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Poor Yuri.

It isnt often that Otabek can be caught pitying his best friend for much if anything. Yuri, through a combination of talent, bluntness, and sheer luck, manages to get most things his way. It also helps that Yuri does not make himself an easy person to pity, and might yell if anyone tried. With his (absolutely deserved) gold in the Grand Prix Finals only a month ago, Otabek had doubted hed be feeling bad for Yuri about anything for a long time.

This is a special situation, however, because Otabek is pretty sure Yuri is going to pass out on a virtual-strangers couch at a party neither of them had even wanted to go to.

Hey. Stay awake, Otabek scolds, patting Yuris cheeks lightly. The sick boy jolts from his haze, fever-clouded eyes snapping towards Otabek.

M not gonna pass out, he mutters. M fine. Really. Jus dont feel well.

Yuri swallows hard, screwing his eyes shut. His entire body tenses. Otabek takes this as a sign that its definitely time to go.

Okay. Were going home now, and youre walking or I will carry you. Pick one.

Die, Yuri mutters without any venom, pulling himself to his feet. Otabek is impressed that he gave in so quickly; halfway through the party, when it became clear that he wasnt okay, Yuri began to insist on staying as a matter of pride. He is less impressed by the way the other boy sways on his feet, and tumbles straight into Otabeks arms.

Easy. Easy, Otabek soothes, steadying him. Yuris legs newfound defiance makes walking difficult, but they manage to make it out the door in a matter of minutes. (It helps that Yuri weighs 120lbs soaking wet, maybe.)

No sooner have they gotten into the front lawn, however, than Yuri is sent doubling forward, arms around his stomach. Otabek steadies him as he sinks to his knees; foresight drives him to hold back Yuris blond hair, pulling it into a loose ponytail. Yuri gags several times, and tries the bring a hand to his mouth. He doesnt make it.

As sick spills across the grass, Otabek continues to hold Yuris hair, and rubs his back with his other hand. Yuri, for all his stubbornness, is too weak to refuse.

@:  , , , , sick!fic, Vomiting, Tummyache, Anime



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@:  , , , , , , , , Yuuri Katsuki, Yuri on Ice, Yuri Plisetsky, Viktor Nikiforov, Bloated Tummy, Belly Kink, Anime



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


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

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

T-thanks Viktor-san Yuri stuttered out, getting bashful when the other took off his shirt. Yuri swallowed a nervous lump, and slowly removed his own, hoping that Viktor wouldnt pay attention to his being. However, his hopes were crushed when the silvernette suddenly appeared next to him, taking in the front of his torso. W-wha! Viktor-san?!

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

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

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

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

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

Nohohohohoh Yuri giggled out, squirming in his idols hold. Every squeeze and flutter of fingers were beginning to leave better cracks in his composure, and the longer Viktor squeezed his hips, the more Yuri wanted to crawl out of his skin. V-Viktor-sanp-plehehehehehehehehease!

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

V-VIKTOR-SAN! the younger skater laughed out, shaking heavily as the silvernette squeezed his sides as he blew endless raspberries. Yuri felt his knees trembling, as his loud big belly laughs flowed out, and tears clouded his big brown eyes. Viktor glaced up when he noticed the others body begin to slump, and when he saw how tired Yuri looked, he slowly stopped his raspberries, and became aware of how Yuris cute giggles and laughter had turned silent as his face flushed a beet red color. N-nohohohohohoho more! P-plehehehehehease! I cahahahahahahant take any more! V-Viktor-san!

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

Well Viktor snickered out, letting his eyes land on Yuri. The young skater was still embarrassed, and Viktor couldnt help but find how cute he was. Yuris brown eyes shyly met his blue, and Viktor winked at him with a smile. I cant believe how ticklish you are!

Watching the younger skater trip, and sputter out embarrassed responses made the silvernettes eyes widen, as his laughter sprung from his lips. Yuri shyly watched him laugh, and even though he was really embarrassed at the moment, he couldnt help but feel happy that he could make his idols face light up in joy as his light laughter filled the night air.

@: Anime, Belly Kink, Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri Katsuki, , , , , . Tickles,



: EvilStufferSebastian

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@:  , , , , , , , , Yuuri Katsuki, Yuri on Ice, Yuri Plisetsky, Viktor Nikiforov, Tummyache, Stuffing, Fanfiction, Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink, Anime



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, sohere 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 bloodand 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.

"HeyRyuuzaki" 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 wasnice.

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.


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.

"Weprobably 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. "Ryuuzakican 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.


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. "UhYagami-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'realright."

Matsuda finally peeked at his twitching superior, wondering if he should burst the man's bubble of his son's straightness or not. "Urhmwellthey've been in the bathroom for over two hours" He mumbled, not liking the aura Soichirou was emitting. "SoI think we shouldleave 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"


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.


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 itoff ofhim" 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 youprefer" He forced out. "EvenRyuuzaki"

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!?

@: Fanfiction, Death Note, Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink, L, Light, Raito, Stuffing, Tummyache, Vomiting, sick!fic, , , , ,



Getting Back in the Habit

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


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

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

Work Text:

Are you hungry? Pete asked, making Patrick look up from his laptop, Im making dinner, if you are.

Patrick shook his head, Not really.

Oh, have you eaten already? I didnt hear you get up. Pete commented.

I had something earlier.

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

You should probably still have dinner. Pete pushed.

Pete, Ive already said no. Patrick argued, Please, leave it be. I want to get this done.

Alright, Pete sighed, If you say so.


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

Patrick answers faintly, Ill be there in a second.

Thank you.

Patrick could just about hear Petes voice over the music in his headphone, a melody that hed have stuck in his head for weeks, and he shrugged his shoulders as he begins to stand up. One of his legs is half-numb from the way hes been curled up, but he made his way to the kitchen nonetheless. He wondered how long hed been sitting, how long it took to create that weariness and achiness that signified hours spent lost in work. Pete would likely inform him, calculate the time in his head and use it to convince Patrick to eat, sleep, whatever. Patrick knew, of course, that it was healthier to listen to Petes advice. That didnt make him any less stubborn.

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

Pete, whats this? He asked, a hand pressed to his temple.

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

Patrick huffed, I told you that I wasnt hungry.

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

I wouldnt call this amount of pasta healthy. Patrick argued.

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

Patrick protested, Yes, I do.

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

Yes, Patrick repeated, quieter, I do.

Youre going to eat it then. Pete told him, Give me a colour.

Patrick regarded the mountain of food in front of him, the demanding tone of Petes voice, the gnawing hunger that he hadnt previously realised. He liked the direction this was heading in.


Pete nodded, commanded, Then sit down.

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

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

Patrick gathered up a large forkful and ate it slowly, savouring the flavour and the creaminess of the texture. The garlic bread was equally delicious, with a crunchy crust and a fluffy inside, warm with melted butter. It wouldnt take long to finish, that was sure, as Patrick scarfed down his serving in practically record time. He was starving, yes, but he wouldnt let that discredit Petes cooking. Yes, hed probably have eaten anything put in front of him at that moment, but he was glad that it happened to be Petes pasta.

This is delicious, Pete. Patrick commented.

Thanks, Pete grinned warmly, Want some more bread?

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

Ugh, Patrick grunted, Okay Pete, Im full.

But Patrick, you havent finished. Pete whined.

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

Patrick sighed, Talk me through it.

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

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

Youll figure it out. Pete told him, Colour?

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

Pete, as Patrick had guessed, wasnt going to indulge himself in any more of the pasta, instead heaping another portion onto Patricks place and giving him the last two pieces of garlic bread. Pete moved around the table to sit beside Patrick, close enough that he could watch as the buttons on Patricks shirt began to strain and the hem slowly rode up the curve of his belly. Patrick was still eating independently and confidently, piling each fork with as much as he possibly could before swallowing it down, chasing every other mouthful with a swig of juice. He moaned softly the closer he got to the bottom of the bowl, and Pete was tempted to reach out and squeeze affectionately at his love-handles.

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

Pete, Im so full, please- Patrick begged.

Even his loosest pair of sweatpants, the only true outfit option for a day on the couch, were digging uncomfortably into his waist. He adjusted the waistband to try and alleviate the discomfort and unbuttoned his shirt, but the ache that had lodged itself firmly in the pit of his belly clearly wasnt going to be that easily deterred. Pete pressed the tips of his fingers into the soft flesh of Patricks midsection, smirking at the give he felt there. Patrick wasnt going to get off that easily, it seemed.

I dont think youre full yet. You know, in my professional opinion. Pete judged.

Patrick protested, Im the one who gets stuffed, here. If its either of us, I should be the professional.

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

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

Lets get you upstairs before I bring you dessert, yeah? Youve been doing great so far.

Patrick hiccoughed, nearly choked mid-swallow, Theres more?

Pete smiled, Indeed there is. Cant go without dessert, and your favourite.

Pete, I really dont think I can eat that much. It hurts so much already.

Pete hesitated, hearing a tone of genuine concern in Patricks voice that he didnt want to write off without checking. Patrick hadnt said anything, hadnt spoken up about it like he sometimes would, but Pete needed to make sure. His concern for Patricks wellbeing would always be paramount to any inconvenience it may cause.

Colour? Pete questioned.

Patrick huffed, Yellow. Dont stop, though, Ill let you know if you need to stop.

Is there anything that can make you more comfortable?

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

When youve finished that bowl, the pastas finished. We can go up then. Pete told him, smiling as Patrick shoved another forkful into his mouth.

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

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

Ill be back in just a second, just let me go and get the cake.

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

Thats a lot, Patrick murmured.

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

Patrick hummed, Ill try and eat it myself.

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

Thats it, Pete, I cant, Patrick breathed, having only a couple of slices left, I cant eat any more.

Pete smiled, Let me.

No, Pete, Im so full. Patrick groaned in protest

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

Pete paid no attention to whatever sounds of protest came from either Patricks mouth or his upset belly, instead focused on stuffing Patrick with as much cake as he could in any given mouthful. Patrick moaned around the food in his mouth, and Pete took that as encouragement as he pressed his hands a little deeper into the soft flesh of Patricks stomach, feeling the tightness beneath. It stopped being pleasant and polite some time around when Patrick gave up his fork in favour of eating the sticky cake from his hands, and Pete was happy to continue that trend. There wasnt any delicacy or elegance about it, with both sets of messy hands and the dirty smirk on Petes face.

By the time Patrick had only one slice of cake left to consume, Pete was devoting more time to massaging his belly and kissing down Patricks sides. It was getting a little hard to breathe, though whether it was from the weight or Petes teasing, Patrick couldnt be sure. He groaned as Pete finally lifted the last slice off of the the cake-board and onto the plate, it was so close to being over, and Petes slow teasing was starting to get a little more testing than he was happy with.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah. Patrick nods, Green.

I cant wait to feel the weight of you in my hands, Patrick, youre so stuffed.

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

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

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

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

Pete laughed, Yeah, alright, Ill get started.

Come on. Patrick whined.

First, dont hesitate to safeword out if it gets too uncomfortable, Im happy to just jerk you off if you want. If youve got no complaints, Im going to start now.


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

It wasnt long before Pete gave up on teasing, deciding instead to start with three fingers and curl them up against Patricks prostate, making him jump before he could prepare himself, wobbling his belly so that it churned and sloshed loud. If Patrick hadnt been begging, he would probably would have left it that, bringing Patrick to the very edge with just his fingers and his tongue. Still, he kept Patrick there for a few moments until hed settled again, gotten as comfortable as he was ever going to get with that much food inside him.

Pete reopened the lube once again and squeezed a little more into the palm of his hand, using it to jerk himself a couple of times before leaning forwards and lining up, pressing himself into Patrick as he moaned and shook beneath him. He had a rhythm, one that he knew Patrick liked, one that he subconsciously wrote into half of their songs nowadays. It was so familiar and reminiscent of previous occasions that Pete struggled to keep his hips from bucking forwards. He had to be gentle, no matter how much Patrick was begging for him to go harder, because things would be much more difficult if Patrick started feeling sick. Petes wandering hands probably werent helping in that respect, so he decided to keep them for jerking Patrick off in time to his own movements.

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

Pete doesnt say that Patrick was the one asking to be fucked, he doesnt want to deal with that level of bitchfest right now.

He didnt answer, either, figuring that just getting on with it as Patrick had asked would be response enough. He was, as Patrick had accurately judged, very close already, and it only took a few more short thrusts before he was coming, hot and wet inside Patrick. There wasnt much time for afterglow, though, as Pete pulled out carefully before laying Patrick on his back. This was all about Patrick, after all, and this would fuel Petes fantasies for the rest of eternity anyway.

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

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

It hurts, Patrick muttered, quiet as a breath.

I know, Pete comforted, drawing lines and circles softly over his belly, You did so well, though, I wasnt sure if youd manage it all.

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

Pete laughed, If that was easy, I guess Ill have to step it up a notch.

I guess you will. Patrick agreed.

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

Night, Patrick whispered, his face tucked up against Petes collarbones, Thank you for taking care of me.

My pleasure, Pete answered, Night.

@: Stuffing,




If you need to stop, you can, Sherlock said quietly, rubbing the distended organ lightly. Youre huge.

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


What have I done.

Work Text:

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

Did it occur to you that I usually eat my fill and then quit? Theres a reason I stop at that point, berk. Its because Im full. John reached out and begrudgingly took the sandwich, tearing off a corner and chewing and swallowing.

While your reasoning is sound, Ive witnessed your full capacity before, and youre nowhere near that limit. Were playing, John. Have a bit of fun. Sherlock watched John chew and swallow the sandwich with rapt attention.

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

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

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

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

No doubt. But its the easiest to eat quickly. Very little tedious chewing. John snorted. Of course chewing was boring. What next?

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

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

John jumped when he felt Sherlocks fingers tugging at his waistband, slipping between the denim fabric and his skin. Whatre you doing? he asked, stifling a burp and moving the bowl to peer down.

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

Perv, John grinned. By the time Im done with the applesauce, ill be ready to unbutton them. Unless you want me to really push it?

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

John pushed it. Gone was the applesauce, the rest of the sandwiches, and John was halfway through a bundle of grapes. His stomach was pushing over the waistband of his trousers, and Sherlock couldnt get his fingers in between the fabric and Johns stomach. The doctor groaned and swallowed another grape, then laid both hands on his stomach. Theyve gotta go.

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

I am full, John corrected, tapping the center of his stomach. But I can get fuller if you let me take off these trousers. The skin beneath his finger slid when he moved his finger around, but the bulge beneath didnt have much give. John felt a shiver run across his skin. Things were getting fun.

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

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

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

Sherlock was rubbing Johns stomach through the open vee of his jeans. You like sucking it in, he countered, and John had to agree. Being so full he couldnt hold his stomach in flat was beyond arousing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Were playing, Sherlock, John teased. If you think Im stopping now, youre duller than I thought.

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

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

Tummy can handle it. Cant you, tummy? John rubbed the solid mass, patting it fondly.

Ill take tummy-rubbing duties. You take eating duties, Sherlock said, putting his hands on Johns stomach and rubbing it lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you need to stop, you can, Sherlock said quietly, rubbing the distended organ lightly. Youre huge.

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

The last of the ice cream went down with a mixture of winces and burps. John couldnt bend over to pick up the soda, so Sherlock picked it up, waiting for John to catch his breath before handing it over. If you need to stop, he repeated, but John cut him off.

I cn do it. He took another shallow breath, holding his stomach like it could rupture, and started to drink the soda.

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

John, Sherlock said quietly. Youyou are massive.

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

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

John nodded, soothing his lurching, gurgling belly with both hands. He felt pregnant - or, he supposed, as close to pregnant as he could approximate - so utterly full that he couldnt think of anything else but how full he was. He scraped his fingernails up his skin and moaned - as his skin shivered and contracted, it pulled on his stomach.

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

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

Sherlocks eyebrows lifted. You look like you could burst, he said honestly.

Thanks fr the vote of confidence, John said drily. He eyed the distance between his current location and the hallway mirror, trying to assess if he could make it. Then he caught sight of something hed forgotten

The half bowl of pudding.

Gimme the pudding, he said, eyes gleaming. Sherlocks own eyes went wide, and he stared at John incredulously.

Are you sure?

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

John, Im not sure its a good idea, Sherlock said, picking up the bowl but keeping it out of Johns reach. Youre already too full, you might hurt yourself.

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

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

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

He took a step toward the mirror, scraping the pudding from the sides of the bowl. He kept waddling, scraping the bowl until all the remaining pudding was in one area at the bottom of the dish. He stood in front of the mirror, squaring himself for a frontal view, but didnt look.

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

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

He knew from where Sherlock stood, hed be able to see Johns belly growing even fuller with every swallow. As full as he was, every addition was visible, the mass of food traveling down his throat and into his stuffed, painful belly. He could hear Sherlocks breaths quicken as he swallowed. He could feel his own stomach expanding, full to the point of bursting, and John wasnt sure hed be able to finish what hed started. He paused to catch his breath, eyed the rest of the pudding in the bowl, and did the impossible.

He finished.

Swallowing hard, breathing shallowly, John didnt dare touch his belly. He handed the bowl to Sherlock, who took it with a shaking hand. Ever so carefully, John laid one hand on either side of his aching, bloated, bulging, swollen, engorged belly and opened his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

I thinktummy may have reached its limit, he said thickly, wincing and groaning when Sherlocks laughter set his stomach to cramping again.

I think it may have, too. Lets get you to bed, my stuffed turkey.

Overstuffed turkey. Exploding turkey.

Shall I take photos, exploding turkey?

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

@: Sherlock Holmes, Stuffing,



Dinner with the Holmeses

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.

@: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Stuffing, ,



Just Once a Year

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

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

Work Text:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he too loaded up his plate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Christ, look at us!"

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

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

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

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

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

@: Sherlock Holmes, Stuffing,



Bottoms Up

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

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

Work Text:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Feeling good?" John asked, grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@: Sherlock BBC, Stuffing,


Bad Romance - Chapter 10

TITLE: Bad Romance

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

AUTHOR: Lokis Anon

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki, before Thor

GENRE: Comedy, Romance, Erotica

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

RATING:M-Mature, in some chapters

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


Bad Romance

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

Marlys POV

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

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

What are we me and you like I read something the other day, about mustard, mayonnaise, ketchup and salt and pepper. It said that mayo, ketchup and mustard are just friends, because they are three you know? Like they cant like each other because of that, so they are just friends. And one would feel left out and alone if two of them got together but salt and pepper are like.. you know. In love. They are always together and no other spice comes between them, theyre a perfect match and they love each other. I know, that was stupid, I dont know why I even said that in front of him. Trust me, as soon as I said it, I regretted it!

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

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

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

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

T-t-then we are best friends? Okay, I know that was stupid too, but just be quiet, Im stupid, I know!

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

Have you ever had a man?

W-w-what?! I was shocked, I didnt see that coming! Oh snap

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

I like this, I like that you are, and will always be, mine and only mine. He grinned but I didnt say anything. His? What did that make us then?

Then the waitress came, and boy was she all over him, she didnt even look at me but to see who Loki was with. Yeah, I was used to people looking at me like that, I knew her too, she was a bitch that I went to school with. She and her hot friends teased me like they got paid for it.

Prince what can I get you, Ill get you anything she smiled and batted her eyelashes at him. Loki looked at her, up and down, checking her out probably. Yeah, I instantly felt jealous for no reason, he wasnt anything to me you know, he hadnt even answered my question about what me and him where! But I felt jealous none the less

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

Hmmm, your servant would have a good idea, shes been here many times Prince. I dont eat here, I watch my figure. She smiled. There she goes, thats the bitch I remember, treating me like shit and making fun of me and my body. But it was like a gazillion times more embarrassing in front of Loki.

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

And what for you? he asked me and I told her I would have the same thing. She talked a little to him and then left to do something, probably fix her hair for him or something. Loki noticed, he wasnt stupid of course, that I was upset.

Dont tell me, are you angry about something? He laughed, What is it?

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

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

Prince, dont eat that, the meat is very spicy and you will get sick. I had to warn him, it was my fault. Great, I had to pick the spiciest one for him!

You dont think I can handle it? You will see he said, picking the chicken up and took a bite. After a few chews, his face began to turn red, suits him right! I didnt even try to stop him, and I didnt even eat my food, I had lost my appetite. He kept eating, probably to show me up but whatever, I just wanted to go home and cry.

But it wasnt over, bitch came back for round two of humiliation, and this was bad, REALLY BAD!

Prince, did Marly tell you about her little crush on you? Heavens, its kind of cute actually, everyone knew about it since she could never hide it, Isabel told us about her obsession too! When she was little, Ana called her Mrs. Odinson secretly and she always wore green, like the green you wear Prince! she laughed and sat down in the empty chair, what was worse? Loki looked at me and laughed too, after taking a drink of water, his face wasnt red from the spice anymore. People, he laughed at me you can imagine how the insecure me felt, he laughed at me!

She must be happy to be your servant now. Poor Marly, everyone knew that was impossible, liking a Prince of Asgard and being a mortal. Marly, did you ever get that little stuffed prince Loki you wanted? Oh right! You didnt have money to play the game, how sad! she pouted and laughed, Isabel told us about it, that when you began to work you went to play but you never could get one she laughed, placing a hand on Lokis shoulder, he was still laughing at what she was saying, but looked at her hand like thinking bitch, get your paws off me! Or I hoped thats what he thought, he probably wasnt used to people just touching him, or maybe he liked her touching him, idk..

That was all I could take too, I stood and ran out of the restaurant as fast as I could, then the tears came, I cried so hard I couldnt see in front of me, only a few people turned and looked at me, thankfully no one I knew well. Of course I tripped, but before I could hit the floor someone caught me and turned me around, it was Loki, oh hell I couldnt get away from him! It was night and I had ran far enough that the street was almost empty.

Where are you going Mrs. Odinson? he asked, and I began to struggle against his hold, I was a crying mess and I wanted to just go die! When he didnt let me go I stopped and gave up, it was impossible to keep struggling against him so I cried there in front of him, how pathetic I know

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

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

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

Im sorry for upsetting you, about your feelings towards

Please, I dont want to talk about that I begged him, starting to cry again.

Shhh, dont cry. Why dont you just tell me? he whispered, wiping my tears with his thumbs.

Please I mumbled again.

He sighed, rolling his eyes, How am I to tell you how I feel if you wont? Why cant you just say it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh right! The spicy chicken

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

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

I didnt make you eat anythingI told you not to I knew this would happen, thats why I warned him!

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

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

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

I nodded and ran off, but then I realized he wasnt with me, so I looked back and he was standing back there, holding his stomach, looking all mad, oh right, I forgot! I ran back to him quickly and slowly and hesitantly reached out for his hand, once I put my hand in his he held it firmly and I began to take him to the nearest bathroom, he moaned and complained the whole time, blaming me and telling me I would pay for doing this to him. I didnt argue he was right, I had ordered the food, ugh! Im so fucking stupid!

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

Do you really think Im going to go in there?! he said angry.

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

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

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

Oh, now I really felt bad! I wait a whole lifetime before he came back out, still holding his stomach. I think you know what was really wrong with Loki, like really, no need to say it! Let me just say he wasnt like vomiting sick

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

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

NoIm sorry I really

Just dont he mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

I cant feel anything he said and took my hands in one of his, slipping them under his shirt, I flinched and tugged trying to pull them away but he didnt let go.

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

You can do that, I dont mind he said and I swallowed, of course he had noticed, I hadnt even noticed I was doing it! I decided to change the subject, but I kept rubbing his stomach slowly.

Whats your horses name? Does he have a name?

No he said simply.

But why? You always bring him, you had him the other day, so I know hes yours, why dont you name him?

I dont know, I just didnt

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

Galileo? No!

Why not?


Then you think of something. I said back.


Then its Galileo!

No, I said no!

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

You dont like? I felt kinda rejected, you know the feeling right?

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

Then I should keep going? I asked.

If you want, I just wanted to warn you

About what? I asked, still confused.

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

Loki took the horses reins and my hand, then he stepped into the trees, leading me and Galileo into the dark forest. We didnt go far, he stopped and tied Galileo to a tree and led me a little further in, then he turned and looked down at me. He reached up and ran his fingers lightly down my cheek, his eyes watching the goosebumps his touch left on my skin.

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

Oh shit

@: , , Stuffing



Things started innocently when Yuri had suggested that he and Victor go back to Detroit to practice over Thanksgiving. Given Victors 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 didnt 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 hadnt 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 wasnt completely fitting. Thank goodness this is only for one day this time. I should be fine by morning, he said to himself.

However, he wasnt 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 thats what Yuri said to himself thinking about Victors 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 Victors 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.

Yuuuuriiiiicome feel this its 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 Yuris hand and placed directly onto his gut and made him glide it over the surface as he moaned. YuriIts my food baby! he said proudly into Yuris 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 couldnt 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 its place there was a curved mound that rose and fell and looked like a flesh covered crescent from across the table. That couldnt 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 teens 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 Yuris 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. Yurios abs tensed over the food packed solid inside of him and he hiccuped as well. Yurioyoure 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 youre 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. Thats it, eat up, he said as he delivered bite after bite of the pie and ice cream to Yurio. He wasnt sure, but he thought he could actually see Yurios 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 didnt 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 lets 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 wasnt 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 Victors arm still around Yuris neck for support. I am having a little trouble Yurio said blushing a little and suddenly looking timid. Yuri just smirked again. Oh yeah? Whos the loser now, piggy? Or should I say tubby kitty? Well 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 wasnt a bad Thanksgiving after all, Yuri thought.

@: , , , , , Yuri On Ice, Stuffing


A Flawless Plan 4

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.

Youre going to lose your money, Clint, she smirked as she looked at the Captains slightly larger stomach. Theres no way hes gonna win this.

Dont 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 hed 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 couldnt 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, its 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 hed 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 cant 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, lets see if you guys can finish before worrying about getting more, Clint just said with a laugh. I mean, theres still a lot of soda left there, so even that has to disappear.

It is not a challenge, Thor chuckled.

Steve wasnt 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, Lets 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 Clints 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. Hed 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. Im 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 wasnt 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 Lokis castle. With a few shaky steps, he made his way through the castle and finally rounded the corner into Lokis 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 wont 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 hes 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 dont 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 dont 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 Clints throat as he swallowed it. Despite Lokis 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 Lokis 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 Lokis 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 Clints groin was very evident now, pulsing against Lokis thigh as he imposed himself over the bloated form of his lover. Clint rocked his hips against the tricksters 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 Lokis 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 Lokis 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 hes 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 didnt hesitate for one second to draw Lokis long, thin fingers into his mouth. He sucked with abandon, clutching Lokis 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 Lokis knee, stifling his moan with another hard suck to Lokis 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. Lokis fingers werent 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 Lokis 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 Lokis hand on his stomach, wide and cool against his burning skin. He felt Lokis 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 Lokis 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.

Clints mouth was wide open in a silent scream as sensation rolled through him harder than anything hed 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, hes pretty sure that if he did he wouldnt 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. Thats 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 Lokis cock, like hes been stuffed into someone elses 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. Lokis 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.

Lokis 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 archers 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 Clints 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 Clints moans at his ministrations were the sweetest music Loki had ever known.

Oh, Loki, yes, yes, baby, oh yes, Im so close, Clint choked, his hands fisting in the blankets over his head. So good, its 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.

Clints 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 Lokis 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 Lokis expression of annoyance and need, and he laughed weakly. Come on, dont be so sour, frostbite, he said, lifting his hand to stroke Lokis jaw as the trickster pulled out of him. Now that I know youre into this, Ill 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, dont get started again. Youve taken all Ive got to give for today, Im 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 wont answer, Clint says, taking the blankets and rolling like a burrito so he doesnt have to get up and get under the covers. Let them panic. Ill 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."

Ill 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 Lokis eyes right before he can leave the room. Hey wait, he calls.

Loki pauses and looks over, and Clints 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."

@: Loki, Stuffing, The Avengers (Marvel), ,


A Flawless Plan 3

Clint paced himself, while Tony urged Bruce on with gentle belly rubs and filthy whispers in his ear of just what he would do to Bruce as soon as he was too big to move properly.

The scientist blushed and glanced sidelong at Tony, the billionaire's words making it progressively harder to swallow as his thoughts were dragged farther away from what he was doing. "Ah, Tony, this..." he tried his best to protest, but he was having difficulty in focusing on anything but listening to the man's whispering.

Mercifully, Natasha noticed the struggle and frowned, snapping her fingers at Tony as though he was a misbehaving dog. "Hey, Stark. Quit making a scene, you can get all filthy after we've all left."

Steve nodded, though he continued looking down at his cake, his face bright red at Tony's behavior. The publicness of sexual relationships nowadays was one of the things he was still having the most trouble coping with, and Stark never made it easy for him with how he was always all over poor Bruce, especially when he knew it made the Captain uncomfortable.

Tony stuck his tongue out at her, and made no move away from Bruce. Im just being a cheerleader, go suck a lemon, he told her bitterly, his hand still rubbing in small circles around the scientists belly. His hand slipped down to give his heated crotch a quick, secret squeeze, before his fingers were right back to rubbing his stomach.

Clint looked over, feeling a certain heat settle in his own lap at the sight. He imagined if Loki would react the same way. Rub his stomach and toy with him before finally administering the spell that would make it shrink.

Come on, Bruce, keep at it, keep eating, Tony urged, lifting the fork now for Bruce with heaping piles of thick cake and frosting, and occasionally lifting a glass of milk that Natasha had mercifully handed out to everyone.

Bruce was completely hard by the end of his cake, but his stomach had grown considerably and it was impossible to tell. Clint was feeling like he was about to pop and ready to cave, his own waistline had an extra six inches he didnt usually account for. Two whole pizzas, two gallons of ice cream and a cake had given him quite the bellyache, and every single pain that shot through him went directly to his cock.

He pulled his shirt up over his stomach shamelessly, and surveyed the others. Steve finally looked like he had a little bump, and even Thor seemed to be slowing down a small amount as he finally swallowed the last bit of his cake, and chugged his glass of milk to clear his throat.

"So, what now?" Steve asked, his voice strained as he continued to stare determinedly at the table in front of him.

Natasha sighed and glanced at the Captain sympathetically, though she doubted she could help him, or even really wanted to. While Stark's behavior bugged her, she had to admit that exposing Steve to this might help him build up a tolerance for it, or at least get him to the point where he didn't have to splutter and look away in embarrassment every time he saw a Victoria's Secret ad. Still, it was annoying.

"I don't know, maybe you should take a break from food and hit the soda?" she suggested, and Bruce nodded sharply. His mouth had become quite dry under Tony's treatment, even with the glass of milk, and having to only drink something for a bit would definitely be a blessing.

Yeah, alright, lets drink one of the 2-liter bottles each, Clint said, looking over towards the Dr. Pepper and ready to pounce on it to claim it.

The next several minutes were filled with nothing but chatter and burping as they each drank and drank. Tony had one leg up over Bruces lap at this point or rather, what was left of it, considering and he was sitting totally sideways as he lifted and held the bottle with one hand, and used the other to rub and pinch and massage Bruces belly, which was pressing even more tightly against his clothing now.

Clint, who in his youth had been the champion of several chugging contests, challenged Thor to see who could drink theirs faster, but Steve and Natasha were the only ones paying attention, as Tony took the opportunity with their attention held to grind against Bruces hip and seize his package with a few surreptitious squeezes.

Natasha was rooting for Clint, but Steve was sure Thor would win out. In the end, Clint was the one who won Thor was not used to the carbonation and it burned his throat in ways he wasnt used to. When he finally tossed down the empty plastic container, both he and Thor shared in obscene burps that rattled the silverware.

You are a grand adversary! Thor beamed.

Clint was really starting to feel the strain now, and he was about 80% sure he would give up before the start of the next challenge, but had to keep going for the sake of Lokis plan. At least, he had to get the other men round and full as well. Hed succeeded with Tony, and Bruce was quickly getting there, but Steve had barely crossed the starting line, and Thors stomach was still flat. He had to get them full and round as the rest of them.

Okay, a whole ham, Clint challenged, wary at the sight of the massive hunk of meat, but hed keep going until he couldnt anymore. They were nearly the size of a basketball each, and they steamed beautifully. Hed gotten one for each of them, but with Tony out of the running and Natasha not participating... And if Thor and Steve can get down the two extra, I will give up.

Natasha's eyebrows rose as she stared at Clint, not sure whether to be impressed or concerned for his mental health. Those hams were a massive amount of food to take on top of what they'd already eaten, but she had to admit he'd given himself a good way out here, and she too was morbidly curious about just how far Steve and Thor would be able to push themselves.

Bruce looked up almost despairingly, but any complaint he was going to make was quickly silenced by another grope from Tony, and he swallowed. "Ah, okay, I guess," he mumbled, struggling to ignore the pain radiating from his stomach to keep going as he glanced at the hams.

Steve blinked, confused by the additional challenge until he took a closer look at the others. They were clearly struggling to keep up, with only himself and Thor remaining anywhere near comfortable, which he supposed only made it fair for them to eat extra.

A grand challenge! Thor seemed very excited at the thought of eating two, and pulled the two nearest closer to him. Tony drew one closer to Bruce, and Steve took hold of his own, and bid a fond farewell to his mostly flat stomach, as that would be the end of that by the time he finished this challenge.

Clint was despondent as he stared down the size of his own challenge, but he would keep going at least until the other two stopped and he was forced to retire from the competition.

Tony was feeding Bruce tidbits from his fingers, massaging his belly and whispering encouragingly, completely disregarding everyone else in the room as he kissed Bruces neck and hummed wicked things in his ears. Bruce was powerless to do anything but close his eyes, listen, and eat from Tonys fingers.

Clint was surprised by the softness of the meat, and he continued to look over at Thor, to see any signs of a belly yet was that the beginnings of a bump? It was hard to tell, as Thor was eating so quickly, his breathing was quicker, and his entire torso moved too much. His fingers were greasy, but he at least had the decency to keep his face clear as he swallowed obscenely large amounts of ham at a time.

Bruce, baby, so wonderful, Tony praised quietly as he continued to feed Bruce, and he was grinding brazenly against his hip now.

"I didn't realize you were into this," Bruce muttered in between mouthfuls, thoroughly embarrassed but still intrigued by Tony's behavior as the billionaire continued to grow more and more brazen in his actions. He'd be lying if he said Stark's enthusiasm wasn't contagious, but he couldn't help but be curious at how fast the man had abandoned all modesty short of tackling him right then and there with the others still in the room.

Steve kept up a good pace, just shy of Thor's insane speed as the two of them worked their way through their extra hams, feeling his stomach starting to protest the amount of food being forced into it but ignoring it fairly easily. He'd have to work hard if he wanted to have even a chance against the Asgardian, but he was prepared to do just that, and he willed himself on with an occasional glance up to see how Thor was faring with his food.

Clints pace had slowed considerably, and he would take shallow sips of milk between bites of ham. The others were so focused on their own food that they didnt notice hed nearly come to a halt altogether. His gut was packed so tightly he was on the verge of bursting, and he continued to explore the tight surface with one hand, while he fed himself little bits with the other. He could hardly believe the limits of his own body, his stomach stretched almost eight inches out in front of him, like hed just swallowed a watermelon whole, and his body was pumping with adrenaline due to the strain.

A sense of fullness was finally washing over Thor, but he knew well that he could eat far past the point of fullness, and he had in the past. His stomach was still flat, but he knew it would not be that way for long as he finally swallowed the last bit of the first ham, leaving the bone on an empty plate. The contents of his nearly unfathomable stomach were finally packed comfortably end to end to end, and now any extra food forced inside would finally begin the stretch that the rest of the team had already experienced.

Bruce finished his meat with a sigh and leaned back in his chair, grimacing at the stupidity of this whole thing as his stomach heartily agreed. If it wasn't for Tony sitting there giving him each bite, he would've been happy to bow out and leave ages ago, and there was a vague sense of resentment that the man had made him stay long enough to become this uncomfortable. But then, the pulsing a bit below his stomach reminded him that he'd get something out of it in the end, and that he only had to be patient and hold out until Tony either got bored or ran out of patience and would inevitably drag him off.

Glancing over at her partner, Natasha noticed how slow Clint was going and couldn't help but smirk. He had set things up so that he'd be able to back down without admitting he couldn't go any further, even though it was clear from looking at him that he was hitting a wall, and she respected that. It was the sort of smart playing that she expected from him, and he didn't disappoint.

Thor was in tunnel-vision mode, his eyes focused on nothing but the meat, his ears closed off to Bruces quiet moans and Steves own plight. All that he knew, his entire world, was finishing this challenge, and winning the competition. It was truly in his favor that the meat was so delicious even if it wasnt quite as good as Asgardian boar because it distracted him from the progressively heavier and tighter feeling settling in his belly.

Clint was about halfway through his ham, and he would have stopped altogether if he wasnt sure someone would notice and say something. He knew there was no way he could continue, he could only ensure that the other two keep eating.

Im impressed by you, Cap, he said, a hiccup following his statement, accompanied by his stomach giving a loud gurgle. I didnt think you had this in you.

Steve looked up, focusing his gaze on Clint to avoid looking at Tony all over the struggling Bruce, and he chuckled somewhat shakily. "Well, I didn't really expect to be doing this, but ever since the serum, I've had to eat a lot to keep myself in this shape. So it's not really so bad." He shrugged and looked down at his own swelling stomach, pausing as he took a bite of his second ham. "Besides, in a way, this is sort of...fun."

Fun probably wasn't the right word for it, but he didn't know how else to word the good feelings that came with doing something together as a group that had them all or mostly all, anyway involved and getting closer to each other. It was important if they were going to continue to work together well as a team, even if some of the others didn't necessarily agree, and he was glad for the opportunity.

When Thor finally sat back from his second ham, more or less at the same time Steve did, there was finally a noticeable bulge in his middle. It wasnt much, more like hed just eaten a heavy lunch, but it was visible beneath his tight, navy-blue tank top.

Alright, you win, Clint raised his hands in defeat, his sentence punctuated by a loud, grateful gurgle from his belly. Im out.

He sat back in his seat, pulled his jeans down to give his stomach more room, and set in to watch. He could already tell that Bruce would be the next to give up, but he was curious to see just how far he could go.

Go on, then, Bruce. He grinned, looking at the hot-and-bothered scientist. Why dont you pick the next challenge?

Yeah, Bruce, Tony murmured into his ear. What are you gonna stuff yourself with next?

Bruce shivered, but pushed Tony's head back gently so he could look at what was left and think without quite so much distraction. He honestly didn't want to even think about more food, let alone eat it, but he still wasn't at the point where Tony was going to let him quit, so he had to just pick something and get it over with. He didn't even really want to bother choosing something strategically, so with a frustrated sigh he pointed at random and frowned. "I don't know, uh...more ice cream?" he suggested, clearly getting tired of the whole thing.

Steve smiled and snagged yet another gallon of Neapolitan, still refusing to look anywhere near Tony and keeping his gaze mostly on his food. Even without looking though, he could tell that Bruce was getting close to throwing in the towel, which meant it would just be him and Thor in the end, a thought which made him both excited and nervous.

Tonys own stomach was nothing in comparison to Bruces now, which swelled tightly against his clothes, cutting into the girth uncomfortably. As much as Tony would love to see Bruce eat until his buttons popped, he knew that this shirt was a favorite of both of them, so he gently untucked the tight cloth, and began to pop the buttons open from the bottom up, revealing Bruces swollen, furred belly inch by inch. He threaded his hand through the soft hair, leaving the few buttons at the top clasped for modestys sake, and he pulled apart the fastenings of the scientists trousers. His stomach rounded out, no longer held in tightly by his clothes, gravity seizing hold of it and not letting go. It was heavier now, hung lower, and felt much less tight. Tony watched most of the discomfort wash away from Bruces face.

There you go, baby, thats much better isnt it? Tony purred in his ear, grabbing one of the gallons of vanilla nice and mild, for Bruces aching belly.

Bruce sighed shallowly and winced at the ice cream. Though the pain in his stomach had lessened, he still wanted no part of continuing to eat, even if ice cream was something easy to swallow and Tony continued to hang over him. But maybe if he finished this one last round, he could be done, since he could see that Tony wasn't feeling especially patient at the moment; so he'd just have to grin and bear it.

He looked up and immediately felt a wave of guilty embarrassment at the way Steve was practically staring down at his own lap in his attempts not to see Stark's actions unfold. He wanted to do something to help Steve feel less uncomfortable, but he knew full well that he could barely do anything in his current condition, so he simply tried to ignore the Captain's distress and start in on the ice cream so this could be over with.

Clint was definitely feeling stirrings in his groin as he shamelessly watched the two lovers, watched how Bruces blush would deepen when Tony would whisper something downright vile in his ear, how the bloated scientists Adams apple would bob when he swallowed thickly. Tony would lift glasses of milk to his lover to help him wash down the thick sweet cream occasionally, and other times he would pause to give Bruce a belly rub, but he was methodical in getting Bruce through the gallon.

Thor seemed to like ice cream almost more than he liked poptarts, because he didnt slow or even falter once on his way through the gallon. He chatted with Steve, encouraged him on in much more polite ways than what Tony was doing to Bruce, insisting that Steve would be the one to give him his best challenge yet, and he should definitely keep going because Thor wasnt even close to his limit.

Eventually the three all finished their ice cream, pausing for a moment to catch their breath before glancing around to think of what they could possibly choose next. They weren't exactly gunning for anything big, and finally Steve spoke up with a suggestion that he figured would help them all power on a little bit longer. "Maybe we could go for more soda?"

The other two nodded, and they each grabbed the brand of their choice and started drinking at their own pace, not in nearly as much of a hurry without Clint pushing Thor to chug. Bruce was still feeling that he wouldn't last long, but he was grateful for the drink as a semi-reprieve from the heavier dishes they'd been going through, so he could maybe manage a little bit longer, until Tony would let him go and he could start making a brave and probably very stupid attempt to walk anywhere feeling like he did. Hell, he'd probably end up just staying in that room and having everybody else leave, if he felt like scaring them with a little annoyance from him.

Tony continued to sing Bruces praises all the way through the two liters, kissing his ears and lapping at his throat, sucking bruises into his shoulders and rutting more fiercely against his hip. Clint saw that Natasha was watching them now too, and the way her tongue wetted her lips did not escape his notice.

Thor finally seemed to really catch on that they were nearly going at it hot and heavy over there, and simultaneously noticed how uncomfortable Steve was, so he took the Captains attention with a joke and a laugh, and he could see the gratefulness in the way his eyes crinkled.

Pay them no mind! Thor beamed, sitting back in his chair so that he could display his growing stomach more proudly. These acts are also common among Asgardians during competitions like these. However, it is usually women wearing nothing but silk who will be assigned to every competitor. We have no silk-clad women. Unless you wish for the Black Widow to

Forget it, Natasha spat. I am not rubbing myself all over the Captain. Besides Im pretty sure if I did, his cock would get so hard so fast it would explode, and hed die of bloodloss in a matter of seconds.

Steve choked.

Tony grinned.

Steve's eyes suddenly became glued to the remainder of his ginger ale, trying in vain to hide the embarrassed shade of red that his face had turned as he fidgeted in his seat. He was starting to feel very alienated now, almost wanting to surrender so he could get the heck out of there, but he knew that would be rude.

And cowardly.

And he still kind of wanted to see if he could beat Thor.


Still vaguely aware of the Captain's discomfort through the thick Tony-induced fog swarming his brain, Bruce looked up and studied Steve's posture for a moment before sighing shallowly and glancing sidelong at Tony. "Mh, I really don't think I can go for much more here," he muttered to Stark, making it clear that half of his problem was the growing need to find someplace to be alone with the billionaire and make him fulfill all the promises he'd been making over the past few minutes.

Oh, come on babe, one more challenge, he urged, flattening the hairs on Bruces stomach with his palm as he slipped it over the tight surface. Just one more. One more and then Ill help you out of here.

He honestly doubted how well he would be able to fuck Bruce with his own stomach so swollen, but damn he would try. It honestly paled in comparison to Bruce, who was bordering on a fully pregnant look without any of the glow, replaced instead with arousal and nausea.

Hey Tasha, why dont you go order a few more pizzas? Clint looked over his shoulder at the still totally mobile woman. Because I doubt Thor and Steve will be done even if they clear the rest of the table.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but she nodded and turned to leave the room, pulling a cell phone from her pocket as she went. "Or more like a few dozen," she remarked, slipping out the door to make the call.

"Speaking of the next challenge," Steve spoke up, still staring determinedly at the table, "What should it be?"

Bruce tore his expectant gaze away from Tony to survey the table with a frown, wincing at another protest from his stomach. If this was the last damn thing he had to eat, he figured he might as well decide what it would be, then he could get the hell out of there. Even though the idea of Tony helping him walk considering the billionaire's similar state was laughable, he was still going to hold the man to the offer. "I don't know, how about more pie?" he suggested after a moment's thought.

Everyone settled in with their pies, and even Clint had started to nibble at the half-ham still left in front of him, his stomach had started to settle, and he wanted more of that heavy feeling back.

Tony selected a drippy, decadent caramel pie for Bruce, heaping spoonfuls into the scientists mouth and helping him wash it down with sips of milk. The going was rough, but Tony didnt give Bruce a chance to slow. He listened to the heavy way he was swallowing, his throat sore and raw from overeating, his stomach gurgling and churning away as more and more pie was shoved down into it.

So beautiful, Tony commented once half the pie was gone, helping the other man gulp down half a glass of milk. Youre halfway there.

Thor, on the other hand, had already finished his pie and he was feeling quite impatient. He knew once Bruce had dropped out, he and Steve could pick up the pace, especially considering the shameful distraction would be gone from the corner of the Captains eye.

Not long after Thor, Steve finished his pie as well, leaving him to twiddle his thumbs awkwardly while they all waited for Tony to finally let Bruce be done. He had to admit, he also wanted to pick up the pace and see just how far he and Thor could take this, but he was also aching for Stark to go off and do whatever horrible things he would do to Bruce somewhere he couldn't see it. Even in his own time, he had been a bit of a shy person, and all this was just fraying his nerves relentlessly as he waited.

It took several minutes on auto-pilot for the last bite of caramel to disappear, and Bruce shook his head wearily once it had vanished. "That's it, I'm out." He took as deep a breath as he could manage and winced, struggling to get his voice to keep working. "I'm just...I'm done. Tony you bastard."

Tony was grinning as he kissed the remnants of caramel from Bruces lips. Alright, babe, youre done, he said, rubbing his palm across the expanse of his belly. You gave an amazing run though, I didnt think you were capable. Lets get you to the bedroom down the hall, hm? I think you need to lie down.

Suddenly his own stomach seemed like so much less of a burden as he helped Bruce to his feet and stagger out of the room, leaning most of his weight on Tony.

Well, Im still gonna watch, Clint said with a smirk, moving his chair a little bit closer to the other two. Now that theyre gone, I think Steve can finally manage to look up, huh?

Steve gave an uncomfortable chuckle.

God, you guys suck, Clint laughed, looking between his own bursting stomach and Steve and Thors barely-there bumps.

Steve laughed, this time with more actual amusement as he followed Clint's gaze. "Well, it's not that great, really. I always have to eat an absurd amount of food to fill me up, and that can get to be a little much." He shrugged, one hand coming to rest on his stomach as he smiled thoughtfully. "It was actually kind of a shock after spending my entire life as a skinny kid."

Natasha came back into the room, leaning against the doorframe as she shook her head at how much food had already been demolished. "Okay, so the pizzas are gonna be here pretty soon, but in the meantime, how about you keep going with the sweets and try more cake," she suggested, nodding at the remaining desserts. She was sort of ashamed at how fascinating this whole stupid thing was, but now that it was just Thor and Steve, she couldn't contain her curiosity at how much those two would go through before there was a winner.

Come on, Nat, who do you thinks gonna win? Lets make a bet. They were constantly slipping money back and forth over the years as they made bet after bet over this, that or the other thing.

She looked over the two men with a discerning eye as they dug into their cakes. As much as I would like Steve to win, she murmured, eyeing his growing belly. Twenty on Thor to win.

Aw, come on Tasha thats just mean, Clint chuckled. Alright, Ill match you, and Ill root for Steve. Dont let me down buddy, beat Tough Guy at his own game.

You will not, Thor said smugly, But I will be interested to see you try.

By the time Natasha was going down to fetch the pizzas, the cakes were gone, as well as a box of poptarts each. Both of their stomachs were much rounder now, although Steves was noticeably larger than Thors.

Licking his lips as he surveyed the stack of pizzas Natasha carried, Clint took inventory of the table.

Two pies left, two cakes, he murmured. Six pizzas, two fruit trays, and twelve boxes of poptarts. Nice how everything settled into even numbers. He ran his hand over his stomach thoughtfully. Nat, split everything even between them, would you? Now that its just the two of them, challenges arent necessary. Well just see who holds out to finish it all.

@: Loki, Stuffing, The Avengers (Marvel),


A Flawless Plan 2


Loki paused, frowning as though baffled by the question. "Well, obviously. If you issue the challenge, you can't very well not participate. Besides, I'm sure Thor will be pushing all of you to absolutely stuff yourselves, as he'll find meaning in it that I'm sure doesn't apply on Midgard for 'middle school stuff'." When Clint gave him a baffled look, the trickster sighed. "On Asgard, eating is...more important than it seems to be here. It's a matter of honor and respect, especially when at someone else's table." He did his best to explain it simply, frowning as he tried to work out how to word things.

Huh. I didnt know that, Clint stood up and began to pace. Okay, so I issue the challenge get them all to accept get them stuffed until it hurts to do anything but breathe, and then wait, Im supposed to come back to you? Thats going to be difficult if Im filled to the gills as well, you know.

"I have a spell," the trickster waved one hand dismissively, "It can quickly return you to your normal, fit state and make you useful again. Just...find the closest place to use your dear little arrow and it'll be fine."

His eyes were flickering as the wheels in his head turned round, staring at nothing in particular as he played through scenarios in his head. It was clear that he had just about stopped paying attention to his surroundings, but after a moment he shook himself out of it and remembered that Clint was still in the room, looking up at the archer again with a small smile.

Alright, Ill hop right to it then, he said, standing up with a smile.

It wasnt hard for him to swipe one of Tonys credit cards. He practically left them lying out on every surface. With that in tow, Clint picked up a dozen pizzas, the same number in various cakes and pies, a fuckton of hotdogs (since they were an eating contest staple) enough soda to drown a horse, about 12 gallons of ice cream, fruit platters, whole sides of ham, and in the spirit of things every single flavor of poptarts. If there was any chance Thor was going to back down before, he wouldnt now. And it was his enthusiasm that would draw in the rest of the team.

Clint used a dolly to get the food up to the penthouse of the tower, and he was setting it out with Jarvis help when suddenly Tony and Thor stepped out of the elevator, talking away. They froze, looking out over the scene.

Sorry, did I say you could have a party in my penthouse? Tony raised an eyebrow and lowered the tablet he was fiddling with.

Its not a party, Clint grinned. Summon everyone else, Ive decided its high time I get to pick our team bonding exercise since everyone else has gotten a chance but me.

Well, to be fair, youd pick archery and youre the only one who can do that. The expression on Thors face was not unnoticed as he surveyed the food the poptarts in particular. So what, instead were just going to sit around and have dinner together?

Not dinner, Clint clapped his hands together, quite happy with his work. An eating contest!

Thor's eyes lit up in excitement, but Tony just stared.

"A what?" He raised an eyebrow and a frown crossed his face, but Thor quickly knocked it off his face with a good-natured slap to the shoulder that nearly sent the billionaire sprawling.

"I think it is a splendid idea!" the Thunderer smiled, turning between Clint and the gasping Tony. "A little friendly contest would do wonders for our camaraderie."

Tony remained unconvinced as he glanced sidelong at Thor. "Yeah, okay, but this is a little, I dunno, juvenile? I mean we're all adults here, and you want us to eat ourselves into a coma for no good reason."

"It is for a good reason." Thor's expression lost some of its joviality as he frowned. "It is far from juvenile. On Asgard, such competitions occur regularly, and the victors are treated with much honor and respect for their success."

Clint swallowed his snort at Tonys expression. Ah! See, Stark? Come on, you arent backing down, are you?

Hey, whoa, I never said that, Tony said with an accusing stare. Im just not sure, thats all.

If you do not join, you lose out of forfeit, Thor said, turning his gaze to Tony, who groaned.

Fine. Only if the others agree, though. He grunted, setting the tablet on the bar. Jarvis, get Capsicle, Secret Agent Barbie and Jade Jaws up here pronto, alright?

Of course, sir, the AI responded pleasantly.

Clint was grinning now, and he couldnt help but feel a little excited. This plan, ridiculous as it was, might end up working perfectly. And whats more, it didnt directly attack the team Clint more or less liked, it just prevented them from springing into action against Loki. This was brilliant.

The others arrived all at once in the elevator, and when it opened on the scene, Natasha was the first to look skeptical.

Whats going on here? Steve asked petulantly, hed just walked out of a workout session, and he was still wearing one of his trademark work-out tees, the kind that was so tight it was practically painted on.

"A grand contest!" Thor beamed at the others as they entered, motioning to the food piled in front of them.

"Basically another bonding thing." Tony interjected, shrugging as though he couldn't care less. "Legolas here suggested we have an eat-off, and since he already got all the food, we might as well give it a shot."

Suddenly Natasha was next to Clint, having moved without the others noticing as her training allowed. She studied her partner as though he had suddenly become clinically insane. "You suggested this? Why?"

Why not, Nat? he smirked at her. Are you in?

I think not, Natashas eyes narrowed.

A feast is the perfect way to grow closer to one another, it is also custom on Asgard! Thor beamed.

Would you quit that? Were not on Asgard, Tony muttered bitterly.

Stark has agreed to perform, but I assure you none of you will beat me, I am undefeated! Thor bragged. Clint flared up with anger, remembering Lokis words of he would jump at the chance to win one for once but he couldnt say anything for risk of suspicion.

Hes issuing a challenge, he said, gesturing towards the others. Steve looked skeptical, and Bruce looked downright wary.

Come on, Bruce baby, Tony wrapped his arm around his fellow scientists waist and drew him closer to the table. Youre not gonna back down, are you? Be a man.

"I guess I don't really have a choice." Bruce sighed, giving Tony a weary glance.

Steve glanced between the two scientists and Thor, and he finally gave a shrug. "Well...I guess it couldn't hurt to try the Asgardian way. We're a strange enough bunch that it might turn out to be perfect bonding." He didn't sound completely convinced, but all that mattered was that he wasn't saying no.

On that note I have performed the metaphorical leaps and bounds to learn your customs, Thor added.

Hes right you know, its about time we try doing things Thors way, Clint encouraged. After hes spent so much time doing it our way.

Itll be fun, Tony sneers, looking over at Thor like he wanted nothing more than to beat him at his own game.

Are you in, Nat? Clint asked, looking over at her.

The redhead simply gave him a pointed look that served as more than enough of an answer, then she turned and moved to lean her back against the wall, putting as much distance between herself and the childish display she was watching as possible.

"Okay," Steve interrupted any possible argument and stepped forward, clapping his hands together. "So how should we do this? Thor, are there some, uh, Asgardian rules or something about this sort of thing?"

We simply issue challenges to one another! Thor said as the five remaining Avengers assembled around the table. Clint kept looking nervously over to Natasha, but decided even if she didnt participate, she couldnt possibly stop whatever Loki was planning alone.

And how the heck do you determine who goes first? Tony asked, eyeing the pizza that Clint had brought, which was heaped with cheese and every kind of topping thought possible.

There is no first! Thor laughed. Issue your challenges around the table to whomever you deem deserves one, and you continue until the food is gone, or you are unable to keep eating! he was looking very self-important as he sat at the head of the table. Clint wanted to punch his teeth in.

Last chance to join in, Nat, Clint called to the woman.

Boys are gross, she said, with an exaggerated tone. He laughed.

What about a table-wide first challenge, to break the ice? Tony suggested.

Think we could all handle a whole pizza? Clint said, and he was very happy he hadnt eaten all day.

Agreed! Thor seemed to agree for everyone, as they all reached for a pan (Clint had set them all out on pans instead of leaving them in their boxes) that held their favorite toppings.

Broccoli and olives for Bruce, who was still looking apprehensive. Pepperoni and sausage for Thor, who looked ecstatic. Pineapple and ham for Tony, who was eyeing the pizza warily, and it looked like he was thinking. Bacon and pepperoni for Steve, who had an unreadable expression, and Clint took a plain cheese pizza, his personal favorite.

The first round went by fairly easily, or as easily as eating an entire pizza each could be expected to go. Tony and Clint were both put slightly off their game by the time the last slices went down, but neither of them were at the point of being willing to back down; and forget about the others. Steve, Thor, and Bruce were all perfectly fine and looking around the table to decide what to go for next.

Tony felt a little bit queasy, and he looked over at Bruce with a quizzical eye he didnt even seem phased. It made sense to him that Steve or Thor would be fine, seeing as they were so big, but Bruce was a skinny little guy, and Tony couldnt even really see a dent in his waistline which he couldnt quite say for himself. It was only noticeable if you really spent a lot of time looking at him, then you would be able to notice the extra inch or two, but Bruce still looked like he hadnt eaten a thing. He couldnt survey Clint, either, because he was on the other side of the table, and his stomach was hidden.

"I'll make a suggestion, if no one else wants to." Steve piped up after a minute of thoughtful silence, smiling as he started to get into the spirit of things. "Why not go for the hot dogs next; they're a bit of a classic."

Clint was definitely feeling a bit tight, and he wondered how he was ever going to get back to Loki if he put his all into this challenge. There were still plenty pizzas left technically two extra if they had a second round of just pizza, because Natasha was simply observing but they could be saved for later.

He was glad hed also had the foresight to prepare the hot dogs and put them out, evenly on six platters. Hed purchased enough for each of them to have twenty which didnt seem like a lot until he was staring at them now.

They talked their way through eating since this wasnt a competition of speed, but rather quantity, and even laughed some when one or the other Avenger would burp or their stomach would give a loud gurgle. By no ones surprise, Thor was the one to finish first, cleaning ketchup from his beard with a napkin, but what did startle people was that Bruce finished just one hotdog later.

Do you have a hollow leg I dont know about? Tony asked, peeking over to see there had been barely any change to the other mans midsection, whereas his own waist had boasted an extra three or four inches, which he did his best to hide by slouching.

Do not be ashamed of it, friend, Thor beamed as he began to shuck his armor in foresight of what was to come. It is an honor a trophy for your efforts thus far, you should be proud of it!

Tony smirked at this and sat up straighter.

Bruce chuckled a little at Tony's exchange with Thor, then shook his head. "No hollow leg, but, ah, I'm sort of eating for two."

Understanding moved in a wave around the table, and Steve offered the scientist a smile. "I think I can understand that feeling, at least a little bit. My metabolism was kicked into high gear by the serum, so I've basically been having to eat at least two or three times what I used to when I was, well, normal." He then turned to Thor with a slightly more cheeky smirk. "So I'm hoping we can give you a run for your money, here."

I would not have agreed if I did not think I would have a challenge, Thor beamed once his armor finally came loose and fell to the floor with a loud clatter. You will all be honorably defeated by me, but only after you have proven yourselves worthy adversaries!

Tony looked across the table at Clint with an anxious smile. So I think its fair to say you and I, normal guys, are toast, he said.

I think its between you and me. Forget the other guys, theyre all obnoxiously super-human. Lets see if you can beat me, Clint challenged with a raised eyebrow.

You are so on, Tony sneered playfully. Ill issue the next challenge two pies each.

Though the others listened to the formation of the two-man duel within the bigger contest, they paid little attention once the challenge had been made. Everyone started reaching and discerning what pie was what flavor, until everyone had their preferred tastes in front of them. After that it was simply a matter of Natasha half-heartedly waving and giving the 'ready, set, go'--as the others had managed to coerce her into doing at least that much--and they started in on the pastries, a speedier pace slowing down as they continued to chat with and tease one another.

With Tony as his personal adversary, Clints fire was lit a little brighter, and he used a single for to pick his way through two pies cherry cheesecake pie and a chocolate cream. The flavors were decadent, and he washed it down with a little soda water, the added carbonation soothing the steadily tightening feeling in his midsection every time he released the tension with a burp.

Tonys eyes however continued to divert over to Bruce to see if his stomach was starting to show yet, but his shirt was still tucked into his fastened trousers, and if there was a big difference Tony was failing to see it.

And Thor was the least affected of all, with not a single muscle out of place as he talked and laughed his way through the second pie with ease. Childsplay! he announced jovially as Tony came up in last place, packing the two pies away into his straining midsection, which was definitely the most noticeable out of everyone at the table.

Yeah, well, you try losing about a hundred pounds and then eating the same amount, Tony said, throwing one arm over the back of his chair and staring down at his no longer flat stomach.

"Well Stark, you're free to quit whenever you want," Steve reminded him, a smirk on his face. "We'd rather not have you kill yourself by eating too much."

At that, Bruce looked up and raised a disapproving eyebrow at the Captain, but he said nothing.

Natasha sighed and snapped her fingers a few times to call everyone's attention. "Okay, okay, so what's the next challenge then, tough guys?" she questioned, voice dripping with sarcasm and lack of interest, even though she continued to watch the ridiculousness.

You can still join in you know, Clint grinned over at her, and she looked entirely unamused.

Another flat savory pastry! Thor demanded gleefully.

Its called pizza, Tony said disdainfully as another pan was slid towards him, and he seriously considered calling forfeit, his stomach was already starting to protest.

Pizza! Thor repeated, and took the first slice of his own with rapt attention.

Clint was glad for the heaps of extra sauce piled on, as it helped the whole thing slide down easier. His mind was occupied with thoughts of Loki, and how he would look with his head tipped back, swallowing a bite of runny cheese offered to him by Clint. How his eyes would close, he would moan at the rich flavor, his Adams apple would bob. He must have had a pretty dazed expression, because Tony called out to him.

Hey, you getting a hard on for your pizza over there Katniss?

No, Im just thinking about what challenge Ill beat you at next, Stark, Clint snapped back without missing a beat, while a certain heat had started to settle in the bottom of his gut.

The discomfort was definitely starting to set in by that point, leaving Tony and Clint reeling by the time they'd finished their pizzas. Even the more super-human members of the group were starting to feel the strain, though to them it was little more than the beginnings of a stomachache, and they all paused for a break when the last slice of pizza was gone.

A few teases and quips were thrown around, but mostly the team was trying to sit more comfortably in their chairs, waiting for their filling stomachs to settle before they even thought about moving on to the next challenge. The wait wouldn't be too long though, if the impatient look in Thor's eyes had anything to say about it.

Let us continue! Thor suddenly announced not ten minutes later, and Clint and Tony both groaned.

Tony looked over at Bruce again, and to his surprise, he felt a little jump between his legs when he saw that his still-tucked-in button up was pulled a little tighter across his rounder middle. He smirked and wished the other scientist was within reaching distance, so he could lean over and give the usually skinny mans thicker middle an experimental poke.

Youre looking a little paunchy there, Bruce, Tony said, completely ignoring the way his own stomach pressed out uncomfortably against his jeans.

Banner looked up and raised an eyebrow at Tony, glancing down at the man's much larger stomach and then back up to his face as though to say 'are you seriously telling me that?' without speaking a word.

"Okay," All eyes turned to Natasha in surprise as she spoke, as she had remained mostly silent for the last fifteen minutes or so. And that little smirk on her face wasn't calming anyone's nerves. "Now I'm gonna give you all a challenge."

Steve frowned a little, though his voice was hesitant. "Wait, are you allowed to do that if you're not participating?"

Natasha shrugged. "I don't know, and I don't care. I wanna see you idiots each take down a gallon of ice cream, that should be interesting to watch." She paused, then shook her head. "No, scratch that, you each have to eat two."

Tony went pale, and Clints mouth dropped open, but Thor looked ecstatic.

At last! A true challenge! he cried, and he looked out over the flavors Clint had grabbed before seizing one gallon of chocolate, and one of vanilla. Very basic, but he hadnt been on Midgard long enough to really experiment with flavors.

Once everyone had their ice cream settled in front of them Bruce with Rocky Road and Maple Walnut, Tony with Cookies n Cream and Peppermint, Steve with Neapolitan and more Neapolitan, and Clint with Crème Brule and Coffee they set in.

I hate you, Tasha, Tony grunted, also hating his own sense of pride that demanded he at least try to get through this round, even though he was very sure that there was no way he could live long enough to eat two gallons of ice cream even on an empty stomach. And, looking down at the way his shirt hugged his rounding middle snugly, he knew he was far from an empty stomach.

The first few minutes went easily enough. They continued to chatter their way through the ice cream Thor was given a whole ladle because he was complaining about how small the spoons were and everyone reached the halfway point of the first gallon around the same time, before Tony and Clint showed significant signs of slowing.

Tony could feel it, with every single swallow, he could feel his stomach creak and protest. He could feel every nanosecond of the creamy confectionary sliding down his throat, and landing in his overpacked gut, and it was starting to make him queasy. He paused to look down at the damage, how his belly stuck out into his lap an extra five inches than normal. He groaned, and paused to pop the button on his jeans. The weight of his middle instantly surged outwards and unzipped the zipper for him, and in that moment Tony was sure he had more room, just because of the pressure released. With that feeling he was able to get the rest of the gallon down before he realized, no, he really didnt have room.

He sat back in his chair, rubbing his over-swollen middle as he stared down the second gallon. Just the thought of it was making him dizzy with sickness, and he had to close his eyes and tilt his head back for the wave of nausea to pass.

His cheeks were flushed bright with shame, but he figured that bowing out gracefully was better than throwing up all over the table.

I give, he moaned weakly, his eyes still closed and his head tipped back. Im gonna heave.

A valiant effort! Thor assured him with a proud fist to the table. And you have a grand trophy!

Im gonna throw up my trophy, Tony groaned.

Bruce turned to the display of overstuffed misery that was Tony Stark and shook his head, smiling a little. He had to admit he was sort of glad Tony had bowed out, as he had been starting to worry that the man's pride would drive him to keep going until he seriously hurt himself, but it looked like whatever shred of common sense the billionaire had had won out in the end.

And if Tony was out, maybe that would mean he could give up soon too. It wasn't that he couldn't handle more hell knew the Hulk's appetite would let him keep going even while the big guy was dormant but the novelty of the bonding had kind of worn off and his usual reclusive nature was starting to make him yearn to retreat back to the lab, which he couldn't have done while Tony was coherent.

"Well, congratulations," Steve smiled at Clint, motioning with a spoon full of ice cream, "You've beaten Stark. I think if you wanna back out now you can, since we're probably gonna get through most of this food before we're done."

"No, no, he doesn't get to cave just because Stark did." Natasha argued, a pleased smirk on her lips. While she was satisfied that her absurd challenge had at least toppled Tony, she wanted to see how far her partner could take this as the last of the 'normal' Avengers in the running. "C'mon Barton, let's see you finish that thing."

Yeah, Cap, come on, Im not about to give up, Clint grinned, giving his own rounding stomach a gentle pat. He would have given it a harder smack, but as it was, things were still settling funny and he didnt want to risk throwing up he was feeling the same queasiness Tony was, even if his stomach wasnt quite so large to show it. His muscles were a lot tighter than Tonys, so it was harder for his gut to stretch out. Everything was packed in tighter because of it, and Clint longed to eat enough to wear through some of the elasticity. Besides, with a personal challenge from Natasha, he couldnt possibly back down. Hed never hear the end of it as long as he lived.

He surveyed the rest of the table. Bruce was looking just a little bit rounder, like hed had a filling Thanksgiving, and he thought he could see just the very start of what was no longer a flat stomach on Steve. But Thor well, Thor didnt show any signs of showing or slowing, and he was nearly through his second gallon already.

The ice cream had started to melt a little, at which point Thor lifted the container and began to drink directly out of it, making the rest of the team reel in horror as they imagined taking the ice cream into their own filling stomachs at such a speed.

Bruce, Tony whined, looking over at the other scientist with a pitiful expression. I may have stopped, but dont you dare. I want you to keep going, you hear? I swear I will not be the only one the size of a house at this table.

Bruce hesitated for a moment, looking as though he was going to argue, but then he sighed resignedly and grimaced. "Yeah, okay. I'll keep going." The scientist didn't seem especially thrilled at the idea, but he turned back to the remainder of his ice cream nonetheless, dispatching it at a bit of a slower pace than Thor and not giving a shit about speeding up. He should have known Tony wouldn't let him quite and escape so easily, so he'd just have to deal with it for now.

Natasha seemed genuinely impressed by how easily Thor was powering through all the food, as well as a little disturbed. It had to be an Asgardian thing, if eating was as big a part of their culture as he claimed, but still... "Geez, I'd hate to see what one of these contests looks like back on Asgard." she commented vaguely, shaking her head.

"I bet there's a lot more food involved, for one." Steve chuckled, downing the last of his ice cream and surveying the table with a critical eye. "So, since we're onto sweets, why not take some cake next?"

Seriously, Steve, what the hell, Tony moaned, still rubbing his stomach and trying to get the packed contents to settle. You act like you do this every day.

He looked over at Bruce again, and felt another pull in his groin at the sight of him, sitting leisurely back in his chair with his belly sticking out, his trousers and button up tight around him. With a little heaving, Tony managed to get his chair much closer to Bruces, and he reached out to press his hand to the swell of his stomach. It was warm to the touch, and so very firm, and Tony smirked and spread his fingers to cover more area.

Oh, yeah, youre definitely gonna keep going. I wanna see how much you can take, he licked his lips and kissed the scientists ear, earning a full-bodied shiver.

No molesting at the table, Steve said firmly as Natasha helped her bloated friend by bringing Clint a rather large chocolate cake.

I love cake! Thor announced, using a fork that was usually used to serve salad to dig right into the cake.

@: Loki, Stuffing, The Avengers (Marvel),


A Flawless Plan


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)

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.



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 werent that bad.

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

After being mind-fucked by Lokis magic pixie stick, Loki had gotten a glimpse into Clint Barton, Agent Hawkeyes 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 archers 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 Clints mind, Clint was able to walk through that same door in the other direction. He saw Lokis 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 didnt 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 werent even to other villains who stood up against the city.

It had taken a while for Clint to gain Lokis 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 tricksters thighs. Hey, frostbite, whats 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 Lokis thighs, comfortingly rather than seductively. Come on, its not that bad, he urged. You might not be winning, persay, but look on the bright side, they arent winning either! They havent 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 Lokis head with a firm hand to his jaw. Youre 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 hadnt 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, theres no way hell back down or if you use, I dont know, a classroom full of children as bait and tell him to come alone, the Captain will come running full tilt. Youve just youve got to hit them where its raw.

Loki studied Clints 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. Theyd 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. Cant you magic up some kind of death ray? Its 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? Theyll all have a harder time of everything if theyre fighting you in six feet of snow, and youre 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 dont you use me as a hostage? Clint shrugged. You got me, youre gonna kill me if they dont do exactly as you say? Nat would definitely listen at least.

I dont 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 theyll find out theyre 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 Starks suits with itching powder, switch all the Captains undies with pink frilled thongs, affix a magical shock-collar to Bruce, I dont know. He was sounding a little exasperated now.

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

Well I dont know then! Im 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 theyre rolling on the floor! Air drop a hundred angry cats, I dont know! Im 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."

Youre joking, Cling said incredulously. And when Lokis expression didnt change, he scoffed. Come on, I was joking. An eating contest? What the heck happened to Im 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 cant 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 thats like, middle-school stuff.

Lokis expression did not falter.

Okay, look, if youre really hell-bent on this idea, Ill do it, alright? I dont 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 Lokis 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 theyre all too full to move, they cant very well get all the way across the city to stop you from whatever youre doing. Im going to have to participate though, arent I? he grimaced.

@: , , The Avengers (Marvel), Stuffing, Loki



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

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.


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.
"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.

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