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Записи с темой: bloated tummy (список заголовков)
03:21 

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

Любимый кинковый момент в любимом мультике детства )

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

zserials.tv/multserialy/dino-babies.php



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

01:09 

EvilStufferSebastian
01:00 

EvilStufferSebastian
16:11 

EvilStufferSebastian
Аниме: "Yuri on Ice"

Персонажи: Виктор Никифоров, Юри Кацуки, Юрий Плисецкий





















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

12:40 

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



















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

12:02 

EvilStufferSebastian
ficbook.net/readfic/5045318


Виктор, как обычно, без спроса открыл комнату. Юрио лежал на кровати, не подавая признаков жизни. Блондин лежал под одеялом с головой.
- Юрио, ты проспал тренировку! – громко заметил Виктор с привычным весельем в голосе. В ответ издался полустон-полувздох, Юрио повернулся к нему лицом, с силой разлепив глаза. Вид у него был измученный, как будто он вообще не спал, подросток лежал, скукожившись, а руки он держал на животе.
- Юрио, ты заболел? – обеспокоенно спросил Виктор, присаживаясь на край кровати и трогай лоб блондина. – Горячий!
- Я встану на тренировку, - решительно сказал Юрио, закрывая глаза, всё его лицо пылало от жара. - Мне нужно немного времени.
- У тебя болит живот? – Виктор наклонился над Юрио и потянулся к органу, который мог болеть. – Я поглажу тебе его!
- Если ты прикоснешься ко мне…. – Юрио замер на полуфразе, когда руки Виктора обхватили его живот, - я тебя урою, - закончил он.
Но, не в силах брыкаться, Юрио только повернул голову на бок, задыхаясь от жара.
- Потом урою, когда выздоровею.
- Не бойся, котёночек, я ничего тебе не сделаю, - Виктор приподнял одеяло и залез к Юрио в постель, обнимая его за живот и прижимая к себе. Юрио бил озноб.
- Тебе очень холодно, da?
Но Юрио не ответил.

***

Пытаясь найти всех, Кацуки открыл дверь спальни Юрио. Он уже проверил комнату Виктора: никого. Тёмноволосый спортсмен очень удивился, когда увидел Виктора и Юрио спящих вместе. Приглядевшись к лицу Юрио, он понял, что у того температура, и почему Виктор залез к нему в постель, зная Виктора и его странные способы реагирования на ситуации...
- Виктор! – Юри тормошил его за плечи. – Ты знаешь, какая температура у Юрио?
- М? – разлепил глаза Виктор. – Net, - сказал он спросонья на русском и стал тереть глаза, приподнявшись. Юрио рядом тяжело дышал, его лицо было красным от жара.
- Сейчас, - Юри убежал из комнату и принёс термометр. Чёрная полоска была «приклеена» ко лбу Юрио, и короткий «бип-бип» сообщил, что у Плисецкого 38,5.
Катсуки сказал эту цифру Виктору, который бросил взгляд на заболевшего подростка. Юрио провалился в сон.
- Nuzhno sbit' temperaturu. Ya seichas, - сказал Виктор на родном ещё в полудрёме, - нет, Юри, я сам, - он вылез из постели и пошёл на кухню за аптечкой.

Пока Виктора не было, Юри наклонился над спящим Юрио и прикоснулся к его лбу.
«Такой горячий, - подумал Юри. – Как же он будет завтра выступать?!»
Кацуки действительно волновался за друга. Пропустить соревнование только из-за болезни это ужасно, Юрио всегда так старался. Он очень усиленно тренировался и всегда пинал Юри за то, что тот отлынивает.
«В каком-то смысле, наверное, я ему благодарен», - подумал Кацуки. Виктор вернулся с жаропонижающими таблетками и стаканом воды, открыл пачку, взял таблетку в ладонь, а стакан тёплой воды поставил на тумбочку, присел на кровать и стал будить Юрио.
-Yurio, kotionochek, nado skushat' tabletku, - Виктор говорил на русском, он приподнял Юрио на кровати.
Юрио издал тяжёлый выдох и разлепил уставшие глаза.
-Menia ot etogo vyrvet, idiot, - прогремел он в ответ на родном языке, сполз обратно, отвернулся от Виктора на бок и закрылся с головой одеялом.
- Кажется, он не хочет, чтобы мы его трогали, - заключил Юри, понимая всё по реакции Юрио.
- Похоже на то, - перешёл Виктор, наконец, на японский, - но мы его вылечим, у него завтра соревнование, - с этими словами, тепло улыбнувшись, Виктор положи таблетку на тумбочку, обнял Юрио сзади за живот и прижал к себе.
- Юри, он весь дрожит, - сказал он, - ложись тоже.
- Я-а-а-а?! – Юри опешил, смутившись.
- Ложись-ложись, ему нужно, чтобы кто-то его согрел и отдал своё тепло.
Кацуки, ничего не говоря и всё ещё пребывая в ступоре от такой непосредственности Виктора, лёг с другой стороны, искренне надеясь, что Юрио его не загрызёт, как проснётся.

***
Юрио катался на льду. Когда он проснулся среди двоих, он опешил и хотел прибить обоих, но потом понял, что лучше будет потратить эти силы на тренировку.
«Немного тяжело, - думал он, чувствуя жар и выполняя флип. – Трудно сосредоточиться»
- Юрио, что ты тут делаешь? – Плисецкий услышал знакомый голос, и повернул голову, увидев злобного Виктора. – Я же тебе сказал оставаться в постели.
- Я этого не помню! – запротестовал Юрио. – Мне нужно тренироваться!
- Юрио, ты же болеешь, - сказал Виктор, подходя ближе. – Тебе нужен постельный режим!
- Мне нужна золотая медаль! – огрызнулся неуправляемый подросток, оступился и чуть не упал. – Свали с катка, ты меня отвлекаешь! – выпалил Юрио, и где-то внутри в нём кольнуло страхом, что он это сказал собственному тренеру, ради которого приехал в Японию и которого сам же просил научить его.
Виктор вздохнул.
- Ладно, - сказал он по-доброму, - три круга – и ты идёшь в постель, котёночек! – сказал он достаточно настойчиво для того, чтобы Юрио согласился.
- Не называй меня так! Хорошо.

***

Юрио снимал коньки, Виктор прикоснулся к его лбу, застав Юрио врасплох, иначе бы точно получил коньком в глаз.
- Жар начал спадать, - заметил Виктор. – А теперь в постель! У тебя есть 3 часа сна перед следующей тренировкой!
- Угу, - буркнул Юрио, и они вместе вернулись домой.

@темы: Юрий Плисецкий, Юрий Кацуки, Юри на льду, Фанфикшн, Живот, Виктор Никифоров, Боль в животе, Аниме, Yuuri Katsuki, Yuri on Ice, Yuri Plisetsky, Viktor Nikiforov, Bloated Tummy, Belly Kink, Anime

03:31 

Локи требует полного внимания!

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Да, ты очень сексуален"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Что ты делаешь?"

"Пытаюсь открыть твою третью чакру"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

14:17 

EvilStufferSebastian
06:43 

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

Переводчик: EvilStufferSebastian

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

02:32 

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

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

Переводчик: EvilStufferSebastian

Важно: Перевод пока не причёсан!

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@темы: Стаффинг, Перевод, ОЖП, Живот, Боль в животе, Аниме, sick!fic, Tummyache, The Avengers (Marvel), Stuffing, Loki, Fanfiction, Bloated Tummy, Bellyache, Belly Kink, Anime

19:33 

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

By:Random Dawn 14

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

Fiction K+

English

L, Light Y.



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

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

It was probably the latter.

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

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


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

"He has a name, Misa."

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What about when we get older?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

Hi. I'm Light."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No one else is."

"Hmm… Hey, Misa! Come here a minute!"

The young girl was only too happy to do so.

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

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

"…L"

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

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

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

"But, I wasn't done—"

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

"…"

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

"I see…"

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

"Stick with you?"

"Yeah. You know, be my friend."

"You…want to my friend?"

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

Two years after Light and L moved in together…

L's P.O.V.


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

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

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

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

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

This was becoming a problem…

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

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

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

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

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

A loud growl and sudden hunger pains answered that question.

Alright, alright. Point taken. Ow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My stomach growled again and a thought crossed my mind.

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

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

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

"Ohhh…"

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

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

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

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

"So… now what?" I asked myself.

The only answer I got was my belly groaning.

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

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

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

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

"Light! Help…"

Light's P.O.V.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh…"

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

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

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

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

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

I closed the door and sighed again.

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

"Light…"

"Coming. Where are you anyway?"

"Ugh… Kitchen."

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

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

"Uh…good morning, Light."

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

"It's a long story…"

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

"Not in a way you'd think…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"…"

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

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

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

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

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

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

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

"Ohhhh… I feel so sick…"

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

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

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

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

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

"It's all really hard to explain…"

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

"I can try…"

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

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

"Help?"

Laughing, I held out my hands to him.

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

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

"Yay…"

Weakly, he started sinking back down to his knees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh crap…

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

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

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

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

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

L's P.O.V.

"Uuuugh…"

Not. Fun.

"Are you okay now?" Light asked.

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

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

After a moment, Light started gently stroking my hair.

"Feel better now?"

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

"Oh? Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's fine, I understand."

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

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

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

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

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

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

The drowsiness started catching up with me again.

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

With a quiet yawn, I went to sleep.

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

15:12 

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

L couldn't hold it in any longer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, denial was a wonderful thing sometimes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he decided to hold off the teasing until later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was…nice.

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

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

X.x.X

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

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

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

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

4th Oneshot: Misunderstanding

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Raito flicked a page.

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

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

"Mmph…?" Came the garbled answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

X.x.X

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The other investigators stared after the irate man.

Aizawa's afro jiggled. "Oh boy…"

X.x.X

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

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

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

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

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

Five minutes later, Soichirou walked in.

X.x.X

Soichirou was in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, denial…

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

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

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

Raito twitched.

What did he do to deserve this!?



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

02:49 

EvilStufferSebastian
carrottheluvmachine.tumblr.com/post/86142220077...

“Oooh…”

A loud, low groan escaped Tony’s chocolate covered lips and he waved Steve’s hovering hand away. “N-No more.”

Steve continued to smile encouragingly, holding a piece of chocolate in front of Tony’s face. He had been feeding him what was left of their enormous stash of Easter candy while the two of them lounged on the couch. Tony had eaten through it like a champ and had only begun to complain after they had unbuttoned his jeans to give his belly room to breathe. The flesh dome rounded out above the genius, gurgling unpleasantly and pleading for Steve to stop stuffing it, but the soldier wasn’t listening. “Just this last little bit, then you’re done.”

Tony gave another groan before complying, opening his mouth to allow Steve to place a large piece of the base of the chocolate bunny inside. He closed his eyes and chewed, the milky chocolate washing over his tongue and making his taste buds dance in delight. It really was delicious stuff, but even Tony had his limits. His stomach felt stretched beyond reason, packed full and weighed down to a point where it was nearly painful.

“I love seeing you like this.” Steve whispered as he fed Tony another piece of chocolate. It still baffled him, this kink of his. He didn’t know what he found so appealing about it. Tony had started gaining weight shortly after he had quit drinking, a few months after the two of them had discovered their feelings for one another. Steve had always thought that Tony was far too skinny and once the weight started slowly piling on he saw a change in Tony that he was sure had at least something to do with the fact that the genius was filling out. Tony’s face was rounder, he had a bounce in his step, he whistled and sang when he was in a particularly good mood, and he snacked often.

Steve was used to fuller people. This obsession with being thin didn’t exist back in his time and he couldn’t get used to the way the models and stars looked. All of these advertisements for weight loss made him feel sick. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with people who were a few pounds heavier than what was said to be “normal”. That was why he had no objection to Tony packing on a few pounds.

Tony, on the other hand, was on the opposite side of the spectrum. He was happy enough when he didn’t realize how much he was gaining, but as soon as a pair of pants ceased to fit him or once he caught a good glimpse of himself in the mirror he shrank away and became self conscious. Those were the moments when Steve would embrace him, hands on Tony’s new round belly, and he would tell Tony just how much he loved him no matter what weight he was at.

Once he realized that Steve was in fact telling the truth, Tony began to relax, which Steve silently took as an okay to go ahead and try out some little fantasies that had been playing in his mind and creeping into his dreams at night. He left snacks around for Tony to munch on, knowing of the oral fixation that Tony suffered from (if it wasn’t food in his mouth it was something else and some things Steve didn’t think belonged there such as screwdrivers). He made sure to bring meals down to the workshop three times a day and Tony always polished them off while steadily working on whatever project was keeping him busy at the time.

Steve honestly couldn’t recall when he had started hand-feeding Tony like this. He remembered that he had caught Tony stuffing himself several times, his cock hard between his legs, fat and heavy like his belly, and there was no way in hell that Steve could resist that sight. He wouldn’t ever feed Tony unless he had the genius’s consent and he knew Tony would stop him if he ever went to far.

Tony hadn’t put on too much weight thus far. He wasn’t fat but he certainly couldn’t be considered skinny anymore either. If he had to pick a label for him, Steve would have to go with “chubby”.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt Tony’s tongue running over his fingers, sucking the chocolate from them. Steve smiled as he realized that the chocolate was completely gone and he now had a very stuffed Tony lying on the couch beside him.

“Full?” he asked, taking his hand back from his lover.

Tony’s eyes were half lidded and he almost looked drunk. He nodded and groaned some more (always the dramatic), pushing his belly out and silently begging Steve to rub it. “Very.”

Steve chuckled and placed his warm hands on the globe of Tony’s stomach, running the over the bursting sphere. “Need a belly rub?”

“God, yes.” Tony moaned, eyes sliding shut as Steve set to work. His hands rubbed in soothing circles over Tony’s tanned aching skin, little jolts of pleasure running through them both. “Mmm…Have I told you how much I love you? Because I really do. You’re the best. You have magical hands. I often wonder if it’s because you’re an artist or if it has something to do with the serum. Did—”

Steve leaned over, being sure not to put any of his weight on Tony’s aching tummy, and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss. “I love you too.”

Tony sighed happily, opening his eyes and watching as Steve rubbed him. It was a bit hard to see since his stomach was sticking up so high (much higher than it normally did since it was filled to the brim) but he did his best to get a good view. Steve’s hands were the perfect size, the perfect texture, the perfect amount of warmth. Tony could easily fall asleep while getting a belly rub like this, but he preferred to look into Steve’s eyes while it was happening because Steve’s eyes always looked so affectionate and loving when he was giving tummy rubs.

The pain slowly began to ebb away and Tony could breathe properly again, feeling so very relaxed, and still Steve’s hands continued their massage. He sucked in a breath when Steve’s fingers circled his protruding belly button, and gasped when he was pinched at the hips where his love handles resided. When they were being rougher, Steve would slap and bite his belly, taking it by the handful to shake it, and it never failed to make Tony hard. But right now wasn’t about that—right now was for relaxing.

Steve leaned down between Tony’s legs and slowly began to pepper the fleshy mound with kisses, hands still moving in lazy circles. Tony’s own hands came up to comb through Steve’s hair, encouraging him to give more kisses, which he did. His tongue lightly dipped into Tony’s belly button, loving the heat that his lover’s full belly was giving off.

The room fell silent but for the sounds of Steve’s kisses against Tony’s heated skin, and then the soldier was lying his head down against Tony’s stuffed stomach and closing his eyes, hands still working their magic against the sides of Tony’s belly where the faintest of stretchmarks could be found.

“You’re my favorite pillow.” Steve replied, eyes closing and a soft yawn escaping him.

Tony yawned in reply, and how long had his eyes been closed? He couldn’t remember when he had reached the verge of sleep, but now he was about ready to tumble over the edge. “Mmm…”

“Tired?” He heard Steve ask.

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

00:53 

Just One More Bite

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


Just One More Bite
Kax
Summary:

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

Notes:

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

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

Tony's safe word was moonshine.

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More milk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can't believe you doubted me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Give me ten minutes.”
Notes:

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

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

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

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

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

11:41 

When John's Away

EvilStufferSebastian
When John's Away

Author: Aris_Silverfin

Category: M/M

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Additional Tags: belly stuffingBelly KinkOvereatingfeederismround tummystuffed!sherlockLight Dom/sub

archiveofourown.org/works/2067537

Summary:

For a Prompt: Sherlock and John skyping and Sherlock stuffing himself on cam (under John's orders) until he can't heave himself out of the chair to get more food.

John's away at a conference and Sherlock claims he's too bored to eat. John decides he needs a bit of discipline from his captain, even if he is rather far away.

Work Text:

Sherlock sighed moodily, curling up and facing the back of the sofa in his usual sulking pose. The trouble was that having a good sulk wasn't nearly as interesting when there was no one around to be sulked at. He wished John would come home from that idiotic medical conference already. But he wasn't due back until next Tuesday. Sherlock sighed and uncurled, now staring up at the ceiling again. His stomach burbled cautiously, insisting on reminding him that sustenance was a daily requirement. Boring. Dull. Why did Sarah have to send John? His John.

His mobile buzzed angrily against the coffee table, rattling a half-drunk cup of tea from yesterday. The detective gave a very put upon sigh and flopped his hand over to retrieve it. His face lit up however once he saw who it was that was contacting him.

Hey, love. I'm done with my first day so I'm at the hotel. Want to do a video call? - John

Sherlock eagerly sent of a reply in the affirmative and then turned to grab his laptop. He plopped it onto his slim stomach and then shifted so that he could prop his head against the sofa's armrest as he turned it on and selected the icon. Within a few minutes, a window popped up to tell him that John was calling.

"John."

"Hey, Sherlock, how was your day?" John asked, still in dress trousers and a button up, his hair swept back neatly from his day at the conference. Sherlock's eyes swept hungrily over him. The corner of his mouth twitched as John undid his top two buttons and loosened his tie.

"Exceedingly dull," complained Sherlock, a small pout finding its way onto his lips, "I've nothing on at the moment. The last experiment was a failure."

John smiled slightly. "So you've just been laying around on the sofa all day in a strop?"

"... yes," Sherlock admitted, and it was worth it to see John's face light up in laughter.

"Have you eaten?"

Sherlock hesitated, thinking a moment, then shook his head slightly. "No. I haven't."

The doctor sighed and Sherlock looked away.

"Come on, love, we've talked about this," John said fairly, "You promised you'd try to do a bit better. Keep yourself healthy."

"Yes, yes, I know," replied Sherlock, still not looking at the screen. He sighed, then said in a small voice, "It's just no fun when you're not here."

There was a pause, then "I'm here now. Sort of."

Sherlock looked back at the screen if only to allow John to see when he rolled his eyes. "Hardly here, John."

"Sherlock."

And there it was. That slight shortness of the syllables, that clipping them into perfect line, giving them a finality and brusqueness in a tone that warned against any disobedience, that it would take no prisoners. Sherlock immediately felt his mouth go quite dry as he met John's eyes on his monitor. That voice meant only one thing. His captain had arrived. It sent a pleasant chill down his spine, caused his heart rate to rise. This was all completely ridiculous, but that thought was quickly silenced. John was just silent and watching him, a stern expression on his face.

Sherlock took a deep breath then answered, "Yes, Captain?" and agreed to their game.

"Am I right in believing that you haven't followed your orders? The ones I expressly gave you before I left?" John asked and his voice is stern, commanding. Sherlock quails, forgetting for a moment that those 'orders' had basically been 'take care of yourself,' 'get some rest,' and 'please remember to eat something, yeah?' but he was quite distracted by his lover's change in posture and tone.

He swallowed again. "Er, yes, sir. I am... sorry."

"Shut it," John snapped and Sherlock's jaw clamped shut, "What do you think we should do about that?"

"I... I don't know, Captain."

John gave him a long considering look. Sherlock shivered with anticipation. His stomach growled hopefully. John smirked, apparently able to hear it even through his speakers.

"Sherlock. I want you to ring up our favorite Chinese."

"Yes, sir."

"Order two mains and a side."

"O-okay, but sir-"

"Now."

Sherlock picked up his mobile and did so, ordering a shrimp and broccoli and sweet and sour pork along with rice. He hung up and then looked to John who nodded with approval.

"Very good," he said, "But I think you'll need something to tide you over until it gets here. Go to the kitchen and fetch the rest of that nutella and cut up an apple to dip it in. Has to be a little healthy, can't have you too fat and lazy to get through your training."

There was a slight purr in John's voice now and that in combination with the Captain's last sentence had color rising to swiftly stain Sherlock's cheeks.

"Yes, sir. You're right, sir," Sherlock replied before moving the laptop to the coffee table and going to fetch his appetizer. He brought the food out and began eating it, loading each slice with an exorbitant amount of the chocolatey spread.

"Feeling better?" asked John, and it was in his John voice again as the doctor smiled at him.

"Hmm," said Sherlock happily, sucking the nutella from a slice before dipping it back in for more.

"Oi, I sometimes eat that too you know," John complained with a laugh.

"Oh, shut up. We exchange bodily fluids often enough," Sherlock answered with a wink.

"You're so romantic."

"I try."

They chatted about John's conference as Sherlock continued to eat. Soon the doorbell rang from below. Sherlock tensed with excitement as he watched a change come over his kind cuddly doctor again.

"Was that the doorbell?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Go and fetch it then. Grab yourself a soda as well."

Sherlock dashed off downstairs, accepted the heavy bag of takeaway, paid, and then hurried back up. He deposited the bag next to his laptop. then dug out a large bowl, silverware, and the soda John had ordered him to. He returned to the sofa, settling down and setting his things out.

"Am I to eat it all, Captain?" he asked, feeling his stomach flutter slightly. Either it was excited or dreading what he was about to put it through.

"Every last bite, Sherlock. I'll be watching," John directed, tilting his chin up and giving Sherlock a considering gaze. "Go on then. Stuff yourself silly like I know you want to."

"Mm, yessir," said Sherlock, grinning and breaking character just a little with his excitement. He unpacked his food, poured the big container of rice into his bowl and then dumped his serving of shrimp and broccoli over it before tucking in. Oh God, was that good. He positively groaned as the first hot salty bite entered his mouth, the savory sauce coating his tongue and giving flavor to the fluffy rice.

John hummed in approval. "Good. You enjoy that. All of it."

Sherlock was happy to comply. He tore into his meal, his body responding immediately, telling him yes, this is what it had been trying to tell him for the past fifteen hours. He was hungry. He needed to eat. Fill his belly. Make it warm and heavy with food. Sherlock groaned softly again in between mouthfuls of rice, tender fat shrimp, perfectly cooked broccoli, crisp water chestnuts and sweet carrots. He spread the thick sauce over more of the rice and shoveled that down as well. It all tasted so good, he hardly realised half of his bowl was gone. All the while John was softly encouraging him, watching him, making sure not a grain went to waste.

"That's it. You're doing very well. I think you deserve a reward. Have some of that soda now," John said, giving Sherlock a small smile as the detective finally looked up from his meal, almost panting as he muffled a couple of belches. His stomach was feeling pleasantly full now, warm, curving out gently under his ribcage. But it could hold more. There was still food left.

"Thank you, Captain," Sherlock replied before taking up the soda bottle, opening it, and then swallowing it down in grateful gulps. He finished half, then burped again, humming and running a hand down to his stomach.

"Manners, Piggy, am I going to have to teach you all over again?"

Sherlock jumped and blushed, then gave John a sly sort of grin. "Maybe, you've been gone rather a long time, Captain."

John gave him a steely look. "The next container now, Sherlock."

The detective did as asked, pulling out the unopened carton and emptying it over his remaining rice. He dug into that as well, the sauce tangy and dancing on his tongue with just a hint of spicyness, the meat hot underneath the crispy fried dough, the vegetables crisp and fresh, peppers biting, onion sweet, pinneapple complementing the sauce perfectly. Sherlock was getting to be quite a bit fuller now, the carbonation in his drink working to fill him up faster. He burped again, finding the pressure in his belly lessened slightly and resumed eating with gusto.

"Sherlock, this is your final warning," John snapped.

Sherlock looked up indignantly, his lips orange with the sauce. He licked them, "But, John, how could I possibly-"

"Faster. Then you'll be chugging down the rest of that soda. And if I hear any more disgusting hoggish noises from you..."

"What?" asked Sherlock, trying to sound rebellious, but only succeeding in sounding really rather excited and breathless.

"Let's just hope you won't have to find out shall we?" said John, leaning back impressively and watching him still. "Eat."

And so Sherlock ate, and ate, and bite and chewed and swallowed everything down, wiping his fingers around the bowl to catch every last grain of rice and speck of sauce. He hummed indulgently as he sucked at his fingers, feeling replete, content, and a bit overfull. His stomach was round now, pushing out against his t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

"Enjoying yourself, glutton?" John asked and Sherlock's eyes slide lazily open to look at him.

"Yes. Cap-"

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Sherlock blinked. Oh, the soda. He hastily reached for it, grunting as his belly was squashed a bit against his leg. He slumped back with a sigh, then lifted it to his lips and began drinking it down, one hand perched atop his belly. The flesh was beginning to feel rather tight and decidedly rounder. He couldn't resist giving it a little rub as he filled it just a bit more.

"Feeling nice and fat now?" John asked, and Sherlock nodded, setting the empty bottle aside. He belched, then froze. Oh, he wasn't supposed to do that.

There's a dark chuckle from his laptop. "Well now, Piggy. Ate so much you couldn't hold it in, hm? I want you to go find another and bring it here. Grab that pack of chocolate biscuits as well. Double time."

Sherlock groaned, not really wanting to get up right now. Even if it was for some delicious light little biscuits.

"Sherlock."

The detective looked at his monitor. John was giving him a very dangerous smile.

"I believe I told you to do something. Get that arse in gear or I might well have to feed you ice cream until you pop when I get home."

Sherlock shivered, suddenly assaulted with the mental image of John spoon feeding him, emptied cartons all around, his own belly huge and pale and distended onto his thighs. He gave a low groan at that, rubbing at his belly, wishing it were bigger. Bigger yes. He heaved himself up and wandered off to the kitchen. He found another soda, then pulled out the box of the biscuits that John had mentioned.

He sat down with a sigh again.

"How many biscuits am I having, sir?"

"All of them. Eat up."

Sherlock regarded the package. Well, surely he could manage that. He opened them and popped one of the little delights into his mouth. It very nearly melted on his tongue, leaving a strong rich taste behind that was too quickly fading. He had another and another. This would be no punishment at all. They were so light!

But it turned out they were significantly less light when you'd had close to twenty of them. And soda on top of that. And two mains of Chinese with a side.

Sherlock groaned, rubbing his belly as it gurgled at him, now beginning to peek out of his pajamas.

"Oh, mm, John... these are mmph so good. But I'm full... I'm so full."

"Is the box empty?"

"No..."

"Keep eating, then."

Sherlock looked over at John, smiling as he noted the way the other man wet his lips as he leaned in closer to the monitor, a slight flush visible as it crept into his face. Aroused. Wonderful.

The detective sighed and crammed more of the biscuits into his mouth, huffing as his stomach began to protest. He rubbed at it to soothe it.

"Wish you were here," he mumbled.

John sighed, "Yeah, me too. Come on. Nearly there, love."

Sherlock tilted his head back, shacking the box to pour the last of the crumbly sweets into his mouth. Then he tossed the box aside and swallowed down the rest of his drink. He pressed into his belly experimentally, hissing as it objected. He rucked up his shirt a bit and gave it a few prods. So tight, and round, and he felt really wonderfully fat as well.

"Hmmph, are you pleased, Captain?" he asked, framing his belly with his hands. He smirked as John wet his lips again.

"Very nearly. But I think there's something with your name on it at the back of the second shelf of the refrigerator," said John with a smirk of his own. Sherlock moaned, looking down at his belly, hefting it lightly in his hands.

"F-for urp me?" he asked, muffling a burp almost too late.

"Yeah. Just for you. Go fetch it," said John encouragingly, still gazing hungrily at Sherlock through the screen. Sherlock huffed and grunted as he bent and then pushed himself to his feet. Then he waddled into the kitchen, huffed as he bent again and rummaged around for his treat. He pulled out a small container with his name on it and popped the lid open. His tongue wet his lips despite the way his stomach was gurgling angrily around his full meal.

Surely he had room for this: a perfect slice of the creamiest looking raspberry cheescake he had ever seen, drizzled with dark chocolate on top and a matching dark chocolate cookie crust at the bottom. Sherlock carried it back and sat down.

"Ah, good you found it," purred John, smiling, "Like it?"

"It looks very good. Thank you," Sherlock replied, staring down at the big slice of decadent dessert. Oh, he was going to feel full after this. He already was of course, but this would really take the cake.

"What are you waiting for then? Eat."

Sherlock swallowed, then lifted his fork and collected his first bite. It was absolutely heavenly. But fuck it was rich. He managed the first three bites without too much of a problem, eating much more slowly now.

"Go on," John goaded, "It's for you. Enjoy."

"Too full..."

"Nah, you've had this much before . Or close to it at least," John murmured, his voice growing rather husky, "You're getting so big, Sherlock. Just look at you. Fat and round. Feels good yeah?"

"Y-yes," Sherlock panted, throwing his head back a minute and trying to take some pressure off his belly. "So good, John."

"You look it too," his doctor murmured, "Come on, more. It's just a few more bites."

Sherlock dug his fork back into the cheese cake and muscled through it until he was a little more than half way. The ne paused, groaning and rubbing at his aching stomach.

"Just a bit more, come on. You can do it. Your belly's just going to have to get a bit bigger, stretch around it all."

Sherlock nodded, then stuffed more into his mouth. Then more again. He tugged his pajama trousers down and his shirt up, exposing his round bulging belly shamelessly, reveling in how tight and heavy it felt, how much he had eaten how incredibly fat he felt after all his indulgences.

"J-John..."

"Yeah, you're amazing, love. Just one more bite."

"I can't-"

"Just one little bite, Sherlock. Eat it. For me."

And he did. Then he positively moaned, clutching his stomach, arching back at the intensity of the sensations. He panted and slid his hands along the bloated sides of it, explored the stretched navel and shuddered as he teased himself.

"Oh, fuck , I wish you were home," he growled, hands kneading, roaming and rubbing at his overstuffed belly.

"Jesus, so do I, Sherlock," John murmured, sounding thoroughly frustrated. Sherlock glanced over with food-coma glazed eyes. He couldn't help but see the hand of a certain doctor pressing and moving slightly in the vicinity of his lap.

The detective grinned and moaned even more unabashedly, sliding down against the sofa, his belly poking up as he continued rubbing and worshipping it.

"John, oh, I think I ate- brr-ah, too much. God, just look at me."

John gave a little gasp and a groan of his own.

"Y-yeah, yeah, I'm looking, you're so gorgeous, love. Christ, can you even get up around that belly?"

Sherlock smiled, huffing and panting. He grunted as he tried to reach around his great dome of belly. He could hardly move at all." No. I'm... I'm stuck. T-together you think?"

"Definitely," agreed John, and he began pumping his arm faster, leaning back in his chair. Sherlock gazed at the screen hungrily. The knowledge that he did this to Captain John Hamish Watson, well that was intoxicating enough by itself, with or without the belly.

And so, not long after, both were spent and lounging in their respective chairs or sofas, Sherlock hiccuping now and again. The detective was about to doze off when John's voice came from his laptop again.

"I love you so much."

Sherlock giggled. It was something that only seemed to happen post-coitus.

"I love you too," he replied.

"Hm, hate to bring our night to an end, but I have to get up pretty early tomorrow," John said with a yawn.

"It's fine," said Sherlock, waving his hand vaguely. He turned carefully onto his side, wincing as his stomach complained at the shift. He looked at his lover, looking rather soft and relaxed now. Kind cuddly John. He smiled. "I suppose this is goodnight then. Thanks for dinner."

John chuckled, well, giggled as well. That made Sherlock smile a bit more. "Thanks for the show," the doctor replied, he stretched lightly, his bad shoulder catching a bit. "But yeah, I ought to get some sleep. Think you can eat something tomorrow."

"Maybe," allowed Sherlock, with a smirk.

"You gluttonous git," said John fondly, smiling back, "But come one, at least promise me some toast in the morning. This feast and famine thing isn't healthy."

"Fine," said Sherlock lazily, "It's very fun though."

"Yeah, okay it is," admitted John with another laugh. There was a pause and then. "Goodnight, love. I'll see you Tuesday."

"See you Tuesday," Sherlock replied sleepily, "Sleep well, John."

The detective fell into a doze soon after, before John could bring himself to sign off. He just watched him for a short time, then went and got into bed, letting his laptop run out of power on its own. His lover slept peacefully on the screen, a hand resting on the side of his rounded belly

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

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

11:23 

Belly Full of Chips

EvilStufferSebastian
Belly Full of Chips

Author: Aris_Silverfin

Categories: Gen, M/M

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John WatsonSherlock Holmes & John Watson

Additional Tags: belly stuffinghunger kinkBelly KinkOvereatingstarving SherlockChips - FreeformFeeding

archiveofourown.org/works/1756305

Aris_Silverfin
Summary:

Sherlock and John have just wrapped up their latest case. Both are wet and tired and John assumes hungry despite what Sherlock may claim to the contrary. On their way home, Sherlock smells something delicious and a post case binge ensues... Hunger kink, belly kink, mild stuffing, yum... Johnlock if you read it that way. Perhaps early days of a budding romance. A bit fluffy.

Notes:

Inspired by this lovely thing: khorazir.tumblr.com/post/58818625033/might-i-te...

Work Text:

John was tired, and a bit hungry, and more than a bit cross. Currently he was standing beside his mad detective of a flatmate in the pouring rain as the man rattled off the last of a series of deductions. Detective Inspector Lestrade, was nodding, doing his best to keep up with Sherlock’s rapid explanations of what had lead them here.
“I had realized some time ago that it had to have been Mr. Boscomb all along. There were really very obvious clues starting with the make of his shoes and the pocket handkerchief,” said Sherlock, reaching out one foot to prod at the bundle currently curled up on the wet tarmac with his shoe. “And I knew from our previous conversation with his wife that he had a mistress, and really after that it was simple to get his location out of her once she was informed that she wasn’t the only woman in his life. Simple really, people are so quick to turn on one another. It’s remarkable anyone still believes in love.”
“Yeah, okay, Sherlock, but do you have any evidence it was actually him?” asked Lestrade with just a bite of impatience in his voice. John thought he deserved a medal. Really, the rain wasn’t showing any sign of slowing up. The bundle on the pavement groaned.
“Yes,” said Sherlock, bending down to reach into the coat pocket of the bundle that was now squirming against its bonds. “Here, a receipt for his recent bank deposit which you will notice matches perfectly with that of the money stolen from the late Ms. Leweski’s home at the time of her death. This man is undoubtedly her murderer. You can confirm by examining his gun.”
Lestrade nodded and called over his shoulder for another officer to help hoist the criminal to his feet and process him. “Well, thanks for helping us clear that up, Sherlock,” said Lestrade, looking a bit tired, but smiling all the same, “You too, John.” He nodded to the both of them and turned to go back to his car.
John looked up at Sherlock through the rain. “Well… that’s that then, yeah? Do you fancy a take away or-“
Sherlock snorted and whipped around, his hands stuffed far into his pockets and his head bowed against the rain. “Not hungry just now, John,” he said dismissively. John rolled his eyes and did his best to keep up with the detective’s longer strides.
“Sherlock, you haven’t eaten in almost three days!” sputtered John, “If you’re not feeling hungry, then it’s just because your stomach has started eating itself since you’ve refused to feed it.”
Sherlock gave a low hum that didn’t sound like he was really listening. His mind was still racing away on the case apparently, checking the knots at the ends to see if there were more in need of being tied up. John sighed. At least they weren’t too far from Baker Street. He might be able to coax some soup or a bit of toast into the man once he settled down.
They had just turned the corner and were walking past Speedy’s when Sherlock stopped dead, halting his mumbled case diatribe with a soft, “Oh.”
“What’s the matter?” asked John, skidding to a halt just before colliding with the detective and looking up at him curiously.
“Chips.”
“What?”
“Chips, John,” Sherlock repeated reverently, eyes actually fluttering closed as he turned his head to catch the smells drifting out from between the doors. John could have sworn he heard the detective’s stomach rumble.
“Yeah, I think they might be closing up, though,” said John, looking into the empty shop. The lights were still on of course but- Sherlock swept past him and wrenched the door open. John shook his head, and followed him inside resignedly. Really what they could both do with was a cuppa and a change of clothes.
Sherlock had marched up to the counter, John joining his side just as Sherlock made his order.
“Two baskets of chips,” he said firmly to the attendant, “Extra salt.”
“Sherlock, what?” began John, but stopped himself. Really though, if Sherlock wanted to eat he had no business complaining.
“Oh did you want some too? Make that three,” said Sherlock without glancing at the doctor. John had to give a small huff of laughter as the attendant rolled her eyes and disappeared back through the kitchen doors. Sherlock slapped a few notes onto the counter and then stood there, positively quivering with his nostrils flared. The detective swayed slightly as another low growl sounded from his stomach. John was worried Sherlock would pass out and he’d have to catch him.
“Alright there, Sherlock?” asked the doctor, looking him over, “You seem a bit…”
“Hungry,” was Sherlock’s only curt reply. His long fingers tapped against the countertop.
At last the doors to the kitchen swung open and the attendant returned with the chips. They smelled fresh and hot, and admittedly wonderful. John looked at Sherlock in surprise as something that was quite surely a soft keen drifted past those cupid’s bow lips. The detective snatched two of the baskets piled high with fresh chips and swept off to a table. John thanked the attendant and took his own to go join his flatmate. Sherlock was practically shaking as he looked down at the mound of chips before him. His lips were parted slightly, his breath coming somewhat heavily, eyes wide and dark.
“You don’t have to deduce them before you eat them, you know,” said John, sliding into his seat and chuckling lightly at Sherlock’s enraptured expression, “I doubt there’s much interest in learning about the life of the common potato.”
Sherlock looked up fiercely, his eyes slightly glazed, the pupils dilated, looking even more wild due to the sopping wet curls sticking to his forehead. He blinked as if he had just woken from a trance and looked about to say something. It was odd to see a confused expression twisting his features for once.
“Nothing, go on and eat your chips before they get cold,” said John with a chuckle picking up one of his own and popping it into his mouth. Sherlock’s eyes followed the path of the golden chip, plucked up from its fellows by careful fingers and then inserted between John’s lips. The detective definitely keened this time.
“Sherlock, are you-“ But John would never finish that sentence. He gaped openly as Sherlock plowed into his first basket of chips with such gusto it was almost publically indecent. Hell it was publically indecent. He dug in with both hands, long violinist’s fingers selecting hot, crisp chips from the basket before cramming them unceremoniously into his mouth.
“Hmmph,”said Sherlock, eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy as the flavor hit his tongue, the hot soft potatoey innards burst free and flooded his mouth. He chewed quickly then sent in the next chip. Both hands working to find the next bite and tossing them into his mouth before the previous had even been properly swallowed. John was staring now, his own chips long forgotten.
Sherlock, having finished the first basket now, dragged one finger along the waxed paper to collect leftover salt and grease before sucking on it and pulling his second basket towards himself. Sherlock wasn’t hungry. He was positively ravenous and ate with such abandon that John couldn’t tear his eyes away. Sherlock set to work on his second mound of chips with equal fervor, humming softly as he made each and every chip disappear between his lips and down into his stomach. He reached the bottom of the second basket with no sign of slowing. The detective glared at the empty, grease streaked paper as if enraged that it dared to signal the end of his meal.
“More,” he said gruffly, launching himself out of the booth and back to the register.
John blinked, hardly having realized that Sherlock had left. He was still staring at the two empty baskets and wondering where the hell Sherlock had put all that starch. The baskets hadn’t exactly been small.
Then Sherlock was back with a third equally generous portion of chips. He slid back onto the bench and began stuffing his face once again. John couldn’t honestly blame him, considering the man hadn’t eaten in far too long. He also couldn’t stop staring though. Sherlock was already nearly half way through his third batch, still picking up chip after chip with both hands to speed the process of getting every last one of them into his stomach. Wasn’t he full yet?
John licked his lips unconsciously, watching as the third basket was nearing its end.
“Can I tempt you to a fourth portion, Sherlock?” he asked, raising a chip in his own fingers to offer and nudging his own portion of hardly touched food towards his friend. Sherlock looked up, one cheek still bulging as he chewed, a speck of escaped potato at the corner of his mouth, both hands delicately holding more chips. His eyes flicked over John’s proffered basket then up to the chip in the doctor’s fingers, regarding it cautiously like a wild animal. John saw his throat bob as he swallowed the mass of potato in his mouth before his lips parted reverently.
“Mmph, yes,” was Sherlock’s only reply before leaning over to pluck the food from John’s fingers and then shoving the two chips in his hands into his mouth as well. As he chewed he pulled John’s basket towards him and dumped the lot on his own dwindling supply. The detective hummed in satisfaction at his veritable mountain of chips and continued to eat, slowing just a bit now. Apparently the little pause was enough for Sherlock to realize how full he was getting. The man didn’t stop eating though. John felt an odd swooping sensation in his stomach that he couldn’t explain. The chips were still disappearing, the detective’s jaw still working rhythmically, his throat still bobbing slowly. At long last, the basket was empty and Sherlock slouched back with a long sigh. He closed his eyes and slid a hand down to rest over the belly that was for once surprisingly round and visible beneath his shirt.
“Feeling better?” asked John with a small soft grin.
Sherlock raised his hand to muffle a belch into his wrist. He gave a low hum, eyes closed lazily, his hand rubbing at his stomach which was now gurgling for a very different reason. He looked completely peaceful and replete. John figured he’d probably move on to taking care of his sleep debt next and pass out in a carbohydrate induced coma.
“Ready to head home?” asked John, slipping on his still wet coat. His eyes seemed oddly drawn to Sherlock’s middle, the sweet little bulge poking out from all the chips that had been crammed into it.
“Mm, can’t move, John,” complained Sherlock, his hand still trailing absently over his belly.
John laughed and slid out of his side of the booth. He moved over to tug at Sherlock’s shoulder. “Come on now, it’s only next door. We can get you to bed to sleep off that year’s worth of chips you just inhaled. Come on.”
“Full,” protested Sherlock, with another soft burp and a sigh.
“Yeah I bet you are,” said John, his voice coming out oddly husky, “I’ll help you up. Come on.”
Sherlock grunted as if asking him to move in his current state of overfull bliss was the worst atrocity known to mankind. Then his eyes slid open once again, and he looked up at John for a moment. He took a long breath and lugged himself to the edge of the bench, then took one of John’s hands to pull himself to his feet with a low groan.
John lead the way back out of Speedy’s and then up the stairs to the flat. Either the mass of food in Sherlock’s belly was slowing his thought processes or his case exhaustion had finally caught up with him. In either case, he still hadn’t let go of John’s hand when the doctor let them inside and climbed the stairs up to their flat. John didn’t mind.
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@темы: Шерлок Холмс, Стаффинг, Джон Ватсон, Tummyache, Stuffing, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock BBC, John Watson, Fanfiction, Bloated Tummy, Belly Kink

11:19 

Results: Further Experimentation Required

EvilStufferSebastian
Results: Further Experimentation Required

Author: Aris_Silverfin

Category: Gen

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Characters: Sherlock HolmesMummy (Sherlock)Sherlock - Character

Additional Tags: Kink Discoveryfeederismbelly stuffingMasturbationteen!lockTeenlockteen

archiveofourown.org/works/1753441

Really, there was no reason for mother to be so bothered about it. He ate enough to keep himself functioning after all. It was tedious to have to deal with a tired, hungry, or thirsty transport. The sooner they could make everyone into an android all the better.

So thought Sherlock as he flopped back on his bed, the young man's curls grown long and unruly. He liked it that way, even if it gave his mother another thing to nag him about. He felt it made him look like all those clever old scientists in the text books he sometimes stole from Mycroft when his brother was home from university. The raven haired teenager was far beyond the level of his peers. He needed denser reading material.

He lifted his head lazily as his mother called out to him again, then sighed. Honestly, wasn't it enough that he had already eaten once today? His metabolism might be quickening as he goes through growth spurts, but he's not hungry really. Except when there are sweets. His ears pricked at the words 'banoffee pie'. He wetted his lips lightly with a curious tongue. Well, two meals today was perfectly alright. Maybe he could check if that allowed him to go for longer afterwards. He sat and slid off the bed, then wandered out to the kitchen for dinner.

It was a hearty affair filled with roasted potatoes, gravy, pork chops, and greens. Sherlock ate well, if only to stop his mother's fussing. She still managed to slip an extra couple of chops onto his plate. He rolled his eyes but ate them. Anything for pie and an evening or two where he wouldn't be hen-pecked. His father nodded approvingly and struck up a discussion about work.

Finally dessert came, Sherlock was feeling quite a bit fuller than he ever allowed himself to become, but if it would mean that he would be left to his own devices tomorrow, that was perfectly alright. His mother served him a generous portion of banoffee pie and Sherlock tucked in with honest enjoyment, his ankles crossing beneath his chair as he ate his way through the sweet sticky dessert.

Then he was allowed to be excused and returned to his room. His mother thanked him for eating and looked satisfied. Sherlock estimated he had a full twenty four hours before she would nag him too badly again. He could get to work on- but his stomach felt really quite full, tugging against the tight pair of black skinny jeans he'd chosen that morning. He slid a hand down his torso and looked down in horror at his belly which was poking out a bit for once. He quickly shut his door and scrutinized his reflection in the mirror that hung on the back of it. His eyes narrowed icily as he turned into profile to view the bulge. He prodded it with a finger. Oddly pleasing. Figure, more curved, bulge at middle from dinner draws the eye.

He turned back to face himself forwards and drew his hands down his sides, feeling the shape. Round. Again, oddly enjoyable. He pressed at it harder and grunted. Highly enjoyable. Sherlock pulled his t-shirt up, then gave that rounded belly a slap that seemed to resound. He heard a soft groan. His. Ah, interesting. He bit his lip, pushed his belly out further, watching it stick out over his waist band, pull the fabric taught.

"Huh," the boy breathed, wetting his lips and swallowing as something warm settled in his stomach. Was that from the pressure? Or...? He sat down on his bed and pulled out his mobile, flipping quickly through it, feeling increasingly distracted by how this position seemed only to add more pressure to his middle.

One hand drifted down to rub it absently. That felt... really very good. He looked down, admiring the rounded mound as his hand circled it. Very interesting. Yes, but why-ah. His eyes widened as they lit upon the correct search. So he wasn't alone. A kink? Maybe this called for an experiment.

Sherlock waited until his parents had gone to bed, then he slipped back out into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, lips pursed as he took in his options. His eyes fell on the remainder of the banoffee pie. Perhaps it's absence would be a bit obvious, but he thought he should choose something he would enjoy. He lifted the dish carefully out, then grabbed a large bottle of water and slunk back to his room. He returned for some crackers and another water bottle, then sat on the bed, looking at his choices. He ran a hand down to his middle, which had shrunk quite a bit since dinner. He wet his lips, then decided to start light. He drank down half of one water bottle then started in on the pie, fork in hand.

It was rather tough going after a while, but Sherlock couldn't seem to stop eating. He didn't want to. He continued shoveling the creamy sticky gooey mess into his mouth. The pressure and strain in his belly grew and grew as the pie disappeared. He alternated with swigs of water.

He winced finally, his stomach gurgling in protest. He swallowed a moan as he pressed into it, whimpering. God, it felt so round, so big, just, God! He undid his jeans with a gasp of relief. He slumped back against his headboard, panting and staring down at the white pale dome his belly had become. More.

Hands shaking, Sherlock reached for the crackers and began stuffing them down. He-he felt so big, so round so... fat. And for a reason he couldn't describe, that was the hottest thought he had ever conceived. He threw the crackers aside, and lay back, shoving his hand down his pants. He had to bite his fist to keep from moaning too loudly.

Then he was spent, and flopped back, breath heaving, belly gurgling and tight. He slid a hand over it, his mind foggy with pleasure and fullness. Definitely a kink then. Perhaps a dangerous one. Slowing for the mind... but he could afford to indulge now and again. Sherlock sighed, feeling dozy. Yeah, once in a while. His mum might have a lot less reason to worry about him now. Eating was fascinating.

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

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