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Записи с темой: стаффинг (список заголовков)
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
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

12:40 

EvilStufferSebastian
Аниме: "Киба"
Серия: 29
Персонаж: Робэс



















@темы: Картинки, Живот, Боль в животе, Стаффинг, Аниме, screencaps, Tummyache, Kiba, Bloating, Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink, Anime

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
02:32 

EvilStufferSebastian
thfrustration.tumblr.com/post/61816036782/bad-r...

Название: Плохой роман
Номер главы/ваншота: Глава 10 - Локи, пряная курица, соль и перец!
Автор: Loki’s Anon
Какой Том/Герой: Локи перед "Тором"
Жанр: Комедия, Роман, Эротика
Саммари фика: Марли мидгардианка, которая попала в Асгард ещё ребёнком после событий, которые произошли на Земле, втюрена в Локи сколько себя помнит
Рейтинг: Для взрослых, в некоторых главах

Переводчик: EvilStufferSebastian

Важно: Перевод пока не причёсан!

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@темы: Стаффинг, Перевод, ОЖП, Живот, Боль в животе, Аниме, sick!fic, Tummyache, The Avengers (Marvel), Stuffing, Loki, 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

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

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

03:49 

A Flawless Plan 4

EvilStufferSebastian
Natasha split up the food and drinks between the two men and made sure to get a closer look of both their bellies when she drew closer.



“You’re going to lose your money, Clint,” she smirked as she looked at the Captain’s slightly larger stomach. “There’s no way he’s gonna win this.”



“Don’t listen to her, Steve,” Clint grinned, picking at the ham again, which had gone cold, but was still delicious. “You got this, man.”



Steve chuckled and shook his head at the SHIELD agents' behavior, but he said nothing, instead diving into a pizza at a moderate pace that nonetheless would've left the others in the dust if they had still been competing. He had to admit, Thor did seem to be in the lead as far as their bloating stomachs showed, but he had military discipline to help him, and he wasn't going to back down.



Soon, the Captain had finished off two more pizzas and was taking a bit of a break by going for the fruit platter, trying to pace himself without slowing down too much. That was the one thing he knew Thor wouldn't do, as the Asgardian seemed hellbent on pushing on as fast and as far as he could, but it might catch up with him and make him hit a wall. At least, Steve could hope that would happen.



Thor, on the other hand, had already finished all three of his pizzas. His stomach was significantly rounder now, tapering away from his body a full four inches more than normal. He lifted another 2-liter bottle with the intention of chugging it and releasing pressure with a massive belch, as he’d done before with Clint.



Clint was quite pleased with the process now, and he and Natasha were both cheering on the victor they preferred, Clint insisting that Steve would win, and Tasha maintaining that Thor had the practice for this sort of this, and claimed total victory in the past. Clint still had strong doubts about that, but he couldn’t afford to question it, lest he give away the fact that he has extra knowledge.



“You cannot beat me, you might as well give up before you give yourself a serious stomachache,” Thor laughed to his fellow warrior in eating, inspecting the way his stomach boasted an extra three inches, at least.



Steve raised an eyebrow and grinned at the thunder god, shaking a strawberry at him. "Now hey, I thought you said you wanted a challenge," he reminded Thor before popping the strawberry into his mouth. "And I damn well intend to give you one."



Natasha scoffed, though it was mostly light-hearted as evidenced by the barely-restrained smile on her face. "Challenge or not, just go till one of you drops." She waved one hand dismissively and nodded at the remaining food.



“You have given a good fight, yes, but you cannot possibly hope to consume everything in front of you,” Thor said, looking back at the array still laid out in front of Steve. “It will be funny to watch you try.”



Steve shrugged, the slightest prickle of annoyance flaring up at Thor's comments, but he managed to easily ignore it. "Well I guess I'll just have to give it a try and see how far I get, then."



In the next twenty minutes, Thor had also inhaled the remaining cake and pie on his side, with his middle noticeably rounder to show for it. He took a few minutes to drink another bottle of soda, though he took it slower, letting out shallow little burps instead, using his free hand to massage his stomach, which was giving him the first real signs of pain. Only the poptarts and fruit platter remained on his side, though the amount of sliced fruit was daunting. At least two pounds, if not more.



In the same time frame, the Captain's remaining pizzas had vanished, as well as most of his fruit and a couple more boxes of poptarts. He lacked the love for the breakfast pastries that Thor had, though, and found them to be a bit slower going than the foods he was used to. They tasted so...artificial, he wasn't sure he really liked it, but didn't want to say so due to the massive horror that he knew would be Thor's reaction. Things were getting quite painful now, but he fought down the flares of discomfort and plowed on, determined to stick it out as long as he possibly could.





“I swear, it’s gonna come down to soda here,” Clint laughed, seeing how close both the men were to finishing their food. Thor had picked his way through two thirds of the fruit tray and half of the boxes of poptarts.



Thor had resorted to swallowing the chunks of fruit whole. He rather enjoyed the feeling of the large morsels slipping down his throat and forcing the walls of his stomach out that much more. He could hardly believe the amount of food that Steve, a mortal – even an enhanced mortal – had eaten. It was nearly worthy of an Asgardian, though he would be sure not to let the Captain win.



Several tense minutes later and he’d finished off the fruit entirely, and he sat back to survey the damage of his stomach. It was much larger than before, his waistline had expanded by at least six or seven inches, if not more, and the stretch was no longer pleasant, but rather bordering in painful. He would never show his weakness on his face, however, and continued to grin as he sipped his way through another bottle of soda.



The cake and pie on the Captain's side of the table quickly vanished, as did the remnants of his fruit, leaving him with poptarts and soda as he tried to catch up to Thor's pace. He was amazed at how quickly the Asgardian had been able to go the entire way, without really slowing at all or showing signs that the speed was a problem, even as he felt his own pace continue to take its toll on his aching stomach.



Frowning at the poptarts, Steve shook his head wearily but kept eating, glancing at Thor every once in a while to see how he was doing and noticing that the thunder god was still ahead. He didn't really know what he could do to catch up at that point, but he refused to surrender, pushing harder as things came down to the wire.



“Come on, man, you can’t let Thunderbuns take this from you!” Clint encouraged. It was less that he wanted the two of them round and immobile now, more that he wanted to come home to Loki with the news that his brother had been defeated.



“Should I go get more pizza?” Natasha raised an eyebrow.



“I am sure I could take it,” Thor smiled confidently. “But I do believe our Captain is on his last leg.”



"Hey now," Steve looked up and managed a smile, though the strain was evident in his expression, "You haven't finished those yet either." He nodded to the remaining few boxes of poptarts in front of Thor as he reached for a swig of his own soda.



Natasha shook her head. "Okay, this is gonna take forever if we push you two to your limit. What if we just call it that whoever finishes what they've got here first takes it?" she suggested, catching a suspicious frown from Clint.



"Hey, you know Thor's a faster eater. That's cheap," he pointed out, and the redhead threw up her hands exasperatedly.



"Well...okay, fair point, but I also don't wanna be here all day," she remarked, motioning to the way both combatants continued to stubbornly struggle on despite their massive stomachs.



“Alright, let’s see if you guys can finish before worrying about getting more,” Clint just said with a laugh. “I mean, there’s still a lot of soda left there, so even that has to disappear.”



“It is not a challenge,” Thor chuckled.



Steve wasn’t so sure, but he was certainly going to give it a shot.

They ate their way through the last of their food without much more struggle, but then it came to the soda.



“The home stretch,” Natasha smirked, and with a quick count, “Let’s see who can fit twelve liters inside them on top of all the food, hm?”



Thor continued to grin as he pulled the nearest of the sodas close. His stomach was straining against his shirt now, and he gave in to Clint’s idea, lifting the tight hem over his globe of a belly to relieve some of the pressure. Steve looked cautious, but he was methodical in his drinking.



He was definitely feeling pain now. He’d pushed himself farther now than he ever had before in all his life, his gut rounding out in front of him almost a full ten inches, and the whole mass was pulsing with a heartbeat. Liquid, as it turned out, was actually harder to get down than food. It had so much less mass, but filled him up so much more quickly. Clint could actually watch his stomach expand with every deep swallow he took, and he knew, unfortunately, he would be bowing out soon.



Upon completion of the second bottle of soda, Steve nearly felt the contents of his stomach backwash up his throat. And looking over at Thor, who had just tossed his fifth bottle out of six to the floor, and he knew he was done.



“Okay,” he moaned, sliding down in his chair to relieve some of the pressure on his gut by sitting back. “Fine, Thor, you win, you win.”



“Dammit Steve,” Clint muttered, pulling out his wallet with some difficulty and passing a twenty to Natasha.



“I am victorious!” Thor announced, thrusting his fist into the air.



Steve shook his head dazedly, glancing over at Clint and managing a pained chuckle. "Sorry, but serum or no, I'm still only, uh, sort of human," he said apologetically, then turned to Thor. "You are something else entirely. Good going."



Smirking, Natasha took her partner's money and pocketed it, looking around at the three engorged men. "Okay, well, game over then. I'm gonna go, since I am not about to try carting any of you outta here."



She turned and strolled to the door, pausing before she left and turning back to smile at Clint. "Good game Barton, that was...less horrible than I thought it'd be." And with that, she slipped into the hallway and out of sight.



“Good luck getting out of here you guys,” Clint laughed. “I’m gonna go back to my room and try to sleep this off,” he patted his stomach and finally managed to pull himself into a standing position.



He teetered out of the room, quite looking forward to the spell that Loki will use to fix his gut and make it less achy and heavy. The pain was dulled almost entirely, instead he was just feeling incredibly full, and actually pretty satisfied.



As soon as he was alone in his room, he walked into his bathroom – the only place that wasn’t under surveillance, and fired the spelled arrow at the wall of the shower. Pulling the arrow out as he went to close the portal behind him, Clint stepped through into the very heart of Loki’s castle. With a few shaky steps, he made his way through the castle and finally rounded the corner into Loki’s throne room. He chuckled and fell back against the wall to support the added weight in his middle.



“Done and done,” he huffed at Loki, rubbing his swollen gut. “They won’t be a problem now.”



The trickster's eyes flashed as they flickered up and down Clint's swollen form, and he said nothing for a moment as he reigned in the sudden desire to jump the human right then and there. He closed his eyes and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a pleased smirk, letting the image sink into his mind of how the archer looked, leaning there against the wall with that pleased expression and quite the expanded middle. It sort of reminded him of Asgard, and the way people would look in the aftermath of big celebrations as they swept away the various barely-dressed women who would be hanging over them to finish the night. He'd never really been one to take part in that sort of thing, but he certainly might make an exception now, celebrating the success of Clint's lovely idea.



"Good. I can tell you had fun, as well," Loki remarked, his eyes still closed and his tone silky smooth.



“The going was a little tough,” Clint admitted, and his stomach agreed with a loud gurgle. “But I made sure they were all stuffed to the brim before they walked out. Man, you should see Bruce, he looks like he’s about to pop.”



He rather liked the image of Loki sitting there, lost in his own thoughts, leaned back and legs spread open and head tipped up to show off his expansive neck. Clint cleared his throat.



“Ah, so, about that spell?” he asked, slipping his hands over his aching belly.



"Oh, did I say spell?" Loki's eyes finally opened again, and there was something distinctly cat-like about his expression as his smirk widened slightly.



He sat up and leaned over one arm of his chair to pick up something from beside it, rising again with a glass bottle in his hand containing a translucent teal liquid that almost seemed to give off the faintest glow. "I meant potion. I'm sure it won't be too much of a problem to get down."



The look on Clint's face was priceless, and it only made the trickster's smirk grow into a full, twisted grin as he gently shook the bottle by its neck.



“Oh you bastard,” Clint groaned, and suddenly the pain in his belly was back full force. He slid a little farther down the wall, his shirt riding just a little bit higher over his chest and he clutched his stomach. “Bring it over here then, I don’t think I can walk that far,” he groaned.



Loki laughed, raising an eyebrow at the crippled archer. "Really? You made it here easily enough though, didn't you?" His tone was taunting, but he got to his feet anyway and strolled across the room to where Clint was barely managing to stand, leaning his own shoulder against the wall and holding the bottle out in front of the frustrated human. "Here then, it won't bite."



Clint took the potion with a sharp glare towards the satisfied trickster. He looked down at the liquid with disdain, swishing it around the bottle. “I don’t have to drink all of it, do I?” he asked with a groan, wagering there was at least half a liter in the bottle.



"Well of course you do, why would I give you more than you need?" Loki pointed out, still very obviously tickled by the archer's frustration as that vaguely predatory grin remained in place on his lips. "Though, you don't have to gulp it down all at once. You can take your time, as long as you aren't too slow with it," he admitted, relenting a little.



Clint groaned again. “This shit had better be fast acting,” he grunted before pulling the cap off and tilting back the bottle. It was very cool, and tasted faintly of mint, and it tingled Clint’s throat as he swallowed it. Despite Loki’s words, he really wanted to get it over with, so he swallowed and swallowed, his stomach gurgling and protesting as still more was stuffed down into it. He could feel Loki’s eyes burning as they stared at him, and he clutched his stomach with his free hand as finally the last drop slipped down his throat into his bursting belly.



A shiver raced down the trickster's spine as he watched Clint gulp the liquid down in one go, biting his lip and restraining the urge to reach out and touch the human's straining, noisy stomach. He hadn't expected the archer to drink it all that fast, though it sent a rush through his system to watch, and it left him scrambling for a moment to remember what he had been about to say.



"Oh don't worry, it is." Loki's smile reappeared and his eyes flickered brighter as he regained his composure. "...Once it's been triggered, of course."



Clint stared at Loki incredulously, his chest heaving and his stomach groaning. “Triggered?” he repeated venomously. “How the fuck is it triggered?!”



"Temper, temper," Loki laughed, watching the anger build in the archer's eyes. He pushed away from the wall and slowly circled until he was standing in front of Clint, surveying the human hungrily, and he brushed his fingers across the archer's stomach as he moved closer. "Don't worry," he purred, pressing both hands against the bulk as he leaned in to kiss the human's throat. "I'll handle that."



Clint groaned openly, tilting his head back as a spike of pain shot through his gut from where Loki touched him, but warmth spread out from the point of contact as well.



“Oh, shit,” he groaned, his eyes closing and his hands lifting to tangle in Loki’s thick black hair as his lips sucked a hickey into his throat. “You had this planned all along, you divine bastard.”



The trickster chuckled when he momentarily broke away from Hawkeye's skin, letting his hands slowly slide across the archer's engorged middle. "Mmh, maybe," he admitted teasingly before getting back to work trailing his tongue, teeth, and lips up the human's throat, moving deliberately slow to the shell of Clint's ear.



The throbbing in Clint’s groin was very evident now, pulsing against Loki’s thigh as he imposed himself over the bloated form of his lover. Clint rocked his hips against the trickster’s leg, aching for some friction and moaning when he received it.



“Loki,” he hissed, tipping his head back farther, reaching full hardness so quickly he was dizzy. The touch of Loki’s hands on his stomach was exquisite. The contents of his insides were packed so tightly that with his skin stretched wide, his nerves were on fire even before Loki began to finger and prod at every inch of expanded flesh.



The trickster shuddered and growled in approval against Hawkeye's throat, his hands roaming over the expanse of tight skin in thrilled curiosity. He gave one last teasing bite and pulled back, looking the human up and down and biting his lip as dark thoughts danced almost visibly in his eyes, then he finally made eye contact and smirked. "You know, I doubt your legs are going to hold out, given your...additional weight. Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to take this?" He was being more accommodating than usual; given Clint's helpless state he felt he could afford to be, just as he could afford to take the little bit of additional time before making his move against Midgard.



Clint wrapped his arms around Loki’s neck and pressed his face into his shoulder before nodding with a little moan. “Bed, please,” he breathed, his whole body pulsing in three points. His throat, his gut, and his groin. Loki easily summoned a bed into existence in the middle of the throneroom, which Clint graciously spread out on. His stomach seemed so much larger now that he was on his back looking down on it.



He hesitantly pulled off his tight tank top and kicked off his boots, but the thought of trying to wriggle out of his jeans made him groan with nausea, and he decided it would be best to leave that to Loki.



“So you really do get off on this, huh?” Clint smirked as his jeans were worked down off his legs.



Loki paused and looked up, staring blankly at Clint for a split-second before a twisted smile spread slowly across his face, his expression acting as enough of an answer to make words unnecessary. He wouldn't bother to explain, as he didn't want to ruin the moment by stopping to tell the human about Asgardian values and what different traits were considered attractive there, so he simply let his molten gaze linger for a few seconds before returning to getting rid of the archer's remaining clothes.



Tossing the human's jeans away as though offended by their very existence, the trickster turned back to Clint and surveyed him with approval for a moment before leaning down and kissing the archer's inner thigh, continuing to tease and occasionally let his teeth graze the flesh just to hear the man whine.



“Oh, shit,” Clint groaned, and his stomach was much too overpacked to even attempt grinding down on those tricky lips. He licked his own lips in approval, his thighs quivering in anticipation of what was to come. His toes curled and his head tipped back and he was already getting ahead of himself, imagining what it will be like when Loki finally penetrates him and rides him hard while he’s feeling so raw and full.



He grabbed at the sheets of the magicked bed, his knuckles turning white as he gasped, vision swimming and mouth open to utter endless streams of useless babbling encouragements.



Loki laughed softly at the dazed words stringing out of Clint's mouth, loving how completely incoherent the archer already was under his treatment and how powerless the human was to do anything about it. The archer could barely move at all, let alone do anything to the trickster still assaulting his thigh, and it appealed to his manipulative nature to see that.



Finally pulling back, Loki looked the human up and down for a moment, his head tilted slightly to one side as he considered his next move, then he reached out and ran one slender finger up Clint's aching cock from the base to the tip, only the tiniest of smirks showing through his pensive expression as he swirled his finger around the tip.



“No, you, oh shit oh god, Loki,” Clint babbled, trying and failing to arch into the touch. His hands reached weakly forward, trying to grab onto Loki before he floated away on the sensations. He was feeling phenomenally overwhelmed, and needed to root himself to reality before he passed out. “Loki, please, please, babe, please,” he sobbed, breathing heavy beneath his weighted middle. “Please, need you, I need you.”



"Do you now?" the trickster murmured teasingly, reaching out with one hand and absently running it across Clint's tight stomach. He had to admit, he didn't think he could carry on teasing for too much longer, especially since it didn't seem like the archer would be able to hold himself together if things kept going at their current pace. That, and he did technically have things to go destroy.



Leaning out over the swollen body beneath him, Loki balanced to try to keep from pressing too much weight on the human's midsection and placed the first two fingers of one hand against the archer's lips, his smirk widening a little as his eyes flashed. "Can you manage this much for me, hm? Or do I need to handle it?"



Clint didn’t hesitate for one second to draw Loki’s long, thin fingers into his mouth. He sucked with abandon, clutching Loki’s wrist with both hands so he could draw the fingers deeper between his lips and then slide back, fucking his own throat with those long digits. He swallowed anxiously around them, laving his tongue over knuckles and into the webbing between the fingers. He finally manages a shallow, weak roll of his hips downwards against Loki’s knee, stifling his moan with another hard suck to Loki’s fingers.



He was already pulsing with such need, his inner muscles clenching and loosening involuntarily as they begged to be stretched and filled.



The trickster was speechless for a moment, startled by just how eager Clint was and pausing as a sharp thrill rushed through his system. He purred in appreciation and closed his eyes for a moment, just feeling the archer's mouth on his fingers, then he finally smiled and chuckled, shaking his head as he gently tugged his hand free. "Easy, easy. That's enough," he murmured, leaning in to place a kiss on the human's lips in approval before he leaned back to push one of the man's knees slightly more to the side.



Loki's smirk grew at the desperate whine that accompanied him pushing his fingers inside the archer, and it wasn't long before he was pumping the digits in and out with ease, quite pleased with how quickly Clint was stretching for him.



Clint was sobbing with need, and wondered if the potion Loki filled him with had any kind of aphrodisiac qualities to it, or if he was just oversensitive in general because of his stretched skin. He wanted so badly to rock down on those fingers, but any movements made his body feel itchy and heavy and tired, and he needed to keep himself together if he wanted to get through the next few minutes of passion.



“Loki,” he whined, tilting his head back and clenching his teeth. The tendons on his neck stood out and his body shook. Loki’s fingers weren’t particularly thick, so it was very easy for him to take three, sometimes even four of his digits in not a very long amount of time. He was already feeling so loose and overused, his body lethargic and hazy, so he opened up in no time, clenching rhythmically over Loki’s fingers.



“Please,” Clint breathed, head still tipped back. “Please, please.”



The constant, desperate begging was starting to get to Loki, his breathing growing more shallow as he bit his lip and let his eyes slide up and down Clint's body almost feverishly. He gave a wordless snarl of frustration and pulled his fingers out of the archer's ass, his patience finally wearing through as the human moaned at being empty, and he grabbed Clint's knee in a death-grip as the sharp pangs of arousal hurried him along.



He hung his head for a moment and growled as he freed his aching erection, unable to wait any longer and pushing inside the archer with no further preparation. He was too damn needy for this right now, and if it hurt Clint too badly he'd just have to make it up to him later.



Clint screamed. He was never one for screaming, but the sensations were too much. He was suddenly and achingly aware of his own bursting length. He could feel tears run down the sides of his face, sticky and hot. He could feel Loki’s hand on his stomach, wide and cool against his burning skin. He felt Loki’s shaft planted inside him to the hilt, thick and heavy and pulsing. Everything from the tips of his ears to the bottoms of his feet felt itchy and tight, but despite that he buzzed with a desperate need.



“Go, go, please, babe, go,” Clint begged, hiccupping and tremoring. He would lift his legs around Loki’s waist like he usually did, but he was far too stretched in the middle to accommodate anything but lying there and taking and taking and taking.



The trickster shuddered and stared wide-eyed at the expression of perfect, agonized ecstasy twisting the human's face, too stunned for a moment to move as that glorious scream echoed around in his head. To say he was startled would be an extreme understatement, and it took a few seconds before Loki remembered what he was actually doing and flinched back to life, blinking. He pressed the hand on Clint's stomach a tiny bit harder against the firm bulk as he started moving, setting into a fast, hard pace as his eyes remained locked on the archer's face hungrily.



Clint’s mouth was wide open in a silent scream as sensation rolled through him harder than anything he’d ever experienced. Torture sessions in the past had him feeling less used and turned around and inside out than this. He might have just had an orgasm or he might not have, he’s pretty sure that if he did he wouldn’t have even been able to tell because the onslaught on every nerve ending in his body was above and beyond the realm of human possibility. That’s what he gets for falling into bed with a demigod.



Finding his voice, Clint begins to moan and wail, throat hoarse and open. He feels nauseous and rubbed and chafed, and the discomfort is nothing but bliss. He feels too heavy on the blankets and too tight around Loki’s cock, like he’s been stuffed into someone else’s body while they were still in it.



“Loki, please, please, touch me,” he begs, raising his arms over his head to try and stretch his body out and relieve some of the pressure congregating in his bulging midsection.



Slowing his pace slightly as the archer's words sank in, the trickster's eyes flashed and the corner of his mouth was tugged upwards in a smirk. He released his hold on Clint's knee rather than move his other hand off the human's swollen stomach, groaning approvingly as his fingers wrapped around the archer's length as if it was his own. Moving his hand in rhythm with his hips, the trickster hissed at a particularly strong pulse of pleasure that added to the tension he could start to feel building inside, his nails scraping across Clint's middle as his breathing grew ragged.



“Oh, oh, oh,” Clint chanted just above a whisper, his eyes closed tight and his head stretched back as far as it could go. The tightness of his body was starting to loosen with his extended arms, and he was beginning to feel languid as the pressure dropped lower and lower south, building up in his groin. Loki’s hand was cool and quick over his heavy stomach and full cock, and when he opened his eyes to see if Loki was enjoying it as much as he was, the vision above him took his breath away.



Loki’s pale skin was sheened with sweat, his hair falling in his face. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, down the slender slope of his nose, and dripped from the tip into the archer’s shallow bellybutton. His lips were just barely parted as he panted, his eyes narrow but unfocused as he tried to look at every part of Clint’s body at once. He could see that Loki was just as overloaded as he was.



He turned his head to the side, tucking his nose into his bicep, and he grew shameless with his moans. He knew above all else, Loki loved to listen to the fruits of his labors, and Clint’s moans at his ministrations were the sweetest music Loki had ever known.



“Oh, Loki, yes, yes, baby, oh yes, I’m so close,” Clint choked, his hands fisting in the blankets over his head. “So good, it’s so good, your cock is so good – oh yes, Loki, yes.”



The trickster tensed and snapped his head up to stare at Clint's expression, clenching the hand on the human's stomach to keep it from trembling as shocks rippled down his spine with every syllable wrenched from the archer's throat. He sped up at little, though his motions became more erratic, and he growled wordlessly in pleasure. He could tell he wouldn't last much longer at this rate, but so help him he would throw Clint off the edge first if it killed him; his ego would make sure of it.



Clint’s babbling grew louder and shorter in syllables the more Loki thrust into him. He felt like he was being steadily torn in half up the middle, like he was furling open wider and wider, and then it all came crashing back into him, the tightness returned, and with it his release.



Overfull stomach be damned, Clint arched into what was probably the most intense orgasm of his life. He opened his mouth to scream but he was so hoarse he could only barely whine. His knuckles and toes curled so tight they turned the color of the white sheets beneath him, and his semen jetted out of him with such force it decorated his bloated form as far up as his collarbone. Feet flat on the covers, he choked down his nausea with gritted teeth and began to lift and rock his oversensitive body downwards to meet Loki’s thrusts, trying to urge him into climax before Clint either passed out or just dropped dead.



Loki gasped and released his grip on the human's cock to lean both hands on the archer's stomach, the sheer force of Clint's orgasm coming as a complete shock that cranked up his own tension almost to the breaking point in a matter of seconds. He continued to move mostly on autopilot for a few more thrusts, but he came undone within seconds and groaned desperately as stars exploded in front of his eyes, hanging his head and gritting his teeth against the louder exclamations that threatened to escape.



Panting and clamping his eyes shut, it was only by feel that Loki could begin to feel the potion start to take effect, and he growled a little in disappointment despite knowing full well that this had been necessary from the start. He just didn't quite want to relinquish that tight, unyielding stomach yet; he couldn't really help it.



Clint felt the discomfort start to fade, and he looked down to see his belly shrinking. It was a bizarre thing to watch, but within less than a minute, his stomach was back to the tight, flat abs he usually sported.



“That is the weirdest thing I have ever seen,” he said, voice completely fucked raw. He looked up to see Loki’s expression of annoyance and need, and he laughed weakly. “Come on, don’t be so sour, frostbite,” he said, lifting his hand to stroke Loki’s jaw as the trickster pulled out of him. “Now that I know you’re into this, I’ll let you do this to me again. And you can be the one to feed me,” he licked his lips with intrigue. “No potion.”



Loki raised an eyebrow, leaning his head on one of Clint's knees as a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I will hold you to that, you know," he remarked, his eyes flicking briefly down to the archer's once again-flat stomach. He sighed and leaned out over the human, nosing his neck and chuckling softly. "Definitely will hold you to that," he affirmed, just as much to make a mental note for himself as to remind Clint.



“You have a planet to rule, and I have a nap to take,” Clint groans, trying to roll the over-eager trickster off of him. “Come on, baby, don’t get started again. You’ve taken all I’ve got to give for today, I’m dead.”



"I know, I know," Loki sighed, leaning back and glancing over the archer's naked body one more time before getting up from the bed. He ran one hand through his hair and let his mind start clicking away at the next step of his to-do list for the day, transferring his thoughts over to the lovely opportunity for action before him, pausing as he started to leave and glancing back over his shoulder. "Should I expect you to still be here by the time I get back? I don't think it would be wise to risk letting the others see that you've returned to normal so quickly, do you know what you're going to do when they call you?"



“Mh, I just won’t answer,” Clint says, taking the blankets and rolling like a burrito so he doesn’t have to get up and get under the covers. “Let them panic. I’ll say you kidnapped me or something. Might need you to deck me in the eye before I make my grand escape,” he yawned.



"Or simply say that you fell asleep so deeply as a result of all the food that you didn't hear the call," the trickster suggested, waving one hand absently as he turned to continue towards the door. "Either way, it doesn't especially matter to me."



“I’ll be here,” Clint says as he rolls his blanket burrito closer to the pillows so he can wiggle between them and make a nest shape. But then he seems more alert and pushes out of the blankets and leans on the headboard to catch Loki’s eyes right before he can leave the room. “Hey wait,” he calls.



Loki pauses and looks over, and Clint’s face is serious as it ever is when Loki is about to launch an attack.



“Be safe, frostbite,” Clint says, giving a little smile.



Taken by surprise for a moment, Loki paused and simply held eye contact with the human, reading the archer's sincerity before breaking his eyes away and laughing softly. "Mh, I know. But they never manage to catch me even at their best, so I doubt they'll be able to do so in their current state," he pointed out, but his smirk died when he looked up again and saw the same seriousness in Clint's eyes.



The trickster sighed and looked away, hesitating for a moment as though about to say something, only to shake his head and change his mind as he turned to leave again.



"I know. I will be."

@темы: Loki, Stuffing, The Avengers (Marvel), Стаффинг, Фанфикшн

03:46 

A Flawless Plan

EvilStufferSebastian
Category: M/M
Fandom: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Relationships: Clint Barton/LokiTony Stark/Bruce Banner
Additional Tags: Belly KinkBelly worshipeating contestDirty TalkStuffing


A Flawless Plan
Stuffy (AlexKingOfTheDamned)
Summary:

With Clint's help, Loki comes up with a scheme that will eliminate the Avengers threat on his next plan to take over the world.

Notes:

WARNING WARNING WARNING

Belly stuffing kink ahoy! If you didn't see it in the tags, hopefully you will see it here!

Other warning, it's pretty super freaking long! There's no real natural break in the story line though, so if you have to come back two or three times to finish it, that's totally fine. Otherwise just make sure you have a good long chunk of time to read it!

Also, this is unbeta'd, so I apologize for any oopsies.

I wrote this with a darling partner because I don't see enough of this kink out there in the fandoms, apart from Homestuck, and I'm not in that fandom.

Work Text:

Loki had a very powerful urge to break something.



He would prefer the bones of some mortal, or the weapon of an enemy, but at that point he was furious enough to settle for any breakable object. His mind was busy rattling around his head, thinking angry thoughts at a million miles an hour while he fumed and paced, every once in a while pausing to look around with a half-formed plan to destroy something, only to be distracted by another enraged train of thought.



He was sick of this, absolutely sick of it. At first he had been naive enough to hope that the incident in New York had been a fluke, a one-time lucky break that the humans would not get again, and that he could still wreak havoc on Midgard without being stopped again by any mortal defenses. After all, these "Avengers" couldn't possibly stand up to him time and time again, even with stupid Thor's help.



As it turned out, however, he had been sadly, horribly mistaken.



It seemed that every time he turned around, with every scheme he hatched and with every plan he made, the group of mortal defenders was there with a clever one-liner and an annoying amount of strength, defeating him again and again until he was about ready to tear his hair out. He hadn't originally been bothering to attack the Avengers directly – only wanting to do anything wretched to Thor's beloved world that he could – but after a while he got so fed up with the heroes getting in his way that he began to focus his efforts exclusively on trying to kill each and every one of them, but they proved to be as infuriatingly competent at defending themselves as they were at protecting pitiful civilians.



With a final, wordless growl of frustration, Loki threw himself into a chair and folded his arms across his chest, breathing heavily and glaring so hard at the ground that it was a wonder it didn't simply burst into flames. He didn't know what to try anymore; nothing he did was working and it was driving him up a wall. He was at the point where he almost felt powerless to stop the heroes who persistently stood in his way, and through his anger he was starting to feel disheartened, a wave of simple misery settling in, in the aftermath of his frenzied frustration.



However, all of the Avengers weren’t that bad.

In fact one of them was almost all good to Loki.



After being mind-fucked by Loki’s magic pixie stick, Loki had gotten a glimpse into Clint Barton, Agent “Hawkeye’s” past, and he saw a troubled youth full of brotherly pain and neglect, just as Loki had experienced in his own past. That was how Loki was able to slip his influence so nicely into the archer’s head – their minds were practically one in the same. The only difference being that Clint had been shaped into a more or less “good man” – even if he was a killer – by SHIELD, while Loki had simply been left to rot in his own emotional prison.



But as it turns out, their minds were so compatible, that when Loki opened the doors into Clint’s mind, Clint was able to walk through that same door in the other direction. He saw Loki’s mind, felt his torment, shared his grief and his anger, and even after the influence was eradicated, he still felt pity for the Asgardian. And then that pity turned into rage, as he hesitantly helped his team beat down Loki again and again, and he listened to them taunt him mercilessly. Even his own brother was malevolent in insisting that Loki was wrong, so wrong.



Clint didn’t see anything wrong about what Loki was doing, he was only trying to get his fair share of affection, and nobody was willing to give it to him. The Avengers were so cruel to him, cruel in ways that they weren’t even to other villains who stood up against the city.



It had taken a while for Clint to gain Loki’s trust, but his requests for forgiveness were not unheeded. Loki knew his words were sincere, even if the blue was gone from his eyes.



It did not take long for a relationship to start.



Clint visited him every now and then, with a special arrow Loki had given him, that when fired at a flat surface big enough to pass through, it would open a portal to the alternate realm which Loki used as a clandestine lair. Today was a day of relaxation for the Avengers, so he wasted no time in going to visit his lover.



However, he was greeted with the sounds of rage. Dashing through the halls of the abandoned castle Loki had apprehended, afraid he was under attack, he rounded the corner into the desolate throne room just in time to see Loki collapse bonelessly into the derelict throne, with an expression of rage and pain and disappointment on his angular features.



“Babe,” he cooed and scurried forward and dropped down to his knees in front of Loki, both of his hands resting affectionately on the trickster’s thighs. “Hey, frostbite, what’s wrong?”



There was silence for a minute while Loki continued to glare at nothing, his gaze turned purposefully away from Hawkeye in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Everything from despair to childish petulance to simple rage danced through his eyes as Clint patiently waited for him to answer in his own time, which he finally did with an exasperated sigh.



"Have a guess," the trickster snarled sarcastically, still refusing to look at the human crouched in front of him. "Your accursed friends are what's wrong; they're always what's wrong."



Clint sighed and rubbed his hands along Loki’s thighs, comfortingly rather than seductively. “Come on, it’s not that bad,” he urged. “You might not be… winning, persay, but look on the bright side, they aren’t winning either! They haven’t got you yet, you always get away.”



"That hardly matters," Loki grumbled, some of the anger draining from his face to be replaced by tired unhappiness. "They don't need to, because I can't stop them and they know it. It doesn't matter if I'm free if nothing I do works!" Some residual rage flared up for a moment and Loki slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair in frustration.



“It matters to me,” Clint turned Loki’s head with a firm hand to his jaw. “You’re just not trying the right things, I guess. Look, I mean, I know them, I can help you.”



Clint had been refraining from really doing any direct damage to the team. They were sort of alright people, even if they were all assholes. Tony was a righteous dick, Thor was so full of himself Clint was surprised he hadn’t burst yet, Steve was so self-sacrificing it made him sick, and Bruce… well, Bruce was mostly alright. Even if he was a cautious little self-loathing sod. Natasha was his only real friend, and he used that term lightly. She was the only one he was really nervous about double-crossing.



“I know their weaknesses. I live with them. If you hit Tony in his ego, there’s no way he’ll back down – or if you use, I don’t know, a classroom full of children as bait and tell him to come alone, the Captain will come running full tilt. You’ve just… you’ve got to hit them where it’s raw.”



Loki studied Clint’s face for a moment, a more pensive expression crossing his own as he did so. Clint had never made a flat-out offer to help him combat the Avengers before, and he had never asked, as he knew that would cause moral complications for the man that he didn't want either of them to have to deal with. The fact that they were technically on opposite sides of the whole good vs. evil thing had been something they had sort of managed to ignore since they'd been together, and during fights he had done his best to put on the appearance of trying to attack Clint just as much as the others without actually hurting him, but they never really talked about it beyond the Asgardian's usual complaining. The fact that Hawkeye was actually offering to completely betray his team made the trickster a bit apprehensive.



"Well...the problem then is crippling them all before any of them work out something's wrong and put the others on their guard. Mainly I have trouble when they get together to fight in a group. I'd need a way to make them all vulnerable at once, ideally." His tone was hesitant, and he continued to eye Clint with a hint of concern, wondering if he should be trying to discourage this behavior or not.



Clint frowned. “You could… poison them, or something. Set off some kind of gas?”



“The Doctor, Thor and the Captain are not human. It would be impossible to use a poison gas that would affect both the humans and the super-humans,” Loki waved his hand dismissively.



“You could… attack something underwater? I mean, none of them can breathe underwater, except maybe Stark with his suit. They’d be hard pressed to get at you down there.”



“Attack the fishes?” Loki raised an eyebrow. “What could I possibly gain by attacking the fishes?”



“It was just a suggestion,” Clint muttered. “Can’t you magic up some kind of death ray? It’s like standard issue equipment for a supervillain,”



“Do you even know how death rays work?” Loki massaged his temples.



“What about going somewhere really cold? Draw them out into the arctic? They’ll all have a harder time of everything if they’re fighting you in six feet of snow, and you’re not affected by the cold.” Clint suggested.



“Stark has anti-freezing metals in his suit, do you recall?” Loki sighed. “And Thor is not offput by the cold either.”



“Why don’t you use me as a hostage?” Clint shrugged. “You got me, you’re gonna kill me if they don’t do exactly as you say? Nat would definitely listen at least.”



“I don’t want to harm you. What if they do not find you worth it? My conviction will be questioned if I have to let you go at that point,” Loki shook his head.



“Can you use your transformation abilities somehow? I mean, even if you turn into a beautiful woman and get them all falling for you, eventually they’ll find out they’re all sweet on the same girl, and the tension will tear them a new one.”



“The idea could have merit, except that the Captain has that waitress, and I would rather not flirt with my own brother,” Loki groaned, rubbing his temples again.



“You could get on their nerves by going grade-school about it. Fill Stark’s suits with itching powder, switch all the Captain’s undies with pink frilled thongs, affix a magical shock-collar to Bruce, I don’t know.” He was sounding a little exasperated now.



“I may be the Trickster, but I am not immature,” Loki spat.



“Well I don’t know then! I’m trying here!” Clint said defensively, sitting back on his heels. “Use your dark magic to pinch them to death! Magic their asses and faces to switch places! Challenge them to an eating contest until they’re rolling on the floor! Air drop a hundred angry cats, I don’t know! I’m giving you everything I got here,” Clint ran his hands over his face, still feeling at odds about the whole idea of directly assisting an attack on his more-or-less friends.



Loki suddenly held up a hand before Clint could speak again, a malicious sort of thoughtfulness flashing in his eyes. "Wait...Now that might actually have promise."



"Angry cats?" Hawkeye frowned dubiously, raising an eyebrow as the trickster shook his head exasperatedly.



"No, not cats," he gave the human a look like a teacher would give to a student who had told him two plus two equals five. "An eating contest. That might actually do the trick."



“You’re joking,” Cling said incredulously. And when Loki’s expression didn’t change, he scoffed. “Come on, I was joking. An eating contest? What the heck happened to ‘I’m not immature?’”



The trickster gave him a withering look. "On Asgard, such a thing is hardly considered immature, and Thor for one would leap at the chance to actually win one for once." A small smile crossed his face as he spoke, recalling the thunder god's many failed attempts to out-eat him in their youth. "Besides," he continued, leaning back in his seat a little, "It would also have the advantage of challenging Stark's ego, and it isn't something they would expect from me."



“Come on, you can’t actually be serious,” Clint shook his head. “I mean, sure, Stark and Thor might, but… well, Tony can talk Bruce into just about anything… and Steve is always jumping at the chance to ‘bond with the team’ but… I mean, come on. It might not be immature on Asgard, but on Midgard that’s like, middle-school stuff.”



Loki’s expression did not falter.



“Okay, look, if you’re really hell-bent on this idea, I’ll do it, alright? I don’t want any of them thinking any less of you because you challenge them to a freaking eating contest.” He sighed, and replaced his hands on Loki’s knees.



"Well I couldn't very well do it myself anyway." Loki frowned as though Clint should have figured out what he was thinking by now. "You do it, report back when it's done, and I make my move while they're all weakened from taking in too much food. It's simple." He reached forward and patted the archer on the head, smirking.



“That… actually that does make sense,” Clint chuckled. “If they’re all too full to move, they can’t very well get all the way across the city to stop you from whatever you’re doing. I’m going to have to participate though, aren’t I?” he grimaced.

@темы: Loki, Stuffing, The Avengers (Marvel), Стаффинг, Фанфикшн

03:40 

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/2494043/chapters/5535...

Category:M/M
Fandoms:The Avengers (Marvel Movies)Tom Hiddleston - FandomThor (Movies)
Relationship:Tom Hiddleston/Loki
Characters:FA!TomTom HiddlestonLoki (Marvel)Chubby!Loki - CharacterGaining!Loki - Character
Additional Tags:Belly KinkBelly RubsStuffingFeedingFeeding KinkHiccupsBurpsBody ImageFood IssuesEmotional Eatingbinge eatingEmotional Hurt/ComfortLoki FeelsHumiliationPublic HumiliationVerbal Humiliation


Comfort and Joy
orphan_account
Summary:

A follow-up to Christmas is Coming and Loki's Getting Fat.
Loki's feeling insecure about his recent weight gain and Tom's doing nothing to alleviate his partner's feelings of inadequacy. That causes Loki to wrest control of their relationship the only way he knows how: eating.

Notes:

This is a stuffing fic. If that's not your thing, keep it moving. If it is, enjoy and leave me a comment since I'm a new author to this kink.

Chapter 1
Chapter Text

"Alright, darling, I'll be home tonight no later than 5:30. Then we can set up for the party since everyone's going to be here by 7," Tom reminded Loki, kissing him as he left for the day. "Love you!"
Loki smiled contentedly despite the fact that it was four in the morning, feeling that he'd finally regained the confidence he'd lost as a result of his sudden, rapid weight gain. He rolled over onto his back and jiggled his belly which wasn't stuffed for a change. A small victory, he thought. He was an emotional eater and the unhappier he was, the more he'd overeat. While he wasn't thrilled with the extra thirty pounds he'd packed onto his once slender frame over the last ten weeks Tom loved it, making Loki feel more comfortable in his own skin. The god sat up and absently stroked his soft gut as it lay heavily in his lap. He was startled from his reverie by the phone. "Hello?"
"Darling, it's me. Listen, change of plans for tonight. I'm going to be later than I thought, filming's hit a snag. They didn't get the shots they needed yesterday, so I won't be home until about 7:30, so I've moved the party back to 9, OK?"
Loki realized it wasn't a question and felt his heart sink. He was being pushed aside by Thomas' work. Again. "Sure. See you then," he said quietly handing up the phone, tears pricking his eyes. Suddenly, he felt famished-and a little vindictive. And very neglected. He padded to the kitchen in his bare feet wearing nothing but black boxer briefs. He went straight to the refrigerator and relieved it of the food meant for the party: the 24 beef wellingtons he had helped Thomas so lovingly prepare; the sweet carrots with onions and fennel drenched in butter; the rich chocolate mint cheesecake; homemade French onion dip with fresh veggies, cheese straws, homemade crackers, cookies, candies, brownies, spiced nuts, beef jerky, and a myriad of other items. He began to eat, absently shoveling food into his mouth. By the time the first pink light of dawn crept in through the kitchen window, Loki had been eating for three hours. He sighed and surveyed the damage. He'd eaten everything but the snacks, his bloated belly pushing painfully against the elastic of his boxers. He leaned back in his chair and burped, pulling the waistband underneath the swell of his engorged stomach. He rubbed his abdomen trying to relieve some of his discomfort to no avail. He moaned softly and wished Thomas had been home. He knew just how to rub Loki's tummy when he was this painfully full to make him feel better. He went to the fridge and pulled out the soda and beer for the party, drinking a six-pack of Coke followed by a six-pack of Guinness. He belched loudly and began hiccuping. He squealed in pain and hugged his gorge, hoping if he remained still the hiccuping would subside. When that didn't work, he worked his fist into the soft flesh at the top of his swollen belly, feeling a bit of give. He ground his fist deeper and burped again, long and loud. He sighed in relief and waited to see if his hiccups would return. They didn't, so he continued eating, finishing off the snacks right around 7 p.m. He'd been eating for about fifteen hours, give or take, and his belly was full to bursting. He'd have spelled his binge away, but didn't have the strength. He slumped over in his chair and laid his head on the table, a sweating, hiccuping, burping mess, desperately rubbing at his belly to get some relief. He'd never felt his stomach this hot, this tight. He could actually feel the outline of the engorged organ through the fat on his gut. "You *hic* fuck-*burp*ing *hic* pig," he hissed hatefully, slapping the crest of his swollen stomach. He squealed in pain, then began rubbing his tender belly in earnest. "Owwww!" he howled to no one, sobbing. "*burp* I'm such a *hic* fucking *burp* worthless cow," he whispered miserably as he heard the key turn in the lock. Thomas was home. He'd rub his belly. He'd make everything better.
"What the fuck, Loki?!" Tom yelled when he saw the aftermath of Loki's binge littered all over the kitchen. "Did you...?" he began. He stalked over to the table and tried to pull the chair out from under the table, but Loki's swollen belly had him effectively pinned.
"I feel so bloated!" he wailed, cradling his tender middle.
"Get dressed," Tom commanded.
"What?" Loki whimpered feebly.
"Get. Dressed," Tom hissed in a dangerously low whisper. "I'm calling everyone and we're going out to eat,"
"But I'm stuffed!" Loki protested, a note of panic in his voice.
"Then wear something comfortable. You think it's cute to eat all the party food? It's not and I'm dragging you out, bloated belly or not," he said callously.
Loki heaved himself out of the chair and waddled off to the bedroom to get changed as Tom called the party guests. "Oof!" Loki grunted, trying to button his dress shirt over his distended middle. The buttons were dangerously close to popping and his flesh was clearly visible between the gaps in the shirt, bright pink stretched over his tummy and creamy white elsewhere. He was humiliated, but he knew that was the point Thomas was trying to make. Loki had humiliated him by eating the food he was going to serve his guests and now he was going to humiliate him by parading him around in public like a prized pig. He deserved it, he thought glumly, his insecurities bringing him to a new all-time low. He put a suit jacket on but knew that didn't have a chance in hell of buttoning around his belly either, so he didn't even try. He pulled on his new black jeans, his "fat pants," and was horrified when the fabric had a six inch gap. He sunk to the bed and began to cry. He was trying, he really was, to be a better person for Thomas but no matter hard he tried, he failed. Always. "Tom!" he called. "I can't go, nothing fits," he moaned.
"Then cast a spell!"
"I can't, I'm too full!"
"Well, whose fault is that? Tough shit, Loki, you're going, now get out here before I make you eat a six foot long sub sandwich!"
Loki slowly got up, dried his eyes , and waddled to join Thomas, hands in the small of his back like a pregnant woman. "My back hurts," he said quietly.
"Given the size of your gut, I'm surprised it's not broken, now let's go," Tom said sternly.
Loki slowly followed and painfully lowered himself into the passenger seat. Tom reclined the seat to give the god a bit more comfort, but the safety belt still dug into the soft flesh of his swollen belly. Tom drove to the restaurant, each bump they went over eliciting a burp from Loki, who was clutching his stomach and groaning in agony. "Are we here?" Loki gasped, struggling to sit up once they'd stopped.
"Yes. And you're going to behave,"
Loki grunted and waddled in after Tom, taking the first seat he could find and placing both hands on either side of his swollen middle. He began massaging his belly, moaning softly.
The dinner was catered and everyone served the same thing: cream of potato soup, steak, and cheesecake. "Do I-?" Loki asked Tom quietly.
"Yes," the mortal hissed, cutting him off.
Loki nodded dully and numbly began shoving the food into his mouth. He had no idea how it'd make it into his already packed stomach. He didn't care. He felt two of the buttons of his shirt pop off at the crest of his swollen belly and he had to fight back the tears of humiliation and betrayal. He risked a sideways glance at Thomas and felt a gentle hand splay out over his bloated gut. Tom kneaded Loki's stomach expertly, knowing just where to apply pressure to make the god burp.
"Aren't you afraid I'll embarrass you?" he hissed bitterly.
"I'm sorry, Lo," Tom whispered, his nose tickling the shell of Loki's ear. "Let's get you home,"
"Really?" Loki whimpered, relieved.
"Really," Tom said, standing up and making his goodbyes, giving an excuse that he didn't feel well. He helped Loki up and draped his jacket across his shoulders, wrapping his arm around Loki's expansive waist in an effort to shield his bulging midsection from curious stares. He guided his waddling god back to the car, buckling him in, and driving home as fast as he could, rubbing Loki's belly the entire way.
"Tom..." Loki began as he was being put to bed.
"I know," Tom said, unable to look him in the eye as he helped Loki undress. " I'm so sorry, Lo. It was cruel. I knew you felt insecure and I made you go, anyway. I knew how bloated and uncomfortable you were, and I ignored you. I'm a shitty boyfriend,"
"You can make it up to me," Loki replied, rolling onto his side with a groan, his back to Tom.
"How?"
"Rub my belly,"
"Always. I love you, Loki," he said, softly caressing the steep curve of Loki's still swollen belly as the god began to snore softly.

@темы: Loki, Stuffing, The Avengers (Marvel), Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hiddleston/Loki, Стаффинг, Фанфикшн

03:30 

Tom's Big Role

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/2502359/chapters/5555...

Category:M/M
Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)Tom Hiddleston - FandomThor (Movies)
Relationship:Tom Hiddleston/Loki
Characters:Loki (Marvel)Tom Hiddleston
Additional Tags:FeedingFeeding KinkStuffingBelly RubsBelly KinkWeight GainGay SexFat fetishVerbal HumiliationHumiliationSituational HumiliationBlow JobsHiccupsBurps


Tom's Big Role
orphan_account
Summary:

This is a standalone stuffing fic.
Tom gets a new sсript and is expected to put on a significant amount of weight for the role. Loki's only too happy to help.

Notes:

This is strictly a standalone fic.

Chapter 1
Chapter Text

Tom came home from his agent's office with his new sсript and ran his hands through his hair, obviously worried.
"Everything alright?" Loki asked.
"Not really. They made some changes to the character and...well, he's quite a bit heavier than I am. They want me to put on 50 pounds,"
"They what?!" Loki shrieked.
"I know," Tom sighed. "Fifty pounds in three months,"
"That's absurd, Thomas," Loki scoffed.
"I know!" Tom repeated. "But I can't back out now, I've already signed on. Ugh. I had to put on weight when I auditioned for Thor, too. I just can't manage to gorge myself on chicken breast again,"
"Is the character meant to be muscular or fat?" Loki inquired.
"Ummmm, fat," Tom replied, scanning the sсript.
"Thomas," Loki smiled, eyes glinting mischievously. "Do you not recognize that this is the perfect excuse to indulge your sweet tooth?"
"I do now," Tom laughed.
"Change into your sweats, and meet me back here,"

When Tom reemerged in the kitchen, Loki had used his magic to fill the table with every rich, indulgent treat Tom could imagine. He sat down and grinned in anticipation, picking up an eclair, savoring the thick cream as it slid down his throat. He opted for a slice of apple tart next, then a chocolate chip cookie. He followed that with cheesecake, tiramisu, and chocolate cream pie. He could practically feel himself getting fatter with each swallow.
He'd worked his way through about a quarter of the food before leaning back and rubbing at his distended abdomen, panting. He could feel the walls of his gut churning and stretching, struggling to keep up the digestive process of the enormous quantity of food he was shoving into it.
"Do you need a break?" Loki asked cooly.
"Yes," the human gasped, rubbing his belly and burping.
"Very well," Loki's hands glowed green and before Tom knew it, he was upstairs, feeling warm, full, and heavy as sleep washed over him.

He awoke a short time later, Loki having cast a spell that warped time, making Tom feel as though he'd slept for hours, not minutes, which had allowed the food to settle, thus allowing him to continue to eat. Now that the food had settled and he wasn't so bloated, Tom ate his way through two-thirds of the remaining feast so that only a quarter of the original quantity remained. This time, though, his belly was well and truly engorged, his t-shirt riding up to expose his huge, rounded tummy, sweatpants straining across the crest of the swell of his middle, seams threatening to give out. Once again, Loki bewitched him, allowing him an hour-long nap so that when he awoke, his stomach was sore, but no longer ached.
He sat down again at the table and was shocked to discover that his belly seemed to have grown even larger as he slept, because the rounded dome would no longer fit under the table.
Tom chose a pie and plopped the tin on the top of his belly, finding it quite useful as a table, and continued to eat. He finished the remaining sweets quite quickly and leaned back with a great belch as he began hiccuping. This time he was full to bursting. He looked at Loki, vision blurred by pain and pleaded, "Please! Make it better,"
"Thomas, I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid you're stuffed beyond the reach of my magic. There's no spell I can cast to ease your discomfort," he said, face full of regret and worry.
"Then rub my belly. Anything. Please. Just make it better!" the mortal wailed, cradling his bulging middle as it sat heavily on his thighs, skin stretched, pink and hot.
"Very well," Loki used his magic to get the Midgardian to their bed, propping Tom up against the pillows, putting a pillow under his knees to minimize stretching his abused organ any further. The god straddled Tom's thighs and placed his delicate hands on either side of the human's distended midsection, massaging evenly over the expanse of his gut. The heat felt good and Tom sighed in relief, little burps occasionally passing his lips. "Good. That's good, Thomas," Loki soothed, rubbing the pad of his thumb delicately over Tom's belly button. "You used to be an innie," he commented in amusement.
"What?" Tom asked, barely conscious.
"An innie. Your belly button. You've popped," he explained, angling a mirror so Tom could get a glimpse of his swollen stomach, belly button rising up off of the mound of flesh like a woman in the late stages of pregnancy.
Tom groaned, burping again, and dropped his head back to the pillows, allowing Loki to rub his gorged tummy, lulling him to sleep.

@темы: Belly Kink, Стаффинг, Stuffing, Loki, Tom Hiddleston/Loki, The Avengers (Marvel), Tom Hiddleston, Фанфикшн

01:38 

Comfort and Joy

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/2494043

Category: M/M
Fandoms:The Avengers (Marvel Movies)Tom Hiddleston - FandomThor (Movies)
Relationship:Tom Hiddleston/Loki
Characters:FA!TomTom HiddlestonLoki (Marvel)Chubby!Loki - CharacterGaining!Loki - Character
Additional Tags:Belly KinkBelly RubsStuffingFeedingFeeding KinkHiccupsBurpsBody ImageFood IssuesEmotional Eatingbinge eatingEmotional Hurt/ComfortLoki FeelsHumiliationPublic HumiliationVerbal Humiliation


Comfort and Joy
orphan_account
Summary:

A follow-up to Christmas is Coming and Loki's Getting Fat.
Loki's feeling insecure about his recent weight gain and Tom's doing nothing to alleviate his partner's feelings of inadequacy. That causes Loki to wrest control of their relationship the only way he knows how: eating.

Notes:

This is a stuffing fic. If that's not your thing, keep it moving. If it is, enjoy and leave me a comment since I'm a new author to this kink.

Work Text:

"Alright, darling, I'll be home tonight no later than 5:30. Then we can set up for the party since everyone's going to be here by 7," Tom reminded Loki, kissing him as he left for the day. "Love you!"
Loki smiled contentedly despite the fact that it was four in the morning, feeling that he'd finally regained the confidence he'd lost as a result of his sudden, rapid weight gain. He rolled over onto his back and jiggled his belly which wasn't stuffed for a change. A small victory, he thought. He was an emotional eater and the unhappier he was, the more he'd overeat. While he wasn't thrilled with the extra thirty pounds he'd packed onto his once slender frame over the last ten weeks Tom loved it, making Loki feel more comfortable in his own skin. The god sat up and absently stroked his soft gut as it lay heavily in his lap. He was startled from his reverie by the phone. "Hello?"
"Darling, it's me. Listen, change of plans for tonight. I'm going to be later than I thought, filming's hit a snag. They didn't get the shots they needed yesterday, so I won't be home until about 7:30, so I've moved the party back to 9, OK?"
Loki realized it wasn't a question and felt his heart sink. He was being pushed aside by Thomas' work. Again. "Sure. See you then," he said quietly handing up the phone, tears pricking his eyes. Suddenly, he felt famished-and a little vindictive. And very neglected. He padded to the kitchen in his bare feet wearing nothing but black boxer briefs. He went straight to the refrigerator and relieved it of the food meant for the party: the 24 beef wellingtons he had helped Thomas so lovingly prepare; the sweet carrots with onions and fennel drenched in butter; the rich chocolate mint cheesecake; homemade French onion dip with fresh veggies, cheese straws, homemade crackers, cookies, candies, brownies, spiced nuts, beef jerky, and a myriad of other items. He began to eat, absently shoveling food into his mouth. By the time the first pink light of dawn crept in through the kitchen window, Loki had been eating for three hours. He sighed and surveyed the damage. He'd eaten everything but the snacks, his bloated belly pushing painfully against the elastic of his boxers. He leaned back in his chair and burped, pulling the waistband underneath the swell of his engorged stomach. He rubbed his abdomen trying to relieve some of his discomfort to no avail. He moaned softly and wished Thomas had been home. He knew just how to rub Loki's tummy when he was this painfully full to make him feel better. He went to the fridge and pulled out the soda and beer for the party, drinking a six-pack of Coke followed by a six-pack of Guinness. He belched loudly and began hiccuping. He squealed in pain and hugged his gorge, hoping if he remained still the hiccuping would subside. When that didn't work, he worked his fist into the soft flesh at the top of his swollen belly, feeling a bit of give. He ground his fist deeper and burped again, long and loud. He sighed in relief and waited to see if his hiccups would return. They didn't, so he continued eating, finishing off the snacks right around 7 p.m. He'd been eating for about fifteen hours, give or take, and his belly was full to bursting. He'd have spelled his binge away, but didn't have the strength. He slumped over in his chair and laid his head on the table, a sweating, hiccuping, burping mess, desperately rubbing at his belly to get some relief. He'd never felt his stomach this hot, this tight. He could actually feel the outline of the engorged organ through the fat on his gut. "You *hic* fuck-*burp*ing *hic* pig," he hissed hatefully, slapping the crest of his swollen stomach. He squealed in pain, then began rubbing his tender belly in earnest. "Owwww!" he howled to no one, sobbing. "*burp* I'm such a *hic* fucking *burp* worthless cow," he whispered miserably as he heard the key turn in the lock. Thomas was home. He'd rub his belly. He'd make everything better.
"What the fuck, Loki?!" Tom yelled when he saw the aftermath of Loki's binge littered all over the kitchen. "Did you...?" he began. He stalked over to the table and tried to pull the chair out from under the table, but Loki's swollen belly had him effectively pinned.
"I feel so bloated!" he wailed, cradling his tender middle.
"Get dressed," Tom commanded.
"What?" Loki whimpered feebly.
"Get. Dressed," Tom hissed in a dangerously low whisper. "I'm calling everyone and we're going out to eat,"
"But I'm stuffed!" Loki protested, a note of panic in his voice.
"Then wear something comfortable. You think it's cute to eat all the party food? It's not and I'm dragging you out, bloated belly or not," he said callously.
Loki heaved himself out of the chair and waddled off to the bedroom to get changed as Tom called the party guests. "Oof!" Loki grunted, trying to button his dress shirt over his distended middle. The buttons were dangerously close to popping and his flesh was clearly visible between the gaps in the shirt, bright pink stretched over his tummy and creamy white elsewhere. He was humiliated, but he knew that was the point Thomas was trying to make. Loki had humiliated him by eating the food he was going to serve his guests and now he was going to humiliate him by parading him around in public like a prized pig. He deserved it, he thought glumly, his insecurities bringing him to a new all-time low. He put a suit jacket on but knew that didn't have a chance in hell of buttoning around his belly either, so he didn't even try. He pulled on his new black jeans, his "fat pants," and was horrified when the fabric had a six inch gap. He sunk to the bed and began to cry. He was trying, he really was, to be a better person for Thomas but no matter hard he tried, he failed. Always. "Tom!" he called. "I can't go, nothing fits," he moaned.
"Then cast a spell!"
"I can't, I'm too full!"
"Well, whose fault is that? Tough shit, Loki, you're going, now get out here before I make you eat a six foot long sub sandwich!"
Loki slowly got up, dried his eyes , and waddled to join Thomas, hands in the small of his back like a pregnant woman. "My back hurts," he said quietly.
"Given the size of your gut, I'm surprised it's not broken, now let's go," Tom said sternly.
Loki slowly followed and painfully lowered himself into the passenger seat. Tom reclined the seat to give the god a bit more comfort, but the safety belt still dug into the soft flesh of his swollen belly. Tom drove to the restaurant, each bump they went over eliciting a burp from Loki, who was clutching his stomach and groaning in agony. "Are we here?" Loki gasped, struggling to sit up once they'd stopped.
"Yes. And you're going to behave,"
Loki grunted and waddled in after Tom, taking the first seat he could find and placing both hands on either side of his swollen middle. He began massaging his belly, moaning softly.
The dinner was catered and everyone served the same thing: cream of potato soup, steak, and cheesecake. "Do I-?" Loki asked Tom quietly.
"Yes," the mortal hissed, cutting him off.
Loki nodded dully and numbly began shoving the food into his mouth. He had no idea how it'd make it into his already packed stomach. He didn't care. He felt two of the buttons of his shirt pop off at the crest of his swollen belly and he had to fight back the tears of humiliation and betrayal. He risked a sideways glance at Thomas and felt a gentle hand splay out over his bloated gut. Tom kneaded Loki's stomach expertly, knowing just where to apply pressure to make the god burp.
"Aren't you afraid I'll embarrass you?" he hissed bitterly.
"I'm sorry, Lo," Tom whispered, his nose tickling the shell of Loki's ear. "Let's get you home,"
"Really?" Loki whimpered, relieved.
"Really," Tom said, standing up and making his goodbyes, giving an excuse that he didn't feel well. He helped Loki up and draped his jacket across his shoulders, wrapping his arm around Loki's expansive waist in an effort to shield his bulging midsection from curious stares. He guided his waddling god back to the car, buckling him in, and driving home as fast as he could, rubbing Loki's belly the entire way.
"Tom..." Loki began as he was being put to bed.
"I know," Tom said, unable to look him in the eye as he helped Loki undress. " I'm so sorry, Lo. It was cruel. I knew you felt insecure and I made you go, anyway. I knew how bloated and uncomfortable you were, and I ignored you. I'm a shitty boyfriend,"
"You can make it up to me," Loki replied, rolling onto his side with a groan, his back to Tom.
"How?"
"Rub my belly,"
"Always. I love you, Loki," he said, softly caressing the steep curve of Loki's still swollen belly as the god began to snore softly.

@темы: Loki, Stuffing, The Avengers (Marvel), Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hiddleston/Loki, Кино, Стаффинг, Фанфикшн

01:33 

Christmas is Coming and Loki's Getting Fat

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/2491844

Category:M/M
Fandoms:The Avengers (Marvel Movies)Tom Hiddleston - FandomThor (Movies)
Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Loki
Characters:Tom HiddlestonLoki (Marvel)Chubby!Loki - CharacterGaining!Loki - CharacterFA!TomStuffed!Loki - Character
Additional Tags:Belly KinkBelly RubsBody ImageWeight GainFood IssuesEmotional Hurt/ComfortHiccupsDaddy IssuesMommy IssuesLoki FeelsStuffingBurpsFeedingFeeding KinkHand Feeding


Christmas is Coming and Loki's Getting Fat
orphan_account
Summary:

A follow-up of sorts to Practice Thanksgiving. Loki's feeling neglected while Tom shoots and turns to food for comfort.

Notes:

This story contains belly stuffing. If that's not your thing, keep it moving. Otherwise, I welcome comments, as I'm a new author to this kink.

Work Text:

Tom returned after a long day of shooting to find the living room floor littered with empty containers and wrappers, Loki reclining on the couch eating macaroni and cheese from a large bowl balanced on his now perpetually rounded belly. One long leg dangled off the couch, his stomach being far too distended to allow anything but resting heavily between the god's thick thighs. "Darling, what did you do now?" he asked, exasperated.
"Whath? I'm hubgry," Loki replied through a mouthful of pasta.
Tom kneeled next to the stuffed god, removing the bowl, and gently rubbed his swollen belly. "This..." he chided, "begs to differ,"
Loki hiccuped and burped, clutching his aching gut. "I'm sorry!" he wailed, bursting into tears.
"Oh, Loki," Tom murmured soothingly, applying gentle pressure with the heel of his hand to Loki's bloated tummy. "Why are you doing this? Ever since Halloween...even before then...every time I see you, you're stuffing your face. You always look terribly bloated and uncomfortable and beg me to rub your belly after your binges. Why?"
Loki hiccuped again and said pitifully, "I'm not always stuffing my face. Maybe you need to look at me more often,"
"Is that what's bothering you? You're feeling neglected?" he asked, gently stroking Loki's rounded cheek. If he was being objective, Tom had to admit he'd not been paying as much attention to his boyfriend as he used to. Filming had intensified and he was gone more and more. In fact, he hadn't even noticed the large amount of weight Loki had truly put on over the last nine or so weeks until just now. His face was much rounder, cheekbones now camouflaged under a layer of fat. His once angular jaw had also softened considerably, and Tom could easily detect a double chin. He allowed his hand to explore Loki's belly and found, though it was hard with all of the food he'd eaten, there was a soft layer of fat covering his gut, as well. He slipped his hands to Loki's sides and gently pinched the god's love handles.
Loki squealed and wrapped his arms protectively around his stretched middle. "It's not enough to ignore me, is it, Thomas? When you finally do pay attention to me, you have to point out that not only am I constantly gorging myself, but I'm fat, as well. I wasn't even this fat when I was pregnant! And I was pregnant with a horse! My belly was smaller when I was pregnant with a horse!" he huffed indignantly, struggling to get up off the couch to no avail. He starting crying fresh tears, lamenting, "No one loves me! I'm too fat to love!"
Tom let him cry, making soothing noises when he thought Loki would be able to hear them. As Loki's sobs quieted, Tom asked, "Do you really think I don't love you?" Tom knew well enough that Loki was very sensitive and, for all his bravado, very insecure. Especially now that he'd gotten so heavy. Tom knew his lover needed reassurance.
"You only pay attention to me after I've eaten too much; then you rub my belly to shut me up," he pouted.
"I don't," Tom protested. "I rub your belly because you're uncomfortable and I hate seeing you in pain! But is that why you've been overeating recently? So I'll pay attention to you?"
Loki sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on Tom's shoulder. "Partly," he admitted feebly.
"Why else?" Tom asked curiously.
"Stupid Thor,"
That elicited a chuckle from Tom. "What about stupid Thor?"
"When we were growing up, Thor always got preferential treatment including access to all the food. I got whatever was left. Odin felt that Thor needed his strength for battle but me, being the weakling, didn't need as much. I was hungry most of the time. I hated that feeling. The feeling of weakness, of subjugation. I swore once I'd rid myself of Odin's tyranny, I'd never feel that way again,"
"So you're making up for lost time?" Tom concluded.
Loki shrugged, absently rubbing his rounded tummy. "I guess,"
"And you've always had control issues that centered around food," Tom reasoned.
Loki thought for a moment, stifling a burp, and nodded. "I guess you could say that. To me, a full belly is control, independence, defiance...a victory over the horrors of my childhood,"
"Oh, Lo," Tom sighed, kissing Loki's belly button, which was now protruding painfully from the mass of food he'd consumed.
Loki burped again, rubbing at his sore organ. "I'm a *hic* hot *hic* mess *hic*,"
"Yea, kinda," Tom admitted with a grin. "But you're my hot mess. I'd actually brought home some barbecue from that place downtown. You feeling up to it?"
Loki wiggled uncomfortably and let out another burp before patting his belly. "Ooooh, I love barbecue," he said, suddenly excited.
"Want me to feed it to you?" Tom asked, wagging his eyebrows.
Loki rested his hands on either side of his belly, now too engorged for him to wrap his arms around it, and smirked, "You'd better. You made me cry, Thomas. Twice,"
Tom fed Loki for what felt, to the god, like hours. Ribs, brisket, rotisserie chicken, pulled pork, cornbread, cole slaw...everything good barbecue should be. As Loki chewed the last piece of meat, sauce smeared all over his face and belly, Tom came in from the kitchen carrying a pile of boxes. "Dessert?" he grinned wickedly.
Loki groaned. He was already stuffed full, uncomfortably stretched to the point of bursting. "*hic* Why, *burp* Thomas?"
"I'm just trying to dote on you," he laughed.
"*burp* Does *hic* dote have a new Midgardian meaning *burp* roughly translating to 'fattening your boyfriend up to the size of a beached whale'? *hic**burp*"
"My gluttonous little god, you surpassed beached whale status before I even walked in the door,"
"*hic* I know *burp*,"
Tom kneeled on the side of the couch again, massaging Loki's belly as hard as he dared without causing him too much pain, encouraging him to burp to make room for the rich desserts he knew were Loki's favorite. "You don't have to if you don't want to, but I got you cheesecake," he purred, still rubbing the hot, pink flesh of Loki's dome-like abdomen, delicately tracing the stretch marks that appeared on his newly formed love handles. "You're so sexy. You know that?"
"Really?" Loki whimpered. He'd never felt so incredibly full, but also never so loved. Almost revered.
"Really," Tom solemnly nodded.
Loki cradled his aching belly for a minute before sighing as deeply as he could. "I want dessert, Thomas,"

Tom slowly fed Loki the half dozen cheesecakes he bought over the next several hours, allowing the god to nap in between in a desperate attempt to allow the food to settle. Even when Loki was sleeping, Tom continued to rub his full belly. "Last bite," he encouraged his trickster, whose breathing was now shallow and labored, his lungs compressed in his body by his engorged stomach. Tom wiped his forehead with a cool rag, as he was also sweating profusely.
Loki took the last bite and swallowed the creamy, rich dessert before falling back to the couch with a mighty belch. "I lived up to my end of the bargain, Thomas. Now you *hic* live up to yours. Rub my belly," Loki demanded.
Tom began kneading Loki's sore tummy gingerly, whispering soothing words to him before being unable to resist asking, "Would you mind playing Santa if we host a holiday party? You've got the figure for it. And then after that, we can host a New Years party. You can help me test recipes again,"
Loki just groaned and drifted off to sleep, relishing the relief his human's hands were affording his swollen belly.

@темы: Belly Kink, Loki, The Avengers (Marvel), Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hiddleston/Loki, Кино, Стаффинг, Фанфикшн

00:53 

Just One More Bite

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/1963197
Category: M/M
Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic UniverseThe Avengers (Marvel Movies)The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Relationship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Additional Tags:StuffingBloatingfeederismHiccupsBurpsBelly KinkBelly RubsForce-FeedingBlow JobsChubby!TonyFeeding Kink


Just One More Bite
Kax
Summary:

Steve loves seeing Tony stuffed full, but this time, Tony really outdoes himself.

Notes:

I'm Canadian, and this is how we spell doughnuts.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Work Text:

Tony's safe word was moonshine.

When he'd hit two-hundred on the scale, Steve had sat him down and asked him to choose one, in case he ever got carried away. He never wanted to push Tony past what he considered his limits, given how loose he already considered them to be, but it'd become clear once Tony had put on thirty pounds that this thing they'd started had become a thing.

It was no secret between the two of them anymore that Steve loved to see Tony stuffed. Not just full, but brimming. He loved the healthy looking flush of his cheeks when he'd overeaten—so different from the dark circles and tired eyes he saw when his lover spent days on end buried in his lab forgetting to eat at all. He loved the swell of his belly, the little groans he made when hiccups jostled his stomach around, the soft gurgles, and burps he could never seem to help. But most of all? Steve loved that Tony never seemed to want to stop.

Once he got him going, Tony seemed to be able to put away more food than should be possible. It was like he challenged himself to see how big he could get and how much he could eat, breath laboured and still pressing to take one more bite. At first, it'd worried him, but Steve wasn't exactly innocent of getting carried away at times himself, and now Tony's favourite pair of jeans wouldn't button anymore.

The weight had become visible, Tony's cheeks slight rounder, his thighs slightly thicker--and his ass. His belly had a soft swell to it that hung over his too-tight waistbands and he knew the other man wasn't pleased with being unable to fit into his clothes anymore but, the way his shirts had started to cling did things to Steve and he made sure that the other man knew that he loved him like this. He was perfect like this. Just enough lovehandle to grab onto, just enough belly to jiggle plumply when shook and all Steve wanted to do was nibble up sides that had gone soft. There was still muscle beneath the fat, but Tony wore the extra weight almost too well and Steve could admit that he was a frequent bad influence. Anyone who'd ever thought otherwise had never really known him.

There were days where he had to offer more reassurance than he did on others, days where Tony felt visibly insecure and embarrassed when old suit jackets didn't seem to want to button anymore but every time Steve offered him indulgence in his favourite foods, he never held back. Steve understood the pressure that society exerted on someone like Tony, he'd seen it time and time again, but when it was just the two of them he knew Tony enjoyed the way he touched over him like he was the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. And he was. Tony was perfect, and when he'd left him sullen this morning over having to spend his day at the office, he vowed to make up for it once Tony returned home that night.



When Tony had finally made it home, he hadn't been in the mood to do much of anything. All of his shirts were too tight, and not in the good way. Not like how Steve's shirts were too tight, seams straining due to massive amounts of perfect rippling muscle. No, his were tight because his gut was getting too big for them and he'd finally plugged in a reminder to get a size up in a couple of things so that he could go to the office without attracting too much attention. He heard the rumors—that the PTSD had finally caught up with him, that he'd become depressed after New York, or that he was stress eating. Tabloids were having a field day, but the joke was on them because the reason behind his weight gain was worth it in his opinion, and that was all that mattered.

He loved the way Steve's eyes lit up when he let the other man feed him, and the way those strong hands grabbed at him like he was putty that needed to be gently coaxed into shape. Steve had started all of this—he was to blame for it—but Tony had grown to enjoy the feeling of being stuffed to his limit after giving it a couple of tries and he wasn't ready to give it up. Not because he got a few more judgmental looks nowadays. Like he hadn't been used to those already.

There were days where it bothered him, and then there were days where he came home to Steve lounging on the couch reading a book, a generous slice of cheesecake and what looked to be a fifty pack of doughnut holes sitting out on the table. He almost groaned on the spot, the thoughts of what was to come more than enough to lift his mood, and he looked at Steve with knowing eyes when his lover noticed him there and broke out into one of those warm smiles.

“Long day?” Before he'd even had time to shrug his jacket off, Steve was up and coming to greet him, a peck to the cheek and a hand smoothing down over his shoulder.

“Too long.” He answered, giving in and wrapping his arms loosely around Steve's waist. It wasn't always that Steve was sitting up waiting for him and he was going to take advantage of that kind of affection, already feeling warm before Steve's arms were around his waist in return.

“Pepper dropped off that licensing agreement you've been waiting for.” Steve murmured before stealing a more proper kiss, and Tony couldn't help but smile against his lips.

“About time.” Good news and cake. Who said days couldn't ever get good in the second half?

“You know it wasn't her stalling.” Steve's hands smoothed over Tony's lower back and then pulled back to palm over the very slight muffin-top he was sporting, coaxing his waistband down ever so slightly so he could get better handfuls of the chub that clung to his sides.

“Because you know her so well.” Tony retorted, half-assed because he was paying more attention to the way Steve was slowly kneading into his sides with his fingers.

“I don't. But you can thank her for that piece of cake over there as well.” If there was one thing Steve had to say about Pepper, it was that she paid attention. Maybe he did know her, maybe he didn't, but she seemed to know him well enough. Or maybe it'd just been a lucky guess; a fluke. Maybe cake had always made Tony's days better. What did he know.

“...And here I was ready to give you the credit.” Tony's hands wandered down to grab handfuls of Steve's ass in return, squeezing with soft intent that they both knew was just a bluff. Steve wouldn't end up being the one panting and struggling for breath tonight and they both knew it.

“You can thank me later.” Steve teased, keeping a straight face save for the glint in his eyes. “That cake isn't going to stay chilled for much longer sitting out like this and it'd be a shame to let it go to waste.” Not because the cake would go bad, but because it wouldn't make it into Tony if it spoiled before he got a chance to eat it.

“Huge shame. You got a fork?” He couldn't say he was starving, but he could eat. Especially for Steve.

“Get comfy. I'll grab one.” Steve stole one more kiss before he was breaking away and disappearing into the small kitchen that attached to their main living area in the penthouse of the tower. It was spacious, but with Steve around, it did look lived in. The couch they often shared had been broken in long ago, and he didn't waste time sprawling out on it, shucking his jacket before sitting in against one of the arm rests and tucking one leg up onto the cushions while the other foot stayed planted on the floor. He undid his tie and Steve was back just in time to stop him from undoing the first button on his shirt, his free hand gently grabbing Tony's wrist.

“Leave them.” It wasn't demanding, but he knew how Steve liked to see him big and the shirt really just amplified that, so he dropped his hands and settled for just rolling his sleeves up to the elbows.

“Bossy.” And Steve just smiled, settling in beside Tony with the large slice of cake on a plate held in front of him. It almost looked like Pepper had intended for them to split the piece in two and have enough to satisfy the both of them, but Steve was going to have to make something up if she ever decided to ask him how it was. Steve broke a generous bit off of the end and held the fork-full up to Tony.

“Open.” His voice was gentle, but Tony had heard that word said with more conviction enough for it alone to turn him on, and he did as he was asked. The cake was rich and creamy, a chocolate truffle cheesecake with a crunchy top, creamy middle and perfectly crumbly crust. It was rich and he moaned softly at the taste of it, opening immediately for another bite as soon as he'd swallowed the first.

“That good?” Steve was amused, he could see that much, but it didn't look like he'd tried the damn thing at all.

“Try it.” He licked his lips after the second bite, but didn't open for a third. Not until Steve had taken a bite of his own and had given Tony a look of agreement. It was beyond good, and he wanted the whole thing. Lucky for him, Steve wanted him to have it.

“Wow. That's incredible. Don't forget a thank you, Tony, she didn't have to bring it over.” Even if he'd only had one bite, Steve was at least going to thank Pepper when he next saw her. Whenever that ended up being.

“Give me a bigger piece.” Thank yous were the last thing on his mind right now, and Steve didn't protest the subject change, granting Tony his wish and breaking off a larger piece for him to eat next. It almost filled the engineer's entire mouth, chocolate smeared on his lip as he closed his eyes and just enjoyed it. Steve fed him bite after bite like that until they were down to the last piece of crust without bothering to wipe that smear for Tony. Only once he'd swallowed the last bite and took a deep breath did Steve lean in to kiss him, sucking the chocolate off in an indulgent gesture of his own and then he settled his hand on the curve of Tony's belly.

“Mmn...” He certainly hadn't taken it slow, and that cake had been rich, chocolate still coating the back of his tongue as he swallowed thickly and then let out a soft burp when Steve gave him a quick rub.

“Need a breather?” Steve pressed a kiss to his temple, setting the plate aside on the ground and then resumed the gentle rub, coaxing the cake to settle a little more easily in Tony's belly.

“...No. What else did you get for me?” The dunkin donuts box was familiar, but there could be anything in there and he wanted to find out, even if a bit of a breather might do him some good, but he was going to get that anyway as Steve stalled to press a few lazy kisses to the side of his neck.

“Munchkins. Fifty of them. Cocoa glazed, cinnamon cake, glazed chocolate, and those kreme filled ones.” Steve knew Tony was a sucker for doughnuts. He'd gotten them as a special treat before they'd been brought the cake but Steve wanted to see just how many Tony could get through after that huge slice and he wasn't going to have him save them. They were no good stale.

“You're really trying to fatten me up, Rogers...” Tony teased, lifting a hand to card through Steve's hair while he tilted his head to give Steve some more room to nibble up his jaw.

“Let me get the box.” Steve replied with a smile, and not without a hint of excitement in his tone. Tony could only roll his eyes in fond exasperation at the way Steve evaded his statement, but if he had a problem with it, he could very easily decide not to eat them. Problem was, he wanted to eat them all.



Back with the box in hand, Steve had also grabbed Tony a glass of milk which he set out of the way on the floor before nestling the box in between them for easy access.

“If you want to stop, you know what to say.” Steve reminded him, holding the first doughnut bite up to Tony's lips.

“I know.” But he wasn't going to want to. Even with the slightly weighted feeling he was getting in his belly from the cake, he leaned forward to take the doughnut from Steve's fingers, enveloping the tips between his lips before he pulled back and bit down. A thick custard poured from the bite, and he just made a pleased sound and swallowed easily.

As soon as he'd finished the first, Steve was already holding a second doughnut up for him to take, his other hand back on Tony's stomach, rubbing slow circles against the top curve.

It wasn't like he was being fed something hard to enjoy, and Tony ate the second bite happily, the third, and the fourth all different flavours that kept him guessing and wanting more. Before he knew it he was at ten, and then fifteen, and he swallowed the chocolate morsel more thickly than the last, starting to feel a heavy pressure in his gut. Steve noticed the deep breath he took, the way he shifted beneath the touch and made a soft sound in the back of his throat. He was certainly full, but nowhere near ready to stop. Still, Steve paused and put the next bite back into the box, instead pressing his fingers to Tony's lips as he reached down to grab that milk.

It took Tony a second, but he took another breath and then drew the tips of Steve's fingers into his mouth, licking the sticky residue off with lazy suckles and swirls of his tongue. It was enough to get Steve's eyes starting to haze over, arousal evident on his face as he offered Tony the glass once he'd withdrawn his fingers.

“Need to slow down?” Steve asked, patting Tony's swelling belly gently as he took a good drink.

“No. I'm not even feeling it.” Tony followed the comment up with a deep belch, and then a groan as some of the pressure eased. He was feeling it, absolutely, but he didn't want Steve stopping or slowing down. He was being fed at a good pace, he was enjoying it, and he licked the milk from his moustache in preparation to keep going.

“Good. I want you to get through this whole box.” Steve's hand smoothed down the curve of his belly, fingers skimming over the straining buttons of his shirt as he went and Tony felt a spike of arousal go straight to his groin. Steve would never do anything to hurt him, or to push him too far, but he loved it when he got demanding.

“Then let's get going.” A soft hiccup preceded another burp and then he hiccuped again, but opened his mouth and waited expectantly for the next doughnut. Steve didn't hesitate, placing the next one right onto his tongue and watched Tony chew and swallow with a soft noise of content. Seventeen followed, then eighteen, nineteen, twenty, and then he was hiccuping again. He wasn't eating fast, but they weren't exactly taking this slow. Twenty one, twenty two, and the next hiccup popped the middle button on his shirt.

Tony flushed, and Steve moaned softly at the sight of Tony bulging out of his shirt, bloated and stuffed but barely even halfway there. His cock had already been swollen just from watching Tony, but he felt himself jump as that button flew across the room and he turned to Tony with cloudy blue eyes and pushed two doughnuts against his lips at once until Tony opened for them. He chewed obediently, swallowed, hiccuped, and burped. He wasn't surprised that his button had popped with how tight his stomach was starting to feel, but eating two at once had been lewdly indulgent enough that his own cock was straining hard against his pants.

After twenty six he paused again, own hand coming up to sit on the curve of his belly while Steve massaged at the overhang, and he took another deep breath.

“Steve. I need to undo my pants.” They were straining tight and he was sure his gut was feeling worse because of them. He was starting to really feel heavy as the sweet treats continued to settle in him, and he wanted the relief to keep going, but Steve just handed him that glass of milk.

“Not yet.” Steve grabbed his stomach and shook it, appreciating the softness that still spilled out over the waistband of his pants even when Tony was this stuffed, and he wasn't ready to give that up yet. Not when Tony could still take it, and not when there was still a chance that he'd pop that button too. Tony just groaned at the answer and the shake but he drank some more milk and shifted on the couch again, burping a few times and moaning at the relief it brought him. He knew when Steve said not yet that he meant not yet, so he opened his mouth and Steve delivered without pause.

Twenty seven, custard filled. Twenty eight, cinnamon cake. Twenty nine, custard. Thirty, chocolate. Thirty one, cinnamon cake. Thirty two, cocoa glazed. Thirty three, another shirt button popped and set off the bottom two allowing his gut to really spill free. He flushed red as Steve's fingers were the next things to be pushed to his mouth again while his lover pressed an appreciative palm against the plush skin he'd just freed up for him. His lips were sticky, his whole mouth was sticky, but he sucked at Steve's fingers just the same and moaned softly around them.

He felt big and still had seventeen left to go. For the first time tonight, he thought he might not make it. His gut felt like lead, thick and heavy and distended, his waistband still digging into his hips. Breathing was starting to become more difficult, working to keep it all down even as he continued to eat and to burp to clear more space. Seventeen shouldn't be such a daunting number, but the thought of putting another into his mouth had him swallowing more thickly as he became more aware of how sticky his saliva had become and this time his groan was more pained than anything.

How're you feeling?” Steve looked up at him, but Tony's cheeks weren't glowing yet--though his lips were glistening and he had to admit that was a good look. Before he got an answer, he was undoing the top two buttons on Tony's shirt and opening it up for him. Steve gave him a good rub then, palm moving over every expanse of his stomach and Tony just made a weak sound.

“Need a minute.” To which Steve nodded, and leaned down to kiss the swell of Tony's belly. His skin was taut, his stomach hard beneath the soft layer of fat he'd accumulated there and Steve abandoned the doughnuts for a moment to pay Tony's belly some better attention. He kissed as far down the curve as he could still sitting on the couch and then he slipped down onto the floor to kneel between Tony's legs. He took his belly in both hands, shaking gently and massaging his fingers in as he kissed the underside, and when Tony groaned again, he took mercy and went for the button on his pants. With a pop it came undone, and Tony's belly just spilled out, the zipper shoved down on its own to make way for him.

At this rate, Steve was going to have to deal with a sizable wet spot on his briefs, but how could he be blamed? Tony made the most obscene sound when he was finally given more room, belching again as he just tried to breathe. Steve gave in and reached down to palm himself through his pants as he continued to kiss Tony's belly, and when his lips finally circled up to his belly button, he decided to part his mouth and tongue at him.

Tony gasped and Steve just kept going, unable to resist the way his belly button popped out for him when he was full like this. He suckled at it, probing the skin around it with his tongue just to feel how tight it was and he nipped at the soft skin around the edges.

“Steve--” There was always something about hearing Tony moan his name that made him want to do twice as much for him, but it was only now that Tony had decided to speak through the sound that Steve realized he'd stuffed another doughnut into his mouth while he hadn't been watching. It was Steve's turn to moan then, the sound vibrating against Tony, and he got more aggressive with his affections due to the sheer force of just how turned on he was. He bit him harder, listening to Tony gasp out again through his mouthful and then he started to suck a mark into that taut skin right next to his belly button, hands reaching up to grab handfuls of Tony's love handles and he shook them with a fervent passion.

Tony groaned as soon as he'd swallowed, hands holding the curve of his belly as Steve shook him and caused him to belch softly. There'd been nothing innocent behind eating another doughnut bite when he had, he'd known exactly what it did to Steve, but having his lover react so strongly was enough to have him attempting to squirm to get some kind of friction going on his cock.

“Keep eating.” Steve finally murmured once he'd finished sucking a deep hickey into him, looking up to watch Tony and make sure he did as he was asked. He had sixteen left to go, and he strategically grabbed another cream filled one at Steve's request, popping it in his mouth. Should be safe to assume that the cream ones were only going to get harder to eat the fuller he got, so better to get them out of the way now. The gush of it when he bit down was still almost too much, but he licked his lips and chewed as Steve turned his attention back to his belly and lifted it before letting it fall, watching the soft jiggle with nothing but appreciation.

Tony was so hot like this, gut sitting on his thighs all plump and round. Steve lifted the overhang again, held it up with one hand and then he reached up to grab another doughnut himself and pressed it to Tony's lips before his lover had finished the one still in his mouth.

“Open. Come on.” A command at which Tony gave a strained groan, but did as he was asked after a moment of hesitation, still wanting to push himself. Then Steve did it again, and he had to swallow once before he could open again, taking a third doughnut into his mouth. His cheeks bulged, breaths laboured as he sucked them in inbetween chews just trying to keep up and Steve was back to rubbing his belly firmly, this time with both hands.

It took him another minute to get it all swallowed, throat straining over how dry they were but he managed, trying to push through the way that the bulge of his belly was forcing his breathing to stay shallow.

Thirteen left and he really felt like he was going to burst. He looked down at Steve with hooded eyes, and then sucked in a quick breath when his belly gurgled, the gas moving around causing a pain that he pinpointed with his palm—the need to hold his gut almost a knee-jerk reaction.

“Oh, Tony...” Steve murmured with appreciative wonder, palms massaging slow circles. He knew he'd just pushed him with having him eat three at once, but when he reached for the glass of milk and offered it up to him, he was delighted to see that flush on his lovers cheeks. That was enough to let him know just how stuffed he was, and once Tony took the glass, he went back to rubbing him deliberately, but slowly, a firm massage that he hoped was going to help.

It took Tony a few moments to work up the motivation to take a drink of milk, and when he did, he drank slowly. There hadn't been much left in the glass, and he polished it off, almost cutting off a low belch with a grunt when he felt a pressure in his throat. He definitely needed to take another minute if he was going to continue, the thought of eating another bite making his stomach churn but he knew he could do it. In a few minutes. Just thirteen more.

“You did so well.” Steve praised him as he reached up to take the empty glass, setting it back on the floor and then he resumed rubbing again.

“...'m not done yet.” Stubborn really wasn't the word for it, and he knew Steve was just as bad. It was why they butted heads, why it'd taken so long for them to warm up to one another, and Steve would be a hypocrite to deny him. He hadn't said his safe word yet. He still wanted to keep going.

“Tony...You don't have to finish. I bought this box before Pepper brought that cake over, I never thought you could finish both.” Even if he'd said he'd wanted the box empty, he didn't want Tony to get sick over it.

“I'm gonna finish it. Just give me a minute.” He didn't sound all that convincing, words slow as he minded the contents of his stomach and just kept on breathing.

Steve stopped rubbing for a moment so he could get back up on the couch beside him, and he leaned in to wrap Tony up in a slow kiss, hands back to his belly as soon as he'd gotten the chance. Tony's lips were stickier than ever and Steve groaned at the sugary taste, sucking his bottom lip clean, licking the top, and only pulling back when Tony pushed him off. For a moment he was concerned, but then Tony just stifled a burp against his fist and Steve chuckled softly.

“Do you want something fizzy?” And Tony thought about it for a moment, but in the end he didn't think it would help. The carbonation would be too much right now.

“More milk.”

“Sure. Be right back.” A quick kiss to one of those beautifully flushed cheeks and Steve was going for a refill, Tony still in the exact same position he'd left him in when he returned and handed him the glass. Tony took a small sip, like he was testing the room he had left. Then he took a bigger gulp, and almost winced when he hiccuped.

He groaned, the noise almost sounding sick this time and Steve was right there with a hand back on his belly and one on the back of his neck, encouraging him to sit forward a little. Tony hiccuped again and the pained sound was no different.

“Take another sip.” And Tony did, almost without thought. He trusted Steve to take care of him, but when another hiccup was all that came out, he did wince. Steve slid his hand down and started massaging circles into Tony's back, the hand on his belly rubbing at the overhang while Tony started to massage himself with both hands. It took another aching hiccup and another minute of rubbing, but Tony took one more sip of milk and then let out a loud belch, feeling instantly relieved. Steve made a soft sound of approval, continuing to rub until Tony had burped a few more times and then sagged back against the couch with a sigh of relief.

“Love you.” He murmured, glazed eyes on Steve and Steve just smiled, giving his belly a playful pinch and shaking it.

“You know I love you too.” So much. So, so much. Especially when he was like this. “Feel better?”

“I feel huge.” Steve took the half-full glass of milk and set it down on the floor again.

“You look huge.” Hand withdrawing from behind him, he smoothed both palms over Tony's stomach and almost moaned those words, arousal piquing again now that Tony felt better.

“I'm still going to finish.” The thought still wasn't all that pleasant, but he had his resolve and that was hard to crack.

“Give yourself a minute. We have all night, and I want you to feel good about this.” He didn't want Tony in a food coma once they were done, nauseous and full of regret. He wanted him to enjoy feeling this full, to stretch it out and get off on it. He might feel like he was asking too much if it hadn't happened in the past, but he was reassured that Tony was enjoying himself when he reached down to palm him through his pants and found his cock still half-hard.

“Make me.” And Steve was sure Tony was feeling a little better if he was ready to be cheeky.

Steve grinned slowly, mischievous look in his eyes as he reached for another doughnut with his free hand and Tony opened right up for him, moaning through the bite as Steve kept rubbing his neglected cock. Once he was chewing, Steve slipped back down between his legs and then started to tug at the legs of his pants, encouraging them down until he needed Tony to lift his ass to keep going. Of course Tony got the hint, but that was easier said than done when that sort of movement required abdominal strength, but he just ended up belching from the strain and sighing, Steve taking the opportunity to yank the pants out from underneath of him and then Tony was left in his briefs.

“Eat one more and scoot forward.” A task which Tony performed in reverse order, getting his ass poised on the edge of the couch and opening his legs wider before grabbing another doughnut. It still felt like work as he put it in his mouth, but then Steve was leaning in and mouthing up his cock through the confines of his underwear, the curve of his belly sitting heavy on Steve's cheek and he moaned through the bite. He chewed slowly, belly unwilling and mind distracted but he managed to swallow it down just as Steve started to bite at his inner thighs. The first sharp nip pulled a surprise noise from him, and he reached down to card his fingers through Steve's hair.

Tony knew Steve liked his thighs now that he'd packed on some pounds. This wasn't the first time they'd been given special attention and it made him feel better about the extra pudge he'd put on around them. The way Steve moaned against him as he worked, leaving small teeth marks and broken blood vessels made him squirm, panting and breathing Steve's name. The skin there was sensitive, and Steve never held back with his abuse when it came to this. He went for the plumpest parts, drawing them in between his teeth with coaxing sucks that grew stronger as Steve worked his blood up to the surface. By the time he was done, Tony was littered with small hickeys, face flushed, and his cock straining against his briefs. The biting and sucking hurt, but in a way he'd come to enjoy especially when he knew it was Steve down there between his legs.

Pressing a kiss to his belly, Steve wrapped both hands around one of Tony's thighs and then shook it appreciatively.

“You're getting so thick, Tony.” Steve's voice was laden with lust at this point, and he kissed his thigh one more time before reaching up to finally tug the waistband of Tony's briefs down. Ass up so Steve could pull them off completely, Tony's cock was eager to spring out and Steve didn't waste time taking the tip in between his lips.

It'd taken some practice, but Steve knew exactly what he was doing now, and he had Tony moaning with his head tipped back and eyes closed within minutes. Steve's hands were on his hips, grabbing at his sides and holding him still as he bobbed his head, letting Tony bump the back of his throat. He loved the taste of him, and how heavy he felt against his tongue, but Steve wasn't eager to rush this. When Tony let out a particularly wanton moan, Steve pulled back off with a pop and gently suckled the head for a moment before pulling off completely.

“Eat, Tony.” And Tony knew that if he wanted Steve to keep going, he was going to have to. He pressed another doughnut past his own lips with a groan, chewing slowly and looking down at Steve expectantly as he did so. The super soldier just gave him another slow lick, not breaking eye contact and not giving him anything more either.

“One more.” For the second time this evening, Tony stopped and thought that he couldn't do it. He was so full it was starting to hurt, and he closed his eyes and just focused on chewing in order to get through the one already in his mouth first.

“Steve...”

“One more.” Steve said with a dark confidence, his faith in Tony backed by his own desire to see him do it and he gave him another teasing lick for motivation. When Tony just looked at him still, almost begging with his eyes for Steve to just keep going, he didn't falter.

“You can do it. I know you can do it. Just one more, Tony.” He reached up with one hand to pat the swell of his belly, and Tony gave in and reached for one more doughnut. He closed his eyes again as he put it in his mouth, concentrating on every chew, putting effort behind swallowing and he didn't think he was going to make it until Steve was wrapping his mouth around his cock again and everything felt amazing. He was so swollen that he'd curved his back to stick his stomach out in hopes that it would grant him more room, and he stifled a belch as his cock jerked with need against Steve's tongue. Steve had gone back to kneading into his sides, and Tony tried to lift his hips to try and get more from him but found it too difficult to move like that again. He was pinned beneath his own weight, at the mercy of Steve's mouth, slouched and stuffed and moaning shamelessly with one hand fisted into Steve's hair and the other resting on his gut like he was trying to hold it all in.

It was a completely salacious display, Steve not holding back in making wet sounds and moaning around him at the feel of Tony's belly brushing and bumping against his nose as he worked.

As a heat started to coil in his gut, Tony focused on staying relaxed to keep any additional pressure off of his belly. He squirmed, scratched his fingers absently against Steve's skull, and when orgasm finally hit him he moaned deep and long, shamelessly indulgent as he spilled himself into Steve's mouth.

Steve swallowed easily, continuing to suck because he knew how much Tony loved the overstimulation. Only once Tony's fingers started to twitch against his head and he heard his lover groan weakly—sounding almost out of his head—did he finally pull back gently and then placed one last kiss to his thigh.

Tony looked completely wrecked, cheeks flushed more than before, and his belly rising and falling quickly as he struggled to catch his breath. His head was still tipped back, eyes closed, hickeys on his neck, his belly, and his thighs. He'd never looked more gorgeous, and Steve just hoped that he'd burned a few calories off with that orgasm.

Not about to push him like this though, Steve just slipped back up onto the couch and pressed a soft kiss to Tony's jaw, then started to gently nibble along his earlobe.

“You should see yourself.” Steve murmured, very aware of how close his mouth was to Tony's ear. “Tony, you look so good. I can't keep my hands off of you.” Which was something he didn't need to admit when his palms had already wandered back to Tony's belly, grabbing soft handfuls and palming over his sides.

“You must be so full...” Given that there were only nine doughnuts left in the box, Steve noted as he took a look. He was so turned on his own cheeks were starting to flush, but he didn't want to stop touching Tony to touch himself. “...you've already eaten forty-one doughnuts.” Tony grunted softly in confirmation, opening his eyes and tilting his head just enough so that he could look at Steve.

“Feed me.” Tony mumbled, still looking so gone with the pleasure and the effort of it all that he almost looked drunk off of it, and Steve hesitated.

“There's nine left. Feed me. I'm gonna finish them.” He didn't think he could do it if he had to feed himself, but if Steve was sitting here putting them in his mouth, he might just be able to do it. There was no doubt that Steve wanted to see him polish them off, but he was doubting Tony's ability to do it without hurting himself.

“You remember what to say, right? If you want me to stop, just--”

“Moonshine, Steve. I know. I'll say it if I have to.” He adjusted himself on the couch, fairly certain at this point that his palm was going to stay glued to his own gut until they were done here, but he'd settled in and he was ready. He could do this.

“Now feed me.” Steve's cock twitched and he stifled a groan in his throat, sitting up a little better and then reaching for a doughnut. Once Tony knew that Steve wasn't going to keep protesting, he opened his mouth and waited, chewing and swallowing as soon as the bite was in his mouth. His stomach made a soft gurgling noise, but he just swallowed again and then opened for more.

Steve knew Tony was pushing himself to his hard limits, but he gave him another bite and marvelled at just how much he'd eaten. This box alone was 3500 calories, and he'd had that cake too. Steve wasn't sure he'd be able to do it if their positions were reversed, but Tony just opened for more again and then there were six left.

This time, he opened his mouth more slowly, eyes squeezing shut once more when another gurgle had him closing his lips to swallow again and then he re-opened. He was struggling and Steve could see that. Was he a bad person for getting off on it? It was possible, but he couldn't care about that right now. Not when he put another bite on Tony's tongue and he chewed and swallowed obediently. Tony sighed then, grunted and took a few obviously shallow breaths before he belched and groaned. It was too much, he was going to end up feeling sick, but there were only five left. Five tiny doughnuts. The more he thought about it, the sicker he started to feel, but then Steve was bumping the forty-fifth doughnut against his lips.

“One more, Tony. Open up.” If Tony really needed to stop, he had his safe word. Knowing that had Steve feeling more confident in pushing him with this, and he was back to slowly but firmly rubbing soothing circles into Tony's gut. After a moments hesitation, Tony opened. He chewed slowly, the glazed chocolate dough tasting bland, and he held it in his mouth for a moment before he worked up the effort it took to swallow.

“Good...that's so good.” Steve spoke encouragingly, like they were working through this together because they were, and he gave Tony another two minutes before he was pressing the next doughnut to his lips.

“Open.” And he did, realizing he hadn't managed to pick off all of the cream ones ten doughnuts ago when custard squished out into his mouth. He paused in his chewing, his gut protesting but he ignored the pain and kept on going. He swallowed it down, fingers pressing into his belly with the effort but he did it, and then relaxed with a deep breath.

At this point, Steve wasn't stopping until he was told to. Tony was clearly pressing on out of his own desire and Steve just gave him the next one.

When more cream poured out into his mouth, Tony let out a queasy groan. He stopped chewing for a moment, just let the doughnut sit as he took a few deeper breaths and Steve grew concerned again that Tony wasn't going to use his safeword even when he should, but then Tony started chewing again and still managed to swallow.

“Milk.” He groaned, but didn't try to sit up better even if it would have made it easier to drink. Steve passed the glass over and Tony just tipped it slowly, a few drops splashing onto his chest but he didn't concern himself with it. He paused a moment, then took another sip and his hand slid up to rest on the curve as he felt a belch coming up. It didn't end up as large as he'd hoped though, which just went to show how packed full his gut really was and his next sigh was more laboured than the last one had been.

“Just three more. Think you can do it?” Steve asked as he grabbed the next, and Tony just nodded regardless of what he actually thought. It didn't matter if he could or not, he was going to, and he opened his mouth again this time instead of waiting for Steve to push him.

He was thankful this time when sugary cinnamon filled his mouth instead of thick custard, but it was still work. His belly felt tender, so swollen that it was sore, and Steve's rubbing was the only thing keeping him going.

Chewed and swallowed, he only had two left. Two measly doughnut holes to eat. It was nothing, yet it felt like everything. Steve didn't stop to poke at or shake his belly, knowing how truly full Tony was now. He was rubbing as gently as he could, and Tony got another minute reprieve before the second-last bite was poised at his lips.

“Two more, Tony. Open up.” And he did, and he wasn't sure why he was doing anymore, just knew that he was. It was just something he had to do now, and he chewed slowly, debated spitting it out when his first attempt to swallow went nowhere, but he managed. His moan was pained, and he looked over at Steve, looking desperate and ready to burst. Steve used his non-sticky hand to brush affectionately through Tony's hair.

“You look done.” Steve was smiling, but still sympathetic. He didn't need Tony to tell him that it hurt, he could see that it did, and he was ready to let him off the hook even though there was just one left if he'd just ask for it.

“You...” He started, swallowing and taking a breath. Why was breathing hard? He felt obese when he was far from it, and he hoped that wasn't foreshadowing from the hands of the universe because he wasn't ready for that. “...can't jump me until I can move again.” Staring right into Steve's face, he could see just how badly his lover wanted him. He was already wearing evidence of it, had already come because of it, and he did envy Steve's self restraint for not even undoing his pants yet but any vigorous activity right now was not going to be good news.

Of course, Steve just chuckled and very gently pat his belly.

“I promise.” Though the blond did lean in to kiss the side of his face again, giving Tony time to breathe without pressing him further.

“I mean it, Steve.” Chuckling softly again, Steve pressed soft kisses slowly up the side of Tony's jaw, listening to him breathe and swallow and paying close attention to how it seemed to get a little easier for him with every minute passed. Steve didn't want to wait until Tony wasn't struggling anymore to give him the last bite because that would be too easy, so he waited until the laboured swallowing had stopped before reaching down for the last doughnut. This time, he held it in front of Tony's lips instead of pressing it to them, waiting.

“Just one more bite. Open.” And Tony did, one last time. One last chocolate glaze, and he chewed with the motivation of a man who could see the finish line. Once he managed to swallow, he let out a long groan, relieved and proud and satisfied in the way that only a glutton could be after being packed full of almost more cake and doughnuts than he could handle. Almost.

“...I can't believe you ate that whole box.” Steve pulled back to admire Tony's tummy, rubbing with one hand and just to be an ass, he presented Tony with his sticky fingers to suck clean one last time. As long as he didn't have to eat them, Tony happily sucked Steve's skin clean of the glaze and then licked his lips. If anyone could manage to be smug in a situation like this, Tony was managing.

“I can't believe you doubted me.”

“You looked like you were going to hurl five minutes ago.” Steve shot back, as if that mattered, and Tony rolled his eyes.

“I was just taking my time.” Utter bullshit, which Steve was wholly prepared to call him on.

“Then I guess you have enough room to finish your glass of milk?”

Tony grunted, taking a deep breath as if to stall while he came up with a good reason as to why he couldn't actually do that at the moment. Though, speaking of milk, Steve dipped down to lick the spilled drops from earlier off of Tony's chest, deliberately smoothing his tongue over a nipple—and he heard the soft sound that caught in Tony's throat.

“Maybe you should have it...I feel bad that you only got one bite of cake.” It was Steve's turn now to roll his eyes

“Maybe I will. I never knew I was signing up to live with such a glutton.” Steve teased, and Tony just smiled, still proud of his grand achievement. That he was basically beached on this couch wasn't something he was concerning himself with just yet.

“Baby, you love it.” The worst part was that Tony was right, just because Steve didn't like when he was right. He huffed, but then he was lifting Tony's hand off of his belly to make room for both of his, slowly smoothing firm and appreciative circles against every bloated inch, and he leaned in to bite Tony's ear again.

“You're right.” He admitted, now that he was close and his hands were back where they belonged. “I do love it. And once you can move well enough to let me carry you to bed, I'm going to fuck you so deep and so good, you're going to run home tomorrow so we can do this again.”

The first time Steve had ever leaned in and talked dirty into his ear, Tony had been surprised he hadn't come on the spot. Now, it just managed to make him swallow thickly one more time, not bothering to muffle the soft sound that escaped him as Steve grabbed at his sides again and made a sound of desire of his own. He didn't know how long it would take him, but patience wasn't his virtue.

“...Give me ten minutes.”
Notes:

How long do you guys think it'll take before Tony can move? My bet's on upwards of half an hour unless Steve wants him making a fuss.

I had a lot of fun writing this one, which is obvious because it got so long.

Debating whether or not to write the smut scene to go with it as an additional chapter. What do you think?

@темы: Belly Kink, Bellyache, Bloated Tummy, Fanfiction, Stuffing, The Avengers (Marvel), Tony Stark, Tummyache, Стаффинг, Фанфикшн

02:14 

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/1653959?view_adult=tr...

Title: The Challenge
Author: charlottesometimes
Summary:

Takes place after "Comfort, Food."

Bruce challenges Loki to eat more than he has ever eaten before in the service of their kinky stuffing fun. The prize, if Loki succeeds? Sex! Hooray!

Notes:

This is belly stuffing porn. Read if you're into it. Drop me a comment if you like it. :D It's not beta'd.

Work Text:

Loki squinted at Bruce, who stood by the bed with his arms crossed, looking down at Loki.

"So you're saying," Loki said, "that if I don't eat everything on that table without throwing up, you won't fuck me?"

Bruce leaned against the folding card table he had set up and loaded with food, which stood a few feet from the bed. The flimsy table strained beneath the weight of enough homemade lasagna, pasta, lemon chicken, cheesecake, and pie to feed a party of a dozen or more hungry guests. "Right," Bruce said, nodding. "And there are other rules of the game, too. You'll be tied up. I'll feed you. I won't stop no matter how much you beg." Then he bobbed his head, as if conceding a point. "Unless you say 'Constantinople,' obviously."

"And what, pray, do I get out of this besides your cock?" Loki asked, raising one eyebrow fondly. "Because you give that to me freely on a fairly regular basis. If I am going to eat all that for you, I should get something else as well."

"Trust me, by the time it gets hard for you to keep eating, my cock will seem like incentive enough," Bruce said. "That's a promise." He stepped forward, keeping eye contact with Loki and licking his lips. "I am going to make you shake you'll want me so bad."

Loki swallowed and tried to keep his expression blank as his cock stirred to Bruce's words. "Ah," he said. "That doesn't sound ... terrible. But I think, also, that I get to avoid going on those Avengers bonding excursions you insist on dragging me to for a week, if I eat it all. Conceded that, mortal, and we have a deal."

Bruce laughed. "Deal then," he said. "Take you shirt off and lay down."

Loki did. And, a few minutes later, he was looking up at Bruce as the mortal pulled Loki's arms above his head, tied his wrists together with a satin ribbon, and then secured Loki's bound hands to both bedposts with a length of rope, rendering Loki unable to move his arms. Shirtless and helpless, stretched out on the bed, his slight belly exposed to Bruce's hungry gaze, Loki felt like he was dinner. He rather liked the feeling.

"Feed me, then, mortal," Loki said.

Bruce did not need further urging.

They started with lasagna. Loki was hungry, and it was well made--Bruce could cook, and almost everything he cooked for Loki was rich, delicious and filling--so it didn't take long for Loki to make his way through a pan of the savory, saucy pasta that could have comfortably fed six or seven people. He was, after all, a demi-god.

Bruce brought the fork up to Loki's mouth with the last bite of the pan of lasagna, smiling slightly. Loki opened up eagerly, chewing and swallowing the bite before licking tangy tomato sauce from his lips a bit more slowly and sensually than was strictly necessary. He was on his way to the stage of fullness where one would stop if one were merely eating to eat, rather than to get stuffed, his stomach a slight warm weight.

"Too easy," Loki said. "What's next?"

"Lemon chicken and pasta with mushroom Alfredo sauce," Bruce said, piling a plate high with both foods.

Loki opened his mouth obediently when Bruce brought the fork to his lips again a moment later. The sauce was creamy as it slid over his tongue, with a hint of mushroom. The chicken was perfectly cooked, melting in his mouth. "You have outdone yourself," Loki said between bites.

"Well if I'm going to make you eat so much you almost burst--and that is what's going to happen here--I owe it to you that it be good, right?" Bruce asked.

Loki made a noise of agreement, chewing dutifully. He swallowed, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the pleasant weight of the food in his stomach. He opened his mouth again without opening his eyes, trusting that Bruce would fill it.

They made their way through the plate of pasta, and then a second and a third plate. By that time, Loki was full. Not uncomfortable, but full, and he already rather wished he could reach down to rub the gentle swell of his belly, which Bruce was neglecting.

Loki frowned. "Why am I tied up?" he asked. "I do not think I like it."

"Because I said so," Bruce said. He stood at the table again, surveying the uneaten food. "What next?"

"Rub my stomach, mortal," Loki said. "I want it. I will not go on without it."

Bruce just picked up a cheesecake and came to sit by Loki once more. He put one hand a few inches above Loki's abdomen. "Does it hurt already?" he asked.

"No, but I like it when you touch me there. Touch me."

Bruce's hand hovered. Then he drew it away. "Later," he said. "Right now, cheesecake."

Loki scowled, but when Bruce pressed the first forkful of smooth cheesecake onto his closed lips, Loki immediately gave in, opening his mouth for the sweet desert. His eyes closed in pleasure and he heard himself let out a little moan.

"Christ, Loki," Bruce said. He had begin to breath a little harder. "Make that sound again." He put another bite of cheesecake against Loki's lips, and Loki parted them, taking the desert on his tongue. He moaned again, and though it started out as intentional and contrived, he found it ended up genuine as the flavor of the cake burst through him.

"We should do this one night with nothing but different favors of cheesecake," Bruce suggested. "With how much you love the stuff think of how big I could get you."

Loki just licked his lips again and then opened his mouth.

Bruce filled it.

Three cheesecakes disappeared in a haze of sugar, and before Loki quite knew it Bruce was feeding him lasagna again, large forkful by large forkful. A pressure had started up in Loki's stomach by this time, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. In fact, the feeling of Bruce's food sliding down his throat, pushing into his stomach, filling him up more--it had him properly hard, his cock obvious in his jeans.

It was during this second pan of lasagna, when it was about two thirds gone, that Loki stomach began to protest slightly. A small ache set up beneath his sternum as he finished the pan.

When Bruce got up to get more food, Loki glanced down at his stomach. It was decidedly round at this point, heavy and dome-like, but it stuck out only perhaps three or four inches. He had done much worse.

Still, he wanted very much to touch it.

"Now you will rub my stomach," Loki said in his best tone of command, eyeing Bruce as the other man served up another dish of pasta and chicken.

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "Will I?" he asked.

"You will," Loki said.

Bruce returned to the bed. He loaded a fork with food and brought to Loki's mouth. "I will if you finish all the Alfredo pasta and chicken," he said. "I promise."

Loki looked back at the table. There had been two huge bowls of pasta and four pans of chicken, and Loki had eaten through one of the bowls and two of the pans. He swallowed, feeling the heaviness that had already settled in his stomach. And even after the pasta, there were still one more pan of lasagna, three pies, and a cheesecake.

For the first time since the game began, Loki wondered whether he might not end up saying "Constantinople."

The most he'd ever eaten in one session had probably been with Bruce, a few weeks earlier. Fifteen deep-dish pizzas loaded with toppings and dripping with extra cheese. Loki hadn't ever had pizza that good, and they'd done it in public, and the stares of some of the patrons only made it that much better as Loki ate pizza after pizza as if in a trance. He hadn't even meant to set a new record for his fullness, but by the time he came back to himself he had already eaten ten of the pizzas, his stomach was already fit to be used as a shelf, and with Bruce rubbing and encouraging Loki through even more after that, Loki figured why not push beyond what he thought was his limit. He had ended it aching, bloated and miserable, his stomach a solid ball of pain and cramps. Bruce and he stayed at the restaurant until it closed, Bruce rubbing Loki in a back corner booth, and even then it had been difficult to get outside to hail a cab.

And this was more food than that.

But Loki had accepted the challenge. He wouldn't back down, and he certainly wouldn't beg for a belly rub. Grimly, he opened his mouth.

Of course, the deliciousness of the food did make it easy to forget about the growing pain in his swelling stomach while Bruce was pushing bite after bite into Loki's mouth. Loki didn't even stop to assess his situation again until Bruce stood to refill the plate.

Loki took a cautious deep breath--he was well aware that this might be painful--and was in fact greeted by a stabbing pain through one side of his bloated stomach. He winced and his arm jerked automatically in an attempt to rub the aching organ. But of course, his arm stayed tied securely above his head.

The bed dipped as Bruce sat back down, and Loki glared at him. "This is cruel," he said. "Being tied up and stuffing at the same time. I'm never doing this again."

Bruce frowned and considered the Trickster for a moment.

Then he set the plate of food on the bedside table, and opened the drawer below where they kept lubricant and other necessaries.

He drew out a blindfold and, without further ado, lifted Loki's head and looped the soft black fabric around it.

"What are you doing?" Loki asked, jerking his head side to side in an attempt to shake off the blind fold. "I will not be bound and blind"--

"Yep, you will," Bruce said, holding Loki's head still with one hand while he clumsily tied the blindfold one-handed with the other.

"I thought you loved me," Loki whined.

"Shut up Loki, I love you more than my own life, and you also know that if you want me to stop there's just one word you've got to say." Bruce's hands left Loki's head and the Trickster was left in darkness.

He could say Constantine--

Just then, a stab of pleasure jolted Loki as something warm, wet and gentle flicked across his nipple, and he drew a sharp breath.

"You like that?" Bruce asked.

"Christ," was all Loki managed.

The pleasure returned as what was clearly Bruce's tongue flicked at Loki's nipple again, back and forth lightly, then up and down, exploring the whole if the nub, capturing every nerve ending. Loki began to breath harder, and he found himself luxuriating in the sense of being laid out and open, just for Bruce. The ache in his stomach felt right, felt comforting. He squirmed as his cock grew even harder in his jeans.

Loki heard himself whimper, and Bruce's tongue disappeared. Bruce made a low, pleased sound in his throat. "You are so god damned hot right now," he said.

Loki tried to catch his breath without breathing in too deeply. "I ... Know," he said finally.

Bruce laughed and, a moment later, there was a warm, wet mouth on Loki's jaw, sending tingling spikes of pleasure to his cock, then on his neck, making Loki tip his head to the side, exposing more of his skin to Bruce's lips and teeth.

Then Bruce was gone again, and the next thing Loki felt was the press of more food against his lips.

Made pliant by pleasure, Loki opened up obediently and took in more food. Without the ability to see how far he'd gotten through the new plate, or to see his swelling stomach, Loki's world was reduced to the seemingly steady and unending stream of food passing between his lips, the now very real ache in his stomach, and a budding sensation of nausea.

Chewing became a chore, his jaw tired and his body uninterested in even more to digest. The ache and nausea grew, and Loki's abused stomach practically screamed for someone to touch it.

Yet, somehow, the whole experience was wonderful. Every dogged bite, as he swallowed, pushed down to add to Loki's pain and his sense of utter helplessness, and the sensation somehow ended in his cock, as if the ache and the sense of subjugation were pleasures in themselves.

"You're doing so good," Bruce cooed as Loki felt the bed shift, perhaps because Bruce had stood up. "You're getting huge. You're really fucking god damned sexy."

Loki made a neutral noise, his mind too hazed with pleasure, pain, fullness and the need to focus on not throwing up to form a coherent response.

By the end of the next plate of pasta and chicken, though, the pain and discomfort had reached a point where Loki was no longer sure he liked the feeling, even perversely. His stomach churned, the contents seeming to press up his throat.

"It hurts, Bruce, and I think I might be sick," he said. He swallowed, and hesitated only slightly before adding, "please. Please rub it. I just said please."

"Just one more plate," Bruce said. "All the pasta and chicken. That was the deal."

Loki whimpered as another bite pressed to his swollen lips, but he opened his mouth anyway.

His stomach was so full, at this point, that it felt a bit as if a stack of encyclopedias were resting on his abdomen, pressing him down with its weight. But that, of course, wouldn't hurt this badly. This felt more like the encyclopedias had somehow ended up inside him.

And the sensation was only growing. "Bruce," Loki said between bites. "I don't think I can do this."

Another bite did not come promptly. "You know what to say," Bruce replied after a moment.

Loki licked his lips, the taste if rich Alfredo sauce on them sending a wave of nausea through him. Did he have to stop? Could he--could he push a little further?

He opened his mouth.

But no food entered it. Instead, a gentle finger pushed his mouth closed, and Bruce's lips were on Loki's, kissing him softly. Hands tangled in Loki's hair. Loki sighed into the kiss, but then gasped as a stab of pain went through his stomach.

Then Bruce's mouth was gone and, a second later, it was on Loki's other nipple, flicking and licking, and Loki gasped again. Bruce alternated direction and pressure, working the nipple over slow and then fast and then slow again, and Loki once more forgot his pain and nausea, once more became very aware of his cock as it strained against his fly, felt his whole body and his bloated, tight stomach yielding to Bruce.

"You're shaking, Loki," Bruce said, a laugh in his voice.

"You always ... Did ... Deliver," Loki replied, panting.

Then there was more food being pushed into Loki's mouth, and he accepted it. Bite upon bite of the now-nauseating pasta and chicken passed down Loki's throat into his protesting middle. His stomach churned even as Loki's tight flesh tingled from being so stretched over the huge amount of food inside it.

By the time Bruce stopped brining bites to Loki's mouth, Loki could hardly focus on anything but the pain and the fight not to throw up.

Then, without warning, blessedly warm, soft fingers and palms connected with the flesh of Loki's weakly gurgling stomach.

Loki let out a gust of air, the closest thing to a sigh he could manage, and the hands began to rub--oh so gently, barely touching--along the sides of Loki's distended stomach.

Loki concentrated on the sensation of Bruce's touch, feeling the relieving pressure of hands on his tingling skin. Bruce rubbed softly, moving from the sides to the aching bottom, then the overstuffed top, and finally to the crest, his finger dipping briefly into Loki's belly button, making his cock twitch. Then Bruce increased the pressure and, though it hurt at first, Loki found his nausea and his pain ebbing slightly.

"Thank you," he breathed as the pain eased to merely catastrophic levels. "You asshole."

Bruce's didn't respond, and a moment later lips touched Loki's belly, and he began to trial a line of wet kisses from crest to waistband. Then, mercifully, Bruce popped open Loki's jeans--which had been pushed down as Loki's stomach grew anyway--and slid them off Loki. A pressure Loki hadn't even noticed amidst the much more drastic internal pressure left Loki's painful stomach, and he made a low sound of relief.

"Better?" Bruce asked.

"A little," Loki sniffed.

"Ready to go on?"

Loki moaned, long and pitiful. "Do I have to?" he asked. "Can't we just fuck already? I am huge, Bruce. You have got to be salivating over me by now."

"I am," Bruce answered. "But we already made the rules. There's no going back now."

Loki frowned. "Look at it," he ordered, doing his best to wag his ponderous stomach from side to side. "Look at it. I promise you, I will come all over my own stomach when you fuck me. I will slosh and moan and gurgle for you. Come on."

By way of answer, Bruce pressed a bite of what felt like some kind of pie--warm wet filling, dry crust--to Loki's lips.

Resigned, Loki opened his mouth and let in the miserable, nauseating-but honestly, objectively delicious--apple pie.

"You want me to go get you some ice cream with this?" Bruce teased.

"You are a tyrant," Loki grumbled.

The pie was deposited inside Loki methodically, and though Loki ached very badly, the pain was not as intense as it had been before Bruce's rubbing, and the nausea had receded to a level that was uncomfortable but did not necessitate an exercise of willpower to avoid vomiting.

When the pie was gone, Bruce retrieved another, and the process continued. But this time, while Loki chewed mechanically, Bruce rubbed firm, comforting circles on Loki's upper stomach, easing the pressure even as it built still further.

Loki could feel, from the touch of Bruce's hand, just how huge his stomach was. He longed to see it, and to touch it himself. But there wasn't much room left for longing or thinking of any kind in Loki's head, preoccupied as he was by the sensations in his stomach.

By the time the third pie came around--cherry--Loki was fighting tears from the pain of it. Not that Bruce could see that.

But when the second bite of cherry pie pressed up against Loki's lips, Bruce's hand suddenly left Loki's stomach, and reappeared on Loki's balls, cupping them lightly. Loki, temporarily distracted from his pain, let his mouth fall open. And the cherry pie went inside. Bruce repeated the process through much of the pie, surprising Loki with touches and carcasses Loki could not see coming, and shoving a forkful into the Trickster while he was distracted.

When he stood again, Loki realized all at once that he was in very serious pain, and the tears that were still threatening spilled from his eyes. He blinked against the blindfold, ashamed. There was nothing he could do to make the pain better. He couldn't move. He couldn't stop. He couldn't throw up. He was defeated.

"Bruce," he said. A fresh stab of pain shook him, and he winced before he went on. "I don't think I can keep going. Not normally. If I'm going to finish you're going to have to take an even more active role."

"How do you mean?" Bruce said.

"Just keep forcing it on me. Force my mouth closed and open if you have to. Don't let me protest."

Bruce was silent for a moment, but then Loki realized his breathing was getting faster and harder.

"Oh god damn, Loki," Bruce said then, and all at once his lips and hands were everywhere, all over Loki, kissing and sucking and licking and possessing. Loki's stomach gurgled and churned as Bruce touched it, licked it, and Loki lay there and let the pain and pleasure take him.

"All you have left is one pan of lasagna, and a cheesecake," Bruce said. "Christ, I think you're really gonna do it. You are too damned hot, I could just, I could--"

The clinking sound of a belt. Something fleshy touched Loki's stomach, and he realized with a stirring of interest in his cock that it was Bruce's cock, pressing into his belly. Bruce rubbed the head on the stretched skin, then the shaft, rocking his hips. Loki felt his own breath speed up, and he distantly wished that Bruce would touch his cock.

And then, as if by magic, Bruce did. Suddenly his mouth was around Loki's shaft, working up and down, and Loki jumped in surprise and pleasure, his stomach sloshing in a mighty protest. Then Bruce's pinky finger was in Loki's hole, and Loki felt that feeling of being open and all for Bruce returning, his huge, massively painful stomach feeling like a tribute.

Bruce kept working on Loki, and Loki's need grew as Bruce put more fingers inside him; he wished he could rock his hips, but each time he tried, it was like an earthquake went off among the contents of his tender belly, so he stayed carefully still and passive.

But then the feeling of need began to swell, and Loki felt a fire burning in his groin. He moaned and tipped his head back. "Do this forever, Bruce," he said breathily. "Do exactly this forever."

Perhaps predictably, Bruce's hands and mouth disappeared in response. "Well, now that you're all flushed and horny," Bruce said cheerfully, "it's time for lasagna."

Loki had no fight left in him. He laid there and waited.

Then two fingers pulled his mouth open, food was laid on his tongue, and the fingers closed his mouth. Loki didn't move, unwilling to chew the hateful substance. Apparently catching on to just how little Loki was willing to do at this stage, Bruce began to pump his mouth up and down in a semblance of chewing.

Feeling a bit ridiculous, Loki tried to help, weakly. After a moment he swallowed, and the process repeated itself.

A few bites in, Loki realized he was in real trouble.

"Bruce," he said, and it came out a pitiful, breathy whine. "I am going to be sick. I am. Help"--

The contents of Loki's belly lurched up his throat as his stomach muscles heaved, and Loki shut his mouth fast to prevent that heave from being the one that lost him the game. Then he just lay there for a second, mouth firmly shut against the nausea and stomach roiling.

Bruce's soothing hands were back on Loki's noisy stomach then, rubbing light circles, pressing into the places Bruce knew from experience wouldn't be hurting as badly, gently probing over the places he knew would hurt the worst. Slowly, over what felt like hours but probably was minutes, the nausea again began to ebb.

Then Bruce's fingers were at the blindfold on Loki's head, and a moment later Loki was looking up at a smiling Bruce.

"Better?" he asked.

"A little," Loki said weakly.

Bruce leaned down and captured Loki's lips for a soft kiss. Then he pulled away and regarded Loki seriously.

"Do you still want to have sex?" he asked.

Loki nodded. "But I haven't finished," he said.

"It's okay," Bruce said. "Let's do it."

Gratitude and relief welled up in Loki's chest. "Thank you," he said.

Bruce just nodded and retrieved the lubricant. A moment later he was on top of Loki, sliding inside the Trickster in a position that would have been like missionary were it not for the way Bruce had to curl around and over Loki's huge gut.

His cock, slick with precum and lube, penetrated Loki's hole easily, and Bruce began to thrust gently. "Good?" he asked.

"Good," Loki said, nodding. And it did feel good. The feeling of being open and all for Bruce began to steal back over him, and Loki relaxed into the pleasure. He wanted to move his hips, but he knew that if he did, he would upset his stomach, so he did not move.

But as the pleasure built within him, as the heat in his groin began to burn, Loki wanted more and he wanted to express it.

"Faster," he said.

Bruce frowned. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes. Faster."

Bruce sped up the pace slightly, and Loki arched into Bruce's cock. His stomach lurched just as Bruce lodged more deeply inside Loki than before, leaving Loki caught between pleasure and pain. Recklessly, he jerked his hips up again, and the process recreated itself, his stomach sloshing.

"Harder," Loki said. "Now."

With a shake of the head, Bruce began to thrust harder. Loki's stomach lurched with every thrust, but he didn't care. He was here, and he was all for Bruce, and he felt wonderful.

But that didn't really stop his stomach from pitifully wanting Loki to empty it, and he had to occasionally bite back heaves as he lay there accepting Bruce's cock.

"Rub," Loki demanded, glancing down at his stomach. "Make it better."

Bruce reached out and began to rub in slow, form circles, his touch harder than before. Loki moaned and squirmed beneath his touch.

"One hand on my cock," he demanded.

Again, Bruce complied, and Loki gasped. He rucked up into Bruce's thrusts, his belly like a weight to be lifted. His arms twitched with the need to reach out and grab his own stomach, but each time the restraints thwarted him he just felt a stab of something like pleasure at the thought that it was Bruce who had restrained him, and it was Bruce who was fucking him now.

"God damn it, Loki," Bruce said then. "You are so hot right now."

"Am I?" Loki heard himself ask. "Tell me what I look like."

"You look-- Christ--you look like a beached whale, like you can't move, and your stomach is shaking as I pound you. But you look so flushed and blissed-out, it's like you don't give a fuck you can't move. You look ... Subjugated. And debauched. It's wonderful. And that is my hand on your huge gut. It's fantastic."

"I'm gonna come," Loki said. "Oh god, I'm--"

He came in a great spurt, cum landing in a trial up his belly and Loki arched up into Bruce with a mighty effort, his huge stomach as taunt as his spine as the pleasure washed over him.

Cursing and panting, Bruce sped up even more as Loki came down from his orgasm, and as Loki watched, Bruce bent forward and licked the cum from Loki's belly. A few moments later Bruce froze over Loki, eyes rolling back in his head as he shot his cum into Loki's ass.

Then he collapsed to one side of the Trickster, and both men lay panting for a second.

Loki was realizing that, now that the sex was over and his body no longer thrummed with need, his stomach was still a tight, lancing pain in his middle.

"Are you going to untie me now?" he asked haughtily. "I am still in considerable pain."

Bruce pushed himself up immediately and began to rub Loki once more. He smirked. "I don't know," he said. "I kinda like you like this."

Loki glared at Bruce. "You cannot be serious," he said.

Bruce smiled, reached up, and untied Loki's bonds. "Spoil sport," he said.

Loki brought his arms down immediately and tested his wrists for any pain. They were fine. "I think next time," he said, "I'll tie you up. And eat in front of you. But you can't touch."

Bruce blinked. "That sounds incredibly hot," he said.

"Of course it does," Loki said. "It involves me." Then he looked down at his gurgling stomach. "But let's not do it for ... Several months. That's how long it's going to take me to digest all this."

Bruce just grinned and kept on rubbing.

@темы: Belly Kink, Loki, Tummyache, Боль в животе, Стаффинг

02:12 

EvilStufferSebastian
Title: Comfort, Food
Autor: charlottesometimes


archiveofourown.org/works/1326562

Category: M/M
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Relationship:Bruce Banner/Loki
Additional Tags: StuffingFeeding KinkJarvis is a match maker apparentlyBelly RubsBelly worshipBelly Kinkemotional overeating

Series:
Part 1 of the Stuffing Loki series »


Comfort, Food
charlottesometimes
Summary:

Loki never had anyone to comfort him growing up on Asgard, so he turned to overeating as a way to sooth himself in times of stress. Now that Loki is working as an Avenger, living in the Avengers tower, Bruce has noticed how Loki disappears to his room whenever he's stressed out. Jarvis knows Loki overeats; he also knows Bruce watches stuffing porn. The AI might take advantage of this information, for Loki's and Bruce's own good.

Notes:

This story is stuffing kink porn. If you're not into it, skip it.

Note: If you commented on this story previously, your comment is not gone because I deleted it. It is gone because I accidentally deleted this story and thus all the comments were deleted. I just wanted to put that out there in case people thought I was removing their comments selectively.

Work Text:

When Loki crept past the open door to the TV room where the Avengers were watching “Who's Line is it Anyway?” like he hoped to go unnoticed, his head down and his arms cradling a large number of plastic and paper shopping bags, it wasn't the first time that had happened.

In fact, Bruce realized, this was what Loki had done after just about every fight the Avengers had gotten into during the four months Loki had been a tentative and still distrusted member of the team: Disappeared just after the debriefing, opting out of the post-game team-bonding activities Steve insisted upon, and then reappeared some hours later to carry a large number of shopping parcels furtively to his bedroom.

Not that the secretive or antisocial nature of his post-fight routine was unusual, for him. He was living in the Avengers mansion, Tony said, but Bruce hardly saw him except for missions. He didn't come to communal meals, didn't show up for movie nights, and generally did not come out of his room unless Thor dragged him out.

And yet, Bruce liked Loki. In the time they had managed to have to interact, Loki had struck him as a smart, wry, sensitive guy, someone Bruce might be able to relate to—whereas all the other Avengers were bull-headed jocks, full of confidence and bravado even if those traits made up for deficiencies in self-esteem. Tony was Bruce's closest friend on the team, but even he was a bit macho for Bruce's tastes.

As Bruce turned away from the door, a worried look on his face in spite of himself, he caught Thor looking at him from the other side of the couch they both occupied.

“My brother has always been a loner,” Thor said quietly, seeing Bruce's expression. “I do not think it is good for him, but my attempts to engage him have not gone well in recent years.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Are you asking me to check on Loki?” he asked. He wasn't completely averse to the idea. He had, in fact, been wishing he had an excuse to go see what the Trickster was up to.

“I am only saying it would do him no harm for someone on this team other than myself to show an interest in him,” Thor said. “And you seem to have noticed his lonely habits. Your effort would not be misplaced, should you choose to make one.”

After that, Thor returned to laughing and joking with the other Avengers about the silly TV show, and Bruce found himself once again alone with his thoughts of Loki.

It took about five minutes for him to decide and, as he stood, Thor caught his eye again. Bruce nodded, once, and Thor gave him a quiet smile.

He made his way down the corridor until he was well out of hearing distance of the TV room, and asked Jarvis where Loki's room was. However the robot had been programmed, it didn't seem to believe in preserving the privacy of secretive and isolated Gods of Lies, and it told him without much trouble.

A few minutes later, Bruce was knocking on a nondescript door in a hallway several floors above the one where most of the Avengers rooms were; evidently, Loki was serious about remaining isolated0.

Bruce knocked.

***

Loki sighed contentedly and set the empty container of chicken korma to the side. He had mixed the jasmine rice with the savory sauce and plump chicken right in the container, shamelessly mopping the rich concoction up with nan bread as he ate, letting the fatty sauce slide across his tongue with each bite. Now the container, meant for two, was empty, and Loki's stomach was feeling warm and pleasant. He looked down and, as he suspected, saw that nothing was showing, yet. Out of habit he rubbed the flat expanse beneath his T-shirt, but he was by no means in any pain. He wasn't even full yet.

That was dinner number one. He had nineteen more in store, and then plenty of junk food and dessert on top of that. Leaning back against the wall, he surveyed the take-out feast he had procured for himself, and smiled.

This was how Loki had always found comfort when he was under stress, since he was a child. No one had ever been willing to talk to him, to hold him, when he needed it, mostly because it seemed no one else on Asgard ever needed such a thing. Even his mother, when he was young, would laugh at his fears or his anxiety, pat him on the head, and send him on his way. He had quickly learned that, if he wanted to feel better, he would have to find a way that didn't require anyone's assistance. (In this way, Loki had acquired a massive ability to put food away, which had been lifesaving on Nornheim that time fire challenged the company to an eating contest, and Loki bested it. Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three had been impressed at the ability of Loki's stomach to stretch and stretch, and he had had to pretend it was a native, unexpected ability, and not won developed through years of comfort overeating.)

When he was younger, his lonely overeating sessions had even been one of the few things that could help Loki sleep; exhausting himself with fullness and digestion would help him shut down like few other things would. It no longer had that benefit, now that he was grown and had done and seen terrible things—nothing had that benefit, now; nothing put him to sleep—but the benefit of temporary comfort remained.

Loki decided to go for the baked ziti next—several pounds of creamy, tangy pasta which was one of his favorite Midgarian dishes. Actually, he had a lot of favorite Midgardian dishes, by now. In his four months as a provisional Avenger, he had found himself under stress quite a few times, and had already become known to several foodstuffs proprietors in the greater New York City area. He particularly liked “Indian,” “Greek” and “Italian” foodstuffs.

He shoveled the pasta down like a starving man, focused on the taste and the creamy texture, moaning shamelessly in his empty room. This was probably one of his favorite stages: When he was full but not so full that he could really feel it yet, when that fullness to come was still something to be anticipated. As he brought the fork to his mouth again and again with one hand, the other trailed absently up and down his stomach, sending little shivers through his spine. He was, as usual during these sessions, half hard inside his pants (which he would, soon enough, remove to give his gut room to breath).

Before Loki knew it, he was mopping up the last dregs of cheese and tomato sauce from the ziti tin with the last hunk of garlic bread. He sighed happily and leaned back again, glimpsing himself in the mirror he had lowered to the floor so he could see the progress of his stomach from another angle. His stomach, when he lifted his shirt, was just barely—every so slightly—beginning to bow outward. He rubbed at it, letting his eyelids flutter a little in pleasure.

He downed a couple of Dr. Peppers before he went on. He liked how the heavier fullness of food and the fiz combined; “soda pop” was a definite advantage to being stuck on Midgard atoning for his crimes.

Next came the felafel-stuffed pitas, dripping with tangy tziki sauce. Loki pushed each bite down inside himself sigh a sigh of pleasure.

When they were gone, he sat back once more, adding the Styrofoam container to the growing pile of empty wrappers beside him.

His hands played absently over his no longer quite flat stomach. This was what most people would call “stuffed.” It was where the general population got to maybe a few times a year, at Yule and maybe a King's feast or two. This is where Loki would stop if he were at one of those public gatherings. His stomach was in the very earliest stages of stretching, creating a nice full feeling that made him settle even more lazily against the wall. He took a deep breath, reveling in how his stomach pushed out as he did so.

He chose a sausage pizza next, then hot dogs with everything bought from a street vendor, then a steak with mashed potatoes and carrots, then a gourmet hamburger—the stuff Midgardians called “American food” all seemed to be rather red-meat-based, more like Asgardian fare, and Loki found it comfortingly nostalgic—washing everything down with more Dr. Pepper.

By the time that was all inside him, Loki was beginning to really feel stretched, even though he wasn't half done yet. He knew the feeling of being uncomfortably full would long precede the point where he actually needed to stop, though, so this was not alarming.

He looked down at his stomach to see that it was definitely straining against his shirt now. His stomach didn't really feel tight yet, but it was round and visible, both from above and in the mirror. He took a few moments to simply stretch backward and rub himself—was that the beginning of pain he felt as he took a deep breath? It seemed to be. He winced and massaged the side of his little mound.

And then, just as he let out a small moan of satiation and pleasure, there was a knock at his bedroom door.

***

Bruce waited a moment as the small sounds of movement inside the room ceased, as if Loki had frozen at the sound of Bruce's knocking.

Finally, a voice came from behind the door, irritated but polite.

“Who is it and what can I do for you?”

Bruce licked his lips. “Uh,” he said. “It's Bruce.” What on earth was he going to say, exactly? “I just wanted to see if you … wanted to come and watch TV with us. Or … something.”

There was a pause. “No, thank you,” Loki replied eventually. “I am well as I am. Please do not worry, and do not hesitate to be on your way.”

Bruce winced. Maybe he should have come in with a plan of attack. “No, I mean, I'm worried about you,” he blurted out. Oh, god. “I just mean … You always lock yourself up in here, and I just don't think that's … I mean, if it were me, I'd be in danger of Hulking out, if I locked myself up alone all the time. It's not good for a person.” Bruce wanted very much to kick himself.

He might have heard Loki scoff, but he wasn't sure. “I am quite alright, I promise you,” the Trickster replied. “You need not worry another moment about me. Please do feel free to return to the televised program you and the others were enjoying.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly enjoying it,” Bruce said, leaning up against the wall beside the door and crossing his arms. “Maybe I decided to come see you because I wanted a bit more intelligent conversation.”

Loki paused again before answering, “Well, I'm very tired, and in no state for intelligent conversation. Perhaps tomorrow. I'm very sorry.”

Bruce opened his mouth to reply—though he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say—but another voice interrupted him.

“Mr. Banner,” it came from above, so quiet it would have been a whisper had it been intoned by a human being and not an artificial intelligence, “would you be so kind as to remove down the hallway a few dozen yards or so? I have an important piece of information I would like to share with you.”

Bruce shut his mouth like a confused fish, then opened it again. “Uh, ok, Loki, hold on a minute, I'll be right back.”

He was fairly sure he heard Loki say something like “No need” as he took off down the hallway.

“Thank you, sir,” Jarvis said when Bruce had moved himself a sufficient distance away from Loki's door. “Now, would you mind terribly if I asked you a rather personal question? If my line of inquiry make you uncomfortable rather than excited, I can delete all data that led me to pose these questions, sir.”

Bruce found himself once again at a loss for words--“rather than excited”?--but after a moment he recovered. “Sure, Jarvis,” he said. “Ask away.”

“Sir, are you a homosexual?”

“Yes,” Bruce said, blinking. “It turns out that I am.”

“And, do you sometimes use your personal computer to seek out and consume pornographic materials related to a kink called 'stuffing'?”

Bruce felt himself flush and, without really meaning to, scanned up and down the hallway to be sure it was empty.

“There is no one anywhere near here, sir, or I would not have brought it up,” Jarvis said. “Also, do not worry that I know it. I am not capable of judgmental thoughts on these sorts of things.”

“Well, I really wish you would get to the point, one way or another,” Bruce muttered.

“Of course, sir,” Jarvis continued. “The point is that Loki is currently stuffing himself quite silly and seems to be deriving what one might call 'sexual gratification' form the act. I thought perhaps you two would enjoy yourselves more if you indulged together, rather than separately.”

Two thoughts occurred to Bruce simultaneously.

One was, quite clearly and loudly inside Bruce's mind, “Oh god yes.”

The other was, not quite as loudly—though this is what he said out loud, to Jarvis—“Jarvis, that's an invasion of his privacy, to tell me that.”

“Well, sir, judging by the spike in your heart rate when I said it, and the change in the pattern of blood flow in your body, you don't really mind my telling you.”

“You can't just--”

“I'm springing the lock on Loki's door, sir. You should be able to let yourself in any time.”

Bruce laughed dryly. “You really can't do this,” he said.

Jarvis did not respond.

“Jarvis?”

The AI remained silent.

“For the record, Jarvis,” Bruce went on, starting back down the hallway to Loki's door, “I think I hate you.”

He paused when he reached the door again, breathing quietly, and listened for any sound of Loki inside the room.

He was immediately rewarded with a low, breathy moan, followed by a soft hiccup.

Bruce's cock jumped at the sound, and the sudden fog in his head confirmed that Jarvis' words about Bruce's changing blood flow were probably accurate.

He didn't have to go in, necessarily. He could easily flee back to his own room, look up some favorite videos on YouTube, maybe see if that one guy from Xtube was available for Skyping. Or … he could stand out here and listen …

Loki sighed heavily on the other side of the door, and Bruce could here how labored it was. Bruce's pants were feeling fairly tight in the groin region, now, and his breath was speeding up. Was Loki really inside this room, just on the other side of this unlocked, flimsy door, stuffing himself until he couldn't breath right?

Suddenly, Bruce was absolutely overcome with the need to know whether that was true.

He opened the door.

Loki froze in the act of bringing a fork to his mouth, one hand holding a container of Chinese take-out—or, rather, balancing a container of Chinese take-out on his lush, rounded belly.

He was lying back against a stack of pillows near one wall, a pile of food wrappers lying to one side and a collection of unopened take-out, desserts and junk food to the other side. What was more, two twelve-packs of Dr. Pepper sat near to Loki's hand, with seven of them already emptied and sitting in a line beside the pile of empty food containers.

All this Bruce saw at a glance. What his eyes were drawn to—what they lingered on—was the Trickster god himself.

Loki's stomach was a heavy hemisphere in his lap as he reclined against the pillows, one hand massaging one of its creamy sides. The Trickster's T-shirt had been pushed up to reveal most of the expanse of belly, whether on purpose or because it had ridden up naturally Bruce couldn't be sure. The flesh Bruce could see was pink and smooth. Loki's pants bit into the underside in a way that made Bruce wince even as his mouth watered at the larger tableau.

Loki's expression, however, was not part of what made the scene inviting. He looked—to Bruce's horror—betrayed, eyes wide.

Then he got angry.

“Norns, Bruce Banner, I told you no, I told you I was not interested in your televised programs or your bonding activities”--He tried to stand up, but was impeded by his belly, and had to sort of roll sideways in order to sit up enough to push himself to a standing position. Sadly, as he did so, he pulled his shirt down to hide the beautiful gut. “Now get out of here, get out, get out!”

It was not one of Loki's more eloquent moments, Bruce thought distantly, but he had been caught in something of an odd position.

But then, as Loki drew closer, he stopped. Bruce stared at him, trying to parse out the Trickster's expression: It was suddenly thoughtful, curious, uncertain, no longer a mask of rage.

“Where are you coming from?” Loki asked tentatively. Bruce noticed with another jolt to his cock that Loki's face was flushed, though from embarrassment or from the effort of consuming so much food he could not be sure. His imagination told him it was the latter.

“Uh, down the hall,” Bruce replied unhelpfully. He was breathing harder now.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked warily.

Oh, Bruce realized: Loki had seen Bruce's arousal. Possibly also noticed his short breath, and his own flush.

Well, Bruce thought. He had opened the door, hadn't he? This could either go really, really well, or create a really, really awkward situation that neither of them could get out of.

“Jarvis told me you were stuffing yourself,” Bruce said. “I ...” He trailed off.

“Wanted to save me from myself?” Loki replied wryly.

Bruce shook his head. “No,” he said. There was no way Loki could miss the roughness in his voice. He swallowed. “I wanted to help you.”

Loki's eyes went wide, then narrowed. “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously. “Help me how?”

“I could … feed you. If you're too stuffed to go on yourself. And I could ...” Bruce stepped forward, desire absolutely obliterating common sense. He put a hand on Loki's bulging stomach, trapped as it was inside his T-shirt and jeans. He rubbed lightly across the fabric surface, swallowing hard. “I like this kind of thing,” he said quietly as he rubbed, carefully not looking at Loki's face, eyes fixed on his hand as it made its way in slow, soft circles around Loki's midsection. The curve of it was as intoxicating as Bruce had known it would be, but he longed to put his fingers on the hot flesh beneath the fabric.

Loki's own breath began to speed, and Bruce finally looked up into the other man's face.

And what he saw there brought him partway back to himself. Loki's expression was open, vulnerable, and thoughtful; it was unlike anything Bruce had ever seen on Loki's face.

“Do you … really?” Loki asked in a quiet voice. Bruce nodded. “You like it … how?” Loki went on.

“I like it … uh ...”--

“Do you want to touch me?” Loki asked, his voice even quieter now.

Bruce nodded vigorously.

“And for me to touch you, too?”

Bruce grinned. “If you want,” he said. “If you're up to it, I mean. I'd prefer to stuff you until you can't really move too well, honestly.”

Loki's breath caught. “And then?” he asked.

“And then I'll put my mouth on you,” Bruce said, slipping one hand up and under the shirt—at last, feeling that hot, smooth roundness, marred only by the cruel constraint of Loki's jeans. Loki shivered beneath his touch and tipped his head back. “I'll start with your mouth, but I'll work my way down. And when I'm through lapping the cum from your cock, I'll turn you on your side. I'll be very careful of your huge, beautiful belly. I'll be sure to keep rubbing it even while I get your ass ready and, when your begging and so turned on you don't even know where you are anymore, I'll stuff you one more time—I'll stuff my cock in your ass.”

Loki seemed to have been floored by this performance, his cock now just as inconvenienced by his jeans as his gut was. His knees were trembling and his eyes were most of the way closed as they looked at Bruce. His pupils were, now, so large his eyes looked black.

Deciding that Loki's state was probably consent, Bruce guided the Trickster from where he shakily stood, taking him back down to lie against the pillows where Bruce had found him. Bruce quickly stood up again to close and lock the door, then knelt beside the panting god.

“Do you want me to feed you, or can you do it yourself?” Bruce asked, resuming the belly massage.

Loki shifted on the pillows to make himself more comfortable, and looked up at Bruce. His pupils were still blown wide, but he looked a bit more calculating once more.

“Come here,” he said, crooking a finger at Bruce. Bruce leaned in.

No sooner had he moved forward than Loki seized his shirt front and pulled him into a kiss, letting his fingers drift out to slip inside the waistband of Bruce's dress pants, sliding the shirt untucked before gliding up Bruce's torso, to his nipple, brushing the sensitive nub. Bruce moaned into Loki's mouth, his own hands still moving on Loki's protruding belly.

Loki finally pulled away and sat back again, looking pleased with himself. “I would like you to feed me,” he said, voice much cooler than he looked.

Bruce grinned. “Perfect,” he said.

He looked over the remaining food items—noticing that, to his glee, there were more things Loki hadn't eaten yet than things he had. “Are you really going to finish all this?” Bruce asked in awe.

“I certainly intend to,” Loki replied, his own hand on his gut again, moving absently.

They started by finishing the carton of Chinese food Loki had been munching through when Bruce interrupted him—sesame chicken—and then moved on to a few other Chinese dishes—pork fried rice, two egg rolls, wanton soup, chicken and mushroom.

Loki was a good feedee. He opened his mouth wide and obedient every time Bruce brought the fork to his lush, wet mouth, chewing and swallowing swiftly before opening up for more. As they got through the Chinese, Bruce watched as Loki's gut swelled ever so slightly more as the new food slipped down in among the mounds Loki had already consumed.

When the Chinese food was done, the cartons tossed to the side with the rest of the empties, Loki sighed happily and stretched—only only wince in pain and discomfort as he did so, curling on himself swiftly and bringing his arms to his belly.

“Oh, Loki,” Bruce heard himself say, moving quickly from where he had been looking over the remaining food once more to Loki's side. He pushed the Trickster's own hands away from his stomach, taking the creamy done in both of his own hands with gusto, massaging with a bit more force now. Loki continued to wince, but his pain seemed not to get worse; he took shallow breaths and allowed Bruce to sooth him.

“Let's make you more comfortable,” Bruce said after a few minutes, when Loki's shoulders had relaxed some and he was reclining once more.

Loki did not protest as Bruce sat him up and pulled his now-tight T-shirt over his head, exposing his hot belly to the cool room. A small sigh escaped from Loki.

Bruce sat him back again. Then, pushing Loki's expanding gut up and away from the waistband of his jeans, he nimbly popped open the button there.

The relief was immediate, if not complete, as Loki's gut poked outward even more, no longer constrained. Bruce didn't stop there, though, pulling Loki's jeans over his hips and down his legs to leave the god in nothing but his boxer briefs, his cock so hard it was, now that it was freed, tapping the underside of his round stomach.

Bruce began to massage with renewed vigor, stroking every inch of Loki's engorged stomach. It was, by now, packed full of nine full, heavy meals and seven Dr. Peppers. The food and drink was a solid weight inside Loki, making him feel sedate and calm even through the little twinges of pain and the difficulty breathing. He closed his eyes and lounged back, enjoying the firm hands on his distended stomach, each warm stroke from Bruce's hands both soothing and arousing.

Suddenly a small sound escaped Loki—the hiccups were back. They'd gone away when Bruce scared him by barging in, but they were back now.

“Oh god yeah,” he heard Bruce sigh as another hiccup overcame him, and Loki cracked an eye open.

“You like that, too?” Loki asked—though the last word was cut off by another hiccup.

“I do,” Bruce said, voice rougher now even than it had been before.

“Well, I don't,” Loki pouted. He waited to hiccup once more before going on, to avoid being cut off. “Give me Dr. Pepper. I want to make them--”

Hic!

– “go away”--

Hic!

Bruce smiled and handed Loki a Dr. pepper.

“More soda than that,” Loki said.

Bruce pushed the half-full 12-pack toward the Trickster, his face intrigued.

Loki screwed one of the bottles open and, despite the twinges of pain in his gut, chugged it all off at once. He imagined he could feel his gut swelling as he did so.

Then he popped another bottle open—Hic!--and did the same thing again. He brought the empty bottle down from his wet lips with a shallow sigh, breathing hard. He waited.

Hic!

“God damn it,” Loki muttered, pulling out another soda. He chugged it down.

Bruce was rubbing more firmly now, fingers kneading in what almost seemed like a deliberate fashion as the bubbles inside Loki churned. Loki waited for a minute while Bruce's knuckles worked on him, making him groan again in pleasure.

The groan was not interrupted by a hiccup. In fact, he lay back and let Bruce massage him in this new way for several minutes, floating on his fullness and Bruce's touch, and the hiccups did not reappear.

“Mmm,” Loki said finally. “I think we can go on now.”

The next half an hour was probably one of the most mystifying of Bruce's life—and that's saying something. Loki and he went through—with Loki lying uncomplaining beneath Bruce's touch and forkful after forkful, even as his stomach expanded visibly—a container of Pad-Thai noodles, a huge, heavy burrito wrapped in tin foil, a pizza—evidently, judging by the empty pizza box to Loki's left, the second of the evening—and a take-out box full of white rice, black beans and ropa vieja.

But as Loki swallowed the last of the rich Cuban meat, red sauce running down the corner of his mouth, it was evident he was in pain. His swallows had been slowing for several meals now.

And no wonder, Bruce thought in awe. Loki's stomach was a tight little mountain perched on his otherwise thin torso, resting heavily on his thighs. It wasn't just sticking out in the front; it bowed out to each side, too, making it look like Loki had swallowed an oversized beach ball. As Bruce continued to massage it, alternating between a light touch and more pressure, he could feel just how stuffed tight it really was.

Loki's eyes were half-lidded, his head swaying as if he were having trouble keeping it up. He blinked slowly, heavily, and let it fall backward, looking at Bruce through his eye lashes as he breathed shallowly. The pain he was feeling was evident only in his slower pace and a thin line between his eyebrows.

“Let's take a break,” Bruce said quietly, positioning himself between Loki's legs to better rub the huge gut. Loki nodded dully.

Bruce glided his fingers on each side of the expanse of Loki's distended flesh, then moved one hand to the underside of the hemisphere of belly and the other hand to the crest. He worked his way up with both hands, finally reaching just below Loki's solar plexus, and kneading more firmly than he had yet.

After a moment of kneading and searching for the right angle, it worked: Loki opened his mouth, face still contorted in pain, and let out a mighty belch that lasted a good three seconds.

As soon as it was over, the sated, horny Trickster god clapped a hand to his mouth and smothered a giggle. “Oh my,” Loki said. “That wasn't good manners, was it.”

“I don't think anything about this situation is good manners, exactly,” Bruce said warmly.

Loki shook his head, smiling now. The line between his eyes was less pronounced, but still there. “No,” he said. “It isn't.”

“Do you think you can go on?” Bruce asked.

“I don't know,” Loki said, a wicked gleam appearing in his eye. “I think it's time you started to persuade me.”

Bruce wasn't sure what Loki meant, but Loki made this irrelevant as he pulled Bruce in by his shirt front once more, locking their mouths together and sliding one hand into Bruce's shirt again—the other hand couldn't reach across Loki's belly—before dipping his hand lower to unfasten Bruce's trousers. Taking the hint, Bruce slipped out of his own clothes, leaving him as nearly naked as Loki was.

But it quickly became evident that, while Loki did want Bruce stripped, it was Loki's body that Loki wanted worshiped. He pulled Bruce's head down to the crook of his neck and tipped his head to expose the flesh there. Bruce obediently began to suck and nip at Loki's skin, earning him small sighs as Loki's own hands went absently to his own bloated belly.

Loki pulled Bruce's hands and mouth to a variety of spots that seemed to please Loki, and Bruce gave each one loving attention. By this time, Loki's erection was weeping, smearing precum through his boxer briefs and onto the underside of his engorged gut.

Bruce lifted his head from Loki's nipple and brought one hand to continue his ministrations there as he picked up a cake box with the other, and located a fork.

“You want me to keep touching you?” Bruce asked.

Loki nodded, his eyes closed and head tipped back.

“Then you're going to have to open up,” Bruce said. He brought a forkful of cake to Loki's moist lips, and drew his hand away from Loki's hard nipple.

Loki let out a whine from the back of his throat. “But I'm so full,” he said.

“You're not even half done,” Bruce chided. “Look at all this food you have left to eat.”

“Too much,” Loki said. “I got a lot more than I usually do. Thought I could do it. I was wrong.”

“Well, maybe you just need something to settle your stomach,” Bruce said. He put the forkful of cake down and pulled out a Dr. Pepper.

This Loki accepted without much comment, opening his mouth for Bruce to tip the dark liquid into it. He finished three more sodas without complaint.

The world was now, for Loki, a sort of blur of painful-pleasurable overfullness and longing in his flesh. He was hardly aware of anything going on around him but for the warm weight of Bruce beside him, and he strained toward that weight.

Loki realized, distantly, that he had rarely—if ever?—allowed himself to be this vulnerable in his life.

“Open up, now,” Bruce said. Loki did. The cake was moist and wonderful, and for a moment Loki almost forgot how painfully jam-packed he already was.

When he swallowed, of course, he remembered, and let out a moan. But then Bruce's warm hands were on his painful stomach, and—ah!--Bruce's mouth was on his thigh, moving up, hot and wet and—gone.

“Open up,” came Bruce's voice again.

Bruce fed Loki the whole cake like that, alternating bites with distractions, teasing the Trickster with nibbles to his most sensitive areas, flicking his tongue lightly along the shaft of Loki's cock, fondling his tightening balls. Loki's moans were low and frequent, and it was hard to say which were in pleasure and which were in pain. Both Loki's and Bruce's hands spent a great deal of time rubbing at the god's still-expanding waistline.

Bruce, for his part, was panting and nearly desperate by now. And yet he didn't want it to end, unsure as he was if he would ever get a chance for a repeat performance.

For Loki, the cake was torture—but Bruce's hand and mouth on him made it worth it.

Mostly. By the time he swallowed the last bite, Loki could hardly even take shallow breaths, and he realized there were tears in his eyes. He tried shifting his weight to make himself more comfortable, but nothing improved the tight pressure he felt through the engorged, abused organ in his abdomen.

Bruce tossed the cake box onto the pile of empty containers and sat back down beside Loki.

That's when he really went to work. He knew from experience that Loki's pain could only be taken away in one way, at this point: Pleasure had to obliterate it.

Stroking around what he now knew to be one of Loki's most sensitive areas—his belly button—he put his mouth, finally, on Loki's throbbing cock.

It took about ten seconds for Loki to let out a moan that was undoubtedly one of pleasure. He tried to press up into Bruce's mouth, but the weight of his engorged belly kept it from doing very much. Bruce brought his own mouth down more fully in response, taking the cock into his throat, feeling it fill him. His eyes fluttered closed at the sensation—it had been too long since Bruce felt it.

Loki's form grew slick with sweat beneath Bruce's roving hands as he continued to slide his mouth up and down Loki's cock. The god was trying to move from the pleasure of it, but mostly managed to shake, moan and breath hard—his breathing seemed to be coming easier now that the pleasure had made him forget the pain.

When Bruce sensed that Loki was close, he took his mouth from Loki's cock just long enough to wet three fingers. He put his mouth back down, going a big more slowly, and began to massage Loki's ass, slowly and shallowly at first. It relaxed a little, inviting him in, and he pushed inside.

By the time Loki came—his cock exploding as he tipped his head back, whole body shaking, gut quivering with the force of it—his hole was large enough for four fingers.

Bruce came up from his position between Loki's legs and looked the Trickster over.

Loki was utterly wrecked. His eyes were hooded with pleasure and satiation, his huge stomach mounding a truly heroic distance into the air and hanging over the sides of his torso. He was absently stroking at one side of the creamy blimp he had once called a stomach, shivering slightly at his own touch and smiling in a blissed-out way through his labored breaths. His cock was spent, but if the flush creeping up his neck was any indication, he was looking forward to the last thing Bruce had promised him as much as Bruce was.

“Come on, Bruce,” he said throatily “You did this. You made me like this. Now fuck me. Fuck me properly.”

That was it, for Bruce. Moving as quickly as he could possibly move without sacrificing gentleness—he had promised the gentleness, too, after all—he got his arms under Loki's bloated torso and, holding the belly with one hand to keep it from sloshing too much, rolled the Trickster onto his side.

Loki's hand massaged the exposed side of his huge stomach. “Mmm,” he said. “That feels nice.”

Bruce felt himself grinning as he ran a hand up and down the length of Loki's body—and realize that he was, unexpectedly, admiring the whole of the Trickster, not just the gut. He imagined it wouldn't be difficult to be completely horny with a naked Loki who hadn't overeaten at all.

Bruce pushed four fingers into the sighing god's ass to make sure it was still loose—it was—and then located the lubricated condom he kept against tall odds inside his wallet. Then he laid down beside Loki, bracing himself with one arm on the ground and the other on the firm, solid expanse of Loki's middle, grasping it to anchor himself (it held up well for this usage), and slipped himself inside Loki's warm hole.

Loki gasped a little at Bruce's first thrust. Bruce was gone by then, though. It was all he could do to keep his movements gentle as he thrust himself again and again into the Trickster, the hand on Loki's gut serving the duel purpose of keeping Bruce in place behind him and driving Bruce absolutely wild with its huge roundness.

Loki was a little better able to move with Bruce now that he wasn't literally trapped beneath his own massive stomach, and he eagerly thrust back into Bruce as Bruce moved. The eagerness nearly sent Bruce over the edge, but he managed to hang on a while longer; miraculously, he could see Loki's own cock hard again, bouncing and leaking as Bruce fucked Loki's willing ass.

In a desperate attempt to send Loki over the edge once more, Bruce began pressing firmly into Loki's overextended gut, drawing moans from the Trickster.

After a few minutes, it worked—Loki's cock shot cum all over the rug, Loki's thighs, and Loki's belly.

Bruce came second after that, finally releasing himself with a groan, his body going stiff as his cock spent itself, black spots crawling into the edges of his vision with the force of it.

When Bruce knew what was going on around him again, he was lying on the floor behind Loki, one hand on the god's hip. He pushed himself up and moved around the beached Trickster to sit in front of him.

Loki's face was serene, a heavy-lidded smile replacing his usual considering frown.

Now, with the haze of desire dispelled (mostly), Bruce suddenly felt rather awkward—and not least because he feared that Loki would now feel exposed and silly with his huge stomach.

“So … how was that?” Bruce asked, hoping those were the right words. (The right words for what? He wondered.)

“That was fantastic, Bruce Banner,” Loki replied quietly. “And even if you decide you regret this, if you decide never to look at me in the eye again because of this, I will still remember it fondly.”

Bruce frowned. “Why would I regret it?” he asked.

Loki looked away. “It is a bit … odd,” he said.

Bruce snorted. “I've dreamed of scenes like this since I was a teenager,” he said. “I'm not about to regret anything.”

“Me neither,” Loki mumbled. “I, too, have often wished someone else were here when I did this.”

Bruce was seized with the sudden desire to lie down on his side, facing Loki, and did so. He almost sat right back up, feeling that the pose was a bit intimate, but something in the Trickster's expression made him stay where he was. “Good,” he said quietly. “Then no one regrets anything.”

Loki stared at him, apparently at a loss for words. Considering he was currently neither in any apparent pain nor floored with pleasure, that might've been a first.

“What, then, are you still doing here, exactly?” he asked after a few moments of staring. “We are finished, I believe.”

But something about the last few hour's intimacy allowed Bruce to see through that. He smiled, realizing that a strange warmth in his chest was blooming, and that it had something to do with his sudden desire to make Loki smile. “I'm not about to leave you in this state,” he said. “What if your stomach gets painful again? Who will rub it?”

Loki sniffed. “I suppose it is your duty to tend to me, since you did insist upon that whole cake there at the end,” he said.

Bruce smiled, and began to rub Loki's belly once more. “I suppose it is,” he said.

Loki relaxed again, closing his eyes. His expression went soft. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“It's my pleasure,” Bruce replied, just as quietly. He hesitated, then went on. He was really going out on a limb, but something told him it was what he wanted to say. “Maybe we could also try spending some time together that doesn't involve stuffing or sex, some time.”

Loki's eyes snapped open, but he didn't glare, or speak harshly. He stared. “Do you mean that?” he asked in a small voice.

Bruce nodded. “I'd always wanted to get to know you better, but I didn't know how to ask,” Bruce said. Then he laughed. “I guess this was as good a way as any.”

“And you still want to?” Loki asked, eyes wide.

Bruce nodded.

If Bruce was being honest with himself, he would say Loki looked a little misty-eyed, at that.

“Hey, what do you say we get you into bed, and see if we can't get some sleep?” Bruce asked. “You'll feel better after if you've slept.”

Loki smiled and nodded.

Bruce had to help Loki into bed, it being all Loki could really do to hold his gut up to keep it from sloshing too painfully as he tottered across the room. He collapsed backward, shifting his weight to the most comfortable position he could find.

Bruce turned the light off and laid beside him, once again rubbing that huge, wonderful gut. Loki sighed happily once more, and settled back into the pillows.

“Good night, Loki,” Bruce said quietly after a while.

But Loki was already asleep, breath even and deep.

@темы: Belly Kink, Bellyache, Fanfiction, Loki, The Avengers (Marvel), Tummyache, Боль в животе, Живот, Стаффинг, Фанфикшн

Stuffing

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