#indigest

[guybitesatgames]

Whenever I see people speculating that Protocol's powers are based on love or desire, my brain goes back to MAG 111:

And I can't help but wonder if the seed of Protocol was the writers saying "but what if Gerry was wrong?"

[smrvero]

bryon

[tomoyoo]

they are the best duo they’re best friends they’re sworn enemies they're dog and owner they’re parent and child they're going to kill each other

[franklinwvixen]

Simon Strong sleeps the blissful sleep of a righteous babe because he's never done a damn thing wrong in his life

[ghost-proofbaby]

It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall. 

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?” 

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold. 

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him. 

Something unspoken. Something homely. 

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.” 

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion. 

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire. 

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?” 

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?” 

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room. 

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use. 

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him. 

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?” 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.” 

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.” 

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him. 

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm. 

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.” 

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch. 

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently. 

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back. 

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home. 

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-” 

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.” 

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair. 

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient. 

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him. 

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you. 

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.” 

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?” 

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?” 

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.” 

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum. 

You never grow tired of it. You never will. 

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always. 

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.” 

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-” 

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him. 

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.” 

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside. 

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly. 

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days. 

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso. 

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle. 

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.” 

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off. 

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep. 

I love you.

I adore you. 

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. 

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you. 

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?” 

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

[ghozt-gutz]

Really wanted draw him having a tummy ache and maybe a little bit of a burp attack 🫢🥴😤

[hooter-n-company]

What type of pranks has Rameses played on other creatures and tourists/people? ( vore is definitely one of them though isn't it Hooter (¬ w ¬) )

Yup, vore is one of them...although it tends to backfire on him every once in a while...

[notgwad]

Okay, looks like today Ive got indigestion. My tummy feels upset af. Stomach is bloated and achind and bowels just trying to dance smth inside my poor gut causing strong cramps. Unfortunately, looks llike my micro isnt sensitive enough to catch crszy "brrr" that my tummy does. But at least this vid is longer than usual.

[ghost-bxrd]

Me, reading the idea that Jason thinks he accidentally kills Dick in the dragon au: WAIT no-

Me, imagining Dick surviving somehow - on a wing and a prayer, and him clawing his way back to Gotham with Nightwing because there's no way he's letting this be the last time he sees his family and brother: wait.

Me, imagining that instead of going home, Dick just drags himself to wherever Jason's kingdom is, confronting him there and seeing just how badly Jason spiraled after thinking he killed his older brother: okay this may be onto something here.

Omg!!! Bonus points if Dick only gets so far in his journey because well meaning commoner recognizes the crown prince and realizes that “shit, if the new tyrant/king/whatever went crazy because of this dude, maybe getting him back will do the reverse thing? And stop him feeding people to Red?”

[lesbianoms]

Woman who hypnotizes me into being her edible pet. The trance is only long enough to last the evening, but fortunately for her, that’s also how long I’ll be lasting…

She scratches my head and pets my hair, calling me a good puppy, as I nuzzle into her flat stomach that I’ve been conditioned into thinking I want to make so very round and full.

Lying down on the bed, she beckons me over and we cuddle, as she slowly teases and tastes me, licking the side of my face and peppering little kisses down the side of my neck. Meanwhile I’m getting so horny, and she smiles because she knows that if I’m slick and wet, I’ll slide down her throat much easier…

Snapping a collar around my neck, my pred pats me on the head and says goodbye to me. She slurps me down greedily, squeezing my sensitive, naked body into her gullet. Thick, wet gulps echo around the bedroom as my fate is sealed.

Her belly is a plush, moist, flabby blanket around me as I stretch out her stomach. The walls hug me tight as I shift around and squirm inside of her, to which she reacts with a delighted moan. Her stomach is rotund and swollen, almost bigger than she is. With a dazed grin, she flops her back onto the bed, rubbing and patting the beast of a gut I’ve bestowed upon her.

“Ooooh, puppy…. ❤️ you r-really hh-*hic!* hit the spot~ oouuh, it’s gonna take sooo long for Mommy to digest you, darling…”

She’s right. Her stomach is still getting used to me. The groans her belly lets out are muted and strained, smothered by my weight, and the acids are bubbling slow, trying to make sense of the moaning, panting lump within its confines. But I’m enjoying every second of it. Pleasure tingles through my body as I wiggle around and reach down between my legs to rub my folds.

I hear my pred whine, the playfulness in her voice suddenly retracted, and she moans in discomfort as she tries to soothe her churning gut.

“Hhhmf… ow… I think you’re giving me a tummy ache, puppy…��� *hic*

The hiccups are all she’s able to let out. I’m packed so tight in her gut that there’s not a lot of room for those digestive gurgles to relieve pressure around in a more convenient manner. From the depths of her belly come the grumbliest noises as waves of warm air and juices bathe my body, and I continue to touch myself, completely high on the sensation of being her food.

Hours pass. Her stomach has barely made any progress on me, and her gut is still as massive and glorpy as it was when she first swallowed me. I shift around a bit inside of her and I hear her let out a low moan— her belly does the same. It’s gonna be a looooong “digestion session” for the both of us… 🫧

[cctinsleybaxter]

I know other people have mentioned that Melville would've gone crazy if 19th century sailors knew how sperm whales sleep, but I think he'd also go crazy over the confirmation that some of their scarring comes from being one of only two natural predators of adult giant squid, the arms/tentacles of which are covered in serrated barbs and harpoon-like hooks.

[angermango]

i see your "Rachel Bronev". i also see all those true and wonderful "Rachel Bronev deserved better/should have lived/could have escaped/could have joined Targent/no fridging etc" takes. and i so bring to you:

Rachel Bronev survives, escapes Targent and becomes the Descole of the AU

TL;DR she heard her husband now runs the cult that kidnapped them and separated them from their children, and she's making that everyone else's problem (but especially Targent's).

i admit i haven't come up with a villain name or a proper set look on her costume yet lol. but she looks fabulous anyway.

(i also call it the "Putting the 'Domestic' in 'Domestic Terrorism' AU" for fun, and because i haven't come up with anything better/funnier to name yet :U)

[bellysoupset]

Some LukeBell emeto cuteness because Why Not.

-------------------

"Hey," Bella opened a lazy smile, lowering her nintendo switch and removing her headphones, "how was work?"

"Uhm," Luke groaned, walking to the bed and kicking off his shoes. He didn't bother with the buttons of his shirt, pulling it off like a normal t-shirt and falling on the bed, "my head hurts."

"Migraine?" Bella froze, cringing in sympathy. He hadn't had a migraine in quite a while and was overdue one. Luke shook his head, pushing his wife's knees apart and slotting himself between her legs, using her chest as a pillow.

"No, just a headache," he let out a big sigh as Bell started to pet his hair, "the shelter food made my belly feel all gross, I think I'll have to start bringing my own."

"The food was bad?" Bella scoffed, "that's fucked up! They're serving that to people who really need-"

"No, the food was fine," Luke snuggled up even more, "but it had a bit of pepper and ugh," as if to corroborate his point, his belly let out an unhappy gurgle and he shifted, muffling a burp against his wife's oversized shirt.

Bella wrinkled her nose in disgust as the hot air of the thick belch warmed up the spot, but she continued to pet his hair, "you're so painfully white, Lucas."

He let out a groan, pressing his forehead to her collarbone and slumping down. After a couple more minutes of no talking, Bella retrieved her Switch and put on a silly game, just to have something to do.

Upon hearing a sound effect Luke raised his head and squinted at her, pouting "I'm dying, give me attention!"

Bella snorted, lowering the Switch again, "you have a tummyache, you're not dying," nonetheless she leaned in, pulling him to fully drape himself over her and Lucas let out a pleased noise, burying his face on her neck. She rolled her eyes, turning her face to press a kiss to his cheek, "you're such a huge baby, Atwood."

He didn't even bother sounding offended, wrapping his arms around Bella's waist and breathing out softly. With Lucas lying on top of her like that, Bell was struggling to breathe, but she could also feel all of the upset churns and gurgles of her husband's stomach.

Bell started to scratch his back and Luke melted, all tension leaving him, his breathing slowing down as he started to doze off. She was starting to get sleepy herself, when Lucas' belly let out another upset growl and he groaned, the gross feeling pulling him out of his almost slumber.

"Urgh," Luke moaned softly, squirming until he wasn't so much as draped on top of Bell, but only his head resting on her stomach, lying diagonally on the bed, "it's been hours and I still feel queasy..." he finished it off with another burp, barely muffling it with his hand.

Bella sighed, "would medicine help? We have Pepto and TUMS..."

"Maybe Pepto...?" He sat up correctly on the bed as Bella crawled out of it to grab the pink bottle. Luke hung his head between his knees, planting a hand to his stomach and groaning as he felt the hot, acidic liquid inside, "gross..."

"Here, bottom's up," Bella handed him the little plastic bottle and moved so she was sitting behind him once again, planting her hands on Luke's naked shoulders and rubbing her thumbs in deep circles, trying to massage some of the tension off.

He gulped down the chalky strawberry liquid and wrinkled his nose, planting the bottle on their bedside table and rubbing uneasily at his stomach, "it's like... Burning."

"The pepto will help," Bella nuzzled the side of his head, continuing to rub his back. Luke let out a groan as he felt a gurgle inside his stomach, acid tickling the back of his throat.

Turning his face away from Bell's, he muffled a thick burp against his fist and wrapped an arm around his middle.

Bella's massage felt nice and normally he'd have melted into a puddle by now, but the discomfort in his stomach seemed to only grow. He leaned forward on his knees, staring at their ugly beige carpet and trying to ignore the burning inside and how sloshy his belly felt, "I hate this carpet."

Bella snorted, planting a kiss on his shoulder, "not enough reason to puke on it, Atwood. You're looking a little green around the gills, wanna move to the bathroom?"

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, gulping down, "no, don't think I'm gonna throw up..." his belly chose this moment to let out a loud whine, loud enough it made his wife muffle a snort against his back, but she didn't say anything, continuing to try and press the tension off his shoulders.

Lucas swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth, shuddering as a particularly hard cramp hit him. His leg started to bounce up and down as he tried to fight off the nausea, the weird churning inside him.

"Lu," Bella pressed a kiss to his temple, "baby, c'mon," she grabbed his bicep, ushering him up, "don't puke on the carpet, its gonna be hell to clean."

"We should... Should get rid of it," Luke groaned, but didn't fight her as Bella pushed him inside the bathroom. He lowered himself in front of the toilet, pushing the lid up, but not leaning over it. He was still hopeful it would pass on its own.

"It's a rental, Atwood. Means we can't rip parts of it off, no matter how ugly we find them," Bella chuckled quietly, grabbing a bath towel and folding it, so Luke could kneel on that instead of on the cold tiles.

She could see there was no way he was winning this fight, but telling him it was useless would only have him try harder. Competitive prick. He was coated in a thin layer of sweat and normally Luke's belly was pretty quiet unless he was hungry, but now she could hear the gurgles and whines loud and clear.

Lucas let out a groan, opening a hand flat on top of his belly. He was slightly bloated, she could tell as his fingers dug into his abdomen, the faint traces of his abs had faded away - less than she expected, but more than she'd have liked. He leaned forward, spitting in the clear water and resting his forehead to the porcelain.

"Bell, it fucking hurts," Luke moaned, making her heart squeeze. Bella scooted closer, planting a hand on his forehead to help with the aim and with how heavy his head felt, then put her opposite hand on his stomach.

"Okay, get it up, babe," she instructed, straightening up so she was taller than him in his hunched position over the toilet, "force up a burp."

Lucas must've been in too much pain, because instead of fighting the nausea as he normally would've done, he nodded weakly and she heard the shallow noises of him swallowing air. His stomach let out another upset gurgle and Luke pitched forward with an airy burp, with none of the potency that his belches normally had.

"C'mon," Bella rolled her eyes fondly, patting his back, "you can do better. Get up a big one, babe-"

With an almost annoyed grunt, Luke scrambled forward with a huge burp, that turned wet halfway through. He buried his head in the bowl, arms shooting out to grab on the porcelain and Bella cringed in sympathy, keeping her hand put in his forehead to stop him from hitting the toilet bowl as the violent heaves wrecked him.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a couple minutes, Luke coughed and pulled back, panting like crazy. There was drool clinging to his bottom lip and bits and pieces to his chin, his green eyes all teary.

"Fuck..."

"Blow your nose," Bell passed him a wad of toilet paper and got up to get him a glass of water. She heard Luke blowing his nose, then spitting a couple times and flushing the toilet, "here," she passed him the glass of water and offered her husband a sad smile.

He was incredibly pale and leaning against their cramped bathtub, with his eyes closed, taking measured breaths. Luke cracked his eyes open to take the glass, but didn't bring it to his mouth.

"Rinse your mouth off and take a sip, Luke, it's going to help," Bella bargained, kneeling down next to him. He nodded in agreement, but made no movement to drink, causing her to sigh.

"Lucas?"

"Give me a minute," his voice was thick and his eyes squeezed shut once more, lips pressing into a thin line. Bella sat down on the cold floor, staring at him expectantly and as if he could feel her stare, still with his eyes closed, Luke groaned, "stop gawking."

"You're just too handsome, I can't help it," Bell teased him lightly, causing the corner of his mouth to turn up just a bit. His stomach let out another sickly groan and Lucas squirmed, passing her the full glass of water again, nearly causing it to splash, and hugging the toilet once more.

He didn't puke, only hung over it, mouth open and drooling, clearly feeling like hell. There was nothing Bella could say to make him feel better, so instead she just sat next to him awkwardly, planting a hand in the middle of his back and waiting to see if he was gonna be sick or not.

A minute passed, no noise, no nothing... "Luke, let's go ba-"

The second she started to speak, his back curled and Lucas coughed up another mouthful of bright red vomit, groaning loudly. Bella grimaced, moving closer enough she could push his hair back and away from his sweaty forehead.

"You're almost done, get it up," she said, worriedly biting her lip. It was crazy that just a bit of spice could reduce a man of his size to a pathetic puddle.

He sniffled, burping again, the sound echoing in the bowl, then clumsily reached for the flush, putting his entire weight on it, "think... Think I'm done."

His voice was husky, scratchy thanks to all the acid.

"You sure?"

"No," Luke pressed his forehead to his forearm still resting on the toilet, "can I have some water, please?"

"Here," Bella reached behind her, near their laundry basket and grabbed the abandoned glass, keeping her hands over his in a concerned way since Luke was shaking so much.

He swished the water around, then spat it in the toilet and drank a small sip, blowing out a soft burp, "I'm fine now..." Luke rubbed a hand over his face, "Geez..."

Bella squinted at him, before nodding, "wanna take a shower? You're drenched with sweat."

"Uhm, yeah, help me up-" Luke moved at a snail's pace, wrapping an arm around his stomach, "never let me eat at the shelter again."

"Noted," Bella chuckled, hugging him close as Luke swayed and stripped down his pants. She tried to pull back, but he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, crushing the ginger to his chest and stepped back, pulling them both under the warm water spray, "Lucas!"

"Don't yell at me, I'm dying," Luke whined, hugging her closer and Bella sighed, rolling her eyes and sinking into his arms, despite the water sipping through her shirt and pants.

[theapothecaryshop]

🌊 Summer prompt list 🌊

(TW : emetophobia)

Character overindulging on ice cream

Heat exhaustion (which can lead to nausea and throwing up)

For those who like water inflation, all types of scenarios in swimming pools, or maybe a character filling a kiddie pool with a garden hose and ... filling their stomach too (after all, we love a character lying on a deckchair with a big, sloshy tummy all rounded and full of water)

A character invited to a pool party but who ends up so overstuffed that they can't even swim, all they can do is comically float on their back with their overfed tummy bulging

Or just a character being so hot they chug water all day

Summer is also the time for fun fairs, so cotton candy, ice cream, churros, and, if you feel like torturing your character, a rollercoaster ride after all of this. No doubt their belly filled with greasy, sugary food will love being flipped back and forth. Or maybe they could just spend their day mindlessly eating, too caght up in the festive ambiance to realise they're beyond full, and they seating down for a minute and realise just how full and bloated they are

If you're up to WG scenarios, well, no doubt a social character will love to take advantage of the holidays to go through a serie of barbecues, cocktails, and ice creams, each time with a different friend of course, and they're happy to enjoy the good company and good food until they realise it all clung to their midsection

Stay safe and take care !

(You can use these prompts as you want but mentions/reblogs are appreciated.)

[housecow]

What kind of content should we expect from the videos? Would love to see some stuffing content for the longer videos.

that’s definitely an option!! gonna be real though… i like to savor my food when im eating and it can take me hours to finish, lol!! doesn’t make for a great video!!

that being said, sometimes i can’t help myself and it happens anyways—i’ll make sure to film next time 🤭

more belly play for sure, though, and talking as well. i’m hoping to get more angles and maybe some pumping stuff since i’m gonna get back on track with that… i’m open to all suggestions, however!! sometimes i just forget what’s possible haha

[nightmarekilljoy]

Never thought this would happen but thought that this was my normal up until last year. I thought it was my normal that mild infections sent me to the hospital. I thought it was my normal to have me struggle with digestion, going to the bathroom, eating (not in an ed sort of way), cramps, back pain, joint pain, bone pain, nose bleeds, dizziness, nausea, bladder pain, tinnitus, hand tremors, near fainting experiences, fainting, bleeding, shooting pain, stabbing pain, weak legs, malabsorption, abnormal blood test.

No. Its not normal. It should not be normal.

I am angry.

I am angry at everyone who told me to just exercise, to just eat healthy, to just drink tea, to just try yoga, to just try anything that has never helped me.

I am angry at every misdiagnosis. At every hospital visit spent in pain while doctors did nothing to prevent that pain. At every doctor that said I was too young. At every doctor that dismissed even the concerns of my mother who knew my problems since birth. At every hospital stay spent in pain and without conclusive diagnosis.

I am angry at every family member who called me an attention seeker, who told me my pain was all in my head, who told me my pain was only minor and that everyone else's pain is more important because they're older and I'm young and don't know anything.

I am angry. Terribly angry. It takes too long to be taken seriously and to get a diagnosis. My pain shouldn't last this long. I should have got treatment as a child. I should have been treated.

Its not normal to be in pain every day. Please take care of yourselves.

-Amber (she/they/it/star/shine/rot)