Добрый день!

Это сообщество посвящено такому кинку!, как стаффинг (stuffing)

Стаффинг (от англ. "stuff" - набивать, наполнять) - наполнение живота едой и ощущение удовольствия от тугости живота.

Наша цель - собирать и творить в сфере кинка. Это означает находить и постить фанфики и картинки по теме стаффинга. Так же не обойдем вниманием рассказы (или, как их принято называть в Сетях, - ориджиналы), отрывки из книг, песни на тему, видео. Но видео достаточно много, так что давайте находить только постине стоящие.

Что касается творить, мы открыты для сотрудничества: роллевые, фанфики, рассказы в соавторстве - пожалуйста. Давайте будем творить, а не только собирать то, что уже сотворено другими.

Прошу вас заметить, что мы, в основном, не принимаем фото с людьми - крайне редко. Поэтому желающие запостить фото с реальными людьми согласовывают это с Администрацией, то есть, с нами.

Обязательно отмечайте в темах, к какому разделу (книги, музыка, аниме, видео, истории из жизни, фанфикшн, ориджинал, рассказ, кино, картинки, роллевые, etc) относится пост, так же самостоятельно просим ставить в темы названием фандома.

Мы открыты для связи, пишите на u-mail.

Наша официальная группа в Deviantart. kuroshitsujistuffing.deviantart.com/

С уважением, Объевшийся Дьявольский Дворецкий. )
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14:08 

lock Доступ к записи ограничен

OneWildNight
Закрытая запись, не предназначенная для публичного просмотра

22:01 

lock Доступ к записи ограничен

EvilStufferSebastian
Запись для модератора и администрации

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01:00 

EvilStufferSebastian
16:11 

EvilStufferSebastian
Аниме: "Yuri on Ice"

Персонажи: Виктор Никифоров, Юри Кацуки, Юрий Плисецкий





















@темы: Юрий Плисецкий, Belly Kink, Anime, Юрий Кацуки, Стаффинг, Картинки, Живот, Виктор Никифоров, ВГ, Аниме, screencaps, fat, Yuuri Katsuki, Yuri on Ice, Yuri Plisetsky, WG, Viktor Nikiforov, Stuffing, Bloated Tummy

06:43 

EvilStufferSebastian
askbloatedbellyblog.tumblr.com/post/15379112430...

Переводчик: EvilStufferSebastian

Всё началось невинно, когда Юри предложил Виктору поехать вместе обратно в Детроит, попрактиковаться в Дне благодарения. Учитывая, что Виктор будет есть всё, до чего дотянется и помня о том, что Виктор выиграл стейк (то есть, разрешил себе читмил) ((Читмил это практика в еде для спортсменов, когда можно есть всё, что хочешь, в определённое время, - прим. переводчика)), он подумал, что будет весело совместить две вещи: еду и отношения. Впрочем, когда Юрий Плисецкий услышал, что их маленькая поездка включает тонны еды и, кроме того, время для тренировок по новому режиму, он прикинул, что у него будет шанс подоставать влюблённых голубков и тоже был за.

Юри Кацуки не думал, что могут быть какие-то проблемы, если он возьмёт двух русских на праздничный ужин в честь Дня благодарения. Во время тренировок и своего обучения в школе он много раз отмечал странный американский праздник, который не обходился без поедания огромного количества еды вместе с друзьями и коллегами. Но он не учёл, что два голодных русских впервые на себе ощутят, что такое праздник обжорства.

В местном ресторане, который проводил День благодарения для иностранцев (в котором он бывал несколько раз во время тренировок здесь), Юри поглаживал свой раздутый объевшийся живот под ныне грязным столом, получая удовольствие от того, что он опять так наелся.

Он поднёс руку ко рту и осторожно отрыгнул в свой кулак, пытаясь соблюдать хотя бы видимость манер. Юри ощутил, как дует лёгкий ветерок у кромки рубашки, то самое знакомое чувство со времён, когда он набрал вес и ещё до того, как встретил Виктора. Нижняя часть его живота полностью не вмещалась и показывалась наружу.
"Слава богу, это только на один день. К утру я буду в порядке", - Юри сказал сам себе.

Хотя, он не был уверен, что можно сказать тоже самое про своих двух компаньонов. Возле него сидел Виктор Никифоров, который где-то уже потерял рубашку и расстегнул свои брюки. После того, как он с удовольствием слопал торбы еды перед ним, он догнался взбитым яичным ликёром, спритцом ((вид коктейля - прим. переводчика)), вином и другими алкогольными напитками. Всё это только разогналось в нём аппетит, как будто он не чувствовал боли и у него не срабатывал тормоз, который раньше был. По крайней мере, вот что Юри сказал сам себе, размышляя про внезапную прожорливость Виктора на протяжении вечера.

Юри сильно покраснел, смущаясь, он находился очень близко возле своего парня и идола, когда тот снял рубашку.

Виктор положил её возле себя, расстегнул штаны, и просто продолжил есть. К этому моменту было ясно видно, что Виктор по-настоящему объелся: его живот издавал булькающие звуки. Он колебался между тем, чтобы положить голову на стол или оставаться поддатым и наблюдать, как всё вокруг очаровательно и невероятно глупо. Какое-то время Виктор тыкал и щекотал своё пузо, которое раздулось чуть ли не до его колен. Юри пытался не концентрироваться на внушительном размере живота Виктора, которое торчало, хотя было сложно пропустить, как россиянин с серебряными волосами развлекал впечатляющего фуд-бейби ((дословно, так иностранцы называют раздутый от еды живот - прим. переводчика)), как будто на 6-ом месяце или больше, судя по его растянутой коже.

"Юууууурииии, иди сюда, почувствуй... оно такое твёрдое... Смотри, как много я съел!" *ик* Виктор задумчиво смотрел на Юри, полуприжимаясь, полупадая на него из-за того, что был пьян. Когда Виктор икал, это заставляло всё его тело содрогаться, начиная от хорошо очерченных грудных мышц и, перепрыгивая слегка, к тугому набитому желудку, который вдавливался в него самого, когда он приближался к Юри. Не дожидаясь ответа, Виктор схватил ладонь Юри и прижал к своему пузу, заставляя его скользить по поверхности, и постанывая.
"Юри, это мой фуд бейби!" - он сказал гордо в ухо Юри, что больше напоминало искушающий шёпот.

Виктор пытался привести себя немного в порядок, но в результате из известного конькобежца вышла только маленькая отрыжка.

Юри был ошарашен и молился, чтобы никто не взял с собой камеру и не запостил это в Интернет. Впрочем, он записал себе в чертогах памяти, чтобы сфотографировать себя или хотя бы просёрчить Интернет в поисках фотографий - для себя, в собственную коллекцию.

Это было до тех пор, пока он не отвлёкся от своего вусмерть пьяного парня на звук грубой отрыжки, которая раздалась на весь ресторан. Юри пытался понять, откуда звук, и заметил, что в данный момент он не наблюдает Юрио. Кацуки оглянулся, чтобы понять, не ушёл ли юный конькобежец в какой-то другой ресторан, пока не присмотрелся к месту, где должен был сидеть Юрио. На его месте был фигуристый холм, который поднимался и опускался, имея вид полумесяца, покрытого плотью, выглядывающего из-за стола. "Это не может быть..." - Юри подумал про себя. Он поднялся со своего места на скамье и увидел действительно плоть в виде полумесяца, которая раздавалась больше в полную луну в районе мышц живота его младшего соперника.

"Юрио!" - всё, что смог сказать Юри, глядя на положение подроста. Если живот Виктора был большим, то у Юрио был в два раза больше. Каждый глубокий вздох, который он пытался сделать, заставлял его морщится, и Юрио начинал тихо постанывать, гладя своё массивное выдающееся пузо. Зипер на его штанах разошёлся, а футболка со львом поднялась, чтобы дать место огромному животу. А живот у него был. На протяжении угощения, воспринимая ужин как серьёзное соревнование между ними тремя, Юрио завязал назад волосы и окунулся в поедание блюд, поглощая всё, что мог, заказывая ещё тарелок, которые и так нагромоздились на столе. Его безрассудство лишило его большинства манер, и так же, как и тогда, когда он приехал в дом к Юри жаркой весной, он ел, пачкаясь. Сейчас на его губах были крошки и пятна от разных блюд, в то время как он лежал и стонал в полудрёме.

Юрио вновь громко отрыгнул, в этот раз более "мокрой" отрыжкой, что свидетельствовало о том, насколько он объелся и как ему было плохо сейчас. Он прорычал что-то на русском, и, исходя из выражения его лица, Юри заключил, что это что-то про то, что он слишком объелся. Мышцы живота Юрио напряглись вокруг еды, которая утрамбовалась тесно внутри него, к тому же, он икал.

"Юрио... ты глобус!" - Юри сказал в каком-то смысле самому Юрио Плисецкому, в какому-то смысле риторически.

"З-заткнись! Я по крайней мере... *ик*... О боже, я хочу умереть.... съел больше тебя! *отрыжка* Лууууууууууузеееееееер!" - Юрио возразил. В последнее "лузер" он вложил столько сил, что неминуемо заставило его напрячься. Юрио тут же пожалел об этом.

Юри нахмурился, после чего ехидно улыбнулся, когда заметил кое-что, что принесёт ему такую желанную месть. До сих пор на столе возле Юрио, - перед тем, как он свалился на спину, - стоял наполовину приконченный галлон ванильного мороженного рядом с тремя четвертями нетронутого тыквенного пирога.

"Ох, Юрио. Похоже, что ты ещё не закончил. Ты должен всё уничтожить, чтобы действительно побороть меня. Постарайся всё это проглотить, Ок?" - сказал он с невинной улыбкой и коварством внутри. Юрио пытался протестовать и отстраниться от Юри, когда тот подсунул ему первый кусочек еды, но, как только он приблизился к его рту, Юрио принялся таращиться на вилку с кусочком тыквенного пирога и немного поднялся, чтобы съесть его.

"Судя по всему, он нашёл место, - подумал Юри. - Вот так, ешь-ешь!" - он сказал, когда подносил кусочек за кусочком пирога и мороженного к Юрио. Без уверенности он предположил, что может увидеть, как живот Юрио всё больше раздаётся, забирая место на скамье и заставляя переполненное брюхо выдаваться вперёд ещё больше по сравнению с его сложенным торсом.

Юрио не издавал ни звука, кроме как бормотал проклятия, когда хватало воздуха; подросток съел большую часть еды, которую ему дали, впрочем, Юри понравилось его кормить. Краем сознания он раздумывал о том, чтобы использовать возможность и проделать тоже самое с Виктором одним вечером в более интимной обстановке. Он потерял мысль, когда обнаружил, что пирог и мороженное, которым он кормил Юрио, закончились. С ещё одной ухмылкой, Юри схватил наполовину пустой графин молока.

"Теперь сядь и давай это всё запьём", - он сказал, пытаясь поднять своего юного соперника.

После очередных возражений, Юрио полусидел, а Юри мог поднести графин к его губам, он раскрыл их, заставляя Юрио выпить всё. Юрио немного пошипел в честь внезапного питья, после чего с долгом выпил всё, что осталось от молока, оставляя стол абсолютно пустым от остатков еды. Юрио выпустил громкую отрыжку, она была сильнее, чем та, которая напомнила Юри о его присутствии. Становясь немного зелёным, Юри глотал всё, что могло вернутся, с вызовом, чтобы быть уверенным, что он действительно победитель на этом пиру. Хотя, это было действительно так даже перед тем, как Юри его накормил, Юрио не собирался делать ничего такого, что могло заставить его не справится с тем, чтобы всё это удержать в себе.

С усилием, тяжёло дыша, Юрио заставил себя лечь животом на бок. Он наполовину покатился, наполовину наклонился, хватаясь за стол и скамью чрезвычайно странным образом, пока, наконец, не смог сесть и запихнуть своё брюхо под стол; впрочем, сейчас его живот был раздутым так, что прижимался к столу. Юри прополз под столом, чтобы оказаться между двумя объевшимися русскими и протянул свои руки к двум животам, поглаживая живот каждого, чтобы им стало легче. Он даже представить себе не мог, что будет наслаждаться этим и забудет своё напуганное состояние до этого, продолжая гладить до тех пор, пока не появилась официантка. Он улыбнулся с извинением. "Эм, можно нам чек, пожалуйста?" - спросил он застенчиво, как будто выпрашивая прощения за поведения двоих.

Когда чек был на столе и уплочен, Юри нырнул обратно под стол и помог всё ещё пьяному Виктору стать на ноги, пытаясь предоставить ему дополнительную поддержку, в которой он нуждался, чтобы они могли вернуться в свой отельный номер. Раздался крик сзади: "Эй! Может, поможете?" - Юри и Виктор повернулись, рука Виктора лежала на шее Юри, поддерживая его.

"У меня... затруднение тут... " - Юрио сказал, краснея немного, он выглядел необычно робко. Юри только ухмыльнулся вновь.

"Да ну? Кто теперь лузер, поросёночек? Или мне лучше сказать, толстый котёнок? Что ж, увидимся в нашей комнате"

Без лишних слов, Юри и Виктор направились обратно в номер, не слушая слов ворчащего и очень обьъевшегося Юрия позади.

"Может, этот День благодарения был не так уж и плох", - подумал Юри.

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От переводчика: Мне не хватило в конце в этом фанфике, чтобы Юрио погладили. Наверное, такова была задумка автора. Но я пожалел Юрочку и дописал ))

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@темы: Юрий Плисецкий, Юрий Кацуки, Фанфикшн, Перевод, Живот, Дописанное, Виктор Никифоров, Аниме, Yuuri Katsuki, Yuri on Ice, Yuri Plisetsky, Viktor Nikiforov, Tummyache, Stuffing, Fanfiction, Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink, Anime

15:12 

EvilStufferSebastian
www.fanfiction.net/s/4343296/3/Shortcakes

Title: Shortcakes
Pairing: LxRaito
Rating: K+
Summary: Fluffy oneshot series. 3rd Oneshot: Sickness. "Why are Ryuuzaki and Raito taking so long in the bathroom?" LxRaitoxL.

Ahaha, the cliché of the clichés!This is much longer, and a bit more friendshippy then the past two. Either way, there are some fluffy RaitoxL elements in this.Yeah, I needed one of these thrown in here, because it is the fluffiest of the fluff. This doesn't slot in with the past two, but I did say that not all of them will be chronologically joined, or directly related with each other, so…here we are! Sick!L and pseudo-nurse!Raito!Please note this was written at night when I was running on nothing but the caffeine that is my blood…and my whole horde of sugary foods and chocolate dip ¬.¬;Enjoy!



L knew that there was something wrong when just looking at his cake made him feel queasy.

He had been feeling somewhat off that day. That morning, his usual half hour power nap had been increased to two hours, and even with the extra sleep, the insomniac had felt incredibly lethargic. Raito had even commented on it, the suspect squinting at him suspiciously when he waved away the light concern. It was probably fatigue from the case catching up, though it rarely happened to him. So, L was not at all worried. Just irritated.

His irritation only grew as the Task Force trickled into the investigation room, when a pounding headache began chiselling at the insides of his temples with blunt pick axes and caused the tiny black print on his laptop to blur at the most inconvenient times. Once again, probably fatigue and not entirely uncommon. He was probably getting the early symptoms of a cold and made a mental note to tell Watari to get some over the counter medication.

Then, just before his early morning cake was wheeled in, his stomach gave a very violent lurch.

As he was wedged into his usual seat, face hidden behind the monitor of his screen, and the other occupants were more focused on their own work, no one noticed the detective' pale face gain a slight green tint, lips pursing as he forced down the reflexive urge to gag. He regained his composure relatively quickly, pressing his thumb against his lips in agitation as he re-evaluated his health.

So perhaps it wasn't just fatigue or a cold.Then Watari entered, placing his cake beside his laptop with his usual silent manner. It was a lovely cake too, a strawberry and cream cheesecake with an actual sugar glazed strawberry on top with a gracious amount of whipped cream slathered on top. Usually, L would attack his cake with vigour, savouring every bite while he thought up of new ways to trick Raito into admitting he was Kira, or calculating percentages.Instead, all he could think about was that the sickly sweet aroma of his cake was making his stomach do Olympic style gymnastics.

"Hey…Ryuuzaki…" Raito whispered from behind his document, the concern shimmering in his sepia eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? You haven't touched your cake." The younger male shuffled down the couch until he was pressed against the arm, leaning over slightly and somehow managing to look inconspicuous to the other detectives in the room. "Are you sick?"

L turned wide, dull eyes to his suspect, blinking slowly as his headache's intensity increased. "Raito-kun has no need to be concerned. I am fine." And the he turned back to his laptop, curling his legs closer to his body as his stomach lurched once more, the detective actually tasting bile on his tongue. He steeled himself, gritting his teeth as he forced down the wave of nausea. He couldn't be sick.

L was Justice. And Justice did not have sick days.

Though, L winced when he almost gagged again, maybe Justice could have a quick break.

Raito could obviously read the danger signs (a green tinged detective looking ready to eject the contents of his stomach all over the floor was a particularly big danger sign) and, knowing that L's stubbornness would not allow him to do anything about it, decided to take matters into his own hands. "Ryuuzaki." He said politely, drawing the dull eyed insomniac's attention to him once more. "I need to go to the toilet."

L would usually make a snide remark, and add on an extra per cent to his already unknown percentage (Raito seriously did not know what his percentage was now, it fluctuated so rapidly that he doubted even L knew what it was), but instead the detective simply nodded, sliding from his seat and shuffling stiffly towards the bathroom, one arm curled unnoticeably round his torso.

Raito kept a close eye on the older man he was shackled too, noting how he seemed to shuffle slower then usual and the dark bags under his eyes seemed to have achieved the impossible and darken even more – that, or his pale skin had turned a sickly grey making it seem worse the usual. It was obvious that L was ill, hell, Raito was amazed no one else had noticed, but the insomniac's stupid stubbornness was stopping him from announcing this fact.

It was probably all that sugar he consumed mixed with lack of sleep that was the cause of his lapse of judgement.

They had reached the toilet without incident, Raito pushing the door open while still keeping an eye on the queasy looking detective, watching the muscles in the older man's neck flex as L fought against the natural reaction to retch. The two entered the bathroom, the younger male not moving to use the urinal or the toilet and simply stared at the insomniac.

L glared, feeling his nerves beginning to fray from the constant torture of nausea and pain mixing in a lovely cocktail of crappiness. He was not in the mood to play the customary mind games with his suspect and simply wanted to curl up in a corner and die (but, of course, he couldn't do that because he was L and L was Justice, so he had to grit his teeth and bear it). "Well? Is Raito-kun going to use the bathroom's facilities or not?"

"Actually, I'm waiting for you to use them first, Ryuuzaki." Raito instantly retaliated, crossing his arms and returning the glare sternly.

"I do not need-" Here, L had to give a small pause as his stomach flailed violently once more. "-n-need to empty my bladder."

"No." Raito agreed, tugging on the chain between them. "You need to empty your stomach contents into the toilet before you throw up in the middle of the investigation room and embarrass yourself." Seeing that the detective's stubborn glare wasn't relenting, the younger male decided to force him. "I mean, it would be pretty disgusting. You vomiting up half digested substances mixed with sickly yellow bile…"

L's stomach gurgled warningly at the imagery from Raito's words, his hand flying involuntarily to his mouth. "Raito-kun…" He groaned.

"But fine, if you want to go back in there and make yourself barf by eating your heavily frosted cake saturated in sugar, thick and extremely sweet…"

Now hunger was making his stomach clench as well as flip, L unable to hold back the gag. "R-Raito…" He couldn't throw up in front of his main suspect! No matter what sense of friendship (affection) he was starting to feel for the boy, blatantly displaying his weakness was a bad move. "St-stop…"

"And the smell of it too! No matter how much cleaning products you use, the bitter sour smell is always strong enough that you can practically taste it. But whatever, you can go and throw up all over the wo-"

L couldn't hold it in any longer.

He fiercely shoved the younger male out of the way and dove for the toilet (almost tripping over the chain between them in the process), not caring at all if he looked weak or pathetic or whatever. All he cared about was getting rid of the rebellious stomach acids from his gut and possibly passing out for a while as his headache reached epic proportions. All dignity as L, the world's greatest detective, was heartily thrown out of the window.

So it was with wounded pride that L gripped the edge of the porcelain bowl and retched.

Distantly, the detective felt slim fingers scrape his ebony hair back as he emptied his stomach's admittedly small contents (he was only able to consume a brownie, three slices of strawberry cake and a batch of cookies during the night – which is a small snack for him) into the toilet, shoulders shaking from the exertion and his throat burning from the acids travelling up his trachea. He moaned involuntarily, feeling dizzily light headed from the monster headache threatening to evolve into a migraine. "Ugh…"

Those slim fingers were massaging his scalp soothingly now as L's heaving died down, the detective coughing to clear his airways of any leftover bile and groping blindly for the flush on the toilet. Already L felt better, his stomach settling somewhat as he pulled down the flusher and stayed half sprawled over the porcelain bowl. His logical part of his mind did another re-evaluation of his health, noting that this brief respite was only going to last for a few blissful minutes before his stomach rebelled once more. The childish part of his mind told the logical side to shove it. "Raito-kun…" He groaned hoarsely. "I think I am ill."

"No shit, Sherlock." Came the dry response, a wad of toilet paper being offered to him. "Clean up, you're having the day off."

"Gnn…" Not even L knew what his grunt was supposed to convey, accepting the wad of toilet paper and mopped up the 'yuck' from around his mouth. He dumped it in the toilet, wrinkling his nose as the bitter taste invading his mouth and nose. It almost made him want to vomit again. His stomach gurgled. "But Kira-" He protested.

"Can wait." Raito interrupted firmly, entering what L affectionately called 'Mother Mode' (attempting to make L eat healthier, make L sleep more, etc, all insinuated that Raito had maternal instincts buried somewhere inside of him). "You won't be much help clinging to the toilet seat and throwing up all over the place, and…" Raito's fingers moved from wild ebony tresses to the disgruntled insomniac's forehead. "You're running a temperature. You may have the stomach flu."

"Oh joy." L grumbled, resting his forehead against the rim of the porcelain bowl he was hugging. The fingers returned to massaging his scalp and it actually helped with his headache somewhat. "Raito-kun should get comfortable because I do not think I will be moving from this spot anytime soon."

"Ryuuzaki…" Raito sighed. "You'll only make yourself worse if you sit on the cold bathroom floor all day. You need to go to bed and rest." The younger male wrapped an arm round the detective's thin waist, hauling up the lighter body with relative ease. "Man, you're light."

L groaned again, the pressure against his stomach not helping and sagged in Raito's unrelenting clutches. This was degrading, the world's three greatest detective being reduced to needing help from his prime suspect just to stand. L made a mental note to wipe this event from his mind and pretend that it never happened once his health was back in the green zone.

Ah, denial was a wonderful thing sometimes.

"I suppose that Raito-kun is l-looking…" L's hand flew to his mouth again and Raito grimaced at the implication. "Is looking for a reward of some kind for this?"

"What are you talking about? This is what friends do, help their friends." Raito sighed, exasperated, and slowly guided the grumbling L from the bathroom out into the hallway. "No strings attached."

"Hm…" L seemed to relax slightly in the younger male's grasp, a subtle sign of defeat – for the moment. "I'll trust Raito-kun with that." He muttered, recognizing the route they were taking. "I will need to contact Watari to bring in my laptop so I co-"

"No." Raito snapped firmly, tightening his grip round the other's waist and eliciting a hiss from the wild haired insomniac. "No working. You'll just make yourself even worse and slow down your recovery. I will tie you down to the bed to make you rest if I have to."

L would blame the comment that came out of his mouth on his illness later on. "I never knew you were that kinky, Raito-kun."

"…" Raito ignored the comment with grace. "I don't want to hear any complaints, Ryuuzaki." The younger male warned sternly, still in Mother Mode, as they finally arrived at their shared bedroom. "And if you're going to throw up, just say, because I don't want vomit all over the bed sheets and floor, okay?"

L's stomach did a flip flop and the detective coughed lightly. "Alright, Raito-kun." He paused. "I am going to throw up."

Raito sighed, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath and practically dragged the insomniac towards the bathroom joined to their shared bedroom, kicking the door open (and ignored the almost slurred declaration of "ten per cent, Raito-kun"), leading his sick companion to the toilet.

As expected, L practically hugged it as his stomach lurched, heaving over the porcelain bowl.

Raito grimaced as he scraped back the wild ebony strands from the detective's face, pressing the tips of his fingers into the scalp in an effort to soothe him. With his other hand he tore off some toilet paper and pressed it against the white knuckles of the insomniac, L taking it clumsily and wiping his mouth.

Raito knew that L was not only feeling miserable and ill, but uncomfortable as well for other reasons aside from his impromptu sickness. He knew L liked to be in control, and when that control is wrenched from his hands he immediately becomes anxious and uncomfortable. Throwing up in the bathroom, with your prime suspect stroking your hair and looking after you, did not scream 'control'.

So he decided to hold off the teasing until later.

"Finished?" Raito asked lightly when L rested his forehead against the rim of the toilet for at least a minute.

L turned his head to pin his suspect with a hazed glare, looking completely and utterly miserable. "I hope so." He grumbled, turning his face so he was pressing his uncomfortably hot forehead against the cool porcelain. Damn bacteria, damn virus, damn Kira, damn whatever gave him this sickness! It was probably the other detectives walking in from outside, carrying all sorts of microorganisms on their bodies!

L knew he was being silly, irrational even, but at that moment he would've blamed the fucking plunger next to the toilet for his misery if only to make him feel better.

"Come on." Raito murmured soothingly, carefully hauling the sickly detective from the floor and half carried him to the bedroom. He knew that Watari was probably observing the whole situation via security cameras and was on his way with something to ease the insomniac's grief. Hopefully.

God knows an unhappy L is a very cranky L, and a cranky L spells unhappiness for everyone around him.

L practically collapsed on the bed, pressing his face against the softness of his pillow with a sigh. He felt the mattress dip beside him, and the handcuff's chain sprawl over his clothed thigh, as a hand ruffled his ebony tresses. As usual, whenever the younger male touched him, his stomach flipped crazily and his breath caught (something that always put L on edge because he wasn't quite sure what to make of it), but the near affectionate touch filled him with a nice sort of warmth that soothed his agonizing headache and his rebellious stomach.

Raito has magic hands. He thought dreamily, forgetting his initial discomfort and misery for the moment as those slim fingers continued to massage and pet him gently. Curled up in fetal position, thumb pressed against his lips, L began to drift off in a state of relaxation, not quite sleep, but not quite awake. He, for once, forgot about the ominous Kira Investigation that always occupied his thoughts and the calculated percentages of Raito being Kira (twenty per cent? Fifty per cent? Hell, he didn't know anymore).

It was…nice.

Unknowingly, a small smile tugged at his lips as he began to slip into lala land, a wonderful dream world where everything was made out of chocolate and gingerbread and there was a never ending supply of strawberries. He snuggled into his pillow with a contented sigh; smile growing as Raito was added into his dream.

With bemusement, Raito could only wonder what L was possibly dreaming about to make the normally stoic genius smile like that.

X.x.X

Back in the Investigation room, Matsuda noticed something off when he looked up from the documents he was reviewing. "Hey guys…"

Aizawa grunted. "What?""Why are Ryuuzaki and Raito taking so long in the bathroom?"

There was silence and everyone turned to Soichirou, who was valiantly ignoring the innuendo hidden in that innocent question.

"We…probably don't want to know, Matsuda."

4th Oneshot: Misunderstanding

Raito didn't know whether to be shocked, annoyed, amused or just plain mortified.

When the stubborn detective had drifted off to sleep with a small smile curled round his lips (probably dreaming about candy or catching Kira knowing him), Raito had decided to relax a little as well. So he stayed sitting beside L on the bed, one hand occasionally brushing ebony tresses in a soothing motion like he did when his sister was ill, and the other occupied with a thriller book that he had salvaged from Matsuda a while back and stored it under the bed until a time when he needed it.

But during this moment, L had wriggled about in his sleep and rolled over (tangling himself a little in those annoying handcuffs in the process). Raito, who was unaware of this change, simply turned over a page in his book.

Then L muttered something and suddenly threw his arms around Raito's waist, nuzzling the younger male's hip.

Raito had jumped slightly, blinking rapidly as he tried to figure out what to do about his, er, predicament.

So, he stared down at the sleeping detective, twisting to the side a little and allowing the older male to rest his cheek on his thigh instead of it being pressed semi-uncomfortably against his hip. Setting down the book after marking his page, Raito rested a hand atop of the insomniac's head, threading slim fingers through sleek strands. "Ryuuzaki?" He whispered, just in case L was awake.

L mumbled something incoherent, arms tightening round Raito's waist.

Raito sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward. The detective continued to annoy him even when asleep. Amazing. Absently ruffling L's hair, he allowed the older male to use his thigh as a pillow (as long as he didn't drool on him) and picked up the book again, continuing from where he left off.

Raito flicked a page.

"…awberries…" L randomly muttered, curling his body round Raito and pressing his face into the juncture between Raito's thigh and hip – i.e. dangerously close to his crotch.

Raito cleared his throat uncomfortably; resolutely ignoring the warm pliable body pressed against his lower back and lowered his book again. "Ryuuzaki." He said a little louder, tapping the insomniac's hot forehead.

"Mmph…?" Came the garbled answer.

Raito sighed, again, and shook the older male's shoulder awkwardly. "Ryuuzaki…can you, well, let go?"

Sluggishly, L raised his head slightly, hazed obsidian eyes blinking fuzzily at the uncomfortable looking Raito. "Let go of what?" He yawned, obsidian eyes drooping again as he nuzzled a rather, ah, intimate region of Raito's anatomy.

"Gck…!" Raito's face flooded with warmth, his blush rivalling that on his bedmate, and shook the older male's shoulder harder. "Let go of me." He stressed tightly, eyebrow twitching erratically. Who would've thought that L, the ruler of social retardom, was so damn clingy when ill?

"But I am cold, Raito-kun." L murmured, not realizing where he was nuzzling. "And you are warm."

Feeling that his face was on fire, Raito coughed lightly. "That's just your fever talking, Ryuuzaki. You're not really cold." He carefully raised L's face from his crotch, pressing the back of his hand against the detective's sweaty forehead. "You're actually pretty hot."

"I am cold." L disagreed petulantly, arms tightening round Raito's waist.

Raito heaved a sigh. "Alright…" He glanced to the side, frowning, before easily prising L's grip from around his waist and hefting him up lightly.

"What?" L yelped, involuntarily, as he was suddenly deposited into Raito's lap, one of his suspect's hands stroking his hair and the other holding him in place on his lower back. "Raito-kun?"

"There." Raito grunted, shuffling back on the bed a little, legs crossed awkwardly under the light build of his bedmate. He firmly told himself that this position was much better than the one with L touching some places that shouldn't be touched by another male. "You should be warmer now."

L blinked, his almost invisible shivers dying down from the heavenly warmth of his suspect's body. His obsidian eyes drooped, a low purr emitting from his throat when Raito's 'magic hand' combed his wild tresses gently, fingertips massaging his scalp, and his other rubbed the small of his back. He felt ready to fall asleep again (twice in one day? L decided that being ill was more effective than sleeping pills) and so snuggled against his only source of warmth and prepared to drift off.

Unaware of the series of events that were about to unfold.

X.x.X

Soichirou couldn't take it anymore. "I am going to look for Ryuuzaki and my son."

Matsuda looked up, the other investigators shifting awkwardly in their seats. "Uh…Yagami-san…? Maybe we shouldn't do that…" He trailed off, fidgeting with the corner of his documents as he refused to look at the older man.

Aizawa nodded, eyes firmly glued to his own documents. "Yeah, it's probably best not to go looking for them. 'Out of sight, out of mind', as they say."

Twitching, Soichirou stood. "I need to check on them." He almost growled, adamantly ignoring the innuendos hidden in his co-workers voices. "To see if they're…alright."

Matsuda finally peeked at his twitching superior, wondering if he should burst the man's bubble of his son's straightness or not. "Urhm…well…they've been in the bathroom for over two hours…" He mumbled, not liking the aura Soichirou was emitting. "So…I think we should…leave them alone…?"

Mogi nodded in agreement to the young officer's statement turned question.

Soichirou's calm cracked. "They're not doing anything!" He growled, standing up. "And I will prove it!" Then the older man stormed off towards where he knew the other's bedroom was.

The other investigators stared after the irate man.

Aizawa's afro jiggled. "Oh boy…"

X.x.X

Raito plucked at the white sweater clinging wetly to the feverish detective, damp from sweat, and frowned in distaste. This wouldn't help L get better at all. "Ryuuzaki." He murmured softly, hearing the half asleep insomniac give a grunt in reply. "I need to take your sweater off. It's not helping you get better."

"But it is keeping me warm, Raito-kun." L argued, twitching when he felt his stomach (which had been behaving thus far) give a rebellious gurgle.

"It is damp, it'll make you worse." Raito shot back, carefully lying L back against the bed and tugged the baggy sweater up. "You need to take the handcuffs off, Ryuuzaki." The younger male stated, realizing a slight snag in his plan

L huffed, turning his head away and crossing his arms. "Raito-kun's percentage has risen by five per cent."

Raito's eyes narrowed, a dangerous smirk curling round his lips. "Alright then, I guess we're going to do this the hard way then."

Five minutes later, Soichirou walked in.

X.x.X

Soichirou was in shock.

He had opened the door to L's and Raito's shared bedroom as he faintly heard some voices from there. And what did he see?

L sprawled on the bed, shirtless, face flushed and sweaty, obsidian eyes half lidded and lips parted – looking 'sexed up'. And his son, his innocent son, straddling the detective's waist, equally as flushed, unlocked handcuffs in one hand and tossing L's sweater aside with the other, a smirk coiled round his lips.

"You should've just taken it off when I told you to, Ryuuzaki." His son declared smugly.

L groaned, draping an arm over his forehead. "Raito-kun was too rough. I am worn out…" He bemoaned, resting his hand on his suspect's thigh. "And my stomach is-"

Soichirou snapped out of his daze. "What is going on here?!" He shouted, eyes darting between the two males on the bed.

Raito jerked in surprise, sepia eyes blinking rapidly at his father, dropping the handcuffs on the bed. "D-Dad…?" Raito's eyes then widened, obviously comprehending the situation. "No! No, Dad!" He barked, lifting himself up to press all of his weight on the detective's hips, waving his hands in front of him wildly. "It's not what it looks like!"

L sat up as well, leaning back on his hands and unaware of the compromising pose he was in with his suspect. "Yagami-san…?" He asked curiously, looking vaguely confused. "Why are y-"

"Ryuuzaki!" Raito hissed, smacking a hand over the insomniac's mouth in case the feverish man said something that would make the whole thing worse in his careless, blunt manner. Turning to his father, whose face was eerily calm, Raito smiled nervously. "Dad, Ryuuzaki is sick, and his sweater was overheating him but he was being stubborn so I had to force it…off of…him…" He trailed off when he realized how flimsy that sounded.

L pulled Raito's hand from his mouth. "It is true." He agreed, mind finally catching up. "I am very ill and Raito-kun was simply helping me."

Soichirou looked between them, before shaking his head. "Son…" He sighed. "If you are truly…" He paused. "Son," He tried again. "I will accept you no matter what you…prefer…" He forced out. "Even…Ryuuzaki…"

Raito's face was the very epitome of horror. "No! Dad, you misunderstand! I'm not gay! Ryuuzaki really is sick so I-"

"Raito." Soichirou cut in. "I understand. There is no need to defend yourself. I will not be prejudice towards you or Ryuuzaki." Then the bear like man turned and walked out of the room stiffly, looking like he wanted to do nothing more than to hit the nearest bar and never leave until his inebriated mind believed once more that his son was straight.

Ah, denial…

The two male stared at the open door, one looking horrified beyond belief and the other with bored confusion.

Raito groaned suddenly, smacking a hand over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh damn it all to hell…" He grumbled. "Why does this shit happen to me?"

"Raito-kun." L tugged on his suspect's wrist, wide obsidian eyes meeting resigned sepia. "I need to go to the bathroom. I think I am going to throw up again."

Raito twitched.

What did he do to deserve this!?



@темы: Fanfiction, Death Note, Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink, L, Light, Raito, Stuffing, Tummyache, Vomiting, sick!fic, Аниме, Боль в животе, Живот, Стаффинг, Фанфикшн

22:05 

EvilStufferSebastian
askbloatedbellyblog.tumblr.com/post/15379112430...


Things started innocently when Yuri had suggested that he and Victor go back to Detroit to practice over Thanksgiving. Given Victor’s current penchant for food and his own winning streak (meaning he was allowed to have a cheat meal), he thought it would be a fun way to mix both food and their relationship. Though when Yuri Plisetsky heard that their little getaway involved mass quantities of food as well as time to practice on a new routine and a chance to annoy the two love birds, Yurio was all in.

Yuri Katsuki didn’t think it would be that big of deal when the pair of Russians went with him for a Thanksgiving meal. During his time training and attending school, he had experienced the strange American holiday many times, complete with the eating of mass quantities with his friends and colleagues that he knew. What he hadn’t counted on was two hungry Russians experiences the holiday of gorging for the first time.


At the local restaurant that was hosting the Thanksgiving for the foreigners (one that he had attended a couple of times during his days training there), Yuri rubbed his distended belly from overeating under the now messy table, enjoying being so full once again. He brought his hand to his mouth and burped gently into his fist, trying to have at least some semblance of manners. Yuri felt a tinge of drafty air around the hem of his shirt, a familiar feeling from when he had gained weight before he met Victor. The lower bit of his expanded abdomen was exposed to the air when it wasn’t completely fitting. “Thank goodness this is only for one day this time. I should be fine by morning,” he said to himself.


However, he wasn’t sure if the same could be said about his two companions. Next to him was Victor Nikiforov, who somewhere along the lines had lost his shirt and opened his pants. After enjoying himself far too much on the bounty of food in front of him, he had added to it spiked egg nog, spritzers, wine, and other alcoholic drinks. This had only served to add to his appetite as if he was dull to the pain and any other inhibitions that he might have previously had. At least that’s what Yuri said to himself thinking about Victor’s surprise gluttonous appetite throughout the evening.

Yuri had blushed deeply in embarrassment and fact of being in close proximity to his boyfriend and idol when he took off his shirt. Victor had laid it beside him, unbuttoned his pants, and just continued to eat. By now the evidence was clear that Victor was both truly stuffed and completely sloshed. He vacillated between having his head on the table or being tipsy and discovering that everything was fascinating or incredibly silly. For a moment, Victor poked and tickled his distended belly that now sat in his lap. Yuri tried not to focus on the impressive size of Victor’s exposed belly, though it was hard to miss when the silver haired Russian now sported an impressive food baby that made him look like he was 6 months due or worse underneath his stretched skin.

“Yuuuuriiiii…come feel this… it’s so firm! Look at how much I ate….*hic*” Victor mused as he half cuddled/half flopped onto Yuri due to his drunken state. When Victor hiccupped, it forced his whole body to move, from his well defined pecs to jump slightly to his tight stuffed belly that was pressing into him as he got closer to Yuri. Victor, not taking no for an answer, grabbed Yuri’s hand and placed directly onto his gut and made him glide it over the surface as he moaned. “Yuri…It’s my food baby!” he said proudly into Yuri’s ear as a seductive half whisper. Victor tried to right himself again a bit and only had the effect of dislodging a small belch from the famous skater. Yuri was mortified and prayed that no one had their cameras with them to post it on the internet. Though he made a mental note to take some pictures of his own or at the very least scour the internet afterwards for pictures for his own private collection.

That is until his attention was dragged away from his very drunk boyfriend by the sound of a crass belch the echoed through the restaurant. Yuri tried to locate the sound and realized he couldn’t see Yurio for a moment. He looked around to see if the younger Russian skater had left or gone somewhere else in the restaurant until he took a closer look to where Yurio had been sitting. In it’s place there was a curved mound that rose and fell and looked like a flesh covered crescent from across the table. “That couldn’t be…” Yuri thought to himself. He rose from his seat at the bench and saw that indeed the flesh crescent grew more into an ab covered moon attached to his younger rival.


“Yurio!” was all that Yuri could say as he looked at the teen’s state. If Victor was big, Yurio was easily twice the size. Each deep breath he tried to take made him wince and Yurio moaned slightly as he tried to rub his massively swollen belly. His pants were completely forced open and his lion shirt had been forced all the way up to make room for his gorge. And gorge he had. During the feast, taking the meal as a serious competition between the three skaters, Yurio had tied back his hair and dived in and devoured all that he could, even requesting seconds of the massively overstocked plates that had adorned the table. His desperation had made him lose much of his manners and as was the case when Yurio first came to Yuri’s family hot spring, he had eaten messily. Now it definitely showed with crumbs and various food stains on the side of his lips as he laid in a moaning daze.

Yurio burped again loudly, this time in a much wetter style that relayed just how stuffed and sick he now was. He groaned something in Russian and from his reaction, Yuri guessed it was about being too full. Yurio’s abs tensed over the food packed solid inside of him and he hiccuped as well. “Yurio…you’re a globe!” Yuri said half to Yuri Plisetsky and half rhetorically. “S-shut up! I at least *hic* ….Oh god I want to die….Ate more than you *belch* LOOOSSEEER!” Yurio retorted. Though on that last “loser” putting too much effort into it made Yurio tense up and he instantly regretted it.

Yuri frowned, then smirked when he saw something that would give him just the revenge that he wanted. Still on the table next to Yurio before he completely fell over onto his back was a half finished gallon of vanilla ice cream along with three-quarters uneaten pumpkin pie. “Oh Yurio. It looks like you’re not done yet. You have to finish up before you really beat me. Try to keep it all down okay?” he said giving an innocent smile though underneath he was full of spite. Yurio tried to protest and even tried to get away from Yuri as brought over the first bite of food, but once he got close to his mouth, Yurio just stared at the forkful of pumpkin pie and lashed out a bit to eat it. “Apparently he found the room,” Yuri thought to himself. “That’s it, eat up,” he said as he delivered bite after bite of the pie and ice cream to Yurio. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could actually see Yurio’s belly swell out even more, taking up more space on the bench seat and making the bloated belly jut out even more from his usually trim torso.

Yurio didn’t make much of a sound other than muttering cursed under his breath as the teen ate more of the food that was given to him, though Yuri was taking a liking to feeding him. In the back of his mind, he thought about taking the opportunity to do the same to Victor one evening in a little bit more intimate setting. He was lost in this thought when he realized that the pie and ice cream that he was feeding Yurio was finally gone. With one more smirk, Yuri grabbed a half empty carafe of milk. “Now sit up and let’s wash that all down,” he said trying to prop up his younger rival.

After a few protests, Yurio sat up slightly and Yuri was able to bring the carafe to his lips and he tilted it up and forced him to drink it all. Yurio sputtered a bit at the sudden drink but then dutifully drank the rest of the milk down, leaving the table completely devoid of any remaining food. Yurio let out a huge belch, even bigger than the one that had reminded Yuri of his presence. Yurio moaned loudly as it turned into more of a growl. His belly cramped and his hands flew to his mouth, suddenly sick. Turning a little green, Yurio swallowed down anything that came up in defiance, determined to make sure that he was truly the winner in this feast. Though that was true even before Yuri had fed him, Yuri wasn’t about to do something that might cause him to lose his determination on keeping all that food down.

In a moment of strength, Yurio grunted heavily and forced his belly to the side. He half rolled, half bent over and grabbed on to the table and bench in an extremely awkward fashion until he finally was able to get into a sitting position and force his gut mostly underneath the table though he was now big enough that his gut pressed slightly against the table. Yuri ducked under the table to get in between the two stuffed Russians and extended his hands out to either belly to rub their distensions to try to make them feel better. He never thought he would be enjoying the act and forgetting his mortified state from earlier but he continued on until he saw a waitress. He smiled apologetically. “Um can we get the check please?” asking humbly as if to beg for forgiveness for the behavior of both of them.

When the check soon arrived and the bill paid, Yuri slipped back under the table to help the still very drunk Victor get to his feet and try to give him the extra support that he needed so that they could get back to their hotel room. There was a cry from the booth. “Hey! A little help!?” Yuri and Victor turned with Victor’s arm still around Yuri’s neck for support. “I am having a little trouble…” Yurio said blushing a little and suddenly looking timid. Yuri just smirked again. “Oh yeah? Who’s the loser now, piggy? Or should I say tubby kitty? We’ll see you back up in our room.” Without another word, Yuri and Victor staggered back to their room, leaving the protesting words of the overly stuffed Yurio behind. “Maybe this wasn’t a bad Thanksgiving after all,” Yuri thought.

@темы: Фанфикшн, Стаффинг, Живот, Боль в животе, Аниме, Yuri On Ice, Stuffing

00:26 

EvilStufferSebastian
thfrustration.tumblr.com/post/61816036782/bad-r...
Bad Romance - Chapter 10

TITLE: Bad Romance

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: Ch. 10- Loki, spicy chicken and salt and pepper!

AUTHOR: Loki’s Anon

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki, before Thor

GENRE: Comedy, Romance, Erotica

FIC SUMMARY:Marly, a Midgardian brought to Asgard as a child after events unknown to her happened on Earth, has a crush on Loki since she can remember.

RATING:M-Mature, in some chapters


AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: Language for this chapter, thats really all. Hope you like:)

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Bad Romance

Ch. 10- Loki, spicy chicken and salt and pepper!

Marly’s POV

“Can I ask you something?…” I was really confused about what exactly me and Loki where, I still, mind you, couldn’t understand why he was with me, spending all this time here and asking me to kiss him and shit like that, not to mention last night and the night in the cave thing! I didn’t understand why he, a prince, would want to even talk to a loser nobody like me. I know, that’s harsh, but that’s what I really am, a nobody, plus I’m not the best looking… maybe we were just friends? Even being friends was odd though you know?

“What?” he asked simply, flipping the menu over, his eyes scanning the food choices, omg he was so cute! I almost forgot what I was saying, like usual with Loki.

“What are we… me and you… like I read something the other day, about mustard, mayonnaise, ketchup and salt and pepper. It said that mayo, ketchup and mustard are just friends, because they are three you know? Like… they can’t like each other because of that, so they are just friends…. And one would feel left out and alone if two of them got together… but salt and pepper are like….. you know…. In love. They are always together and no other spice comes between them, they’re a perfect match and they love each other….” I know, that was stupid, I don’t know why I even said that in front of him. Trust me, as soon as I said it, I regretted it!

“What?” he laughed and looked up at me, “What kind of books are you reading?”

“…. Never mind…” Ugh! Please you guys, kill me now! Why did I even say that?! Ugh!

But he leaned in close to me across the table, a smirk played on his perfect rosy little lips and his eyes looked directly into mine, I instantly felt uncomfortable I looked everywhere but his perfect fucking face. Bloody hell, save me from this, I’m melting!

“Do you really think friends pleasure each other like I did you? Do you really think friends kiss like me and you? Tell me Marly, do you really think we are just friends?”

“T-t-then we are best friends?” Okay, I know that was stupid too, but… just be quiet, I’m stupid, I know!

His eyes narrowed and he looked at me more intensely, making me shift in my seat uncomfortably.

“Have you ever had a man?”

“W-w-what?!” I was shocked, I didn’t see that coming! Oh snap…

“I can see you haven’t. I already know you haven’t been with a man intimately, but you haven’t even had a boyfriend?” his eyebrows shot up, I could tell he was surprised, and I felt embarrassed. I couldn’t hide the sadness, because no, I’ve never had anyone come around and even pretend to like me, I always hoped for someone (eeheemm Loki maybe?!), but I was ugly and not even from this realm, I guess I could understand why no one had ever shown interest. He looked at me a second before sitting back against his chair and crossing his arms across his chest.

“I like this, I like that you are, and will always be, mine and only mine.” He grinned but I didn’t say anything. His? What did that make us then?

Then the waitress came, and boy was she all over him, she didn’t even look at me but to see who Loki was with. Yeah, I was used to people looking at me like that, I knew her too, she was a bitch that I went to school with. She and her hot friends teased me like they got paid for it.

“Prince what can I get you, I’ll get you anything” she smiled and batted her eyelashes at him. Loki looked at her, up and down, checking her out probably. Yeah, I instantly felt jealous for no reason, he wasn’t anything to me you know, he hadn’t even answered my question about what me and him where! But I felt jealous none the less…

“What should I get, I’ve never been here before” he smiled at her. Wow, he knew how to make me feel like crap, I hated him….

“Hmmm, your servant would have a good idea, she’s been here many times Prince. I don’t eat here, I watch my figure.” She smiled. There she goes, that’s the bitch I remember, treating me like shit and making fun of me and my body. But it was like a gazillion times more embarrassing in front of Loki.

“What should I have?” he asked, looking over at me. I couldn’t believe it, a little part of me had expected him to say, no she’s not my servant, she’s my girlfriend or friend or best friend, but I knew how stupid that was. I felt like crying, it was like he was joining her in making fun of me… what do I do?! I looked down at the table, not being able to say anything, I didn’t want them to see me upset, but I could feel the fucking tears coming. He asked again and I finally picked something from the menu, I just pointed at it without looking and he looked, then told the bitch he would have that.

“And what for you?” he asked me and I told her I would have the same thing. She talked a little to him and then left to do something, probably fix her hair for him or something. Loki noticed, he wasn’t stupid of course, that I was upset.

“Don’t tell me, are you angry about something?” He laughed, “What is it?”

“No, nothing…” I mumbled and took a drink of water, chocking on it. Loki stood and walked over to me, patting my back gently to help me but I moved away from him. I was angry, he had no idea how much it hurt me. Call me a drama queen, but I hated that girl, and it hurt to know that he only considered me a servant…

He was surprised when I moved away from him, but he only stood and walked back to his seat, the smile on his face gone, he looked… mad. We were quiet until our food came. Then I noticed it, opps again! Story of my life.

“Prince, don’t eat that, the meat is very spicy and you will get sick.” I had to warn him, it was my fault. Great, I had to pick the spiciest one for him!

“You don’t think I can handle it? You will see” he said, picking the chicken up and took a bite. After a few chews, his face began to turn red, suits him right! I didn’t even try to stop him, and I didn’t even eat my food, I had lost my appetite. He kept eating, probably to show me up but whatever, I just wanted to go home and cry.

But it wasn’t over, bitch came back for round two of humiliation, and this was bad, REALLY BAD!

“Prince, did Marly tell you about her little crush on you? Heavens, it’s kind of cute actually, everyone knew about it since she could never hide it, Isabel told us about her obsession too! When she was little, Ana called her Mrs. Odinson secretly and she always wore green, like the green you wear Prince!” she laughed and sat down in the empty chair, what was worse? Loki looked at me and laughed too, after taking a drink of water, his face wasn’t red from the spice anymore. People, he laughed at me you can imagine how the insecure me felt, he laughed at me!

“She must be happy to be your servant now. Poor Marly, everyone knew that was impossible, liking a Prince of Asgard and being a mortal. Marly, did you ever get that little stuffed prince Loki you wanted? Oh right! You didn’t have money to play the game, how sad!” she pouted and laughed, “Isabel told us about it, that when you began to work you went to play but you never could get one” she laughed, placing a hand on Loki’s shoulder, he was still laughing at what she was saying, but looked at her hand like thinking bitch, get your paws off me! Or I hoped that’s what he thought, he probably wasn’t used to people just touching him, or maybe he liked her touching him, idk..

That was all I could take too, I stood and ran out of the restaurant as fast as I could, then the tears came, I cried so hard I couldn’t see in front of me, only a few people turned and looked at me, thankfully no one I knew well. Of course I tripped, but before I could hit the floor someone caught me and turned me around, it was Loki, oh hell I couldn’t get away from him! It was night and I had ran far enough that the street was almost empty.

“Where are you going Mrs. Odinson?” he asked, and I began to struggle against his hold, I was a crying mess and I wanted to just go die! When he didn’t let me go I stopped and gave up, it was impossible to keep struggling against him so I cried there in front of him, how pathetic I know…

He watched as I cried louder and louder, my whole body shook from my cries and I just wanted him to leave, go! Go laugh with bitch at the restaurant! His face showed no emotion as he just stood there, not even trying to stop me from crying. Finally after like forever when my crying turned into just sobbing he spoke.

“Why are you so upset over what the waitress said?” he questioned me, like he didn’t even know! My god! Would you not have cried? Imagine that! I just shrugged, I didn’t want to talk to him. Slowly he let go of my wrists and cupped my ugly wet face in his gorgeous big hands.

“It was just a bit of fun, I did not intend to make you this upset by laughing too.” He whispered, and I sniffed, ugh I wanted the ground to swallow me up!

“I’m sorry for upsetting you, about your feelings towards—”

“Please, I don’t want to talk about that…” I begged him, starting to cry again.

“Shhh, don’t cry. Why don’t you just tell me?” he whispered, wiping my tears with his thumbs.

“Please…” I mumbled again.

He sighed, rolling his eyes, “How am I to tell you how I feel if you won’t? Why can’t you just say it?”

“Because, look at me, I-I-I’m…ugly…. You heard what she said, that it would never happen and everyone knew that and everyone laughed at me and everyone made jokes about my… feelings, its embarrassing to admit it…. Please…” I started to cry again.

“Just say it, I want to hear it from you” he said, his voice was stronger, it was a command.

I hesitated and tried to look away but his hold on my face tightened, preventing me from looking away so I sucked it up and said it.

“I like you Loki…” I closed my eyes, never had I felt so embarrassed, mortified, scared, humiliated and everything else horrible in my whole life, I felt like I was going to fucking pass out.

He grinned and moved one of his hands to my lower back, pulling me to him, “Marly, I like you too. Now I can answer your question from before, you can say that me and you are like salt and pepper, you are my girl and I am your man” he leaned down and kissed my forehead slowly, then tilted my face up and kissed my lips. It was cold but his lips were so warm and tasty, all of him warmed me up completely, his words made my heart flutter and swell, was it true? Instantly I felt like a million bucks! Pinch me! Someone fucking pinch me!

Salt and pepper, me and Loki are like salt and pepper! Wait, that’s weird haha! But I was so happy! Then his stomach grumbled, really REALLY loud.

Oh right! The spicy chicken…

He pulled away from me, which he had never done before, you know that it was usually me who pulled away and stopped him, he was holding his stomach, his face was pulled into a painful grimace.

“What in the 9 realms did you make me eat?” he winced and looked back to me as his stomach growled again.

“I didn’t make you eat anything…I told you not to…” I knew this would happen, that’s why I warned him!

He whined, slouching over, placing one hand on his knee while the other still rubbed his stomach, “They have poisoned me!” he said suddenly.

“No! No! That happens with that chicken, you just need a bathroom” I said and when he looked at me I looked away fidgeting with my fingers, feeling guilty.

He moaned, standing up straight and nodding, his forehead was sweaty already, “I think you are right, take me there, now!”

I nodded and ran off, but then I realized he wasn’t with me, so I looked back and he was standing back there, holding his stomach, looking all mad, oh right, I forgot! I ran back to him quickly and slowly and hesitantly reached out for his hand, once I put my hand in his he held it firmly and I began to take him to the nearest bathroom, he moaned and complained the whole time, blaming me and telling me I would pay for doing this to him. I didn’t argue he was right, I had ordered the food, ugh! I’m so fucking stupid!

Finally we made it there and Loki looked at the bathrooms with disgust, yeah they looked kinda rough and nasty, not to mention they smelled so bad they could knock out the whole freaking Earth!

“Do you really think I’m going to go in there?!” he said angry.

“It’s the closest one! Its that or wait until you get to the palace or my house…” I mumbled and he groaned angrily. I always managed to make him mad, great…

But then his stomach growled again and he took the bottom of his shirt, placing it over his nose and opening the door, hesitating and looking at me annoyed before finally stepping in and closing the door. I sat outside and waited, for like ever too, poor Loki! I felt bed, I really felt bad! Then he finally came out, looking horrible, horribly beautiful.

“You—“ he stopped, he moaned and stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door quickly.

Oh, now I really felt bad! I wait a whole lifetime before he came back out, still holding his stomach. I think you know what was really wrong with Loki, like really, no need to say it! Let me just say he wasn’t like vomiting sick…

“Lets go” he said and began to walk back to where the horse was, so he did know his way back! I stood and quickly followed behind him.

“Do you do this on purpose?” he said as he walked.

“No…I’m sorry… I really—“

“Just don’t” he mumbled.

When we finally reached the horse, the man brought horsy and Loki lifted me up on top of him, I moved back so Loki could sit in front and he looked at me confused, I usually sat in front of him.

“I’ll rub your belly to make it feel better….” Goodness! That was awful but I wanted to do something for him! I had taken him to a place where he had been groped and touched in places he himself had probably never touched, dunked him into cold water in front of everyone and gave him diarrhea from spicy food, I wanted to do something dammit…

He looked surprised, but he smiled and got up on the horse, sitting in front of me and we began to ride off after thanking the man for caring for horsy all day. I was a little scared to do it at first, so I just kept my hands still.

“Well?” he asked, “I thought you where going to do something for me…”

“Oh, yeah” I said stupidly and began to rub his stomach gently with my open palms. His back was warm and his abs were tight and hard, I had dreamed about something like this happening like my whole miserable life. I rested my face against his broad back as horsy carried us back to my house. A dream come true! Check!

“I can’t feel anything” he said and took my hands in one of his, slipping them under his shirt, I flinched and tugged trying to pull them away but he didn’t let go.

“Now, you may continue” he said and took hold of the reins again. So slowly I started to rub his bare stomach, okay this is what I really wanted to do, I’m not going to lie. It was the first time I had really, like really, touched him, his skin was soft, softer than I had imagined, so soft I wanted to lick it! Oh, forget I said that! Suddenly I realized I was tracing his abs and stopped, rubbing his tummy again but he laughed, I could feel his muscles tighten when he did, it was so… sexy! Asdfghjkl!

“You can do that, I don’t mind” he said and I swallowed, of course he had noticed, I hadn’t even noticed I was doing it! I decided to change the subject, but I kept rubbing his stomach slowly.

“What’s your horses name? Does he have a name?”

“No” he said simply.

“But why? You always bring him, you had him the other day, so I know he’s yours, why don’t you name him?”

“I don’t know, I just didn’t”

“But you have too, how about… hmm I read about a famous Midgardian named Galileo—“

“Galileo? No!”

“Why not?”

“No!“

“Then you think of something.” I said back.

“No!”

“Then its Galileo!”

“No, I said no!”

“Its Galileo!” I said happily and he sighed, not arguing anymore. Suddenly he placed one of his hands over mine and stopped my hands from rubbing his stomach.

“… You don’t like?” I felt kinda rejected, you know the feeling right?

“I think I like it too much…” he said back. Oh… what did that mean?

“Then… I should keep going?” I asked.

“If you want, I just wanted to warn you”

“About what?” I asked, still confused.

He sighed then stopped the horse, getting off then reaching up to me, placing his hands on my hips and lifting me off, it always surprised me how easily he could lift me. I looked around, we were just out by the road, nowhere special…

Loki took the horse’s reins and my hand, then he stepped into the trees, leading me and Galileo into the dark forest. We didn’t go far, he stopped and tied Galileo to a tree and led me a little further in, then he turned and looked down at me. He reached up and ran his fingers lightly down my cheek, his eyes watching the goosebumps his touch left on my skin.

“Marly, lets do something a man and a woman do when they are together like salt and pepper” he whispered as his hand settled on the back of my neck and his thumb rubbed my skin gently, my heart began to race and I could feel the blood quickly drain from my face when he said that…

Oh shit…

@темы: Фанфикшн, Аниме, Stuffing

19:33 

EvilStufferSebastian
www.fanfiction.net/s/9351276/1/Never-Alone

By:Random Dawn 14

A story in which Light learns what happens when you bring cake into an apartment where a cake lover happens to live. Kind of a random idea. Does not take place during the actual storyline; more of an alternate universe. Nothing gay here. Just fluff. :3

Fiction K+

English

L, Light Y.



All the kids in school said the new boy was weird, and as far as Light could see, they were right.

While all the other children ran around playing with each other, the boy sat by himself under a tree. And he always seemed to be alone. Light couldn't tell if he was a loner, or if nobody wanted to be around him.

It was probably the latter.

"What are you doing, Light?" An annoying voice asked.

Light sighed before saying, 'Go away, Misa. Be annoying somewhere else."


Instead of listening, Misa sat down next to him. "Ooooh! Are we watching the new kid?"

"He has a name, Misa."

"Really?" Misa looked confused. "I've never heard anyone call him anything but "that new kid". And yesterday I heard a big kid call him a dumb-a—"

"Misa! You shouldn't go around repeating everything the older kids say!"

"Why not?"

Light sighed again. "Never mind why not. Just go play with your friends of something."

"But I love you!" Misa giggled. "I want to stay with you forever!"

"You're eight; how much do you even know about love?"

"Um…not a lot…" she admitted. "But, I know enough to know that I love you, Light Yagami!"

"What I have to put up with… Look at it this way; you're eight, and I'm ten. You're too young for me."

"What about when we get older?"

I'll always be two years older than you. And I don't plan to date younger girls when I grow up."

In fact, I don't plan to date any girls when I grow up.

Misa made a "hmph" noise, then stood up. "You'll change your mind one day, Light."

As she walked away, Light began to wonder why, out of all the girls in the world, the most annoying girl on the planet had to be in love in with him.

With any luck, she'd get less irritating as she grew older.

Shaking his head at that thought, because right now it seemed like Misa would always be this exasperating, he walked over to the new boy.

After watching him a while, Light decided he looked lonely, and was probably too shy—or too afraid—to try and make some friends. He had only been there for less than a week, after all; not a lot of time to got to know anybody.

I'll help him out, though, Light thought,


I'll be his friend, then the others will decide he's not so bad. After all, I'm one of the most popular kids in my grade."

Hi. I'm Light."

The boy looked up at him for a moment before responding with a timid, "Hello…"

Light sat down next to him before asking, "What are you doing over here by yourself?"

"I like being alone," the boy said with a shrug.

"Oh. If you want to be alone, I'll leave…"

"No, it's okay! Um…I don't mind if you stay here."

Light looked at the boy. He looked like a lonely puppy looking for a home. He had a pleading look on his face that seemed to say, "I don't like being alone; please don't leave me!"

Light looked him in the eye. I won't leave you, he silently promised. "You don't have any friends yet, do you?"

The boy shook his head. "No one evens talks to me because I'm so different from everyone else…"

Light frowned. "I'm talking to you."

"No one else is."

"Hmm… Hey, Misa! Come here a minute!"

The young girl was only too happy to do so.

"What is it, Light?" She asked hopefully. "Did you change your mind about—"

"No. I want you talk to…" He turned to the boy. "Uh, I don't know your name."

"…L"

"Right. Misa, talk to L. You're sooo good at talking with people," he noted sarcastically.

"Okay then!" She faced L. "Hi! Welcome to our school, even though you've been here almost a week now! I'm Misa, and Light's going to be my boyfriend one day!"

"Okay, that's enough, Misa!" Light blushed.

"But, I wasn't done—"

"Bye!" He gave Misa a slight shove that sent her on her way back to her friends.

"…"

"Don't listen to her; she thinks she knows what love is, but she's only eight."

"I see…"

"But now two people have talked to you. Stick with me, and pretty soon you won't be such an outsider."

"Stick with you?"

"Yeah. You know, be my friend."

"You…want to my friend?"

Light smiled. "Of course. You seem like a nice person. We just met and I like you already." L smiled slightly.

"Okay, let's be friends, then."

Light continued to smile. "We'll be friends forever, I can feel it!"


As the years went by, the two continued to be friends, and they did a lot together.

When they were old enough to live on their own, they rented an apartment together. The fact that they chose to live with each other was only another sign of how close they are were as friends.

Oh, and Misa (eventually) matured and wasn't quite so annoying. In fact, she and Light started seeing each other, despite the fact that ten years ago Light had said he wouldn't be interested in younger woman.

Hey! Where do you think you're going?! This story isn't over! No, it's just beginning…

Two years after Light and L moved in together…

L's P.O.V.


Waking up to find your arm numb because you fell asleep laying on top of it is not the best to start a day. And waking up to find out it's only five o'clock in the morning makes it even worse.

I should know; that's just how my day started this morning.

With a quiet groan, I sat up and freed my poor arm. When the numb feeling went away, I stood up and silently left the room.

It was too early to be up, but I didn't feel tired, so reading in the living room (Or, what we called a living room) seemed like a good way to pass the time until Light woke up.

Every day this week I had woken up at this time. And it was Friday.

This was becoming a problem…

The morning was warm; even though it was summer it could get chilly before the sun came up.

I turned a lamp on then got comfortable on the couch with a book.

A half hour went by fairly quick, and around the time five-thirty rolled around, I started getting hungry. After another half hour later (At about six o'clock) my stomach was growling.

I wanted to keep reading until seven, but an empty stomach can be a very persistent thing.

I'll feed you when Light wakes up. You can wait that long, can't you?

A loud growl and sudden hunger pains answered that question.

Alright, alright. Point taken. Ow.

Oh well; not like me and Light eat breakfast together every single morning anyway.

I like being able to wait for him to get up so we can eat together, but what I don't like are hunger pains so bad I feel sick.

Once the pain subsided I got up and made my way over to the kitchen. Which didn't take long; the apartment wasn't that big.

It only took a moment for me to notice the cake on the counter.

How did get there, though? I knew for a fact it hadn't been there yesterday morning.

Well…I did spend all of last evening in the bedroom. And now that I think about it…I seem to recall hearing Light go somewhere for a little while after dinner.

I had assumed he was taking a walk; maybe he brought the cake home with him for some reason?

My stomach growled again and a thought crossed my mind.

I like cake. A lot. And Light knows that. He knows if he brings cake home and doesn't tell me not to touch it or doesn't leave a note, I will start eating it.

He never said anything about it last night—otherwise I would have known about it—and I saw no notes; as far as I was concerned, it was fine for me to eat some.

After thinking about it a little more, "eat some" is exactly what I did.

"Ohhh…"

A quiet moan escaped my lips as I lay curled up on the floor.

Stupid cake; why did it have to taste so good? And stupid me for not paying attention and eating it all.

I feel so sick…this wasn't such a good idea… Ugh, and I can't really move.

Although…the floor is surprisingly comfortable; a little chilly, but not so bad.

"So… now what?" I asked myself.

The only answer I got was my belly groaning.

"Shut up. This is partly your fault, you know."

I sighed. I didn't know how long I could take it down here.

I wanted to be on the air mattress that was my bed, and to have someone rub my belly. I wanted someone to look after me, and I wanted that someone to be…Light.

I didn't want to wake him, but I knew I had to.

"Light! Help…"

Light's P.O.V.


One of two things could have woken me up: L calling for me from elsewhere in the apartment, or the knocking on the main door.

The clock on the wall said it was ten after seven.

I didn't even bother wondering about why L was up; what I wanted to know was who the heck was knocking on our door this early?!

With a sigh, I got up and stumbled to answer the door.

Whoever was there was gonna get a punch in the face unless they said something really important to say. Or if they were old. I wouldn't punch out an old person.

Being in an only half-wake state, I didn't think to look out the peephole and opened the door.

Standing there was a woman I guessed was in her early thirties. I think I've seen her around before.

"Ah, good morning," she said. "I'm sorry if I woke you—which judging by the look on your face I did…"

"It's alright," I said quickly. "Can I help you?"

"It's just that…I live in the apartment right under this one, and my daughter woke me up a few minutes ago saying she heard noises that sounded like moaning coming from here. So I came up to see if everything's alright."

"Uh…"

It was in that very moment I became aware of the fact I had no idea what L was up to.

"Er…that was probably my housemate. I guess he isn't feeling well today."

"Oh, that's too bad. You should go make sure he's okay."

I nodded. "Yeah, I'll go do that now. I apologize for him waking you and daughter. It won't happen again."

"No, it's quite alright." With that, she left.

I closed the door and sighed again.

"Today is going to be a wonderful day," I muttered.

"Light…"

"Coming. Where are you anyway?"

"Ugh… Kitchen."

Wanting to know what was going on and feeling a bit worried, I went around the wall that separated the kitchen from the short hallway that led to the door.

I don't know exactly what I was expecting to see, but what I saw probably wasn't it.

"Uh…good morning, Light."

"Morning… Would you mind explaining to me why you're laying the floor like that?"

"It's a long story…"

"I'm almost afraid to ask what happened. Did you hurt yourself?"

"Not in a way you'd think…"

"I don't understand then…" By chance I happened to glance at the counter and noticed right away the cake I brought yesterday was no longer there.

I had gone to a near by bakery to get some bread and saw the cake was on sale, so I figured, why not?

It was obvious what happened; my friend had bitten off more than he could chew and now he was paying the price with a stomach ache.

A bit amused, I turned to the table to see how much he had eaten.

My amusement quickly turned into surprise—well, more of a shock—when I saw the cardboard plate that once held cake on it had nothing more than some crumbs.

Oh my God…did he really…? All in one sitting?!

"…"

I was speechless. The biggest question I wanted to ask was why would he do that to himself. No, I take that back; the biggest question I had was how he did it.

Most people I know would be puking their brains out by now, and that's assuming they could actually finish it.

Still at a bit of a loss for words, I looked down at my housemate laying on his side, all curled up with his arms wrapped protectively around his middle, blushing slightly because now he knew that I knew.

Finally I sat down next to him and asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I think so." His stomach, which was groaning loudly enough that I could hear it, seemed to be saying otherwise.

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"I guess I'm not hundred per cent okay," L admitted with a sigh. He winced and curled up into an even tighter ball.

"Ohhhh… I feel so sick…"

"I'm not surprised; did you really think you'd be able to eat that much cake and not feel sick?"

"It's not like I planned to eat it all," he said defensively. "It just…kind of happened that way."

I gave a little laugh. "Something like that doesn't just 'happen'. Come on, what were you thinking when you were eating?"

"Well, I was really hungry, and…it tasted so good…"

Somehow, L managed to roll over onto his back. Then he looked up at me and sighed.

"It's all really hard to explain…"

"You know, I guess it doesn't matter. All that matters right now is getting you somewhere more comfortable than the floor so you can rest." I stood up and went to the doorway. "Can you get up?"

"I can try…"

It was amusing watching him attempt to get up; his poor belly seemed to be holding him down.

Finally with a sigh, he gave up and turned to me, a pleading look in his dark eyes.

"Help?"

Laughing, I held out my hands to him.

It took a bit of effort, but with a grunt from both of us, I got him up on his feet.

"There ya go," I smiled. "You made it."

"Yay…"

Weakly, he started sinking back down to his knees.

"Hey…" I kneeled down by him. "You can't just lie back down; you have to get to bed."

"I don't…think I can make it to the bedroom."

"That's okay," I reassured him, "you can lay on the couch; it's a little closer."

I noticed he was shaking slightly. This wasn't good…

"What's wrong, L? Are you cold?"

"Y-yes, a little. And my stomach feels kind of funny…"

Oh crap…

I put my hand under his chin and gently forced him to look at me. His face was pale.

I had a bad feeling I knew what was going to happen soon. It might help him feel better, it sure wasn't going to pretty.

"I don't feel so good, Light."

I gave him a sympathetic look. "I know. Come on, now."

I helped him up once more and hurried him to the bathroom.

L's P.O.V.

"Uuuugh…"

Not. Fun.

"Are you okay now?" Light asked.

Breathing heavily, I nodded. "I'll be…fine."

With a deep sigh, I lied down, resting my head on Light's leg.

After a moment, Light started gently stroking my hair.

"Feel better now?"

"Hmm… Much better." It was true; I still didn't feel well, but I no longer had the painful feeling of being overfull. Nor did I feel like I had to be sick again. And that alone made me feel better. "I think I can keep the rest of it down now."

"Oh? Are you sure?"

"Yes." Wait. Was I sure? "I mean, I think I'm sure. Dang it, Light! Why did you have to ask me that?"

I could hear him trying not to laugh as he spoke. "Sorry, I didn't mean to. But if you're sure you'll be okay, I'll help you to the bedroom."

"Alright, just give me a minute to let my stomach settle down a little."

"I'll wait as long as you need me to."

Within a few minutes I felt ready to try standing up, but I didn't say anything.

I felt comfortable down there, and Light stroking my hair wasn't helping at all; it made me feel relaxed and ready to take a nap.

Just as I was about to drift to sleep, Light suddenly said something and made me jolt awake.

"Sorry." He must have noticed me jolt. "I didn't want to startle you, but you can't go to sleep here."

"It's fine, I understand."

With only a little help, I got up and managed to get to bed.

When I was laying down I caught a glance at the clock and saw it was only a little after eight.

My day so far was only three hours long and already I worn out.

After making sure I would be okay by myself for a little while, Light went to eat something. I'll admit I find that surprising after what he witnessed in the bathroom, but I guess I misjudged how strong of a stomach he really had.

I tried to tell him he didn't have to stay with me if he was bothered, but he seemed so set on making sure I wasn't alone. I didn't want to take the chance he would start feeling sick, too, but I'm glad he stayed. Knowing I wasn't alone, and that he cared enough about me to stay, made the few minutes I spent with my head in the toilet a little less horrible.

Even though we're in different rooms at the moment, I know I'm not alone, and I never will be.

The drowsiness started catching up with me again.

I knew I would sleep well; my stomach ache was gone for the most part, and I felt much better than I did only an hour ago. Plus, the thought of never being alone made me feel safe somehow.

With a quiet yawn, I went to sleep.

@темы: Живот, Блоутинг, Аниме, rofl, lol, Vomiting, Tummyache, Stuffing, Raito, Light's and L's reactions are fuckin funny, Light, L, Fanfiction, Death Note, Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink, Anime

22:52 

EvilStufferSebastian

Вопрос: Оценка?
1. 3  2  (25%)
2. 4  1  (12.5%)
3. 5  5  (62.5%)
Всего: 8

@темы: Темный Дворецкий, Стаффинг, Картинки, Живот, Боль в животе, Аниме, Stuffing, Kuroshitsuji

03:21 

EvilStufferSebastian
Сегодня у нас явно тема мультиков перед сном :vo:

Любимый кинковый момент в любимом мультике детства )

Мульт: "Динозаврики-малыши"
Серия: "Тебя найдут по крошкам"

zserials.tv/multserialy/dino-babies.php



@темы: Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink, Stuffing, Tummyache, Боль в животе, Видео, Динозаврики, Кино, Стаффинг, мульт

01:09 

EvilStufferSebastian
18:19 

EvilStufferSebastian
itslittlegiggle.tumblr.com/post/151867996533/yu...

От автора: Hey guys! This is just a fic that I wanted to get out of my head, and it’s the same fic I mentioned to @otomiya-tickles and @tickly-writing, and they said it sounded cute! I really hope it’s okay, since this is my first time writing for this anime! So without further rambles from me, please enjoy this fic! Now I have to get back to those Halloween drabbles XD

______________________________________________________________

It had been a long day of practice for the two skaters. Viktor had been coaching Yuri for a few of those long hours before he even got bored, and decided to stop and just join the other on the ice. The two graced around each other multiple times, before Viktor noticed it was getting dark, and called the end of their practice. Yuri smiled at him, and skated after the other when he made his way off the ice. Once they wer in the locker room, the two removed their skates, and placed them in their own assigned lockers.

“You’re getting better Yuri-chan!” Viktor praised, slippoing off his skating gear. The nervous noirette flushed deeply, but smiled at the other. He was glad Viktor noticed that his jumps and spins were getting easier to do, and he even landed more lighter then he used to. It was all thanks to Viktor. “You are getting a lot lighter on your feet!”

“T-thanks Viktor-san…” Yuri stuttered out, getting bashful when the other took off his shirt. Yuri swallowed a nervous lump, and slowly removed his own, hoping that Viktor wouldn’t pay attention to his being. However, his hopes were crushed when the silvernette suddenly appeared next to him, taking in the front of his torso. “W-wha! Viktor-san?!”

Viktor smiled at the embarrassed tone of the younger male, but he let the smile fade as he focused on examining the slight build Yuri was gaining again. Noticing the other skater start to squirm, Viktor stood up straight again, and placed the palm of his hand right on Yuri’s cute tummy. The young man squeaked, and twitched when he felt this. Feeling the warm, soft skin under his hand, Viktor poked his fingers around the cute tummy, and was impressed to feel little fat on the other’s belly. However, the silvernette was suddenly distracted when Yuri let out a snort, and a soft giggle was heard. Letting his blue eyes rise, the Russian became aware of the shy brown eyes staring back at him, and the heavy rosy blush Yuri had on his cheeks.

“Hmm?” Viktor hummed out, blinking a couple of times. Yuri felt his flushing face redden more when Viktor’s finger rubbed circles into his belly again. Shoving his hands to his mouth, the young man slammed his eyes shut as his body trembled slightly from the ticklish feeling. Viktor felt Yuri’s body trembling, and listened as little giggles poured out from his mouth, even though his hands were covering it. “Yuri-kun? Are you alright?”

“Y-yes Viktor-san…” the other hiccuped out, trying not to let anymore giggles out. Seeing the blue eyes he adores though was making Yuri’s walls break down faster then he wanted them to though. Viktor watched every twitch and then, a silly thought came to him. Biting his bottom lip, the silvernette pressed all five fingers into Yuri’s tummy, and his reaction was immediate. “Nohohohoho….V-Viktor-sahahahahan!”

Feeling a devious smirk rise on his face, Viktor gently fluttered his fingers across the now flat belly and tweaked the noirette’s sides. Yuri made a squeaky gasp sound, and jerked softly in Viktor’s grip. When brown met blue, Yuri knew he was screwed. Swallowing a couple of nervous giggles, the young skater tried to back away a little, but when he did, he groaned when his bare back hit the cold lockers. When arms pinned his body against them, Yuri glanced nervously at Viktor. Viktor gave him one his signature winks, before lowering his hands til they were touching his sides. Yuri twitched, and Viktor saw a small, shy smile rising on his lips. Giving his sides a squeeze, Viktor smiled more when another high pitched giggle rose from Yuri’s lips.

“Ticklish, Yuri-kun?” Viktor whispered out, letting his fingers rub little circles up the young skater’s sides up into his ribs. More giggles spouted out of Yuri’s lips, as the flush on his face grew darker. Viktor stepped a little closer to Yuri, and when their bare chests were pressed together, the noirette thought the tickling was done, until arms wrapped around his waist, and fingers wiggled in the dips of his hips. :When I hear you actually laugh…I will let you go!“

“Nohohohohoh…” Yuri giggled out, squirming in his idol’s hold. Every squeeze and flutter of fingers were beginning to leave better cracks in his composure, and the longer Viktor squeezed his hips, the more Yuri wanted to crawl out of his skin. “V-Viktor-san…p-plehehehehehehehehease!”

Shaking his head and giving a few clicks of his tongue, the silvernette slowly released Yuri’s hips, and lowered himself down to his knees. Seeing him doing this, Yuri felt his whole face turn tomato red, but a gasp left his mouth when Viktor shoved his lips right into his belly button, and blew the biggest raspberry he could. All of Yuri’s nerve endings blew up, and all the laughter he tried to hold back finally flooded from his mouth as a huge forced smile etched itself on his face.

“V-VIKTOR-SAN!” the younger skater laughed out, shaking heavily as the silvernette squeezed his sides as he blew endless raspberries. Yuri felt his knees trembling, as his loud big belly laughs flowed out, and tears clouded his big brown eyes. Viktor glaced up when he noticed the other’s body begin to slump, and when he saw how tired Yuri looked, he slowly stopped his raspberries, and became aware of how Yuri’s cute giggles and laughter had turned silent as his face flushed a beet red color. “N-nohohohohohoho more! P-plehehehehehease! I cahahahahahahan’t take any more! V-Viktor-san!”

Letting a soft sigh leave his lips, Viktor took his face away from Yuri’s cute, trembling tummy, and let go of the other’s sides. Watching the noirette slide down, Viktor sat down with him, and rubbed his back. When Yuri was no longer panting for breath, Viktor helped him up, and smiled at the embarrassed look he had on his face. Rubbing his fingers through Yuri’s hair, Viktor turned back to his locker to get changed, while Yuri fumbled to do the same. When they were dressed, the two skaters exited the skating rink, and slowly started their walk back to Yuri’s house.

“Well…” Viktor snickered out, letting his eyes land on Yuri. The young skater was still embarrassed, and Viktor couldn’t help but find how cute he was. Yuri’s brown eyes shyly met his blue, and Viktor winked at him with a smile. “I can’t believe how ticklish you are!”

Watching the younger skater trip, and sputter out embarrassed responses made the silvernette’s eyes widen, as his laughter sprung from his lips. Yuri shyly watched him laugh, and even though he was really embarrassed at the moment, he couldn’t help but feel happy that he could make his idol’s face light up in joy as his light laughter filled the night air.

@темы: Anime, Belly Kink, Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri Katsuki, Аниме, Виктор Никифоров, Живот, Фанфикшн, Щекотка. Tickles, Юрий Кацуки

03:31 

Локи требует полного внимания!

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/6286792?view_adult=tr...

Название: Локи требует полного внимания!
Автор: auntieomega
Переводчик: EvilStufferSebastian
Summary:
Когда Локи понял, что Брюс его игнорирует, он решил наказать своего любовника и сьесть все, что Брюс приготовил для вечеринки на работе. Но месть сладка, особенно в виде бдсм и тортика.



Живот Локи пробурчал, в то время как сам Локи мрачно надулся, перекрестив руки на груди; остановившись за рабочим креслом Брюса.
- Я голодный. Когда ты собираешься сделать что-то поесть? - Локи оставил все попытки быть лапушкой час назад. Его любовник просто бессердеченый -и он больше не может этого терпеть!
Брюс даже не выглянул, погрузившись в свой ноут.
- Локи, извини. Серьезно. Но в миллиардный раз, я должен закончить это. Это важно.
- Это что, важнее меня? - хотя, Локи знал, что он не должен ревновать к каким-то там документам, но он ревновал. Брюс души в нем не чаял, и Локи к этому привык. Он как будто расцветал, когда получал внимание, и нуждался в нем, как розы нуждаются в дожде. Брюс игнорировал его уже не менее трёх часов. Как можно было ожидать от Локи, что он вынесёт ещё, если никто не заботится о каждой его потребности и не говорит ему, насколько он непривзойденный и чудесный? Как раз этот момент Брюс вздохнул и развернулся, чтобы посмотреть на него.
- Конечно же, нет. Ничто не может быть важнее тебя.
- Хорошо. В таком случае выключи эту гадость и обрати внимание на меня, - он повадился стукнуть по ноуту, но, к сожалению, Брюс блокировал удар.
- Сломать мой планшет тебе недостаточно? Тебе нужно сломать все мои вещи?
Локи бросил в него гневный взгляд:
- Это привлечет твоё внимание?
- Локи, - Брюс вымолвил его имя очень нежно, - я люблю тебя, но эти документы важны для меня. Если ты любишь меня, для тебя это тоже должно быть важно.
Локи оценивающе посмотрел на своего ученого.
- Я голоден.
Брюс на секунду опустил голову и покачал ей, потом вернулся к своему печатанию.
- На верхней полке холодильника осталась еда. Подогрей что-то себе.
Локи не спешил, мысленно вонзая кинжалы в холодную, нелюбящую голову Брюса, а точнее - в ее затылок. Впрочем, его урчащий живот напомнил ему, что он и в самом деле был голоден, поэтому он вылетел из кабинета, прошагал на кухню, и с размаху открыл холодильник. Остатки. Бэ. Боги не едят остатков.
А потом он увидел на второй полке большой противень с яично-овощными рулетами, которые Брюс сделал раньше в этот же день. Их было две дюжины, а приготовление заняло у Брюса почти все утро. Локи знал, что они предназначены для праздника, где каждый приносит угощение с собой - и все это для работы Брюса, но Локи не понимал, как две дюжины спасут празднование
Он вытащил противень, поставил его на стол, и открыл крышку. Локи начал есть. Он не позаботился о том, чтобы нагреть рулеты, они и холодными были хороши. Хрустящие и солёные: Локи мог практически попробовать всю ту нежность, которую Брюс вложил в них, готовя. Он ел, словно поглощал любовь Брюса. К тому времени, когда Локи сьел четыре рулета, его аппетит был удовлетворен. Но его потребность - нет. Локи начал есть пятый рулет, чувствую себя тем, кто мстит и наносит возмездие. Брюс заслужил прочувствовать на себе гнев бога зла. Полный решимости, Локи собрался съесть их все!
Первая дюжина пошла довольно легко. Он чувствовал, как живот растянулся, но яичные рулеты были очень вкусны. Особенно Локи нравилась капуста, приятная и хрустящая. Со второй дюжиной так просто было не управиться. Локи торжественно освободил одну из бутылок бельгийского эля из холодильника и налил себе стакан. Он был замечательный, с густой кремовой пенкой. Бутыль вмещала всего два стакана, так что ему надо было открывать вторую.

Он уничтожил следующую дюжину яичных рулетов в приятном забытие эля. Несмотря на то, что он ужасно наелся, он чувствовал себя прекрасно.
Локи подумывал над тем, что еще он может такого сьесть, чтобы помучить Брюса. Его живот начал булькать, когда он оставил стул, чтобы осуществить набег на буфет. Живот издал громкий, рычащий звук. Локи успокаивал свой выпучившийся живот настойчивым поглаживанием.
Это миссия. Здесь нет места нытью. Не время страху. Только сладкая, сладкая победа... и бруни! Шоколадно-тыквенные бруни! И глупый Брюс, который любил дурацкие документы больше, чем Локи - да, он выразился по-другому, но его действия говорят сами за себя - попытался их укрыть в миске. Локи даже не стал садиться, чтобы сьесть их. Он унес жизни половины из них, стоя и возвышаясь над миской, и оставил выживших на столе, чтобы они поведали об этом.
Локи не мог сидеть на стуле, потому что штаны слишком давили. В конце концов, он решил, что они черезчур давили даже в стоячем положении, поэтому он их снял и оставил на полу в кухне.
Локи усмехнулся сам себе: Брюс ненавидел, когда он расбрасывал свою одежду. Его усмешка изменилась на сморщенное выражение лица, когда живот начало болезненно крутить. Он закрыл глаза и погладил живот, который болел. Он мог наложить исцеляющее заклинание, но решил так не делать. Боль была сильной и настоящей, ему это нравилось.
Локи неохотно доедал бруни, пока ждал Брюса из его кабинета. Он ждал и ждал. Ничего от бруни не осталось, а Брюс до сих пор не пришел.
Живот Локи вёл его к кабинету Брюса. У Локи немного кружилась голова и ему было в целом неочень хорошо, но мысль о том, чтобы позлить Брюса подталкивала его к победе!
- Я заканчиваю, - проговорил Брюс, не отрываясь от своей работы. Локи приблизился к нему и помахал своим животом перед лицом Брюса. Брюс начал отпихивать его, и, вместо этого, нашупал огромный круглый живот Локи. Не отрывая глаза от Локи, одной рукой он закрыл ноут. Локи схватил другую руку и положил на свой переполненный живот.
- Мне нужна та, вторая, тоже, - он сказал. Локи облегченно вздохнул, ощущая блаженство от того, что Брюс машинально начал поглаживать божественный живот двумя руками.
-Я и не представлял, что у нас осталось столько еды, - проговорил Брюс с широко открытыми глазами.
Локи фыркнул:
- Я не ел остатки.
- Локи, что ты натворил? - хотя, по голосу Брюс терял самообладание, он не прекращал гладить. Локи рассказал ему все. Он наслаждался вспышками страха и негодования, которые играли на лице Брюса. И всё же Брюс не прекращал гладить живот Локи.
- Ты в порядке? - наконец, спросил Брюс.
- Я прекрасно, - и действительно, благодаря поглаживаниям он чувствовал себя намного лучше.
-Ты прекрасно. Конечно, ты всегда прекрасен, - Брюс улыбнулся, и Локи одобрил это прозрение. - Весь день ты жаждал моего внимания, - заговорил Брюс. - Теперь оно твое. Давай сыграем.
Локи вожделенно заёрзал, он начал возбуждаться, когда его любовник прикоснулся к нему. Брюс обвёл рукой вокруг тела Локи и шлёпнул по заднице.
- Ты был очень непослушным богом. Я должен наказать тебя.
- Люди не наказывают богов.
- Они наказывают - в этой квартире, - Брюс прошелся пальцем по резинке трусов Локи. - Сними то, что на тебе одето.
- Почему ты не снимешь их с меня?
- Потому что тебе это понравится, а ты наказан, помнишь? - Брюс оставил стол вместе с Локи, чтобы подвесить черный слинг из кожи и металла. Когда он поднял глаза на Локи, он сказал:
- Черт, ты выглядишь восхитительно.
Локи засиял. Брюс начал осматривать слинг.
- Наложи противорвотное заклинание.
- Зачем? - Локи спросил осторожно.
- Потому что тебе это понадобится.
Как только Локи наложил заклинание, Брюс помог ему влезть в подвесную конструкцию из жгутов и ремней. В конструкции имелись толстые ремни, которые поддерживали грудь и бедра, но оставляли дыру для его голого живота; в ней так же была дыра для гениталий и приспособления для того, чтобы закрепить его руки за спиной. После проделанной работы, Локи свисал где-то на треть метра от пола, так, как, если бы летел; его раздутое пузо касалось ковра.
А потом Брюс исчез. Если это было частью наказания, Локи совсем это не радовало. Все же, Брюс вернулся и сел, скрестив ноги, перед головой Локи. У него с собой была вилка и огромный шоколадный торт.
- Откуда у нас шоколадный торт?
- Я спрятал кое-что от тебя, сладкоежка. Это от Дианы за то, что мы присмотрели за Бастером , пока она была в Белизе. А сейчас тебе придется сьесть этот торт. Весь. Потому что ты плохой, плохой Локи, - он протянул вилку к губам Локи. Локи ел с удовольствием. Он поглощал кусок за куском, и с тортом было практически покончено.
Брюс убрал волосы Локи с лица и лизнул крем с его губ. Локи отвернул голову, чтобы тот не успел его поцеловать.
- Ты ООС, - он шикнул. - Ты должен меня наказывать.
Довольный, Брюс отпрял от него и сказал:
- Заткнись и ешь свой торт, Локи.
Когда торта не стало, Локи почувствовал тяжесть в животе. Его живот провисал еще ниже, чем перед этим, выделяясь по сравнению со стройной фигурой, спина прогибалась под ним.
После того, как торт был сьеден, Брюс притащил попкорн и скормил ему с рук. За этим последовал большой стакан водки с тоником. Локи чувствовал, что его существенно раздуло. Хотя, он был довольно пьян, но боль в брюхе стала сильно ощущаться. Вместо игривой боли, теперь была сплошная, сдавливающая боль. Должно быть, это отразилось на его лице, потому что Брюс одарил его поцелуем, потом передвинулся в сторону и начал гладить раздувшийся живот Локи и поглаживать его член. Локи нежно постанывал, довольный. Немного погодя ему стало лучше, но Брюс ушел, чтобы принести еще еды, это расстраивало. Живот Локи был мучительно набит и нуждался в том, чтобы его еще погладили. Локи ожидал, что наказание сегодняшнего вечера подходит к концу.
В этот раз Брюс вернулся с огромнейшим пирогом, украшенным клубникой.
- Как это называется? - спросил Локи, воодушевленный и напуганный водночасье.

- Клубничный чизкейк. Это от Карлы за то, что мы поливали цветы, пока она была в Чикаго. И сейчас каждый его кусочек спуститься по твоему чудесному горлу, - он протолкнул вилку с куском торта в рот Локи.
Локи содрогнулся. Торт был вкусен, но намного жирнее, чем всё, что готовил Брюс.
- Это не тофу...
- Это сливочный сыр, который должен внушать тебе страх. Я думаю, тебе понравится.
- Я не думаю, что он нравится мне сейчас, - большой кусок чизкейка. - Брюс, я... - ещё больший кусок чизкейка. - Я должен оста... - ещё чизкейка.
Локи начал протестовать опять, а Брюс схватил его за волосы и отдернул назад так, что Локи прогнулся в спине, а затем взял кусок торта в руку и накормил Локи.
- Плохой, плохой Локи ест плохой, плохой чизкейк.
Локи взвыл. В такой позиции он чувствовал ужасное давление за своим пупком. Он был уверен, что лопнет в любой момент. Он хотел обхватить и погладить больной живот, но его руки были завязаны за спиной. Он не мог ничего сделать, кроме как висеть, поглощая кусок за куском этого жирного сливочного чизкейка.
- У меня живот болит, - решился сказать Локи. - Он ужасно болит. Я больше не могу...
Брюс взглянул на Локи, сосредоточенный на его губах.
- Ты прорвешься.
Локи чувствовал, что сейчас он прорвется... его внутренности прорвутся. Им еще нужно было вместить в себя половину чизкейка. Локи запаниковал.
- Адено... - чизкейк. - Аденози... - чизйкейк. - Чертов придурок, ты знаешь, что я соби... еще долбанный чизкейк. - Аденози Три... - чизкейк. В этот раз с клубникой на ногу: - АТП, ты, придурок!

Брюс бросил взгляд на Локи, держа кусочек чизкейка в руке:
"Сокращения недоступимы. Ты согласился на это. Ты знаешь правила" - он размазал чизкейк по губам Локи, раздвигая их и помогая себе пальцами протолкнуть торт внутрь.

Это последнее предательство разрушило Локи. Он висел в тихой, бесшумной агонии, принимая в себя кусок за куском жуткого торта. Он был покорным и послушным, но выступившие слёзы в глазах что-то говорили...

Брюс нагнулся, поймал слезинку своим языком и прошептал на ухо Локи: "Аденозин Трифосфат. Локи, я не могу тебя наказывать, когда ты плачешь"

"Какой смысл иметь безопасное слово, если ты игнорируешь меня, когда я пытаюсь его сказать?"

Брюс отсел и начал слизывать крем с пальцев.
"Ты прав. Я заигрался. И думал, что ты тоже играешь со мной"
Его чистая рука поглаживала лицо Локи.
"Ох, Локки, мне очень жаль..."

"Ты прощён, - сказал нехотя Локи. - Я полагаю, я понимаю, почему ты так заигрался. Тебе так нравится меня кормить. И я очень сексуален"
Брюс широко ухмыльнулся.

"Да, ты очень сексуален"

"Конкретно сейчас я так же очень "больной". А ты ничего не делаешь с этим. Ты просто сидишь там и обсасываешь свои долбаные пальцы, когда ты должен был позаботиться обо мне"

Брюс ничего не сказал, но подвинуося в сторону Локи.
"Ты превосходен с этого угла. Не могу поверить, насколько ты большой"
Его пальцы царапали раздувшийся живот Локи. Вдруг его язык был в Локином пупке.
"Ммм, - вымолвил Брюс. - Я могу просидеть здесь всю ночь, обсасывая твой пупок, пока он не станет чувствительным и набухшим.
"Это не звучит так же эротично, как ты думаешь"

"Бедный Локи. Давай вытащим тебя из этих ремней"
Как только Локи был свободен и мог увидеть себя сам, он понял, почему Брюс пришёл в такое восхищение. Его, обычно плоский, живот выперся в массивный бугор, который начинался как раз под слингом и заканчивался над его пахом. Он не только не мог видеть своих ступней, он еле видел свой член.
Он нуждался в Брюсе, который бы ему помог добраться до спальни. Брюс подпёр его тело подушками, затем умостился на кровать рядом. Он гладил живот Локи концентрическими кругами, ненадолго останавливаясь, чтобы поцеловать.
"Любимый Локи, - он прошептал. - Хороший Локи"

Локи нравилось, когда ему поглаживали живот даже, когда он чувствовал себя хорошо; он обожал, когда ему гладят живот, когда он болит. Он издавал вздохи, стоны и корчился под прикосновениями Брюса. Когда прикосновения стали жёстче, Локи издал звук, похожий на урчание, а его член стал напряжённым.

Брюс начал вдавливать костяшки пальцев и постукивать ими о грудь Локи.

"Это почти больно, - отреагировал Локи, резко простонав, как только Брюс задействовал больше давления на верх живота.

"Что ты делаешь?"

"Пытаюсь открыть твою третью чакру"

"Почему мы не оставим её закрытой?.. - он начал задыхаться. - Подожди... - странное ощущение наполнило всё его тело. Он как будто почувствовал оргазм у себя в животе.

"Ох, ох, Брюс, чёрт..."
Он не представлял, что его трясёт, пока он не остановился.

"Тут расположена нейронная сеть", - Брюс сказал в духе обьяснения, он убрал свою руку и начал покрывать поцелуями верх живота Локи.

После чего его голова практически исчезла, и Локи, до сих пор наслаждавшийся ощущением, издал довольный стон, как только горячий влажный рот накрыл его пульсирующий член
Брюс сосал член Локи, одновременно массажирая Локин вздувшийся живот, останавливаясь, чтобы поласкать бедра под ним. Локи больше не чувствовал боли. Каждый выпирающий дюйм его тела купался в роскоши наслаждения.

В момент, когда Локи был близок, Брюс остановился, Локи издал недовольный рык. Он затих, когда почувствовал, как язык Брюса кружит вокруг его дырочки.
"Д-да", - сказал он шёпотом, когда язык вошёл в него. Ему перехватило дыхание, когда пальцы заменили язык. В то время как пальцы Брюса расстягивали дырочку Локи, губы Брюса вернулись, чтобы поклоняться его члену. Когда Брюс перестал сосать, Локи вытянулся, чтобы достать лубрикант с прикроватной тумбочки и бросил им в голову Брюсу.
"Смазка"

"Спасибо, Локи", - раздражённо ответил Брюс. Он погрузил несколько смоченных лубрикантом пальцев в Локи, скользя внутри него.

"Ты не ведёшь себя как плохой мальчик, не так ли?"
Локи одарил его злобным взглядом в ответ.
"Потому что я собирался трахнуть тебя очень нежно и деликатно, чтобы не тормошить твой большой красивый животик, но если ты плохой, плохой, непослушый Локи, я вынужден буду трахать тебя жёстко и грязно и заставлю тебя скакать по всей кровати".

Локи оглянулся в поисках того, чем бы ещё в него запустить. Ничего не найдя в ближайшей досягаемости, он взглядом наткнулся на голову Брюса возле своей ступни, и хихикнул. Брюс навис над ним и стал неистово щекотать.
Локи проревел: "Стоп. Остановись. Не надо, - Локи вымолвил, не дыша. - Я так полон еды"
"Я знаю. И будешь даже наполненнее через секунду"

Локи кратко рассмеялся, его дыхание прервалось, когда Брюс всунул член глубоко в него. Живот Локи сильно бурлил. Он начал пересматривать своё решение быть плохим Локи. Он придерживал своё пузо, когда ещё один резкий толчек врывался в его набухшие внуренности. Рука Брюса присоединилась к его собственной и нежно поглаживала. Не взирая на угрозы Брюса перед этим, он замедлил темп и стал массажировать огромный живот Локи, пока они занимались любовью.

Обычно Локи был очень активным во время секса. В его нынешнем положении, однако, он не мог ничего больше сделать, как лежать и принимать. В каком-то смысле это было так же, как быть связанным ремнями. Он был зависим и уязвим. И всё же Брюс, который доминировал, кажется, хотел только любить и ублажать Локи.

Брюс скользил по члену Локи, лаская его головку. Они с Локи кончили одновременно.
Брюс упал рядом с Локи. Локи погладил его по лицу и вздохнул.
"Извини, что я съел все твои рулеты" - он сказал немного погодя.
"Мне жаль, что ты не понимаешь, как я люблю тебя"

Эмоция в голосе Брюса удивили Локи. Он подвинулся ближе к своему любовнику.
"Я знаю, что ты любишь меня"

"Ты не знаешь, если ты думаешь, что провести дневном время без тебя значит, что мне всё равно"
Он заправил волосы Локи за ухо.
"Иногда жизнь заставляет меня делать вещи, которые не Локицентричны. Но я никогда не прекращал любить тебя. И никогда не перестану".

Глаза Локи наполнились слезами.
"Я не привык к тому, что люди меня любят и имеют в виду именно это"
Брюс приволок его к себе ближе и поцеловал в лоб.
"Привыкай".
"Я попробую", - голос Локи смягчился. Он выпустил довольный выдох, когда Брюс погладил ему животик. Через какое-то время Брюс вышел, чтобы убраться и взять воды, обещая, что они посмотрел любимый фильм Локи "Robot Chicken", когда он вернётся. Пока Брюса не было, Локи отколдовал своё пузо, оставаясь со своим плоским животиком, который был немного растянут и побаливал.

Брюс вернулся со стаканом воды для Локи. Он взобрался на кровать и прошёлся ладонью по гибкому торсу Локи. Не дожидаясь просьбы, он начал поглаживать живот Локи, который болел.

"Уже избавился от него, да?"
"Ага, я отправил его к Тору"
"Снова? И как ты полагаешь, что он думает, с ним происходит?"
Локи отпил воды и поёжился.
"Я сомневаюсь, что он даже заметит".
Брюс поднял брови.
"Там же было невозможное количество капусты. Если он не заметит в этот раз, я уверен, люди вокруг него заметят"
Локи настолько широко ухмыльнулся, что мышцы его лица заболели:
"Он бог грома"

@темы: Стаффинг, Перевод, Кино, Живот, Боль в животе, Tummyache, The Avengers (Marvel), Stuffing, Loki, Fanfiction, Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink

14:17 

EvilStufferSebastian
00:58 

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/4878637

Indulge
annabagnell
Summary:

“If you need to stop, you can,” Sherlock said quietly, rubbing the distended organ lightly. “You’re huge.”

John nodded and considered for a second, short of breath. He burped again and pressed a hand to his belly, which was hot beneath his palm. “I c’n finish,” he said, and took the ice cream again.

Notes:

What have I done.

Work Text:

“Come on,” Sherlock encouraged. “You’ve barely eaten more than a usual meal consists of. You can eat more than that.” He held out another sandwich quarter.

“Did it occur to you that I usually eat my fill and then quit? There’s a reason I stop at that point, berk. It’s because I’m full.” John reached out and begrudgingly took the sandwich, tearing off a corner and chewing and swallowing.

“While your reasoning is sound, I’ve witnessed your full capacity before, and you’re nowhere near that limit. We’re playing, John. Have a bit of fun.” Sherlock watched John chew and swallow the sandwich with rapt attention.

John had been an avid fan of what he learned was commonly called ‘stuffing’ since he was a teenager. There was something about the reaching of a limit, the indulgence of overeating, that appealed to him. And, of course, feeling fuller than full and being visibly swollen with it - well, that played no small part.

John took another sandwich quarter and kept eating. He was still in buttoned trousers and his jumper, because Sherlock liked seeing John have to lose his garments to accommodate his stomach. The trousers were getting a little tight, but not uncomfortably so. Not yet.

“Water.” Sherlock held out a glass, and John took it. He was already on his second glass of the night, and would switch to a different beverage soon. Changing it up kept things interesting. Sherlock had fizzy soda and milk on standby. “Good boy,” the detective praised, taking the glass once John had drained it. He set it aside and pushed the plate of sandwiches closer.

John grinned as his face flushed. The praise wasn’t part of the kink - not for him, at least, but he did appreciate it. He finished off the sandwich quarter and reached for another. “Gonna be sick of egg salad by the time this is done,” he sighed, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out.

“No doubt. But it’s the easiest to eat quickly. Very little tedious chewing.” John snorted. Of course chewing was boring. “What next?”

“Applesauce.” John pointed with one finger to the big bowl in the center of the table. There were a few sandwich quarters left, but he was getting tired of egg salad. He’d finish them later.

By the time John had taken the last swallow of the egg sandwich, Sherlock had the bowl poised and ready for John. John took the dish and the large spoon, resting the bowl on his chest and tucking in. The applesauce was even easier to eat - John could suck it down almost as easily as he could a beverage.

John jumped when he felt Sherlock’s fingers tugging at his waistband, slipping between the denim fabric and his skin. “What’re you doing?” he asked, stifling a burp and moving the bowl to peer down.

“Just checking,” Sherlock replied, tugging at the fabric again. “Getting tighter.”

“Perv,” John grinned. “By the time I’m done with the applesauce, i’ll be ready to unbutton them. Unless you want me to really push it?”

“Push it,” Sherlock said, eyes pooled black. The grin he sported was wicked.

John pushed it. Gone was the applesauce, the rest of the sandwiches, and John was halfway through a bundle of grapes. His stomach was pushing over the waistband of his trousers, and Sherlock couldn’t get his fingers in between the fabric and John’s stomach. The doctor groaned and swallowed another grape, then laid both hands on his stomach. “They’ve gotta go.”

“Let me touch first?” Sherlock asked, and John nodded. Sherlock pushed his shirt up to rest on the topmost curve of his stomach and then smoothed his hands over the bulge he’d uncovered. John inhaled and Sherlock shivered - he could feel the way John’s stomach strained outward against his skin when his lungs filled with air. He could feel John’s grin, too, and he pressed down a little against John’s stomach, until John winced. “You’re getting full.”

“I am full,” John corrected, tapping the center of his stomach. “But I can get fuller if you let me take off these trousers.” The skin beneath his finger slid when he moved his finger around, but the bulge beneath didn’t have much give. John felt a shiver run across his skin. Things were getting fun.

Sherlock put his fingers to work on John’s trousers, but stopped short of opening the button and zip. “Suck it in,” he said.

John met Sherlock’s gaze and then looked down at his belly. He exhaled and then sucked his abdominal muscles in, groaning at how tight they were over his stomach. The bulge moved as one unit. John clapped a hand to his belly to help his muscles hold it in.

Sherlock took his time undoing the button and zip, and when he finally finished, John let go and sucked in a lungful of air. From his point of view, it looked like his stomach had doubled in size, and he groaned, rubbing his aching belly. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

Sherlock was rubbing John’s stomach through the open vee of his jeans. “You like sucking it in,” he countered, and John had to agree. Being so full he couldn’t hold his stomach in flat was beyond arousing.

Soon, they moved from the kitchen to the sofa, John starting to develop a bit of a waddle as he walked. His stomach stuck out in front of him, leading the way into the room, and John gave it a few rough rubs before sinking down onto the couch. This was his favorite part - the bulk of the eating was over, and now Sherlock would feed him nibbles while they watched telly, just to see how much he could eat. When John was distracted and Sherlock fed him, he could eat far more than he could manage when he was focused on eating by himself.

They put season three of Criminal Minds on, and John settled in, laying on his back with his head pillowed in Sherlock’s lap. He turned his attention to the show, and let Sherlock feed him.

In the lull between episode two and three, John turned and looked up at Sherlock, rubbing his stomach and feeling how much more it had swollen. “Inventory?” he asked.

Sherlock cleared his throat and started to list off what John had eaten so far. “The sandwiches (there were four), a jar of applesauce, two glasses of water, the bag of grapes, a glass of milk, and we’re halfway through the pudding.”

“Cor. No wonder I feel heavy.” John rubbed his stomach and stared down at the mass. From his point of view it arced upward like a bowl, and he could feel the stretch every time he drew in a breath. “What else have we got left?”

“The rest of the pudding, and the soda, and ice cream, if you want it.”

“We’re playing, Sherlock,” John teased. “If you think I’m stopping now, you’re duller than I thought.”

They set the pudding aside, and Sherlock went to get the ice cream and soda. John set to work hauling himself upright, which was quite a task. He clapped a hand to his belly as he sat up, breathing out heavily. “Ready for this?” he asked his stomach, patting it lightly as he removed his shirt. It gurgled in response.

“It had better be.” Sherlock set the bottle of soda down on the coffee table, and handed John the whole container of ice cream and a spoon. “Poor tummy, it has a half-gallon of ice cream to fit in yet.”

“Tummy can handle it. Can’t you, tummy?” John rubbed the solid mass, patting it fondly.

“I’ll take tummy-rubbing duties. You take eating duties,” Sherlock said, putting his hands on John’s stomach and rubbing it lightly.

“A fair trade,” John reasoned, and started to eat.

They almost always finished off with a half-gallon of vanilla ice cream and root beer, simply because the combination of the two made a delightfully fizzy finish to a stuffing session. However, John was fairly certain he’d never been this full when attempting the half-gallon of ice cream and liter of soda. Tummy confirmed this by starting to ache when John was only a few large spoonfuls into the ice cream. “Tummy is not sure it can handle it anymore,” John said, stifling a burp.

“Oh, come now, tummy. I know you can do it.” Sherlock kissed the tight skin of John’s stomach, continuing to rub it softly. John drew in a breath, feeling his skin stretch, and nodded.

Purely for effect, John hauled himself to his knees on the sofa, so his stomach was suspended in front of him. He appreciated the effect. Sherlock also appreciated the effect. Tummy did not appreciate the effect, as it no longer had any more support. John ignored tummy’s input.

He set the ice cream container aside for a moment, feeling very, very full. “Need the soda,” he said, burping again and holding out his hand for the bottle. Sherlock obliged, unscrewing the cap and giving it to John.

John inhaled and then started drinking the soda, grunting quietly as he sucked it down. He was now absolutely certain he’d never been this full, because he’d never gotten so out of breath simply by drinking a few swallows of soda. He wiped his mouth and burped, holding his stomach gingerly. “I’m gonna try,” he said, looking down at Sherlock. “But I’m not sure.”

“I believe in you,” Sherlock said, mock-seriously.

“At least one of us does.” John picked the container of ice cream back up - it was still nearly three-quarters full, as was the soda. He ate more slowly, letting the ice cream nearly melt in his mouth before swallowing. It seemed to make each bite ache a little less, but the change was fairly negligible at this point. He alternated soda with ice cream every few bites, just to change it up, but when both containers were half empty, John stopped and shook his head. “God.”

He stared down at his middle, which was cresting further away from his body than he’d ever seen it before. Some of the food had started to settle, making his belly rounder at the bottom, but even the top was filling out again. He was aching all over, and was truly unsure if he’d be able to eat another single bite.

Sherlock laid his hand on the top of John’s belly, in the middle, where the skin stretched the most. He pressed down lightly, making John grunt. “Come on,” he encouraged. “You want to be so full, I know you do.”

John did. He did want to be so full, but he was already so full. He ran his hands down his sides, breathing slowly and feeling his belly stretch beneath his hands. He felt huge and heavy. But he wanted to be huger and heavier. He nodded slowly and took the ice cream when Sherlock handed it to him again.

Up on his knees, without the support of his thighs, John could feel how every swallow of soda and ice cream made his belly heavier. He could even feel it inside of himself, how the ice cream and soda fizzed and expanded. His stomach seemed unrealistically big. He was nearly finished with the ice cream, and still had a little less than half a bottle of the soda left over, when he had to stop again. His stomach was starting to pang a little, and it was churning lethargically under his hands.

“If you need to stop, you can,” Sherlock said quietly, rubbing the distended organ lightly. “You’re huge.”

John nodded and considered for a second, short of breath. He burped again and pressed a hand to his belly, which was hot beneath his palm. “I c’n finish,” he said, and took the ice cream again.

The last of the ice cream went down with a mixture of winces and burps. John couldn’t bend over to pick up the soda, so Sherlock picked it up, waiting for John to catch his breath before handing it over. “If you need to stop,” he repeated, but John cut him off.

“I c’n do it.” He took another shallow breath, holding his stomach like it could rupture, and started to drink the soda.

There wasn’t room in his stomach for burps anymore. John’s swallows were minuscule, and he burped after every one, because there simply was not space to hold anything extra, even if it was just air. John had trouble swallowing the last few ounces of soda, and had to force it down into his packed, overfull stomach. When the last of it finally landed in his stomach, he groaned quietly, leaning forward a little and holding his stomach in both hands.

“John,” Sherlock said quietly. “You…you are massive.”

“I feel massive,” John said thickly, cradling his belly carefully, like it might burst at any moment.

“You have never eaten so much in your life,” Sherlock said in awe. “I know it must look huge to you, but even to me…I did not know a person could conceivably get this big.”

John nodded, soothing his lurching, gurgling belly with both hands. He felt pregnant - or, he supposed, as close to pregnant as he could approximate - so utterly full that he couldn’t think of anything else but how full he was. He scraped his fingernails up his skin and moaned - as his skin shivered and contracted, it pulled on his stomach.

He held his hand out for Sherlock and gestured toward the bedroom. There was a mirror in the hallway, and John wanted to see himself. Very badly. From his perspective, all he could see was a truly vast expanse of skin, gone white with the strain, blue veins running along the surface of his distended belly. He was short of breath, he was so full. Sherlock helped him off the sofa and even that change, from standing on his knees to standing on his feet, made his lungs burn.

He straightened up and groaned, more loudly this time. “Feel like I could burst,” he said, holding his belly in both hands.

Sherlock’s eyebrows lifted. “You look like you could burst,” he said honestly.

“Thanks f’r the vote of confidence,” John said drily. He eyed the distance between his current location and the hallway mirror, trying to assess if he could make it. Then he caught sight of something he’d forgotten —

The half bowl of pudding.

“Gimme the pudding,” he said, eyes gleaming. Sherlock’s own eyes went wide, and he stared at John incredulously.

“Are you sure?”

“Gimme the pudding,” John repeated, holding one hand out for the bowl while the other rested on his monstrous stomach. “Gonna eat it on my - urp, on my way to th’ mirror.”

“John, I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” Sherlock said, picking up the bowl but keeping it out of John’s reach. “You’re already too full, you might hurt yourself.”

“I know my limits,” John said thickly, stifling another burp. He waved his hand for the bowl. Sherlock gave it to him, albeit reluctantly. “Thanks,” he said, when Sherlock finally handed it to him, and he rested the half-full dish on his stomach as he took a step forward.

He could feel his stomach creaking with the effort of containing everything they’d stuffed it with. The pudding was an additional challenge, but John was determined. For every step he took, he took a bite of pudding. One step, one bite. One step, one bite.

He was four steps away from the mirror. He felt ready to burst. There was still a quarter bowl of pudding left - more than four spoonfuls. Staring at the mirror, John made a decision.

He took a step toward the mirror, scraping the pudding from the sides of the bowl. He kept waddling, scraping the bowl until all the remaining pudding was in one area at the bottom of the dish. He stood in front of the mirror, squaring himself for a frontal view, but didn’t look.

He lifted the bowl to his lips and heard Sherlock’s shuddering intake of breath. John himself felt like shuddering, but he was too full to do so. His stomach protested violently, the distended organ cramping as John poised himself to finish the pudding.

Like this, with his head tipped back and legs spread to keep himself steady, John’s poor belly was hanging without any support at all. The weight was massive, tugging at his skin as though he was holding a boulder within himself. John drew in a shaky breath and started to spoon the pudding into his mouth.

He knew from where Sherlock stood, he’d be able to see John’s belly growing even fuller with every swallow. As full as he was, every addition was visible, the mass of food traveling down his throat and into his stuffed, painful belly. He could hear Sherlock’s breaths quicken as he swallowed. He could feel his own stomach expanding, full to the point of bursting, and John wasn’t sure he’d be able to finish what he’d started. He paused to catch his breath, eyed the rest of the pudding in the bowl, and did the impossible.

He finished.

Swallowing hard, breathing shallowly, John didn’t dare touch his belly. He handed the bowl to Sherlock, who took it with a shaking hand. Ever so carefully, John laid one hand on either side of his aching, bloated, bulging, swollen, engorged belly and opened his eyes.

What he saw was astonishing. The sandwiches, applesauce, water, milk, soda, ice cream, grapes, and pudding had made his stomach positively balloon, and he looked like he had swallowed a basketball which had then had a family of baby basketballs. His skin was so stretched it was white, blue veins crisscrossing the top. When John looked down, it came to a point.

Ever so carefully, he turned to the side, waddling to do so. He groaned when he saw how far out his stomach stuck, big enough that his skin was pulling tight on the sides to accommodate it. If his belly had led the way into the room before, it led the way into an adjoining building, now - his stomach stuck out obscenely, stuffed full and then stuffed some more until it was perfectly round.

John, nearly panting with short breaths, noticed a strange sensation in his stomach, and he held it carefully in both hands as he tried to suss out what exactly it was. There was a lot of sensation going on, given the situation, but after a moment he realized what this was.

Instinctually, and involuntarily, John Watson was sucking his belly in.

He moaned when he let his muscles loose, and his belly surged forward another few inches. The sudden expansion made his skin burn with the stretch, and he held his stomach with both hands, in utter agony. Sherlock made a choked noise behind him and rushed forward to help hold John up, grunting with the effort. The detective caught sight of his belly from the top view and gave an answering moan. John just held his stomach like it would burst, feeling slow and stuffed and utterly crammed with food. He stared down at his middle, his skin paper-thin and heaving with each shallow breath. He tipped his head up to look at Sherlock blearily.

“I think…tummy may have reached its limit,” he said thickly, wincing and groaning when Sherlock’s laughter set his stomach to cramping again.

“I think it may have, too. Let’s get you to bed, my stuffed turkey.”

“Overstuffed turkey. Exploding turkey.”

“Shall I take photos, exploding turkey?”

There came the sound of a burp. “Yeah. Need something to compare to for next time.”

@темы: Sherlock Holmes, Stuffing, Фанфикшн

01:00 

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/7362217

Getting Back in the Habit
foodstuffs
Summary:

After a long tour and a lot of writing, Patrick's been getting a little caught up in work. Not that he'd been meaning to ignore the outside world, but Pete knows how to bring him back down to earth, even if it's been a while since they last played this particular game.

Notes:

Here's yet another shameless feederism fic for all of you out there who are as into this as I am, I hope it fills your stuffing needs and doesn't disappoint :)

Once again for @patrick-is-trohmosexual on tumblr, and all of the lovely followers on there who repeatedly like what I write, thank you

Work Text:

“Are you hungry?” Pete asked, making Patrick look up from his laptop, “I’m making dinner, if you are.”

Patrick shook his head, “Not really.”

“Oh, have you eaten already? I didn’t hear you get up.” Pete commented.

“I had something earlier.”

Pete watched him for a moment, re-arranging chord progressions on the screen and playing them back through his headphones. The volume couldn’t be too high, as he’d heard Pete’s initial question, but it was probably enough that without Pete’s input he would have forgotten entirely about the outside world. It was incredibly easy for Patrick to get lost in work, and it was also incredibly easy for Patrick to lie about whether or not he’d done anything other than work. Pete wasn’t sure if he’d meant to lie or if it was just a reflex at this point, but he understood that it was easier than admitted that he’d forgotten to eat all day.

“You should probably still have dinner.” Pete pushed.

“Pete, I’ve already said no.” Patrick argued, “Please, leave it be. I want to get this done.”

“Alright,” Pete sighed, “If you say so.”

-----

“Patrick, can you come here and help me for a minute?” Pete called.

Patrick answers faintly, “I’ll be there in a second.”

“Thank you.”

Patrick could just about hear Pete’s voice over the music in his headphone, a melody that he’d have stuck in his head for weeks, and he shrugged his shoulders as he begins to stand up. One of his legs is half-numb from the way he’s been curled up, but he made his way to the kitchen nonetheless. He wondered how long he’d been sitting, how long it took to create that weariness and achiness that signified hours spent lost in work. Pete would likely inform him, calculate the time in his head and use it to convince Patrick to eat, sleep, whatever. Patrick knew, of course, that it was healthier to listen to Pete’s advice. That didn’t make him any less stubborn.

Upon entering the kitchen, Patrick was faced with an unexpected sight. There was large serving-bowl of pasta on the dining table, in a creamy sauce. There were two placemats laid out on the vinyl tablecloth, a frighteningly cliche image of domesticity, and Pete was gesturing Patrick to his seat as he fetched a bowl of warmed garlic-bread from the top shelf of the oven. He placed it on the table before looking expectantly at Patrick. Patrick remained standing in the doorframe, too tired to work out the significance of the situation.

“Pete, what’s this?” He asked, a hand pressed to his temple.

Pete smiled sweetly, “I thought you might want to eat something anyway. I know how much you like pasta.”

Patrick huffed, “I told you that I wasn’t hungry.”

“You did, but I think you might have been lying. What have I told you about ignoring everything in favour of work? It’s not healthy.” Pete explained.

“I wouldn’t call this amount of pasta healthy.” Patrick argued.

Pete grinned, “I think you want it, though. Do you care about how healthy it is?”

Patrick protested, “Yes, I do.”

Pete continued in spite of his introduction, “Or do you care that it’s your favourite meal, loads of it, prepared especially for you?”

“Yes,” Patrick repeated, quieter, “I do.”

“You’re going to eat it then.” Pete told him, “Give me a colour.”

Patrick regarded the mountain of food in front of him, the demanding tone of Pete’s voice, the gnawing hunger that he hadn’t previously realised. He liked the direction this was heading in.

“Green.”

Pete nodded, commanded, “Then sit down.”

Patrick did as he was told, sliding into the seat opposite Pete, staring as Pete piled his plate high with the pasta and then poured a ladle of sauce over the top. There was a second, smaller plate for Patrick to take some garlic-bread, an offer which he gladly took up. Once Pete had finished serving him, he took a small portion for himself and let Patrick dig in, a glass of juice beside him already laid out.

The pasta was nice, well-cooked, not hard but not too soft either. Patrick appreciated Pete’s cooking skills, as his pasta was rivalled only by that of Patrick’s mother. The recipe was her’s, in fact, though Pete had added his own twist over the years, it was all annotated on the photocopy of the recipe that Patrick’s mom kept pinned to her fridge. He liked Pete’s additions, a little spice and a thicker sauce, though he would never admit it to his mother. Every time Pete made it he’d mix it up a little and try something new, and there hadn’t been a bad dish yet.

Patrick gathered up a large forkful and ate it slowly, savouring the flavour and the creaminess of the texture. The garlic bread was equally delicious, with a crunchy crust and a fluffy inside, warm with melted butter. It wouldn’t take long to finish, that was sure, as Patrick scarfed down his serving in practically record time. He was starving, yes, but he wouldn’t let that discredit Pete’s cooking. Yes, he’d probably have eaten anything put in front of him at that moment, but he was glad that it happened to be Pete’s pasta.

“This is delicious, Pete.” Patrick commented.

“Thanks,” Pete grinned warmly, “Want some more bread?”

Patrick nodded, embarrassingly in the middle of chewing a mouthful of pasta. Pete gave him two more pieces of garlic bread before slowly finishing the rest of his own portion. Following the bread, airy and soft as it was, Patrick could feel how his buttoned shirt was tightening around his midsection.

“Ugh,” Patrick grunted, “Okay Pete, I’m full.”

“But Patrick, you haven’t finished.” Pete whined.

There was a fairly significant portion left. Having had two rather large plates already, Patrick was not nearly as hungry as he was before he started. Pete had also consumed two plates, though they were both smaller than Patrick’s, and he was unlikely to eat any more. This left Patrick to handle the rest of the pasta alone, and while he liked the idea in concept he was unsure of the practicality. Not that he didn’t love the idea of stuffing himself full to bursting with his favourite pasta, of course.

Patrick sighed, “Talk me through it.”

“We ignore the standard rules of yes and no. The only words that mean anything to me in terms of how you’re feeling from now on are red, yellow and green.”

“Okay.” Patrick agreed, “Do I get to know the plan?”

“You’ll figure it out.” Pete told him, “Colour?”

“Green.” Patrick stated, and then the game was officially on.

Pete, as Patrick had guessed, wasn’t going to indulge himself in any more of the pasta, instead heaping another portion onto Patrick’s place and giving him the last two pieces of garlic bread. Pete moved around the table to sit beside Patrick, close enough that he could watch as the buttons on Patrick’s shirt began to strain and the hem slowly rode up the curve of his belly. Patrick was still eating independently and confidently, piling each fork with as much as he possibly could before swallowing it down, chasing every other mouthful with a swig of juice. He moaned softly the closer he got to the bottom of the bowl, and Pete was tempted to reach out and squeeze affectionately at his love-handles.

Once Patrick had reached the bottom of the bowl, he dropped his knife and fork so that he could clutch his belly in his hands, attempting to soothe the tightness beneath his skin. There was a smear of sauce at the corner of his mouth and Pete cleared it off with his finger, making Patrick suck it clean before he started serving up the last of the pasta from the serving bowl Patrick’s dish, making sure to scoop up all of the pasta from the edges until the bowl was almost pristine.

“Pete, I’m so full, please-” Patrick begged.

Even his loosest pair of sweatpants, the only true outfit option for a day on the couch, were digging uncomfortably into his waist. He adjusted the waistband to try and alleviate the discomfort and unbuttoned his shirt, but the ache that had lodged itself firmly in the pit of his belly clearly wasn’t going to be that easily deterred. Pete pressed the tips of his fingers into the soft flesh of Patrick’s midsection, smirking at the give he felt there. Patrick wasn’t going to get off that easily, it seemed.

“I don’t think you’re full yet. You know, in my professional opinion.” Pete judged.

Patrick protested, “I’m the one who gets stuffed, here. If it’s either of us, I should be the professional.”

Pete smiled as he poked at Patrick’s stomach again, drawing a loud gurgle from the churning mass below, telling Patrick, “I’m in control of your limit right now, though, and I say you still have room.”

Given that Patrick was still busy massaging his aching belly, Pete thought it was only fair that he help Patrick finish it off. Not by eating any himself, no, rather picking up Patrick’s fork and picking up a small pile of pasta and then pressing it inelegantly into Patrick’s open mouth. Patrick opened his eyes wide, surprised at the intrusion, then relaxed and started to chew and swallow it down. With Pete’s steady rhythm of feeding him and letting him break, it seemed like less of a chore. The closer to the bottom of the bowl Pete got, the more Patrick let himself fall deep into that trance.

“Let’s get you upstairs before I bring you dessert, yeah? You’ve been doing great so far.”

Patrick hiccoughed, nearly choked mid-swallow, “There’s more?”

Pete smiled, “Indeed there is. Can’t go without dessert, and your favourite.”

“Pete, I really don’t think I can eat that much.” “It hurts so much already.”

Pete hesitated, hearing a tone of genuine concern in Patrick’s voice that he didn’t want to write off without checking. Patrick hadn’t said anything, hadn’t spoken up about it like he sometimes would, but Pete needed to make sure. His concern for Patrick’s wellbeing would always be paramount to any inconvenience it may cause.

“Colour?” Pete questioned.

Patrick huffed, “Yellow. Don’t stop, though, I’ll let you know if you need to stop.”

“Is there anything that can make you more comfortable?”

Patrick shook his head, “Bedroom would be nice though. If I can move, that is.”

“When you’ve finished that bowl, the pasta’s finished. We can go up then.” Pete told him, smiling as Patrick shoved another forkful into his mouth.

Patrick didn’t take long to finish, dropping the silverware on the table when he’d done. Pete clearly wasn’t in the mood for waiting, started to pull Patrick up from his seat and help him up the stairs. Not that it made each step any more comfortable, with Patrick’s belly sloshing loudly and uncomfortably with every stair. Pete liked the sound of it, liked Patrick’s grunts of discomfort every time it happened. It had been a while, what with touring and studio work, since they’d done this. It sounded like Patrick had gotten out of practice.

He leaned Patrick back on the bed, falling next to him and affectionately nuzzling his face into Patrick’s neck for a moment before picking himself up once again. Patrick turned his face into the fabric of the bed, tried to catch his breath. Pete was making his way towards the door, trying to tear his eyes away from Patrick.

“I’ll be back in just a second, just let me go and get the cake.”

It may not have taken long, but Patrick was getting slightly impatient by the time Pete returned, carefully balancing a cake-board in one hand and a large glass of water in the other. He nudged open the door and moved across the room to place the water on the bedside table, laying the cake-board on the bed next to Patrick before helping him sit up.

“That’s a lot,” Patrick murmured.

Pete stared at him, laid back and near-on helpless on the rumpled bedsheets, and asked “Do you think you can eat it yourself, or do you want me to feed it to you?”

Patrick hummed, “I’ll try and eat it myself.”

His voice sounded distant, and Pete knew that he’d fallen into that headspace where half his consciousness was miles away, the other half focused entirely on the physical. Still, he made the move to reach for the first slice of cake, picking up the fork that Pete had left alongside it. He took small, careful bites; the largest he could with such a small implement, before giving up on cutlery entirely. Once the first slice was out of the way, Patrick picked up the gooey chocolate cake in his hands so that he could eat it faster. Pete could feel beneath his hands how Patrick’s belly churned and protested to every new mouthful.

“That’s it, Pete, I can’t,” Patrick breathed, having only a couple of slices left, “I can’t eat any more.”

Pete smiled, “Let me.”

“No, Pete, I’m so full.” Patrick groaned in protest

Pete didn’t respond, only shoved another piece of the cake into Patrick’s mouth, watching raptly as it smeared around the corners of his mouth. Patrick’s protests were cut off by a burp and a moan, by Pete shifting around where he was straddling Patrick’s belly. Patrick’s eyes were screwed shut with the discomfort he was in, and Pete was determined to get his stomach to make as much noise as possible by kneading it with his hands and pressing it between his thighs. Patrick was hard-pressed not to plead for mercy. There was less than half of the cake left, and now he knew he could finish it, but every movement brought about a new gurgle and a new ache. Pete’s pace was merciless, but it would get the job done.

Pete paid no attention to whatever sounds of protest came from either Patrick’s mouth or his upset belly, instead focused on stuffing Patrick with as much cake as he could in any given mouthful. Patrick moaned around the food in his mouth, and Pete took that as encouragement as he pressed his hands a little deeper into the soft flesh of Patrick’s stomach, feeling the tightness beneath. It stopped being pleasant and polite some time around when Patrick gave up his fork in favour of eating the sticky cake from his hands, and Pete was happy to continue that trend. There wasn’t any delicacy or elegance about it, with both sets of messy hands and the dirty smirk on Pete’s face.

By the time Patrick had only one slice of cake left to consume, Pete was devoting more time to massaging his belly and kissing down Patrick’s sides. It was getting a little hard to breathe, though whether it was from the weight or Pete’s teasing, Patrick couldn’t be sure. He groaned as Pete finally lifted the last slice off of the the cake-board and onto the plate, it was so close to being over, and Pete’s slow teasing was starting to get a little more testing than he was happy with.

He swallowed the cake with great effort, tipping his head back in a strange mix of pleasure and persistent discomfort, and all that really achieved was letting Pete have access to the sensitive spot on the side of his neck. Pete was just as riled up now as Patrick was, though a little more nimble, and determined to lavish his attentions on Patrick as much as he possibly could. This was not, all in all, a bad thing. Patrick was uncomfortable, yes, but the motions of Pete’s hands and Pete’s lips was slowly overcoming that.

“Pete,” Patrick sighed, not really knowing where he was going with that.

Pete smiled against his skin, “So good, Patrick, you did so good. Can I fuck you?”

“Which way?” Patrick asked, because when he was as stuffed as he was, that was a primary concern.

“If you kneel, hands and knees, can I fuck you like that?”

“Yeah.” Patrick nods, “Green.”

“I can’t wait to feel the weight of you in my hands, Patrick, you’re so stuffed.”

It was true, seeing Patrick laying back on the sheets and filled to his absolute limit, Pete was struggling to keep his hands off long enough to even have that discussion. He looked like the true image of debauchery, rougher around the edges and filthier than any Renaissance painting could ever show lust to be. With his shirt long-unbuttoned the flush that rose high on his cheeks, Pete would take a photograph would Patrick not kill him for doing so. He wondered if paintings representing gluttony would be more accurate, and had to stop himself before he considered pursuing a career in fine art. He could do justice to this sight, in words or in music or in image, only that Patrick would never let him. He supposed that meant that they’d just have to do it so often that he never forgot the feeling.

Pete helped Patrick sit up, hearing him groan as his belly was jostled and Pete’s hands continued to soothe. Slowly, Patrick turned himself around so that he was on all fours, kneeling on the dark red sheets. Pete had taken a step back to undress himself and find the lube from the drawer, and Patrick was getting desperate in his absence. His belly hung low and heavy beneath him, so tight and so sensitive that even the tiniest movement sent a shiver down Patrick’s spine. Before he knew it, Pete’s arms were wrapping around his waist, pressing up against his stomach and purposefully jostling him. Patrick leaned forward enough to bury his face in the bed, stifling moans and belches as Pete continued to rub circles and spirals into his skin.

“Please, Pete,” Patrick begged, his voice cracking as he spoke, “I need-”

Pete feigned innocence, “Need what?”
“Need you to get on with it. Fuck me, Pete, please.” Patrick continued.

Pete laughed, “Yeah, alright, I’ll get started.”

“Come on.” Patrick whined.

“First, don’t hesitate to safeword out if it gets too uncomfortable, I’m happy to just jerk you off if you want. If you’ve got no complaints, I’m going to start now.”

“Please.”

Pete flipped open the cap on the bottle of lube and squeezed some over his fingers, warming in his hands before pressing his first finger into Patrick, who moaned softly and pressed back against Pete’s hand. If Pete’d thought he’d been out-of-practice when it came to stuffing, clearly no skill was lost when it came to fucking. Patrick was still begging, quiet and mindless, as Pete drew his hand away and then returned with two fingers, still holding back so that he could tease Patrick longer.

It wasn’t long before Pete gave up on teasing, deciding instead to start with three fingers and curl them up against Patrick’s prostate, making him jump before he could prepare himself, wobbling his belly so that it churned and sloshed loud. If Patrick hadn’t been begging, he would probably would have left it that, bringing Patrick to the very edge with just his fingers and his tongue. Still, he kept Patrick there for a few moments until he’d settled again, gotten as comfortable as he was ever going to get with that much food inside him.

Pete reopened the lube once again and squeezed a little more into the palm of his hand, using it to jerk himself a couple of times before leaning forwards and lining up, pressing himself into Patrick as he moaned and shook beneath him. He had a rhythm, one that he knew Patrick liked, one that he subconsciously wrote into half of their songs nowadays. It was so familiar and reminiscent of previous occasions that Pete struggled to keep his hips from bucking forwards. He had to be gentle, no matter how much Patrick was begging for him to go harder, because things would be much more difficult if Patrick started feeling sick. Pete’s wandering hands probably weren’t helping in that respect, so he decided to keep them for jerking Patrick off in time to his own movements.

“Pete, Pete, come on,” Patrick grunted, “I know you’re close, just get yourself off and then you can repay me after.”

Pete doesn’t say that Patrick was the one asking to be fucked, he doesn’t want to deal with that level of bitchfest right now.

He didn’t answer, either, figuring that just getting on with it as Patrick had asked would be response enough. He was, as Patrick had accurately judged, very close already, and it only took a few more short thrusts before he was coming, hot and wet inside Patrick. There wasn’t much time for afterglow, though, as Pete pulled out carefully before laying Patrick on his back. This was all about Patrick, after all, and this would fuel Pete’s fantasies for the rest of eternity anyway.

He decided to return to fingering Patrick, pressing kisses wherever he could reach, sucking bruises on every available patch of pale skin. Patrick’s breathing was short, rushed, and he was staring at Pete like he was worshipping him. Pete, of course, had far better accuracy with his fingers than he did with his dick, so he went straight back to curling them against Patrick’s prostate, uncurling them and curling them again until Patrick was coming untouched, leaving white streaks over his own stomach.

Pete treated once again, moving away from the bed to fetch a washcloth from the en-suite, running it under warm water so that he could clean Patrick up before letting himself relax into bed. Patrick, when he returned, was pliable and sleepy, allowing Pete to clean him without any complaint or comment. He still looked uncomfortable, one hand having drifted to rub at the taut curve of his belly, and Pete decided to take over so that Patrick could get to sleep.

“It hurts,” Patrick muttered, quiet as a breath.

“I know,” Pete comforted, drawing lines and circles softly over his belly, “You did so well, though, I wasn’t sure if you’d manage it all.”

“Nah, it was easy.” Patrick lied, a smile gracing his lips briefly before relaxing once again.

Pete laughed, “If that was easy, I guess I’ll have to step it up a notch.”

“I guess you will.” Patrick agreed.

Pete knew he’d be irritable and achy in the morning, letting Pete know that they were never doing that ever again. Until he changed his mind, of course, and held Pete to that offer. It was inevitable, really. It was a comfortable cycle, at this point.

“‘Night,” Patrick whispered, his face tucked up against Pete’s collarbones, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“My pleasure,” Pete answered, “‘Night.”

@темы: Stuffing, Фанфикшн

00:50 

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/4081738

Dinner with the Holmeses
Aris_Silverfin
Summary:

For a Prompt: Sherlock and John are having dinner at the Holmes' place. Sherlock's mother cooks a huge dinner, both boys end up eating more than just a bit too much, and try not to let it show/make it too obvious.

Work Text:

"John, the cab has been waiting for ten minutes, for God's sake what's keeping you?"

John huffed in frustration and called back, "Just give me minute!"

"I've given you precisely twenty so far," came Sherlock's stroppy grumble through the bathroom door.

"Great, you can spare another minute then," John retorted, turning back to the mirror as he heard Sherlock's shoes go back down the hall and a soft thump that meant the detective had flung himself onto the sofa. John had spent every second of those last 20 minutes fretting. He normally handled this sort of thing well. He was curious to meet the famed 'Mummy' that Sherlock and Mycroft always seemed to be squabbling about. And to meet Sherlock's father of course. John supposed he just wished that he had met them before he began a romantic relationship with their doubtlessly treasured youngest son. He imagined older, harsher, Sherlock's, each capable of x-raying his very soul, seeing through the army doctor to the broken adrenaline junkie. John sighed and straightened his tie. Then he stepped out.

"Ready to go?" he asked, moving past Sherlock, stepping into his shoes and doing them up.

"Yes. Obviously," said Sherlock, springing to his feet and striding up to John, hands immediately flying to his boyfriend's collar, straightening and smoothing it. John watched those dark brows furrow.

"What?" he asked, though his voice was fond this time.

"The tie," said Sherlock, plucking it as if it were a string on his violin. "We're having dinner with my parents, not the Queen."

John chuckled. "Says the man who went to Buckingham Palace in nothing but a bed sheet."

Sherlock's eyes flicked to John's, then crinkled in a smile. "Not my point but-"

"You're right. It's a bit much," John agreed, reaching up and untying it. "Right, come on. Maybe the cabbie hasn't given up yet." He tossed the tie over onto the chair and headed for the door, Sherlock following behind him. The cab was miraculously still there, though the driver strongly implied that perhaps he ought to charge per hour for this trip. Sherlock shut him up by tossing a extra 10 pound note through the divider as he gave the address.

The journey was rather quite. John's fingers tapped incessantly against his knee until Sherlock's long warm fingers settled on top of them.

"My brave soldier isn't frightened of a large free meal is he?" Sherlock rumbled.

John laughed. "No. Course not. It's just-"

"They'll adore you. Or I'll be forced to disown them."

"What? Your whole family?"

"Seems as good of an excuse as any," Sherlock replied blithely. "I've been trying to escape Mycroft for decades after all."

John chuckled and gave his lover's hand a squeeze. He knew that wasn't entirely true, but Sherlock's humor was heartening.



Sherlock's parents turned out to be quite incredibly... ordinary. Mrs. Holmes was cheery and kind and tended to ramble on and on about any matter of things as she set dishes out on the large wooden table in the dining room. Mr. Holmes too was genial, nodding or interjecting into his wife's speech here and there. He seemed a good and quiet man. John found himself warming to him immediately. Sherlock's smile was undoubtedly his, where his eyes were passed down from Mummy Holmes. He saw that as she scanned the table again, looking for anywhere with enough space for yet another pot of potatoes.

"We're so happy to finally meet you, John. Sherlock's told us so much about you," said Mrs. Holmes, finally settling down beside her husband.

"Yes. The man behind the blog," Mr. Holmes said, nodding and giving his son a wink. "Glad Sherlock has someone to look after him with everything he gets up to"

"Oh yes, frightening stuff for a mother to read. Sometimes I'm glad I don't find out about those cases until they're over," said Mrs. Holmes, doling out fried potatoes onto her husband's plate. "Tuck in, boys. You must be starving."

"Thank you, everything looks amazing," said John, nodding and scanning the table again. The smells had been driving him mad, making his stomach clench and growl in interest. But where to start?

"John, eat," came Sherlock's voice, low and warm as it gusted against John's ear, his lover leaning into him as Sherlock also served John potatoes. "You hardly ate anything all day."

It was true, his stomach had been working itself into a knot. He hadn't given it much thought.

"Neither did you," John retorted, smiling softly as Sherlock loaded the deliciously starchy golden things onto his own plate.

"I don't need-"

"Yeah, you do."

Sherlock shrugged and then loaded three thick slices of roast onto John's plate. To be fair, he took the same amount for himself. Then there were mince pies, buttery roasted vegetables, freshly baked rolls, and loads of thick savory gravy. John and Sherlock chatted and laughed with Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, shared cases that hadn't made it to the blog, and otherwise made merry as they ate and ate and ate. Mrs. Holmes cheerily pushed a new dish towards John whenever a clear space appeared. There was roast duck as well, mashed potatoes, fat strips of bacon, steak and ale pie... John utterly lost track of how much he was eating. He was full, then beyond full, then full to bursting with his trousers digging into his belly. But it was all delicious and too tempting to stop. Sherlock too seemed not to notice or mind as he loaded more food onto his lover's plate between bites.

At last, John couldn't eat another bite. He fell back in his chair, trying to take some of the pressure off his stomach. He tried to breath shallowly, doing his best to suck in his massively overfull middle. He tugged at his shirt, now wishing that he had gone with his usual jumper rather than the button up that was now pulling tightly around his belly.

"Oomph, that was terrific! Thank you for such a good meal, Mrs. Holmes," said John, still shifting as he tried to get comfortable. He glanced over at Sherlock and found the man looking utterly undone. The lanky detective was also slumped back in his seat, a hand resting on a bulge of belly John didn't know he had. Sherlock's shirts were always tight, but now the buttons appeared to be screaming, the fabric skin tight around the man's belly. John watched, entranced as Sherlock's breaths caused that endearingly round shape to expand, then contract. His lips looked plump and wet, his eyes were half lidded and dozy. Sherlock's other hand slid down discretely. The detective gave a soft sigh and his belly appeared to relax a bit further. He'd undone his trousers.

John wet his lips, but got a grip on himself. They were with Sherlock's parents, this was not the time to think about stripping those clothes from Sherlock's body with his teeth and having his way with him while the detective moaned and groaned, belly arching up into the air.

"You three relax, I'll get the table cleared," said Mrs. Holmes, standing and starting to collect plates.

"I can help, darling," said Mr. Holmes, also standing and helping out. He smiled warmly at Sherlock and John as he followed his wife to the kitchen.

"Your mum's a good cook," John murmured, smiling as he allowed himself to look over Sherlock again, "Don't think I've ever seen you eat like that before."

One of Sherlock's eyes slid open. "Mm... nor I you," he rumbled, reaching over to prod at John's belly with two fingers.

"Oof! Watch it," John warned, "Christ, I'm full..."

"There's still dessert," Sherlock purred, walking his fingers along John's belly.

"Oh God!" John groaned, then huffed a laugh. "We won't be able to move after." He grinned at Sherlock and reached over to rub the other man's belly. Sherlock sighed happily, slumping down further as it gurgled.

He let out a small burp and flushed, covering his mouth with a hand.

"Sorry," John chuckled, still rubbing. Sherlock only grumbled and muffled another burp.

Mrs. Holmes suddenly reemerged and John quickly jolted up, trying to suck in his belly, his abdominals aching after only a few seconds. Sherlock followed, a touch more slowly, wavering as he hauled himself up and closer to the table. John watched his lover's belly clench slightly. A hiccup? Sherlock was blushing now, his mouth still covered by one hand.

"Ah, p-pudding?" said John, swallowing a belch, his belly feeling only tighter for his trouble.

"Yes! Sherlock's favorite Banoffee pie!" said Mrs. Holmes, cheerfully, carrying it over. Mr. Holmes followed after her, bringing along a tray with coffee, cream, and sugar.

Sherlock let out a soft groan as he eyed the dessert, one hand still clutching his stomach.

"Sounds fantastic," said John cheerfully, even as his trousers dug even harder into his middle as he let his stomach round out behind the table. He reached down and undid the button as well. Oh that was loads better.

Mrs. Holmes served each of them a hefty slice of the sticky pie and poured them each a cup of coffee.

John elected for some coffee first, the warm liquid soothing the stretch of his far too full middle just a bit. He could do this. He lifted his fork and dipped it into the mess of whipped cream and banana. The first bite was heavenly, the second even better, the third the best yet. His stomach twinged at him, begging him to stop, but his taste buds insisted that one more bite couldn't hurt. John did his best to keep chatting politely with Sherlock's parents, attempting not to let on that he had eaten far too much and really needed to lie down and groan for mercy.

A glance at Sherlock showed him that the other man wasn't fairing much better. Every so often Sherlock's shoulders would hitch or jump as his stomach lurched with another hiccup. Sherlock compensated by gulping down coffee between more bites of the pie. This, naturally, did not help matters. John noticed that Sherlock was saying very little and often brought his fist to his mouth to muffle a burp or belch as the detective's now almost perfectly round stomach gurgled. It was pure torture, both to be unable to touch that perfect plump belly and to keep eating that delicious pie. John had never been more aroused in his life.

But he was a gentleman, and attempting to make a good impression and so John Watson did his utter best to swallow any burps that tried to escape him, even as he felt the pressure in his belly building. Then at last, dinner was over and they were to head back to London. John surprised himself by being able to stand afterall. He tugged his shirt down and thanked the Holmeses again and again for a wonderful evening. Then he took Sherlock by the hand and did his best not to waddle as they left. Once the door closed behind them, they walked to the cab they had called. Within two steps of it, Sherlock let out an almighty belch and moaned, almost falling into John, his face burning.

"God, I'm such a-"

"HUUUUURP!" John replied, sighing with utter relief and settling back against the cab. Sherlock stared at him a moment, then both men collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"Oh Christ, I thought I was going to explode," John chuckled, groaning as his belly jostled with the motions of his laughter.

"Fuck, I've- urp- never... never eaten like that," Sherlock groaned, now rubbing his belly, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Maybe you should try that more often," John teased, prodding the bit of pale skin he caught sight of between the man's buttons, "Put some meat on your bones."

Sherlock chuckled and bumped his middle into John's. "Don't tell me you enjoyed this too," he said, his tone joking. But John knew him well enough to pick up on the tiny notes of hope in the detective's voice.

"I did. A lot," John murmured, his hands sliding down Sherlock's sides and cupping that round bloated belly in his hands. Sherlock gasped softly and leaned into John, their too-full middles adding even more delicious pressure.

"I'm... glad," Sherlock murmured, ducking his head down to snog John properly against the side of the cab.

There was a faint thumping noise and the two broke away.

"Come on, haven't got all night," said the driver. Sherlock stuffed a twenty pound note through the crack of the window impatiently and then resumed kissing his overfed love.

@темы: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Stuffing, Стаффинг, Фанфикшн

00:48 

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/2836841

Just Once a Year
Aris_Silverfin
Summary:

For a prompt: Sherlock and John both eat and drink way too much for Christmas dinner.

Just some cute lovely fluff. Maybe a touch of understated pining if you read it that way.

Work Text:

"Happy Christmas from the Yard," said Lestrade cheerily, thrusting a large turkey and a covered mixing bowl into John's arms, "And here's the chestnut stuffing. Wife's old recipe. You'll love it."

"Oh, thanks, but you didn't have to-"

"I know, but you and Sherlock do so much for us, least we could do," continued Greg, "Look I'd best be off, have a nice holiday."

"Er, you too," said John, smiling and then stepping back inside with a sigh. A whole turkey? Just for the two of them? On top of everything else? He hauled the bird up to put it in the refrigerator along with the stuffing, having to cram it between a small glazed ham (a gift from a client), a gigantic bowl of bread gravy(from Mrs. H), several containers of sprouts, parsnips, and carrots(brought over by Molly with Sherlock's order of toes), and the huge pudding that had apparently been sent over by one of Mycroft's team. Apparently all of London was trying to feed them, thought John with a snort. He sincerely hoped Sherlock would be helping out. There was no way he could manage this lot on his own. Maybe they should donate it? But that seemed somehow ungrateful. And it was likely to spoil if it wasn't eaten tomorrow.

John sighed, and went to look up the best way to cook a turkey.

***
There was a lot of food. The kitchen table was creaking and John was worried about just how sturdy the old thing was and what Mrs. Hudson would say if they asked for a new one. Still, it certainly looked good. The turkey was perfectly golden, garnished with little sausages in bacon blankets. The other offerings had also been cooked, warmed and set out. John uncorked a bottle of merlot he had gotten from Sarah at work and poured two glasses, he stood sipping it thoughtfully, then nodded and returned to the living room. He had to smile as he caught sight of Sherlock, slumped on the sofa as always and frowning as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

"I thought even the great Sherlock Holmes would take a break from work on Christmas," said John, stepping over and holding out the other glass, "Come on. Just one night of not working."

Sherlock sniffed but then apparently smelled the wine and looked up from his laptop.

"I might as well... most of these are so inane that I could solve them without leaving the flat. No murders or mysterious disappearances," said Sherlock, pouting slightly.

"Maybe if you're good Father Christmas will bring you a triple homicide," John chuckled. Sherlock rolled his eyes but accepted the wine, taking a thoughtful sip as he stood and followed Sherlock back into the kitchen. The detective stopped, looking stunned at the feast before him.

"Did you... prepare all of this?" he asked, sounding impressed.

John almost said yes but then decided honesty was best. "No, no. We've had people shoving food at us for the past week. I just warmed it up. Though I did cook the turkey." John nodded at the bird with a note of pride in his voice.

Sherlock let out a low chuckle, then sat behind a plate. He seemed unsure of how to start.

John smiled, downed the last of his glass and then refilled it before scooping up a heaping mound of roasted potatoes, turkey, ham, veg, and bread sauce before tucking in.

"Merry Christmas," he said through a happy mouthful, raising his glass.

Sherlock smiled, rather shyly and touched his glass to John's. "And a happy new year."

Then he too loaded up his plate.

The food was excellent to say the least, and both men ate heartily, John pressed Sherlock to take seconds as he loaded up his own plate again.

"I'm not going to eat all this by myself," he laughed.

"John, even with both of us eating there will be food left over," Sherlock answered, though he too chuckled, his face growing flushed with drink. They had quickly finished the first bottle and were now making spirited progress on the second.

"Oi. Shut up and eat," was all John offered in reply.

Both men were shifting and sighing slightly at the end of their second plate. Then John suggested they take a third each to make sure they thoroughly enjoyed themselves. Sherlock complied, smiling and chuckling softly to himself as he caught sight of John's full belly rounding out underneath his jumper.

The detective accepted his plate of thirds with a hum. Halfway through he started squirming and had to unbutton his trousers to finish. He burped, flushing slightly, but John only giggled and clapped him on the back, which Sherlock rather liked.

Then their plates were once again empty and both men leaned back, muffling burps and clutching gurgling middles. Sherlock hiccuped.

"I don't think I've ever eaten this much," he said with wonderment, prodding at his middle. It was bloated and round, pushing out against his buttons and practically making them scream.

John chuckled and flopped his hand over dazedly, ending up patting Sherlock on the thigh. His stomach too was stuffed and starting to twinge but-"We still have dessert," he murmured. He hauled himself from his chair with a groan and then went to fetch it.

"Oh... I don't know if I-hurp- can..." Sherlock grunted, though his eyes lit up as they fell on the dish in John's hands. "Is that?"

"Christmas pudding, yeah," slurred John, smiling at the look on Sherlock's face. "Mycroft sent it over. Said it was your mum's recipe."

Sherlock wet his lips and held over his plate. "Gimme a big piece, then."

"Manners," grunted John, but he was chuckling. He cute Sherlock nearly a fourth of the pudding. The detective dove into it as if there were no tomorrow, groaning and humming with pleasure as he stuffed it down. John grinned, wavering slightly. He cut himself a slightly more reasonable piece and tucked in. Oh... that was nice.

John ate methodically, pointedly ignoring the tightness in his stomach and the pleading gurgles it emited as he shoved down bite after bite. Sherlock groaned, collapsing back, his eyes bleary with fullness and drinking. The detective's pale stomach was peeking between the buttons now, looking round and impossibly full. John cut him another slice and Sherlock stared at it with an odd whine.

"S'okay. S'Christmas," John reminded him. Sherlock nodded and picked up the plate, gasping as he cleared it again. He let out a monstrous belch and moaned, rubbing his middle. John echoed him, then slouched, the fork falling from his fingers. He looked over at Sherlock and giggled.

"Christ, look at us!"

Sherlock groaned. "I-hurp-can't believe I ate all... ooohh..."

"Did though," John pointed out with another chuckle, reaching over to prod at the man's belly. Sherlock smiled, but then gave John a steady look as he reached over to rub at John's bejumpered belly.

"Jus' because it's Christmas," he said softly, "Feels... nice."

"Course," agreed John, reaching over to rub Sherlock's in kind, "Just because it's Christmas."

The two sat in contented overstuffed quiet for a time, easing each other's discomfort with cautious fingers. Finally John felt himself nodding off... and able to move again. He stood. Sherlock looked up with a bit of a start and withdrew his hand. John smiled, then lumbered off to bed, hand on round swollen belly. They each lay back in their own beds, burping and hiccuping, feeling the weight on their middles grow warm and haul them swiftly off to sleep. If only it could be Christmas every day.

@темы: Sherlock Holmes, Stuffing, Фанфикшн

00:45 

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/3176810

Bottoms Up
Aris_Silverfin
Summary:

Prompt: John wants to see if Sherlock can down an entire 2-litre of soda. Sherlock obliges... you can include even more feeding, if you want. Basically just anything with burping and inflation.

John brings his favorite detective home a treat one day. The results are quite rewarding.

Work Text:

There was a rustle of shopping bags as John entered 221B. The ex-army doctor strolled past where his flatmate turned lover lay sprawled over the sofa. John smiled as he noted that for once, Sherlock was asleep. The consulting detective's mouth was open and he was snoring just a little, a crumb filled plate beside him signifying the new change in opinion on food the lanky man had developed recently. His position also highlighted the tiniest pinch of softness that was clinging to the area around Sherlock's navel, creating the softest of roundings under a still quite apparent ribcage. Though that seemed to be slipping under new flesh quite nicely as well.

John drew nearer and set his shopping bags down, then he slipped a hand onto that lovely pale middle, his fingers pressing lightly, exploring this new little addition to his lover.

Sherlock huffed and wriggled slightly, turning away from John's curious fingers.

"Hmmph... Hands are cold," he mumbled.

"Sorry, love," John replied with a chuckle. Sherlock was warm, seeming only to grow warmer as he gained a bit of weight. He looked beautiful. The picture of health. But still, as they had discussed, he could always do with a little more.

John slipped his finger into the man's navel, tugging lightly at the sides. Sherlock released a soft gasp, his back arching as he turned lazy warm eyes onto John.

"What did you bring me?" He purred, his tone low and rich.

John smiled and pulled out a large two-liter bottle of soda from the bag along with a pint of the fancy French vanilla bean ice cream Sherlock liked and some crispy wafers.

"Just a little snack," said John, pulling the lid off of the ice cream and using one of the wafers to scoop some of it up. It was perfectly soft and creamy. Sherlock's eyes lit up, then he smirked and pushed himself up to accept the treat. He clearly had guessed John's plan. Well, ice cream and soda. It was a fairly simple deduction.

The detective practically purred as he sucked the ice cream from the wafer, licking a few sweet tendrils from it before biting into the wafer with a crunch. John quickly prepared another, which Sherlock ate just as eagerly, one hand already drifting to his middle, rubbing slow tantalizing circles over it, motions he knew would drive John wild.

The doctor was already breathing a bit funny, those long fingers caressing the burgeoning softness only made it harder to resist. Finally, when the ice cream was gone and Sherlock's lips were sticky and sweet, and the man's eyes had become rather impressively sultry, John gave in, crushing his mouth to his lover's. He tasted powerfully of vanilla and his mouth was slightly chilled from his treat. John found that even better, his hand now free to examine Sherlock's belly, probing at the subtle rounding that told of a contented stomach. But they weren't going for contented just now.

John sat back to catch his breath, watching as Sherlock rucked up his shirt further and rubbed at his belly a bit more.

"Feeling good?" John asked, grinning.

"Mmm... Could be even better though," the detective replied, giving his stomach a sharp pat.

"Course, here. Drink up," John instructed, passing the soda bottle over.

Sherlock opened it with a snap and lifted it to his mouth with both hands. Then he began to drink... And drink.

John watched as Sherlock drank the soda down, his eyes tracking the bob of that pale throat working, the detective's eyes fluttering closed, the way his abdomen contracted minutely, only to swell bigger and bigger.

At last, Sherlock had to breathe again, he gasped as he lowered the bottle, several burps bubbling up his throat to escape. His belly rounded out further, gurgling as the soda made contact with the ice cream, fizzing up and making Sherlock feel well and heavily bloated. He burped again, panting slightly, as he slumped back against the sofa, his hand rubbing at his belly.

"Well done," said John, moving closer and rubbing at Sherlock's distended tummy carefully, probing it with his fingers and finding it delightfully springy. "More."

Sherlock's eyes went wide as he muffled another belch. He willingly accepted the still mostly full bottle however and raised it to his lips, throwing his head back and chugging down even more. John rubbed the man's belly as he drank, imagining that he could feel the skin stretching under his fingers. The bulge was growing rather hard now, Sherlock's belly swelling out beautifully, growing round and heavy. John slid his finger into the navel again, finding the walls stretched and much more shallow now that Sherlock was being filled.

"Just a bit more left," said John, reaching up to help Sherlock with the bottle as the man took a breather again. The detective immediately let out a monstrous wet belch, clutching his stomach and groaning. John gave the detective's belly a pat and then pushed the bottle to Sherlock's lips again.

"Go on. You can do it. I know you can," he murmured. Sherlock gave an odd hiccup that sounded more like a burp, his belly sloshing slightly, then he nodded, and accepted it, throwing his head back to gulp down the last of it.

John watched as Sherlock emptied he bottle, gulp by gulp, his belly rounding out further and rounder each time, the skin around his navel growing a bit splotchy.

Then every last drop was inside him, and Sherlock collapsed back with a moan that was quickly replaced by a litany of burps. He couldn't seem to stop, his cheeks flushing pink, one hand on his bloated middle.

"Oh-John I-hurp-ooh!" Sherlock groaned, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth, his eyes closed.

John chuckled kindly and moved over to rub gently at his lover's hugely distended form. The curve of pale belly was now jutting up proudly under the man's ribs, the mass jostling slightly as Sherlock hiccuped or burped, the whole lot sloshing around.

"You okay?" John asked, still rubbing and pressing gently at Sherlock's middle. The detective nodded and removed his hand to speak but all that came out was yet another loud burp. Sherlock flushed. John only laughed and rubbed more purposefully.

"Go on, you can let them out," he encouraged.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but removed his hand, burping softly, oftentimes groaning, feeling marvelously fat and full.

"I don't know-hurp- why I let-urp- you do-hmmph-this to me," he murmured as his stomach sloshed and gurgled between his doctor's gentle hands.

"Don't you?" Teased John, grinning and lowering himself to kiss and mouth at Sherlock's round bloated middle.

the detective arched his back, keening softly, then burping once more. He smiled lazily down at John.

"Alright. I do," he admitted, surrendering himself to soft sighs and gasps and moans as John fully worshiped his over sensitive middle. It was difficult to determine which of them was getting the bigger treat tonight.

@темы: Sherlock BBC, Stuffing, Фанфикшн

Stuffing

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