since this is a sideblog, i won't be following back/liking. otherwise, i am willing to interact! (if you figure out who i am, no you didn't! <3)
i won't be open to dms at the moment since i'm not that comfortable just yet
in any case, all post engagements and asks are welcome and appreciated
in my blog, you'll find reblogs of text posts, fics, videos, audio, and art/fanart. i also hope to make more original posts and fics (tagged: #sickiestars).
â what you can expect to find here:
literally anything to do with gastrointestinal issues (bloating, stuffing, stomachaches, stomach noises, burping, vomiting, farting, scat)
â things i am not into:
noncon, bursting
Summary: Set between the events of RE 9 and RE8 village where Leon and Chris finally get some time to themselves to hang out
Leonâs body wasnât in the best shape, truthfully, hadnât been for years, but heâd like to think that after at least a few years or so sober, his body had started healing to some degree.
Hangovers were never pretty, but this time while he stumbles into awareness and wakefulness he realizes that he doesnât feel hung over.
Being hung over carried a distinctive feeling Leon knew like the back of his hand, especially with how much it felt like it mocked him.
The pounding headaches the taste of regret that would soak his body so thoroughly when it was cloaked with sweat that smelled of whisky.
Yeah he was used to it. Which is why he knows that this feeling, the one that greets him upon opening his eyes this time is different.
He lays there for a moment the world a tad hazy around him as his hand wanders upward to rest on his belly.
It was bareâŠno shirtâŠ
Ah right it took him a second to remember but he realized that he was home in bed. And from the darkness in his bedroom it was still nighttime.
Leon sighed leaning his head back although he scowled when he noticed that he felt a bit strange.
Not exactly bad, kinda queasy which wasnât surprising considering heâd gone to a bar with Chris to hang out and just play darts and pool.
Leon had abstained from drinking that night but with excitement and happiness in the air he hadnât realized how much food he wound up gorging himself on.
Pretzels, pizzas, chips, hot wings, the works really. Then again, with how busy he was, such a luxury that was peaceful free time available for him to hang out with friends was worth feeling like a beached whale for a bit.
By the end of the night heâd been sluggish and exhausted but also packed full in a strangely nice way. All the food becoming a comfortable mass in his gut before he passed out in bed once he got home.
That had been a few hours ago however when heâd woken up now it had been to that same mass of food sitting heavily in his belly as it actively gurgled and growled noisily around it.
Beneath his hand he noticed how tight his stomach was, having domed out beneath his fingers as it gurgled like a bubbling pot. Not to mention the heaviness as well as if someone had placed rocks in his gut.
He flinched, giving a soft hiss when a loud hiccup slipped from between his slightly parted lip.
The sickening heaviness in his gut seemed as if it wouldnât leave him alone and he grimaced when his fingers pressed on a section of his bloated gut that had a harsh ache rolling through his body.
It stabbed at his core with cold precision before blooming outwards in a way that stole his breath.
âShitâŠâ Leon whispered to himself clutching a bit tighter at his stomach.
For a moment he closed his eyes, swallowing when that cold slimy queasiness that had been hiding in the background since he woke up seemed to swiftly rise swelling like an ocean wave.
Nausea rolled through his belly like a storm clouds over the ocean, Leon gave another thick swallow when his stomach made an almost unhappy burbling noise.
That wasnât goodâŠnot at all.
A gurgling belch rolled out of his mouth from the near deepest pits of his stomach, the noise leaving his throat stinging and the sour taste of something spoiled in the back of his throat.
The realization has Leon cursing softly, of course the one time in a few months he had the chance for time off and took it he got food poisoning. It was just his luck.
Another shuddering breath leaves his lips as his gut roils, the mass of food that refused to break down and digest feeling as though a boulder were being pushed up a hill.
Leon shivers slightly when the cold air gently brushes across his clammy sweat covered skin.
He opens one eye gaze going to the bathroom door and then a nearby trash can across the room.
He finds his hand on his stomach once more attempting to slow down what would inevitably have to happen.
He closed his eyes against another swell of nausea that rolled through him tugging a soft whimper from his lips.
His adams apple bobs in his throat at another particular wet swallow as he seemed to be fighting the inevitable with tooth and nail especially when his stomach lurched slightly beneath his hand.
A tinge of stinging stomach acid splashed at the back of his throat, hot, sour and slimy.
Leonâs other hand comes up to cover his own mouth when the retaste of the tainted food in his gut makes him gag. His body lurches forward with a retch immediately afterwards as he grips the edge of the bed with one hand trying to swallow back the coppery tasty pools of salvia rapidly filling his mouth.
He managed to sit up on the edge of the bed, and the sudden change of gravity leaves him reeling eyes fluttering for a moment as a dizzying nausea grips him so tightly it leaves him disoriented.
A low nauseated groan slips from his mouth as he sways in place, his breathing ragged. He hears his belly give a sickly growling noise like a pop of water giving one last time before it overflows.
The first retch has him lurching forward to the point he nearly slides off the bed, as thick paste like vomit coats the hand he still had pressed over his mouth spraying through the cracks between his fingers before splattering on the hardwood floor.
He shuddered in disgust cringing as he quickly lowered his hand trying to ignore the slimy, oatmeal like sensation of his own stomach contents slipping between his fingers.
It was almost searing hot and absolutely vile.
For a second Leon sits there panting and swallowing rapidly, eyes glassy with unshed tears.
But he canât move even though heâs attempting to will his body to at least try stumbling to the trash can, itâs almost like it was locked up.
As another wave of violent nausea rolls over him, cold and slimy as it curls around his gut within the very pits of it leaving goosebumps on his arms.
He groans resigning himself to his fate as he shakily manages to lean forward just a bit more when hiccups began jolting his stomach, each one growing increasingly wet before a long, heavy burp rolled out of him reeking of nothing but sickness and nausea that left more of that thick lumpy beige vomiting spewing from his lips.
It splattered heavily on the floor, almost in a congealed pile, what pieces of food that had been off when heâd gorged himself on them at the bar seemed as if they hadnât even tried to digest.
Shaking, groaning loudly and shivering Leon manages to slide from the edge of the bed, to his hands and knees on the floor over the mess. Tendrils of drool drip lazily from his mouth adding a glossy sheen to the congealed vomit on the floor.
Leon wrapped an arm around his stomach, his blue eyes squeezed closed and tears clinging to his lashes as he does his best to ride with the nausea, not fight it.
He knows that giving in is the best way to make it stop, he knows that getting it out of him is probably the best course of action considering the food was tainted and a lost cause but fuck if he doesnât hate it.
Itâs not even the lost of control that was the issue, but more so that it felt like life was ready to kick him down the stairs at every corner. A punishment for his own survival.
Leon began coughing curling into a ball when it felt like a vice grip was squeezing his stomach, his face draining of color even more.
He hears a voice at least he thinks he does forcing his eyes open to see Chris approaching from the living room where heâs passed out on the sofa asleep earlier at first the other looked half asleep until he saw the mess on the floor and the state Leon was in.
âWoah! Shit okay,â The other man approached rather quickly crouching down beside Leon. His hands reached out hesitantly pausing only for a moment before resting his hand on the otherâs back.
Despite his current state of misery Leon squinted up at Chris before managing to speak. âHowâŠthe hell are you fine?â He moaned his throat working as he swallowed convulsively. As if that would stop his stomach from aching like a balloon long overfilled and churning like a mixing bowl at full blasted.
Chris gave a soft chuckle. âCan handle anything after eating the stuff Claire made when we were kids.â
Leon gave a sickly groan leaning forward when he gagged threads of bile dripping from his lips, still trying to keep the mess in one place.
Chris cringed, his eyes roving over Leon for a moment assessing him, the heavily glazed look in the otherâs eyes, the way his breathing was coming out in ragged panting accompanied by wet swallows as the drool trickling from his lips seemed to speed up.
Leonâs back arched beneath Chrisâs hand as the other went to the manâs bangs holding them back for him, somewhere in very distant back of his mind Chris thinks something about all this, the way Leon looks feels kinda right although he ignores that thought more focused on helping the other.
Leon whimpered a high pitched broken noise much like a kicked dog, a he shivered limbs shaking as he found himself leaning into Chrisâs touch. Grounding. It felt nice really nice.
âThink your done,â Chris asked after a moment even though Leonâs condition seemed about the same.
The other, as if to answer him, gives a rumbling thick belch that seems to come up from the bit of his stomach.
The sound reeking of sheer nausea and stomach acid before throwing up one final wave that splattered onto the floor.
Itâs thick, much like paste or batter that hadnât been mixed properly, a clear sign of the tainted food thatâd refused to digest and settle in his gut.Â
Leon groaned loudly and Chris catches him when the otherâs shaking limbs just about collapse under him.
He lets Leon lean back against him panting, glassy blue eyes filled with unshed tears as his body trembled from exertion.
âStomach hates meâŠâ Leon mumbled as he simply laid there trying to get his bearings.
Chris gives an amused snort as he holds him his thumb carefully rubbingÂ
gentle soothing circles into the side of Leonâs neck, fingers passing over his pulse occasionally.Â
It was too fast which made sense considering things didnât make the worry Chris felt for the other any less prominent though.
âYou need some electrolytes, think you can move? Or y'know want me to go get them?â Chris asked after a few moments of Leon simply laying in his arms, eyes closed.
Leon cracked his eyes open a bit his hand pausing in the middle of rubbing his own stomach as the color drained from his face at the thought of sticking anything in it right now. Heâs quick to cover his mouth with his other hand shaking his head after a soft choked gag managed to leave his lips.
âNot yet,â he mumbled, eventually closing his eyes again but opened them glancing up questioningly when he felt Chrisâs hand on his forehead.
âYou feel warm,â Chris sighed to which Leon rolled his eyes at his bodyâs attempts to kill him.
âJustâŠstay here for a bit. Donât wanna move yet,â Leon murmured softly, feeling the adrenaline rush seeping away from his body leaving only the cold and exhaustion.
A feeling Leon was admittedly used to considering his work but it was no less harsh on him especially as he aged.
âAnd to think when I asked if you wanted me to stay the night you spoke like a husky,â Chris couldnât help but tease Leon a bit for being dramatic earlier that night when heâd come over to continue their outing when they left the bar.
Leon opened one eye a bit as he looked at Chris, âKeeping the carpet clean is a nightmare.âÂ
To which Chris laughed a bit before falling silent knowing Leon needed a bit of rest before wanting to be moved right now.
Thank you so much for the feedback/activity, guys, this was unexpected đ„șâš
So today there will be a sketch featuring this magnificent man I managed to pull. Now all I can think about is him and his addiction to feasts, and, well... what that entails later on lol
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At this rate, I might actually start making comissions if there's demand for it đ«Łđ«Łđ«Ł
thinking about v.arka who's sooo eager to drink with everyone back home that he starts losing count of how many glasses he already drank. he lets out some burps here and there, up until one sounds dangerously wet.
and that's your cue to excuse yourselves as you drag him outside, not wanting to add to d.iluc's exasperation from having to clean up random puddles of vomit inside angel's share.
he whines at how fast you force him to stumble outside, and you almost think he's about to throw up on the cobblestone when he belches again. yet, he doesn't, groaning and quietly pleading for everything to stay down.
v.arka leans against the wall of the tavern, catching his breath, punctuated by some hiccups and burps. you're a little relieved that there's no one outside to see the grand master in this state.
"arghhhh," he says, pulling on your arm.
"what?" you give him an amused look. "i told you to watch yourself tonight."
"please...my stomach."
"what about it?"
"feel sick," he responds with a pout. "help meee..."
"v.arka, you're going to be the death of me," you sigh, but a grin remains on your lips.
giving a quick glance around, you guide him to a nearby alleyway, where you're sure no one would easily find you both. at this point, you're not returning to angel's share (though, you wonder if your beloved even realizes that in this state).
"why're we-" he cuts himself off, attempting to stifle a sickly belch. "-here?"
"you wanted me to help you, remember?"
"hmmmm- hic-"
you make quick work of unbuckling his belt, face flushing when you see how the waistband of his pants dig into his bloated midsection. your fingers brush against his stomach (dig into it, even), when v.arka shifts against the wall he was leaning against.
with a button undone and a quick unzip, you're halfway there. varka already groans a little from the pressure, and you watch as his stomach contracts as he hiccups again.
"ohh, hohoho, that's so much- mmrp- better."
"i'm glad."
next was his black button-up. you swear this guy had a death wish for you. the one time you tell him you think he looked good in it? he started wearing it almost all the time, buying more shirts that fit the style.
the deep v-neck was one thing, and now...you're looking at a column of buttons that are hanging on to their last threads. the heat on your face can no longer be ignored.
you're caught between wanting to take your sweet time or just ripping his shirt off. your fingers fumble a little, as you switch between attempts to do both at the same time.
v.arka just lets out another hiccup-burp when you finish unbuttoning just enough for the pressure on his stomach to be relieved. he sighs, a sign that you did exactly what he needed.
well, almost.
"that's-" he brings a fist to his mouth. "hmp- so much better. can you work your magic again? pleaaaaase?"
"belly rubs, huh?"
"mmm. didn't have- mmph- anyone on the expedition to do it for me."
you nearly laugh at his whining. "okay, big guy."
you put both your hands on his distended stomach, then he places his hands on top of yours. "here," he tells you, pushing down lightly to tell you what he wants.
"okay, okay."
you do as he asks, and you're sure it's muscle memory, how easy it is to do this despite long months of not having the chance to.
"that's it. you're-" a crass belch escapes his mouth, but at least he doesn't look or sound so sickly. "that's the spot."
he squeezes your hands gently, urging you to continue bringing him relief. and jeez, you can only wonder how much this guy's got in him.
at some point, though, you watch his balance falter. you step forward to steady him, and that's when you realize the droopy eyes and dazed smile.
Darling, gratification, contradiction, and devastation
Trey Clover x reader
Your boyfriend prepares a full-course meal for you.
đ Feederism Trey, TW: EMETO/VOMITING, reader is mentioned to have problems with eating, reader forcing themselves to eat more than they can take, unrealistic/instant weight gain, fat fetish, OOC warning, it's all a bad dream.
ââ This fic contains explicit, physical weight gain, body talk (specifically the stomach/belly), descriptions of food, eating issues, and overeating. Reader throws up at the end. If this is not your thing, please skip this post.
Please be careful!
The air was filled with the comforting scent of food. Trey had prepared a feast for you after you confessed to him that sometimes you didn't have the energy to eat, going so far as only to have one meal for an entire day every now and then. You saw the way it made your significant other displeased and incredibly worried for you. Considering how deeply intertwined food is in his life, he mustâve been wounded to hear that you were hardly eating. You can tell that tonight, he made it his mission to give you a good, hearty meal.Â
Youâre faced with an array of food that couldn't possibly just be for one person. An irresistible and flavorful looking hamburger steak with mushroom gravy and a side of creamy, buttery mashed potato, a serving of fettuccine in tomato sauce full of juicy tomatoes, chopped garlic, and fresh herbs, and a vibrant salad with mixed greens, fresh strawberries, candied walnuts, and honey balsamic dressing. Thereâs a pitcher of iced tea on the side, and Trey offers to fill up your glass.
"Trey, this is... a lot," you whimper slightly. Itâs all so mouthwatering, and he could tell by your expression that you were looking forward to this. Trey gives a soft chuckle at your reaction, a warm smile on his face. He had spent quite a while trying to figure out a menu that would tempt you to eat more, and it seemed like he had succeeded.
"I know you've been skipping a lot of meals," he replies in an understanding tone. "You really need to start taking better care of yourself. Eating properly is very important, you know."
His voice is warm and sweet, yet it feels like itâs laced with something darker underneath. Could it be the dimness of the room? The only source of light where youâre sitting is above the dining table, as if shining a spotlight on the feast. It might be the way Trey is dressed in a black and red chef uniform adorned with gold ornaments and accessories. It looks regal and gives him an air of authority. Could it be a Heartslabyul uniform that you have never seen before? You had already asked him this when he led you here earlier, and he said he wouldnât miss out on dressing for the occasion.
"Yeah, but... It didnâ't have to be so formal, haha. This is amazing, but I don't know if I can finish all this. My stomach might've shrunk these days," you fidget with the edge of the white tablecloth, unsure of what to make of your loverâs efforts.
Trey tilted his head slightly, the warm light catching the small clover-shaped mark on his cheek. His soft hazel eyes gleamed behind his glasses. He leaned back just enough to smile fully, the kind that said he was patient and utterly certain youâd eat every bite.
"Try your best to eat as much as you can," he reaches towards you and tilts your face towards him with his gloved hand. He gently caresses your cheek, and you find yourself leaning into his warm touch. "It would make me happy if you could eat until youâre full tonight. If you need help finishing it off, just let me know."
Youâre reassured by the words of your boyfriend. The mental image of him sitting down and helping you finish what you canât gives you a warm feeling. You can feel the love he put into these dishes, and youâre sure it will make them taste infinitely better. With a smile, you intend to start with the salad.
You look at the utensils prepared around your plate. A fork, a spoon, and a knife, nothing too fancy. "No rules about utensils around here? Iâm glad itâs not going to be a problem for me tonight," you laugh lightly, and he immediately understands. "This isnât a completely âfine diningâ experience," he chuckles. "I just wanted to treat you for tonight."
You look at him head to toe, wanting to ask again what was with the getup before giving him a slight smirk. "If I wanted a convoluted dining experience, I wouldâve gone to Mostro Lounge, I suppose," you tease, wanting to see his reaction. To your satisfaction, you catch the way his eye twitches slightly when he just laughs off your comment. "Good thing Iâm the one feeding you tonight, then."Â
The funny thing is that itâs not even like that at the lounge from the few times youâve been there. You donât know if Trey would know that, though. You just wanted to see how heâd react to you mentioning another manâs dishes in front of his home-cooked meals.
Onto the appetizer. You pierce the salad with your fork and lift the pieces you caught into your open mouth.
The lettuce and other leafy greens are crisp, providing a satisfying crunch with each bite. You were curious about the addition of fresh strawberry slices, but you find that it fits someone like Trey to add these, and you take another bite of the mixed greens with the other toppings. They add a burst of tangy and sweet flavor to the whole thing while reminding you of your lover. The candied walnuts give a nutty texture that complements the other ingredients, and the honey balsamic dressing ties everything together, adding a subtle acidic taste.Â
The salad was an amazing starter, enough to whet your appetite and prepare you for the main course now that you were stimulated. You turn your attention back to Trey. He's still watching you closely, a small smile playing on his lips.
"So," he prompts softly, his voice gentle and warm. "How was the salad? Did you enjoy it?" He leans forward slightly. His eyes never leave your face, waiting for you to answer. "I didn't expect the ingredients to go so well together," you giggle slightly. "You grew these strawberries yourself, right? You talked about it once."
Trey's smile widens at your praise, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. He takes great joy in your appreciation for his hard work. "Yeah, I did grow them myself," he affirms, his tone filled with a sense of satisfaction. He looks pleased you remember that detail about him as well. "Itâs usually for the tarts, but this one time, I went out with my family last summer, the restaurant we were in served a salad just like this one. I wanted to make it myself."Â
He pauses for a moment, as if considering his next choice of words. âIâm glad youâre the first person to try it.â
Your face heats up at his comment, and you donât know what to reply. To show your appreciation for his efforts, you donât want to waste any more time getting to the main course. You pick up the knife and start slicing away a piece of the burger steak.
"Whatâs next, you butchered the cow yourself?"
Trey lets out a hearty laugh, not expecting such a comment. He finds your banter rather endearing. "Now, thatâs out of my scope. Do you suppose I would, for you?" He leans back in his seat, watching you take your first bite of the hamburger steak.
You hold back from asking if heâd kill for you.
The burger steak is cooked to perfection and has a pleasant crispiness and a savory aroma. The meat is juicy and tender, and the mushroom gravy adds a rich and earthy flavor, complementing the steak nicely. You take another bite, another, then another. It felt like filling a void in you that youâve been neglecting for so long. If it werenât for Trey, your lack of food for days on end wouldâve consumed you instead. His cooking satisfies your hunger and your sense of dependence on him.Â
You take a spoonful of the mashed potato, creamy and buttery, with the perfect hint of garlic and salt. It pairs perfectly with the meat. You twirl your fork around the pasta in the tomato sauce. Itâs cooked al dente and has a delicious, tangy taste. The savory flavors mix pleasantly together. Your stomach begins to feel heavier, and your clothes lightly press against your abdomen. The growing fullness was becoming addictive without you realizing it, even though you had a vague feeling you were eating more than usual.Â
Trey's gaze is fixed on you. His eyes follow every subtle movement you make, every slight change in your expression, and every bite you take. His eyes darken ever so slightly, like heâs savoring not just your pleasure, but the slow, sweet surrender of your resistance. The way youâre devouring everything he made... it thrills him. There's just something so pleasing about watching you eat, especially when he's the one who made the food. The way your lips part and close around the utensils, the way your eyes light up with every new flavor, the way you seem to savor every morsel. He can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction and pride from you eating what he specially prepared for you, and you only, and itâs only the beginning.
"I'm glad it's to your liking," he murmurs, voice low and tender. "I made sure every bite would be worth it for you, all so you could have something good tonight."
He leans in a little closer, his voice softening like a secret.
"When you feel like you barely have the energy to prepare a meal, order anything, or even get out of bedâŠ" His hand gently tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear.Â
"Just come to me, okay? Iâll always make sure youâre fed."
Fed, taken care of, and loved. You feel warmed up by the statement. Not knowing what to reply to it except for thanks, you take a sip of the iced tea between bites, the sweetness carrying a refreshing note that energizes you for another mouthful. He's aware of the power he has over you right now, with your reliance on his cooking and your vulnerability with your eating habits.Â
It's a power that he's going to milk.
Youâre almost done with the whole plate, just a few more bites. Each one felt like a gift from your loving boyfriend. You donât mind the way your belly is now distended, gently protruding outward from each nourishing mouthful, whether itâs the mashed potato, the pasta, or the burger steak. Trey lets out a short exhale of quiet satisfaction as you near the end of your meal. He watches the final bites disappear with admiration for you, imagining the way your body would look if you ate plenty of filling meals every day, especially if he was the one feeding you.
"You did so well," he chuckles softly as you scrape the plate with your spoon and lick it clean. "I knew you could do it," Trey murmurs, his voice warm and sweet but edged with something you canât quite place. He reaches over and gently wipes your lips and chin with a napkin. He brushes his own thumb against your lower lip. Is he checking for crumbs, or just savoring the touch? You gently kiss the pad of his finger, and he smiles.
His glasses glint under the dim light. "Thatâs one plate down, so many more to go."
âŠHm?
You were about to ask him what he meant by more plates to go, but Trey had disappeared to somewhere behind you. When he comes back, he returns with the sound of squeaky wheels. He returns to your side with a serving cart full of a myriad of desserts. You look at him, even more confused, but somehow not against it. You would still have space for dessert, of course, but this much...?
"Uh, Trey...?" You squeak hesitantly.
Trey smiles at your confused yet curious expression, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischievous delight. "Don't look so surprised," he replies, pushing the cart closer to you. "I know you still have room for more. I wouldn't be a good host if I didn't offer you dessert after a good meal, right?" The cart is indeed laden with a vast array of delectable sweets, and the number of options seems almost dizzying. Of course, it wouldn't be Trey if there wasn't any dessert. He takes note of your reaction, clearly enjoying himself.
A chocolate cake topped with a luscious ganache drizzle, a mini red velvet cake with layers of thick cream cheese, a raspberry cheesecake with a delicate graham crust and silky raspberry sauce, freshly baked cream puffs with each pastry shell filled with vanilla cream and dusted with powdered sugar, soft and creamy puddings in individual cups adorned with fresh fruits, and glossy and enticing chocolate-dipped strawberries. Thereâs so much more than you can count that the rest blur in together with each other, like a mountain of whipped cream and fruits.
"This couldnât possibly be all for me," you stutter nervously. The stretch of your abdomen suddenly feels a lot more noticeable to you now, and you feel conscious about the way your clothes feel tight around your waistline, how heavy your body feels⊠Thought instead of discomfort, it almost made you feel secure and warm and deeply loved, somehow.
Trey leans forward, his warm hazel eyes lock onto yours. A soft smile plays at his lips, but thereâs a quiet intensity behind it, something almost reverent.
"Of course," he says gently. "You think Iâd go through all this trouble and not expect you to eat every last bite? I know how much youâve been denying yourself⊠skipping meals, forgetting to eatâŠ" Â
His voice drops lower, tender, but firm. "So tonight isnât just about feeding you. Itâs about reclaiming what was lost." He pushes the cart slightly closer with one hand while lifting a cream puff with the other.
"Start with this," he coos. "Just one more bite at a time. Thatâs all I ask." His smile deepens, sweet and possessive. How could you possibly say no?
You part your lips obediently and take a bite out of the cream puff. You pick it from his hand with yours and put the rest in your mouth. Something white and fluffy strays onto the edge of your lips, and he canât help but smirk faintly. Without a word, he gently wipes the cream away with his thumb. You instinctively lick his finger clean, and it lingers against your lips just a little bit longer than necessary before he puts his hand away.
You watch him put away the plate that you had been eating from along with the utensils, and he replaces it with a clean plate as well as a new spoon and fork. He glances at the new plate settled in front of you. It was almost expectant, like a blank page waiting to be filled. "You're doing so well," Trey says softly, placing the slice of chocolate cake before you. The rich aroma of dark chocolate wafts up, decadent and impossible to resist.
"I baked this thinking about you, wondering how your lips would look stained with chocolate," he coaxes, his voice velvet and warm. Trey leans in slightly, his eyes half-lidded.
"Eat it all for me, every last crumb."
You take a bite and savor the flavor of the chocolate, immediately finding out there's cherry preserves spread between the two layers of the cake, much to your liking. The combination of rich, dark chocolate and the surprise burst of tart cherries has your taste buds singing. The soft chocolate cake gently slides down your throat, giving you a satisfied feeling each time. Trey is quietly delighted as he watches you chew, your expression melting into bliss. He observes the way your lips close around the tines of your fork and the way your eyes flicker shut in pleasure.Â
You finish the slice, and he can immediately tell that it wasnât enough for you. Your rational thoughts tell you that you should try the other desserts in the cart, but it seems like you and Trey want you to finish the cake in its entirety. It wasnât just about your appetite or your health, but also his love and care for you.Â
"Thatâs it, you like it, donât you?" Trey murmurs as he loads another slice on your plate. Itâs the same thing since dinner began: You eat, he watches. By the time youâre done with this one, you ask for something else this time. Trey's lips curl into a slow, delighted smile. He hums softly, scanning the sweets like a curator showing off his prized collection. Then, with deliberate care, he selects the red velvet cake topped with white cream cheese frosting and candied violets, one of his signature touches.
His fingers brush yours as he hands you the fork. "Youâre doing so well," he says softly.
Trey watches closely as you take a bite of the red velvet cake, observing the way your eyes light up slightly at the moist, fluffy texture, the new flavor, the way the cream filling melts in your mouth, the way the candied violets add a hint of sweet crunch. He waits, almost holding his breath, for your reaction. His eyes are fixated on your lips, watching you chew.
You love it. You love the way heâs prepared all these meals for you, the way he wants you to be full with his love, the way he wants you to live another day. The candied violet reminds you of him, reminds you of your home with him; it was a little flare that had his name written all over it. He wanted you to be thinking of him as much as possible. It filled the emptiness inside of you. Your stomach expands with each mouthful until you feel pressure in your abdomen and your undergarments begin to stretch. Unfortunately, you were starting to feel very full.
"Oh, Trey, I donât know how much more I can eatâŠ" You utter, your cheeks starting to feel spent from all the chewing.
Trey's gaze was intense, watching as your stomach began to stretch against your clothes, your eyes growing slightly wider with each bite. He can see the fullness beginning to take hold, filling out your frame until you begin to look more plump. For a brief moment, a flash of disappointment flickers across Trey's features, barely visible beneath the surface. He's been so immersed in feeding you, in watching your face light up with pleasure, in seeing the way your body starts to fill out... He snapped out of his trance when he heard youâve had enough.
"Are you starting to feel stuffed?" he asks, reaching over to gently touch your bloated midriff. You immediately whimper at the intrusive touch, but feeling Treyâs hand against your belly feels oddly comforting. Your panic dies down, and your blush deepens as he presses gently against your skin, gauging the resistance beneath his fingertips.Â
"Iâm not sure if I can take another biteâŠ" You whimper. His hand lingers on your belly for a moment, fingers gently massaging the swollen skin as you whimper. He can almost feel the stretch against your clothing, the pressure of all those calories beginning to show.
But despite your protests, despite your words pleading for him to let you stopâŠ
He just can't find it in himself to listen.
Trey reaches in and unbuttons and zips down your bottoms, causing your belly to flop out and round into view in all its fullness, the skin stretched taut with your overindulgence. You let out a squeak of surprise, but you immediately feel relief at the tension in your waist disappearing. He can't help but let out a slow breath at the sight, hinted with admiration.
"You look much better this way, donât you know?" He coos, his fingers gently tracing over the soft mounds of your bloated belly. "You were looking a bit thin lately. I knew Iâd be able to help⊠Iâm glad I did." His palm cups you possessively, feeling the weight of you grow heavier beneath his touch. "You can eat more now with this out of the way," Trey smiles comfortingly. You find yourself agreeing to his whims when he uses that warm, caring voice of his.
"Alright⊠G-Give me some more," you huff. Trey's eyes glimmer with something dark and satisfied as you agree. Your obedience is rewarded with a smile as he pushes another slice of cake over to you. This time itâs a tangy lemon meringue tart, the cream filling enriched with butter and a deep lemon flavor. Another bite. It just feels so natural now, to be filled up with food and filling out for him. You let out a small moan after you overstuffed your mouth with a little too much pie, struggling to get it all down your throat.Â
Trey watches your cheeks bulge, stuffed with rich cream and lemon curd, along with the pastry crumbling against your lips. He can practically see the fullness taking hold, rounding out your cheeks and bloating your belly. He lets out a quiet, indulgent hum as his lips curl into a sadistic smirk, seeing you struggle to take it all in.Â
"Uunh, TreyâŠ?" You groan with a hand over your mouth, starting to feel sick and all. The heartburn is settling in from how much sugar youâve ingested. "S-Seriously, I'm not sure if I can finish everything you prepared tonight... Can't we save the rest for tomorrow?"Â
His expression softens, as if he genuinely considers your request. "Tomorrow?" He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear.
"But what if you don't come back?" His hand presses just slightly firmer against your stomach, a silent reminder of how full you are⊠how changed, and how much heâs already claimed you tonight.
"I made all this because I needed to know you'd be here." His voice drops lower, sweeter, but edged with something dangerous. "If we save it for later, who's to say you wonât disappear again? Skip meals or forget to eat? Forget that Iâm here for you?"
Your breath stills. The temperature in the room has suddenly dropped. You feel like youâre about to panic when you look at your boyfriend straight in the eyes. Theyâre narrowed at you, leering and dominating.Â
"So no... we won't save it," he says with a tender smile this time. "You're going to finish it all tonight."
A mouthful of raspberry cheesecake is heading straight past your lips.
"Because I'm not letting you leave until I'm sure youâre too full to run away."
You hesitantly take Treyâs offering. Itâs sweet and rich, thick and smooth as it slips across your tongue. The richness of it has you almost wincing when you swallow as Trey watches. After licking your teeth clean, you open your mouth to make another retort, another attempt at pleading that youâve had enough, but Trey is already prepared with another handful of the cheesecake for you. You shut your lips tightly, and he pauses against the corner of your mouth. With the portion this close to your nose, you canât help but catch a whiff of the sweet scent of the dessert, and in the end, you canât help but take another bite. Itâs too tempting.
Is this what he meant by 'helping you finish everything' earlier, just shoveling dessert in your mouth when you can't pick up your utensils anymore?
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across Trey's face as you surrender once more to his insistence, opening your mouth for another bite of cheesecake. His eyes are fixed on you, drinking in your every reaction as you take the sweet, thick cream between your teeth. You can feel him grow more unhinged by the second, which feels a lot different from his usual demeanor during daytime.
"That's it," he purrs, his voice low and full of praise. You wipe your lips with your thumb to catch the crumbs caused by your messy eating. His gaze is sharp and observant as he notes the slight wince in your face, the subtle way your hand presses just a little bit harder against your overfull belly. Instead of rejection or disgust, you find yourself slowly accepting these changes that made you feel valuable and cared for by your lover. The only thing that worried you was the pace of it all, as your body felt even heavier than earlier.
Each time you want to say youâve had enough for tonight, another different dessert tempts you beyond your assumed capacity. After the cheesecake, it was the pudding. After the pudding, it was the muffins. Then it was the mocha cake, then the strawberry tart, then another creampuffâ Itâs all blurring in together. Trey watches as your body slowly expands beneath his gaze, your soft skin straining against your undergarments, your clothes beginning to dig in against your swollen belly. His fingers linger against you, feeling the way your muscles clench and shiver as your stomach tries to accept all the food he's forcing into you.
"Mmghf-!" You suddenly double over with a hand over your mouth, and youâre trying to hold back something from coming out. You think youâve finally reached your limit. His expression sharpens as your face twists in discomfort. He senses the change with the keen eye of someone who knows your body better than even you do.
The nausea you feel is intense, a roiling wave building in your stomach, a sickening feeling of pressure and bloat. Everything feels too tight, too full, too much. The food you've eaten is weighing you down, your belly swelling to its limits and beyond, and you can hardly find comfort in the expanding space available to you.
It's hard to even keep yourself upright, your hand braced over your lips as you try to stifle the urge to throw up. The sight of the desserts blending together as your vision blurs causes you to gag loudly. It feels like everything is turning into a red cacophony of noise and sugar.
You feel Treyâs hand clasp over your mouth. He bends over and rubs his forehead against yours. His breathing is heavy and almost delirious. Tears well up in your eyes. "Keep it all in" is all you can hear, and you canât tell if it was your own thoughts or Trey saying it. His palm is firm over your mouth, sealing your lips shut as your body fights to expel the impossible fullness. His forehead presses further against yours, warm, almost feverish, like he's sharing in your distress... or feeding off it.
"Hold it, hold it all for me," he whispers, his voice trembling with a desperate edge to it. His breath comes fast, uneven. His thumb strokes your cheek as your own hand remains locked on your stomach, kneading gently into the bloated flesh like testing ripe fruit.
You can hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears, and it feels like your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets. You gag loudly once more and his breath hitches at the sound, raw and desperate as his grip tightens. Treyâs lips brush your temple, a ghost of a kiss. "Just a little longer," he pleads, though it sounds more like a command wrapped in velvet. "Swallow it, breathe through your nose, you can do this⊠You have to."
His whisper is gentle now, almost tender. "Because if you donâtâŠ" He tilts his head slightly, glasses glinting in the dim light.
"Then weâll just have to start all over again tomorrow night."
Your eyes burst open as you slide off the bed. You ignore your slippers in a rush, clumsily getting the bedroom door open and making it to the bathroom as fast as you humanly can. Trey, the real one, is woken up by your movements, especially the fact that you had to unravel his arms around your waist in the middle of the night. He stirs slowly, groggily at first, then with growing awakeness as he felt you slip from his arms. The warmth of your body leaves his embrace, the quiet rustle of sheets and bare feet against wood breaks the stillness.
He murmurs your name into the dark, voice low and thick with sleep. One hand reaches out instinctively to pull you back but his fingers brush an empty space. You donât hear him from where you are, youâre too busy emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet.
When he hears the noise, he sits up immediately, glasses hastily fumbled onto his nose as he looks for you.
Your body convulses forward, hands gripping the edges of the porcelain as wave after wave forces itself up your throat. The sound is raw, wet, ragged, almost animalistic, as your stomach rebels against what it was made to hold. Each heave tears from deep within, eyes squeezed shut and tears streaking down your flushed cheeks.
Itâs messy. You can imagine expelling what you had in that dream: chocolate and cream, cherry preserves and raspberry swirlsâall twisted together in a syrupy tide that burns on the way back out. The truth is that you havenât had any sweets before you slept. Your hair clings to your face with sweat as you tremble over the bowl, gazing at your undigested dinner from hours ago.
This is definitely your fault, it was takeout from the town at the foot of the hill that you left unrefrigerated for hours before consuming it.
You hear soft footsteps on the tiles and a quiet gasp at the bathroom door. "Oh noâŠ" Trey gasps and calls out your name before crouching down next to you. You can feel his warm hand rubbing your back in slow circles. No gloves, no uniformâ Just your boyfriend in his pajamas because you wanted to sleep in the same bed tonight. You couldnât have known that youâd get food poisoning.
And then that god-awful dream.
You immediately panic and rub your hands all over your stomach, just in case the changes in your body from that nightmare were true. You press your abdomen looking for something that isnât there, and youâre relieved to find that youâre still your usual self in reality. Treyâs fingers move to brush away the strands of hair that have fallen over your cheek, his touch gentle but firm.Â
"Shoot, you have a fever," Trey huffs as he gently presses his knuckles over your forehead to check your temperature. Great, just another problem to the pile.
"Iâm sorry..." You mumble miserably. He stands up to grab a towel from the rack to wipe your nose and chin. "What for?" He asks. "Things happen, this isnât your fault." The contrast between Trey's real-life personality and the dream version you experienced is stark. While the Trey in your nightmare was imposing and threatening, the real Trey is a picture of concern and affection. He goes back to rubbing your back soothingly. "Can you get up? Wash up, Iâll help you clean up. Give me a bit to get some water and medicine, too."
You get up from the floor as he flushes the toilet behind you. You feel a hundred pounds lighter from throwing up the bad stuff in your stomach, though thatâs probably something you shouldnât joke about at all. You wash your face and splash your cheeks with cold water from the faucet before you grab a different towel to pat your skin dry. The soft fabric absorbs the water as you gently dab your face, your hands still a little shaky from the ordeal. You avoid looking directly at the mirror, afraid of what you might see, or worse, remember. But when you finally do glance up, Trey is already there behind you, his reflection warm in the dim light.
He reaches past you to hang up the used towel, then lingers close enough that his breath brushes your ear. "Better?" He murmurs. His voice is soft, steady, and real. Nothing like the fever-dream version that forced sweetness down your throat until you broke.
He doesnât demand. Doesnât push.
"I might be a bit scarred from ordering from that restaurant again, even if it's my mistake for not eating it quickly enough," you laugh lightly. Trey chuckles alongside you as the tension in his shoulders eases. "I suppose the taste would bring some bad memories," he answers.Â
"Luckily for you, we donât have classes tomorrow. Iâll stay with you until you get better and cook for you, at least you and I both know itâd be safe."
Cook for you. It's such a simple. Innocent phrase, but after the nightmare, it lands like a matchstick in flour. You tense up slightly, and Treyâs brows knit together, warm hazel eyes searching yours. "Hey," he calls, his voice low and careful. "Whatâs wrong? You look like youâve seen a ghost."
He doesnât know. He canât know what you dreamed, the way his love twisted into something suffocating, sweet as poisoned honey. You force a small and shaky smile.
"Just a bad dream," you sigh. "I donât want to think about food for a while."
You lean back against Treyâs chest and look at your shared reflection in the mirror. Youâre sickly pale compared to your loverâs healthier complexion. What you saw last night wasnât real, and in truth, your appearance doesnât matter to you too much. It would just be nicer if you had a healthier relationship with food in general.
"On second thought, something light for breakfast tomorrow, please." Trey smiles warmly and wraps his arms around you.
If you've reached this far, I'm sorry. Crack turned serious. Actually I'm not sorry at all. Goodbye! Remember to eat three meals a day everyone ⥠ââZhihaođ„Ą
this is the part i love and hate about getting into a new fandom. i know the gist of t.wst but damn bro sometimes i hesitate to write because i feel like i'm gonna write something out of character or lore inconsistent RAAAAA
attempted to do my make-up in the car on the way to meet up from my friend bc i didn't wanna run late, and it actually made me a little nauseous oops lol
(i had to cough at one point bc i felt like i was gonna burp a bit; the radio in the car wasn't loud enough for it not to be awkward with the driver)
the drive was short enough and i've gotten quick with make-up application that it went away after a while, but đ€ HSJSJAJA
hello your octatrio fic is literally fantastic & now all I can think about is azul trying to relieve himself of stuffed burps alone in his office and praying that no one will hear (someone hears đ)
I LOVE U ANON AND I LOVE THIS SCENARIO
poor azul cant bear the thought of anyone overhearing how gassy his stomach gets, maybe hes still not fully adjusted to land food yet, maybe he has food sensitivities hes not comfortable revealing to anyone else, or maybe hes been so strict with his diet that eating just a *little* too much one evening is enough to fill his tummy with greasy burps for the whole night afterwards. ofc his private moment being interrupted with teasing and subsequent comfort is đ§âđłđ€đđđâš
okay so it's 5am and this is completely un-proofread but the muse seized me á(ĂČ_Ăł)á
burping kink fic ft. j.ade/a.zul
contains: burping; belly rubs; cuddling; teasing; azul is soft
warnings: some very light Дmeto (not even nausДa just a rlly wet burp again); references to azul's body insecurity; jade is pushy lol
~~~
Jade tried to keep his footsteps silentâ an absolutely exquisite sound was echoing from Azul's office, and it would be a shame most grievous to drown it out.
"UuUUuURP! ...Aaagh..."
It was Azul; there was no mistaking that sigh. Jade had overheard several burps at this point, each one big, hearty, and delightfully uncharacteristic of his well-mannered housewarden. Planted by the door, he calculated the ideal time to strike: He should try to wait for a belch that lasted long, but to stand and evaluate each, hoping for the ideal burp, Azul's gas would trickle up and away alongside the minutes. Azul running out before Jade could rudely interrupt was the worst case scenario.
He had to strike.
"BuuUUrrUUUuuâ"
The door creaked as it opened.
"âuuUUUuup!"
Jade's timing had been perfect. Azul's face turned paper-white.
"Jade!" he snapped. "I implore you to knock!" Just as quickly, his white face flushed red. "E-Excuse me. You shouldn't have heard that."
Jade blinked, raised his eyebrows, and, ever so slightly, pouted his lips. "Azul," he said, feigning surprise. "That was quite startling. Are you alright?"
Furrowing his brow, Azul pushed up his glasses; such a clear attempt to regain his composure; how deliciously fruitless.
"Of course I'm alright," he said. "What have you come here for? After stating your business, please be on your way."
Jade smiled. "No."
Azul stared at him, malice in his eyes, and let out a gruff sigh, which was cut off by the sound of a burp gurgling up through his throat half smothered. He did not excuse himself.
Jade frowned. "Your stomach sounds upset, Azul. What happened?"
Eyelashes falling heavy, Azul leaned forward to prop his head on interlaced fingers upon his desk. Sweet resignation! Jade wished he could capture Azul's expression and keep it for all time.
"If you must know," said Azul, "spinach pie happened. Surely you've been experiencing the same effects after eating the dining hall's food for dinner."
"Um, no," replied Jade. "I took the pasta tonight. However, I cannot blame you. The spinach pie looked divine."
Azul's eyes flashed up at him. "Gloat all you want," he said, and finished the sentence with a soft "urp." He let out a breath that was nearly a third of the way to being a sob. "Excuse me."
Jade clicked his tongue pityingly. "Oh, no," he simpered. "Surely there must be something I can do to help."
"There isn't, Jade."
Smiling, he took stock of the office around him, its closed curtains, its low light. "Somehow I doubt that," he said, and straightened up.
Azul's brow furrowed.
"Come," Jade commanded. "Sit in my lap."
"Absolutely not."
Jade had a heartbreaking pout ready; he let it melt his face like wax all at once. "Oh," he said, "of... of course not. After all, I most likely give off the impression that my lap is cold, and uncomfortable."
Burying his face in his hands, Azul rubbed his temples, and his hat slipped partway off his head. "Please, Jade," he groaned. "Don't play this game with me right now."
"Azul," Jade said, and he felt the switch in his voice moreso than he meant itâ Jade was in control, and it was serious. "Would I hurt you?" he said plainly.
"Yes," replied Azul. "Perhaps."
"Have I hurt you?"
Azul paused. "No."
As Azul's stomach gave a sweet little gurgle, Jade picked his next words carefully. "To the best of your calculations, would this situation be the one that leads me to hurt you?"
"...No."
The smile was audible in Jade's voice: "Then come here."
The chair legs underneath Azul groaned softly as he rose to his feet. Like a gentleman at a dance, Jade came to his side, and placed a hand at Azul's waist, before walking with him to the sofa across the room. "Good," he could not help but whisper.
Azul said nothing as he and Jade sank down together into the overstuffed leather cushions.
The weight of Azul was so carefully soft, and so much heavier than it looked. Having surrendered his coat to the back of his desk chair, there remained only Azul's suit jacket for Jade to slip his hands up underneath to caress his side and belly.
At this, Azul tensed horrifically.
"Hush, now," said Jade. "Don't start to panic. Let my touch happen. Give yourself a moment to become comfortable with it; there'll be no surprises from me just yet."
Under the soft, warm blanket of Azul's belly fat, Jade could feel the food in his stomach. It was churning hard, shifting occasionally, working at its charge of spinach pie with a silent ferocity so characteristic of Azul.
"If I relax," Azul said plainly, "and let myself goâ" Another stifled burp. "âyou might bring it up later."
Jade gave his belly a pat before continuing to gently caress. "Indeed," he replied. "But if I do, only you and I will know what I refer to. Isn't that enchanting?"
Azul said nothing, only gave a small hiccup.
"As for letting go..." Jade's fingers had a fair map of Azul's belly now, save for the reaches hidden beneath his shirt buttons. He had long since located a pocket of gas, and many times encircled it as he spoke. Now, his fingers formed a point on the spot, and he pressed.
"bbBUUUurrRRP!"
The belch made Azul's whole body lurch, and Jade could feel a blush rushing all the way down his ribcage.
"I'm so sorry," said Azul, "Iâ I don't know where that came from."
"Do not apologize," said Jade before Azul could get out any more stammered words of contrition. He stroked his side, trying to communicate with his hands that it was okay. "Please, do not feel ashamed. Your body's natural functions are not a sin." At this, Jade gave his belly a little squeeze, and angled his head to whisper into his ear: "How was the spinach pie?"
His chest bounched with a (quite expertly) stifled hiccup. "Fine," he replied.
"My, my," Jade teased, "what a truncated answer. I want to hear what you thought of it, Azul. Good or bad would be a start."
The sound of his stomach grumbling coincided with a soft sigh to make a second's soothing auditory tableau. "Delicious," he confessed. "The cheese was creamy, and had just the right amount of bitterness to contrast perfectly with the spinach."
"And the dough?" hummed Jade.
"Soft," he said, "and wonderfully buttery. Flaky, but not unpleasantly brittle."
Jade gave a little coo. "What a shame," he said, "that something so lovely should hurt your tummy like this."
"Yes," sighed Azul, "what aâ" He huffed. "Jade."
"What's the matter, Azul?"
"It's almost as if you want me to talk about food."
Azul did not realize how ridiculous he sounded, and therefore Jade could not resist but to tease: "You just sound so happy when you do!"
Azul's whole body tensed up on top of him.
"Shh, shh, shh," said Jade, unsure if he had gone too far. He ran a finger through Azul's hair, and rubbed a loving circle over his belly. "I would never spite you for it. My dear Azul, it's a shame how growing up, no one ever told you to make sure you were full. No one ever called you a good boy for cleaning your plate." This was conjecture, but Jade did not say as much.
"Now you're just fucking with me," came Azul, and he relaxed somewhat against him.
"Me? Never." Jade cradled Azul's lower belly in both hands, and rubbed. "How is that spinach pie settling?"
"Urpâ Better."
"Good," Jade said, "I'm so glad to hear." He paused. He would take a risk. One finger traced up Azul's body, under his jaw, and came to gently tug at his lower lip. "You may let more up. I won't hold it against you."
Azul huffed. "You know I hold it against you, saying that. What do you want, blackmail?"
"Of course not," crooned Jade. "I want nothing more than my dear Housewarden's comfort. Please, Azul. I promise that you are entirely safe to relax."
Azul's silence spoke volumes.
After a few moments' gentle belly rubs and soft breathing, Azul finally let up a quiet burp.
"Good boy," said Jade, and Azul, very slightly, squirmed.
Another moment passed, then Azul let out a louder "BuuuUurpâ", a wet "hrk!", and a whispered "no!".
Jade patted his tummy. "Did a little bit come up? That's okay. You have a strong throat; you can gulp it back down."
Azul swallowed, and Jade stroked his neck, following the bob of his gullet down to his chest, which he softly pet a few times. Finally he pat his belly, and tried to crane down as if to look at it. "There, now," he said in a childish tone of voice. "Be a good bite, and stay down there where Azul has sent you."
"Jade," moaned Azul, "I don't need this."
"I know," chimed Jade. Straightening back up, he continued to slowly rub. "But," he said, "if I may venture to ask... Do you not want this?"
Azul did not answer. After a moment, however, he wiggled closer into Jade's embrace, nestling his pillowy ass deeper in his lap.
Jade took a deep breath of cold air. When he spoke, his voice was almost clinicalâ "How much more gas is there?"
"Just a bit more âurpâ pressure."
"Tell me when I find it." There were no big pockets of air left anymore, so Jade truly had to rely on Azul's guidance to navigate his soft breadbasket.
"Thereâ There it isâ Down just a little bit. If you could knead your fingers inward and upâ Ow! Careful! ...There you are. Ahh, keep goingâ Oh, it shiftedâ"
Jade could feel Azul's stomach working under his fingertips. "Come now, little burp," he said.
Azul was undone. "Oohâ Almostâ Please, just keep pushing it aroundâ"
Like a warning, an almighty gurgle curled up from his esophagus.
"UUUUUUUUuuuUUURRAAAuuuuUURP!" Entire belly tensing, Azul let out a brash "Haaah!" of a sigh, before a low, trailing afterburp rumbled out from between his lips.
He was panting for air when he flopped back into Jade, and let out a small, round belch that seemed to signify completion.
Unfortunately for the part of Jade's brain that wanted him groveling for forgiveness, Azul did not say anything. He merely let his head loll back onto Jade's shoulder, utterly vulnerable.
Humming softly, Jade resisted the temptation to peck a kiss atop his hair-strewn temple. "Feels better, no? Sooo much better. Don't speak, now; let that darling throat rest. It's been through so much this evening."
Azul let out a long sigh through his nose.
"You," said Jade, "are excellent at burping. Perhaps with a bit of training, you could give my brother, or me, a run for our money."
"I can't burp on command," Azul groaned, "and I've no desire to learn how."
Jade smiled. "It appears that such a skill is not necessary," he said, wrapping his arms protectively around him. "It seems all you need, Azul, is a plate full of good, rich food."
i has an idea for you, if you don't like it then you can just ignore this. so what if you did a trey x reader where trey is having the reader try his baking to make sure it tastes good, but over time the reader starts to get a stomach ache from all the sugar and the amount, but trey doesn't notice this until the reader is all burpy and ill
đđđ not sure if i have it in me to do an Entire Fic rn but this is a fantastic ideađđ i do highkey think there'd be at least a few minutes where he notices reader is overfull but chooses to keep feeding them anywayđđ i think he'd def want to hear it from their mouth first (BE THAT THROUGH WORDS OR OTHERWISEđ„”) but he'd eventually cave + switch to caring mode to dote on them & their full belly hehehehehe
Perhaps Trey's own stomach was big enough to fit this all, and that was why he had not said anything yet.
"I've got another batch done," came his cheery voice, as he wheeled into the room where you sat, a tray in his hands. "Mind trying one out after they've had a minute to cool?"
You replied in the affirmative, despite your stomach feeling otherwise. You supposed, silently, that you probably would not die with one more pastry stuffed inside you.
Trey was taking a blessedly free day to experiment in the kitchen. He was enjoying himself greatly, and you were happy for him at first, happy, too, to sample a piece from each of his batches of pastries, cookies, muffins, and more.
It was barely noon, and there had already been so many batches.
He had enlisted your help to package the remaining sweets up after they had cooled, keeping the racks ready for fresh baked goods every time he swept into the room. This had been an easy task at first. Now, however, your movements were sluggish, and even your mind was beginning to slip.
"Fantastic," Trey said, "Then, are you ready for your sample?" He set the tray down before you, and sank gracefully into the chair next to you as he slipped the oven mitts from his long, strong hands.
He said that so casually, as if your stomach were not piled heavily with buttery, sugary treats already.
Atop the tray was arrayed a collection of six fluffy danishes, three raspberry, three cheese. Just looking at the carbohydrates made your head spin.
"Give them a second to cool," Trey said warmly.
Trey waited with you, head resting atop interlaced hands, for all of said second. Weighed down to your chair by the conglomeration of Trey's baking mastery inside you, you could not bring yourself to move, speak, nor even look at your phone.
"Okay," Trey said after a long minute, "they're probably safe to eat now. Try one of each flavor for me."
Under his gentle gaze, you took a raspberry danish, and bit into the soft edge. It squished between your jaws like so many of his other creations had that day, buttery, flaky, and undeniably delicious.
You couldn't comfortably stomach any more, though.
A flake fell from your mouth as you finished the pastry, well-chewed bits sinking down your esophagus, making your stomach pulse in pain.
Trey let out a little 'ope', and picked the flake off you with hawklike grace, folding it into a half-dirty paper towel on the other side of the table.
"Well," he said, "do you have any thoughts for me?"
What could you say other than that it was good? Trey was so skilled at making pastries; you had already spent that morning describing for him how countless more had fell apart in your mouth, how satisfying they felt to swallow, how smoothly all the ingredients were swirled into each final product.
You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but an almost machine-like gurgle jerked up your throat before any words could make it out. You clapped both hands to your mouth as you burped, wet, chewed danish surfacing at the root of your tongue, the flavor of your guts.
You excused yourself, and Trey reached out to pat your back, before faltering. "Sorry," he said, and opened his palms to you. "I've still got flour and dough on my hands. You're excused, though." He gave you a reassuring smile. "Would you try the cheese for me?"
You asked if he did not want your review of the raspberry first.
"Ohâ" Trey reached for a napkin, and began wiping off his hands, one finger at a time. "Sure," he said. "It's good not to eat too fast, anyway."
You could swallow the cheese danish down whole, and it would make no difference. It felt as if your guts had come to a standstill, every corner of them occupied by thick, butter-saturated mass. It pressed down on your intestines, up on your stomach, as if you were a vessel, and not a human being capable of sorest hurt.
A burp slipped out of you mid-sentence as you tried to describe how the raspberry danish had tasted, and it brought you no relief at all, but it made Trey's eyes widen, though he said nothing, letting you finish.
"Thank you," he said then for the umpteenth time that day. "I really appreciate it, dear. Nowâ" He picked a cheese danish off the tray, and handed it to you.
You made it through half the creamy, sweet thing.
You tried valiantly to bite, chew, swallow, mindlessly, just as every human knew how to do, depositing the mass into yourself without a second thought. A crass belch interrupted you, high and choked, accompanied by twin tears in your eyes, as you apologized wetly, profusely, then attempted to swallow down the chewed food filling your mouth.
"Whoah, hey, are you okay?" Trey said at last, bringing a hand to your back. This jostled another burp out of you, interrupting your work at gulping your current bite down.
When you finally succeeded, you wiped the tears from your eyes, looked up at him, and informed him that you may have eaten a little bit too much.
Trey laughed out loud, removing his hand from your back to readjust his glasses. "I overfed you, huh," he said. "I guess I'll take it as a compliment that you've kept eating up until now." He blinked, infuriatingly innocent. "Do you need to lie down?" he asked. "You don't have to finish eating this; hereâ" He picked the cheese danish up from where you had dropped it on the table, and bit a mouthful off himself. "Though I do appreciate the input from your palate," he said after swallowing, "I can trust my own well enough to keep going."
Quietly, you agreed to his suggestion of lying down, and rose slowly to your feet, grabbing the table for stability.
Trey watched you placidly, before rising himself, picking up his napkin, and leaning close to dab at your face. "Not that your lips aren't cute with crumbs stuck to them," he said wryly.
You muttered your thanks. Your stomach was shifting and groaning now that you stood; there was a sofa nearby; you stumbled over to it, and flopped down.
As Trey watched you carefully nestle onto your side, something of resignation passed over his face. "You don't look too good," he said softly.
You responded with the truth, that you were merely very full.
"Let me go turn the stove off; I'll be with you in a sec."
Attempting to close your eyes as Trey left, you found that nothing felt comfortable. Your stomach was just too weighty, too sore; any uncomfortable pressure made you fear a more uncomfortable cramp.
"My poor, sick baby," came Trey's voice, warm and deep and accompanying his footsteps up to you.
The whole room still swam with the scent of pastries, and as Trey's hands wriggled beneath your head and lifted you up to sit beside you, the smell deepened twice over in heady weight. He set you gently down upon his lap, and you realized by the texture of his trousers on your cheek that he had taken his apron off.
"Need a tummy rub?" Trey said, like he was talking to an animal.
You could not help but nod. Shyly, then, you told him to be gentle.
"Oh, I promise," Trey said, and one warm hand came to your side.
He started off just as gentle as you had hoped. Barely caressing, he found the sensitive spots on your belly, and rubbed carefully all around them. A litany of little sputters and gurgles spun in perpetuity from your gut as he worked, as did a few more small burps for which you did not bother excusing yourself. His free hand, eventually, came to play with your hair.
After several long, sleepy minutes, you realized two thingsâFirst, that Trey had begun pressing harder into the flesh of your stuffed stomach, still slow, but pawing you, grabbing handfuls of you and kneading. Second, that you were comfortable.
You considered telling him this, but worried he might ask you to eat more. Your full stomach had just settled. You wanted to bask in this feeling for a while longer. When a long, soft burp spiraled up your gullet, it felt good. Trey's ministrations had given you the relief you needed.
"I'll take that as a compliment, too," Trey said.
Blearily, you tried to pardon yourself, but Trey tapped a finger to your lips. "Shhh," he said, "it's okay." He swallowed, and wove his fingers through your hair once more. "Everything's okay," he said.
Awash in the feeling of digestion and the inescapable aftertaste of Trey's baking, you let yourself cuddle into his lap.
Fair warning, this is going to be of interest to 3 people and I'm 2 of them.
Vowels
Produced by unimpeded airflow through the vocal tract, which is why they tend to form the middle of burp onomatopoeia. They're mainly distinguished by tongue placement, so "a" ,"o","u" represent a gradient from front to back of the mouth. Vowels are further distinguished by whether or not your lips are rounded when you produce them. For a burp, you'd tend to round them at least slightly
"a": high front unrounded vowel. Use for shallow, airy burps, or towards the beginning as the sound deepens. It's unrounded, but probably because English doesn't have a rounded equivalent
"o": mid back rounded vowel. Good in a middle placement because it's pretty neutral. Mouth is round, but the sound isn't especially airy or bassy
"u": low back rounded vowel. Use for a nice, deep, round sound
Consonants
Work best at the beginning and end of burp onomatopoeia. Burping passes air over your vocal chords, creating a vibrating sound known as "voicing" so we want those voiced consonants. We also want sounds articulated at the lips and back of the mouth/throat.
"b": voiced bilabial stop. Conveys the sound of your mouth being blown open during a burp. It's voiced, so you get that nice rumble
"p": voiceless bilabial stop. Same as "b" but without the rumble. An airier sound of the mouth opening
"m": bilabial nasal. Like "b" and "p" you use both lips, but "m" doesn't require opening your mouth, so it's perfect for closed-mouth burps with a lot of buzz and rumble
"f": voiceless labio-dental fricative. Marked by a partial obstruction of airflow through the lips. Sounds like a burp escaping someone while they try to keep their mouth closed
"g": voiced velar stop. Produced at the very back of the mouth so it's great for that rumbling, guttural quality, or if you want a slightly gaggy sound
"h": voiceless glottal fricative. Produced by passing air through a constriction deep in your throat. A good interstitial sound, or for a burp you almost managed to stifle
"r" /Éș/: voiced post-alveolar approximant. Involves a partial constriction of the mouth while air vibrates the vocal chords. Perfect for giving the impression of your mouth opening up or closing down
"l": voiced lateral alveolar approximant. Similar to "r" but with more tongue acrobatics, so it can give a sort of wet impression. Like you're trying to swallow against something other than air rising up your throat
"w": voiced labio-velar approximant (even the name is hot) moves from the lips to the back of the mouth. Use it to show someone's mouth being blown open by a powerful burp
such a big fan of medical exams on people with sick tummies. yes, tell me all of your symptoms, how long youâve had them for. have you been throwing up? diarrhea? poor thing. lay down, let me look at your belly. where does it hurt the most? im going to palpate, but iâll leave where it hurts worst for last. oh, youâre tender all over, arenât you? i can feel you tensing under my hand. i can feel it gurgling and churning away in there. youâre feeling very sick, arenât you? iâll get you taken care of, donât worry
