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Записи с темой: bloating (список заголовков)
01:09 

EvilStufferSebastian
14:22 

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OneWildNight
Закрытая запись, не предназначенная для публичного просмотра

12:40 

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



















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

12:19 

EvilStufferSebastian
archiveofourown.org/works/2532251/chapters/5628...


30 Days of Stuffing With Tomki
orphan_account
Summary:

Adapted for the Marvel fandom from 30 Days of Fatlock, a series of prompts proposed by fatlock & bumbumshaky on Tumblr. Tags will be updated as I go.
I swapped this idea from Aris_Silverfin. I loved their 30 Days of Fatlock series, and I'm not even in that fandom.

Over the course of 30 prompts, Tom & Loki meet, fall in love, fight, get pregnant, get married, and have sexy times all while weight gain and stuffing kinks abound.

Notes:

Prompt list below:
Day 1: What's your fave Marvel pairing to fatten up?
Day 2: Who likes to fatten whom up?
Day 3: Mutual gaining?
Day 4: Measurement and weigh in.
Day 5: Tummy kisses.
Day 6: A fight (made up with sexy times and/or food)
Day 7: What about babies?
Day 8: How did the weight gain happen? (Suggested by one partner, by accident, pregnancy, etc.?)
Day 9: New set of clothes.
Day 10: A day of stuffing.
Day 11: Favourite food/s to stuff with?
Day 12: Trying on old clothes.
Day 13: Going out for the day.
Day 14: (Cute) nicknames for the gainer?
Day 15: FREE
Day 16: Keeping a picture diary.
Day 17: Meeting old friends/family.
Day 18: Popping a button.
Day 19: Unintentional gain?
Day 20: Highest amount of weight gain for a pairing?
Day 21: Waddle-comments.
Day 22: Christmas dinner.
Day 23: Honeymoon.
Day 24: Love goes through the stomach.
Day 25: AU!
Day 26: Birthday present.
Day 27: All-you-can-eat.
Day 28: Holidays.
Day 29: Tummy rubs.
Day 30: Sexy times.

Chapter 1: What is Your Favorite Marvel Pairing to Fatten Up?
Summary:

Tom and Loki meet. When the god returns, things have changed.

Notes:

Just a bit of fluff with a touch of romance.

Chapter Text

Not entirely surprised to find the trickster god in his bedroom that evening, Tom regards Loki coolly. "You've been watching me, haven't you?" he asked, voice casual and smooth as silk.

Loki sauntered around the mortal's bedroom and made sure to make his feelings on several things known before speaking. He stroked an elegant finger along the dresser inspecting it for dust. He tugged the corner of the bedspread to smooth out an indiscernible wrinkle. He flicked his wrist and, to Tom's horror, his prized The Mighty Thor T-shirt was in Loki's hand, holes being blazed into The God of Thunder's eyes. The God of Mischief tossed the shirt into the trash can with a soft chuckle.

"Are you done?" Tom asked, an edge of annoyance to his voice.

"Quite," Loki replied, hoisting himself up on to the dresser and gazing at Tom curiously with crystal clear blue eyes.

"Are you going to answer my first question?" he asked, almost demanding. It wasn't something Loki was used to.

"Since I learned of your casting as me in those ridiculous moving picture filmy thingies,"

Now it was Tom's turn to chuckle. "Movies," he corrected gently.

"Movies," Loki grumbled.

"Yes. So tell me...how can I improve my performance? Make myself more convincing as you?"

"Well, first off, stop apologizing. Gods apologize for nothing..." he began.

They stayed up talking well into the early morning hours, both enjoying the company of the other much more than they'd have imagined. And so it became that Tom and Loki had grown very close in the years that had followed their initial meeting.

***

"My god, Lo! What happened to you?" Tom asked as Loki appeared in his living room. "I don't hear from you for months, and you just show up looking like shit? Not cool,"

The god looked himself up and down, hands ghosting over his skeletal frame, eyes sunken, hair matted. "I escaped Asgard. Afraid I'm in a bit of a mess. Can I stay here, Thomas? At least until things blow over," he added hastily.

The Midgardian crossed to Loki and pulled him into a hug. "Of course,"

"Thank you," the god cooed, brushing his lips softly, tentatively, over the human's. Tom kissed back and, surer of himself, Loki deepened the kiss.

@темы: Фанфикшн, Стаффинг, Живот, Боль в животе, Блоутинг, Tummyache, Tom Hiddleston/Loki, Tom Hiddleston, The Avengers (Marvel), Stuffing, Loki, Fanfiction, Bloating, Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink

12:11 

EvilStufferSebastian
Practice Thanksgiving

Autor: orphan_account

Category: M/M

Fandoms: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)Tom Hiddleston - FandomThor (Movies)

Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Loki

Characters: Tom HiddlestonLoki (Marvel)Stuffed!Loki - Character

Additional Tags: Belly KinkBelly RubsStuffingHiccupsBurps

archiveofourown.org/works/2489105?view_adult=tr...

"So what exactly is this ridiculous Midgardian tradition again? 'Tanksgiving'?" Loki asked from his perch on the kitchen counter, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"'Thanksgiving'," Tom corrected as he basted the turkey.
"So what is it?" the god questioned again, swinging his feet like a child.
"Didn't you watch that Peanuts special I gave you?" asked Tom, slightly annoyed.
"Ahhh, yes. 'It's Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown.' Ridiculous," Loki muttered, reluctantly sliding off the counter and off to the living room to watch the cartoon, grumbling the entire way.

He must've fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, he awoke to the most wonderful smells filling the house. He decided to go investigate. "You're just in time," Tom said brightly.
"Time? Time for what?" replied Loki, sniffing.
"Dinner," Tom answered, gesturing to the kitchen table, laden with all the traditional fare: stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes with mini marshmallows, green bean casserole, rolls, cranberry sauce, apple, pecan, and pumpkin pies and, of course, the turkey. "I hope you're hungry,"
"Ravenous," Loki grinned eagerly, taking a seat while Tom just smiled, content to watch his mischievous partner.
Loki ate with gusto, tearing off great chunks of the turkey and eating it with his bare hands. "Loki, you're not meant to eat the entire feast, I don't want you to get sick," Tom said, concerned. Loki dismissed Tom's warning with a wave of his hand and finished the whole of the 12 pound bird, leaned back a bit in his chair and burped.
"Are you alright?" Tom chuckled.
"Why wouldn't I be?" came Loki's irritated response.
Tom crossed to the table and kneeled in front of him, placing a large hand on Loki's already swollen belly. "You just ate a turkey meant for at least six people in less than thirty minutes,"
"So-" *hic* "what?" Loki retorted, sticking his tongue out.
"So...if you need your big belly rubbed, let me know, you greedy thing," he replied, pressing his lips to Loki's. His concern was met with another burp from Loki into Tom's mouth. He just rolled his eyes and took a seat across the table from his lover.
"Thomas, I am perfectly capable of eating all of this...feast...and will do so if I see fit. After all, I am a god, you-"
"So help me, Loki, if you call me a dull creature, I'll punch you in your stuffed gut,"
"I was going to call you a dear creature," Loki replied cooly. "Besides," he continued through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, "I do NOT have a big belly," he pouted.
Tom simply raised an eyebrow to indicate the distended organ, stretched and poking out of Loki's t-shirt already. Loki tugged at the shirt, trying in vain to pull it down over the swell of his protruding abdomen, continuing to eat, making his way through both the sweet and mashed potatoes, stuffing, rolls, gravy, corn, green bean casserole, and cranberry sauce before laying his fork down and squirming uncomfortably, desperately rubbing his bloated belly in search of relief. "*burp* Ooof, Tom. *hic* Help!" he whined.
"What can I do?" Tom cooed soothingly, brushing Loki's sweat-dampened hair from his eyes. He looked at the god's distended gut, clearly visible now that his shirt had ridden up over the swell, and stroked it gently. He quickly undid the button of Loki's jeans and the engorged organ strained the zipper down on its own, Loki whimpering with relief. "Better?"
Loki opened up his mouth to answer and a huge belch escaped his lips. "Unf," he grunted weakly, eyes closed. "*hic* Rub my belly. Make it better *burp*," he pleaded, voice hazy with pain, breathing shallow and labored.
"Do you want to stop? I can take you to bed," Tom offered.
"Can't," came Loki's stubborn response. "Need to have des-*hic*sert first,"
"Loki," Tom began, feeling Loki's belly. It was solid, not a bit of give left to it, and the skin covering it was pink in comparison to the creamy flesh surrounding it. Curious, he put both hands under it to test its weight and let it fall heavily to Loki's thighs. The god hiccuped and burped again, squealing as his gorge sloshed around inside him, wrapping his arms protectively around his swollen middle.
"You're supposed to be making me feel better," he weakly accused.
"I know, I'm sorry. C'mon, Lo...please. Let me help you,"
Loki shook his head as he continued to cradle his aching belly, refusing to let Tom see the tears in his eyes. He felt betrayed at the abuse his human inflected on his tender gut, the act hurting almost as much as his swollen abdomen. Tom sighed and rubbed Loki's back, trying to soothe him. Loki hiccuped again and groaned painfully, rubbing at the side of his stomach. Tom took Loki's hand off his side and firmly dug the heel of his own hand into the spot where the god had been rubbing. Loki's eyes snapped open at the sudden pressure and he inhaled sharply. "Ow!" he yelped loudly before letting out another long burp.
"There's my boy. Better?" Tom asked affectionately.
"Yes," Loki reluctantly admitted. He surveyed what was left on the table with as heavy a sigh as he could manage: three measly pies. Damn his insatiable sweet tooth. "Feed me?"
"Loki, you've had enough," Tom protested.
"Please?" Loki begged.
Tom grumbled something about Loki being as big as a Thanksgiving turkey himself, but reluctantly agreed. He slowly fed his gluttonous god every last forkful of the three pies, stopping every few mouthfuls to rub Loki's still swelling belly. Once he finished the last bite, Loki collapsed in the chair, panting and sweating, struggling to breathe.
Tom kneeled before him again and began to rub Loki's tummy in earnest. It was hot and stretched to the point that it hurt Tom to look at. The carbs and tryptophan took over and Loki slipped into a food coma, softly hiccuping and burping in his sleep occasionally as Tom kneaded his greedy boyfriend's heavy belly, dipping his head to give a kiss to the crest of the swell. He quietly got another chair to put Loki's feet up so he wouldn't be quite so uncomfortable but Loki stirred and opened his eyes. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to wake you but since you're up, you wanna go to bed?" Tom asked.
"Can't. Too full," came Loki's sleepy reply.
"At least move to the couch," he insisted.
Loki glared at Tom and heaved himself forward, using his packed belly to hurtle himself forward. Once fully standing, he stretched, pushing his belly out even further. His boxer briefs left an angry red line under his engorged stomach and Tom helped him step out of them. As much as he'd love to fuck Loki right then, he knew it wasn't the time; he was in far too much pain, his belly jiggling with each painful hiccup. He'd just have to settle for spooning him on the sleeper sofa and cradling his distended gut. He could live with that. Loki moved his hands to the small of his back like a heavily pregnant woman in her ninth month and waddled into the living room, keeping his balance remarkably considering his center of gravity had been so skewed by the huge meal he'd just had. He stood there patiently hugging his stuffed belly while Tom put fresh linens on the pullout, then allowed himself to be gently lowered to the bed. He rolled to his side, his stomach feeling fuller than ever, and Tom snuggled in behind him, cradling Loki's churning middle, gently rubbing slow circles around his belly button, once an innie, now an outie with the feast that was now digesting inside him. "So," Tom whispered.
"Was it good? Can I serve it?"
Loki burped in reply as Tom's rubbing hands continued to soothe his throbbing belly, and promptly drifted off to sleep.

@темы: Кино, Живот, Боль в животе, Tummyache, Tony Stark, Tom Hiddleston/Loki, Tom Hiddleston, The Avengers (Marvel), Stuffing, Loki, Fanfiction, Bloating, Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink, Стаффинг, Фанфикшн

11:30 

Hands on the Table

EvilStufferSebastian
Hands on the Table

Author: Aris_Silverfin

Category: M/M

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Characters: John WatsonSherlock Holmes

Additional Tags: Established Relationshipbelly stuffingBelly KinkdaresBetsOvereatingmoany groany Sherlock

archiveofourown.org/works/1830436


Summary:

For a prompt: A dare for a stuffing session. Nobody touches the belly. How long can they resist?

Sherlock and John decide to spice up their usual stuffing sessions with an added challenge. The first to touch their own or the other's belly loses. Sherlock thinks he has this in the bag, but John has a surprise move in mind.

Work Text:

Sherlock lazily slid another forkful of mashed potato into his mouth, his lips closing to slip over the utensil, leaving it shining and clean as his lips puckered and shifted as he worked the hot smooth mass with his tongue before swallowing it down. He hummed softly, his other hand moving down to test his stomach, trailing his fingers along the subtle curve that was rising below his rib cage. He was shirtless, and the light touches sent chills through him. He checked the time on his mobile. Excellent right on schedule.

He leaned forward again, feeling his stomach rounding against the elastic of his pajama bottoms, and scooped himself up a liberal portion of mashed potato once again, then doused it in a greasy bacon sauce. He paired it with some perfectly buttered greens and selected another pork chop. He was already feeling full, but there was plenty of food left. And John would be home soon. The detective grinned and picked up his utensils again to resume eating.

Sure enough, just as Sherlock was polishing of his most recent plate, there was the sound of the door from downstairs, then a familiar tread upon the stairs.

"Sherlock! I'm home! Blimey, it smells good, did you make din-"

Sherlock allowed himself a catlike smirk as he drew his arms behind his head, stretching and arching so that his full, rounded stomach was in the doctor's view.

"I did in fact. I hope you don't mind that I started without you. I've been feeling rather insatiable of late," the detective rumbled, letting his hands slip down to rub lightly at his belly instead now.

"Have you?" said John, his own tone deepening as he took in the spread on the table. He tossed his jacket aside and slid into his chair beside Sherlock. He prodded Sherlock's middle lightly and the detective huffed softly in response, shifting languidly. "Nice welcome home though, thanks love." John grinned and kissed Sherlock's cheek, his hand roaming over to rub along with Sherlock's hands. The detective positively purred.

John chuckled. "You know, sometimes I can't tell which of us enjoys rubbing your tum more," he said, fingers with their slight warm roughness positively electrifying every nerve where they touched Sherlock's skin.

Sherlock snorted in response, eyes closed contentedly, his own fingers tracing and probing his belly. "You, John. You've only just entered the room. It took you less than a minute to begin touching me."

"You think you're that irresistible, hm?" countered John, teasing and challenge entering his voice in equal measure. Sherlock felt a sudden rush of excitement, his eyes opening once more to look down at his lover.

"As a matter of fact," the detective said silkily, "I do. And I think my self control is markedly better than a certain ex-army doctor."

"Oh do you? Even if I was, as you say, in the army. That takes discipline," said John, his hand slipping from Sherlock's middle as he crossed his arms, posture straightening, a dangerous sort of glint in his usually kind eyes.

Sherlock watched him hungrily, then smirked and pushed further. "Certainly. But orders, discipline, from someone else. Not-"

"I was a bloody captain, Sherlock," said John, his voice not raised, just a tad more clipped, that fascinating humor underneath. Sherlock practically felt his own nostrils flare with his next deeper breath, but he kept his features schooled, still in that cool, calculating, smirk.

"Hardly different," said Sherlock, sitting back again, his hand still idly circling his middle. He was feeling quite hungry again all of a sudden.

"Isn't it?" said John, arms still crossed, "Well, we'll just have to see about that then. Do an experiment yeah? I don't see you resisting touching that rotound little tum of yours."

Sherlock quickly removed his hand, steepling it with the other and placing his elbows on the table instead. Perfect, intriguing, a game perhaps. Sherlock looked over at John.

"What sort of experiment might that be then?" he asked.

John pursed his lips, then nudged his chair closer to the table, clearly considering his options. He looked back up at Sherlock then explained, "A stuffing, as usual. But this time, the first one of us who touches your belly loses."

Sherlock hummed, a gleeful smile on his lips, as he replied, "Hm, yes. I think that ought to work. Though let's make things a bit more challenging, shall we? No contact between the two of us at all of any kind that does not involve utensils. Any contact with a stomach results in immediate loss of the bet."

"Bet?" prompted John, smiling as well as he loaded up his own plate of the calorific food Sherlock had prepared. "What do I get when I win?"

Sherlock drew himself up haughtily and said, quite casually, "Winner gets to come. Loser has to clean the dishes first."

The detective glanced over, feeling self-satisfied as John visibly swallowed. Oh, this would be so very interesting. Just what he needed after a dull couple of days home on his own.

"S-sounds good. Yeah," agreed John, looking up at Sherlock over his plate. "Well, may the most disciplined man win." He raised his fork to his lover, and Sherlock returned the salute in kind. Then they both began to eat.

For a while, there was no sound in the kitchen but for the scrape and clink of cutlery against plates, a shift of a chair leg against the floor as one of them shifted to get more food. Sherlock was feeling really quite overfull now, his stomach tight and starting to twinge now and again when he swallowed. He slowed his pace, wanting to observe John, perhaps goad him into slipping up. Sherlock really wanted a warm hand on his middle right now.

But John was just resolutely staying focused on his plate, eating his one plateful to Sherlock's three, sipping from his water glass now and again. Well, Sherlock couldn't have that. He wasn't stuffing himself silly to be ignored.

The detective groaned and leaned back, slouching and blowing out his tummy. "Oooh... hmmph. Think I'm getting full, John," he murmured.

John's eyes flicked over to him momentarily before going back to his plate. "Good," said the doctor, "I'm nearly finished here. Then I assume there's dessert yeah?"

"Yes," said Sherlock, sulking slightly before adding with renewed inspiration, "But God, John... I don't think I could eat another bite! My belly's so round... so- urp... so full..." He moaned expertly, shifting in his chair. His own hands clenched the armrests to remind himself not to give in. It was surprisingly hard, he wanted, no needed, someone's hand on his belly, longed to trace the shape of it, map it with his fingertips. He grunted pitifully.

"That's not going to work, Sherlock," said John shortly, though there was a flush creeping up his ears. Sherlock smirked, then sighed dramatically, his stomach expanding once again. This time, John's eyes clearly lingered. Ah, good. He'd finished eating.

"Aren't you going to finish?" John added, nodding curtly at Sherlock's remaining food.

Sherlock chewed his lip, then let his mouth open. "Feed me?" he asked, playing to John's caretaking nature as best he could, "I'm so full. Look at my belly, John... I'm too full."

"Sherlock, shut up," snapped the doctor, even as he moved his chair closer and took up more mashed potato on his fork.

"We never said I wasn't permitted to speak," said Sherlock, lightly, taking the bite of potato as John fed it to him and then giving a low indulgent hum as he swallowed.

"Fine, carry on moaning and huffing like a fat fucking hippopotamus, see what that get's you, Podgy."

Sherlock smirked and accepted the next bite of food silently. He groaned around the next mouthful and chuckled as John shot him a murderous glare, his free hand clenched into a fist on the table.

"Honestly John," drawled the detective, "I can't help it. My belly's so full, stuffed, actually. It- hmmmnng..." He stretched back again, undulating against the seat. "Feels so heavy..."

"Dessert," said John, standing and going to the fridge.

"Mmm, yes please," murmured Sherlock. Once John's back was turned he clenched the arms of his chair hard, his whole body twisting and shifting. He felt so full, so fat, and just hot all over. Every pore was screaming for some sort of touch, anything to help that feeling grow. Heat was building in every cell of him, he was certain, God he needed to touch, needed to press and squeeze and soothe- no!

Sherlock thrust he feet on the floor again angrily with a loud clomp. John returned with the dessert dish, eyebrows raised. "Alright?" he asked.

"Perfectly," retorted Sherlock. He mastered himself once more, then picked up a spoon and tore into the large bowl of chocolate mousse and whipped cream he had prepared. The taste was sweet and wonderfully distracting, though no less rich than the previous meal. Sherlock let out a soft moan yet again as he shoveled the stuff down.

John had daintily taken a more reasonable portion for himself and was now eating it slowly.

"Hmm, this is really good, love," he praised, completely ignoring Sherlock's indecent behavior. Or well, trying to. Sherlock was being a bit too loud to be easily ignored.

"John, please, I'm-urp- I'm so-so full, n-need you to-ah!"

"Sherlock, we made a bet. I'm not going to be fooled that easily," said John, looking over at Sherlock, "What kind of a fool do you-"

Sherlock gleefully noted that he now had the other man's full attention. The detective whimpered, falling back in his chair. His belly was huge and round, distended and sagging ever so slightly into his lap, dragging his pajama bottoms down with it's weight. Sherlock flung his head back, hiccuped, his lips, and chin still flecked with the pudding.

"Huh... John... I-I think I ate... too much. So-ff-brr-full."

"God, Sherlock..."

Sherlock lolled his head over, eyes sliding open and cautiously flitting over his lover. Yes, good. He was moments from giving in... that display had worked. Oh thank God, because he didn't think he could stand it a moment longer. Sherlock's overfull belly gurgled angrily and the man winced.

John's lips were parted, his breathing clearly elevated. his free hand had relaxed and shifted towards him. Good... yes... John... But.

No. No! It had only grabbed the remaining mousse and pulled it towards the doctor. Sherlock barely managed to swallow his growl of frustration.

"John, what are you?"

"Eating," said the doctor, pointedly raising his spoon and tucking into the bowl. Sherlock blinked, his mind hazy, then blinked again. John was now shovelling down the thick creamy dessert at a pace that rivaled Sherlock's previous one. Gone was the reasonable serving. Now he was... devouring everything. Sherlock swallowed, somehow finding the sight utterly mesmerizing. John continued to eat, and eat, and then carried on eating as he scraped up every last bit of the pudding he could find. Sherlock found his own breath catching. No, this wasn't helping his heat problem, nor his touch problem because God...

John's belly was looking round now, pudgy even. Soft round the navel and still growing as John ate. What must that feel like? Soft, then hard underneath? To bite?

John shifted on his chair, grunting in discomfort. Sherlock was now chewing his lip so hard it hurt, his own belly forgotten for a moment because John... John.

His belt had been pushed down, his rounded mousse-filled belly pushing out over top, jumper rucked up. Oh God, he looked so soft, so nibble-able, so squeezable as he grew, expanded, bloated. And oooh... the thought of how much heavy cream had gone into that mousse and the topping. Sherlock keened and threw himself onto the floor, jostled himself between John's legs, his own overfull belly burbling and rolling in protest at the movement, but Sherlock couldn't care. Not when-yes!

John cried out as Sherlock pushed his face into the doctor's soft round belly, his lips parted, jaw mouthing at every bit of exposed belly. His fingers roamed John's sides, stroking and kneading flesh between his fingers. The detective moaned, then bit a soft fold of skin, sucking it to make it bruise.

"Sh-Sherlo-AH!"

"John, fff-oh, John... Joooohn..."

The belly against Sherlock's cheek and fingers jostled slightly. Sherlock blinked, momentarily brought out of his reverie. John was... laughing? The detective looked up, affronted.

"I suppose that means I win then," said John, between hiccups and giggles, slumping back in his chair, "Oh Christ." He winced and put a hand to his belly as it twinged at him.

Sherlock sat back on his calves, his own stomach protesting the movement now that he remembered it. Then he pouted magnificently.

"That's not fair. You cheated."

"How did I cheat?" asked John, still breathless, his hand exploring the mound his belly had become, "'First to touch a belly loses' was what we said, yeah?"

"You know me too well. I'm a highly tactile individual," replied Sherlock, "How could I be expected to resist, this?" he gestured at John's tummy, then moved in to rub and squeeze at it again, making John squirm. "I wasn't prepared. I'd never seen you... like this."

"Me neither. I managed though," said John with another chuckle.

Sherlock sniffed. Then wet his lips, eyes still tracing over the round curve of John's belly where it bulged out from under his jumper against his trousers. Well, it could be worse. He slid long fingered hands along John's thighs.

"Well, to the victor the spoils then," he said with a smirk, "Though I maintain that this contest wasn't conducted on even ground. My tactile needs are far-"

"Yeah, yeah, alright," said John, grinning in return and shuddering slightly as Sherlock's breath puffed against his lower belly, "Sore loser. But tell you what. You can pick the next game then."

"Hm, I look forward to it," replied Sherlock, then leaned in to kiss John's belly again. Well, to be honest. This was probably going to be rather rewarding for the both of them. His fingers fussed with John's belt, then his trouser button. Then John groaned as that wonderful, wonderful belly was finally free and in Sherlock's highly attentive care.

@темы: Belly Kink, Bellyache, Bloated Tummy, Bloating, Fanfiction, John Watson, Sherlock BBC, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Stuffing, Tummyache, Блоутинг, Боль в животе, Джон Ватсон, Живот, Стаффинг, Фанфикшн, Шерлок Холмс

20:53 

Галереи художников

EvilStufferSebastian
Галереи художников, которые рисуют и пишут по кинкам:
  • стаффинг (stuffing)
  • вг (WG, weight gain)
  • блоутинг (bloating)
  • мпрег (mpreg)
  • фемпрег (fempreg)
  • вор. (vore)


  • Делитесь своими )


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