There’s just something about a cute boy with a bloated tummy that drives me absolutely insane. Especially if he’s normally lean—flat stomach, toned muscles—but now, his belly is swollen and round, stretched tight from overeating or an upset stomach. The contrast is just so good.
Like, imagine him sprawled out on the couch, shirt barely covering the curve of his belly, one hand resting on it as he groans dramatically. He’s all grumpy about it, maybe a little embarrassed, shifting uncomfortably because he never gets like this, but his tummy just hurts. And, god, I love it.
I’d be right there, pressing my cheek against his swollen stomach, feeling the warmth of his skin and the deep, sluggish gurgles beneath my ear. He’d grumble at first, maybe try to shove me away, but I’d just giggle and nuzzle into him more.
“You’re so cute like this,” I’d tease, poking gently at his belly, watching the way it gives just slightly under my fingertips. He’d swat at my hand with a lazy glare, but there’d be a pink dusting on his cheeks because he secretly loves the attention.
And then, when I start rubbing slow, careful circles over his stomach, his whole body would just melt. A soft sigh, his head tilting back, maybe even a little moan slipping out as he relaxes completely under my touch.
“Mmm… that feels good,” he’d murmur, fingers slipping into my hair as he absentmindedly plays with it, his other hand still resting on his bloated belly.
I’d press a little kiss to his stomach, grinning. “Told you I’d make you feel better.”
God, I need a boyfriend who actually wants me to rub his belly. Someone who likes it when I play with his tummy, even when he’s feeling all gross and miserable. Someone who lets me press soft kisses to his aching belly and doesn’t complain when I rest my head there, listening to every sluggish gurgle as he runs his fingers through my hair.
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