Thunderbolts Bucky - Blog Posts

Bucky is gorgeous and he needs to be reminded everyday 💓‼️

More to Love

Summary : Bucky marries you, someone who shows love through food. When his body changes, you show him he’s cared for no matter what.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x wife!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : FLUFF! Hurt/Comfort, Body Image Issues, Insecurity, Established Relationship, Weight Gain, implied sex, cursing, Food as Love Language.

Word count : 2.4k

Note : If you’d like to be on the taglist, message me! It gets lost in the comments sometimes. Enjoy!

Bucky hadn’t meant to gain weight.

It wasn’t like he woke up one day and decided, hey, let’s pack it on.

It crept in, slowly, like moss between cracks, or rust under paint. At first, it was just little things: seconds at dinner, not skipping dessert, an appetiser here and there.

See, when you and Bucky first started dating, it didn’t take long for him to realise that food was your love language. You cooked like it was second nature—every ingredient always added with care. He’d come home from missions or long training days to find you in the kitchen with your sleeves rolled up, humming to some old tune while stirring sauce or kneading dough. And your smile always lit up when you fed him, like watching him eat something you made was its own kind of joy. And Bucky, who’d spent so much of his life surviving, hadn’t known how hungry he was for that kind of care until you started filling his plate and his heart at the same time.

Somewhere between your late-night pastas and Sunday roasts, his shirts started to fit tighter around the middle. The scale ticked up a few numbers. He still trained, but it was different now. He wasn’t on a calorie deficit, and he was doing things for functional and not aesthetic purposes. He focused on Pull-ups, sparring, lifting until his arms couldn’t take any more. He could throw a grown man across the room. Probably you too, and that wasn’t a fantasy you were opposed to.

But even when his body changed, and time went by, your cooking didn’t stop. If anything, after you got married, it grew more intentional. You experimented more— comfort dishes from his childhood, thick stews you imagined his man might've made, and big, carb-heavy meals to help him recover after a mission. You packed him leftovers in little glass containers, sometimes with a note tucked in the lid. You didn’t just feed his body. You fed his memory, his heart, his right to be human again.

Still.

He’d catch his reflection in the bathroom mirror, shirtless, sweaty from a workout, and stare at his stomach. 

He hated that it made him feel weak. Sloppy. 

“Used to be leaner,” he muttered once, toweling off after an especially brutal workout session. 

You rolled your eyes, but with love, and tossed another towel at his chest. “Yeah? Well, I used to think I liked abs, but turns out I like a powerhouse husband who can deadlift a damn car more.”

That earned you a faint smile, but it didn’t erase the dread in his eyes— the one that said you’re lying, or you’re just saying that to make me feel better.

You weren’t.

God, you weren’t.

Because Bucky Barnes built like a brick shithouse? Bucky Barnes with thick arms and wide shoulders and thighs like tree trunks and a stomach that was less abs and more functional muscle? He was the kind of man you could climb like a jungle gym and bury your face against to feel safe. That strength wasn’t just aesthetic— it was real. 

And every meal you cooked was another way of telling him so. Every tray of roasted veggies, every slow-cooked braise or pan of cinnamon rolls was a reminder: You’re still cared for. You’re still mine.

To be fair, he’d never been satisfied with his body, not really. Not when it was used as a weapon. Not when it was hyper-lean, a machine starving for control. And not now, when he felt like losing the only grip he’d ever had on himself.

Then came the movie night.

You were watching some dumb action flick, all glossy lighting and guys with chiseled jaws and ten-pack abs. The kind of thing that didn’t usually bother you. 

C’mon, watching a superhero movie while being married to one? It was kind of surreal, kind of stupid. 

You’d whipped up a bowl of nachos earlier, layered with roasted veggies, black beans, just enough cheese to feel indulgent, but still a net benefit for your body, the way Bucky liked. He’d been halfway through the bowl, one hand resting on your thigh, when he suddenly stopped eating.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was full. Maybe the movie was just boring. But then you felt the way he shifted like his body was trying to shrink.

You turned your head to see him.

His eyes flicked to the screen. Then to the bowl. Then to his stomach. And then away.

You paused the movie.

“Buck?” you asked gently.

He didn’t look at you. “I’m fine.” He said it too quickly.

You set the nachos aside and turned toward him. “What’s going on?”

He hesitated.

“Look at those guys,” he said, motioning toward the frozen screen. “All shredded. And I’m just—” He trailed off, letting the bitterness finish the sentence for him.

Your heart broke.

You reached over and rested your hand on his chest, right where his heart beat under your palm.

You frowned in that goddammit I love you, why don’t you see what I see? kind of way.

You didn’t say anything right away, but moved closer, settled into his lap, and rested your forehead to his. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, voice soft as a feather, “you could have abs again tomorrow and I wouldn’t love you more than I do right now.”

He swallowed hard. 

“You say that now,” he insisted. “But maybe one day you’ll wake up and realise you’re married to some washed-up vet with a gut and a metal arm.”

You cupped his face firmly and made him look at you.

“Hey,” you scolded playfully, “Don’t you dare talk about my husband like that.”

A ghost of a laugh bubbled out of him. 

“You carry people out of burning buildings, Bucky. You wrestle Walker for fun and win more than half the time.” That earned you another chuckle. “You’ve got a body that’s survived hell and back. And you still use it to hold me like I’m the most fragile thing in the world.”

He looked like he didn’t know whether to cry or pull you into his arms and never let go. So you did it for him— you held him close, kissed the curve of his neck where tension still pulled on his muscles.

“You are so hot, Bucky Barnes,” you whispered. “So fucking hot. Built like a damn tank. Fuckin’ making me feel like the luckiest woman alive.”

He buried his face in your shoulder then, arms wrapping tight around you, so you didn’t move for a while.

He held onto you like you were tethering him to the Earth. His arms were so big, so safe and real. 

Eventually, his rapid breathing slowed. Then, slowly so as not to startle him, you leaned back just enough to look at him. His eyes were pink, glassy, and still a little distant.

“C’mere,” you whispered, taking his hand.

Bucky didn’t ask where you were going. He just followed you, quiet and trusting, fingers interlaced with yours. You led him into the bedroom, and he paused near the mirror at the side of your shared bed.

“I don’t—”

“I know,” you said. “But I want to show you something.”

You stood behind him at first, wrapping your arms around his thick waist, your cheek resting between his shoulder blades. He tensed up at his own reflection. You could feel it in the way his shoulders were bracing for impact.

But instead of asking him to look, you slowly stepped around him, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled him gently toward you.

He didn’t resist.

You kissed the underside of his forearm first, the one made of flesh. Then his metal hand. You worked your way up, past scars and veins and muscle, until he was standing between your knees, and you lifted up his shirt and lowered his sweatpants just a bit, until you were kissing the stretch of skin just above his waistband.

Then, higher.

His stomach rose and fell under your lips.

You kissed the curve of it. One, then another. A third, right by his belly button. Your hands held his hips like he was loved. 

“You think this makes you less?” you said in disbelief, your breath warm against him. “Because all I see is more. More to hold. More to love. More of you.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched at his sides. He was stock-still, as if when he moved, he might fall apart. You looked up at him and saw the tears gathering again.

“Every inch of you is mine to love,” you whispered, “and you don’t get to tell me which ones I can’t.”

A choked sound made it last his lips. 

He dropped to his knees in front of you and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face against your chest like he was starved for touch.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, voice breaking at the seams .

You kissed the top of his head.

“Tough,” you whispered into his hair. “You’re stuck with me. And so is that stomach. And that chest. And fuck— those thighs.”

He huffed a laugh against your skin. “You like the thighs, huh?”

“Obsessed.” You nuzzled into his hair. “Do you even know what it does to me, watching you exist in this body like it was built for loving me?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His cheeks were pink, and for the first time that night, you saw something wonder bloom behind the disappointment in his eyes.

You leaned in again, your lips brushing over his—soft first. It deepened the moment he kissed you back. It wasn’t desperate, not yet. 

Just… vulnerable. 

It was as if everything unsaid between you was being poured into it, every little bit of doubt and love and hunger bleeding through.

His hands found your hips, fingers flexing like he couldn’t believe you were real. You felt him, too—not just the muscle, but the man who wanted, who needed to be seen, to be held, to be devoured.

“You drive me insane,” you whispered between kisses, your hands running up under his shirt, palming heat and muscle and that slight softness you loved more than you could say. 

He groaned low in his throat, and you felt it reverberate all the way down. 

You tugged his shirt up and over his head. You bit your lip as he fixed his posture, solid and built like sin.

God, you couldn't get enough of him. He had thighs thick enough to crush, arms big enough to cage you in. You ran your palms down his chest, over the swell of his sides, and kissed just above his waistband again.

“I want all of this,” you whispered. “Want to feel it. Fuckin’ climb it, baby.”

That did it.

He leaned forward before picking you up like you weighed nothing. You let out a gasp as he plopped you on the bed. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, kisses turning rougher and hungrier as his hands roamed  with that same desperate worship you gave him.

And when his thigh slid between yours, thick and commanding, you nearly whimpered.

“Bucky—” your voice broke on his name.

He pulled back just enough to growl, “You love this?” His thigh pressed harder, “Love how big and strong I am for you?”

You could barely think, could only nod, fingers tangled in his hair, body arching to meet his.

“Say it.”

“I love it,” you moaned. “I love the way you take up space. I want you to break me in half.”

His blue eyes darkened, his grip tightening just slightly. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Then he kissed you again, and there was no more sound except for bodies moving like they were made to fit, made to ruin each other sweetly.

And when he finally, finally settled over you like the living embodiment of every gentle and savage thing you even loved—you whispered against his ear, “Don’t hold back.”

He didn’t.

—

You woke up to sunlight cutting through the curtains, the kind of light that felt too ethereal to feel real.

Bucky was already up.

He was standing, shirtless, hair still sleep-mussed, his sleep trousers hanging low on his hips, metal arm catching a glint of light as he rubbed at the back of his neck. You watched him from the bed for a minute.

He was staring at the mirror.

And not with that same bitter expression he usually did. This time… it was different. His brow was still furrowed, sure, but he looked… thoughtful. He looked like he was seeing something new.

Or maybe just seeing it the way you had all along.

There were faint bruises along his hips—your marks. Scratches across his back, red and already rapidly healing thanks to the serum, that they would be gone before the day. His skin was still flushed in places, the way it always got after you touched him like you meant it, like every inch of him was holy ground. 

You let the silence steep, just long enough to not startle him. “Staring at yourself like you’re in love, Barnes,” you finally mumbled sleepily from the pillows.

Bucky turned, but not ashamed. His eyes met yours across the room, and god—there it was. 

A smile.

“Maybe,” he said. His eyes dropped to his stomach, his chest, his body— painted in proof of your love last night. Then he looked at you, still tangled in the sheets, bare-legged, cheek creased from the pillow, looking at him like he was the answer to a prayer you hadn’t even known you wanted.

He shrugged, but it wasn’t dismissive. More like he didn’t know how to put it into words yet.

You sat up and let the sheet fall a little. His eyes flicked down and lingered, mouth parting, even after all this time.

“You didn’t seem to mind this body last night,” he said, quieter and teasing.

You gave him a look—are you serious?—then got up and walked across the room. You stood in front of him and slid your hands up the planes of his torso, over his stomach, then around to his back.

“Bucky,” you said, lips brushing his collarbone, “I wrote scripture out of this body last night.”

He laughed an open, sleepy-morning laugh, like you’d summoned it right out of his ribs. He ducked his head into your neck and held you for a second, arms around your waist.

When he pulled back, you kissed him once, then you glanced toward the mirror.

“Go ahead,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his stomach. “Smile at yourself again.”

He did.

And he didn’t look away.

-end.

Extra Notes : This was really special to write, especially with so many fics like this going around! I used to have an unhealthy obsession with working out purely for aesthetics, but a few years ago, after moving out of my home country, I started reconnecting with my culture’s food. Cooking and eating became a way to feel close to home, so my body changed! I also shifted toward weight training and functional exercise, and while I’m definitely more muscular than lean now, it took me a while to realise this version of me is so much healthier than when I was stuck in an obsessive calorie deficit. Remember, bodies change, and I find our inherent ability to be look so different and still be worthy of love wonderful!

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003 @maryssong23

@yesshewrites1 @thewiselionessss @sangsterizada @jaderabbitt

@hopeofwinter @nevereclipse @tellybearryyyy

he's my lovely life saver

doesn't mind my bad behavior.ᐟ

content warning for blood it's not descriptive but if that makes you uncomfy uh um yeah just scroll

also this might be pt.1 of a few more fics cause i kinda wanna write vampire x bucky with him in that new fucking avengers suit 👅 god i need him so bad

pt.2

it was a humid evening. the city lights reflecting off the sleek glass towers that lined the skyline, the buzz of the metropolis still alive even as the night began to fall. you’d been in the city for a few months now, settling into your role in politics and keeping your secret under wraps. but the longer you spent time with bucky, the more difficult it became to maintain the distance between you and the truth. you’d met him at a fundraiser months ago, and the chemistry was immediate. the way his eyes seemed to see right through you, yet never asked the right questions. he was always kind, considerate. an odd trait among the usual crowd you mingled with. he had an intensity to him that matched your own, something in his eyes that made you feel understood without having to say a word.

over time, you both grew closer. at first, it was the long conversations over coffee and late night dinners, and then more casual outings around the city. as much as you tried to keep things professional, there was always something more with you two. it happened by accident. really. you were sitting with him at his apartment, the apartment was warm, the living room was dimly lit, the flickering light from the television casting a soft glow on the two of you as you sat on the couch, you’d been here before, spending hours talking, laughing, and watching movies late into the night. but tonight, everything felt different. the closeness had grown, subtle and inevitable. the way his fingers brushed against yours when you passed him the popcorn, the way he always made sure you were comfortable, the way his eyes lingered just a moment too long on your lips when you spoke... it all felt like an invitation. curled up on his couch, the soft murmur of a movie playing in the background. you were both a little tipsy from the wine, a bit more relaxed than usual, your barriers worn thin from the hours of quiet company.

"you always talk about how you’re so busy," bucky said, his voice teasing but not unkind. "but i don’t think i’ve ever seen you take a break. don’t you need one?"

"i don’t really get tired," you muttered, a touch too quickly. it wasn’t something you meant to say, but the wine made it slip past your lips before you could stop it.

he glanced at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "you don’t get tired? that’s... interesting."

you froze, realizing what you’d just said. shit. your heart rate spiked slightly, though you did your best to hide the telltale signs. you forced a nonchalant smile, turning the moment into a joke. "guess i’m just a workaholic. don’t worry about it."

bucky leaned back against the cushions, his head tilted slightly as he watched you. you felt his gaze like a weight on your skin, his eyes dark and soft, studying you in a way that made your breath catch. you tried to focus on the movie, but his presence was all consuming. you could feel the heat of his body beside yours, the warmth of his arm just inches away.

“you look like you’re miles away,” he murmured.

you blinked, shaking yourself out of your thoughts, and turned to face him. “sorry, just... lost in my head for a second.”

“well, you know, that’s my job,” he said with a playful smirk, “to make sure you’re not lost in your own thoughts for too long.”

you chuckled, but the tension in the air hadn’t loosened. if anything, it felt like it was building, the unspoken connection between you both growing thicker. he was so close now, his scent smelled like he was carved straight out of war and winter. smoke, metal, leather, but softened by something warmer underneath, something maddening. it wasn’t cologne. no, it was the scent of him, baked into cotton and skin and the hollow of his throat. like clean sweat after a workout, salt kissed and heavy, the kind that made your mouth water when you caught it up close. there was that sharp, biting edge of gun oil and steel, like he’d just come back from something violent, but wrapped in the deep, grounding warmth of cedarwood and dark amber that had no business being that comforting. he smelled like the inside of a well worn jacket, like something you’d bury your face into and never give back. and underneath it all, there was heat. skin heat. something raw and male and barely restrained, like if you got too close you’d lose yourself in it. there was a sweetness to it, faint, maybe from whatever soap he used. something cheap and scentless meant to go unnoticed, but on him? it smelled like sin. it filled your senses. it made you feel... alive in a way that you hadn’t for a long time.

before you could stop yourself, your body shifted closer to his, the space between you disappearing. his breath caught, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he moved a little closer, and suddenly, everything that had been building between you both snapped into place. bucky’s lips were on yours before you even realized what was happening. the kiss was soft at first, gentle, he wanted to make sure you were there with him. you didn’t hesitate. your hand found its way to his shoulder, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

it wasn’t like the others. this felt different. his lips moved against yours with purpose, his hand sliding to your back, tugging you even closer. you could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt, his body strong and warm. your heart thudded in your chest, and you didn’t want to pull away. as the kiss deepened, your senses sharpened. you could feel every breath he took, hear the thrum of his pulse, steady and strong. it was like your body was on fire, and you couldn’t control it. your hand slid up to his neck, fingers brushing the skin there, feeling the flutter of his pulse beneath your fingertips. the temptation hit you then— an undeniable need. without thinking your lips trailed from his mouth, moving down the line of his jaw to the soft skin of his neck. you heard him quickly breathe in through his nose, a sound that made your pulse spike in response. your mouth hovered just above his skin for a moment, and then, without a second thought, you pressed your lips to the warmth of his neck. you kissed him again, this time more urgently, the blood singing in your veins, the hunger that you kept buried deep inside you threatening to surface. you couldn’t stop. your lips parted, teeth grazing the skin of his neck just enough to feel the pulse beating beneath. there was a sharp intake of breath from him, but still, he didn’t pull away.

the sensation of his skin against your lips, his pulse beneath you, was too much. the hunger, the need, surged forward, and before you could stop it, you bit down gently. the rush of warmth flooded your senses, flooding you with an almost dizzying euphoria. you pulled at his neck, the taste of his skin and the soft, rhythmic thrum of his blood sending a shiver through you. bucky’s hands tightened on you, his body stiffening for a moment, but then, to your surprise, he didn’t push you away. instead, his fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you closer, urging you on. his breathing had become shallow, his pulse erratic under your mouth.

you didn’t take much. just enough to feel that rush, that satisfying pull that made your whole body hum. you pulled away slowly, your lips lingering on his neck for a moment longer, savoring the warmth of his skin. his pulse was still racing beneath your lips, but his grip on you had softened, his body relaxed against you. you met his eyes, breathless, your heart still racing, unsure of what he was thinking, or what he felt. but then he spoke, his voice almost a whisper.

“is this... okay?” his words were tentative, though his gaze was full of something that made your chest tighten.

you nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly settled between you two. “yeah, it’s... perfect.”

he smiled back at you, a little dazed, but still with that warmth in his eyes. bucky kissed you again, deeper this time. like you weren't just someone he wanted to kiss, but something he needed to hold onto. and god, the way he kissed. slow, heavy, hungry. like he was trying to crawl inside you and stay there. you made a soft sound as his other hand settled on your waist, guiding you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. he was so warm under you, all solid muscle and quiet strength, thighs like stone, arms wrapping around you like he'd rather die than let you go.