#slosh

My stomach is so full and big I need to get these pants off it 🥵

Cum rub my big, aching, throbbing belly before I burst open 😩

You can hear my big, full, engorged belly sloshing in sweet bloated agony 😩

Oof my stomach is so big and full and bloated 🥵 imagine your hands pressing into my tight, round, swollen belly as I moan in painful bliss 💦 this belly is so full I’m gonna burst 💥

I went out for dinner and got a family sized meal for just myself! Tons of appetizers, two platters of seafood full of shrimp and scallops, and then a 40oz lamb shoulder to top it all off. Normally the shoulder is to share for an entire table! The waitress was in disbelief when she showed up my plate was just bones and the whole thing was in my belly haha.

When I got home I wasn’t stuffed enough, so I ate 18 dumplings and four chicken legs. On top of that I drank 2L of water. You can hear the water splashing into my bulging stomach. There are also some burps and belly slaps here for your guys!

Josh Russo/Sal DeLuca | Rated: T | Chapter Three

Summary: Love is gentle. Love is kind.

...but sometimes love is snarky, wrong-footed, and sneaks up on you like a MF.

Guess which time this one is?

Chapter Three Excerpt:

i love these boysssss. sal/josh for you, always dearie. enjoy! 🥰

find the game here/answered asks so far/find me on ao3

Nothing makes Sal’s heart race like that laugh of Josh’s – the one that erupts unexpectedly whenever Sal manages to yank it out of him.

Josh is always dry, sharp in a way that makes Sal’s chest puff with pride, and way hotter than he gives himself credit for. But the thrill of turning the tables, of catching him off guard with something that makes him laugh – really laugh – that’s the sweet spot.

It’s easy to rile him up, to tease him until that cute frown creeps onto his face and he shoots Sal a look that makes him want to drop to his knees. But making Josh laugh? That took time.

It was part of the reason he felt so drawn to him. Josh had wormed his way into Sal’s brain and heart unexpectedly after months of back-and-forth via radio that had other captains prodding and teasing Sal between budget meetings and emergencies.

Finally, someone on Sal’s crew yelled over blaring sirens as they drove through L.A., teasing with an offer Sal couldn’t refuse. Nor did he want to. “I’ve got five bucks that Cap won’t ask out Russo before he gets written up by the brass for using the radio inappropriately.”

Sal had been happy to lose that bet. It didn’t take much for him to ask to pull over on the way back to the station, jog up the stairs at dispatch, and burst through the doors like a man on a mission. “Give me your number,” he’d said without hesitation. “I’ll pick you up tonight.”

Josh had smirked, eyes bright as he wrote it down, shouting after him when Sal left through the doors he arrived in, “About time, Sir.”

Sal couldn’t help but smile at the memory, heat creeping through him and settling in his gut and into his chest.

And now, after a lazy Sunday brunch with Buck and Tommy, Josh is filling the air once again with that laugh. Full-throated and giddy over a joke Sal made, and Sal can’t help the ridiculously stupid smile that grows across his cheeks.

As they climb the front steps, they’re focused on one another. Josh hangs on Sal’s arm like he hangs on his every word, and Sal’s lost in the magical melody of Josh’s laughter and the sparkle in his eye.

So focused on one another, in fact, that Josh doesn’t notice the gap between the top step and the door, and before Sal can react, Josh trips. He falls face-first into the wood with a graceless thud, knees buckling under him.

Sal’s chuckle dies quickly as he rushes forward, three deep in mimosas that cloud his reflexes, but his heart leaps into his throat when he sees the blood pooling onto the pavement from Josh’s nose.

“Josh!” Sal kneels beside him, palm spread across Josh’s shoulder blades as he leans in to assess the damage.

Josh’s eyes are shut tight, a hand pressed to his nose, where blood oozes freely. Pain and annoyance flicker over his face, but he puts his hand up to reassure Sal.

“I’m okay,” he mutters, voice muffled. “God, when did we put that there?”

Sal glances up at the door, snorting. “The door? Babe, hate to say it, but that’s been there for a minute.”

Josh shakes his head, blinking his eyes against the brightness of the summer sun as he steadies himself. “Gross,” he grumbles, staring at the bloody asphalt beneath him, frown twisting in disgust.

“Come on,” Sal says, pulling Josh up gently by his elbow. He makes sure Josh is steady on his feet before fishing the keys from his pocket, unlocking the door and leading him inside.

Sal steers Josh clumsily over to the kitchen table where he slumps into a chair, heavy and defeated.

“I’ll get some ice and stuff. Hang on,” Sal says, moving quickly to grab a first aid kit from the linen closet and an ice pack from the freezer. He nabs the box of Kleenex and tosses it out onto the table before settling himself next to his boyfriend. “Come here.”

Josh is still holding his nose, slumped forward, blood dripping down his shirt. “Man,” he groans, consonants clogged by his injury. “I really liked this shirt.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Sal assures him with a wink.

He pulls Josh’s hand gently away from his nose and can’t help the hiss of pain that erupts in empathy. Purples and blues are already blooming along the bridge of his nose, and his eyes are rimmed with red – though whether its from champagne, pain, or injury its too soon to tell.

When Sal makes a move to touch him, Josh recoils, grabbing Sal’s wrist before it lands on his fragile, bruised skin. “What are you doing?”

“I need to check if it’s broken,” he explains, voice low. Sal breaks free from his grip easily, but pulls Josh’s hand in, offering a soft kiss to his palm. “I’ll be gentle.”

“Gentle’s never been a word to describe you, Sally,” Josh teases weakly.

Sal smirks and leans in, his fingers tracing the bold line of Josh’s nose, brushing across his cheeks and down to his jaw. Josh inhales sharply, flinching a couple of times, but he stays still, enduring Sal’s assessment without much complaint.

“Doesn’t seem like anything’s broken,” Sal says finally before reaching for a few antiseptic wipes. He carefully cleans the marks of Josh’s battle with the entryway.

Josh frowns, his adorable pout threading between Sal’s heartbeats. “How’s it look?”

Sal pauses for a moment, his gaze lingering on Josh’s face. The rich mahogany of his eyes. The soft pink of his lips. The little dimples pressing into his cheeks. “You’re perfect.”

Josh rolls his eyes, “Sal, stop. I’m not fishing here – I’m gonna have to explain this to people. What am I supposed to say?”

Sal chuckles, planting a fond kiss on Josh’s pout before pressing the ice pack to his face. “Tell them you were defending my honor.”

“Nobody will believe that, hon.” Josh huffs and adds “I think it’s safe to say this is Buck’s fault.”

Sal raises an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“If he didn’t get that second bottle of champagne, I wouldn’t have tripped.”

Sal nods and stands, pressing another kiss to Josh’s temple before offering his hand. They make their way to the couch where Sal deposits Tylenol into Josh’s palm along with a glass of water. He tugs Josh into his side where he melts easily into his chest, and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s always Buck’s fault,” Sal says, flicking on the TV and finding The Bachelor to cheer up Josh – and frankly Sal is invested in this season, he hopes Dimples gets booted and Freckles gets a rose this week.

Josh snuggles in closer but winces as his bruises protest. “Ow,” he whines, and Sal kisses him again, holding the ice pack steady, wrapping a blanket over Josh’s legs. “Stupid door.”