Warnings: nods at Dom!Bucky/Sub!reader, sexual references, self doubt, self body shaming
You were standing in front of the mirror, looking at yourself. You thought you would surprise your boyfriend when he came home from training but were rethinking the idea. You had tried all of the lingerie you owned on and none of it fit right anymore. You could see bumps and lumps everywhere and you almost wanted to cry. You knew what had caused the weight gain. You had recently taken up baking and there were constantly cupcakes, cookies, and/or brownies in the kitchen in your shared apartment. You had made brownies earlier and thought if you wanted to get your figure back you should slack off on the baking…or at least make Bucky take more of the treats with him to the compound to get rid of.
You were just turning around to hit the kitchen and box up the brownies so they could be taken out of the house when you heard the front door open. You panicked and looked around the room frantically for anything to cover yourself with and came up short.
“It smells really good in here, Doll. Did you make brownies or chocolate cake today?” You heard his voice before a clunk which you knew was his gym bag. Before you had a chance to respond he was walking into your room groaning around a mouthful of brownie. “Brownies, my favorite…” he trailed off taking in your figure before grinning, “My girlfriend almost naked in my favorite lingerie, also my favorite.” You rolled your eyes even as you felt your cheeks heat up.
“You don’t have to say anything, I know I don’t look as good as I used to,” you muttered, angrily jerking one of his t-shirts out of his dresser. Bucky was confused.
“What are you talking about?” He jerked the t-shirt out of your hand preventing you from putting it on. “You look gorgeous, you always do.” You glared at him and grabbed another t-shirt. Which he also took away.
“Bucky, I’m a fat-ass,” you said, crossing your arms, “I’ve gained a bunch of weight since I started baking and none of my lingerie fits right anymore. Not even just my sexy stuff, even my regular clothes. I had to go buy new jeans the other day, cause I didn’t even fit into my fat jeans.” You sat on your bed, arms still crossed and stared at the floor, trying to bore a hole in it. You missed the anger that flashed across Bucky’s face before he knelt at the bed beside you.
“Doll, look at me,” he said. Your gaze remained on the floor. “I said, look at me.” He said, his tone authoritative. It was a tone you knew well and you didn’t disobey unless you wanted to be punished. Granted you usually enjoyed said punishments. You looked up and saw the storm brewing in his eyes. “Whose girl are you?” he asked, hands placed on either side of you.
“Yours,” you whispered. You couldn’t escape his gaze even if you wanted to. It was hypnotic. You couldn’t even look away to glance and his hands, now gliding over the tops of your thighs.
“And what does being my girl mean?” he asked. His eyes trailed your body, following the movements of his hands. You shivered as the cool metal of his left arm grazed your side, his fingers trailing your spine.
“That I’m yours and no one else’s,” You said. He nodded.
“That’s true,” he said, lips caressing your jaw, “It also means that I protect you, and defend you. I don’t let anyone hurt you. It means that I love you, unconditionally. It means that I take care of you.” His hand slid into your hair and fisted it, angling your head slightly, making you look back into his eyes. “It means that I don’t ever wanna hear you talk about yourself degradingly again. If I won’t allow anyone else to do it, I sure as hell ain’t gonna let you do it, sweetheart. Do you understand me?” He still had a grip in your hair, preventing you from nodding your head.
“Yes, sir,” you said, quietly.
“Good,” he said, releasing his hold on your hair. He stood up. You thought he was gonna head to the kitchen but he pushed your shoulders when you stood up, knocking you back to the bed. You looked up at him as he peeled his shirt off and tossed it across the room. “Babygirl, you aren’t going anywhere until you know just how fucking beautiful you are.”
“But, Bucky, you haven’t eaten dinner yet,” you protested as he laid you back on the bed. He hovered over your body and grinned wickedly at you.
