's sitting on the couch, his super hearing let's him hear her stomach growl. he can hear her working out hours past when the recruits have left for the day. she wants to look the way she did before.
-months pass, she's lost the weight. not back to normal but she will never be. she feels empty, lost after vormir.
-steve (or tony) one day challenges her to an eating contest and oh my god it feels so good to eat again. she loses control of herself, eating more than she ever has before, letting out burps and rubbing her stomach to make more room. the avengers team slowly slip away, tony making a comment "wow nat you can really pack it away".
- steve scoots closer to nat, slowly starting to rub her belly as she closes her eyes and lets out more burps, trying to make room.
- steve let's her know that he thinks she is hot like this. he thinks she is beautiful when she is packed full and tight, spilling out of her clothes and unable to stand up, belly hard and red, breathless and sweaty.
- natasha lets go. she liked eating. she loved eating, just felt insecure about changing herself permanently. wants someone to help feed her and take care of her. she is tired of working to lose this skin, tired of being hungry all the time. she liked her body. she's trained the recruits, she doesn't really go on missions anymore.
- she wants to fill her body back out, fill in the loose skin and keep her belly full.
- the weight piles on, faster than before. she is sweaty and panting, breathless with a full belly sticking out in front of her. she stops going to the gym, wants to gain weight quickly.
- she loves growing out of her clothes. she loves seeing herself lose fitness.
- steve is stuffing her, she's full and panting, but just wants to push herself a little further. the weight piles on quick, her stomach already stretched permanently from her prior feedings. she wants to irreparably damage her body. her thighs thicken, she can't walk, her waist widens, she spills over the edge of chairs, she turns sideways to fit through doorways, she stops moving almost anywhere. moving becomes hard as her fat sways, she's sweaty and sticky and wobbly and she loves it. love's not being able to breathe as she tries to walk. she loves the weight. loves her new body.
I love this! This is so perfect, I don't think there's much I can add! It's so beautiful and kinky!!!
I love how much you show the trauma affecting her and how it interacts with her thoughts of what other people will think of her only to be overpowered by Steve wanting to take care of her, wanting her to indulge, wanting her to just be herself - be human and let herself enjoy and grow. 😭🥴🥴
I once read a fic where the Xmen danger room malfunctioned and stated some of the thinner members were 'malnourished' and 'unable to fight' so it had to feed them to an 'acceptable level' which just meant stuffing them until they were heavy enough not to trip that function anymore. I wonder if avengers tower has an AI like that, or if Bucky and Steve move into a Stark-indistries owned and paid-for apartment building with an AI to take care of their every need in their retirement and it unexpectedly breaks one day. i dunno, just spit-balling, love what you do!
previous ask
Oooooh 👀
Maybe a version of the Avengers tower where J.A.R.V.I.S. or F.R.I.D.A.Y. is an actual bodied assistant rather than just a voice/program? Or perhaps there's a version of F.R.I.D.A.Y. like, I dunno, AFTERNOON, 5PM, or some other punny name for a version of the AI that's a bodied helper and then... exactly 😏
The fighters aren't heavy enough, so the helper stuffs them and stuffs them and stuffs them until they're round orbs, bursting out of their skin-tight suits - ripping Kevlar open, popping seams, breaking zippers - and groaning and moaning, fully lax, lying under the weight of their guts, totally unable to get themselves even an inch off the ground.
They're trapped. Entirely at the mercy of this "helper" that still isn't satisfied despite the pleas of, "no, no, I don't have any room! I don't, urrp, h-have, mmmph!"
"Too full!"
"'M gonna fuckin' explode!"
"Oh my god, I've never been so full!"
"Stop! Please stop, I don't have any room left!"
With all the Avengers, their guts would run the gamut. For example, can you imagine poor Natasha compared to the bigger heavier heroes that she's around that the AI is weighing her against? Like, Steve and Thor?
Nat's the shortest and lightest, and so she would absolutely end up with the largest, heaviest gut to get her up to "fighting weight." Yet, Thor would probably be mostly unaffected, thumping his fist against his gut, and happily thundering, "a feast!" This is normal on Asgard anyway. Meanwhile, Natasha burps and gasps and rubs her gut so, so urgently. She really is about to pop. She looks heavily, heavily pregnant. She's sweating like mad, stretch marks already forming over her creamy skin, "uhh, uuuhg," she groans, curling around her huge belly, "easy f-for you to say."
In the corner, off to the side, Steve and Bucky are absolutely enjoying it a little too much... they've never dared to indulge so much, not even after being reborn into the excess of the 21st century after the deprivation of the Depression in the 30s. They're panting, holding their guts, lying on their bloated sides next to each other. And they are unable to not react to each other. The overfull flush on their skin... the groaning, pained (yet almost pleasured) sounds... the way they're sweating with exhersion. Yeah. It's pretty damn sexy 😮💨😮💨
Tony catches them touching each other and moaning in less than a pained way and swears, complaining - whining - about being scarred by knowing too much about these damn grandpa's and all their fucking kinks.
Sam is grumpy but also strangely fine with this, despite not getting off as easy as Thor. He says this reminds him of holidays back in Louisiana with all his family constantly shoving food at him until he passes out in full food coma.
Clint was absolutely the first to fall over, too heavy and clumsy. 😂
i was thinking about those eating competition/contest videos on youtube, where people eat so much food in 30 mins or an hour, etc. then i thought of steve/bucky/nat and eating contests. maybe one of them is involved, maybe multiple.
they have always been into eating and these seem like a good way to finally be full. they start out slow, maybe once a month participating to avoid piling on weight. they are good and win some contests, and start doing more. once a week they have an eating challenge. to avoid getting fat, they eat healthy during the week. maybe large salads to avoid too many calories but keep their stomach capacity up.
they have to take a break from the contests and all is okay still, but they get bored of the healthy eating. they decide to have a cheat week and just eat whatever they want. the weight piles on, and they decide they like it (their partners like it too) and they keep gaining.
I've been holding onto this ask for forever 😫 so sorry!
The eating contest component immediately made me think of the fic "No Contest" by caloriebomb, which is literally just FAT STEVE and I-
It's good.
Anyway, you know what this made me think of-?
This made me think, what about an alternative universe in which Steve, Bucky, and Natasha meet as competitive eaters? Maybe they aren't, like, famous competitive eaters but are just casual enthusiasts. Local gods, perhaps.
Anyhow, they all meet at a competitive eating contest...
Natasha seeks out Steve and Bucky intentionally when she sees the newcomers at an annual contest she's been attending for a few years. Not only are they new, meaning they don't know about her crazy stomach capacity and stretchability, but they're also both very handsome, and she feels like seeing some handsome men eat their words, literally. She wonders if either of them with blush. That, or if either of them will willing admit that they're wrong when they end up being wrong about her... maybe they'll just say it. Maybe they'll squirm 😈
So, she elbows them, offering a bet while the announcer is, well, announcing the event. I bet I'll eat more than you. She makes sure to smile softly. She doesn't want to give away her plans just yet. She's having too much fun.
The slightly shorter man with dark hair immediately agrees with a charming grin of his own. He looks her up and down and then gestures to himself, inviting her to do the same to him, raising silent eyebrows. It speaks only of, are you sure? The blond haired, taller man only stares at her. She can tell he is trying not to panic, having a pretty girl talk to him - it's cute. Normally, she'd roll her eyes, but there's something about blondie. Something about the brunette, too.
She likes them 😏
The brown haired guy nods when blondie doesn't do anything and says, under the announcers excited tone, that he'll bet.
"What're we betting?"
"$100?"
"Shit, I can't resist that," he says, offering his hand for her to slap in agreement.
She does. "And you're friend?" She bats her eyelashes at him, blondie, and watches him open and close his mouth like a fish. She almost laughs out loud. He's a golden retriever. Cute.
"He's in, too. Trust me."
Oh, yeah, this will be fun, Natasha thinks, and she has to look away because she doesn't want to give them her "predatory" smile. Predatory as her friends have told her it looks. What? She can't help that she knows she's right. She's gonna win.
Natasha learns the boys' names as they're announced to go on. Bucky, the brown haired one. Steve, the blond haired one.
So, Natasha meets and greets and beats the the boys.
At this competition they're eating poutine. Not Natasha's favorite, especially considering that she didn't grow up with it. It being just fries with shit piled up on it, but it's still pretty good. Poutine is good for shoving down. Good for contests like this one. Soft and relatively wet with good flavor. It means that fistful after fistful can go down before she has to take a millisecond break for water or before she can tire of the taste.
Natasha empties her first tray, then her second and third and fourth and fifth and on and on and on.
She smashes through it. Her stomach filling and expanding but not full.
She can feel Steve's eyes when they stray to her every once in a while. Flicking. Not checking her out, but, just trying to figure out how she's going so fast. Her fingers are a blur. Lifting fries to mouth again and again and again, shoving it down, getting it inside her. The faster, the better. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, she urges herself.
Suddenly, he opts to go whole hog, shoving her face into the fries and inhaling them.
She doesn't look at Steve.
She's not looking at anything but her prize, looking through the poutine servings just like a runner doesn't stare at the finish line, they look through the finish line that way they'll go the whole way with full power. She's going full power. She can see poutine when she shuts her eyes to chew harder, getting more into it. She is in the zone. So much so that she hardly feels the stretch of her flexible stomach muscles. Rounding out. Convexity created by the weight, the mass, of the poutine. No, she doesn't feel the stretch. She just feels the fire under her ass. She knows she can beat any beginner, but she wants to do her best. She doesn't wanna win a little. What's even the point in that?
She wants to win by a landslide.
A landslide that was slid right down her throat and into her gut. All that rock and earth heavy and full, making her massive. For anyone who didn't see her figure prior to the event starting when she gets uo, they're gonna question who let a pregnant lady join an eating contest.
She's still packing it in.
And, God, she must be massive with how those fries and toppings slide right doooown.
Down her throat.
She's getting heavier.
It has to be almost over.
It's been so long.
But-
She's not going to stop until the buzzer hits. She's not even going to look at the clock. No distractions. Not even the handsome boys to her right.
She hammers down more. She's almost done with this tray.
Another. Get is down. C'mon, you have this.
BZZZZZZ!
There!
Yes!
It's over!
Natasha finally lifts her head, "wooo," she huffs, feeling how her head buzzes with the rush of sensations. Now that the heat of the moment is done, it's all coming back. Woof. She's stuffed. She can feel the grease and fat going straight to her veins. She can feel the heavy, solidness of fullness. Wonderful. And-
"Holy shit!"
She can feel pure satisfaction at knowing she's won. Easily. She's a cat that's got the cream. A whole gallon.
She looks over to her new favorites. They're both sweating with messy mouths.
New heat stabs Natasha when she sets her eyes on the pretty gape of Steve's grease-slick, shiny lips. It's multiplied by the grin growing over Bucky's own lips. Equally shiny but not as plump. Steve's bottom lip takes the cake on that. And, my, my, my could it be cake. It looks soft. Natasha would like to sink her teeth into it. Into them both.
Natasha wins the eating competition and $200 extra from her new companions.
As they stand to waddle heavily off stage, Nat notes that Bucky has managed to do well. She can see the bloat of his belly. It looks nice and firm but still soft. He would be good to touch she bets. He had more padding than she initially thought, strong but still soft. Steve, however... Steve is not fairing well. He's probably eaten just as much as Bucky, perhaps even more than him, but he was not padded. He's all hard muscle with pounds of poutine attached to him.
Woof.
His new gut sticks out like a beer gut. Through his tight shirt that's been forced to expand enough to expose a few inches of pale, strained skin, she can tell that his abs are not happy with him. They're stretched taut. She licks her lip, picturing how pink his freckled skin must be, those muscles struggling to keep his belly attached to him.
That time, they part ways.
The next time they meet up, it's another competition. Bucky strolls up to her, Steve behind him like a trailing puppy, and confesses he's been training, patting his belly with a charming grin. She laughs, oh, really? You think you can beat me?
He does.
They end up betting again. Steve stays out of it this time, clearly the smarter of the two, Natasha teases.
Because-
Natasha wins again.
Bucky may have been training, but he's been training with water. Water is different from food. It goes down easier. It might be heavier than food, and it might stretch you out like food, but it isn't the same. Natasha blows him out of the water, pun intended.
She ends up with her gut sticking out past her tits, breathing hard and heavy and caressing the sides of her gut with her fingernails while Steve looks on, trying and failing to hide his interest. He's blushing now worse than he was immediately after eating.
Steve's muscles may not want to stretch, too used to being tight and perfectly sculpted, but he's stubborn, and he packs a lot down. Bucky, too. He's having an easier time, but he burps something crazy. Steve hisses out little moans and gasps. They're both delicious in their own ways.
They meet more and more and more.
They exchange numbers and constantly are texting and sending photos. Talking about training exercises and sometimes even showing exactly what they mean. Boasting about wins (Natasha) or near wins (Steve and Bucky) from competitions they all don't attend. Showing off photos of their guts post-contest then showing the subsequent damage days after they get stuffed full for contests. Their own and others entertainment.
It becomes routine to crash into an Uber on the way back from a contest, all together, making the car sink that much closer to the ground as a result of their combined weight. They go back to either Bucky's and Steve's apartment or Natasha's apartment to spread out on couches and floors and beds. Anywhere they can starfish out to digest. Sometimes separate. Sometimes, in one huge bloated pile.
After contests, Bucky burps and pats his belly hard like he doesn't mind how tender his gut must be. Steve, meanwhile, moans and gasps and complains about how much he ate, how he should stop, or how he can't believe he did it again, and he has the loudest gurgles. He can hardly seem to touch his own belly. It's too much. Post stuffing, Natasha would purr if she could, feathering her fingers over her stretched belly and taking the time to massage lotion into her skin. She'd purr because of the feeling of her own body along with the feelings of the bodies around her. Two big, big guys squishing her, confessing that they still don't get how she can just do that.
It's a gift. Her capacity and her boys.
Her boys because... aomewhere along the lines, they start becoming more and more intimate.
Steve begins letting Natasha rub his belly with lotion and moans like she's wrapped his dick up her in lotion-slick hand. If not her, otherwise he won't touch himself and will actively lift his heavy body up and away, groaning as he moves like it's the most difficult thing he's ever done, from Bucky. He does not want his gut slapped or prodded. He will burp when his body wants him to, thank you very much.
Bucky begins pinching her hip and telling her how nice she always looks but blushes when she does it back to him. Bucky starts unbuckling his belt and letting his pants drop after pushing up his shirt. Crashing hard and getting comfortable. He also gropes his gut in front of them both. Nat catches an eyeful of his dick getting interested in his rough touching more than once. Steve takes off his shirt but leaves his pants off. She isn't so thrilled about it though, she's curious if he's like Bucky. Truly into this. And she's slightly concerned those pants are going to cut him in half one day.
Soon after those developments, Natasha allows herself to slip out of her bra more often than not when they're crashing after contests. Bucky both jokingly and sincerely confesses that it's crazy hot that she can stuff herself so much that the band of her bra becomes too tight. It gives her enough confidence to slip out of her pants, too. Leaving her to join Bucky in just a t-shirt and underwear.
They begin to see each other at times other than post-competition, too.
Eventually, they're more often together than not. And one day, Steve blurts randomly, "are we dating?"
Bucky bursts out laughing, shaking his head, "when I left it to you to figure that out, I- I didn't! Think you'd!!-" he slaps his knees, laughing harder.
Natasha looks between them, crossing her arms, "so you've talked about this together. Without me."
They both stumble and stutter.
She relaxes, allowing herself to grin, "good. You're both on the same page then."
Steve mumbles about having a heart attack. Bucky smacks his shoulder, "serves you right."
"So..."
They stop behaving like children and snap to attention. Starting at her.
"Do you want to date?"
They both nod eagerly.
"Good. We'll keep doing what we're doing then."
And that settles it. They keep living in each other's pockets, and they keep going to eating contests. It's the same. Just as good. Until... something breaks.
Steve stops working out. Like that.
It's so sudden.
He shrugs and claims he just doesn't feel like it. He'd rather be home with them or out eating with them. He doesn't want to waste time at the gym. He's full of love. He doesn't need to obsess over a hobby to fulfill him any longer. Bucky and Natasha cuddle him extra tight that night. And night by night... Steve gets softer and softer. His abs fade fast. His trim waist widens a little. And. It breaks them. Natasha and Bucky become even more obsessed with Steve. There's more of him.
If they all also gave up their obsessions of eating healthy and being active during the week when they don't have eating contests... there would be more of all of them.
And they can't go back once they realize that.
More. There could be more of them all. More love. More to touch and hold and-
Okay. Yes.
With the ending of their self-imposed rules about healthy eating and exercising and the continued entering of eating contests, they all start feeling the brunt of those calories near immediately.
Steve changes the most rapidly because of his sudden dropping, cold turkey, of working out. His poor body. It doesn’t know what to do with continued heavy calories that aren’t protein; his body could work off the cheat meals of competitive eating contests and put it towards more muscle, bulking, but his body can’t deal with cheat meals every day. Stuffing himself every day. Moaning about it. Loving it. As a result, Steve’s waist actually gets wider. His abs are gone impressively fast, and he starts to look puffy. Thick like frosting. (Natasha certainly thinks he’s as good as frosting - he’s sweet and pale white, and she could spend hours and hours licking and tasting him). His waist as well as everything else. His hips and thighs and ass. His chest and arms. And his jaw. Oh my god. His face starts filling out, those model cheekbones filling in. It’s cute.
He looks so good.
The frame of a liftaholic, gym rat is still under his new weight, but it’s buried, leaving him wide and fluffy looking. It’s only when you press your fingers into his new fluff that you can feel those hard-earned muscles underneath, holding up his new bulk.
And as much as Steve’s chin begins to get a twin it’s worse for Bucky.
Bucky already was holding onto a lot of puppy fat, youthful with a soft, smooth belly and face. So, as his gain creeps up on him - gaining slower than Steve - his face is chubby. Full cheeks and a soft jawline that both Natasha and Steve are obsessed with kissing. Natasha has a thing for biting it. When they don’t have to go anywhere for the weekend or the rare alignment of their schedules off work, she’ll leave marks on his double chin and press on it with her thumb every chance she gets, admiring her handy work and feeling all the weight Bucky has gained. It’s not just his face, though. Bucky gets nice and wide, too. His shoulders widen, his back starts to arch and forms little rolls, his legs begin to soften, and his chest gets hit. But it’s really his gut. He gets a great, full gut. Along with his swollen gut come chunky thighs and an impressive ass. Steve looks like he’s been inflated like he’ll pop if you poke his constantly stuffed ball of a gut while Bucky looks like he’s been hitting beers too heavily for too long. Bucky is relaxed and carries himself with a jiggling, heavy swagger. Steve is seemingly in pain, in the best way. He’s moaning and working around his gut. He doesn’t know how to carry himself. His mind can’t keep up with his body.
Natasha gains right along with her boys, of course. Her tits get bigger - she gets stretch marks on the sides of them, right around her underarms - and for a while, unless she’s stuffed, you can’t tell her belly is getting soft compared to her chest because of the size of her chest. But. Her gut catches up eventually. Suddenly. Her body gains weight in her thighs and hips and chest until, bam! Overnight, she suddenly has more than a soft little curve to her belly.
Bucky goes from burying his face in her tits or between her thick thighs whenever possible to pressing his face against her tummy. It’s kinda the best thing he’s ever seen. Nice and round and balancing her top and bottom half. Connecting her curves with an even larger, more irresistible curve.
Steve is never as brash as Bucky. He is less shy than he once was, but he still blushes and still is shy, curling in on himself whenever he’s turned on and has the chance to touch Natasha or Bucky. It’s adorable. It brings out the sadist in her, wanting to force him to beg or wanting to encourage him, grabbing his wrists and making him grab her tits or belly or ass. It's her game to make Steve call her fat. His good boy manners and society’s conditioning leave him tongue-tied until he’s really, really strung out. She can sometimes make him stutter it after a good, long week of stringing together eating contests day after day until they might as well roll themselves home after the last one or after Bucky and her have spent the day winding Steve up. Stuffing themselves and complaining about how full they are, obscenely eating food. Touching each other or even straight-up having sex in front of Steve without inviting him in. Anything. Everything. Teasing Steve until he’s willing to admit she’s fat. Nice and round and plump. Whatever naughty, big word she can get from him, she cherishes.
She also cherishes all of Bucky’s words, but Bucky’s mouth is filthy. She needn’t encourage him to call her names that should make her upset but instead make her hot. She doesn’t have to do anything before honey is dripping from his mouth, and he’s making himself and Steve blush. And they all love it. Natasha often jokes that they have turned their lives into an orgy of gluttony. Bucky kisses her right on the mouth and wonders out loud if three is really an orgy. Steve just groans. The two of them together is too much and he’s had too much - his body is still the most sensitive, he’s gained the most weight, and they both seem to favor shoving food at him the most, so he’s never not stuffed full, lying back under his pale, mountainous gut. Steve is their bloated playground. They tease him. They mess with him. Stuffing immobilizes him. He doesn’t have enough self-control to stop until they stop him, so while they can crawl all over him and all over each other… Steve lies back. Panting. Moaning. Weakly shifting as his gut burbles and they kiss on top of him, pressing their guts together. Natasha will often ride him while Bucky fucks his mouth or fucks Natasha’s ass, struggling to get close enough to her now that they’re all so fat.
So…forgive me if you’ve done something like this before but Steve/Nat/Bucky have been living rent free in my head for a while now and I thought…what if Nat was just having a really lousy time and Steve and Bucky just cooked her an authentic Russian meal to cheer her up but they can’t cook. So they keep practicing and tasting until they get it right…putting on weight as they go because…decadent cuisine, amirite? She notices her little pelmeni getting bigger but she doesn’t mind. She keeps tasting, taunting them, saying it’s not right, try again. Until they get it right, only they’re not the only chubby ones anymore…but Nat doesn’t realize it until she indulges in one of their truly amazing meals and ends up popping a button. Sexy times!
Completely ignores the fact that the last writing I did here was all but a month ago and returns like nothing happened.
I haven't done something like this before! I dig it! It's giving this scene between Wanda and Vision
Also, it reminds me of this Steve and Natasha fic that I adore "Shaping Happiness"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Inspiration/reminders aside... yes! This idea is great!
I went off the prompt a little bit because I couldn’t help myself, I hope it’s still enjoyable!
Warnings for Steve × Natasha × Bucky belly kink below the cut. Unbeta'd. Stuffing, weight gain, dirty talk, etc.
At first, all the food Steve and Bucky attempt to cook for Natasha to cheer her up is truly terrible.
Steve has never been much of a cook, so he claims it’s not his fault. Listen! He's unlucky enough to burn water! So, as Bucky rediscovers Steve’s kitchen ineptitude, he's quickly relegated to boiling water at most and tasting as Bucky cooks at least. Steve cannot be trusted with knives and veggies most of the time (Bucky will never understand how he’s a superhero who can hold his own in combat), nor can he be trusted to measure something correctly (he’d much rather just "eyeball" it), and there is never a time where it is acceptable to allow Steve to cook something. He will turn up the temperature, thinking it’s not cooking fast enough, and accidentally attempt to burn the entire apartment to the ground. So, Steve gets to taste.
Only taste.
Bucky will give him spoonfuls or bits and pieces, and Steve will greedily take them. Praising Bucky’s cooking ability (re: his non-disaster existence in the kitchen that Steve occasionally envies, lmao) and asking for more, please? Weaponizing those pretty baby blues when Bucky’s successful enough for things to be edible.
Obviously, Bucky is a better chef between the two of them, but he's out of practice (years of being the fist of HYDRA will do that to you) and unfamiliar with these kinds of foods. So, even though he's still got a few of his Ma's recipes in the very back of his brain (not that Depression-era foods to keep the family fed are very good compared to a lot of these Russian delicacies), nothing is really… right… when they first begin making comfort food for Natasha.
They try all the staples:
Solyanka (sweet and sour beef stew), zharkoye (beef (or whatever extra meat you have around the house) and vegetable stew), zharkeo (chicken stew), etc.
Borscht (red beet soup), okroshka (vegetables, egg, potato, and meat soup), rassolnik (beef, barley, and pickle soup), shchi (cabbage soup), ukha (fish soup), etc.
Pelmeni (meat dumplings), pirozhki (savory baked or fried puff pastries), blini (wheat crepe-like pastries with sweet or savory fillings), borodinsky (dark rye bread), vatrushka (sweet pastry with cottage cheese and raisins), shashlik (kebabs with cubed meat and vegetables), ikra (caviar on bread/blini), pirozhki (yeast dough stuffed with savory or sweet fillings), etc.
Morozheneo (extra creamy Russian ice cream), pashka (sweetened cheesecake), kartoshka (basically Russian cake pops, often chocolate), kissel (cherry soup), medovik (layered honey and condensed milk cake), etc.
Steve will often spend the time that Bucky is spending cooking by looking up new recipes, and new foods, making sure to take them from credible sources so they don’t end up in a “diner situation”
The diner situation was what happened when Bucky was first recovering and they were surviving on takeout because Bucky was too afraid to allow himself around knives again and Steve was struggling (unsurprising), so no cooking for him, and they went to an “all-American diner.” Hoping for a taste of home and instead finding that the diner served food that was God fucking awful and worst of all, nothing like the actual food of the day it was claiming to represent! It made them both feel worse - lonelier. No one understood what it was like. What the food was, what the culture was, what it was like.
They don’t want that.
They will not be making some bogus “Russian food” that isn’t actually authentic.
Anyway -
All traditional Russian cuisine that Bucky attempts while Steve watches and tastes and researches aren't any good at first.
Like, they suck so much that Steve and Bucky don't even serve them to Natasha. Tasha doesn’t even know what they’re doing. She’s always out on missions or on Capitol Hill with Fury whenever they try their hand at making her familiar Russian foods by their design. While alone together in the apartment, Steve and Bucky quietly try each creation themselves, can barely swallow it at first, and decide… not yet.
Not yet.
They both want it to be perfect.
So, even when Steve begins to use his puppy-dog eyes for evil, begging for more treats, more tastes, because, holy shit, Buck, that’s great! That has to be what that is supposed to taste like! They don’t share the plan with Natasha yet.
Not yet.
Natasha catches onto the fact that something is going on as she starts to squint her eyes and pinch Steve’s hip or ass, gratefully sighing, “at least between the two of you, someone is fully embracing the house-husband lifestyle.”
Embracing the house-husband lifestyle by packing on a few pounds. Just enough to soften Steve’s usually perfect abs into a flat belly (unless he’s stuffed or bloated) and turning his thighs and ass into soft, squeezable shapes.
Bucky and Steve have both retired, giving them all the more time to spend experimenting and practicing recipes for Natasha as house-husbands and homemakers. But Steve is the only one beginning to plump up. He’s stopped going for his morning run and afternoon workouts cold turkey. Bucky still goes to the gym. He finds it meditative. Cooking and working out seem to be some of the only things that completely clear his mind. Steve, on the other hand, has always been single-minded. And it seems like eating has taken up all of his focus.
There's no room for anything else.
Steve tastes as Bucky goes, describing the flavors the best he can, telling him what he might try adding and how the flavor compares to what his research has told him the dish is supposed to be like. Then, when the dish is done, Steve tries it first, while it’s still hot (even if it’s supposed to be served cooled, Steve can’t help but have a healthy serving before it goes into the fridge). He gives notes again. Bucky tries it when it's fully ready. He has a nibble or two, just enough to taste - nothing like the full servings that Steve takes. Bucky has already had his lunch, and he doesn’t want to spoil his dinner. Then, if it’s good, Steve eats the rest of whatever they’ve made.
All of the rest.
Bucky’s taken to telling Steve to “hide the evidence” since they don’t want Tasha to know until they’re ready for her…
Is it really hiding, though, if they both know where the extra food is ending up in the form of a pretty, shaping-up pot belly? Sticking straight out from Steve's well-defined chest.
Food for thought. Ha.
“What is Bucky feeding you when I’m away?” Natasha purrs, on her knees, her sharp, white teeth digging into the new slope of Steve’s belly. He chugged a whole, huge pot of stew when Natasha texted an approximate 10-minute ETA. Getting rid of the evidence except… the stew was full of melt-in-your-mouth meat and potatoes and salt. Heavy. This stew isn't fucking around and it's apparently delectable (Steve's word). So, it’s obvious where the stew has gone. Right into his pot belly.
Swollen.
Once Natasha arrived, Steve was still sweating and just beginning to bloat up like a balloon from the excess sodium. And Tasha's always present 6th sense for knowing how best to drive Steve up the wall, complained about how hungry she was.
A devious grin split Bucky’s face, asking what she was craving because they’d be sure to order lots of it. Whatever she wanted.
She said Indian food.
Perfect.
That’s not something Steve can resist. He loves Indian food. And, sure enough, he wolfed down a whole ‘nother dinner. Getting red in the face from the spice heat and temperature heat, his poor belly gurgling loudly in a fit of digestion.
Steve shrugs in reply to her question, biting his lip out of arousal but also out of desperation to hide the overfull groan that wants to come out of him. He’s been fighting burps and moans and hiccups all evening. Trying to not make his packed state so fucking obvious.
Bucky thought he was into seeing Steve like this - bloated and round - because he loves seeing his fella happy and healthy and fulfilled. Bucky thought he was into cooking and baking and experimenting with food for Natasha because he loves her, and he wants to make her happy and bring her comfort and just do something sweet for her. Those things are true. But, watching Natasha dig her painted nails into Steve’s soft parts…
There’s something else here, too.
Woo, boy.
“Mm,” Natasha is half-asleep, exhausted from yet another mission, yawning, and curled up like a cat in a sunspot between them. Her head is cushioned on Steve’s chest, “‘m pretty sure we could get rid of our pillows and be just fine.” She squeezes the pec that her head isn’t pillowed on in her hand, groping him, “got enough right here.”
Steve inhales shakily, turning bright red.
Bucky can tell by looking at him that he’s not insulted, far from it, that’s his this-is-making-my-dick-hard face. He's squirming, too. Blood going straight for his dick with a vengeance.
“Eh, just wait a little longer 'fore we make any rash decisions, m'kay, doll?” Bucky murmurs, amused, running his metal fingers through Tasha’s fire-red hair.
She grumpily frowns but then snuggles more into Steve’s jiggly chest, taking it as being warned about how tired she is rather than waiting because Steve’s going to get plumper. More cushion.
Good.
The more blindsided she is by the comfort, the better. Bucky wants it to take her out - to make her feel so much better that all she can do is accept it. She has a hard enough time allowing herself simple pleasures.
She deserves it all and more.
“Damn, Rogers, you ever think about doing a centerfold? I’m pretty sure Playboy would make an exception for you if we asked.” Natasha husks, her face all up in Steve’s business. Lips and teeth and tongue working at his little hole while her hands spread his extra full cheeks apart.
Steve simply whines, high-pitched and pathetic.
It’s a damn good response, considering her question and considering how Bucky has his cock rammed down his throat. Stuffing him.
Steve is suspended between them, face-planted onto Bucky’s cock, choking, his arms useless, half crushed under his chest against the bed, and arching back against Tasha. His legs shake under him when Natasha does something special with her sharp tongue. Steve’s in heaven. Choking on dick, throat full, and getting fucked with a hot, wet tongue deep inside his sweet hole.
Now, after weeks and weeks of practice, not just Steve’s big, heavy dick hangs down toward the bed... now his belly does, too. It jiggles when he squirms. Every time Bucky squeezes his growing gut, Steve makes a sound like he’s dying. It’s a different sound to what he makes when Natasha gropes his thickening ass or widening love handles. Also, different from the sound he makes when they feel up his expanding tits. All his sounds are sweet, but the sound he makes for his belly is especially guttural and desperate.
“Curves for days,” Bucky bites out, thrusting in hard. “Better than any of the girls in those pages.”
Steve chokes.
Tasha laughs, just this side of cruel. “Mmm-hmm,” she spanks his ass just to watch the fat flesh ripple, “getting more and more curves these days. I guess retirement is good for somethin’.”
The growl Bucky lets out is unintentional. It’s barely been a year since they retired. So, what will Steve look like in a year? What will Natasha look like when she’s face-first in his ass then? Will Natasha have to buy a longer strap to reach Stevie’s hole, much of the plastic length getting swallowed by his monstrous ass? How fat will Steve be if they keep going, his perfect, little, superhero figure ruined?
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Bucky can’t take the thought. He ends up coming down Steve’s throat with a shout from behind gritted teeth.
Steve doesn’t mysteriously grow forever, though...
When they’re ready, Bucky and Steve arrange with Fury for Natasha to have a full three-day weekend off, no interruptions unless the world is literally being torn in two. Then, with the guarantee, they prepare.
First, Steve does research into the traditional Russian foods that would be used for a celebration - a feast - and arranges an entire multi-course menu for the occasion. His poor belly, so used to tasting and now able to recognize most of the dishes he comes across, wails the whole time he works. He’s not hungry. Not exactly. He just wants something in his mouth. He wants to taste. He can’t wait for the feast. Bucky has to remind him again and again that this is Natasha’s feast. She’s going to eat what she wants, and then Steve can destroy the leftovers.
Second, Bucky prepares all the dishes. One last time. Every detail on point. Practicing. Getting everything as perfect as he can. Making sure the dishes and drinks in each course compliment each other well.
Steve gobbles it all up, stuffed like a traditional American Thanksgiving turkey by the end of it. Panting around his bounty, all of it shoved down his throat, turning his belly into a red, tight beachball that Bucky wants to worship.
And for once, Bucky is relieved that Natasha is currently, before her long weekend, on a multiple-day mission. She’s out of the apartment and not returning tonight. He’s relieved because it means he doesn’t have to explain this to her.
Steve. Stuffed. Food-drunk and hard and moaning about it.
There’s no way this would be an accident. No one gets completely, illogically gorged like this without trying.
When did tasting bits and pieces become vacuuming up the entire dish Bucky made anyway? Bucky doesn’t exactly know. But he can’t complain. All he can do is rub Steve’s skin with lotion then jerk him off slow and tight, dragging it out until Steve is sobbing, holding his taunt gut desperately like he can keep himself together, keep himself from splitting at the seams, and then blacking out when he’s finally allowed to come because it feels so good.
Third, they prepare all the food before Tasha is set to arrive home. She’s been in debrief most of the morning, but before that, she caught a cat nap on the quinjet and then showered at Stark Tower. She should be refreshed. There’ll be no reason to delay the feast. Bucky doesn’t want to have to reheat it and ruin some of the delicate flavor.
He wants it perfect.
Steve waddles around, helping Bucky to set the table the traditional Russian way - including the shot of vodka next to the water and wine glasses. Steve waddles because Bucky had to make sure he had his fill of food before the feast. Otherwise, he would’ve probably been helpless not to hoover up all the decadence laid out in front of him. He’s created a monster. Even if it’s been hotter than sin to watch him lose self-control after so many years of being perfectly in control of every little part of himself and his life - but, there needs to be an intervention of that new habit today.
So, Steve is stuffed, barely holding himself together. Panting. Flushed. Sweaty. Aroused. Filled.
Bucky is so focused on the stew in front of him, steaming on the stovetop, as he ladles it into an appropriate bowl for serving that he doesn’t hear Natasha unlock the apartment door. The first thing he hears from her is a pleased moan.
“What is that smell?” She asks, her husky voice bright.
“I think you know what it is,” Bucky chirps back, charming.
“Mm-hm,” she hums. Bucky hopes he isn’t projecting when he thinks that she sounds delighted.
But, before he can get anything else out of her, he hears her gasp. He’s about to round the corner and check on her, make sure nothing is wrong after her mission, when -
“Oh, маленький поросенок,” she purrs, “this is why you’ve grown so plump, isn’t it?”
Bucky shivers, setting down both the ladle and the bowl, quickly stalking toward the dining table. Little piglet. God. Did he hear her correctly? Did - is… is that what she really just called Steve?
Little piglet.
The meaning of the words themselves, along with the sound of smooth, purred Russian in Natasha’s voice, leaves Bucky’s heart pounding in his chest.
This was part of the plan, too. Making Steve irrestiable, putting him on display, was part of the plan. He just didn’t -
He didn’t expect it to affect him so much.
He wanted it for Tasha.
Just for her, he left Steve at the dining table, sitting back in one of the heavy wooden chairs with his big belly wedged between the armrests as a gift. Huffing and puffing, stuffed as he already is. His hands resting on either round, bowed-out side of his tummy, rubbing himself lazily. He’s in a tight white t-shirt that’s been pushed up by his swollen middle, exposing a delicious, pale slice of his lower belly that’s been marked by hot, pink stretch marks. Even the serum can’t keep up with the ravenous appetite inside of Steve. The elastic of his grey sweatpants has been stretched to its limits and crushed under his gut. If his heavy belly is lifted up, jostled enough to make him moan, it becomes obvious just how low his sweats are on his hips because the top of his neatly trimmed, blond pubic hair is right there.
Sweet.
He looks delicious.
He looks like one of the Russian pastries Bucky has prepared. Golden and puffy. Hell, he might look more like the dough for the pastry before it’s baked - he’s certainly doughy and soft and he’s expanding out of his clothes like he’s expanding, growing from too much yeast.
Natasha is standing next to him now, her mouth open, staring at him, trying to figure out where to begin. A cat with a mouse, all hers to play with.
The moment she touches him, Steve arches his back, pushing into her touch. Hungry for even that.
Gluttonous.
He’s so gluttonous.
More. More. More.
More of everything. Anything.
“You gonna sit down, doll?”
Natasha shuts her full lips with a click but nods, almost shy with how her eyes flick toward him, then away. Demure in a way that she never is. Normally, if she wants something. She’s going to get it.
This is a different side of her, and Bucky already likes it.
Bucky pulls out a chair for her, the one directly across the table from Steve. She sits, and he pushes her in. He leaves quite a bit of space between her and the table, hoping her gluttonous side will appear and flourish, too. He wants to see her belly grow until it touches the edge of the table.
Christ.
He wants her to eat until she can’t have another bite.
Maybe she’ll let him feed her like Steve lets him.
Maybe she’ll grow as round and fat as Steve has.
He enjoys having one little piglet as a lover, so what could be better than two?
Fuck.
More than excited, Bucky sits himself at the head of the table after bringing the first course. He serves Steve just as much as he serves Natasha, unable to not feed him when he looks so sweet. Even if the plan had been to stuff Steve beforehand so he would be sated (and also to allow him to sit for long enough that he’d be ready to play by the time Natasha was done eating).
Steve is...
He's perfect. Irresistible. Blue eyes dazed, eyelids heavy, cheeks red with heat, head hanging low enough to give him a full double chin. A preview of what’s to come if he keeps blowing up like a balloon. It’s delicious.
Tasha eats everything that Bucky serves her. Everything. Practically licking each plate or bowl clean. She praises his dedication, obviously noticing the care and preparation of the presentation but also tasting the care and prep. These are not flavors that are easy to attain. It’s not perfect. But Natasha is glad it isn’t perfect. That means they can do this again. And again and again and again. Until they have it perfect. Then. Even after that, they should do it. This is good.
Natasha is enjoying herself because, perfect or not, it does settle her. She feels like she could close her eyes and be in one of the rare moments of her childhood where she felt safe and comforted. Better than that, too. With her eyes open, she’s here with her lovers. Her маленький поросенок [little piglet] and her… her кормушка.
Кормушка.
That feels right.
Her feeder.
That’s what Bucky is doing, feeding her, stuffing her, giving her everything she wanted and beyond. More than she could’ve imagined.
The fuller Tasha gets, the farther they get through the courses, the more settled she feels.
It’s hard, she realizes, to allow her abs to let go and expand with the bulk of the food she’s putting down, but, when they make it to the third type of stew, Bucky pauses to rub her belly over her tightening blouse and she moans and breathes heavy and let's go.
She unrounds.
She didn’t realize she was sucking in every moment of every day. Exhaustive. Letting go makes her toes curl. She watches Steve across the table and does as he does, mirroring him, squirming.
“Oh, Джеймс,” Natasha moans his name in Russian, James. Moving side to side, squirming, she can feel the food sloshing inside her. It’s so akin to the feeling of being fucked that it’s shocking. Full. Every sweet spot inside her hit. No wonder Steve loves this enough to have plumped up so deliciously, so rapidly.
She must be making a wet spot on her chair. The heat between her legs is so intense. She would love to squeeze her legs together and feel the throb of her pussy, stimulating herself, but she’s afraid she can’t move her legs. They’ve fallen apart. Spread. Making room for her belly to grow between.
Grow and grow and grow.
Until it’s inhibited by the size of her shirt and the band of her pants, belted tightly to her skin. Her blouse is too tight. The belt is cutting her in half. Without the belt, she’s sure her pants would be giving her trouble anyway. Together, it’s all agony. And these pathetic sounds she only makes when her lovers spend their day working her up and up and up, not letting her come until the sun has begun to set and all she can do is weakly clutch at them, crying, sobbing, and whimpering for her release. Begging to have it. And making a massive mess when she does, squirting hard enough the first time she was convinced she pissed herself. Just. Drenched. Broken like a dry branch snapping.
Crack.
How does she feel like she’s there already?
Steve is watching her from across the table with this obscene, blatant, animal desire etched into his pretty face. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him look so dumb and dominant at once. Like he wants to take her, to devour her, but he doesn’t know how.
Not a thought in his head.
She doesn't blame Steve, though. It is exquisitely difficult to think when so stuffed. She's full up to her eyebrows, and every swallow is forcing her brain out of her head. No thoughts.
Bucky reflects the look on Steve’s face, just, without so much of the stupid. He’s clearly awed, but he knows exactly what he wants.
What he wants to do to her.
What he wants from her.
Pop.
Before she can even realize what’s happened, Natasha is moaning, gruff and loud, and breathless all at once. She has a mouthful of food that she’s having a hard time swallowing, and her body doesn’t want more food. Her mind wants more food. She needs. More. Just a little more. Please? This feast has to end at some point, doesn’t it? So she might as well take all she can get while she can get it, right?
What happened? She turns her head towards Bucky, feeling entirely shit-faced drunk in a way that she… she hasn’t maybe ever felt.
Tasha swallows her mouthful of food, moaning as it slides into her. Stuffing her more. Deep. And -
Pop. Pop.
“AH!” She moans again, twisting her head too fast when she hears an answering clink, clink.
Her eyes follow the sound and find Steve’s plate and her answer.
Two of the three buttons she’s just popped off of her blouse, each feeling like an orgasm in their own right, has landed on his plate.
Steve is staring at them. Chin doubled. Hungry and dumb with his mouth open.
Oh.
Natasha squirms as much as her overfull, clothes-breaking gut will allow for, crying out when she feels her bare skin come into contact with the edge of the table.
She's grown so huge.
Please, please, please.
She doesn’t know what she’s begging for, what her little, hurt, desperate sounds mean. She just knows she needs.
And the second Bucky pulls out her chair, rips her blouse open to allow her to fully expand, tears her belt out of the buckle, shreds her pants, and gets his head between her shaking thighs, she’s coming. Coming and coming and coming. It feels endless. Steve’s eyes are hot enough on her to feel like a physical touch that throws her over the edge that much more. The hot, wet press of Bucky’s mouth against her, her soaked tight core, is too much.
“Oh, oh, oh!” She can’t stop moaning as she orgasms, entirely swept up by the tide of pleasure and excess.
This is absolutely happening again. She's already -
Yeah.
She already knows.
Absolutely.
She gets off so hard on it, stuffed to glutted at their dining table, Steve in the same condition, that Tasha thinks she may never get off on anything else ever. She's been ruined. She already knows.
She's ruined, and this is going to ruin her figure. All she can think about is how decadent Steve feels, fat and soft and lush, and her own body being that? Oh, it blows her mind. Their bodies together, both fat and soft and lush and curvy and round, next to Bucky - all solid, hard muscle. Oh, fuck, that obliterates her mind.
