Tummy Hunter

Character B checking A’s temperature with one hand on the forehead and the other on the side of a distended belly.

A being tucked up in bed, wearing the soft clothes that are usually reserved for sick days because they’re breathable. But with A being so stuffed, the normally big shirt is snug and riding up on A’s belly and the elastic of their pants slips down under the swollen curve.

Hot, fever-flushed cheeks and heavy breaths that have A’s belly heaving up and down.

Yes! I love seeing it.

Bonus points for any self-soothing belly rub action, watching them slip a hand under their shirt (hehe, if you’re lucky this is when you might be able to spot a little bit of belly bloat sticking out) and wince as they weakly try to massage out the waves of sickness rolling through their guts.

After a romantic night out, you awake next to your boyfriend. He's curled on his side, nursing an increasingly upset stomach. He's been a little off for the last few days, and you're going to get to the bottom of what's going on. One way for another.

Giving them little kisses all over their blushed pudgy cheeks, still massaging their taut belly as you feel their body start to loosen up and sink heavily into your lap and against your body

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.